(Music plays and the audience bursts into cheers, the curtains are pulled
aside to reveal an elaborate stage. Billy Crystal comes bouncing down a set
of stairs to down stage-center before people start cheering)
Crystal: Welcome... To the first annual Amarantus Awards!! I'm your host for tonight, because... well, I'm an award show whore. Addicted, really, and Rosie O'Donnell wouldn't do it.
(He dives headlong into a song-and-dance number complete with costumes, an orchestra, and back-up dancers and singers... that lasts about four minutes longer than the average person's attention span.. then disappears to eat ritz crackers an canned cheese for the rest of the show) (Ryan Phillipe and Reese Witherspoon wander onto the stage)
Phillipe: While we're married in real life... Witherspoon: .. and will remain that way despite the hundreds of death threats I receive daily.. You are fourteen. You couldn't possibly earn enough money to hire a hit man! and cyanide is NOT sold at the Family Dollar... Phillipe: Sometimes we have to step aside and give credit to other couples, where credit is due. Witherspoon: So, we're here to present the award for Best Couple. You all voted, you sent in your ballot.. and the winner is.... Jadenloche and Topaz!
(The presenters hand over the award and leave the stage. Enter Pamela Anderson, or whatever she's called now-a-days)
Anderson: While I'm known all around the world for my stunning mind, awe- inspiring brain, and knowledge full head, sometimes it takes more than that to succeed. Like fake boobs. But this next award goes to one girl who doesn't need silicon to be noticed, just her picture. The award for Best Female Avatar goes to.. Penelope!
(After handing over the award, she jogs off the stage Baywatch-style, a breast popping right out of her low-cut top right before she reaches the offstage platform) (Enter George Clooney)
Clooney: While its no mystery that I'm hot. And gorgeous. And left ER because weekly doses of my beautiful face was giving the people too much of what they wanted, apparently some of you think that this guy's picture is more desirable than mine. Well, that's okay.. that's fine. I'll just go make another multi-million dollar film. I'm the one getting the fan mail, I'm the one with the giant mansion, I-- I'm presenting the award for Best Male Avatar. And the winner is.. oh, good. Lookit that. Azel!
(The award is handed over and the new presenter, Hugh Jackman, takes the stage. Clooney, however, remains standing just behind the podium. An argument ensues between men, nearly coming to blows before security steps in and escorts the biting and kicking George Clooney from the stage.) (Clearing his throat, Jackman steps up to the microphone.)
Jackman: I've been a superhero, a prince charming from the past, and among other things, a computer hacker employed by a goatee'd John Travolta. Who really, -really- needed a comeback movie after Battlefield Earth, because frankly that movie should have been shot down on the cutting room flo-- What I mean to say is that from my experience playing a hacker, I know what effort it takes to break into a site. This website, however, is one I wouldn't wish to destroy. The award for Best Website goes to.. The Amarantus.
(The Award is given out, and there is audible shuffling coming from backstage. The shouting and clammer grows louder and suddenly, an irate George Clooney bursts onto the stage, ramming himself headfirst into Hugh Jackman. Jackman hits the stage with an audible thud, microphone and podium alike tumbling to the stage floor. Fists fly and the two go at it with the sound of flesh-hitting-flesh and the random grunts of fighting men. Clooney rears a hand back, swinging a closed fist right into Jackman's face, the latter's nose splitting open, the man falling back, sprawled out and motionless.) (Clooney rises to his feet, straightening out his tie- the only fully intact item left of his expensive suit. He swipes a fist across his mouth, smearing blood over his face, then bends down to pick up the fallen microphone.)
Clooney: Take that, bitch! Who's the sex symbol NOW?? (He spits over toward Hugh, dabbing his tie at his bleeding mouth. Turns back to the audience.) Clooney: The award for Most Desired Fight goes to Warlock versus Kayura.
(George Clooney stumbles off the stage and a pair of stagehands scurry forth to drag the limp Hugh Jackman from the audience view. Stepping over Jackman's body, George Carlin walks up to the microphone.)
Carlin: I've done a lot of things on stage in my time, but never before an awards show... Cockclitdamnbitchasscuntshitfucktwat. The award to the most True-to-Life goes to Alyson.
(He leaves after handing out the award. In steps Monica Lewinsky, wearing the infamous stained dress.)
Lewinsky: I know a lot of you think I'm a slut and that I'll sleep with anyone, but well, America... that's just not true. I have standards, you know! I have morals! For instance, I won't sleep with anyone before the first of a month, nor will I do it on days ending in 'e'. And the men I sleep with have to meet certain expectations! Like money. And cars. And fame. And the ability to get me on a top-rate news show with Barbara Walters. But this award goes to the person without those inhibitions... The winner of the Lewinsky Award is.. Alex.
(She heads off stage, passing by the next presenter on her way. In the blink of an eye, the two disappear offstage.. the infamous dress is flung into sight as well as several unmentionables. A couple of minutes pass by, and the occasional moan or cry is heard by the audience. The moment the crowd begins to get impatient, however, Risq emerges on the stage and strolls to the microphone, dragging a nude Lewinsky along by the ankle.)
Risq: Me big. Me bad. My award to Valor.
(He gives a caveman grunt, pounds his chest, then lumbers back off stage, still pulling Lewinsky in tow.) (A wide-eyed Britney Spears hurries onto the stage, glancing back toward Risq's exit and adjusting her bra.)
Spears: I was asked to be on this award show, and I was reluctant at first. I mean, really.. I'm not sure this award is a positive thing. I mean, really.. is it a good thing to be a closet slut? Does it have something to do with a shoe stash, or-or having like.. lots of closets? But I decided to do it, cause I wanted to be able to speak out to the public. First of all... my boobs are real, okay? I would never, ever have implants put in, cause they're unnatural. Second of all, sex is bad. I would never, ever do it before marriage, cause that's unnatural. And second of all, I think I'm a great role model to kids. I would never put out a bad image, cause that's just bad. And unnatural. So, without further undo... my award goes to Victoria.
(She blows kisses at the cameras, winks, then dances to the backstage area. Enter Winona Ryder, wearing a lovely black dress with a matching handbag and diamond earrings. The price tags for most of her wardrobe are clearly visible.)
Ryder: Um, so yeah. Stealing is bad, and I know that now. I mean, I knew it before of course! But anyway... I'm here to give out The Ravnos Award. And it goes to.. Pandora!
(Ryder smiles cutely then heads off stage quickly, high-pitched squeal of feedback issuing out over the audience as the microphone and stand go off with her. A call comes from the opposite end of the stage, and a balding man with a shirt reading "Stage Manager" bolts across the set. He snatched the microphone from Ryder and after a brief tug-of-war, pries it from her sticky fingers. Winona Ryder stares at the Manager, then quickly bolts out of the place. The microphone is put back and the show continues.)
(Enter Kevin Costner.)
Costner: While my agent, rather then myself, is ultimately to blame for my lack of decent acting roles, the winner of this next category can't sympathize. They have such good representation that they can be found basically everywhere, at every time. Damn them. Damn them to hell... otherwise known as the Waterworld set. The winner of The Nos award... aw, great. It's a tie. Antinio Giovanni and Leslie.
(Grumbling, Costner wanders off stage, feet shuffling. In comes Anne Heche.)
Heche: I'm known around this country for changing my mind. The public thinks whatever I want them to think, and the media is my pawn. First I'm a good actress, then I suck. First I'm gay, then I'm not. But right now, while I've got your attention, I'd like to apologize to Ellen.. I'm sorry things didn't work out between us. You're a good woman... NOT! See what I did, there? I made you all think what I wanted you to think. And this award goes to another person who does just that. The Setite- best manipulator- goes to.. me! Not! Hahaha... I did it again! It goes to.. Divaan!
(Cackling deviously, Anne Heche wanders off of the stage. From offstage, there is a clatter. Suddenly, several metal folding chairs are thrown onto the stage, clinking and clanking as they hit the stage floor. All is silent for a moment before the speakers burst to life with the cords of electric guitars and heavy drums. The Rock, Edge, Chris Benoit, and Eddie Guererro all enter. )
Rock: Finally... The Rock.. HAS COME BACK... to the Amarantus. Benoit: Hey, hey, man... shut up for once and let someone else- Rock: Shut up, you candy ass jabronie. Guerrero: C'mon, essay... Le's jus' announce dese awards, no? Edge: I'm cool. And hot. And I had a part in Highlander: Endgame. Rock: The Rock doesn't care. The ROCK is here to announce The Rock's award. Guerrero: Essay, you don' have no awaaaard. Benoit: And really, man.. that whole talking in third person thing is getting old. Edge: I don't talk much. Look at my cooool shades. Benoit: Nobody wants to see your shades. Guerrero: Latino HEAT! Edge: (Whispers) You think you know me... (Drops down onto all fours, flicking his tongue around at the audience) Rock: The Rock- Benoit: Shut UP! Rock: (Turns to Benoit, trademark brow lofted.) Know your role... Benoit: This award goes to the best storyline. It's called The Artiste an- Rock: And shut your mouth! IF YOU SM- Benoit: And it goes to... The Brujah Plot with Warlock, Kayura- Rock: ELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL- Benoit: Natsu, Miskar- Rock: LLLLL LLLL LLLL LLLL Benoit: Charlotte, Acayla- Rock: WHAT THE ROCK- Benoit: and Egypt!! Rock: IS COOKIN'
(Rolling his eyes, Guerrero comes up behind The Rock with one of the chairs, but before he can use it Edge rises from his crouch and charges, ramming a shoulder into Guerrero's stomach. Guerrero goes flying off of the award stage. Benoit dives at Edge and the two go at it for a while.. The Rock wanders over and plucks Benoit off of Edge, tossing him off of the stage. Benoit's arms and legs still flail, punching at the air as he flies through the air, landing on top of Guerrero. Hit, Latin Heat returns a few shots, he and Benoit nothing but a mass of hurled arms and legs. Snickering behind their hands, Edge and The Rock leave the stage.)
(Enter Stephen Dorff)
Dorff: Though I've done many movies, the only one I seem to be known for is Blade. Come on, people. Really. Now I'm stuck presenting the Best Brooder award? That's very good for my career. Watch it take off after this! Thank you so, so much Amarantus people. Thank you Jen. Seriously. This will definitely get me away from the sulky vampire type-casting. So, here's the winner-- Jadenloche. You're welcome.
(Frowning, he leaves. Arnold Schwartzeneggar lumbers in, moving over to the microphone. He tries to adjust it to the correct height, staring at it in confusion when the entire stand snaps in half. A stage hand rushes out quickly, swapping in a new mic and stand and doing the adjusting himself. Arnold pats the man on the shoulder and the stagehand's knees buckle. He crawls off of stage.)
Arnold: I was aasked to b' on dis show to-night, and I agreed. B'cause I am da Scvartzeneggar, und I am curren'ly ou' of work. Dee vinner of ze' Brujah award ist Davis.
(He strolls off stage, knocking the next presenter over with a renegade arm. The girl, Colleen Haskell, rises and hurries out to the microphone, primping her hair.)
Haskell: Um, hi everyone. I'm Colleen Haskell from the first episode of Survivor- a hit television show. I was also in The Animal. I was told this job, um.. pays. So, you know.. I said okay. Plus, I'm cute. I don't know what Assamite is, but.. that's this award. Am I saying it right? Ass-am- ite? Okay, so the winner is Aris. If I stay on stage longer, does that mean I get paid more? ...No? Okay, I didn't think so..
(She giggles and half-skips off the stage. Arm-in-arm with Freddie Prince Jr, Sarah Michelle Gellar appears on the stage.)
Gellar: On Buffy, I play a super-hero girl who saves her city time after time again. And while my character would hardly be welcomed here at the Amarantus, I'm still a pretty nice person. No, really. You people are just very, very biased because most of you play vampires. Freddie: I'm just here to smile and look good. Gellar: The award I'm giving out goes to the nicest girl on the block- Miss Congeniality. And the winner is... Aphrodite! Freddie: Mighty, mighty...
(The two wander put of sight, holding hands. Michael Jackson slides out from the wings, hand at his crotch as he gives a little turn.)
Jackson: WOO! How ya'll doin' tonight? Its so good to be here, announcing the Boy Next Door Award. And I know that each and every nominee for this category deserves some.. recognition. Cause I've met them all, and to the guys that don't win it.. Come see me tonight, and I'll uh.. give you the recognition you deserve. The winners are.. Trent Moore and Jason.
(Jackson waits for the winners to come accept their awards from him, and he waits for quite a while. And when neither winner comes forward, his coy smile drops and he sulkingly moonwalks off of the stage.) (Accompanied by pop-type music, Samuel L. Jackson struts pimp-style onto the stage, his outfit complete with sunglasses. Oddly, the same style sunglasses as Edge wore earlier in the night.)
Samuel: Hey, there you people of the Amarantus! I am Samuel L. Jackson. You may remember me from such hit movies as Pulp Fiction and Star Wars: Episodes 1 and 2. I played the smooth purple lightsaber-weilding Jedi Master Mace Windu. I also play Shaft, because I -am- the man. An' I'm here to give out the award for the baddest muthafucka in this here hotel. Ya'll voted an' decided, an' the winner is.. Warlock. Can ya dig it?
(Looks out at the audience over the top of his "cool" style shades then strolls of the stage. Rachel Blanchard takes his place by the microphone, a leashed and yapping poodle following at her heels.)
Blanchard: Like, hi everyone. I know the award I'm supposed to be giving out is like, the Alicia Silverstone, but like.. no one knows where she went to. So, I guess whoever running this thing, like.. thought I was the next pick! Cause, you know.. like, I played Cher on the Clueless tv show and, like, she played Cher on the Clueless movie, and like.. we both played Cher! But, like.. I heard once that she thought that SHE was the better Cher, and -I- said, well like.. if that's true, then why wasn't she on the tv show too. And then, she was like, in that movie.. Excess Baggage? and, I mean, her outfits were so heinous! -She- thought they were like, so in style, and I was like "As if!" But of course there is just -no- talking to someone with such a big ego like that-
(From off stage, the exaggerated sound of someone clearing their throat is heard. Rachel looks over, stares blankly a moment, then the metaphorical lightbulb flashes on over her head.)
Blanchard: Oh! Right. So, like.. the Clueless Mortal Alicia Silverstone Award goes to Hope. Wait- is that right? H-o-p-e?
(She looks from side, giving all the stage hands waiting backstage a puzzled glance. When no answer comes, she giggles dumbly then starts off stage, not getting far before she walks right into the still-fallen podium and stumbles over it face-first, blond hair and designer bag flying. The poodle, startled, begins to yip at the sprawled Blanchard, little jaws clamping down on an edge of the purse. Squealing, Blanchard scrambles to her feet, shouting "Fluffy!" at the dog who now dangles from the bag by its teeth. A stagehand rushes forward from the wings, grabbing up the dog in one arm and ushering Blanchard off the stage, alternatingly petting both the actress and the poodle's heads.) (To the sounds of Scottish bagpipes, Sean Connery strolls forth from the offstage platform, clad in a kilt.)
Connery: 'ello, Amarantush. I am Sean Connery. I am... Scottish. With a shekshy akshent. I am Bond, James Bond- Shaken, not stirred. There'sh a new James Bond around here, that panshy-ash Pierce Broshnan, but no one can compare to me. I... am God. And it sheems my competition is this... Kay- thon-ick fellow. Let me tell you shomething, Mistah. Watch your back... there'sh not enough space 'ere for the both of ush.
(With an indignant huff, Connery leaves to the same Scottish tune. Looking rather annoyed, Jen moves onto the stage, waving at someone to follow. With a puzzled expression, Jeri Ryan- practically poured into her Seven of Nine costume- wanders into the light.)
Jen: Okay, Blake. Here you go... I told you I'd include her. You're welcome!
(Jen, smirking, trudges off the stage to leave Jeri Ryan standing there. The woman glances around, brow raised.)
Ryan: Hello? Hellooo? What am I supposed to be doing?
(When no one answers, she begins to grow irritated.)
Ryan: Someone answer me. I was told there was money involved here... There had better be money involved.
(Still no one answers. A timer goes off somewhere behind stage and Jen pops her head out.)
Jen: Alright, thanks Ms. Ryan. Your presence is much appreciated. There are refreshments in the dressing room.
Ryan: And money?
Jen: And money.
(Sighing in exasperation, Jeri Ryan hurries back out of sight.) (In step Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes, the latter holding something in his hand that gives off a constant stream of smoke.)
Mewes: Mmm, hey man, how's it goin', yo? So, man... we were asked to do this shiz-nit, and like, we asked where it was first, cause you know... gotta make sure the shit's premium around here. So, when that short chick said New York, I 'mediately thought NEW YOOORK! But then, you know.. Kev here didn't want to do it for nothing, and I thought we could maybe ask for.. you know.. (points to his crotch, grinning like a fool.) I mean, my friend here.. (motions to Kevin) he doesn't really care, he's more of a-
Smith: God, man. Will you just shut up? What drugs are you on?
Mewes: Uhh... maaan, hard question! Good thing I wrote it down.
(Digging into the pockets of his baggy pants, he pulls out a piece of paper that just seems to keep going and going. By the time its all out, the list is longer than Jason is tall. He squints and starts reading.)
Mewes: Let's see here... uhh... alright... um..
(Scowling, Kevin Smith snatches the paper from Jason's hand and balls it up, stuffing it down Mewes' shirt.)
Smith: I am so sick and tired of being "silent" while you stand there and act like a fucking idiot. Who wrote Chasing Amy, Dogma, and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back? Who's got a comic strip? Who got the shit load of actors and actresses to make cameos in the movies? ME, okay? ME. I did all the work while you stood there like the stoner you are! Jen asked us to come here, and I agreed, because it was the NICE thing to do. You've seen her, and you know... not a lot of people would do favors for a girl like that. (A female voice shouts from just offstage: "HEY!!") Sorry. What I meant was, you always make me out to be the badguy! I'm tired of trying to please you, so you know what? Forget it!
(Kevin Smith storms from the stage, leaving Jason Mewes alone. After a moment, Jason bursts out laughing and drops his cigarette to the stage, snuffing it out with the heel of his shoe.)
Mewes: Alright, man.. Finally the stage to myself! The winner of the Best Freeform Development is.. Lostrus.
(Puffing from his cig, Jason Mewes clears himself from the stage. Jen walks out backwards from just offstage, dragging a bottle of booze along on a string and coaxing out the next presenter. Like a dog to a bone, Justin Achilli scrambles out after it. Once he notices the audience, he straightens up, flashing Jen an icy glare.)
Achilli: See? This is why I don't like talking to you obsessive goth peop-
Jen: Uhhh.. I'm not goth.
Achilli: Shut up.
Jen: Oookay!
Achilli: Fuck. Where was I?
Jen: Obsessive goth people.
Achilli: Oh. Right. Why are you still here?
Jen: My show.
Achilli: Damn it.
Jen: Got that right... Enough chat! Present the freaking award.
Achilli: Yeah, whatever. Okay, so you Amarantus people think you're so great with the writing and the developing. Well, you know what? I wrote half the rules you fuckin go by, so I don't want to hear about your damn creativity. This guy on this paper here is supposed to have the best White Wolf character developing. Lasombra? With the dark hair and the dark eyes, right? Been done, posers. Use your imaginations! But fine.. fine! This is a vote, and my opinion-
Jen: -isn't worth much in this situation.
Achilli: So the winner is Black.
Jen: Mmmmhm.
(Snickering, Jen starts off the stage, pulling the beer bottle along with her. Justin grumbles and heads off in the opposite direction, muttering "Nice name" under his breath.) (Soon after, Barbara Walters is pushed in by a pair of stage hands, seated on one of those rolling desk chairs.)
Walters: Tonight.. on the Amarantus Awards... I am presenting the Fly on the Wall award. This award... goes to a girl, or should I say woman, who deserves it more than once. It goes to the characters of Raven Vonshean. Let us recall that fateful day oh, so many years ago, when this... lovely young woman graced us all with her roleplaying presence. As its been proven night and night again, her intelligence far outweighs her ability to create character after memorable character. Now, we honor Raven Vonshean. Thank you.
(The stagehands begins to push her away, but remembering something, she grabs the microphone again.)
Walters: Oh, and to Monica Lewinsky... please stop calling me. Please.
(Finally, Barbara Walters exits. With a hoot and a holler, in runs Kirsten Dunst in full Bring it On costume, backed up by a team of other costumed girls.)
Dunst: Ready girls? Okay!
All: We're pretty, with grace! We dominate this place! Like vampies, who cares? Hello, our faces are upstairs! We're perky, we're cute! You'll almost want to shoot! You hate us cause we're hyper, well then we don't like you either! We're cheerleaders. We are cheerleaders! We irritate, we aggravate, we smile at your frown! We imitate, initiate, you'll brighten when you're down! You scowl at us, you flash your teeth, you do just what you may! But now there's more, we've settled score, you cannot get away! Our newest recruit is full of pep to boot! She's pretty, boys stare! She's got plenty perk to spare! We-
(Suddenly from offstage runs Michael Jackson. The girls' chanting stops mid- verse and they all go scurrying away from the mad pop star. He makes mighty grabs at the girls, but the stage clears quickly. Grumbling, Michael wanders back off and Dunst runs back into the light to grab the microphone.)
Dunst: SERENA!
(She hurries back off before Michael Jackson can reappear.) (A kitchen counter is moved in shortly after on wheels. On it rests bowls and baskets fulls of various objects- purple sequins, tomatoes, Indian corn, duct tape, a screw driver set, popsicle sticks, and a hot glue gun. Soon after, Martha Stewart moves forth and takes her place behind the counter.)
Stewart: Hello, I'm Martha Stewart, and welcome to my award show. Let's get started, shall we? First, make sure that you've got all the ingredients set out in front of you so you don't have to stop in the middle of the project. I always love to be well organized, and if you're the messy type, then.. change. Alright.. so, first off we set out the tomatoes in a row. Horizontal, of course, because making a vertical line with them is wrong. Next, we pick up the screwdriver- flat-head preferably, but a phillips head will do. Now we hold the screwdriver point-down over the tomatoes... then we stab them. Just stab them.
(She begins furiously thrusting the metal through the tomatoes, juice and general tomatoey gore flying everywhere.)
Stewart: Now, I like to imagine the head of a talk show host on these as I pulverize them, but you can substitute it for the faces of media spokes people, network executives, or pesky accusations of insider trading.
(As Martha Stewart speaks, a stage hand with a walkie-talkie wanders onto the light.)
Stage Hand: Um.. uh, excuse me Ms. Stewart? I know you've got a very clever craft project to show people tonight, but.. this ceremony's beginning to reach Oscar lengths, so do you think you could skip it and just announce the winner?
(Blinking, Martha looks up from the tomatoes challengingly.)
Stewart: Skip it?
Stage Hand: Uh, yes ma'am. Please... If you don't mind...
Stewart: Let me tell you something, you ungrateful moronic beast--
(Martha's grip on the screwdriver tightens and she moves out from behind the counter. Her shoulders hunch forward and her voice becomes a deep grumble, a pair of horns thrusting from the woman's scalp, fingernails lengthening to sharp talons. As the now-terrified stage hand looks on, Stewart's face begins to shift, eyes becoming sunken, mouth a perpetual snarl. A breeze picks up in the building and the lights flicker madly.)
Stewart: You listen here! You scurry about with your pathetically short life, doing what you're told every single day!Your feeble mind cannot COMPARE to my genius, and yet you DARE to tell me what to do? Mark my words, you incompetent WHELP! Soon enough the world will buckle under the tightening grip of my power, and the earth's resources will be mine! I have slaved away upon this world for CENTURIES now, serving my Dark Master's every wishes! He has bestowed upon me many evil gifts to reward my service! WORSHIP ME! For I can turn STRAW into GOLD! Bow down and kiss my tastefully bland shoes! Nay, your mouth is unworthy for such a task! The day will come when my DARK MASTER RISES from the pits of hell and takes this earth as his! Rivers will boil and the ground will SPLIT OPEN and the stupid vermin like YOU will be swallowed WHOLE!
(She begins to work into a flurry, sequins and popsicle sticks flying everywhere, a wind whipping through the building as the poor stage hand looks on in horror. After minutes of this crazy craftiness, Stewart stops. She's once again eerily calm with the same shallow personality as always.)
Stewart: (smiling faintly and holding up the Bipolar Award itself) And here it is. How did yours turn out? Well, I hope. And the winner of this prestigious award is Kali.
(The counter and Stewart herself are carted off the stage while a staff psychologist rushes forth to lead the stage hand off.. and get him a new pair of pants.) (The next two presenters wander onto the stage- Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt.)
Roberts: Originally, the plan had been to get Richard Simmons here to present his own award.
Pitt: Buut, then it was decided that this category's already got its share of scares, and since this isn't the last award to be given out, it would be best to keep the audience in their seats.
Roberts: Brilliant plan, so of course the show direc-
(High pitched hoots interrupt from the wings, and for a moment it seems that Michael Jackson has returned. But as the dreaded sound nears, its quite clear its someone entirely different... yet none less frightening. Richard Simmons itself.) (Roberts and Pitt look at one another, before their and all the audience members' eyes turn to face the stage exit. The only sound is that of a thousand eyes blinking.)
Pitt: Well, it seems he just made me a liar.
(Simmons begins to do jumping jacks and summer-saults across the stage, not quite having reached the podium yet, but slowly working his way there) (High pitched squeal as Pitt covers the microphone while he and Roberts mutter and shuffle papers.)
Simmons: Are you ready to get this awards show moving?
(Said in his high pitched, over-enthusiastic, caffeine-addicted voice. Again, the sound of blinking can be heard)
Simmons: Just as I thought! We need to get those juices flowing people. Come on, people, work it!
(Somewhere, an estranged, long forgotten oldies hit begins to play. Simmons in his bright pink tank top, grandma shorts, and headband begins to jump up and down.) (Roberts takes her hand from the microphone, and holds up a dull orange pharmaceutical bottle)
Pitt: C'mere, Richard. Look what we have for you!
(Said in that cutesy voice often used when attempting to coax a dog into action. Showing interest with a only a look, Simmons continues to bounce up and down.)
Pitt: Richard, it's your favorite! Sed- (Looks over at Julia, whispers) What the hell do you expect me to do with sedatives?......... Simmons, It's your favorite medicine! C'mon Richy, you know you want them.
(Richard's pace slows slightly and to encourage him, Pitt shakes the bottle to prove there is something inside of it. Richard starts squealing like a kid on Christmas day and claps his hands together.)
Pitt: Go get it!
(Hurls the container across the stage. Richard scurries after it. Behind stage, scuffling is heard, as well as much shrieking. Julia gives Pitt an evil look and runs after her pills)
Pitt: The winner of the Richard Simmons Award is Adrian E/ Mr. Stitch.
(Flashing the audience a grin, he then walks off stage, carrying the microphone with him.)
(The sound of trumpets playing a familiar tune sounds out from the speakers- dundun dun dun.. duuuuuuuun... dundundun duuuun dun dundundun duuuun dun dundundunduuuun.{For you slow people, or the unworthy who have not seen any of the now FIVE episodes, this is the Star Wars opening theme.} By the time it changes to "doot da doot da doot da doot da doooooooot", Natalie Portman, Hayden Christianson, and Ewan McGregor stroll forth to grace the stage.)
Portman: While I was discovered in a pizza parlor, the poor girl who runs this show had to resort to actually writing herself a part in a fict-
McGregor: Shh!! Just, read from the script, okay? Did you see her backstage??
Portman: Good point...
Christianson: In Sta-
Portman: In Star Wars, we three play good guys in addition to Sam who presented an award earlier.
McGregor: He, apprently, thinks he's too good for u-
Portman: We intercede in behalf of the innocents, whether its our business-
Christianson: Or-
Portman: Or not.
Christianson: Hey! Will you quit it? You keep taking m-
Portman: So, I suppose its only appropriate that we present the Superman Award tonight.
Christianson: And cutting me off!
Portman: I was born in Jerusalem.
Christianson: Hey, who're are the new episodes about, huh?
Portman: And discovered in a pizza parlor.
Christianson: I turn really evil!
Portman: My movie The Professional, that I starred in with Gary Oldman, was what really clenched my role in Star Wars.
Christianson: I am Darth Vader!!
Portman: I star in all three episodes.
Christianson: You DIE in the third!
McGregor: Hey, hey! Quit it... I survive for a long time after.
Christianson: I kill you in the original movie!
McGregor: You die a lonely old man!
Christianson: You LIVE a lonely old man!
McGregor: I am played by acting legend Alec Guiness!
Christianson: He's dead! My voice is played by James Earl Jones!
Portman: The winner of the Superman Award is..
Jen: (glancing out) Hey, I thought Lucas was coming too...
McGregor: He used to stutter!
Portman: Topaz!
Jen: He was supposed to come...
(Still arguing, the three wander off the stage.)
Jen: My plan!! Damn it...
(Grumbling, Jen disappears backstage again.) (In steps Noah Wylie and Goran Visnjic.)
Wylie: Goran and I have a lot in common with each other both in and out of the characters that we play on ER.
Visnjic: We both play doctors, we both work at the same fake hospital, and both of us have played Hamlet both in and out of character.
Wylie: So, I guess that was why we were chosen to present this award. Either that, or because.. well, from what I've seen backstage, they need someone on hand who knows CPR.
Visnjic: So, without further ado.. as this show's grow almost three times its expected size... The winner of The Hamlet Award is Semele.
(The both walk calmly off of the stage. After they're out of sight, the crooning sounds of overly loud electric guitars rings out across the open space.. In dances Hulk Hogan, tearing the shirt off his chest as he reaches the microphone.)
Jen: (a mutter from offstage) Why'd he take it off...? I asked him not to take it off... Nobody wants to see it off...
Hogan: I wan't told much about dis award here, brotherrrrrrrrrrrr... But I'm alone to present it. Hollywood Hogan.. has been round The Rock too much. The wiiiinneerrrr of the Hoogan Awarrrrd isss.. Rosessss, brotherrrrrrrrrrrr. Snap into a Slim Jim! Ohhh yeeeeeeah...
(Wiping cracker crumbs from his face and his suit, Billy Crystal re-emerges from the darkness backstage. He doesn't even wait for Hogan to leave before he takes the microphone.. and opening his mouth to speak, he lets out a long burp.)
Crystal: Oh! Excuse me.. That was a good one, too. Alright, so that's it for the-
(Pushing people aside, a tall figure- Boba Fett- clad completely in beat up green {Mandalorian} armor crosses the stage to Crystal and Hogan.)
Fett: Where's Jen?
(Blinking, the two point a finger offstage.)
Hogan: Over there, brotherrrrrrrrrrrr...
(Nodding, Fett turns toward the indicated direction and heads off with a chink of metal.)
Jen: (voice from offstage) Oh, shi-- SNITCH! (Much scuffling is heard as well as many opening and closing doors.)
Crystal: That's it for us at the Amarantus Awards. Congrats to all the winners! Good night.
(Roll Credits.)
Crystal: Welcome... To the first annual Amarantus Awards!! I'm your host for tonight, because... well, I'm an award show whore. Addicted, really, and Rosie O'Donnell wouldn't do it.
(He dives headlong into a song-and-dance number complete with costumes, an orchestra, and back-up dancers and singers... that lasts about four minutes longer than the average person's attention span.. then disappears to eat ritz crackers an canned cheese for the rest of the show) (Ryan Phillipe and Reese Witherspoon wander onto the stage)
Phillipe: While we're married in real life... Witherspoon: .. and will remain that way despite the hundreds of death threats I receive daily.. You are fourteen. You couldn't possibly earn enough money to hire a hit man! and cyanide is NOT sold at the Family Dollar... Phillipe: Sometimes we have to step aside and give credit to other couples, where credit is due. Witherspoon: So, we're here to present the award for Best Couple. You all voted, you sent in your ballot.. and the winner is.... Jadenloche and Topaz!
(The presenters hand over the award and leave the stage. Enter Pamela Anderson, or whatever she's called now-a-days)
Anderson: While I'm known all around the world for my stunning mind, awe- inspiring brain, and knowledge full head, sometimes it takes more than that to succeed. Like fake boobs. But this next award goes to one girl who doesn't need silicon to be noticed, just her picture. The award for Best Female Avatar goes to.. Penelope!
(After handing over the award, she jogs off the stage Baywatch-style, a breast popping right out of her low-cut top right before she reaches the offstage platform) (Enter George Clooney)
Clooney: While its no mystery that I'm hot. And gorgeous. And left ER because weekly doses of my beautiful face was giving the people too much of what they wanted, apparently some of you think that this guy's picture is more desirable than mine. Well, that's okay.. that's fine. I'll just go make another multi-million dollar film. I'm the one getting the fan mail, I'm the one with the giant mansion, I-- I'm presenting the award for Best Male Avatar. And the winner is.. oh, good. Lookit that. Azel!
(The award is handed over and the new presenter, Hugh Jackman, takes the stage. Clooney, however, remains standing just behind the podium. An argument ensues between men, nearly coming to blows before security steps in and escorts the biting and kicking George Clooney from the stage.) (Clearing his throat, Jackman steps up to the microphone.)
Jackman: I've been a superhero, a prince charming from the past, and among other things, a computer hacker employed by a goatee'd John Travolta. Who really, -really- needed a comeback movie after Battlefield Earth, because frankly that movie should have been shot down on the cutting room flo-- What I mean to say is that from my experience playing a hacker, I know what effort it takes to break into a site. This website, however, is one I wouldn't wish to destroy. The award for Best Website goes to.. The Amarantus.
(The Award is given out, and there is audible shuffling coming from backstage. The shouting and clammer grows louder and suddenly, an irate George Clooney bursts onto the stage, ramming himself headfirst into Hugh Jackman. Jackman hits the stage with an audible thud, microphone and podium alike tumbling to the stage floor. Fists fly and the two go at it with the sound of flesh-hitting-flesh and the random grunts of fighting men. Clooney rears a hand back, swinging a closed fist right into Jackman's face, the latter's nose splitting open, the man falling back, sprawled out and motionless.) (Clooney rises to his feet, straightening out his tie- the only fully intact item left of his expensive suit. He swipes a fist across his mouth, smearing blood over his face, then bends down to pick up the fallen microphone.)
Clooney: Take that, bitch! Who's the sex symbol NOW?? (He spits over toward Hugh, dabbing his tie at his bleeding mouth. Turns back to the audience.) Clooney: The award for Most Desired Fight goes to Warlock versus Kayura.
(George Clooney stumbles off the stage and a pair of stagehands scurry forth to drag the limp Hugh Jackman from the audience view. Stepping over Jackman's body, George Carlin walks up to the microphone.)
Carlin: I've done a lot of things on stage in my time, but never before an awards show... Cockclitdamnbitchasscuntshitfucktwat. The award to the most True-to-Life goes to Alyson.
(He leaves after handing out the award. In steps Monica Lewinsky, wearing the infamous stained dress.)
Lewinsky: I know a lot of you think I'm a slut and that I'll sleep with anyone, but well, America... that's just not true. I have standards, you know! I have morals! For instance, I won't sleep with anyone before the first of a month, nor will I do it on days ending in 'e'. And the men I sleep with have to meet certain expectations! Like money. And cars. And fame. And the ability to get me on a top-rate news show with Barbara Walters. But this award goes to the person without those inhibitions... The winner of the Lewinsky Award is.. Alex.
(She heads off stage, passing by the next presenter on her way. In the blink of an eye, the two disappear offstage.. the infamous dress is flung into sight as well as several unmentionables. A couple of minutes pass by, and the occasional moan or cry is heard by the audience. The moment the crowd begins to get impatient, however, Risq emerges on the stage and strolls to the microphone, dragging a nude Lewinsky along by the ankle.)
Risq: Me big. Me bad. My award to Valor.
(He gives a caveman grunt, pounds his chest, then lumbers back off stage, still pulling Lewinsky in tow.) (A wide-eyed Britney Spears hurries onto the stage, glancing back toward Risq's exit and adjusting her bra.)
Spears: I was asked to be on this award show, and I was reluctant at first. I mean, really.. I'm not sure this award is a positive thing. I mean, really.. is it a good thing to be a closet slut? Does it have something to do with a shoe stash, or-or having like.. lots of closets? But I decided to do it, cause I wanted to be able to speak out to the public. First of all... my boobs are real, okay? I would never, ever have implants put in, cause they're unnatural. Second of all, sex is bad. I would never, ever do it before marriage, cause that's unnatural. And second of all, I think I'm a great role model to kids. I would never put out a bad image, cause that's just bad. And unnatural. So, without further undo... my award goes to Victoria.
(She blows kisses at the cameras, winks, then dances to the backstage area. Enter Winona Ryder, wearing a lovely black dress with a matching handbag and diamond earrings. The price tags for most of her wardrobe are clearly visible.)
Ryder: Um, so yeah. Stealing is bad, and I know that now. I mean, I knew it before of course! But anyway... I'm here to give out The Ravnos Award. And it goes to.. Pandora!
(Ryder smiles cutely then heads off stage quickly, high-pitched squeal of feedback issuing out over the audience as the microphone and stand go off with her. A call comes from the opposite end of the stage, and a balding man with a shirt reading "Stage Manager" bolts across the set. He snatched the microphone from Ryder and after a brief tug-of-war, pries it from her sticky fingers. Winona Ryder stares at the Manager, then quickly bolts out of the place. The microphone is put back and the show continues.)
(Enter Kevin Costner.)
Costner: While my agent, rather then myself, is ultimately to blame for my lack of decent acting roles, the winner of this next category can't sympathize. They have such good representation that they can be found basically everywhere, at every time. Damn them. Damn them to hell... otherwise known as the Waterworld set. The winner of The Nos award... aw, great. It's a tie. Antinio Giovanni and Leslie.
(Grumbling, Costner wanders off stage, feet shuffling. In comes Anne Heche.)
Heche: I'm known around this country for changing my mind. The public thinks whatever I want them to think, and the media is my pawn. First I'm a good actress, then I suck. First I'm gay, then I'm not. But right now, while I've got your attention, I'd like to apologize to Ellen.. I'm sorry things didn't work out between us. You're a good woman... NOT! See what I did, there? I made you all think what I wanted you to think. And this award goes to another person who does just that. The Setite- best manipulator- goes to.. me! Not! Hahaha... I did it again! It goes to.. Divaan!
(Cackling deviously, Anne Heche wanders off of the stage. From offstage, there is a clatter. Suddenly, several metal folding chairs are thrown onto the stage, clinking and clanking as they hit the stage floor. All is silent for a moment before the speakers burst to life with the cords of electric guitars and heavy drums. The Rock, Edge, Chris Benoit, and Eddie Guererro all enter. )
Rock: Finally... The Rock.. HAS COME BACK... to the Amarantus. Benoit: Hey, hey, man... shut up for once and let someone else- Rock: Shut up, you candy ass jabronie. Guerrero: C'mon, essay... Le's jus' announce dese awards, no? Edge: I'm cool. And hot. And I had a part in Highlander: Endgame. Rock: The Rock doesn't care. The ROCK is here to announce The Rock's award. Guerrero: Essay, you don' have no awaaaard. Benoit: And really, man.. that whole talking in third person thing is getting old. Edge: I don't talk much. Look at my cooool shades. Benoit: Nobody wants to see your shades. Guerrero: Latino HEAT! Edge: (Whispers) You think you know me... (Drops down onto all fours, flicking his tongue around at the audience) Rock: The Rock- Benoit: Shut UP! Rock: (Turns to Benoit, trademark brow lofted.) Know your role... Benoit: This award goes to the best storyline. It's called The Artiste an- Rock: And shut your mouth! IF YOU SM- Benoit: And it goes to... The Brujah Plot with Warlock, Kayura- Rock: ELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL- Benoit: Natsu, Miskar- Rock: LLLLL LLLL LLLL LLLL Benoit: Charlotte, Acayla- Rock: WHAT THE ROCK- Benoit: and Egypt!! Rock: IS COOKIN'
(Rolling his eyes, Guerrero comes up behind The Rock with one of the chairs, but before he can use it Edge rises from his crouch and charges, ramming a shoulder into Guerrero's stomach. Guerrero goes flying off of the award stage. Benoit dives at Edge and the two go at it for a while.. The Rock wanders over and plucks Benoit off of Edge, tossing him off of the stage. Benoit's arms and legs still flail, punching at the air as he flies through the air, landing on top of Guerrero. Hit, Latin Heat returns a few shots, he and Benoit nothing but a mass of hurled arms and legs. Snickering behind their hands, Edge and The Rock leave the stage.)
(Enter Stephen Dorff)
Dorff: Though I've done many movies, the only one I seem to be known for is Blade. Come on, people. Really. Now I'm stuck presenting the Best Brooder award? That's very good for my career. Watch it take off after this! Thank you so, so much Amarantus people. Thank you Jen. Seriously. This will definitely get me away from the sulky vampire type-casting. So, here's the winner-- Jadenloche. You're welcome.
(Frowning, he leaves. Arnold Schwartzeneggar lumbers in, moving over to the microphone. He tries to adjust it to the correct height, staring at it in confusion when the entire stand snaps in half. A stage hand rushes out quickly, swapping in a new mic and stand and doing the adjusting himself. Arnold pats the man on the shoulder and the stagehand's knees buckle. He crawls off of stage.)
Arnold: I was aasked to b' on dis show to-night, and I agreed. B'cause I am da Scvartzeneggar, und I am curren'ly ou' of work. Dee vinner of ze' Brujah award ist Davis.
(He strolls off stage, knocking the next presenter over with a renegade arm. The girl, Colleen Haskell, rises and hurries out to the microphone, primping her hair.)
Haskell: Um, hi everyone. I'm Colleen Haskell from the first episode of Survivor- a hit television show. I was also in The Animal. I was told this job, um.. pays. So, you know.. I said okay. Plus, I'm cute. I don't know what Assamite is, but.. that's this award. Am I saying it right? Ass-am- ite? Okay, so the winner is Aris. If I stay on stage longer, does that mean I get paid more? ...No? Okay, I didn't think so..
(She giggles and half-skips off the stage. Arm-in-arm with Freddie Prince Jr, Sarah Michelle Gellar appears on the stage.)
Gellar: On Buffy, I play a super-hero girl who saves her city time after time again. And while my character would hardly be welcomed here at the Amarantus, I'm still a pretty nice person. No, really. You people are just very, very biased because most of you play vampires. Freddie: I'm just here to smile and look good. Gellar: The award I'm giving out goes to the nicest girl on the block- Miss Congeniality. And the winner is... Aphrodite! Freddie: Mighty, mighty...
(The two wander put of sight, holding hands. Michael Jackson slides out from the wings, hand at his crotch as he gives a little turn.)
Jackson: WOO! How ya'll doin' tonight? Its so good to be here, announcing the Boy Next Door Award. And I know that each and every nominee for this category deserves some.. recognition. Cause I've met them all, and to the guys that don't win it.. Come see me tonight, and I'll uh.. give you the recognition you deserve. The winners are.. Trent Moore and Jason.
(Jackson waits for the winners to come accept their awards from him, and he waits for quite a while. And when neither winner comes forward, his coy smile drops and he sulkingly moonwalks off of the stage.) (Accompanied by pop-type music, Samuel L. Jackson struts pimp-style onto the stage, his outfit complete with sunglasses. Oddly, the same style sunglasses as Edge wore earlier in the night.)
Samuel: Hey, there you people of the Amarantus! I am Samuel L. Jackson. You may remember me from such hit movies as Pulp Fiction and Star Wars: Episodes 1 and 2. I played the smooth purple lightsaber-weilding Jedi Master Mace Windu. I also play Shaft, because I -am- the man. An' I'm here to give out the award for the baddest muthafucka in this here hotel. Ya'll voted an' decided, an' the winner is.. Warlock. Can ya dig it?
(Looks out at the audience over the top of his "cool" style shades then strolls of the stage. Rachel Blanchard takes his place by the microphone, a leashed and yapping poodle following at her heels.)
Blanchard: Like, hi everyone. I know the award I'm supposed to be giving out is like, the Alicia Silverstone, but like.. no one knows where she went to. So, I guess whoever running this thing, like.. thought I was the next pick! Cause, you know.. like, I played Cher on the Clueless tv show and, like, she played Cher on the Clueless movie, and like.. we both played Cher! But, like.. I heard once that she thought that SHE was the better Cher, and -I- said, well like.. if that's true, then why wasn't she on the tv show too. And then, she was like, in that movie.. Excess Baggage? and, I mean, her outfits were so heinous! -She- thought they were like, so in style, and I was like "As if!" But of course there is just -no- talking to someone with such a big ego like that-
(From off stage, the exaggerated sound of someone clearing their throat is heard. Rachel looks over, stares blankly a moment, then the metaphorical lightbulb flashes on over her head.)
Blanchard: Oh! Right. So, like.. the Clueless Mortal Alicia Silverstone Award goes to Hope. Wait- is that right? H-o-p-e?
(She looks from side, giving all the stage hands waiting backstage a puzzled glance. When no answer comes, she giggles dumbly then starts off stage, not getting far before she walks right into the still-fallen podium and stumbles over it face-first, blond hair and designer bag flying. The poodle, startled, begins to yip at the sprawled Blanchard, little jaws clamping down on an edge of the purse. Squealing, Blanchard scrambles to her feet, shouting "Fluffy!" at the dog who now dangles from the bag by its teeth. A stagehand rushes forward from the wings, grabbing up the dog in one arm and ushering Blanchard off the stage, alternatingly petting both the actress and the poodle's heads.) (To the sounds of Scottish bagpipes, Sean Connery strolls forth from the offstage platform, clad in a kilt.)
Connery: 'ello, Amarantush. I am Sean Connery. I am... Scottish. With a shekshy akshent. I am Bond, James Bond- Shaken, not stirred. There'sh a new James Bond around here, that panshy-ash Pierce Broshnan, but no one can compare to me. I... am God. And it sheems my competition is this... Kay- thon-ick fellow. Let me tell you shomething, Mistah. Watch your back... there'sh not enough space 'ere for the both of ush.
(With an indignant huff, Connery leaves to the same Scottish tune. Looking rather annoyed, Jen moves onto the stage, waving at someone to follow. With a puzzled expression, Jeri Ryan- practically poured into her Seven of Nine costume- wanders into the light.)
Jen: Okay, Blake. Here you go... I told you I'd include her. You're welcome!
(Jen, smirking, trudges off the stage to leave Jeri Ryan standing there. The woman glances around, brow raised.)
Ryan: Hello? Hellooo? What am I supposed to be doing?
(When no one answers, she begins to grow irritated.)
Ryan: Someone answer me. I was told there was money involved here... There had better be money involved.
(Still no one answers. A timer goes off somewhere behind stage and Jen pops her head out.)
Jen: Alright, thanks Ms. Ryan. Your presence is much appreciated. There are refreshments in the dressing room.
Ryan: And money?
Jen: And money.
(Sighing in exasperation, Jeri Ryan hurries back out of sight.) (In step Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes, the latter holding something in his hand that gives off a constant stream of smoke.)
Mewes: Mmm, hey man, how's it goin', yo? So, man... we were asked to do this shiz-nit, and like, we asked where it was first, cause you know... gotta make sure the shit's premium around here. So, when that short chick said New York, I 'mediately thought NEW YOOORK! But then, you know.. Kev here didn't want to do it for nothing, and I thought we could maybe ask for.. you know.. (points to his crotch, grinning like a fool.) I mean, my friend here.. (motions to Kevin) he doesn't really care, he's more of a-
Smith: God, man. Will you just shut up? What drugs are you on?
Mewes: Uhh... maaan, hard question! Good thing I wrote it down.
(Digging into the pockets of his baggy pants, he pulls out a piece of paper that just seems to keep going and going. By the time its all out, the list is longer than Jason is tall. He squints and starts reading.)
Mewes: Let's see here... uhh... alright... um..
(Scowling, Kevin Smith snatches the paper from Jason's hand and balls it up, stuffing it down Mewes' shirt.)
Smith: I am so sick and tired of being "silent" while you stand there and act like a fucking idiot. Who wrote Chasing Amy, Dogma, and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back? Who's got a comic strip? Who got the shit load of actors and actresses to make cameos in the movies? ME, okay? ME. I did all the work while you stood there like the stoner you are! Jen asked us to come here, and I agreed, because it was the NICE thing to do. You've seen her, and you know... not a lot of people would do favors for a girl like that. (A female voice shouts from just offstage: "HEY!!") Sorry. What I meant was, you always make me out to be the badguy! I'm tired of trying to please you, so you know what? Forget it!
(Kevin Smith storms from the stage, leaving Jason Mewes alone. After a moment, Jason bursts out laughing and drops his cigarette to the stage, snuffing it out with the heel of his shoe.)
Mewes: Alright, man.. Finally the stage to myself! The winner of the Best Freeform Development is.. Lostrus.
(Puffing from his cig, Jason Mewes clears himself from the stage. Jen walks out backwards from just offstage, dragging a bottle of booze along on a string and coaxing out the next presenter. Like a dog to a bone, Justin Achilli scrambles out after it. Once he notices the audience, he straightens up, flashing Jen an icy glare.)
Achilli: See? This is why I don't like talking to you obsessive goth peop-
Jen: Uhhh.. I'm not goth.
Achilli: Shut up.
Jen: Oookay!
Achilli: Fuck. Where was I?
Jen: Obsessive goth people.
Achilli: Oh. Right. Why are you still here?
Jen: My show.
Achilli: Damn it.
Jen: Got that right... Enough chat! Present the freaking award.
Achilli: Yeah, whatever. Okay, so you Amarantus people think you're so great with the writing and the developing. Well, you know what? I wrote half the rules you fuckin go by, so I don't want to hear about your damn creativity. This guy on this paper here is supposed to have the best White Wolf character developing. Lasombra? With the dark hair and the dark eyes, right? Been done, posers. Use your imaginations! But fine.. fine! This is a vote, and my opinion-
Jen: -isn't worth much in this situation.
Achilli: So the winner is Black.
Jen: Mmmmhm.
(Snickering, Jen starts off the stage, pulling the beer bottle along with her. Justin grumbles and heads off in the opposite direction, muttering "Nice name" under his breath.) (Soon after, Barbara Walters is pushed in by a pair of stage hands, seated on one of those rolling desk chairs.)
Walters: Tonight.. on the Amarantus Awards... I am presenting the Fly on the Wall award. This award... goes to a girl, or should I say woman, who deserves it more than once. It goes to the characters of Raven Vonshean. Let us recall that fateful day oh, so many years ago, when this... lovely young woman graced us all with her roleplaying presence. As its been proven night and night again, her intelligence far outweighs her ability to create character after memorable character. Now, we honor Raven Vonshean. Thank you.
(The stagehands begins to push her away, but remembering something, she grabs the microphone again.)
Walters: Oh, and to Monica Lewinsky... please stop calling me. Please.
(Finally, Barbara Walters exits. With a hoot and a holler, in runs Kirsten Dunst in full Bring it On costume, backed up by a team of other costumed girls.)
Dunst: Ready girls? Okay!
All: We're pretty, with grace! We dominate this place! Like vampies, who cares? Hello, our faces are upstairs! We're perky, we're cute! You'll almost want to shoot! You hate us cause we're hyper, well then we don't like you either! We're cheerleaders. We are cheerleaders! We irritate, we aggravate, we smile at your frown! We imitate, initiate, you'll brighten when you're down! You scowl at us, you flash your teeth, you do just what you may! But now there's more, we've settled score, you cannot get away! Our newest recruit is full of pep to boot! She's pretty, boys stare! She's got plenty perk to spare! We-
(Suddenly from offstage runs Michael Jackson. The girls' chanting stops mid- verse and they all go scurrying away from the mad pop star. He makes mighty grabs at the girls, but the stage clears quickly. Grumbling, Michael wanders back off and Dunst runs back into the light to grab the microphone.)
Dunst: SERENA!
(She hurries back off before Michael Jackson can reappear.) (A kitchen counter is moved in shortly after on wheels. On it rests bowls and baskets fulls of various objects- purple sequins, tomatoes, Indian corn, duct tape, a screw driver set, popsicle sticks, and a hot glue gun. Soon after, Martha Stewart moves forth and takes her place behind the counter.)
Stewart: Hello, I'm Martha Stewart, and welcome to my award show. Let's get started, shall we? First, make sure that you've got all the ingredients set out in front of you so you don't have to stop in the middle of the project. I always love to be well organized, and if you're the messy type, then.. change. Alright.. so, first off we set out the tomatoes in a row. Horizontal, of course, because making a vertical line with them is wrong. Next, we pick up the screwdriver- flat-head preferably, but a phillips head will do. Now we hold the screwdriver point-down over the tomatoes... then we stab them. Just stab them.
(She begins furiously thrusting the metal through the tomatoes, juice and general tomatoey gore flying everywhere.)
Stewart: Now, I like to imagine the head of a talk show host on these as I pulverize them, but you can substitute it for the faces of media spokes people, network executives, or pesky accusations of insider trading.
(As Martha Stewart speaks, a stage hand with a walkie-talkie wanders onto the light.)
Stage Hand: Um.. uh, excuse me Ms. Stewart? I know you've got a very clever craft project to show people tonight, but.. this ceremony's beginning to reach Oscar lengths, so do you think you could skip it and just announce the winner?
(Blinking, Martha looks up from the tomatoes challengingly.)
Stewart: Skip it?
Stage Hand: Uh, yes ma'am. Please... If you don't mind...
Stewart: Let me tell you something, you ungrateful moronic beast--
(Martha's grip on the screwdriver tightens and she moves out from behind the counter. Her shoulders hunch forward and her voice becomes a deep grumble, a pair of horns thrusting from the woman's scalp, fingernails lengthening to sharp talons. As the now-terrified stage hand looks on, Stewart's face begins to shift, eyes becoming sunken, mouth a perpetual snarl. A breeze picks up in the building and the lights flicker madly.)
Stewart: You listen here! You scurry about with your pathetically short life, doing what you're told every single day!Your feeble mind cannot COMPARE to my genius, and yet you DARE to tell me what to do? Mark my words, you incompetent WHELP! Soon enough the world will buckle under the tightening grip of my power, and the earth's resources will be mine! I have slaved away upon this world for CENTURIES now, serving my Dark Master's every wishes! He has bestowed upon me many evil gifts to reward my service! WORSHIP ME! For I can turn STRAW into GOLD! Bow down and kiss my tastefully bland shoes! Nay, your mouth is unworthy for such a task! The day will come when my DARK MASTER RISES from the pits of hell and takes this earth as his! Rivers will boil and the ground will SPLIT OPEN and the stupid vermin like YOU will be swallowed WHOLE!
(She begins to work into a flurry, sequins and popsicle sticks flying everywhere, a wind whipping through the building as the poor stage hand looks on in horror. After minutes of this crazy craftiness, Stewart stops. She's once again eerily calm with the same shallow personality as always.)
Stewart: (smiling faintly and holding up the Bipolar Award itself) And here it is. How did yours turn out? Well, I hope. And the winner of this prestigious award is Kali.
(The counter and Stewart herself are carted off the stage while a staff psychologist rushes forth to lead the stage hand off.. and get him a new pair of pants.) (The next two presenters wander onto the stage- Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt.)
Roberts: Originally, the plan had been to get Richard Simmons here to present his own award.
Pitt: Buut, then it was decided that this category's already got its share of scares, and since this isn't the last award to be given out, it would be best to keep the audience in their seats.
Roberts: Brilliant plan, so of course the show direc-
(High pitched hoots interrupt from the wings, and for a moment it seems that Michael Jackson has returned. But as the dreaded sound nears, its quite clear its someone entirely different... yet none less frightening. Richard Simmons itself.) (Roberts and Pitt look at one another, before their and all the audience members' eyes turn to face the stage exit. The only sound is that of a thousand eyes blinking.)
Pitt: Well, it seems he just made me a liar.
(Simmons begins to do jumping jacks and summer-saults across the stage, not quite having reached the podium yet, but slowly working his way there) (High pitched squeal as Pitt covers the microphone while he and Roberts mutter and shuffle papers.)
Simmons: Are you ready to get this awards show moving?
(Said in his high pitched, over-enthusiastic, caffeine-addicted voice. Again, the sound of blinking can be heard)
Simmons: Just as I thought! We need to get those juices flowing people. Come on, people, work it!
(Somewhere, an estranged, long forgotten oldies hit begins to play. Simmons in his bright pink tank top, grandma shorts, and headband begins to jump up and down.) (Roberts takes her hand from the microphone, and holds up a dull orange pharmaceutical bottle)
Pitt: C'mere, Richard. Look what we have for you!
(Said in that cutesy voice often used when attempting to coax a dog into action. Showing interest with a only a look, Simmons continues to bounce up and down.)
Pitt: Richard, it's your favorite! Sed- (Looks over at Julia, whispers) What the hell do you expect me to do with sedatives?......... Simmons, It's your favorite medicine! C'mon Richy, you know you want them.
(Richard's pace slows slightly and to encourage him, Pitt shakes the bottle to prove there is something inside of it. Richard starts squealing like a kid on Christmas day and claps his hands together.)
Pitt: Go get it!
(Hurls the container across the stage. Richard scurries after it. Behind stage, scuffling is heard, as well as much shrieking. Julia gives Pitt an evil look and runs after her pills)
Pitt: The winner of the Richard Simmons Award is Adrian E/ Mr. Stitch.
(Flashing the audience a grin, he then walks off stage, carrying the microphone with him.)
(The sound of trumpets playing a familiar tune sounds out from the speakers- dundun dun dun.. duuuuuuuun... dundundun duuuun dun dundundun duuuun dun dundundunduuuun.{For you slow people, or the unworthy who have not seen any of the now FIVE episodes, this is the Star Wars opening theme.} By the time it changes to "doot da doot da doot da doot da doooooooot", Natalie Portman, Hayden Christianson, and Ewan McGregor stroll forth to grace the stage.)
Portman: While I was discovered in a pizza parlor, the poor girl who runs this show had to resort to actually writing herself a part in a fict-
McGregor: Shh!! Just, read from the script, okay? Did you see her backstage??
Portman: Good point...
Christianson: In Sta-
Portman: In Star Wars, we three play good guys in addition to Sam who presented an award earlier.
McGregor: He, apprently, thinks he's too good for u-
Portman: We intercede in behalf of the innocents, whether its our business-
Christianson: Or-
Portman: Or not.
Christianson: Hey! Will you quit it? You keep taking m-
Portman: So, I suppose its only appropriate that we present the Superman Award tonight.
Christianson: And cutting me off!
Portman: I was born in Jerusalem.
Christianson: Hey, who're are the new episodes about, huh?
Portman: And discovered in a pizza parlor.
Christianson: I turn really evil!
Portman: My movie The Professional, that I starred in with Gary Oldman, was what really clenched my role in Star Wars.
Christianson: I am Darth Vader!!
Portman: I star in all three episodes.
Christianson: You DIE in the third!
McGregor: Hey, hey! Quit it... I survive for a long time after.
Christianson: I kill you in the original movie!
McGregor: You die a lonely old man!
Christianson: You LIVE a lonely old man!
McGregor: I am played by acting legend Alec Guiness!
Christianson: He's dead! My voice is played by James Earl Jones!
Portman: The winner of the Superman Award is..
Jen: (glancing out) Hey, I thought Lucas was coming too...
McGregor: He used to stutter!
Portman: Topaz!
Jen: He was supposed to come...
(Still arguing, the three wander off the stage.)
Jen: My plan!! Damn it...
(Grumbling, Jen disappears backstage again.) (In steps Noah Wylie and Goran Visnjic.)
Wylie: Goran and I have a lot in common with each other both in and out of the characters that we play on ER.
Visnjic: We both play doctors, we both work at the same fake hospital, and both of us have played Hamlet both in and out of character.
Wylie: So, I guess that was why we were chosen to present this award. Either that, or because.. well, from what I've seen backstage, they need someone on hand who knows CPR.
Visnjic: So, without further ado.. as this show's grow almost three times its expected size... The winner of The Hamlet Award is Semele.
(The both walk calmly off of the stage. After they're out of sight, the crooning sounds of overly loud electric guitars rings out across the open space.. In dances Hulk Hogan, tearing the shirt off his chest as he reaches the microphone.)
Jen: (a mutter from offstage) Why'd he take it off...? I asked him not to take it off... Nobody wants to see it off...
Hogan: I wan't told much about dis award here, brotherrrrrrrrrrrr... But I'm alone to present it. Hollywood Hogan.. has been round The Rock too much. The wiiiinneerrrr of the Hoogan Awarrrrd isss.. Rosessss, brotherrrrrrrrrrrr. Snap into a Slim Jim! Ohhh yeeeeeeah...
(Wiping cracker crumbs from his face and his suit, Billy Crystal re-emerges from the darkness backstage. He doesn't even wait for Hogan to leave before he takes the microphone.. and opening his mouth to speak, he lets out a long burp.)
Crystal: Oh! Excuse me.. That was a good one, too. Alright, so that's it for the-
(Pushing people aside, a tall figure- Boba Fett- clad completely in beat up green {Mandalorian} armor crosses the stage to Crystal and Hogan.)
Fett: Where's Jen?
(Blinking, the two point a finger offstage.)
Hogan: Over there, brotherrrrrrrrrrrr...
(Nodding, Fett turns toward the indicated direction and heads off with a chink of metal.)
Jen: (voice from offstage) Oh, shi-- SNITCH! (Much scuffling is heard as well as many opening and closing doors.)
Crystal: That's it for us at the Amarantus Awards. Congrats to all the winners! Good night.
(Roll Credits.)