.Pythonic SW
folder
M through R › Monty Python
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,686
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Monty Python
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,686
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Monty Python, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Pythonic SW
Cleese and Chapman, dressed as explorers (khaki and pith helmets), push through jungle brush. Drums sound in the distance.
Cleese's voice narrates: Day 47. Our search for the Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women continued. Foster, Childs, Wombat and Lucy having fallen to various hazards along the way, I was alone with Foster. Well, the OTHER Foster, that is. Not the Foster that I'd caught in my sleeping bag with a native laborer, but the Foster that had been playing poker with the men right before they had all been overtaken by that strange form of the plague that made your forehead bleed exactly as if shot by a revolver. We divided the supplies between us, buried the plague-taken men, and pushed on.
(They push aside a last branch and stop, eyes wide with surprise.)
Cleese narrates: And finally, we'd found it. The city of the Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women.
(Camera shows a city much like Machu Pichu. Mountain topping, stone construction, verdant grass, and hundreds of women in amazon-type leather bikinis strolling around.)
Cleese narrates: Our theory had proven out! There was just one surprise. (THe men kneel down to examine the city. We see that the inhabitants are about six inches tall.) The Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women were tiny, tiny women.
(A formation of armed warrior women charge the explorers from the gate. The men recoil in fear.)
Cleese narrates: But just as we achieved success, it was to be snatched away, along with our very lives, as the inhabitants of the Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women protected their secret existance!
(Close up on a tiny maiden pulling her longbow. She shoots)
Chapman: OW!
Cleese: Foster!
Chapman: Where?
Cleese: OTHER Foster! You're hit!
CHapman: (looking at his finger) No, no, i don't think so. I believe that's a splinter i picked up a while back.
(Close up on another maiden shooting. The camera follows the arrow up, up, up and into a mole Chapman's cheek. The two men pause...waiting, waiting, waiting...)
Chapman: Argh! It's a poisoned arrow! (and does a death scene).
Cleese narrates: Other Foster was done for. The irony of escaping outbreak after outbreak of what we'd come to call the Poker Plague, only to fall victim to an Amazonian clothyard bolt wasn't lost on me. I survived, to bury him (view of a teeny, tiny cemetary, with a honking great mound of dirt at one end, Cleese wiping brow), but I was now a prisoner of The Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of Tiny European-Looking Women, and Only Women!
Cleese narrates: I made my peace with my new status, and turned an eye to remaining useful to this society (montage of Cleese ripping up tiny trees to place them over gaps as bridges, digging ditches with his finger tip, waving a tennis racket over fields of grain to knock whole flocks of magpies out of the sky). I even made friends. (Carol Cleveland sits on a wall, laughing up at Cleese's face where he sits beside her. He uses the old, old technique of stretching to wrap his arm around her shoulder and accidentally knocks over a palisade.) But alas, in the end, the queen felt me too great a threat and ordered my execution. I fearfully awaited my end.
(A wooden wall with a gate is guarded by two maidens (Palin and Jones). Carol steps up, with a honking great piece of metal sticking out of her robes. Really big. Like, three iron skillets welded into the shape of a club from a deck of cards.
Carol: I wish to see the prisoner.
Guard1: And I wish I could find a man who loves me for my mind, not my four-two-four figure.
Guard2: Psst! There are no men in our society.
Guard1: Which sure as hell doesn't prevent it being a wish!
Guard2: But it'll never be fulfilled.
Guard1: And that makes it a damned-ironic metaphor for her desire to see the prisoner, don't it! But all metaphor is lost on you, in'it?!
Guard2: All I'm saying is that a philosophy that's wholly intellectual may be internally correct, but cannot be applied to the real world without external validation!
(Carol walks between them and through the door. She finds herself at Cleese's hip. His hand is shackled to a stake, and he has to slump a bit to meet the position.)
Carol: Oh, Basil, Basil, Basil, my love. I've come to...Basil?
CLeese (looking around): Is someone there?
Carol: Oi! CouEEEE! Down HERE, my love.
Cleese: Ah! There you are.
Carol: I've brought you a key! (As she tries to unlimber the secreted key, Cleese reaches down and grabs it. Rather then remove it from her clothes, he lift her up with it, shakes a bit so her hem rises from the toothed end, and unlocks the shackles with herself still attached. He replaces her on the floor)
Cleese: Brilliant, my dear, but we still have to escape the prison.
Carol(pulling a bundle from her robes): Here. Put these on.
(Caption: One put this on later)
(Carol (without key) steps out the door where the guards are still fighting.)
Guard2: And I suppose that makes Luck a function of mathematics? Hey, where are you going?
Carol: Oh, just a walk along the beach, to cry out my sorrows at my love's imminent death
Guard1: Awwwwwwww.
Guard2: Awwwwwwww.
(Cleese's hand comes out, 'walking' on two fingers, wearing a maid's disguise)
Guard1: Hey! 'Oo's this then?
Carol: It's, uh, the maid.
Guard2: I don't remember letting a maid go in.
Carol: Well, it takes more than one shift to change his bedsheets, now, doesn't it?
Guard 1: Yes, i suppose it would. Well, carry on.
(Carol turns and walks away, the hand following. Length after length of sleeve follows between the oblivious guards. A montage follows of Carol working her way through the palace, up and down stairs, across bridges, around crowds, followed by the hand all the way. When they get to the outter gate, she points to the lock.
Carol: The key, my love!
(Cut to Cleese, still in his cell, arm sticking through the door up to his shoulder. He looks around in surprise and sees the key on the floor beside him.)
Carol: Crap. We'll have to go back. (they return, through an abbreviated view of the last sequence. Carol tells the guards they forgot something, slips in, and slips back out immediately, key in place in her bust. They go to the gate again, this time a shorter montage yet, but with more complicated views, such as a spiral staircase, a rooftop, and stepping into an elevator)
(at the gate, he uses the key in the same manner (Carol's bared legs flopping in the air) and the gates open. Arm in thumb, they run off to the trees. Music swells in the background, the credits roll. )
Cleese's voice narrates: Day 47. Our search for the Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women continued. Foster, Childs, Wombat and Lucy having fallen to various hazards along the way, I was alone with Foster. Well, the OTHER Foster, that is. Not the Foster that I'd caught in my sleeping bag with a native laborer, but the Foster that had been playing poker with the men right before they had all been overtaken by that strange form of the plague that made your forehead bleed exactly as if shot by a revolver. We divided the supplies between us, buried the plague-taken men, and pushed on.
(They push aside a last branch and stop, eyes wide with surprise.)
Cleese narrates: And finally, we'd found it. The city of the Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women.
(Camera shows a city much like Machu Pichu. Mountain topping, stone construction, verdant grass, and hundreds of women in amazon-type leather bikinis strolling around.)
Cleese narrates: Our theory had proven out! There was just one surprise. (THe men kneel down to examine the city. We see that the inhabitants are about six inches tall.) The Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women were tiny, tiny women.
(A formation of armed warrior women charge the explorers from the gate. The men recoil in fear.)
Cleese narrates: But just as we achieved success, it was to be snatched away, along with our very lives, as the inhabitants of the Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of European Women, and Only Women protected their secret existance!
(Close up on a tiny maiden pulling her longbow. She shoots)
Chapman: OW!
Cleese: Foster!
Chapman: Where?
Cleese: OTHER Foster! You're hit!
CHapman: (looking at his finger) No, no, i don't think so. I believe that's a splinter i picked up a while back.
(Close up on another maiden shooting. The camera follows the arrow up, up, up and into a mole Chapman's cheek. The two men pause...waiting, waiting, waiting...)
Chapman: Argh! It's a poisoned arrow! (and does a death scene).
Cleese narrates: Other Foster was done for. The irony of escaping outbreak after outbreak of what we'd come to call the Poker Plague, only to fall victim to an Amazonian clothyard bolt wasn't lost on me. I survived, to bury him (view of a teeny, tiny cemetary, with a honking great mound of dirt at one end, Cleese wiping brow), but I was now a prisoner of The Lost on the Entirely Wrong Continent Tribe of Tiny European-Looking Women, and Only Women!
Cleese narrates: I made my peace with my new status, and turned an eye to remaining useful to this society (montage of Cleese ripping up tiny trees to place them over gaps as bridges, digging ditches with his finger tip, waving a tennis racket over fields of grain to knock whole flocks of magpies out of the sky). I even made friends. (Carol Cleveland sits on a wall, laughing up at Cleese's face where he sits beside her. He uses the old, old technique of stretching to wrap his arm around her shoulder and accidentally knocks over a palisade.) But alas, in the end, the queen felt me too great a threat and ordered my execution. I fearfully awaited my end.
(A wooden wall with a gate is guarded by two maidens (Palin and Jones). Carol steps up, with a honking great piece of metal sticking out of her robes. Really big. Like, three iron skillets welded into the shape of a club from a deck of cards.
Carol: I wish to see the prisoner.
Guard1: And I wish I could find a man who loves me for my mind, not my four-two-four figure.
Guard2: Psst! There are no men in our society.
Guard1: Which sure as hell doesn't prevent it being a wish!
Guard2: But it'll never be fulfilled.
Guard1: And that makes it a damned-ironic metaphor for her desire to see the prisoner, don't it! But all metaphor is lost on you, in'it?!
Guard2: All I'm saying is that a philosophy that's wholly intellectual may be internally correct, but cannot be applied to the real world without external validation!
(Carol walks between them and through the door. She finds herself at Cleese's hip. His hand is shackled to a stake, and he has to slump a bit to meet the position.)
Carol: Oh, Basil, Basil, Basil, my love. I've come to...Basil?
CLeese (looking around): Is someone there?
Carol: Oi! CouEEEE! Down HERE, my love.
Cleese: Ah! There you are.
Carol: I've brought you a key! (As she tries to unlimber the secreted key, Cleese reaches down and grabs it. Rather then remove it from her clothes, he lift her up with it, shakes a bit so her hem rises from the toothed end, and unlocks the shackles with herself still attached. He replaces her on the floor)
Cleese: Brilliant, my dear, but we still have to escape the prison.
Carol(pulling a bundle from her robes): Here. Put these on.
(Caption: One put this on later)
(Carol (without key) steps out the door where the guards are still fighting.)
Guard2: And I suppose that makes Luck a function of mathematics? Hey, where are you going?
Carol: Oh, just a walk along the beach, to cry out my sorrows at my love's imminent death
Guard1: Awwwwwwww.
Guard2: Awwwwwwww.
(Cleese's hand comes out, 'walking' on two fingers, wearing a maid's disguise)
Guard1: Hey! 'Oo's this then?
Carol: It's, uh, the maid.
Guard2: I don't remember letting a maid go in.
Carol: Well, it takes more than one shift to change his bedsheets, now, doesn't it?
Guard 1: Yes, i suppose it would. Well, carry on.
(Carol turns and walks away, the hand following. Length after length of sleeve follows between the oblivious guards. A montage follows of Carol working her way through the palace, up and down stairs, across bridges, around crowds, followed by the hand all the way. When they get to the outter gate, she points to the lock.
Carol: The key, my love!
(Cut to Cleese, still in his cell, arm sticking through the door up to his shoulder. He looks around in surprise and sees the key on the floor beside him.)
Carol: Crap. We'll have to go back. (they return, through an abbreviated view of the last sequence. Carol tells the guards they forgot something, slips in, and slips back out immediately, key in place in her bust. They go to the gate again, this time a shorter montage yet, but with more complicated views, such as a spiral staircase, a rooftop, and stepping into an elevator)
(at the gate, he uses the key in the same manner (Carol's bared legs flopping in the air) and the gates open. Arm in thumb, they run off to the trees. Music swells in the background, the credits roll. )