Force Fed

Todd was taking a break. He sat across from me, having just thoroughly washed his hands in hot water and good feelings. 

"I can't use the soap," he said. "It's not vegan. But I rubbed real hard."

"Mm."

Then he tipped his metal container of nuts, raisins and grass clippings to his beard.

"Yum! So... What are you blogging about this week? Me, I hope?"

"Naw," I said. "I thought instead we could talk about Pat, something we haven't done in a while. He just told me his Grandmother 'charged' the family Bible years ago. He showed it to me, and assured me it had spooky powers. He also told me about the YouTube preacher who made Pat vomit up his demons and now his hands don't shake anymore and his dog no longer steals his luggage. He also wants to go to Miami, to have a connection there. In fact, he's hoping to learn more jiu-jitsu and acquire... RAW FORCE."

"What the shit are you talking about?"

"Today's Movie Minute is about using your hands to give people a karate chop of RAW FORCE!!

"He's got raw force! GET HIM!!"

A gang of Deleuzean intellectuals go on a three-hour cruise and for entertainment they stage a Carol Channing impersonation contest where everyone loses.

"Hellooo Dolleeee! EEEEEK (Too restrained?)"

At one point Ted Nugent votes on the best Carol Channing. Sadly, he misses because the government over-regulated his crossbow goddamnit.

"CAT SCRATCH FEVER!! YOWWWLL!!

(Wait, is that a Carol Channing or an Elvis song?)"

Then, in a warm twist, the three-hour cruise crashes on a desert island and the Professor is forced to rig a laugh track out of coconuts.

"Another fine mess, Gilligan!"

Turns out the monks on the island all have a laughing disease known as Bad Guy Chortle.

 

"Laughter! It's the best medicine! Now, who wants to die?"

We learn that the monks need the blood of sitcom actors so the island zombies can have a bash, or a mash. Some sort of graveyard smash.

"Pass me another chunk of Bob Denver."

Lots of fu breaks out at this point, which is great for Pat since he needs some pointers on his naked-arm-bar zombie stance.

Sings: "He ain't heavy, he's my kung fu-er...!"

Even the movie gets tired of all the fu and decides a +3 broadsword does the job just as nicely.

"Come on, everyone, let's head out!

(Heh heh, with a cool dry wit like that I--)"

In the end, the gang fights their way across the island in a desperate gambit to reach the closing credits. The audience is rooting for them!

"Fuck yeah! Check out my +million grenade launcher, homies!"

Oh, and there's this guy getting kicked in the coconuts. Yeah.

"NOOO! Not my banana!"

Todd scowled. "Why do you watch such shit?"

"Do I watch it? Or does it... watch me?"

"That makes no sense."

"Does it? Or does the sense make... me?"

"Shut up."

"Don't make me call Neil Breen on your ass."