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High Camp

High Camp
By David Williams

“Everyone is a prisoner of his own experiences. No one can eliminate prejudices - just recognize them.”
- Edward R. Murrow



(Narrated in a folksy style reminiscent of Waylon Jennings)

[Narrated] Brian is sitting in front of the TV, watching his favorite game show when in walks his roommate, Kristie. Kristie is a no-nonsense type of girl, but she tolerates Brian’s wide array of idiosyncrasies. Brian was forced into early retirement as a metro police officer after a series of mishaps which led to the precinct being pressured into offering an official apology and admonishing his actions. Most of his days are spent inside an apartment he shares with Kristie. He is obsessed with American action movies and he can only seem to recite lines from hundreds of them; mostly bad ones.

Kristie: “I see you spent yet another day watching television when you should really be thinking about getting a job. How hard can it be, Brian?”
Brian: “You just don’t get it, do you?”
Kristie: “What’s there not to ‘get’, Brian? You haven’t been the same since you left the force. Pull yourself together, man.”
Brian: “You've obviously mistaken me for someone who actually gives a damn.”

There’s a knock at the door. It’s a pizza delivery guy.

Brian: “We’ve got company!”
Kristie: “Relax. I just ordered some food. Are you hungry for pizza?”
Brian: "What do I know? I just live here!"

The pizza delivery guy enters.

Brian (greeting the pizza guy): “Well, well, well... if it isn’t the pizza guy. If that is your real name....”
Pizza Guy: “That’ll be $28.50.”
Kristie: “I only have $25 on me. Brian, do you have any money on you?”
Brian: “Is that all you’ve got? Note to self: find a wealthier roommate next time.”
Kristie: “Just give me the money, Brian. I don’t have time for this...”
Brian: “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Kristie: “If it’s that you are broke then it means I will need to run to the ATM if we are going to eat tonight. I’m sorry. I can either write a check or run around the corner to the ATM if it’s OK.”
Pizza Guy: “A check will be fine.”
Kristie: “Cool. Sorry about that. Here it is. I added $5 for your tip.”
Pizza Guy: “No problem. Thanks!”
Brian: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Pizza Guy: “Wouldn’t do what?”
Brian: “Try me.”
Pizza Guy: “What the hell are you talking about?”
Kristie (a little embarrassed): “Never mind him. He hasn’t been himself lately.”
Pizza Guy: “OK... Well, I gotta run! Thanks for the tip!”
Brian: “Yeah, you better run!”
Pizza Guy: “Sure. Whatever...”
Kristie: “What the hell’s the matter with you!!! Let’s eat already. I’m famished.”
Brian: “Are you ready?”
Kristie: “Yes. I am ready to eat. Go get us a couple of plates.”
Brian: “Well... I was born ready.”
Kristie: “Sure you were. Plates, Brian...”

Brian shuffles into the kitchen to fetch some plates and returns to the small, dank living room where they are preparing to have dinner.

Brian: “Now... Where were we?”
Kristie: “Yes, Brian. Where were we? Oh, yeah... I remember now. We were talking about you going out and finding a job. I can’t keep doing this for much longer. You sit here all day watching movies and TV game shows. You need to get out more often. Look, I know that losing your job was rough on you, but enough is enough.”

Kristie looks over and notices Brian holding an upside down mop and lovingly caressing the strands as if it were human hair.

Brian (speaking to the mop): “It’s not what it looks like. She’s just my roommate...”
Kristie: “So... Brian, is there something you want to tell me?”
Brian (whispering): "I promise I'll explain everything later, but right now you have to trust me."
Kristie: “Seriously, Brian. What are you doing with that mop in your hand?”
Brian (stuck using movie cliches): “Awkward!”
Kristie: “I’m only going ask you one more time. What are you doing with that mop in your hand?”
Brian: “If you’re talking about Sally then you can ask her yourself. Don’t you think you’re being a little rude to my girlfriend? She’s sitting right here! Ask her yourself!”
Kristie: “I don’t have time for this. Let’s eat. I have a date in an hour. Please, don’t embarrass me like you did last time. That guy still won’t return my calls after the way you treated him....”
Brian: "Say WHAT?"

As Brian holds a semi private conversation with Sally, Kristie finishes her dinner and begins to prepare for her date. A few minutes later, the phone rings. It’s her date calling her to let her know that he has arrived and he is waiting for her downstairs.

Kristie: “He’s here waiting for me downstairs. It’s a good thing, too. This place is a mess. Can you try to tidy things up around here a bit? I’ll be home a little late this evening.... Or maybe tomorrow. Teehee! Seriously, Brian. Clean up around here. Your new girlfriend could be put to good use cleaning up the kitchen floor.”
Brian: “See? We’re not so different, you and I.”
Kristie: “How’s that, Brian? I date real people and your love interest is a household cleaning item?”
Brian: "With all due respect, I have finally met the love of my life. Whereas you have to go out every night hoping to meet Mr. Right. It’s called falling in love, you should try it sometime."
Kristie: “OK, Brian. Gotta go! Don’t forget to clean up a bit, please.”

Kristie leaves the apartment as Brian sits in front of the TV staring fondly into the approximate area where Sally’s eyes would be if she were an actual person.

Brian: “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Brian stands up holding Sally close to himself while slow dancing to a love song playing on a detergent commercial. He dips her, spins her around, and does his best romantic dance moves for the 30 second ad spot. Holding Sally even closer to himself he says to her:
“Just shut up and kiss me. You know, dear? This just gets better and better.”

Brian falls asleep in his chair as Sally slowly drifts out of his hand and onto the floor. He awakens to an angry Kristie complaining to herself about how the apartment has yet to be cleaned as she had asked him to do the night before.
As Kristie enters the living room, Brian is standing with his back facing her and having a discussion with Sally which he assumed was private.

Brian: “Okay, here’s what we’ll do...”




[Narrated] Brian and Sally take a midnight stroll through the park where he gets down on one knee and asks her for her handle in marriage.




While narrating out loud his intentions to Sally, Brian realizes that Kristie is standing behind him the whole time:
“She’s standing right behind me, isn’t she?”

Kristie (angry): “What have you been doing all night? I asked you to clean up around here! I’ve had a long night and all I asked was to come home to a clean apartment!”
Brian: “You look like shit. With all due respect, what happened last night?”
Kristie: “What?!?!? I didn’t get much sleep last night. We stayed up all night.... Ummm… Talking... I’m in no mood for this today, Brian! I need you to run downstairs for me. I forgot to check the mail last night.”
Brian: “If I’m not back in 10 minutes make sure to tell Sally I love her.”
Kristie: “Sure, Brian. Just check the damn mail already! Jesus!”

Brian scurries downstairs to check the mail as Kristie takes Sally into the kitchen to mop the floor. Brian returns moments later to find that his one true love is being drowned in a mop bucket.

Brian: “Don’t do anything stupid, Kristie! ”
Kristie: “What?!?!? Mop the goddamn floor because my neurotic roommate can’t get his shit together?!?!?”
Brian: “If you touch one hair on her head... I’ll... I’ll...”
Kristie: “You’ll do what, Brian? Lose your mind over a fucking mop! Oh, wait... You’ve already done that... It’s time we had it out. I am sick of this shit. Either you start helping me out around here or else!”
Brian: “Is this some kind of sick joke? Let her go! You’re drowning her in bleach!”
Kristie: “Shut the fuck up and help me clean the place!”
Brian: “You’ll never get away with this!”
Kristie: “Watch me!”
Brian: “Are you threatening me?”
Kristie (dipping Sally into the mop bucket): “Look! She loves it! She’s so much more helpful at cleaning than my batshit crazy roommate!”
Brian: “Alright! Let’s do this!”

Brian proceeds to push Kristie to the floor and snatches Sally from her hands. Sally’s head is soaked with a mixture of bleach and water.

Brian: “Sally!!! Come on, baby! Don’t you die on me! Let’s get outta here. What’s the worst that could happen? What have we got to lose?”

Kristie gets back to her feet and races toward the phone to call the police.

911: “911. What’s your emergency?”
Kristie (frantic): “Hello, I have a deranged roommate who thinks the mop is a woman! He’s crazy! Please, send help!”
911: “Just stay calm. We’ll send someone over right away.”

Moments later police arrive at the apartment. Kristie greets them at the door while Brian slowly wrings out Sally’s hair and rinses it with all the passion of a desperate lover hoping to save his soul mate from an all but certain soggy, bleach soaked death.

Officer: “Son, put down the mop.”
Brian: “What seems to be the problem, Officer?”
Officer: “Don’t do this. You’re coming with us. Let’s go. OK?”
Brian: “No. Come in. Sally and I were just leaving.”
Officer: “I’m not joking. You need to come with us. We’ll talk things over a bit.”
Brian (looking for an escape): “Now... where were we?”

Brian then attempts to escape into his room and lock the door behind himself.

Brian: “Cover me, Sally! I’m going in!”
Sally (in a voice that only Brian can hear): “I’m not leaving you!”
Brian: “Stay here.”
Sally: “No way. I’m coming with you! If my calculations are correct we can get out of this together. We just need to...”
Brian: “OK. Are you ready?”
Sally: “I was born ready.”

The officer lunges toward Brian but he slips on the wet floor. Brian makes it into his room and barricades the door.

Officer: “Not on my watch! Mr. Eversoll, I am going to kick the door in if you don’t comply. Do you understand?”
Brian (muttering to himself): “I have a bad feeling about this.”

The officer proceeds to kick the door until it flies open. Pulling out his taser, he warns Brian not to move or he will have to taze him.

Brian (muttering to himself): "Houston, we've got a problem."

The officer levels his taser at Brian and gives him one final warning.

Brian: "Look out! HE'S GOTTA GUN!"

Scrambling to get out of shooting range, Brian yells to the officer: "Go ahead, take the shot! You don’t scare me!!! What part of ‘no’ didn't you understand?"

Officer: “I’m just doing my job. Look, son. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The officer then fires his taser into Brian’s mid torso area.

Brian: “Is that all you’ve got?!?!?!”
Officer: “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Brian (writhing around on the floor, barely conscious): “That’s it... You’re off the case...”
Sally (speaking to Brian): “Didn’t see that coming....”

Brian regains consciousness and attempts to stand up to explain to the officer how it’s all just a big misunderstanding.

Officer: “Sit down and shut up. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll use the taser again if I have to. If that doesn’t work I will fill you full of lead.”
Brian: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Officer: “Oh, yeah? Try me.”

Another officer, perceiving that Sally will be used as a weapon, grabs her from Brian and walks out of the room.

Brian: "Who are you? And what have you done with Sally?"




The officer now has Brian laid out on the ground in a prone position while handcuffing him.

Second Officer (speaking to the first officer): “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? [speaking to Brian] OK… Let’s go downtown, buddy.”
Officer: “Yeah, this guy is a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket.”
Second Officer: “Isn’t that the donut guy?”
Officer: “Yep.”

The officer reads Brian his Miranda rights.

Officer: “These are your rights I have just explained to you. Are we clear?”
Brian: “Yeah... Crystal clear.”
Brian (muttering to himself while being placed inside the squad car and looking up to the sky ominously): “There’s a storm coming.”
Officer: “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Now, sit down and shut up.”
Brian (muttering loudly enough that he is overheard):
“It’s called using non-lethal force, you should try it sometime.”
Second Officer: “What did you say, punk?!?!?”
Brian: “Did I just say that out loud? Awkward!”
Officer (speaking to the second officer): “That went well...”




[Narrated] Brian arrives at the jail. He’s processed and placed inside a holding cell with an assortment of colorful characters. One of them is a tall bearded man with an intense gaze. Brian is sure that he has seen him before; either on some true crime documentary or in the airport handing out free flowers. [Brian and the guard exchange hard looks at one another just before he is tossed into his cell.]




Brian: "Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore."
Chris (Brian’s cellmate): "You THINK?"
Brian (under his breath): “I should have killed that last slice of pizza when I had the chance.”

[Narrated] Chris looks at Brian with a puzzled look on his face wondering what is the matter with him. Chris believes himself to be Jesus Christ, but often refers to himself as “Chris the Carpenter” to keep things a little more low key or on the “DL” as the cool kids like to say.

Chris: “Are you CRAZY?”
Brian: “I can live with that.”
Chris: “Have faith, son. I am here. I have always been here. For I am the alpha and the...”
Brian (shaking his head and laughing): “You’re the one who’s acting like a crazy person.”

A few hours later they are getting ready to go to sleep in preparation for their court appearances the following morning.

Brian: “It’s quiet. Too quiet.”
Chris: “Yeah. A little TOO quiet. So… what are you in here for?”
Brian: “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
Chris: “We’re not so different, you and I.”
Brian: “Hey, it’s not what it looks like. My only crime is that I love someone too much.”
Chris: “Same here, my child. Same here. Love is my middle name, after all.”
Brian: “You mean that you loved someone so much that you were willing to sacrifice everything for them? You would even die for them?”
Chris: ”Ummm... Yeah... Sure… Something like that....” [Cue “I Found Jesus On The Jailhouse Floor” by George Strait]

Brian goes to use the toilet, but after a few minutes it begins to make a rumbling noise - growing louder and louder.

Brian: “It’s gonna blow!”
Chris: “Get outta there!”
Brian: “We gotta get out of here – and fast!”

[Narrated] As water begins to overflow into the cell, the guards rush in to escort the prisoners to a safe area while inmate trustees start to mop up the mess. This is when Brian sees his flushing bride to be (or so he believes).

Brian: “What are you doing here?”
Sally: “I was about to ask you the same thing. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
Sally (referring to Brian’s jail uniform): “Nice suit.”
Chris: “Verily I say unto thee, the truth shall set us free. On the praetorian’s desk there is a key.”
Brian: “What the hell are you talking about, Jailhouse Jesus? Pull yourself together, man!”
Chris: “We should try to escape.”
Brian: “Yeah, I mean... How hard can it be?”

[Narrated] In a moment of divine intervention, the trustee accidentally falls down and his head lands directly inside the toilet bowl. Ray, the jailhouse guard, radios for help as chaos ensues. In the midst of all of the confusion, Jailhouse Jesus - AKA Chris, slides over in what can only be described as a reverse moonwalk and grabs the key from Ray’s desk.

Chris: “Let us move forth in haste, my child!”
Brian: “I’m not leaving this place without Sally!”
Chris: “Son, a swab cannot feel true love. Let her go.”
Brian: “You don’t know the kind of relationship we have. She’s my BAE!”

Brian attempts to snatch Sally up while making a mad dash to the door, but the handle breaks due to it being caught between the door jam and the bars of the jail cell.

Brian: “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”
Sally (gasping): “You have to go on without me! I don’t think I can be carried on any more.”
Brian: “No way! You’re coming with me!”
Sally: “I feel... so... cold...”
Brian: “Don’t you die on me!!!!”

Sally slowly slips away in Brian’s arms. Brian, unable to accept the loss, gathers up all of the splintered pieces of wood and hurriedly rushes towards the door Chris is holding open for him and the other inmates. They make it outside to see a 70’s era station wagon. Big Randy, one of the jail inmates, manages to break the window to gain entry inside the vehicle. He jumps in the driver’s seat, finds the ignition wires under the steering wheel, and struggles to get the car started as Chris, Brian, and their crew of ragtag misfit renegades pile into the aged, beat up green Chrysler. [cue “‘74 Jailbreak” by AC/DC]
As everyone gets in, Big Randy is in a race against time to start the car while the guards begin to open fire and yell at them to stop. Just in the knick of time, the car starts as one of the guards struggles to open the rear car door. They drive away and give each other high fives while the cops begin to give chase, but the cops soon lose them amid the busy morning rush hour traffic.

Big Randy: “Hell, yeah!!! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!!!!”
Brian: “Where can we go? The city is swarming with cops!”
Chris: “I know a place. It’s far outside the city. Deep in the mountains there is a place we call ‘High Camp’. It is where my brethren used to gather for my daily sermons.”
Brian: “Are you crazy! We’ll never make it out of here alive!”
Chris: “Faith can move mountains, my child. Believe in me and what I have to say.”
Big Randy: “Damn, Jailhouse Jesus. Motherfucka, you cra-cra, but I like you. Let’s do this.”

Chris turns on the radio to relax the mood. Big Randy does his level best to take side roads and alleyways to avoid detection. Brian is holding Sally’s splintered remains. He finds a roll of masking tape in the glove compartment to try to put Sally back together until he can find medical attention for her. [Cue “Spirit in the Sky” by Norman Greenbaum]

Other members of their crew are:

[pan to each character for an overly exaggerated introduction]

[Narrated] And here we have....
Mike - a middle aged community college dropout known for his penchant for psychedelics as well as being a devout disciple of Chris the Carpenter.
Alan - a twenty-something hipster who loves nothing more than to talk about his vinyl record collection.
Joe - a former mental patient who often brags about how he loves to “fuck hot watermelons.”
Roger - a tattooed biker who likes to talk about his days in Vietnam, in spite of being more than 10 years too young to have ever served during the war.
John - another disciple of Chris who enjoys long nature walks and killing deer with his bare hands.
Thomas - a self taught martial artist who was popular in high school where he peaked as a local sports legend, but drifted for years after graduation until he had several run-ins with the law.
Tyrone - a failed hip-hop artist and a well known crack dealer.
Erick - a former bodybuilder with access to enough roids to choke a horse.
Matt - Chris devotee and Mike’s LSD dealer whom he met at a Dead show years earlier.
And.... last, but not least....
Arnold - a gay prostitute who loves anything with pictures of cute cartoon kittens on it.

[Narrated] With all thirteen of them piled on top of one another in the old station wagon the car begins to suffer under the weight of the passengers. The result is a flat tire just outside the city limits. Big Randy gets out to assess the damages. Everyone else soon joins him by the side of the road as they try to decide what their next plan will be to evade capture.

Big Randy: “Sheeit, man!!! What the fuck are we gonna do now!!! I can’t go back to jail!”
Chris: “Have faith, my child. It is through these trials and tribulations that we shall know the light and the truth.”
Big Randy (annoyed): “Man.... Shut the fuck up, Jailhouse Jesus!”




[Narrated] Arnold quickly devises a plan. He tells everyone to hide in the bushes while he tries to flag down a trucker. He uses berries he found on the side of the road as lipstick and rouge to gussy himself up a bit. He ties his shirt in a knot in the front to expose his thin, svelte midriff. He uses a piece from an aluminum can he found on the side of the road to cut his jail uniform pants, fashioning them into a pair of high-riding shorts to match his favorite pair of lime green jailhouse flip-flops. As a semi truck approaches he sticks out one leg and sings lines from “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number” in the softest, prettiest voice he can muster. The truck slows down to stop and the driver offers him a ride. [Cue “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number” by Steely Dan]
[Narrated] As Arnold distracts the driver by haggling over the price for his services the others slowly work their way into the back of the empty livestock trailer he is hauling. Once Arnold sees through the side mirror that everyone is on board he climbs into the passenger seat as he had done so many times before. After another 30-45 minutes of sitting on the side of the road the driver starts the truck and asks Arnold, AKA Alice, where he wants to go. Arnold, not sure of the exact location, tells him the approximate area where he believes to be the location of “High Camp”. The trucker replies that he is familiar with the place from back in the day when he used to run a lot of drugs and guns up to some crazy hippies who squatted there years ago.




Brian: “How far away is this place? Sally needs to see a doctor right away. I don’t think she will make it, otherwise.”

[Narrated] Chris, seeing that Brian is a fool for love, offers his assistance.

Chris: “Bring her to me, my child.”
Brian: “Do you think you can save her, Jailhouse Jesus?”
Chris: “I will if the father sees that your faith is strong enough. Verily I say unto thee, faith can move...”
Brian: “Please, Jailhouse Jesus! Enough with the sermons already! We’re running out of time!!! ”

Chris begins waving his arms over the broken pieces, he utters a barely audible incantation, and - as he does so - the driver hits a bump in the road which causes everyone to lose their balance. Everyone except for Chris who, noticing a mop in the back of the trailer nearly identical to Sally, does a rapid switcharoo. Light pours into the trailer through the slots on the side at the exact same moment. Thereby, giving the appearance of an incredible miracle being performed in front of everyone. Brian jumps to his feet.

Brian: “Sally!!! Can you hear me, honey!?!?!?”
Sally (cough, cough): “Yes. I can hear you. I’m going to be OK.”
Brian: “It’s a miracle!!!!”

Brian then falls to his knees before Chris to praise him for the miracle he has bestowed upon him within the confines of the 20 foot livestock trailer.

Brian: “Behold! He has risen!!! Praise Jailhouse Jesus!
Brian (looking at Sally): “Dear, I hadn’t noticed it before, but those guys at the jail really did a number on you. You are covered in shit. Your hair is so matted that it will take all day to clean you up. Don’t worry, though. Even when you’re covered in shit, you’re just as beautiful as the first day we met.”
Sally (touched by the warm sentiment): “You’re always such a romantic, Brian.”




[Narrated] Ray is a part time jailer when he isn’t working his full time job as a sheriff’s deputy. A large, barrel-chested man verging on morbid obesity, he is usually seen at the local pizzeria downing a gallon of soda, eating as much cheese as humanly possible, and giving local kids of color and other “lowlifes” the stink eye. He can barely conceal his contempt for people who fail to live up to his particular standards; white, Christian, drug free, and of a certain moral character. That is to say, people whom he deems as worthy of not receiving a beat down, thrown inside the back of a squad car, driven around for an extended country cruise, and then given the obligatory “waffle face” wherein he randomly slams the brakes. Thus, causing his hapless passengers to do a faceplant into the grill separating the front and back seats of the police cruiser.
Ray is sitting in his apartment downtown still fuming over how 13 inmates managed to escape during his shift. He is determined to bring them to justice if it’s the last thing he does. It has caused such an embarrassment for him that he is having a difficult time showing his face around his colleagues. He has decided to personally resolve the matter, now that he has enough spare time after being placed on administrative leave. Ray’s apartment is a grab-bag of various Nazi memorabilia, pictures of himself at the local cheese festival held annually where he has won the cheese eating contest for three consecutive years, an assortment of women’s plus-size undergarments strewn over his St. Andrew’s Cross, leather gimp masks, extra large dildos, half used bottles of lube, and a ball gag he uses for “entertainment purposes only”.
The women’s clothing may seem out of place for a perpetually self-confirmed bachelor with no prospect of ever finding a girlfriend. However, given that few people are ever allowed inside his apartment, he doesn’t have to worry too much about it when it comes to explaining why he has them. Among all of the BDSM equipment, guns, Nazi stuff, etc. there sits in the middle of the room, in stark contrast, a large stuffed teddy bear wearing a leather bikers cap and a black tuxedo bow tie. There’s also a conspicuous dried, crusty white stains near its bottom area.
[Narrated] Ray always tries his best to give his co-workers the impression that he is the ultimate man’s man. Which may be more true than many of them would expect. He spends much of his days telling gay jokes, jokes about anal sex more often than normal (if there is such a thing as a normal amount), and when he’s not doing that he’s telling “jokes about darkie” because he still thinks it’s the 1950’s. He has been warned by his superiors to refrain from telling racist or misogynist jokes at work, but he just laughs it off. “Goddamn libtards and their fucking PC agenda anyway,” he says, matter of factly.
[Narrated] One of Ray’s favorite inmates was Arnold. He would often allow Arnold time outside of his cell in the late evenings to check out books at the jail library. Despite Arnold’s absence of a family visiting him at the jail, he always seemed to have extra money for commissary and Ray always seemed a little more at ease after Arnold’s late night excursions to the library. However, on this day, after everything that has happened, Ray was mad at Arnold for escaping during his shift. Enough so that he was determined to catch him and give him an extra hard time back at the county jail. i.e. gimp mask is optional.




[Narrated] Arnold tells the driver that he needs to make some extra cash and informs him that he may need a ride into town later. The trucker writes his number on Arnold’s bare chest and draws a heart around it after pulling over to the side of the road. In order to provide a distraction from the 12 convicts in prison clothes exiting through the back of the trailer, Arnold offers him a freebie for which the trucker naturally obliges.




[Narrated] The guys in back exit the livestock trailer just in time to see Arnold sashay toward them sporting a handful of one dollar bills and smeared lipstick. Arnold lets the guys know that if they need a ride into town for supplies that he has the trucker’s phone number. There are a couple of problems with that, though. For one, no one in the crew has a phone nor do they even have access to one. The second problem is the phone number is illegible after their extra 15 minutes of hot, steamy gay trucker love. The phone number on his chest looks more like a Thai menu than a number for Arnold’s roadside sugar daddy.

Chris: “I know this place. It’s been a long time, but we’re close. Very close. Let’s get moving before somebody sees us.”

[Narrated] Just as Chris finishes his sentence, a girl in a brand new sedan type of sports car approaching from a sideroad hits Chris with her car and sends him flying into her windshield. It is hard to say if she actually hit him or if Chris saw her and intentionally threw himself into her path since she was only driving about 5 MPH. The girl is a mid twenty-something hippy wannabe. Her car is covered with stickers of various jam bands, alluding to her level of commitment to shitty music. She is clearly tone deaf, so it stands to reason that she is blind as a bat, too. Chris peels himself away from the girl’s hood as she hops out of the car with a panicked look on her face.

Girl: “Oh, my Gawd!!!! Are you alright? I am soooo, sooooo, soooo sorry!!!! Please, don’t report this to the police! This is the third time I’ve hit someone this week! My daddy will take my car away and shut off my credit cards if he finds out about this!!!”
Chris (feigning a limp and stuttering): “I think, I think, I think... I’m OK.”
Girl: “Is there anything I can do? Perhaps I can give you some money or offer you and your friends a ride somewhere?”
Big Randy (whispers into Chris’s ear): “This bitch is stupid. Take the money, man.”
Chris (winking at Big Randy): “Well... I... I.... I don’t know... I’m having some trouble walking and my vision is a little blurry... Maybe we should file an accident report at the hospital...”
Girl: “Is it that serious? Please, I can take you to the hospital and I will pay for all of your medical bills, but don’t tell the doctors that it was me who hit you. Please! My daddy will kill me!!! I’ll do anything!!!”
Chris (with a slight grin): ”Did you say ‘anything’?”
Girl: “Yes!!!”
Chris: “I don’t know... With these kinds of injuries it may take me weeks, months, maybe even years to fully recover, if I ever do at all.”
Girl (sobbing while holding her hands over her face): “What am I going to do?!?!?”

Big Randy steps in and says that he too felt traumatized after witnessing his dear old friend being “struck so violently as a direct consequence of her reckless driving.” Others in their crew chime in and agree. Chris then falls to the ground, flails around, and pretends to have a seizure.

Big Randy (playing up his grief): “Oh... Lord, don’t take my best friend away from us like this! Please, Lord!!!! Come on, Jailhouse... Errr... I mean, c’mon, Chris. You can make it, buddy! Don’t you die on me now!!!”

[Narrated] Mike and John lean over to Chris and pretend to administer CPR. The girl continues to sob until she decides that the best thing for her to do is for her to accept responsibility for her mistake that may cost a man his life. She takes out her cell phone to dial 911. She only manages to dial 9 and then, miraculously, Chris rises to his feet. He places his hand over her phone and agrees that they are willing to take a cash settlement provided that she would be able to assist them with anything else they may need. The girl agrees to do anything for them as long as her father never finds out about it.

Chris: “Please, understand that the injuries I have sustained will take a long time and a considerable amount of money for me to heal. I trust that you won’t back out on this agreement.”
Girl: ”I understand, sir. Although, I don’t have a lot of money, I will help any way I can.”
Big Randy: “How much money are we talking?”
Girl: “Oh, well... Gosh, I don’t know... My daddy owns a chain of hotels along the Atlantic seaboard, a few casinos, some other property in Southampton as well as some property in downtown Manhattan. He just makes sure that I keep enough money in my account for vacations to Europe, equestrian school, and other travel expenses whenever I need his assistance... We’re not exactly rich, but we do alright for a middle class family I suppose.”
Chris: “I guess every little bit helps. We all have our own cross to bear. We’re heading to a place called ‘High Camp’. Have you heard of it?”
Girl: “OMG! I was just coming from there on my way into town to buy some camping supplies! You like to camp there, too?”
Chris: “Yes, in fact, I am one of the original founders. Probably going back to well before you were born.”
Girl: “Well, there’s not enough room in my car for everybody, but we can make a few trips if we must.”

[Narrated] Several members at a time are taken to “High Camp” until they all arrive there safely. The girl then tells everyone that she is running into town and offers to take anyone with her if they want to ride along. They all decline, of course. They, instead, choose to stay there to look after Chris while he is “on the mend”. She asks them if they need anything. So, they put together a long shopping list including new clothes for each member, makeup and lingerie for Arnold, along with a list of enough food and miscellaneous items to last several days.




[Narrated] “High Camp” is an old abandoned four bedroom cabin deep in the woods. It’s a popular spot for aging hippie douchebags as well as young hipster types hoping to escape from the clutches of their daddy’s trust fund for a while. It was once a hippy commune during the 60’s and 70’s, but it fell into disrepair after the commune’s co-founder and owner went to prison for dealing ten sheets of white blotter with little bears on them, two vials of Owsley liquid LSD, and five pounds of marijuana to an undercover cop at a music festival. No one in his family ever stepped in to claim the property and it is assumed that the owner will return someday if he is ever released from federal prison.
[Narrated] There is a huge barn on the property as well as a large area for bonfires where the same aging hippie douchebags and their young hipster counterparts partake in their neo-paganistic rituals while under the influence of various chemical substances. Chemicals which they believe will get them in touch with the divine and help the world learn how to love one another. Usually, the result is a lot of nonsensical pseudo-intellectual babble over shitty hand drum music with, at least, one person vomiting all over themselves before the festivities come to a close.




Chris, aided by Mike and John, finds his former bedroom is still intact; replete with cobwebs, inexplicable stains that could resemble any number of bodily fluids or a combination thereof, and his trusty walking stick. Or, as he likes to call it, his “sacred stick”.

Big Randy: “Yo, Jailhouse Jesus. What’s with the fucking stick, man?”
Chris: “This stick is sacred, Big Randy.”
Big Randy: “Sheeeit... A sacred stick... Stop bullshittin’ me, man.”
Chris: “You see, Randy. Uhhh… You lack the mental awareness. Therefore, you fail to understand the paradigm shift that is about to occur within our cosmic consciousness. We’re entering into a new æon, my child.”
Big Randy: “Jailhouse Jesus pushing his jailhouse revivals at every turn, as always... Whatever, dude. I ain’t your child. You dig?”
Chris: “You are all my children. Nature is reborn in subjective self-knowledge. When you come to the realization that information reflects spiritual reality you will come to know me to be your personal lord and savior. Now, go... Get some weed from the woods out back.”
Big Randy (suddenly excited by the prospect of free weed): “Did you say there’s weed out back?!?!?”
Mike: “Yeah... There’s a whole field full of it. It’s about harvest time, too. So, we better get it before the deer eat it all.”
John (with a psychotic look in his eye and drops of saliva forming around the corners of his mouth): “Fucking deer! I need to take a nature hike anyway. Let’s go.”
Big Randy: “Well, it turns out you ain’t so bad after all, Jailhouse Jesus. I always knew I liked you.”
Chris (waxing philosophical): “Your heart undertakes an expression of facts, your movement exists as the flow of boundaries, and your black skin makes it hard for me to see you at night without the aid of a candle. Will someone go and fetch some candles for me, please? For it is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.”




The girl returns about two hours later with all of the items everyone asked her to purchase. Several of the crew members gather around to unload everything and bring them inside. She notices that everyone is sitting in one room illuminated by the faint glow of a 30 year old candle. She steps outside for a moment and then returns to flick on light switches in the main living room area. She bought a generator and two weeks worth of fuel just a few days earlier.

Girl: “And God said,’let there be light,’ and there was light.”
Chris (lighting a joint the size of a roll of paper towel): “Yea (cough, cough), verily I say unto thee (cough, cough) let there be more light.” [Mike holds the candle up for Chris to light his joint]




[Narrated] Brian and Sally are sitting together beside the fireplace while Joe tells them about his ex-girlfriend. His ex was a seedless watermelon whom he describes with a mixture of sadness and delight as “oval shaped.” She was a very “traditional girl with a triploid rind.” She had a medium-green hue with dark-green stripes. Just his type. The relationship was short-lived, however, because his neighbor was a bigot who didn’t approve of his lifestyle choices and spoke directly with his family about having him committed to a mental institution to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. Joe spoke openly about how he is far from being prejudiced and how he really loves all types of melons; seedless, picnic, ice box, yellow or orange fleshed. It didn’t matter to him because, as he stated, “citrullus lanatae need love, too.” Joe then proceeds to ask Brian about their sex life.

Joe: “So... Let’s be honest. Have you guys slept together yet?”
Brian (looking at Sally for her approval before saying anything): “Well, that’s a little too personal. Don’t ya think? Besides, I’m not one to kiss and tell.”
Joe: “C’mon. It’s OK. We’re friends. Aren’t we?”
Brian (a little shy): “OK... Well, suffice it to say, Sally gives me the occasional rosebud and sometimes I like to give her a nice pearl necklace. Mostly on special days like anniversaries and birthdays.”
Joe (with his hands moving around sporadically in his pants pockets): “Wow! That’s hot. You guys ever make any videos together? Feel free to share them with me if you want.”
Brian (offended): “No! I’ll have you know that we are very conservative. Thank you!”
Joe: “I have a few posted online, but I don’t have a computer right now due to a court order. Although, I do have the URL tattooed on my ballsack. Wanna see it? You can write it down in case you want to watch them later.”
Brian (irritated): “What!?!?!? Are you fucking crazy!?!??!? Sally and I are in no way interested in seeing you sodomize a fruit basket. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you didn’t use such coarse language around my fiancée. Thank you very much!”
Joe: “OK.... Your loss. Weirdo!”

[Narrated] Everyone settles down for the evening. It’s been a long day of breaking out of jail, outrunning the police, and finding a place that everyone hopes will serve as a decent hideout until they can think of what they’ll do next. Alan and the girl hit it off immediately.

Alan: “So… I see by the stickers on your car that you like a lot of the same bands I like. That’s too cool.”
Girl (twirling her hair and smiling): “Yeah... That is pretty cool.”
Alan: “Can I ask you something?”
Girl: “Sure.”
Alan: “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Girl: “I dated a guy for a while, but he cheated on me with one of our maids.”
Alan: “That’s not cool. You’re so pretty and smart. How can a guy not see that?”
Girl: “I’m not that smart. Pretty... Maybe... But, I let him take advantage of me. Never again will I let some strange guy come into my life only to use me. You know, I’m really lucky to have met you guys. Chris seems really nice, too.”
Alan: “So... what’s your name? I’m Alan, by the way.”
Girl: “Jenny. Nice to meet you, Alan.”
Alan: “Same here, Jenny.”
Jenny: “Now, it’s my turn to ask you something.”
Alan: “ OK. Shoot.”
Jenny: “Are you seeing anyone?”
Alan (almost revealing that he is an escaped convict): “No… not since I’ve been locked u… I mean... not since I left school.”
Jenny: “Cool. Wanna make out?”
Alan: “Sure. OK.”


ACT II, part a



The crew assembles around the dining room table where Jenny is serving breakfast pancakes and fruit she bought at the local farmers market. She turns on the radio where a Doobie Brothers song is playing. It’s interrupted for a quick news announcement discussing 13 escaped convicts. Big Randy rushes over and changes the station before Jenny can hear any more details regarding the jailbreak the previous day.

Jenny: “So... Did you guys hear about what happened yesterday?”

Similar to a circular firing squad, everyone does a spit-take on each other in unison.

Jenny (holding a puppy): “I found this adorable poodle by the side of the road on my way back from picking up supplies.”

Everyone then resumes eating breakfast after wiping off their faces while Jenny takes out the small white poodle she found.

Jenny: “Isn’t he cute?!?!?!? I’m going to name him ‘Justin’ because he made it into my heart ‘just in’ time. Get it? Teeheehee!!!!”
Joe: “Hey, did you pick up those watermelons like I ask you to?”
Jenny: “Yep! They’re right next to the cooler!”
Joe (upset): “These are not the melons I asked for!”
Jenny: “What’s the matter? You said you wanted watermelon.”
Joe: “These are citrullus lanatus. What do I look like, some kind of homo or something?”
Jenny (confused): “Huh?”
Big Randy: “I believe what my paraphilic friend with a lust for the sweeter things in life is saying is that these are male watermelons. Therefore, it’s a no-go for him.”
Joe (looking disgusted): “Fine! I’ve been locked up before. Sometimes you just gotta make the best of a bad situation.”

[Narrated] Joe promptly takes a watermelon into one of the bedrooms where he isn’t seen again for the rest of the morning. Muted sounds of squeaky bedsprings, random groans interspersed with rhythmic grunts, and a sound best described as a foot sloshing in and out of a soggy, mud filled boot emanate from the back bedroom. [Cue “Watermelon” by Tom Rosenthal]
[Narrated] Moments later, Roger hears something off in the distance. It sounds like a helicopter. In a panic, he dives under the table yelling for everyone to take cover.

Roger: “We’ve got company!!!! Everyone take cover! Pronto!!!”
Jenny: “What’s he talking about? I don’t hear anything.”
Roger: “Charlie’s got us surrounded! I served six tours of duty in Nam before your better half even had the chance to run down your mama’s leg there, girlie! Don’t you think I would know what an enemy chopper sounds like?”
Big Randy: “Chill, dude... It’s the fucking generator outside.”
Roger (shaking and pissing himself): “Don’t tell me to chill. I might be the one person who gets us out of this alive!”
Big Randy: “Sure, man... Next, you’re going to say that ‘I don’t know because...’”
Roger: “Because you weren’t there!!!”
Big Randy: “How old are you, man? 45? 50?”
Roger: “That’s not the point and you know it! I’ve been in the shit! I’ve seen Charlie do things to soft motherfuckers like you that would make a vulture puke!”
Big Randy: “You’d better watch who you’re talking to or you and me gonna have a problem, whitey. You dig what I’m sayin’?”
Roger: “When I save you from having your fingernails pulled out one at a time you’ll be thanking me.”
Big Randy: “I’ll keep it in mind when that day comes. Until then, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me chop some firewood?”
Arnold (runs up to see what’s going on): “Ooh... I love chopping wood! Mind if I join you?”
Big Randy: “Ummm... I don’t mean to hurt your feelings there, Alice, but I think you and I have a different idea of what it means to ‘chop wood’. Just sayin’... Besides, you’d probably break a nail or something.”
Arnold: “Can I watch then? I promise to stay out of the way! Just don’t get any in my eyes! Well, if you do-o-o-o you might have to pay me extra-a-a-a!”




[Narrated] Thomas, Tyrone, and Erick are outside where Thomas is teaching them some basic combat self-defense moves. Thomas has read every issue of every martial arts magazine ever published from cover to cover and considers himself to be an expert in more than a dozen different fighting systems. Although he has never been in an actual fight nor has he ever trained at a real dojo, he attributes that to his natural ability to diffuse a situation by being well rooted and in touch with his mystical inner qi energy. He proudly received his black belt from an ad listed in the back of a 70’s comic book and he even has the patch to prove it.

Thomas: “Let’s first begin by meditating using some basic qigong exercises I learned. The purpose of these breathing exercises is to relax the mind, body, and spirit. It will not only help us to learn self respect, but will also help us learn how to show proper respect for others. Now... Breathe in... Breathe out... There... We’re already beginning to feel the calmness settle over us like a gentle ocean breeze... Aren’t we, guys?”
Tyrone: “Did he say ‘bong exercises’? That Jesus dude probably knows more about that shit than you do, my man.”
Erick (in a contemplative state and breathing as instructed while focusing on raising his qi energy): “Shhh... Listen to what the master has to say first before you start mocking him. OK? Show some respect.”
Tyrone (speaking to Erick): “Man, why’s your back so damn hairy? You got so many damn pimples and pockmarks that you look like a volcanic rock took a shit on some infected fruit or some shit.... Your titties are bigger than that white chick’s, too. But I’ll bet her dick’s bigger. Ain’t it? Do you also lactate, by any chance?”
Erick (quickly losing his temper due to roid rage): “DON’T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN, YOU FUCKING CRACKHEAD! I WILL BREAK YOU!!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!!”
Thomas (addressing his students): “Now, let’s remain calm and focus on our breathing exercises. OK?”
Tyrone: “Don’t you talk to me like that, you cracka ass cracka!!! I’ll have-ta bust a cap in yo ass!!!”
Thomas (clueless about what’s getting ready to transpire): “That’s it... Just keep breathing... We’re feeling better already. Aren’t we, guys?”
Tyrone: “Awwww.... Heeeeell, no, son... I will beat your over inflated, roided out ass for that shit!!!”
Erick: “LET’S GO, BOY!!!!”
Tyrone: “Did he just call me ‘boy’??!?!?? That’s it, mothafucka. Let’s do this!!!!” [Cue “Kung Fu Fighting” by Carl Douglas]

[Narrated] Tyrone coldcocks Erick in the jaw, but due to Tyrone’s years of extensive crack abuse that has rendered him with an estimated body weight of around 95 pounds, Erick is still unsure if Tyrone even hit him or not. Erick, lacking any sort of flexibility and unable to even reach his arms over his own head, struggles to grab Tyrone who successfully manages to duck and weave. All of this in spite of Tyrone’s constant tremors from not smoking any crack rock in close to a week. Meanwhile, Thomas remains clueless as to what’s going on while his eyes are closed the whole time and he just keeps asking them to breathe.
Thomas begins his Tai Chi exercises and just as he is moving into the first few steps of the 24 move form he learned from a magazine article he is now standing directly between Erick and Tyrone. His eyes are still closed as they each throw a punch at one another, but the punches land straight on the opposite sides of Thomas’s jaw. Thereby, knocking him out cold. Erick feels terrible almost immediately after it happens, once he realizes that he has knocked out his master who remains unconscious. He starts crying as emotions are running pretty high at this point. Tyrone is feeling the shakes coming on and reaches the conclusion that he never wanted to fight anyone in the first place. Tyrone and Erick are now hugging one another with tears streaming down both of their faces as Thomas is still out cold. They decide to make it up to one another by going to see if Chris has any weed so they can have a peaceful smoke session together, leaving Thomas lying on the ground to meditate on his own.




[Narrated] Roger, Big Randy, Mike, and Matt are working behind the cabin. Arnold is filing his nails and watching them work with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. Roger and Big Randy are chopping firewood while Mike and Matt are harvesting weed to be cured and hung to dry in the barn. Roger and Big Randy have spent several months together as cell mates and have a tepid relationship at best and they downright hate each other at worst. [Cue “For What It’s Worth” by Buffalo Springfield]
[Narrated] Big Randy has heard every bullshit story of stolen valor there is during the time they’ve been locked up together. All centered around Roger’s alleged times in Danang, Saigon, as well as places he, to this day, isn’t allowed to mention due to his ultra-super-duper-top secret missions deep within the Mekong Delta region. Roger is balding, has sleeves of tattoos, a scraggly grey beard, and a sagging beer belly. He proudly shows off his tattoos saying “POW/MIA” on his chest, a US Navy SEAL Trident tattoo on his right shoulder, a US Army Airborne Rangers insignia on his left arm, a picture of a popular cartoon bunny peeing into his navel, and a lot of other shitty jailhouse tattoos so blurry they mildly resemble a Rorschach test as though they were illustrated by a drunken five year old on meth. He says the rabbit tattoo reminds him of his time in a POW camp when Charlie would piss on him each morning and how the Viet Cong reminds him of the Easter Bunny. “Never forget.” It’s a mantra heard uttered by him almost daily. As well as a whole host of lines from 80’s action films where it seems to be the place he has derived the majority of his source material. Oohrah, hooah... Who knows really? Because it’s a secret.
[Narrated] Big Randy is a middle aged black man weighing in at close to 500 pounds on a slim day. He’s a very cool, pragmatic, and down to earth guy most of the time. He does have his moments, however. Such as when he likes to dream big. Although, those dreams have come at a pretty steep price for him. For instance, he came up with the idea that if he could just learn how to steal one expensive sports car that it would enable him to parlay it into a legal enterprise by placing him in a position to “be standing among some pretty tall cotton” as he often liked to say after years of growing up in the deep south. The idea was that to be rich you have to first look rich. However, what happened was it landed him in jail where he only learned how to hone his craft at boosting cars. That, in and of itself, became a short-lived cottage industry for him. For a while anyway...
[Narrated] Where better to learn about breaking the law than in jail? Surely, all of those arrested know exactly what they’re doing to stay out of trouble. Right? Big Randy ended up being the target of an investigation involving multiple chop shops in the tri-state area culminating with him sitting in jail and awaiting to stand trial with no definite court date. What makes Big Randy stand out, other than his size, is that he is a highly intelligent guy, but after living in a mostly white farming community it caused him to deal with so many racist douchenozzles that he never stood a fair chance at proving himself. [Cue "Country Boys Can Survive" by Hank Williams, Jr.]

Roger: “Hey, Big Randy. You know what fat people like to do in the summertime?”
Big Randy (swinging an ax): “What’s that?”
Roger: “Stink!” [laughing to himself]
Big Randy: “Are you sayin’ that from personal experience? You know. You’re not exactly a poster child for anorexia either...”
Roger (defensive): “Hey! I have fibromyalgia and a slow metabolism! You have no idea what kind of hell Charlie put me through. You and your privileged life can suck it! You should be thanking me for my service!”
Big Randy: “You ever read ‘The White Man’s Burden’, man?”
Roger: “Readin’s for librul pussies like you... I learned all I’ll ever need to know from hard livin’, dude.”
Big Randy: “Well.... color me surprised.”
Roger: “Well… Surprise! You’re colored! See how that works?”
Big Randy: “Erudite and informed as ever.... You’re living fucking proof that sometimes white man IS the burden, dude.”
Roger (eyes nearly crossed from being in a constant state of confusion): “What you tryin’ to say?”

[Narrated] On the other side of the barn, at the height of Big Randy and Roger’s friendly little chinwag, there’s a loud noise that sounds a lot like a gunshot. Mike and Matt run over to see what’s going on. They find that Joe has discovered a box of bear bangers in the barn which are used to scare bears away from campsites. Everyone else soon follows to see what all the fuss is about.

Matt: “It’s OK, everybody. False alarm. Joe just set off a bear banger.”
Alan: “What the hell is a bear banger?”
Arnold: “I can explain this one to my cute, young, patchouli scented friend. You tsee [exaggerated lisp] a bear banger is what we also occasionally refer to as a ‘top’. The bottom is sometimes a big, hairy, burly man - sometimes not - and he likes to go ‘oooh-oooh-wee’ while the top...”
Matt: “It’s a device that makes a gunshot sound. It’s used to scare bears away.”
Arnold: “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Scare a few my way then. Will ya?”
Mike: “I thought you preferred to be the one on the receiving end.”
Arnold: “Pitching, catching... I’m alright just as long as I get to play ball. OK!!!! Who wants to go skinny dipping???? I call dibs on who gets to be the first to rub some lotion on my back!!!”

Everyone else just shakes their head and walks away to return to what they were doing.




[Narrated] Jenny and Alan made an afternoon lunch and everyone is called inside to eat with them. The lunch is more like a feast for a king, that is at least to the escaped convicts. It is comprised of fresh venison (courtesy of John), sweet potatoes, corn on the cob, green beans, and an assortment of fresh fruit and chocolate cake for dessert. The crew gathers around the table with Chris sitting at the head of the table giving his first sermon of the day followed by a short prayer before everyone eats.

Chris: “Yea. Verily I say unto thee, my brethren. It is easier for a mule to smuggle ten pounds of weed in their anus across the Mexican border than it is for a rich man to enter into a stripclub and leave without catching at least three STDs. Let us now bow our heads and pray for that rich man and that donkey, for they have both undoubtedly slept with the same girl.”
Jenny: “How about we go around the table one at a time and each of us can say what we are each blessed with?”


Jenny: “Alright. I’ll start. I am blessed with a new family, an adorable little dog, and my new boyfriend, Alan. Go ahead, dear. Tell everyone what you’re blessed with.”
Alan: “Well... I am blessed with my freedom, good friends, and a hot, rich girlfriend who likes anal as much as I do.”
Arnold: “She can’t possibly like it as much as I do. [winking at Alan] Holla-a-a-a!! Anyway... I am blessed with this fabulous new cardigan sweater that Jenny gave me - I absolutely love it, by the way - and a place I can call home where no one judges me because of my sexual orientation.”
Jenny: “Awww… Thank you, Arnold. That’s so sweet of you! Now, back off, bitch! He’s my man!”
Mike: “I am blessed because I found a sheet of some white blotter I had stashed away before I got popped, to be in the presence of true greatness that is Chris the Carpenter, and to have a place I can call home that doesn’t require me to hire a guy to protect my sweet, tight, virgin butthole every night.”
Arnold (winking at Mike): “Your sweet, tight, virgin butthole is safe with me, Sug. Just so you know... Holla-a-a-a!!”
Matt (at his most articulate): “I am blessed for the friends and the food and shit...”
Big Randy: “What am I blessed with? Hmmm... [standing up and launching into one of his famous MLK, Jr. style of speeches] Well, I’d say that I am blessed with the chance to be the person I want to be rather than the person the system wants to turn me into: yet, another black statistic at the hands of my white oppressors who just WANTS TO KEEP ME DOWN AFTER MORE THAN 400 YEARS OF SERVITUDE!!! YOU WHITE MOTHERFUCKERS!!! I HOPE YOU ALL DIE AND BURN IN HELL!!!! Oh, yeah... And I am blessed with family and friends. Thanks. Oooh... Is that chocolate cake? I believe I may have to try some of that...”

Everyone starts to snack on some of the fresh fruit while those who haven’t said what they are blessed with wait for their turn to speak. Jenny passes around sliced watermelon and other snacks before the big feast is underway.

Roger: “I am blessed to live in the greatest country in the world, to have served my country with honor and distinction, to have 97 confirmed kills before I turned 25, a badass ‘72 Harley-Davidson Softail - hopefully, still waitin’ for me at the local pawn shop - and I am blessed with my friends. Even you, Big Randy. You’re alright... Even though you are a negro and all...”
Big Randy (talking with a mouth full of chocolate cake): “Why? Thank you, Roger. You fucking dumbass honkey. That really brings a tear to my eye. When the race war breaks out and we’re killing whitey, I may decide to let you live after all. Maybe...”
Thomas (barely able to speak from what may be a broken jaw): “I am blessed with an overwhelming feeling of peace and serenity in my heart, a restful but alert mind, and a relaxed state of wakeful bliss as a result of years of conditioning and physical training.”
Erick: “I am blessed with my new friend, Tyrone. He and I had somewhat of a rough start, but I think I’ve found a pretty good friend here.”
Tyrone: “I am blessed... I am blessed.... With the ability to stir coffee without the need of a coffee stirrer, the ability to stay up all night with cold sweats when others can get a decent night’s sleep, and my new cracka ass cracka friend, Erick. He puts the pimp in pimply.”
Erick (starting to have roid rage after Tyrone’s last remark): “I WILL SNAP YOU LIKE A TWIG!!!!”
Jenny: “Hey... calm down guys... OK?”
Tyrone: “It’s cool, bruh. Chill...”
Erick (crying): “I’m sorry, Tyrone. Sometimes I let my emotions get the best of me.”
Jenny: “Alright. Who’s next? Brian! You hardly ever say a word. What are you blessed with?”
Brian: “I am blessed with Sally, the love of my life. We’ve been through a lot together, but she always sticks by my side through thick and thin. I love you, Sally.”
Sally (in a voice only Brian can hear): “I love you too, sweetheart.”
John: “I’m blessed with a hunting prowess which allows me to stalk a full grown doe, approach it with stealth like precision, and take it down only to murder it in cold blood with my bare hands while its babies see me do it right in front of them - just before they run away in horror. I’m also blessed with my love of nature and all of the beauty there truly is in the world, friends, and a place I can call home.”
Jenny: “OK! One more! Joe! What are you blessed with?”
Joe: “I am blessed with all of these sweet, hot, delicious young watermelons. Even though they are boys and I prefer girls, I found each of them to be absolutely amazing in bed. In fact, the one I am eating right now tastes even better now that it has a dollop of my own brand of special ranch dressing in every bite.”
Mike: “Wait... Did you say that you slept with ALL of them? Did I just hear you correctly?”
Joe: “Yes. Of course. I don’t want the others to get jealous or appear to be playing favorites or something. I made sweet love to each and every one of them and it was absolutely fantastic. Thank you, Jenny, for picking them up for me. I have really enjoyed them immensely. What a great family I have here! You guys are the best!”

Each person sitting at the table gives one another a look of both shock and disgust as they slowly come to the realization that they have all been eating the watermelon slices Jenny had prepared for them. It is tantamount to the gradual buildup in Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” and, like the steady crescendo in one of the greatest movements ever written in classical music, everyone at the table (with the exception of Joe) feel increasingly nauseated until they all, in the same circular firing squad as before, do a giant spit-take on one another in perfect unison. An amalgam of sticky white gooey slime, saliva, and watermelon pieces blanket the food on the dining room table along with all who are seated around it. [Cue “Ode to Joy” by Beethoven]
After a few hours cleaning up, each person taking multiple hot showers followed by cold showers, taking turns curled in a fetal position on the bathtub floor with the water running while crying their eyes out, numerous tooth brushings and gallons of mouthwash later, the crew is sitting around the campfire for some late night entertainment.

Jenny: “I brought my acoustic guitar. Does anyone here know how to play?”


Jenny: “C’mon, guys.... Cheer up. Dinner was a disaster, but that doesn’t mean we need to be down in the dumps. Just chalk it up as a learning experience. That’s all.”
Mike: “That’s easy for you to say. I doubt it’s been your first taste of man juice, but for some of us it has been a life changing, soul crushing event.”
Jenny: “While that may be true, I didn’t like it either. I only like the taste of my sweet Alan-melon. Isn’t that right, honey.”
Alan: “Honey, I love you, but, for the love of God... Please, don’t tell anyone about this.”
Arnold: “I, for one, found it to be a tad bit saltier than usual... Joe should maybe spend more time eating fruit instead of pounding it with his flesh rocket.”
Mike: “Can we, please, change the subject already!!!”

Chris walks up to join everyone around the campfire. He picks up the guitar to play a few tunes. Though, the music doesn’t sound too terrible, the lyrics are in his signature quasi-religious, new age woo.

Chris: (singing) “Perceptual reality illuminates unparalleled facts.... Your body co-creates a total acceptance of belonging... La-la-la... Our consciousness experiences boundless boundaries.... The future is the ground of an expression of mysteries... La-la-da... So sayeth the lord...”

Big Randy interrupts by grabbing the guitar from him and breaks into some of the smoothest jazz ever performed for a cast of degenerate losers sitting around a campfire. Tyrone jumps in with some slick beatboxing interspersed with some downright soulful singing, rapping, and musicality no one would have expected from a guy with a perpetual case of the Harlem shakes.

Roger: “This sucks... You know any outlaw country music? I mean. I know you black folks are musical and all, but you ain’t got shit on some good ole David Allan Coe.”

Everyone in attendance surrounds Roger like an angry mob and take turns slapping him silly. They stand around Roger who is sitting in an old swivel office chair. As one person slaps him it causes him to spin to the next person in line. The repetitive slaps cause Roger to spin faster and faster. It is in perfect syncopation with the gradually accelerating rhythm of Randy’s strumming and Tyrone’s beatboxing culminating in Roger being so dizzy that he is about to vomit. Once the song is over, everyone returns to their seats for a long moment of silence and reflection. Jenny speaks up to break the deafening silence. She tries to lighten the mood a little by asking if anyone knows any good jokes.

Joe (walks up after being in hiding): ”I know one. Wanna hear it?” [people can be heard giving Joe death threats under their breath]
Jenny: “Sure, Joe. Entertain us for a while! We could all use a good laugh. Right, guys?”
Joe: “OK. [laughing to himself] OK... So... There was this guy and a family of watermelons with incredible musical talent and acting ability. After touring together for years, they decided that they want to get signed to a big Hollywood movie contract. They traveled to Hollywood to see some big time producer. When they arrived, the guy explained to the producer what their show is about, but the producer doesn’t seem at all interested. He wants to see it performed live instead of just hearing about it. So... the guy, very well endowed, takes the mother watermelon and jams his dick inside of it until it shoots out the other side. Once it pops through the other side, nearly splitting the mama melon into two pieces, he takes one of the boy watermelons and starts fist-fucking it until it explodes in a sticky mess of hot goo. Seeing that the producer has yet to show as much as even a hint of interest, the guy takes the baby watermelon and jams it up his own ass until he farts seeds, rind, and all....”
Big Randy (seriously annoyed): “OK, dude. If I have to so much as look at your face or hear one more thing out of you or anyone ever again about watermelons I will fucking kill you.”
Roger: “I thought you people liked watermelons. What’s up with that, blood?”
Big Randy: “Roger, you are about 10 seconds away from me beating your sorry, racist piece of shit ass until you wake up to… [unable to finish his sentence because he’s so pissed off] No more watermelons! Are we clear about that, BLOOD?”
Roger: “Yeah. Crystal clear...”
Joe: “Wait! You didn’t let me finish!!!”
Big Randy: “Enough, Joe! Goddamnit!”
Joe: “The act is called…... [Joe taps a drum roll on a watermelon] ‘The Aristo....’” [Joe is interrupted with ‘crats’ being replaced with the sound of a slap]

[Narrated] For the second time in an evening, the angry mob takes turns slapping someone, but it’s Joe this time, in a seemingly endless series of beatdowns. They do it with a lot more zeal than fat, angry, old racist Roger had to endure. Chris breaks the monotony by asking everyone if they want to eat some magic mushrooms. All of a sudden, everyone shifts their gaze over to Chris who is holding a giant garbage bag full of psilocybin.[cue the sitar music]
Chris dispenses two handfuls of mushrooms to each person. Everyone in the group begins eating them one at a time. Brian had never taken drugs before due to his law enforcement background. Reluctant to try them, Sally gives her tacit approval while others openly encourage him to join them for the ride of his life.
Mike is sitting alone with Brian and Sally. He asks Brian what happened that led to him being a metro police officer one day to a fugitive from justice the next. At first, Brian doesn’t want to open up to him about his past, but as the shrooms begin to kick in he starts to feel a little more relaxed and open to talk.

Mike: “Man, You look familiar. I think I remember hearing about you in the news a few months back. Didn’t you shoot up a donut shop and do a bunch of other crazy shit?”
Brian: “I was having my morning coffee at the ‘Hotdog and Donut’ shop where my colleagues and I met each morning before work. I had the day off. So, Sally and I stopped in for coffee before getting her hair done at the salon. Then a waitress insulted us. Sometimes people just don’t understand true love. Sometimes people are just too damn judgmental.”
Mike: “So... you shot up the place?”
Brian: “Let’s talk about this later. I’m starting to feel a little funny. Does your face usually blur like that? What’s with the… ”

The effect of the mushrooms has caused Brian’s head to fall backward with his eyes slowly rolling back into his head. He is flailing his arms around as though he’s swimming while curled up in a fetal position in the old office chair he’s sitting in beside the campfire. Several others in the group are sitting around the campfire after each of them ingested the two handfuls of mushrooms distributed by Chris the Carpenter. Within an hour everyone is visibly intoxicated. As the bonfire roars everyone appears to be in good spirits. Everyone except for Brian. He is now completely nude and running around the bonfire while riding Sally like a horse and screaming at the top of his lungs.

Brian (naked with a crazed look in his eyes): “There’s no place like home! There’s no place like home! There’s no place like home! Bazooka! Bazooka!” [rinse and repeat]

[Narrated] Others start joining in on all the fun they perceive Brian is having and begin disrobing after giving a perfunctory nod of approval to each other as if to say collectively, “hey, why not?” Once fully skyclad, they are now stringed together in a daisy-chain of delusion, wonder, and merriment. Joe returns with a small watermelon planted firmly on the head of his penis. He, in fact, is the only one at this point who isn’t fully exposed. Soon everyone is chanting along with Brian while interlocked nuts to butts with one another. It resembles lab monkeys on acid in a circle jerk with Joe leading the pack. It’s like a conga line gone rogue. [Cue “The Watermelon Song” by Tennessee Ernie Ford]
[Narrated] Brian is positioned behind Joe with Sally taking up the rear. Joe’s rear, that is. Joe doesn’t seem to mind at all as he is lost in a state of sheer ecstasy and balls deep inside of his favorite piece of warm produce. It is, at this stage of mass hallucination, that things start to get weird.
A penetratingly bright light blankets the group cast down from above creating a halo of psilocybin induced radiance. It is of such intense luminosity that it is blinding to everyone standing within it. Shrouded in the light from an unknown source they all turn to look up with their hands partially covering their faces to try to catch a glimpse of what seems to be an alien mothership slowly descending down upon them. Chris is nowhere to be seen as the rest of the gang all look up in amazement. Joe can be heard yelling, “Behold! The Thunder God!” Others join in to kowtow to their newly found deity the “Thunder God”. Before anyone can see what’s happening, they fall unconscious to the ground one by one.


ACT II, part b



Mike wakes up to a pounding headache. Flies and mosquitoes cover his sweat soaked face. He looks around to see that he is locked inside a makeshift jail in the middle of the woods. It is made from pieces of tree branches which are tied together. There are about a dozen militia types armed with assault rifles standing around guarding a military style compound. Everyone’s clothes are sitting in a pile in the middle of the homemade cage as they are still naked. Everyone, excluding Chris who remains absent, begins to awaken to discover that they have been captured by some angry looking rednecks with enough firepower to take down a small banana republic.
Roger starts to panic and gives his best impression of a captured US Navy SEAL suffering from PTSD. His Oscar-worthy performance attracts the attention of the guards.

Roger (now clothed and pissing his pants): “Charlie’s got us, boys! You damn yellow bastards ain’t gettin’ shit outta me! You hear me?”
Guard #1: “Quiet over there!”
Roger: “Don’t pretend like you know any English, you damn, dirty commie!”
Guard #1: “I said, ‘be quiet!’”
Roger (whispering to his bunny tattoo next to his navel): “You sumbitches ain’t seen the last of ole Ramjet.”
Mike (whispering nervously): “Dude, shut the fuck up already. Those guys are serious. Look at that one dude. He’s wearing BDUs and carrying a gun. Probably Delta Force or something. He even has the same tat as you, man.”
Roger (inspecting the guard’s tattoos): “Wait a minute. I think I know that guy.”
Guard #1 (approaching Roger): “Hey! Sit down and shut up goddamnit!”
Roger: “Donkey Punch? Is that you?”
Guard #1: “What did you call me?”
Roger: “Yeah! It IS you! Damn, man! I ain’t seen you since you used to ride with me on the back of my hog up and down the strip. What’s it been? 15-20 years?”
Guard #2 (walking up to see what all of the commotion is about): “You know that guy, DP?”
Guard #1: “Naw…. I don’t know him. [yelling at Roger] I said ‘shut up’!!!”
Roger: “C’mon, man! You gotta remember old Ramjet! I bailed yo mama outta jail!”
Guard #1 (looking puzzled): “Ramjet?”
Roger: “Yeah, man!”
Guard #1: “Well… Sheeeeit! Long time no see!”
Roger (relieved): “Yeah! Long time no see, brother!” [they fist bump through the wooden bars]
Roger (asking politely): “Hey, man. Can you do your old brother Ramjet a favor and let me and my friends outta here?”
Guard #1: “No can do. Sorry, brother.”
Roger: “C’mon, man! We family and shit!”
Guard #1: “Just cuz’ you and me used to be friends don’t mean I forgot what you did. Besides, I gotta good job now and my boss might even give me a raise and shit.”
Roger: “What’d I do? I bailed yo mama outta jail, man!”
Guard #1 (tears in his eyes): “Yeah, then you let mama get run over by that damned old train.”
Roger (pleading with him): “We family, DP! Your mama just got on that Bolivian marching powder and started to freak out, man. She was convinced that the train wuz gonna take her to Telluride where she hoped she could find Jesus. I tried to stop her, but she wuz a big, strong gal who knew how to throw her weight around. You ever hear the story about why we called her ‘GG’?”
Guard #1 (tears begin to stream down his face): “She said sumthin’ ‘bout it bein’ due to her lookin’ like GG Allin. E’ery time I see a GG Allin poster now it makes me wanna cry, man. She wuz a scumfuck, but that scumfuck wuz my mama.”
Roger: “Well, that’s only part right. Yes. We called her ‘GG’ because she was his groupie on a few tours back in the day and they did share a striking resemblance. We also called her ‘GG’ because it stood for ‘Gorilla Girl’. That was her handle, dude. She wuz so proud of you. Now, look at you all grown up! You’re a workin’ man. Looks like you found yourself a good job. I’m real proud of you, too. You remember when you wuz in grade school and I taught you how to make crank? You wuz a true natural at it. You had ‘the gift’.”
Guard #1 (angered by the gorilla remark): “Don’t you go talkin’ ‘bout my mama like that! She was as delicate as a spring flower and as pure as Peruvian snow. AND YOU KILLED HER!!!!!”
Roger: “No, man.”
Guard #1 (sobbing and angry): “Yes! Yes, you did! You sumbitch!”
Roger: “No, DP. I loved her with all my heart. There’s something I never told you. Donkey Punch, I’m your daddy.”
Guard #1 (tearful and angry): “NO!!!! That’s impossible!”
Roger: “Search your feelings, DP. You know it to be true.”
Guard #1: “My daddy died in a fire when a meth lab blew up!”
Roger: “That’s just what your mama wanted you to think. See? Look at that tat next to your belly button. I got the same one, man. [Roger lifts up his shirt to show him his bunny tattoo] I gave you that when you wuz only 6 months old.”
Guard #1 (looking at a severely stretched and faded tattoo next to his navel): “Mama always said that wuz from when she wuz carryin’ me and they wuz angel kisses or some shit.”
Roger: “She only said that because I wuz in the pen and she didn’t wanna make you think anything bad about your daddy. It’s me, son. You my boy!”
Guard #1 (looking bewildered): “Daddy?”
Roger (tears flowing): “Yeah… I’m yo daddy.”
Guard #1 (sobbing): “D-a-a-a-a-ddy!?!?”
Roger: “It’s me, son. It’s me.”
Guard #1 (turning angry): “You goddamned, sumbitch! You shouldn’t oughtta ever told me that! I’m gonna kill you now, you motherfucker!” [raises his machine gun and points it at Roger]
Roger (pissing his pants a second time): “Don’t do it, son! Don’t let years of neglect and a little bit of childhood trauma here and there come between the love of a father and his baby boy!” [cue “Cat’s in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin]
DP (falls to his knees crying): “Why’d mama have to run out in front of that damned old train anyhow? Looks like she found Jesus after all…”
Roger (consoling DP): “Well, not exactly. Jesus Vasquez wuz her cocaine dealer. I believe he’s in the joint as we speak.”

[Narrated] Roger and DP are both bawling their eyes out as they reminisce over all of the times they shared with GG. They recall how GG would cook their favorite breakfast consisting of bologna and cheese slices seasoned with sprinkles of methamphetamine and a “heapin’ helpin’ of love in every bite.”

DP: “Mama always knew how to put a smile on yer face. Ya know it? Sometimes we’d eat breakfast before school and I would miss the bus, but it didn’t matter, cuz’ I reckon like most kids, I was so full of energy back then I’d run to school and beat everybody there. Those were good times, man.”
Roger: “Yes. Yes, they were.”
DP: “Of course, having three heart attacks and losing most of my teeth before middle school wuz a little rough on a youngster like me. Kids can be so cruel sometimes.”

A tall, brooding man wearing military fatigues and a beret can be seen in the background stepping out of a 4X4 pickup truck. One of the guards whistles for all of the other guards to assemble in formation to salute Commander Hop.

Hop: “Alright! Listen up, boys! We gonna have ourselves a shipment going out today. None of you dumb motherfuckers better mess this one up either!”
Guard #2: “What’re we gonna do with those guys we found last night?”
Hop: “You mean, ‘what are we gonna do, sir’. You will address me proper like. You understand?”
Guard #2: “What we gonna do about them, sir?”
Hop: “Those were the fellers who stole our weed. Thievin’ won’t be tolerated ‘round here. We gonna have ourselves a little ole backwoods tribunal today.”
DP (nervous): “Sir, if you want to I can take care of ‘em for ya. No need to trouble yourself with it. I know you got better things to do anyhow.”
Hop (dressing down DP): “You will speak only when spoken to, Private Donkey Punch!”
DP: “Sorry, sir.”
Hop: “Now… Where were we? Oh, yeah. I see we found ourselves a couple of negroes, too. Who wants to grab a rope so we can have ourselves a nice little lynchin’ party over lunch?”
Big Randy (whispering to the others): “We gotta get outta here and fast.”
Tyrone (shaking more than usual): “Man! Fuck that shit! Fuckin’ racist crackas anyway.”
Big Randy: “Dude, don’t do anything stupid. You need to listen to what I’m sayin’, man. Don’t say a word. OK?”
Hop: “Alright, boys. Let’s commence to hangin’ before chow. Private Donkey Punch, go grab that little black feller and bring ‘em on over here.”
DP: “But, sir...”
Hop: “Private, unless you feel like joining them you’d damn well better follow orders!!! INSUBORDINATION WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!!!!”

DP walks over to open the cage and whispers to them quietly, instructing them to just follow his lead. DP escorts Tyrone out of the cage a leaves the door slightly ajar. DP looks at Roger and gives him a subtle wink. DP and Tyrone start to approach Hop for an impromptu trial and execution of Tyrone. However, things are interrupted when a police cruiser pulls up. DP places Tyrone back in the cage without locking it.
A large police officer walks up to speak with Hop. The atmosphere is rather tense. Initially, it leaves the prisoners with the impression that he has stumbled upon a crime in progress. However, it soon becomes clear that he and Hop know one another. While they are talking, DP moves a piece of cardboard in front of the cage to partially obfuscate the prisoners’ view of Hop and the officer. Randy manages to get a quick peak of the officer and he recognizes him immediately. It’s Officer Ray the jail guard. Randy whispers to everyone in the group, telling them who the cop is that is talking to Hop. Brian, usually quiet, speaks up.

Big Randy: “It’s the fucking jailhouse guard. We’re fucked!”
Brian: “I knew that guy was up to no good.”
Big Randy: “You know him?”
Brian: “I pulled over a suspect one night and found large quantities of a white powdery substance in his car. When I filed my report, Ray stepped in out of nowhere and said that he was already investigating it. It all seemed pretty strange to me because it was outside of his area. He’s county. He shouldn’t be involved in metro drug investigations. I asked one of my superiors about it and they told me that I was off the case.”
Hop (speaking to Ray): “You’re early. You got the money?”
Ray: “Yeah, it’s in the back of my cruiser. You got the stuff?”
Hop: “Let’s eat first. I found some hippies poking around one of our weed fields last night next an old cabin. It’s about time we dispense some country justice. You in?”
Ray: “I ain’t got no time for none of that. I need to wrap this up so I can get back to work. We had a jailbreak the other day. Motherfuckers are really making me look bad.”
Hop: “A’ight let’s do this then. I got shit to do anyway.”

The prisoners catch a glimpse of what’s going on by peering underneath the cardboard where they can see Ray and Hop exchange large stacks of hundred dollar bills and white powder placed inside a clear plastic container. Arnold, who had stayed quiet about Ray until now, starts to speak up.

Arnold (crying): “He’s the reason why I ended up doing what I do to make money. You’re right, Brian. He’s no good.”
Mike: “I thought you liked making money doing that stuff.”
Arnold: “I never wanted to do that, but he made me do it. I met him online at a gay hookup site when I was 18. He seemed like a nice guy, at first. But he threatened to kill me if I didn’t let him pimp me out to complete strangers. I hate him and I hate what he has turned me into.”
Mike: “Why didn’t you report him to the police?”
Arnold: “I don’t know. I guess I was scared. I don’t have a family or anyone to turn to. I’ve been on my own since I was 16.”
Mike: “Well, we’re your family now. Ain’t that right, guys?”
Everyone (taking turns comforting Arnold): “Yeah. We’re your family now.”
Arnold (crying): “Thank you, guys. It really means a lot to me.”

Ray and Hop continue their conversation for a few minutes while DP is standing in between them and the cage where the prisoners are being housed. Roger and Big Randy notice that the door isn’t locked. They, together, work on an escape plan. DP is casually looking over his shoulder and gestures for them to make a break for it. The other guards are mulling around the area, but their attention is focused on Hop and Ray as they make their drug deal.
Each member of the group crawl slowly out of the cage and silently move into the wooded area directly behind the cage. Once DP sees that they have all made it out undetected he decides that he wants to join them. He doesn’t want to leave his father after they have finally had the chance to reunite. DP does a slow backward walk towards the cage, keeping his eyes on Hop and Ray as well as the other guards.
Ray finishes his business with Hop after talking for a few minutes. Ray jumps into his police cruiser and drives away as DP, seeing an opportunity to escape, begins to run into the woods. One of the guards spots him attempting to run off and yells for him to stop. DP is captured by the guards who discover the prisoners have escaped. DP distracts them as much as he can in order to give Roger and the gang enough time to make it out in one piece.

Hop (yelling to his guards): “Get ‘em!”
Big Randy (breathing heavily): “Where we gonna go?”
Roger: “Let’s get to High Camp. Girlie’s car is there. We need to find ourselves a new hidin’ place.”
Jenny: “I have my cell phone in my car. If we can make it there, I can call my daddy. I know he will help us.”
Mike: “We should keep moving. Listen. Those guys aren’t far behind us. They’ll be looking for us to return to High Camp. If they catch us, we’re all as good as dead.”
Roger: “Those motherfuckers got my boy. I can’t leave him there.”
Big Randy: “We’ll get him out of there, man. Don’t worry. But Mike is right. We need to keep moving. Let’s go.”
Alan: “I’ll go get Jenny’s phone and meet you guys somewhere.”
Jenny: “I’m coming with you!”
Alan: “No, baby. It’s too dangerous. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything bad ever happened to you.”
Jenny: “No way. We’re in this together!”
Brian: “I’ll go.”
Big Randy: “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
Brian: “I’m sure. Besides, what have I got to lose?”
Big Randy: “What about Sally?”
Brian: “Hopefully, she’s still waiting for me at the campsite.”
Roger: “Where’s Jailhouse Jesus?”
Matt: “He’s always with us. Have faith.”
Roger: “Right…”
Mike: “There’s a cave about a mile up the trail. We should head there. Mark a spot on the trail so Brian can find his way back.”
Brian: “Which way is it to the campsite?”
Mike: “Just follow this trail east for about two miles. You can’t miss it.”
Brian: “Alright. Wish me luck!”
Jenny: “Here’s my car keys. My phone is sitting in the driver’s seat. It should still have enough of a charge to make a phone call. Stay safe.”
Mike, Matt, and John: “Chris be with you.”

The gang arrives safely at the cave Mike told them about. It was once used by bootleggers during the prohibition era. They find Chris sitting near the entrance. He’s smoking one of his giant hand rolled happy cigarettes. [Cue “Jesus is Just Alright” by the Doobie Brothers]

Big Randy (very angry): “What the fuck happened to you, Jailhouse Jesus! We were all kidnapped by some fucking racist hillbillies and you ditched us!”
Roger (chiming in with Big Randy): “Yeah, you dumb sumbitch! You left us to die out there! You never leave your buddies behind!”
Arnold: “I would never leave my buddy’s behind. That notwithstanding, what you did wasn’t cool, Chris.”
Mike: “Hey, take it easy, man. I’m sure that he knew we were all safe and sound. Didn’t you, Chris?”
Chris (stoned out of his mind): “Ummmm… What? Uh… Yeah, sure...”
Big Randy (gets ready to punch Chris): “You motherfucker! I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
Chris (passing the joint he’s smoking to Big Randy): “Qualia exists as humble silence. Your movement requires incredible reality. The soul creates great knowledge and this weed is stank-a-dank-a-licious.” [coughing]
Big Randy (has a sudden change of heart): “Well, since you put it that way.” [grabs the joint and smokes half of it in a single hit]
Arnold: “Pass that blunt to your homo to the left already. Damn!” [everyone starts laughing at Arnold’s joke as the tension eases a little]

[Narrated] The gang are in much better spirits now that they’ve had a good smoke session and they have escaped the Cornfed Mafia. However, Roger can be seen sitting by a stream just down the hill. He’s staring off into space, looking despondent. He’s worried about DP. Big Randy walks down to console him. He also promises Roger that they will rescue his son and tells him not to worry. [Cue “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd]

Big Randy (trying to get a laugh out of Roger): “What’s going on, my hillbilly brother? Did the Skynyrd concert get canceled again or something? I haven’t seen you this bummed since they canceled Hee-Haw.”
Roger (depressed): “I know you’re only tryin’ to cheer me up, but I’m worried ‘bout my boy.”
Big Randy: “He’ll be alright, man. We’re in this together, you and me.”
Roger: “Thanks, bro. I know I’ve been an ass to you because you’re colored and all, but you really are one of the good ones.”
Big Randy: “Umm… Thanks? I mean… You’re welcome, man.”




Brian makes it back to High Camp, but he sees Hop and his crew searching around for any clues that might lead them back to the rest of the escaped prisoners. Brian hides in the bushes until dusk as we waits for them to leave. Once they leave, he sneaks over to the car, gets inside, and grabs the cell phone. He notices that the battery is dead. So, he starts the car, plugs the phone into the charger, and waits for it to charge. As the phone is charging, he searches around for Sally. He finds her lying by the campfire with some of her hair singed by the campfire.

Brian: “Sally! Are you alright?”
Sally (yawning): “There’s my sweetie. I’m OK. I just fell by the campfire and it burned me a little.”
Brian: “Oh! Thank God! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Brian and Sally share a brief, intimate moment as the sun begins to set. Brian then takes Sally, grabs the cell phone that is fully charged, and makes his way back to the cave. He finds a small flashlight along with a few other supplies in the back of the car before hiking back into the woods. After hiking for better than an hour and getting lost a few times, he finally arrives to the cave where he finds everyone sitting around a small campfire.

Jenny (looking up to the trail to see Brian approaching): “Hey! He made it!” [everyone greets Brian and Sally with a warm group-hug]
Alan: “We were all starting to worry about you, man!”
Jenny: “Did you grab my phone?”
Brian (handing the phone to Jenny): “I had to charge it for a little while, but it should work now.”

Knowing that her father spends the majority of his time at the office, Jenny calls her father’s office first, but she doesn’t get an answer because it is so late. She then decides to call his cell number.

Jenny’s Dad: “Hello?”
Jenny: “Daddy? It’s Jenny.”
Jenny’s Dad: “Hi, sweetheart! I was just thinking about you as I was going over my bank statements! How much do you need?”
Jenny: “Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that...”

[Narrated] Jenny explains to her father in detail everything that has transpired and asks him for his help. She tells him about the amazing group of friends she has made, her new boyfriend, the Cornfed Mafia who kidnapped them, everything….

Jenny: “We’re hiding out in a cave because these mean old bad men want to hurt me, Daddy!”
Jenny’s Dad: “You stay right there. I am going to send my security team there right away!”
Jenny: “These guys say they’re in the mafia, Daddy! I’m scared!”
Jenny’s Dad: “Now, don’t you worry, kitten. My guys know exactly how to deal with people like that. I don’t make concrete apparel for nothing. Those guys won’t know what or WHO hit ‘em.”
Jenny: “Please, hurry, Daddy! They’re going to kill us if they find us!”

Just as Jenny finishes her last sentence, someone’s hand comes out from the shadows and grabs the phone out of her hand. It’s one of Hop’s henchmen. They hand the phone over to Hop.

Hop: “Daddy? This is your worst nightmare. We have yer baby. Now, I reckon yer a lil worried at the moment. Wonderin’ what we gonna do to yer baby girl. It’s like this: either you give me one-hundred thousand dollars by this time tomorrow or she gonna work it off for a few years at one of my truck stops. Understand? She’ll make a fine lot lizard.”
Jenny’s Dad (angry): “Now, you listen to me, you low rent, illiterate, inbred piece of shit. Do you know who I am? If you touch one hair on her head I will see to it personally that whatever teeth you have left you will choke on them as my guys cut off pieces of you and feed them to my dogs. DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME!?!?”
Hop: “Well…. Sheeeit… No. I don’t know who you are and, personally, I don’t much care either. What I do understand is that your precious baby girl is now my property and there ain’t shit you gonna do about it other than pay me. She sure is perty, too. She’ll make a nice addition to my group of workin’ girls at one of my fine local establishments. You got 24 hours.”
Jenny’s Dad: “You’re a fucking dead man!” [hangs up the phone]





[Narrated] The High Camp gang are back in the same predicament they were in just a day earlier. Only this time Jenny is sitting bound and gagged in Hop’s office. Alan is crouched in the corner of the homemade jail cell with tears streaming down his face and humming the melody to a song by one of their favorite shitty jam bands. Given that most jam bands play songs that can last for hours on end, it’s gonna to be a long day for everyone. DP is also there, sittin’ next to Roger. He was roughed up a little, but he’s still no worse for wear.

Roger: “You doin’ OK there, DP?”
DP: “I’m alright, Daddy. Just sore from where those guys held me down and took turns kickin’ me. I’m feelin’ like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet.”
Roger: “Rode hard…. Reminds me of yer mama and that night she got pregnant with you.”
DP: “Daddy, now’s not the time to go tellin’ me about you ridin’ yer hog.”
Roger: “You better watch how you talk ‘bout yer mama, now.”
Joe: “Man, I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get some juicy sweet action soon. I’m going to explode.”
Big Randy (annoyed): “Joe, I already told you once that I don’t wanna hear about it any more. Just because we’re locked up together don’t mean that I won’t slap you fucking senseless.”
Joe (suffering from watermelon withdrawals): “Did you say ‘seedless’?”
Big Randy (shaking his head): “There’s just no hope for you. Is there, Joe?”
Erick: “I think I can break these wooden bars. I bench 450 even when I’m off my cycle. I just need someone to piss me off… errr… I mean ‘motivate’ me.”
Big Randy: “Save it, man. Even if we did escape again, they got Jenny. We can’t leave her here. Besides, we’re outmanned and outgunned.”
Erick: “But I can do it, man. I’m a fucking beast when I get angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
Big Randy: “Whoever said that I like you now?”
Chris (offering up his daily sermon): “Yea, the web of life is an ingredient of the mechanics of opportunities. Death fears objective acceptance. Transcendence is inextricably connected to unique miracles.”
Everyone (except for Chris and his three disciples): “SHUT UP!”
Arnold (becoming delusional from the heat): “No, wait. Listen, guys. Erick and Jailhouse Jesus are right. Think about it: the mechanics of opportunities, objective acceptance, unique miracles. It’s all starting to make sense to me now.”
Big Randy (annoyed): “Alice, I like you, but you need to stop wallowing in bullshit for a minute so you can smell it for what it truly is. Let’s face it, man. If Jenny’s dad doesn’t give them the money we’re all as good as dead.”
Arnold: “Just hear me out for a moment.”
Big Randy (annoyed): “Enough already. I love a good bullshit story just as much as the next guy, but this has gone on long enough. Can’t ya’ll see that we’re all full of shit in one way or another? I mean. Damn, man. We got a guy who molests fruit. What kind of loser does that shit?”
Joe (offended): “I will have you know that every one of my relationships have been consensual.”
Big Randy: “We got another guy who’s in love with a fucking mop. A fucking mop, man!”
Brian: “Who are you to judge what is true love, Big Randy?”
Big Randy: “Then we have a complete psychopath who, for some reason, thinks that it’s perfectly normal to slaughter defenseless deer with his bare hands.”
John: “I come from a long line of hunters and I’m damn proud of it.”
Big Randy: “Sheeit, John! You come from a long line of fucking psychopaths, if anything! Then we got a burnt out hippie conman who goes around pretending to be everyone’s personal lord and saviour.”
Chris: “Hidden meaning explores a symphony of chaos...”
Big Randy (interrupts Chris): “We got another guy who has smoked so much crack rock that his lips should check into an emergency burn unit and he shakes like a broken amusement park ride.”
Tyrone (offended and shaking): “Hey!”
Big Randy: “Then there’s Roger. A fat, old racist who can’t stop lying about his service record and never even bothered to learn how to be a decent father.”
Roger: “That hurts, man. I didn’t fight for my country to....”
Big Randy (interrupts Roger): “Yep, you sure didn’t! Then there’s a guy who has shot up so much juice that he looks like a fucking gorilla dick.”
Erick (defensive): “Hey, I’m 100% natty, bro.” [flexes and kisses his biceps]
Big Randy: “We got a fucking hipster douchebag who wouldn’t know good music if it smacked him upside the head and a couple of acid freaks who are so burnt out they actually believe Jailhouse Jesus is some kind of fucking miracle worker.”
Mike (condescending): “You just lack the mental awareness, Randy.”
Big Randy: “Oh, I’m aware. I’m aware of just how truly fucking stupid you all are! Then we got a kung fu wannabe master whose only fight was when his own students knocked him the fuck out.”
Thomas (mumbling through his broken jaw): “You need to relax, bro. Maybe we can do some breathing exercises to help you learn how to shed all of this negativity?”
Big Randy: “Oh… I’m not negative. I am positive as shit right now! We also got a guy with enough sugar in his pants that he shits skittles. That is, whenever he’s not selling handjobs to lonely truckers on the interstate. I mean. Goddamnit! We’re all a bunch of fucking losers and we are all as good as dead. If there were a god he wouldn’t let me die here with you people. And that’s the god’s honest truth.”

[Narrated] As Big Randy is finishing up with his rant five black SUV's with tinted windows pull up. The guards pull out their weapons as a helicopter hovers overhead. Twelve heavily armed men dressed in black suits and black sunglasses exit the vehicles. They are in a tense standoff with the Cornfed Mafia guards. The helicopter finds a landing area in an open field next the compound. Another five men step out from the helicopter and march toward the compound. Among them is an older gentleman. It’s Jenny’s father, Marco Antonio Rubenstein, III.
[Narrated] Marco is from the Rubenstein crime family who controls the entire eastern seaboard. Most people are familiar with Marco from news accounts, but few have ever actually seen him in person. It is fair to say that those who have seen him in person seldom, if ever, talk about it with anyone. Because most of them are sitting in barrels filled with concrete somewhere off the New York harbor.
[Narrated] Everyone has their guns drawn as Marco walks straight up to Hop’s headquarters. Not one of Hop’s guards even dare to make eye contact with him. They know who he is. Practically everyone does. Hop is met by Marco as he strolls into Hop’s office like he owns the place. Hop attempts to stand up and say something, but he soon realizes that he is in way over his head.

Marco: “So, you must be the piece of shit babbo trying to make a problem for me and my family. You think you’re some kind of made man or something, you fucking toothless putz?
Hop (nervous): “Now, listen. I don’t want any trouble.”
Marco: “No. You listen. You’re going to give me back my daughter and, if I decide to be a nice guy today, you’ll be working for me. I’ll take all of your money, whatever junk you’re pushin’, and everyone in your crew is mine.”
Hop: “Wait! You can’t do this! Here’s your baby girl. But you can’t just walk in here thinkin’ you own the place!” [hop sets Jenny free]
Marco: “You are in no position to tell me anything. Perhaps it would be better if we just take everything right now. My crew will then spend the next few weeks working you over so hard until you’re in so much pain that you will be begging me to put a bullet through that tiny little pea-sized brain of yours.”
Hop (terrified): “There’s no need for violence. Sir, I apologize for taking your daughter, but let’s be reasonable here.”
Marco: “Reasonable? ‘Reasonable,’ he says. Dmitry, take this putz outside so we can show him how ‘reasonable’ of a guy I am. See? I’m a peaceful man. I never want to hurt anybody. But when you fuck with me or my family you become like a ghost to me.”
Hop (shaking and about to piss himself): “OK. OK. I will do whatever you say. Just don’t hurt me, please.” [Dmitry grabs Hop by the arm and escorts him outside]
Hop: “Please! I’ll give you anything you want!”
Jenny: “Daddy!”
Marco: “Hey, there, kitten. Did they hurt you in any way?”
Jenny: “I’m OK, but my friends are all locked in a cage outside. I have to help them!”
Marco: “Anything for my baby. You know that I love you. Don’t you?” [they walk outside to see Hop sitting on his knees with his hands behind his head, along with the rest of Hop’s crew]
Jenny: “I know, Daddy. Thank you for rescuing me.”
Marco: “Alright. Now, let’s get out of here. I have an important business meeting this afternoon involving baseball bats and kneecaps. Daddy’s gotta keep his batting arm ready. Whoah!!!”

[Narrated] Marco’s crew sets the High Camp guys free. Hop and his petty little gang of toothless rednecks are scared shitless. In fact, Hop is so shaken by the whole ordeal that he is literally pissing his pants while Dmitry has a MAC-10 submachine gun pressed firmly against his temple. All of their tough guy talk and empty bluster about being some bigtime “Cornfed Mafia” has only caused them to collapse like a folding chair under the weight of these truly made men. Marco is an old school gangster who plays by old school rules. Hop will be lucky if Marco lets him go on living a normal life. That is to say, without the need of a full-time in home nurse to change his daily colostomy bag as he sips his meals through a plastic straw.

Marco (looking at everyone): “Are these your friends, kitten?”
Jenny: “That’s them. These guys are like family to me, Daddy.”
Marco: “If they’re like family to you then they’re like family to me, too. That means whatever they need they shall receive. No questions asked. [speaking to the whole group] You guys are all made now. Nobody will ever mess with you again. Nobody. Welcome to the mishpocheh. [looking at Hop and his gang] Now. What do you think we should do about these fellas?”
Jenny: “I don’t know, Daddy. I just want for me and my new family to be happy. That’s all.”

[Narrated] During Marco’s visit a familiar police cruiser pulls up completely unaware of what’s going down. Ray had a pickup and a delivery to make that was scheduled for later that afternoon, but he arrives early. He had been trying to get ahold of Hop, but he couldn’t get him to pick up his phone because Hop was indisposed. When Ray sees all of the black SUV’s sittin’ around his first instinct is to turn around or possibly wait at the end of the driveway to see what’s happening. However, he chooses to ignore that little voice in his head. He just brushes it off and assumes that Hop had some other side business lined up that day. Marco’s crew surrounds Ray’s car with guns drawn and has him step out of the vehicle with his hands behind his head.

Ray: “Hey! What’s going on here! I am an officer of the law! I am hereby placing you all under arrest!”
Marco: “You ain’t placing anyone under arrest, you fucking screw. [looking at Hop] He a friend of yours?”
Hop (scared): “We do some business together.”
Ray: “I don’t know this guy. I’m here to serve an arrest warrant. You are all under arrest for suspicious criminal activity.”
Marco: “Hmmm… Someone is lying here. Who should I believe? The guy with a gun pointed to his head. A guy who knows I own him. Or should I believe some fucking pig?”
Ray (issuing an empty threat): “You’d better let me go before backup arrives. This place has been under active surveillance as part of an ongoing criminal investigation for months. You are all now considered accessories after the fact.”
Marco: “I don’t take kindly to threats from anyone. Especially from some bottom feeding pig. Maybe I should just grease you right here and now. What do you say?”
Ray: “Threatening a police officer is a serious criminal offense. You don’t know who you’re messin’ with!”
Jenny: “Arnold, what do you think we should do?”
Arnold (contemplating): “Well, after everything he put me through, part of me wants to say ‘kill him,’ but then that would make me just as bad as he is. [Ray looks a bit relieved] However… He’s so dirty and so is the criminal justice system here that, deep down inside, I know that no matter what he did to me, to all of us, he will never see a day in jail.”
Marco (running out of time and patience): “Alright then.”

Marco gives Dmitry a slight nod. Dmitry takes Ray out to the open field in a nearby ditch where he can’t be seen by anyone standing within the compound and shoots six rounds into Ray’s chest, killing Ray instantly.

Marco (speaking to Dmitry): “Clean up around here. Leave nothing to chance. You know what to do. [looking at Hop] Take these dipshits for a ride, too. We won’t be needing them or their junk. Torch the place to the ground when you’re done.”
Dmitry: “I’ll get my cleaning crew over here and get on it right away, boss.”
Marco (addressing everyone): “If you guys need a ride out of here or anything, anything at all, you can tell Dmitry. Dmitry’s my repairman. He’s a real stand up guy. If it’s broken, Dmitry will fix it for you.”

Marco kisses his daughter on the cheek and waves goodbye to her. He boards the helicopter and, within several minutes, they are gone. It’s as though it had never happened. The High Camp crew gathers around to determine their next course of action. Dmitry instructs them to join Marco’s crew while he stays to cleanup the place. A retinue of Marco’s guards escort Jenny and her friends away from Hop’s camp to return to High Camp. Several members or Marco’s crew remain with Dmitry to assist him with the clean up.

About fifteen minutes later…

Dmitry (on the phone with Marco): “Boss, we have a problem.”
Marco: “What is it, Dmitry?”
Dmitry (somewhat nervous): “The package you wanted me to take care of is missing.”
Marco: “Missing?”
Dmitry: “Yes. I left it by a ditch, but it was gone when I returned.”
Marco (irked): “Then you will need to find it! Do whatever it takes! I don’t want to hear from you again until you make this right. Are we clear?”
Dmitry: “Yes, sir. Crystal clear.”




Ray is standing in front of the bathroom mirror in his apartment. Donning only a pair of tighty whities and a white tank top shirt, his countenance is that of arrant rage as he looks at the bruising made on his chest from the impact of Dmitry’s bullets. Ray was wearing a bulletproof vest under his police uniform. However, one of the bullets, although slowed down by the vest, managed to pass through his garments to leave a small wound with a significant amount of bruising around the upper left side of his abdomen. To his left, sitting on the bathroom sink, is a picture of Ray and Arnold with Ray on his hands and knees, ball gag in his mouth, and Arnold standing over him dressed in leather. Ray picks up the picture with his right hand. He angrily masturbates with the other while staring at the photo intensely. Ray finishes moments later and walks into the living room to pick up his phone. He places a brief phone call to one of his colleagues.

Colleague: “Hello?”
Ray: “It’s Ray. We gotta problem.”
Colleague: “What is it?”
Ray: “It’s Alice. I found her, but she had help from someone and I lost her again.”
Colleague: “Whatcha want me to do about it?”
Ray: “We need to find out who’s helping her. He tried to kill me.”
Colleague: “Why didn’t you stop him?”
Ray: “He looks like this mob boss I’ve seen on television. I was outnumbered. They had the drop on me.”
Colleague: “Where were you?
Ray: “I was at our supplier’s for a pickup.”
Colleague: “So, this guy was there and tried to do you in?”
Ray: “Yeah. He’s a pretty heavy dude.”
Colleague: “You should lay low. We need to find Alice ASAP. Any idea where they might be?”
Ray: “I’m not sure, but I heard a rumor floating around this morning that they might be hiding out at an old cabin off 185.”
Colleague: “OK. Don’t do anything stupid. *You've opened this can of worms, now lie in it.”
Ray: “You had my boss suspend me here anyway. What am I gonna do?”
Colleague: “You’re off the case. Lest I need to remind you, we need Alice. She knows too much. Just sit tight and enjoy your paid vacation.” [hangs up the phone]




[Narrated] The gang is sittin’ around the dining room table wonderin’ how they keep fallin’ in a pile of shit and somehow keep comin’ out smellin’ like a rose. Was it Jailhouse Jesus callin’ down some of his patented fatherly grace he keeps talking about? Well, not likely, but they are countin’ their lucky stars, *irregardlesly. [note: asterisks indicate intentionally written mistakes spoken by a character]

Mike: “Guys, we need to get out of here and fast. I have a real bad feeling about this.”
Brian: “That’s what I was about to say.”
Mike: “Seriously, man. Someone’s going to notice the jail guard and his car is missing. They start poking around too much we’re all fucked. We can’t keep running forever. Maybe we should all just turn ourselves in.”
Jenny (speaking to Alan): “What did he mean ‘turn ourselves in’? Alan, is there something you need to tell me?”
Alan: “Honey, it’s not what it looks like. OK?”
Jenny: “Just tell me what’s going on, Alan.”
Alan: “OK… I will tell you, but you have to trust me on this one.”
Jenny: “OK. I trust you. Now, tell me what’s going on.”
Alan: “Alright. That guard…. Ummm… that guard… He’s… I mean we’re all…”
Jenny: “Just spit it out, Alan!”
Big Randy: “Your boyfriend you’ve been letting plow you up the ass ten times a day is a fugitive from justice. There, I said it.”
Alan (upset): “C’mon! Man!!! You didn’t have to say it like that!”
Jenny: “Is this true?”
Alan: “Baby, I’m not a bad guy. OK?”
Jenny (angry and crying): “I knew it! No one knows how to pound it up the poop-shoot like that unless they’ve been locked up or something! I trusted you, Alan!” [storms off]
Alan (chasing after Jenny): “Baby… Listen to me…”
Jenny: “No! I’m tired of people lying and keeping secrets from me! Next you’re going to tell me is Chris isn’t really our lord and saviour or Thomas isn’t really a martial arts master!” [Everyone, except Jenny, looks away pretending to be busy while quietly laughing to themselves]
Joe: “Does this mean she won’t be buying any more watermelons for me?”
Everyone: “Shut up!”
Joe (defensive): “What’d I say?”




[Narrated] While Jenny is standing outside arguing with Alan, the boys are fixin’ to hightail it outta there. They ain’t eaten in days, aside from Joe’s contribution to the dessert menu which only left them sick to their stomachs. They ain’t slept a whole lot either. They decide that they’ll all need to get some shuteye before they try to head out at dawn.
Alan and Jenny argue for the next several minutes, keeping everyone awake, until she tells him that she wants to break up with him. Alan finally gives up and walks back inside, leaving Jenny sitting alone outside by a small campfire. Roger, seeing that they’ll need her help, walks outside to join her by the campfire.

Roger (sits down next to Jenny): “What’s goin’ on, hun?”
Jenny (crying): “What’s going on is the man I love is an escaped convict. Why is it that the crazy ones are always so good in bed? I mean… why do they have to break your heart?”
Roger: “Weeell… Love can be kinda crazy sometimes. You know.”
Jenny: “He told me I was his first true love. He’s probably been dating one of his cellmates for all I know.”
Roger: “Not that I am aware of… Look. He’s a good kid. He was just poor and didn’t have any way of makin’ it otherwise. Ya see… Not all of us have the money to get some fancy attorney to buy our way out when we find ourselves in a pinch. Same goes for all of us. You think I’m a bad guy now, too?”
Jenny (crying): “No…”
Roger: “Well, that fellar in there sure ain’t no bad guy either. Sure, he might’ve kissed an underage girl a time or two while doin’ coke off her mama’s ass the same time, but that don’t make him all bad. Now, does it?”
Jenny (surprised): “What?!?!?”
Roger: “I’m just sayin’ that he’s human just like you and me. We all make mistakes from time to time. [Chris walks outside to join them] Ain’t that right there, Jailhouse Jesus?”
Chris: “Yea, a formless void within one’s anal cavity is beyond personal silence. For to be silent but violent will only produce a cloud of gas that fascinates the progressive expansion of external reality. Verily, perception also transforms unparalleled joy both externally as well as internally, deep within the recesses of one’s puckered, yet painfully swollen anus.”
Roger: “OK… Well, thanks, Jailhouse Jesus. I’ll take over from here. Thanks.”
Chris: “Tis my pleasure, my child.” [coughing while smoking a joint - passes the joint to Jenny]
Jenny (sniffling): “Thanks, guys.”
Roger: “I believe what Jailhouse Jesus is tryin’ to say is that you should go and try to talk to Alan. Don’t just give ‘em the ole silent treatment, now. I know he sure loves you a whole lot.”
Jenny: “You’re right. I just wish he would’ve told me. That’s all.” [Arnold sits down next to Jenny]
Arnold: “You should talk to him. Listen, sister. I have done more than my fair share of things for which I now regret. We all have. But falling in love should never be one of them. I can only hope to find someone who is half the man Alan is, in both length and girth that is! Whooeee! Besides, if you don’t let him take you to down to Brownsville one last time then I will.”
Jenny (hugging Arnold): “Thank you, Arnold. You are so sweet. [standing up to go speak with Alan] Now, back off, bitch! I told you once already! He’s my man!”
Arnold: “Yay! That’s the spirit! You go, girl!
Arnold (speaking to Roger): “Shit! If Alan won’t take me to Brownsville I would still love to show him around Knob Lick once or twice. Teeheehee!”




Jenny (speaking to Alan): “I am really disappointed in you, Alan. How could you hide something like this from me? Don’t you love me?”
Alan: “I do love you, honey. I was accused of something I didn’t do and it has ruined my life forever.”
Jenny: “I forgive you. I also understand that people make mistakes and whatnot… But snorting cocaine off a woman’s behind while kissing an underage girl? What the fuck, Alan?!”
Alan: “What?! No! God, no! I was accused of shoplifting! Jesus! Who told you that?!”
Jenny: “Stealing!? Really, Alan!?”
Alan: “Yes! Let me explain. I was standing in line at a convenience store and this guy behind the counter said I was putting stuff in my pocket. I was just scratching my balls due to a yeast infection! So, he called the police. Within minutes, that guard came and arrested me. He drove me around for an hour while slamming my face into the back of the grill of his squad car before taking me to jail. I had no money for a good attorney, so I was forced to take a plea deal and admit to something I never did! Then, when I was in jail, that same guard made up some bullshit story saying that I had attacked him just to keep me there. I lost almost a year of my life until we all managed to escape together.”
Jenny: “Didn’t you take a lie detector test or something? I saw them in a movie once. They are very scientific you know!”
Everyone (except for Jenny and Alan laughs in unison): “Bwahahahahahaha!!!!”
Alan: “Frankly, I didn’t see why I should ever have to prove my innocence. So I refused. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but… See… up until then, I was always led to believe that someone is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. That’s simply not true.”
Jenny: “But, why didn’t you fight it? You know, have a jury trial like they do on TV?”
Everyone (laughing in unison): “Bwahahahahahaha!!!!”
Alan: “It’s easy for someone like you to hire the best attorneys, post bond, and never even spend a day in jail. But for most poor Americans without the means to fight it, it’s simply not like that. They threatened me with a year in prison just for stealing candy bars! Which I never did! Or I could accept their shitty plea deal, sit in jail for a month, and have one year of reporting probation. I mean, what would you do?”
Everyone (laughing and singing in unison): “What would you do-oo-oo… for a candy bar!!!!” [similar to the Klondike bar commercial theme song]
Jenny: “Gee, I don’t know… My daddy always made sure nothing like that would ever happen to me. Sorry for what you had to go through, honey.”
Alan: “Thank you for understanding, honey. By the way, how could you not tell we were prisoners? Wasn’t it obvious? We were all wearing the same jail uniforms, after all.”
Jenny: “Gosh, I don’t know… I just assumed you were all in some sort of music group or dance ensemble.”
Everyone (laughing in unison): “Bwahahahahahaha!!!!”
Alan (pouting): “OK… well, is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Jenny: “I guess so… I believe you owe Ms. Peanut Jar a good stirring, mister. My trombone is a little rusty, if you know what I mean.” [winking suggestively]
Alan: “Alright… let’s go make us some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches then.” [they make kissy faces at one another]
Everyone (dancing and singing in unison): “It’s peanut butter jelly time!!!! Peanut butter jelly time!!! Where he at? Where he at? There he go! There he go!”
Alan and Jenny (annoyed): “Shut up!!!”

[Narrated] As Alan and Jenny leave the room to dance the old chocolate cha-cha together, the rest of the gang decide it best to bed down for the evening. They fall fast asleep after barely sleepin’ a wink for the past few days. Around six in the mornin’ they are startled awake by a loud knock at the door and what sounds like a group of people talking outside. They peak out through one of the side windows to see four Jeep Wranglers and a gang of militant lesbians wearin’ army cammies, pink crew cut hair, and carryin’ cans of mace and pepper spray. Their leader is Miss Andrea, a large woman standing about 6’4” with bulging muscles. She’s the head of an extreme left wing political party called the Rug Punchers. They hate anyone with a penis. Unless it’s plastic, has ball bearings in the shaft, and vibrates that is. Without knowing who is on the other side of the door, Mike looks at the other guys to see what they should do. Should they answer the door and surrender to what could be undercover police officers or should they try to make a break for it? Big Randy decides to end the charade once and for all.

Big Randy (cracks open the door slightly): “Hi. Can I help you with something?”
Miss Andrea (looking at Big Randy with disgust while speaking to her gang): “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a breeder, girls! Get him!!! Cut off his balls! We’ll hang them up for Christmas ornaments later this year!!!”
Big Randy (nervous about the prospect of losing his manhood to a group of she-woman man-haters): “Now, now… There’s no need to get violent!” [Miss Andrea tries to push the door open while Big Randy does his best to hold her off]
Miss Andrea: “You’d better let me in or we’re going to make you pay, you cisgendered asshole!” [Arnold steps in to try to reason with Miss Andrea]
Arnold (approaching the door to speak with Miss Andrea): “H-e-e-e-y!!! He’s my lover. It’s OK. We were just talking about how much we hate straight men, too. Right guys?” [Arnold turns to look at them while whispering, “just play along, I’ve got this one.” The guys pair up, start holding hands, and pretend they actually like one another for a change]
Big Randy (affecting a lisp): “Oh, yes! Alice is my one and only true love.”[he opens the door to let Miss Andrea inside to have a look around]
Miss Andrea: “Well, OK then. This is our campsite. We don’t need any breeders here disturbing us while we spend the week together making dildo shaped pipe bombs. It’s sorta our thing.” [just as Miss Andrea finishes her sentence, out walks Alan and Jenny]
Jenny (tired and wiping sand from her eyes): “What’s going on?” [yawning]
Miss Andrea (angry): “Are you two sleeping together?!?!? You’re fucking breeders, I knew it!!”
Arnold (pleading with Miss Andrea): “It’s not what it looks like. Alan has undergone extensive surgeries to become a man. His original name was Amber.” [winking at Alan to play along]
Alan (normal male voice): “Ummm… yeah… I mean yeah…” [he affects a higher voice the second time to sound like someone midway through their transition]
Miss Andrea (still suspicious): “Hmmm… I don’t know about this…”
Arnold: “No, no… it’s true. In fact, we’re all going through gender reassignment together. [points at each of them] She was once a he and the rest of us were all she's before our surgeries. This is the week our support group goes camping together. See? Look at Erick. He’s still lactating.” [Arnold squeezes Erick’s nipple to produce a small amount of milk as the other guys affect a more androgynous sounding voice while agreeing with Arnold]

[Narrated] As the guys speak with Miss Andrea, Marco’s crew emerges from the shadows. They’re like Jewish mafia style ninjas with guns drawn, their weapons are pointed at the Rug Punchers. Sensing that things could get ugly, Jenny speaks up to inform Miss Andrea that they too are in the midst of gender reassignment and they are only there to provide security from any cisgenders who might attempt to horn in on their good time.

Miss Andrea (angry): “What the hell are these guys doing here?”
Jenny (looking at Marco’s crew nervously): “Umm… These guys are our security for the week. See… They were all girls once, too. We had a few straight couples come here trying to sleep with us the last time we were here. But they put a stop to it! Didn’t you, guys?” [Marco’s crew give one another a confused look]
Miss Andrea (a little more relaxed looking): “Well, alright then… I wish we would have known that you were all planning to come this week. Shit! We could have made plans to scissor one another, had we known ahead of time.”
Arnold: “It’s OK. Maybe next time? Huh? Besides, we should get going soon. There’s a farmers market we want to check out later this morning. We’ll go ahead and grab our things and let you use the cabin this week. OK? Thanks!”
Miss Andrea: “OK. We appreciate it. Here’s my cell number if you want to hang out sometime.” [she writes her number down and hands it to Arnold as the crew makes their way to the SUV’s waiting outside]
Arnold: “Cool. If I may make just one suggestion. Just because someone prefers the opposite sex it doesn’t mean that we should hate them for it. Some people say that stereotypes exist for a reason and in certain cases they’re right. It’s because they base them on what they perceive people to be and not necessarily who they really are on the inside. But, when it comes down to it, we’re all people with the same human emotions. We all want to love and to be loved. Hating straight people only makes it harder for us in the long run, sister.”
Miss Andrea (acquiescing): “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. If we ever want to break these negative stereotypes about the LGBTQ community we should probably stop harboring our own stereotypes about others as well.”
Arnold (relieved): “Exactly. The same goes for everyone, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, or what have you. Well, it was really nice meeting you and I hope we can do it again sometime. Only next time sans all of the drama-a-a-a-a!!! Buh-bye…”




[Narrated] Ray’s colleague is sitting in his office perusing Arnold’s arrest records and other personal files. He is state senator, Ward “Ralpho” Landau. He has been re-elected for ten consecutive terms as one of the state’s longest serving senators. Ralpho is a staunch conservative well-known for his “tough on crime, tough on immigration, anti-gay” policies, among other things. He personally saw to it that the for-profit private prison industry, housing both juveniles and adults, has thrived during his tenure.
[Narrated] Prior to being elected senator in a landslide victory, he was a county judge and before that he was the county prosecutor. While serving as judge, he had the record for the number of inmates sentenced to life without parole. One of them is currently serving close to 40 years in prison, merely for possessing two joints with intent to distribute. It should also be noted, although not widely known, that among Ralpho’s extracurricular activities he has spent several decades moving up in the ranks to become Grand Dragon of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Ralpho’s next goal is to run for US president in the upcoming national election. [Cue “Nigger Lover” by David Allan Coe]

One of Ralpho’s aides enters his office to inform him that someone is there to see him.

Aide: “Sir, Mr. Andrews is here to see you.”
Ralpho: “OK. Send him in.”
Aide (speaking to Mr. Andrews): “The senator will see you now.” [Andrews enters the room as the aide exits]
Ralpho: “Well, well, well… long time no see. I take it you got my message. *The wait has been mind-racking… Whatcha got for me?”
Andrews: “I did receive your message. Here’s the information I’ve gathered thus far, regarding the person of interest.” [hands him a folder]
Ralpho (looking over the documents given to him): “Marco Rubenstein… Sounds kind of Jewy. Where do I know that name?”
Andrews: “If you read through what I’ve collected you will see that Marco is a notorious crime figure. We’ve been investigating him for years, but every time we get too close his witnesses turn up cold.”
Ralpho: “Right. I believe he was *supposably at one of my campaign fundraisers. So, he’s our guy?”
Andrews: “Yes, sir. But...” [Ralpho interrupts Andrews]
Ralpho (stands up to launch into a tirade): “For all *intensive purposes, we can’t let him become a problem for my presidential run next year. More *pacifically, we need to put some pressure on him. These fuckin’ hebes, homosexuals [he pronounces it “ha-mo-sex-u-ulz”], negroes, and goddamned sacrilegious *librarians are tryin’ to ruin everything good about our beautiful, white Christian nation. These people are nothin’ more than wolves in *cheap clothing. See if he can be persuaded into donatin’ a few *hundard thousand to my campaign in exchange for hurtin’ our business operations. If not, we’ll need to bring the full weight of the law down on his sorry Jew ass. You may *precede...” [he returns to his desk]
Andrews: “OK. I will try to arrange a meeting with him. Keep in mind, however, that he is very wealthy, very well connected, and if he were to - if I may be so bold - learn about your involvement within a certain organization, and if it became publicly known, it could undermine everything we’re trying to accomplish, sir.”
Ralpho: “Well, that notwithstandin’, I *could care less. He don’t scare me in the least. *Irregardlessly, the whole thing is a *mute point. Just tell him the terms and if he don’t wanna play ball we’ll make it so as to where he spends whatever years he has remainin’ behind bars. There’s also another matter concerning Alice.”
Andrews: “Yes, sir. From phone intercepts and GPS tracking of Marco’s daughter’s phone we learned that Alice is under the protection of Marco’s gang. I suggest taking care of Marco first, before we move on to liquidate Alice.”
Ralpho (looking at pictures of Alice): “Good *ideal, but there’s no need to *lubricate her just yet. Just bring her to my huntin’ cabin. I need her for…. Ummmm… I need to ask her some questions first.” [he begins to rub his nipple with one hand as his other hand surreptitiously moves under his desk when mentioning Alice]
Andrews: “Understood, sir.” [shaking his head from embarrassment as he quickly exits the office]
Ralpho (breathing heavily): “Close the door behind you, please!”




[Narrated] The High Camp group is gathered around to do some shopping at the local farmers market. Joe looks like a kid in a candy store as he gazes lovingly at dozens of hot, sweet, juice watermelons sitting on the ground outside glistening in the warm fall sun.

Joe (hands in his pockets and salivating): “Well… hello there, ladies! Which one of you lucky ladies wanna come home with me tonight?”
Big Randy: “Calm down there, lover. We ain’t got time for you to woo your special love interests.”
Joe: “I’m just saying ‘hi’, Big Randy. Jeesh!”
Big Randy (annoyed): “Joe, just stop it already.”
Joe: “What’d I say? They look lonely. I’m as horny as a sailor on shore leave. Honeydew, how do honey do!” [Mike interrupts before Randy loses his temper]
Mike: “We need to get movin’ before somebody spots us.”
Big Randy: “Yeah, you’re probably right. We should let Jenny pick up a few things for us and stay out of sight.”

As Big Randy finishes speaking an elderly gentleman in overalls noticing them and takes out his cell phone. He’s one of the farmers selling his wares at the roadside market.

Farmer (whispering into his mobile): “I’m callin’ to give y'all a heads up. I think those fellers y'all are lookin’ for are here buyin’ food at my fruit stand.”
Police: “We do appreciate your tip. Can you tell us what they’re driving? Do you see them accompanied by anyone.”
Farmer: “Well… That big black feller just got inside a black SUV. Looks like they’re headed toward town right now.”
Police: “Are you sure it’s them? Did they threaten or fondle you in any way?”
Farmer: “Well… He is a negro. That was, in and of itself, was pretty darn scary if you ask me.”
Police: “Can you give us a description just to be sure?”
Farmer: “Look. I already told you. He’s big, he’s black, and he’s real scary lookin’. I gotta protect my family from these thugs.”
Police: “Did you get a license plate number so we can follow up on it?”
Farmer: “No. But that shouldn’t matter none no how. I told you that a big, scary negro came to buy some food here. You gonna do somethin’ about it or what?”
Police: “We’ll look into it. Thanks for letting us know.” [hangs up]




Marco receives a phone call from Andrews.

Marco’s Assistant: “Sir, there’s a Mr. Andrews is on line one.”
Marco: “Hello.”
Andrews: “Marco Rubenstein. This is Special Agent Andrews with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m not going to spend too much time here. Suffice it to say, you’re facing some serious prison time unless you’re willing to cooperate with us.”
Marco: “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!? Do you know who I am?”
Andrews: “Oh… I know exactly who you are. I’m calling to give you a chance to get out from under the big weight that’s about to come crashing down on you.”
Marco: “OK… You know… You’re not the first dirty cop to come along trying to get their palms greased. We know how to deal with shitstains like you.”
Andrews: “We are not playing games here, Mr. Rubenstein. We know about your daughter. Jenny is it? She’s consorting with a group of escaped convicts. We’ll take her down just as fast as we’ll take you down. You’re little baby girl won’t fare very well in federal prison. Or maybe, just maybe, it could go down even worse. Let’s say that, for instance, she were to die in a shootout. Ala suicide by cop. That would be terrible. Wouldn’t it?”
Marco (angry): “Now you listen and you listen good, you motherfucker. If you touch one hair on her head I will fucking destroy you.”
Andrews: “I’ll give you 24 hours to turn over your daughter’s friends and send us three hundred thousand dollars cash. I will call you to instruct you on how to remit your payment by this time tomorrow. Should you decide to do anything stupid, your daughter dies. Follow orders and we’ll let you keep doin’ what you’re doin’ and sweet little Jenny can keep taking it up the ass like a good little Jewish American princess. Are we clear?”
Marco (gritting his teeth): “Yeah… Crystal clear.”
Andrews: “24 hours, Marco. 24 hours.” [As Andrews hangs up Marco repeatedly slams the phone handset against his desk]
Marco: “Fuck!!!!” [Marco calls in his personal assistant]
PA: “Sir?”
Marco: “Did you get all of that recorded?”
PA: “Yes, sir. We record all calls. We have since the last grand jury investigation.”
Marco: “Track down who it was who placed that phone call, find out everything about him along with whoever he might be working with. Time is of the essence. I need this done before midnight.”
PA: “Right away, sir.”

Moments later…

Marco (on the phone with Jenny): “Kitten, it’s your father. You need to tell me who those guys are you’re running with. I’m not mad at you, but you need to let me know what’s going on. OK?”
Jenny: “Daddy, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I know. They’re escaped convicts. But I believe they’re good people. That police officer and a corrupt justice system made them this way, Daddy. They’re like family to me. Please, don’t tell me I have to leave them.”
Marco: “I gave you my word. When I said they’re mishpachah I meant it. But you need to be careful. Where’s Dmytry? Is he there with you?”
Jenny: “No. Last time I saw him was with you.”
Marco: “OK. You need to sit tight until I call you. Just make sure to stay away from the general public. Don’t let anyone see you. I need to sort this out.”
Jenny: “OK, Daddy. I hope we didn’t cause you any problems. I’m so-so-so sorry if we did.”
Marco: “We’ll be OK, kitten. Just do what I tell you and we’ll be fine. I need to go. I gotta get to the bottom of this. I love you.”
Jenny: “I love you too, Daddy.”




Jenny: “That was my dad. We need to find a place to hide out for a bit.”
Big Randy: “Can we head back to High Camp?”
Mike: “The cave would be better. We need to keep moving before the cops figure out where we are.”
Arnold: “I can call Miss Andrea and see if she will help us.”
Big Randy: “Are you crazy? If she figures us out she’ll fucking kill us, man. Sorry, but my balls and I are too close of friends to allow some crazy bitch to ever come between us.”
Arnold: “She’s only feeling marginalized just like rest of us. I think I got her to understand that we’re all on the same side on this. We should call her. What do we have to lose?”
Mike: “I get what you’re saying, but I think the cave is our safest bet for now.”
Jenny: “We’ll need to pick up some supplies first. We’re running out of food and we’re down to our last gallon of anal-lube.”
Mike: “Alright, but we need to be careful.”

Everyone agrees with Mike that after picking up a few supplies they should return to the cave and set up camp until they hear back from Marco. They have Marco’s crew take them into town before returning to Hop’s compound followed by a short hike back to the cave. They take a couple of Marco’s crew members with them to provide some security along with carrying enough food and supplies to get them through the next couple of days.




Ralpho (talking to his aide): “Get Andrews in here ASAP.”
Aide: “Yes, sir. With all due respect sir, there’s an open bottle of hand lotion leaking onto your desk and your pants are still around your ankles. I didn’t sign on for this. Are those bumps on your penis, sir? You know. There’s medicine to treat that.”
Ralpho: “One man’s genital warts are another man’s French tickler. Stop *doodling and get Andrews in here.”
Aide: “Right away, sir. Sigh… You can’t spell ‘stud’ without std and u…” [he mutters the last line under his breath while exiting]


Andrews: “I need to ask you something. What is so extraordinary about Alice that you would want to gamble your entire political career on her?”
Ralpho: “Certainly; It’s her holiest of holies.”
Andrews: “But what do you mean by the ‘holiest of holies’?”
Ralpho: “It’s something that performs miracles.”
Andrews: “But why do you want her holiest of holies to perform miracles? If I may ask.”
Ralpho: “Our colleagues have been mistakenly led to believe that they need a miracle to save them. Therefore, I’m going to lead ‘em to salvation.”
Andrews: “But, sir. They are clearly mistaken. There is no such thing as miracles. These are only the workings of a delusional mind - not real miracles, sir.”
Ralpho: “Well, hers isn’t really the holiest of holies.”
Andrews: “But, again, what is the ‘holiest of holies’?”
Ralpho (staring off fondly while scratching his genitals): “It’s what dreams are made of.”

Long period of silence…

Andrews: “Anyway… I spoke with Rubenstein. He doesn’t appear to want to work with us. I gave him 24 hours.”
Ralpho: “Did you out find any more information about Alice?”
Andrews (hands Ralpho a thumb drive): “She and her cohorts are currently hiding in a deeply wooded area. However, I haven’t been able to narrow down their exact GPS coordinates, yet.”
Ralpho: “Find her. Rubenstein will comply once we have his daughter. Deadlines mean nothing without applying a lil’ pressure.”
Andrews: “I will send some agents in the area to remand them into custody this afternoon.”
Ralpho: “Great. Let me know when you have Alice at my cabin.”




Ray is walking down the sidewalk when he sees a wanted poster taped to the side of a building. Displayed are pictures of each of the thirteen escaped convicts. In his anger he rips up the poster.

Christoph Love Carpenter
Arnold McGuffin
Michael Rodriguez
Matthew Godwin
Alan Samuels
Randy Sikes
Joseph Casaba
Brian Eversoll
Thomas Patterson
Erick Johnson
Tyrone Smith
Roger Chamberlain
John Lewis

Ray: “There are only three things I hate almost as much as libruls: wanted posters, lists, and… and.....”

Ray is distracted as a loud semi-truck drives past with an advertisement on the side of the trailer that reads: “Irony.”




[Narrated] The High Camp crew decide to hit an ATM before going shopping for supplies and hiding out while they await a call from Marco. Chris alongside twelve members of the crew wait in a nearby alley as Jenny runs across the street to withdraw funds. Upon attempting to take out some cash she realizes that her card is declined, leaving her unable to take out any money. She runs back over to tell everyone the situation they’re facing.
As Jenny is busy trying to contact Marco, Chris devises a plan to steal some food from a market just across the street. Chris eyes a table of freshly baked bread and a few bottles of wine sitting outside for sale. Chris and some of the crew run across the street to grab the bread and wine. Mike takes a basket sitting beside a table and throws in a few dozen fish he stole from the store next door. As they are running across the street Ray looks up and sees Chris just before a semi-truck passes between them which reads on the side opposite to Ray, “Coincidence.” It obstructs his view only momentarily.
When the truck moves out of the way, Ray sees the warm, midday sun illuminate Chris from behind, producing a halo-like glow. Chris is now holding a basket of fish and bread while his disciples are carrying bottles of wine. Ray is unable to move for about a minute, unsure of what he is witnessing. Is it some sort of divine miracle or are these the very same escaped convicts standing right in front of him? Mike sees Ray across the street and yells at everyone to run. The store owner, a portly Italian man nearly as big around as he is tall, runs outside chasing after them with a broom while screaming for help in broken Italian-English.

Store Owner: “Hey! Stop-a! They-a takin’ all-a my food-a!”

Still a little unsure of what’s going on, Ray begins chasing after them on foot. However, Ray’s morbidly obese frame won’t allow him to run for more than a few feet before he collapses on the sidewalk. He’s holding his left arm close to his chest, breathing heavily, and sweating profusely. A few bystanders run over to assist Ray as the High Camp crew escape back into the dimly lit alley.




The crew is heading back to Hop’s camp to hideout until Marco returns their call. Half of the crew is in one SUV, the other half is following behind in the second SUV. Jenny observes Arnold playing with a fidget spinner.

Jenny: “You like playing with fidget spinners, too?”
Arnold: “Yeah, they’re a decent way to pass the time. They’re also great for my ADHD. There’s so many uses for them I won’t even go into all of them right now.”
Jenny: “Cool!”
Mike: “So… what food do we have to get us through over the next couple of days?”
Jenny: “Well, we still have about ten cans of pork and beans, a couple of watermelons I managed to hide from Joe, and some beef Jerky sticks.”
Mike: “We also have the fish, bread, and wine we stole. It will be tough feeding everyone, but we should survive.”




Everyone gathers outside in preparation for their hike to the cave.

Mike: “We’re burning daylight. We need to get moving.”
Brian (caressing Sally’s hair): “Yeah, we need to get outta here. And fast.”
Tyrone: “Yeah! What he said, man!”

The crew divides up their supplies. They made sure to prevent Joe from accessing the remaining watermelons with one of Marco’s men standing guard over them. They begin walking toward the cave and arrive just before dusk. They’re now sitting by the lake about 50 feet from the cave. They begin to prepare to sleep for a while with the plan to wake up at daybreak.




The crew is gathered around an early morning campfire where Big Randy is frying up the fish to be served for breakfast. Jenny opens a few cans of pork and beans and passes them around to everyone. It seems that only Jenny and Arnold care to eat them. It isn’t long until they consume every can of beans as the rest of the crew devours the fish sandwiches Randy prepared. Joe, unsurprisingly, keeps his gaze fixed on the watermelons with one hand in his pocket.

Arnold: “Did I ever tell you about my special powers, Jenny?”
Jenny: “Special powers?”
Arnold: “I believe we all possess a special power. Sometimes it takes being placed in a difficult situation for us to understand what they are.”
Big Randy (skeptical): “Oh, do tell, Alice. Please, go on!”

Just then a police helicopter hovers over them with a squad of FBI field agents approaching them from the trail to the cave.

Mike: “It’s the feds! Run!”

Spotting three boats buoyed in the water, which are just large enough to carry everyone, they all scramble to climb in. Joe grabs the melons and jumps inside one of the boats. Marco’s crew holds off the agents to allow the High Camp gang enough time to escape. Two of the boats’ engines won’t start. Jenny is on one of the boats and Arnold is on the other. Jenny looks at Arnold.

Jenny: “The boats won’t start! What are gonna do!”
Arnold: “Remember when I said that we all have a special power? Let me show you!”

[Narrated] Arnold takes one of his two fidget spinners, he hands one to Jenny, takes the one he’s holding, drops trou, and shoves it up his ass to create a seal with his rather large, gaping butthole. Then he places himself in the water in front of the boat, grabs a rope attached to the boat, and begins farting as hard as he can. The effect of the pork and beans combined with the fidget spinners placed firmly in his butthole creates a powerful propulsion system. Powerful enough to pull the boat at a solid 40-knots. Jenny follows Arnold’s cue and all three boats are now racing across the large lake. Soon the police begin to chase them by sea in a police boat. Randy, at first, was sitting in front of the third boat with a functioning motor, but he came to the realization that if he sits in the rear of the boat it will create a large wake behind them, thereby making the waters too choppy for the police boat to approach the escapees. The helicopter begins to open fire at the boat where Joe, Randy, Mike, and a few others are seated. Joe screams at Mike to hand him one of the watermelons.

Joe: “Give me those melons! Hurry!”
Mike: “Goddamnit, Joe! We don’t have time for this!”
Joe: “No! Listen to me! I have a special power, too!
Randy: “So fucking help me, Joe. I am going to throw you overboard if you don’t shut the fuck up!”
Joe: “You gotta trust me on this one! OK!?”
Brian: “Give him the damn melons! What have we got to lose?” Randy: “If one of those bullets hits the boat or us we’re screwed!”
Mike: “Fine! Here, Joe! But you’d better not be fucking with me!”
Joe: “Oh… I’m fucking, but just you wait! I got this one!”

Joe pulls down his pants and starts fucking the first watermelon he grabs. Thrusting harder and harder as bullets are whizzing past everyone.

Big Randy: “Let’s throw this motherfucker overboard. I knew he didn’t have a plan. He just can’t help himself! Can you, Joe!”
Joe: “Ooh…. Yeah…. Almost there! C'mon, baby! Give it to me!” [he throws down one of the melons, demanding Mike to pass him the next one - cue “Sweet Love” by the Commodores]
Mike: “You’re right, Randy! Let’s dump this guy overboard!”

[Narrated] Joe snatches one of four remaining melons from Mike’s hands and resumes fucking it for dear life, for freedom, for America. He pounds the melon so hard and fast that it is clear to everyone just how much he enjoys the work he’s doing. It’s as they say, “choose a job you love and you will never have to work a day in your life.”
[Narrated] He finishes off the second melon within only a few seconds. Joe pounded them so hard that the seeds, hundreds if not thousands of them, are lodged firmly within his urethra. Pointing his cock at the helicopter, Joe let’s out a shriek. It’s the kind of shriek usually only heard when someone is having kidney stones forcibly removed via the entrance to their swollen wang. The seeds shoot from his cock at such a high velocity, hundreds of rounds per minute, that they strike the helicopter pilot directly on his temple. What an amazing aim! Special powers indeed! Joe, after causing the helicopter to make an emergency crash landing in the water, takes aim at the police boat.

Joe: “Give me another melon! I’m runnin’ low on ammo! Hurry! These ladies are beautiful, that’s for sure, but I can’t stay hard forever! Some of these are boy melons, but I’ll do whatever it takes! They can take our lives, but they can’t take our freedom!”
Joe promptly returns to fight the good fight, one melon at a time, before shooting his final load at the police boat. A few rounds hit the officers who are shooting back at them and renders them unconscious. The last round in Joe’s still erect but painfully swollen member strikes one of the drivers on his jaw and knocks him out cold. The police boat spins out, crashing into an nearby embankment.
[Narrated] Arnold and Jenny are in a neck and neck toot-toot race to the other side of the lake with Big Randy and the guys trailing not far behind. All three boats eventually make it to the other side of the lake. Everyone disembarks, and as they do, close to a dozen federal agents swoop in, surrounding them.




Ray is lying on a stretcher mumbling about seeing Jesus to an ER nurse. He reaches an epiphany insofar that all of the evil he has perpetrated against his fellow man has come back to haunt him. He asks the nurse if he can place a phone call.

Nurse: “You’ll need to be stabilized first. You suffered a severe heart attack. Quite frankly, you’re lucky to be alive.”




[Narrated] Ralpho is giving a press conference regarding his new co-sponsored bipartisan bill to create what he calls the “Right to White” bill. It is a plan to build new schools for inner city youth inside the walls of new and existing state prisons. Within the bill it also stipulates that, aside from reuniting families, it will allow everyone in the family, no matter their age, to work for three dollars a day alongside one another making paper coffee cups, fast food employee uniforms, replacing tags on foreign manufactured clothing to say “Made in the USA”, and so on.

[Narrated] The lucky ones, or those with a record of good behavior, will get to work in call centers, oil rigs, harvest fruits and vegetables, etc. The rationale is that it will allow prisoners and their families to enjoy the fresh air together while contributing to the greater good. Albeit at a wage that barely meets the costs associated with feeding and housing them every day. But in the game of life, not everyone is a winner.

Reporter #1: “Senator, critics of this bill believe this type of legislation smacks of a Dickensian era of indentured servitude. What’s your response to them?”
Ralpho (campaign stumping): “Well, anyone worth their weight in salt would know that one should pick up their life by the bootstraps when they see that it's comin’ down the horizon. I mean, it's nothin’ to sneeze home about, but sometimes you should start over and get a fresh slate. This subject has been swept under the radar just so someone can try to even the playing field and, of course, there are two coins to every story. Not to beat a dead dog or add salt to an injury, but.... I couldn't pass it down.”
Reporter #2 (confused): “So… are you saying that this gives people who made a mistake an opportunity for a better life as well as a means to reintegrate people back into society without breaking up the family unit?”
Ralpho: “With our current laws imposed by the librul left, they make you jump through too much red tape. To state this plainly, we can’t keep kicking this down the can. Our country has gone to hell in a handcart. At the same token, we need to show our beloved colored folks in America how much we care by keepin’ ‘em together like one big happy family. I’m a family values man myself. Why the librul left wants to break up families don’t make no good sense.”
Reporter #1: “Are you saying that you’re a uniter and not a divider?”
Ralpho (making a quick exit): “No more questions. Let’s couch that one til later. OK? Thank you!”
Ralpho (whispering to an aide): “If I had my way I’d line up these damn librul reporters and summarily execute them one at a time.”
Aide: “But, sir, doesn’t the phrase ‘summarily execute’ mean to kill them all at the same time?”
Ralpho (annoyed): “Yeah! That’s what I said! Why I say, I say… You ain’t too smart. Are you, boy?”




[Narrated] Marco’s crew made it to other side of the lake just in time as the federal agents are arresting the High Camp group. In yet another tense standoff, Marco’s crew of rabbinical ninjas with attitudes are facing a group roided out federal agents high on speed. Each group has their guns trained on one another.

Agent: “Drop your weapons!”
Marco’s Crew Leader (with a distinct New York accent): “You first, cop!”
Agent: “I’ll only say this one more time. Drop your goddamn weapons! You’re all hereby under arrest.”

[Narrated] Joe, hiding on their periphery behind some bushes, takes out trusty old No. 7 and starts opening fire on the agents. This creates a temporary diversion for the High Camp crew to make a break for it. The agents are pelted by the high velocity watermelon seeds that leave them incapacitated amid the fog of war. Marco’s crew, noticing the state of confusion the agents are in, starts shooting at the agents, killing all of them.




[Narrated] Joe runs up to join the rest of the High Camp gang. It’s the first time that Joe is welcomed among them with open arms. He went from being a paraphilic pariah to a hero for his impressive display of bravery and resourcefulness.

Randy: “Joe, I never thought I’d say this to you, but thank you.”
Joe: “Wow! Do really mean it, Big Randy?”
Randy: “Yep! In fact I will see to it personally that you will never be short of watermelons again. You’ve earned it.”
Joe: “Thanks, Big Randy! That means a lot to me!”
Roger: “I’m with Big Randy on this one. And when a colored folk says they can keep you balls deep in watermelons, you’d damn well better believe it.”
Randy: “Well, Roger. Normally I would be offended by your racist attitudes, but not this time. Not today. I know you’re still a good man, deep, deep down inside.”
Mike: “Yeah, we made it out of there in one piece, once again, but we need to keep moving. There’s no time for celebrating or patting ourselves on the back.”
Chris (speaking to Joe): “Yea, verily I say unto thee, dear brother. Though your desire is inextricably connected to species specific life, your movement embraces immortal acceptance among us all. Amen.”
Everyone: “Amen!”

The gang continues to hike up a trail until they happen upon a hippy commune. A dozen or so scantily clad girls ranging in ages from 18-21 are sitting around laughing and doing face painting as others in the commune are doing chores, playing music, and embracing the hippy lifestyle to its fullest. Engraved on a sign at the entrance of the commune it says, “Stop Whining, Start a Commune!”
[Narrated] As the group approaches the main building an aging hippy with his long white beard tied with rubber bands steps out onto the front porch. Accompanying him is an elderly lady with a tattoo of a Native American dreamcatcher on her left cheek. The stench of body odor poorly masked under a heavy slathering of patchouli oil is overpowering. It’s practically unbearable. At least to anyone with functioning olfactory senses. The sage old leader is Canis Rufus and his wife is Apace Canis-Rufus.
[Narrated] Canis started a movement in the late 60’s which they describe as “a purposeful community putting into practice integrated farming and promoting significant societal and environmental leadership among humans.”
[Narrated] The only requirements are for the younger, more attractive members to have unprotected sex with the wrinkled old leaders on a semi-regular basis. For everyone else, it involves handing over any trust funds, access to bank accounts, ceasing any and all contact with the outside world, and adhering to the strictly enforced random edicts set forth by Canis and Apace. Chris remains eerily silent, whereas the others among the group exchange pleasantries.

Canis: “I bid you greetings, fellow travelers upon this sacred soil. You see?”
Jenny: “Umm… Hi! I hope we aren’t intruding. We were just passing through while on a nature hike.”
Apace: “All is well, my dear. We welcome you to our refuge from the culture of death and misery outside this; our sacred community of love and light.”
Apace (whispering to Canis): “Would you look at those shoes she’s wearing. She’s fucking rich.”
Canis (whispering): “She’s got nice titties, too. You and I could share in her delightful mound of heavenly… delight. You see?”
Apace (speaking out loud): “Canis, aren’t you going to invite our guests to come inside? They must be hungry.”
Jenny: “Thank you! I’m all right, but my friends may need something to eat if it’s OK.”
Apace: “My pleasure, dear. We are here to serve you.”
The group enters the large cabin where visibly malnourished, unkempt servants escort them to the dining hall. As they make their way to the dining hall they pass an art studio with giant murals hanging throughout. Chris and Canis exchange terse glances, but there is little else that would indicate they know one another.

Canis: “First of all, let me introduce myself. My name is Canis and this is my life partner Apace. We are a purposeful community putting into practice integrated farming and promoting significant societal and environmental leadership among humans. You see?”
Jenny: “Wow! That is really interesting! I was just telling my boyfriend Alan that we should do something like that. I really love the environment and humans and societal stuff and…”
Apace: “Boyfriends and girlfriends are merely the constraints a culture of death imposes upon us. Monogamy is the work of rulers who wish to control us, subjugate us, torture us if you will.”
Jenny: “I don’t know. Alan and I are in love. We don’t feel controlled or subjugated at all. Do we, honey?” [Alan reluctantly nods in agreement]
Canis: “That’s what the culture of death has brainwashed you into believing. You see? They propagate war, hatred for your fellow man, and foster ignorance. You see?”
Jenny: “I see.”
Arnold: “I, for one, believe that to each their own. We should be free to love whomever we want as long as it is among consenting adults. As a gay man, I am proud of who I am in spite of…”
Canis (patronizing): “There is a cure for your homosexuality. You see? Under our protoneutronic principle, it is important for fags like you to return to the vagina. You see? Occasionally the gayness appears to be a sadness and, of course, the very essence of your fag ways means that you and your ilk are denying the vagina. You see? You deny your place of origin. You deny yourself. You see? It is an impossible incongruity that any reasonably adjusted apparent fag, such as yourself, has twisted into such awful perversions. You see?”
Arnold: “I see. So, you hate gay people. Got it.”
Canis: “I don’t hate anyone. I just think that fags like you should be shunned and ridiculed. You should either change your fag ways, be exiled, or worse. You see? Besides, I let you and those darkies enter my home. A hateful person wouldn’t do that. You see?”
Arnold (annoyed): “Well, that is where we will disagree. You may or may not know this, but the word ‘fag’ means a bundle of sticks that homosexuals were tied to before being burned alive. Therefore, I find the word highly offensive. Oh… but you don’t hate anyone. Got it.”

[Narrated] Apace, noticing the tension beginning to build and not wanting to risk scamming Jenny out of a potential trust fund, interrupts the conversation by singing a song about love and light. The court musicians join their queen as the servants bring out large trays of food and an assortment of beverages.

Apace (singing out of tune): “How should you navigate this zero-point cosmos? Although you may not realize it, you are ethereal. Seeker, look within and ground yourself.”
Canis (also singing badly): “Today, science tells us that the essence of nature is aspiration. You see?”
Chris (joins in on the singing, adding his own verse): “To engage with the mission is to become one with it. Well-being is the driver of love. We grow, we live, we are reborn.” [everyone else abruptly stops singing and playing]
Apace (irritated): “Those are not the words of love and light! The culture of death surrounds you! It permeates you!”
Jenny: “I don’t know. I thought he sounded pretty good.”
Apace: “Yes, my dear. He sounds magnificent, but the words were not those of love and light. Please, keep singing.”

[Narrated] Everyone begins to eat the organically farmed, non-GMO feast of goat cheese, goat meat, unpasteurized goat milk, and an assortment of fresh vegetables. Most of the crew is starving after barely eating for the past week. Arnold refuses to eat with them, despite being extremely hungry. He steps out onto the front porch to enjoy the sunset while his friends dine with a merry band of homophobic morons led by a certifiably insane weirdo who makes Chris seem quite normal by comparison.
Following the meal, they listen to the court musicians while a few court jesters try to entertain them with some lively, yet abysmally unfunny, jokes in a vain attempt at amusement. Chris starts to roll one of his famous baseball bat size doobies.

Canis: “Drug abuse will not be tolerated here! It is forbidden! You see? It violates the Rufus Farms creed. It is an anaesthetic created by the culture of death. You see?”
Jenny: “We’re sorry. We just feel that smoking marijuana isn’t a bad thing. It’s never killed anyone.”
Apace (giving Canis a stern look): “It’s OK, my dear. What kind of hosts would we be if we didn’t permit our guests to partake in such a lighthearted indulgence? Isn’t that right, Canis?”
Canis (acquiescing to the queen): “It’s a tool used by the culture of death, but Apace is correct on this one. You see? I will permit it this time for our cherished guests. You see?”
Chris (lighting the joint): “I see.” [coughing]

Chris steps outside for a stroll with Canis following close behind. Chris walks toward a barn where he hears the groaning of two lovers deep in the throes of the most passionate, intense sex he’s heard in a long time. Canis approaches Chris and they both look on to view the action from the sidelines. It is two young college age girls engaging in a secret lesbian affair. Homosexuality isn’t permitted on Rufus Farms and all sexual activity must be approved by Apace, but when it comes to two beautiful women getting it on, Canis doesn’t seem to mind.

Canis: “Isn't that humiliating? How much would you give to join in on that action, though?”
Chris: “All the weed I have. Just let me lie with either of them.”
Canis: “Now, there’s the Chris I remember.”
Chris: “It’s been a long time. Has it not?”
Canis: “A long time indeed.”
Chris: “I see you’re still working the old ‘I’m just an old hermit on the hill here to impart my wisdom to the young and naive shtick’. Whatever works for you, I suppose.” [takes a draw from his joint]
Canis: “And I see that you’re still using the old ‘I’m your lord and personal savior to attract a band of faithful and willfully ignorant followers spiel’. Have you saved any souls lately, Chris? You’re not so different, you and I. You see?”
Chris: “You see… the difference between you and me is that I don’t take from others without offering something in return.”
Canis: “Oh, yeah? What exactly do you offer them, Chris? Some bullshit religious mumbo jumbo that can be found within some worn out old book in every dresser drawer of every cheap motel room in exchange for their undying loyalty? You’re a con just like me. The only difference is that you’re not as good at it. That’s why I’m where I am and you’ve been in and out of jail half a dozen times. You see?”
Chris: “For what it’s worth, I offer hope. You offer bondage and call it freedom. We couldn’t be any more different, Canis.”
Canis: “For what it’s worth? It ain’t worth shit coming from someone who also ain’t worth shit. Shit from shit only begets shit. You see?”
Chris: “Has anyone ever caught on to you yet?” [takes a drag from his joint]
Canis: “I suppose a few might have, but once they’ve signed over everything they own there ain’t much they can do about it. Is there? You gonna pass that joint or what?”
Chris (passes the joint): “It’s always a transactional agreement in the end anyway. We each play the game in our own way. We’re each bartering empty promises in this grand quid pro quo of spiritual enlightenment in exchange for a quick buck. Looks like you’ve done well for yourself in that regard.”
Canis: “Indeed I have. I have a bevy of young nymphs willing and able to do my bidding. All I have to do is snap my fingers and they come a running. They sign over their trust funds and lick my balls. All the while thanking me for it and singing my praise. I am a god to them. You see?”
Chris: “Nice...”
Canis: “Nice?”
Chris: “I see the girls have switched up and are doing a 69. Nice.”

A few minutes later....

Chris: “So... Have you heard from Dave lately?”
Canis: “He writes every now and then. He’s still being held at the same federal detention facility since he got busted. Last time I heard from him, he said that he’s writing some shitty story about hippies that he hopes he can turn into a movie someday.”
Chris: “Yeah, that guy could never get his shit together. Not a bad guy and he’s a decent musician, but a hopelessly confused dreamer, otherwise. He’s still holding the deed to High Camp, from what I hear.”
Canis: “That run down shithole? He can keep it!”
Chris: “It’s home to me. Make sure to tell him that he’s in my thoughts and prayers.”
Canis: “Well, your home is shit. I’ll tell him. But let’s cut the shit, Chris. Thoughts and prayers won’t get him out of prison. Now, will it? Listen. I gotta get back to the festivities before the old lady decides to start molesting someone in your crew. Ya see? She’s gotta thing for young dudes and she won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Stay in touch.”
Chris: “See ya....”