Ext. - Dusk. The playground that is Yazzo's personal toilet which happens to be right next to the area where the largest number of skunk ape sightings in North America have been reported...One where...Oh, just read the story DAMN IT!
ACT One - Yazzo is so excited she could just shit...but let's not get ahead of
ourselves...I don't want to give the plot away. So, Yazzo is so
excited she could just shit! Son of a bitch!...there I go again...I
know I'll begin the story another way. Russell Peacock wakes
up and walks towards the bathroom with Yazzo watching every
move he makes. Russell closes the bathroom door and begins
to take a leak which really pisses Yazzo off, because she has had
to go for more than three hours. While the Peacock is taking a
leak Yazzo ( like a Navy Seal on a stealth mission in some third
world country that America is trying to help) slowly walking
with purpose, meanders her way right into Russell Peacock's
bedroom and with one giant bounding leap, jumps right onto
the Peacock's bed...squats, and pisses a virtual flood of fluid
fury all over the special imported Italian down pillow with blue
penguins playing a friendly game of...Who cares what they were
playing...Let me get back to the story. The next thing we hear is
the toilet flushing just as Yazzo is finishing pissing on the
Peacock's pillow. Yazzo is thinking to herself,"I sure as hell
hope doofus remembers to wash his hands or I'm screwed...Let's
face it, there's no way I can make it passed the human litter box
and be in the livingroom before that door opens.
ACT Three - The Peacock dries his hands by flailing his arms wildly
( The Peacock happens to be the world's biggest germ-a-
phoeb. He is convinced that there are armies of flesh
eating bacteria that are contracted to kill The Peacock
before the next winter solstice.) Russell slowly walks out
to the living room to find Yazzo patiently waiting by the
large french doors with the choker chain leash from hell
hanging out of her mouth. He's in such a good mood he
begins singing opera tunes at the top of his lungs (inserting
Yazzo's name throughout the selection Russell has chosen
for Yazzo's entertainment) All the while Yazzo is thinking
to herself,"I can't stand this shit...WHERE IS OZZY WHEN
WHEN YOU NEED HIM? Still singing Russell places this
big ass toe chain around Yazzo's Giant head.
ACT Three - UNDER CONSTRUCTION...COMING SOON...STAY TUNED
FOR UPDATES.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Mexican Manachan
Ext. - A really cool Mexican/Cuban Restaurant...make up your mind, is it Mexican or Cuban? Tell it to make up its mind then come on back...C'mon!
ACT ONE - Everything looked real cool, except for the annoying sound...that at this point was beginning to piss off everybody that heard it. It just kept getting louder and louder and louder, until you felt like your head was going to explode. The noise was something sraight out of a sci-fi novel. If I had to guess I would say it wasn't human. It was almost like someone down with the syndrome trying to speak Spanish while eating a wet burritto...all the while contending with a rather serious case of irritable bowl syndrome. Just then everyone began to slowly turn to look in the direction of the Mexican Manachan. How do we know the manachan is Mexican? Aw hell...it was just a lucky guess...It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the damn manachan was wearing a sumbrero, and very clearly says made in Mexico on the left but cheek...or was it the right but cheek?...What difference does it make what but cheek its on...Should I go outside and come back in, and we start all over again man? Where are you from Russell. What fucking difference does it make where I'm from man? Stop fucking around Hector and let's do some business. Just then the Peacock pulled out a brand new 50 calibur desert eagle handgun...when you must kill every manachan in the room...DESERT EAGLE...there is no substitute.
ACT TWO - The Peacock has a flashback to when he was in country back in Viet Nam. The Peacock is right at home up to his chin in a swamp next to some frtified rice patties...I mean these son-of-bitches did it right. Anyway, back to the story. So where was I...AHH Yes...the Peacock was hallucinating and thought the Mexican Manachan was a VC commander. Once the
ACT ONE - Everything looked real cool, except for the annoying sound...that at this point was beginning to piss off everybody that heard it. It just kept getting louder and louder and louder, until you felt like your head was going to explode. The noise was something sraight out of a sci-fi novel. If I had to guess I would say it wasn't human. It was almost like someone down with the syndrome trying to speak Spanish while eating a wet burritto...all the while contending with a rather serious case of irritable bowl syndrome. Just then everyone began to slowly turn to look in the direction of the Mexican Manachan. How do we know the manachan is Mexican? Aw hell...it was just a lucky guess...It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the damn manachan was wearing a sumbrero, and very clearly says made in Mexico on the left but cheek...or was it the right but cheek?...What difference does it make what but cheek its on...Should I go outside and come back in, and we start all over again man? Where are you from Russell. What fucking difference does it make where I'm from man? Stop fucking around Hector and let's do some business. Just then the Peacock pulled out a brand new 50 calibur desert eagle handgun...when you must kill every manachan in the room...DESERT EAGLE...there is no substitute.
ACT TWO - The Peacock has a flashback to when he was in country back in Viet Nam. The Peacock is right at home up to his chin in a swamp next to some frtified rice patties...I mean these son-of-bitches did it right. Anyway, back to the story. So where was I...AHH Yes...the Peacock was hallucinating and thought the Mexican Manachan was a VC commander. Once the
Sunday, March 13, 2011
FAT TRICKS
Int. - Russell Peacock is locked inside of a large swine barrell wanting to escape in the worst way...only he can't...you see, the swine barrel is in the dark corner of his mind, better known as Peacock's Corr. ACT ONE - Russell Peacock is a wirey thin athletic individual with nothing but time on hands... enough time to do some serious fat tracking. Fat tracking, you see, is the creation of Russell Peacock himself...and the Peacock is pretty damn proud of it, I must say. Fat tracking is an art more than a learned skill. It incorporates the latest in technology, such as GPS scan sensors, calorie crushers, lard tethers, BIG SHAKE spiked with smart chips, live burger traps, undercover pickel-cam, and glazed dohnuts. Russell Peacock has hired some extra help to manage this special once in a lifetime project from the community of none other than some of the worst stormchasers in the stormchasing business...they even wear t-shirts that say storm chasers on them...In other words they're the real thing or they wouldn't have t-shirts that say storm chasers on them, ACT TWO - The idea behind all of the fun and excitment of tracking these fat bastards is to merely observe them over indulging in mass quantities of carbohydrate consumption while at ease in their natural habitat. Gigantic fat people really scare Russell Peacock...Russell Peacock has balls...but when it comes to fat hunger the Peacock is scared shitless...shitless I tell you...he can't shit because of risking his life just to get a few fat tricks on camera. I love Russell Peacock, and you should too...so when you pray tonight please ask that G...I changed my mind...don't pray for Russell Peacock...The Peacock is a big boy, and knew exactly what he was getting into when he signed up for this stupid adventure. The Peacock begins to set up his Fat Trapper network of ill will. Let the fun begin!!! It's about 7am, and the team of fat trappers are already heading straight for trouble...It's an all you can eat buffet...and the owner and managment are fearing for the future of there little home town family diner. It seems a gang of 300-400 pound bikers rode up on boss hog motorcycles with extra suspension...the extra suspension you see, is because these sons of bitches are very fat. ACT THREE - Yet to be finished.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
WOOD DUCK SHMUCK
Int. daytime an old seafood processing plant built back in the 60's located
in Nantuckett. (slow part of town complete with old New
England fisherman that smell of geniune rotting
kelp.
Act One - You probably wonder why Russell Peacock is hanging out in an
old seafood processing plant...Well, it's because he got a damn
good deal on it...besides it's none of your business anyway. Who
do you think you are, judging someone like the Peacock. You ego
maniacs...you make me not even want to tell the damn story! Ok
I am going to tell this story, against my better judgment, but
don't piss me off or I will have security throw you and your face-
book friends off of my web-site never to return. Where was I?...
Oh yeah Russell Peacock is hanging out...Nooooo...The Pecock is
working in a broken down old seafood processing plant. Russell
is in the business of wholeselling adult penguins to large zoos
around the world, and today is a very special day because he is
waiting on some jackass that is supposed to be stopping by with a
gross of fresh penguins for half price. Russell Peacock has already
been making plans for the HUGE profit he is about to make. The
Peacock's mumbling to himself..."I can't wait...I am going to
purchase a ferrari, a bass boat, a new kitchen, a foot massager, a
Russian supermodel, and a brand new BIG house for my mama,
because Elvis bought his mama a brand new house...and I refuse
to let Elvis screw me up by making me look like a cheap bastard
in front of my mama. (Just as Russell Peacock is day-dreaming he hears
a knock on the giant rusty weather-torn door) He knows it's the penguin
shipment...because he can smell these well dressed little bastards. Let's face
it, penguins always look like they're headed somewhere...somewhere
formal...the oscars perhaps, or maybe even an exclusive dinner with the
world's elite...nevertheless our very own Russell Peacock is never invited,
and that pisses him off. He opens the door with great excitement, yet
reluctant that these strange birds of well dressed wonder have a more
fullfilling social life than he...and it pisses him off. (Yes it's true...the
Peacock is a manic depressive individual, yet very talented, even genius,
some maintain).
Act Two - Russell Peacock opens the door, and to his amazement, there
were five trucks literally packed to capacity with screaming
"penguins"...not screaming because they were being harmed in
some fashion, but rather screaming because they were just plain
pissed off because they were captured like mere...hey wait a
minute Russell mumbles to himself, "There's something rotten
in Denmark, or Detroit, or Delaware...However that saying goes.
There is a giant 7 foot delivery man with what appears to be
cranberry stains on his...hey wait a minute those aren't cranberry
stains...those are fake blood stains, made with karro syrup...
which is what we used to create blood for the filming of "Karate
Joe"...It was a lot of fun observing those lone wolves as they tried
kicking the Peacock's ass. Why would these delivery yoyo's
want to just drop these poor penguins off without their penguin
chow, penguin treats, and last but not least penguin toys...Let's
face it...no self respecting penguin is going venture out without
their favorite toys.
Act Three - The penguins got real quiet all of the sudden...it was as though
the furry well dressed little funny guys could sense that they
were in the presence of greatness...the pressence of Russell
Peacock. He motions to have the trucks just drive right in to his
rusty old broken down seafood processing plant. Russell
hooked up a real old conveyor belt to the opening at the lower
right side of the first truck. The penguins lined up like just
like people used to line up for the E-TICKET rides at old school
Walt Disney World. The suspense is building and so is the
Peacock's blood pressure...if he could just have a nice big
Chiquitta Banana...It's the best in the business...Chiquitta...
there is no substitute. The penguins begin to march off the
truck and down the conveyor belt right into the loving arms of
Russell Peacock. The Peacock is all smiles and happy as hell,
when all of the sudden the happiness gives way to the loudest
QUACK you would ever want to hear...It wasn't just any quack,
it was the unmistakable quack of the illusive yet somewhat
entertaining New Hampshire Wood Duck. The Peacock collapsed...
ok he didn't collapse, he merely tripped over an old coffee pot, but
he's ok. Russell grabs a couple of the ducks that are now running
rampid all over the Peacock complex literally scared to death because
the jig is up, and the Peacock is pissed. He inspects the ducks...and
close up he can see that the supplier is a lieing fraudulant individual...
he took a gross of friendly unsuspecting New Hampshire Wood Ducks,
manipulated their spines so they would stand at attention just like
real penguins, then proceeded to spray paint them black and white,
so the poor water foul would also look like real penguins, then this
goofball shoved chewing gum in their mouths so they would be unable
to make a sound while he played sound of real penguins through loud
speakers hidden in the bed of the trucks, QUACK, QUACK,
and the adventure continues...
in Nantuckett. (slow part of town complete with old New
England fisherman that smell of geniune rotting
kelp.
Act One - You probably wonder why Russell Peacock is hanging out in an
old seafood processing plant...Well, it's because he got a damn
good deal on it...besides it's none of your business anyway. Who
do you think you are, judging someone like the Peacock. You ego
maniacs...you make me not even want to tell the damn story! Ok
I am going to tell this story, against my better judgment, but
don't piss me off or I will have security throw you and your face-
book friends off of my web-site never to return. Where was I?...
Oh yeah Russell Peacock is hanging out...Nooooo...The Pecock is
working in a broken down old seafood processing plant. Russell
is in the business of wholeselling adult penguins to large zoos
around the world, and today is a very special day because he is
waiting on some jackass that is supposed to be stopping by with a
gross of fresh penguins for half price. Russell Peacock has already
been making plans for the HUGE profit he is about to make. The
Peacock's mumbling to himself..."I can't wait...I am going to
purchase a ferrari, a bass boat, a new kitchen, a foot massager, a
Russian supermodel, and a brand new BIG house for my mama,
because Elvis bought his mama a brand new house...and I refuse
to let Elvis screw me up by making me look like a cheap bastard
in front of my mama. (Just as Russell Peacock is day-dreaming he hears
a knock on the giant rusty weather-torn door) He knows it's the penguin
shipment...because he can smell these well dressed little bastards. Let's face
it, penguins always look like they're headed somewhere...somewhere
formal...the oscars perhaps, or maybe even an exclusive dinner with the
world's elite...nevertheless our very own Russell Peacock is never invited,
and that pisses him off. He opens the door with great excitement, yet
reluctant that these strange birds of well dressed wonder have a more
fullfilling social life than he...and it pisses him off. (Yes it's true...the
Peacock is a manic depressive individual, yet very talented, even genius,
some maintain).
Act Two - Russell Peacock opens the door, and to his amazement, there
were five trucks literally packed to capacity with screaming
"penguins"...not screaming because they were being harmed in
some fashion, but rather screaming because they were just plain
pissed off because they were captured like mere...hey wait a
minute Russell mumbles to himself, "There's something rotten
in Denmark, or Detroit, or Delaware...However that saying goes.
There is a giant 7 foot delivery man with what appears to be
cranberry stains on his...hey wait a minute those aren't cranberry
stains...those are fake blood stains, made with karro syrup...
which is what we used to create blood for the filming of "Karate
Joe"...It was a lot of fun observing those lone wolves as they tried
kicking the Peacock's ass. Why would these delivery yoyo's
want to just drop these poor penguins off without their penguin
chow, penguin treats, and last but not least penguin toys...Let's
face it...no self respecting penguin is going venture out without
their favorite toys.
Act Three - The penguins got real quiet all of the sudden...it was as though
the furry well dressed little funny guys could sense that they
were in the presence of greatness...the pressence of Russell
Peacock. He motions to have the trucks just drive right in to his
rusty old broken down seafood processing plant. Russell
hooked up a real old conveyor belt to the opening at the lower
right side of the first truck. The penguins lined up like just
like people used to line up for the E-TICKET rides at old school
Walt Disney World. The suspense is building and so is the
Peacock's blood pressure...if he could just have a nice big
Chiquitta Banana...It's the best in the business...Chiquitta...
there is no substitute. The penguins begin to march off the
truck and down the conveyor belt right into the loving arms of
Russell Peacock. The Peacock is all smiles and happy as hell,
when all of the sudden the happiness gives way to the loudest
QUACK you would ever want to hear...It wasn't just any quack,
it was the unmistakable quack of the illusive yet somewhat
entertaining New Hampshire Wood Duck. The Peacock collapsed...
ok he didn't collapse, he merely tripped over an old coffee pot, but
he's ok. Russell grabs a couple of the ducks that are now running
rampid all over the Peacock complex literally scared to death because
the jig is up, and the Peacock is pissed. He inspects the ducks...and
close up he can see that the supplier is a lieing fraudulant individual...
he took a gross of friendly unsuspecting New Hampshire Wood Ducks,
manipulated their spines so they would stand at attention just like
real penguins, then proceeded to spray paint them black and white,
so the poor water foul would also look like real penguins, then this
goofball shoved chewing gum in their mouths so they would be unable
to make a sound while he played sound of real penguins through loud
speakers hidden in the bed of the trucks, QUACK, QUACK,
and the adventure continues...
Saturday, February 26, 2011
PLACING THE SHIT
Int.- The living HELL that is the life of one Russell Peacock...That's Mr.
Peacock to you.
Act One - The Peacock has been up and down all night long. Russell has
had a hell of a time trying to get a good night sleep ever since
he attempted to improve his CPAP breathing machine. It seems
that he reversed the machine to suck the carbon dioxide from
his lungs rather than force air into his lungs...As a result from
said experiment Russell Peacock has to think about every breath
he takes or he stops breathing...He has taken a voluntary bodily
function and turned it into an involuntary bodily function that
would transform his life into one of sheer tourment, worse than
that of a cancer patient missing an entire nose due to an extreme
case of runaway cancer brought on by stupid parents wanting to
be dark for each other because secretly they longed to be fresh
island natives free to the throws of sexual island living...A little
mango here, a little ass grab there...Well...you get the idea
Act Two - (We are introduced to a wooley mamoth looking dog...Not as big
as a wooley mamoth mind you, but every bit as force-full. By the
way the dog's name is Yazzo)
It's about 3am! Yeah, that's right!..3'oclock in the freakin'
morning, and Yazzo has already begun the neverending nose
whistling session that is so much more effective than a cock-a-
doodle-doo from some overblown two bit overated rooster,
c'mon back one time. You would think the nose whistling would
certainly be effective...effective enough to awaken someone such
as the Peacock from a half ass sleep...WRONG!...It has actually been
incorporated into a fantastic dream that our very own Russell
Peacock is right in the middle of manufacturing. He is a foot
soldier in World War II, right in the middle of participating in
the receiving end of an air raid. It appears as though Yazzo's nose whistling
session has been incorporated as whistling death (this was a term used as
one of great fear to describe the bone chilling sound that the corsair (US
fighter plane first introduced in WWII) made as it dove from high in the
heavens to an altitude so low that made our adversary think we had
adopted the philosophy of the Japanese komakozee pilots. Russell's heart
is pounding, his feet are running, his arms are flailing, the Peacock is
sweating...POUNDING, RUNNING, FLAILING, SWEATING...POUNDING,
RUNNING, FLAILING, SWEATING...POUNDING, RUNNING, FLAILING,
AND SWEATING, AND WHISTLING SO "F"ing LOUD THAT RUSSELL
PEACOCK SUFFERS SOME HEARING LOSS..."HUH? WHAT? I CAN'T
HERE YOU DOUCHE BAG!..I'M SUFFERING FROM HEARING LOSS
DUE TO A RIDICULOUS DREAM...NOW GET OUTTA HERE!"
(the reason the letters are BIG is because of the exciting dream, and
the fact that Russell Peacock is one deaf monkey)
Are you ready? Are you sure you're ready? OK then...It's on to Act 3.
Act Three - It's early...It's About 3:30, Do you know where your children
are?
Ext.- Daytime...Cloudy and FUN!
Yazzo REALLY NEEDS TO GO!!! The Peacock finally wakes the hell up,
thinks about the day, depresses himself, then goes back to sleep to repeat
the same damn thing all over again. By the time Russell finally wakes up...
It's about 4am! That's right! It's about 4'oclock in the Freakin' morning.
The Peacock comes stumbing and mumbling out from his room like the
stumbling and mumbling prick that he has become. He turns the corner,
only to discover one pissed dog. He grabs the leash complete with choker
chain and places it around her giant head. They start down the driveway
into the heart of the hood...OK I meant to say neighborhood. Yazzo begins
to try to shit in old Mrs. Smith's yard...FOR GOD's SAKE MAN...NOT MRS.
SMITH'S YARD...That is one MEAN OLD BITCH!!! The Peacock goes to
set the drag on this state-of-the-art dog leash that sounds like you are
reeling in a blue marlin. Yazzo has a look of determination and one of
great concern as to where to leave this massive shit that has been
purculating. Yazzo sees a rabit, and takes off on a dead run, C'mon!
(Russell is determined to win this battle. His goal is to have Yazzo shit inthe
demilitarized shit zone. Can he make it? How long until failure is an
option. By now our "War Heros" are on church property. Yazzo goes to
squat as the Peacock yanks so hard on Yazzo's leash that she does a
backflip! Russell is shocked at the fact that Yazzo's GIANT head didn't
come off...and even though it's only 4:15 by now, He looks around
nervously, because he knows what a dick head he was by causing the poor
fury beast to perform a backflip like that. Cats do backflips...dogs don't.
Yazzo takes a shit...and the adventure continues...
Peacock to you.
Act One - The Peacock has been up and down all night long. Russell has
had a hell of a time trying to get a good night sleep ever since
he attempted to improve his CPAP breathing machine. It seems
that he reversed the machine to suck the carbon dioxide from
his lungs rather than force air into his lungs...As a result from
said experiment Russell Peacock has to think about every breath
he takes or he stops breathing...He has taken a voluntary bodily
function and turned it into an involuntary bodily function that
would transform his life into one of sheer tourment, worse than
that of a cancer patient missing an entire nose due to an extreme
case of runaway cancer brought on by stupid parents wanting to
be dark for each other because secretly they longed to be fresh
island natives free to the throws of sexual island living...A little
mango here, a little ass grab there...Well...you get the idea
Act Two - (We are introduced to a wooley mamoth looking dog...Not as big
as a wooley mamoth mind you, but every bit as force-full. By the
way the dog's name is Yazzo)
It's about 3am! Yeah, that's right!..3'oclock in the freakin'
morning, and Yazzo has already begun the neverending nose
whistling session that is so much more effective than a cock-a-
doodle-doo from some overblown two bit overated rooster,
c'mon back one time. You would think the nose whistling would
certainly be effective...effective enough to awaken someone such
as the Peacock from a half ass sleep...WRONG!...It has actually been
incorporated into a fantastic dream that our very own Russell
Peacock is right in the middle of manufacturing. He is a foot
soldier in World War II, right in the middle of participating in
the receiving end of an air raid. It appears as though Yazzo's nose whistling
session has been incorporated as whistling death (this was a term used as
one of great fear to describe the bone chilling sound that the corsair (US
fighter plane first introduced in WWII) made as it dove from high in the
heavens to an altitude so low that made our adversary think we had
adopted the philosophy of the Japanese komakozee pilots. Russell's heart
is pounding, his feet are running, his arms are flailing, the Peacock is
sweating...POUNDING, RUNNING, FLAILING, SWEATING...POUNDING,
RUNNING, FLAILING, SWEATING...POUNDING, RUNNING, FLAILING,
AND SWEATING, AND WHISTLING SO "F"ing LOUD THAT RUSSELL
PEACOCK SUFFERS SOME HEARING LOSS..."HUH? WHAT? I CAN'T
HERE YOU DOUCHE BAG!..I'M SUFFERING FROM HEARING LOSS
DUE TO A RIDICULOUS DREAM...NOW GET OUTTA HERE!"
(the reason the letters are BIG is because of the exciting dream, and
the fact that Russell Peacock is one deaf monkey)
Are you ready? Are you sure you're ready? OK then...It's on to Act 3.
Act Three - It's early...It's About 3:30, Do you know where your children
are?
Ext.- Daytime...Cloudy and FUN!
Yazzo REALLY NEEDS TO GO!!! The Peacock finally wakes the hell up,
thinks about the day, depresses himself, then goes back to sleep to repeat
the same damn thing all over again. By the time Russell finally wakes up...
It's about 4am! That's right! It's about 4'oclock in the Freakin' morning.
The Peacock comes stumbing and mumbling out from his room like the
stumbling and mumbling prick that he has become. He turns the corner,
only to discover one pissed dog. He grabs the leash complete with choker
chain and places it around her giant head. They start down the driveway
into the heart of the hood...OK I meant to say neighborhood. Yazzo begins
to try to shit in old Mrs. Smith's yard...FOR GOD's SAKE MAN...NOT MRS.
SMITH'S YARD...That is one MEAN OLD BITCH!!! The Peacock goes to
set the drag on this state-of-the-art dog leash that sounds like you are
reeling in a blue marlin. Yazzo has a look of determination and one of
great concern as to where to leave this massive shit that has been
purculating. Yazzo sees a rabit, and takes off on a dead run, C'mon!
(Russell is determined to win this battle. His goal is to have Yazzo shit inthe
demilitarized shit zone. Can he make it? How long until failure is an
option. By now our "War Heros" are on church property. Yazzo goes to
squat as the Peacock yanks so hard on Yazzo's leash that she does a
backflip! Russell is shocked at the fact that Yazzo's GIANT head didn't
come off...and even though it's only 4:15 by now, He looks around
nervously, because he knows what a dick head he was by causing the poor
fury beast to perform a backflip like that. Cats do backflips...dogs don't.
Yazzo takes a shit...and the adventure continues...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
JEW JEW EYEBALL
It's not real money...Ya know?
Just because I'm Jewish you think I like money
No No No...You got me all wrong you stupid BITCH!
This was some extra dialogue that was on the editing floor, so I'm including it as the subtitle to this, my best and my most interesting piece of work yet.
Sorry, it will be forthcoming as I left it at the mall with my new old world map of the world. I'm sure you understand. Thank you for your patience. My new Russell Peacock Adventure will post tonight...and you can enjoy reading it in the morning. If that's not good enough for you, then you can kiss my ass, and you're no longer welcome to visit my "One of a kind" INCREDIBLE sight...However if you are patient you will absolutely love the read that my latest installment of the Adventures of Russell Peacock promises to mean to each and every special individual that enjoys reading such unique and breathtaking true to life adventurous material that only an accomplished, well traveled person of great fortune such as myself sees fit in the remotest way to share such adventures and risk ridicule on such a magnificent scale with readers such as yourselves.
Now if you will be so kind as to step away from my standing desk, it would be much appreciated.
Just because I'm Jewish you think I like money
No No No...You got me all wrong you stupid BITCH!
This was some extra dialogue that was on the editing floor, so I'm including it as the subtitle to this, my best and my most interesting piece of work yet.
Sorry, it will be forthcoming as I left it at the mall with my new old world map of the world. I'm sure you understand. Thank you for your patience. My new Russell Peacock Adventure will post tonight...and you can enjoy reading it in the morning. If that's not good enough for you, then you can kiss my ass, and you're no longer welcome to visit my "One of a kind" INCREDIBLE sight...However if you are patient you will absolutely love the read that my latest installment of the Adventures of Russell Peacock promises to mean to each and every special individual that enjoys reading such unique and breathtaking true to life adventurous material that only an accomplished, well traveled person of great fortune such as myself sees fit in the remotest way to share such adventures and risk ridicule on such a magnificent scale with readers such as yourselves.
Now if you will be so kind as to step away from my standing desk, it would be much appreciated.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Alaskan Field Trip
Int. Hospital
Evening (close to midnight)
Wind howling
Act 1
Russell Peacock is standing on the shore of Dutch Harbor screaming obceneties to the crab boat fisherman as they head out to sea.
Tim Godfrey – Peacock…You crazy son-of-a-bitch. You’re gonna get killed or worse.
Russell Peacock – Crabbing is for pussies…my grandmother gets more crab with her eyes closed in her own bathtub.
Russell Peacock – Crab boats are for uneducated morons and opera fans. I bet you like
musicals because you’re not real men. You’re soft, that’s what you
are you’re soft. Soft and stupid and melted.
Tim Godfrey – Starts to run and trips on some rocks that are now slippery and cuts his leg
open so bad he just collapses.
Act 2
One of the crab boats begins to turn around while the Peacock is still yelling out at the boats. The stupid ass doesn’t realize this particular boat used to be a whaler and still had a fully functioning industrial strength whale harpoon complete with its own turit and a nut at the helm who doesn’t take shit from anyone especially someone like the Peacock.
Crab Boat – Doesn’t say a word, just slowly aims that big ass harpoon right at the
Peacock…fires the harpoon…the Peacock ducks…the harpoon barley
making contact with the Peacock’s head…gives the Peacock an
un-welcomed mohawk…then proceeds to cut tim’s head off.
Russell Peacock – (mumbling to himself) – I knew it…I knew it…I knew I should
have voted for john McCain and Sarah Palin. I could have fought back
with an elephant gun just like David Lee Roth would.
To be continued...
Evening (close to midnight)
Wind howling
Act 1
Russell Peacock is standing on the shore of Dutch Harbor screaming obceneties to the crab boat fisherman as they head out to sea.
Tim Godfrey – Peacock…You crazy son-of-a-bitch. You’re gonna get killed or worse.
Russell Peacock – Crabbing is for pussies…my grandmother gets more crab with her eyes closed in her own bathtub.
Russell Peacock – Crab boats are for uneducated morons and opera fans. I bet you like
musicals because you’re not real men. You’re soft, that’s what you
are you’re soft. Soft and stupid and melted.
Tim Godfrey – Starts to run and trips on some rocks that are now slippery and cuts his leg
open so bad he just collapses.
Act 2
One of the crab boats begins to turn around while the Peacock is still yelling out at the boats. The stupid ass doesn’t realize this particular boat used to be a whaler and still had a fully functioning industrial strength whale harpoon complete with its own turit and a nut at the helm who doesn’t take shit from anyone especially someone like the Peacock.
Crab Boat – Doesn’t say a word, just slowly aims that big ass harpoon right at the
Peacock…fires the harpoon…the Peacock ducks…the harpoon barley
making contact with the Peacock’s head…gives the Peacock an
un-welcomed mohawk…then proceeds to cut tim’s head off.
Russell Peacock – (mumbling to himself) – I knew it…I knew it…I knew I should
have voted for john McCain and Sarah Palin. I could have fought back
with an elephant gun just like David Lee Roth would.
To be continued...
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