Note: A couple of months ago, I wrote my first play about the love of my life, Elodie. It is called Wayfarer. Today, I’m pleased to publish my first TV script.
The script is, of course, a Beavis and Butt-Head episode.
I’ve wanted to do one of these for the longest time, simply because Beavis and Butt-Head are completely fucking hysterical. I know the show is a bit old at this point, and one could argue that the humor is sophomoric. Probably so. But that’s the point.
For anyone who somehow missed them, Beavis and Butt-Head are Mike Judge’s two magnificently stupid teenage metal heads, unleashed on MTV in the early 1990s to watch music videos, insult everything and everything they encountered, misunderstand nearly everything happening around them, and occasionally stumble into something resembling wisdom. They are idiots, but they are very particular idiots. There is a strange precision to their stupidity, and after all these years their friendship remains weirdly endearing.
I love the Beavis and Butt-Head universe, and I plan to write several more of these. Stay tuned.
This first one sends the boys to Chicago for a Cubs doubleheader. There is a girl. There is a box of love letters. There is a Chevy Suburban outfitted for bass fishing. There is George Brett.
Naturally.
Epigraphs:
It’s a great day for a ball game; let’s play two!
— Ernie BanksChange it Butthead.
— BeavisShut the fuck Beavis.
— Butthead
I: Beavis’ Birthday
PING-PONG.
Butt-Head looks toward the front door.
“No.”
“Beavis.”
“Beavis. Someone’s at the door. Go get it.”
“You get it, Butt-Head.”
“Okay, Beavis. Let’s go together.”
The boys get off the couch and approach the door.
Stuart is standing outside in his Winger T-shirt.
“Hey, guys. I heard it was Beavis’s birthday. You guys wanna hang out?”
“No,” Butt-Head says.
He begins to close the door.
“Wait a minute,” Beavis says.
Butt-Head stops.
“What?”
“He does have a point.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It is my birthday, Butt-Head.”
“Yeah, dumbass. I know.”
Butt-Head pauses.
“But yeah. Happy birthday, Beavis.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Now shut up Beavis.”
Stuart is still standing outside.
“So you guys wanna hang out or what?”
“No,” Butt-Head says. “We have important stuff to do.”
“Yeah,” Beavis says. “Important birthday stuff.”
“We’re going to Chicago, Stuart.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We’re going to see the Cubs tomorrow.”
“It’s a doubleheader,” Beavis says.
Stuart smiles.
“That sounds pretty cool.”
“Shut up, Stuart,” Butt-Head says.
He begins to close the door again.
“Wait,” Beavis says.
“What?”
“You forgot to tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
Beavis lowers his voice.
“Amanda.”
“Oh yeah.”
Stuart looks from Beavis to Butt-Head.
“Who’s Amanda?”
Beavis’s face changes.
“Amanda,” he says reverently.
“She’s a ball girl for the Cubs,” Butt-Head says.
“She’s hot,” Beavis says. “She wants me.”
“Shut the fuck up, Beavis. She doesn’t want you. She wants me.”
“No dude. She wants me. But whatever. Why do you think Butt-head that she wants you.”
“I saw her on TV.”
“You were on TV Butthead?”
“She was on TV, dumbass.”
“Oh yeah. I forget”
Stuart looks confused.
“What”s going on?” said Stewart “What’s a ball girl?”
The boys stare at him.
Butt-Head closes the door.
“Stuart, you need to leave.”
II: Uncle Ken
A Chevy Suburban rolls up outside the house.
It belongs to Beavis’ Uncle Ken, a Chevy dealer from greater Kansas City. The Suburban is outfitted for bass fishing and elk hunting. One of Ken’s major clients is George Brett, the former star of the Kansas City Royals.
Ken parks and gets out.
Beavis and Butt-Head are sitting shirtless in lawn chairs, drinking forties.
Improbably, the boys have found an extension cord and snaked it outside. A small black-and-white television sits between them, playing music videos.
Ken lights a Camel.
“You boys ready for your first ball game?”
“Yeah, Ken,” Butt-Head says. “I guess.”
“Thanks, Uncle Ken,” Beavis says. “You rule.”
“Ok. Let’s go.”
A few drops of rain begin to fall. Beavis picks up the television and puts it under the awning to protect it.
The boys leave the lawn chairs where they are. They climb into the Suburban, still shirtless.
They both sit in the back.
Ken passes them a bag containing sandwiches, chips, oranges and iced tea. Beavis looks inside.
“Thanks, Uncle Ken. You rule.”
Butt-Head lowers his voice.
“Beavis, your uncle may rule, but he also needs to shut the fuck up.”
“Why?”
“There’s not enough food to get us to Chicago.”
“Dumbass. We can stop on the way.”
“Oh yeah.”
Ken butts his cigarette in the front ashtray. The boys throw theirs out the window.
A few minutes later, Butt-Head leans forward.
“Hey, Ken.”
“Yeah?”
“Was this really George Brett’s Suburban?”
“Yeah, Butt-Head. It sure was.”
“Whoa.”
Beavis looks around the interior.
“George Brett played baseball.”
“Yeah, Beavis. Everybody knows that.”
“Oh yeah.”
Butt-Head leans farther toward the front seat.
“Hey, Ken.”
“What?”
His voice drops.
“But did George Brett score in here?”
Ken looks at him in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t know. Probably.”
The boys look at each other.
“Whoa dude”
III: The Motel 6
The rest of the drive passes without incident.
Around seven, Ken pulls into a roadside Motel 6. Beavis looks through the window at the motel.
“Butt-Head.”
“What?”
“It’s a motel.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re gonna score.”
“Oh yeah, Beavis. We’re gonna score all right.”
Ken overhears them from the front seat.
“Boys, if you’re really serious about scoring tonight, there’s a truck stop right over there.”
The boys look over.
“I don’t know for sure,” Ken continues, “but I’ve heard there are a lot of lot lizards around there at night.”
Beavis looks at Butt-Head.
“What the fuck is a lot lizard?”
“Shut up, Beavis. A lot lizard is just another word for a lady of the night.”
“Oh yeah.”
They eat chicken-fried steak at a diner beside the motel. By ten-thirty, Uncle Ken is asleep.
Beavis and Butt-Head are not.
They stand outside their motel room drinking two of Uncle Ken’s beers.
“Beavis.”
“Yeah?”
“You wanna go find those lizards?”
“Yeah. Heh heh.”
They walk across the parking lot toward the truck stop.
There are no lot lizards. There are, however, approximately forty trucks.
Beavis stops beside one.
“Butt-Head.”
“What?”
“Do you think George Brett ever drove a truck?”
“No, dumbass. George Brett played baseball.”
“Oh yeah.”
They continue walking.
After a moment Butt-Head stops.
“Although he did have a Suburban.”
“Yeah.”
They both consider this.
“Maybe he drove a truck.”
“Yeah, dude. Maybe.”
The boys return to the motel around eleven. Ken has his own room. Beavis and Butt-Head share a twin room.
Beavis sits on his bed.
“Butt-Head.”
“What?”
“We got the big game tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
“Is tonight the night we finally cuddle?”
“Shut up, Beavis. I’m not gonna cuddle with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you smell, Beavis.”
“Oh yeah.”
Butt-Head points to the bed by the wall.
“I’m sleeping on this one.”
“Fine, Butt-Head.”
“Good night, Beavis.”
“Good night, Butt-Head.”
Beavis turns out his light and prepares to go to sleep. Butt-Head leaves his light on.
He takes out a small box. Inside are twenty Xeroxed letters.
Beavis raises his head.
“What are you doing, Butt-Head?”
“I’m reading my letters to Amanda, dumbass.”
“Oh yeah. I guess you do that every night, huh, Butt-Head?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you do that, Butt-Head?”
“Come off it, dude. I’m in love with her. What do you think?”
“Oh yeah.”
IV: The Cubs Game
The next morning, the three eat breakfast and continue to Chicago. By noon they are outside Wrigley Field. The boys are wearing their shirts again.
A man is standing over a barbecue grill surrounded by about a dozen people. This is George Brett.
“Ken.”
“George.”
They shake hands.
George looks at Beavis and Butt-Head.
“These the boys?”
“Yep.”
Butt-Head looks at George.
“Hey, George.”
“Hey.”
Beavis looks at the grill.
“Are those hamburgers?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I have one?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, George. You rule.”
George hands him a hamburger.
Butt-head says “Hey, George.”
“Yeah?”
“Was that really your Suburban?”
“Yeah.”
“Sweet.”
Pause.
“I mean, did you ever score in it?”
George looks at him.
“Probably.”
The boys look at each other.
“Whoa.”
They have box seats on the first base line. Before entering the park, the boys put four beers from the Suburban into their pants. Improbably, this works.
The game starts, and Butt-Head immediately begins looking for Amanda.
“Beavis.”
“What?”
“There she is.”
“Where?”
“Down there, dumbass.”
Butt-Head points toward the field. Amanda is working along the first-base line.
Beavis stares at her.
“Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
“She’s hot.”
“Shut up, Beavis.”
“But she is.”
“I know. That’s why I’m in love with her.”
“Oh yeah.”
The game begins.
For most of the first three innings, neither boy watches it.
Every time Amanda moves, Butt-Head points her out.
“There she is.”
“I know, Butt-Head.”
“There she is again.”
“I know.”
“Dude. She just picked up a ball.”
“Whoa.”
“She rules.”
“Yeah.”
A foul ball comes toward their section.
Both boys stand.
“Whoa!”
The ball lands approximately twenty rows away.
They sit down.
“Baseball sucks,” Butt-Head says.
“Yeah, it does.”
During the seventh-inning stretch, George Brett leans toward Butt-Head.
“Hey, Butt-Head.”
“Yeah, George?”
“If you’re really serious about this Amanda chick, I can get you down there after the game.”
Butt-Head stares at him.
“No way.”
“Sure. I know some people. I can get you into the clubhouse.”
Beavis leans across Butt-Head.
“That would be awesome, George. You rule.”
“I know.”
Butt-Head looks back toward Amanda.
Just before the ninth inning, Beavis leans over and whispers in Butt-Head’s ear.
“Butt-Head.”
“What?”
“I gotta tell you something.”
“What?”
“Well, the thing is, I’ve been watching Amanda all game.”
“Yeah.”
“And I think I’m in love with her too.”
Butt-Head slowly turns toward him.
“Shut the fuck up, Beavis.”
“I’m serious.”
“You can’t be in love with Amanda. I’m in love with Amanda.”
“Yeah, but I’m in love with her too.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, Beavis. You just think she’s hot.”
Beavis considers this.
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“But I also love her.”
“Dumbass. She’s mine.”
A few minutes later, Amanda looks toward their section.
“Dude,” Beavis says. “She looked up here.”
“She looked at me, Beavis.”
“She looked kind of to the left.”
“I’m to the left, dumbass.”
“No, I’m to your left.”
Butt-Head looks around.
“Oh yeah.”
V: Meeting Amanda
After the game, George takes Ken and the boys into a small lounge adjoining the clubhouse. Butt-Head is clutching his box of letters.
Beavis, improbably, has gone to the bathroom and washed his face. He is trying to look his best for Amanda.
Amanda enters the lounge. A couple of tables have been set up with drinks and snacks.
“Amanda,” George says. “This is Beavis and Butt-Head.”
“Hi, guys. Thanks for coming to the game today. Did you have a good time?”
Beavis speaks up.
“We had a great time, Amanda. And the best part was seeing you.”
“Shut up, Beavis.”
Butt-Head looks at Amanda.
“But yeah. He’s right. You’re super hot.”
Amanda blushes slightly.
“Why, thank you, guys.”
“Anytime,” Butt-Head says.
They sit down.
George, Ken and the boys crack beers. Amanda has a lime spritzer.
Beavis takes out his cigarettes.
“Butt-Head.”
“What?”
“Can we smoke in here?”
“No, dumbass.”
“Why not?”
Butt-Head looks around.
“I have no idea.”
“Oh yeah.”
Beavis puts his cigarettes away. After a while, George stands.
“Well, I guess it’s time for me to say goodbye.”
“George, do you really have to go?” Ken asks.
“Yeah, Ken. Busy day tomorrow.”
“Well, George, it was great seeing you.”
“Good seeing you too.”
Beavis looks at him.
“Yeah, George. It was great to meet you. You rule.”
Butt-Head nods.
“Yeah, George. You rule.”
“Thanks, guys.”
George Brett leaves. Ken and the boys crack another beer. Amanda is still working on her lime spritzer.
Butt-Head looks at her.
“Hey, Amanda.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you ever get my letters?”
“Yeah, Butt-Head. I saw one or two.”
Beavis leans forward.
“Well, he only wrote like a thousand.”
“Shut up, Beavis. I wrote twenty. I counted.”
Beavis looks at him.
“Butt-Head, you can count?”
“Shut up, Beavis. Yes, I can.”
“I’m just saying.”
Amanda smiles.
“I thought the letters were sweet.”
Butt-Head looks at Beavis.
“See, dumbass.”
He opens the box.
“I brought them.”
Amanda looks inside.
“All twenty?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Butt-Head pauses.
“In case you forgot.”
“Oh.”
Beavis is getting impatient to speak to Amanda.
“Hey, Amanda.”
“Yeah?”
“I washed my face.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“I did that for you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Butt-Head looks at him.
“Dumbass.”
Amanda finishes her lime spritzer. She stands and stretches.
“Well, guys, I should probably get going.”
Butt-Head stands immediately.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Beavis stands.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“You guys have a good trip home.”
“Thanks, Amanda,” Beavis says.
“Yeah,” Butt-Head says. “Thanks.”
Amanda waves.
“Bye, guys.”
“Bye, Amanda.”
She leaves.
The boys remain standing. Beavis looks at Butt-Head.
“Did you score?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
Another beat.
“Damn.”
“Yeah.”
Ken finishes his beer.
“You boys ready?”
“Yeah.”
VI
The cab pulls up outside the Hyatt.
Ken pays the driver. Beavis and Butt-Head climb out.
They walk toward the entrance.
“Hey, Butt-Head.”
“What?”
“I think we came pretty close.”
“No, we didn’t, Beavis.”
“Oh yeah.”
They enter the hotel.
Later, Ken says good night and retires to his room.
Beavis and Butt-Head return to theirs.
Butt-Head points to the bed by the wall.
“Beavis. That’s mine.”
“Yeah, Butt-Head. I know.”
The boys are tired from their long day. They crawl into bed and turn out the lights.
The television remains on.
“Hey, Butt-Head.”
“Yeah, Beavis?”
“We tried our best.”
“Shut up, Beavis.”
A beat.
“But yeah. I guess we did.”
They watch television.
“1979” by the Smashing Pumpkins is playing.
“Beavis.”
“Yeah?”
“Turn it down a little.”
Beavis turns it down a little.
“This song sucks.”
“Yeah.”
Beavis changes the channel.
Peter Gabriel’s “Red Rain” is playing.
Butt-Head looks at the television.
“Beavis.”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t this that song from the movie?”
“What movie?”
“Say Anything, dumbass. With John Cusack.”
“Oh yeah. He sucks.”
“Of course he sucks, Beavis. But he also rules a little bit.”
Beavis considers this.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
They watch a little longer.
“This song is lame,” Butt-Head says.
“I don’t know. I think it’s kinda sweet.”
Butt-Head turns toward him.
“Shut up, Beavis. This song sucks.”
FIN
The Kyoto Kibbitzer 