The beach (where else?). Two dirty white guys are talking to each other next to a wall that says "BEACH FUN!" in big, festive letters.
Bad Guy #1: Hey, do you have the CRACK COCAINE?
Bad Guy #2: Yeah man, I got the CRACK COCAINE! Radical!
Bad Guy #1: Okay, let's find some kids to sell it to.
Bad Guy #2: Right, dude, and then we'll go shoot some handicapped nuns. Bitchin'!
Bad Guy #1: That is a RIGHTEOUS idea, man, and then we'll knock over some gravestones and deface the WWI Veteran's cemetery.
Bad Guy #2: That's a great idea, Bad Guy #2!!!
Bad Guy #1: Wait, I thought you were Bad Guy #2.
Bad Guy #2: (frowning) Hmmmmm...
(Suddenly ISDH bursts onto the scene, with a surfboard / machinegun / radar detector of some kind.)
ISDH: Freeze, punks! You're under citizen's arrest!
Bad Guys: (In unison) DARN! (Put their hands up)
Bad Guy #2: Hey, maybe you can help. Do you know which one of us is "Bad Guy #2"?
ISDH: (Thinking) Hmmmmm...
(Camera zooms in to a little boy who had been there watching the entire scene take place. He runs away, unseen by ISDH)
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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