(Section 5)
-Everyone in the lodge, sleepy eyed and groggy, lumbers out to the airstrip to see the famed Philo Stone. While everyone is transfixed on the incoming plane, Loki, Shaggy, and Scooby have sneaked down to the edge of the swamp. Loki holds a lit cigarette in the palm of his hand-
Sc: Rhat rare rou roing rith ry rigarrette?
L: If Stone is coming, he most likely knows about the weed. We have to find it before he does and hide it until he goes. Now, SEEK.
-The cigarette levitates above Loki's palm, and points toward the west end of the lake-
Sh: All right! Let's go get it!
L: Hold on.
-The cigarette begins to move eastward.
L: It's moving!
-The cigarette begins to spin around rapidly and snuff out-
L: What could have caused that? That's a lot of disturbance.
Sh: Say, is that a plane overhead?
-The plane is coming closer.closer.closer.it's right over them.It's going over.past them.gone-
L: Wha?
Red: He's heading toward the power plant!
L: Power Plant?
Red: He's coming back!
L: AH FUCK!
Red: No wait! He's passing over again! I don't think he saw the strip!
L: Keep going, Stone! You don't see the strip! Damn you, Force! Cloud his mind!
-Just as Stone's plane is about to pass by again, a second plane, a small two-seater bi-wing, comes from nowhere. It is zooming straight at Stone's plane.
Red: Buzz! NO!
L: Don't do that! Not the tail! Aim for the cockpit!
-Buzz's plane smashes in Stone's, ripping his tail section off. Stone starts careening to the ground, and Buzz crashes into a tree. A blond figure can be barely seen wrenching on the controls.
Dalton: He's gonna crash!
Mike: He's gonna die!
L: Nah, knowing that bastard Stone he'll probably fly that plane sideways between that clump of trees right in front of the airstrip, bob under those power lines, and come to a perfect landing missing every one of those 29 potholes on that 200 foot dirt strip, and.Say everybody! I'll give twenty to one odds that Stone makes a perfect three-point landing without disturbing even the dust.
Da: I'll take that!
M: Me too!
R: And me!
-Everyone in the Lodge has bet against Stone, save for Shaggy and Scooby, who are collecting the money amongst the crowd. Within a minute, Loki has collected 3000 dollars-
L: Now everybody, let's see how this goes down! With me winning of course.
-Stone's plane turns sideways, narrowly squeezing through the small gap between the trees, twists back upright just in time to under the power lines over the strip, and taxis over the dirt, missing every pothole, and comes to a halt an inch and a half from the Lodge-
L: Who'd have thought he could be so useful.
-Everyone is staring gawk-eyed at what has just happened. Loki quickly stuffs Shaggy and Scooby's too large share of the take to them and shoves the rest in his pocket. A blond head covered with World War I aviator goggles pops up from the cockpit. A massive body wrapped in a bomber jacket and parachute pants springs lithely from the tiny pit, and in a display of expert gymnastic precision, twists upside down and is held suspended by the powerful arms holding it aloft from the sides of the cockpit. Stone dips down deeply, and ejects himself skyward with a fantastic thrust into the air. He tucks and performs a triple twisting backflip before landing solidly in his feet. His strong posture and rather silly costume would make anyone else save Robert Redford look gay, but on him it works very well in all his Aryan glory-
Sh: Fantastic. Adolf Hitler's wet dream.
He takes in his surroundings, lingering for a moment on the huge satellite dish that seems to have appeared on the Mystery Machine-
-Inside the Mystery Machine, Fred is seated in the back in front of a console with multiple television screens. Several are running footage he has collected with his camcorder. Others are showing rooms inside Possum Lodge-
F: Ahh, excellent. Now that I have pirated the signal from Red's cameras, I have full view of everything that happens in the Lodge! And this satellite link-up will transmit my footage to any recipient anywhere in the world! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! My art shall finally get the respect and appreciation it deserves!
D: (Still in LaLa Land in the front seat) Mr. Pixie, can you see into the future, too?
F: I wonder how much I can get for her on the white slave trade. Maybe Sheik Mozambique still has an opening.
D: Look, it's the Sasquatch!
F: Daphne, there's no such thing as a Sasqua...(A hairy figure runs past the van into the woods)...I'll be damned. I'll get that on film later. First, I need to call the Shiek.
PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT
F: What is that noise? I can't create with all these distractions!
-Behind the van, in the swamp, a small barge carrying a half ton of marijuana is passing by. It's motor is running very rough and choppy, making farting noises-
PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT
-The Phlatulent Phantom, in its emaciated skeletal form and noxious green glow, is piloting the barge to a new location. The Phantom is wearing red and green suspenders-
-Back on the airstrip, the sound of Stone's engine winding down drowns the out of the sound of the passing barge-
Stone: So who here is Red Green?
R: That would be me.
S: Pleasure to meet you, sir. I've heard a lot about your show.
R: Good things I suspect.
S: ...Yup, heard a lot.
R: So what are you doing here Mr. Stone? Business or pleasure?
S: Business, actually. I've gotten word of some fraudulent activities occurring throughout Succotash County, and I've managed to narrow most of the activities to this place as a source. Would you mind if we spoke privately, Mr. Green?
R: I suppose so, but it'll have to be when I'm not busy filming my show.
S: Of course. At your earliest convenience. I wouldn't want to disrupt an entire film crew on...the...job...Say, I don't see anything set up for a film shoot.
R: This is a special setup. I have cameras strategically placed throughout the grounds. I collect an improvised, artistically liberal, completely natural and free-flowing menagerie of zaniness.
S: Then it's kind of like "Big Brother", in which a group of socially rejected and otherwise useless layabouts make whores of themselves to the camera, and waive all personal rights to privacy, and engage in brutal internal conflicts for the hollow and obviously transparent entertainment value of a spiritually dead audience that clings desperately to their hometown roots to commence in equally vicious and ultimately pointless battles with others who would otherwise have no reason to quarrel.
R: Ummm...essentially right, except for the audience fighting over us.
L: Except for disagreeing on what channel to watch other than you!
S: I know that voice! Who is that?
-Harold comes running around the corner of the Lodge. He dripping wet and smelling like a swamp, and is wearing a knee-high galosh on one leg. He runs right up to Stone and pumps his hand vigorously-
H: How do you do, Mr. Philo Stone. Harold Green. The gawky, over eager, and overly sensitive voice of sanity, moderation, and political correctness of Possum Lodge. And the most innocent person you'll find within miles.
BEEP BEEP
-A UPS truck has pulled into the Lodge parking gravel space. The driver sticks his head out the window-
Driver: Hey Yo! I've got a dual pick-up and delivery for a Harold Green! Drop-off from Faceless Minion Henchman Attire and a pick-up for land mines and anti-aircraft guns for the Guerilla Militia of Taiwan!
H: (Completely stunned) Ummmm...uh...Go around the back, you fool! Away from all the witnesses! BWAHAHEEHOHE..cough cough...I still can't do it! Please excuse me, Mr. Stone. I have some...completely non-criminal things to do.
-Harold runs off and trips on his galosh-
L: Harold! You could run better if you took off that suspiciously familiar and urine stained knee-high galosh!
S: Loki! I thought I recognized your voice!
L: Ah shit.
S: How are you? I didn't expect to see you here.
L: Oh, nothing special. I'm just here to partake on Harold's excellent hash...browns. Yes, hash browns. He's a very good cook. What brings you here to extremely backwater area of Earth?
S: I've received word that there has been highly suspicious activity coming from this county. There have been numerous accounts of insurance fraud for one, and recently there has been a great of weapons trafficking coming from around here. Technically, the show that gets made here should be considered a crime, but that's for the censors to decide.
L: What led you here?
S: I was flying over the County area, seeing if I could find any leads. When I passed over the swamp, I saw a nuclear power plant set up on the north side. The location was odd enough, but the power lines coming from it led only to this lodge.
L: Only here, ay?
S: Yes. In fact, they led to an outhouse situated behind the lodge. I suspect it's an entrance to a secret base. Then, when I came in to land, some nutjob came out of nowhere and tore off my tail.
L: Hmm. That would explain why the outhouse has up and down elevator buttons. I thought someone was playing a cruel joke. So you haven't heard anything about the drugs?
S: No. What drugs?
L: Rugs. As in floor mats. I've seen some of the merchandise that gets made by these people. It's horribly atrocious.
S: Can't be worse than what comes out of those sweat shops I've busted. Anyhow I need to get down to busi...Mr. Norville Rogers! It's an absolute honor to meet you! Loki, I never knew you had celebrity contacts!
L: Huh?
Sh: What?
S: I've been an admirer of you for some time, Mr. Rogers. Perhaps if you can find the time, we can chat and discuss your exploits over coffee. I'll buy, of course. I'd love to hear your take on your escapades. And this must be the famous Scoobert! How are you, you big puppy?
-Stone scratches Scooby behind the ear. Scooby's eyes start to flutter like he's about to orgasm-
S: What's this? Looks like I have a Scooby snack for you!
-Stone produces a Scooby Snack from his jacket pocket. Scooby eats it and shoots into the air like a rocket, and floats back down to earth-
Sc: Ri rove rou, Rister Rone.
S: That really is amazing. That's the best ventriloquism work I've ever seen. I never saw your lips move, Mr.Rogers.
-Stone starts toward the Lodge with Red-
L: There! You see what I mean? That is the most sickening display of false flattery I've ever seen! It disgusts even me!
Sh: Loki, I was fully prepared to hate that Stone, but I can't help but like him.
Sc: RIKE rim?
L: What the dog said. LIKE him?
Sc: Ri ROVE rim!
L: OH NO!!! Not again!
-From behind the lodge, a yelling nasal voice can be heard-
H: Roman Centurion Costumes? What is this? The Guide to Successful Super Villainy specifically states to never clothe one's minions in overly elaborate and completely outdated fashions that are obviously ripped off from historically inaccurate films! ESCPECIALLY when said costume is a mini- skirt on a man!
L: Someone bought my book!
-Before Stone can get inside the Lodge, Fred comes running toward him, dragging the nearly comatose Daphne in hand-
F: Mr. Stone! Mr. Stone!
S: Yes?
F: Fred Jones. Film producer and director extrordinare. Been following your adventures for a good while. Could I possibly interest you in making an appearance on camera for posterity?
S: If you really knew about me, Mr. Jones, you'd know I decline appearances on public mediums. I don't like exposure.
F: Are you suuuuure?
-Fred shoves Daphne into Stone's arms. He looks at her with the eye of a professional medical examiner-
S: What's wrong with her? This is Daphne Blake, isn't it? Have some gum, Ms. Blake.
-Stone produces a stick of gum, and moves Daphne's jaw in a chewing motion. Within seconds, Daphne is back on her feet, fully coherent and really pissed off-
D: What the hell just happe...Philo Stone!
-She faints in his arms-
S: I'll need to give her two pieces next time.
F: Mr. Stone? If you're not interested in air time, perhaps you could just give me your autograph.
S: I suppose that would be all right.
F: Just sign on the dotted line.
S: Wait, what is this? This is a model release contract. Mr. Jones, I would strongly suggest you don't attempt to con me. I've seen your tactics on your show. That "Let's go gang" business is not going to work on me. In case you need a reminder, allow me to inform you of my associates.
-Stone gives Fred a business card-
F: Howie, Screwem, and Howel. GULP
-Fred begins to back away, and slips in the mud facefirst-
S: Oh dear, let me help you, Mr. Jones.
F: Thanks, Mr. Stone.
L: Whoah. Stone doesn't like Fred. Maybe he really is perfect.
AHA! SO PHILO STONE HAS ARRIVED, AND THE PHLATULENT PHANTOM HAS MADE ANOTHER APPEARANCE! WHAT ADVENTURE WILL ENSUE NOW? AND JUST WHAT IS IN THAT GUM THAT STONE GAVE TO DAPHNE? WILL RED FIGURE OUT WHAT IS GOING ON AT THE LODGE? AND WILL RHETT EVER COME BACK TO SCARLET? IF YOU WISH TO KNOW, TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT, AND READ THE SEQUEL TO GONE WITH THE WIND!
-Everyone in the lodge, sleepy eyed and groggy, lumbers out to the airstrip to see the famed Philo Stone. While everyone is transfixed on the incoming plane, Loki, Shaggy, and Scooby have sneaked down to the edge of the swamp. Loki holds a lit cigarette in the palm of his hand-
Sc: Rhat rare rou roing rith ry rigarrette?
L: If Stone is coming, he most likely knows about the weed. We have to find it before he does and hide it until he goes. Now, SEEK.
-The cigarette levitates above Loki's palm, and points toward the west end of the lake-
Sh: All right! Let's go get it!
L: Hold on.
-The cigarette begins to move eastward.
L: It's moving!
-The cigarette begins to spin around rapidly and snuff out-
L: What could have caused that? That's a lot of disturbance.
Sh: Say, is that a plane overhead?
-The plane is coming closer.closer.closer.it's right over them.It's going over.past them.gone-
L: Wha?
Red: He's heading toward the power plant!
L: Power Plant?
Red: He's coming back!
L: AH FUCK!
Red: No wait! He's passing over again! I don't think he saw the strip!
L: Keep going, Stone! You don't see the strip! Damn you, Force! Cloud his mind!
-Just as Stone's plane is about to pass by again, a second plane, a small two-seater bi-wing, comes from nowhere. It is zooming straight at Stone's plane.
Red: Buzz! NO!
L: Don't do that! Not the tail! Aim for the cockpit!
-Buzz's plane smashes in Stone's, ripping his tail section off. Stone starts careening to the ground, and Buzz crashes into a tree. A blond figure can be barely seen wrenching on the controls.
Dalton: He's gonna crash!
Mike: He's gonna die!
L: Nah, knowing that bastard Stone he'll probably fly that plane sideways between that clump of trees right in front of the airstrip, bob under those power lines, and come to a perfect landing missing every one of those 29 potholes on that 200 foot dirt strip, and.Say everybody! I'll give twenty to one odds that Stone makes a perfect three-point landing without disturbing even the dust.
Da: I'll take that!
M: Me too!
R: And me!
-Everyone in the Lodge has bet against Stone, save for Shaggy and Scooby, who are collecting the money amongst the crowd. Within a minute, Loki has collected 3000 dollars-
L: Now everybody, let's see how this goes down! With me winning of course.
-Stone's plane turns sideways, narrowly squeezing through the small gap between the trees, twists back upright just in time to under the power lines over the strip, and taxis over the dirt, missing every pothole, and comes to a halt an inch and a half from the Lodge-
L: Who'd have thought he could be so useful.
-Everyone is staring gawk-eyed at what has just happened. Loki quickly stuffs Shaggy and Scooby's too large share of the take to them and shoves the rest in his pocket. A blond head covered with World War I aviator goggles pops up from the cockpit. A massive body wrapped in a bomber jacket and parachute pants springs lithely from the tiny pit, and in a display of expert gymnastic precision, twists upside down and is held suspended by the powerful arms holding it aloft from the sides of the cockpit. Stone dips down deeply, and ejects himself skyward with a fantastic thrust into the air. He tucks and performs a triple twisting backflip before landing solidly in his feet. His strong posture and rather silly costume would make anyone else save Robert Redford look gay, but on him it works very well in all his Aryan glory-
Sh: Fantastic. Adolf Hitler's wet dream.
He takes in his surroundings, lingering for a moment on the huge satellite dish that seems to have appeared on the Mystery Machine-
-Inside the Mystery Machine, Fred is seated in the back in front of a console with multiple television screens. Several are running footage he has collected with his camcorder. Others are showing rooms inside Possum Lodge-
F: Ahh, excellent. Now that I have pirated the signal from Red's cameras, I have full view of everything that happens in the Lodge! And this satellite link-up will transmit my footage to any recipient anywhere in the world! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! My art shall finally get the respect and appreciation it deserves!
D: (Still in LaLa Land in the front seat) Mr. Pixie, can you see into the future, too?
F: I wonder how much I can get for her on the white slave trade. Maybe Sheik Mozambique still has an opening.
D: Look, it's the Sasquatch!
F: Daphne, there's no such thing as a Sasqua...(A hairy figure runs past the van into the woods)...I'll be damned. I'll get that on film later. First, I need to call the Shiek.
PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT
F: What is that noise? I can't create with all these distractions!
-Behind the van, in the swamp, a small barge carrying a half ton of marijuana is passing by. It's motor is running very rough and choppy, making farting noises-
PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT PUTT PUTT PUTT BRAP FFFT
-The Phlatulent Phantom, in its emaciated skeletal form and noxious green glow, is piloting the barge to a new location. The Phantom is wearing red and green suspenders-
-Back on the airstrip, the sound of Stone's engine winding down drowns the out of the sound of the passing barge-
Stone: So who here is Red Green?
R: That would be me.
S: Pleasure to meet you, sir. I've heard a lot about your show.
R: Good things I suspect.
S: ...Yup, heard a lot.
R: So what are you doing here Mr. Stone? Business or pleasure?
S: Business, actually. I've gotten word of some fraudulent activities occurring throughout Succotash County, and I've managed to narrow most of the activities to this place as a source. Would you mind if we spoke privately, Mr. Green?
R: I suppose so, but it'll have to be when I'm not busy filming my show.
S: Of course. At your earliest convenience. I wouldn't want to disrupt an entire film crew on...the...job...Say, I don't see anything set up for a film shoot.
R: This is a special setup. I have cameras strategically placed throughout the grounds. I collect an improvised, artistically liberal, completely natural and free-flowing menagerie of zaniness.
S: Then it's kind of like "Big Brother", in which a group of socially rejected and otherwise useless layabouts make whores of themselves to the camera, and waive all personal rights to privacy, and engage in brutal internal conflicts for the hollow and obviously transparent entertainment value of a spiritually dead audience that clings desperately to their hometown roots to commence in equally vicious and ultimately pointless battles with others who would otherwise have no reason to quarrel.
R: Ummm...essentially right, except for the audience fighting over us.
L: Except for disagreeing on what channel to watch other than you!
S: I know that voice! Who is that?
-Harold comes running around the corner of the Lodge. He dripping wet and smelling like a swamp, and is wearing a knee-high galosh on one leg. He runs right up to Stone and pumps his hand vigorously-
H: How do you do, Mr. Philo Stone. Harold Green. The gawky, over eager, and overly sensitive voice of sanity, moderation, and political correctness of Possum Lodge. And the most innocent person you'll find within miles.
BEEP BEEP
-A UPS truck has pulled into the Lodge parking gravel space. The driver sticks his head out the window-
Driver: Hey Yo! I've got a dual pick-up and delivery for a Harold Green! Drop-off from Faceless Minion Henchman Attire and a pick-up for land mines and anti-aircraft guns for the Guerilla Militia of Taiwan!
H: (Completely stunned) Ummmm...uh...Go around the back, you fool! Away from all the witnesses! BWAHAHEEHOHE..cough cough...I still can't do it! Please excuse me, Mr. Stone. I have some...completely non-criminal things to do.
-Harold runs off and trips on his galosh-
L: Harold! You could run better if you took off that suspiciously familiar and urine stained knee-high galosh!
S: Loki! I thought I recognized your voice!
L: Ah shit.
S: How are you? I didn't expect to see you here.
L: Oh, nothing special. I'm just here to partake on Harold's excellent hash...browns. Yes, hash browns. He's a very good cook. What brings you here to extremely backwater area of Earth?
S: I've received word that there has been highly suspicious activity coming from this county. There have been numerous accounts of insurance fraud for one, and recently there has been a great of weapons trafficking coming from around here. Technically, the show that gets made here should be considered a crime, but that's for the censors to decide.
L: What led you here?
S: I was flying over the County area, seeing if I could find any leads. When I passed over the swamp, I saw a nuclear power plant set up on the north side. The location was odd enough, but the power lines coming from it led only to this lodge.
L: Only here, ay?
S: Yes. In fact, they led to an outhouse situated behind the lodge. I suspect it's an entrance to a secret base. Then, when I came in to land, some nutjob came out of nowhere and tore off my tail.
L: Hmm. That would explain why the outhouse has up and down elevator buttons. I thought someone was playing a cruel joke. So you haven't heard anything about the drugs?
S: No. What drugs?
L: Rugs. As in floor mats. I've seen some of the merchandise that gets made by these people. It's horribly atrocious.
S: Can't be worse than what comes out of those sweat shops I've busted. Anyhow I need to get down to busi...Mr. Norville Rogers! It's an absolute honor to meet you! Loki, I never knew you had celebrity contacts!
L: Huh?
Sh: What?
S: I've been an admirer of you for some time, Mr. Rogers. Perhaps if you can find the time, we can chat and discuss your exploits over coffee. I'll buy, of course. I'd love to hear your take on your escapades. And this must be the famous Scoobert! How are you, you big puppy?
-Stone scratches Scooby behind the ear. Scooby's eyes start to flutter like he's about to orgasm-
S: What's this? Looks like I have a Scooby snack for you!
-Stone produces a Scooby Snack from his jacket pocket. Scooby eats it and shoots into the air like a rocket, and floats back down to earth-
Sc: Ri rove rou, Rister Rone.
S: That really is amazing. That's the best ventriloquism work I've ever seen. I never saw your lips move, Mr.Rogers.
-Stone starts toward the Lodge with Red-
L: There! You see what I mean? That is the most sickening display of false flattery I've ever seen! It disgusts even me!
Sh: Loki, I was fully prepared to hate that Stone, but I can't help but like him.
Sc: RIKE rim?
L: What the dog said. LIKE him?
Sc: Ri ROVE rim!
L: OH NO!!! Not again!
-From behind the lodge, a yelling nasal voice can be heard-
H: Roman Centurion Costumes? What is this? The Guide to Successful Super Villainy specifically states to never clothe one's minions in overly elaborate and completely outdated fashions that are obviously ripped off from historically inaccurate films! ESCPECIALLY when said costume is a mini- skirt on a man!
L: Someone bought my book!
-Before Stone can get inside the Lodge, Fred comes running toward him, dragging the nearly comatose Daphne in hand-
F: Mr. Stone! Mr. Stone!
S: Yes?
F: Fred Jones. Film producer and director extrordinare. Been following your adventures for a good while. Could I possibly interest you in making an appearance on camera for posterity?
S: If you really knew about me, Mr. Jones, you'd know I decline appearances on public mediums. I don't like exposure.
F: Are you suuuuure?
-Fred shoves Daphne into Stone's arms. He looks at her with the eye of a professional medical examiner-
S: What's wrong with her? This is Daphne Blake, isn't it? Have some gum, Ms. Blake.
-Stone produces a stick of gum, and moves Daphne's jaw in a chewing motion. Within seconds, Daphne is back on her feet, fully coherent and really pissed off-
D: What the hell just happe...Philo Stone!
-She faints in his arms-
S: I'll need to give her two pieces next time.
F: Mr. Stone? If you're not interested in air time, perhaps you could just give me your autograph.
S: I suppose that would be all right.
F: Just sign on the dotted line.
S: Wait, what is this? This is a model release contract. Mr. Jones, I would strongly suggest you don't attempt to con me. I've seen your tactics on your show. That "Let's go gang" business is not going to work on me. In case you need a reminder, allow me to inform you of my associates.
-Stone gives Fred a business card-
F: Howie, Screwem, and Howel. GULP
-Fred begins to back away, and slips in the mud facefirst-
S: Oh dear, let me help you, Mr. Jones.
F: Thanks, Mr. Stone.
L: Whoah. Stone doesn't like Fred. Maybe he really is perfect.
AHA! SO PHILO STONE HAS ARRIVED, AND THE PHLATULENT PHANTOM HAS MADE ANOTHER APPEARANCE! WHAT ADVENTURE WILL ENSUE NOW? AND JUST WHAT IS IN THAT GUM THAT STONE GAVE TO DAPHNE? WILL RED FIGURE OUT WHAT IS GOING ON AT THE LODGE? AND WILL RHETT EVER COME BACK TO SCARLET? IF YOU WISH TO KNOW, TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT, AND READ THE SEQUEL TO GONE WITH THE WIND!