C’mon, admit it’s funny
June 1, 2006 10 Comments
Now Scott, tell us about your father. Share with us.
Well he’s the head of an evil organization that has aspirations for world
And where is your father right now?
He’s in outer space, like frozen in a giant egg and stuffed inside a Big Boy
rocket with his cat, Mr. Bigglesworth.
Really? Well, we have a surprise for you, Scott. Let’s bring out Scott’s
father, Dr Evil.
Dr Evil enters.
Lower Third Chyron: “WANTS TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD”
Hello Scott, I’m back.
I can’t believe you’d do this to me on national television!
They offered me a free makeover.
Dr. Evil, we’ve seen a lot of the fathers here today open up to their sons,
sons to the fathers. Is there anything you’d like to share?
Yes, don’t you have any secrets?
OK. I have a vestigial tail.
It’s more of a nub, really. The spine just goes on a little longer than it
should. Also, I’ve dabbled. I mean, perform fellatio once and you’re a poet,
twice and you’re a homosexual. I remember once I was being fisted by Sebastian
Cabot- but here’s where the story gets interesting. He was
lactose-intolerant. He could eat red meat all night long, but one sip of milk
and it was gastric hell. And I remember we were caught in fragrance delicto
by Henry Kissinger, and you can imagine my humiliation at having Hank hear me
say, “Mr. French, no teeth.”One of my greatest disappointments is that I never
became a song and dance man. I could have been a quadruple threat, kind of
like a despotic Ken Barry. Dancer, singer, actor, and I would possess nuclear
weapons, the latter being the most threatening of the four. I once sat on a
bus and tried to will myself a menstrual cycle. All I ended up with was a
sense of failure and a mild neuralgia in my incisor teeth and perhaps a
grudging respect for the weaker sex. I love toe cleavage. For the most part I
distrust dogs. I slept in a horse once. It was quite roomy. On second
thought, it was the Ritz. I named my left testicle ‘piss’ and my right
testicle ‘vinegar’. I wrote “It’s Raining Men”, or so the Christmas babies
told me. Oh yes, I also made a Marzipan voodoo effigy of The Fonze while I was
in coma after smoking some Peruvian prayer hash, but who at the end of the day
can honestly say they haven’t done that?
(The Springer audience is stunned, slack-jawed and for once quiet.)
Classic Scene 2
INT. STARBUCKS WORLD HEADQUARTERS
Number Two smiles weakly, breaking into a sweat on his brow.
May I add, I appreciate you reinstating me after our little…misunderstanding.
Frau Farbissina. Wie gehts is
We see Frau. She looks a little more ‘masculine’ than before.
Zehr gut, Herr Doctor.
How are things?
I have come to embrace the love that dare not speak it’s name. To my right is
We see a severe-looking German woman with one continuous eyebrow.
Her name is Unibrau. I met her on the LPGA Tour.
Right on. Welcome, Unibrau.
Dr. Evil takes another sip of cappuccino, making the frothy milk mustache even larger.
Doctor, you have a ‘milk mustache.’
(wiping it off, embarrassed)
Oh, I know. I know.
Dr. Evil, I’d like to introduce
the Greek assassin, Oedipus.
(We see a swarthy Greek army guy.)
Welcome to my private army, Oedipus. Excited?
I could give a shit.
Kiss your mother with that mouth?
Of course you do.
Dr Evil begins to press a button labelled “Oedipus” on his control panel, but Number Two interrupts.
Dr. Evil, as you know, the rate at which you liquidate henchmen far exceeds our
ability to replace them.
I have so few pleasures left to me, Number Two. The key to life is to rotate
your vices. One day it’s executions, another day it’s creamy French cheese.
It’s like frickin’ heroin.