GET A LIFE SCRIPT  --  CHRIS' BRAIN


 31. 01/19/92  "CHRIS' BRAIN"  (209)
 Writer: Steve Pepoon / Director: John Fortenberry

 The neighborhood is overrun by toxic waste, but Chris and Gus refuse
 to leave the house. After almost dying, they wake up to discover Chris
 has become a genius and Gus has an aptitude for origami.  Chris decides
 the best use for his new abilities is to win every spelling bee.
 
    World Judge ....... Matthew Faison
    Nax ............... Mitch Pileggi
    Brian ............. Tim Farrell
    Judge ............. Art Kassul
    Ivanovich ......... George Roth



GUS' KITCHEN

CHRIS -- Goodmorning...Gusper the friendly host. (Laughs histerically) Pretty
good huh? It took me two days to think that one up.
GUS -- You make one more cute play on my name and I'll punt your family
jewels up into your throat.
CHRIS -- (laughs) Gus ho, you're so colorful. Now, would you be a sweet home
Alabama and go fetch me some flapjacks?
GUS -- Go to hell.
CHRIS -- Oh, there goes another one. (laughs) Gus, are you losing your teeth
too? (sprinkles several teeth on the table) It's a good thing I was born with
two rows of teeth, huh?
GUS -- Hm. You think that's bad?  Look at this. (Gus' pinkie is about three
times longer that normal) Every time I cut it off it grows back again.   
CHRIS -- Jeeze, I wish I had a pinkie that long. I'd wear about  a thousand
pinkie rings, be the envy of everyone in my neighborhood.

DOOR KNOCKS

CHRIS -- Hm. I'll get it. Mm mm mm dee dee dee dee dee dee etc. Woah woah,
hold on there little girl. We don't want to buy any cookies today, okay? So
why don't you just go back a tell your crazed Den Mother to send her mindless
drones into somebody else's land negotion, allright? Cause we know where the
money really goes to anyway; Interplanetary Terrorism.
GUS -- Hey shut the door. I'm not paying to fan the whole block.
NAX -- Sir, we just discovered this entire neighborhood is sitting on top of
an extremely dangerous toxic waste dump.
GUS -- Oh, so that's why my bathwater caught fire last night. I thought it
was some kind of goo the kid left behind.
CHRIS -- No Gus, Gus, don't you see what this space alien wants? He wants a
little donation. Would you run and get my purse?
NAX -- Don't you understand? Your lives are in danger if you stay here. We're
evacuating everyone in twenty-four hours. You're basically living in a
death-zone. 
CHRIS --  Oh, oh a death-zone. Oh ho. No ho ho dear father in hell no ho ho
uh uh. I can't die yet. My only goal in life is to be buried in a piano
crate. Ungh, but I foolishly put off getting really fat thinking I would live
forever.  (Chris wolfs down candy)
GUS -- Take it easy kid. Trust me, there's no danger. We're staying right
here. The theory that toxic waste can hurt you is a lotta bunk.
CHRIS --  Oh good well, that makes me feel alot better, thanks Gus. (slaps
Gus on the back. Gus gets a nosebleed) Do you need a...hanky? 

GUS' LIVING ROOM

GUS -- Ha! Just let 'em try and roust us out. (laughs) We'll make the Tet
Offensive look like a love-in.
CHRIS -- (giggles wildly)
GUS -- I said Tet Offensive you giggling twerp.
CHRIS -- Oh
GUS -- Here, take this.
CHRIS -- Oooo wow. A forty-five M and M bolt action Graham Chapman with a
five'll get cha ten X-ray vision scope.
GUS -- You know your guns, huh? Did ya ever fire one?
CHRIS -- Oh sure. My dad taught me. What you do is you put this end in your
mouth and then you use your put your big toe to flick that little
whatsamacallits down there..
GUS -- You point it at them, you jerk.
CHRIS -- Are you sure? My dad was quite specific about that. 
GUS -- Look, you aim between their eyes, you pull the trigger and you perform
a brainectomy. Keep alert, and watch out for friendly fire. I tend to drink
heavily during stand offs. (door knocks) Go away. Unless you think you're man
enough to get past a nineteen fifty-five Sears traditional sleeper sofa.
CHRIS -- And he's not talking about that sectional crap either.
NAX -- (walking in through the back door) I don't have time to chat, Boo
Radley. Come on, let's go, move it out. 
GUS -- Look stooge, I have too many fuzzy memories of this dump to just walk
out. I paid for this place with my own hard-earned graft and I'd rather fight
to this boy's death than give to it up.
NAX -- Fine, suit yourself. All I'm supposed to do is tell you. You've been
told.
CHRIS -- Eat zinc, sucker! (shoots repeatedly into the wall)
GUS --  Hey, go easy kid. Drywall doesn't grow on trees you know.
CHRIS -- Nobody comes into our little fairlyland in here and tells us whether
to stay or leave if...we want to.
GUS -- Right. We'll show those babies. A few toxic fumes never hurt anybody!

TOXIC MONTAGE ( to the tune of "Strange Brew" by Cream)

Chris drinks green goop from fawcett.
Gus' hair falls out
Chris sweats milky substance
Dog Fido is a skeleton
Chris and Gus eat breathing Turkey (?)
Chris feeds mouth grown from his side.
MOUTH -- (burps)

GUS' KITCHEN

CHRIS -- Ugh oh ah.(itches head removes ear) You know Gus, I don't think it
was such a good idea to stay here. (replaces ear) You know that I've thrown
up a hundred times today, and that two more than normal.
GUS -- You spineless little jellyfish. I aughta punch you in both your
mouths. 
CHRIS -- Oooo,you grow webbed fingers and suddenly you're a tough guy. 
GUS -- I'll kill you. Yeuuuugh (goes for Chris and collapses) Damn you. Flop
over here and fight like a man.
CHRIS -- Nobody calls me a man. (Chris falls and flops) Yeeahoh ow. Oh Gus,
Gus are we dying?
GUS -- Naw, it's just flu season. 
CHRIS -- Really?
GUS -- Nah, who am I kidding? Yeah, we're dying. I could have sworn we would
have built up an immunity.  Chris, I'm sorry about all this.  Except if you
had been my son I would have had you institutionalized long ago.  
CHRIS -- Gus, you're the drunken abusive Papa I never had.

CHRIS AND GUS position themselves not unlike Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel
work. "Creation" I think it's called. Flies buzz aroung them.

GUS -- Hey, what do you know, I'm not dead after all. 
CHRIS -- Yeah, yeah me neither. In fact, I feel better than before,
rejuvenated, indefatigable.
GUS -- Huh, I guess we did develop an immunity after we passed out.
CHRIS -- Oh no, Gus no my naive little vixen no. What we experienced was a
simple toxin induced coma.
GUS -- Something's screwy kid. You're talking and making sense at the same
time. 
CHRIS -- Interesting. Not only that but I also seem able to follow a
conversation. 
GUS -- Hmm. 
CHRIS -- I guess the trick is not to hum cartoon theme songs in your head
while other people are talking. 
GUS -- Hey, maybe the toxins caused you to develop a case of the smarts, like
in that movie the Rainman.
CHRIS -- Oh, I do hope you're mistaken for that would certainly be an
indictment againstour educational system.
GUS -- Indictment?
CHRIS -- Well sure Gus, you know, indictment, i-n-d-i-c-t-m-e-n-t.
GUS -- Kid, you can finally spell.
CHRIS -- I can?
GUS -- Here, let's try it again. Spell engorged.
CHRIS -- Engorged. E-n-g-o-r-g-e-d
GUS -- Oh yeah, that's right. Incredible.
CHRIS -- Okay now for the ultimate challenge, the word I've always had
trouble with, "pants." p-a-n-t-s.
GUS -- Hm hm I know that one, and you're right.
CHRIS -- Oh jeeze, everything seems so clear to me now, there's no silent "k"
sure. Boy wow, I understand everything. I'm no longer hepitudinous (?). We're
not plants--we're humans.
GUS -- Damn, you get a fancy new case of the smarts and what do I get? Zip.
CHRIS -- No my self-effacing patron no look, you're now able to fold paper
into elegant forms. 
GUS -- What kind of voodoo is this?
CHRIS -- (laughs) Gus, it's not voodoo. It's called origami and it's an
ancient Japanese art form that dates back to the seventh century when paper
was first introduced from China under the guidance of Shatoeku Tashi regent
to the empress Suko.
GUS -- You're makin' my head hurt kid, turn it off.
CHRIS -- Jeeze, I'm able to understand everything now. I even know how the
professor on "Gilligan's Island" made those really cool things out of
coconuts, watch. Voila. A CD player with surround sound. 
GUS -- Wow kid, I'll bet with a watermelon you could make me a really cool
eight-track for my truck. I mean, with your brains we could change the world.
You could cure diseases ah, build a pollutionless car, save the rainforest. 
CHRIS -- Yeah, or maybe win every single spelling bee on the planet. 
GUS -- Yeah that sounds good, let's go with that.

GREEVILLE SPELLING BEE

JUDGE -- We are now down to our two finalists, Billy Metcalf from Greenville
junior high and Chrissy Peterson from...the..death zone. Eh, we don't usually
get competitors as old as yourself.
CHRIS -- Well, you know it's always been my dream to match wits with thirteen
year-olds...and win.
JUDGE -- Well, Billy, spell phytoalexin.
BILLY -- Phytoalexin. P-h-y-t-o-e
CHRIS -- Huh wrong...(laughs) wrong w-r-o-n-g wrong.
BILLY -- e-x-i-n
JUDGE -- I'm sorry Billy, but that is incorrect. Chrissy, you have ten
seconds to spell the same word.
CHRIS -- Phytoalexin. P-h-y-t-o-a-l-e-x-i.......hm......n. 
JUDGE -- Correct.
CHRIS -- Eh heyay! Yay! I'm victorious. I'm victorious. You're not victorous.
You're just a big fat adversary who failed. 
GUS -- Wait here chump, (laughs) squirt your tears into this paper daffodil.
(laughs)
JUDGE -- Chrissy, it is my pleasure to present to you the winner's cup, this
pocket dictionary, and this ten dollar gift savings bond.
CHRIS -- Mmwah. (kisses trophy) I love having brain activity. 
GUS -- Kid you were great. I think you're ready for the big leagues
CHRIS -- Really Gus? Now, doesn't this all seem a little boring to you? I
mean, you tend to favor a more common and base passtimes.
GUS -- Are you kidding? Spelling Bees have the best open bars. I am faced!

SPELLING BEE MONTAGE ( to the tune of "She Works Hard for the Money" by Donna
Summer)
 
ENGLAND 
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, please spell the word telesis.
CHRIS -- Telesis, progress intelligently planned. T-e-l-e-s-i-s. Telesis.
WORLD JUDGE -- I'm sorry, that was incorrect. I'm afraid you're ah, out.
CHRIS -- Out? Learn to spell jerk, I just nailed that one.
WORLD JUDGE -- Oooh. I beg your pardon Mr. Peterson, there was an error on my
card. 
CHRIS -- Allright well, apology accepted....you equine posterior.

SPAIN
WORLD JUDGE -- Senior Peterson. Spell the word ingozzare.
CHRIS -- Ingozzare.  i-n-g-o-z-z-a-r-e  Ingozzare
WORLD JUDGE -- That is correct. Congratulations.


AUSTRALIA
WORLD JUDGE -- Here ya go mate.

FRANCE
CHRIS -- Thanks very much.(Stamps on the judges toe and spouts French
jibberish at him)

MOON

GARAGE

CHRIS -- Oh. 
GUS -- Come on kid, don't smoke. Remember, you're in training.
CHRIS -- Gus I'm burnt out. This passwassintine (?)  has caused me extreme
ass fatigue. I mean, spelling words in a different country every day, the
damn.....Bee groupies knocking on my hotel door at all hours.
GUS -- That reminds me, thanks for tossing me your left-overs.
CHRIS -- Now, where's the big pay-off? All we have is about a zillion stupid
cups.
GUS -- Chris don't give up now, next week is the Worlds Spelling Bee.
CHRIS -- Forget it, forget it Gus, I'm retired. From here on in, I'm devoting
all my energies to developing edible clothing. One day, everyone will be clad
in my delicious Cheese Flavored Pants!
GUS -- Chris please, one more Bee. The first prize is a jewel encrusted
dictionary.
CHRIS -- Gus, you know, I need another dictionary like the Illiad needs about
a hundred more verses about Agamemnon.
GUS -- You're not looking at the big picture. We can pry the jewels off and
hock 'em like Jake Lamotta in "Raging Bull." 
CHRIS -- Cooh-hall. Calculate me in. (they laugh)

WORLD SPELLING BEE

ANNOUNCER -- Welcome to the finals of the 60th World Spelling Bee carried
live to 36 countries with a total viewership of 57 billion. Later today,
we'll be joining the Super Bowl, already in progress.
GUS -- You did it kid. It's just you and that godless commie robot.
WORLD JUDGE -- We are ready to commence the final spell-off between the ugly
American Chris Peterson and the Russian Ivanovitch Smith. If only all the
world's difficulties could be settled not on battlefields but by spelling
bees. Mr. Smith, spell Iatrophysics.
IVANOVITCH -- Iatrophysics. i-a-t-r-o-p-h-y-s-i-c-s. Iatrophysics.
WORLD JUDGE -- That is correct.
CHRIS -- Yeah sure, you can spell iatrophysics but can you justify your
country's role in the 1877 Russo-Turkish War? I don't think so.
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, we set aside politics during spelling bees.  Are
you ready for your turn?
CHRIS -- Yeah, yeah go ahead, hit me with your best worden. That's the
pre-Teutonic word for word.
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, spell titmouse.
CHRIS -- (stifles laugh) I'm sorry judge, could you repeat that?
WORLD JUDGE -- The word is titmouse.
CHRIS -- (laughs uncontrollably falls to the floor)
GUS -- That's queer, he hasn't giggle like a schoolgirl since his brain
lurched into gear.
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, can you spell titmouse?
CHRIS -- (laughs) I,I would probably experience a slight bit of difficulty
with the first triumvirate of letters.
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, time is running out.
GUS -- Kid, kid you're gonna blow it. Just think about hocking those
dictionary jewels. Get outta my face hag, you're glass eyes gonna crack.
CHRIS -- T-i-t-m-o-u-s-e. Titmouse.
WORLD JUDGE -- That is correct. Mr. Smith, spell coarctation.
IVANOVITCH -- Coarctation. c-o-a-r-c-t-a-t-i-o-n. Coarctation.
WORLD JUDGE -- That is correct. 
GUS -- Kid, we're in trouble. (can no longer do origami and shows empty
bottle of Toxic waste from home)
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, Mr. Peterson, spell pants.
CHRIS -- Pants.. um...ah...oh. Normal clear non-milky sweat. Ah. Could you
repeat the word please?
WORLD JUDGE -- Pants.
CHRIS -- Do you mean pants...as in trousers or um, pants as in really fast
sports cars?
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, why are you conducting yourself in the manner of
a complete moron?
CHRIS -- I'm not a moron...I think..I mean I don't think. Ah, could you use
pants in a sentance.
WORLD JUDGE -- Please try on this pair of pants. 
CHRIS -- Well, that's no help at all.
WORLD JUDGE -- Mr. Peterson, you are running out of time.
CHRIS -- Allright...ah.........................k?
MAN IN CROWD -- K? He is a moron.
WOMAN IN CROWD -- He must have gotten his intelligence from toxic waste.
MAN IN CROWD -- That's the worst kind of cheating. 
CROWD -- Kill him. Killhim.

GUS' DOORSTEP ("Drop Dead Fraud" written on door) 

CHRIS -- Oh Gus look, somebody wrote "Welcome Home Chris" on the side of your
barn slash spaceship, how considerate.
GUS -- Jeeze, when you revert back to an idiot you don't fool around. What
you need is another near-fatal dose of happy juice and we're back on easy
street. 
NAX -- Well if it isn't that cheating spelling bee bastard. Drop dead creep.
CHRIS -- Thank you very much. It's nice to be home.
GUS -- Hey, what were you doing in my house, Nax? If you found those pictures
of me in the diaper it was a frame job. 
NAX -- Just pumping out all the toxic waste. This neighborhood is completely
safe now.
GUS --  You louse, you had no right to do that. I'll sue.
NAX -- Hey, toxic poisoning is a privilege not a right. Come on, if everyone
had free access to toxic waste, spelling bees would be more crowded than they
are now. 
CHRIS -- Oh well Gus, I guess you and I have to go back to being
ah....being....darn it. What's that word that rhymes with normal and starts
with an 'n'? 
GUS -- Maybe if you sat in a tub full of raw sewage and gasoline?
CHRIS -- Hm? I, I'm sorry, (laughs) I was just humming "George of the Jungle"
in my head. (laughs) I swear, I always lose it when I get to the "watch out
for that tree" part. (laughs)
GUS -- Forget it. You're too far gone. You have no ability whatsoever to make
us one more stinking dime. Your days of special powers are over kid. 
CHRIS -- Ah, I guess I'll just go down to the store and get myself some
candy. (Chris flys away)

THE END