Saturday Night Live Transcripts

  Season 25: Episode 1

99a: Jerry Seinfeld / David Bowie

Keeping Him Alive

Head Thug.....Will Ferrell
Puke.....Jerry Seinfeld
Thug #2.....Horatio Sanz
Thug #3.....Jimmy Fallon

[ a Puke is getting beat up by a group of thugs in an abandoned warehouse ]

Head Thug: Tell us what we need to know, you lousy puke!

Puke: Oh, why don't you just kill me and get it over with!

Head Thug: I'm afraid it's not gonna be that easy. You see, I know a thing or two about the human body.. and, if I have to, I can keep you alive for weeks 'til I get what I want outta you.

Puke: Screw you!

[ the two other Thugs begin to viciously beat the puke to a pulp, until they discover that they've killed him ]

Head Thug: Alright, alright! That's enough!

Thug #2: Hey.. he's not moving.

Head Thug: I'm not getting a pulse.. Alright, get him on the table. [ the two thugs pick him up and drag him across the floor onto a hospital stretcher ] Watch his neck! I think he's had a contusion of the frontal lobe - he's going into shock. Incubate him. I want 60 CCs of saline, stat. Foot pressure?

Thug #2: 80 over 60.

Head Thug: Okay, he may have some internal bleeding. We may need a catscan.

Thug #2: We don't have one.

Head Thug: St. John's has one. Why don't we have one? Damn, this old warehouse! Don't take your eyes off that EKG, Sammy!

[ cut to exterior, warehouse ]


[ cut to interior, warehouse, Thug #2 offering a drink of water to the recovering puke ]

Thug #2: Easy.. easy.. there you go.. alright.

Head Thug: [ looking at his patient's chart ] Well.. you had quite a little episode there, haven't you? Have you been up at all?

Puke: I just went to the bathroom for a little bit..

Head Thug: Good, good.. Take it slow, so you'll feel better. Do you feel better?

Puke: Yeah.. much better..

Head Thug: Good, good.. that's great to hear.. [ smacks him across the face with his chart ] Let's go! Let's get him into the chair! [ the two other Thugs drag the puke out of the stretcher and toss him back into the chair ] So, are you ready to talk, Puke?!

Puke: Go to Hell!

[ the Thugs start beating him up again, as he moans inaudibly ]

Head Thug: [ stopping the brawl ] What is it? What is it? Don't try to talk. Let's go, people! Call Hank at ICU! Tell him to get ready!

Thug #2: Who's Hank?

Head Thug: Just do it! Mr. Puke, can you hear me? You've been badly beaten, but you're gonna be okay!

[ cut to exterior, warehouse ]


[ cut to interior, warehouse, Head Thug taking notes on Puke's chart ]

Head Thug: How's our little patient?

Puke: Could you.. raise the bed up.. a little bit..?

Head Thug: Sure, fine.. [ raises the bed ] How's that?

Puke: ..Better..

Head Thug: Yeah? Better?

[ the group of Thugs jump on top of the stretcher and start to beat up the Puke all over again ]

[ cut to exterior, warehouse ]


[ cut to interior, warehouse, Puke laying helpless in the stretcher as the Thugs examine him ]

Head Thug: Let's see.. we did a little plastic surgery on you.. It looks good. I ddin't realize I was treating Cary Grant, except for this blood here. Are you feeling better?

Puke: [ realizing the trap, shakes head ] Uh-uh! No!

Head Thug: [ holding bat up high ] You're not feeling better?

Puke: [ nervous ] No, no, not better at all, no. It's worse!

[ Head Thug puts on a clown nose and holds a little doll in his hand ]

Thug #2: [ confused ] Boss, what are you doing?

Head Thug: Don't you understand? You treat the disease, you lose. Treat the patient, you win. [ steps into a pair of bedpans and dances around ] Look at me, I'm a Monkey-Man! I'm a Monkey-Man!

[ the Puke starts to laugh ]

Thug #2: Boss! Look! He's laughing! You're gettin' through to him! It's a miracle!

Head Thug: Alright! [ takes off his bedpan shoe and swats the Puke in the face with it ]

[ Thug #2 picks up the EKG machine and smashes it over the Puke's skull ]

Head Thug: We're losing him! Pedals! [ places them on the Puke's chest ] Clear! Don't give up on me! Live, dammit, live!

Thug #2: He's alive!

Head Thug: Alright, now talk! [ punches the Puke's face ]

Thug #2: He's dead!

Head Thug: No! [ pounds the Puke's chest ]

Thug #2: He's alive! [ Head Thug punches the Puke ] Dead! [ Head Thug pounds the Puke's chest ] Alive! [ Head Thug punches the Puke ] Dead! [ Head Thug pounds the Puke's chest ] Alive! [ Head Thug punches the Puke ] Dead! [ Head Thug collapses on the Puke's chest ] Are you saving him, or are you beating on him?

Head Thug: I don't know. I just don't know!

Thug #2: Boss! It's too late!

Head Thug: [ upset ] Alright, let's call it. Autopsy.

Thug #2: What for?

Head Thug: Because I want to know why this happened, so that it doesn't happen again.

[ fade to black as autopsy begins ]

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