A/N: Nearly an hour was supposedly trimmed from the 1989 film "UHF" for its theatrical release. Let's pretend this was another part cut for not being funny enough. Then again, maybe we don't have to pretend this isn't funny enough…

If you click on the book art you'll see what an "HD" picture looked like back in the day if you didn't have your antennae pointed just right. If you young folk don't know about TV antennae (and why should you?) you can Google it.

Cancel Hunger

"Good evening…zzshshffp" the sound blared from the small television set as the weak television station's signal drifted – much like the attention span of most of the staff of UHF 62. Art Fingleblat twisted the rabbit ear antennae atop the set until the fuzzy static became a fuzzy picture instead. The sound, however, was clear.

"…like I was saying, tonight U-Sixty Two is proud to present this evening's episode of 'Town Talk with George' and we have a special treat – not only are we doing it outside the studio, we're going out of town!" the host announced. For some unexplained reason, a paper airplane was stuck into the side of the man's big fuzzy hair. "We're going to…" he continued as he pulled the airplane out of his hair, unfolded it, and read from the paper "…Sphinkter County for a very special program. As you know, hunger is a real problem. It makes you thin, cranky, and you could even die from it if it lasts long enough. There are any number of institutions in a large city that come together to use your tax dollars to give out big blocks of cheese and slightly stale break. But what do country folk do? Today, we'll find out! Stay tuned to see where I went earlier today."

...

The scene changed and the host, George Newman, was filmed as he walked down a sidewalk. There were a few small shops on either side of the street. "We're in the town of Arse, population 302." A shot rang out from somewhere nearby. "Um, 301. It's your typical small country community, which just happens to be located in the South. Folks here are like everywhere really," he said as he crossed the street. Behind him a man was running, trying to hold up his overalls while a woman in curlers chased him with a frying pan. "They work, go to church, and attend school until at least the fifth grade. And like all communities, they too have members that suffer from hunger. But we've found a unique way that the community reaches out to it's less fortunate, those who are overlooked by not only the Publisher's Clearinghouse Giveaway but government programs as well due to being part of too small a voting block to receive attention and handouts. Does this town care about these people? As they say here, 'You bet your Arse they do.' And I've heard them say it!"

He walked to the front lawn of a church and joined a short line of people leading to a table. "This town has no traffic lights, no police department, the nearest grocery store is twenty miles away, and they live for one week every year without water when the man who owns the pump goes to Florida to visit family - but what it does have is heart. And Foie gras during hunting season. The most fortunate members of the area move away instead of helping, but the moderately fortunate who can't move have banded together to give of themselves. Excuse me ma'am, are you hungry?" he asked a small elderly woman in the line behind him.

"Yes."

"It's even worse than I feared - I can feel your pain. At least I think it's yours. And you sir?" George asked the man in front of him.

"I'm so hungry, I'm famished," the 400 pound man replied as he brushed cookie crumbs off his shirt.

George wiped a tear from his eye. "There you have it, America. Hunger comes in every color, sex, and...er...size. If we are to remain as a great country, we must seek out those who yearn for love, a kind word, and maybe a can of beans. This country has more food than the rest of the world combined, if you don't count China and maybe India. Food is everywhere! Our challenge is getting into the hands - and eventually the stomachs - of those in need." By this time those in front were done and George moved up to the table.

"Excuse me," George addressed the two men at the table "my name is George Newman, I'm doing a video on hunger in our country and I've heard the way you address the issue in your town is a little different. May I watch and film as you disperse your love and caring to your neighbors? I'm sure that it will have a profound effect on all ten of my viewers, and hopefully an advertiser or two."

"Not at all!" one man answered. "I'm Phil Conrad, and this is my cousin Mac Conrad. When we were growing up, there were times when our family didn't have enough to eat. I swear, if it weren't for the kindness of a couple of neighbors we might not have made it through that horrible winter of '77. I always vowed that one day I'd pay that help back, and that's how this whole thing started. We have a drive where we gather food - mostly cans but we're not picky - and other staples from those folks who can afford it and give it to those who can't. We call it CANcel Hunger."

"It's touching. It's sweet. Is it tax deductible?" George asked.

"Who files taxes?" Mac said with a laugh, and Phil joined in.

"I know I don't," George agreed. "Let's get some footage for the show," he said as he and the cameraman stepped aside. "We can edit out those tax comments later. Here's someone we talked to earlier." The older lady walked up to the table.

"Hello, Mrs. Greenshaw. How's the lumbago?" Phil asked.

"Oh, it died along with the pole beans when those aphids came through. I need something to tide me over until the 'taters are ready."

"Certainly ma'am, I know you wouldn't want to eat them when they're green," Mac said as he turned around and reached into several boxes behind him. Phil had opened a shopping bag on the table and held it while Mac turned back. "Let's see - this week we got some canned peas, canned corn, Mr. Simpers got a bumper crop of apples and we even have some olives."

"Oh, bless you boys," she replied in gratitude.

"Oh, and don't forget the ammo. I think you've still got your late husband's .22 rifle, isn't that right?" Mac asked.

"Sure do. Sam would roll over in his grave if I ever got rid of that - he gave it to me for a wedding gift."

"I understand. Here, take this box of rounds. That should be good enough to bag a few squirrels and maybe an opossum." Mac slipped the box into the bag and Phil handed it to the woman.

"Thank you boys. See you next week." The lady trundled off, much happier.

"Still won the senior shootin' tournament this year even at 87," Phil mused.

The man seen earlier running with the overalls was the next person. He had a definite frying pan-sized knot on the side of his head. "Howdy, Phil. Hey, Mac."

"Greg? Whatcha doin' here?" Phil asked.

"I kinda lost the grocery money playing quarters after work yesterday. Wanda's a bit sore about it."

"She's not the only one sore," Mac joked as he pointed to the knot.

"She wouldn't have caught me if it weren't for tripping over my clothes tryin' to get away," he admitted.

"Well, we can't have Wanda and you starvin' until your next paycheck. Mac, let's help 'em out."

"Sure thing, Phil." Mac rummaged around in the boxes and brought out a few things. "We got lots of canned peas from that freight car that derailed, and go ahead and take these tomatoes before they spoil. Here's a couple rolls of toilet paper too in case any of those peas have gone off. Now, you're gonna need some meat...here's a box of .308 to go after that wild boar that chased Wanda last month." The bag of goods got handed over.

"Thanks fellas. Wanda's got a couple a bottles of homemade barbecue sauce still, I'll invite y'all over when I bring that Sooie home." Greg walked away whistling, swinging the bag joyfully with one hand while still holding up his coveralls with the other.

The last man in line came up and was a bit gaunt, younger and with a slight limp. He carried a bag with him. "How ya doin' guys."

"Alan. What's up?" Phil asked.

"Got some things I though you guys might give away," Alan said as he put the bag on the table. He pulled out several cans of pork and chicken. "I may be hungry, but you know I don't eat nothin' that walks on land. I reckon someone else could use these even if I won't."

"That's mighty kind of you," Mac replied. "I think we got something that can help you out." He dug out some of the canned peas, the last can of beets, and what looked like a bottle of beer that had the label torn off. "Can't tell if it's regular or lite, but it's yours. Oh, and take this. I think you know what to do with it." He added a couple of sticks of dynamite into the bag and handed it over. Alan shook hands with the cousins and left.

"Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish and he eats if he works hard at it..." said Phil.

"...but give that man a stick of dynamite and he'll get enough fish for a week all in one go," Mac finished.

"This is certainly a unique approach to solving hunger," George said after they were alone. "I can honestly say I've never seen anything...quite...like it."

"There's food all around," Mac said as they started to pack things up. "The trick is getting it."

"Growing food is wonderful, but it takes a long time and you have to make sure critters don't get it," Phil added as he folded the legs on the table to put it away. "What do you use to scare off varmits?"

"I don't."

"How do you eat what you grow?"

"I don't grow anything. I shop in a grocery store."

"Well, I guess that's city livin' for ya. I hear tell they still get big rats there though. What do you shoot 'em with?" Mac asked.

"I don't know…a camera? I don't own a gun."

Both cousins froze in their tracks and looked at each other before Phil managed to asked, "No gun?"

"No."

"No rifle?"

"No."

"No handgun?"

"No."

"Not even a BB gun?"

"NO!"

"Boy, we're gonna have to fix you up. Mac, break out the emergency kit," Phil said quickly.

George tried to protest with a weak "Wait..." but it was too late.

...

The scene on the television shifted again and now George Newman was back in the studio. He was strapped with a shoulder holster, shooting glasses and one could see a perforated target hanging on the wall in the background. "And with that, we at U Sixty Two announce that next week we're starting on a new show in our lineup - 'George's Gunhouse'. Tune in Monday for our 'The Desert Eagle - is it enough?' premier episode, right after our new show 'Elvis never bought me a Cadillac'. Until then," he said as he blew imaginary smoke away from the barrel of a very real .44 "I'll keep you in my sights." The scene faded and was replaced with an ad for Spatula City.

The End

A/N: While visiting in California, I drove past a line of people one morning waiting for a food pantry giveaway. My Arkansas town doesn't really have something like that (except for the obligatory holiday offering) and I started thinking how I've found things a just a LITTLE bit different here. So why not make it a LOT different?

For the record, I've had wild animals eat a small fig tree I was trying to grow, but at least they didn't get my tomatoes after I put a fence around them.