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 !  The Perils of Janeane, part 9

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




A dogsled appears on the horizon just before dusk, barely visible through the wet, heavy flakes of a furious snowstorm. The sled is pulled by two large dogs and a pony and driven by a diminutive figure clad in a hooded, furry parka.

(weak and shivering)
Y-yah, m-mush, Dewy! M-m-mush, K-kid!
Dat dam pony, him pull like hell!

The sled continues downhill at breakneck speed, straight toward a large log structure. At the last second the dogs and pony veer to the side and the sled slams hard against the building, dislodging the driver right in front of a heavy wooden door.

Eventually the door opens and a tall, scraggly, bearded character wearing a "Possum, It's Not Just For Breakfast" T-shirt opens the door to examine the commotion.

A voice cries out from the background, inside the log cabin.

Zeke, what is it? Revenooers?
Poachers? Or another one of them
dadgummed Michael Jackson supporters?

(kneeling down beside driver)
Nah, 'ppears to be one of them
little Eskimo characters. Must
have took one helluva wrong
turn up in Canada somewheres.

The driver sits up stiffly and removes the hood to reveal herself as Janeane Garofalo.

(shivering, with
teeth chattering)
H-hello, I-I'm c-c-canvassing
for v-v-votes in the p-primary

(with sound of gun cocking)
That's it. Stand aside and
gimme a clean shot.

No, Clem, don't shoot. Remember,
we promised Ma we was gonna
start doin' things proper.

(entering doorway)
Yeh, I guess you're right. Better
drag him inside and roll him first,
or we just might put a punkin'
ball through somethin' valuable.

Both hillbillies grab hold of Janeane by her boots and begin to pull her inside the cabin.

I can't understand why people don't
want to participate in the political
process. I always say it's an
extraordinary privilege...
(bumping her head on
threshold of doorway)
Ouch! I think I 'm starting to
feel a little overprivileged...



Janeane is tied to a chair and stripped down to her long underwear with her back to a roaring fireplace and a rag stuffed in her mouth. There is a large puddle of water at her feet. Clem, similar in appearance to his brother except for some unsightly gaps in his teeth, is standing in front of Janeane with his face close to hers.

Ma, I think she's finally thawin'
out! The frost done melted off
her spectacles.

Clem removes the rag from Janeane's mouth.

Listen, Neanderthal Man, I will
have you know that I am Janeane
Garofalo, actress, comedian,
political activist and A-minus-
list celebrity. You will be
prosecuted to the fullest extent
of the law for participating in my
abduction, and I --

Clem stuffs the rag back into her mouth.

Don't sound like her brains
is unfroze yet.

A matronly, gray-haired lady in a patched cotton housecoat pushes Clem aside and approaches Janeane, squinting.

(fumbling in pockets
of her gown)
Damnit, where's my Wal-Mart readin'
specs got off to this time? Have
you boys been burnin' ants again?
Oh well, never mind.

She examines Janeane closely, touching her hair, checking her teeth and poking her body.

Well, I guess I'm satisfied. It's
a she-male, for sure, jest not a
local breed.

The boys cheer in the background.

Look at her hair, Ma. It's like
a Easter peep.

Yep, she must've dunked her head
in a bucket of lye. I seen city
women do that.

What fer?

I b'lieve they think it makes
'em more special to their menfolk,
kinda like shootin' a albino deer.

Janeane makes an angry mumbling noise.

(removing rag from
Janeane's mouth)
So tell me, little missie, just
what's a city girl like you doin'
in this neck of the woods?

Like I told you before, I'm
canvassing on behalf of Howard
Dean's presidential campaign.

She's lyin', Ma. I checked her
gear right after I locked them
critters of hers in the barn.
She ain't got no canvas nowhere.

No, I meant to say that I'm
traveling around the state trying
to talk people into voting for
Governor Dean for president.

If he's already governor, why does
he need to be president? Feller sounds
like a danged hog to me. That's what
wrong with all them politicians.

(shaking her head)
You have to understand, it's
important to get Bush out of the
White House, because he's - not
intellectually curious.
(shaking around in her chair)
Oh bull, I can't stand this drivel
anymore. I don't care what they told
me to say. Bush is a doughnut hole!
He's dumb and mean and evil.
You do know who Bush is, right?

'Course we do. What kinda hicks
do ya take us fer? Seems to me
you're bein' a mite hard on the
feller, though. Just because his
baked beans is a little spicy,
that don't necessarily make him
all them things you accused him of.

(jiggling the chair
in frustration)
No, not the guy who makes the
baked beans. I'm talking about
President George W. Bush, the man
who stole the 2000 election away
from Al Gore. I need your help to
take it back again this time.

Sounds like this here Gore feller
is kind of a sissy, if'n he needs
little girls like you to fight his
battles for him. Trust me honey,
he ain't worth your trouble, even if
you ain't much to look at. That were
what went wrong with my second husband.
He had me doin' all the work. I
brewed the 'shine, and he just laid
around and drank it. He finally up
and run off with that floozy who
used to deliver the government cheese.
Two months later, he burped and farted
while he was sittin' in the privy tryin'
to light his pipe, and that were
the end of him.

Thanks for sharing. Listen, just
where am I exactly? Am I anywhere near Pittsfield? Joan Jett and I were
traveling together, and we were
trying to cut across to New
Hampshire College for a rally.

Ma and the boys laugh and hoot in derision.

Ma pulls a tobacco plug from her pocket.

Pittsfield? Lordy, child, that's
clean t'other end of the state.
You're just on the outskirts
of Pittsburg, way up north
in the mountains.

Oh. Well, that's the problem when
you have two women driving together:
There's nobody to blame for not asking
directions. Actually, I kind of thought
we might have made a wrong turn when
I swerved to miss the moose and drove
that rental car off the ski ramp and
totaled it. But then we rigged up a
dogsled from one of the leftover
body panels and got the animals
to pull us for a while. When the
temperature hit minus thirty, Joan's
leather clothing started to crack and
flake, so I shut her into her guitar
case and pushed her down the
mountainside toward Maine. Please, I
need to make a phone call. There's a
cell phone in my fannypack.

Ma sticks the plug in her mouth, bites off a chunk and begins to chew.

No time for that now. Got to
commence a'courtin'.


(turning to boys)
I know she ain't much of a prize,
don't 'spect she could bear more
than six or eight younguns with those
little hips, but since they run off
all the lumberjack women with that
spotted owl nonsense, this could be
your last chance, boys.

I want her, Ma!

No, give her to me! I seen
her first!

The boys begin to argue and wrestle with each other. Ma picks up a rolling pin off the table and pistol-whips them both. They drop to the floor dazed.

No, I said you was gonna court her,
old-fashioned style. You want these
city folks to think we ain't civilized?
Git on your best duds, comb some of
that bear grease in your hair and we'll
have us a regular ol' hoedown.
(spitting tobacco juice
at Janeane's feet)
You're lucky, missie. At least you
get a choice. My first time around,
I was a mail-order bride.

You mean you never even got to
meet your husband before you
married him?

No, I mean my pa and brothers
bushwhacked the mailman and throwed
us a shotgun weddin'. Scrawny
little varmint, he never could
keep the flag up on his box,
if'n you know what I mean.
But you're lucky. At least you get
a choice, between two fine,
strappin' young fellers.

The boys both grin ominously at Janeane.

(struggling to free herself)
I think we need a third-party



Janeane is still tied to the chair by the fireplace. Ma is dressed in a floral print smock with a frilly bonnet and holding a washboard. The boys are both clad in old, seventies-style leisure suits with their hair slicked down. Zeke is playing a banjo and Clem has a fiddle.

Okay, little lady, get ready for a
real old-fashioned hootenanny!
(tapping her foot to tempo)
All right, boys, let's start out
with a little "Turkey in the Straw".

(rolling her eyes)
Oh, god, I think I would prefer a
little wild turkey instead...

Hit it!

The trio breaks into a raucous, toe-tapping rendition of "Turkey in the Straw", with the boys taking turns dancing in front of Janeane and making lecherous faces at her. Finally the tune ends, and they unwind by passing a jug around to each other.

(wiping her chin after
taking a belt from the jug)
Bet you never heerd playin' like
that in the big city, honey.

(nodding tersely, with tears
running down her cheeks)
I would say that's a reasonable

Well, I probably shouldn't be spillin'
the beans like this, before you even
make your choice, but I been savin'
money from bottle deposits and
cigarette carton tops for years, and
I'm fixin' to give you one humdinger
of a weddin' present: an all-expense-
paid honeymoon to Branson, Missouri -
well, assumin' of course that you
ain't got nothin' against travellin'
cargo class on United Parcel.

(closing her eyes)
Oh no, you really shouldn't have,
and believe me, I mean that from
the bottom of my heart.

Well, I know it ain't the Grand Ole
Opry, but that's all shot to hell
anyway since they let all them young
longhairs in. Like I told the boys,
I didn't even mind when the buzzards
carried off that satellite dish,
'cause they weren't nothin' left worth watchin' on that TV anyhow.
(fingering her washboard)
Sorry I was a mite off-tune. This
thing always plays a little flat
right after I scrub a load of britches
on it. 'Course you know, someday
this'll be yours, along with all
of them pots and pans and that there
sewin' machine and spinnin' loom
and sech. You do know what to do
with that stuff, don't ya?

Open up an antique shop and retire early?

(arching her eyebrows)
What? Are you funnin' me? How do
you clean your britches?

I don't. I buy new ones.

(snorting in disgust)
Well, in all my days, I never
heerd of sech wastefulness. What
'bout housecleanin'?

Maid service.

Cookin' vittles?


You shouldn't have to take the
vittles outside, if'n your man
knows when meal time is. No wonder
you never have time to get nothin'
else done, horsin' them pots and
plates back and forth to the fields
all day. No mind, I 'spect you're
rough around a few edges from all
them years of soft city livin',
but don't you fret. Ol' Ma will learn
you ever'thin' a woman needs to know
'bout elegant country livin'.

She holds a plate of tiny foodstuffs in front of Janeane.

Here, try one of these appetizers.
I b'lieve the French got some fancy
name for 'em...

(Opening her eyes again)
Hors d'oeuvres.

Yeah, that's the word. Here, open
up and swallow down one of 'em. It'll
put some color back into you.

Ma holds an appetizer in front of Janeane's mouth.

Oh, that does smell good, and I
haven't eaten anything for over a day.
(eating appetizer from Ma's hand)
Mmmm, that's really tasty. What's
in it?

Shoot, Ma's the best cook in the
county. Ain't nobody can fry up
squirrel meat and goat cheese
like her.

Aaaack! Bleh!

Janeane coughs and gags.

Oh look, Ma, she must be all choked
up over that Branson trip. Better
give her a nip of the jug to
settle her nerves.

I b'lieve you're right, Zeke.
(holding jug of moonshine
up to Janeane's mouth)
Here, take a swig of this, girlie.
It's good for what ails ya.

No, I'm a recovering alcoholic. I
really shouldn't --
(cutting herself short, as
if thinking of something)
Uh, yeah, I believe I will have
a little nip, if you don't mind.

Ma holds the jug to her mouth, and Janeane takes a long, chugging draught.

Woooeee! She shore ain't likely to
have no rheumatism, that's for



Janeane is rocking in the chair to which she is tied, singing, yelling and celebrating.

(loud and drunken, singing)
"...Breath in, breath out,
Thish ish a new day comin'!"
Encore, Tom an' Billy an' Moby!
(giggling and bleary-eyed)
Yeah, thash right, I tol' that ol'
Lorne Michaelsh, you can shtick
your loushy job right where
Shushan Shaint Jamesh putsh
that butt plug, he, he, he!
Yeh, they alwaysh callin' me
shtrident, shtrident!
I'm not shtrident! I'm jus'
alwaysh right an' I ain't
'fraid to shay sho!
That li'l pishant of a Dubya
doeshn't know who he'sh meshin'
with, thash for shure!

Janeane passes out, with her chin on her chest.

Can't hardly figure it, Ma. She's
all lickered up, and she barely
had a jug and a half.

That's just the way with city
folk, I reckon. They's used to
imbibin' their potables all
watered down, so's the fellers
that run them big brewery stills
can jam more money into their
pants pockets. Might's well
leave her sleep it off till mornin'.
Then she can make her decision,
and we can have us some nuptials.

Ah, Ma, I ain't gonna be able
to sleep 'tall. It's just like
waitin' for Santy Claus to come
down the chimley.

(taking a swig from the jug)
Someday we gotta have us a talk
'bout that subject. I'm gettin'
way too old to be shimmyin' down that
fireplace on Christmas Eve with a sack
full of Redman and shotgun shells.

But Ma, what if'n she don't pick
me? Then what do I do?

Well, I reckon someone will have
a lot more time to tend to them
sheep out in the barn.

(beaming broadly)
Oh yeah, I plumb forgot all
'bout that.

(under her breath,
shaking her head)
You always was the runt of
the litter...

They all exit to rooms in the back of the cabin.

As soon as they leave, Janeane raises her head and opens her eyelids furtively.

Suckers! They don't know I've been
barhopping with some of the biggest
substance abusers in Hollywood: Andy
Dick, Bill Murray, the audience
on Jimmy Kimmel Live...
I can hold my liquor with the best
of them. Yeah, there was a real Emmy-
winning performance wasted, but it'll
be worth it if it earns me a ticket
out of this rustic retreat...

She sends the chair to which she is tied hopping towards the kitchen table.



Still tied to the chair, Janeane hops over to the kitchen table with great difficulty. Bending over, she grasps her fannypack in her teeth and shakes it vigorously like a dog with a bone. Finally its contents fall out onto the table. Janeane quickly drops the pack and locates her cellphone. With her mouth and tongue, she turns it rightside up and uses her nose to push its buttons.

This should be a cinch if those
rubes haven't been messing with
my speed dial...

The phone rings several times, and then a sugary, feminine voice is heard through the receiver.

Hello, Heehaw Honey Hotline. Who
wants to go out behind the barn,
just $9.95 for the first three

Rats! I should have known better.
(pecking keys with her nose)
No choice. I'll just have to dial
from memory. Hope I got it right...

The phone rings again, and Janeane puts her head down close to it.

Hello? Dr. Steinberg's office?
Uh, no, I can't really hold. Sorry.
Yes, this is an emergency. She's
all tied up and making a house call?
Believe me, I can sympathize...
(fidgeting anxiously in chair)
Um, look, I really need to speak
to her. Isn't there a way you
can page her or something?
Okay, thank you.

Janeane hums nervously while she waits for her connection.

Dr. Steinberg? Dr. Judith Steinberg
Dean? Janeane Garofalo here. Yes,
Garofalo. You know, I'm on the
gendean tour for your husband's
campaign, remember? Right, the
little "you can go f**k yourself,
Grandma" girl. Wow, this is such
an honor. I just wanted to say
that you are one of those strong,
professional, independent women
that I really admire as a role
model. Uh, no, that's not why I
called - I actually do have a
serious problem, yes.
(shifting in chair)
Um, no I haven't dealt with
your office before. No, I don't
have any allergies to medications.
Preexisting conditions? Well, I
have had a little Irritable Bowel
Syndrome, especially after
prolonged VH1 viewing -- but
listen, I don't have much time.
Here's my problem: I've been
canvassing for your husband in
New Hampshire and I've been
kidnapped by a couple of love-
starved hillbillies and their
domineering mother. If I don't
get out of here real quick,
they're going to force me to
marry at least one of them. I
hate to bother you, but I just
thought that if anyone would
know what to do in a situation
like this, it would be - huh?
Yeah, okay. Umm-hmm, I understand.
Wait, let me get a pad and pen.

She fumbles through junk on the table with her nose until she finds paper and a pencil.

Okay, shoot.
(scribbling on paper
with pen in her mouth)
Yup, got it. I'll get right on
it -- and thanks again. What -- no,
I have major medical. Sorry, I
don't have my card number handy
at the moment. Yes, I'll call
your office later, I promise.
Yes, certainly, finish your
nerosurgery, please. I promise
I won't take up anymore of your
time. Thanks ever so much. See
you next Tuesday. Yes, ma'am,
Dean for Anerica. Right on!

Janeane pushes button with her nose to hang up phone. She studies writing on paper intensely.

(mumbling to herself
as she reads)
Seems a little unorthodox, but
she's the doctor. Guess I'll
give it a try:
(screaming at the top
of her lungs)

Presently Ma and the boys come running from the bedrooms in their nightclothes.

Dangit, Ma. She tricked us! She
was playin' possum all along.

(with his hands over his ears)
Make her shut up, Ma! I can't
stand it no more!

(holding hand over
Janeane's mouth)
That's it. One of you boys go
out to the barn and git me that
shovel you clean the stalls with.
We'll see how much hollerin' she
can do with a stoved-up head.

But Ma, don't you recollect? You
done busted that shovel on that
Verizon phone feller.

Well, what the hell was I s'posed
to do? Durned fool walkin' 'round
the property sayin', "Can ya hear
me now? Can ya hear me now?" I
figgered he got hold of some bad

The sound of approaching footsteps is heard outside the door and then a voice.

Open up. It's the sheriff.

Quick, git your guns!

Zeke and Clem scramble to get their rifles and take positions in front of the door, and Ma pulls a pistol out of her housecoat.

We're coming in.

Just as the boys are ready to shoot, Janeane bites down hard on Ma's hand.

(dropping her gun)
Oww! Why you little --

The boys, startled, turn towards Janeane and Ma. Janeane rocks forward in her chair and knocks over Clem, who in turn collides with Zeke. They both drop their rifles on the floor. Janeane ends up on the floor beside them sideways in her chair.

The door starts to open and Ma lunges for her pistol. Just as she is ready to fire at the open doorway, Janeane grabs hold of a throw rug with her teeth and jerks it out from under Ma, causing her to fall and misfire her pistol into the ceiling.

The sheriff enters along with a group of orange-capped Howard Dean supporters, and they all stare dazed at the confusion.

Uh, if we're interrupting something
personal here, maybe we could come
back later --

(lying sideways on floor)
You zagnut! These hillbillies have
been holding me captive all evening!

So you're saying it's not consensual?
These days we have to check, you know.
Doggoned ACLU. Oh, well then,
(hitching up his gun belt)
I guess you're lucky I came along
to rescue you before these
characters tried something
dangerous, ma'am.

Yeah, I don't know what I would
have done without you.

Janeane! We wondered where you
were. Joan Jett called us from
a pool hall in Bangor, Maine and
said you were supposed to be
heading for the college rally,
but you never showed up.

The Dean staffers swarm around Janeane and sit her up straight in her chair.

(to hillbillies)
All right, you rascals. I'm here
on official business trying to
track someone down for the Howard
Dean folks.

I knew you guys would come looking
for me eventually. That's what gave
me the strength to keep going.

No, actually I'm looking for
Ma Parker here.


Sorry, Janeane, but our first priority
is still the primary next Tuesday. We
need someone to give Governor Dean
pancake-cooking lessons so that he
won't make a fool of himself again
at the prayer breakfast tomorrow.

Well, you came to the right place,
kids. Ma here has been the blue
ribbon winner in the Pittsburg
flapjack cookoff for the last
five years straight.
(helping Ma up off the floor)
Better rustle up your cooking
utensils, Ma. We've got a private
helicopter waiting just over
the hill.

Just as well.
(spitting tobacco juice
in Janeane's face)
I could tell you wasn't daughter-
in-law material.
(pointing to Janeane's tattoos)
You already been branded more times
than a rustled steer.

Ma gathers up some pots and pans and exits the cabin.

Well, I believe I'll be going now...

Wait. What about these two
(motioning with her
head toward the boys)
Aren't you going to punish
them at all?

You've seen how they live. What
more do you think I could do
to them?

They committed kidnapping, unlawful
restraint and sexual harassment.
You can't just let them off
Scot free.

Oh, all right. I'll take them
back to town and lock them in a
room at Motel 6. The cable TV
is busted and it only tunes in
Lifetime Cable. They're running an
all-night marathon of "Judging Amy"
and "Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman."

The boys fall on their knees and start begging.

Oh no, Sheriff, please! Anythin'
but that!

Fer the love of god, jest shoot
us now and git it over with!

(sticking her tongue out)
Serves you right!

The sheriff leads the boys away, as they continue to plead for mercy.

Okay, so how about somebody untying
me or cutting me loose?

Sorry, no time, and we're not
allowed to carry knives since we
got into that rumble with the
Rethugs in Des Moines. We've got
an informational assembly scheduled
at Franklin Pierce College, and a
candlelight vigil at the racetrack
in Loudon.

Major media coverage? Stormers from
all the camps?


Well, what are you waiting for?
Someone give me a shove down the
hill, before we miss out on the
loose meat sandwiches.

Several Dean staffers grab hold of Janeane's chair and drag her out of the cabin. They all begin to sing rally songs as they exit.

(fading as she moves
away from the cabin)
Go Dean! Take back America!
Could somebody please scratch my nose?


--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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