Step By Step: A Lost Episode: Difference between revisions
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Does anyone remember Step by Step? I bet you don't, because you don't remember anything beyond your urges for others to satisfy your basic needs. Stop and think about it. Your mother and father spent two years shoving food in your mouth and wiping your ass and teaching you right from wrong before Does anyone remember Step by Step? It was a 1980s television sitcom starring the infamous Patrick Duffy, who died in the final episode falling down the steps. It was planned all along. Hence the show's title.
As for me, I work for the government. I'm a Secret Service agent. I carry around the nuclear football. You'd never guess the password, so don't bother, you're just going to piss me off. Inside of it I keep a red rubber dildo and a super soaker that I delude the terrorists into believing is a real gun. Also inside of the suitcase is a VHS tape. The Lost Episode of Step by Step, which is actually a bit deceiving, for it was never truly lost. We, I, the government, confiscated it, because the people simply were not ready yet. And neither are you, but I'm bored and lonely and it's Friday night. Thank goodness it'
I'd play it for you but you probably don't own a VHS player because you're poor. Here's what happens. You turn the thing on and the little butterpop jingle starts a jiffy-poppin' like a squaredancing turtle. "Step by Step, day by day, you inserted the VHS, now you're gonna pay." But pay with what? That's the real question. It was the 90s, so the dollar was still a popular currency. The intro played as normal, except when the family is riding the rollercoaster: the rollercoaster flies off the rails, explodes, and presumably, they all died. Presumably. This caused a continuity error because the show continues as normal afterwards, so I'm guessing it's just one of those mysteries that science will never solve. You can calculate the circumference of the ferris wheel using pi.
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In his pants.
Patrick Duffy unzipped his pants and Boner popped out. He just kind
"Thank you for birthing me, father.", Boner stated in a thick German accent. He was wearing a green Robin Hood cap with a feather protruding from the tippy point. He was fat, about 4 foot tall, and smiling. *deep exhaling* I understand that you might think you remember the show and that's not the character but Duffy called for Boner and there was no room for comments from the peanut gallery. I got up and made some popcorn, ignoring that my pet cat Tennessee Tuxedo had knocked over a candle and started a first-degree housefire (apartmentfire shut the fuck up). I was hungry and if you look over Abraham Maslow's hierarchy of needs, hunger comes first.
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"And now for a word for our sponsor!". Patrick Duffy was holding a 12 ounce can of Duffy Beer as the program changed over to an in-progress infomercial for Looney Tunes VHS tapes.
"You know, my father would have liked this.", Chuck Jones Jr. said with a big smile. He pointed to a 14-karat watch with Bugs Bunny's face on it. "14 carrots! A ha hahahaha!". I wanted to kill myself, but before I could get my gun the program returned to normal. Normal is a relative thing, though, 'cause,
Wait a minute. Patrick Duffy. The Duffmeister. Duffy. He
His wife screamed at the cartoon beak and threw her shoe at him. "You're despicable!", he asserted. Boner nodded his head in frenetic agreement in hopes of his step father's approval. I screamed in a moment of genius. You know, when you think about it, a stepfather is just a cuck, anyway. Yes, Patrick Daffy duck was a cuck and so was I. Patrick Covfefe Duck.
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60 years passed and I was about to retire when I heard a tapping at my chamber door. My office door. "Yes—who is it?", Tennessee Tuxedo, now a very old cat, meowed. A man in a trench coat stepped out of the shadows and through my chamber door. He was smoking a cancer stick (that's slang for cigarette), which is illegal on campus grounds. "Please put out your smokes.", Tennessee Tuxedo growled. I let out a shrill scream of horrifying pain when he put it out on my bald head. (My hair never grew back from the cokes cable incident.)
"We know you have our tape, Quailman." "Officer Quailman to you", I barked back, knowing when I was being threatened. I should have known better than to double cross the yankee government. "I kindly request that you give it back, and follow our instructions
by step."
Well, I'll be darned. I'm no one to give in to terroristic threats. I grabbed onto my sword cane and prepared for battle. "Oh, so you're going to kill me.", he responded in a cigarette voice. "Very well. But before you
It was. It
"I AM SCUZZLEBUTT! LORD OF THE MOUNTAINS! BEHOLD MY PATRICK DUFFY LEG!" The truth was real. Patrick Duffy was real. He had no legs, but he was real. And Scuzzlebutt had a leg, and it was Patrick Duffy. I figured that now was a good time to let him know that I had sold the tape at a yard sale, but it was too late. Scuzzlebutt grabbed my wheelchair and pushed me through the Cambridge campus halls at the speed of the lightning. No one stopped to notice or cared about the dog-like mountain creature with the anthropomorphic leg.
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"You won't get to make it better, the second time around.", Scuzzlebutt butted in. Fat fuck.
You know, it's a funny thing, when you know you're about to die. You get an opportunity to smell the roses and breathe in the air one last time. I was pretty pissed that I was a paraplegic, though. "Come on, kid. Take a swim."
"You know, Patrick. I think I get it
"Step by step? Wheel by wheel. Life is simply a wheel within a wheel, and we are the riders of the horses, on the carousel. It might seem like all of 'life'—that is, the facets of life that we enjoy and acknowledge as our own—are an opiate for the masses, with ABC television programs, snack food, talking cats, the Michelin man, but what is life really without the things that truly matter? Family. Even if they were not produced from your own loins, and even if it wasn't the first time you had family. A wife, an adopted son who skips school to unironically blast Saturday morning cartoon theme songs on his earbuds and order you to carry him raspberry pop tarts and grape
"Alright, fuck this." While Patrick Duffy was distracted, Scuzzlebutt smacked me in the back of the head with the skateboard, and I fell out of the wheelchair plummeting to my death. A finalizing crack was overheard by doves, pigeons, squirrels, and a displaced sea otter who was ever so far from home.
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