Jeff Dunham: Controlled Chaos Page #7

Achmed:
Not for long. Not when she finds out about your many boyfriends. Whore!

JEFF DUNHAM:
Will you please listen to what I'm saying?

Achmed:
I do not talk to whores. You are dead to me.

JEFF DUNHAM:
You're dead to all of us.

(applause and cheering)

JEFF DUNHAM:
So, Achmed...

Achmed:
I'm not listening! La-Ia-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!

JEFF DUNHAM:
Achmed, there's someone here I want you to meet.

Achmed:
(gasps) One of your whore boyfriends? I think not!

JEFF DUNHAM:
No, I think this is someone you would like to see.

Achmed:
(gasps) ls it a woman?

JEFF DUNHAM:
No.

Achmed:
I already have a goat.

JEFF DUNHAM:
This is a surprise guest.

Achmed:
(gasps) Ryan Seacrest?

JEFF DUNHAM:
Nope.

Achmed:
Damn it!

JEFF DUNHAM:
Look. What I want you to do is, I just want you to look over there while I'm getting him out, so you won't peek.

Achmed:
Okay.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Just look over there.

Achmed:
O... wait a minute. When I'm not looking, are you going to keel me?

JEFF DUNHAM:
No.

Achmed:
That's actually a good way of doing it, you know. Kinda old-school, but effective. It's like "Hey, look at that!" (chokes) Aaah...

JEFF DUNHAM:
No, just look over there, and don't look back until I say so.

Achmed:
Okay, whatever. This is kind of like Christmas, huh?

JEFF DUNHAM:
Yeah. Just look over there.

Achmed:
Okay.

JEFF DUNHAM:
And don't peek.

Achmed:
Okay not gonna peek. Just stay over here. "Now?

JEFF DUNHAM:
"NO!

Achmed:
Okay! (muttering)

(applause and cheering)

Achmed:
(screams)

A.J:
(yells)

Achmed:
Who the hell is that?

A.J:
(British accent): Hello, Father.

(audience whistling, applauding)

(prolonged cheering and whistling)

JEFF DUNHAM:
It's your son, Achmed Junior.

Achmed:
A.J?

A.J:
That's right.

ACHMED:
Wait... I thought you were dead!

A.J:
Surprise.

JEFF DUNHAM:
This is great.

Achmed:
Hey! What happened to your face? Oh, yeah. My bad.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Achmed, he's your son. Look at him. What do you see?

Achmed:

Well, he does have my eye. (cackling laugh)

A.J:
Actually, I do. Yes, I do.

Achmed:
Why do you sound like Elton John?

JEFF DUNHAM:
When you were separated after the accident, he was raised in England.

A.J:
Did my mum miss me?

Achmed:
Uh... yeah. I don't know. What the hell.

JEFF DUNHAM:
How do you not know?

Achmed:
Oops.

A.J:
What's wrong with your leg?

Achmed:
Nothing! What's wrong with my leg?

JEFF DUNHAM:
I don't know.

Achmed:
Can you fix this?

JEFF DUNHAM:
No, I don't think so.

Achmed:
Damn it.

A.J:
Don't look at me.

JEFF DUNHAM:
All right. Um, we're going to get Marnel to help us.

Achmed:
What?

JEFF DUNHAM:
Marnel, he works for me.

Achmed:
I know Mar- Mar- Marnel! Come fix my leg!

(murmuring)

Achmed:
Thanks.

(applause)

A.J:
He's kind of cute.

Achmed:
Okay, moving on!

JEFF DUNHAM:
Wait a minute. How do you not know who his mother is?

Achmed:
I had 46 wives, you idiot. They all dressed the same, and their faces were covered.

JEFF DUNHAM:
How'd you tell them apart?

Achmed:
The numbers on their backs.

JEFF DUNHAM:
That's terrible.

Achmed:
I know, Mother's Day is a b*tch. And so are most of the mothers.

A.J:
That's not funny at all.

Achmed:
Atall"? Who is "Atall"? Was she your mother? I don't remember a woman who was all bulgy-eyed like you.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Bulgy-eyed?

Achmed:
Well, look at him.

A.J:
Well, you're not exactly squinting.

Achmed:
At least my face is balanced. You manage to look asleep and terrified all at the same time.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Achmed, he's your son.

Achmed:
Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree,

and apparently this one got run over by a f***ing lawnmower.

A.J:
You caused the accident.

Achmed:
Accident? It was a huge explosion, with great fire and destruction.

A.J:
You didn't mean for it to happen.

Achmed:
I did, too!

A.J:
You did not!

Achmed:
Li... Oh, sh*t. Marnel! Son of a b*tch!

A.J:
Are you talking to me now?

Achmed:
Fix it right, or I kick your ass. Marnel!

Come back! My arm is stuck in my pelvis, you a**hole.

(laughter, applause and cheering)

A.J:
He can fix my pelvis anytime.

Achmed:
Shut up!

JEFF DUNHAM:
Okay, look. Okay, look. So the explosion

you were talking about, how did it happen?

Achmed:
Very precise and careful planning.

A.J:
Not exactly.

Achmed:
I said shut up!

JEFF DUNHAM:
What happened?

Achmed:
Nothing.

A.J:
He was putting gasoline in his scooter.

JEFF DUNHAM:
So why was there an explosion?

Achmed:
Sh*t happens.

A.J:
He was using his cell phone.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Really?

Achmed:
What?

JEFF DUNHAM:
While putting gas in your scooter. You know that's dangerous.

Achmed:
Well, it was your mother who called.

A.J:
Really?

Achmed:
I don't know.

JEFF DUNHAM:
What was her name?

Achmed:
42.

JEFF DUNHAM:
And you guys haven't had any contact since?

Achmed:
Not much. He's a bad son.

A.J:
I am not.

Achmed:
Tell him what you sent me for my birthday.

A.J:
It was an honest mistake.

JEFF DUNHAM:
What'd you send him?

Achmed:
He sent me a bottle of skin lotion.

(laughter)

A.J:
He made it worse.

JEFF DUNHAM:
What'd you do?

Achmed:
I sent him back half a bottle. (laughs)

(audience laughs)

JEFF DUNHAM:
You know, maybe you should try and patch things up.

Achmed:
Looks like he needs more than a f***ing patch.

A.J:
But I'm here for a reason.

Achmed:
What, a skin graft? Sorry, I'm all out. F***! (yelling) Marnel Come fix my f***ing leg! Get duct tape, you a**hole!

JEFF DUNHAM:
(chuckling): He actually brought duct tape.

(laughter and cheering)

A.J:
He's kinky, too.

Achmed:
Shut up!

JEFF DUNHAM:
So, Achmed, do you know why AJ is here?

Achmed:
Well... Wait a minute. This isn't some crap about

owning child support, is it? That b*tch! Whichever one she was.

JEFF DUNHAM:
No, that's not...

Achmed:
This is bad, cause I've seen the crap that you're going through and I don't know how you can afford even a T-shirt.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Thank you.

Achmed:
Did I say that just how you wrote it?

(laughter)

JEFF DUNHAM:
Yes. Thank you.

Achmed:
Okay. Good luck with the judge. I hope he's fair.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Actually the judge is a woman.

A.J:
You're f***ed.

(laughter)

Achmed:
Okay, listen, you...

JEFF DUNHAM:
Achmed, you're getting hostile.

Achmed:
Of course I'm getting hostile. I'm a terrorist, you idiot. You piss me off, I keel you.

A.J:
Would that really solve anything?

Achmed:
Pretty much, yeah, I think it does.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Okay,

Achmed:
I have nothing in common with my own son.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Well, just talk to him.

Achmed:
How?

JEFF DUNHAM:
I don't know, like you would anybody.

Achmed:
Okay, W.T.F. O.M.G. I mean O.M.A.

(laughter and applause)

JEFF DUNHAM:
And you have no idea why he's here?

Achmed:
To start his training as a terrorist.

A.J:
No, Father, that's just it, I don't want to be a terrorist.

Achmed:
(gasps) But I want you to be just like me.

A.J:
Well, I'm not, and I won't be.

JEFF DUNHAM:
Achmed, can you accept that?

Achmed (voice breaking): I guess I can try.

JEFF DUNHAM:
And, A.J, what if he doesn't accept it?

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