The Shivering Truth

Narrator:
They undulated orgasmically for more. The cops were all too happy to oblige. Nipple twisting, purple nurples, blue nurples, every nurple in the rainbow turned up a steaming pile of zilch.

Narrator:
The very face of his home seemed to stare with a chilling indifference between to Benny. Or was it hitting on him?

Ant:
Be careful. He has guns taped to his muscle.

Delmer:
Delmer's Suicide Hotline. We'll talk about anything, even sex.

[Man crying]

Man:
I live alone. Two weeks ago, I turned my oven on and stuck my head in. I just want the world to go away.

Man:
In the back in the oven, I found $9,000,000 in gold. That money change my life. I was suddenly able to afford the most expensive noose on the market.

Man:
When I got it around my neck, the ceiling fell in, and released two kidnapped little girls being held by a torturer upstairs.

Man:
I was hailed a hero. They vowed to devote their lives to making me happy.

Man:
The first thing I asked for was a cocktail of the 100 most toxic pills available. When I came to, the doctors broke the news to me --

Man:
I accidentaly invented a miracle drug that made more healthy and robust then ever. They told me they could use my blood to cure cancer.

Man:
That night, when I threw myself off the hospital roof, I landed on a monster who kidnapped those kids. He had escaped from prison and was on his way to kill the government.

Man:
The Government asked me to keep attempting suicide because of all the good my failures bring to the world.

Man:
It makes me so happy to have a real government see me as useful. I finally have a reason to live! I can't bring myself to try again.

Delmer:
Okay, wait, so if you don't want to kill yourself, then why are you calling me? This isn't an "I don't want a suicide" hotline. I can't really keep my line tied up like this!

Man:
You're right. I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot and don't deserve to live.

Delmer:
Now we're talking! Finally, I can do my job. Okay. [crying] Don't do it! Don't! Don't do it!

Man:
I'm so confused.

Delmer:
Let me tell you a story. It's about an ordinary teenager who wants to commit suicide. He decides to write the perfect suicide note. He works on it day and night toiling away on his masterpiece for decades.

Delmer:
After 80 years, publishers hear what he's working on. There's a bidding war. He ends up with a huge advance for the note rights. The media gets wind. The whole world is waiting for this note to be finished.

Delmer:
He's a major celebrity invited to all the parties. Men want to screw him. Women want to be him. Jesus Christ, goth kids want to eat him.

Delmer:
They make pilgrimages to his mansion. They climb his gates to peek at him scribbling by candlelight.

Delmer:
Finally, when he's 97, he finishes. It's time to off himself, but he wants to wait until the reviews come in, see what the critics think. Well, it's a hit universally praised as the finest work of literature ever produced.

Delmer:
But the public is so furious he didn't go through with it, they drag him into the street and --

Man:
Stick their willies in his mouth?

Delmer:
No they just leave. Willies dry. Everyone went soft, lost interest. The public was captivated by the promise, the process.

Delmer:
Now that it's just another consumer product with a UPC code, it loses its mystique. They start to resent him.

Delmer:
So, to get back at the world, the guy refuses to ever die. He just goes on living for hundreds of years. But still, no one cares.

Delmer:
And that's my message to you -- No one cares. Hello? Hello?

[gunshot]

Delmer:
Hello? [inhales deeply, sighs for happiness]

Narrator:
Our best minds have determined that the whole universe is a dream of one ant.

Roommate:
I was just sleeping, and I heard troubled breath.

Roommate:
What are you accusing me of? I didn't shove anything all up in your ear.

[Doug shows him the condom that's been in his ear]

Roommate:
I never seen that thing before in my life. I don't even know what it is. Besides, my thing would need one twice that size.

Doug Dwyer:
What did you do to me?!

[Doug saw his roommate snoring]

Doug Dwyer:
Stop this! What did you do? Get up!

Roommate:
What's happening? Why are you hitting me? What have you done to me while I was sleeping?

[Roommate pulled a condom out of his ear]

Roommate:
What did you do to me?

Doug Dwyer:
Why are you so good to me?

Roommate:
[whispered] Because you have such tight, pretty ears.

Mr. Glimmer:
If he hurt a hair on her head, I swear, I'm gonna rip God's face off and ram it down his tip.

Officer:
I promise I will find your daughter, even if I have to kill her to do it.

Narrator:
Police rounded up every pervert in the area, torturing them for information, which, naturally, the perverts loved.

Mrs. Glimmer:
Last year, I let your brothers sandwich my business.

Mr. Glimmer:
Ah, yeah, so did I, Chaci. So did I.

Mr. Glimmer:
If I don't see my child again soon, I'm gonna do this!

[Mr. Glimmer explodes himself]

Narrator:
We have long known that chickens can live for years with their heads cut off.

Narrator:
Recently, embedded Mideast war reporters have been dosing with huge infusions of chicken blood to frustrate their terrorist beheaders.

Narrator:
Of course, dreams can come true.

Narrator:
And there's nothing more desperately chipper than the escapist daydreams of a man in bondage.

Narrator:
Our sores are sources of wisdom. Which won't be silenced by any man.

Officer:
Chili Police! Open up! You have 30 seconds or we'll do this!

Benny:
I think I'm going crazy.

Wound:
Nonsense. I would contend that you are...going sane.

Wound:
I hereby agree to be your Spirit Guide.

Benny:
But I don't want a spirit guide.

Wound:
Excellent! That is the first step of your soul journey.

Wound:
Now choose a number between 1 and 13, but not 2 and 4. Now double it, add 16, multiply by 3 and subtract half. Now what was your original number?

Benny:
I never chose a number.

Wound:
And this is just as I have foreseen. So. Do you feel maturated now?

Benny:
I guess.

Narrator:
Benny thought to himself about himself.

Narrator:
But Dr. Derrick Highbury has just discovered it is actually because all butterflies hate Bali.

Narrator:
When asked to comment, the entire population of Bali pretended to be asleep for six years to avoid discussing the issue.

Narrator:
The war between butterflies and Bali dates back to prehistoric times, when Cave Balinese would eat the beating hearts of cave butterflies for good luck in their primitive butterfly insulting contests.

Narrator:
His research has revealed that the Balinese use crushed butterfly skulls as a table seasoning, and a common beverage is Bali in butterfly tears, traditionally guzzled listening to Balinese disco, made from the screams of butterflies whose genitals are being rhytmically electrocuted.

Narrator:
The world's butterflies are merely fighting back against those who seek to harm their kind by using their natural ability to bend the force of chaos to deliver fierce justice.

Preacher:
Hang on. One moment. I'm being handed a note. I have breaking news. I hate to be the one to report this, but according to many verified sources, it appears that God is dead.

Dr. Highbury:
[quietly] Yes!

Preacher:
He was placed in a choke hold by police as he slept.

Narrator:
And yet. At Shivering Middle School, whenever a scoundrel snaps the blind girl's bra, Principal Gail Alonka makes everyone line up and pop a snap until the culprit can be, recognized, identified, found.

Narrator:
The welt that developed on her back represented the price of justice, a gnarled and righteous cause, the lunch lady was happy to correct.

Narrator:
After months of having his every twisted whim sated just to feel anything at all. Highbury required increasingly exotic pleasures, a sickness culminating in the most perverse craving of all time -- The desire to experience true love.

Narrator:
They needed Highbury to create a Butterfly Man -- a human puppet secretly controlled by butterflies, sent to ingratiate himself to the Balinese and then slowly take over the country until he was in a position to crush it from within.

Narrator:
He even began to enjoy seasoning his food with butterfly skulls and dance to the disco forged from the screams of his kind.

Narrator:
Naturally, his butterfly brethren were devastated by the betrayal.

[The butterfly shoots himself]

Narrator:
And Highbury, he never was able to find the love that seemed to come so effortlessly to others.

Narrator:
On the eve of their 50th anniversary, the simple Balinese maiden revealed her deepest shame to her husband -- that she was a corpse herself filled with bees, who sent her there on a mission to prove to butterflies once and for all that the true nature of the universe is chaos and is beautiful and must never be defiled again.

Indian Mobster:
This is what western infidels get!

Severed Head:
Is that all you got, cha-cha? [laughs and yawns]

Indian Mobster:
Shut up and die, you infidel pig dog.

Severed Head:
Uh, correction -- chicken dog. Bawk-bawk. [smooches]

Indian Mobster:
You are making me angry.

Severed Head:
And you have schmutz on your dress. Bonk! Gotcha! Bawk-bawk, playa!

Narrator:
Innoncent bystanders were so amused, they took the act on the road.

Narrator:
When their healing work is done, our wounds begin to heal themselves.

Indian Mobster:
Why will you not die already?

Severed Head:
Uh, why don't you brush your teeth already?

Audience:
[laughs]

Indian Mobster:
I'm warning you -- keep it up and I'll stop this holy war right now.

Severed Head:
Bawk-bawk, honey. A-bawk-bawk. [slide whistle plays]

Severed Head:
Mm, check the hottie in the front row. Hey, uh, missy, you care for a three-way? or at least a 2 1/4-way?

Audience:
[laughs]

Severed Head:
Hey, I'm not severed where it counts.

Indian Mobster:
Please die, for the love of Allah.

Severed Head:
Tell you what, I'll die if you answer one question.

Indian Mobster:
You have a deal. Fire away.

Severed Head:
Why does your faith glorify hate?

Audience:
[gasping]

Indian Mobster:
You really want to know? For me, it's -- s-see, I never had a mother. [sniffles]

Audience:
[boos]

Severed Head:
Wait, wait, if you never had a mom, then how do you exist at all?

Indian Mobster:
Jumpin' Jihad, you're right.

[The Indian Mobster disappeared out of existence]

Audience:
[cheered and applause]

Boss:
We are so freaking disappointed in your output, Dwyer. Everyone else in this department types at lest 10,000 random numbers a day. Your average is 19.

Doug Dwyer:
Sorry, sir. It's just --

Boss:
What's so hard about it? Just type random numbers as fast as you can. See? Ding, ding, ding, ding. That's it. Easy peasy. Now you try. Go!

[Doug Dwyer still gets confused which number to type]

Boss:
Just hit numbers! Faster! Faster!

Doug Dwyer:
But I can never decide which number to choose.

Boss:
Don't think about it. Just type. It's random.

Doug Dwyer:
I know, but I still want it to be good.

Boss:
Well, it isn't good.

Doug Dwyer:
What the heck-fire?

Boss:
Feisty little bastard. Oh, wait. That's what going on. Feisty little b*tch, I should say -- protecting her eggs.

Doug Dwyer:
Eggs? I'm a little scared.

Boss:
It's okay. She got the little things hatching right now.

Doug Dwyer:
You can fire me, but one day I'll show you. I'll show you all.

[Doug suddenly pulls out his guns taped from his muscles and gunfires the building]

Boss:
Christ, Dwyer! It's too loud.

Narrator:
When he realized that no one believed in him, Doug rushed home to see if he was there.

Doug Dwyer:
[thinking] And the noble prize for the Most Random Series of Numbers of All Time goes to...Dougie Dwyer!

Narrator:
When he reflected on his strengths, Doug finally began to love himself. And when a man finds self-esteem, he can coax himself to go all the way.

Narrator:
It got so steamy, even his vanity became aroused.

Narrator:
And Doug got to experience every man's fantasy -- a two-way with himself.

Doug Dwyer:
[panting] You're killing me. Killing me. Kill me. Kill me harder. Kill me harder. Kill me deeper. Kill me harder. Kill me harder, kill me deeper, kill me harder.

Narrator:
But alas, someone always get hurt in love. And when one raw-dogs it with a mirror, the fruit of your vain comes home to roost...

Narrator:
...And our lives are filled with meaning forever, as long as the screams don't get so loud that they wake the ants that are dreaming us.

Boss:
Christ, Dwyer! Those things are loud. Buddy, these are disruptive. This is not appropriate for a workspace environment.

Doug Dwyer:
I'm sorry. I could strap a pillow to my head. Muffle it.

Boss:
I can't hear you, Dwyer! It's too loud!

Doug Dwyer:
Or could you fill it with water and drown them? Or piss?

Narrator:
Nevertheless, if you mashed together every soul on Earth, it would weigh less than one flea.

Narrator:
Ryan Regrt scratched so religiously that the sore on his arm grew into the shape of a small church.

Narrator:
The more fanatic he scratched, the deeper the itch became, until Ryan was more church than child, wholly swallowed by the swell, gone.

Narrator:
His grieving parents were grateful for the tragic loss of their beloved boy, as gave them the perfect place to mourn the tragic loss of their beloved boy.

Narrator:
Luckily, the church pastor taught them how to repent for this perverse pleasure.

[Ryan's parents scratch the church for the Pastor]

Pastor:
That's good. A little to the left. Right there. Ah, don't stop. Yes. Ahh, ahh. Yes! Oh! Ohhhhh!

[Pastor transformed into an ant]

Narrator:
But as man evolves, war itself must become increasingly sophisticated.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
What are you?

Private Pontle:
I'm a maggot, sir!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
I can't hear you!

Private Pontle:
I'm a maggot, sir!!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
I don't understand!

Private Pontle:
Sir! I am...I'm saying I...I'm saying I'm a maggot!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
But I'm confused -- how are you a maggot of some kind?!

Private Pontle:
Just 'cause you told me I was, so I'm a maggot, sir!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
But how is that physiologically possible?! Huh, maggot?!

Private Pontle:
[voice breaking] It just is! I can't explain the biology of it, but I am a maggot, I swear!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
Are you playin' mental games with me, maggot?

Private Pontle:
No, sir!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
Am I playing mental games with you, maggot?

Private Pontle:
I really don't know. I-I really don't know, sir! [sobbing]

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
Do I look like I'm playing mental games? Look me in the eye. What do you see in there?

[Pontle and Sgt. Pat Mounder look at each other while talking in their own minds]

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] God, I hope he can't really see inside me -- How fragile I am...how I can only fell big by belittling others...how I'd crumble were I not held whole by his fear of me. Can he tell that I'm the real maggot?

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Hey, now I'm not gonna let you beat yourself up like that.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] Wait. How did -- I can hear your voi--

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Shh! It's okay. I genuinely respect you, not because of your performance of masculinity, but in spite of it.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] But...I'm toxic trash.

Private Pontle:
[thinking] You know, what I see behind all your emotional armor? A real cool cookie.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] For real?

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Triple sugar shine real, real.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] I've waited my whole life to hear someone tell me that. Now that it happened, why do I still feel so alone inside?

Private Pontle:
[thinking] You're not alone. I'm in there with you. You're my tough little guy, okay? Who's my tough little guy?

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] I am.

Private Pontle:
[thinking] I can't hear you.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] I-I'm your tough little guy!

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Louder!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] I'm your tough little guy! God, I feel so appreciated for the first time. How can I ever thank you, guy?

Private Pontle:
[thinking] How 'bout, uh, maybe...I don't know...a...a little kiss?

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] Oh. That's not what I...that -- That would make me uncomfortable.

Private Pontle:
[thinking] After all I've done for you? One quick little kiss inside of our minds? No one has to know.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] Um, okay. Um, well, o-okay, just...just one.

[smooches]

Private Pontle:
[thinking] That wasn't so bad, was it?

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] I guess not.

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Gimme a little more. Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] This is all happening so fast.

[growling]

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] What was that?

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Be still, my cookie. This'll be over quick.

[Pontle consciously eats the General's face]

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] Where'd I go? Where am I?

Private Pontle:
[thinking] You're in the realm of love eternal. Isn't it beautiful?

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] I-I don't know.

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Just kidding. You're in my tummy.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] It's beautiful.

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Oh, boy. I gotta go to the bathroom.

[Pontle then bring back his face by consciously pooping him out]

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[thinking] I feel like you're taking advantage of me, Private.

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Aw, that's all in your head. Which reminds me -- I-I forgot to wipe. Hang on.

[Pontle wipes his own butt of poop which transfers to Sergeant's eybags]

Private Pontle:
[thinking] Well, we better get back to it before the guys notice anything. And don't you dare squeal about what I done did to you.

[Pontle and Sgt. Pat Mounder came back to reality after the whole mind conversation]

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
Well, do I look like I'm playing mental games, maggot?!

Private Pontle:
No, sir! You're not, I swear!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
Then answer this question, maggot -- Why do you treat me like dirt when all I ever wanted was to bask in the light of your love?! [sobbing]

Private Pontle:
Great! You're ready!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
What?

Private Pontle:
This was all a part of a covert elite psychic training program. You are now the perfect soldier.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
Really? Thanks. W-What an honor.

Private Pontle:
Yep. Go on now, The big war is right through there.

[Pontle sends him to a random door to war]

Private Pontle:
Well, that takes care of that dildo.

Narrator:
Private Ray Pontle simply did what was required to get out of his dangerous combat obligations.

Narrator:
Now he was free to pursue his true calling -- A life of secretly watching women purchase underwear.

Narrator:
He knew Sarge would be fine.

[cuts to the General laying injured in a hospital bed]

General:
Sergeant Pat Mounder, on behalf of the U.S. Armed Forces, it's my duty to inform you that we're gonna have to let you go.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[robotic voice] You are firing me?

General:
It's not your fault. It's just you're not a good fit for our organization. You're more like a piece of meat that just keeps on living.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[robotic voice] But your war made me like this.

General:
Now we can get into all that "he said, meat said'' stuff, but you'd be better off trying for a job as a raisin or a maggot.

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[robotic voice] I'll kill you! I'll kill everyone!

General:
Congratulations! You pass your cyborg warrior training. You're ready!

Sgt. Pat Mounder:
[robotic voice] What an honor.

[Sgt. Pat Mounder gets sended back to war again while being injured]

Narrator:
Never the yet, Tessa Doinel have wasted enough of her life doing whatever men wanted her do. She decided to take stand and buy the blue ones this time.

[Shows Tessa buying a blue pair of underwear]

Business Saleswoman:
Find what you're looking for?

Tessa Doinel:
Did you see these underwear? T-They...

Business Saleswoman:
Yes, all the panties on this rack are self-bleeding.

Tessa Doinel:
But why?

Business Saleswoman:
They bleed so you don't have to.

Business Saleswoman:
Oooh, these would look sexy on you.

[The underwear starts bleeding blood]

Tessa Doinel:
No, I-I don't like it.

Business Saleswoman:
Not your color?

Tessa Doinel:
No, it's the blood.

Business Saleswoman:
Oh. Well, there are other fluids. These ones here are self-snotting.

[The self-snotting underwear coughs up mucus]

Business Saleswoman:
Ooh, that's hot on you. You looking to spice up your marriage?

[The saleswoman wipes the snot off of Tessa's face and ate it]

Tessa Doinel:
Well, I'd like to have kids, so...

Business Saleswoman:
You should've said so. These ones are crotchless for easy...you know. Go on, push.

Tessa Doinel:
Huh?

[The Saleswoman pulls up a knife to force Tessa to push]

Business Saleswomen:
Push! Don't be shy.

[Tessa and the Saleswoman moans by making the underwear magically push out a baby]

Business Saleswoman:
Here it comes. Harder. Harder!

Business Saleswoman:
Ooh, that's sexy. You broke it, you bought it.

Tessa Doinel:
I don't know how to take care of it.

Business Saleswoman:
Gotcha covered. Just feed the goddamn thing till it moves out or goes to jail.

Tessa Doinel:
Truth is, I-I don't actually have husband.

Business Saleswoman:
Not a problem. We carry a wide selection of wifebeaters.

Tessa Doinel:
I knew I'd find love if o--

[The wifebeater beats up Tessa Doinel for the baby]

Tessa Doinel:
He dumped me! I'll never bask in the light of love... [echoes]

Insecurity System Machine:
Attention. You have activated our automated insecurity system.

Private Pontle:
I didn't take anything. Go on -- Check. There's nothing missing.

Private Pontle:
Oh. I see. You're saying that there's something missing in me, is that it? Like there's a hole in my soul or something?

Private Pontle:
How dare this thing attack me! Trying to make me feel guilty? Judge me? I'm a good guy. So maybe I'm not perfect. But I'm expected to what -- Search inside of myself and confront the bad things I've done?

[The Insecurity System Machine has no response but just honking]

Private Pontle:
Okay, fine! I made him suffer in a really bad war! I'm a monster! How can I pay for what I've done?!

Insecurity System Machine:
You can be forgiven for how you treated Sergeant Pat Mounder if you seek absolution from above.

[Private Pontle randomly has poo stains in one of his eyebags]

Private Pontle:
And Sarge is probably fine, right? [echoes]

Narrator:
Sergeant Mounder was thrown into war after war until every shred of his flesh was blooooown up. They managed to keep his essence alive, though he was stripped down to pure consciousness energy -- The perfect killing machine.

Narrator:
Contrite, Private Pontle prostrated before his high power begging for holiness to bright his life.

Narrator:
It is often said you should never give a man's pure consciousness a clear shot to exact vengeance.

Narrator:
But the yucks was on the sergeant again because, when you're tormented by the itch of guilt, there is only one path to relief.

Narrator:
And if you spend your life praying for the light of love... -...you magnify it in your head until it can caress the stuff between your atoms... -...that gunk in there that makes them all stick together as one whole.

Narrator:
But the other thing about this jail was...it could only afford one wall of bars.

Prison Guard:
Damn it, we supposed to be on break. I mean, where's our rest? It's as though, despite the fact that we are the jailers, in a sense, we are in our own prison...of the mind.

Prisoner:
Oh, man. What a thought!

[The prisoner's head explodes]

Prisoner 72301:
Guard, bars! Do it now, or I say something so profound, it'll blow every mind in this joint.

Prison Guard:
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, easy. Let's not get heavy here. I-I'm -- I'm bringing it.

Prisoner 72301:
You -- Your head here.

Prison Guard:
J-J-Just don't say anything to upend my world view, all right? I got kids. I got kids.

Prisoner 72301:
You know what I always wondered -- Like, what's the deal with society, bruh?

Prison guard:
Oh, man, that's a trip.

[The prison guard's head also explodes]

Narrator:
Then again, some people are born victims -- All of them.

Narrator:
And some days, your whole life flashes before your eyes, in real time, staring with Day One.

Doctor:
One last push, ma'am. It's a boy! Oh! Oh, God.

Woman:
What?

Doctor:
Oh, no!

Woman:
What is it?!

Doctor:
I'm sorry, ma'am -- He's a dirty pig.

Narrator:
But some accidents are even worse...when the victim doesn't deserve it.

Neil Lem:
Where am I? Who am I?

Nurse:
Your name is Neil Lem. You've been in an accident. You were driving, and a woman was on the sidewalk without a bra.

Nurse:
You took your eyes off the road to ogle her breasts.

Neil Lem:
Oh.

Nurse:
You hopped the curb and ran over a dog.

Neil Lem:
Oh!

Nurse:
And its owner.

Neil Lem:
Oh, God.

Nurse:
And his kids.

Neil Lem:
Ohh!

Nurse:
And their friends.

Neil:
Oh.

Nurse:
And their pet hamster. But, miraculously, we were able to save...only the hamster.

Neil Lem:
I...was ogling?

Nurse:
The good thing is you managed to swerve back onto the road.

Neil Lem:
Thank God.

Nurse:
Straight into a school bus.

Neil Lem:
Ohh!

Nurse:
None of those kids survived. The parents are devastated. Understandably, many have bought guns...

Neil Lem:
Ohh!

Nurse:
...and are going on shooting sprees all over town.

Neil Lem:
I don't know who I am, but I'm sure I did not mean to ogle a girl.

Nurse:
Woman. Woman. She wants to meet you.

Neil Lem:
Meet me? Why?

Nurse:
It's the least you could do. I mean, it seems like you like her so much.

Nurse:
We thought, maybe you two meet under these tragic circumstances, it bonds you into an unlikely romance wherein you help each other heal. Could be an amazing love story.

Neil Lem:
Do I look all right?

Nurse:
Sure. Lila! Come on in, honey.

[shows Lila's appearance as an old woman]

Neil Lem:
Wait. When did the accident happen?

Nurse:
It was about three hours ago. Why?

Neil Lem:
She's just...older than I --

Nurse:
I'm sorry, is she not your type?

Neil Lem:
No! I didn't -- I didn't mean...

Nurse:
She's really vulnerable right now.

[Lila passes out]

Nurse:
She's gone. I hope you're happy.

Neil Lem:
What...happened?

Nurse:
You said some offensive things to a woman, and the media got wind of everything you've done.

Neil Lem:
Mm-hmm.

Nurse:
There's been riots across the state. The whole country's in chaos.

Neil Lem:
Oh.

Nurse:
But before it got out of control, the police were destroyed to maintain the peace...

Neil Lem:
Thank Christ for --

Nurse:
...which means thousands of innocent citizens have been shot quite dead.

Neil Lem:
That's awful.

Nurse:
The human animal will take only so much before they rise up to tear down governments that oppress.

Neil Lem:
Ohh.

Nurse:
Sensing weakness, the North Koreans launched the first nuke.

Neil Lem:
Ohh!

Nurse:
But after we retailed, Iran, Russia, China, Japan, India, Brazil unleashed all they had. Most of Earth's population is dead. Of the survivors 90% are mutant-ed.

Nurse:
The only thing the globe agrees on is that this is all your fault, and you must pay.

Neil Lem:
Where am I? What happened?

Nurse:
The mutants consider you their God...

Neil Lem:
Ahh. What?

Nurse:
...presuming this was all your grand plan to remake civilization with their kind as our overlords.

Neil Lem:
Ohh. Ohh.

Nurse:
But we normals beseech you -- Stand with us. Declare allegiance to our resistance! Will you wave our flag?

Neil Lem:
I swear I'll never ogle anyone again.

Nurse:
Forget about that! You're the only fertile male left -- We need your help to repopulate.

Neil Lem:
What?

Nurse:
Come. Give me some semen. Hurry. Come on. Hit me, stat!

Neil Lem:
Do you have, like, a-a dirty magazine?

Nurse:
Haven't you ogled enough?! We got medical extraction procedures.

[Nurse pulls up a knife and kills Neil Lem]

Nurse:
Mr. Lem, you're up. Great. All's back to normal. You're free to go.

Neil Lem:
But the ogling?

Nurse:
Turns out that was a hoax. You're totally fine. Exit's through there.

[Neil Lem walks out the exit door sending him to an apocalyptic place]

Neil Lem:
This is the worst hoax I've ever been a part of! [looks at the audience] And I was in the camps.

Random Voice:
Oi.

Narrator:
The only way to escape the prison of reality is turn your life into a lie so you are not you.

Narrator:
You're a different person making all this up in his journal of fantastical fiction, a lonely loser as pathetic as a poet.

Officer Dale:
No, put that down! Please, n-not poetry!

Narrator:
Life flashes forced Officer Dale to recall his first disappointment...how, since the age of 6, he yearned for a puppy but his parents were allergic...to making him happy.

Narrator:
So, instead, they had his grandma move in, and Dale taught her some tricks. He trained Nana to sit up and beg for her meds. She could shake...

Narrator:
...catch a Frisbee in her teeth. When she messed the rug, he rubbed her nose in it until the foul of her unpleasantness was gone.

Narrator:
But when Dale took Nana to the vet to get fixed, they discovered she had mange, and he had to put her out of her misery and into his ecstasy.

Narrator:
Weeks later, when his chum got a 3-legged dog, Dale was jealous because he could only afford a pet leg.

Narrator:
It spent all day humping itself, happy as a lark's arm, and even gave birth to a litter of toe-lets...until the day it got hit by a wheel.

Narrator:
Doctors had to amputate his whole body and replace him with a wooden one. Other dogs mistook Sock for a stick, so he contracted rabies and went on a rampage.

Narrator:
Witnessing such carnage gave Dale a deep desire to create his own fate. But tragically, the urge to conjure a better new world can turn even a decent human being into a poet.

Goth Dale:
The sun-dappled lark crouched on a branch, admiring the brilliance of the poet. [sees a bird on branch] No. That's ridiculous.

Goth Dale:
The chipmunk crouched on a branch, in awe of the poet. No, no, no.

Armed Rebel:
Sir, we need you to come with us immediately.

Goth Dale:
Excuse me? I don't --

Armed Rebel:
We need your poetry. It's the only thing that can save the world. Your poetry really matters.

Goth Dale:
It does?

Armed Rebel:
Totally. The world needs your poetry right away!

Goth Dale:
For real?

Armed Rebel:
Yes, and the amazing thing, we're not making fun of you at all. The government personally requested that you, the best poet on Earth, come read his super not boring, not lame, not solipsistic, indulgent, narcissistic, vapid, deluded twaddle. Come on, let's move!

Goth Dale:
Oh my god, this is amazing.

Armed Rebel:
I know, it's incredible, you're such a good poet.

Goth Dale:
I always secretly hoped this would happen.

Armed Rebel:
Oh, it's happening. Let's go!

Goth Dale:
This is so inspiring. Hang on, I've got to write about this.

Armed Rebel:
But we need you!

Goth Dale:
Hold on. Words are coming. Slowly, but oh, they're coming.

Armed Rebel:
Sir, we don't have time!

Goth Dale:
You know, you're kind of in my space right now. Lagging my flow. Not sure if you've heard, but I recently been acknowledged by the military as a pretty important poet. So I can probably get you fired.

Armed Rebel:
No. Please don't sir. I need this job. I have 52 children.

Goth Dale:
Well, now you know there are some things more important than sex with a whole bunch of stupid, beautiful women.

Armed Rebel:
You really taught me something today. How did you get so wise?

Goth Dale:
I've had a lot of lonely time to think of a lot of very wise, um, [echoes] thoughts.

Armed Rebel:
Oh, that's so cool.

Narrator:
And that was the day the man never remembered to stop ogling the Earth.

Narrator:
And there's nothing more desperately chipper than the escapist daydreams of a man in bondage fantasizing he is another person in another place.

Narrator:
It is imperative he divert his mind from the unthinkable suffering...agony...anguish.

Narrator:
But the bibles teach that dreams are lies and lies are sins...

Narrator:
...that, thus, all imagined boys must collect penance for their existence.

Boy:
[thinking] Please don't make me do this to me.

Narrator:
And that for those who have been dreamed into being, the only escape is to premember a happy moment that will happen many lifetimes from now.

Doctor:
Sorry for the wait, Mr. Lawson. We got your results and I'd better be quick because you only have about 34 seconds to live.

Mr. Lawson:
So I was --

Doctor:
Excuse me.

Mr. Lawson:
Did you say --

Doctor:
34 seconds. Starting...now!

Mr. Lawson:
Are you saying I'm gonna die?

Doctor:
Oh, no, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, what you have is much worse than death. It's sorta like...death squared. It's called "Consta-Death."

Mr. Lawson:
Consta-Death?

Doctor:
Oh, you've heard of it.

Mr. Lawson:
Not really.

Doctor:
Oh. Well, Consta-Death, you'll be dying once every few seconds for the rest of your life.

Mr. Lawson:
So I will be alive?

Doctor:
Not exactly. The only treatment is to pledge eternal division to my proprietary genetic hybrid of Hinduism and cheese. It's medicinal reincarnation therapy.

Mr. Lawson:
I'm lactose intolerant.

Doctor:
It doesn't matter. Just pled eternal devotion to it -- Quick!

Mr. Lawson:
Okay, okay! How?

Doctor:
Sign here. Hurry! Chim, chim! Chop-chop! Now!

[After signing the contract for his death, Mr. Lawson's head turns into a cheetah and many other kind of animals]

Mr. Lawson:
Uh...wow. Uh, uh...

Doctor:
Well, your new faith is up and running. How do you feel?

Mr. Lawson:
It feels a little weird, but --

[turns into a duck]

Mr. Lawson:
It beats being white.

[laugh track that comes out of nowhere]

Mrs. Lawson:
What are you thinking for dinner?

[Mr. Lawson turns into a parrot]

Mr. Lawson:
You know what sounds good, is just a plate of birdseed.

[turns into a koala]

Mr. Lawson:
Actually, scratch that. I think I'll just have some eucalyptus leaves.

[turns into a bear]

Mr. Lawson:
Or you know what? I'm really craving a deer carcass tonight.

[turns into deer]

Mr. Lawson:
Whoa, bear! Hold your horses now.

[turns into a horse]

Mr. Lawson:
Hey, leave me out of this.

Mrs. Lawson:
Bears don't eat dears, liar! What's going on here? I want to speak to my real husband -- now! [pulls up a knife] Where is he?!

Mr. Lawson:
[voice breaking] I don't think I can bring him back.

Audience:
[groans]

[turns into a cat]

Audience:
[awww]

Mr. Lawson:
But I'll try.

Narrator:
Though only together 3 seconds per year, the Lawsons were like any other couple.

Mr. Lawson:
I met someone.

Mrs. Lawson:
How? Who is it?

Mr. Lawson:
Would you like to meet her? I'll get her right now.

[Mr. Lawson turns into Mary who's been loving inside him this entire time]

Mrs. Lawson:
You stay away from my man!

Mary:
Wait. It's not what you think. I was just using your husband to get to you. I need you to sign this -- Quick!

Mrs. Lawson:
What? What is this?

Mary:
No time to think. Sign now or die!

[Mrs. Lawson turns into Abraham Lincoln]

Abraham:
Oh, Mary, my dearest. There you are. Why do you toy with me like this?

Narrator:
Maintaining long-term relationships can be difficult work.

Narrator:
One way to keep the romance alive in marriage is to unite against a common enemy.

Narrator:
Sam and Iris Beekoh found that a shared disappointment in their son, Benny, brought them close together.

Narrator:
So they vowed to stay ashamed of the kid for the sake of the marriage.

Narrator:
They struggled valiantly to degrade and remain let down by him. They're love fed on his misery.

Narrator:
And for every atom of agony they caused the boy, they were rewarded with 10 pounds of passion.

Narrator:
In that moment, Benny realized his pain had something important to say. Something vital to our nation.

Narrator:
Benny told the wound he was not technically its mother. But maternal instincts kick hard, and he found himself breastfeeding the little fellow.

Narrator:
Pain's palate matures quickly.

Narrator:
It is often the neglected children who are most willing to go to the extra mile for their own young.

Wound:
Waaaah! Chili too hot! Wow! Baba need wawa!

Wound:
Mmm. Yummy cop in my tum-tum.

Narrator:
Some claimed that cop meat is brain food.

Wound:
[weakly] You've got to help me! I'm dying!

Benny:
No, it's just your healing.

Wound:
What do you think happens when I'm all healed? I'm dead, gone!

Wound:
You want me to die? Are you a murderer? Cut me, murderer!

Benny:
Okay, okay.

[Benny cuts his wound again but only making it worse]

Wound:
Aah! What the bloody hell are you doing?!

Benny:
You told me to cut you.

Wound:
I did no such thing! This means you're the one dying. You better sign the contract quick.

Narrator:
At that moment, Benny became a man in his pants.

Narrator:
He passed the test and found the love his home had long withheld.

Black Slavery Guy:
[thinking] "You are the father I never had"...

Narrator:
And that is how one boy discovered where wounds go when they heal.

Wound:
Baba wan chili. Gimmee chili. Chili!

Narrator:
Not to mention the fact that lies attract bunnies.

Operator:
911. What's your emergency?

Lyle:
Oh, God! An intruder. This guy -- He broke into my house, and he tied me up, and -- Oh, god -- He made sure I had to watch as he woke up my -- My wife! And he -- He charmed her. Made her laugh. Then he made it so they found little similarities...ways their world views coalesced, and, over time, he made her fall in love with him.

Operator:
In love?

Lyle:
And now they're in a committed relationship where they look out for each others' emotional needs with a maturity I'll never be capable of achieving.

Operator:
Okay, sir, I'm going to tell you what to do. But you have to remain calm.

Lyle:
Please, hurry.

Operator:
Now. You're not going to be able to compete with this guy on fulfilling her needs. So you have to make a drastic show of indifference, play on her insecurity. Stoke her latent desire to have her inner sense of worthlessness reinforced. Can you do that for me?

Lyle:
I don't know how!

Operator:
Just ignore her, sir. Then when she looks for you for validation, treat her like dirt.

Lyle:
Oh, God.

Operator:
Degrade her.

Lyle:
It's -- It's working.

Operator:
Don't let up. keep it going. It worked. We're back together.

Lyle:
Ah, thank you so much.

Operator:
No need to thank me, sir. I'm just doing my job.

Narrator:
And then. For show and tell, Pauly Dindin showed and told his class that if you hold a seashell to your ear, you hear the roar of the very ocean itself.

Narrator:
But some seashells work too well. Some children hear too much of what is happening on that fated shore.

Woman:
Oh, just take in that salt air. The sunset is radiant today.

Angus:
Not as radiant as you, my love.

Woman:
Oh, Angus! What if your wife finds out about us? And your kid?

Angus:
Little Pauly and his mother will never find out about us.

Woman:
How can you be sure?

Angus:
This is how. [gun c*cks]

Woman:
Angus. Where did you get that gun? Put that down.

Angus:
I'm sorry, but I can't risk losing my wife. I don't mind losing Pauly, but that's neither here nor there.

Woman:
What are you gonna do?!

Angus:
Nothing I haven't fantasized about a thousand times. Only, usually it wasn't you. It was my kid, Pauly.

[Angus shoots his other wife]

Angus:
You did it, Angus. Your problems are over. [laughs] I mean, you still got a crap-ass son with crap all over his face. Well, ya can't have everything.

Angus:
All right, let me just see if she's got any cash in her wallet. Ooh! Grape gum!

[Angus calls the Operator]

Angus:
Okay, ready? You can do this. Here we go.

Operator:
911. What's your emergency?

Angus:
I was jogging on the beach, and I found the body of a stranger who I've never seen before in my life!

Operator:
Is the person dead?

Angus:
Oh, she better be. I-I mean, she looks like she's been shot by a lover.

Operator:
Can you describe the victim?

Angus:
Uh, let's see. Uh, well, she's not the kind of woman that I would be attracted to. Just not my type. Besides, I'm married. I got a kid, too, but that wouldn't be a deal breaker 'cause he's such a chode.

Angus:
In fact, when I dropped my kid off at school today, he's whining at me, like, "Oh, I hope don't embarrass myself at show and tell today." I seriously had to stop myself from blasting a snot rocket in his frickin' mouth just to see the tweaked-out look on his stupid puss.

Operator:
This kid of yours sounds like a real piece of garbage.

Angus:
[laughs] Yeah. Sounds like you've met the boy.

Operator:
No, but I hope when he's in front of the class today he wets his pants.

Angus:
Oh, yeah, lady? Well, I hope he solids his face.

Operator:
[laughs] His classmates oughta call him "Solid Face". Seriously. They should start doing that today.

Operator:
Anyway, I'm sending an emergency vehicle to you right away, so --

Angus:
Oh, the body! It's -- It's not dead! She's got my gun. A gun. She must have found it. I-I don't have a gun. Please, honey. Okay just put that down.

[The woman shoots Angus]

Operator:
Hello? Hello?! Oh, God, something terrible happened. This job sucks. Every call tragedy after tragedy.

Operator:
Calm down, Sheryl. It's the only job you got. At least you're not an absolute turd like that kid Solid Face. What a turd. Take it easy. Take the next call. I can't save 'em all.

Operator:
911. What's your emergency?

Elderly Woman:
Oh, I don't want to be any trouble. Never mind.

Operator:
Ma'am? If you need some help --

Elderly Woman:
No, I shouldn't be bothered you. I shouldn't have.

Operator:
No, no, no! It's no trouble. What is it?

Elderly Woman:
It's nothing. I'm sure you're too bust to save a little lady's life. Bye-bye.

Operator:
Ma'am, wait! You can tell me what is wrong, and I will help you.

Elderly Woman:
Don't waste your time worrying about me and my unfolding personal emergency.

Elderly Woman:
How are you? Are you seeing anyone, dear?

Operator:
I'm married.

Elderly Woman:
Oh, that's nice. D-Does he hit you?

Operator:
No. Not at all. Is that what happened to you? Did your husband hit you?

Elderly Woman:
Oh, no. I'm never married. I didn't want any trouble anyone. It's just me and the cats.

Operator:
Okay, if you're lonely, I can transfer you to elderly services --

Elderly Woman:
Elderly?! Good heavens! I'm 24! Do I sound elderly to you?

Operator:
No! I just thought with the cats --

Elderly Woman:
Oh, a young woman can't keep a few dozen cats. I get it. Good one. You got me. Really tore me down good.

Operator:
No, I didn't mean to --

Elderly Woman:
[voice breaking] If you're done having your fun, then why don' you go back to your fancy husband, who doesn't hit you for some strange reason?

Operator:
Ma'am.

Elderly Woman:
It's fine. The cats have eaten most of my body now. I didn't want to be any trouble, and I don't have the heart to shoo them off, so...they're really digging in.

Operator:
Okay, I'm sending animal control out now.

Elderly Woman:
But what will the kitties eat?

Operator:
Someone will be there within the hour.

Elderly Woman:
They've eaten up to my throat. I'm inside them now. I live through them. One in flesh, one in soul, one in -- Meow.

Narrator:
Lyle Darpi suddenly wondered if he had wasted his life teaching for a reason. Perhaps this miracle was finally the treasure he deserved.

Narrator:
Now that he was rich, he was free to live life to fullest possible -- Oh. Oh, oh. Oh.

[When the narrator was about to finish his sentence, he heard the noise of the teacher's car crashed off screen and was flabbergasted when he thought if that's suppose to happen to Lyle]

Operator:
911. What is your emergency?

Lyle:
I'm trapped upside down in my car. Losing blood. Please, send someone quick. I'm...I'm rich. I'll pay whatever.

Operator:
What's that?

Lyle:
I-If you can get someone here faster, money is no object.

Operator:
Oh. I didn't realize you were wealthy. You should have said something. I'll transfer you to our luxury line.

Lyle:
Luxury line?

Operator:
One moment, please.

[the operator leaves and plays classical music when the next operator shows up]

Charleston:
[British accent] Good evening. 9-1-1 Deluxe. My name is Charleston. To whom do I have speaking?

Lyle:
My name is Lyle Darpi. Please help.

Charleston:
Right away, Mr. Darpi. What is the nature of our emergency this afternoon?

Lyle:
I'm trapped in my car. I think my leg is gone.

Charleston:
Oh, wonderful. Well, we have a superb fleet of ambuli for you to choose from --

Lyle:
Anything!

Charleston:
Would you prefer standard stretch, that comes with a stocked wet bar; superstretch with hotted tub...

Lyle:
Whatever's fastest!

Charleston:
...super-duper-duper-double-decker, which comes with a personal blood butler --

Lyle:
It doesn't matter! Just hurry! Wolves are closing in!

Charleston:
Oh, excellent, sir. And what is your Platinum Elite Plus member number?

Lyle:
I don't have one! Oh, God, there are wolves coming!

Charleston:
It's perfectly fine, sir. No need to yell. This is the luxury service. I can just give you a new account.

Lyle:
Losing blood. I'm losing blood and...losing blood. losing blood. losing blood. losing blood.

Lyle:
This is all that kid Pauly's fault -- Solid Face.

Charleston:
Uh-huh, and...yeah. There we go. And your confirmation number on the new account is YTR583836839027FRTH85779. Dash B. Now go ahead and give me that confirmation number, and we'll be good to go.

Lyle:
I-I don't remember it!

Charleston:
You've lost your confirmation number?

Lyle:
Please send help. The wolves are licking blood off the hood.

Charleston:
Mm. You know what, sir? I'm really not supposed to do this, but I'm going to get you an ambulance without the confirmation number.

Lyle:
Thank you!

Charleston:
Absolutely. So, would you prefer standard stretch, which, again, comes complete with a fully stocked wet bar; superstretch with hotted tub; super-dupra-double-dog-lupra --

Lyle:
Please! The wolves! Aah! Aaahhh!

Narrator:
But when a boy girds his hatches for a wolf attack, he lowers his guard against the true threat.

[The seashell bites Pauly's shoulder]

Narrator:
Because certain fangs inject into the child a recognition that every object in the physical realm is shell for something, faintly sounding its source into the ear of the air.

Narrator:
He could hear the embarrassment of things around him. He could sense how one particular pen knew somewhere inside...

Narrator:
...that, due to certain circumstances, it would one day be responsible for more deaths than eight Nazi Holocausts with a side of Nagasaki.

Narrator:
Pauly could hear it knowing. He became the greatest hero the world has ever not known.

Narrator:
And that was the moment, Pauly Dindin first came out of his shell.

Narrator:
But after being robbed for ages, the sea had taken its sound back from all the shells that had stolen it.

Narrator:
And the ocean's throat was finally free to share its innermost reflections.

Narrator:
So little Pauly solidified his face and did what a good boy would do.

Narrator:
To this day, he remains at vigilant arms. None of us know it, but he stays there for us.

Selling Guy:
Excuse me. Would anybody like to purchase a hand? I have a human hand for sale. Is...is anyone interested in buying a man's hand?

Big Guy:
How much for just two fingers?

Selling Guy:
Buy me a whiskey and we'll call it even.

Narrator:
And then, there was Violet Galuhwaye, whose insecurity climbed through her window on the night of her 19th birthday.

Narrator:
From that day forth, it controlled her every move with its steady man hands.

Narrator:
She was so grateful for all the attention, even the air around her learned how to vomit.

Narrator:
And just when the world looks most bleak, love rears its face. It rears and rears and rears and rears...

Narrator:
Once all alone, Violet swore if her Insecurity would only return, she'd never take it for granted again.

Narrator:
It is often said that witnessing the warmth of true love, even from a distance, can transform the loneliest heart into a burning pile of garbage.

Narrator:
Thankfully, the local hospital was well versed in modern medicalia.

Surgeon:
Scalpel. Bone saw. Slam poet.

Slam Poet:
Oh, say can you scream, by the con's burly plight. In God we thrust, in butts we nut. Uncle Sambo and Agent Orenje Julieass used mustard gas and ketchup gas to relish truth, justice, and the American't waste.

Violet:
Oh, that was lovely. Did you write it?

Narrator:
Once her mouth was taped up, people began to see Violet's beauty.

Narrator:
And after others see your beauty, you may actually become beautiful. Possibly even blond.

Narrator:
Violet became so beautiful, she grew beauty marks. So many that soon you could no longer see her face -- Just the beautiful beauty marks.

Narrator:
Now everyone who gazed upon her was captivated by her comeliness.

Caller:
Hello? 911? God, please come quick! He's choking! He's choking! This beautiful monster came in, flaunting her ravishing good looks...

Caller:
[chokes] ...and her exquisite allure murdered the only man she'll ever love! He's dead!

Big Guy:
When I ponder the infinite expanse of the universe, I realize just how insignificant we humans truly are.

[Big Guy pulls up the knife to the telescope]

Big Guy:
I don't like feeling insignificant, see?! How you do you like it?!

Narrator:
Beauty got blood on its hands that night, which revealed one thing.

Narrator:
That we drink to drown the darkness that's been punishing us ever since that mysterious day when all the stars packed up and left the sky.

Harry:
Gloria, go get me a beer!

Harry:
What's takin' you so long in there?! I don't see no beer in my hand. Do you see a beer in my hand? My hand wants that beer, Glor! It's gettin' antsy. My hand's itchin' for that beer we discussed, Glor.

[Harry suddenly bleeds sauce out of his hand]

Harry:
The hell? It's makin' sauce, Glor.

Gloria:
Here's your damn beer.

Harry:
Don't bring me a beer right now, woman! My hand's making sauce.

Gloria:
The hell's comin' outta there?

Harry:
My mom's famous boogigabatch sauce.

Gloria:
And you're makin' a mess all over the floor, Harry.

Harry:
Glor, you know how good my mom's secret goojedubatchi sauce is? We're gonna be rich.

Gloria:
Ah, geez. Is another money-grubbin' scheme?

Harry:
Just taste it.

[Gloria tastes Harry's Mom sauce]

Gloria:
Oh, my God. It's the most incredible thing I've ever known. It can't be comin' from you. It's better than you.

Harry:
Do you see it coming out of there?

Gloria:
Yeah. From your hand there.

Harry:
So I am makin' it, see? Now go get the money bucket.

Gloria:
You gonna let me touch the money bucket? Ooh la la! Chu-cha-cha!

Harry:
You catch it in the bucket, sell it in town, we're in the gravy, baby. You married right, I tell ya.

Gloria:
I'm gonna call my mother an' tell her. She always said you'd never amount to nothing.

Harry:
Don't call her now! Handle it first.

Gloria:
This is my chance to patch things up with my ma. Now that I'm finally proud of ya.

Harry:
Glor, all this sauce is gettin' wasted, ya ding-dong!

Gloria:
You know what? Mother was right about you. All ya ever do is sit on yer ass gushin' sauce out of ya hand.

Harry:
Glor, the bucket. Please.

Gloria:
Hello? Yeah. Hey, Ma. I was just callin' to say you were right about the bum.

Harry:
Come on, Gloria.

Gloria:
Get it yourself! I'm on the phone, Harry.

Harry:
You know I don't like to get outta my chair. Money's dumpin here. C'mon.

Gloria:
You don't have control over me no more, Harry. I'm a wealthy woman now. I'm through with you.

Harry:
Please tell me you're gettin' the bucket. Or at least a beer?

Gloria:
I'm leavin' you, Harry. I'm gonna travel the world with my big riches.

Harry:
And where'd you get them riches?

Gloria:
I happen to be partner in a very lucrative new sauce organization of some kind. So long!

[Gloria trips on the rug to the table and can't move]

Harry:
Gloria! Baby! Are you okay?

Gloria:
Harry, Harry...I'm not gonna make it.

Harry:
Oh, God! I wish I could save you, but I-I don't like to get outta my chair.

Gloria:
At least I'm gonna die a wealthy woman. Finally I can afford to be sorry, Harry. Sorry I got so selfish after I got rich. Maybe that's the secret that the secret sauce was trying to teach us...that love is a...

[Gloria drowns to death from sauce when Harry's hand stops bleeding]

Narrator:
The secret to love was lost forever that day, but Harry hung on for weeks, refusing to eat any of the murderous sauce that took his lady wife.

Narrator:
Tragically, he didn't like to get out of his chair, so he began to waste, to starve, to die to death.

Narrator:
And as his old friend and sudden savior reared her face, Harry's gaze glimmered and glormed with the realization that beauty glistens in the eye of the beholder. [echoing]

[Big Guy uses the telescope by zooming the eyepiece up and down that hardly looks like he's jacking himself]

Big Guy:
[thinking] I'm beholding. I'm beholding. I'm beholding. I'm beholding. I'm beholding.

Narrator:
So whoever beholds the hardest can make the sky insecure once again...

Narrator:
...make it break out in a disgusting rash of zits across the greasy face of the endless night.

Narrator:
Then again, after humans discovered that prayer actually works...

Religious Guy:
Pardon me, sir. Have you accepted the Lord into your heart?

Homeless Man:
Yeah, matter of fact, I have.

[Religious Guy pulls up a knife to the Homeless Man's throat to pray him a favor]

Religious Guy:
Pray me a hoagie. Make it snappy. I'm starving a number seven with pimento!

Narrator:
Everyone cursed with belief in their creator was finally useful.

Narrator:
Citizens grew used to having all they desired -- a number eight with cheese...

Narrator:
...number four, hold the bun. They began to yearn for the one thing that had eluded them --

Narrator:
Spiritual faith, number 19 with a side of hot soup.

Narrator:
The second someone got God, they were prayer- jacked. Madness reigned.

Narrator:
There was only one way to make things right. Everyone agreed to drop all faith and forever believe nothing on the count of three.

Narrator:
So Hank Alto experienced a medical issue each time he tried to pray.

Narrator:
At that moment, Hank realized all he ever wanted in life was his hands back so he could pray for his hands back.

Narrator:
...because without prayer, you have to work for your goals, and the hardest part of improving yourself is deciding which purchase will make you worthy of love.

TV Employer:
Ah, this is a nice model. Shall I ring it up? Let me get your wallet.

Hank Alto:
Well, I'd like to try it first, see how it looks.

TV Employer:
No, no, no, no, no. That's considered tacky behavior. Are you a tacky boy?

Hank Alto:
How can I know if I like it?

[TV Employer puts his finger in Hank's mouth in a sexualize way]

TV Employer:
Because you trust me implicitly, baby. Don't we got a good thing going?

Hank Alto:
I'd like to speak with a manager.

TV Employer:
Hold on. Shut your dirty mouth. I'm getting a text. Ah, I just made manager!

[does a flip]

TV Employer:
Up top!

Hank Alto:
Okay, then I...c-can I talk to the owner?

TV Employer:
Hold on. Shh, quiet, quiet, let me...yo, I just bought this place.

[does a flip again]

TV Employer:
Up tip, yo!

Hank Alto:
I'm not purchasing this TV until I see how it plays!

TV Employer:
Fine. [scoffs] Golly.

Young Girl:
Help me! I can't see! Where am I? Did I die?

TV Employer:
See? It looks great, right? Shall we ring you up, tacky boy?

Hank Alto:
What's that noise?

TV Employer:
That's me yelling about ringing you up.

TV Employer:
Look, I'm not supposed to do this. I'm going to be honest with you. Why do you want a TV?

Hank Alto:
Just to watch stuff, to relax.

[TV Employer whisper backwards to the young girl in the TV]

Young Girl:
I can't really be dead. This is all in my head.

Hank Alto:
Is it not relaxing? It's the newest high-tech feature.

Hank Alto:
You're trying to sell me a TV with a spirit of a dead little girl trapped inside it!

TV Employer:
Yes! That's the feature. [serious tone] Do you not recognize her?

Hank Alto:
Who is she?

TV Employer:
It's you, the part of you that died the day you learned the truth.

Hank Alto:
What truth?

TV Employer:
[goes back to normal] Her name is Gretchen. It's on all the latest models. Pretty neat what they can do these days.

TV Employer:
Go on. Ask her for something.

Hank Alto:
No.

TV Employer:
She died so you could have luxury, and you won't even give her a chance?

Hank Alto:
What do -- What do I ask? What does she do?

TV Employer:
Anything people want from a TV.

Hank Alto:
Okay. Gretchen, make me feel better about my life.

Young Girl:
I'm stuck in here filled with fear.

Hank Alto:
Huh, that does make me feel better. I'll take it.

TV Employer:
Great!

[does another flip the 3rd time]

TV Employer:
I'll just go ahead and sign you up for the BGGBBR program at 300 smacks a month.

Hank Alto:
Wait, what's that?

TV Employer:
Gretchen is designed to creep with such precision, hidden messages pop.

Young Girl:
I died for you. It's all I do. I died.

TV Employer:
The Blind Girl Goose Bumps Braille Reading System will decrypt them.

[BGGBBR feels Hank's goosebumps]

BGGBBR:
I died for me. This much is true. So ring me up with extended service protection plan, too.

Hank Alto:
What does that part say?

BGGBBR:
It wants that I'm to kill you for what you've done to poor Gretchen!

Hank Alto:
What did I do?

BGGBBR:
It says, "You know, that you must pay in pain".

TV Employer:
And how did you want to pay for that?

Hank Alto:
No! Those bumps are a liar!

Narrator:
When you push your fear away, it will emerge from somewhere else stronger, angrier, strangle-y-er.

TV Employer:
We got us a bubble pop. It got away. And we're off.

Hank Alto:
How do we stop it?

TV Employer:
With the fear itself. Nothing to be afraid of. Tech rep will work out the kinks for you.

Narrator:
After all fear escaped his body, Hank's confidence broke out.

Doctor:
Yep, these are all Twin Towers.

Hank Alto:
How did this happen?

Doctor:
You must have got pretty arrogant lately. They call them cocky pox.

Hank Alto:
Can you pop them?

Doctor:
Oh, absolutely not. They're fully functional places of work. Got a robust little economy going, see?

Doctor:
Oop, we got a jumper. Don't do it, you little cutie! [chuckles] Best way to cheer them up is jumper mint.

Hank Alto:
He's scratching me!

Narrator:
After a health scare, we are reminded what's important -- [echoing] Shopping.

Ike:
Paper or plastic?

Hank Alto:
Uh, paper, please.

All:
[gasp]

Ike:
You scum. You don't care about trees. You murder trees.

Hank Alto:
No, no, sorry, yeah, no I'll go with plastic.

All:
[gasp]

Ike:
Add more plastic to the landfill? Why don't you just strangle a dolphin, too, sicko. My planet is gasping her death because of you.

[Ike angrily slams his fist down while accidently smashing a random cricket on the counter that he didn't notice]

Hank Alto:
Oh, right, I'll just hold everything in my arm worms.

Ike:
[blows air through teeth] And waste the energy that you could have used to help poor people.

Hank Alto:
Okay, I'll go do that.

Ike:
Pfft. Really? Just soup, nothing solid? Pfft. Oh-ho-ho, great, number sevens.

Ike:
Folks need spiritual nourishment to fill their souls...

Ike:
...and a place to crash.

[cuts to next scene in the house where Hank Alto managed to bring enough people for spirit nourishment exactly what Ike said]

Ike:
Oh, blessings, that's all you got, no ascending to a glorious realm? Pfft.

[Hank Alto finally prayed outside his eyelids and ascended the people to the realm]

Ike:
Pfft. How do I even know you really transcended our material plane and merged harmoniously with the cosmos?

Girl:
The force of Ike's scratch made Ike's face to turn red as his fidgeting finger plunged deep in his head.

Girl:
When your giggling digit grows a mind of its own, who knows who controls the wriggles it gives.

Girl:
Ike's finger discovered and Ike then was shown the path of his brain where righteousness lives.

Ike:
[panting] Oh, yeah, I'm so right. Oh, I'm so right!

Girl:
Once the spurt of his rightness, it gushed and unfurled, he knew he must share his gift with the world.

Yoga Cashier:
How can I help you today, brother?

Ike:
Oh, I'm so much better than you, oh, me so better.

[Ike starts to spurts righteousness goo in the Yoga cashier's face]

Yoga Cashier:
Oh, oh, brother! Why? Ooh!

Girl:
So though just a nub, he continued to rub. He rubbed in the tub, and he rubbed in the pub. He rubbed on the run, all over the place. he rubbed just for fun in everyone's face.

Girl:
For the treasure God bakes and makes you a man, his pleasure, he takes when he feels better than.

Girl:
The worst knee to the groin of the heart the world has seen was envious green as Ike flicked his brain's bean.

Girl:
This morality test made them vow to do nice, so they plugged up his gush and gave true sacrifice.

Girl:
Proud Ike could no longer make folks seem inferior. They each plunged a pointer through their own head's interior.

Girl:
The same goo that had once made folks feel so bad, that goo became good. Oh, the gush that was had.

Girl:
This goo was the cure for their spirits' diseases. He lifted all hearts, out-gooded all geez-s.

Girl:
Now in lieu of the doing of doing good things, they'd feel just good feelings of good the goo brings.

Girl:
The goo was pure goodness. It had to be. They spread good like angels, left good for free.

Girl:
We stepped out for such truth. What's this nub thing, where, how? He is the proof that it's real.

Narrator:
I'm rubbing mine now.

Muscular Guy:
I've never really believed in God, but recently I managed to summon almost superhuman strength.

Muscular Guy:
Two days ago, I witnessed an auto accident. A taxi flipped over, and there was a 3-year-old pinned underneath. I don't know where the power came from, but I got down on the cement...and I managed to do 900 push-ups.

Muscular Guy:
I don't consider myself a hero. I just did what any ripped specimen of jacked man-meat would've done in that situation.

Muscular Guy:
I held a pretty sweet pose until the coroner arrived to throw the boy in the trash and ask for my autograph.

Muscular Guy:
I just...I don't understand how I got so huge! I mean, check my 'bliques. They shredded. Father? Father?

Father:
You are the new Christ.

Narrator:
The crippled came from the world over to be healed. Indeed, each time he showed them his chiseled beef, miraculously, they died psyched.

Narrator:
Eyes once blind saw glory, ears once deaf now pounded. Even gun owners had their problem fixed.

Narrator:
Hunky Messiah renowned us. We're all beef in our souls where it counts.

Narrator:
That being said, humans have an animal need to connect.

Teenager:
So at lunch today, Hannah said she couldn't have brunch with me tomorrow because she's having brunch with Bethany, but Bethany said she couldn't brunch with me she's brunching with Hannah, so then when I confronted them, they said they don't think so, but other people think I'm pissy trash, but, like, you don't think that, do you? 'Cause if you say, "Yes," then literally I will die because this is already, like, the most literal day of my life!

Narrator:
Li Quin Gwang was desperate to say how lucky she felt to gab with a new gal pal, but she couldn't get a word in edgewise, so she used the new app.

Narrator:
Once given the chance to speak, Ms. Gwang wondered if any language was rich enough to convey her depth of appreciation for this fellowship.

Narrator:
She hoped silence would suffice.

Teenager:
But it's like I don't even know if I like brunch, but I wish you and me could brunch sometime.

Narrator:
And at that moment, Ms. Gwang realized how she too could be literal.

Narrator:
She was ready for brunch.

Narrator:
To bust with life was Jay Reese's thickest wish, but he felt so dead in his heart. His chest was swarmed by coffin worms desperate to wriggle in for the feast of their lives.

Reese:
I'm here for a pick-up. Reese.

Body Model Manager:
Reese. Reese. [clicks tongue] You had us recreate your old high-school crush, right?

Narrator:
Reese had no photos, so they had to construct her from his description.

Narrator:
All they told him was to imagine a desert choked dead by a 1,000-year drought and that she was the first spring rain.

Body Model Manager:
We took her out for a test spin, put up a couple few miles on her, right?

Reese:
Oh, okay. Thanks.

Body Model Manager:
Vroom, vroom, right, Mr. Reese?

Reese:
Yeah, I guess.

Body Model Manager:
You guess what?

Reese:
Uh, uh, I, um...Vroom, vroom.

Body Model Manager:
If you say so.

Body Model Manager:
And, uh, did you want dignity with that?

Reese:
Like, what?

Body Model Manager:
Dignity, do you want any dignity? We can put a look of dignity in her eyes or just keep the blank stare.

Reese:
Uh, is the, um, dignity extra?

Body Model Manager:
Fifty cents more.

Reese:
Uh, I'm on a philosopher's salary.

Body Model Manager:
I understand. This guy doesn't want any dignity. No dignity for Jay Reese!

Body Model Manager:
And your in luck. We're running a special prom this month. Every custom love doll you buy, we throw in a free doll of your mother.

Body Model Manager:
Bring out the mom on the Reese job! It's Eudora Reese!

Reese:
No, I don't want...

Body Model Manager:
Looks just like her, huh? Our team really does their research. You can do anything you want with her. Get me? Anything.

Reese:
Ew. I don't want to do sex with Mommy.

Body Model Manager:
Who said anything about sex? What's wrong with you?

Reese:
Sorry. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this.

Body Model Manager:
Punch her, strangling, whatever you're into! Go on! Sock her in the teeth. Break her in. Vroom, vroom, right, like how you said.

Reese:
I'm not...I would never hurt my mom.

Body Model Manager:
Not true. You're breaking her heart right now. See? Her eyes are totally wet for you. Oh, she's a squirter!

Reese:
Why do you have her making noises like that?

Body Model Manager:
Oh, yeah, she's programmed to say all the real stuff your mom says.

Reese's Mom:
Oh, yeah, honey. Can I make you an egg-salad sandwich, baby? [moans] That'll put some meat on your bones. [moans] Ugh, god! When are you going to give me some grandchildren? Ugh, yeah, give it to me! Give me grandchildren! Make me a grandma! Do it!

Reese:
No, no, no, no, no, no! I can't hear this! Make her stop!

Body Model Manager:
Of course. I've got something for that.

[The manager puts a ball gag on the model of Reese's Mom which makes it worse and more sexier]

Reese:
Cancel the whole thing! It's all ruined!

Body Model Manager:
Uh, Mike, uh, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Tell you what, take it. The mom is free.

Reese:
It's not about the money. I'm going.

Body Model Manager:
No, I mean, it's free. It has free will. It wants to come with you!

Reese's Mom:
Oh, I'm coming! Oh, yeah! I'm coming. [moans]

Narrator:
Reese knew, every time he got a girl, his mom would find a way to ruin it.

Narrator:
After that, Reese was too ashamed to see his real mom again, so he began to lean on this one.

Narrator:
The original mother simply couldn't imagine what she had done to make her child reject her so coldly, but his doll was determined not to feel guilty.

Narrator:
It wasn't her fault that woman couldn't manage to keep her own son loyal, so they settled into a cozy companionship -- long afternoons connecting over tea with an ease between them, although her prayers often kept him up at night.

[Reese's Mom reading the bible]

Reese's Mom:
Oh, God, oh, yeah, God. Oh, God. oh, yeah, God, baby. Oh, yeah, God, baby. Oh, God, yeah, God, baby.

Narrator:
And when he finally woke, of course, she laid quite a humongous egg.

Narrator:
The baby moms scampered everywhere, dispensing kind advice and leaving tiny casseroles around the house.

Narrator:
They were competitive critters who did favors and tricks to prove their love without asking for anything in return and spent all day making squeaks that meant, " I don't need anything, so don't worry about me because I don't want to make trouble, and you can ignore me if you like because all I want is for you to be happy. Even though my leg hurts, it's not a big deal, and I don't matter because I'm just a mom."

Narrator:
If he dared to help them in any way, they'd break into cute little riots.

Reese's Dad:
Exterminator.

Reese:
Uh, I didn't call anyone.

Reese's Dad:
Exterminator!

Reese:
Dad, what are you doing here?

Reese's Dad:
I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm just a regular exterminator, okay?

Reese's Dad:
Now you put a tiny Bible here for bait. They crawl in, and snap goes their nagging neck.

Reese:
I don't want to hurt them.

Reese's Dad:
[begging] Aw, let me just do a couple of them, please, please.

Narrator:
He realized these sweet creatures could help so many others not lucky enough to know a mother's touch.

Narrator:
This gave him confidence that he was ready to find a real partner, maybe even get married.

Narrator:
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, the queen mother just happened to grow old as a total coincidence and not as an emotional manipulation.

Narrator:
As her health deteriorated, he was strangely grateful for the chance to care for the person who had nurtured him when he was helpless.

Narrator:
He couldn't help but see an elegance to the full circle shape our lives take. He was with her at the end when she slipped into infinity.

Narrator:
The first time he brought a woman to completion, his heart throbbed to life. His coffin worms were thrilled for their brunch, but Reese missed the warmth of his little friends as they ate away at all things death, chomping a path he'd be crazy enough to follow.

Narrator:
Holly Inglet had quite enough messes.

Narrator:
So the day he finally felt rain on his face after a 1,000-year drought, Reese raised her the whole world, and no matter how hard his old friends begged him to visit them for tea, he never set foot on the ground again, not after tonight.

Narrator:
Therefore, Kally Gluntle spent life wondering if she was invisible. After searching for a diet that would earn her the love she deserved, Kally discovered eating celery burns more calories than it contains.

Narrator:
Once she disappeared completely, she finally felt seen. After achieving every girl's dream of negative weight, no one could take their eyes off her.

Narrator:
She turned every head. The camera loved her, but one day, she looked up and found herself full of pity for the clunky losers of the world. Now that she had all of the attention. She danced like no one was watching. It was.

Narrator:
She wondered where her shyness went, but it didn't matter because she was happy and forever free.

Narrator:
But no matter how hard they try, some women are too weak to ignore the suffering of others.

Amy:
Here. It's only half a sandwich.

Rosa:
Thanks, ma'am, but I'm not a charity case. It says, "Work for food".

Amy:
Really, it's fine.

Rosa:
I'd rather starve than be degraded.

Amy:
What can you do for me?

Rosa:
Well, I used to be a nurse. I was a hospice nurse. I could do that. It'll only take a sec. Lay down. Here we go.

Rosa:
Slip away. Let go. You don't have to hold on. Slip into glory.

Amy:
I can't...I'm not going to just die.

Rosa:
Oh, because I can't earn my own meals? I've have never been so insulted!

Rosa:
Don't be afraid. Just surrender. You are loved. Go towards the light. The light is love. Go to it. Beautiful! You are at peace now.

Amy:
[echoing] Hello? Where am I? What's happening?

Rosa:
I can finally dig into this sammy! Mmm, pretty nummy! [coughs] Wait! Ugh! Is there mayo in this sam-sam?

Amy:
Yeah. It was a ham and mayonaise.

Rosa:
Dang! Why didn't you tell me? I hate mayo!

Amy:
You didn't specify! Can't you just scrape it off?

Rosa:
Like, actual ew! I would know it used to be there.

Amy:
Can you help me get out of here?

Rosa:
Oh...oh, yeah. O...of course. Sorry. Move forth, gentle. Make your first left. You'll see a door. Go right through there.

Amy:
Oh! I think this is hell! Oh!

Rosa:
Oh, I'm sorry. Is that not what you wanted?

Amy:
No!

Rosa:
Oh, well you didn't specify.

Amy:
Oh, it burns! My skin is burning!

Rosa:
Can't you just scrape it off?

Narrator:
But our secrets consume us.

Lily:
I know it sounds crazy, but since I was a kid, I couldn't shake the feeling that my mom wants to eat me.

Dr. Bodgey:
And did you ever consider the possibility that she did that so that she could stay in you life?

Amy:
[sobbing]

Lily:
Did you really want to be there for me, mom, or were you just trying to stay out of hell?

Narrator:
The perk of Dr. Bodgey's job was front-row seats to the ding-dong show like his patient this morning.

Clive:
I don't know, Doc. People tell me I should be paranoid, but I got nothing to be afraid of.

Dr. Bodgey:
Do you think it's because of those?

Clive:
Those what? What's the problem?

Dr. Bodgey:
Can you see how your refusal to be terrified is infuriating to me?

Clive:
Why is everyone conspiring me to make me paranoid? I'm not falling for it. I'm going to be happy and devout my life to actually helping people!

Dr. Bodgey:
Noooooooo!

Narrator:
Denial makes your life a wreck.

Clive:
This thing is going to blow any second! If you could grab hold of my arm, I'll try and pull you out.

Karry:
Uh, excuse me?

Clive:
If I hold this up, I can get you out through this hole here.

Karry:
Yeah, can you not mansplain to me right now? I know how a rescue works.

Clive:
I just...I just...

Karry:
[mocking] I just...I just...Why don't you try to say that again, only this time, pretend you consider me your intellectual equal? Huh? Just for fun, let's try that.

Clive:
Uh, sorry. We should hurry. There's gas leaking, and it could explode any second.

Karry:
Okay! Thank you for telling me how fossil fuels work. I don't know what I would've done.

Clive:
There's a lot of blood dripping.

Karry:
You mean my blood as in my business. Maybe spend a little less time worrying about my natural bodily functions and a little more time not worrying about my natural bodily functions!

Clive:
If this thing blows, we'll be badly burned.

Karry:
How's this for a burn? Why are you so dumb? Ha!

Clive:
Uh, it's because I just...[sighs] It's because I think you're pretty, all right?

Karry:
There it is. Typical.

Clive:
And I'm hoping if we survive this, I can get your phone number.

Karry:
You do realize how inappropriate this is, right?

Clive:
I know. I'm sick.

Karry:
Can you unpack that for me a little bit?

Clive:
Well, I guess I'm haunted by inferiority born of my jealousy over the female body's capacity to carry life into this world which is why I secretly put nails in the road to cause a wreck so I can play out my twisted savior complex and feel superior.

Karry:
But that's why I cut the brakes on my car, to catch jerks acting superior.

Clive:
You did? That's so funny.

Karry:
Oh, my god. Weird. No, like, we're actually not so different. We both wanted the same thing, just from...

Clive & Karry:
[unison] Different Angles.

Karry:
This is no accident.

Clive:
We're like partners in some cryptic dance.

Karry:
Oh, god. What are we doing?

Clive:
We're doing this.

[Clive kissed Karry inside the car wreckage while doing a makeout]

Narrator:
Every second they didn't explode made the couple savor life more. Then can the moment. It was the first time Clive felt truly held.

Clive:
I could live in this moment forever and ever and ever. [echoing]

Narrator:
The way they spat love in the ass of death was an inspiration to the world.

Narrator:
Bliss ripped hope a new joy hole.

Narrator:
Atoms orgied. The Sun and Moon got a room. Daises did the Dougie. Birds stopped having constant racist thoughts against Asians. Even Jews began to get along with other Jews. Everyone was happy.

Narrator:
It was a mental health professional's worst nightmare.

Dr. Bodgey:
Have you ever even peaked in there to see what she looks like?

Clive:
No need. All that matters is on the inside. She could blow us both to smithereens at any second.

Dr. Bodgey:
You know what I think? You're afraid to look, because what if nobody is in there? You're worried it's empty. You are paranoid!

Clive:
No way. My girl wouldn't not exist. She bees. Tell him you bee, boo. Boo? Boo?

Karry:
I'm sorry! I...It's not my fault! My mom gave me an eating disorder, so I committed celery-cide. I un-ed myself.

Clive:
The--the--the--th-- Then what's in there? Nothing? Are you just an empty portal? You zilchor! Boo. Boo!

Karry:
But isn't it beautiful. Don't you remember how happy we were then?

Clive:
You tricked me into having a fulfilling relationship with a manifestation of nostalgia for the relationship I got tricked into?

Clive:
You know I hate when I get trapped in a self-collapsing emotional prison. I've told you that over and over and over!

Karry:
But what are you going to do?!

Clive:
I'm pulling myself out of there.

Narrator:
Clive stayed in his trap for all eternity. But once your worst fear comes true, your paranoia can fly back home which might give you the courage to emancipate your own heart from its abusive cycle of love.

[Clive getting bounced by many cars]

Clive:
I'm taking a little me time.

Narrator:
And Dr. Bodgey was thrilled to have some sweet misery to solve once again.

Dr. Bodgey:
Erasing your identity was a tragic act of pure selflessness. Blame the mom.

Amy:
[laughs]

Satan:
Noooo! [Satan explodes]

Narrator:
And after she murdered the devil, Lily felt empowered to share her victory snack with the world.

Narrator:
Once all existence was gone, no one could tell if her nothingness was still there or if it never was. If she was there, then it wasn't, but if she was there, then it wasn't.

Narrator:
But Mirvyn Blanchyrd was one of the kookiest goofballs on planet Earth.

Narrator:
He disseminated frivolous cheer with his zany wacknanigans. The man was a true nut.

Narrator:
After nearly overdosing on fun, his doctor became concerned he might be medically wacky and soon Mirv was diagnosed with stage IV goof-em-ups.

Narrator:
The clinician explained his vital organs were a Silly Billy.

Narrator:
Tests revealed Mirvyn's turds were riding up and down inside his butt in what oncologists described as a wack-a-doodie poorade, and then his dookie came flying out his mouth across town, smacking into an old lady's face.

Narrator:
Mirv and his doctor, shared a guffaw over that one.

Narrator:
When they discovered his funny bone was riddled with a cancerous humor, it causes Mirv to cross his eyes with such whimsy he was forced to confront every hijink jinking the depths of his psyche.

Narrator:
The most advanced madcap treatments flopped. He was informed he had only 2 months left to goof. His final hope was a siliectomy to surgically remove all his malignant kook.

Narrator:
The procedure was a success, so his wife celebrated with jolly glee.

Monk:
Every object in the physical realm has been infinitely born in every moment. God is inside this flower.

Narrator:
Fred Lombadi tried to remain calm, but he knew this chance might never come again, the chance to make his father proud, the score of a lifetime.

Fred's Father:
Did you get it?

Fred Lombadi:
He's in here.

Fred's Father:
Let me see that. Hmm. I -- I can't see him.

Fred Lombadi:
That's the idea. The monk guy, he says the trick to nabbing him is patience.

Fred's Father:
I got a better trick. [pulls up a gun] You come out of there or I stab you with a knife. Get! Easy, now. Easy!

[God came out of the flower]

Fred Lombadi:
You proud of me now, Pop?

Fred's Father:
Did you remember to pick up a pack of matches for me, too?

Fred Lombadi:
Oh.

Fred's Father:
Aw, Freddy Forgetti!

Fred Lombadi:
I remember the monkey said about how God is inside us all.

Thug:
What, even up in me? Get out of me, you mook! Out, out!

[Another God also came out of the thug's body]

Fred's Father:
If this is God, what's that? One of these a phony!

Thug:
We better have them duke it out.

Narrator:
When underground God fighting took off, oceans burned, skies sharted, heaven pees its pants...

Narrator:
...and over $100 in wagers changed hands.

Narrator:
Every denomination got in on the action, and Fred's one true God eviscerated all the other one true Gods, plus they cleaned up selling His Holy Seed to breeders.

Fred's Father:
This last year has been very good to us, right now. I never told you this before, but I am proud to say that you are...Freddy Forgetti! I can't believe you forgot the matches that time, you ding-dong! [laughter]

Narrator:
As a token of goditude, the Lord made Fred's dum-dum go bye-bye.

Narrator:
He spent his brainglow developing new technology to ensure no one ever had to wonder what someone is feeling.

Narrator:
When Roman Mungol submitted to a love detector, he was surprised to see his results come back positive.

Narrator:
He knew he harbored affection for the woman who delivered his mail, but it was a shock to have it electronically confirmed as eternal love.

Narrator:
He told her he was willing to pay millions if she'd reciprocate his feelings, not have sex or kiss, but actualize digitally adjudicated eternal passion.

Narrator:
Desperately in debt and hobbled by health problems, Sheila Sherma decided to give it a sincere shot.

Narrator:
For months, they struggled valiantly to pry open the petals of her heart.

Narrator:
She grabbed her soul by the scruff of the ass, but she couldn't force it to mate with his.

Narrator:
One day after a rigorous session, they were on their lunch break when it happened.

Narrator:
It was that moment he knew he could never respect or love a whore whose emotion could be bought.

Narrator:
He kept his revelation inside, couldn't bear to break her heart. They made it work together, and luckily she never found out what he really thought of her.

Narrator:
He worried. He could develop a fatal bowel disorder turning her to a lonely bowel widow, but he didn't know what else to do.

Narrator:
The moment he was discovered, the butterflies in his stomach turned back into caterpillars.

Narrator:
When the detector's digital kin charged in to defend it, the couple weren't intimidated.

Narrator:
In fact, they sicced theirs upon the invader and savored the battle that ensued.

Narrator:
They didn't understand why the machine they treated so brutally would fight to keep them flush which was just what excited them.

Narrator:
They got off on nursing the warrior back to help so it could ravage on their behalf again and again. They sold its seed to breeders.

Narrator:
But when Fred found his brainchild mired in the same cycle of abuse, he spiraled, swallowed in wallow.

Narrator:
When woe is your only companion, you hanker to clutch its titillations.

Narrator:
The instant he snorted his first line of pure gloom, his life was darked.

Narrator:
He carpe'd his demons and sucked the black marrow of misery's milk from the bone of grief's teat, horfing in the pleasures of misery.

Narrator:
It was the best three minutes of his life. Luckily, his brother intervened to stop him.

Narrator:
Fred quit leaning on quick fixes and turned to a life of substance.

Narrator:
He did lines of prose all night. Then he smoked every self-help book he could get his hands on, the sublime power of the written word coursing through his system.

Narrator:
Soon he moved on to the hard stuff. He filled his lungs with brilliance and became chemically dependent on profundity. Nothing was dense enough.

Narrator:
Mornings, he would Wake & Blake, roll up a Frued and cook some Baldwin brownies. Soon he started mainlining the Beasts. At his rock bottom, he sucked the Oxford English Dictionary until he nearly OD'd on the subtext.

Narrator:
After he licked out the last few gigs of sci-fi from inside a Kindle, he had imbibed everything ever written.

Narrator:
That's when he began breaking into houses and smoking dreams right out of people's heads as they slept.

Woman:
What's happening? Where am I? I'm supposed to be in my mind. Let me out of here! I'm out of my mind!

Fred Lomabdi:
Jump! I'll catch you, dream girl.

[After Fred caught the woman, she turns into a monster]

Monster:
You've released me you fool! [evil laughs]

Fred Lombadi:
You can't scare me off that easy.

[Fred sexually kisses the monster]

Monster:
[thinking] Why do I always get myself into these suffocating relationships? Am I punishing myself for some perceived guilt?

Fred Lombadi:
[thinking] Mm, I'm tearing her up inside.

Woman:
[thinking] Sometimes I feel like he's just in love with the idea of me.

Narrator:
When Fred arrived, he finally understood what his father had been trying to tell him his whole life.

Fred's Father:
Freddy...Freddy...Freddy Forgetti.

[Fred's Father died with a hand gesture]

Fred Lombadi:
I'm ashamed of mine, too, Dad. I'm ashamed of mine, too.

Narrator:
He was teaching his son that it's always better to grow your own.

Narrator:
And as we know, there is a town in Finland called Fjuurn comprised entirely of lonely people.

Narrator:
Recent computers have discovered a town in Vietnam Huan whose populace is also romantically unattached.

Narrator:
One Fjuurnian for each single Huanian. Compatible ages, interests, fetishes, peccadilli.

Narrator:
Following this finding, Fjuurn became shy. Every citizen blushed so much, the temperature rose 9 degrees. A soft, red glow could be seen from space.

Narrator:
It was from this vintage that astro-matchmakers noticed the skyline of these two locales, every mountain & valley, tower & well, house & hole were a perfect interlocking fit, a precise inverse of one another like a hot dog slipped snugly into a set of human buns.

Narrator:
Meant to be.

Narrator:
One night Science got drunk and decided to force fate to happen.

Narrator:
They folded one over other using cranes and a finger of skylube.

Narrator:
After the carnage of penetration, each subsequent municipal pump was hotter than that which preceded it.

Narrator:
The next morning as the sun scorched off the fog of abandon, Huan awoke alone to discover that Fjuurn had secretly taped the whole thing.

Narrator:
It was all over the net.

Narrator:
Humiliated, Huan threw itself off the edge of the earth. But Fjuurn was taping that, too, so they'd always have proof of Huan's love -- something to give Fjuurn the confidence to finally love itself.

Narrator:
And yet, Dr. Ton Bntu extracted a lateral infarction in the optic chiasm so Eban Dylfyl blind since birth, could see the world for the first time.

Eban Dylfyl:
You gotta be kidding me. That's it?

Dr. Bntu:
Can you see?

Eban Dylfyl:
Yeah, but I just always pictured the world was gonna be, like, beautiful, ya know?

Dr. Bntu:
You need more time to get used to it...?

Eban Dylfyl:
I don't wanna get used to this. It's worser than trash. It's freakin' common.

Dr. Bntu:
Well, maybe try nature.

[Dr. Bntu opens the blinds showing nature as a peaceful environment]

Eban Dylfyl:
Lame. Ugh. My eyes are gonna puke. [retching]

[Eban tries to puke from his eyes aggressively]

Dr. Bntu:
I'm sorry, but this is the world.

Eban Dylfyl:
Well, you need to fix it now or I'm gonna get you fired! You'll be on the streets eating cardboard dirt! No sauce. No beverage. LIKE I ATE!

Narrator:
A Dr's sacred mission is to do everything in his power to avoid losing his job.

Narrator:
After he fingered the seam of sight, Eban managed to escape into the realm that lives behind vision.

Narrator:
There is no survival skill greater than man's ability to save face.

Narrator:
Having true pride is never letting anyone know they got to you.

Narrator:
So when Gil Minugm got tripped by a bully, he just kept falling as if he meant to do it. As long as he pretended to tumble, he kept his self-respect.

Narrator:
He committed to his pride all thru life. Dignity flowed from him like body water. He slipsy-won the city marathon and became the first man to fall up Mt. Everest.

Narrator:
He managed to meet and injure fun, new people. He fell into a relationship with a girl who he could express his pride up in every position, from dignified doggy to respectful cowgirl. Even butt stuff.

Gil:
Wasn't that a lovely ceremony?

Gil's Wife:
Sometimes I think you're falling on purpose to avoid grappling with life's real challenges.

Gil:
What? No. I just happen to be falling. Whoa, whoops. See?

Gil's Wife:
When you say that it diminishes validity from people who are really falling, like me.

Gil:
You're not really falling any more than I am.

Gil's Wife:
We're both just going through the motions.

Gil:
Whoa, whoa!

Gil's Wife:
I need to be with someone who can grab life by the scruff of the ass.

Narrator:
After their first fight, a couple can slow its faux bumble and finally hold each other in its gaze, forever safe, invincible.

EMT Surgeon:
You! Are you a relative of the victim?

Gil:
That, uh, gunk there is my wife.

EMT Surgeon:
The only way these folks survive is if I sew them together right now.

Gil:
Can you do that?

EMT Surgeon:
I trained a surgeon specializing in hybrids. Lousy job market means that I gotta drive a goddamn ambulance to make ends meet.

EMT Surgeon:
Do you want her to die?!

Gil:
No! No! It's just, I don't know..

EMT Surgeon:
Make a decision! Grab life by the scruff of the ass!

Gil:
Okay. Do it. Do it!

EMT Surgeon:
Good now stand back, pray, and cheer me on. "Slab, Slab, Slab!" They called me 'Slab" in med school, and I don't have time to tell you this story. C'mon, motivate me!

Gil:
Umm, Slab...Slab...Slab...Slab...Slab...Slab...

EMT Surgeon:
So did you have lunch yet?

Gil:
Um, uh, no. Slab...Slab...Slab...Slab...

EMT Surgeon:
Well get yourself something, menu's on the side.

Gil:
Wait, this...this ambulance is a food truck, too?

EMT Surgeon:
I told you -- hybrids. Now I recommend the Chi-Loco-Lo-Mein-Vein Dragon Bowl. They're little burritos rolled all the way into noodles! It's a pretty fun Mexican take on a traditional Chinese lo mein. Isn't that a clever lil combo. Kinda how your wife's gonna end up if she pulls through! [chuckles] Get used to combos!

Gil:
I really don't have an appetite right now!

EMT Surgeon:
Well, family of patients get 10% off.

Gil:
I don't know. [whispering] Scruff of ass.

Gil:
Can you tell me about the feelawfel?

EMT Surgeon:
Okay, that one is our take on the falafel, obviously. We do it raw onions since you're crying, anyway. And if your loved one dies, you get to keep the cup. So you walk away a winner no matter what happens.

Gil:
I'll...I'll do one of those.

EMT Surgeon:
Okay. Gotta say it through the window there.

Gil:
One feel-awfel.

[EMT Surgeon appears in the food truck]

EMT Surgeon:
Okay, you're gonna want to get the grief sauce on this, I assume.

Gil:
You're gonna cook it, too?

EMT Surgeon:
I focus best when I'm doing two things at once.

Gil:
This is the most impressive thing I've ever witnessed. [happily] Slab! Slab! Slab!

EMT Surgeon:
Order up!

[Gil tastes the feelawfel]

Gil:
Mmm! Incredible! How'd you get the edges so, uh...

EMT Surgeon:
Crispy on the outside? I flash fry 'em before broiling.

EMT Surgeon:
Order up! She's gonna make a full recovery. It's kinda my fun take on saving your wife's life, that's all. Up top!

[EMT Surgeon avoid the high five and slaps Gil's wife instead]

Gil's Wife:
What happened?

Gil:
You were in a terrible accident.

Gil's Wife:
What are you, like, eating?

Gil:
It's seriously the most delicious thing I've ever had. Here try a bite.

Gil's Wife:
I don't understand what's going on.

Gil:
What's going on is I grabbed life by the scruff of that ass.

Narrator:
When something scrumptious blindsides our senses, we can see the seam of sight speak its peace. To warn us --

Horizon:
Vision is violence.

Bully:
What you looking at, twerp? You a tough guy? Huh? You a tough guy?

Nerd Kid:
I don't know.

Bully:
Whatchu mean? Are you a tough guy?

Nerd Kid:
I mean, it's complicated, I'm not sure I can categorize myself.

Bully:
Okay, well her, let me help you figure it out.

[Bully gives the nerd a wedgie]

Bully:
Now, are you a tough guy?

Nerd Kid:
I mean, we all have different facets to facets to ourselves. One part may be tough, aggressive, dominant, while another side is introspective and hesitant. If I'm being honest, I'm a complex amalgam of both.

Bully:
Ok then, I'll separate it for ya.

[Bully splits the Nerd kid into two personalities]

Bully:
Now the both of yous can hash it out amongst yourselves. Losers!

Nerd's Tough Side:
What you looking at, lil half b*tch?

Nerd's Soft Side:
Nothing. I just..

Nerd's Tough Side:
[mocking] Nothing, I just... -- Nothing, I just...I just...

Nerd's Tough Side:
Shut up. Gimme yer lunch money, now.

Nerd's Soft Side:
But, like, isn't our lunch money?

Nerd's Tough Side:
You gonna be a little b*tch, you b*tch?

Nerd's Soft Side:
That's not a simple question. You know, It'd be erroneous to adhere to one broad label when Jungian scholars agree a personality comprises infinite gradations of 7 archetypical traits.

Nerd's Tough Side:
Here's your 7 component archetypes right here.

[Nerd's Tough Side slices his soft side in pieces in karate style]

Horizon:
It requires great strength to analytically octosect ourselves into sub-sets of neuroticism, agreeableness, extroversion, openness, conscientiousness, warmth, and assertiveness.

Nerd's Tough Side:
Now dat I done helped you truly know yerself fer free, why doncha cough up that lunch money as payment?

[Nerd's Soft Side coughs up lunch money]

Nerd's Tough Side:
I know who I am, I'm rich!

Horizon:
His Alpha side breezed through life, grabbing whatever its half-heart desired. Tragically, his beta half was forced to develop a personality and sharpen his intellect to survive.

Narrator:
Both sides grew up utterly happy and secretly miserable because each suspected the other was actually happy and not utterly pretending.

Narrator:
They developed a sick fixation upon each other.

Narrator:
Each side snuck to the other one's house to creep on their other side sleeping.

Narrator:
Both were horrified to discover their other side not home but probably out having real fun.

Narrator:
They had too much pride to get back together. But one afternoon, when they had both moped off to brood in a meadow, they inexplicably felt the re-connection they had longed for. They savored the sensation.

Narrator:
As long as they remained in Eban's healing gaze, held whole in the stitch of his sight, they felt they could do absolutely anything at all.

Horizon:
So that's exactly what they did.

Narrator:
On the other hand, there are ears who see too much.

Dustin:
Have you seen him?

Grave:
I have.

Dustin:
Where? What was he doing?

Grave:
He was putting up fliers that say "have you seen this man?" with pictures of himself on it.

Dustin:
How did he look? Did he seem fulfilled in his life?

Grave:
Not really.

Dustin:
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! [crying] Damn it!

Grave:
But I followed him for a few hours.

Dustin:
You did? What did he do?

Grave:
You walked into the woods, pretty deep, and crawled into a hole.

Dustin:
I did? Am I in there now?

Grave:
You're just sitting there thinking.

Dustin:
What am I thinking about?

Grave:
How am I supposed to know?

Dustin:
Oh, come on! Use your eyes!

Grave:
He's thinking about...about when he was a kid. [echoes]

Narrator:
Dustin Okus assumed his father was just distant, or didn't love him, until the day he discovered the man actually had a medical condition.

Narrator:
It's called Being A Dick.

Narrator:
It comes in all shapes and sizes.

Dr. Lenyrrt:
I told you not to bug me at work.

Creepy Voice:
But...I missed you.

Dustin:
[muttering] Is everything okay?

Dr. Lenyrrt:
Yes. Yes, fine.

Dustin:
It sounded like you were talking.

Dr. Lenyrrt:
It's a...a new technique. Uh, we talk to the teeth. Cutting-edge dental-ry.

Dustin:
Ohh! Okay, sounds cool.

Dr. Lenyrrt:
[whispering] Look, you almost got me in trouble.

Creepy Voice:
Don't be so uptight. Come on, one quick smooch and I leave you alone.

Dr. Lenyrrt:
[chuckles] Don't be cray right now. Shh!

Creepy Voice:
At least send down the fresh meat.

Dr. Lenyrrt:
Don't you ever get enough?

Dr. Lenyrrt:
Don't worry, baby boy! All marriages hurt at first. You're doing so great! So hot. [moans]

Narrator:
In the middle of his first serious relationship, Dustin made a major discovery behind a stone -- the 27th letter of the alphabet.

Narrator:
No one knew another letter existed, but there it was -- plain as pudding on your stupid face.

Dustin:
I believe this letter will lead to new words. Words for things we've here to fore had no way of expressing. Which could lead to new ideas, new emotions.

Dustin:
Perhaps man will develop a new organ, a new lobe of the brain capable of perceiving a new magnitude of reality, one that contains a new state of grace.

Dustin:
At the very least, there'll be new foods, or at minimum -- new meats. Which would naturally lead man to new gravies. This to say nothing of new sides. Or mayhaps a whole new specie, an advanced creature 1/27th more conscious than us.

Dustin:
It'd be a gradual--

[Dustin gets eaten by a one eyed monster]

Narrator:
There is no way to describe the horror visited upon Dustin without using words that contain the letter.

Narrator:
The closest we can safely say is that it made the Black Plague look like a jazz festival.

Narrator:
It made Hiroshima look like a tap dancing pill bug...

Narrator:
It made the Holocaust look like a children's party magician...

Narrator:
Toddler Prodigy, Trudy Glimmer was the greatest peek-a-boo player had ever known.

[After the kids got splattered in blood from the balloon]

Girl:
It's here! A new meat! We did it!

Children:
Fresh meat! Fresh meat! Fresh meat! Fresh meat!

Narrator:
A magician who discovered a new and nobler meat, derived from ether not beast. So the world had no more need to raise animals merely to suffer and slaughter like beef.

Narrator:
The animals were thrilled -- this non-sentient meat was their Jesus.

Narrator:
Show business filled its destiny as the true savior of planet Earth.

Narrator:
And the winsome gobs stoked Dustin's hope they'd be kind enough to absorb his too.

Narrator:
When it martyrously obliged, Dustin went on a pain spree abusing himself with the gusto of a teenage girl at shy camp.

Narrator:
The sweet meat lapped up every twitch of suffering like a biscuit sops gravy at sauce camp.

Narrator:
He couldn't get enough of the meat's generosity.

Narrator:
Every screech of agony was proof someone cared.

Narrator:
We All. Love. To. Feel. Loved.

Narrator:
One day, he looked up and realized he couldn't tell himselves apart. Lost track which me he was.

Narrator:
Both haunted by the same queasy thought -- what if I'm really him and he's really me?

Narrator:
What if I not the man? What if I'm the meat?

Dustin:
Now I've gone missing. For the life of me I can't track myself down. If you can still see me, can you ask me if I know if I'm me or not?

Grace:
There's gotta be one thing that separates man from his meat.

Dustin:
You mean this pit of misery burning in my chest? Is it so strong you can see it? [sobbing] Hello? Can you? Hello?

Narrator:
No matter how much numbing perversion Dustin shoved in, his ravenous yearn only grew emptier, abyssier.

Narrator:
One day, Dustin realized he needed to give a name to his nameless ache -- he dubbed it Bry-Bry.

Narrator:
His emptiness was finally fed up with the depth of Dustin's dumbth and went looking for a better life.

Narrator:
An inner abyss out on its own for the first time often feels nervous. But when you're forced to sleep in the park...

Narrator:
...wonderful things happen.

Narrator:
It gorged on the happy, the healthy, and any other suckers it could trick into the lips of its gape.

Narrator:
The pickings were so thick the chasm grew portly. Then it got finicky.

Narrator:
He was tortured by the visions of the fun his pit was having without him.

Narrator:
He had to accept that his void was avoiding him.

Narrator:
It tickled as his prisoners pounded and scratched for release, but he didn't let their negative energy drag him down to their level.

Narrator:
His prisoners stumbled, wailing through the black of his chasm until one of the discovered the thing that changed the game -- the 28th letter of the alphabet.

Narrator:
It made the 27th letter look like a jelly bean doing tricks to impress and ultimately seduce a peanut.

Narrator:
It gave them the knowledge and skills to grow acres of vibrant crops to sustain their community.

Narrator:
It became a voidtopia, their lives rich with revelry, and they never thought of the outside world again.

Narrator:
But Dustin felt so sorry for his captives he made it his mission to explore the outer edges of his freedom so their suffering wouldn't be in his vain.

[After Dustin gets stuck in floating glass mirror he's trapped in]

Dustin:
I'm trapped in infinity! I can't breath! Get me outta here! Get me out of everywhere!

Narrator:
He just needed someone, anyone from the empty world to let him out.

Narrator:
Some children are just naturally talented. We'll never know why.

Narrator:
But some lives change on a dime.

Amy:
Please let me go. I have a kid!

Satan:
I shall allow you to remain on Earth if you can complete an simple task. You must do one selfless act.

[Amy returns back on Earth to save herself by giving food for the homeless people]

Amy:
Okay. You had the tuna salad with crust cut off, and who ordered the vegan gyro? Gyro? Gyro? Gyro. Who ordered the vegan gyro?

[Amy returns back to Hell]

Satan:
Giving food to the poor is not selfless. You did it to save yourself. Fail.

Amy:
I can give away my car, everything.

Satan:
I feel like you're not appreciating the elegance of my selfless act paradox.

Narrator:
Amy Liblin rushed home with relish.

[Amy tries to eat her own baby to save herself from Hell]

Satan:
Um, excuse me, what are you doing? This is, like, over the line, okay?

Amy:
I'm just doing what you requested.

Satan:
I'm not really following your logic.

Amy:
I'll explain right after my lunch.

[Amy shows Satan that she's actually trying to take a bite of her baby]

Satan:
Okay. As long as you're seriously planning to eat your own baby, I want nothing to do with this. Like, actual ew!

Narrator:
And yet we know that when a butterfly flaps its wing in Sheboygan, it can set into motion a chain of escalating gusts that eventually results in a hurricane in Bali.