Shooting Turns Comic When Bumbling Teens Shoot Each Other in Hilarious Double-Homicide Hi-Jinks

high school lunch room in Mattawusk, Maine got downright goofy Monday when two teen-agers killed each other in an accidental double-homicide called by witnesses, "Just too damn funny."

The two teenagers, Rupert Harvey and D. Johnny Watkins, two seniors described as "Prime wedgie material" by athletes across the school, were popular victims of practical jokes and teasing for being so unpopular. As convoluted as that statement may sound, one thing was clear--with Harvey and Watkins, sooner or later, something was going to break. Who knew it would be our funny bones?

"They came in and Watkins told everybody, 'Get down!'" said senior and witness Glenda Berman. "At which point Harvey just started to dance, doing the Running Man and then Cabbage-patching. It was so fucking funny I nearly choked. Then Watkins smacked him with his sailor hat."

Watkins, apparently the smarter of the duo, then told everybody they would die for their cruelty, at which point Watkins tried to fire the gun but the safety was on. He looked down the barrel, according to junior Darryl Hardin, who said he could barely contain his laughter since he could guess what would happen next.

"Sure enough," Hardin said, "Watkins blew his own damn head off. That shit was hilarious, I was howling for minutes. It was like Looney Tunes or something. I halfway expected the gun to say 'Acme' on it."

It was at that point, witnesses said, Harvey began to fire his machine gun in fear. The repeating weapon, aimed at the ground, was powerful enough to levitate him feet off the floor as he tried in vain to control it, much to the bemusement of the onlooking not-quite-terrified student body.

"Eventually, Harvey just shot himself in the foot," Principal Don Stewart said. "He was howling and bouncing up and down when--" Stewart took several minutes to keep from crying as he laughed even harder. "He shot Watkins again, in the balls, and Watkins, with his dying breath, tightened his grip on the trigger finger and blew Harvey's head off."

No longer able to restrain his tears, Stewart wept openly. "It was so fucking funny I shit my pants! I swear."

School shootings have steadily been on the increase since 1990, but this was by far the most hilarious incident reported. Hollywood has taken notice as well, already planning a wacky sitcom tentatively titled "Shoot the Mooks" and famed teen scribe John Hughes has reportedly been asking how old Anthony Michael Hall is now, since he would "make a perfect Watkins."

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OH MY GOD SNOW

Let's get started. I don't have all day. If I did have it, I would probably charge for its use. I'm thinking $4.50, $5 ought to do it. Not outrageous, but enough to clear a healthy profit.

I have recently taken to wearing hats. And we are no longer a hat-endorsing culture, I remind you. So if you see me on the street, applaud my actions. I mean it. Seriously, applaud. Very loudly, and with whistles.

Ever notice how there are movie-grade celebrities, and then there are TV-grade celebrities? In movies, you have Tom Cruise. On TV, you get Matthew Perry. Every once in a while you'll see an ambitious star claw his way up, like George Clooney. Or you'll witness the sad decline of one star washing up on TV shores, like Geena Davis. Where does that leave Paris Hilton? I'd say straight to video, but I have more class than that.

It just occurs to me I never received any gifts at all on Christmas morning, 1993. God, no wonder that morning went by so slow. I knew something was askew.

What time is it? Drinking time! It's always drinking time, when you have alcohol.

If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down. This applies to any packet gravy you can get your hands on it.

It seems like only yesterday I was a bouncing young boy with his future laid out before him. If it was really yesterday, I had one hell of a growth spurt. I'm seriously worried if it's still going on, because I could be dead before I'm done with this column. But more than likely it was just time seeming relative to me again.

If I could have only one thing given to me, I would like a gun. Everything else I could then get myself.

I have but one rule to live by: If your teeth are turning black, it's time to start brushing. Live by this rule and you can't go wrong.

Several times a month I order a "pizza with everything on it." When it arrives, I'm disappointed to find only extra cheese, green onions, olives, mushrooms, and several kinds of meat. Is this truly everything? Have we grown so unimaginative as a culture we can't do any better? I demanded everything, damn you. Put some backbone into it.

Whoops! I fell out of my chair. That time it was an accident. I know I've done it sometimes just to get attention, but that time was for real.

I have never been charged with impersonating a police officer, though I do it all the time. Don't worry—I don't wear a uniform or carry a fake badge or anything. It's all in my attitude. I carry myself like a cop. People don't say anything, but they don't believe it. I don't tell them I'm a cop either. That would be cheating. And a felony.

They call them sunglasses, but they don't shine the sun directly into your eyes when you're wearing them. They should call them "sunblockers," or "shades." Why is it I'm the one who has to think of these things?

That's sufficient. I could give it more, but I don't think you quite deserve that, do you? No, not at all.

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Now that the temporarily complete Star Wars wank saga has been shat onto the public's ever-loving lap, to the thrills of toddlers and fanboys everywhere, viewers are starting to calm down from the whiz-bang video game effects just enough to wonder what in the hell the whole thing was all about. And besides, did they really need to have so many goofy aliens? Ever the thankless public servant, I've decided to take on this unruly bitch of an assignment, for better or worse. I'm thinking worse.

I say "temporarily complete" because we all know it's only a matter of time before Lucas releases a special, spiffed-up Electroshock Edition of the hexology, or reneges on his promise not to make the entire thing a nine-part endurance test as originally planned. Of course, Lucas now says in finest W. Bush fashion that the six-parter is what he'd planned all along, which almost certainly guarantees another three movies in a decade or so. These will inevitably start production after Lucas is done filming the latest Indiana Jones sequel, which will primarily focus on Indy escaping from a retirement home with King Tutankhamen's prescription medication in his fanny pack.

Of course, Lucas now claims he will devote the rest of his career to directing small-budget indie fare like his directorial debut, the techno-bummer THX-1138 in 1971. But since George has had complete creative free reign for virtually his entire career and has still spent the last 30 years making popcorn movies and designing stereos, we'll believe he's going to make My Dinner with Andre when we see it.

Great Dreck, but what about this Star Wars crap? That's you talking, btw. Okay, I'm on it.

The central concept one needs to understand about the Star Wars world is "the force," which is a mystical ability something like a cross between ESP and cheating. The Jedi Knights (not the dance troupe from Brooklyn, the other Jedi Knights) are masters of the force, which allows them to fly around like gay ballerinas or Caucasian Chow Yun-Fats and trick people into kicking their own asses. The force also has a light side and a dark side, and just like chicken meat, the light is more popular. But there are enough freaks who like the dark side to keep everything interesting, again like chicken meat. The darkies are more politically-correctly known as "the Sith" because they were named by a guy with a lisp.

The force also bestows some time-bending abilities, making more recent events in the saga seem like they happened before the older ones, which explains why R2-D2 could fly in Attack of the Clones but only had the functionality of a Roomba vacuum cleaner 20 years later in Empire Strikes Back, when he/it fell into the swamp in Dagobah like a big retard.

The downside of the force is that it makes Jedi generally very forgetful, which explains why Obi Wan Kenobi doesn't recognize C-3PO and R2-D2 in A New Hope even after spending so much time with them in the "first" three movies. The dark side of the force is the same, since Darth Vader doesn't recognize the droids either, even though he built C-3PO as a child and had used R2-D2 as a toy box for years.

For all its downsides, however, the force in highly convenient since it gives the Jedi something to blame whenever they fuck things up, like when Qui-Gon Jinn kidnaps a young hick named Anakin Skywalker from the rough and tumble desert planet Tatooine (known then as the galaxy's largest tattoo parlor), setting off an Amber Alert across the southern half of the galaxy and bringing about the destruction of the Republic and the entire Jedi order. But Qui-Gon believes Anakin will bring "balance" to the force, which only makes sense if you forget that there were like a million Jedis and only two Sith at that time, but then again maybe Qui-Gon knew what was coming and was just really dedicated to the idea of fair play.

Anakin would grow up and knock up a queen, though don't get too excited: it wasn't a drag queen. We're not that far into the future. But eventually all the dirty diapers drove Anakin bonkers and he flips out and kills everybody, like in Carrie, only not as fun. Anakin would then change his name to Darth Vader to fake out the extremely apathetic law enforcement agencies of the day.

So bitchy Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi hides Anakin's son Luke on Tatooine, where Darth Vader would never think to look since that's the planet he was from and where his childless in-laws lived and only an idiot would hide Vader's son from him there.

The central bad guy in the Star Wars universe is the Emperor, a truly smelly character that songsmith John Lennon prophesied in the Beatles hit "Mean Mr. Mustard" almost 40 years ago. When he's not turning Jedi to the dark side or napping in his oversized chair, the Emperor enforces the unfortunate stereotypes about the elderly this country has been suffering from for years, with entire generations believing everyone over 80 is thoroughly corrupt and all-powerful. The Emperor himself doesn't really do much in Star Wars, he just kind of sits around, being evil, and waits for the Jedi to fuck everything up in his favor.

The Emperor's counterpart in the white meat corner is Yoda, a powerful Muppet sewn out of force-heavy non-flammable materials, who looks exactly like an old frog's scrotum and talks like ABBA. Yoda excels at Jedi parlor tricks and making shit float, neither of which turns out to be of any help when the chips are down. But this hardly matters since the Emperor proves pretty useless anyway, getting thrown down a well by a malfunctioning robot gimp and forgetting how to fly at the end. Only then does he see the folly of the Sith's policy of overly-exclusive membership, since even one more Sith, call him a trainee or Sith-Lite or whatever, could have prevented all of this from happening and won the battle for evil forever.

But that kind of thing makes for lousy cinema, unless you're Terry Gilliam.

Let's see, what else? There's a bunch of crap about people having eight different names each, which you'd do better to ignore entirely. Christopher Lee has a turn as the B-movie villain he's been preparing his entire career to play, but in the end he's inconsequential except for the hilarious CGI frontward-flip he does at the beginning of Revenge of the Sith due to the Sith's paralyzing fear of stairs. Oh, also: the Sith can make lightning out of their fingers. This is important to remember if you're ever having a Sith barbeque and you can't get the charcoal to start. That's about it.

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