FILBURT'S POSTMODERN WIFE
(cue Rocko's Modern Life Season 2-4 theme song)
One day at approximately 12:00 PM (noon) on the tiny insignificant speck of dust known as Earth, in the rather conspicuously, creepily curvaceous city called O-Town, Filburt Shellbach (nerdy turtle and Jewish stereotype extraordinaire who could never decide what part-time job he wanted to apply for to save his own sodding life) had just recently gotten himself married to Paula Hutchison (creepy and hook-handed yet incredibly sexy cat lady who never could decide what career she wanted to work in to save HER own sodding life) and was now busy shoving it in Rocko's and Heffer's faces at the former's house like the egotistical jerk that he fairly noticeably was.
"Oh my GAWSH, you folks would NEVER be able to believe this if it wasn't right before your very unworthy EYES as we SPEAK!" Filburt rudely jeered, laughed and snorted at the dinner table while Hutchison (who, naturally, was still in her wedding gown), Rocko and Heffer quietly and politely ate Rocko's slightly undercooked and not-very-appetizing meat loaf (well, actually, Heffer scarfed it down like a wild animal due to being literally raised by wolves, but you get the idea), groaning and sighing as blank-facedly as could be in the process as they each finished their meals at the precisely calculated exact same time and pushed their plates out in front of them, with Filburt also doing much of the same as he continued blabbering on and on and on, making all kinds of ridiculous hand gestures and performing numerous pelvic thrusts while doing so.
"I've got me a brand SPANKING-new wife as hot as the blistering, hive-inducing sun itself, and you'd better believe that she's going to be loving me with both direction AND magnitude! OH, YEAH!" Filburt continued arrogantly snickering to spite Rocko and Heffer for never having had their OWN properly dedicated love interests before as he leapt atop the table and began doing the pelvic hula dance, causing Rocko to angrily redden up in the face, ball up his hands into fists and grit his teeth in annoyance while Heffer and Hutchison just exasperatedly rolled their eyes.
"Filburt, for the LOVE of Steve Irwin, would you SHUT THE LIVING HELL UP?!" Rocko yelled furiously at Filburt, grabbing him by the tail and yanking him right down (face-up) onto the dining-room floor while Heffer and Hutchison got up out of their seats and excitedly began chanting "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"
"Oh no, turtle on his back with an angry Australian standing on top of him; angry Australian in question probably has a comically oversized knife of some sort hidden in at least one of his back pockets..." Filburt broke out into a cold sweat and began nervously stammering, struggling desperately to get back up while Rocko angrily stood atop him with his arms authoritatively crossed over his chest, glaring straight down at him with his eyelids furrowed into a very distinctive V shape and tapping his foot impatiently while Filburt nervously twiddled his fingers and audibly gulped in classic cartoon fashion, with a massive urine stain quickly developing in the crotch area of his pants while Heffer and Hutchison audibly giggled like little schoolgirls in response, causing Filburt's face to also turn bright red, only as a result of embarrassment rather than anger.
"AHEM!" Rocko loudly cleared his throat and began speaking in an alarmingly ominous tone.
"Now LISTEN up, fellow, and YOU listen good; me and Heffer have put up with your infuriating self-centered-ness LONG ENOUGH!" Rocko growled lividly at Filburt, kicking him right in the nose and causing him to piggishly kick and squeal in pain, which in turn caused Heffer to clutch his chest and burst out laughing yet again while Hutchison frightenedly covered her mouth with her hands in shock.
"I'LL tell YOU what you 'PROBABLY' have, mister; WAY TOO BLEEDING BIG OF AN EGO, THAT'S WHAT!" Rocko explained angrily to Filburt, backhandedly slapping him across the face and causing him to accidentally spit out his conveniently loose tooth. "We GET it, Filburt; you're happily MARRIED and whatnot! Now, for the love of all that is holy, would you PLEASE just leave us alone for an hour or two?!" Rocko continued, jumping back down off of Filburt's fat belly and grabbing him by the hand so that he could pull the "poor little turtle-dove" back up onto his feet.
"Yeah, I'm sure I WOULD if I only had the luxury of being able to at least somewhat roughly predict exactly WHAT in Harry Hanukkah's good name you two were going to DO in the meantime while I was gone!" Filburt bitterly snarked at Rocko while Heffer poured soy sauce onto his end of the tablecloth and began diligently munching on it, proving Filburt's point even Fuhrer- I mean further while Hutchison concernedly walked over to where Filburt and Rocko were standing and (only mildly fruitfully, mind you) attempted to verbally placate the two of them.
"Now, listen, sweeties, I understand how you feel; you, my precious little turtle-dove!" Hutchison began, reaching in and pinching Filburt's chubby cheeks while Rocko begrudgingly facepalmed himself and shook his head in second-hand shame. "You simply have that overwhelming feeling of euphoria that many of my previous Love-Fever-afflicted patients had back when I actually WAS a professionally licensed doctor, KAY?!" Hutchison very condescendingly and smotheringly explained to Filburt with her trademark horrifically gigantic ear-to-ear grin permanently plastered onto her face as (mostly) always, punctuating the last word of her sentence with a rather freakishly forceful ninety-degree tilting of her rather admittedly mentally questionable head while Heffer set down the tablecloth and let out an obnoxiously loud burp in response, causing everyone else in the room to angrily glare at him for the next few seconds and yell "Excuse YOU!" before finally resuming their conversation.
"Listen, Hutch; I SINCERELY promise that I absolutely NEVER meant to hurt your dear precious Filb-" Rocko began nervously stammering and doing the jazz hands while Hutchison teasingly brandished her hook hand and glared again, once again with that ever-so-creepy slasher smile of hers.
"OH HO HO, don't you worry, I'M not going to do anything to you! Not anything that requires a MEDICAL license, anyway!" Hutchison swung her normal hand down at Rocko like...well, a cat paw and continued gleefully laughing at Rocko's expense while Rocko just once again nervously twiddled his fingers and gulped audibly, having to glare directly up at her due to how short he was. "Trust me, I know your type; you're just another one of those poor jealous VIRGINS I've heard so much about from Filby-Poo!" she continued, sassily placing her hands on her hips.
"W-w-wh-WHAT?!" Rocko stammered in unspeakable shock, the usually invisible blue color of his eyes suddenly becoming sharply visible for emphasis as he stopped dead in his tracks and froze rigidly in place, his fur inexplicably becoming as pale as a vampire's skin while Filburt very humorously knocked him down onto the floor like a bowling pin by lightly pushing against the side of his poor, naive head with his left hand, wrapped his right arm around Hutchison's waist and promptly walked right out the front door of Rocko's house with his rather incongruously lovely new cat wife in tow.
"Rocko, are you okay? Rocko, PLEASE wake up, I'm BEGGING you!" Heffer horrifiedly begged Rocko, running over to him and lovingly squeezing him around the waist with his arms until the poor little wallaby choked, sputtered and coughed up his pride in the form of a ridiculously large hairball that his own native species wasn't even supposed to be able to produce in the first place. "Oh, thank the LORDS you're okay! I honestly thought I was going to have to EAT you! (Not that I would mind...)" Heffer very fakely cried, sobbed and blubbered like a baby while Rocko walked over into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water.
"HUH? What are you doing, Rocko?" Heffer scratched his butt and asked Rocko curiously as Rocko melodramatically came sprinting back into the dining room at full speed and very unceremoniously picked his hairy, dirty pride back up off of the floor.
"Heffer, my master plan simply will not be able to come together if I don't do this, so please bear with me here, will ya?" Rocko very half-assedly explained as he popped his pride into his mouth and used the water he had just brought with him as a washing-down agent with the help of which to quite literally swallow it, shivering disgustedly and sticking out his tongue from how absolutely disgusting it tasted in the process.
"I don't get it." Heffer said flatly, shrugging his shoulders as Rocko reluctantly swallowed his pride even further and continued so that he could explain his currently borderline-nonexistent plan to him.
"Alright, Heffer; since nothing else's working, what do you say we take the ridiculously excessive loan that Filburt just transferred into my debit card just to rub his success in life into our inferior peasant faces all the more thoroughly and try heading over to the local Con-Glom-O building to see if their laboratory has anything that could be of extremely suspiciously plot-convenient use to us readily available for purchase? Shall we, my dear friend?" Rocko asked Heffer eagerly, to which the bloated imbecile immediately nodded in approval without even having paid the slightest bit of attention to what Rocko had just said.
"Well then, I guess we're off to set right what went wrong in our relationship with Filburt." Rocko sighed dejectedly, waving goodbye to his currently very tightly cage-confined pet dog, Spunky, as he very illogically stuffed his wallet and keys into his shirt and led Heffer straight out the front door and into his nice, big and sparkly new Corvette (that Filburt had also lent him) with him.
"Um, Rocko? Pardon my asking, but HOW exactly do you have such a stupidly fancy new car all of a sudden?" Heffer asked Rocko confusedly as he very painfully squeezed his way into the passenger seat of the car while Rocko slid snugly into the driver seat and opened the car's convertible roof so that the fat cow's ridiculously oversized head would be able to fit, effectively rendering the aforementioned struggle of his completely pointless as a result.
"Simple, Heffer; our so-called FRIEND Filburt is a straight-up textbook-definition Jew and is very, VERY insufferably proud of it." Rocko explained, shooting a soul-piercing death glare over at Filburt while the big fat smart-aleck glanced over at him from his very OWN fancy-pants convertible Corvette and blew an unspeakably snide raspberry at him, prompting Hutchison to once again backhand-slap him across his rather unflatteringly bespectacled face and exclaim "BAD TURTLE! BAD TURTLE!" as the two of them took right off back to Filburt's new house that he had just recently bought after converting merely a small fraction of the positively gargantuan amount of money that he had secretly been keeping stashed away in the more-than-slightly-weirdly existent basement of his former trailer home (the rest of which had naturally been transferred into his ATM savings account) into credit, laughing and kissing each other all the way.
"Man, what a rich son of a Bighead!" Heffer laughed, prompting Mr. Edward Bighead to shoot yet another extremely evil glare at both him and Rocko alike from the OTHER incredibly annoying yard right next to theirs as he dutifully watered his ever-so-slowly regrowing salmon bushes and then grumpily, crotchetily shambled his way into his own car and somewhat (scratch that, VERY) reluctantly drove off to work WITH his latest customers.
"You can DEFINITELY say that again..." Rocko sighed and shrugged dejectedly as he and Heffer "excitedly" drove their way over to the local Con-Glom-O headquarters with the incredibly slow and senile driver that Mr. Bighead had already become in the mere Middle Ages of his life in tow; needless to say, quite a lot of frustrated cursing and horn-honking on the local traffic's part ensued.
MEANWHILE, ON FILBURT'S BACKYARD PATIO, WHILE ROCKO AND COMPANY WERE BUSY SORTING THEIR WAY THROUGH THE LOCAL TRAFFIC JAMS...
"So tell me, Filburt; what exactly DO you value most in life besides money and sex?" Hutchison sat relaxedly in her designated metal chair and crossed her smooth and slender bare legs atop the patio table while Filburt lovingly massaged her feet and reapplied the missing bits of rosy-red nail polish onto her dainty little toenails, developing a rather noticeable protrusion in the crotch area of his pants in the process.
"Mastur- err, I mean, YOU of course! That, and also safety, kosher sausages, responsible usage of the Internet (snickers), Hanukkah celebration, counting my coins every night before bed, always remembering to wear my gla(i)sses, becoming famous like Woody Allen (snickers again), crying every single time I watch Schindler's List, pretending not to be gay...you know, basic American stuff." Filburt explained sarcastically, shooting yet another piercing glare at the audience as he lovingly cradled Hutchison in his arms, stroked her gorgeous hair and teasingly fondled her ever-so-scantily-clad breasts and privates for added...AHEM..."romantic" effect.
"I'll tell you what I value most in life: being able to swim NAKED with you once we get the swimming pool installed back here! KAY?!" Hutchison snickered merrily, causing Filburt to blush intensely and begin repeatedly stammering "I'm nauseous, I'm nauseous, I'm nauseous" while Hutchison smooched him warmly on the cheek.
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE CON-GLOM-O HEADQUARTERS...
"Hmm...awfully nice DAY we're having, isn't it?" Rocko asked Heffer in an astonishingly deadpan manner as the two of them got out of the former's car and eagerly began walking their way across the parking lot to the Con-Glom-O building while Mr. Bighead grumblingly, hatefully followed suit while a whole multitude of people whose cars had just crashed into each other and formed a great big flaming pile of scrap metal on a nearby sidewalk not terribly far behind him due to his unbearable driving ineptitude furiously shook their fists and yelled at him in the process.
"Oh, SHUT YOUR BLASTED HONKERS, YOU MISERABLE GUTTER TRASH IN THE RANCID, PUTRID, FESTERING SEPTIC TANK OF SOCIETY, WILL YOU?!" Ed Bighead literally screamed his head off at his newly acquired verbal assailants, thoroughly silencing them and causing them to frantically run AWAY screaming as he hunchbackedly reached down and grabbed his disembodied head off of the ground and screwed it tightly back on, then proceeded to audibly simmeringly storm his way directly into the building and through its main entrance lobby into his executive office.
"Geez, what do you think is wrong with him NOW?" Heffer asked Rocko frightenedly as the two also made their way through the main lobby into Mr. Bighead's presentation room.
"Oh, he's just a slimy nasty prick, don't mind him." Rocko sighed as he and Heffer finally reached their destination, where, after a rather brief elevator-music intermission, Mr. Bighead's massive wall-projected face appeared before them in classic Wizard Of Oz style and begun bellowing at them.
"WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?!" Mr. Bighead yelled ridiculously loudly at his long-time adversaries, coughing up all manner of disgusting snotty phlegm all over the both of them for added effect as he very deja-vu-inducingly broke the fourth wall of his own presentation and reached out with his right arm so that he could grab a particularly insubordinate generic lizard worker of his that just so happened to be frantically crawling around on the walls and ceiling of the room like Spider-Man and pop the poor thing's entire body right into his mouth...but not before stripping literally ALL of said poor thing's clothes off right in front of Rocko's and Heffer's disbelieving eyes, of course!
"Alright, what'd we miss?" Rocko and Heffer sarcastically asked Mr. Bighead as they both quite literally unzipped their eyes back open and very, VERY nervously and helplessly faced him.
"HMPH...nothing much, in all honesty. Come on, follow me; I already know very well what you miserable miscreants are looking for. You're looking for some kind of ridiculously plot-convenient high-tech gadget that'll allow you to break the ICE, so to speak, between the disgustingly deplorable lot of you and your egregiously egomaniacal friend Filburt, aren't you?" Mr. Bighead sighed depressedly, suddenly having a rather reluctant change of his wrinkly, shriveled-up, Grinchy old heart (but ONLY because it was what the immediate situation demanded, mind you) as he finally brought his real self into the room and led Rocko and Heffer through the back door into his privately owned Con-Glom-O "as seen on TV" product laboratory, in which all manner of absolutely ridiculous and useless things were being tested, much to Rocko's and Heffer's dismay but also VERY much to Mr. Bighead's immensely sadistic delight.
"Take a LOVELY gander at all of our MAGNIFICENTLY fine wares, unenlightened cretinous CHEWING-GUM STAINS ON THE SOLES OF THE EARTH'S METAPHORICAL SHOES!" Mr. Bighead UNBELIEVABLY hammily boasted to Rocko and Heffer as the three of them dutifully marched in single file through his ever-so-terrifying mechanical shop of horrors.
"We've got BUNGEE-JUMPING JOCK STRAPS! NINJA LAWN GNOMES! NUCLEAR TOASTERS! LITERAL WASP-HIVE HAIRDOS! SLAP-CHOPS BUT WITH A GREAT BIG RAZOR-SHARP CONCEALED METAL SPIKE BUILT FACE-UP INTO EACH OF THEIR PUMPING MECHANISMS! BUILT-IN CIRCUMCISERS FOR HOUSEHOLD TOILETS! THE CLASSIC BOARD GAME 'OPERATION' BUT WITH LETHALLY ELECTRIFIED RAILS!" Mr. Bighead gleefully listed off just a FEW notable examples of just how ungodly horrific his products really, truly were, gesturing triumphantly at all of the unspeakable testing carnage that was currently happening around him.
(Meanwhile, on the background radio, the closing lyrical paragraph of alternate-universe Radiohead's two-years-earlier-released Paranoid Android was very fittingly playing just to even further emphasize the absolute horror of what was happening around our...ahem...anti-heroes. "The crackle of pigskin; the dust and the screaming; the yuppies networking" indeed.)
"I must not fear; fear is the mind-killer; fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I shall let it pass through me; I shall let the fear pass right through me, and then only I shall remain..." Rocko meditatively thought to himself, breaking out into an audibly trembling cold sweat and already beginning to frantically nibble away at his fingernails while Heffer just laughed like an idiot.
FINALLY, the three of them reached the back door of the laboratory and entered its top-secret back room, where Mr. Bighead's INCREDIBLY plot-convenient new invention, the Grink Ray (in laymen's terms, Grow/Shrink Ray) could immediately be seen encased in a wondrously shiny glass case atop an incredibly ornate golden pedestal studded with various types of colored jewels.
"Tell you what, you pathetic witless WHIPPER-SNAPPERS; seeing as how this thoroughly disposable-lizard-clone-tested new invention of mine still hasn't quite reached the phase of being talked about on the local news yet, meaning that me and my fellow workers are literally the only people confirmed to know about its existence at the moment, I've decided to turn over a new lily pad for the time being and allow you to purchase this ever-so-wondrously majestic beauty of scientific technological engineering...all for only ten grand! What say you to THAT wonderfully generous offer, hmm?" Mr. Bighead walked over to the display case and VERY excitedly and animatedly explained to Rocko and Heffer, practically TAP-DANCING in great big circles around said case while doing so.
"Oh, DEAR...hold on a second, there's something I need to take care of real quick..." Rocko stammered somewhat embarrassedly and extremely self-disgustedly at the mere thought of what he was now planning to do, briefly placing his hand over his mouth and gagging repulsedly as he swallowed his pride even further with a great big mighty gulp for the ages.
"Uh...what's the matter, Rocko?" Heffer asked Rocko confusedly, cocking a nonexistent eyebrow at him.
"Oh, trust me, Heffer, you REALLY don't want to know...ooh, I'm not feeling so good...okay, everybody, wait here, I've got some rather URGENT bathroom business to take care of I do say so myself...HURK...HURGH...OOGH!" Rocko dizzily, rather noticeably green-facedly covered his mouth and began painfully retching as he made only the maddest of dashes to the nearest employee restroom and began audibly puking what sounded like at least half of his guts out into the nearest municipal toilet. "THE PANIC, THE VOMIT" indeed.
"Feeling better now, Rocko?" Heffer asked Rocko worriedly as he finally came drowsily stumbling back into the Grink Ray display room, wiping his mouth off with his left hand while carrying a nice big stack of exactly ten just-recently ATM-debit-converted thousand-dollar bills in his right, causing Mr. Bighead's eyeballs to suddenly swell to massive size and cartoonishly bulge right out of his head in extreme shock at how surprisingly easy of access his ever-so-bitterly hated arch-nemesis now had to that kind of money.
"Sure am; well, I mean, except for my pride now being COMPLETELY gone altogether, but believe me, I wouldn't have it ANY other way for what I'm currently planning for me and you to do tonight!" Rocko very ominously explained to Heffer, glancing nervously to the left and right of himself while Mr. Bighead squatted on the floor like a dog and began sticking out his tongue and panting and drooling at the mere sight of how much money Rocko was holding in his hand.
"So, tell me, Rocko; what exactly IS this supposedly unspeakably vile thing that you want us to do tonight again? I don't think I caught it the first time you told me..." Heffer asked Rocko suspiciously, leaning toward him so that the increasingly horny little guy could whisper into his ear.
"Psst psst psst...psst psst...psst..." Rocko stood up on his tiptoes and whispered VERY nervously into Heffer's ear, glancing EXTREMELY frantically around himself to make sure that nobody was currently attempting to eavesdrop on the two of them; needless to say, his plan was so astonishingly gross and kinky that it actually caused Heffer himself to tilt his head just like Hutchison did.
"What if she's camera shy, though?" Heffer asked Rocko embarrassingly loudly.
"SHH!" Rocko hissed angrily, covering Heffer's mouth forcefully with his free hand as he took one last incredibly paranoid glance around himself before finally walking up to the oh-so-pathetically drooling and barking Mr. Bighead and handing him the ten thousand dollars' worth of money that he was holding, causing him to literally pass out from sheer over-excitement while Rocko and Heffer eagerly seized the opportunity to remove the now-security-disabled glass case from the Grink Ray, snatch it right off of its pedestal and then frantically bolt right out of the building like dirty little thieves before Mr. Bighead could be given the opportunity to change his mind about his admittedly rather bold (and disastrous, as you will most definitely learn soon enough) offer.
"Ambition makes you look pretty ugly; kicking, squealing, Gucci little PIGGY" indeed.