Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for America's favorite gameshow!
Crowd: Blast that Bastard!!! Whooo!
Announcer: And now, the host of your show, it's Preppy McTooeager!
Preppy: Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, we have a great show for you tonight. All the way from Nowheresville, USA, it's Jason Rayburn. Jason, say hello to the crowd.
Jason [sheepishly]: Hello.
Preppy: Alright, do you know the rules of the game?
Jason: I'm supposed--
Preppy: Whoah there buddy, let's explain it for the folks at home, shall we?
Jason: But if this is "America's Favorite Gameshow", then--
Preppy: Alright! The rules of the game are, you have to guess the identity of each bastard that we bring out from behind video screen. For every one you get right, you get 200 points! Whether you get it right or not, those bastards will be brought out and sat on stools while you get to stand a minutes torture from each of them. If you can survive a full minute, for each minute you survive, you get 300 points.
Jason: Wait, what?! Tort--!
Preppy: After that round, the points will be tallied up and if you win enough points, what does he get Johnny?
Announcer: He gets to blast one of those bastards right outta here!
Preppy: But you can only pick just one.
Jason: No way! I get tortured by all three and I can only hurt one.
Preppy: This game teaches that revenge is a family event, and that lifes not fair. [rubs Jason's head] Alright, it's time to play...
Audience: BLAST THAT BASTARD!
Preppy: And now it's time for round one. Can you guess who this person is?
[A silouhette of a short fat lady with frizzy out of control hair is brought into the video screen]
Jason: That's my old boss--
Preppy: Hey! [rushes over to Jason's chair and begins patting on the face...well more like slapping him] [whispers] Shut up and let them talk. The studio is kind enough to sponsor this show even though we're flopping. Shu'up and play the game right! [to the screen] Hey! Bastard Number One! Go!
Bastard 1: HELLO!? IS THIS THING ON?? IT BETTER BE! I HAD TO LEAVE MY JOB WHERE I MAKE FOUR TIMES AS MUCH AS EVERYBODY ELSE TO COME DOWN HERE! I DON'T MAKE A LOT OF MONEY, SO THIS BETTER WORK! LOOK AT THIS PLACE IT'S A WRECK! DUSTY, COBWEBS! IT'S WONDER YOU GUYS AREN'T SHUT DOWN!
Preppy: Alright, let's here our player's guesses.
Bastard 1: ...WHAT IF THAT WERE TO FALL ON MY HEAD! GET OVER HERE AND PICK THIS UP! I MIGHT SLIP AND FALL!
Preppy: [into his sleeve, quietly] Johnny cut her mike!
[Bastard 1's mouth continues to move as she shouts, but no sound comes out]
Preppy: Do you have any guesses?
Jason: Like I tried to tell you before, that's my old boss Sheila O'Shreekerton. Say, she's a girl, so technically wouldn't she be a--
Preppy: Alright, let's bring out our next bastard!
(40 minutes later)
Preppy: Alright, we're back, and were just about to enter the final round! Jason got some bonus points when his old gym teacher tore through our video screen and began pounding Jason to a pulp. You okay, Jason?!
[Jason wearily raises his hand. He's holding a bloody rag to his nose with his other hand and a bag of ice is propped on his head carefully.]
Preppy: That's great!
Coach Sassy Quatcha (Phys. Ed. Coach): I always hated that little pansy. He never like wrestling or anything like that. Always writing stories in his little notebook.
Mrs. Crani K. Britche (Art Teacher): And he was never reading like he was supposed to. He always spent all his time doodling in his notebooks and writing those stupid stories than reading like he was told to. Maybe if he'd been any good at drawing instead of drawing those ugly little creatures...what do you call 'em? Amine? Animeat? Anyway, everyone knows those aren't real art.
Preppy: Okay, guys, that rounds over, remember?
Jason: I'm getting dizzy. I think I need to go to the hospital.
Preppy: Nonsense! You're a trooper!
Jason: I think I'm dying...
Preppy: And now it's time for the final round! Judges, what's his score!
Announcer: It's 2600 points!
Preppy: Aww, I'm sorry. That's too bad. Looks like you didn't earn enough to blast one of 'em! Until next time folks!
Jason: Wait, what? No way, I'm getting my turn!
[Jason rushes forward, laughing maniacally and grabs one of the laser cannons from the shelf]
[crackle! crack! sputter! flip-flip-flip...]
WE'RE SORRY. THE SHOW YOU ARE WATCHING IS EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAY TUNED TO CHANNEL 8--"AMERICA'S NEXT TOP RADIOACTIVE MONSTER" IS NEXT.