2007-Eleven (11 page)

“Hey, Ringbeak,” 401(k) says to the clerk, showing off his shirt. “Would you wear this piece of crap?”

When the cashier looks confused, 401(k) waves him off and offers a paternal smile.

“Aw, forget it, kid. Don’t let us crazy hippie freaks blow your mind. Just do your own thing. If you’re into workin’ here on Maggie’s farm, that’s cool. But make your own kind of music. Stand up for what you believe in. And don’t never let no Doo-Dah man tell you otherwise!

“WHAT THE—?” He jerks to the phone. “WHADDAYA MEAN THEY’RE NOT THERE YET! You tell them kids to get their stoned-out asses to that bookstore by six, or we’re callin’ the cops! You hear me? What’s with these kids today? Like I said, it’s six o’clock at the TV station, six-thirty at the bookstore, eight at the hotel. Christ, I don’t care what they told you! THE TIMES, THEY ARE NOT CHANGIN’!”

F
irst off, I truly love you guys for having me here because I know you’re busy, what with the speeches and humanitarian stuff, so I’ll try to pitch this in less than the usual three minutes.

We begin with a submarine, cruising the North Atlantic. But it’s not one of ours. It’s a German U-boat. Suddenly, the commander’s eyes bulge. He yells something in German. The subtitle: “ICEBERG, DEAD AHEAD!” The sub turns, barely avoids the ice, but scrapes off a piece, exposing—a human hand!

Bang! We roll the credits. “Kate Winslet … Billy
Zane … George Clooney in … TITANIC II: JACK RESURRECTION!”

Flash to Germany 1936. A Nazi scientist, Dr. Klauss Von Schlumberg, examines the chunk of ice. Using a top-secret thawing process, stolen from an American named Clarence Birdseye, he brings Jack back to life!

Now here’s the beauty of this: We don’t need Leonardo DiCaprio. You sit eighty-six years in an ice cube, and it rearranges your face. In this case, Jack comes out as George Clooney. Or, if necessary, somebody cheap.

Anyway, Jack wakes up confused. He doesn’t know about the Nazis. He thinks he’s in Schenectady. When the Germans realize there’s no current record of Jack’s existence, they do what you’d expect: They train him to become the ultimate killing machine. Then they send him to America on a mission via—get this—the
Hindenburg!

We’ll build an exact duplicate of the blimp, right down to the sign: Goodyear! (That’s a joke, guys.) Anyway, Jack rides in steerage, while the filthy-rich human trash in first class hang out in a ballroom, up on top.

Onboard, Jack spots Rose, his old
Titanic
sweetheart. She’s trying to kill herself by breathing helium.
Rose is bummed, because her mom hooked her up to marry a young Adolf Hitler. Of course, Rose doesn’t love him. He’s Hitler, for God’s sake! But if Rose doesn’t marry the guy, her mom will have to get a job.

Rose doesn’t recognize Jack, because—hey—he’s George Clooney. Jack talks her out of suicide by breathing helium and doing funny elf impersonations. But Hitler doesn’t laugh. He yanks her away, and they walk the deck, where Hitler notes with pride that there are parachutes only for first-class passengers.

But somebody else is watching: Rose’s former fiancé, Caledon Hockley. He’s here to sell the Nazis something they desperately want: The Ark of the Covenant! Because, as everybody knows, an army that carries the Ark cannot be defeated!

Anyway, Hockley gets Jack arrested. They tie Jack up in the main control room, next to a panel of critical instruments. He manages to draw a sketch of Rose and slip it out the window, where she finds it and realizes that George Clooney is Jack.

Bang. We hit the flashback sequences, play the Celine Dion song.

Rose sets Jack free. But Hitler, being Hitler, tries to steal the Ark. Hockley goes nuts—did I mention
he’s on drugs?—and shoots the control panel, causing the
Hindenburg
to burst into flames.

Everyone has only two hours before the ship goes down. Hitler gets away in a makeshift plane. Hockley tears the parachute from a baby’s arms and escapes. Jack and Rose run from flaming deck to flaming deck, until they reach the top of the blimp. They have one ’chute. Holding each other, they jump.

But the ’chute can’t support two people. Falling, Jack tells Rose to go forth and prosper, to fight the Nazis, and to push for sexual equality while keeping her womanhood. Then he lets go and disappears into the clouds.

Last scene. Safe on the ground, Rose clutches Jack’s sketch and books passage to her new home: Krakatoa, east of Java!

Well, questions? Sure, I can script it by Wednesday!

 … A
nd it’s ba-boom! I’ve done all my best material, my biggest gag, my sharpest bit, and still no response. The guy’s lying there like an oil painting, and
I’m
the one who’s dying, and I’m thinking to myself, “Charlie, this killing stuff always worked in the past. Have I still got it?” Hey, you guys ever pull a Rasputin? They are absolute downers, am I right?

I hear you talking, Charlie, and I can really relate, but I gotta tell you, and I mean no disrespect here, but the diehard is a rarity nowhere else but in L.A. Back in those days—and I saw this man in L.A., and I swear to you guys, this man
killed
in
L.A., Charlie, you
murdered
them out there—and I’m not knocking the people in L.A., I love the crowds, I love the stars, but L.A. is not N.Y.C., do you hear what I’m saying? I’m just saying that Jimmy B. would never—

Breslin again!
Give us a break with the Breslin thing, OK, Berkowitz? None of you guys know Midwest. I’m talking Chicago now, my old stomping grounds, where you find the toughest people anywhere.

Charlie, David, I agree with Mr. Gacy, because when I was back in Milwaukee—What? YOU? SHUT UP, DAHMER, SHUT UP! Don’t you ever interrupt, and don’t you
ever
call this man “Charlie”! It is
Mister Manson
to you. Listen, you had one shtick: killing people and eating them. That’s it. You ate ‘em. That’s all. So, you got on
Inside Edition?
So what? You’re still a punk. This man here had
everything.
He had demon worship. He had a cult. You? You got nothing.

Go easy on the kid, Gace.
Hey, guard, you got fresh cream cheese for these bagels?
You know, kid, I was doing mental when you were in diapers. I was doing that wah-wah nutso act when you were a peanut in a shell. And people respect me for that. They know when they hear the name Charlie Manson,
they’re going to get top-shelf crazy. Like with Diane. She’s a sweet kid. She comes to me, and she
knows
who does wacko. Swastika on the forehead? Zodiac didn’t do that. Hillside didn’t do that.
I
did that, and I was first. Diane appreciates this, so I help her out, toss her a few crumbs. In this business, a little respect goes a long way. Berky, am I right?

Damn right! So don’t open your punk mouth here, Dahmer, because you are in the presence of more talent than you’ll ever have. And don’t give me that
Entertainment Tonight
spotlight sneer either. Just shut up and eat. You serial kids don’t realize how good you have it today because of this man. I mean, when I was on top, I still remember Jimmy B.—

Here we go with the Breslin again.…

 … Listen: People lined up to see
me,
but even to Jimmy B., this man here, Charlie, he was Chairman of the Board. You may be hot now, Dahmer, but let’s see you in twenty years.

Kid, if I were you I’d listen, because Berky and the Clown were working the clubs long before you ever picked up a fork. You too, Chapman. We don’t even want to hear from you. What did
you
do?
One?
One is lint! One is a night! You do not deserve to ever have Diane visit you! You are not worthy of
such a lady! You should get used to Geraldo, because that’s where you’ll always be. Yeah, it’s been more than twenty years, but I still got it. Every time I’m up for parole, I’m front-page news. You Generation X’ers? Your type is a dime a dozen. You’ll be replaced. Me? I broke ground. I’m here to stay. Gace, am I right?

Amen, Charlie, amen.

Guys, I’d love to stick and kibitz, but I’m doing a project with Fox. I got meetings all day.
Hey, warden, check!
This one’s on me.

B
ub and Satey thank you for renting on scenic Wrickey Lake. Please note these cabin rules and recommendations:

1. The locked basement is for storage only. Please stay out of this area.

2. The Vanderpools, who live on nearby Wrichard Bay, will remove your trash and recyclables, at no charge, nightly. Just leave unwanted items outside your cabin. (Note: Be sure to bring all wanted items inside.)

3. If, while hiking, you meet a group of stray dogs, remember that they generally are more afraid of you than you are of them. Simply toss aside whatever food you’re carrying, then move slowly away. DO NOT RUN!

4. Please show respect for the flag that flies over the Vanderpool family compound. This signifies the Republic of Vanderpool, a sovereign nation separate
from the United States since 1973. Trespassers could face interrogation or possible incarceration.

5. For day trips, we suggest nearby Potterfield (twenty-eight miles south on Route 182), home to the Exit 47 Truck Stop, which offers a $5.95 All-U-Can-Eat Grand Seafood Buffet, Tuesday through Friday. (Best to go before Friday.) Further south is Mr. Wiggly’s Sausage Barn, where families can tour “the magic of meat from hoof to bun.” Free samples. Also, don’t forget Happy Land Park, featuring Big Rickety, the world’s oldest and fastest wooden roller coaster, and Ultimate Pee Wee Fighting every Friday, the winner receiving a fifty-dollar savings bond. (If planning to enter, don’t forget child’s birth certificate!)

6. At night, you may have dreams about the basement or at times feel an overwhelming compulsion to see what’s down there. Please, do not go in the basement.

7. Because of the high-intensity lines from Rainbow Valley Nuclear Units 1 and 2, radios, flashlights, and other electrical equipment may turn on and off spontaneously. (No pacemakers, please.) Also, inside the cabin, you may occasionally experience minor electric shocks. MAKE SURE YOU
ARE COMPLETELY DRY BEFORE USING ANY APPLIANCE!

8. You might hear shouts or explosions along Vanderpool Road between the hours of 11 p.m. and 4 a.m. These are routine field maneuvers conducted by General Vanderpool and his troops. If such noises occur, merely turn off all lights and remain inside your cabin.

9. Prolonged contact with lake water may irritate the skin. If problems occur, the Potterfield Burn Center (twenty-nine miles south on Route 182) is open twenty-four hours a day.