Video Vixens Page #2

Stag movies?

How dare you mention such a

thing in my house in front

of my wife and my young child.

Artistic trends?

Artistic trends my eye!

You name me one thing you

consider an artistic trend

and I'll buy you a stovepipe.

He means the magazine?

Artistic trends?

Lots of f*** position and

things like that with pictures.

We do a lot of that trend.

That's smut.

You're smutty.

You're going on the list!

What's with him?

I dunno, honey.

Hey, maybe he wants you to show

him some of your positions.

Oh, would you like to see

me strike a pose, sonny?

No, absolutely not.

Now, this has gone

quite far enough.

Will you get him out of here?

Now, I wanna know what

you're doing here,

what do you want me

for, and what all

this has to do with Mr Bradley.

Well, now, it's really

simple, Mr Gordon.

Mr Bradley, he's the

president of KLIT TV, right?

Well, now, you're an

employee of KLIT TV,

and Mr Bradley's just got a

job he wants you to do for him.

That's all.

You're gonna be working real

closely with myself and Inga

here, who incidentally is just

one hell of a wild ass f***.

Oh Rex.

Oh sh*t.

Well, anyway, it's all

explained in this here

letter that Mr Bradley

asked me to give to you.

You see, we're going to

take TV land by surprise.

We're gonna put on the first

annual Academy Awards stag film

nice.

You're gonna be the

master of ceremonies.

You know, you'll

read off the awards

and introduce a few film

clips of the winning films

and sh*t like that?

We all thought you'd be

just right for the job,

give it a little respectability

and a little class.

You know what I mean?

Anyway, Mr Bradley'd like

to have you in his office

about 9:
30 tomorrow morning.

Hey, honey, you got

anything to eat?

Remember how happy

we all used to be?

I mean, girls were

girls, and men were men.

Sex was in the air, in

the air, I tell you.

You could suck in the aroma of

excited love in every corner.

Now we have pollution--

pollution and faggots.

Terrific, huh?

Well, it's no accident that

the people of our country

don't have sex on

their mind anymore.

Their minds have been

dulled by the blunt edge

of the conspiracy.

The people of our country fall

sleep in front of their TV

sets, washing their hands

with hexachlorophene

and sucking in the

polluted night air

without a single

thought of erotic bliss

entering their heads.

This is no accident.

You, of course, all know this.

Your product lacked the exposure

that might grant them a greater

chance to successfully

compete on the open market

with such things as stomach

remedies and enzyme detergents.

Your products are banned

from the advance air,

banned from the dull

minds of the victimized

audiences of our day.

This is no accident.

The government

wants it that way.

They want us to be dull, and

tired, and unexcited, and soft.

They're killing sex, and

they're killing your products.

What's the pitch, bud?

I wanna sell your

products on prime time.

Why you wanna

sell our products?

Nobody else here will.

I like what you sell,

and I need the money.

All right.

Now wait a minute.

What I want to know is who

we got running the show.

Give me some big name, movie

stars-- somebody like that.

I got anything to

do with television,

I wanna know all the ratings.

All that stuff.

We get some girl, maybe

some broad to take

care of the show

instead of a guy.

A lot of people like to

watch broads like that.

Get a whole room full

of broads-- big, fat,

firm tits-- ripe.

You know, I used

to be able-- I used

to be able to remember the

names of all different kinds

of nipples there are.

We'll have the highest ratings.

It's no lie.

We're running a very show, and

it's gonna cost you plenty.

Gordon Gordon, the

movie critic, is gonna

be our master of ceremonies.

That fruit?

No, Mr Bradley, I

can't reconsider.

I mean, what you're offering,

any suggestion of my hosting

a show designed to specifically

flout governmental regulations,

particularly by letting

somewhat prurient interest gain

dominance on a prime

time slot, would,

after all is said and

done, be disastrous

to my-- my reputation.

All right, Gordon.

Cut the crap.

I'm gonna speak plainly.

I know who you are, and I

know who you're working for.

Who I'm working for, sir?

I said cut the crap.

Can the act.

Get it?

You ever hear of any conspiracy

against your own country?

A conspiracy, sir?

Don't play dumb with me.

But, sir--

You want me to tell you

what those friends of yours

in Washington are trying to

pull on our poor, defenseless

people?

There's a conspiracy afoot

in this country, a conspiracy

to uproot our balls, to tear

the edge off erotic Americana,

to reduce us all to

unisexed hippies,

and faceless faggots,

and fruitcakes.

They don't want us to yin

for no broads there, boy.

They're making lesbies

out of our women folk

and queers out of our men.

They're making us dull, boy.

You get me?

You get me, right?

You know what I mean?

I mean, you're working for them.

But Christ, you look

like an American.

Why can't you see right

and get your nose in line?

It's not too late

to be a patriot.

It's never too late.

I know they're gonna get me.

I get this show on

the air and pow!

I get hung.

But that's all right with me.

That's just fine.

Fine.

I'm perfectly willing to get

hung-- perfectly willing.

Perfectly.

Am I getting through

to you, you bastard?

You work for me, right?

I want you to run the Stag

Films Academy Awards night.

You're a big name,

and the audience

is going to stay

with you when we

announce the preempting, right?

I want someone

big, and you're it.

I don't know what the

hell you're talking about.

You bastard.

But what conspiracy?

What are you talking about?

Who's doing what and how

is it all being done?

I don't know what you mean.

Hexachlorophene.

Ahah!

Your face tells all.

They didn't know I was

on to it, did they?

Well, I've got my

sources of information

the same as anyone else.

Only mine are better

paid, and they've

always got some information

to throw my way.

Hexachlorophene?

In the soap, you bastard.

You wash your hands three times

and forget about your hard on.

Oh, they've been sneaking

it up on us for years.

The whole damn country's

just about lost

its capacity to get some ass.

Hexachlorophene is in our guts.

It's in our guts, boy!

In our guts?

Well, that-- that's

not very good then.

Don't start jerking me off

again, you little asswipe.

I can't stand your

playing cute with me.

I dunno what you're trying to

do, but it ain't gonna work.

So you may as well quit

before you get started.

What about the sponsors?

And the regulations?

The commissioner and the

chairman of the board?

I'm completely prepared to

lay down my life and my fortune

for the consequences

of this night.

What can showing stag film

clips possibly do to make

all that trouble worth while?

I'm gonna give the men

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote