by L.Fox
lfox@scottsburg.com
This copyrighted telecast is presented by authority of the Chicago National League Ball Club and is intended solely for...oops, sorry wrong disclaimer.
The characters Xena, Gabrielle, and Joxer are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. All other characters, except Winchell and old J. Edgar of course, are the figments of a warped imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons whether living, dead, or firmly ensconced on the NetForum is purely coincidental.
The Editor appears through the courtesy of Mary Draganis Productions, Ltd.
Walter Winchell: Good evening Mr. and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea. Let's go to press. Flash, Chicago: I've just received the latest inside dope on the now infamous Renee O' Connor Birthday Massacre which, as you all know, occurred two weeks ago today. It now seems the gunmen, believed to be the notorious Silent Sam and his partner Lucky Bob, apparently missed their train from Detroit to Chicago. The massacre was originally slated for the 14th, St. Valentine's Day, but the intended victims, being the swell guys they were, graciously consented to wait one day to allow the two Detroit boys to hit town and rub them out. (Like they had a choice?) That makes the score for the first two months of the year 1929 as follows: Scarface 197, Dem Udder Guys 0. Rumor has it the good citizenry of Chicago has had enough. Word is that City Hall, recognizing the fact they are powerless to stop Scarface and his henchmen, have appealed to Uncle Sam for assistance.
(Cut to J. Edgar Hoover, director of the FBI, sitting at his desk talking on the phone.)
Hoover: Yeah, yeah, I understand. Gee, I'd like to help you boys out but, you see, I have all available agents working on the script for the "FBI Story".
(Damn, I thought I was a slow typist. "The FBI Story" will not be released for another thirty years.)
Winchell: One by one, the Justice Department, the Treasury Department, and even the Bureau of Indian Affairs, all refuse to help Chicago throw off the yoke of Scarface's mob. Finally, in desperation, they turn to an obscure federal agency known as the DFF, Department of Female Flatfoots (feet?). At the present time there are only two agents in this department, Special (And they're not kiddin') Agent Xena and her partner, Gabrielle, Junior G-Man badge number 34-24-34. Up to the present time the two's sole responsibilty has been to monitor performances of the National Anthem and make sure all costumes have the required straps. Chomping at the bit to prove herself as a real G-man, er, woman, Special (Is she ever!) Xena eagerly accepts Chicago's offer to assemble an elite crime fighting unit to do battle with Scarface.
From all over the country, dedicated crimebusters jump at the chance to join Special ( Pant, pant...down boy) Agent Xena's team. From Florida Agent Dementia, from the Navy Department via French Indo-China Agent Orange, and last and most certainly least, from Michigan Not So Special Agent Joxer.
Joxer: Hey! I resent that.
Winchell: March 4th, Federal Building, Chicago. Special Agent Xena and her agents meet face to face for the first time.
Xena: Well fellow crimefighters, you've all been briefed on the situation and you know what we have to do. I've went over each of your files and I've decided to assign you the tasks I deem you are most qualified to perform. Okay, Dementia, you've got interrogation and paperwork.
Agent Dementia: Paperwork? You mean like writing reports?
Xena: Yeah, and nothing fictional either.
Dementia: Uh, right.
Xena: Agent Orange, you will be our surveilance man.
Agent Orange: Okay, bloss.
Joxer: Surveilance? With glasses like those? (Joxer snatches off Agent Orange's coke bottle glasses and holds them up to his face. Joxer's eyes look as big as silver dollars.) This guy couldn't spot a black rhino in a snowbank.
Agent Orange: Excuse prease. If Agent Jockstrap would kindry give back grasses?
Joxer: Ha! Ya hear that? He don't even talk good English. Xena, where'd you find this guy, in a laundry? What makes him so special?
(Agent Orange grabs Joxer by the arm and flips him head over heels onto the floor.)
Agent Orange: So solly Jockstrap, forgot to terr you, me number one judo champ of US seventh freet.
Joxer (eyes rolling into back of head): Grooaan. That's (gulp) Joxer.
Xena: Now that Agent Orange's uh, credentials, have been established we can continue. Okay, Joxer, I've been going over your qualifications and I think the best job for you would be as uhhh, hmmm, okay I've got it. You can be the door stop.
Joxer: Door stop? Whaddaya mean, door stop?
Xena: Well, from this report it seems you do spend a lot of time of the floor.
Joxer (whining): C' mooon, give me a chance to show my stuff.
Xena: Sorry, Joxer, but there are other, shall we say, complications.
Gabrielle (poking Joxer in the chest): Isn't it true you are the brother of the notorious Detroit hit man, Silent Sam?
Joxer: So that's it, huh? Youze guys think because my brother's a no good rat of a mobster that I must be a rotten apple too.
Xena: I didn't say th-
Joxer: That's okay, I know when I'm not wanted. (shuffles toward door) I'll just go back to my old job in Detroit.
Gabrielle: What was that?
Joxer: School crossing guard.
Gabrielle: Oh brother.
Xena (smiling): Hey, Joxer, c'mon back here. Anybody that can handle that Detroit traffic is tough enough for me.
Joxer: Gee whillikers, Xena. Thanks. You're the cat's meow.
Gabrielle: Xena, what's my job going to be?
Xena (leering): The same as it's been for the last two years, babycakes. You'll be in charge of, ahem, recreation.
Dementia: Recreation?
Xena: Yeah, (smiles wickedly and rubs hands together) my recreation.
Dementia: Oh.
Xena: Okay. Starting tomorrow we're going to grab Scarface by the you know what and squeeze them until he yells chakram.
Joxer: Uh, don't you mean uncle.
Xena: Hey! I'm the star here. I'll decide what the bastard yells.
Gabrielle: Xena, have you thought about a name for us?
Xena: A name?
Gabrielle: Yeah, you know, like Gangbusters or something.
Agent Orange: How 'bout the Monsters of the Midway?
Gabrielle: Very funny. C'mon guys, I'm serious. We need a name that will strike terror into these low lifes' hearts.
Xena: How about the Untouchables?
Gabrielle: Nah, everybody will think we're Hindus then.
Dementia: Well, how about the Xenites? You know, in honor of our chief here.
Gabrielle: Now what the hell kind of name is that? Xenites? Sounds like some kind of mineral or something.
Dementia: I dunno. It just popped into my head.
Author: Say gang, how about calling yourselves the Unmentionables?
Agent Orange: Why should we listen to you?
Author: Weeel, if you don't I might let Scarface introduce you to his good pal, Tommy.
Gabrielle: Tommy? Tommy who?
Author: Tommy Gun.
Joxer: Gulp!
(Our crimefighters huddle for a moment and then break apart.)
Gabrielle (smiling): You da man, sweetie. Unmentionables it is.
THUNK!
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Editor: That thud you heard was the author's head banging on his keyboard after swooning. He DOES have a weakness for Renee O' Connor. We will now hear a word from the sponsor while I attempt to reconnect with the poor sap. (E-mails author): Oh for heaven's sake, stop that drooling, you ninny! You'll short out your keyboard.
Sponsor's jingle: Fox's Fritters are the best,
Guaranteed to remove pests,
Serve them to unwanted guests,
Stuff the mattress with the rest.
Editor: Okay mates, we're back.
Xena: Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, here's what we'll do...
Winchell: The next two weeks are very busy ones for Special Agent Xena and the
Unmentionables as they strike at the very heart of Scarface's empire of crime. In quick
succession they destroy illegal brewerys, raid gambling parlors, and close down... ahem,
cat houses, for lack of a better word.
Everyone is wondering just how long Scarface is going to take this assault before lashing
back.
(Cut to Scarface's headquarters.)
Scarface: Boys, dis Xena is starting to get under my skin. He's hurting us real bad. Knuckles, what did you find out about dis guy?
Knuckles: Well, boss the foist ting I found out is dis Xena is a dame, not a guy.
Scarface: A dame? Sheesh, I hate crusadin' dames. Anything else?
Knuckles: Yeah, she don't pack no heater. She, get dis, packs a sword.
Scarface: A sword? You mean like a big knife?
Knuckles: Yeah, boss, ain't dat a hoot? But ya ought to know this, she's plenty smart so we're gonna have to be on our toes.
Scarface: Grrrr, the only ting I hate worse than crusadin' dames is smart crusadin' dames. Boys, I think it's time we hit doze guys.
Knuckles: I think I found their weak spot. Dis Joxer guy, he ain't too swift, if ya know what I mean.
Scarface: Izzatso? Well, I think we can use that to our advantage. Okay, Knuckles, here's what you do. Take Lockjaw with you and...
(Later dat, I mean that, day at the Unmentionables' office...)
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Joxer: Who is it?
Outside voice: Special delivery.
(Joxer opens door to find Knuckles disguised as a courier for the Fly By Night Delivery Service.)
Knuckles: I got a package for ya, Mac. Sign here.
Joxer (signing receipt): Say, aren't you a little old for a delivery boy?
Knuckles: Tings are tough all over, pal. Here. (Gives Joxer the package.) How 'bout a tip, bub?
Joxer: Hmmm. Okay, here's one. To remove a broken light bulb from its socket use a half a potato to grip it with.
Knuckles: Tanks, you're all heart.
Gabrielle: Who was it?
Joxer: Looks like some grateful citizen sent us a present. (Begins to open package.)
Gabrielle: What are you talking about?
Joxer: Oh, wow, this is the bee's knees. (He finds a clock with wires leading from it into a large box.) Lookit, Gabby, somebody sent us an electric alarm clock. And that's not all. Oooooh, just what I always wanted, a tent!
Gabrielle: What do you mean, a tent? Let me see that.
(Gabrielle takes the package from Joxer and sees the clock is wired to a box that has the letters TNT on it.)
AAARRRGGGHH! Joxer, you dumb ass. That's not a tent! It's a... (Gabrielle tosses box into next room and ducks.)
(The roof falls in on Joxer and Gabrielle but, miraculously, they are not hurt.)
Gabrielle (pokes head up through rubble and spits out plaster.): ...bomb.
(Across the street Knuckles and Lockjaw view their handiwork.)
Knuckles: Heh, heh, heh. I guess dat takes care of doze guys, eh Lockjaw?
Lockjaw: Mumph.
Winchell: The botched hit on Xena's two agents only makes her more determined than ever to see that Scarface and his mob are given first class accommodations in the big house in Joliet. With the help of the Chicago police, Special Agent Xena and her colleagues lay out a sweeping dragnet over the city. At last, they reel in a stoolie and manage to, ah, "convince" him to spill the beans concerning Scarface. One Eddie the Weasel, a small time bootlegger and frustrated fan fiction writer, cracks under the intensive interrogation of Agent Dementia.
Dementia: Kid,...(Punch)...I like you. (Sock)...I think you have potential...(Biff)... Please understand I'm only doing this...(Whack)...because I...(Bonk)... care.
Eddie the Weasel: Gee...thanks. (Clunk!)(Eddie the Weasel passes out.)
Xena: Don't you think you were a little hard on him?
Dementia: Nah, he'll be all right. I just had to set him straight. He wasn't being true to the characters. He'll come out of it with no worse than a slightly bruised ego and maybe a black eye. Besides, we got the goods on Scarface, didn't we?
Xena: We sure did. Agent Orange, pay a little visit to our old friend, Judge Graft, and get some arrest warrants. We're gonna put Scarface's little shoes away.
Agent Orange: My preasure, bloss.
Joxer (Bursts into room.): Xena! Xena! It's Scarface--he's got Gabby!
Xena: What! (She grabs Joxer and begins to choke him.) You boob, how could you let this happen?
Joxer: Well, (gaaag) we were tailing Knuckles like you said. Five goons got the drop on us and they knocked me silly...
Dementia: How would we know the difference?
Joxer (Glares at Dementia.): As I was saying, they conked me, took Gabrielle, and when I woke up I found this. (Hands note to Xena.)
(Xena opens note.)
Greetings Flatfoot,
I've got your little goilfriend. If youze want to see those cute little
cheeks of hers again you'll lay off me and my boys. Udderwise, Little Miss
Spunky here is gonna go for a swim in Lake Michigan in a cement bathing
suit.
Have a nice day,
Scarface
Xena: Oh, my poor snookums. Scarface, you rat, I'll get you for this. Okay, lets move.
(Meanwhile at Scarface's headquarters...)
Gabrielle: Boy, are you guys in deep do-do now. If you think Xena was pissed before, wait till you see what's she's like when she doesn't get her, ah, amusement. She gets REAL cranky.
Knuckles: Ya see, boss, I told you they was...(Swivels hand from side to side.)
Scarface: Well if that flatfoot don't get off our back she's gonna have to get another, heh heh heh, playmate.
Gabrielle: That's it! Your're all under arrest!
All Gangsters: ROARRR!
Gabrielle (Meekly.): Or, maybe not.
(Xena and the rest of the Unmentionables bust down door and rush into the room.)
Xena: All right you pigs, hand over my sweetie, I mean Junior G-man Gabrielle.
Scarface: I was just gonna call ya. We found your friend here stuffed in a trash can on Waveland Avenue.
Gabrielle: That's a lie, Xena. These bastards were going to take me for a ride.
Scarface: Now that's just your word against ours, Cutie.
Xena: Stupid, did you forget about the note?
Scarface (Innocently.): Note, wat note? I don't know nothin' about no note.
(Xena pulls out the note. To her surprise it is blank.)
Scarface: Wattsamatter? Somethin' wrong? Somebody write you a note in, har har, disappearing ink?
Xena: It doesn't matter. Scarface, you are under arrest for various crimes and misdemeanors and for being generally a very bad boy.
Knuckles: Ya got nothin' on us copper!
Xena (Smugly.): Oh, no? Well, you see, we now have an eye witness.
Scarface: I hope you don't mean Eddie the Weasel. It seems he met with a, tsk, tsk, very unfortunate accident today.
Xena: Naw, I got a better one. Agent Orange, bring in our witness.
(Agent Orange brings in witness.)
All Gangsters: Lockjaw!
Scarface: Har har har. You're kiddin', right? He can't even talk.
Lockjaw: A most erroneous utterance, my good man. I've given proof of your heinousness to Xena here.
Scarface: You don't mean...
Lockjaw: Yes, the first draft of the author's script.
All gangsters: GASP!
Xena (To agent Dementia.): Book 'em Dano.
Dementia: Huh?
Xena: I just had an urge to say that for some reason.
Scarface: I gotta know one thing. Xena, how did you get Lockjaw here to turn on us?
Lockjaw: Xena convention tickets old man. They are more valuable than gold.
Xena (contemptuously): Get 'em outta here.
Agent Orange: Okay, ret's go, hoodrums.
Scarface: Xena, I'll get youze for dis. I wanna speak to my mouthpiece! You haven't heard the last of Scarface!
(Gangsters are hustled out of room.)
Gabrielle: Whew! That was a close one. I thought I was a goner.
Xena: You know, all this excitement has made me very... (Leers at Gabrielle.)
Gabrielle: Oh no, not again. (Runs out of room.) Hey, guys, wait for me!
Xena: Come back here, Gabrielle. I wanna show you a great thing I learned to do with a typewriter ribbon!
Winchell: And so, the streets of Chicago are tonight a little bit safer... thanks to Special Agent Xena and the Unmentionables.