Due to popular demand from fellow Duderanchers and the Philadelphia Eagles.com message boards, I have decided t make another glorious Chunky Soup adventure. I present to you the very first Chunky Soup made for TV movie.
A man is working a jackhammer in a crowded part of New York City. He pauses, takes off his hard hat, and wipes the sweat from his brow. He puts his hat back on and raises his jackhammer when he sees a limousine pull up. A few intimidating men in suits walk out followed by Donald Rumsfeld, the Secretary of Defense. The man with the jackhammer acts nonchalantly towards them and begins to hammer away. Suddenly he feels a tapping on his shoulder. He stops hammering and turns around.
"Excuse me," Rumsfeld said, "Mr. Shockey...there's a situation."
The man with the jackhammer turns around and now we see it is Jeremy Shockey, the in-your-face Pro-Bowl rookie tight end from the New York Giants.
"Oh yeah? Well fuck you. I don't work for you bastards anymore." Shockey said as he shoved a finger in Rumsfeld's face.
"Please Mr. Shockey," Rumsfeld insisted, "There"s a giant chicken chunk the size of Australia heading straight for the Earth right now. It will hit us in two days. Everyone on Earth will die." Shockey's eyes shifted back and forth like R. Kelly in a grade school bathroom. Rumsfeld extended his hand.
"You're our only hope."
Shockey turned his head and spit on the ground in disgust.
"I'll do it on one condition."
"What's that?" Rumsfeld asked.
"Bring back Animaniacs."
"You've got a deal soldier," Donald Rumsfeld shouted. The two of them shook hands and entered the limo, speeding off to save the world and all of its chocolatey goodness. And the jackhammer lay there, representing the world. Or something metaphorical like that.
1500 hours. At a base that no one knows exists, at a place where no one knows exists, with a bathroom that no one knows exists.
"Shit," Jeremy Shockey yelped in urinary pain, "I really need to piss."
"Silly Shockey," Donald Rumsfeld replied, "There are no bathrooms in a place that doesn't exist!" (Laughter).
All the sudden a door opened and everybody shut up like that one time a bunch of my friends came to surprise me at my house and I was on my front porch masturbating. A shadowy figure emerged from...the shadows!
"Oh my God," Shockey said, "It's..."
"That's right," The shadowy man stated, "Jaleel White. The scourge of the sitcom Family Matters. Also known as Urkel or Stephan.
"You"re in charge of the United States' security? I thought you were banished on an island some where with Screech and Uncle Joey?" Shockey said in awe.
"No," Jaleel White said as he walked over to a 3-D representation of the Earth. "It was all a cover up. As a matter of fact Screech is running a mission in Afghanistan as we speak."
"What about Uncle Joey?" Shockey asked.
"Oh well, he's on the island with Balky from Perfect Strangers and the youngest brother from Growing Pains."
"Touche" Shockey said.
"But let's get down to business," Jaleel said authoritatively, "Now as you know by now there is a chicken chunk roughly the size of India racing towards us at breakneck speeds..."
"Wait," Shockey said, "I thought it was Australia."
"Oh yeah...well...same difference," Jaleel stated.
"Same difference?!?!" Donald Rumsfeld yelled as he jumped up from his chair like a toaster pastry, "There's a huge difference! In India they speak Hindi, In Australia they speak English. India has a caste system, Australia doesn't..."
"Donald!" Jaleel interrupted. Rumsfeld ignored him like a teenage daughter.
"India has over a billion people in total population, Australia has more koalas than people. India has Miss Universe, Australia has Kylie Minogue: 8th sexiest on VH1's 25 sexiest list. India has..."
"Rummy! Shut up!" Rumsfeld still ignored him.
"...Australia has Crocodile Dundee. India has cricket, Australia has rugby. India has the Himalayas, Australia has the...."
BOOM!
All the sudden Donald Rumsfeld fell over, unconscious. Jaleel White stood over him with a lead pipe.
"Oops," Jaleel said, "Did I do that?" (Raucous laughter)
"But back to the agenda," Jaleel insisted, "This chicken chunk will hit us in two days and destroy the population of this planet. But we have a plan." Jaleel pressed a button on the console in front of him and a 3-D representation of the plan came up.
"Now, what's the only way to contain a giant chicken chunk?"
Shockey looked nervously around the room, "A giant bowl of chicken soup?"
"Exacamundo compadre!" Jaleel White said. "But no one has a bowl of soup that big. So what do we do?"
"Make the chicken smaller?"
"Bingo," Jaleel said. "If we blow up the giant chicken chunk from the inside, it will explode into a bunch of tiny chicken chunks, which will then fall to the Earth harmlessly..."
"In effect making the Earth the most gigantic bowl of chunky soup in the history of mankind." Shockey finished his sentence.
"You got it Triscuit." Jaleel said.
"But this sounds really complicated, how can I do this?" Shockey asked.
"We've already constructed a device that can dig to the center of the chicken chunk. It's a gigantic drill with a cockpit, escape pod, and it's armed with a bomb. We call it the Butterknife."
"Butterknife?" Shockey said disappointedly, "Couldn't you think of something more intimidating? Like...testosterone drill of mass destruction?"
Jaleel stared at Shockey for a few seconds.
"No. As a matter of fact, hell no. That would make it sound like a vibrator," Jaleel said.
"Touche" said Shockey.
"Stop saying that." Jaleel demanded.
"Why?"
"You're not French." Jaleel said.
"Tou..." Shockey paused, "Tou...scoops of raisins, ain't it amazin?!??" Shockey sang as he hopped up and down.
"Man you white poeple can't dance," Jaleel said as he backed away in a mix of confusion and fear, "Anyway, you can't do this on your own. So we got some help."
A door in the distance opened up Star Trek style (with the sound and everything) and there was a strong silhouette which showed the person had headgear and an apparent lack of a penis.
"Oh no!" Shockey yelled.
"Yes," Jaleel replied, "Brett Favre." Brett stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing headgear, a spice girls T-shirt, and there was an apparent lack of a penis. He drooled as he spoke with a lisp.
"Hey guys, wanna go check out the book-mobile? They give you candy and free bookmarks. La-La-La-La..." Brett Favre began to prance around the room.
"Stop it Brett or I'll...I'll...shave that silly ass goatee of yours!" Shockey yelled.
"Here," Jaleel said, "This always works." Jaleel threw a package of Dragonball Z fruit snacks at Brett. Brett caught them with the excitement of a virgin getting his first hand job (Or John Thomas for our British friends).
"Wow! Dragonball Z fruit snacks! Vegeta is the superman of the century!" Brett said as he scampered off.
"What the hell Urkel? What am I supposed to do with the most retarded quarterback in the history of the NFL?" Shockey yelled.
"Don't worry, I've got another partner for you." A second door opened Star Trek Style and the silhouette didn't show anything. It didn't look like anyone was there.
"I'm down here you bloody bastards!" a gravely voice shouted. Shockey looked down to see... Gimili from Lord of the Rings!
"Oh shit yeah," Shockey yelled, "Now that's what I call backup."
"My nigga." Jaleel said in a very Denzel Washington manner. Meanwhile Brett sat in the corner playing with his shoelaces and talking to himself.
"This delicious bag of fruit snacks says the proof of purchase is the bar-code, but if you ask me the proof of purchase is my smile when I eat them. Right Goku?"
"What's wrong with the man who has no cock," Gimili asked, "Is he a demon?"
"No, he's from Wisconsin." Shockey said.
"Aye," Gimili replied, "Makes sense now. Did I mention I'm short?" (Laughter)
"All right men, it's time to suit up." Jaleel said. And the football player, the retard, and midget with an ax walked off into the distance, ready to save the world with a vengeance.
To be continued in...UBER-RANT: The Curse
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