75c: Rob Reiner
Mighty Favog.....Frank Oz
[ As the sketch opens, Scred is massaging King Ploobis' back. ]
Ploobis: Oh, yeah, yeah. A little to the left there, Scred. Oh, yeah! Yeah!
[ The moment is broken by an explosive entrance from Queen Peuta. ]
Peuta: Ploobis! Ploobis! Do you know what your son Wisss is doing?
Ploobis: What, has he locked himself in the bathroom with a magazine again?
Peuta: No! Your son Wisss is smoking... craters!
Ploobis: Not my son. Why, my son is a... he's a...
Scred: A crater head!
Ploobis: A crater head! No, he is not! [ POW! Ploobis smacks Scred. ]
Scred: Oh, thank you.
Ploobis: My son is not a crater head.
Peuta: Yes, he is! Go look for yourself.
Ploobis: All right, I will!
[ Ploobis exits. Scred takes the opportunity to fondle Peuta's moogies. ]
Scred: Cootchie cootchie coo!
Peuta: Ooh! Ha ha. Not now, sugar claws...
[ Cut to a plain of smoking craters. Wisss, Ploobis' long-haired hippie son, is sniffing the smoke and blowing it out again through his long furry snout. ]
Wisss: On top of Old Smokey... [ blows out ] Aaaaaahhh!
[ Ploobis enters. ]
Ploobis: Hey, didn't I ever tell you not to smoke that stuff?
Wisss: Hey, man... wow! Your aura's really red!
Ploobis: Oooooh. Your aura's gonna be black and blue in a minute, fella.
Wisss: Hey, lighten, up, Jack, lighten up.
Ploobis: Listen... all the evidence is not in, buster. That stuff there rots your brain.
Wisss: Oh, yeah?
Wisss: Oh, YEAH?
Wisss: ... Yeah, what? [ Wisss scratches his head. ]
Ploobis: See that? It rots your brain! Now, what do you need that stuff for? Look at ME! I'm high on life!
Wisss: Yeah. [ He turns contemptuously and sniffs at the crater. ]
[ Scred enters. ]
Scred: Perhaps it would help if you spoke to your son in his own language.
Ploobis: Grrruhh. Good thinking, Scred. [ He approaches Wisss. ] Um... hey, listen, uh, uh -- dude -- uh... Big Daddy-o here wants you to ixnay with the crater smoke. Ya dig? Huh?
Wisss: Hey, man... don't down me with those bad vibes, dad.
Ploobis: Grruh. C'mere, Scred. Listen. I can no longer talk to the lad. I want you to tell him that if he doesn't stop smoking that stuff...
Scred: Mm hmm?
[ Ploobis grabs Scred's nose. ]
Ploobis: I'm gonna do THIS to him.
[ Ploobis twists Scred's head sideways, snapping some bones with a loud crunch. ]
Scred: Oh! Ow! I'm sure he'd hate that.
[ Scred tries to reposition his head as he approaches Wisss. ]
Scred: Uh... the boss says that if --
Wisss: Yeah? Well, you tell him that if he doesn't split, I am gonna do this to him. Wisssssss.... [ He blows smoke from his nose into Scred's face. ]
Scred: Oh! Oh! Oh, wooowwww... the colors!
[ POW! ]
Scred: Oh, and the stars!
Ploobis: Grrruhhh. Maybe the Mighty Favog has got some good advice for me.
Wisss: Oh, never, man. Favog's a cosmic turkey.
[ GONNNG! The Mighty Favog is revealed. ]
Mighty Favog: THIS IS THE MIGHTY FAVOG. TALK TA ME.
Scred: Yeah, ya got any munchies? Hee hee!
Ploobis: Will you shut up, Scred. Oh, omni-impotent one, I gotta problem.
Mighty Favog: AWRIGHT. IT'S GONNA COST YA.
Ploobis: Scred, put in the chickens there.
Ploobis: Put in the chickens!
Scred: Oh, yeah -- hee hee hee! Chickens! Little birdy wirdies. Here ya go.
Mighty Favog: YEAH... [ There's a splash, and a flushing sound as Favog smacks his lips and burps. ] AWRIGHT. WHAT'S YER PROBLEM?
Ploobis: My son Wisss... is a crater head.
Mighty Favog: MMMM. WELL, THE ANSWER, MY FRIEND --
Mighty Favog: IS BLOWIN' IN THE WIND. [ Favog sniffs the air. ]
Ploobis: Huh? [ Ploobis sniffs the air. ]
Scred: I could kill for some chocolate chip cookies!
[ Scred dances out as Ploobis and Favog sniff. ]
[ fade ]
Courtesy of: Tough Pigs Anthology