| abstract
| - Clod: Why, Master Geek. To what do I owe the pleasure? LAG: Chairman Clod, on behalf of the critics and internet users everywhere, I place you under arrest.(brandishes his lightsaber) Clod: Are you threatening me, Master Critic? LAG: Duh! Clod: You dare 'duh' me? LAG: You will be made to pay for your many crimes, especially Chipwrecked. Snob: Woah. Woah. What are you talking about? LAG: Snob, he's behind all of our recent problems. Snob: (to Clod) Is this true? Clod: Well, from a certain point of view, everything- Yes. Snob: (to LAG) He deserves a trial. Leave him to the feds. The courts. LAG: He's bought them off with his lobbyist money. He's too dangerous to be allowed to live. He deserves to die. He WILL die. Clod: (channeling Ian McDiarmid) No. No. No. No. It is YOU who will DIE!!! (brandishes his lightsaber, which the Geek knocks out of his hand) Uh! (Clod then shoots lightning out of his hands, which the Geek reflects with his lightsaber) Bradakin! He's killing me! Only I can make you a true producer and save you from obscurity! (at this point, Clod appears more scarred and weathered than before; Snob meanwhile has been deep in thought over what's been happening) He's killing me! Snob: No! I need him! I need him! (goes over and knees LAG in the groin) LAG: Oh! Me whomp rats! Clod: (now deformed) POWER!!! (shocks the LAG with the lightning) Unregulated Studio POWER!!! LAG: Cheesiest line ever! (he is obliterated) Snob: (filled with regret) My God! What have I done? Clod/Executor: Killed your friends. Betrayed your comrades. All in all, I'd say a successful Tuesday. Snob: I think I'm gonna be sick. Executor: Bradakin, join me. Together we can rule the galaxy with copyright laws. Snob: (kneels before him) I will do whatever you ask. Executor: Really? Wow. That went much faster than I expected. Snob: I have a real impulse control problem. Executor: Apparently. Snob: I pledge myself to you. To the ways of the Studio. To the ways of the Dicks. Executor: Good. Gooooood. A powerful dick you will become. From now on, you shall be known henceforth as Darth Snob. We must move quickly. (he dons his hoodie) The critics are relentless. If we do not hurry, they will be on the message boards within minutes. Stupid form letters will be sent to Congress, there will be another internet blackout, and all hope will be lost. Snob: What can we do? Executor: First, we will kill the critics, then seize the power of the Hole, then we'll have a little soiree. (at this point, the dark music is replaced by lighter, jazz-lounge music) Maybe invite some friends over: Ron Howard, Henry Winkler is always nice. Maybe have some of those appetizer-y things. Those little spinach puffs and those little cocktail weiners wrapped in the- what do you call it? It's almost like a Pillsbury Dough, but not quite. And maybe some cards, a few games, some charades... And THEN! Then we shall have peace. FB: But I don't understand. How'd you get here? Ma-Ti: You launched me into space. Remember? (Film Brain turns around as the Suburban Knights footage plays again) The hole did the rest. FB: You collided with it. Didn't you? You collided with the hole and it restored you. Just like Europa. Ma-Ti: YES! Now, me and the plot hole are one. FB: Then your character is in Spoony. Ma-Ti: He is but one half of me. FB: Well, then we need to bring you two back together. Ma-Ti: Not until you bring me the Critic. Bring him to the Plot Hole! FB: But why? Ma-Ti: Bring him to the hole, and all will be revealed. FB: No, not until you tell me the truth. What do you want with the Critic and what have you done with Spoony? Ma-Ti: You're wasting time. You are all in danger from... him. FB: Him? Who? Executor: This station is the greatest power of all the universe. Once we use it, the world will crumble before the power of the Death Bomb. (we now see The Death Bomb; it's like The Death Star, only... a bomb. It even has a wick at the top) Out of the ashes, we will rise. Of course, it needs to be repainted. Wallpaper needs to be re-applied and the rugs are hideous; but aside from that, it's pretty darn impressive. FB: Oh my God! He's gonna kill everyone! Guys, get me out of this thing! (Cut to him in the chair) Guys! Get me out of here. Guys! Guys! Guys! Mechakara: Time is short. Leave none of them alive. Lupa: They're communicating with Zod and Terl. I knew it! JewWario: Hey, that part says that the oxygen is dropping, [we zoom in on that line of text] but on the bridge only... Lupa: All of the crew is on the bridge! They're making their move! We have to do something. JewWario: What are we going to do? Lupa: (formulating a plan) Turn on the oxygen. I feel a Cynthia Rothrock moment coming on. JewWario: (panicking) Uh, what to do, what to do. Uh... Think, JewWario, think! What would George Takei do? (looks up to the side; Takei then appears in a dream bubble) George Takei: If not the "Naked Now", what "Naked Time?" (he disappears) JewWario: (as Takei) Of course! JO: (still pretty groggy) Edward is in deep shit. Lupa: (a la Ripley from 'Alien') Get away from her, you bitch! Mechakara: (to Seven of Eleven) Deal with her. Seven of Eleven: Die, slut! JewWario: Ah ha! (is revealed to be half naked a la Sulu from "The Naked Time") You'll either leave here bloodied or with my blood on your swords. (He continues to thrust Mechakara, who doesn't flinch) Ah ha! Ah ha! Ooh. Aah. Ooh. Aah. (every time the sword "hits" Mechakara, it makes an ineffective metallic clang) Lupa: Seriously, Todd. I know you're still in there. (he shoots her as she deflects his blasts) This is... why... I'm... not... dating you! Lupa: Seriously, you're just hitting the same spot. (is now just holding up one arm as Todd keeps shooting) Seriously, it's just the same spot. (she uses her other arm to deflect his shot and shoot the gun out of his hand. Seven of Eleven chokes her, but she moves her arm off and starts punching her) Bitch! Slut! Skank! Whore! Space hussy! JewWario: (Still thrusting Mechakara with no luck) Give up? JO: JewWario. Themal detonator. (throws it to him) With remote. (throws that to him) Night night. (and promptly passes out) JewWario: All right, Nerdinator! Eat this. (he throws the detonator into Mechakara's mouth, and he swallows it) Wow, he ate it. Lupa: Turn it off, you idiot! He'll blow us to kingdom come. (Mechakara chokes JewWario as Seven of Eleven chokes Lupa) Todd, you need to fight back! I know you're still in there! Todd, if you fight back... I'll go out on a date with you! Todd: (long pause) Really? (Mechakara removes his glasses as his red eye glows) All right, it's time to bring this love triangle to an end. Lupa: Wow, Todd. You showed your face. Todd: Yeah, well. I knew that would snap her out of it. Look, you don't have to go- I mean, I know that... Lupa: Well, you saved my life. I think that's worth one date. (They both smile at each other) NC: What happened? Lupa: (taking off the boots) You nearly died from lack of oxygen; but fortunately, you clowns were so hyped up on painkillers that it slowed down your metabolism. Joe: Oh, is that why I'm seeing JewWario without a shirt? (JewWario waves) NC: Well, who's responsible for this? Lupa: (points to a passed out and deformed Mechakara) Him. He's your traitor. NC: I knew it. I never did trust Linkara. What kind of freak reviews lamps? Lupa: It's Mechakara! NC: Oh. Well, you're not so tough now, are you, Mr. Traitor? Mechakara: You stupid, disgusting meat bags! (aims a blaster at them and calls his intercom) Terl, have you been listening? Terl: (vo) Yes. Now, complete your assignment and kill the Nostalgia Critic. NC: What does he want? What does he want? Todd: The secret to Malachite's Hand. NC: The secret to Malachite's Hand? It's useless! Nobody knows how it works. Mechakara: Lies. Filthy organic lies! NC: It's true, you idiot! Nobody knows if it even has any powers. Ask your moron boss. Terl: (vo) Hey, Zod, check this out. I totally duped that robotic moron! He actually thinks I'm going to give him the secrets to that Power Glove, even though it's totally useless! Ha ha ha! Wait, hold on. Is this thing still on? Turn it off! Turn it off! (we see Mechakara getting angry) ...Um, Mechakara? I hope my... twin brother didn't get on the line... He's a compulsive liar. Mechakara? Mechakara: AH! Marzgurl: He's taking the escape pod! (as he see the pod leave into space) NC: Ah, let him go. We got bigger things on the brain. ...Brain? Brain? Oh, dear God! (he quickly runs back to the machine to find a passed out Film Brain) Film Brain! Film Brain! (he gets FB to wake up) What happened? What do you know? FB: (taking off the mask) Everything. (cut to him sitting in a chair, addressing the rest of the crew) ...And there's a space station the size of a planet located just outside the hole. Marzgurl: Which you say is getting more and more unstable. Paw: I don't get it. Why kill everybody? I mean, where's the Executor's logic in that? FB: He thinks he can control the hole. You saw what it did to Europa. As long as it creates new worlds, new life, new audiences for him to control, he doesn't CARE what happens to Earth. Joe: New worlds without critics to guide them. Phelous: Then we find this station and blow it up. NC: What about the hole then? Mickey: Well, we can't go in there. Not until we know what side of Ma-Ti we're dealing with. (points at NC) And that goes double for you. NC: Well, what if he's telling the truth? Mickey: What if he isn't? Luke: Aren't we forgetting something? What about Cinema Snob? He's on that station, too. FB: Luke, I've seen what Snob has become. He's... He's become one of them. Executor: Darth Snob. Rise. Executor: Lord Snob, can you hear me? Darth Snob: Barely. I don't understand why I have to wear this mask. Executor: To hide your hideously deformed face. Darth Snob: I still don't get that. Executor: You were burned. Darth Snob: After you threw coffee in my face. Executor: To get rid of that mosquito. Darth Snob: Which I didn't see. Executor: But I did. Darth Snob: And couldn't find. Executor: Because he drowned in coffee. Darth Snob: I'm starting to think you just wanted someone uglier around you. Executor: All is set for destruction. With my coffee-soaked Hamburglar face of an apprentice by my side, nothing can stop us now. (evil cackle) Darth Snob: NOOOOOOO!!!! (the Executor stops cackling) Executor: What was that? Darth Snob: What? I thought it would add dramatic effect. Executor: No. It was lame. It's-It's fine. We'll edit it out and add it to the special edition. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. (resumes cackling) Darth Snob: YEEESSSSSS!!!
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)