"Butthead In The Matrix", Pt1 (In Description)

Completed in 2024. I'm not sure how the script length compares with "Verstitution", but those are my 2 most comprehensive projects, with "The Spread" and "Oil Boys..." not too far behind. I have too many skits to name, which I'll share over time. I'll do some voice impressions when appropriate, including some not previously shared on my 3rd party blog.

*************
[Agent Smith and Butthead sit across from one another at a pine table in a small interrogation room.]

Smith: "Mr... Butthead?"

Butthead: "Uh... Yeah?"

Smith: "Do you know why you're here?"

BH: "Uh... No."

Smith: "You smoke an awful lot of marijuana, don't you?"

BH: "That's legal, dude."

Smith: "But you're only 15."

BH: "So? I've always been 15."

Smith: "Do you now understand why you're here?"

BH: "No! And where the hell's Beavis?!"

Smith: "He's been released, and he was returned to your living room to watch MTV."

BH: "What?! Beavis can't watch MTV without me! Who's gonna laugh with him when he sees giant boobs?"

Smith: "Beavis, while also perpetually 15 years old, does not meet our genetic criteria for intelligence."

BH: "Uh... Okay. I heard Beavis... 15... and some other stuff."

Smith: [Clears throat] "You're smart ENOUGH for our experiment, Mr. Butthead."

BH: "Really? Whoa."

Smith: "Relative to the only two individuals we've found maintaining your age, yes."

BH: "Cool! You wanna hear me say E equals something? 'Cause that's what smart people say."

Smith: "No. I need your DNA."

BH: "No way, dude! It's taco night!"

Smith: [Rolls eyes] "I said D... N... A... Mr. Butthead, not dinner. Deoxyribonucleic acid."

BH: "Uh... De... what? Sounds expensive. How much you gonna pay me for it?"

Smith: "Nothing, Mr. Butthead."

BH: "That sucks, dude. Can I sue you?"

Smith: "No."

BH: "Whaddaya need it for?"

Smith: "I'm not at liberty to say, but take this cup, walk down the hall to the restroom, and provide me with a specimen."

BH: "Oh. You sound like that lady at the sperm bank."

Smith: "Do you mean to tell me that you've been donating?! How long?!"

BH: "No way, dude! Selling, and I think it's about 6 inches."

Smith: [Painful sigh] "You know too much now, Mr. Butthead, which... admittedly... is my fault. Regardless, I cannot let you leave."

BH: "Uh... Can I still have tacos and watch MTV?"

Smith: "Every night can be taco night, if you wish. Pizza, burgers... whatever you like."

BH: "Tell Beavis, then, and send a limo for him. He's too important now to ride the bus."

Smith: "We rely upon semi-luxurious unmarked vehicles, and Beavis can sit in the rear. How's that sound?"

BH: "Huh, huh. You said 'rear'."

Smith: "Ugh! Never mind, Mr. Butthead. We will not be requiring your specimen. I'll have an agent return you to your house."

BH: "So, you mean I'll have to get a job.. and no more free tacos? That sucks!"

Smith: "No, I'll speak with your parents, have you and Beavis tested, and I'm sure you'll both qualify for Social Security Disability compensation for the remainder of your lives due to cognitive and emotional deficits."

BH: "Ya mean free money for life? Huh, huh. Cool.."

Smith: [Sighing] "Free to you... Yes."

*******************

BH: "You wanna stay for taco night?"

Smith: "I've memorized your dossier, Mr. Butthead, and generosity isn't included in your personality profile. What's the catch?"

BH: "Uh... Mom accidentally bought some blue taco shells, but she can't return 'em since the box is open, and they're lousy gifts. We're all scared o' blue food. She doesn't wanna waste 'em, though."

Smith: "How old are they?"

BH: "Pretty old, dude."

Smith: "Is the plastic seal broken?"

BH: "Uh... I dunno. Probably not."

Smith: "I love stale blue taco shells, and no one's ever invited me to taco night, or any form of night, for that matter. [Sniffles]"

BH: "Are you cryin', dude?"

**************

Smith: "No... I think I might be allergic to pine."

BH: "You're cryin' 'n' lyin', dude. Can we go? I'm hungry."

Smith: "Yes. Of course."

[Several minutes later, in Butthead's living room, where Beavis is watching TV...]

Beavis: "What's he doin' here, Butthead?"

Smith: "Nice to see you, again, too, Mr. Beavis."

BH: "Show some respect, Beavis! He's here to save us from scary blue food."

Beavis: "Oh... Wait... What?!"

Smith: "Where is your mother, Mr. Butthead?"

BH: "Hey, Beavis? You know what to do."

[Beavis leaves the living room.]

Smith: "Are you certain of that, Mr. Butthead?"

BH: "Shut up! He knows where it is!"

Smith: "You refer to your mother as an IT? Why must you be so disrespectful?"

BH: "You're the one who saw my glossy egg. You tell me?"

Smith: "Do you mean your dossier? Besides, it was a rhetorical question."

BH: "Uh... okay."

[Beavis returns, unaccompanied.]

BH: "Where's the trombone, Beavis?!"

Beavis: "Wuh eh eh, Wuh aah eh, ur oh!"

Smith: "Is this supposed to be funny?! I'll have to speak with your mother for consent to have you tested."

BH: "No way, dude. All I gotta do is be me at some shitty temp job and they'll know I can't work ever again."

Smith: "Well, you've got me there. As for Beavis, he could make announcements for a transit authority. Now where are those tacos? I'm looking forward to meeting your mother."

BH: "The tacos should be spinning toward us any second on The Lazy Butthead."

Smith: "Do you mean a Lazy Susan? Is that it, built into the wall?"

BH: "Lazy Susans are on tables, dude."

Smith: [Groans] "Do you ever see your mother?"

BH: "Uh... no."

Smith: "Why not?"

BH: "I'll bet it's that anti-aging thing. Did she turn us in?"

Smith: "My sources are always confidential, but it was not your mother."

BH: "Hey, Beavis. I'll bet it was our hippie teacher."

[Smith's eyes widen in surprise.]

Beavis: "Heh, heh. Yeah! Look at his eyes, Butthead. You were right!"

Smith: "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but after we have our tacos, and you show me what's so fascinating about music videos, you're going to begin agent training. Your intuition is too valuable to go to waste."

Butthead: "Huh, huh... huh. Hey, Beavis? He thinks MTV still plays music videos."

Smith: "Were you listening to me? Upon learning that you're to be trained as secret agents, THAT'S your concern?"

Beavis: "Hey, Butthead? The tacos are ready. Bossy spy dude's cranky. He must be hungry."

Smith: "Shall I retrieve the food from The Lazy Butthead, Mr. Butthead?"

Butthead: "As you might have guessed, I'm not gonna do it. It's usually Beavis."

Beavis: "DO IT!"

Smith: "Fine."

Butthead: "Don't boss our boss, Beavis. No, go ahead. Huh huh."

Beavis: "Heh, heh... Heh!"

*******************

Smith: "Those taco shells were nice and stale, Mr. Butthead. Thank you for dinner, but how did your mom know to use them?"

Butthead: "I sent a text in the car: UBS."

Smith: "The bank? How is that relevant?"

Butthead: "U B S... Use Blue Shells, dumbass!"

Smith: "My mistake, Mr. Butthead, but you're going to have to start showing me more respect when we're in public. How about we return to the agency to discuss salary and benefits?"

Butthead: "Will me 'n' Beavis wear suits?"

Smith: "That would depend upon circumstances. For your first assignment, you'll be able to dress as you normally do, because I want you to ferret out the drug dealers on your campus."

Butthead: "Huh huh. Found myself, and I think Beavis's takin' a leak, so that's both of 'em, or, uh... well... us. If you're gonna have us rat out the dudes above us... no way, dude."

Smith: [Sigh] "No, Mr. Butthead. It was solely meant to be a test of your innate and acquired skills in the field to assess your training needs. Our organization doesn't care about controlled substances, unless our agents are dealing or using. You and Beavis will have to stop. Do you see that being a problem?"

Butthead: "Uh... First, I'd like to say, 'cool,' and... secondly, 'not cool'?"

Smith: "I know what you mean. Not because I can relate, but because I know you better than you know yourself."

Butthead: "Okay. What am I thinking... right now?"

Smith: "This is stupid."

Butthead: "Whoa! So you can read minds, dude?"

Smith: "Never mind. How would you feel about taking a course in etiquette, Mr. Butthead?"

Butthead: "Can't you just give me an etta kit so I can see if there's any good shit in it? And when do I get my shiny suit, big gun, and black book full o' evil hot chicks' phone numbers and nude selfies so I'll know who to call first?"

Smith: "Whom."

Butthead: "Uh... What?"

Smith: "You meant to say 'whom', not 'who'."

Butthead: "Are you sayin' I get my suit, gun, and hot evil chicks if I learn good words?"

Smith: "No. It was the only thing you said that warranted a reaction. Sophistication is key to this career. Fortunately for you and Mr. Beavis, we have a high tech training program. It's not quite as fun or infectious as "Lawnmower Man," nor quite as fast as the eye fluttering in that OTHER sci-fi film that I'll refrain from mentioning."

BH: "Film? Why can't you just say 'movie', dude?"

Smith: "It's one less syllable. Succinctness is a time-saving device."

BH: "Like 'Bein' short is fast'?"

Smith: "Smart ass."

BH: "Dumbass."

Smith: "I'm going to let that slide, Mr. Butthead. Don't make a habit of it. Admittedly, I DID start it, but... make no mistake about it... We don't have a... THING."

BH: "I don't know 'bout you, dude, but I got a thing."

Smith: "Synergy, Mr. Butthead. Comradery... not THOSE."

BH: "What's your name, dude? I feel like I shoulda already asked by now, and maybe introduced you to Beavis, but..."

Smith: "But what?"

BH: "You know... that whole glossy egg thing. Beavis 'n' me, we're not people people."

Smith: "Yes, I'm all too familiar. If Beavis suffered, you'd suffer, and vice versa, because you wouldn't know who you were if he wasn't being catty and irreverent."

BH: "So you get it that we only care about ourselves? Can I hug you, dude?"

Smith: "No. That wasn't a moment. I forbid moments."

BH: "Can I kick you?"

Smith: "Ha ha! You'll have your chance in a few weeks when we spar in the simulator. First, however, you'll be trained in The RAT Method of dirty street fighting."

BH: "Uh... You want me to squeak and bite people?"

Smith: "All's fair in love and war, Mr. Butthead, and if you think squeaking might prevent an escalation of violence, by all means..."

BH: "Huh huh."