Post by The Delivery Men on Jan 5, 2006 14:43:50 GMT -5
(Lights up. It's Delivery Dispatch, where people are buzzing. Delivery Man #1 and Delivery Man #2 are returning from another job well done, when they notice the commotion. They approach Delivery Man #22.)
DELIVERY MAN #1: What's going on, #22?
DELIVERY MAN #22: Ohh, it's awwwwful! Simply freekin' awwwwful! We've been vyyyolated!
DELIVERY MAN #2: What's going on? Is everybody frickin' okay?
DELIVERY MAN #22: No!!! It's your cahhhgo! Take a frickin' look!
(They walk into the cargo room, where they find a terrifying mess . . . a girl's doll with her forhead cut and taped lying in a pool of urine.)
DELIVERY MAN #2: Oh no! I was supposed to deliver that to a sick girl in the Stollery! That was supposed to be a get-well present for this afternoon! Now she's going to have to frickin' wait twenty minutes while we get a new doll!
DELIVERY MAN #1: This is the worst thing that has ever happened to us.
(The Delivery Men continue into their locker room, where they find their lockers defaced with the bloody word "Doom". The Dispatcher approaches them.)
DELIVERY MAN #1: Why can't I get into my frickin' locker?
DISPATCHER: (Chomping a cigar.) Sorry boys, but your lockers are a crime scene now.
POLICE COMMISSIONER: (Walking up.) Don't worry, we've got our finest CSIs working on it.
(The lead CSI swabs the blood with a Q-tip, puts the Q-tip into a field analyzer, which tthen beeps.)
CSI: We have a culprit--and it's STORM!
DELIVERY MAN #2: Are ya frickin' sure?
CSI: Oh, yes, positively. It's a complete, 100% match to that tag team.
DELIVERY MAN #2: Hmmm.
DELIVERY MAN #1: Something's just not right about this.
CSI: Gentlemen, I'm sorry, but the evidence--
DELIVERY MAN #1: Frickin' hush it, ya pencil-neck geek! They're leaving us clues, some kind of riddle . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: What're ya thinkin', partner?
DELIVERY MAN #1: It's that word on the lockers . . . "Doom". That was a recent movie . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: Oh yeah, starring The Rock! Wait a minute . . . isn't "The Rock" another frickin' name for Alcatraz?
DELIVERY MAN #1: It certainly is . . . and who would go to Alcatraz except the most hardened of criminals . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: Death Row criminals! (Spits.) Deathrow!
CSI: Um--
DELIVERY MAN #1: And that frickin' doll . . . it's a plaything, innocent, clean . . . a toy for girls . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: And someone frickin' peed on it, which you need your genitals for . . .
DELIVERY MAN #1: Genitals . . . clean . . . girls . . . and how would you clean your genitals if you were a girl . . . you'd need a frickin' douche bag . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: Yeah, and the doll's head was pointing North . . . North, North--NORSE!
DELIVERY MAN #1: Frickin' of course! And what's Norse for "douche bag"?
DELIVERY MAN #1 and #2: Kryenik!
DELIVERY MAN #2: It's the Doomriders! The Doomriders did this!
CSI: (Cries.) But, but science . . .
COMMISSIONER: All of your science couldn't decipher simple clues? You disgust me!
(The police leave.)
DELIVERY MAN #1: That does it! We're gonna settle with those Doomriders . . . in the NAPW ring!
DISPATCHER: (Harumphs.) Oh, you'd frickin' better! I won't allow any more stunts of this kind to soil Delivery Dispatch, you hear me?
DELIVERY MAN #2: But boss--
DISPATCHER: Frick! I ain't hearing it! You take care of business with these guys, 'cause if I have to keep dealing with the fall-out, then as much as I love you guys, you'll be FIRED!
(The Dispatcher storms off.)
DELIVERY MAN #1: You heard the man. We've got to get payback on those fricks--
DELIVERY MAN #2: --up, close, and frickin' personal!
(The Delivery Men leave. Suddenly, a familiar face pops out from hiding behind a row of lockers. It's Delivery Man #88.)
DELIVERY MAN #88: Do my ears frickin' deceive me? Are #1 and #2 in trouble? (Rubs his hands together.) This is the opportunity I've been waiting for . . . for my revenge! (Laughs.) Something tells me I'm going to get along just fine with these Doomriders . . .
(Lights down!)
DELIVERY MAN #1: What's going on, #22?
DELIVERY MAN #22: Ohh, it's awwwwful! Simply freekin' awwwwful! We've been vyyyolated!
DELIVERY MAN #2: What's going on? Is everybody frickin' okay?
DELIVERY MAN #22: No!!! It's your cahhhgo! Take a frickin' look!
(They walk into the cargo room, where they find a terrifying mess . . . a girl's doll with her forhead cut and taped lying in a pool of urine.)
DELIVERY MAN #2: Oh no! I was supposed to deliver that to a sick girl in the Stollery! That was supposed to be a get-well present for this afternoon! Now she's going to have to frickin' wait twenty minutes while we get a new doll!
DELIVERY MAN #1: This is the worst thing that has ever happened to us.
(The Delivery Men continue into their locker room, where they find their lockers defaced with the bloody word "Doom". The Dispatcher approaches them.)
DELIVERY MAN #1: Why can't I get into my frickin' locker?
DISPATCHER: (Chomping a cigar.) Sorry boys, but your lockers are a crime scene now.
POLICE COMMISSIONER: (Walking up.) Don't worry, we've got our finest CSIs working on it.
(The lead CSI swabs the blood with a Q-tip, puts the Q-tip into a field analyzer, which tthen beeps.)
CSI: We have a culprit--and it's STORM!
DELIVERY MAN #2: Are ya frickin' sure?
CSI: Oh, yes, positively. It's a complete, 100% match to that tag team.
DELIVERY MAN #2: Hmmm.
DELIVERY MAN #1: Something's just not right about this.
CSI: Gentlemen, I'm sorry, but the evidence--
DELIVERY MAN #1: Frickin' hush it, ya pencil-neck geek! They're leaving us clues, some kind of riddle . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: What're ya thinkin', partner?
DELIVERY MAN #1: It's that word on the lockers . . . "Doom". That was a recent movie . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: Oh yeah, starring The Rock! Wait a minute . . . isn't "The Rock" another frickin' name for Alcatraz?
DELIVERY MAN #1: It certainly is . . . and who would go to Alcatraz except the most hardened of criminals . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: Death Row criminals! (Spits.) Deathrow!
CSI: Um--
DELIVERY MAN #1: And that frickin' doll . . . it's a plaything, innocent, clean . . . a toy for girls . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: And someone frickin' peed on it, which you need your genitals for . . .
DELIVERY MAN #1: Genitals . . . clean . . . girls . . . and how would you clean your genitals if you were a girl . . . you'd need a frickin' douche bag . . .
DELIVERY MAN #2: Yeah, and the doll's head was pointing North . . . North, North--NORSE!
DELIVERY MAN #1: Frickin' of course! And what's Norse for "douche bag"?
DELIVERY MAN #1 and #2: Kryenik!
DELIVERY MAN #2: It's the Doomriders! The Doomriders did this!
CSI: (Cries.) But, but science . . .
COMMISSIONER: All of your science couldn't decipher simple clues? You disgust me!
(The police leave.)
DELIVERY MAN #1: That does it! We're gonna settle with those Doomriders . . . in the NAPW ring!
DISPATCHER: (Harumphs.) Oh, you'd frickin' better! I won't allow any more stunts of this kind to soil Delivery Dispatch, you hear me?
DELIVERY MAN #2: But boss--
DISPATCHER: Frick! I ain't hearing it! You take care of business with these guys, 'cause if I have to keep dealing with the fall-out, then as much as I love you guys, you'll be FIRED!
(The Dispatcher storms off.)
DELIVERY MAN #1: You heard the man. We've got to get payback on those fricks--
DELIVERY MAN #2: --up, close, and frickin' personal!
(The Delivery Men leave. Suddenly, a familiar face pops out from hiding behind a row of lockers. It's Delivery Man #88.)
DELIVERY MAN #88: Do my ears frickin' deceive me? Are #1 and #2 in trouble? (Rubs his hands together.) This is the opportunity I've been waiting for . . . for my revenge! (Laughs.) Something tells me I'm going to get along just fine with these Doomriders . . .
(Lights down!)