rec.humor.spc is up on the roof...
From: spc-request@tc.fluke.COM (Judge Moriarty Wapner)
Newsgroups: rec.humor.spc
Subject: rec.humor.spc is up on the roof...
Summary: We're goin' down, down, down, down...
Date: 15 Feb 88 08:58:01 GMT
Reply-To: spc-request@tc.fluke.COM
Organization: Stupid People's Court
Lines: 283
Approved: moriarty@tc.fluke.COM
[SCENE: Late afternoon in the summer. The sun is just beginning to drop
below the crests of the nearby forest, their leaves beginning to
filter red, and the wavering surface of the pond uses the rays as a
rhythmic semaphore. To the left, in the distance, an old wooden
cabin is spotlighted by the afternoon glare; the peeling bark
reveals yellowish wood, now shaded orange. The sounds of the bayou
are soft, but distinct: the regular croaking of bullfrogs, the wind
through the marsh; a heron cries in the distance, and from somewhere
outside the cabin, a harmonica is being played to a low, slow tune.
Three figures walk around from the back of the cabin. In the lead
is an middle-aged hound dog with yellow fur; it wears no collar or
leash, but walks a few feet ahead of the other two figures. One is
a boy, with a disarray of short blond hair on his head and freckles
on his face. He is wearing a pair of overalls over a plaid shirt,
sleeves rolled up over his elbows, and is walking barefooted. He
appears to be about 9 years old, a slightly larger version of the
boy in SHANE. The other figure is an adult; he wears a beaten-up
cap covered with fly fishing lures (much like the one McClane
Stevenson used to wear in M*A*S*H), and a black judicial robe over
much of outfit; however, a red shammy shirt and tan corduroy jeans
are revealed at the edge of the robe. A backpack is looped over the
robes, and what appears to be a gunbelt stretches around the man's
waist; however, instead of a pistol, the holster of the belt
contains a wooden gavel. He is carrying an old hunting rifle over
his shoulder.]
[The three reach the edge of the pond; the dog begins to sniff around the
tall grass while the other two gaze across the surface of the pond,
watching the ripples from where turtles have dived and dragonflies have
lighted upon the surface.]
TIMMY: Shoot, Judge Wapner, you couldn't've asked for a nicer evenin' to've
gone huntin'. T'ain't muggy, and the breeze'll keep you in good
stead.
JUDGE MORIARTY WAPNER: You're certainly right there, Timmy; I can't remember
the bayou having ever been prettier. On a day like
this, it doesn't matter whether I bag anything or
not; the scenery and the weather make it worth the
trip.
TIMMY [pointing to the dog, who is walking through the marshes]:
Well, *he* sure's enjoying the trip! I think you've
got about the best dawg I've ever seen... he'n me
have sure enough become friends over the last coupla
weeks.
JMW [smiling sadly]: I guess you and he got along pretty well, eh, Timmy? I
sure appreciate you taking care of him while I was on
that Pat Robertson pederasty case...
TIMMY [grinning broadly]: We sure did! He's about my best friend
now-a-days. [Turns in the direction of the dog,
and cups his hands] Here, rec.humor.spc! Here,
boy! C'mon, Rex! [dog bounds back towards them;
Timmy turns to JMW] I named him Rex... short for
rec.humor.spc. Was that OK?
JMW [nods quietly]: That's fine, Timmy, just fine; I think it's a pretty
good idea. [The dog runs up to Timmy, and the boy
kneels to hug him. Boy and dog are soon laughing and
barking together.]
[Judge MW takes a deep breath and looks over the pond. Then he turns back
to Timmy and Rex]
JMW [sadly]: Timmy, there... there's something I haven't told you yet.
TIMMY [noting the tone of the Judge's voice, his face fills with concern, as
he leans against the dog's side]:
What's that, Judge Wapner? Is something wrong?
JMW: Timmy, I didn't tell you until now, because I didn't want you to
worry... but this isn't really a hunting trip. I was taking
rec.humor.spc out into the bayou today... for something other than
hunting.
TIMMY [looking confused]: What's that, Judge? He ain't much of a fishin'
dawg. Heck, he isn't any great shakes at
huntin', either, but he knows a skunk when he
sees it.
JMW [takes deep breath]: Timmy... the long and short of it is, I'm taking
Rex out to put him down.
[TIMMY stops petting rec.humor.spc and his arms go around the dog's body.
His face falls, his jaw wavers. Both TIMMY's and REX's eyes raise to meet
those of the JUDGE's.]
TIMMY [his eyes beginning to tear up]: Y-you're gonna shoot Rex?
JMW [kneels down next to Timmy, his voice compassionate and gentle]:
Yes, Timmy, I am. I have to.
TIMMY [his voice has become choked with emotion]:
B-but WHY? He's a good dawg! He's clean! He ain't got no
bandwidth problems! [Eyes begin to flare up] Is it them Net
Gods? Did they make you go out and shoot ol' Rex? I'll...
JMW [firmly]:
No, Timmy, it has *nothing* to do with the Net Gods. Actually,
*I* asked them to let me kill rec.humor.spc.
TIMMY [openly crying now]: But why, Judge Wapner? Why kill rec.humor.spc?
JMW [slowly, his voice drawling]:
Well, that's something of a story; now, dry your
eyes, and I'll tell you why.
[JMW pulls out a handkerchief and offers it to Timmy, who takes it
reluctantly].
JMW: When I got rec.humor.spc, I had planned to write for it nearly every
week, with a few repeats of old Stupid People's Court every other week
or so. But, a lot of things happened that I hadn't counted on. [He
looks out over the pond] I took a long vacation, right when
rec.humor.spc was born. Then, I had some work that I needed to catch
up on, that didn't let me write very much. Finally, I got asked to
write a couple of monthly columns -- one for money -- and I just
didn't have time to put out new SPC cases all of the time. [Turns back
to look at Timmy and Rex]. It hasn't been fair to the net, Timmy, and
more importantly, it hasn't been fair to *him*. [points at the dog,
whose ears lower] I can't provide for him any longer, Timmy; all my
old stuff's been printed, and I haven't time for any new stuff --
not on a regular basis, anyway. So I've decided that ol' Rex... has
to go.
TIMMY [hugging the dog intensely, his eyes hidden in the scruff of Rex's neck]:
Awwww... damn.
JMW [gently yet sternly]: Now, none of that kind of language, young man.
[pauses, then looks into Timmy's eyes] Tim... I
was thinking that, if rec.hu... err, Rex has to
go, maybe it's better if you're the one who...
who shoots him.
TIMMY [face registers shock; his voice is high-pitched and almost yelling]:
ME!? I *couldn't*, Judge Wapner! Why should I have to hurt poor
ol' Rex?
JMW [Staring at Timmy in an understanding way]:
Timmy, there's no one closer to Rex than you... you've become his
friend and master over the last few weeks, even though he's my dog.
Frankly, I think he should be put under by someone who knows him and
loves him best.
TIMMY [face screwed up into a frown, his voice petulant]:
That don't make no sense, t'all.
JMW [Sighs, raises eyes to sky]:
And, I'm also a little afraid I'll hurt myself with this rifle here...
[Timmy's face becomes a wall of obstinance; with one hand resting on
rec.humor.spc's back, he shakes his head vigorously. The dog pants
happily, his tail wagging with affection towards Timmy.]
TIMMY [frowning, his voice high but deliberate]:
No, sir. I ain't a-goin to shoot rec.humor.spc, and that's final.
JMW [inquiringly]: You're sure about that, Timmy?
TIMMY: Yes, sir, I am.
JMW: What if I offered you something for your trouble, Timmy? Maybe a bike
or a Ozzie Osborn album?
TIMMY [now standing with his arms across his chest, shaking his head]:
No, sir. Nothin' could make me shoot ol' Rex. [Dog pants happily and
rubs his head against Timmy's leg]
JMW [rubbing his chin with his hand, thinking intently]:
Howzabout the entire STAR WARS collection, with all 523 action
figures and the new Darth Vader "Single's Apartment" set (some
construction required)?
TIMMY [stares frostily at JMW]:
Sir, I don't know 'bout you, but where *AH* come from, N-O means NO.
JMW [bends down next to Timmy's ear]: OK... how about this rifle, for keeps?
[TIMMY's eyes suddenly squint; the dog stops wagging its tail]
TIMMY [in low tones]: License, too?
JMW: I'll even toss in some ammo.
TIMMY [under his breath]: Lemme take a look at it.
[Rex gets up, and begins to slowly edge off to the left. JMW hands TIMMY
his gun for examination. Timmy gazes down the stock; examines the balance;
pops the shells out and examines the barrel]
TIMMY [grimly]: Could stand t'be oiled.
JMW [slightly impatiently]: Mmh-hmm.
TIMMY [peering up at JMW]: Got a night scope fer this? [turns back to
examination of gun] I wanna have some fun during
evenin' little league practice next week.
JMW [sighs, shrugs shoulders]: I think I can dig one up somewhere...
TIMMY [after looking through the gunsight one more time]:
Well, then, I think we've got a deal. Lemme get some
ammo from your backpack...
[JMW takes off backpack and hands it to TIMMY, who begins digging through
it, looking for bullets. JMW now faces camera, looking indulgent]
JMW [speaking to audience]: Not that this means no Stupid People's Court
cases. I may well come up with something that
eggs me on into print, in which case I'll try
submitting it to rec.humor.funny or an
appropriate newsgroup. I still have a few good
cases in me, and while I can't unload one week
after week, I think you can expect to see
something before the year's out.
TIMMY [looking up from the backpack]:
You got any Dum-Dums? Or anything with
armor-piercing capabilities?
JMW [turning to look at Timmy]: Just buckshot, I'm afraid.
TIMMY [stands up, loading shells into the rifle's chamber]:
Figured that. Well, these'll do, I reckon.
[TIMMY snaps gun shut, and turns to the forest, cupping one hand to his mouth]
TIMMY [yelling]: HEY, DAWG! YOU'RE ONE DEAD MEAL TICKET, BOY!
[TIMMY sprints off stage left]
JMW [returns gaze to camera]: Well, even if Timmy doesn't get old Rex, I've
arranged with Greg Woods at hao to finish off
rec.humor.spc in a week or two, after this
article has propagated correctly. Just want
to thank Greg and other administrators of the
net for their patience and support with this
group.
[Gunshots heard off to the left]
And I want to especially thank all of you who
wrote me the complimentary fan mail -- it was
appreciated. To those of you who didn't
enjoy the newsgroup: well, it's committed
suicide now. Don't you just feel guilty as
all hell?
[Suddenly, rec.humor.spc stumbles in from stage left, panting profusely and
wobbling from side to side. It wanders over dazedly to JUDGE MORIARTY
WAPNER, and looks up into his face with it's sad hound eyes]
REX [In a perfect Daffy Duck voice]: You're DESPICABLE!
[Scene disappears in the closing credits for a Warner Bros. cartoon. At the
very height of the jingle, DeForest Kelley's head and shoulders pops
through the MERRY MELODIES logo, and with a big wave, he says:
AhBee-AhBee-AhBee-AhBee-AhBee-IT'S DEAD, JIM!
If you've got a flame, don't take it to the net. Take it to court.
****** STUPID PEOPLE'S COURT!! ******
"You know what I wish? I wish all the scum of the
Net had one throat and I had my hands about it."
-- Rorschach (1985)
Judge Moriarty Wapner
Stupid People's Court
COMMENTS: spc-request@tc.fluke.COM
SUBMISSIONS: spc@tc.fluke.COM
Manual UUCP: {uw-beaver, sun, allegra, hplsla, lbl-csam}!fluke!spc-request
DISCLAIMER:The ideas, opinions and implied snide remarks used above do not
necessarily represent the views of my employers. They are
entirely out of my dark and furtive imagination.