THE VERN SLASH GAME
Ross: Yeah. I'm Scott Ross. Back from the dead, and I'm not going down there again. Why am I here? Someone has been a very bad girl. And somebody wanted me to host The Vern Slash Game. Not too different from The Vern Drinking Game. Take a drink every time he says, "my sons." Take two drinks every time he does that fucked up snort. Take three drinks every time his grin gets as big as his gut. Chug every time his eyes bug out of his head.
Vern: I lost a few pounds. Not long after you lost your pulse.
Ross: Sorry. Hey man, last thing I *ever* looked at was your belly. Ever think about opening one of those ex-porker centers? 1-800-01-VERN?
Vern (sighing): Why am I here?
Ross: According to the wonders of dollar store note cards, "the unexpected slash boon of this patriarch leads to a tantalizing question: Why isn't it called brown prose when the writing's this shitty?"
(Ross is stunned by an electric charge)
Ross: Do it again. Please. Do it again.
(Ross is stunned by another electric charge)
Ross (clutching his head): Wow. "When faced with his male companion, who will Vern choose? Why should he be forced to drift along with the whims of his creator?"
Vern: Our Lord?
Ross: Fontana. So Vern, the gist is, who do you wanna fuck tonight?
(Vern's eyes bug, Ross chugs)
Vern: I'm not gonna sit around and be a part of this, this...sin.
Ross (smiling): Now that's good. I gotta remember that next time somebody asks me why my mouth was so torn in our hunting trip photos.
(Vern tries to stand up, unable to)
Ross: Can't go until the game's over. Our first contestant is James Robson, straight from Vern's own cell. A byproduct of a drunken night between a mildly retarded, butt-ugly brother and sister, James bravely, miraculously recovered from a board to the back of the head at the tender age of 13.
(Robson lunges at Ross, shanking him repeatedly)
Ross (pocketing the weapon): Can't kill the undead.
(Robson spits on him, only to be dragged away by bodyguards)
Ross: I prefer less transparent fluids. A sheepdog and a punk, Robson recently found a pair of balls when his...this is the part where I'm supposed to come up with cutting Nazi terminology...lost his.
Ross: Contestant #2 is the uptown girl living in a soap-dropping world, Tobias Beecher! Guess even he can't get Vern out of his head.
Beecher: I didn't want to be here.
Beecher: I heard that.
Ross: And contestant #3 is Chris...
(Beecher tries not to look affected)
Robson: Beecher, aren't you gonna bend over now?
Beecher: Did you get a humor implant to go along with your new dick? Chris and I...
Ross: Shit and crackers B, the legend isn't in the building. Cedar Junction is cracking down on fic passes.
Beecher: Chris isn't here?
Ross: Chris isn't here. Taking his place is...holy roller and Jesus wannabe Jeremiah Cloutier.
(Jeremiah walks to his seat, ignoring the passionate cries of, "NO MORE REDSHIRTS!!!" signs bearing, "CLOUT IN SEASON FIVE!!!" and scattered yells of, "I HEART YOU DYLAN!!!")
Beecher: Chris isn't here.
Vern: I can't take this shit.
(Vern tries to stand, but can't move his legs)
Ross: NOBODY LISTENS. No moving, no leaving.
Jeremiah: This is a very combative situation.
(Ross steps from behind the podium to look at Jeremiah)
Ross: Mmmmmmm...always consistent Vern. You would want his helping hand when it's time to beat the Bible.
Vern: Shut up.
Ross: I mean, I love it. You're going to a defucked priest for spiritual guidance.
Vern: You don't have to explain sh...squat to him Reverend.
Ross: Is there a difference? What did you do?
Jeremiah: I embezzled contributions from my congregation.
Beecher: Chris isn't here. Chris isn't here!
(Robson thwaps the back of his head)
Ross: Thank you. Now, onto our first question. Vern, wearing his freshly-cleaned gen pop attire, shows up at your cell, or pod. The date has begun. What is your ideal evening?
Robson: We bust some Jews, beat a coupla nig...(glares at Jeremiah)
Ross: Wow, six and a half words. Go ahead Beecher.
(Beecher rolls his eyes)
Ross: Go on.
Beecher (tilting his head): Let's see...we go to a lovely resturant, drink the best wine, then he takes me back to his cell, burns a swastika into my flesh, rapes me repeatedly, and crushes my spirit. The next date, I wear his letterman's jacket and we cuddle all night.
Vern: He shouldn't be doing this. He's a man of God. Too trusting of the niggers, but he knows better now.
Ross: Too trusting how?
Robson: Clit tried to send me to death row for forcing somebody to kill a Muslim.
Ross: Which you weren't guilty of.
Robson: Huh? Oh, yeah, not guilty.
Ross: Real genius here Vern!
Jeremiah: May I speak to Vern face-to-face?
Robson: Stay away from him.
(Beecher begins laughing)
Jeremiah: Vern, it isn't too late. The hands of redemption are still within reach of warming your body. Wait, that wasn't the right phrasing.
Ross: Don't fight it. Vern gets 'em every time.
Vern: This is a fucking joke. Where's Shirley? Where's my wife?
Ross: C'mon Vernon, no one cares. Well, I don't, and that's all that matters.
Robson: Tell me to kill, I will. Tell me.
Beecher: Jesus fucking Christ! We made a truce, that doesn't make me his prag. I can't believe two men...alright, one man and Robson, are fighting over an illiterate, demented, snaggly-toothed white supremacist!
Vern: Least my teeth haven't chewed on half the cocks in the state.
Ross: What state *are* we in?
Vern: Fuck if I know. Stupid bitch, shoulda killed you and your boyfriend when I had the chance. Think I oughta give your new piece 'a pussy the same treatment your first got? What was her name...Gen Monoxide?
Beecher (leaping from his seat): Bastard. BASTARD!!!
(Robson tackles Beecher)
Robson (punching): See how my fist goes down...ggghhhh...
Beecher (kicking): Probably not half as good as you do on Schillinger...
Jeremiah (to Ross): Can't you do something to stop this?
Jeremiah: What are you waiting for?
Ross: First I have to jump in, then I have to pull Beecher's pants off, then Beecher has to pull Robson's pants off, and then Vern has to take his pants off.
(Robson kicks Beecher away)
Robson (lunging at Jeremiah): This is all your fault. Vern was fine before he met you. You put ideas in his head.
Vern: Nobody puts ideas in my head.
Ross and Beecher (in unison): Too easy.
(Vern tries to stand up)
Jeremiah (hands outstretched): Please James, we can settle this as men. As brothers.
(Robson punches him)
Jeremiah: Please, as one child of God to another.
(Robson punches him again)
Jeremiah: I tried. Lord, how I tried.
(Jeremiah grabs Robson by the shirt collar, punching repeatedly before connecting Robson's head to his knee)
Ross: What do you know?
Beecher: I have to shake this man's hand.
(Jeremiah shakes his hand, then walks over to Vern's seat)
(Vern stands up)
Vern: How'd you...
Jeremiah: The power of our Savior.
Ross: Bleah, nobody's that perfect.
Jeremiah: Did you say something?
Ross: I said either you're a fraud or Jen needs to start writing for Tiger Beat.
(Ross gets another electric shock)
Ross: Love those things.
Vern: Reverend Cloutier...
Jeremiah: Call me Jeremiah.
Vern: I can't.
Jeremiah (putting his arms on Vern's shoulders): Yes. You can.
Vern: You got blood on your lip.
Jeremiah (wiping with the back of his hand): All in a day's work. Sorry to go, but I have a Bible study group to prepare for.
Vern: Yeah, it'd be better if you steered clear of me, my baggage too.
Jeremiah (bemused stare): You'll be at the group.
Jeremiah (cupping the back of Vern's head): Vern, when I have a soul in my grasp, I don't let go very easily.
(Vern stares dazedly)
Jeremiah (gently removing his hand): Time to go then.
Ross: Guess Vern picked his bachelor.
Ross: Use your feet Vern.
Vern (grinning): Yeah. See you in Hell Ross.
Ross (kicking Robson's body): Where's my flask? Move this sack of shit.
Beecher (looking at Robson's hand): You move it. Or I could get the pail of warm water.
Ross: When you aren't sucking or shrieking, you got good ideas.
Beecher: After that, I'm leaving.
Ross: Can't. Another episode to complete.
Beecher: Of this?
Ross: No, Babewatch. You're a bachelor.
Beecher: Who's the contestant?
Ross: Not Keller.
Beecher: I didn't say it was! Hopefully the contestant isn't a psychotic, repressed control freak with violent tendencies.
Ross (finds his flask, opens the top): Nah. Just Ryan O'Reily.
(Beecher grabs the flask and takes three swigs)
Ross: And I came back for this.