(It is a windy day in the Midwest of the United States, as several yellow utility trucks come to a screeching halt on a dirt road. Bill Harding emerges from the passenger side of one of the trucks, while Jo Harding, his ex-wife, steps out of the driver's seat. Up above, the sky is clearing.)
Jo: I can't believe we lost it again. What is this now, the fifth time?
Bill: I don't know... it's impossible to catch the damned thing!
(Just then, a bunch of geeks with vast computer knowledge and incredibly stupid nicknames walk up to the couple from one of the other trucks.)
Dusty: So, like, dude, did we catch it?
Bill: Does it look like we caught it, you stupid stoner??
Rabbit: Man, that fucking bunny just keeps going and going and going...
Jo: With all of our funding and this advanced equipment, we can't even catch a decent commercial tie-in!
(Just then, a bunch of geekier looking men in even more expensive vehicles with even more expensive equipment pulls up. The lead truck rolls down its window to reveal Dr. Jonas Miller, lead asshole.)
Miller: So, have you losers caught anything today?
Joey: No, not today, but last week I caught a bad case of the clap from your wife! (All of the good guy tech geeks yell, "Dis!" and high five Joey.)
Miller: That would be funny, Joseph, if it weren't for the fact that I'm much more intelligent, handsome, and well-funded than you, plus I've actually had sex with a living human female before. (Joey and the others stand in stunned silence.) Well, now that I've established myself as being an utter asshole, I'll be going, but not before mentioning the big Chasers of Colossal Storms convention being held two towns over, where rich, overbearing people like me can make fun of Star Trek geeks like yourselves. I believe Dick Herman and Dick Svarta will be hosting again. Toodles!
(He speeds off like the asshole he is, with all of the other assholes who work for him in close pursuit. Only the non-assholes are left standing outside their trucks.)
Jo: I didn't know there was a COCS convention today.
Bill: Yeah, those COCS always have a convention around this time every year, just so all the funded groups can rub up against one of those Dicks and see if they can get a discharge of cash out of them.
Rabbit: Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go find the COCS and get ourselves a piece of those Dicks!
Dusty: Quick, dudes, everyone run back to their trucks really fast so we can make it look like we're in a big, plot-induced hurry!
(Everyone scrambles back to his or her truck, and they all speed off towards the convention two towns over. Somewhere, somehow, a rocking Van Halen song is playing from out of nowhere. After about twenty minutes of trucks driving across open fields, over dirt roads, on top of wooden fences, and through barn doors, the group reaches the convention site, which is nothing more than a large open field with a couple of tents set up along with a stage. Standing on stage are the Spice Girls, who are being taunted by shouts of bad pick-up lines from the various tech nerds in the audience.)
Scary: Jesus Christ! What the hell are we doing in this shithole?
Baby: Tee hee!
Posh: I've seen more attractive people waiting in line to see a Star Wars movie! Which one of us got suckered into signing us on to do this concert?
Sporty: Well, it damned well wasn't me. Do you know the average number of women working in the weathe...
Scary (interrupting): Well, it sure as heck wasn't me, and Baby hasn't negotiated anything in her life!
(All eyes fall on Ginger, who is grinning sheepishly.)
Ginger: Look, I'm sorry! They said they wanted a singing group for the storm chasers, and I couldn't refuse!
Posh: Why the bloody hell not?
Ginger: They sent two dicks to see me.
Sporty: Oh, you mean Dick Herman and Dick Svarta?
Ginger: Errrrr... yeah... um... right.
Nerd in audience: Get to the nudity!
Posh: Quick, Ginger, you'd better give the man what he wants.
Ginger: Hey, I don't do that sort of thing! (They all stare at her.) Anymore, I mean.
(A man from COCS ushers the women off stage so someone can begin giving some sort of drawn-out lecture. A young storm chaser with every nerd characteristic in the book runs up to Posh.)
Nerd: Oh, my dear lady! Thou art twice as beautiful as Sarah Conner in The Terminator! Wilst though go out with me?
Posh: Hmm... that depends.
Sporty (aside to Posh): But Posh, you're married!
Posh: Yes, but he doesn't count. (to the nerd) Yes, um, how much money do you make in a year?
Nerd: Well, with my various technical degrees and the fact that I only left college about two months ago, my starting salary was only about two hundred thous...
Posh (interrupting): That's all?? Go away, and don't come back until you've dyed your hair, given yourself a frontal lobotomy, and gotten some region of New York tattooed on your back!
(The nerd walks away, heartbroken.)
Scary: Well, that was needlessly rude!
Posh: What are you talking about? It worked once before...
(All of a sudden, Dusty comes stumbling over to the group, with a bottle in one hand and a lit joint in the other.)
Dusty: Hey dudettes! I, like, love your work!
Ginger: Why, thank you! What a nice thing to...
Dusty: Yeah, especially that hot lesbo shit you did in that one movie with that Jeremy guy...
(Everyone stares at Ginger.)
Ginger: Oh, come on! I'm a cheap whore, but I'm a straight, cheap whore!
(Everyone stares at Sporty.)
Sporty: Shit! What? Why are you all looking at me now? What did I do this time?
Dusty: And the there was the time when Marc Davis fu... (Joey runs to Dusty's side, and begins whispering in his ear.) The what? (More whispering.) Dude, I'm so fucking high right now, I don't care which "Spice" girls they are!
(Over on the other side of the crowd, Bill and Jo are sharing a drink at a table, although Bill's eyes are wandering to other people.)
Jo: So then Paul has the nerve to hire this bumbling idiot to walk Murray every day! And his parents! Ugh, don't get me started on... (She looks at him.) Bill? (She whacks him in the arm.) BILL!
Bill (diverting his attention from Ginger Spice): Oh... uh, sorry dear... I was paying attention the whole time, I swear!
Jo: Oh really? Then what was I saying?
Bill: Shit. Uh... (He thinks long and hard.) You were talking about how some eccentric, nasty old writer paid for some kid's medical bills while you were waitressing and... uh...
(She smacks him.)
Jo: You idiot! No one in their right mind would believe a story that stupid! (She looks over at Ginger.) What do you see in her anyway?
Bill: I don't know... it's really hard to tell. She has the face of a chipmunk, the hair of a punk rock guitarist, a chubby ass, breasts like plastic bowls, and a voice comparable to a chalkboard rubbing up against concrete, but for some reason, I feel that I'm supposed to think she's sexy.
(Just then, Miller walks over to the couple.)
Jo: Oh, now what do you want?
Miller: Not surprisingly, I don't want anything other than to be loathed by you for my entire existence.
Bill: You're an asshole!
Miller: Yes, that's pretty much the idea. (He looks at Bill's burger.) Say, old buddy, are you going to eat that?
Bill: Yeah, I was planning on it.
Miller: Ah, good. (He reaches across the table, grabs the burger, and proceeds to stick it down the front of his pants.)
Bill: What the hell are you doing?!?!
Miller: Why, I'm proving what a huge asshole I am! Isn't that obvious by now? (He holds the burger in his crotch for a few minutes while Bill and Jo merely stare in anger and disbelief. He then removes the burger from his pants, places it back on its bun, and pushes it over to Bill.) There you are, Bill. It's perfectly assholized now. In fact, I do believe that burger may have a spot of mayonnaise on it now!
Bill: Somehow, I'm no longer hungry. I think I'll just resume my staring.
Miller: Ah, good idea. Well, off I go to taunt you from afar. Cheers!
Jo: Man, what an asshole!
Bill: I think that's the idea, honey.
(As Bill watches, Miller walks over to the object of his stares, Ginger Spice, and carefully plants one of his hands on each of her buttcheeks. He turns to Bill, raises his eyebrows, and smiles.)
Ginger (enjoying the attention): Oh, wow... you know, I usually charge for this sort of thing.
Miller: Not a problem, dear. Here's fifty dollars! (He hands her a fifty dollar bill, then walks away.)
Sporty: Wow, the guy actually paid you fifty bucks. He's not such an asshole after all.
Ginger: Yeah, I think everyone misjudged hi... (She looks at the bill, which looks nothing like United States currency.) Fuck! This is fifty Canadian dollars! That cheap, sick asshole!
(Suddenly, one of the older nerds runs up onto the stage and grabs the microphone.)
Older nerd: Attention ladies and gentlemen! We have just received word that there is a large tornado headed this way! We must evacuate the area quickly! Oh, and on a side note, Dick has authorized COCS to spurt out a large wad of cash to fund whichever insane storm chasing group can get readings from the inside of the twister!
Jo (yelling up to the stage): Was that Dick Herman or Dick Svarta?
Older nerd: Umm... I'm not sure... all Dicks look the same to me! Get moving, people!
(The pavilion erupts into a frenzy of eager storm chasers scrambling to get to their vehicles. The Spice Girls remain stuck in the middle of the field, with no idea which way to go.)
Scary: Damn it all! That drunken bus driver went and stole the bus again!
Posh: She's right. Maybe it will turn up again like it did the last time!
Ginger: Except the last time we found it, the other bus driver had taken it to a body shop and painted naked women all over the Union Jack symbol.
Sporty: Well... that's not necessarily a bad thing... I mean, you know, if we could appeal to a wider aud...
All: Shut up!
(Miller and his team are running for their trucks. Bill runs up to Miller.)
Bill: Jonas! You have plenty of room in your trucks for passengers! Take those five girls and get them to safety!
Miller: What do I look like? Someone who isn't an asshole? (He flips off Bill.) Sit on that and spin. I've got a twister to catch!
(He leaps into his truck, hits the ignition, and nearly runs over Bill trying to get out.)
Bill: What a total asshole!
Jo (running up to Bill): We've got a problem. I can't find Dusty anywhere!
Bill: Oh, damn, not again. Leave this to me.
(Bill storms off towards the outhouses. Finding the only one whose door is closed, he yanks it open and steps in. As he walks out, pulling Dusty with him by the sleeve of his shirt, a large mass of smoke leaves the outhouse.)
Dusty: Dude! This is totally not cool! I was trying to... (They pass by a table full of snacks.) Kick ass! Doritos! (He grabs a handful and begins eating them before Bill throws him into the back of Rabbit's truck.)
Jo: Good. Now are we ready to win that grant?
(Bill is about to say yes when he notices the Spice Girls huddled together in the middle of the field watching all of the trucks leave.)
Bill: Oh, damn. (He looks at Jo, then looks back to the girls.) Hey, you five! (No response.) Girls! Yo! Over here! (Still no response. He begins walking away. He starts speaking under his breath.) Crazy sluts. (All of the Spice Girls turn to look at him.)
Scary: Did you just call us?
Bill: Yeah! Get your asses over here if you feel like living! The tornado coming isn't going to be very pretty.
(They run over to Bill's utility truck, and between the five of them, they all manage to fit into the two back seats. Bill and Jo hop into the front and drive away.)
Jo: This is going to be impossible. I mean, look at all the different storm chasing groups! There is no way that we are going to...
(Suddenly, all of the trucks except those belonging to Jonas and Bill swerve wildly and miraculously collide, causing a gigantic explosion in each vehicle. They drive on. Some Van Halen music is playing somewhere.)
Bill: How's that for luck, huh? Now we can chase that tornado in relative peace!
Posh: Um, excuse me, but we couldn't help over hear you say the words, "chase" and "tornado" in the same sentence.
Scary: Uh, the Spice Girls do not do tornadoes.
Jo: Really? Judging by your haircut, I'd say your barber shop is right in the middle of one of the damned things!
Bill: If you don't "do" tornadoes, then why the hell did you sign up to do a concert for people who study them?
Ginger: Look, all I know is the guy who called said that the people we were to entertain had a lot to do with things that suck! How were we to know it was the wrong kind of sucking?
Posh: Well, you should know all about every kind of sucking, the little expert that you are.
Ginger: And what's that supposed to mean?
Posh: Oh, only that you suck! I've heard cats in heat with better voices than you! "Look at Me," my ass!
Ginger: Why you horrid bitch! No one was supposed to know about that until after I left this two bit cesspool of a band!
Scary: This WHAT???
Ginger: Oh, up yours, Ms. Soon-to-be-Divorced!
(Scary reaches over the back seat while Posh scratches at Ginger from her seat next to her. Ginger does her best to fend off the two of them.)
Jo: Hey, knock it off back there! I'm trying to drive here!
Sporty: They do this a lot now. Used to be the two of them, but then the other one started getting in on the act. (She grins lecherously.) Say, how about you, me, and Baby join in and make it a sextet, if you know what I mean?
(Jo slams on the brakes hard. The three girls stop fighting from the sudden shift in movement, and Sporty bangs her head hard against the seat in front of her. The truck starts up again after everyone has calmed down.)
Jo: Don't mess with me, bitch!
Sporty (holding her head): Oh... I feel so awful...
Baby (taking an oddly familiar looking hamburger out of her pocket and handing it to Sporty): Tee hee?
Scary: Aw, isn't that sweet? Baby's offering you the hamburger she found on one of the tables and was going to eat.
Sporty (smiling): Oh, Baby! Thank you! (She takes the burger.) I love you so much.
Baby: Duh! Duh duh duh!!!!
Sporty: What? Oh... um... yes, just as a friend! That's how I meant it! (She takes a large bite out of the sandwich.) Oh... oh, that's good. I don't know what kind of sauce they put on this, but it's like nothing I've ever tasted before! Delicious!
(The truck nears the tornado's current path, and slows down to a stop next to Miller's vehicle. Jonas is standing outside the truck, staring at the tornado off in the horizon. Jo and Bill get out of the truck while the Spice Girls bicker inside.)
Bill: Beautiful, isn't it Jonas?
Miller: Yes... almost as beautiful as your mother's vagina!
Jo: What would you say that is? Class three? Four?
Miller: I'm not sure, but it's not as first class as your mother was in bed last night!
Bill: Will you stop with the insults about sex with our mothers!
Miller: Of course I'll stop... like I stopped with your mother last night!
Bill: That doesn't even make any sense!
Jo: What an asshole!
Miller: Well, children, I believe I'll launch my tornado probes from here, seeing as I intend to steal all glory and hope from your wretched lives.
(They watch as the twister passes through a meadow, taking a few cows up into it. All of a sudden, Bill gets an idea. He begins talking to Jonas.)
Bill: Well, I just hope you don't ruin our other carefully constructed plans.
Miller: Other plans? What are you talking about?
Bill: Well, see, we were going to drive our truck right into the tornado and launch our probes from there, and I sure as hell was hoping you wouldn't steal our brilliant idea from us and show us up at our own game.
Miller: I have an idea! I'll drive my own truck into the tornado and launch the probes from there!
Bill: Hey! That was my idea!
Miller: I know! But it's too late, because I'm going to beat you to it!
(Miller runs into his truck, starts it up, and drives directly towards the tornado.)
Jo: Honey... that was... almost ingenious... if not a bit predictable.
Bill: Jo, what part of our entire lives hasn't been predictable? It's almost as if a respected author wrote a really shitty screenplay about our lives.
(As they ponder their existences, Miller's truck reaches the tornado and is sucked up into it. Miller falls out of the window and begins twirling around in the tornado.)
Miller (yelling in mid-air): How do you like your idea now, huh Bill? Here's what I think of your silly little tornado! (Still flying through the air at tremendous speeds inside the tunnel of air, he pulls down his pants and begins urinating on the tornado.) Take that! Hahahaha!
Jo: Man, that guy is an asshole all the way until the bitter end, huh?
(They turn back to look at their own truck, which is bouncing back and forth as the Spice Girls brawl inside. Only their voices can be heard yelling from the inside.)
Posh: You lying bitch! There's no such thing as a pink rabbit that carries batteries! You were making that story up!
Ginger: That's probably good, because knowing you, you'd make the charge run out of even him!
Sporty: Girls! Girls! Settle down! Isn't there a way we can do this just by giving each other a good tongue lashing?
Scary: She's right! There's no need to fight.
Sporty: Right. Now, I think I'll begin.
Posh: Oh fuck! She licked me! You sick bitch! I'm going to...
(Out of the sky, Miller's pantless body falls and lands on the hood of the truck.)
Miller: Oh God, that hurts in all the wrong places...
Ginger: Oh no! That poor man!
Posh: Go help him, Ginger. He's your type, after all.
Ginger: What do you mean, "my type"?
Posh: He's got no trousers on. Go shag him a bit like you always do.
Ginger: Augh! You bitch! I told you I'd given that up!
(Bill and Jo exchange glances calmly as a pair of cows fall onto the truck. One lands on Jonas Miller, the other lands on the rear, crushing the part with the Spice Girls in it.)
Jo: Well, that looked needlessly painful.
Bill: Eh, they might still be alive.
Baby (weakly): Tee... hee... duh...
Sporty (also weakly): Ohh... my head... at least we're all still alive though...
(Suddenly, Miller's truck falls from the sky, flattening the other truck into a nice, flat pancake of a vehicle. For no apparent reason other than dramatic effect, the two vehicles explode and burn as Jo and Bill watch.)
Bill: Well, that was gratuitous.
Jo: Everything about our lives seems to be so predictable and pointless... wait a minute... the twister's gone and we never got any readings!
Bill: Yeah, but we're the only ones still alive. We get the funding by default.
Jo: Oh, I see. So we won?
Jo: ...Do you want go have sex now?
Bill: Thought you'd never ask!
(The couple, despite having suffered through a messy and unstisfying marriage, walks off in the sunset together, hand-in-hand, inexplicably in love once again. Damn you, Michael Crichton.)
Trademark and copyright 1999, CloudVader Productions. Do not reproduce without giving the author, Cloud Volpe, due credit.
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