Tiny Toon Adventures Lost Episode (Montana Max's Suicide)
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This is a fictional joke story written by DaveTheUseless. Don't take it seriously, fellas.
Have you ever heard of the Keebler elves? They're cookie baking mascots who live in trees and charm people in that company's commercials. The head elf is a grandfatherly figure who kids find charming and trustworthy. As for me, I don't believe in them, so it doesn't really matter.
I was in Vegas, working my job as an Elvis impersonator. I can sing like the king of rock n' roll a little, but only when I'm drunk. Actually, that's not true. I mean, I do get drunk, but when I do I sing like a cat in heat mixed with William Hung and the Crazy Frog ringtone service. Anyway, I'm more like fat Elvis. "I ate too many jelly donuts! A-huh, a-huh, a-huh!".
Anyway, I was at a Gary Johnson rally when I made a startling discovery: some vegetarians eat fish, but fish is an animal, so those people aren't vegetarians, really. After the rally, I went with my buddy Polonius to go fishing. "Nice day we're having", he said with a mouthful of Big League Chew rolling on his tongue from one cheek to another. We tried using that stuff as bait, but the fish can tell that it's artificial food. I guess we came across a mentally imbalanced fish, 'cause one of 'em actually took the bait! I reeled up whatever was tugging on my line to reveal...
The soggy remains of a VHS tape. "Tiny Toon Adventures: Montana Max's Suicide", it read in a watery ocean blue.
Now, obviously, the tape didn't work, so I went to throw it back into the river. I pulled back my fishing rod to gather my strength to heave it as far into the water as possible, but I fucked up and hit Polonius in the head instead. He was out cold. I took his pulse, and to my horror, there was no heartbeat. He was dead. Not wanting to go to jail, I checked around for possible witnesses (I have peripheral vision like a frog), and once I realized that I was in the clear, I dumped Polonius's body into the watery depths. I burnt the VHS tape as a sacrifice before rowing my boat back to shore and having a moment of silence for the greatest friend man could ever ask for.
When I got home, I tried reading medieval French poetry to get my mind off things. But nothing would suffice. I just had to know how that VHS tape got there! After browsing eBay, Amazon, the old AOL Bulletin Board System and Overstock, I managed to find it: a VHS copy of Montana Max's Suicide, for $11.95. I ordered the tape with zest and abandon. When it finally arrived in the mail, the FedEx guy warned me that something didn't feel quite right about this package. I asked him what he meant, but he told me to 'get bent' and threw the box straight between my eyes. He hopped back into his mail truck, laughing more like a looney tune than a tiny toon, and gave me the finger.
When I opened the package, a slip of paper fell out onto the floor. I figured that it was an advert, but when I actually read it, I was... perplexed. "In Soviet Russia, VHS tape watches you!" it read in blood red with a hammer and sickle!
I, for one, was not a Communist, so I went ahead and put on the tape. I had a VCR set up already so that I could play the 8-bit Tiny Toon Adventures video game, thankfully.
"We're Tiny! We're Toony! We're all a little dead inside.", the tape began. The hell. After the theme song was cut short, the Tiny Toons were seen in a classroom at their school, Acme Looniversity. Yosemite Sam and Marvin the Martian wee at the front o the classroom, engaged in some sort of debate.
"I consider it bigotry.", Marvin began. "That's why it's a temporary ban!", Yosemite replied. "We're a peace-loving people!", Marvin rebutted. "Did ya, or did ya not say, 'Ah came to blow it up'?", Sam refuted. Strong point. The students applauded, which was one thing, but something wasn't... right. The camera zoomed into virous child characters' eyes to reveal that they looked... not right. Cold. Distant. Alien? I don't know.
"What a spirited debate, docs!", the teacher, Bugs Bunny, exclaimed. "It's great that we can be civil about this sort of thing! But now it's lunch time." The students got up robotically and stood in line, one after another. Were they going to the cafeteria? No... instead, they each went to the front of the class one-by-one, each taking a carrot from Bugs that seemed to have been dipped in some sort of gooey, red substance. They all bit into their lunches at once, and... and I couldn't believe what happened next. Their bodies all hit the floor at once. I didn't get it, until the camera panned and zoomed in on a large can that... that read... 'Acme Cyanide'!!!
Needless to say, I was shocked speechless. I had no clue that Steven Spielberg had such a sinister sense of humor. But I wasn't laughing. I was more of a Blue Collar Comedy and Knock-Knock Joke kinda guy.
The scene switched over to town millionaire kid Montana Max's house. He was swimming in coins like Scrooge McDuck. "More like Scrooge McFuck!", he screamed. It was weird hearing cussing in a Tiny Toons cartoon. The scene changed to a study room in the mansion, where Mr. Max, Montana's dad, was talking to a snooty British butler. I could tell that the other guy was Mr. Max because he was only depicted from the waist down.
"You plan has worked perfectly, sir.", the butler asserted. "The Hale-Bopp comet has arrived. The children have teleported to the spaceship as anticipated." Children? ... Spaceship? "All it took is a little fear of illegal aliens." "Illegal Martian aliens", Mr. Max added.
I got up and microwaved a whale's heart and grabbed a cup of RC cola. I was hungry... as well as intrigued. I had trouble following the tape's plot, much like I had trouble following the plot of my life.
A half an hour passed. I had gone birdwatching to get my mind off things, but I needed answers. I abandoned my pursuit of the tufted titmouse to return home and finish watching the tape.
The scene had changed to a night sky, but it wasn't animated. In fact, it looked highly realistic!
Stars and galaxies shined and shimmered with lustrious beauty. There was a constellation of a groundhog, and another of Seattle grunge rock legend Kurt Cobain. I didn't get this joke, either. The next constellation made me gasp with a tenacious fear.
It was a horse! How did the tape know that I was a sufferer of equinophobia? Just the sheer thought of a horse was enough to make me piss my pants in terror, after what happened on Uncle Benjamin's farm years ago! I shut off the tape and made an appointment with my therapist, Wilson. Strangely, he didn't call himself 'Dr. Wilson'—just Wilson. When I arrived for my Thursday session, something seemed a little off. He covered his mouth with a book, which wasn't unusual for him—in fact, I had never seen most of his lower face area—so that wasn't it...
"Very interesting", Wilson said in his thick German accent. "It is indeed strange that a vegetarian would eat fish meat." "What about the tape in the river, doc?", I replied. "Oh, probably just repressed sexual feelings or some shit", he explained. He was probably right.
Realizing that most of my life was probably a lie that I only experienced in my mind, I returned to finishing watching the tape. There were some shots of shadowy figures burning incense atop some hills. My eyes began to tear up when I made out a large, flickering fire and I realized what was being thrown into it: the corpses of Babs and Buster Bunny.
One of the cloaked figures raised his hands to shush the others. They were chanting something that was low-pitched and difficult to make out, but using my detective skills, I realized what was going on here. They were worshiping some sort of deity they called 'Baal'. "Elvis has left the building", their leader exclaimed! I was scared, and I just... I didn't get it. "He lives and breathes in the Hale-Bopp spaceship." "Hale-Bopp! Hale-Bopp!", the cult of hooded gothic figures chanted. They tossed fish heads, scrambled eggs, and vials of Crystal Pepsi in the air, as if to sanctify the ritual and seal their pact with Baal. These eccentric formalities came to a screeching halt when the cult leader threw back his head to reveal... Mr. Max? "One last sacrifice", he stated without showing any emotion at all. "And it is done." The theoretical cartoon camera sped through the hills, the fishhead polluted grounds, and heaps of lifeless Tiny Toons bodies before... before the tape revealed why it was called 'Montana Max's Suicide'. We were given a view of a bloody basin. Yes, it was collecting realistic looking blood, but that was not all. The panel continued to scroll up before... revealing the corpse of Montana Max. He had pennies in his eyes. Why would a millionaire like Montana Max have pennies in his eyes? Shouldn't they at least be quarters? Or Sacagawea dollars?
I went into the shed to grab some power tools and gorilla glue. What a shitload of fuck! It was time for this tape to be given its proper burial. "Hakuna Matata!", I screamed as my battle cry before drilling this tape to death. I drove back to the river, and tossed this copy in, too.
I felt like I had done my due diligence, and could pick life back up from where I had left off. I wiped off my hands as if to say "What's done is done."
That's before I realized that someone was in my car. It... it was Polonius! But how!? He was dead! I killed him! I tried to run away, as fat as I could, but it was too late. He noticed me, and I had left my keys in the car. Within seconds, he had started the engine, sped toward me... and he ran me over. The last words I had heard was: "Pedestrian! 576 points."
When I woke up, it was election night. I was at a Gary Johnson victory party at Dunkin Donuts. I couldn't believe it. We had done it. President-elect Johnson! I hugged the stranger next to me. His body odor smelled like limburger and trout, but I didn't care. We won!
Vice President Elect William Weld came on stage. No, he didn't just show up—I mean, literally. He came on the stage. It was disgusting, but again, I didn't care because we had won.
The guy behind me stabbed me and I bled to death. When I woke up, I was in a dystopian society where schools were all closed down, government buildings were in ruins, and the only flavor of pop tarts was cherry. It turns out that the two-party system was so upset at their loss of power that the military-industrial complex turned around and attacked itself. And us.
It was chilly outside. I picked up a newspaper off a bus stop bench that some bum had been sleeping on. "No More Horsing Around", the headline read, adorning a photograph of the new President: Jim Horsefucker.
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