I was thinking, "He said we could trash the TV." Then, for some reason, I was thinking of the Tycho massdrivers from Cyberpunk 2020, and, well...
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[SCENE: the Elmer Studios apartment. MMK and GAVOK are working just offscreen, in the kitchen, while TBS is standing attentively next to them. TBS hands them tools as requested, producing them from underneath the kitchen counter.]
MMK: Scalpel.
TBS: Scalpel.
GAVOK: Wire cutters.
TBS: Wire cutters.
MMK: TV's Drew Carey.
TBS: TV's Drew Carey.
DREW CAREY: Hello and welcome to "Who's Line Is It Anyway," a show that isn't half as funny in America as it is in--
GAVOK: Mallet.
TBS: Mallet.
[GAVOK knocks DREW CAREY unconscious. LYNX, RACE, REBECCA, and DH1 come onscreen from the left, drinking beers and/or soda.]
DH1: I don't really see what the big deal is. It's just a goofy college 'fic.
LYNX: The big *deal* is that it's really self-absorbed. It's a collection of wacky in-jokes mixed with primordial self-insertion behavior.
TIFF: With some WAFF for flavor.
REBECCA: And angst for spice.
LYNX: Okay, it is really strange, I'll give you that. I mean what was about him killing his mother and what the *fuck* are you people doing?
MMK: Tycho massdriver.
TBS: Tycho massdriver.
[TBS somehow manages to produce an orbital satellite from underneath the kitchen counter. He hands it to MMK.]
REBECCA: Hey! That's mine!
DH1: What were you doing with an orbital rock launcher?
REBECCA: ...eBay?
DH1: Right.
GAVOK: Chemical X.
TBS: Chemical X.
LYNX: I repeat the earlier question.
MMK <leaning onscreen>: We're expressing our displeasure in a creative and healthy fashion.
TIFF: Are you guys qualified nuclear technicians?
GAVOK <from offscreen>: I've never known what I was doing a day in my life, and I'm not going to start now. Black market uranium.
TBS: Black market uranium.
MMK: Bathtub gin.
TBS: Bathtub gin.
MMK: You see, it's really quite simple. We were poking around in the closets and we found a lot of things that are patently illegal and highly destructive.
GAVOK: Battle Nun Arabella action figure.
TBS: Battle Nun Arabella action... figure...
GAVOK: Just hand it over.
TBS: Sorry. Paralyzed with helpless shock.
GAVOK: It'll pass.
MMK: Now, *some* people would call the police, or perhaps the United Nations. *We*, on the other hand... *we* are *artists.*
REBECCA: I'm going to have to do all my Christmas shopping over again, aren't I.
RACE: Who the hell were you shopping for?
REBECCA: Myself.
RACE: ...right.
REBECCA: Look, it's far more palatable if you think of it as "urban renewal" and *not* "blowing up cities that offend me."
RACE: Should you be telling me this?
DH1: You know, guys, we can just leave. That's where we were just now. That's where I got this beer.
MMK: I'm not leaving this unfinished. Corpse of Walt Disney.
TBS: Corpse of Walt Disney.
[RACE, DH1, and LYNX give REBECCA a stern glare.]
REBECCA <innocently>: "Sears" had a sale.
LYNX: So... what are you going to *do* with that... thing?
GAVOK: Sumatran rat monkey.
TBS: Sumatran rat--AH! Damn you, Mr. Bubbles! Damn you to hell!
MMK: Crowbar.
GAVOK: Crowbar.
[MMK pries the monkey off of TBS' face while GAVOK speaks.]
GAVOK: Well, while we were going through the folders marked "Private files," we found this insurance form.
REBECCA: Hey!
GAVOK: Ahem. "All tenants who lease this apartment are responsible for damages incurred."
REBECCA: I repeat myself: Hey!
GAVOK: And MMK said, "Hey. That makes Emerald and Arlieth the 'tenants,' because they leased the apartment."
[MMK shoves the hissing, screaming rat monkey offscreen. There is a distinct "shunt" sound, like someone loading a cannon. The screaming stops suddenly.]
MMK: So 'Vok and I yelled "EXTREEEEME!" and powerbombed Snotter through the coffee table.
TBS: It only hurts if I think about it.
LYNX: *Dude*.
GAVOK: Coal shovel.
TBS: Coal shovel.
MMK: Anyway, so we put together a few things, sent away for the Acme Guide to Gratuitous Violence--
TIFF: You know, I've had a subscription to that since 1973.
GAVOK: I'd figured as much.
DH1: Weren't you born in '79?
TIFF: My parents raised me right. They wanted back issues.
DH1: Mm-hm.
MMK: --and we assembled this little household appliance.
RACE <whispering to DH1>: We break for the door on three. Ready?
DH1 <whispering to RACE>: Sounds good.
MMK: Atomic batteries to power!
GAVOK: Turbines to speed!
[We pan to the right to show MMK and GAVOK, both wearing crash helmets, seated on top of a cannon barrel. The cannon, if one is to extrapolate from its barrel's size, is too big to fit in the apartment. It is emitting a high-pitched whine and shaking. The barrel itself is nearly hidden among a tangle of bird cages, bowling pins, underslung grenade launchers, "Battle Nun Arabella" action figures, TBS, a big rock stuffed hastily into the end of a large spring-loaded platform, the matted corpse of a Sumatran rat monkey, a bunch of handguns welded together at the grip, a PlayStation-2, a boll weevil, most of the appliances in the kitchen, and various other items. The apartment's power browns out.]
[Their target: the Elmer Studios television.]
TIFF: ...madre de Dios.
LYNX: I believe that I may scream like a cheerleader.
REBECCA: I'm somewhere between awe and gutwrenching fear.
GAVOK: Target locked!
MMK: Fries are up!
TBS: Machine that goes "ping" pinging!
[RACE and DH1 hastily excuse themselves without counting.]
GAVOK: You, television... you displease me.
MMK: Is this going to work, Snotter?
TBS: Like *hell*!
MMK: Attaboy! FIRE!
[Fade to white.]
[We fade back in on DH1 and RACE, huddled on the ground in an alleyway outside the Elmer Studios' apartment building. They look up. The apartment building is vaporized from the Elmers' floor and upward, and a swath of destruction cuts across the city leading away from it.]
DH1: ...well. You don't see *that* every day.
RACE: I think we run now.
DH1: Seconded.
[They run off.]
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[Someone else finish this once we figure out how to get people back to Torture Theater for ep. 111.]