[MSTg] The A-Team? At CHIPPENDALES?!? (5 of 8)
peasporr...@hotmail.com
<<Part 5 of 8>>
[OPEN ON: <SOL Bridge>. ANGLE ON: An easel, which has a large title
card on it. In the lower-case Courier font, the card says, "stephen j.
cannell presents". Off-camera, Pearl, Gypsy, and Scratch are trying to
do an a cappela version of the "ER" theme, but none of them is quite
sure what it is, and they're not on the same beat anyway, so it sounds
like three people singing "Bop, bop, bop", off-key.]
[Pearl flips over to the next card to reveal the title: "TR". The
trio finishes the theme with the percussion slam ending.]
[PAN over to Pearl. She has a surgical gown, mask, gold chains and a
big Mr. T mohawk. Scratch is laid out on the operating table, also
with chains and a mohawk.]
PEARL (as Mr. T): I pity the fool that doesn't get me 20 cc's of
phenobarbitol and an adrenalin drip stat!
SCRATCH (trying to do T, but failing): Oh, doctor, um, sucker. Sucker
doctor! Will I ever play the piano again, Missus sucker doctor lady?
PEARL: He's flatlining, fool!
[Pearl gets out a defibrillator and rubs the plates together.]
SCRATCH (out of character): Aah- you unplugged those, right?
PEARL (grinning evilly): Oh, darn it! I just don't know where my head
is today!
[Pearl opens Scratch's mouth, and sandwiches his tongue between the
plates.]
SCRATCH: Eegah!
[Gypsy suddenly pops up into shot.]
GYPSY: Something's going on in the House of Pain! Switching to dungeon
feed!
PEARL (shouting): Clear!
[We hear a loud BANG!, Scratch spasms, an explosion of sparks comes
from the table, and the bridge goes dark.]
[CUT TO: <House of Pain>. On a cluttered work bench, we pan past the
hover skirt of Tom Servo, an arm from Crow, some unidentified wire, and
finally to Tom Servo's head, laying face-up on the table. The head
wriggles around slightly, as if waking up.]
TOM'S HEAD (groans, doing Ronald Reagan): Oooooh, my head. Wh- where's
the rest of me?
CROW (off-screen): Over here, Tommy.
[WIDEN shot. Crow's head seems to have been thrown inside the hollow
torso of Tom. We just see his beak moving, poking out the top.]
TOM'S HEAD (turning): Oh, there I am! Huh! Wow. I can't remember the
last time Mike played "take-me-apart-with-a-cranial-saw" with us!
CROW: Yeah! Cool! I'd've felt better if he didn't laugh and walk away
when I said it was his turn, though.
TOM'S HEAD: Man, I may be in pieces all over this table, but let me
tell ya Crow, I am still one fine lookin' pile of scrap! Mm!
CROW'S HEAD: Eh, not from this angle, buddy!
TOM'S HEAD (sharply): What are you saying?!
CROW'S HEAD: Jeez. Do I have to spell it out for ya, Tom? Joel only
painted you on the outside! Your interior, on the other hand-
TOM'S HEAD (shaking in fury): Crow T. Robot, don't you dare-
CROW's HEAD: Aw, face it, Tom, you're unfinished, dusty, and ya smell
funny!
TOM"S HEAD (jumping): You take that back! Take it back!
[Evil Mike and Eddie enter, in the middle of a heated argument. E.M.
is angrily ripping computer printouts off the clipboard and crumpling
them up.]
EVIL MIKE: Waste of silicon! Stupid stupid- why did we buy Packard
Bell, anyway?!
EDDIE: Bro, you did the disassembly. These bots have no wiring, no
circuitry. But look, even in pieces, they're still trying to kill each
other.
EVIL MIKE: Are you seriously saying my simpleton simulacrum from the
slums of the multiverse stumbled onto the secret of animating inorganic
objects?
EDDIE: No. I'm also saying you lost the secret forever when you erased
Mike Nelson from the universe. Other than that, good job all around,
bro!
[Evil Mike hits Eddie viciously with the clipboard, and knocks him out
of shot. On the edge of a seizure of fury, E.M. grabs the worktable,
and composes himself.]
EVIL MIKE (to himself): OK. OK. OK. You erased Wussy Mike too
quickly. A simple mistake. An honest mistake, that felt really,
really good. No problem! I forgive me. Now. If I erased him... (an
idea comes, he brightens) then I can just draw him right back up
again! Sure! Why not? Bring Mike Nelson back from nothing! Hell,
Cher's done it enough times, how hard can it be?
CROW (off-camera, whining): Miiiike! You can't play cranial saw unless
you take a turn! It's the rules!
EVIL MIKE: Later! Your master has an unwelcome guest to re-welcome.
[Eddie, groaning, uses the worktable to climb to his feet.]
EVIL MIKE: Well, another one, anyway.
[CUT TO: <SOL Bridge>, dark.]
PEARL: Anybody got a light?
SCRATCH: Ah...
[Scratch breathes a four-foot spear of flame. The buzzer sounds.]
PEARL: Oh, zip it, Puff Dummy! We got fiction sign!
| 6 |... ( 5 )... [ 4 ]... > 3 <... = 2 =... / * \...
[Gypsy, Scratch, and Pearl enter the theater.]
>
>From his own phone-booth sized cubic,
GYPSY: 3,581,577?
[Pearl looks at Gypsy.]
GYPSY: Well, 8 and 27 aren't phone-booth sized.
PEARL: That's so weak.
MADGE: Then it fits this story!
>Hannibal Smith could hear
>Templeton Peck struggling into his tight black pants.
>
>"Hannibal, these won't come up!"
GYPSY: Study them anyway! Those are the parts of the test they trap
you on!
>
>"Suck it in, lieutenant, suck it in!" Hannibal retorted, then turned
>his attention to his own predicament.
SCRATCH (Peppard): Hmmm... now how do I parlay this crappy role into a
lucrative TV-movie career?
>Thanks to his familiarity with
>all manner of costumes and monster suits,
MADGE: -he knew just where to stuff the roll of quarters!
> he at least possessed the
>technique necessary to don the outfit with a minimum of grunting.
PEARL: It involved keeping Tim Allen the hell away from your trousers!
> With
>one final tug, he pulled the skintight pants up to his waist then slid
>the side zipper closed.
GYPSY: Wow, the maneuvers in Hannibal's intricate plan come so fast and
furious!
MADGE: I know. I feel like I'm two steps behind.
>Tentatively, he test the fabric by bending his
>knees and was cheered by its surprising flexibility.
SCRATCH (Hannibal): Why- say! Cloth bends! How about that! I'm
shocked!
> He could move
>easily in the pants with no discomfort at all. If you discounted the
>fact that he would be bare chested, that is.
MADGE: That's easy. Just pretend you're a pot-bellied redneck mowing
his lawn with a beer in his hand.
> With a sigh, he picked up
>the white cuffs and wrapped one around his left wrist and
>fastened it in place.
PEARL: Yes, if you liked knowing which parking space B.A. used for the
van, you'll LOVE the "sixty-year-old man dressing very slowly" scene!
[Scratch sniggers.]
>The right cuff was secured next.
SCRATCH (snickering): Is he velcroing these things to his arm hair?
What the?
>Lastly, he placed the stiff white pointed collar around his
>neck and affixed the black bow tie.
MADGE: On the off chance one didn't know what a Chippendale's waiter
looks like.
GYPSY: I could have done without the image, though. (shudders)
>Standing back as far as he was able in the cramped room, he
>studied his reflection. Not bad, he decided.
PEARL (Hannibal): But when did I get the Metallica tattoo?
>Thanks to
>his enforced lifestyle, he was in great physical shape. His muscles
>were well-toned and he sported a great tan.
MADGE (moaning): Oh, yuk! Methusa-lemon!
SCRATCH: Yes, it's Rick Flair, After Dark!
GYPSY: Ew, I could bathe in a vat of bleach and still not feel clean
again!
PEARL: Aw, grow up, ya prudes.
> He smiled happily at
>himself. "No one would believe you're over fifty, Smith."
PEARL (Tom): OK, people! Where's the codger?! We need the stage swept
for the real dancers!
>With a little nod of his head, he stepped out of the alcove only to
>find Face standing in front of him, his face an odd shade of green.
SCRATCH: What, like khaki? Chartreuse? Avocado?
>"Something wrong, Face?"
>
>"Of course there's something wrong, Hannibal.
GYPSY: Internet stocks are just WAY overvalued!
> I can't go out there in
>this!"
>
>"Why not? You look good."
>
>"Good? I feel ridiculous. I'm barely dressed."
SCRATCH: Well then you're all set to star in "Hotel New Hampshire"!
GYPSY: No, that's dressed like a bear. It's different.
>
>"Nonsense, lieutenant. You wear less when you go
>swimming."
MADGE: And even less when you make pancakes. Not that I'm complaining.
>
>"But I'm not going swimming. I'm serving drinks. I can't let those
> men out there see me.
[All snicker.]
GYPSY: "Men."
PEARL: Face, you're bare-chested in skin-tight lycra! Former Kevorkian
patients are quicker on the uptake!
> What if one of my friends shows up?
SCRATCH: Oh, like YOU have friends.
> I'll never live it down!"
>
>Hannibal had to admit he hadn't thought of that aspect yet. "Hummm.
>Good point.
MADGE (Hannibal): I don't mind running into former acquaintances when
I'm spreading machine gun fire across a major highway, but THIS could
be hard to explain!
>This get-up is rather revealing."
>
>"Revealing?" Face squealed. "It's indecent!"
GYPSY: It's good to see Lori keeping continuity with the episode where
Face vowed celibacy and formed the Christian Coalition.
PEARL: Naw, that was...
GYPSY: Pat Robertson?
PEARL: Yeah.
GYPSY: I knew it was one of them.
>
>Hannibal opened his mouth to comment but was forestalled by the sudden
>appearance of Tom Watters.
>
>"Good, you're ready. Let me take a look." He motioned the two men to
>back up, side by side, and he stared them up and down critically.
SCRATCH (Tom): Hm, yes. The bridesmaids will look simply smashing in
that!
> A
>slow, somewhat surprised smile finally touched his mouth. "Not bad.
>Not bad at all.
MADGE (sings as Snoopy): I feel, every now and then, that I gotta BITE
someone!
> I wasn't expecting much. Clayton just said you were
>friends, so I figured I'd get stuck with a couple of sagging, over-
>aged codgers.
PEARL (Tom): Now it turns out you also can't act.
>But you guys look good." He reached out and straightened
>Hannibal's left cuff. "You guys work out?"
>
[All sputter guffaws.]
MADGE: When did "Will and Grace" come on?
>The two members of the A-Team exchanged looks.
GYPSY (Hannibal): Mm! He wants me!
MADGE (Face): Hands off, girlfriend! I saw him first!
> "Yeah. We own a
>health spa," Face replied sarcastically.
PEARL: Jack La LAME!
>
>"Oh, well, that explains it.
SCRATCH: This credit report, showing you're bankrupt.
> You know, Smith, if I could find some
>more old timers built like you, I'd hire a few more. The old gals
>would love it.!"
>
>"Old gals?" Hannibal questioned.
MADGE: Yeah, Barbara Walters, Joey Behar, Starr Jones. You've
seen "The View", right?
>
>Tome ignored him and turned to Face. "You're perfect. A bit older,
>like I said, but..."
>
>"Old?" Face repeated again.
>
SCRATCH: Well, let me put it this way. If they ever do a Battlestar
Galactica movie, you'd better aim for the Lorne Greene part.
>"But you're got the perfect bod for the costume.
MADGE: The Flabulex 3000! The boys call it the Chris Farley.
> Oh, by the way,
>loosen that zipper, would ya?
ALL (cry): Oh, no, NOOO!
> About three inches should do it. Show
>a little hip. They'll like that."
MADGE (moaning): I can purge this data from my optical collectors, but
never the scars from my soul!
SCRATCH: A story as epic as Titanic! You know, the way it keeps
sinking lower and lower until it's stuck irrevocably in the grimy muck?
>
>"Show a little hip? Look, just what sort of place is it that the
>waiters wearing these things and showing some," he squirmed
>uncomfortably, "hip?"
PEARL: The NEW Red Lobster! We're not just for families anymore!
>
>Watters smiled. "The hottest. Oh, one more thing.
MADGE (Tom): Your bouncer. He's been... *lingering* around the
dancer's dressing rooms.
> The waiters all
>do a little dance thing, sort of a chorus line, right before the show
>starts.
GYPSY (Tom): So I want you out of the club before then.
> I'll help set up for you tonight. You two go see Sonny.
SCRATCH: Uh, Bono, or Corleone?
>He'll teach you the steps."
>
>"Steps? Now wait just a second..." Face began. His words fell on the
>retreating back of Tom Watters.
>
>"Face, Face, never mind," Hannibal soothed.
PEARL (Hannibal): You can act like a puss later.
>
>"Hannibal, I'm not dancing!
MADGE: Maybe Face should just pretend he's infiltrating a dangerous den
of gun-running Shaker gigolos.
SCRATCH: Could work.
> It's bad enough having to run around half
>naked, but I refuse to dance in front of a bunch of drunken men.
GYPSY (Face): So go make black coffee. A LOT of black coffee.
> I
>have a reputation to uphold!"
[All clear their throats.]
>
>"If I were you, lieutenant, I'd kiss my reputation good-bye," Hannibal
>said helpfully.
PEARL: An anonymous man who's worried about his reputation should surf
onto
e-bay, and price a clue!
>
>"Thanks, Colonel. I really needed to hear that."
>
>"Look, Face, I'm not happy with the situation either.
SCRATCH (Hannibal): But Cannel has no control over the stupidity of his
fanfic writers.
>How's it gonna
>look? The leader of the A-Team serves drinks in satin trousers."
MADGE: Well, you could do for men what Gloria Steinem's Playboy bunny
expose did for women.
PEARL: That little?
>
>Face groaned in total sympathy. Suddenly his face brightened. "Ill
>get B.A.! He'd look better in this outfit anyway.
SCRATCH: He has the hips for it!
> All those bulging
>muscles and..." He looked at Hannibal and quickly abandoned the
idea.
>"Dumb idea."
GYPSY: Yeah, B.A.'s not really into the modern miracle fabrics. He
prefers the natural fibers of a good cotton blend.
>
>"True. Well, let's go see Sonny. We're here for the duration, kid.
>Might as well make the most of it."
SCRATCH (scared recruit): Sarge? Is it true you stripped in The Big
One?
PEARL (Ernest Borgnine): Aw, sure, kid. Stop yer worryin'. You'll make
it!
>
>Face frowned and followed slowly behind the older man. "I should have
>stuck with the dancing job."
>
MADGE (announcer): Don't let this happen to you. Don't do anything.
Ever.
SCRATCH: A message from the Apathy Council.
>
>
>The parking lot was filling up fast and B.A. Baracus was delighted.
PEARL (B.A.): Heh-heh, that's right, just gimme the keys. Oh, sure, I
won't scratch your paint job, ya dumb white-
>Each driver that pulled up was greeted with a big, warm smile and two
>special treats courtesy of Chippendales:
MADGE: A "Fun Size" Snickers and a beebee-in-the-hole game.
> a dollar bill to present to
>a certain, very special dancer and the "tip" that the two best waiters
>were named Templeton and Johnny.
GYPSY: They slip extra cherries into every drink! So give some thought
to that martini before you order.
>
>The drivers were all very grateful for both the "tip" and the money
MADGE (sarcastic old lady): Oh, look Martha! This and a quarter might
convince Starbucks to spit in a cup for us!
>and took their places eagerly in the growing line of waiting patrons
>outside.
SCRATCH (old lady): Oh, look! The valet is one of those gangsta rap
punks!
PEARL (B.A.): Shut up, fool!
SCRATCH (old lady): Oo, careful, Martha, or he'll bitch slap you.
>
>B.A. was jogging back from parking a small brown Pinto
GYPSY: As opposed to the luxury stretch Pinto?
>and noticed with amusement that the line of anxious patrons ran from
>the front door half way around the building.
PEARL: OK, who wants to do the "they're all waiting to see Phantom
Menace" reference?
SCRATCH: Uh... no one.
MADGE: Like Lucas needs more exposure.
> The doorman, Terry,
>would open the door in about five minutes and the stream of eager
>customers would flood into the little club.
GYPSY: The new rainbow "Furbies" are in!
> The sergeant chuckled as
>he imagined the expression on Face and Hannibal's faces when they saw
>just what sort of club this little building housed.
SCRATCH: Does it ever occur to B.A. that he regularly puts his life in
the hands of people too thick to know they're in a strip club?
PEARL: Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.
>
>His daydream was interrupted by the arrival of a sleek gray Cadillac
>and he sprang into action.
MADGE (BA, mumbling anxiously): Oh, man, this is the score, the big
one, the Caddy, man! Don't blow it big guy, calm down, nice and easy...
> Deftly, he opened the door and helped the
>elegantly-clad woman emerge.
PEARL (BA, loudly): Ha! I'm stealing your car, you know! (angry) Oh,
darn! I was supposed to just think that and I said it out loud! Darn
darn darn!
>
>"Why, thank you. You must be new here," she commented.
SCRATCH (old lady): Your spirit hasn't been crushed into a tiny cube
yet.
> "I don't
>remember you."
>
>"Yes, ma'am.
MADGE (B.A.): You don't know me, but I'm your brother.
>You come here often?"
>
>"About once a month."
>
>B.A. handed her a claim check. "We have a special this weekend," he
>grinned.
PEARL (B.A.): You give me your car, and I give you this- piece of
paper! (sputters a snicker)
>"Be sure and sit at Johnny or Templeton's tables. They'll
>take real good care of you.
GYPSY: But don't ask for your drinks "neat", because they'll just try
not to spill any.
>And here," he handed her a crisp one
>dollar bill. "Be sure and give this to the dancer right after Zorro."
[All sigh.]
SCRATCH: Well, if it's worth saying once...
PEARL: What IS it with these people? Some of us DO have an attention
span longer than a flea's eyelash, ya know!
>
>"Why, thank you. How thoughtful."
>
>Chuckling gleefully to himself, B.A. watched the woman walk away.
MADGE (B.A.): Oo, yeah! Got me a Caddy!
GYPSY: Ten more cars and we have enough to make "D.C. Cab"!
>Thanks to Clayton Ardoyne, he'd finally found a way to get back at not
>only Hannibal and Face but Murdock as well!
SCRATCH (sings as Streisand): Clayton Ardoyne, Clayton Ardoyne! What a
beautiful NA-A-A-AME!
>
>
>
>Templeton Peck marched down the hallway to the bar, his back stiff,
>his jaw set firmly. "I won't do it, Hannibal. Period!"
PEARL (Hannibal): Oh, I'm sorry, Face! I brought your Midol, I'm sure
Tom can get some ginger ale for you.
>
>"Face, it wasn't really that bad," Hannibal said, but his words lacked
>any sincerity.
>
>"I refuse to stand up there in front of everyone and...and...wiggle!"
MADGE (Hannibal): What about gettin' jiggy with a bump and grind?
SCRATCH (Face): Oh! That I'll do.
>
>"Now, Face..."
>
>"Okay, Smith, your station is number 6.
GYPSY: With a bullet!
>The top level in the back.
>Peck, you're number 2,
PEARL: And you're very trying!
>the front row, right side.
SCRATCH: Normally an effeminate transsexual has that station, but I
wanted to try someone softer, like you!
> Pick up your trays
>from Dave at the far end of the bar.
MADGE: And pick up your attitudes from Roseanne, in celebrity limbo.
>Oh, and guys, remember, make the
>patrons feel like they're very special, okay?"
>
>Hannibal moved toward the stacked trays, pulling Face along with him.
PEARL (angry mother): Come along, young man! You are going to strip
for your Aunt Edna or I will twist this ear right off your head!
>
>"What does he mean, make the patrons feel special?" A note of horror
>crept into Face's voice and his eyes widened as he spoke. "You don't
>think
GYPSY: Oh! Wait a minute!
> this a place where men...
SCRATCH: He's catching on! Yes, yes!
>I mean where guys...
PEARL: Say it, come on!
>this is ...a...you
>know what I mean!"
MADGE: <BUZZ!>
[All groan in disappointment.]
MADGE: Oh, I'm sorry! The correct answer was, "3-D House of
Beefcake"! But we have some lovely parting gifts, so please! PART
ALREADY! God!
>
>Hannibal stopped and looked back at his teammate, his face reflecting
>his own doubt. "Surely Clayton would have warned us about something
>like that."
GYPSY (Hannibal): Unless he shares my warped money-based values
system.
MADGE: Naaah!
>
>"Okay, guys, it's show time. Smile and get ready," Tom shouted to the
>ten waiters assembled in front of the bar.
SCRATCH (Tom): Smiles, everyone! Ruth Reichl from the Times is out
there, and I want that second star!
>
>Hannibal and Face turned skeptical eyes toward the door and watched as
>Terry pushed them open,
GYPSY: No, no, no. See, proper customer flow demands that main
entrance door swing in, towards the club.
PEARL: Ardoyne may be big in the glass business, but he knows jack
squat when it comes to servicing the carnal voyeurism of the middle
class.
>letting the daylight and the first eager
>customers stream inside.
>
>The members of the A-Team watched as the tiny club began to
>rapidly fill up with varied assortment of...females!
>
MADGE: Oh, look! There's Scary, and Sporty, and Posh, and...
>
>"Hannibal," Face whispered. "It's all women."
SCRATCH: Face was hoping it was "alternative lifestyles night".
>
>"I noticed," Hannibal replied, with a strange expression on
>his face.
GYPSY: Hm, all Caucasians... must be a Denny's.
>He glanced down at his bare chest then up to his
>young friend. "I think I've figured it out."
ALL: NO!
PEARL: He must've gotten a clue from Summer Sanders and the Charade
Brigade!
>
>"Good," Face growled. "Tell me."
>
>"It's one of those clubs just for women. No men allowed."
GYPSY: Do they give Pulitzers for stating the obvious?
MADGE: Well, Maureen Dowd won one, so yeah, I guess so!
>
>"What? Are you serious? Hannibal, you've got to be
>kidding."
SCRATCH (Face): That would violate the equal protection clause as laid
out by the Supreme Court in Rotary International v. Rotary Club, 1987!
>
>"Take a look around, Lieutenant. You got a better explanation?"
>
>Slowly the realization dawned and Face, his cheeks a lovely shade of
>red, stepped quickly behind his colonel. "Hannibal, I can't. This is
>embarrassing. I can't serve drinks to a bunch of gawking females.
MADGE: So, can't serve drinks to men. Can't serve drinks to women.
You were hoping for maybe a pack of thirsty ocelots?
>Not dressed like this!"
>
>Hannibal frowned thoughtfully. "It is a bit degrading."
GYPSY: Oh, and dressing as Godzilla's understudy gave you such
commanding presence!
>
>"Right," Face agreed wholeheartedly. "I'm not that kind of guy."
SCRATCH: I'm a very different kind of guy, a kind I don't think we need
to bother classifying at the moment.
>
>Hannibal gave the young man a you've-got-to-be-kidding stare.
PEARL (Hannibal): You? A guy?
>
>"Well, I'm not!" Face defended. "I don't throw myself at every woman
>who...
[All clear their throats.]
>that is, I don't flirt with just any old...I hardly ever flaunt
>my charms...
[Gypsy imitates a police siren.]
PEARL: Irony police! Pull your fanfic over to the curb! Now, dammit!
>aw, hell. You know what I mean."
>
>"Unfortunately, I do."
>
>"Hannibal, these women will be staring at us and making lewd remarks
SCRATCH: Oh, you mean like wuss?
MADGE: Crybaby?
GYPSY: Prissy boy?
>and things like that. It'll be like, like..." Words failed him.
>
>"Like a woman walking past a construction site?" Hannibal suggested.
>
>Face nodded enthusiastically. "Right."
>
PEARL: But without the two-hour lunch breaks and three-man-per-job
union rules!
---
Logo, Commercials
<End Part 5>
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