Announcer: Previously on Johnny Speedway…
Interior of Courtroom
Judge: Are there any other ticking time bombs…
Speedway: Your honor!
Hodge and Walking: (snickering)
Judge: Oh, I guess that’s the wrong thing to ask…
Hodge: Your Honor, please. The plaintiff does have a short fuse… (both Walking and Hodge giggle, judge suppresses a grin, and a Latin man in the gallery smiles broadly)
Judge: (banging gavel) Settle down. Mr. Speedway, I’m revoking your parole immediately, and you are ordered to remain in prison for the rest of your life.
Hodge and Walking look stunned, as does Speedway. Another Latin man in the gallery leans forward.
Speedway: Really?
Judge: No, I’m just effin’ with you guys.
Cut to interior Speedway home. Johnny is holding an open letter.
Speedway: (calling out to wife in another room) Honey, remember the time I was in the hospital ER? They just subpoenaed my medical records. Did we keep a copy?
Katrina Speedway: (off screen, thick Belorussian accent) Which ones? Ones for the court, or the real ones?
Speedway: The real ones.
Katerina Speedway: Garage. Under tovex. Next to timers.
Cut to: Hospital ER. Doctors work frantically on a patient. Long, loud beep heard from equipment. Blood spattered scrubs.
Doctor: Dammit. Don’t die on me yet! (doctor pounds on patient’s chest)
Nurse: He has no vital signs doctor. He’s gone!
Speedway pulls back curtain to reveal he is standing at adjacent exam area, holding a Starbucks cup. Doctors and nurses look at him with surprise.
Speedway: Hey, now that you’re done, can anybody take a look at my contusion?
Title Sequence: Theme by Mike Post. Shaky cam of documentary-style footage as
Speedway narrates:
Speedway: (voiceover) I’m Johnny Speedway. I was incarcerated for a crime that I didn’t commit.
Video footage of Speedway building a bomb. Then, an explosion.
Speedway: (voiceover) Okay, I did commit the crime. But now I’m out. I take on issues of social justice and peace. I sue people who get in my way, and sing rock n’ roll.
Video footage of Speedway at a festival, approaching attractive young girls.
Speedway: (in archived footage) Hey, girls. Are you two old enough to vote?
Speedway: (in voiceover) Now, a cabal of right-wing nuts are trying to punish me for my activities. And my singing. Meanwhile, the FBI, Justice Department, Centers for Disease Control and the Postal Police are investigating the cabal. Who will win? Find out, on this episode of Johnny Speedway.
Main theme ends.
Interior of courthouse. The word Clerk is painted on a huge sign above a door. Shaky cam fixes on a photograph of a 9-year old girl scout during first lines of dialogue.
Speedway: I have some documents for the court. Hey, that a picture of your daughter? She’s been working on badges, huh?
Clerk: Oh, yeah. That was taken years ago. She’s in college now. Why?
Speedway: Oh, never mind.
Clerk: Wait? Aren’t you the guy who got his butt kicked in the lobby a few years ago?
Speedway: Yes, that was me. I sustained nearly life-threatening injuries.
Clerk: But then the cameras showed there was no assault?
Speedway: I was diagnosed with a possible concussion.
Clerk: But did you have a concussion?
Speedway: For a few hours, in the ER, I was treated for a concussion.
Clerk: But did you have a concussion?
Speedway: The doctor diagnosed me with malingering, gave me a placebo and sent me home.
Clerk: …
Speedway: You want to hear about my contusion?
Clerk: No. Now. What can we do for you today?
Speedway: I want to get something expunged so I can lie about it. Plus, I want to subpoena the following people.
Clerk: Isn’t this the guy with the dog poo?
Speedway: Slovenian horse manure, actually. It made him dizzy. He suffered a laceration on his cranium. He’s my associate Victor Rosencrantz.
Clerk: Wait…this guy was in court in another matter… Something about a forged letter.
Speedway: I’m not sure. I don’t know anything about forgeries. Nothing at all.
Clerk: I remember. That letter smelled like mayo and hot dogs.
Speedway: Thanks. Yes, it’s the small details that mark the work of an expert.
Courtroom Interior: Walking and Hodge seated at the front table. Speedway sitting next to them. They look in his direction. He picks up his papers and moves to table at opposite side of courtroom. A young, well-dressed woman enters from the rear of the courtroom as Judge enters…
Bailiff Rusty: All rise. The Honorable Judge Lucus H. Justice presiding.
Young woman sits at table with Hodge and Walking. Speedway notices her legs.
Judge Justice: Well, Mr. Hodge, it appears you have new representation today, or is this your grandchild?
Bates: Good morning your honor. (stands) I’m Jill Bates.
Hodge: Ms. Bates here is a prodigy. Graduated high school at 14, finished college in two years and law school in 9 months. (Looking at Speedway.) Of course, that was jus
t last week.
Speedway: Ah…
Judge Justice: And you represent…?
Bates: The unrealistic expectations of men everywhere.
Hodge: She’s our secret weapon.
Speedway: Can I give miss Bates a brochure from Justice Through Rock?
Bates: Yeah. Heard of it. I can’t vote yet.
Speedway: Urgh.
Judge Bates: Hey, you’re Bill Null’s new associate.
Bates: Sometimes I work under Bill, but occasionally under his partner Bob Void.
Speedway: Oh, mmmmm.
Judge Justice: You okay, Speedway? You look sick. You having a stroke?
Katrina Speedway: (Thick Bulgarian accent) No. He not stroke now. Maybe later.
Law offices of Null and Void, paneled conference room. A young associate sits near Rosencrantz.
Attorney #1: Mr. Rozencrantz, as I explained…
(small farting noise)
Attorney #1: The partners have reviewed your pro se materials, all four thousand pages. They’ve determined that your case is as doomed…
(additional farting noise)
Attorney #1: …as that chair.
Rosencrantz: I believe this law firm is contributing to the harassment of me by a cabal.
Attorney #1: Did you just say “by a cable?”
Rosencrantz: Yes. c-a-b-a-l. It means a nefarious organization.
Attorney #1: Cabal. Yes. That came up a lot in your paperwork. Mr. Rosencrantz, I’d like to help you, but this case can’t be won. You sued in the wrong jurisdiction, the First Amendment prevents you from winning, and you’re not even sure all of the participants in the cabal…
Rosencrantz: cay-bull…
Attorney #1: …are actually the people who you say they are.
Rosencrantz: Can you offer me some advice?
Attorney #1: Yes. Gluten free and stop all dairy products.
FBI Office Building: Exterior establishing shot, with cut to interior of conference room. Several FBI agents sit, others stand. Door flies open, FBI Director enters and all pay attention.
FBI Director: Gentlemen, and Ms. Perkins. This cabal needs to be shut down now. There are a couple of very bad actors who are a part of this. We’re going to lock them up.
Special Agent Harper: You mean like Kristen Stewart or Nicholas Cage?
FBI Director: No. Maybe someday on Cage. Listen. Johnson?
Johnson: Yes sir?
FBI Director: No. The other Johnson.
Other Johnson: Yes sir. We know the female zombie is attending a social gathering at which period costumes will be worn. Kinda like a renaissance faire… We plan to infiltrate.
FBI Director: Great. Who looks better in a corset?
Special Agent L’Orange: Ordinarily I’d say Perkins sir, but based upon the last undercover assignment…
FBI Director: Right. Some things can’t be unseen. Harper, your crossdressing experience is legendary. I need you to dress up, blend in and take one for the team!
Harper: Mmmmm.
FBI Director: Meanwhile you know the priority the FBI puts on this case. I want dark rooms full of computers and flickering lights. I want eyes in the sky, full video surveillance on this Paul Krendler guy. Location, movements, bank transactions, blood pressure, cholesterol. The works. If he so much as takes a crap, I want someone smelling it.
Harper: Really?
FBI Director: No. That’s hyperbole. We’ve put aside several terrorism surveillance investigations, stopped all mob inquiries, shanghai’d a private lawyer to lead the evidence team, and we’ve wiretapped more phones than Nixon.
(short pause)
FBI Director: More phones than Nixon
Agents look around the room during awkward silence.
FBI Director: Dammit. People used to laugh at that joke.
Chang: Sir, I think shanghai’d is a racially charged word.
FBI Director: I just spent ten thousand dollars for a retreat on social conscience justice crap. Chang. Are you telling me I got gypped?
Interior Courtroom: Hodge, Walking and Speedway are up front. To the right are two laptops with faces of Rosencrantz and Framingham.
Bailiff: All Rise. This court will be in session.
On second computer screen, Rosencrantz has stood to reveal baggy underwear. He is otherwise wearing a crumpled shirt and an ill-fitting blazer.)
Judge Justice: I’ve read your motions and I see we have Mr. Framingham and Mr…. Mr. Rozencrantz? You should sit down now.
Rozencrantz: Sorry Judge, yer honor.
Judge Justice: Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with pants on?
Rozencrantz: No, I’m good.
Hodge: Your honor, it appears that Mr. Rosencratz is wearing a medal of some sort on his jacket.
“A buck was a big tip back then.”
Rosencrantz: This was awarded to me by General Westmoreland in 1978, for exceptional uniformed service.
Hodge: It looks a lot like a half-dollar with a ribbon hot-glued onto it.
Rosencrantz: It was awarded to me by...
Walking: (looking at a document) Your honor, according to his resume, Mr. Rosencrantz was a waiter at the Hotel deBoeuf in 1968. In Chicago.
Rosencrantz: …for exceptional uniformed service.
Announcer: Next week on Johnny Speedway.
Courtroom.
Hodge: The plaintiff calls Jessica Barton. (Speedway collapses.)
Hodge: Sorry, your honor. Wrong piece of paper. The plaintiff calls William Bowman…no, that’s wrong. Speedway looks up from the floor. (To Aaron.) Jeepers, Walking, who are we calling?
Extreme closeup of Rozencrants on computer screen.
Rosencrantz: (Screaming.) Was my time with the Marines in Beirut not enough for you? Or when I nearly starved to death at the Hanoi Hilton?
Walking: (offscreen) Are you testifying that you were a prisoner of war at the notorious Hanoi Hilton?
Rosencrantz: Well. It might have been a Radisson. But there was no continental breakfast.
Same courtroom. Fergeron is on the stand. He is looking longingly at Bates, who is holding a paper and standing near the witness box. She is clearly flirting.
Judge Justice: Ms. Bates, you may examine the witness…uh, and apparently vice versa.
Bates: So you’re a musician and producer. Cool. I have a warm, soft spot for musicians.
Speedway: ERECTION, your honor! (All look at him.) I mean objection.
Annoucer: Next. On Johnny Speedway.
The Artisan Craft Blog -- Dave Alexander & Company with David Edgren and Gus Bailey 
ROFLMAO
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Just freakin’ superb.
Get your acceptance speech ready for the Pulitzer.
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Heh.
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You missed your calling, Dave. Bravo.
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Epic.
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Lovely piece.
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Oh noes! Pipples is lying to him!
Show of hands, who thinks he could go on for hours relating how everybody who intereacted with him for more than ten minutes lied to him throughout his life?
Bet the unfortunate soul on the other side of his anal rape story “lied” about asking for it?
I believe that Kyle is commenting on another post — and perhaps even to a post which has not actually been written. – Dave
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I got sideways in the time stream. oops.
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Remember, Douglas Adams might point out — “Edies in the space time continuum.” Don’t forget to say Hi to him for me.
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“…not actually written.” –YET!
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I was going to complain that Katrina didn’t go full Moose and Squirrel and call him “Dah-link” unti I read this:
Katrina Speedway: (Thick Bulgarian accent) No. He not stroke now. Maybe later.
Sir, I award you one internets.
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I missed that, first time through.
Sir, I award you all the internets.
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It’s a daily prize, it has to be, or else the whole internets would have gone away back in the ARPAnet days in the “Big Fish in Honolulu” episode back in ’83.
Truly Reagan is an unsung hero…
For those that don’t know, the internet actually evolved from ARPAnet which evolved from ALOHAnet which was ham radios hooked up to RS-232 modems (may have predated the RS-232 standard, just because I’m not bothering to look this up should not put the rest of this post in question. After all, nobody is denying it….) to connect mainframes between the islands.
And for the longest time, phones didn’t have keyboards.
Now get off my lawn.
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I laughed, I cried, I sprained my LULZ muscle!
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I seem to recall the postmark was Bratislava. If so, that’s Slovakia.
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Sam, you’re taking this too literally. The above is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual people, living or dead is purely comical.
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You are right. As penance, I hereby take away my internet posting privileges for one day.
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Not necessary. On the other hand, some folks on the web might want to walk, talk with neighbors and generally stop typing for a while. Not you. Rosencrantz maybe.
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