Nova
Just Like Law-Jesus
(FADE IN: A walkway on top of the enormous sand dunes that contain the Chairman’s fortress). Two men clad in the silver suits and armed with metal staffs are talking.
FELLA #1: How do you think our chances look?
FELLA #2: Honestly, not that bad. We’ve got the fortified position, sweet weapons, quality training from the Chairman...
They both stare out at the horizon for a moment.
FELLA #1: Yeah, I guess…but there are just so many of them.
The camera rises and pans out over the desert floor below them, where a sea of black ragged cloaks teems with life. Members of the crowd raise their weapons in the air, random things that were probably picked up during the march over; vacuum cleaners, pieces of wood, some knives…you know, stuff you’d fight zombies with.
The doors of the fortress open, and lines of silver-suited men and women emerge, stopping less than a football field away from the mob and forming ranks. Neon lights blink to life on their suits as the sounds of crackling electricity begin floating into the air. The doors close behind them when all are through. One man steps forward, raising his staff into the air.
LE COMMANDANT: SPACE CADEEEEETS…PRESENT TOOLS OF ASSKICKERY!
At once, every cadet brings up their staves.
LE COMMANDANT: FIRST LIIIIIINE…FORM THE GRID!
Across the front of the assembled cosmo-troops, beams of energy connect from the ends of each staff to the other, creating a kind of electric barrier.
LE COMMANDANT: SECOND LIIIIIINE…MOVE UP!
Other cadets crowd around the first line, staves out to defend the line.
LE COMMANDANT: HOLD! Now we wait to see what these Dildo-worshipping cocksuckers are made of!
A few cheers go up sporadically from the assembled force.
“LET’S F*CK ‘EM UP!!”
“FOR THE CHAIRMAN!!”
“THESE GUYS MUST REALLY LOVE DILDOS!”
Seeing that the space cadet force is getting riled up, a few of the Dildonites step and turn to face the crowd, screaming in non-sensical hysterics before turning themselves and charging the Chairman’s militia. This gets the whole shebang moving.
Within the Chairman’s ranks, one young cadet looks over to another, who has a scar over one eye. The older man offers an encouraging grin.
LE COMMANDANT: STEADY…
The ground shakes as the Dildonites sprint towards the first line of cadets. From the top of the fortress, the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” is piped out.
LE COMMANDANT: STEADY…
Objects begin flying through the air towards the cadets. One of the men helping maintain the grid is wiped out by a falling microwave, and another quickly grabs up his staff.
LE COMMANDANT: STEEAAADDDYYY!!
(CUT TO: Inside the fortress.). The Chairman leads Nova and the Hyperspace Kid hurriedly down a dimly-lit hallway, passing space cadets that are running towards the front gates or lookout towers.
CHAIRMAN: The Dildonites are a cult that worships the coming of Yori’s Dildo race. They assume that by preparing the way for the Dildos, they’ll be spared or rewarded when the Dildos enslave Earth.
NOVA: (Already out of breath) How…how can they know about all this?
CHAIRMAN: A man with knowledge of the future organized and launched the cult not too long after I recruited the first space cadets.
NOVA: Who?
CHAIRMAN: Biff Tannen. After failing in his attempts to have a great life by tampering with time and subordinating the McFlys, Bill decided that if he couldn’t be king in this world, he’d try to be an overseer in the world of the Dildos.
NOVA: Chairman, that’s a movie.
CHAIRMAN: I know. The truth is we have no idea who started the cult, but my people demanded blood, so we had the actor who played Biff framed, tried, and executed.
NOVA: You had Tom Wilson executed?!
CHAIRMAN: No. Just kidding.
NOVA: Oh, thank God.
CHAIRMAN: Actually, I’m not.
NOVA: ?!?
CHAIRMAN: Really, though, I am.
NOVA: STOP DOING THAT!
HYPERSPACE KID: He’s not.
CHAIRMAN: We’ll head to the garage and take the Mothership Connection II out the side entrance!
They round a corner, and practically roll over a cadet who stumbles into the arms of the Chairman. Blood is crusted to the side of his face.
WOUNDED CADET: Chairman, thank God! The side entrance is f*cked, sir…we’re barely holding them! They have the garage!
With no table at his disposal, the Chairman can’t slam his fist down, though he wants to.
CHAIRMAN: DAMMIT!
HYPERSPACE KID: If I may offer a suggestion?
CHAIRMAN: Please.
HYPERSPACE KID: What about the rocket launcher?
The Rising Star does a double-take.
NOVA: Say what?! You guys have a rocket launcher?
CHAIRMAN: Joint rocket technology.
NOVA: (Rolling his eyes) God, should’ve known. I mean damn, I like weed, but you guys are obsessed.
The Chairman ignores him, turning back to the Kid.
THE CHAIRMAN: It’s too dangerous!
An explosion not far away rocks the fortress’s foundations.
HYPERSPACE KID: More dangerous than all this?! (Turning to Nova) You remember how the ATV could launch a joint off its back to replace it with a new one?
NOVA: Aye. Neat trick.
HYPERSPACE KID: That technology was originally designed to launch larger “joint rockets” hundreds of miles. It was one of our methods of transportation.
CHAIRMAN: BUT…we never quite figured out precise targeting, and people began to die as a result of landing somewhere wholly different than their intended destination.
HYPERSPACE KID: Like the side of a Wal-Mart.
CHAIRMAN: Or a fireworks stand.
HYPERSPACE KID: Or a cavernous reserve of natural gas underground.
NOVA: I think I get the idea.
Screaming down the hall is heard, and the three men turn to see a door bust open and two figures fall through, a cadet wrestling with a Dildonite woman.
FIGHTING CADET: We won’t hold the side for much longer!! AAAAIIIEE, THIS B*TCH HAS SOME SHARP-ASS TEETH!! AND TELL SOMEONE TO FLIP THAT STONES RECORD!
HYPERSPACE KID: There’s no time, Chairman! We have to get to the launch-pad!
CHAIRMAN: You’re right. LET’S MOVE!
Nova follows them as they sprint down another hallway. More tedious, menial directions follow before they arrive at a door with a giant spliff bronzed on it. The Chairman produces a set of fancy keys and unlocks it. Lights come on inside to reveal a silver platform with a huge joint attached to metal arms that extend out from the launch mechanism. The Hyperspace Kid jogs over to the control panel and begins typing. With a CLUNK-CLUNK, the ceiling begins to open.
HYPERSPACE KID: Now we have to wait for it to power up and stuff.
The Kid pulls a medicine bottle out of his pocket and shakes something into his hand before plopping it into his mouth.
CHAIRMAN: What are you doing there?
HYPERSPACE KID: Dropping acid. You want some?
CHAIRMAN: Mmmm-hmmm.
The Kid hands him some and turns to Nova.
HYPERSPACE KID: You down?
NOVA: I suppose so.
HYPERSPACE KID: Here you are. Alright, now we’re ready to get airborne.
More sounds of fighting echoing through the hall.
HYPERSPACE KID: Nova, probably best that you go first. Climb up onto that joint.
The Rising Star obliges and saddles up on the massive spliff.
NOVA: Now wha-
KA-BOOM~!
NOVA: –aaaaaaiiieeeeeee…
The mechanism fires and Nova disappears in an instant into the sky. A few seconds and one “whirrrrrrrr” sound later, and another joint comes up from below to replace it.
HYPERSPACE KID: After you, Chairman.
CHAIRMAN: Why, thank you.
The Chairman climbs up, and the Kid plays at the panel for a moment before the mechanism launches the Anti-Dildo Leader skyward. The Kid presses a few more buttons, and then scampers around and climbs onto the new joint as its raised onto the platform. He points a finger at the sky.
HYPERSPACE KID: AWAY!
KA-BOOM~!
Up in the sky, the air rushes past Nova, blowing his hair back. Looking down he sees the landscape of the southwest rolling along. He turns back to the Chairman, who is behind and to the left.
NOVA: THIS IS CRAZY!
The Chairman grins as the Hyperspace Kid approaches from behind after his successful launch.
NOVA: HOW COULD THEY POSSIBLY GET US UP HER-OH MY GOD.
As Nova’s eyes widen, the Chairman and the Hyperspace Kid both look back…
…at the helicopter quickly approaching.
CHAIRMAN: DAMN! I underestimated their aerial capabilities!
NOVA: They have helicopters?!
The helicopter swings around to the side, revealing the dildo-fist logo of the Dildonites as well as a man seated in the gunner’s position. He locks his sights on the Chairman.
HYPERSPACE KID: LOOK OUT!
The gunner fires a stream of water at the smoldering end of the Chairman’s joint rocket, but at the last second the Kid steers his own rocket into the path. The end of his joint steams up as the water spray puts it out, and immediately the Kid plummets towards the earth.
HYPERSPACE KID: I’ll catch up! Again!
CHAIRMAN: We don’t have time for this!
Turning on his rocket, the Chairman spins his staff (yep, he still has it) overhead as the beams charge to life on both ends. Electricity crackles and then two streams of energy shoot out of the staff into the sky above them. The Chairman twirls the staff around as the streams spin towards one another. Eventually they cross and pull together into one massive beam.
CHAIRMAN: PLEASURE THIS!!
The Chairman swings the beam down onto the helicopter, and it explodes almost instantly. Nova ducks as one of the blades zooms overhead.
NOVA: This acid is great!
CHAIRMAN: WHAT?!
NOVA: I SAID THIS ACID IS GREAT! I JUST SAW A HELICOPTER EXPLODE!
CHAIRMAN: A HELICOPTER DID JUST EXPLODE!
NOVA: I KNOW!
After that confusing exchange, they fly on for a while.
NOVA: (To himself) Sh*t does make you sleepy, though…
That admission is all it takes for the ULTRATITLE hopeful to lean over and rest his torso on the joint’s surface. For those who have never lain on a joint larger than their own bodies (and I pity you), it kind of feels like when you go to the doctor and they pull that paper stuff over the bench. Not too bad.
Time elapses…
“Wake up.”
“Wake up.”
“WAKE UP!”
Nova opens his eyes and looks around. He’s still on the joint rocket.
NOVA: Weird. I’m surprised I didn’t fall off, since I toss in my sleep.
He turns back to the Chairman, who is still behind him to the left a few yards.
NOVA: How much longer?
CHAIRMAN: Look for yourself!
The Rising Star turns back around and sees Cheyenne unfolding beneath them.
CHAIRMAN: There’s the arena! Expect company! Now follow me!
He scoots forward on his joint rocket and dives the nose of it towards the ground. Nova mimics him and soon they’re both hurtling down towards the Jon Katz Should Give More Specific Bookings Cingular NationWide Arena.
NOVA: Ummm…how do I get off?
CHAIRMAN: I’ll take care of it.
NOVA: The arena’s getting, like, ALOT bigger.
CHAIRMAN: I said I’ve got it.
NOVA: Yeah…but it feels like we’re about to die.
CHAIRMAN: Oh, for f*ck’s sake…
As the ground rushes up at them, the Chairman dives off of his rocket, grabbing Nova in the process. As the latter screams like a tiny child, the former rolls both of them and lands on his feet on the ground with Nova in his arms.
NOVA: What about the joint rockets?
The Chairman grins mischievously and points to a parking lot where both rockets plow into a row of BMW’s, causing…um…I mean, not like a real rocket’s worth of damage…but still, enough to be like “Damn, I just bought that new car. I really didn’t need for it to get all f*cked up like this. Damn.”
“THAT’S AS FAR AS YOU GO, CHAIRMAN!”
Nova and the afore-mentioned turn to see ten or eleven Dildonites standing in front of the entrance to the arena.
DILDONITE #1: Nova won’t be making that Second Chances Match tonight.
DILDONITE #2: A shame. We’re all rooting for Guy Boudreaux.
The Chairman’s eyes narrow as he brings up his staff.
CHAIRMAN: You would.
“DOWN ON THE GROUND, FUNKLESS B*TCHES.”
The voice comes from an intercom, and the Dildonites look up in horror to see a small UFO hovering in the air, laser guns trained on their little unit. They drop to the pavement, arms over their heads. The UFO lands, and smoke pours out of it as the door lowers. From the dense haze emerge the Hyperspace Kid, and none other than George Clinton.
HYPERSPACE KID: I told you I’d catch up!
CHAIRMAN: What happened?
HYPERSPACE KID: Long story short, I fell through the roof of a diner onto Mr. Clinton here’s country-fried steak. Brought him up to speed, he offered the UFO ride, we’re here now, and Nova’s match is about to begin!
NOVA: GEORGE!
CHAIRMAN: No time to waste! Let’s go!
The Chairman and the Kid begin shoving Nova towards the entrance, but the Rising Star keeps looking back at Clinton, who remains standing at the foot of the UFO’s boarding ramp.
NOVA: GEORGE! GEORGE! WHICH ALBUM DID FUNKADELIC RECORD IN THE LENGTH OF A SINGLE ACID TRIP?! I HAVE TO KNOW, GEORGE!! GEOOOOOOOOOOORRRGGEE!!
(FTB)
FELLA #1: How do you think our chances look?
FELLA #2: Honestly, not that bad. We’ve got the fortified position, sweet weapons, quality training from the Chairman...
They both stare out at the horizon for a moment.
FELLA #1: Yeah, I guess…but there are just so many of them.
The camera rises and pans out over the desert floor below them, where a sea of black ragged cloaks teems with life. Members of the crowd raise their weapons in the air, random things that were probably picked up during the march over; vacuum cleaners, pieces of wood, some knives…you know, stuff you’d fight zombies with.
The doors of the fortress open, and lines of silver-suited men and women emerge, stopping less than a football field away from the mob and forming ranks. Neon lights blink to life on their suits as the sounds of crackling electricity begin floating into the air. The doors close behind them when all are through. One man steps forward, raising his staff into the air.
LE COMMANDANT: SPACE CADEEEEETS…PRESENT TOOLS OF ASSKICKERY!
At once, every cadet brings up their staves.
LE COMMANDANT: FIRST LIIIIIINE…FORM THE GRID!
Across the front of the assembled cosmo-troops, beams of energy connect from the ends of each staff to the other, creating a kind of electric barrier.
LE COMMANDANT: SECOND LIIIIIINE…MOVE UP!
Other cadets crowd around the first line, staves out to defend the line.
LE COMMANDANT: HOLD! Now we wait to see what these Dildo-worshipping cocksuckers are made of!
A few cheers go up sporadically from the assembled force.
“LET’S F*CK ‘EM UP!!”
“FOR THE CHAIRMAN!!”
“THESE GUYS MUST REALLY LOVE DILDOS!”
Seeing that the space cadet force is getting riled up, a few of the Dildonites step and turn to face the crowd, screaming in non-sensical hysterics before turning themselves and charging the Chairman’s militia. This gets the whole shebang moving.
Within the Chairman’s ranks, one young cadet looks over to another, who has a scar over one eye. The older man offers an encouraging grin.
LE COMMANDANT: STEADY…
The ground shakes as the Dildonites sprint towards the first line of cadets. From the top of the fortress, the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” is piped out.
LE COMMANDANT: STEADY…
Objects begin flying through the air towards the cadets. One of the men helping maintain the grid is wiped out by a falling microwave, and another quickly grabs up his staff.
LE COMMANDANT: STEEAAADDDYYY!!
Road to ULTRATITLE: Destination Cheyenne
(CUT TO: Inside the fortress.). The Chairman leads Nova and the Hyperspace Kid hurriedly down a dimly-lit hallway, passing space cadets that are running towards the front gates or lookout towers.
CHAIRMAN: The Dildonites are a cult that worships the coming of Yori’s Dildo race. They assume that by preparing the way for the Dildos, they’ll be spared or rewarded when the Dildos enslave Earth.
NOVA: (Already out of breath) How…how can they know about all this?
CHAIRMAN: A man with knowledge of the future organized and launched the cult not too long after I recruited the first space cadets.
NOVA: Who?
CHAIRMAN: Biff Tannen. After failing in his attempts to have a great life by tampering with time and subordinating the McFlys, Bill decided that if he couldn’t be king in this world, he’d try to be an overseer in the world of the Dildos.
NOVA: Chairman, that’s a movie.
CHAIRMAN: I know. The truth is we have no idea who started the cult, but my people demanded blood, so we had the actor who played Biff framed, tried, and executed.
NOVA: You had Tom Wilson executed?!
CHAIRMAN: No. Just kidding.
NOVA: Oh, thank God.
CHAIRMAN: Actually, I’m not.
NOVA: ?!?
CHAIRMAN: Really, though, I am.
NOVA: STOP DOING THAT!
HYPERSPACE KID: He’s not.
CHAIRMAN: We’ll head to the garage and take the Mothership Connection II out the side entrance!
They round a corner, and practically roll over a cadet who stumbles into the arms of the Chairman. Blood is crusted to the side of his face.
WOUNDED CADET: Chairman, thank God! The side entrance is f*cked, sir…we’re barely holding them! They have the garage!
With no table at his disposal, the Chairman can’t slam his fist down, though he wants to.
CHAIRMAN: DAMMIT!
HYPERSPACE KID: If I may offer a suggestion?
CHAIRMAN: Please.
HYPERSPACE KID: What about the rocket launcher?
The Rising Star does a double-take.
NOVA: Say what?! You guys have a rocket launcher?
CHAIRMAN: Joint rocket technology.
NOVA: (Rolling his eyes) God, should’ve known. I mean damn, I like weed, but you guys are obsessed.
The Chairman ignores him, turning back to the Kid.
THE CHAIRMAN: It’s too dangerous!
An explosion not far away rocks the fortress’s foundations.
HYPERSPACE KID: More dangerous than all this?! (Turning to Nova) You remember how the ATV could launch a joint off its back to replace it with a new one?
NOVA: Aye. Neat trick.
HYPERSPACE KID: That technology was originally designed to launch larger “joint rockets” hundreds of miles. It was one of our methods of transportation.
CHAIRMAN: BUT…we never quite figured out precise targeting, and people began to die as a result of landing somewhere wholly different than their intended destination.
HYPERSPACE KID: Like the side of a Wal-Mart.
CHAIRMAN: Or a fireworks stand.
HYPERSPACE KID: Or a cavernous reserve of natural gas underground.
NOVA: I think I get the idea.
Screaming down the hall is heard, and the three men turn to see a door bust open and two figures fall through, a cadet wrestling with a Dildonite woman.
FIGHTING CADET: We won’t hold the side for much longer!! AAAAIIIEE, THIS B*TCH HAS SOME SHARP-ASS TEETH!! AND TELL SOMEONE TO FLIP THAT STONES RECORD!
HYPERSPACE KID: There’s no time, Chairman! We have to get to the launch-pad!
CHAIRMAN: You’re right. LET’S MOVE!
Nova follows them as they sprint down another hallway. More tedious, menial directions follow before they arrive at a door with a giant spliff bronzed on it. The Chairman produces a set of fancy keys and unlocks it. Lights come on inside to reveal a silver platform with a huge joint attached to metal arms that extend out from the launch mechanism. The Hyperspace Kid jogs over to the control panel and begins typing. With a CLUNK-CLUNK, the ceiling begins to open.
HYPERSPACE KID: Now we have to wait for it to power up and stuff.
The Kid pulls a medicine bottle out of his pocket and shakes something into his hand before plopping it into his mouth.
CHAIRMAN: What are you doing there?
HYPERSPACE KID: Dropping acid. You want some?
CHAIRMAN: Mmmm-hmmm.
The Kid hands him some and turns to Nova.
HYPERSPACE KID: You down?
NOVA: I suppose so.
HYPERSPACE KID: Here you are. Alright, now we’re ready to get airborne.
More sounds of fighting echoing through the hall.
HYPERSPACE KID: Nova, probably best that you go first. Climb up onto that joint.
The Rising Star obliges and saddles up on the massive spliff.
NOVA: Now wha-
KA-BOOM~!
NOVA: –aaaaaaiiieeeeeee…
The mechanism fires and Nova disappears in an instant into the sky. A few seconds and one “whirrrrrrrr” sound later, and another joint comes up from below to replace it.
HYPERSPACE KID: After you, Chairman.
CHAIRMAN: Why, thank you.
The Chairman climbs up, and the Kid plays at the panel for a moment before the mechanism launches the Anti-Dildo Leader skyward. The Kid presses a few more buttons, and then scampers around and climbs onto the new joint as its raised onto the platform. He points a finger at the sky.
HYPERSPACE KID: AWAY!
KA-BOOM~!
Up in the sky, the air rushes past Nova, blowing his hair back. Looking down he sees the landscape of the southwest rolling along. He turns back to the Chairman, who is behind and to the left.
NOVA: THIS IS CRAZY!
The Chairman grins as the Hyperspace Kid approaches from behind after his successful launch.
NOVA: HOW COULD THEY POSSIBLY GET US UP HER-OH MY GOD.
As Nova’s eyes widen, the Chairman and the Hyperspace Kid both look back…
…at the helicopter quickly approaching.
CHAIRMAN: DAMN! I underestimated their aerial capabilities!
NOVA: They have helicopters?!
The helicopter swings around to the side, revealing the dildo-fist logo of the Dildonites as well as a man seated in the gunner’s position. He locks his sights on the Chairman.
HYPERSPACE KID: LOOK OUT!
The gunner fires a stream of water at the smoldering end of the Chairman’s joint rocket, but at the last second the Kid steers his own rocket into the path. The end of his joint steams up as the water spray puts it out, and immediately the Kid plummets towards the earth.
HYPERSPACE KID: I’ll catch up! Again!
CHAIRMAN: We don’t have time for this!
Turning on his rocket, the Chairman spins his staff (yep, he still has it) overhead as the beams charge to life on both ends. Electricity crackles and then two streams of energy shoot out of the staff into the sky above them. The Chairman twirls the staff around as the streams spin towards one another. Eventually they cross and pull together into one massive beam.
CHAIRMAN: PLEASURE THIS!!
The Chairman swings the beam down onto the helicopter, and it explodes almost instantly. Nova ducks as one of the blades zooms overhead.
NOVA: This acid is great!
CHAIRMAN: WHAT?!
NOVA: I SAID THIS ACID IS GREAT! I JUST SAW A HELICOPTER EXPLODE!
CHAIRMAN: A HELICOPTER DID JUST EXPLODE!
NOVA: I KNOW!
After that confusing exchange, they fly on for a while.
NOVA: (To himself) Sh*t does make you sleepy, though…
That admission is all it takes for the ULTRATITLE hopeful to lean over and rest his torso on the joint’s surface. For those who have never lain on a joint larger than their own bodies (and I pity you), it kind of feels like when you go to the doctor and they pull that paper stuff over the bench. Not too bad.
Time elapses…
“Wake up.”
“Wake up.”
“WAKE UP!”
Nova opens his eyes and looks around. He’s still on the joint rocket.
NOVA: Weird. I’m surprised I didn’t fall off, since I toss in my sleep.
He turns back to the Chairman, who is still behind him to the left a few yards.
NOVA: How much longer?
CHAIRMAN: Look for yourself!
The Rising Star turns back around and sees Cheyenne unfolding beneath them.
CHAIRMAN: There’s the arena! Expect company! Now follow me!
He scoots forward on his joint rocket and dives the nose of it towards the ground. Nova mimics him and soon they’re both hurtling down towards the Jon Katz Should Give More Specific Bookings Cingular NationWide Arena.
NOVA: Ummm…how do I get off?
CHAIRMAN: I’ll take care of it.
NOVA: The arena’s getting, like, ALOT bigger.
CHAIRMAN: I said I’ve got it.
NOVA: Yeah…but it feels like we’re about to die.
CHAIRMAN: Oh, for f*ck’s sake…
As the ground rushes up at them, the Chairman dives off of his rocket, grabbing Nova in the process. As the latter screams like a tiny child, the former rolls both of them and lands on his feet on the ground with Nova in his arms.
NOVA: What about the joint rockets?
The Chairman grins mischievously and points to a parking lot where both rockets plow into a row of BMW’s, causing…um…I mean, not like a real rocket’s worth of damage…but still, enough to be like “Damn, I just bought that new car. I really didn’t need for it to get all f*cked up like this. Damn.”
“THAT’S AS FAR AS YOU GO, CHAIRMAN!”
Nova and the afore-mentioned turn to see ten or eleven Dildonites standing in front of the entrance to the arena.
DILDONITE #1: Nova won’t be making that Second Chances Match tonight.
DILDONITE #2: A shame. We’re all rooting for Guy Boudreaux.
The Chairman’s eyes narrow as he brings up his staff.
CHAIRMAN: You would.
“DOWN ON THE GROUND, FUNKLESS B*TCHES.”
The voice comes from an intercom, and the Dildonites look up in horror to see a small UFO hovering in the air, laser guns trained on their little unit. They drop to the pavement, arms over their heads. The UFO lands, and smoke pours out of it as the door lowers. From the dense haze emerge the Hyperspace Kid, and none other than George Clinton.
HYPERSPACE KID: I told you I’d catch up!
CHAIRMAN: What happened?
HYPERSPACE KID: Long story short, I fell through the roof of a diner onto Mr. Clinton here’s country-fried steak. Brought him up to speed, he offered the UFO ride, we’re here now, and Nova’s match is about to begin!
NOVA: GEORGE!
CHAIRMAN: No time to waste! Let’s go!
The Chairman and the Kid begin shoving Nova towards the entrance, but the Rising Star keeps looking back at Clinton, who remains standing at the foot of the UFO’s boarding ramp.
NOVA: GEORGE! GEORGE! WHICH ALBUM DID FUNKADELIC RECORD IN THE LENGTH OF A SINGLE ACID TRIP?! I HAVE TO KNOW, GEORGE!! GEOOOOOOOOOOORRRGGEE!!
(FTB)
