GK: ...and brought to you by Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie...
FN: The following commercial contains graphic scenes of gratuitous violence. It is not intended for mature audiences that might be offended by gratuitous violence.
GK: So it's the holidays and your wife serves you a big bowl of clam chowder and you eat it, forgetting that clams don't agree with you ----- TR: Oh oh. FAST FOOTSTEPS..... (DOOR CLOSE) And there is projectile vomiting (MORTAR FIRING, CANNONS) and then it's over and you (FLUSH) feel better and (DOOR OPEN) (FOOTSTEPS) come out and then you don't feel better (TR: OHHHHHH) (RUNNING FOOTSTEPS) (DOOR SLAM) And more projectile vomiting (MORTAR, ETC). (TOILET FLUSH) You sit and recuperate watching TV and it's a documentary on the Sixties (TR JIM BACKUS: Look, Gilligan! Up ahead! An island!") and there's a clip of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show----
TR (ED): On our show tonight one of the very biggest and I do mean Very Biggest Acts in Entertainment today, the Beatles-----
TR (BEATLE): Thanks very much, Ed.
TR (ED): But first, please welcome Mr. Bubbles the Trained Chimpanzee. (CHIMP)
GK: Looking at documentaries makes you feel young again and then the show is interrupted (BULLETIN BEEPS.....TR: A travel advisory is in effect due to blizzard conditions.) and you look outside (BLIZZARD WINDS) and you can't see a thing ---- (TR: Winds are whipping up drifts as high as housetops......snow blowing sideways hard enough to leave pockmarks in your skin.......cars skidding wildly into ditches......tall buildings trembling......power lines down.....families petrified with fear.......) and as you look out at the blizzard your darling daughter looks up at you with tears in her pale blue eyes.....
SS (CHILD): Dad----- aren't we going to get a Christmas tree?
GK: And a deep primal paternal reflex (BUGLE, CHARGE) ----- is set off and a surge of testosterone (TARZAN YELL) ---- man doing what man was meant to do ----- (TR JOHN WAYNE: There isn't a blizzard anywhere that can stop a Dad from providing for his family.) And you grab the car keys off the hook in the kitchen as your wife throws herself against the door. (SS: No, George! No! Please, no! Don't. (FN CHILD WHIMPERING: Daddy. My hero.) Tiny fingers clutch your pantleg as you pull on your mackinaw. (TR: I'm going to go get a tree for my family, honey. I'm going to pit myself against the storm and bring home a tree for Christmas. SS: But why?? Why??? TR: Because it's there. And I must. And so I shall.) And out the door you go with your chainsaw in hand
GK: ... (DOOR OPEN, BLIZZARD, DOOR CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS IN SNOW. TR: Gotta get a Christmas tree for my kids.) And you can't see three feet ahead of you and there's a wolfpack in your driveway (WOLVES) but you get in the car and (SFX: CAR SLOWLY CRANKING) and start it and you head out into the blinding whiteness (TR TO HIMSELF: Can't see a thing. Man, this is what I call whiteness. And now there are headlights coming straight at you (SEMI HORN BLAST) and you swerve right and drive down into a ditch (JOUNCING) and over rough ground and through a fence (SFX) and now you're on pavement again and (TR: Aha) there are lights there--(SFX: JET TAKING OFF)---- it's a 747 coming straight at you ---- you've driven onto a runway ---- and the plane lifts off just over the hood of your car (SFX) and now there are flashing red lights around you (SIRENS) ----- the airport police ----- men with submachine guns (FN BULLHORN: F.B.I. GET OUT OF THE CAR) ----- and there you are with a chainsaw in your hand----- (TR: I'll just tell them ----I'm no terrorist. I'm on out to get a Christmas tree. . On second thought. (REV ENGINE, SPINNING TIRES) ----- You gun the engine and head for the terminal with the cops in hot pursuit (SIREN) and you race around a corner and skid (SFX) and sideswipe a baggage cart (SFX) and dash through a door (ALARM) and set off the alarm and dash upstairs (SFX) and jump into an electric cart and race up the concourse (FAST BEEPING) and there's a Christmas tree ----- (BRAKES) ---- you grab it and out the door you go (BLIZZARD) into the storm but now you have no roof over you ---- it's terribly cold on the golf cart
GK: .... (SHIVERING) and you drive and drive and you seem to be out in the country somewhere (WOLVES) and then you see a little hut up ahead and you stop (FOOT CRUNCHES and you walk up to the hut and (KNOCKS) knock on the door and at last it opens (ANDY: KREISLER) and it's a blind man playing a violin. And he stops and offers you food.
FN: Welcome. Have some food. Food good.
TR: Thanks. (SLURP) This tastes like clam chowder to me.
FN: I don't know, I'm blind as a bat.
TR: Sure tastes like clam chowder. Did it come out of a can?
FN: Come out of a who?
TR: A can!
FN: Sorry, I'm hard of hearing too, in addition to being blind.
TR: I'm just wondering if it's clam chowder.
FN: Got a double disability. Blindness and partial deafness.
TR: Did you make this yourself?
FN: Make what myself? Oh----- this? You mean, this clam chowder?
GK: Wouldn't this be a good time for a piece of rhubarb pie? Yes, nothing takes the taste of shame and humiliation out of your mouth quite like Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
One little thing can revive a guy,
And that is home-made rhubarb pie.
Serve it up, nice and hot.
Maybe things aren't as bad as you thought.
ALL:
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.