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I meant Josh's corpse, of course. Fare thee well, Dear Josh.
We barely knew thee. But we knew enough to make some pretty sharp judgments about thee. This episode was written in front of a live studio audience. Several days later. It is a rainy, gloomy day somewhere on Long Island. A motley assortment of figures are gathered in the gloom, huddled together against the harsh elements. Upon closer look we see an oaken casket, and a hastily dug grave beside it, underneath an enormous styrofoam statue of some Greek god with a small, uncircumsized penis. A wreath of roses adorns a picture of the late Josh Burbank. In the picture he is depicted as a great Jedi Knight in a battle stance, wielding a long green light sabre.The sound of a man’s chilling rendition of Barry Manilow's I Write the Songs can be heard from above. There, on yonder hill, stands Lots42, dressed all in black. Simon Cowel, who just happens to be in attendance, gives an approving nod.The assorted throng of somber souls gathered around him seem to agree. The throng consists of some of the regulars; Lord Fred, Help, Scott Chen, Scott Childers, Agent Smith, Sara and Jasper Hewitt, a purple gorilla with a toaster head, some monkeys. But there are many others as well. Indeed, many more than one would have expected. It seems tragic that so many distant friends should rally for such an occasion as this. Why couldn’t they have been there for Josh before he died? Ah well. Such is the nature of things. The rain falls silently.“Dearly beloved,” the half-drunk minister says. “Dearly unbeloved. And let's be frank, there's a lot of mutual hatred among the lot of us." There is a chorus of murmured agreement from the crowd.The minister goes on, “Anyway. Let's move on, I've got another gig to get to. In Josh's Will he expressed a desire for his entire funeral to be recited in Klingon. Ha! What an idiot. What's more, I can actually speak Klingon. But I'm not going to do it. Out of pure spite.” No one is quite sure what that’s supposed to mean, but you let it slide. Several others look confused as well. Someone makes a rude comment.“Josh Burbank was a man (though just barely) –that we can all agree upon,” the minister continues, undaunted. “A man who had many demons. All he ever wanted was a sense of belonging and random sex with strange women in seedy motels. Utterly alone, he spent his days wandering about, searching for the truth, watching stupid cartoons and, more importantly, tormenting Scott. It probably would have been easier if his parents hadn't been unemployed crack smoking alcoholics. Neither of which have shown up today. Maybe this is for the best. I knew Josh like I know anybody –which is to say I hardly knew him. Yet, he was like a brother to me, inasmuch as I don’t much care for my brother. Still, he did do some good, didn’t he? Maybe not. Would anyone care to make a few words on behalf of the departed, even though he was fairly retarded?”
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8/6/2013 5:09:24 PM
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