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King Family Residence – Episode 1.11

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 06/30/2010

“King Family Residence is filmed before a live studio audience..”

Episode 11 – “The Asylum”

(Martin wakes up in a small room, drenched in sweat..)

Martin: What the?

(He gets up to exit the room, but finds the door is locked from the outside..)

Martin: (banging on the door)  Hey! Lemme outta here! I gotta pee!

(An armed guard pokes his face in the door’s window..)

Guard: Keep it down in there!

Martin: Who are you? Where am I?

Guard: You’re in the Bangor Mental Health Institute, fool!

(The guard walks back down the hall and Martin stares out the one window in the room, down to the lawn below..)

Martin: Eep.


(Later that afternoon, a doctor enters Martin’s room and shuts the door behind him..)

Doctor: Good morning, Martin. I’m Dr. Irving. Dr. Julius Irving.

Martin: Ha.

Doctor: (annoyed)  I hear you’re speaking again.

Martin: What’s going on here, Doc? Why am I here?

Doctor: Why, because you’re crazy, Martin.

Martin: I’m not crazy! You’re crazy! This whole damn court is out of order!

Doctor: You’re suffering from Hysterical Mind Shock, or HMS.

Martin: Hysterical Mind Shock? That doesn’t sound very hysterical..

Doctor: I guess you had to be there. You suffered a traumatic event that stunted your brain activity and led to the catatonic state you’ve been in for the past couple weeks.

Martin: Weeks? I’ve been here for weeks? Where’s my family? I’ve got shit to do! Oh wait, no I don’t. I’m good.

Doctor: You have a family?

Martin: Yeah, the King family! They’re awesome! Well, not awesome. Pretty cool sometimes.

Doctor: (jotting down on a notepad)  So your name’s Martin King. Interesting.

Martin: You didn’t know that? Didn’t you rifle through my wallet? That’s what I’d do if I worked in a hole like this.

Doctor: You arrived here without a stitch of clothing and no identification.

Martin: (chortles)  Yeah, that sounds like me.

Doctor: This is serious, Martin. This event, whatever it was, could have terrible future medical ramifications on your mind.

Martin: Ruh roh. You mean me be dumber?

Doctor: (sighs)  Something like that.

Martin: (shrugs, picks his nose)

Doctor: (hands Martin a cup full of pills)  Here. Take these, I’ll visit you later on. Now, I should warn you that these pills have dangerous side effects; so you should only take two–

Martin: (hands Dr. Irving the empty cup)  Bottoms up!

Doctor: (staring at the empty cup)  Oh dear.


(Martin is screaming and thrashing at the walls while Dr. Irving and the guard stare at him through the tiny door window..)

Guard: You want me to do something, Doc?

Doctor: No, we’ll let him run out of steam.

Martin: (screams and headbutts the window, cracking the glass)

Doctor: On second thought..

(The guard rushes into the room and – after some light scuffling – tranquilizes Martin..)

Guard: (pouting)  He scratched my cheek!

Doctor: Yes, he’s a scrappy one.

Guard: (giggling)  Watch, I’m gonna put his pants on backwards, make him think we raped him.


(Hours later, Martin wakes up groggily on his holding cell cot, strapped down by restraints. Dr. Irving is smiling, sitting in a chair across the room..)

Doctor: How are we feeling, Mr. King?

Martin: Sorta…loosey-goosey. What’d you give me?

Doctor: A mild sedative, you were suffering…complications.

Martin: Are my pants on backwards?

Guard: (stifles a guffaw)

Doctor: Let’s press on. When you arrived, you were deeply delusional. Ranting on and on about something so terrible – so horrible – that you weren’t even making sense.

Martin: Well? What was I yelling about, Doc?

Doctor: Something about dogs. Dogs from Hell.

(Suddenly, Martin is smacked in the face with a bright, white flashback..)


(Martin is outside on the Jafar’s Bazaar loading dock, helping Jafar unload the Hostess truck while the driver – Gerald – smokes a cigarette..)

Martin: Man. Twinkies, Ho-Hos, Chim-Chams. We’ve got everything!

Jafar: (weary from doing most of the lifting)  Yes, it is all very exciting.

Martin: (unloads the last box, glances around the empty truck)  Hey Gerald, ya big goof! You forgot the Devil Dogs!

Gerald: (stamps out his cigarette butt, hops in the truck cab)  They don’t make Devil Dogs anymore.

(Martin’s brain makes an audible snap, he screams, takes off all his clothes and blacks out..)

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