Chapter I: SupaCooWackyLand ORG


-We see a group of twenty-one people all walking together and happily chatting to one another. It is a dirt road with thickets seen for miles on each side of the dirt road. Nothing is seen other than a small, bruised shack standing in the Prairie Heartland. The sun is out and the skies are clear, but the weariness of late evening in this farmland is evident.-


(Enter LOGAN, WACKY, CHRISTOPHER LLOYD, and PLAYERS into the shack.)


LOGAN: I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.


WACKY: Nerd.


PLAYERS: Can we get to why we’re here already?


(LOGAN and WACKY turn to LLOYD.)


LLOYD (widens his eyes to make them bulge): You’re here to outwit, outplay, and outlast ALLLL THE REST!!!!!!!


WACKY: He’s on crack. Clearly.


LLOYD: I’m not on crack, Marty! I gunned ‘er to 1875 and sold the rest of my surplus to Hemingway.


LOGAN: Okay players, here’s what you’re doing: Chris here has created a machine that will transport all of you into a virtual environment generated by one of our minds. You will travel freely through this universe.


WACKY: It’s like Inception.


LOGAN: No, it’s like a Pensive. Our ideas and memories are put into this tub, AND THEN everyone plugs into that.


PLAYERS: Whose ideas and memories are we traveling into?


LOGAN: The one who can bring you many great surprises and twists…


JEFF PROBST: Like mine. Plug in, everyone!


WACKY: Hold it!


LOGAN: Objection! Who the heck are you? What good surprises and twists could you possibly have?


JP: Redemption Island?




JP: Final Three?




JP: An oil tanker from Houston and a construction worker from Boston to make your cast more interesting? If you don’t add them, then you’re not a true fan of Survivor.


RUSSELL: He’s right. I’m the most interesting survivor randomly inserted into a script of allll tiiiime.


BRAWB: Hey, Saunders, can we get to this already? You’re hyping this more than it’s The Rawwwwwwwk. You’re working so hawwwwwwwwd. Like my wife Ambuh says, oh my gawwwwwd, this is gonna be so good. Do I have time to quickly take my dog to the pawwwww—-


JP: See? How can you not have these two on every single season?


(LLOYD injects JP with a syringe. JP closes his eyes and slumps to the ground into a catatonic state.)


LLOYD: It’s the Ego Freeze. I got the idea when I hit my head on the toilet as I was reaching for the crack glued to the shelf above it.


BRAWB: awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww


LOGAN (face palms): Okay, this is getting out of hand! Wacky, we’re just going to use your pensive.


WACKY: You’d really subject yourself to that?


LOGAN: Well, I called Anderson Cooper, but he was too busy wanting to visit Irene.


WACKY: There’s people still alive named Irene? How old are their parents? Out of fashion much?


LOGAN: Stop filling my mind with so much inquisition. There’s so much to do in so little time. Plug in, everyone!


(PLAYERS, LLOYD, and LOGAN all plugged in. WACKY rolled his eyes and smiled as everyone agreed to subject themselves to several weeks of pain, suffering, and a whole lot of randomness.)


LLOYD (yanking on a lever connected to the tub): LUDICROUS SPEED!!!!


(Everyone’s heads snapped back as the tub pumped the liquid through the socket connected to their veins.)


LOGAN: Decrease the speed, Chris!


LLOYD: I can’t Marty, it’s too dangerous. WE’RE GOING 85 MARTYYYYYY.


WACKY (calmly): You incorporated a Back to the Future character into a Spaceballs reference. Clever.


LOGAN: What’s wrong with referencing a beloved 80s classic featuring Rick Moranis?


WACKY: You define Spaceballs by little league Canadian actor, Rick Moranis? What about John Candy? Mel Brooks? Or most of all, Bill Pullman?


BRAWB: I just wanna win this and take care of my family. Chris is a fruit loop.


LOGAN (turns to WACKY): Rob tied in? Fend him off, Wacky! Before it’s toooooooooo lateeeeeee.




(Everyone wakes up in the middle of a long stretch of very dry, hot, and sandy land. Also known as a desert. LOGAN wipes his eyes. BRAWB brushes the sand off himself and finds a secluded area.)


BRAWB (confessional): So uh, we got this Chris Lloyd character. He’s a real fruit loop. I think this group is uh bunch uh knuckleheads. They should vote me off, but they won’t.


(LOGAN yanks on LLOYD’s shirt.)


LOGAN: Chris, look! He already claimed the opening confessional of the season. I can’t believe Probst got him here again. Hopefully Wacky got my message.


(LLOYD averts LOGAN’s eyes. LLOYD’s eyes widen as if he just did a bunch of crack. He tugs LOGAN’s sleeve as sweat pours on his face.)


LLOYD: The Yankees are coming. The Yankees are coming!


LOGAN: What are you…Holy crap, they are! Everyone take cover behind the dune!


(Everyone runs frantically behind the dunes. Except BRAWB whose face turns a deep red as he straightens up his posture.)


BRAWB: You guys hear that gawrblin’? I know what it is. It’s those dirt-blooded filthy Yankees. BRAWB angry!


(BRAWB doubles his size and rips off his shirt to reveal a large red ‘B’ painted on his chest.)


BRAWB: Come at here ya filthy Yanks!


(A horde of Yankees on horseback quickly scamper across the desert and head directly into BRAWB’s direction.)


(BRAWB attempts to shoot a punch at the horsemen, but misses. The horsemen turn around and pick up speed at BRAWB again. We can identify GRANDERSON throwing a trident and it paralyzes BRAWB to the sand. JETER follows with a large machete and proceeds to behead BRAWB. Blood and goo splatter on PLAYERS, LOGAN, and LLOYD.)


(Silence takes over everyone hiding behind the dune.)


LOGAN: Wow. Curtis Granderson is a class act.


LLOYD (beaming with crack eyes): …. GREAT SCOTT!














(BILL COSBY is seen in a quiet suburban neighbourhood at his desk signing autographs. He warmly smiles at the camera.)


BILL COSBY: Looks like these kids have gotten themselves in over their head. How will they survive in the desert and get away from the Yankee horde? Tune in on Wednesday at nine o’ clock eastern, eight o’ clock central. Hey hey hey!

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