6 DEGREES OF DECAPITATION
A Thriller/Adventure/Parody/Satire Thing that I'm just pulling outta my ass so don't sue me for libel if you're in it, because I got nuthin' and it's all a joke anyways...
FURIOUS D & THE WATTLE OF DOOM
"Wake up D!" said a voice in the distance, but I ignored, being too busy frolicking through green forests with a variety of female elves from the Lord of the Rings.
"Wake up!" said the voice again.
"Buzz off," I said, because Cate Blanchett as Galadriel had broken out a bottle of schnapps.
Then I felt a hand slap my face.
The green fields of Lothlorien disappeared, replaced by what could only be the dungeon beneath Industrial Light and Magic.
"Slapping's more fun," answered GiGi, "I have a latent dominatrix streak."
"It's not that latent," I said, then I looked around the dungeon, and I was very surprised. There was my one-time sidekick Playful1, and the supposedly dead John Travolta and Tom Green.
"Hey Furious," said Playful1, "I must say that your rescues leave something to be desired."
"I came to get you didn't I?" I asked.
"But you're a prisoner now too," replied Playful1.
"It's all part of my plan," I said.
"What's the next part of your plan?" asked Playful1.
"I haven't gone that far yet in the formulating," I answered. I then turned to face Travolta and Green.
"Aren't you two supposed to be dead?" I asked.
The two actors shook their heads, which, though empty, were still attached to their bodies.
"We were kidnapped by guys in Storm trooper outfits while you were knocked out and replaced with animatronic doubles," answered Tom Green.
"What an intricate and utterly pointless plan."
"Yeah," said Travolta. "I'm sorry my mini-bar knocked you out, but you set off the Kirstie Alley trap."
"So that's what that was," I said, rubbing my sore noggin which has taken one hell of a flogging lately. "How do we get out of here?"
"Hmmm," said a gruff voice from the shadows in the far corner, "escape no from here."
"It's the crazy guy," said Playful1.
A figure emerged from the shadows, his eyes were crazed, his hair disheveled and there was a Yoda puppet on his left hand.
"Mark Hamill?" I said in amazement.
"Yeah," said Hamill in his normal voice, "I've been trapped down here for years. For years I was down here alone, with no one to talk to but this Yoda puppet-"
"Hmm," said Hamill through the Yoda puppet, "Go off his nut he did. Too much jerkin' his gherkin."
"Shut up Yoda," said Hamill. "I don't need you anymore, I have real people to talk to now. You are real, aren't you?"
"Yes," I said.
"That's good," said Hamill, "because I ate some mold off the walls one day and spent a month talking to the Teletubbies."
"Are those real?" asked Yoda, pointing to GiGi's chest.
GiGi punched Hamill in the face.
"He said it," pleaded Hamill pointing to the puppet.
"Hmm," said the Yoda puppet, "escape we could, but big wussy Hamill is."
"What?" I asked.
"Sorry," said Mark Hamill, "but Yoda here is crazy, he thinks I can do all that crazy Jedi shit. But I'm just a goddamn actor!"
"Explain," I said.
Mark Hamill pointed to the heavy steel door at the far end of the cell.
"Yoda thinks I can open that door with my Jedi powers," said Hamill, "but I'm just a goddamn actor! AN ACTOR!"
"Calm down," I said. "Have you actually tried it?"
"Hmmm, tried he has not," said Yoda.
"Why not try it now?" I asked.
"Okay," said Hamill holding his hand out towards the door. His face crunched up with concentration.
"Do you think this will work?" asked GiGi.
I shook my head.
"It should shut him up for a while," I said. "And that will give me time to think."
Suddenly the door clanked.
"What the hell?" said Playful1, "It's working. It's actually working!"
"I'm really a Jedi!" screamed Mark Hamill.
"Hmmm," said Yoda, "great powers chronic masturbation bestows."
The door swung open with the creak of unoiled hinges.
"CHOMPY!" I declared as my long-time buddy waddled into the cell, the keys to the steel door locked in his teeth. I thought he had been blown up with GiGi's car, but there he was, a little singed around the edges, but otherwise healthy.
"I'm not a Jedi," said Mark Hamill.
"Screw Jedi," said Yoda, "the fucking door is finally fucking open!"
"Let's go," I said as I went out into the hall.
The vast underground complex beneath ILM was a maze, wrapped inside a labyrinth, lodged in the rich nougat center of a... I don't know any other synonyms for 'maze.'
Tom Green and John Travolta bolted off in their own direction, mostly because they fulfilled their part in the story, leaving me, GiGi, Playful1, Mark Hamill and the Yoda puppet.
"I need to find a place called Room 1313," I asked Hamill.
"That way down it is," said Yoda, nodding his head.
"Is that where the 3rd part of the map is hidden?" asked Playful1.
"How did you know about the maps?"
"I read the other chapters while I was locked up."
I opened the door to Room 1313 and went in.
Room 1313 was a long narrow chamber with a pedestal at the far end. On the top of the pedestal was what I was looking for, the early draft of the second Star Wars trilogy that didn't suck.
I carefully approached the pedestal. It had to be a trap. These sorts of things are always traps. I needed something the same weight as the massive script to trick the trap.
"I need about a 1000 manuscript pages," I said.
"I can help you," said GiGi reaching into her ample cleavage and pulling out a massive collection of paper. "It's my novel, it's taken me ten years."
"I'm a slow reader myself," said Playful1.
I took the manuscript and carefully nudged George Lucas' script aside and left GiGi's book in its place.
"Easy peasy, slightly sleazy," I said in victory.
I spoke too soon.
The back wall opened up, revealing a massive ball of unsold Jar-Jar Binks merchandise and it was rolling right at us.
GiGi, Playful1, Chompy and myself turned tail and ran. But Mark Hamill wasn't fast enough and disappeared beneath the ball's hulking weight.
"Remember me as a sex machine," called out Hamill as the ball squished him like a ketchup packet.
We ran, and ran, the ball so hot on our tails, that I swear I could smell burnt tail hair.
"That door!" I said pointing to an open door.
The four of us dived through the door and landed hard on a bed of grass.
"So," said a voice, "you have retrieved the third part of the map."
I looked up.
"Yes," said Lucas. "I was behind it all."
"Somehow I don't believe it," I said, studying the billionaire filmmaker's throat very carefully. "Chompy! Sick the wattle!"
Chompy the Badger leaped at Lucas and sunk his teeth into the wattle that jiggled around his neck.
There was a horrible ripping sound as the wattle came off, revealing that it was nothing more than silicone and latex.
George Lucas moaned and fell over.
"What the hell just happened?" asked GiGi.
I turned over the unconscious billionaire and revealed a strange mechanical apparatus locked on George Lucas' neck.
"Is that a Omnitech mind control clamp?" asked Playful1.
"You've seen them before?" I asked.
"Nope," said Playful1. "I'm just good at guessing."
"And stealing other people's gags too," I added. "You're right. Someone has been controlling George Lucas, and through him, his vast empire. Someone evil."
"But who?" asked GiGi.
"I have a theory," I replied, "and if it's true, then god help us all."
"At least we have the map," said Playful1. "Where's the next part?"
I looked at the map.
"Looks like we're going to the Cannes Film Festival."
"France!" said GiGi, "Does that mean I can stop shaving?"