Totally Radical Sportz!

Three Assholes – Episode 308

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 04/26/2012

Nate, Mike & Keith are childhood Maine friends. They’re also assholes.

Episode 308 – Oblivion

(Maj. Glenn Early and Pvts. Grady Tate and Alistair Hurlihy are in the Major’s Army jeep following Sheriff Schwartzcroft and the ATF agents who are following the residents of Chickadee Trailer Park and employees of Diva’s Gentlemen’s Club who are following a military parade consisting of trucks full of troops and eight M1-Abrams tanks being driven by Keith, Nate, Mike, Chuck, Jimmy, G-Biscuit and the two Yemenis…)

Tate:  (in the passenger seat)  Are you sure you should’ve given those boys loaded tanks, sir?

Early:  Relax, Private. I told Pvt. Hurlihy to unload all the missiles before they left.

Hurlihy:  (in the back seat, eyes widen)  Uh oh.


(Keith is moving his tank cannon around as his father Chuck drives in front of him…)

Keith:  (over the radio)  Hee hee, dad! I’m gonna shoot you!

Chuck:  (guffaws)  You better not, son. Or you’re grounded!

Keith:  (chortles)

Mike:  Will you two stop goofin’ around. We gotta get our game faces on. Abd, Al-Hadi, what should we be expecting at the Airfield? How many men will they be bringing?

Rubbah:  (hesitates)

Badiswa:  Go ahead, Abd. You heard the Americans. It is the only way we get out of this alive.

Rubbah:  But we are going against our country. Our people.

Badiswa:  We can start new lives here in America.

Rubbah:  But our families.

Keith:  What the heck’s going on over there in Yeoman that’s got you guys in such a huff buying tanks and flying them back to the Little East, anyway?

Rubbah:  The government doesn’t care about the people. We’re fighting with the Houthi rebels against massive unemployment, poor economic conditions and rampant political corruption.

Keith:  Hey, we have all that crap! Maybe we should start a revolution, too. I mean, we do have the tanks.

Badiswa:  But you promised them to us.

Keith:  It’s not like you’re gonna use them. We’re lockin’ all them fools up.

Rubbah:  I’m beginning to rethink this whole plan, Al-Hadi. We both have a tank. Two is better than none.

Keith:  (aims cannon)  You shoot me with your tank, I’ll shoot you with mine.

Rubbah:  Not true. Because I will have destroyed yours first.

Keith:  Ooh, he’s got me there. Did they have a debate team at your school in Yeoman?  (thinking about it)  Do they have schools in Yeoman?

Badiswa:  It is Yemen!

Nate:  I don’t think the Army would have been stupid enough to arm these tanks.

(Pvt. Hurlihy laughs nervously from the back seat of Maj. Early’s jeep as they listen in on the radio conversation…)

Keith:  (shaking his cannon back and forth)  I dunno, Nate. Mine feels pretty loaded.

Early:  Gentlemen, the tanks are not loaded. I repeat, the tanks are not loaded.

Badiswa:  How are we supposed to convince our boss to purchase unloaded tanks?

Early:  Because by the time your boss sees these tanks, he’s going to be surrounded by the entire 47th ground force squadron of the United States Army.

Keith:  (bopping his cannon up and down)  U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-come on, guys. Guys?

(The caravan stops on the side of the road and the eight tank drivers peek out of their hatches as Maj. Early gets out of his jeep…)

Early:  Alright, men. Here’s where we part ways. We’re about a mile outside of Glenburn Airfield. We’ll set up here in the bushes and when we hear the codeword, we’ll swarm and surround the Yemeni rebels.

Mike:  (nods)  What’s the codeword?

Keith:  Can it be ‘codeword’? Easy to remember.

Early:  It has to be something you can work into conversation.

Keith:  How about ‘ostrichbutt’.

Early:  How the hell are you gonna work ‘ostrichbutt’ into conversation?

Keith:  (cracks knuckles)  Watch the master.  (falls back into tank)


(Mike, Nate, Keith, Chuck, Jimmy, G-Biscuit and the Yemenis are standing outside the eight tanks on the abandoned Glenburn Airfield as a large decommissioned B-52 taxis across from them. An older bald man in an expensive suit exits the plane followed by a dozen heavily-armed Houthi rebel soldiers. Abd and Al-Hadi bow and take the man’s hand…)

Rubbah:  Mr. Biddah, welcome to America.

Biddah:  (glancing around)  It is very…quiet.

Jimmy:  (steps forward, hand outstretched)  All the better for an illegal arms deal, eh?

Biddah:  (reaches for sidearm in hip holster)  An ambush!

Badiswa:  (steps in front of Jimmy)  No, Mr. Biddah. These are the arms dealers.

Biddah:  The arms dealers are American soldiers?

Mike:  Makes it a lot easier to steal tanks.

Biddah:  (grins, snaps at soldier who carries forth a briefcase and opens it)  One million dollars, as we agreed upon.

Keith:  (swaggering forward)  You know Mr. Biddah, if that is your real name–

Biddah:  (frowns)  It is.

Keith:  I was doing a little research on this thing called the internet. Probably don’t have that in Yay Man.

Rubbah:  Yemen.

Biddah:  Of course we do. How else do you think I heard about your weapons dealers.

Nate:  (turns to Jimmy)

Jimmy:  We have a website. Twenty-seven hits yesterday.

Keith:  Anyway, the internet told me that each of these tanks is worth over six million clams a pop.

Biddah:  Clams? You want clams?

Keith:  I want money! Moolah! Shkadole!

Biddah:  You want $48 million dollars?

Keith:  Why don’t we just round it up to an even fifty.

Biddah:  We have only brought one million dollars. Your asking price. Take it or leave it.

(Maj. Early screams into Keith’s earpiece…)

Early:  If you don’t take the money, we don’t have a deal!

(Major Early watches from his jeep in the bushes as Sheriff Schwartzcroft and the ATF agents race past in a squad car…)

Early:  What the hell are those boys doing?

(The Sheriff and his officers and the ATF agents pile out of the squad car and draw guns on the three assholes and two gunrunners as the Yemeni rebels draw AK’s on the officers…)

Schwartzcroft:  Mike Miner, Keith Kowalski and Nate Shoops. We have a warrant for your arrest.

Biddah:  What is the meaning of all of this?

Keith:  Uh, ostrichbutt.

(The ATF agents handcuff Jimmy and G-Biscuit and put them in the back of the squad car…)

Schwartzcroft:  You have been charged with high treason and conspiring to sell stolen military weapons to terrorists.

Keith:  Ostrichbutt! Ostrichbutt!

Biddah:  We are not terrorists. You are the terrorists! Why is he saying ‘ostrichbutt’? Is that a codeword? This is an ambush. Men, kill them all. Abd, Al-Hadi, you have greatly shamed your country and your people.

(The rebels and police open fire on each other as Mike climbs up onto the nearest M1-Abrams. The Army convoy comes tearing across the dusty tarmac…)

Mike:  Everybody in the tank!

(The three assholes and Chuck climb in and lock the hatch behind them as bullets ping off the outer armor of the tank…)

Nate:  What do we do! What do we do!

Mike:  We sit in here and wait this out.

Keith:  This is no time for waiting. This is a time for action!

(Keith takes the controls and swivels the cannon toward the general direction of the plane…)

Nate:  Keith, you heard the Major. This thing isn’t loaded.

Keith:  Another lie perpetrated by the military-industrial complex.

Mike:  Aw, you’ve been reading my manifesto.

Keith:  (sheepishly)  Yeah, on the crapper.

(Keith presses fire and the entire tank rocks back as a huge explosion rumbles outside…)

Chuck:  Was that them, son? The Yammadahs?

Keith:  I dunno, I can’t see a thing. Better fire a couple more for good measure.

(Keith fires off rounds until the tank is empty and they’re surrounded by silence…)

Mike:  (peeks up out of the top hatch)  Oh. My. God.

(Keith, Nate and Chuck follow Mike up out of the hatch and they stand on top of the tank to survey the damage. They are surrounded by the smoldering husks of Army jeeps, trucks, a squad car, a B-52 and dozens of bodies…)

Keith:  (sighs)  Anybody else hungry? We could try that new Omani restaurant downtown.

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