And now, the final installment of the rare, never-before-seen novelization of the unproduced coming-of-age comedy I Was A Teenage President- Of The United States!!!
We here at False Moustache must apologize for the choppiness of this last installment, yet even with our lab technicians working endless hours attempting to decode and salvage what remained, we were only able to fully save what is below. It’s broken into three chunks, and we believe that even without the missing sections, you can still follow the plot and see what an incredible movie-going experience this would have made. But hindsight has perfect vision all of the time, whereas the past is as blind as an Italian tenor. It’s a shame the world at large suffers from reverse Benjamin Button Disease, or we may have all learned from ourselves. Enjoy!
PART THREE: HAIL TO THE YEAH!
In Rod’s dream, he was sitting on the curb of Main Street back home, when George Washington rode up on his horse, Martha II. “Roderick Ossum, though you may not know it yet, you have taken on a major responsibility, perhaps the most major responsibility of the Free World.”
“But being the President looks so hard! I haven’t ever held a job in my entire life, and now I’m just supposed to take on this supremo big job without ever life-guarding a swimming pool or bussing tables or being vetted or anything? It’s so whelming, it’s overwhelming!” Rod tried to hide the whine in his voice, and ended up sounding like Bob Dylan, which wasn’t half bad. George smiled, adjusting his wooden teeth.
“There are a plethora of difficult decisions and tasks ahead of you. I won’t lie, you’ll be placed in dangerous situations, and you may even get bored out of your gourd. However, once you get past them, it’s a sweet gig. You can get whatever you want anytime you want. Ice cream, pizza, you can even get beer! Girlie mags, rated T videogames, pocket pussies, the list goes on and on! But don’t tell them I told you. You listen to your Founding Father; you’re going to be swell at this. So long!”
And with that, Washington rode away into the foggy sunset. Rod yelled at him to come back, and was awoken by the sound of his very own screaming. Ned the Secret Service Agent rushed into the Lincoln Bedroom to make sure Rod wasn’t being assassinated, placing his Mad magazine face up and splayed open, so he wouldn’t lose his place in The Lighter Side.
“Hey, home-skillet, you cool?” he asked. Rod smiled.
“Yeah, I just made a supremo big decision.”
Halfway across the world, in a dark, dank, stank castle, Russian President Igor Scramkov was having a dream of his own. Only he was awake, and daydreaming. Only it was night. Scramkov was daydreaming about being President, even though he already was. In his daydream, however, he was President of the entire world. And he ruled it with an iron fist- two of them, in fact, in case one got tired. Everyone was forced to salute a loving caricature of him every hour on the hour, and all the men were forced to wear three-piece gray suits. All the women were forced to wear nothing, even grandmothers.
At that moment, two of his henchmen, Yakovs and Klein burst in. “Mr. President, whatever are you doing?” Klein asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business, I was daydreaming, Klein.”
“But it’s the middle of the night! That’s wrong and perverted and undignified!”
“You dare judge me, you swine-hound!” Scramkov shouted, rising slowly, his eyes glowing red.
“N-n-no, sir! Of course not, Mr. President! That is, uh…” Scramkov laughed evilly.
“Fire him,” he ordered. Yakovs nodded. And Klein was fired. Which meant that he was shot out of a cannon! Without severance! Scramkov chuckled and turned to the television. “Now, let’s hear more about this newly-fangled teenage President of the United States.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“And that is what I believe!” Rod summed up. He paused, posed and poised. There was a deafening silence that would have unsettled Helen Keller- combined! And then, without any advance warning whatsoever, there was a response. The crowd cheered! The Press Corps high-fived each other. All the gathered foreign leaders did the “We’re not worthy” move. Tori was more in love with Rod than she’d ever been up until that point right there. And Skratch was laughing his ass off at a funny-looking dignitary. Everything was perfect, and it appeared as though the world was safe. Rod smiled, his face beaming like the Bat Signal. But then all of a sudden, a smoke bomb was dropped and everybody had a major coughing fit. Secret Service Agents were blowing and blowing and blowing and blowing to get all the smoke outta there, and when it cleared, both the President of Russia and Tori were missing! Rod snapped into action. “Circle the perimeter,” he shouted, but it was too late. The Russian Helicopter was already in the air, and the President Scramkov was hanging out the door. He was holding a megaphone up to his Russian lips, so he could be heard over his Russian helicopter. Tori was holding on for dear life.
“Ha ha ha! I spit on your too cool for school antics, Mr. Teenaged President! You’ll never see your precious lady-friend again!” The military shot missiles and grenades and arrows at the helicopter, but it was of no use. Rod tried not to cry, and made a scowly adult face as he came to terms with the first big decision of his Presidency. Then he raced to the airstrip to take off, in Air Force One!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
President Scramkov laughed maniacally as Tori hung precariously over the adverbially existing tank of vodka and bloodthirsty sharks. “My dear young lady, if your precious teenaged President does not respond to my demands of one bajillion smackolas and a star on the Walk of Fame, you can kiss your lifetime sayonara!”
“Never!” shouted Tori, a little ambiguously. Scramkov laughed some more, and took a swig of vodka and a bite of pastry. He motioned to his henchmen.
“Lower the girl closer to the tank, Yakovs,” he declared.
“NO!” A voice shouted. It was Rod! “Let her go, Scramkov, or you’ll feel the taste of the rainbow of my wrath.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, little President. I’m much older and smarter than you.”
“That’s what you think!” And with that, Rod attacked on his turbo-charged skateboard. The two henchmen tried to stop him, but he counter-attacked with his patented moves. The Sleuth Maneuver! The Andy Turn! The Sticky Wheel! The Early Bird! And with that, they were down and out and eaten by drunken sharks. President Scramkov tried to sneak out, but Rod raced past him to the door. “I don’t think so, Scramkov!” Scramkov got down on his knees, begging for forgiveness.
“Please, I promise to end Socialism! I’ll be your best friend!” Rod scoffed, but acquiesced. Scramkov kissed his British Knights and ran off to fix the world for the better for America. Rod raced up to untie Tori, who surprised him kissing him on the lips! Not like his Mom did, but with real passion and love and no smacky noises. Rod blushed, and Tori grinned from ear to ear.
They were married the next day.
Forty years later, President Ossum still reigned supreme over the country, shoot, the continent, furk, the whole universe. And everyone was as happy as they could possibly be, and there were no problems that couldn’t be solved with a party or a rock and roll guitar riff. Skratch was Secretary of Pizza and took his job so seriously, no one had the heart to tell him he and it were completely fictional. As for Rod and Tori and their rock band, crime fighting world leading family of seven kids, there was a whole franchise of stories left to tell. The End!
No comments:
Post a Comment