What I'd Say to the Martians (13 page)
Read What I'd Say to the Martians Online
Authors: Jack Handey
Tags: #Humor, #Form, #Essays, #General
W
e are gathered here, way far in the future, for the funeral of Jack Handey, the world’s oldest man. He died suddenly in bed, according to his wife, Miss France.
No one is really sure how old Jack was, but some think he may have been born as long ago as the twentieth century. He passed away after a long and courageous battle with honky-tonkin’ and alley cattin’.
Even though Jack was incredibly old, he was amazingly healthy right up to the end. He attributed this to performing his funny cowboy dance for friends, relatives, and people waiting for buses. All agreed it was the most hilarious thing they had ever seen, and not at all stupid or annoying.
Jack’s death has thrown the whole world into mourning, and not in a fakey, sarcastic way. He was admired by people of all ages and stripes, and by all animals, including zebras. Even monsters liked him. He had had his playful side and his serious side, but 99 percent of the time he had his “normal” side.
He started out life as a baby but worked his way up to an adult. But even when he was a full-grown adult, he never forgot that he was a baby.
His philosophy of life was a simple one. “I’m-a no looka for trouble, because-a trouble, she’s-a no good,” he would often say in his beloved fake Italian accent. He was quick with a laugh, but just as quick to point at what he was laughing at. Children loved him, but not in the way his teenage niece claimed. He was always thinking of ways of helping people, and was wondering how he might do some of those things when he died.
Jack was an expert in so many fields, it’s hard to say what he was best at: the arts, the sciences, or the businesses. If you talked to him at a party, you couldn’t tell; he seemed to know it all. He has been compared to Captain James Cook, and not just because he was severely beaten by some Hawaiians, and to General Dwight D. Eisenhower, and not just because he liked to be driven around in a jeep.
As hard as it is to believe, he never sold a single painting during his lifetime, or even painted one. Some of the greatest advances in architecture, medicine, and theater were not opposed by him, and he did little to sabotage them.
Although he lived in Paris, in a mansion famous for its many trap doors, he was always proud to be an American. However, he was ashamed to be an Earthling.
He was fabulously wealthy, but he would pretend to be broke, and would often try to borrow cigarettes and money from people. Little did they know that those who gave him stuff would later be rewarded in his will, with jewels and anti-gravity helmets. Women who refused to have sex with him are probably wishing that they could turn back the clock and say yes.
Generous even with his organs, he has asked that his eyes be donated to a blind person. Also his glasses. His skeleton, equipped with a spring that will suddenly propel it to full height, will be used to educate kindergartners.
He has asked that no shrines be built to him. But he pointed out that this did not mean he didn’t like Shriners.
According to our scientists, with their electronic soul trackers, Jack is in Heaven now. And not just regular Heaven, which any jerk can get in to, but special secret Heaven that even some angels don’t know about.
So let us celebrate his death, and not mourn. However, those who appear to be a little too happy will be asked to leave.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy is that a lot of the things Jack said and did seemed wrong at the time, but now we realize it wasn’t him, it was we who were wrong. Let us hope we don’t make the same mistake with his clones.
In closing, it is unfortunate that Jack’s friend Don could not be here. However, Don died many years ago, from a horrible fungus.
And now, robot Elton John will play “Candle in the Wind.”
(A sportsman’s study. A sportsman
[Harvey Keitel]
chews on a cigar and holds a Tom Collins. He stands next to a deer head mounted on a wall.)
SPORTSMAN
Hi. Welcome to my deer heads. This first deer is a real beauty, as you can see. Big fella. Ten-pointer. I got him about three years ago.
(Sportsman moves down the wall to the next deer head, which is smaller)
…This is a smaller one I shot the next year.
(He moves to next deer head, which is smaller)
…This is a baby deer.
(He moves to the next deer head, even smaller.)
…And this one is the baby of
that
deer.(He refers to previous baby deer, then proceeds to the next deer head, which is even smaller)
…This is a little miniature deer I got as a pet. I got tired of it and shot it.
(Moves to even smaller deer head)
…Now this little freak deer. A scientist friend of mine developed it. The thing was actually killed by the automatic tennis ball server.
(Moves on to next tiny mounted head)
…This is a mouse. A friend of mine asked me if it was a deer mouse. (
Laughs
) I said, “I don’t know, but it’d be funny if it was, though!”(Coughs, then comes to a little plastic deer head)
…This is what we call a toy deer. I bought it at Toys “R” Us and cut its head off and stuck it up there.
(Moves to next wall mount)
…This is a really big ant I found.
(Moves on to three little mounts in a row)
…And these are its eggs.
(Comes to a microscope mounted on the wall)
…Now, this, I don’t know if you can get your camera in there or not…
(Camera “looks” in microscope)
…Go ahead and look in there…
(Dissolve to a microscope slide of germs)
…In the upper left-hand corner—you see that thing? That is a deer. Or at least that’s my theory. And if I can get my hands on one of those electron scalpels, or whatever you call them, I think I can cut its head off.
(Sportsman looks at his empty glass)
Well, it looks like I need a refill.
(He walks over to the bar and makes himself a drink)
ANNOUNCER
This has been “An Insane Idiot and His Collection of Descending-Sized Deer Heads.”
(Fade)
Broadcast Jan. 16, 1993
(A cell in the Tower of London. Anne Boleyn
[Candice Bergen]
looks wistfully out the barred window. Lord Norfolk
[Phil Hartman]
enters and bows.)
ANNE BOLEYN
Oh, Norfolk! Pray, what news from my beloved husband, the king?
LORD NORFOLK
It bodes ill, Your Majesty. The king…demands your death.
ANNE BOLEYN
(shaken)
I feared as much. What manner of execution is it to be?
LORD NORFOLK
The choosing is yours, my lady.
ANNE BOLEYN
How so, Norfolk?
LORD NORFOLK
If you grant the king a divorce, and renounce any claim to the throne, you shall be beheaded. If you do not, then you shall…be burned at the stake.
(Anne Boleyn weighs this)
ANNE BOLEYN
After I am beheaded, what will happen to my head?
LORD NORFOLK
It will be placed on top of a wall for public display. People will be allowed to throw things at it in attempts to knock it off the wall.
ANNE BOLEYN
How many throws will each person get before another person gets to throw?
LORD NORFOLK
Three.
ANNE BOLEYN
Will they be allowed to throw anything?
LORD NORFOLK
Within reason.
ANNE BOLEYN
Would a rotten potato be considered reasonable?
LORD NORFOLK
I’m afraid it would, Your Majesty.
ANNE BOLEYN
But I mean a really rotten one, all mushy and such.
(Norfolk nods reluctantly)
ANNE BOLEYN
And when my head is knocked off the wall, will the dirt and mud be brushed off my face before it is set back on the wall?
LORD NORFOLK
I am not sure, Your Majesty. I will inquire.
ANNE BOLEYN
Thank you, Norfolk.
LORD NORFOLK
I will leave you now, to weigh your decision.
(Norfolk bows deeply and heads for the door)
ANNE BOLEYN
(after him)
Norfolk.
LORD NORFOLK
Yes, Your Majesty?
ANNE BOLEYN
What if I grant the divorce, renounce the throne, but invoke the blessing of the pope?
LORD NORFOLK
Then you shall be drawn and quartered by four large horses. Then the quarters shall be drawn and quartered by four smaller horses. Then those quarters will be drawn and quartered by four frogs. After that, the quartering would stop and the mincing would begin.
ANNE BOLEYN
I see. And my head?
LORD NORFOLK
Your head would be placed on a pike.
ANNE BOLEYN
On a fish, Norfolk?
LORD NORFOLK
No, Your Majesty, a “spike” pike.
ANNE BOLEYN
(alarmed)
Oh, Norfolk! What about the crows? Would they not attack my face?
LORD NORFOLK
We would put a wire cage over your head. It would keep out the crows, but smaller birds would be able to shoulder their way through the bars.
ANNE BOLEYN
And I suppose yellow jackets could get through?
LORD NORFOLK
Yes, Your Majesty.
ANNE BOLEYN
And June bugs?
LORD NORFOLK
Yes. But June bugs wouldn’t really do any harm. They just sort of crawl around on your face…
(Norfolk illustrates)
ANNE BOLEYN
Could a small scarecrow be attached to my forehead?
LORD NORFOLK
Again, I will inquire into the matter, Your Majesty. But now, I will take my leave.
(Norfolk bows and starts to exit)
ANNE BOLEYN
Norfolk?
LORD NORFOLK
(a little wearily)
Yes
, Your Majesty.
ANNE BOLEYN
What if I just do everything they ask?
LORD NORFOLK
In that case, your head will be chopped off, and then it will be shot out of a cannon.
ANNE BOLEYN
How many times?
LORD NORFOLK
I’m not sure. It seems to be really arbitrary.
ANNE BOLEYN
And my body?
LORD NORFOLK
It would be folded up and also shot out of a cannon.
ANNE BOLEYN
Would my head ever be shot
at
my body?
LORD NORFOLK
It might, Your Majesty.
ANNE BOLEYN
Yewww! What happens to my head after that?
LORD NORFOLK
It would be wrapped up like a present and sent anonymously to a stranger. The royal entourage would hide in the bushes to see the expression on the stranger’s face when he opened it.
ANNE BOLEYN
Norfolk, you may inform the king I have made my decision: I will grant the divorce, renounce the throne, and have my head…cut off.
LORD NORFOLK
Very well, Your Majesty. Now, is that the one where we put your head on the wall? I’m lost.
ANNE BOLEYN
Yes, that’s the one.
LORD NORFOLK
I will take my leave now, Your Majesty.
(He bows)
ANNE BOLEYN
Norfolk?
LORD NORFOLK
Yes, Your Majesty.
ANNE BOLEYN
The executioner—is he skilled?
LORD NORFOLK
Very skilled, madam. He has been sent for from Calais.
(Execution room. Norfolk and the assembled members of the court are spattered with blood from off-camera. Ax thuds.)
ANNE BOLEYN
(off-camera)
YOWWWWWWW!!!! OWWW!!
WOWWWWWW!! OHHH-YEOWWWW!!!
WHOA, MAMA!!!!
ANNOUNCER
The execution of Anne Boleyn took six and a half hours and three axes, and was one of the bloodiest in royal history. At one point, Anne Boleyn cried out that she would rather be burned at the stake, but it was decided to carry on. Later, her head was placed atop a pike, which swam away, never to be seen again.
(Fade)
Broadcast Nov. 21, 1987
