textfiles/magazines/IDCIYRT/idciyrt.005

            "come and get some of this"
 
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|  ( Oo ) i don't care if you read this #5 ( Oo )  |
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this is just a short film that i wrote.  have fun.
 
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|  ( Oo ) way wicked cool brotherman |
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TITLE - Adventures of Kiltedman Part XIV
 
[a large sign with this movie's title is being held up by my very own
 little brother... in his usual punk way, he looks around to make sure
 no one's looking, then tears up the sign, stomps on it, then spits on
 it and leaves... FADE OUT]
 
[opening scene]
 
[music playing - wagner's ride of the valkaries]
[music plays for about 5 seconds on an empty field and enter mike from
 the right wearing a kilt and the letter 'k' embossed on his chest in a
 mockery of superman's seal.  he starts to dance in random styles, such
 as the beavis & butthead dance, ballet, tango, mosh, and others.  after
 about two minutes of this nick and duncan enter (wearing, of couse, the
 vintage wwii headgear) taking mike down. they hold up a sign that says
 'and now for the real introduction'.]
 
[cut to a view of route 37 speeding by at about 40 mph... ride of the
 valkaries starts playing from the begenning as we see nick's car slowly
 speed by, with mike in the back seat pounding on the back window.  he's
 mouthing something like 'help me'.  -fade out- ]
 
[seaside boardwalk]
[walking down the boardwalk with duncan (out of sight) giving a
 monologue about the up and coming story.]
 
duncan: hi, this is my movie, therefore i have complete control over
        what goes on... i am power extreme.  this is a short film called
        'the adventures of the royal canadian kilted yaksman'...
 
mike: you dumbass, it's been done.
 
duncan: oh... it has... well, this is going to be called... hmmm... i
        guess 'the adventures of the mighty kiltedman', starring my
        bestest of bestest friends, michael dillon.
 
mike (pops in front of the camera) : hi mom.
 
duncan (hitting him) : cut that out!
 
duncan: in this film, kiltedman must vanquish buffetman, who has sadly
        enough, gone insane from his insatable hunger.  wait!  look!
        there's buffetman now!
 
[zoom in on kevin eating at three brother's pizza.  he hears our
 approach and takes off... mike chases after.]
 
mike: (as he's running towards kevin) come back here, eater of tasty foods!
 
[camera chases after, then kevin turns on him]
 
kevin: you will never take me, feel the wrath of a thousand tacos!
 
[kevin lets out a single note that cripples mike, who falls to the
 ground holding his ears.  kevin leaves.]
 
[camera rushes to mike]
 
mike (wounded): he's far too strong to take by any conventional means...
                i will have to attack him when he's at his weakest.  i
                can only think of one place that he could be going, and
                this clue confirms it.  we must act fast, there's no
                telling what he could be doing.
 
[focus on a plastic lid from a fast food cup]
[ -fade out- ]
 
[beethoven's symphony number 9 (choral) starts to play as we fade in to
 kevin eating in a taco bell and a sign in front of him saying
 'intermission'.  once he is done, we fade out, then back in to mike,
 nick, duncan, and (driver of o<>her car) all hovering over a roadmap...]
 
mike: let's see... (scratches his head)... it should be somewhere right
      along here... in pasadina... wait... pasadina?  this is a
      california roadmap!  duncan, what's the meaning of this?
 
duncan: just seeing how long it would take you to realize it... here you
        go... roadmap of new jersey... chill...
 
mike: tell me to chill one more time foo'... c'mon!  tell me one more
      time to 'chill', and i'll put a mother ...ing cap in yo' ass...
      what you say about that, you .... eatin' honkey?  how'z about
      right now?  i do the world a favor and put a ...ing cap in yo'
      louzy ...ing ass...  bitch.
 
duncan: sorry brotherman...
 
mike: you best be sorry... punk.
 
[mike looks at the map]
 
mike: yeah... i knew it... right here... taco bell, and while he's
      eating there is no WAY he can harm me with his voice.  i shall
      call upon the services of my trusty-sidekick... hyperactive boy...
      come here hyperactive boy...
 
nick: i'm here sir, and ready for duty... wheeeeow@!#
 
mike: settle down young one... you will have your chance... let's go to
      the land of a thousand bells and tacos, where i am certain that
      buffetman is located...
 
nick: yeah... yeah... yeah yeah yeah yeah... rock!  fire fire fire!
 
[fade out, fade back in to kevin and paul at a taco bell]
 
paul: wait... shhh... (grunts) did you hear that?
 
kevin: no, what happened.
 
paul (smugly): i farted.  can you smell it?
 
kevin: yes, i can.  you are a very silly person and i'm sure it's some
       sort of glandular problem.  but i think i can use you... how
       would you like to cause general mayhem and chaos alongside of me?
 
paul: that's cool... i don't have to work today...
 
kevin: most excillent... i shall deem you... intestinal difficulties
       boy!  side by side we shall fight the opressive forces of what is
       right.
 
paul: alright... where do we start?
 
[kevin starts whispering to him... as we fade]
 
[fade back into nick's car... as they pull in, a van takes off with the
 words 'save a plant, eat a cow' written on the side.  they instantly
 realize that it's buffetman and his newly found sidekick... they chase
 after them. after a highspeed chase done to the tune of 'flight of the
 bumblebee', buffetman looses them.  they elect to go back to the box of
 silitude to decide what they are to do.]
 
mike: i'm not so sure we can all fit in there...  i have trouble just
      fitting myself into it.  let's at least try...
 
[fade out, then fade into us coming down the stairs to mike's basement.]
 
nick: wow, it's alot more spacious than it appears to be from the
      outside, kilted man.  where are your special instruments?  where's
      your spy stuff?  where's the phone that is only used to call the
      commish?  where's all your nifty stuff?
 
[mike holds up a pair of binoculars]
 
mike: what is this?
 
nick: a pair of binoculars.
 
mike: you are more observant than i first thought.  you truely are
      destined for greatness.
 
nick: are they 'secret' binoculars?  i mean... are they... lasers?
 
mike: no, nothing fancy... just binoculars.  what we are going to have
      to use to capture is just common sense.  as you can plainly see,
      he has followed a path right down to... (pointing) here!
 
nick: mc donalds?
 
[cut to intestinal difficulties boy]
 
paul: mc donalds???  are you serious?
 
kevin: as serious as gas cramps.  but i'm sure that kiltedman will be
       waiting for us, or at least suspect what we're up to.  i think we
       should venture forth, incognito.  quick!  to the fatcave!
 
[they enter the fatmobile and take off to the fat cave.  we join them
 inside.  the fat cave looks suspiciously like mike's basement, only
 shot from another angle.  buffetman holds up pieces of clothing.]
 
kevin: we shall wear these, they won't realize who we are.
 
paul: but won't we look stupid?
 
kevin: bah!  who gives a rat's ass if we look stupid, our getting caught
       is what matters most right now!  we must be off!
 
[they take off in the fatmobile in search of mc donalds.  rt 37 east mc
 donald's or the bayville... decide later.]
 
shawn: welcome to mcdonalds, may i take your order?
 
[kevin heands him a note]
 
shawn reads it aloud: give me fifty supersized extra value meals number
                      one, or i'll be forced to blow this building sky
                      high... oh yeah, give us some mcnugets too, with
                      bar-b-que sauce... (looks up) now listen mister, i
                      don't care WHO you are, or WHAT you are planning
                      to do.  but you have messed with the wrong guy.
                      (he gives him the shawn evil eye) now i suggest
                      that you take yourself and turn around, leave, and
                      never come back.  go!
 
kevin: (backing down) you can't do this forever, i'll be back!  and when
       i return, you'll wish that you had given me what i demanded, oh
       yes... you will regret this dearly.
 
[kevin leaves with paul behind... paul steals a straw.]
 
shawn: hey!  i saw that... put it back.
 
[paul puts it back]
 
shawn: now git!
 
[paul runs off like a wounded pup]
 
shawn: lousy ingrates...
 
[cut to the parking lot, as kevin and paul approach the fatmobile,
 kiltedman and crew enter]
 
mike: finally!  i have chased you down through these many fast food
      restaraunts, and now i have you.  feel the might of my heritage!
      (liu kang bicycle kick yell)
 
kevin: good gravy!  you are more powerful than i first thought, taste
       the pain of a thousand philly cheese steaks!
       (sing or belch... which ever he can do)
 
paul: (to everyone) hey guys, i think that we should get pretty far away
      from the action...  this looks like it will be getting rather,
      ugly as it were.
 
[they take cover, and you can hear mike yell in pain.  kevin comes flying
around the corner, yells something at paul and they take off in the fatmobile
en route to the fatcave.  the camera and others rush to mike's aid, and it's
obvious that he's dying and about to make a hammed up death speach.]
 
mike: hyperactive boy, come here.   i have something that i need to tell 
you. i
      beg of you, please come close.
 
[nick comes closer]
 
mike: closer still.
 
[nick comes closer]
 
mike: please, closer.
 
[nick comes closer]
 
mike: YOU FLAMING MORON!  WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOUR HELP TO VANQUISH
      BUFFETMAN?!?  I HOPE THAT YOUR FURTHUR ADVENTURES DON'T EVEN MAKE 
IT TO
      SYNDACATION!
 
[with that, he dies in nick's arms.  nick does some heavily faked crying.]
 
nick: (to camera) i will have my revenge...  do you hear me?!?  I WILL MAKE
      BUFFETMAN PAY FOR THIS!
 
[cut to buffetman, the back of kevin's head is to us, paul is facing kevin.]
 
kevin: how bad is it?  do you think i'll heal?
 
paul: it's pretty bad... but i know a doctor that can help us.  i'll give 
him a
      call right now.
 
[zoom into a clock, suddenly it starts to rotate and stops about thirty 
minutes
 from where it started.  go over to doorway, duncan enters.]
 
duncan: ok, mister fixit is on the job.  what seems to be the problem?
 
paul: buffetman is hurt pretty badly... his face is scarred something awful.
 
duncan: i can see that, i have a pair of eyes you know, i'm not fucking
        blind.  i'm sure as shit not hellen fucking keller.  stevie goddamn
        wonder can kiss my lily white ass, my fucking eyes function.  don't
        fucking patronize me.  christ, now i feel like quentin fucking
        terrintino, mother fucker.  playing bit parts in his movies 
cursing his
        head off about some stupid shit, like coffe.  wait, i got another one
        coming... ray fucking charles couldn't tell jack shit about this
        motherfucker's face, but i can goddamn fucking see.
 
paul: well what do you want me to do?
 
duncan: nothing, you do nothing.  that's what you can do to help.  i'll start
        work on this poor son of a bitch's face.
 
[fade out with duncan coming in on the camera, as if it was kevin's 
sight, he's
 holding a pair of sissors.]
 
[fade back in, we still can't see kevin.  duncan stands back from him.]
 
duncan: ready? (kevin nods) ok, here we go.
 
[duncan unravels the bandages that enwrap kevin's face.  duncan looks at his
 work with a statisfied smile.]
 
duncan: that medical board can go straight to hell for all i care.  
revoke my
        license, heh. see what good it does them.  malpractice my ass.
 
kevin: let me see... LET ME SEE!!
 
[duncan hands him a mirror, kevin moans, his moan turns to a scream]
 
kevin: n... n... no... no... no no no NO NO NO!
 
duncan: i... i thought that you would be happy with the results... what's
        wrong?  you don't like it?  do you want me to change anything?
 
kevin: no, you changed enough (pulls a cap gun out).  and for that you must
       pay.
 
duncan: great, i die in this one like terrintino dies in resivoir dogs.
 
[kevin shoots him.]
 
kevin: i'm too horribly scarred, i need something to cover it up... wait, 
this
       will do (picks up phantom of the opera mask)... i shall be the phantom
       of the salad bar!
 
paul: cool...
 
[fade out]
 
[fade back into seaside walk]
 
duncan: wow.  phantom of the salad bar.  sequel material.  hyperactive boy's
        natural desire to avenge kilted man's death, buffetman driven to new
        levels of insanity and becomes the phantom of the salad bar, and 
i have
        christmas break to film the second part of this movie.  not to 
mention
        just writing it.  thank you for your time.
 
[credits]
 
characters (in order of appearance)
 
michael dillon - kitledman
 
duncan brown - himself & mr. fixit
 
nick levay - hyperactive boy
 
kevin mccormack - buffetman & the phantom of the salad bar
 
adolf hitler - himself
 
driver - him/herself
 
paul oser - intestinal difficulties boy
 
shawn reig - himself
 
you can buy the soundtrack to THE ADVENTURES OF KILTEDMAN XIV on dead puppy
records, usa.
 
this film is rated S for stupidity by the national motion picture commity.
 
editing facilities were provided by my mother, a most gracious woman.
 
special thanks go out to the dover township police for dropping the vehicular
manslaughter charges levied against us during the filming of this movie.  the
stupid kid should have watched where we were going as it is.
 
this screenplay was loosely based on duncan's imagination.  VERY 
loosely.  you
can't get a firm grip on it these days.
 
have you been taking your vitamins?  how come you don't call?  you can even
just write me once a month and i'll be happy.  haV<61> you found someone 
yet?  i
know of this wonderful girl that i met at the supermarket the other day that
would be ABSOLUTELY perfect for you.  she's a very nice girl.
 
suggested reading:  the funhouse by dean koontz.  swan song by robert r.
mccammon.  unix in a nutshell by o'reilly and associates.
 
are you still reading this?  what's your problem?  do you not have a life or
something?  stop the tape already!  get out of the house!  you put up 
with this
flimsy plot for far too long, about 30 minutes or so...
 
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|  ( oO ) you're still not a complete woman |
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i don't care if you read this number five was written by pip the angry youth
 
mail: pip@cybercom.com
      krad@nj5.injersey.com
      cyclone@nj5.injersey.com
 
mailing list: disorder@netcom.com
 
-eof-