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 !  The Perils of Janeane, part 6

The Many Misadventures of Little Myth JG
An Original Comic Adventure Series By

George "Rusty" Datt

** Note - Terms used in these adventure scripts:
O.S. = Off Screen
V.O. = Voice Over
EST = Establishing Shot
INT = Interior
EXT = Exterior
POV = Point Of View
INSERT = A Camera Shot Usually Focusing On An Object




Close-up of Janeane's telephone answering machine as it lights up to receive a call. Voices are heard through the speakers.

Hey, Janeane, Denis Leary here.
Just what the f**kin' hell is this
message supposed to mean?

Leary plays back Janeane's original message.

"Hello, Dennis, just thought I'd call
and thank you for the bitchin' gift
of the mushrooms. I must say, that
was a real unexpected surprise. They
smelled a little funky, but hey, isn't
that always the way with gourmet food?
I'm going to try them out on top of
the pizza I just ordered. Thanks

Leary's voice is heard on the machine again.

What, did you finally inhale too
much lighter fluid while you and
your fruity, bare-*ss*d friends
were burning all of those flags
on Columbus Street? Listen close,
babe, okay? In light of our current
political differences, there is no
f**k*n' way I would give you anything, except maybe a box of suppositories
so you could finally have something
else to stick up your *ss instead of
your big empty head. Hey, how many
times do I have to tell you, we're
f**k*n' America. We should be allowed
to blow stuff up. I think we should
take Iraq and Iran and combine them
into one country and call it Irate.
Let all of those pissed off people
live in one place and get it over with --
and then blow the g*dd*mn*d sh*t out
of 'em all! Oh, and another thing.
Don't be using cuss words right
over the phone, you f**k*n' braindead
bimbo. Don't you f**k*n' know I've got
kids here to set an example for?
(yelling at someone
in background)
Hey, you little d*ckh**d, how many
times did I tell you, don't be pouring
beer down the toilet, or Daddy won't
give you any more, you little
m*th*rf**ck*n' rugrat?

Leary clicks off. The machine lights up again, and another caller is heard.

Hello, Ms. Garofalo? Tricia Deadwood
here, Postal Inspector's Office. Uh,
I'm afraid a serious mistake has
been made with your mail delivery.
I believe you received a package
today from a Mr. Leary. Closer
examination of our records indicates
that somehow this delivery was
interchanged with another recipient.
In fact, the package you received
was from a Dr. Timothy Leary, and
it was impounded by postal authorities
almost fifty years ago. We aren't
certain, but it may contain psliocybin
mushrooms, otherwise known as LSD, a
very dangerous hallucinogenic drug.
Sorry about the mix up, but it was a
typical day down here at the post
office, so we were all busy shooting
at each other. If you're already dead
from a fatal overdose, please disregard
this message. Have a nice day.

The machine clicks off. The view shifts to Janeane, lying on the couch with her eyes glazed over and a half-eaten slice of pizza dangling from her mouth. She is twitching as her head rolls back and forth.

Oh, I don't feel so good. Please,
god, don't let me end up like
Cass Elliott. I promise to use
portion control from now on...

Janeane feels herself getting lightheaded, and then spinning in circles, faster and faster as she falls down a long, dark tunnel with a large, white, fuzzy object moving just ahead of her. As she reaches a bright light at the end of the tunnel, she loses consciousness.



Janeane comes to and continues to chase the large, white fuzzy creature running ahead of her. The walls of the hallway are lined with shelves full of numerous and sundry objects, including Starbucks cups, platform sneakers and copies of "Feel This Book". As she passes a mirror, she gets a glimpse of herself wearing a nineteenth century child's dress with apron and ribbons in her hair.

Oh, please don't let this be
California. The last thing I need
is to bump into Arnold while I'm
all dressed up like Heidi.

The creature stops momentarily and turns toward Janeane. She recognizes it as a large white rabbit, wearing a pair of cowboy boots, a pilot's jacket and helmet, and an oversized cowboy hat on top of the helmet. Its face curiously resembles our Commander and Chief, George W. Bush.

Oh dear! Oh dear!
I shall be late!

(shaking her fist)
You little furry doughnut hole!
Come back.

(looking at wristwatch)
Oh my ears and whiskers,
How late it's getting!
Some military policy
I should be setting.
Afghanistan and then Iraq;
And Syria comes next.
Shock and Awe for taxpayers,
Who cover my blank checks.

The rabbit quickly darts out of sight.

Rats. There goes Peter Rottontale.
Where the hell am I?

Janeane surveys the situation and finds herself in a long, low hallway lined with different-sized doors.

Oh, great. What's next, Monte
Hall and "Let's Make a Deal"?
Something tells me I'm about to
be "zonked"...

She tries all of the doors and finds them all locked.

Hmph. Reminds me of the dressing
rooms at Saturday Night Live. Not
to fear. I'm from Jersey.

She pulls a bobby pin from her hair and begins picking locks. She opens the largest door and Ed Begley, Jr. hops out, tied to a chair.

Oh thanks, Janeane. I didn't think
I'd ever get free.

(untying him)
What happened?

Christine Todd Whitman and her
flunkies at the EPA tricked me. They
want to eliminate me as the country's
leading environmental spokesperson,
so they can wreak ecological havoc.
They showed me this great script for
an episode of "Dr. Quinn, Medicine
Woman", where I get to guest star
and teach all of the townspeople how
to build chemical outhouses and
electric horses. Next thing I knew,
they shoved me in here and tied
me up.

Uh, I thought Doctor Quinn got
cancelled a couple of years ago.

Oh. Well, I spent a lot of time
out in the woods.

(peeking behind door)
Anything else worth seeing in here?

No. Just reruns of "St. Elsewhere",
"Captain Planet", and Rachel Carson
I thought I was going to go crazy.

(slamming door quickly)
All I needed to know.
(scratching her head)
I wonder which one to try next.

(pointing behind Janeane)
Well, if I remember the original
version of the Wonderland story,
there ought to be a big glass table
behind you with a key and a potion.

What, no stoners or cokeheads? No
dead bodies or over-the-hill porno
stars? That doesn't sound like
"Wonderland" to me, but then I
really wasn't on the set long
enough to take it all in.

She turns and, sure enough, finds the glass table. She walks over to it and picks up a key and bottle of potion.

Looks like this fits the smallest

She tries the key in the door and it unlatches.

(reading potion bottle)
"Drink me to get smaller."
Must be a new flavor of Slim Fast.
Hope it's ephedra-free.

No, it's a magic reducing potion.
That's so you can fit through the
door. It's way too small for any
normal size person.

Janeane stoops down and slips through the opening easily.

Finally that recessive gene pool
comes in useful for something.
(tossing bottle to Begley)
Here. Knock yourself out, big guy.

No thanks. I'm running late for an
appointment with Ed Asner and Burt
Young on Hollywood Boulevard. I'm
narrating a National Geographic
documentary called "Gorillas in
the Wild."
(holding up the bottle
of shrinking potion)
But I'll drop this off at Brooke
Shields's house.

Janeane exits through the door and Ed retreats through the tunnel.



Janeane enters a beautiful enchanted garden filled with bright flowers and cool fountains.

Wow, if I believed in god, I'd
swear this was heaven -- but if
there were a god, Lorenzo Lamas
would have been born with a human

She notices three gardeners standing around a large rose tree busily spray-painting the blossoms red, white and blue.

What are you doing? That paint is
toxic to those plants.

Sorry, ma'am, but the king and
queen insist that everything has
to match the royal colors.

Well, at least I know I'm still in
post-Clinton America. Wait until my
friends from Christopher Street find
out about this. They're going to
need a new fire insurance carrier
for the whole kingdom.

A voice is heard from high in a nearby tree and Janeane is startled.

Peekaboo, little infidel woman.

First a set of teeth materializes. Then slowly but surely the entire image of the Cheshire Cat becomes visible, with the grinning face of Saddam Hussein.

You? What do you want?

I ask you to join my harem. You are
not good subservient Muslim woman,
but you are enemy of my enemy the
Bush, so I will still make you
my wife.

Uh, not so fast there, Mr. Moustache.
Listen, like I told that Fox morning
show, just because I opposed military
action in Iraq, you have no right to
assume that I am supporting you or
condoning your regime. In fact, I
consider you to be a cruel,
misguided leader who provokes war,
misappropriates your country's wealth, hoards weapons of mass destruction
and encourages cultural divisions
that can lead to violence and even
genocide -- no, wait, that's what I
said about Bush; but anyway, you can
still see it would never work out
between the two of us.

Because you dislike me for all of
the things I have done?

No, because I couldn't keep up with
you. You see, I always feel like I
need to take the lead in a relationship --
dancing, driving, you name it. Let's
face it; how is a mellowed out "Indie Queen" and standup comic going to
outdo a real, live evil dictator?
Sorry, but I'm afraid I would have
difficulty balancing that emotionally.

Just as I would have difficulty
finding a veil sufficient to cover that
mouth of yours. So I leave you with a
warning: Beware. No matter which way
you go, you will encounter evil sons
of the great satan who will not
respect you.

Hey, I weighed one-fifty in my
sophomore year at college, so believe
me, I know all about it. Nothing
newsworthy there.

That's the problem with getting all
of your info from Al Jazeera. When
the correspondents travel by camel
caravan, they have a hard time
scooping the competition.

The Cheshire Saddam slowly vanishes, beginning with its tail and ending with its big white grin.

Creepy! It's like watching Tony
Robbins exit a room.

She continues down the path through the garden.



As Janeane approaches, the March Hare (white rabbit) who resembles Bush and a Mad Hatter who favors Donald Rumsfeld are drinking tea with a Dormouse positioned between them fast asleep.

(sticking tongue
out at Janeane)
No room! No room! Go away. My daddy
told me not to play with you.

(taking a seat
at the table)
Sorry, I didn't vote for him, either.

Have some wine.

Why, because you don't have any wine?

No, because we know you're an
alcoholic, and we figure if we get
you drunk, we can frame you for a
scandal. Gee whiz, you shouldn't be
so distrustful.

Listen, all I'm looking for is a
way out of here.

(smacking his fist
on the table)
Doggone it, it's not that simple.
The message is that there are known
knowns - there are things that we
know that we know. There are known
unknowns - that is to say, there are
things that we now know we don't know.
But there are also unknown unknowns --
there are things we do not know we
don't know. And each year we discover
a few more of those unknown unknowns.
Charlie...the barnyard!

Janeane jumps back in her chair and stares horrified.

Did that clarify the situation
for you, little lady?


Wow, that sounded really smart.
Don't you think so, Tony?

The March Hare rouses the Dormouse. When it raises its head, it resembles Tony Blair.

Oooh, I feel bad. Everyone hates me,
I'm not going to be reelected, and
I think I'm having a bloody heart

Ah, that's nothing. Dick Cheney has
one every other day. Sometimes when
we're all together on the ranch, I like
to sneak up behind him and yell, "Boo!"
Then we have to attach jumper cables to
his nipples and crank up the tractor.
Ha, ha. And those liberals say we don't
know how to have a good time.
(holding up a tea cup)
Could I have another lump, please?

Take two. I insist.

Well, okay. If you say so.

They both reach under the table and produce large wooden mallets. They raise the mallets over their heads and strike the Dormouse simultaneously. The Dormouse slumps over face down on the table, while the Hatter and Hare laugh raucously.

Ha, ha. That's fun! Gee, I can't
understand why nobody else wants to be allies with us. That U. N. is a
bunch of sourpusses.

Maybe they know better. No, I
don't think so. Oh goodness...
I shouldn't say "I don't think so",
although that's what I think.
Uh, I believe what I said
yesterday ...I don't know what I
said, er, but I know what I think,
and ...well, I assume it's what I

(shaking her head)
I can't believe you pathetic clowns
are getting 87 billion from Congress
and the American taxpayers to occupy a
country we shouldn't have invaded in
the first place.

Don't you understand? We're liberating
the Iraqi people. We're gonna give 'em
Jesus - and Pepsi Cola.

Don't YOU understand? They don't want
that. They've already got Allah - and
most of their original teeth.

(wagging finger
at Janeane)
For people to waste their time
chasing that rabbit, only to run
it down, and find they've got the
wrong rabbit, I think is a shame.

No thanks, Donny, I don't want to
play tag right now. I just ate some
crumpets, and my mommy always says
that can give you cramps - or is
it crabs?
(wrinkling his nose)
No, crabs are what you get from
strumpets. I learned that on Sesame
Street. Look, this is really cool.

The Hare lifts the Dormouse's paw and places it in a cup of lukewarm tea.

My daddy says this will make him
pee. He did it once to Bill Buckley
at Yale.

The Hare and Hatter cackle heartily while the Dormouse begins to convulse in shock.

Really, I don't think . . .

Then you shouldn't talk. I thought
Bill O'Reilly would have taught
you that.
(Grinning mischievously)
Remember that Freudian dream you
had about the missing left eye?

(touching her left eye)
I never said there was anything
wrong with my left eye.


Made ya look! Made ya look!

Made ya look! Made ya look!



Um, remember that other dream,
where you were missing your
left breast?

Janeane almost raises a hand, but then catches herself.

Yeah, right. In YOUR dreams.

(smirking, with paws
extended, palms up)
It was worth a try.

That's it. I'm out of here.

Janeane stands up from the table and leaves in a huff, glancing back just once to observe the Hare and the Hatter trying to stuff the poor Dormouse into a kitchen blender.



Janeane is perched atop a stump and surrounded by all of the Wonderland creatures, including the Duck, Dodo, Lory, Eaglet, Bill the Lizard, The Blue Caterpillar, Frog, Gryphon, Mock Turtle, hedgehogs, flamingoes and assorted walking playing cards. Janeane is lecturing forcefully with a notebook in hand.

Now, I haven't met your King
and Queen yet, but I am well
acquainted with the March Hare
and Mad Hatter, and I can tell
you from experience that they are
both doughnut holes. Their message
and their politics only appeal to
the dumb and the mean.

The creatures cheer and applaud.

(glancing at her notepad)
It was George Orwell who said,
"In times of universal deceit,
telling the truth will be a
revolutionary act." But tell
the truth we must, for without
constructive disagreement and
dissent, there can be no
progress. No less a source than
Dwight D. Eisenhower observed,
"Here in America, we are descended
in blood and in spirit from
revolutionists and rebels - men
and women who dare to dissent from
accepted doctrine. As their heirs,
we may never confuse honest
dissent with disloyal subversion."

The crowd erupts wildly.

Therefore I exhort you to rise
up against the oppression and
misrepresentations you have been
forced to endure, for in the words
of Alan Watts: "But when no risk is
taken, there is no freedom."

The crowd lets out a deafening roar of approval. A flamingo approaches Janeane on her stump with a wing upraised as if to ask a question.

(acknowledging flamingo)
Yes, ma'am. I believe we have
a question.

They force the hedgehogs and us
to substitute for croquet equipment.
I personally find this painful and
degrading. What can we do?

Don't worry, I know some people
you can call in PETA and the SPCA.
I'll even put you in touch with some
ACLU attorneys who will handle any
subsequent litigation on a pro bono
basis. Believe me, before it's over,
you'll be smacking THEM all over
the lawn.

The crowd cheers again.

Now is not the time for timidity and
indecisiveness; now is the time for
action. In the words of no less than
Abbie Hoffman himself, "The first duty
of a revolutionary is to get away with
it." Remember that immortal sentiment:
"Every revolution begins with one
person with a vision."

Who said that?

(flipping pages
of her notepad)
Um, let me see, I think it was Karl
Marx. No, wait, maybe it was William
Shatner in the alternate universe
episode of Star Trek . . .

While Janeane is rooting through her notes, a procession approaches.

The King! The King!

Some of the creatures scatter. Others throw themselves flat upon their faces as a long, slow procession of soldiers and walking playing cards passes by, starting with low denominations and suits. Finally, the high face cards pass by and with them the March Hare.

Make way for my daddy, King
George the First!

George H. W. Bush, Sr., dressed as the King of Hearts, emerges from the procession and approaches Janeane, who dismounts her perch on the stump.

Eh, what have we got going here,
a revival meeting? Oh, I sure
hope it isn't over that Episcopalian
thing again. Like I told Barbara,
just wait and they'll be painting
the church pink next. Yeah, that's
when we're turning Presbyterian.

No, sir, this is a protest

She turns and sees all of the Wonderland creatures sneaking away.

Or at least what's left of it.
(yelling to
fleeing creatures)
Chicken livers! You deserve to
be enslaved in your nineteenth
century stereotypes!

Protest march? What have you
got to protest? I think things are
looking pretty darned good, if
you ask me.

Good? We have gone from the
largest single budget surplus to
the greatest single deficit in
less than a year. Unemployment is
rising, more jobs are going overseas,
health care and higher education
are becoming unattainable for the
vast majority of wage-earners, and
we're engrossed in an unfair,
unjustified war overseas that
threatens to drag on for years.

You must be one of those people
who really like to nitpick. You
know, it's people like you who
blew that whole Rodney King thing
out of proportion, without even
considering how much he hurt those
poor policemen's knuckles. Didn't
you ever hear that old saying
about the glass being half-full?

(shaking her head)
No, to me it's always half-empty.
And cracked. And I just cut my lip
on it. And chipped a tooth. As I
was just telling your subjects, if
everyone lives in the Pollyanna
world that conservatives like you
try to prescribe, no significant
social change will ever be

Pfft. That's nuts. I haven't heard
anything so crazy since Quayle
tried to get Calista Flockhart
accepted into Skull and Bones. Damned
fool, he thought it was supposed to
be "Skin and Bones". You need to
loosen your corset, little lady.
Let some blood flow up to your
head, maybe even get some color
back in that hair. He, he.
(turning to hedgehogs
and flamingoes)
Come on, fellas, let's look
lively. Time to set up for a game
of croquet. The Queen says she feels
like playing a quick nine hoops.

(stepping in front
of the animals)
I'm sorry, but I'm handling a
labor relations complaint on their
behalf. Your use of these creatures
in this manner is totally
inappropriate from an animal
rights standpoint.

Inappropriate? Well, I never...
Oh boy, the Queen sure isn't gonna
like this. Nope. Not a bit.

Make way for the Queen! Make
way for the Queen!

The Hare runs excitedly in circles and accidentally bumps into the King, knocking him off balance.

(standing up again)
Watch it, boy.
(under his breath)
That better be powdered sugar you're
pouring on top of your corn flakes,
young man.

Another royal procession approaches, led by the Queen of Hearts. As she approaches, Janeane recognizes her as her old friend Lisa Kudrow.

Lisa? What are you doing here?
Where's Barbara Bush?

Ah, she's still mad at me over that
Jennifer Fitzgerald thing.
Thank you very much, Donna Brazile.
I tried to tell her it wasn't as bad
as Clinton, because there wasn't any --
er, tobacco involved; but she won't
play First Lady anymore, so I didn't
have any choice. I had to recast her.

(to Lisa, sarcastically)
What's the matter? Aren't you
making enough money on "Friends"
after twenty seasons plus reruns,
or do you just prefer gigs where
you only work with white people?

No, I just got used to playing
the female lead in "Wonderland",
unlike some people I know.

You stole that role right out
from under me! I was meant for
that part. Tell me anyone can
deliver those lines better!

Janeane turns around and crouches in front of the King, as if she is auditioning.

(grabbing the
King's crotch)
"You chose that disgusting thing
over me!"
(passionately, while
moving her grip up to
the King's belt)
"You remember that day, 15 years ago,
when you were measuring yourself
in the mirror?"

Whoa there, little lady.
(wiping his brow with
a handkerchief)
Oh my goodness. That certainly
does seem like a "meaty" role.
Is that Shakespeare?

The Lisa Kudrow Queen of Hearts pulls Janeane off the King and whirls her around to confront her.

Give it up already. He didn't even
understand Murphy Brown. Face it,
just because your career has cooled
off, you don't have to go around
blaming everyone else who still isn't
afraid to slip a producer a little
bit of leg or cleavage.




Commie lesbo!

Sold-out Hollywood bimbo!

Can't accessorize!

They lunge at each other, fully enraged. They roll around on the ground, kicking, biting and pulling each other's hair, until soldiers and playing cards intervene and separate them.

Off with her head! Off with her
head -- or at least that hair!

Now, you know we can't do that, my
lady. This is still the United States
of America. First we have to give her a
trial. I have my responsibilities
to consider.

Yeah, I've still got my
constitutional rights!

No, honey, I meant my responsibilities
to commercial television advertisers.
Don't worry. We still have every
intention of railroading you, just as
soon as we score some big rating points.
Quick, somebody call my broker and get
get some shares of Court TV stock. This
is gonna be bigger than that O. J.

The trial's beginning! The trial's

The entire procession heads toward the royal palace with Janeane in tow.



The King and Queen of hearts are seated on their respective thrones. A witness chair and jury box are set up before them. Janeane is dragged forcibly into the room and made to sit in the witness chair. The March Hare attempts to handcuff her.

(fighting Janeane with
handcuffs in his hands)
The defendant must be restrained!
She's dangerous. She has threatened
the King!

Let go of me, doughnut hole!

They finally break apart and the rabbit finds himself shackled by his own paw to a hind foot while Janeane remains free.

(rolling around clumsily
in his restraints)
Daddy, help! She tricked me again!

(rubbing his forehead)
Oh boy, here we go again. Just like
when we got him that slinky for
Christmas and everyone thought he
was a bobblehead doll. Ah, kids.
They're nothing but trouble. If it
isn't one thing, it's another.
(mimicking children)
"Daddy, I didn't get enough votes.
Help me win the election."
"Daddy, I had another affair and my
wife is divorcing me again. Help me
cover it up and take her to the
"Daddy, I collapsed the entire banking
industry. Help me get off the hook and
stick the taxpayers with the bill."
"Daddy, I'm drunk and AWOL, and my
grades are worse than John Kennedy,
Jr. Help me do a political makeover."
Eh, like I told Barbara, we should
have had more girls, but with our
luck, they'd all marry Baldwin
brothers. Oh well, let's get on
with it.

The King removes his crown, places a large, white, powdered wig on his head, and replaces the crown again.

Oh, that makes you look so distinguished.
Just like a colonial statesman.

Actually, I'm just trying to hide
this high old forehead. Nothing worse than to get caught on camera with "chrome-dome".

Janeane leans forward in the jury box and touches her hair.

Oh, I have that same problem. That's
why I went to the bangs in front.

(studying Janeane
and nodding)
Oh yeah, I see that. But why did
you change your color?

I don't know. It's hard to explain.
Just one of those mid-life things,
I guess. Actually, once I did it
clown-red. You know, to get that
color, you have to bleach your hair out
and put Manic Panic Red over it . . .

(smacking her throne
with her scepter)
Enough! Enough with the hair talk
already! Stop trying to influence
the judge. Let's hear the charges,

The soldiers have managed to free the March Hare, and he picks up his herald's trumpet and blows three long, off key blasts straight into the king's ear.

(covering his ears
and wincing)

The March Hare, acting as herald, announces the charges.

(pointing to Janeane)
"The Queen of Hearts, she fought
this tart, All on a summer day;
The King of Hearts, he hates this
tart, So he's gonna put her away!

Janeane reaches out and pulls his ear hard.


I request a formal reading of the
indictment against me.

Huh? Where did you learn to talk
like that?

I did a two-part episode of "Law
and Order".

Oh. Sorry, I quit watching that show
after they fired Michael Moriarty.
(putting on eyeglasses
and reading from papers)
The charges against the defendant are
as follows. She is instructed to plead
to each count. One count of treason...

Not guilty.

One count of inciting civil

Not guilty.

One count of assault and battery
against a royal official...

Not guilty.

And one count of bad acting.

He holds up a copy of "Wet Hot American Summer."

Uh, I think I'll go nolo contendere
on that one...

Very well. The jury may be seated.

Janeane turns to watch the jury filing into the box. The jury consists of twelve walking playing cards, with faces she recognizes. She quickly picks out Lorne Michaels, Adam Sandler, Joan Rivers, Bill O'Reilly, Joe Scarborough, Bruce Willis, Dennis Miller, Denis Leary, Aaron Spelling, Tom Ridge, John Ashcroft, and Clarence Thomas.

Oh my god, this is my jury from hell.

She turns and addresses the court.

Your Honor, I respectfully assert my
right to be judged by a jury of my peers.

So what's the problem? They're all
peering at you, aren't they?

Janeane turns to observe the entire jury leering at her ominously, with some brandishing weapons and Joan Rivers holding up an imitation noose.

No, I mean people who are equal in
standing to myself and unbiased by
their preexisting beliefs.

Now, doggone it, if I could find
twelve more people like that, I'd
have them on trial, too. Yeah,
there's a baker's dozen that
worries me for more reasons than
the cholesterol.

Well, aren't I entitled to
competent defense?

Send in the public defender.

The Donald Rumsfeld Mad Hatter enters the courtroom and approaches Janeane.

Don't worry. We've got this covered
like the Taliban.

So what's your strategy?

The dumbest thing anyone could do
would be to stand up here and start
previewing things that somebody's
thinking about or not thinking about
or starting to disabuse you of each
thing somebody tells you that we're
thinking about, because the first
time we don't disabuse you, you'll
say, "Aha - that's what they're
going to do!"

(flopping her head down
onto her folded hands)
Oh, somebody just shoot me now and
get it over with.

I'm sorry. Sometimes this legal
talk gets a little complicated.
Perhaps you would prefer to confer
with co-counsel for the defense. He's
a much better communicator than myself.

He motions behind him to a playing card with the face of Yogi Berra.

Hey, Janeane. It ain't over till
it's over, unless it's a case
like this where it's over before
it's started.

That's it! I will represent myself.

Well, that settles that. Now who are
we going to get for the prosecution?
Wonder if Rudy Giuliani is back
from his honeymoon yet...

The March Hares hops around anxiously with a paw raised in the air.

Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pick me!

Is he even a member of the Bar?

(indignantly, in Janeane's face)
Not since I turned forty! I swear!

Oh, what the heck. Might as well find
out how big a refund Yale owes me. Go
ahead and make your opening statement,

The Hare paces in front of the jury box, tugging on his lapels and gesturing toward Janeane.

We are here today to decide the
guilt or innocence of this young lady,
who has disrespected the office of the
King, my daddy, by calling him dumb
and mean.

No, I said the Republican Party,
their message and their policies of
exclusion and the tilted playing
field, appeals to the dumb and
the mean.

Objection! Objection!

On what grounds?

She talks too much and uses way
too many big words.

Sustained. Yeah, reminds of a
little Vassar girl I dated
before Barbara. She talked so
fast, every time she gave me a
hickey, it looked like needlepoint.

(poking King with scepter)
Hey, watch it. I went to Vassar.

Grr, that is so blatantly sexist
and disrespectful to the intellectual
equality of women. Objection to the

(appealing to King)
Can she do that?

I don't know.
(searching around
his throne)
Now where did we put that
rulebook again...

Oh for Pete's sake, let's get
this over with!

Yeah, you're probably right.
(addressing jury)
Let the jury consider their verdict.

No, no! Sentence first, verdict

(standing up in witness box)
Stuff and nonsense! The idea of having
the sentence first! Just who do you
think you are, girlfriend?

I'm the one with an Emmy, a New
York Film Critic's Award and a
dozen award nominations, compared
to your one pathetic Emmy nomination
for "The Larry Sanders Show", that's

Oh yeah, who carried your lame
ass in "Romy and Michele's High
School Reunion"?

(turning purple)
Hold your tongue!

(making obscene gesture)
Hold this!

Off with her head!

Just as the soldiers prepare to rush the witness box, the Cheshire Saddam suddenly appears again, hovering above the courtroom.

Hey, Bushie. How they hanging?
Ho, ho, ho.

(jumping up from throne)
Doggone you, Saddam!
(to Hare)
Quick, get him! Get him!

The March Hare grabs a sword from a soldier and begins swatting at the Cheshire Saddam. Every time he gets close, the Cheshire Saddam vanishes and then reappears in a new location. In desperation the March Hare takes a wild swing and knocks the crown and wig off the King. As the King bends over to retrieve it, the Hare slices him across the rear on his backstroke.

Yeow! Watch what you're doing.
(rubbing his exposed buttocks)
Sometimes I swear your mother must
have been fooling around with a
retarded Democrat just before
she had you.

Ha, ha, ha. Now I feel better about
Odai and Qusai.

Janeane watches the spectacle from her seat in the jury box. Suddenly she feels someone tapping her from behind. She turns around to discover Ross Perot, disguised as the Dormouse and holding a finger to his lips.

This is just a diversion. Come on;
let's make a run for it.

Perot grabs Janeane by the arm and they run out of the throne room while everyone else is occupied with the Cheshire Saddam.

I don't understand...

Hey, I sneaked my own people out
of Iran when the Ayatollah threw that
little temper tantrum back in the 70's.
I figured I owed you at least as much
for standing up to these lunkheads.
I tell ya, the whole bunch of 'em
couldn't work the third shift at a
Dairy Queen. If this crew gets
re-elected, pretty soon we're
gonna hear a giant sucking sound as
all of our civil rights go south.

They stop in front of a main hallway. The sound of angry voices growing closer indicates they are now being pursued.

Okay, time to get you out of here.

How do we do that?

Just click your slippers together
and say, "There's no place like
home. There's no place like home."

Isn't that from the "Wizard of Oz"?

By golly, I think you're right.
Good catch. Okay, we'll just have
to go back down the rabbit hole.

Perot kicks a throw rug aside and unveils a round trap door which he quickly pries open.

(to Janeane)
Hurry up. They're coming. Climb in.

Janeane hikes her dress and jumps into the hole. Perot follows behind her.

They both go into a free fall, whirling and twirling at a breakneck pace, with no sensation of substance or reality. Janeane's dress and petticoat flip up over her face as she falls.

Eeeeeh! Help!

Use your ears to slow the fall!

That's easy for you to say!

Don't worry. It'll be all right.

Perot's voice fades as she falls away from him quickly.

Remember, the activist is not the
one who says the river is dirty.
The activist is the one who
cleans up the river...

This activist is about to pee
her own river! Aaaaagh!

She continues to fall, faster and faster, until she feels herself slipping into a vortex of white light.

Oh well, whatever happens next,
it can't get any worse...



Janeane blinks and finds herself somewhere in the middle of an old European forest, wearing a young maiden's woolen gown, conical hat and pointed slippers. She is chained by the leg to a substantial wooden post and staring point blank at a large, turquoise dragon. The dragon opens its mouth and unleashes a searing bolt of flame.


She ducks and the flames roar past her and consume an armor-suited figure sneaking up from behind.

After the figure collapses into a smoldering heap, the dragon stops spewing fire. It is a large, turquoise-colored beast wearing a black leather jacket, with dark, shiny mane combed into a pompadour and the face of Andrew Dice Clay. It produces a cigarette in its foreleg and lights it from the residual heat in its nostrils.

Geeze, what a dink. What is it
with these freakin' knights? They
all come chargin' in with tin-plated
armor and wooden lances. What the
hell, why don't they just sit in a
freakin' fryin' pan holdin' a match?
(walking over to knight
and examining remains)
Crap, burned to a crisp again, and
I'm a medium-rare guy.
(kicking carcass down a ravine)
Let the wolves have him. I've
got virgin for dinner, anyway.

Excuse me, but did I hear you
use the term virgin?

(dragging on cigarette as
he swaggers toward Janeane)
Yeah, what the hell did you
think Mr. Tinpants was trying
to rescue you for? You are a
virgin, right?

Well, actually I used to have a
drinking problem that made me a
little, shall we say, promiscuous,
but after attending AA, I have
elected to reclaim my virginity.

How the hell do ya do that? Ain't
that kinda like Milli Vanilli
reclaimin' their copyright?
Hey, you better not be lyin' to
me, ya little bimbo, because when
a guy exists on a diet of one virgin
per year, he can't be takin' no
chances, if you know what I mean.

(wrinkling her brow)
One virgin a year? How can a
creature your size get by on
that? Wow, you must have worse
metabolism than me. I bet all
you have to do is look at one of
those "Fat Oprah" pictures and
you gain weight.

Hey, don't give me that. I work
out all the time.

The Dragon turns his back to her and flexes his forelegs over his head.

Yeah, get a load of those pecks.
Oops, sorry. I just ate that Don
Quixote guy the other day, and
Mexican always gives me gas.

Spanish. Don Quixote is Spanish.

Hey, Mexican, Spanish, what's
the difference? I say there ought
to be a sign in every country,
"Speak our language or get the
freak out."

That is so narrow-minded. Don't
you know that a lot of countries
pride themselves on being bilingual?

(snuffing out cigarette)
Hey, if god wanted everyone to swing
from both sides of the plate, he
would-a made us all like British
rock stars.

No, that's not what I meant. I was
just attempting to explain the
basic principle behind multi-
culturalism. Different nationalities
contribute different traits to
enhance culture as a whole, so
foreign immigration should be
encouraged, not restricted.

That's a lot of crap. Look at the
Orientals. They jam up all the
highways, and ya know why? Because
they drive with their freakin' eyes
three quarters of the way shut. Geeze,
you can blindfold 'em all with a
piece of dental floss.

You are really crude and insensitive.
You know, you ought to be ashamed
of yourself.

She begins picking at padlock on her leg chains with a hairpin.

(spitting fire at her ankle)
Hey, cut that out! You ain't never
gonna pick that sucker, sister.
That's a double deadbolt titanium
padlock. I'm from Jersey, too.

So what's next? Do you plan to eat me?

Ah, I don' t know. You're so full
of hot air, I'm afraid of heartburn.
Maybe I'll ravish you first.

Ravish me? Is that physically

Why wouldn't it?
(flexing muscles again)
I never took nothing but natural

Right, you and Barry Bonds. No,
I was referring to our difference
in size ... Oh, that's it isn't it?

What? What?

No, I better not say it. You'll
get angry.

(getting right
in Janeane's face)
Say what? Just what the hell are
you implyin'?

(fanning odor from
the dragon's bad breath)
Woo, foreplay is definitely out
of the question, but then if your --
uh - equipment is small enough to
handle a human virgin, you must be
a real disappointment to the lady
(noticing dragon frowning)
That's it, isn't it? This whole
human virgin thing, it's just a
means of overcompensation for your
physical inadequacy, right? You know,
it's nothing to be ashamed of. Why,
there are any number of advertisements
for enlargement technologies and
procedures available online.

On what line?

Uh, yeah. That's kind of hard to
explain. Tell you what, just let
me loose, and I promise to order
you something appropriate through
Federal Express.

(snorting smoke)
Nice try. Screw you, Dr. Ruth.
Damn, you got a mouth on you.
No wonder they didn't give me
as much gold to stay out of
your village. You ain't got any
sisters, do you? I'd hate to end
up in a lower income bracket. I
got an image to maintain.

Gold? What does a dragon need
with gold?

I just like to hoard it. It's
sort of a hobby.

Hoarding wealth for the fun of it?
God, you're worse than a carnivore.
What are you, a Republican? Wow,
low metabolism; small dingaling;
obsessive-compulsive financial hang-
ups; intolerant, racist, sexist
personality: you're more dysfunctional
than an episode of the Osbornes.

(cheeks glowing
red with anger)
Hey, who the hell are you to
judge me? Who's more messed up than
touchy-feely broads like you? It's
like when you already give a guy sex
in the car and then you invite him up
to your apartment. What the hell is
that about? Is your mother still awake
and horny? Tell me, why the freak would
I want to go meet all of your cats and
stuffed animals and listen to a couple
of hours of boring girl talk, if I
already got some?
(getting irate)
To hell with this. Make your
supplications to your gods, babe,
because you're about to be roasted, and
it ain't gonna be no Friars Club gig.

Sorry. Organized religions and their
dogmas only serve to indoctrinate the
participants into sheeplike common

(taking a deep breath)
I couldn't agree more. Nothing I
hate worse than mutton ...

Suddenly the dragon turns about in response to a noise heard coming from the nearby underbrush. Presently, a tall, muscular figure emerges clad in a Batman costume.

What the freak, is it Halloween
again already?

Don't you mean All Saints Day?

(to Batman figure)
Yo, let me light your jack o'
lantern for you.

He unleashes a stifling burst of flame from his nostrils. When the blaze abates, the figure remains unscathed.

What the -- ?

Sorry, Mr. Dragon. The Batsuit is

He removes a pair of Batarangs from his utility belt and hurls them at the dragon. One wraps tightly around the creature's midriff, binding his forelegs. The other wraps tightly around the dragon's mouth and nose.

The dragon prances around, helpless, fuming and smoking out of his ears.

(winking at Janeane)
Now to finish him off.
(yelling at Dragon)
"Women should be treated as emotional
and intellectual equals!"
"The first problem, for all of us,
men and women, is not to learn,
but to unlearn."
"It is obvious that the values of
women differ very often from the
values which have been made by
the opposite sex."
Plus-size women have feelings, too!
"Ford Fairlane was a juvenile
piece of crap!"

As the Batman figure taunts him, the dragon grows more and more enraged. His entire body begins to smolder and smoke. Finally, he explodes in a great, furious fireball, leaving nothing but his badly charred leather jacket.

Whoa! That was awesome. Who are
you, masked man?

The Batman figure removes his cowl and reveals himself to be Val Kilmer. He fumbles for something in his utility belt and quickly unchains Janeane.

(giddy and excited)
Wow, Val Kilmer! Do you remember
me from "Wonderland"? I handed you
a napkin from the buffet table, and
you said, "Thanks." What are you
doing here?

Kilmer picks her up off the ground and cradles her in his arms.

How do I know? This is your LSD
hallucination. Like the Lakota Sioux
always say, "Don't look a gift horse
in the mouth, Kemo Sabi."

(snuggling up to Kilmer)
The Native Americans are very wise
people. Why don't we find someplace
more private - unless you brought
Chris O'Donnell along, too?


That's okay. We'll catch up with
him later in the bat cave.

She moves close to Kilmer with her eyes closed and her lips puckered.

Janeane suddenly feels herself dematerializing, as the drug-induced fantasy begins to dissolve in her subconscious mind.

Oh no. Not now. Not now! Please!



Janeane is tossing and turning on a medical bed, with IV lines and electronic monitor cables attached all over her body.

No, no, not now!

Opening her eyes, she recognizes her fiancÚ Chris Anderson.

You're not Val Kilmer...

(embracing her)
Huh? Oh man, you really had us
worried, Janeane. You've been
here almost twenty-four hours.

(trying to sit up)
What happened?

I don't know. I came home and
found you having some kind of
seizure, so I rushed you here.
First they thought it was food
poisoning, but then I played back
your answering machine, and I
realized that you got hold of
some psychedelic mushrooms by
(shaking his head)
Bad, bad scene.

(rubbing her forehead)
Oh, it was awful, Chris. First I
was like Alice in Wonderland,
only the entire Bush administration
was after me, and Saddam Hussein was
the Cheshire Cat. Then Ross Perot
rescued me and I wound up being
captured and sexually harassed by
this dragon that looked like Andrew
Dice Clay; but Val Kilmer showed up
in his "Batman Forever" costume and
killed the dragon.

She is crying and sweating from the effort of recounting her story.

(offering her drink of
water from a straw)
Easy, easy. Damn, I'm never going
to play "Lucy in the Sky with
Diamonds" ever again, no matter who
requests it. This situation has sure
taught me my lesson. From now on,
nothing but designer drugs for me.

As Janeane sips the water, a large dog with its paw bandaged crawls over from an adjacent bed and licks her face. Janeane is temporarily startled.

Wha -? Where am I?

Manhattan Veterinary Clinic. It
was closer than the hospital, and
that pet health insurance policy
you bought covers more than our HMO.

(sitting up, alarmed)
Where are our pets? They didn't
get into that pizza --

(comforting and
restraining her)
No, they're just fine. They're
still in Connecticut, crapping all
over Martha Stewart's begonias. You
just need to get some rest.

A doctor enters and examines Janeane with a stethoscope.

Well, somebody seems to be
feeling better today.
(touching her nose)
Still a little warm, though.
(feeling her hair)
And that coat is a little dull.
Probably better keep her over
at least one more day.

The doctor tosses a milk bone into her mouth and pats her on the head.

Atta girl.
(to Chris)
Someone will be along a little
later to give her a flea bath.

Thanks, doc. I appreciate it.

The doctor leaves.

Well, I've got to go. I can't afford
to miss another rehearsal with the
band. They're threatening to replace
me with Lou Diamond Phillips. Did
you know he's down to selling
bootleg copies of "Wolf Lake"?
(kissing Janeane on cheek)
Talk to ya later.

Chris exits.

(petting a dog and a cat
lying in beds on either
side of her)
You know I love you guys just
the way you are.
Yeah, I hope I never see any
more weird, talking animals
ever again.

She falls asleep.

Movement is detected underneath the sheet covering the rear of the dog lying next to Janeane. Triumph the Comic Insult Dog pokes his head up and inserts his cigar.

Hey, what the hell I hear this lady
say while I'm sniffing butt? She don't
like weird, talking animals? Man, that
is almost as bad as that Bob Barker guy
trying to get us all fixed.
(to all of the animals
in the clinic)
Hey, guys, what do you say we all take
turns pooping on her and humping
her legs?

Janeane begins to stir and half-opens her eyes. All of the animals in the clinic are surrounding her on her bed.

Hey, what's going on here?



--Back to Top--

 !  Sidebar Information /
Fan Fiction

Janeane Garofalo drawing by Amy

In this series of adventures, Janeane Garofalo plays the part of Janeane as she searches for a persona to finally call home. To read a brief biography, go to Janeane Garofalo >>.

This episodic comedy, written in the general format of a film script, follows the harrowing adventures of a modern-day Janeane Garofalo as she finds herself pitched by the winds of fate from one wild adventure to another. One moment she is burning down the home of Martha Stewart after a failed attempt to fill the apron of the homemaking diva who is preparing for a sojourn "up the river." The next she finds herself transformed into an Elizabethan era Alice pursued by Wonderland characters with incredible resemblances to members of the George W. Bush administration. Never fear, fans of Janeane. While the little Jersey gal walks through the world leaving chaos and destruction in her wake, she always comes out on top, though not completely unscathed at all times.

Select any one of the links below to go to another part of
Perils >> 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Little is known of George "Rusty" Datt. Some rumors place him at the scene of all historical events, important or otherwise, for the past two years. Other rumors say longer.
To learn what little we know, go to George "Rusty" Datt >>

  |   1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11


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