Jon Stewart blue pic

 Jon Stewart Intelligence Agency
    A n   u n o f f i c i a l   f a n   c l u b

We're fighting, apparently, with one of
Xena's web sites. It's a huge battle.

— Jon Stewart on the JSEB




The Fan Files
 Fun Fiction


The Adventures of Jewey Jewman and Friends
   Round Two: I Know What You Did the Other Day
Started April 10, 2002
by The JSEB Arena


It was a warm, beautiful day just like the warm, beautiful spring Day of our last story. Only it was summer and warmer, and a couple days later. That means that our last story took place about the last week of June, making it possible for it to be a few days later and be summer. If you don't understand, look in the dictionary under Solstices, Summer.

At the TDS Studios in New York, the cast and crew were getting ready to take a trip.

"Steve! Have you seen my jar of Nad's?" Jon yelled.

Steve Carell snickered, "No," he said. "No Jon, I guess you don't have any NADS!" he said louder in the hopes that other people would hear him.

Jon emerged from his office carrying a lawn chair and wearing a sun hat. "Very funny, Steve," he said. "You know I mean that Australian hair removal stuff. If I don't remove my back hair before we leave I am going to attract sea gulls again!"

"Yeah!" Steve said, applying suntan lotion and munching on some pretzels that were usually designated for the green room. "We were counting on that this time. This year Jon, this summer spectacular is gonna be the summer spectacular to beat all summer spectaculars! I just know it!"

Stephen Colbert grinned as he entered Jon's office in a pair of Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. "How do I look homies?" he asked, spinning around. "Like one awesome dude?"

"You're a lady killer!" Steve said, his mouth full of pretzel mush.

"Men!" Jon said, putting his arms around his two pals and looking at the pile of beach items they had assembled and placed on the floor. "This is gonna be great. One weekend at the Jersey shore. Just us and our crew of about 50 people, making sweet hot summer spectacular comedy love in the sunshine. No wives, no kids, no pets ... no clothes! Steve, will you wax my back?"

"Sure, sure," Steve said, getting Jon's special Nad's stick from the pen holder on his desk. "But don't tell anyone I do this for you," he said as Jon straddled the chair and readied himself for the pain, even though Nad's came with new ouchless strip technology.

"Guys," Stephen said, looking out the window as Steve lovingly applied wax to Jon's back. "Do you ever feel like you're being watched?"

"Well we ARE on TV, Stephen!" Steve said, ripping a strip off Jon's back and comforting him as the sensitive Jew trembled from the pain. "Shhh, it's okay, almost done, Jonny."

"Not that," Stephen said, his brow furrowing. "I see things sometimes. A woman, Kathie Lee. What if ... what if we really didn't kill her? What's if she's not dead?"

"Stephen!" Jon said. "You saw her, there's no way someone could have survived being humped by hundreds of horny cats!"

"But still ..." Stephen said, coming away from the window. "Still ..."

"Stephen, repeat after me," Steve said, giving Jon a break from waxing. "There is no woman with a puppy."

"There is no woman with a puppy ...." Stephen muttered.

"There! See! I bet you feel better!" Jon said, twisting in his seat to see his half waxed back. "Steve! I look like half an ape over here, come on!"

As Steve resumed his position over Jon's Nads (couldn't help myself, guys), Colbert sighed and started packing a cooler of beer, soda and Crystal Light.

But little did he know that just across the street in an abandoned Saks Fifth Avenue (where Jon had bought his Nad's ;) ), a woman peered into her telescope, spying on the trio and laughed wickedly as she bit into a warm, tasty puppy ....


Jon looked over at Colbert. "Stephen, snap out of it."

Colbert, who'd been staring out the window for the past half hour, turned to face Jon. "I just can't help it! I can't get it out of my head ... those puppy bones, the fur ... the matted, ratted fur on the floor, the little teeth ... the teeth ... I hear them, Jon ... I hear the howls at night ... I hear her laughing ... Oh the horror, Jon! The HORROR!!!"

Steve dropped Jon's Nads on the floor and turned to Colbert, his face red. "Stop it! Stop it right now! Don't do this to yourself! Don't do this to us! My head is planted firmly up my ass and I fully intend it to stay there!!!"

Jon sighed, standing up, trying to inspect his back. "Steve, I believe that's planted firmly in the sand."

"Head up your ass is a saying ..."

"Yeah, but I think you meant head in the sand, like an ostrich ... hiding from the truth." Jon said, putting his shirt back on. "Head up your ass is stubborn ... like, unwilling to see other people's points of view."

Steve thought, biting his lip. "Yeah, you're right ... that one then." He turned to Colbert, who'd began staring out the window. "I have my head planted firmly in the sand, and I fully intend it to stay there!"

Colbert heaved a huge sigh. "Whatever."

Jon walked over and put a hand on Colbert's back. "You think we don't hear that? See that? Every damn day? But you have to get past it!"

Colbert turned to him, angry. "It's your fault! It's all your fault ... you and your damn charismatic charm! If you had just never said anything about Kathie Lee ... and if you hadn't taken Craig's job with such aplomb and enthusiasm! Why couldn't you just fail Jon?! WHY?!"

Jon stepped back. "Stephen, I ..." Jon's eyes watered and he turned from Colbert.

Colbert suddenly doubled over in laughter. "Boy, you are so gay!" He wiped at his eyes, which were watering from laughter. "Woo!" Imitating Jon. "Stephen, I ..." He doubled over in laughter again.

Jon managed a wan smile, but Steve took up for him. "Hey, that's not fair! You know how sensitive Jon is ..." but then he too started to laugh. "It's not ... fair to ...."

"Woo!!! I am the king of guilt! WOOOOOOOO!" Colbert said, pumping his fists in the air.

Jon finally let out a breath and laughed slightly. "So, you didn't mean any of that?"

Colbert laughed harder. "Of course I did, but I didn't mean it to OFFEND you!" He swung an arm around Jon and motioned for Steve to join. Hugging the two to his side, he smiled. "I loves you hoes!"

And the trio broke down into fits of giggles.

[Meanwhile, across the street]

"DAMNIT!" Kathie Lee crowed, from her wheelchair. "They're laughing now ... I thought Colbert would turn on him!"

Kilborn glared at her from his perch at the window. "Why am I not in charge?"

Kathie sighed, rolling her eyes. "STOP ASKING ME THAT! JESUS!"

Kilborn huffed and hugged his knees to his chest. "I think I should be in charge! You're confined to a wheel chair for Christ's sake! Atleast I have usage of my legs ... and my face isn't covered in ... gashes."

"Craiggy ... Craiggers!" Kathie crooned, tightening the veil covering her face. "Be a doll honey, mommy can't take the screaming."

Kilborn shuddered. 'Mommy' he thought to himself with a shudder. 'One day I'll be in charge, and then you'll see Gifford ... then you'll see.'

"Craig, my sores are pussing again, could you be a honeybunny and get my ointment?"

Kilborn sighed. 'Just as soon as I grow some gonads ... you'll see,' he thought to himself as he pranced his way down the hall to the medicine cabinet.


"THE WHEELS ON THE VAN GO ROUND AND ROUND!" Steve sang loudly from the backseat.

In the front, Jon and Stephen sighed. "Can't you make him shut up?" Jon asked.

"I told him no cookies when we get to the beach, but that doesn't work!" Stephen replied.

Jon picked up an empty soda can and threw it in the backseat, "Shut UP!" he yelled.

Steve stopped singing, but he sulked and sucked his thumb.

"We're gonna tell Nancy you were bad!" Stephen said, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve just stuck his tongue out at him.

"This is Ranting Rad Papa, come in Jump Jiving Jew!" came a voice from the walkie-talkie on the dashboard. The crew was caravaning down to the shore and had walkie-talkies in each car to keep track of everyone. For fun, they had all picked radio names.

"I read you, Lewis!" Jon said, trying to simultaneously steer the van and reach for the walkie-talkie. "Jump Jiving Jew acknowledges, Roger."

"Matt Walsh has to pee," Lewis said. "Apparently the pansy has a bladder the size of bin Laden's penis. We're gonna pull over."

"Roger that," Jon said, rather enjoying the radio talk. "We're almost at the campsite, we'll keep going and set up. Over and out!"

"I'm getting scared," Steve said, pulling his blankie tighter around him. "It's dark out here, and scary. I want Nancy!!"

After leaving New York, the TDS caravan had driven for a few hours, stopping along the way so Matt Walsh could relieve himself and to buy Steve candy to keep him entertained. Jon and Stephen were desperate to get to the campsite, as they'd played numerous games of "Eye-Spy" and sung all the songs they knew to keep Steve happy. Steve was never good company during road trips.

"We're almost there," Jon said, turning the brights on. "Boy, it sure is dark in the Jersey outback!"

"Jon, we're just outside Newark," Stephen said dryly.

"Yeah! The outback!" Jon replied.

Suddenly a loud popping noise came from underneath the van. The three screamed as the van swerved out of control. Jon covered his eyes and screamed like a girl.

"JON!" Colbert yelled, "The wheel!"

Still screaming, Jon managed to grab a hold of the wheel and safely crash the van into a tree.

"Whew!" Jon said, breathing a sigh of relief. "We must have blown out a tire or something." Looking outside into the inky black night on the deserted road, Jon gulped and said, "Say uh ... Stephen, buddy. How about you get out and look?"

Stephen laughed heartily. "Good one, Jon. My rear is steering clear. Get Steve to do it."

From the backseat Steve started sucking his thumb again. "Wow. I've lived in the city for so long that I forgot that night is so ... dark."

Jon sighed and slouched in his seat, "Well, I guess we can wait for Lewis and the others to drive by and see us."

The three sat in silence for a minute, tensing at every nature sound that came from the blackness.

"Sooo ..." Colbert said. "Anyone seen any good movies lately?"

Suddenly a loud screeching sound came from just outside the van.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" Steve yelled, sitting up in his seat. "NANCY! I WANT NANCY!"

"SHHH!" Jon said. "Whatever it was, if we don't move it can't see us."

"Wrong movie!" Colbert said, smacking Jon on the back of the head. "This isn't even a movie, it's a story, you dildo!"

"What are we gonna do?" Jon said, rubbing the back of his head. "Anyone bring any pepper spray?"

The van shook this time as another screeching, moaning, generally scary sound came from just behind them.

"It's her!" Colbert said. "I just know it's her! Oh God, she's come to kill us!"

"Shut up, Stephen!" Jon said, "you'll scare Steve! I'm gonna radio for the others."

As Jon picked up the walkie talkie, looking foward to saying something like May Day or SOS, a large shadowy mass appeared in front of the windshield.

"Suuuuck myyyy diiii --" Colbert said, but he was cut off by an explosion.


The black mass swarmed around the vehicle. The shrieking sound intensified until it reached an earsplitting decibel. As the Steve and Stephen cowered in horror, Jon pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"I can't take this anymore," he shouted over the noise, puffing smoke. "I'm sick of being a coward. I'm sick of being a pansy. Even the JSEB Arena seems to think I'm some sort of loser, and these are the people who LOVE ME." Jon ripped off his sweater vest and flexed his muscles. "I AM A MAN!" he roared. His surge of testosterone forced the recently waxed hairs to regenerate and burst from his chest.

At that moment, the shrieking sound shattered every window of the van. Jon picked up a snow scraper from the floor of the van and turned to face the horror. The black mass stopped moving, and the shrieking sound died down. Through every window, the men could see what awaited them. They saw faces. Hundreds of little faces, peering at them with more fiery hatred than a thousand suns.

That were surrounded by a legion of ferocious, rabid midgets! (Sorry, that wasn't politically correct.) They were surrounded by a legion of ferocious, rabid little people!

"How DARE you compare us to Sylvester Stallone!" shrieked one, who was apparently the leader because he wore a solid gold baseball cap. "And Tom Cruise!" shrieked another. "And Billy Joel!" shrieked yet another. "And YOU," they little people shrieked in unison.

"I AM A MAN!" reroared Jon, and he punched the nearest little person in the head, knocking him into several other little people.

"Um, Jon?" whispered Steve, tugging at Jon's sleeve.

"You little bastards are going to pay for the damage to this van!" shouted Jon. "You're not going to raise MY insurance rates!"

"Jon, could you, uh, STOP," hissed Stephen.

"And another thing," spat Jon, "you will call a tow company ASAP and get us to a repair station now! And I want my entire deductible in cash, in my hand, before we leave this area! And one more thing --"

The little people moved forward. They reached in and pulled all three out of the van and bound them tightly, particularly Jon, who muttered on about AAA and tow receipts until they stuffed a pair of thongs into his mouth.

The last thing the three men remembered before the little people knocked them out with chloroform was the realization that they were being dragged through the woods. And the last thing said was by Stephen, who said with horror, "Those thongs ... in Jon's mouth ... are KATHIE LEE brand panties!" Then, mercifully, the darkness came.

And in the shattered van, the radio static cut the erie silence of the road. "Are you there?" Lewis Black's voice broke through the static.

"Hello? Hello? Anyone there? Hello? ... Hello? ... Hello?"


As Jon slowly came to, the first thing he saw was a big roaring fire surrounded by a circle of vertically challenged people.

"Ahhhhh ...." Jon groaned, shaking his head to clear away the confusion. What had happened? And why was his mouth full of women's panties? Spitting out the thongs, Jon looked around him. He, Steve and Stephen were each tied to a totem pole.

"Steve! Stephen!" Jon whispered, nudging each of them with his foot. "Wake up! Come to! Snap out of it!"

"Nancy," Steve whimpered, his eyes closed and brow furrowed. "I didn't make that mess in the kitchen, I swear."

"Oh yeah, baby," Colbert said, smiling in his stupor. "Shake that ass, honey!"

"WAKE UP!" Jon yelled. The vertically challenged people jumped and looked at him funny, but he didn't care. He was tired of taking care of these two wusses. Jon could feel the testosterone surging through his 5'7" tapdancer's frame.

Steve, who was tied to Jon's right, and Stephen to Jon's left, snapped awake with a scream and immediately tried to stand, only to find themselves secured to the totem poles that held them prisoner.

"What happened?" Stephen asked. "Jon, did they pay for the van?"

"I can't reach my thumb!" Steve shrieked, sucking on his bottom lip instead.

Jon sighed. "I think they're some sort of little person club who hate us for some reason. Maybe because we're taller than they are."

"Jon!" Stephen shrieked, looking at the thongs Jon had spit out by his side. "Those are ... those thongs belong to ..."

"KATHIE LEE!" the three suddenly heard the band of pint sized people say as they scrambled to assume the proper kneeling position while in her presence.

Our trio looked on in horror as a figure sitting in a wheel chair, draped in long cloths and wearing a pair of sunglasses was carried out of a hut by the two biggest and strongest dwarves of the group. Carrying her over to Jon, Steve and Stephen, they sat her wheelchair/land transportation barge down carefully in front of the three newscasters, and assumed standard Kathie Lee Kneeling Position on either side of her.

"There is no woman with a puppy, there is no woman with a puppy ..." sobbed Colbert.

"WAH!" Steve cried. "Nancy! I want Nancy!!"

Jon, though trembling in fear at the site of the disfigured former talk show host, drew all his courage and testosterone and said loudly, "Hey look it's Marlon Brando from the Island of Dr. Moreau!"

"You will pay for that, Stewart!" Kathie Lee growled through her computer aided talking device, because the horny cats had ripped out her larynx. "Now I have you and tonight you will DIE!"

And Jon wept.


Meanwhile, Lewis Black, Matt Walsh, Nancy Walls and Mo Rocca had pulled over once again so Matt could take a potty break.

"If we have to pull over ONE more time!" Lewis said, shaking his fiery finger of fury in the air.

"Shhhh, calm down, " Nancy said. "Steve's the same way, it's just an attention thing. Ignore him and he won't bother us for the rest of the trip."

"Guys!" Matt said, running up to them. "Hey guys! Look what I found!"

"Da da dee dee dum," Nancy said, examining her nails.

"Lewis! Look!" Matt said.

"Oh when the saints, go marching in," Lewis hummed, looking up at the stars.

"WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME?" Matt screamed. "Mo! Look! Come look at this!"

Mo, who had been doing long division for fun, put down his Texas Instruments Ti-86 calculator and pushed his glasses up further on his nose. "What? I'm doing important mathematical calculations, Matt. I'm trying to figure out if I can pay my rent this month."

"Look! I saw this when I was going by that tree!" Matt said, holding up a dirty, chewed up pacifier.

"OMG!" Nancy screamed, running over to Matt. "It's Steve's binkie! Show me where you found it!"

"Probably over there," Lewis said, pointing farther down the road. "Look! It's their van! It's more beat up than a VW Bug at a demolition derby! Let's go!"

As the four raced down the street into the night, they were unaware of a shadowy figure in a hand embroidered fashionable black cloak, following close behind. The figure laughed wickedly to itself as it munched on tasteful and low fat organic banana chips harvested, dehydrated and packaged by hand.

The four were headed straight into her trap.

"It's a good thing ...." she whispered.


"My God!" Lewis said, his hands running through his hair. "This car is a WRECK!"

Nancy sat down with a thud. "Poor Jon and Stephen."

Matt looked at Nancy. "Poor Jon and Stephen? Why not Steve? Your husband."

Nancy shook her head. "No, of course, I'm worried about my Steve, but poor Jon and Stephen have to listen to him whine ... and that incessant thumb sucking ... it's enough to drive me mad! I mean, our daughter doesn't do it, why must he?!"

Mo sat beside her. "Don't worry Nance, it's a stage he'll grow out of when the summer solstice is lined up with ..."

"Will you shut up with your science muckity muck Mo!" Lewis yelled, investigating the car. "Look at this! Tiny finger prints! It looks like the work of either tiny children or midgets!"

"Lewis! That's not nice to say ... midgets ... the correct term is ..." Nancy began.

Lewis snorted. "Nancy, have you EVER known me to care about being PC?!"

Nancy nodded, holding her hands up in surrender. "True."

Lewis came over and stood along side Matt in front of Mo and Nancy and began tapping his foot, thinking. "Hmm ... midgets ... or children ... this sounds like the work of Ka ..."

Mo stood up. "Don't say it! Don't even say it!"

"Kathie Lee," Lewis finished, his eyes flashing at Mo.

Mo sighed, sinking to the ground again. "He said it!" He whined, taking off his Harry Potter glasses and cleaning them.

Matt shook his head. "But she's dead! You said it yourself, and even the Enquirer said she was mauled to death by thousands of horny male cats ...."

"And when does the Enquirer ever get it right?" Mo mused.

"Oh, God ..." Nancy said, hanging her head. "Now I'm gonna have to listen to Steve bitch and moan again about her ..."

"Question is, where did the Lemon Squares come from?" Lewis said, motioning to the half eaten tasty treat not far from the van.

"Maybe Jon ..." Matt started.

Before another word was uttered a huge net came up around the foursome and entrapped them by a pulley device in the strong Oak tree above them.

"What the hell?!" Lewis yelled, fire coming out of his nose.

"Hello friends, and how are we today?" Said a blond who appeared before them dressed in a tasteful white pants suit with a hand embroidered fashionable black cloak.

Lewis sank to his knees. "Martha Stewart? Kill me now God, kill me now."

Nancy entertwined her hands through the net made of green silkwood, the most malleable and easily manipulated of all silkwoods. "Oh Martha Stewart!" She crooned. "I love you Martha Stewart! I LIVE by Martha Stewart Living ... that Tasteful Dinner for Five Hungry Hebrews piece you had in your March '96 issue SAVED mine and Steve's wedding reception!"

Martha smiled a demure smile and touched Nancy's hand. "I'm glad, it was absolutely delicious wasn't it?"

Nancy nodded.

Lewis glared at Nancy. "Nancy, did it slip your mind?! Our guys have been kidnapped, and Martha Stewart is now trapping us in a NET HANGING FROM AN OAK TREE!!!"

Matt raised his hand. "Martha? What can I use to get a bong water stain out of my carpet?"


Martha winked. "A Hoover Master 2002 with the built in soap suction set."

Matt nodded. "Thanks, I tried peanut butter and it just..."

Lewis bitch slapped Matt, effectively shutting him up. "Why are YOU involved Martha? What made you team up with the likes of that horrible wenchmaster Kathie Lee?"

Martha lost her smile and suddenly the four cowered as her normally warm blue eyes turned into cold slits of ice blue fire. "A common goal."

"What? Why do you hate Jon? Do you hate Jews?" Nancy asked, finally overcoming her awestruckness.

Martha rolled her eyes. "I've bedded many a Hebrew, they're quite delicious actually. It's Jon in particular."

"Why? What did he do to you?" Mo asked.

Martha's eyes slitted again, and even Lewis Black shuddered. "I would never wear linen underwear with pressed four-leaf clovers with 'Free Ireland' printed on them. That's just tasteless. Linen is for fools ..."

Lewis snorted. "You hate him cause of that chapter in his book called Martha Stewart's Vagina?! Come on lady, it's called SATIRE."

Martha shook her head. "It's not that he wrote about me, or even that he wrote about my vagina. It's that he doesn't know anything about my vagina, and he prejudged it. It would have been one thing to experience my vagina first hand and write about it later, cause then it would have been researched, but to have just ... written about it without any knowledge, just on some pre-conceived notion ..."


"There is no woman with a puppy, there is no woman with a p...p...p...p...puppy" Jon, Steve, and Stephen chanted quietly, huddled together with their backs leaning on each other.

Kathie Lee had retired to inside her hut and the three watched horrified as the vertically challenged army chanted Kathie Lee's praises, some breaking out into chorus' from her Caribbean Cruise commercials.

"Hey!" Stephen whispered loudly to the nearest one. "Hey, uh ... little guy!"

The aforementioned little guy stopped his fox trot and stomped over. "What do you want bitch?"

Stephen laughed. "Come on little guy! No need for such language! We're cool ..." He took a deep breath. "What's your name?"

The vertically challenged dude thought for a moment. "That is of no concern ..."

Jon tried to smile, failing miserably. "Come on man, we just wanna know your name. For posterities sake. So when we're dead we'll know WHO TO TELL GOD TO PUNISH!"

Stephen sighed. "So much for winning him over."

The little dude smirked at Jon. "You won't be talking to God, you're Jewish."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Here we go again ..."

Stephen winked at the little dude and motioned for him to come closer. "Yeah, little guy, you got that right, he's going to hell. He's Jewish ... you and me, heaven baby ... come on, seriously, come mere!" He said, pleasantly.

Jon looked at Stephen. "I had no idea you felt that way man ... that hurts ...."

But the little guy took a liking to Stephen, and his coaxing tone, and came closer to him. "Alright, man, maybe you're alright ... my name's Maurice."

Stephen nodded, smiling evilly. "Great, good, super ..." He said, suddenly shifting and kicking Maurice ten feet back and into the burning inferno that was their campfire. "Christ on a CRACKER was that fun!" He said, cackling.

Steve laughed, relieved. "Dude, Stephen, I thought you were serious about that hell stuff with Jon ..."

Jon nodded. "Me too."

"Aw, come on Jon!!!" Stephen said, tapping Jon's leg with his tied up hands. "Never! Bagels and cream cheese are just WAY too good to be the devil's food ...."


"Dilute club soda with a bit of baking powder and lemon, then pour it into a spray bottle. We bought this spray bottle from Macy's Home Department for $45, but they're generally available in your local craft store, or Martha by mail ..."

"Uh huh ... go on," Nancy said, taking notes on her arm.

"Jesus CHRIST!" Lewis said, pounding his head against the net.

"Actually Martha," Mo said, adjusting his glasses. "According to T1-86 here, it's not cost effective to buy a spray bottle from Macy's. According to my electronic pocket almanac, they cost approimately 13 cents to make, and Macy's only sells them at that price as a ploy to increase their revenue."

Martha nodded. "And we sell them at a cost of $50 as a ploy to increase OUR revenue. Martha by Mail handcarves every spray bottle out of 100% pure plastic hand engineered by the scientists who graduated from Ivy League schools and whose mother's ALWAYS packed their lunch with the freshest sandwiches made from pure ..."

"ENOUGH!" Lewis yelled. "Just kill us already! Oh just let me DIE!"

Martha pulled out her antique watch and checked the time. "Well, it IS almost time for the ceremony. My work here is done. Now it's time to get to the Sacrifice Stewart party." Martha pulled out a tin of homemade cookies. "It's always proper to bring a gift when invited to a blood sacrifice. I've packed this vintage cookie tin with our delicious lemon spice cookies, made with organically grown lemon and spices from my own garden. The card is made from my own hand made stationary, dyed with the crushed petals of my home grown flowers, and engraved with the ink from my pet octopus, Scooter."

Martha pulled another box from the silk lined pockets of her cloak and placed it by the net holding the four correspondents. "How rude of me! I almost forgot to leave a parting gift! How barbaric! When kidnapping and restraining, it is ALWAYS proper to leave a parting gift. This box was handmade by natives from the island of Berubi ..."

"JUST LEAVE!" Lewis shouted. "Leave before I try to spit on you!"

Smiling politely, Martha curtsied and took off into the woods saying, "It was nice to have kidnapped you!"

"Bye Martha!" Mo, Nancy and Matt said cheerfully.

"I am SO glad Martha gave me this stain remover recipe," Nancy said, examining her arm. "Now I can get all those Hi-C stains out of the couch that Steve always leaves."

"For Christ's sakes!" Lewis shouted, his hands waving at the heavens. "I am surrounded by insane people! God, if you're there, please strike me now!"

Suddenly, the branch holding the tasteful net broke, causing it to fall to the ground and freeing our four comics.

"Wow!" Matt said, getting up and dusting himself off. "I gotta start saying my prayers!"

"That wasn't God you nimrod, look!" Lewis shouted, pointing to the tree, "It's our second dolly grip, Mark!"

Used to riding above the ground getting aerial shots, Mark had taken to the trees upon hearing Jon's original radio SOS message, and had waited until Martha left to free the four correspondents.

"Thanks, Mark!" Lewis said, saluting upward.

"You guys, look!" Nancy said, examining the little box Martha had placed before them before leaving. "Look what this note says!"

"Follow the trail of macadamia nuts or you'll never see Jon alive again!" Matt read.

"P.S. These nuts were gathered by native Hawaiians on the shores of beautiful Oahu Island ..." Mo read. "Man, what a woman! Such a perfectionist!"

"Shut up!" Lewis said, pointing the famous fiery finger of fury. "No one say a word. We're going to follow these nuts, find Jon and possibly kick some ass, ok? Just follow me ... and NOT A WORD!"

"I have to goooo," Matt whined as he padded behind Nancy, Mo, and Lewis into the dark Jersey woods.


Meanwhile, Jon, Steve and Stephen were having a terribly good time luring midgets over to them, waiting until they were within kicking distance and sending them hurdling towards the fire to their doom. You'd think the others would notice, but apparently they were worked up into such a Kathie Lee Worship frenzy that they hadn't noticed their numbers were dwindling.

"Man!" Jon said, laughing so hard tears streamed down his cheeks. "I don't know when I last had this much fun with a midget."

"Alright," Colbert said. "Midget on the far right, corner pocket of the bonfire, ready? Oh MIIIIIIDGEEETTT!"

"Silence!" Kathie Lee's voice projected from the darkness. It projected because she had speakers hooked up to her computer aided speech device and had had them positioned all around the camp. "It's time to start the ritual!"

"HELP!" Jon screamed as ten midgets advanced on him and began to strip him naked. "Oh God no! Jesus this is SICK! Down Midgets, DOWN!"

But Jon's pleas were no use, for soon the midgets had stripped his clothes off and tied him to a hand carved mahogany table. Jon trembled as four of the little people carried over a shiny silver steak knife.

"Nooo!" Carell said, struggling with the ropes that bound him. "Don't kill Jonny! I like him! He's my friend!"

"Man! Jon wasn't kidding about being hairy!" Colbert mused.

Just as Jon had braced himself for the first whack of the knife, a shadow loomed over him and the teeny ones immediately dropped into another worshipful stance.

Sensing a presence, Jon opened one eye, then another. What he saw horrified him beyond belief. Standing in front of him, dressed in a hand sewn tribal sacrificial bikini, was Martha Stewart.

"OH GOD NO!!" Jon said, struggling to free himself. But it was useless. The ropes that held him were made from the strongest fibers and hand braided by traditional native rope braiders. "NOOOO! PLEASE!!" Jon pleaded, banging his head against the table and trying desperately to get the sight of Martha Stewart in a bikini out of his head.

"My friend," Colbert said, turning to Steve. "That is one ugly ho."

"Now," Martha Stewart said, eying Jon's naked body. "I shall have my revenge!"


[Beowulf style]

Jon's naked skin gleamed in the light
Cast by the fire's flickering flame.
The little ones scattered and screamed and spat
Whilst growling and giggling and grinding their teeth.

Martha Majestic, menacing monster
Hovered with hostile, horrible hate.
Her eyes glowed like Lewis', brighter and bolder
With feminine fury and feline fire.
Her nails dripped with blood into blossomy bowls
Shaped like tulips tender from the springtime sun.
Loving formed from petals of pansies
Carefully plucked with tweezers of gold.
(These bowls can be bought by 'net or by mail
If you go to

Martha Majestic ripped off her panties
To expose the mechanics lying beneath!
"Oh my God! She's a robot!" the little ones shrieked.
The gears and the levers pulsed and purred
And the little ones fled with fantastic fear.

The Robot Stewart approached with grace
And Jon stared with fright as he felt through his clothes
A packet of ketchup leftover from lunch
From a burger with fries and large Cherry Coke.

"Take that!" he shouted and pulled out the condiment
And spurted the scarlet salty goo
All over the Robot's clean crisp Keds.


[Shakespeare style]


Jon, actor, comedian, talk show host
Martha Stewart, living
Stephen Colbert, sorry bastard
Steve Carell, his child like companion
Nancy Walls, wife to Steve
Lewis Black, angry man
Mo Rocca, Harry Potter's geeky older brother
Matt Walsh, small in bladder, big in heart
Kathie Lee Gifford, disfigured eater of puppies
Craig Kilborn, smarmy shithead


Scene: a deserted beach, bonfire, sacrifice in progress

Enter Jon and Martha Stewart

    And now I shall have my revenge on thou!
    Thou who cast shame on the house of my vagina
    Tarnishing the jewel of my existence
    And making a mockery of my tasteful decor.

    I didst not mean harm to my lady's jewel!
    I am but a poor wandering comedian
    Seeking the fruits of my labor in the
    Happiness that permeates a child's laugh!

    Is it so wrong to want to entertain?
    To while away the hours bringing joy
    Into the house of my neighbor and
    Making all frowns turn upside down?

    Tis a noble cause for a hairy man
    Such as the one splayed before me.
    But not as noble as bringing taste and elegance
    Into the homes of those who know not.

     (to Steve)
    Cowards die many times before their death, my friend
    The valiant only taste of death but once.
    Of all the headlines that I yet have heard
    None match the horror or sorrows of tonight.

    What are you frigging talking about?

    (raising knife above head)
    And now I bidst thou goodnight as I raise
    This happy dagger above my blonde head
    So that is shines like a light in the pale
    Moon above. O rise envious moon and
    Light this festive occasion with your
    Pure and naturally made moonbeams of death
    As I send this poor comic to meet his maker.

Nancy [enters] from side [forrest path]

    Steve! Anon good Steve. You hath no wounds!

    Nancy! Oh how my heart has yearned for this
    Blessed moment of our reunion!

Lewis [enters] from same path, followed by Mo and Matt

    Who dareth interrupt our summer event
    With malicious schemes to destroy our
    Lives faster than Bush can make an error
    Of the grammatical persuasion?

    Methinks the clothe'd one in the distance
    Acted as the catalyst that pushed us
    Onto this beach of doom where we shall
    Soon partake in a battle for our lives.

    Unbeknownst to me, I must again
    Answer the call that nature so mercilessly
    Tortures me with both day and night until
    I am a slave to the kidneys that sustain me.

Kathie Lee Gifford [enters] caried in her wheelchair by several MIDGETS

    What keeps the blood from spilling on this wondrous
    Night? I see a whole man before me when
    It is his broken and bloodied body that keeps me
    Alive with the fire to eternally
    Embrace life in my disfigured state.

    My minions of wee people shall soon take
    Care of our tresspassers and do unto them
    The same as those who tresspass against us.
    Or something like that, I confuse easily.

    Do I not get a plea for my continued
    Existence? Why must I be forced
    To be dead when it is thou who enjoys
    Feasting on the chewy goodness of canine youth?

    Didst thou ever ask why thou finds
    Such a disgusting and brutal eating
    Habit in good spirits with thou self?
    Well didst thou? DIDST THOU??

    Why is that I find such symbols of
    All that is good and right with the world
    The bane of my physical existence?
    Is it that I am an evil woman
    Who takes pleasure in taking the pleasure
    From those around her, hogging all the
    Attention and glee for my own selfish
    Desires? O why do I persist in
    Making others miserable just so
    I can feel better about myself? Why?

    I know now more than ever that the
    Truth lies in the potentcy of my evil,
    And my horrible childhood. MARTHA!
    Slice into him like one of those nice hams
    You prepare in the glory of springtime!

    (relieving himself on bonfire)
    Be gone from me O urine of torture!

The light goes out from the campsite, casting the players in shadows. Chaos breaks out as
the MIDGETS run in fear, irked by the darkness that surrounds them. CRAIG [enters] carrying
a bottle of hairspray.

    It is with this bottle that sprays the magic
    Liquid that holds my hair in place, that I
    Shall exact my agenda on the one
    They call the domestic diva, the
    The Queen of cuisine and the herald of
    Housekeeping. Tonight I shall ascend to my
    Rightful place as host of The Daily Show.
    Again I shall emit giggles and snorts
    With my low key charm and piercing blue eyes.
    Again it shall be my voice that proclaims
    HEADLINES to the heavens each weekday night.

Craig [sprays] the bottle of hairspray on Martha's hair, amid the chaos. Screaming, she
drops onto the table that holds Jon and lays there breathing heavily.

    Death creeps up on me like a shadow at
    My bedroom window. The spray with which
    I have been violated was not organic in nature.
    The chemicals creep into my body
    Poisoning my soul and claiming my life.

Martha [reaches] out towards Jon.

    Jon...I am your mother.

Martha [makes a fist] towards the smirking Craig.

    Et tu Kilby? Now falleth Martha!


    (being untied by Nancy and others, along with Stephen)
    That cease'd to be in the style of
    Iambic pentameter, my weeping friend.

The curtain closes on our players as the CHORUS [enters].

    Our heroes true have yet to deal with
    Kathie Lee and her wheels of steel.
    Yet a tremendous hurdle hath been
    Crossed, with the demise of Martha
    whose teeth were always flossed.
    Danger is still in the air, though
    For the TDS Crew and their Jon-eo.

Tremendous applause


[Edgar Allen Poe's "The Bells" style as told from Jon's point of view]


Hear the chanting of the midgets-
A million midgets!
What a sick world of torment their melody foretells!
How they stomp, stomp, stomp,
By the bonfire this night!
While the stars that overshadow
All the heavens, damn them that twinkle
Belying my fright, on this horrific night;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Cherubic rhyme,
To the abomination that so musically spills
From the midgets, midgets, midgets, midgets,
midgets, midgets, midgets-
From the stomping and chanting of the midgets.

Hear the cackle of the wheel-chaired wench,
The puppy eating wench!
What a world of evil horridness her laughter foretells!
Through the dense summer air of night
How my bones ache in fright!
From the shrilling-killing notes,
And out of tune,
What a beastly ditty floats
To the hotting-owl that listens, while she cackles
In the trees!
Oh, from out the mechanical vocal chords,
What a gush of cacophonous voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! How it tells
Of the horror that heads
To the stomping and the chanting
Of the midgets, midgets, midgets,
Of the midgets, midgets, midgets, midgets,
midgets, midgets, midgets-
To the stomping and the chanting of the midgets!

Hear the smarm spew forth-
Aryan Charm!!
What a perfect face, no sense of underlying woes!
In the startled air of night
How he sprays the spray of stiff hair, dark or light!
Too much mist to speak,
I can only cough, cough,
Out of need for air,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the gods,
In a mad plea with the mercy of aforementioned god,
Whimpering higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now to shit or never,
By the side of the pear-shaped tree.
Oh, the midgets, midget, midgets!
What a tale their chants tells
Of Evil Intent!
How they stamp, and chant, and more!
What a dreadfulness they outpour
On the evening of the midnight air!
Yet the fear I fully know,
By the singing,
And the chanting,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the midgets-
Of the midgets-
Of the midgets, midgets, midgets, midgets,
midgets, midgets, midgets-
In the stomping and the chanting of the midgets!

Hear the chanting of the midgets-
A million midgets!!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the dead of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the midgets, ah, the midgets-
They that dwell up in the fray,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their Queen it is who tolls;
And she rolls, rolls, rolls,
Her wheelchair over to the midgets!
And her sick, twisted bosom swells
With the chanting of the midgets!
And she dances (as one can in a wheelchair), and she yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Cherubic rhyme,
To the chanting of the midgets-
Of the midgets:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Cherubic rhyme,
To the crowing of the midgets-
Of the midgets, midgets, midgets-
To the crooning of the midgets;
Keeping time, time, time,
As she cackles, cackles, cackles,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the warbling of the midgets-
Of the midgets, midgets, midgets:
To the serenading of the midgets,
Of the midgets, midgets, midgets, midgets-
midgets, midgets, midgets-
To the stomping and the chanting of the midgets.


[Bridget Jones' Diary style, from Jon's point of view]

Jewey Jewman's Diary

Tuesday, June 10, 2002
161 pounds
Calories: none, as have been held prisoner by ravenous puppy eating whore
Alcohol units: 12, needed to calm self from nearly being sawed in two by aforementioned whore and accompanying band of cackling dwarves.

Right. Finally freed from Vile Kathie today. Once Martha had collapsed on table, a trail of bright red blood trickling down her open yet still smiling mouth, the midgets fled in horror. Vile Kathie, finding herself Martha-less, Midget-less and with a smary shithead pointing a deadly bottle of AquaNet in her general direction, fled on her wheelchair which apparently had come with a gas engine installed. Have not seen her since.

Was untied by Lewis who made nasty comments about lack of sizable genitalia. Upon getting dressed, helped to secure Kilborn with the help of Steve, Matt and Stephen. Steve was relieved to see Nancy again who returned his binkie to his mouth and sent him on his way with a playful smack to the rear. Matt put out the smoking fire by once again pissing on it, and Lewis built another fire just by looking at a pile of logs in an angry fashion. Mo, who we have nicknamed the Professor, somehow turned Vile Kathie's computer aided electronic talking device into a primitive radio and we were able to catch the last half of the Yankees game, which was v. good.

Have set up former sacrificial/hideout/abandoned beach as place to hold summer spectacular. Found remaining crew cowering in nearby cave and dragged them to new camp location. Once they had been given some beer and hot dogs they were fine and happily went above fooling with the electrical equipment like always.

Right. Am just going to have one more beer, then off to set up tent with Steve and Stephen.

Oooh! Crew members have brought the TV.

Will set up tent after America's Funniest Animals.

Just one more beer.

Tried to set up tent with Steve and Stephen. Have learned they know absolutely nothing about camping. If Stephen wasn't making lewd gestures with the tent poles, Steve was throwing sand and generally getting on everyone's nerves. Nancy sent him to bed with no supper and said he would be better behaved tomorrow.

12:00 midnight
Finally got tent set up. Am sharing it with Stephen who keeps talking about "Gonad Grace" in his sleep. Am creeped out. Also think can hear sounds of Nancy and Steve snogging in next tent over, but it could just be the sounds Mo makes when reading his calculus book.

Was almost killed by midgets and Vile Kathie today. Am exhausted.

Wednesday, June 11., 2002
163 pounds (Why! WHY???)
Calories: 13000 (but beer will be gone by tomorrow)
Alcohol units: 6


Awoke to sound of Kilborn shouting "And now here it is, your moment of Zen" in sleep. Gave him drink of water and stuffed thong in his mouth. Waiting to see how long it takes him to realize said thongs were dirty.

Stephen had nightmare in the middle of the night about Vile Kathie. Said she's coming back for us. Comforted him until Lewis caught us embracing in privacy of tent. Have endured biting comments all morning.

Cast and crew DO think something weird is going on. Nancy said Steve behaved last night without even being told to. She said he only does that in expectance of Santa at Christmas or when she has PMS. Neither are applicable today.

Watched Live with Regis and Kelly on TV this morning. Was v. good. Wish Regis was my dad and Martha Stewart not my mother. Had beer to console self.


Just finished taping segment for summer spectacular. This consisted of Mo building M.C. Escher type structures in the sand and Steve kicking them over. Then Mo chasing Steve, followed by Stephen tripping Mo and laughing at him. This went on for a while until Lewis got fed up and held Steve's head under water for five minutes. Nancy got mad but Lewis said it wouldn't hurt him because he already has brain damage.


Right. Am just going to write new Headlines segment for tomorrow's show but first must watch Newshour.


Newshour was v. good tonight. However, upon finishing up watching and downing the last of a beer, heard shouting from far corner of the beach. Kilborn had eaten through his ropes and escaped into the forest. Crew is v. scared now, most have retreated back to city. Just Nancy, Steve, Stephen and Lewis here now.

Christ! What was that noise?

Oh, only flatulence.

Shit! Vile Kathie and Kilborn have returned with remaining loyal midgets. Why? Why?? Am sick of their smugness, have challenged them to game of beach volleyball. Are sure to win as Vile Kathie is in wheel chair, although she does have quite a few midgets. Game is scheduled to begin tomorrow. Will possibly lose weight with this, am happy.


Damn Stephen, what does he do when he's not at work? Judging from what he talks about in his sleep, some kind of farm run by big breasted norwegian women. Hmmm ... think want to know where this farm is. Will ask him in the morning.


Added May 1, 2002.
Complied by Kelly.

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