Featuring the talents of…
The Redback Spider
Guest star; Rear Admiral Floyd!
Please note, this has not been in anyway edited or had spell check. LOL
[8:11:16 PM] Rear Admiral Floyd: It was 2:30 am on a wednesday night, like any other wednesday night for Canadians all over Canadia. In one particular small town, a little boy sat indian style, well I guess Indian style isn’t the politically correct term for it anymore. What is the term now? Criss cross…. racist sauce I think or something. Anyway, the kid was sitting criss cross racist sauce in his meatwad pyjammas watching the tv toob, when all of a sudden, his face beamed with a look of pure delight. “MOMMY! MOMMY! LOOK IT’S THE LATE NITE SHOW WITH SHANK MCGINNIS!” he shouted gleefully. His mother poked her head out of the kitchen, NOT CAUSE SHE WAS MAKING SAMMICHES, that just so happens to be where the wifi comes in best so she can watch her internet por…. uh… youtube cat videos. yeah. Anyway, NOT MAKING SAMMICHES. Don’t want any shit from butthurt Tumblr feminists. Anyway, she pokes her head out & replies, “Aint you supposed to be in bed you little shit?” Ahhh you can just feel the love. Or mabe that’s the bran muffin I ate an hour ago.
[8:16:00 PM | Edited 8:17:12 PM] The Redback Spider.: -In the control room, the Producer – a balding man with wire rimmed glasses is sipping his fourth red bull as the director is leaning on the padded wall behind him smoking a joint. “Fuck, if we don’t get the ratings up…I won’t be able to pay off my debt to big Jimmy. DIRK…cue to camera five to close up…off stage left” The Producer fumbles with the script notes and then stares at the many screens in front of him before making a horrid realization. “Where’s Shank?” That was a good question. Down in the green room, wafts of smoke was filtering out of the half opened door, where the cackle of insane laughter was heard. (heart)
[8:29:18 PM] Greg: Jesse was working on his make-up in room 3. The face contour of his foundation needed to match perfectly with every shade of blue eyeliner and eye shadow, the ones that glittered in the camera’s spotlights. Sooner or later Shank was about to be on stage, and as his advisor it was up to him to be ready for all the scripts and speeches that would be said. Of course Shank was a major hottie, and dare Jesse say brave for being on film naked, in front of audiences sometimes even. Just the ruby gloos lipstick to go… he thought as a knock sounded on his door. “Hookah what?! I ain’t in the helpin’ business no more. I’m in the fu-k off while I smoke a blunt and put mah mask on business… and business is about to pick way the fu-k up. “
[8:41:42 PM] Rear Admiral Floyd: In the green room, Shank was staring blankly at the wall while a cloudy haze wafted around him. His 1st guest had burnt up enough Indica to make an entire bus full of nuns fail a piss test. Shut up, it makes sense, just go with it. He was suddenly jerked from his stupor when a stage hand ran into the room & frantically yelled “THE SHOW IS ABOUT TO START MAN, GET GOING!” Shank giggled cause the stage hand’s nickname was pee pants. The reason why should be pretty obvious. I mean come on man. Then it sunk into Shanks brain that the show WAS about to start. “OH SHIT!” HE yelped, then bolted out the door, plowing through pee pants, who let out a girlish “Waaughgh” & fell flat, living up to his nickname in the process. Doug meanwhile chuckled goofily watching the whole ordeal between bong hits. “hah it’s funny cause you screamed like a girl & peed your pants”. he mumbled . (coffee)
[8:46:26 PM] The Redback Spider.: The Studio audience which was made up mostly of a suburban bus tour from the Shady springs retirement home was clapping and cackling as Dizzy Dawn, the studio warm up guy was telling another one of his dreaded jokes. “…..And so then the barmaid said..luv, I been pulling for years!” The crowd was sure to soil a few of their kimbex adult sized nappies after that one. In the control box, the Producer was frantic, and if he had hair, he would have been pulling it out. “We’re live…in five…four…three…two…one…ROLL IT” Cameras are racing left and right as the stage lights swirl and the band starts up a cheeky rendition of “Baby’s got back.” But where is Shank? (heart)>
[8:52:35 PM] Greg: “Alright, geez, I’m ready… It takes a lot of effort to get someone like me to look this cheap” ~Jesse flicked his hair and walked out of the room. “What?! The show has started and it’s main star is not on?” He gasped and placed his fingers to his mouth. “Well, this will be some fucked up intervention. OH SHANKY OH SHANKY WHERE MIGHT THOU BE?” He blinked a few times as he walked down the corridors, passing the camera crew and stylists. Looking out to the audience he held a gruesome expression. These people were such a drag. Business needed to be booming with flirtatious young men, and women… but men. His thoughts drifted ever so slightly as he walked, if not for the ugly no hair whatsoever person infront of him, he would have tripped. “Eww, what the fuck is that a freckle on his head or something?” Moving closer Jesse realized it was the producer of the show. . . . Oh…shit.
[8:55:21 PM | Edited 8:55:43 PM] Rear Admiral Floyd: Meanwile Shank raced down the hallway, out to the back of the set & ran screaming like a yard ape. He plowed through the back of the set, then charged at the house band still screaming, plowed through the drummers bass drum & tackled the drum player knocking him through the screen behind him. He then began punching the drummer repeatedly in the face while set hands brought out a new drum kit. Shank then charged back across the set, climbed the set furniture & plopped onto his desk smashing it. The cameras panned to the band briefly then back to Shank who was suddenly nekked & was taking a tazer to his own balls, then back to the band, then back to shank. He was dressed again & bashing on a statue of a midget with a frying pan, He then wound down, threw a potted plant & plopped in his chair wheezing as a new desk was slid in front of him & stage hands replaced the stage furniture.
[9:01:45 PM] The Redback Spider.: Well when the audience saw the anarchy that was the Shank McGinnis show, many were gasping, one women spat out her own false teeth in horror. The pre show comedian was holding up an applause sign and pointing at it as if his life depended on it, as the Producer hit the mic and announced to the audience they would get a weekend pass from their retirement home to the local Indian casino with $50 in chips if they clapped. AND CLAP they did. It wasn’t hard to convince the old ducks, I mean, when you are bed ridden, and someone offers you a chance to visit a reservation Casino with hot and cold buffet and all you can eat via a straw, you’d jump at it too. The control box was in meltdown, as the Producer noticed the strange lad beside him, flipping his hair like Paris during fashion week. “Are you a guest?” he asked, flipping through his show’s notes. “Throw back from the 80’s maybe?’ (heart)>
[9:10:09 PM] Greg: Oh, so the producer didn’t even know him? That was a plus… although this first impression will forever haunt his memory. What a dick, frecklehead thought he was a GUEST? “Ummm.” He blinked and stared, his posture slanted as he looked at his shimmy like nails of pink glitter and then suddenly spoke, finally deciding to look at the old coon in his eyes. So smug this little fag thought he was. “No sir, not a guest. I am advisor to Shank McGinnis, and it’s a throw back from Queen Sheba I’ll have you know. ” He strutted away and stole one the crew-men’s tie, replacing it with a card and Jesse’s number. His fingers went to his lips and chin, as he silently mouthed the words “call me.”
[9:22:20 PM | Edited 9:22:36 PM] Rear Admiral Floyd: Shank sat wheezing for a moment & couldn’t help but wonder if he was forgetting something. He looked at his legs. Yup, pants are there. Was it deoderant? This is TV, so what the fuck did it matter? It’s not like people have smell o vision tv. Do they? Could people smell him through their TVs? That’s fucked up man. I mean I don’t know what’s more fucked up. Smelling funky, or them with their noses smeared to their TV set wanting to know what people smell like. WERE PEOPLE FAPPING TO THIS? “I NEED DEODERANT STAT!” Shanks blurted out, then looked around baffled for a moment. “Oh yeah, monolouge” he muttered as it finally dawned on him. HE jumped up & ran over to the microphone standing closer to the audience. “So uh what’s the deal with old people? Amirite? I mean jeeze. They are the only class of people with their own pattented smell.” His routine clearly wasn’t going over well with the geriatric studio audience, who began booing. “& whats with senior discounts? I wish I could get half priced food for shitting my pants.” HE was about to launch into another joke when the soiled brief of one irate audience member splatted shit side to face on his forhead. & it was at that moment that the production intern in the booth froze the frame with the caption of “We will be right back” on their way to comercial.
[9:34:00 PM] The Redback Spider.: Commercial time: You could see the set for what looked to be a car yard, and standing out the front wearing a full western get up was none other than Bill Murray. He stared at the camera with a dead pan expression as a show girl popped up beside him waving a shiny banner that read “$9,999 drive away!” Bill then got the cue from the onsight director and gave off a fake cheesy smile. “My accountant said I have dress like a complete dick and sell YOU FOLK one of these hunking pieces of japanese mass produced crap for…*he looked at the booby show girl and asked* How much again?” She appeared to be mute and kept waving the sign as her feather hat kept covering up Bill’s face. “Yes..god, I so want to die. Come..buy one of these cars…kill the American dream, fuck Obamacare…Yes…only $9,999..buy one and drive it off the cliff..When are we doing Ghostbusters 3?” he said, walking off the lot, while the Show girl continued to wiggle and flash the sign. The commercial over it was back to the studio, where one of the makeup girls was trying not to vomit from prizing off the shitty nappy from Shank’s head. Could it get anyworse?
[9:49:31 PM] Greg: Jesse looked over to Shank was standing, everyone trying to get his look back to normal before the break commercial was over. “Shank! Shank!” He called out.. holding the script in his hand. “SHANK YOU HOE!” He finally caught up, checking that his hair was not a mess from running in 12′ heels. “Bitch, these are your lines… Use them now before we run this show into the ground.” The desk and chairs that Shank had smashed were replaced, and this time he should be able to control his impulsivity. He saw the headlines before he even heard the words. “We’re brought back to you now, live with Shank McGinnis” The fake applauses could be faintly heard from the audience, as Shank would finally start Walking back onto the stage-set.
[9:56:58 PM | Edited 10:07:52 PM] Rear Admiral Floyd: Shank sat at his desk while the make up crew worked to clean the shit off his forehead the best they could. What a way to experience the last meal that the old fart ate. “You sir, need to eat less red meat.” he thought to himself as he mused over the aroma that would be following his face around for the foreseeable future. “Why what’s that fragrance I’m wearing you ask? Beefy shit. It’s not really very well aged, but the guy whose ass it came from was.” Suddenly a very flamboyant drag queen ran up to him calling him a hoe & thrusting index cards with his script on them at him. “uh, are you a dude or a chick?” He asked bemusedly. “WE’RE COMING BACK FROM COMMERCIAL!” he heard someone yell. As the cameras focused back on him, he looked at the index cards. “Chicken, banannas, potato chips, gallon of KY jely, I think this is someones grocery list. He shuffled on to the next card & stared for a minute. “N****r well that.s just racist. Moving on to the next he stared reading it for a moment. “Is this just a bunch of Wham lyrics?” Then he went to the next one which was all discolored & ragged. He sniffed it & grimmaced. “Ghaa thats where that smell was coming from. Was this one in that diaper??” He started shuffling through the rest when another one of the audience members ran in from off set & smacked him in the head with their walker, which again was the exact moment the production intern froze the screen for a commercial break.
[10:16:07 PM] The Redback Spider.: Commercial time ; Justien Bieber who was actually dressed as a school boy is rushed on set where there is a big sign behind him that says in bright orange letters “BEANZ MEANZ HEINZ” The star looks awkward and then stares at the camera, nervous about doing the ad. “When…I have had a hard day at school, my Mummy always makes for me…a big…plate…of…*he looks off camera and shakes his head, not wanting to say what is on the cue cards. He then starts the commercial again, and swallows hard. “When..I have a hard day at school..my Mummy always makes me a big tray of…of..COCAINE…rows of fucking cocaine…COKE..coke..not fucking Baked beans!’ At this point, a big pot of baked beans which is ceremoniously tipped on the unsuspecting Bieber, coating him in thick gooey Heinz bean goodness. “WAAAAH I’LL SUE…YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!!!’ end commercial. (heart)>
[10:33:29 PM] Greg: “I’ll be whatever you want me to be hunny, as long as you stick to the cards.” He waved his hands about as two large vans of Heinz Baked beans rolled into the garage sets, giving out free tins to the elderly, Justin Bieber fighting with the camera crew and associates about his advertising rights. “Someone get that pretentious little wanna be out of my sight. He makes us drag queens look gay, and that’s sayin’ something.” Jesse laughed at himself, as the commercials were almost ending. However Jesse needed something more, more viewers and more money. More money meant more lipstick and more strip clubs. Walking back over to the producer he demanded attention by taking off his silk top, coiled muscles reflected perfectly against his sun tanned skin. “Now look here, we need more young people listening to us, and if Shanky is not going to help, then we needa think of something. “ He twirled infront of the bald man producer and smiled. “Get what I mean?”
[10:50:07 PM] Rear Admiral Floyd: “BEIBER?” Shanks yelled as he saw the commercial airing off stage, he sprang from his desk & charged at the whiny little douchebag yelling at the top of his lungs all the way. He didn’t even bother to pay attention to if the commercial had ended or not. He just ran full tilt at the little fucker & started punching the shit outta him. Litterally. He took the kid down & beat him till he shit his pants. The production intern again froze the frame while Shanks was in mid swing with the “We’ll be right back” message & then cut to a pre-recorded clip of a nudist colony where folks were just doing their thing, hanging out nekkid like all people who really should never be nude in public do. I mean really, why is it always the people who we would gladly pay to put their clothes back on who feel the need to be nude all the time? I mean what the actual fuck man? Anyway, suddenly Shanks runs fully dressed through the crowd yelling “I’M REVERSE STREAKING!!!” The clip ends & Shanks is sitting back at his desk. “Uh, please welcome my next guest, Doug Benson.” Then Doug walks out from off stage & sits in the chair next to Shanks desk. Shank took a large drink from the gallon of milk that he had been sucking down while the previous clip was running, & periodically throughout the show. “uhhhhh so do you think that American politics is imperialism?” He asked Doug. Doug was so baked though, all he did was just grin & giggle. Shanks sat for a moment then puked all over the desk. The camera zoomed in close on the guest while stage hands raced in & toweled up the puke lightning fast. “You ever get your balls stuck in swinging doors?” Shanks asked. Doug looked blank. They sat awkwardly for a moment. “MOTHER FU-” The intern again froze the frame with the “we’ll be right back” caption
[10:59:20 PM] The Redback Spider.: The Producer got what the little PA to Shanks was saying, but at the same time, the Star of the show was taking to a Baked beaned encrusted Bieber with such gusto, that once again they had to run a clip about a nudist colony. One of the audience members actually chuckled and nudged her girlfriend Alice. “Remember that weekend, Ali?” The two laughed to see themselves starkers on the telly and all around them got an insight that they rather not have. “Her tits are smacking her knee cappies.’ One old coot blurted, whilst another was trying to shield her husband’s eyes. Then when the show came back on, it was none other than a half baked Doug Benson on the stage. “Who the fuck hired him?” the Director yelled into the mic, as the Producer threw up his show notes and started to bang his head on the teleprompter as the “We’ll be right back” imgae came to frame. This wasn’t a show, it was a three ring circus, with assholes and clowns, the kind that give you nightmares. The Director started popping heart pills while in the wings a new guest was waiting. But would Shank’s be able to keep going before the station manager pulled the plug? (heart)>
[11:17:13 PM] Greg: Jesse rolled his eyes at the bald man. “You don’t get it do you? You’re so old.” Jesse turned around and sashayed onto the set shirtless and all, winking at the old people as his ass jiggled in the heels. How such a manly physique worked with someone as gay as Jesse people would never know, but it was hot and bound to get viewers’ attention. He looked at the chair next to Doug and Shanks and took a seat. “Well, it’s not a strip pole but I suppose it’s just as good. What is that? Jello… Ugh I don’t know what this strange obsession is with white gurls and jello. However if you guys talk any more shit you might just turn into a toilet.” Jesse giggled and waited to hear a laugh from the audience as well. Yet all he heard were the sound of sucking on false teeth and snoring. “Ooooook, old people have no humor.” He raised his eyebrows and turned back around. “So, Doug? Mind if I give you a lap dance for the lovelies watching at home?” He licked his cherry red lips and winked lasciviously at him.
[11:27:36 PM] Rear Admiral Floyd: Shanks sat staring off into space & Doug was eating a sandwich he pulled out from who knows where while Jesse was talking in the next chair over. Doug got a startled look of his face when Jesse offered him a lap dance. “Uhhh I’m not sure what the opposite of a boner is called, but I have that right now.” Doug said. Shanks suddenly snapped back to reality. “Well for my next guest, I was going to bring out Dr. Steve Brule, but apparently he doesn’t really exist. Apparently I can’t interview fictional people. So we’ll just end with our musical guest, I accidentally double booked though so please give a round of applause for the Cheese willies & Donkey Punch. & Remember people, no matter how shitty this show may be, It’s still better than Jimmy Fallon. Goodnight everybody.” The camera panned over to the 2 bands that were trying to play over each other as the shows credits rolled. Shanks sat at his desk checking messages on his cell phone, then suddenly leapt away from his desk as some random guy on a dirt bike just plowed into it.
[11:53:31 PM | Edited 11:54:16 PM] Greg: “OH! The opposite of a boner?” He tapped his finger to his lips. “So you have trouble getting it up? You could have just said so big boy.” Jesse moved his hand over to rub it against Doug’s thigh, before noticing the show had ended. “Oh, finally… time for sex, because let’s face it. We can, and it’s better to do without the population growth. Hue” He winked again and stood up, blocking out the sound of the two bands facing each other off as if they were playing a game of guitar hero. Luckily he did too, because moments later a bike came in and crashed Shank’s desk… again. “I do hope out equipment is free, because I can’t afford my lipstick otherwise.” “Who cares about your god damn lip stick?” A make-up artists had voiced her opinion, but instantly blushed when she saw his abs. A grin found its way to Jesse’s face. “You’ll care about my lip stick too hunny, but you can’t touch this meat.” He pulled out his phone and dialed in a few numbers. “Dani, baby! I need some interior design in the club back in L.A, I’ll be there tonight for some fun, thanks gurl.” “Yall black ass nigga, where you been? Hey listen.. If there was ever a time to listen to a white person, it would be now. I need some audience members, preferably men… hot, and early 20’s. If you do I’ll give you tc love for one day.” Runnign over to the producer he grabbed his Christian Dior wallet and threw a piece of paper at the producer. “There some people coming around to spice up the show, I’ll need you to escrot them around a bit while I head to Las Angeles to check on my club. And by that I mean.. “ He started singing Destiny Child’s “Check on it” as he texted his fangirl Miranda Kerr. “Heeeeyyy gurl, I need some of Victoria’s secrets… Thanks (cat).” Walking out he started belting. “If you got, flaunt it, boy I know you want it.” Yeah that’s right bitches, keep starin’ at this ass.