ACT I: iSight… a murder!



JOHN MOLTZ: Watcha doin’?!

ALBERT MCMURRY: Pokin’ a dead body with a stick.



JOHN MOLTZ: Looks like fun! Mind if I join you?

ALBERT MCMURRY: [Shrugs] Suit yourself. Some more sticks over there.

JOHN MOLTZ: [Proceeds to join Albert in poking the dead body with a stick] So… any idea who this is?

ALBERT MCMURRY: I’m pretty sure he was a renegade Dell employee who was coming to let us know that it was Michael Dell who stole Masako’s brain and he’s delivered it to some devious aliens bent on world domination.

JOHN MOLTZ: Wow. That’s a thing, huh?


JOHN MOLTZ: So… how’d he die?

ALBERT MCMURRY: I dunno. What am I, a doctor?

JOHN MOLTZ: I’m just askin’ is all.

ALBERT MCMURRY: Well, I’m thinking that knife in the back probably didn’t help matters.

JOHN MOLTZ: Ah. Indubitably.

ALBERT MCMURRY: [Stares at him for a moment] Do you still have that damn word-a-day calendar?

JOHN MOLTZ: Um… no. Pff.

[Later that day…]

JOHN MOLTZ: OK, look, we now know that Michael Dell stole Masako’s brain.

THE ENTITY: Yuh-huh.

JOHN MOLTZ: And that a mysterious alien race has it. Could they be the Klaathu? We know they like delicious human organs.

CHET MACGRUDER: Who doesn’t!?

[Everyone turns and stares at Chet]

JOHN MOLTZ: OK, try to stay focused, here.


THE ENTITY: No, this doesn’t fit the Klaathu’s M.O. They’re in business with Apple. They’d never pay off Michael Dell.

ALBERT MCMURRY: We can only speculate what diabolical device these other aliens have given him the plans to.

CHET MACGRUDER: How do we know it’s diabolical? I mean… it could be totally… uh… bolical.

[Chet receives more stares]

JOHN MOLTZ: Dude, you are so off-script, I don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.


THE ENTITY: I have many sources in the alien community. I’ll find out who has Masako’s brain, even if I have to lloktarr half the sector.

JOHN MOLTZ: What… what does that mean… lloktarr?

THE ENTITY: Uh… it’s a… galactic accounting term. Similar to an audit. It’s, uh… very uncomfortable.

JOHN MOLTZ: Huh. OK. I thought maybe you were going to rough them up.

THE ENTITY: Well… it’s not that I couldn’t or anything…

JOHN MOLTZ: Sure. Sure.

ALBERT MCMURRY: I hate to bring this up… but… what if it’s Tentaculous?

SCOOTER: The giant octopus being at the center of our galaxy?!

ALBERT MCMURRY: Scooter, I’ve told you before, I’ll kick your ass if practice your exposition near me one more time.


THE ENTITY: If it’s Tentaculous, then we will deal with him the way we deal with all cephalopods.

[Several moments of silence and blank stares]

THE ENTITY: OK, well, we’ll have to come up with a standard method of dealing with cephalopods. I just assumed we had one. I mean, where I come from, that would have been done right after getting a business license.

JOHN MOLTZ: Uh, well, I’ll set up a meeting. We can come up with one… put it in the employee manual… maybe post it in the break room…

THE ENTITY: Good! Good. Uh… OK.

[Several more moments of silence and blank stares]

JOHN MOLTZ: OK! Good discussion, everyone! Thanks for coming. [Aside to the Entity] We have got to start having agendas for these meetings.

THE ENTITY: Indubitably.

JOHN MOLTZ: Hey! Word-a-day calendar?


[A warehouse on the outskirts of Cupertino]


[A bevy of evil Apple sexbots throws cold water on an unconscious Phil Schiller]

PHIL SCHILLER: Bleh! Blah! Pff! What… what is that? Club soda?

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: What?! Did you idiots use club soda again?

SEXBOT MINION: With… with a twist of lemon.

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: You know, we’re not going to be able to afford hostages anymore if you keep splashing them with club soda and tying them up with designer fabrics!

SEXBOT MINION: Well, excuse me for trying to make things a little more pleasant around here!

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: They’re hostages! It’s supposed to be unpleasant!

PHIL SCHILLER: Can I interject here?


SEXBOT MINION: You never validate me!

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: We’re robots! We don’t need validation!

SEXBOT MINION: Oh, honey, denial ain’t just a river in Egypt!

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: What the… you… I… Shut up! God, I have the crappiest minions ever! Just… go bring in the bumpy-headed and tentacled aliens!

[The aliens enter]

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: Per our arrangement, I give you… Phil Schiller!

ALIEN 1: Eeeexcellent. Phase two of our plan is now complete!

PHIL SCHILLER: You evil bastards! You’ll never get away with it!

ALIEN 1: What?! You don’t even know what we’re doing yet.

PHIL SCHILLER: Well… I’m sure you’re up to no good.

ALIEN 1: Oh, see, that is so racist. Just because we have bumpy foreheads and tentacles instead of hands, YOU assume we’re up to no good.

PHIL SCHILLER: OK. OK. Fair enough. So, what are you up to?

ALIEN 1: Um… OK, well, in this case it happens to be true. We’re going to blow up the Earth, but still

ALIEN 2: Blow up the Earth? Wait, wait, wait. I call huddle.

[The aliens huddle and wiggle their tentacles at each other for several uncomfortable moments]

PHIL SCHILLER: [To Evil Apple Sexbot] So.


PHIL SCHILLER: What do you get out of this?

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: Uh… they’re going to get me… one of those… big… kitchen mixers…

PHIL SCHILLER: Oh. That’s nice.

EVIL APPLE SEXBOT: Yeah. I’ve always wanted one. Make my own… um… mayonnaise…

[The aliens break huddle]

ALIEN 1: OK, we’ve talked it over and we’ve decided that we want to conquer you and rule your planet as evil overlords, forcing everyone to use the Windows CE operating system! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

ALIEN 3: And…

ALIEN 1: Oh! And we reserve the right to blow up your planet at a later date.

ALIEN 3: And we want Celine Dion tickets.

ALIEN 1: Oh, and Ted wants Celine Dion tickets.

PHIL SCHILLER: So… pretty much the bumpy head and tentacle standard still applies.

ALIEN 1: Ugh, that is so unfair. No one ever gives us credit for our charity work.

Will Phil Schiller escape the tentacled embrace of the hideous aliens? Will the CARS staff be able to find the electronic copy of the employee manual? Who’s going to pick up that dead body? Where was Howard? What’s the CARS cafeteria special today?

Tune in tomorrow for Act II: Schiller… UNLEASHED!