Squeek Narf Ratbag Poink: Part 14b, Section a

[The Exploding Holy Grail]

[Two seconds of static]

Coma: Paul, put down that electric Neil Diamond and help me move this exploding fencepost?

Clive: Eh? Okay, whatever, eh>

[Two seconds of static]

HB: I'm feeling comepletely normal today. Coma, pass me that paving slab would you?

*SMASH*

HB: Ahh, much better. Pass the Tylenol...

[He falls over]

[Two seconds of static]

HB: OOOOH, yeah! Mean Gene, I wanna tell ya something!

Clive: Camera over this way, eh? And ya wanna put some pants on, maybe?

HB: Sure!

Clive: Ahhh... nah, on your legs would be better. No, YOUR legs. No, both of them!

[Two seconds of static]

BigB: Give you Creative Control? For the Drudleyville Street Fight? That's the stupidest idea you've ever had, Coma!

[Two seconds of static]

BigB: On second thoughts...

[Two seconds of static]

BigB: ... Let's...

[Two seconds of static]

BigB: ...Run with it...

[Two seconds of static]

BigB: ...Coma.

[Two seconds of static]

BigB: The HELL I said that!

[Two seconds of static]

BigB: Oh, well I guess I did. Videotape doesn't lie. Good luck booking the match, Coma!

Coma: Hooray! Everyone loves a cockfight! I shall keep it clan and call it Ricky! Squeef!

[Two seconds of static]

[Fade]

[The Drudleys]

Rubba Ray Drudley: Oooh, I'm so scared; Coma has creative control over the streetfight.

D-Van: What does that 'creative control' mean though? Can he make it so we have to wear pink tutus and can only use wet towels as weapons?

RRD: FUCK!