XOVER: All the News that's fit to Slaughter
Tim Laird-DAA Productions (doom1701@YAHOO.COM)
Tue, 4 Jun 2002 07:59:19 -0700
NOTE: I apologize for the subjectless posting; I'm in the middle of a few
things. This one should be corrected.
Since The Daily Show is one of my morning rituals (just before brushing my
teeth), and Bridget asked so nicely :), here we go:
Disclaimers--I'm writing this by the seat of my pants--you've all seen the
disclaimers, fill them in here. Please don't send money (not that it's worth
any).
Grammar, spelling, mixed metaphors, and just plain bad writing are to be
expected.
I'll pin this with a PG13 rating, cause it seems safest.
ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO SLAUGHTER
"Damn it, Colbert! That's the third coorespondent this week!"
Jon Stewart stood at the end of the hallway, scowling at the sight of Steven
Colbert, sword in hand, covered in the blood of the latest in a long string of
ex-coorespondents.
"He was after me, Jon! Couldn't you feel the burning of his quickening?"
It had been a hard few years. Jon had taken the gig with Comedy Central, well,
because beer ain't free, and neither are women, if you know what I mean. It
paid well, he got plenty of time off each year to work on his hobbies, such as
finding new ways to use his inquisitive stare, and, heck, he was on TV! Not
just those stupid Oscars, but real cable TV!
If only I'd known, he thought to himself, as he walked back to his office.
Colbert was the longest running veteran on the show for one very specific
reason--the trail of blood he left in his wake.
Even Craig Kilborn, the show's former host, had fallen prey to Colbert's sword.
Sure, everybody thought that Kilborn left to host his own show, but it was
actually a robot that moved on, not the real man. Thankfully, Kilborn was
cold, uncompassionate, and egotistical in real life, so the robot had no
trouble filling in his Gucci shoes.
Sure, Jon's tenur on The Daily Show had it's perks--the tumultuous, yet always
seemingly hazy affair with Beth Littleford (before Colbert slaughtered her),
the tumultuous but definately not kosher affair with Vance Degeneres (before
Colbert strung him up from the Daily Show Chopper and dropped him into a
spinning exhaust fan), and the hairdressers--oh, God, no one had ever done his
hair like these people could...
Jon sat at his desk and cradled his head in his hands. Why hadn't he seen it?
The great Steven Colbert, of those kinda funny Fed Ex commericals. Why hadn't
Jon noticed that between the time of that annoying Church's Chicken commercial
that Colbert showed at every friggen meeting and today, that the animal HADN'T
AGED A DAY!?
And then the strange fascination started. Colbert would walk into Jon's office
and offer to teach him how to fight with a sword. Colbert would start talking
about that fuzzy feeling he got when Jon was around. Colbert showing up at
Jon's house with that pony tail, talking with a fake scottish accent...
At least some of the staff had the smarts to get out when they could. Heck,
Frank Decaro wouldn't even come near the studio anymore. Rumor was he filmed
his bits from his Las Vegas Brothel--yeah, the gay thing is just an act; Frank
is about as straight as they come. The only guest coorespondent that had the
guts to come in anymore was Lewis Black, because, well, NOBODY messes with
Black...
Well, no time to think about that now. There was a dead coorespondent in a
hallway, a hole in the script, and an audience waiting outside. Jon hurried
through the fire exit, and surveyed the line. There were specific criteria for
new coorespondents--they had to make Jon look good, they had to look pretty
destitute, and, most importantly, they had to look like the type that would be
fooled by the regular story of Steven Colbert regularly practicing Yoga with a
sword in the hallway with all the red dye filled dummies.
"Hey, you--tall guy!" Jon said, pointing at a slightly balding man standing out
from the line.
"M..Me?" the man responded. "Hey, you're Jon Stewart, right? Hey, can you
spot me a buck--I really need some smokes."
Jon surveyed the man. Ugly? Oh, yeah. I'll look like Tom Cruise next to this
guy, Jon thought. Destitute? Definately. Dumb? Well, how can somebody that
ugly be smart?
"What's your name?" Jon asked.
"Matt Walsh."
Jon the man by the shoulder, and led him back to the studio. "Matt, have you
ever considered a career in fake newscasting?"
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