blueeyes
Refugee
The boys wanted to make you all some christmas cookies...They borrowed Martha Stewart's kitchen.
*Bono walks into Martha Stewart's kitchen and puts on a spotless chef's hat and apron. He pulls out all sorts of shiny bowls and whisks, twirling them around while he sings to the camera:*
Boom Cha! Boom Cha...GIN-GER-BREAD!
Boom Cha! Boom Cha...GIN-GER-BREAD!!
Bono: Hmmm. Okay, so I got the bowls, the grindy things, the mixy things...What am I missing? *He looks around before calling out* Eeeeeedge! Eddddge! HELP!
Edge: What?
Bono: What goes next?
Edge: Next?
Bono: Yeah...cookies. I got the bowls and stuff but...
Edge: How about ingredients?
Bono: Oh yeah. I knew that. Where are they?
Edge: Bono, I can't I have my own cookies to do. *Edge walks away. Bono looks around kitchen some more and finds "Hamburger Helper" he considers it, and puts it away".
***Fifteen minutes later****
*Bono is giggling and cutting shapes out from brown paper. He puts them on a cookie sheet and draws on them with markers, smiling as he renders his art*
Off Camera: Bono, what are you doing?
Bono: Oh, I've decided against traditional cookies. I want to make a statement with mine, a political statement that will hopefully enlighten the hearts and minds of the PLEBA girls to the plight of the millions of people in the third world who are struggling under massive debt and cannot afford cookies. So I made paper cookies and wrote messages of peace on them.
Off Camera: You couldn't find the ingredients?
Bono: *deflated* No, Edge wouldn't show me.
*Bono puts his cookies in the oven and walks away, distracted by some spying PLEBA girls as the papers burst into little balls of flame*
*Larry is in Martha Stewart's kitchen. He refuses to wear the hat or the apron and is waving smoke away from a grill, coughing*[/b]
Off Camera: What are you doing Larry?
Larry: I'm barbequeing some damn cookies! What the feck does it look like?
Off Camera: Barbequeing? Cookies?
Larry: *snarls* Yes! It's more manly, you have a problem with that?
Off Camera: No, no...what kind of cookies are you...barbequeing?
Larry: Sugar Plum Cookies. I was going ta make little gingerbread drummer boys, but their gumdrop bootins kept poppin' off.
*The smoke obscures Larry entirely*
Larry: Ahhh, feck.
*Edge is in what looks like it used to be Martha Stewart's kitchen, the scene is almost entirely obscured by test tubes and wires. He leans over the oven, timing the baking with a stop watch. Finally he clicks the watch off as a bell chimes and removes the golden brown cookies with glee. His green eyes light up with pride as he displays his efforts, they are little guitars.*
Edge: I can't believe I did it! Finally...*he sighs and wipes his beanie*
Off Camera: What are they?
Edge: Shortbread guitars!
Off Camera: Umm, Edge, I didn't think making cookies would be so difficult for you.
Edge: The cookies weren't, I make cookies all the time.
Off Camera: So what makes these so special?
Edge: *beaming from behind a beaker* I made the oven, it runs on cold fusion.
*Adam is in Martha Stewart's kitchen. The counter is cluttered with ingredients and he is mixing the contents of a bowl with a wooden spoon and giggling*
Off Camera: What's funny Adam?
Adam: *giggles*
Off Camera: What's funny Adam?
Adam: My cookies...*He keeps mixing them and starts to spoon them out onto a sheet, the white dough is spotted with flecks of green*
Off Camera: Is that mint?
Adam: *giggling* Nope. It's from my special garden!
Off Camera: Adam! That's not what I think it is is it?
Adam: *laughs manically and points* This blob of dough looks like Bono!
*Adam laughs so hard he sinks down behind the counter for a moment. When he comes up, he is staring at his hands, amazed.*
Adam: *gasping* My hands are HUGE!!!!
Off Camera: Adam, maybe you should...
*Adam looks at the uncooked cookies with delusional pride*
Adam: They're perfect...they're done!
Off Camera: They aren't even cooked.
Adam: But if I attatch a naked picture of me...maybe they won't notice
Fishy: *From somewhere far away* BOOOOYEAH!
Adam: Did you hear that?
*The Fly struts into Martha Stewart's kitchen. All he's carrying is a bottle of scotch. He looks around and sits on the counter, opening the bottle*
Off Camera: What are you going to make?
The Fly: I dunno...I forgot to get stuff. Hmm, what do we have around here?
*He rummages through cupboards, throwing things right and left* Flour, sugar, salt...Damn, no cookie stuff!
Off Camera: That's what you make cookies from.
The Fly: No, no, baby, you make cookies from chocolate and sprinkles and shit. None of that here, guess I'll just mail them all a cigarette. Too bad I didn't bring Macphisto grocery shopping with me, he could have got the senior's discount.
*Macphisto lurks in the background, creeping up to the oblivious Fly*
*****Fifteen minutes later*****
*The Fly, Macphisto and the kitchen are now coated with flour and sugar. It looks like a large bottle of white out exploded. Macphisto is stuffing The Fly into the oven with his boot and talking on the phone at the same time*
Macphisto: Hello? Butterball? How long does a turkey take to roast...a VERY large turkey in leather and shades...
The Fly: *Various muffled panicking noises*
Off Camera: Hey! You guys are supposed to be making christmas cookies for all the PLEBA girls.
Macphisto: I am making cookies...some Fly cookies. Excuse me...
*The Fly's arm wrenches free and grabs his bottle of scotch from the counter, pulling it down into the oven with him*
The Fly: *Faintly from the oven* Merry Christmas PLEBA girls!
Macphisto: *Admiring himself in a shiny bowl* Shut up.
Merry Christmas!!!
-Bluey
------------------
It's true that every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. But what they don't tell you is that every time you hear a mouse trap snap, and Angel gets set on fire. -Jack Handy
*Bono walks into Martha Stewart's kitchen and puts on a spotless chef's hat and apron. He pulls out all sorts of shiny bowls and whisks, twirling them around while he sings to the camera:*
Boom Cha! Boom Cha...GIN-GER-BREAD!
Boom Cha! Boom Cha...GIN-GER-BREAD!!
Bono: Hmmm. Okay, so I got the bowls, the grindy things, the mixy things...What am I missing? *He looks around before calling out* Eeeeeedge! Eddddge! HELP!
Edge: What?
Bono: What goes next?
Edge: Next?
Bono: Yeah...cookies. I got the bowls and stuff but...
Edge: How about ingredients?
Bono: Oh yeah. I knew that. Where are they?
Edge: Bono, I can't I have my own cookies to do. *Edge walks away. Bono looks around kitchen some more and finds "Hamburger Helper" he considers it, and puts it away".
***Fifteen minutes later****
*Bono is giggling and cutting shapes out from brown paper. He puts them on a cookie sheet and draws on them with markers, smiling as he renders his art*
Off Camera: Bono, what are you doing?
Bono: Oh, I've decided against traditional cookies. I want to make a statement with mine, a political statement that will hopefully enlighten the hearts and minds of the PLEBA girls to the plight of the millions of people in the third world who are struggling under massive debt and cannot afford cookies. So I made paper cookies and wrote messages of peace on them.
Off Camera: You couldn't find the ingredients?
Bono: *deflated* No, Edge wouldn't show me.
*Bono puts his cookies in the oven and walks away, distracted by some spying PLEBA girls as the papers burst into little balls of flame*
*Larry is in Martha Stewart's kitchen. He refuses to wear the hat or the apron and is waving smoke away from a grill, coughing*[/b]
Off Camera: What are you doing Larry?
Larry: I'm barbequeing some damn cookies! What the feck does it look like?
Off Camera: Barbequeing? Cookies?
Larry: *snarls* Yes! It's more manly, you have a problem with that?
Off Camera: No, no...what kind of cookies are you...barbequeing?
Larry: Sugar Plum Cookies. I was going ta make little gingerbread drummer boys, but their gumdrop bootins kept poppin' off.
*The smoke obscures Larry entirely*
Larry: Ahhh, feck.
*Edge is in what looks like it used to be Martha Stewart's kitchen, the scene is almost entirely obscured by test tubes and wires. He leans over the oven, timing the baking with a stop watch. Finally he clicks the watch off as a bell chimes and removes the golden brown cookies with glee. His green eyes light up with pride as he displays his efforts, they are little guitars.*
Edge: I can't believe I did it! Finally...*he sighs and wipes his beanie*
Off Camera: What are they?
Edge: Shortbread guitars!
Off Camera: Umm, Edge, I didn't think making cookies would be so difficult for you.
Edge: The cookies weren't, I make cookies all the time.
Off Camera: So what makes these so special?
Edge: *beaming from behind a beaker* I made the oven, it runs on cold fusion.
*Adam is in Martha Stewart's kitchen. The counter is cluttered with ingredients and he is mixing the contents of a bowl with a wooden spoon and giggling*
Off Camera: What's funny Adam?
Adam: *giggles*
Off Camera: What's funny Adam?
Adam: My cookies...*He keeps mixing them and starts to spoon them out onto a sheet, the white dough is spotted with flecks of green*
Off Camera: Is that mint?
Adam: *giggling* Nope. It's from my special garden!
Off Camera: Adam! That's not what I think it is is it?
Adam: *laughs manically and points* This blob of dough looks like Bono!
*Adam laughs so hard he sinks down behind the counter for a moment. When he comes up, he is staring at his hands, amazed.*
Adam: *gasping* My hands are HUGE!!!!
Off Camera: Adam, maybe you should...
*Adam looks at the uncooked cookies with delusional pride*
Adam: They're perfect...they're done!
Off Camera: They aren't even cooked.
Adam: But if I attatch a naked picture of me...maybe they won't notice
Fishy: *From somewhere far away* BOOOOYEAH!
Adam: Did you hear that?
*The Fly struts into Martha Stewart's kitchen. All he's carrying is a bottle of scotch. He looks around and sits on the counter, opening the bottle*
Off Camera: What are you going to make?
The Fly: I dunno...I forgot to get stuff. Hmm, what do we have around here?
*He rummages through cupboards, throwing things right and left* Flour, sugar, salt...Damn, no cookie stuff!
Off Camera: That's what you make cookies from.
The Fly: No, no, baby, you make cookies from chocolate and sprinkles and shit. None of that here, guess I'll just mail them all a cigarette. Too bad I didn't bring Macphisto grocery shopping with me, he could have got the senior's discount.
*Macphisto lurks in the background, creeping up to the oblivious Fly*
*****Fifteen minutes later*****
*The Fly, Macphisto and the kitchen are now coated with flour and sugar. It looks like a large bottle of white out exploded. Macphisto is stuffing The Fly into the oven with his boot and talking on the phone at the same time*
Macphisto: Hello? Butterball? How long does a turkey take to roast...a VERY large turkey in leather and shades...
The Fly: *Various muffled panicking noises*
Off Camera: Hey! You guys are supposed to be making christmas cookies for all the PLEBA girls.
Macphisto: I am making cookies...some Fly cookies. Excuse me...
*The Fly's arm wrenches free and grabs his bottle of scotch from the counter, pulling it down into the oven with him*
The Fly: *Faintly from the oven* Merry Christmas PLEBA girls!
Macphisto: *Admiring himself in a shiny bowl* Shut up.
Merry Christmas!!!
-Bluey
------------------
It's true that every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. But what they don't tell you is that every time you hear a mouse trap snap, and Angel gets set on fire. -Jack Handy
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