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Last Supper Club

LAST SUPPER CLUB – CAMPBELL’S GLASS ONION SOUP


FADE IN:


EXT. SPACE – NIGHT


Rick’s Spaceship-Car-thing Zooms past the Moon – the dark side a thriving and fully developed alien civilization – the Earth in the BG, kinda brownish.


INT. RICK’S CAR - The Smith family, dressed to the nines, confer.


JERRY

I don’t know about you

guys but it seems showing

up late to such a fancy

restaurant might not go

over too well.


RICK

Well, if they were that

concerned about punctuality

they would have set up in a

strip mall in one of the

four million human population

centers on Earth and not on

some “Island” 50 million

miles from the nearest oxygen.


BETH

Well, parking shouldn’t be

a problem.


EXT. ONION ISLAND – CONTINUOUS:


Rick’s car comes to a skidding stop at a line of spaceships and such lined up to get into the prestigious venue’s parking lot, the ginormous Glass Dome surrounding Onion Island glistening in the distance, strange tentacled things swimming in its waters.


RICK

Not doing this again.


Glowering at the hot dog vendor floating beside the line, Rick produces his Portal Gun, creates a Portal, and they fly in.


INT. ONION ISLAND GLASS DOME


A Portal opens beside a huge Spaceship with the unfortunate name Flytanic, and Rick’s car pulls through and parks. The family approach ELSA WONG (maitre'd/extra dimensional therapist).


WONG

(skeptical)

Smith family, seating

for four.

SUMMER

I couldn’t pass up a meal

like this.

WONG

Was the invitation for

four not precise enough?


INSERT INVITE: “Seating for four – not Summer!”


RICK

We figured at a million

bucks a head you could

probably scrape up another

chair.

WONG

The guest list was assembled

to accommodate individual

palettes and advance

specific plot points.


MORTY

Well, I hope it includes

some dialogue for me or

I’m gonna take an Uber to

Boobworld. Finally.


WONG

(to Morty)

Your character is entirely

fleshed out. Summer risks

becoming a literary afterthought.

(to Summer)

How does that make you feel?


SUMMER

Boobworld’s sounding

pretty good.


JERRY

That would solve seating

Summer significantly.


RICK

Nice alliterating. Why we

don’t use guest writers.


BETH

So, Ms. Wong, you going to

seat us or are we hitting

that Wendy’s on Jupiter?


JERRY

Well, actually…


WONG

Fine. Seating for five.

Walk this way.


As she walks toward the ridiculous restaurant, it is revealed her legs are springs, and as she boings toward the door, she shrinks out of sight. The Family looks at each other askance.


RICK

Violating the law of

diminishing returns.


RAMADA DOOR: The door, much like the cover of the Necronomicon, opens inward, Wong admitting them while making notes on her pad.


CLOSE ON FAMILY as they stare in amazement and disgust at the room before them.


TITLES:


INT. RAMADA RESTAURANT


Back on less ridiculous legs, Wong seats them at the back and center of the room, three tables to their left, three to their right, and beyond, the kitchen in its bustling glory. The others enjoy elegant chairs, but Summer is seated on an old apple box.


At the table to their immediate left sit MARGE & HOMER SIMPSON with BART & LISA. The table to the SIMPSONS’ left, seats HANK & PEGGY HILL flanked by BOBBY & LUANNE. At the table to their left, against the wall sits a lone MAN obscured by animation.

To the Smith’s right sit PETER & LOIS GRIFFIN flanked by MEG, CHRIS & STEWIE, while to the Griffin’s right sit Futurama’s FRY & LEELA, to whose right sit KYLE, CARTMAN, STAN, & KENNY. There is acknowledgement as they enter and take their seats.


HOMER

(to Marge)

Hey, that’s the pickle guy.


PETER

I’m a pickle. Ha ha.


RICK

Yeah, great. Good to see ya.


JERRY

Who put together this guest

list, Nick at Night?


MORTY

They all know you, Rick.


RICK

That’s wonderful. I’ve bested

gods with the sheer force of my

unassailable genius. Nice being

recognized as the Pickle Guy.


WONG

Might the benefits you derived

disdaining your family’s

legitimate request for neutral

intervention be diminished by

being recognized by your peers

as “the Pickle Guy”?


RICK

Let me help you unpack that.

First off, they’re not my

peers, as gods have no peer,

the fact you’re talking about

my absurdly brilliant

transmogrification not only

into a pickle - a feat not

replicated or even attempted

by other, lesser scientific

minds-


MORTY

Understandably.


RICK

(not losing a beat)

-but from a pickle back to

a fully functioning and

remarkably brilliant man

is so easily dismissed.

You are at best a recurring

character, at first just the

impetus for me to gherkinize

myself, subsequently a walk-on

to let the writers work out

personal issues. Now look at

you, hostess in a space ball

where everybody breathes

recycled cartoon flatulence.


PETER

Heh heh, I’m a pickle.


An ear-shattering CLAP draws everyone’s attention to the kitchen where galactic culinary sensation EVILYNN LE’ NEE – 34, blonde, dark glasses, distinctively animated – addresses the assembly.


EVILYNN

So many shades of white.

(eyeing Summer)

Elsa, I feel we can

provide better seating,

even for our unintended

guests. If you would be

so kind.


Wong begrudgingly swaps Summer’s old apple box for a stage apple box. Evilynn’s disdainful expression inspires her to add a ¼-apple footrest, which puts everybody at ease. Well, but Summer.


EVILYNN

Thank you. And welcome to

Rama-da, my Cuisinetarium

in the stars.


HOMER

Dat like Ramada Inn?


HANK

He’ll be doing this all

night.


CARTMAN

More like Ramada Out.


EVILYNN

If I may continue without

further interruption.

STEWIE

Please.


Wong shoots Stewie with a Downsizer ray gun, reducing him to two inches tall, and then sticks him under a glass with an ashtray on top, to polite applause. Everybody looks back to Evilynn.


EVILYNN

You have been selected

to share an unusual and

tantalizing repast created

and prepared specifically

for each of you based upon

the precise nuance of your

individual palettes.

(to Summer)

You can have Stewie’s.

Our appetizer course is

Pom fritte Promenade, our

rightfully vaunted French

fry charcuterie platter

with straight cut, crinkle,

curly fries, and tater tots

lightly dusted with irony

and cayenne, with raunch,

honey mustard, barbecue,

teriyaki, and Heinze dipping

sauces. Bon appetite!


Clapping her hands, the pleased diners are swarmed with familiar-looking waitstaff carrying platters of delicious unhealthiness and cheesy little fast-food takeout dips. DAPHNE and VELMA brusquely drop French fry platters on the Smith table.


RICK

Well, this is elegant.


MORTY

What’s with all the

cartoon characters?


BETH

It’s like a mashup

smashing into a bunch

of other mashups.


JERRY

A Smashup.


RICK

It was supposed to be all

us from other dimensions,

then Mr. Wake-n-Bake got

all hot for traipsing over

beloved network trademarks.


GEORGE JETSON in a cowboy hat steps up to the Griffin table and offers them a platter of assorted take-out French fries.


GEORGE

Evenin’ folks.


PETER

Aren’t you George Jetson?


GEORGE

(looking around nervously)

Stetson, George Stetson.

(sotto voce)

Hanna Barbera wanted too

much to sign off.

(regular voice)

You know my wife, Jane?


JANE JETSON smiles up, hatted in fringy leather bondage gear.

The Smith family watches this eye-rollingly.


JANE

Howdy pardners. Want some

bar be que sauce with

those yummy fries?


LOIS

Jane Jet-


GEORGE

(cutting her off)

Calamity. Jane Calamity.


MEG

Wouldn’t being his wife

make you Jane Stetson?


JANE

Calamity’s my maiden name.


LOIS

(to Peter)

Ah, Jewish.


RICK

This place is a licensing

nightmare.


MORTY

Bet the animators aren’t

too happy about it.


CUT TO: Animators gleefully stomping the shit out of the writer.


RAMADA:


BENDER pushes a horribly abused drink cart to Fry and Leela’s table. The couple are surprised.


FRY

Bender?


LEELA

What are you doing here?


BENDER

Syndication residuals can’t

keep up with my addictions.


Bender BELCHES which Rick responds to BELCHINGLY, followed by Homer and Peter. There is an interlude of subtitled BELCHING.


Morty is beckoned.

BUGS BUNNY

Eh, what’s yer poison, doc?


MORTY

Poison?


BUGS BUNNY

Yeah, we got Mountain Doo,

Mr. Pimp, Doctor Pooper. Oh,

and Fresca.


RICK

Not kidding about poison.


MORTY

So, uh, what are you?


BUGS BUNNY

Ain’t it ob, silly? I’m

your sodammelier.


MEG

(steps over to Rick)

Rick Sanchez, first-time

sycophant, longtime fan.

Forgive me, but I wonder

as to your drinking. You

seem like an intellect

more attuned to LSD,

shrooms, molly. Heady stuff.


RICK

(swilling booze)

The average man takes

entheogens to try to

commune with God. What

could be more natural

than God consuming mind-

numbing sedatives when

He has to commune with

the average man? Buuuurp.


PETER

So lemme get this straight-

you think you’re a god?


Rick rolls his eyes, silently produces his Portal Gun, opens a portal, disappears into it to the amazement of no one, then taps on Peter’s shoulder from behind.


RICK

A man do that?


PETER

Sure, if he had dat

gun-thing.


Sighing, Rick hands it to Peter, who is impressed. He fires it, but instead of creating a portal, it reduces him to ash. Rick retrieves his gun and returns to his seat, grabbing his drink.


RICK

Any questions?


LOIS

Peter!


CHRIS

(shocked)

You killed him!


RICK

He killed himself. Trying

to be God. Not the first,

won’t be the last. Hopefully

the last tonight. Could you

slang me some-a that teriyaki?


Evilynn CLAPS her hands and the highly animated waitstaff retreats while everyone else returns to their seats.


EVILYNN

Our second course is a

little more sophisticated-

our exclusive coq au nug,

delicately rendered random

sections of chicken, pureed

into a dense roux, then

formed into phallic shapes,

lightly breaded, then deeply

fried in oil du canola.

Served with the same sauces

so keep your containers.


As her animated minions deliver platters of chicken nuggets the Chef continues her interminable blathering.


EVILYNN

As it is what we have

fed the public for decades,

tonight we dine on flavor

with no taste, bulk without

substance, calories devoid

of nutrition, beverage

that slakes no thirst, and

end with humble pie.


RICK

(gesturing with nug)

Buttressing your point, a

million bucks a pop for

what amounts to nothing

more than plated fast food

seems a little pricey, even

at this plagiary fest.


LISA SIMPSON – she looks askance as SHAGGY offers her some Malk.

EVILYNN

One would hope a genius

self-proclaimed such as

yourself would realize not

only that attending such a

gathering of wholly-owned

intellectual properties is

worth more than that in

bragging rights alone, but

that serving anyone but

about three people in this

room anything more complex

than a double cheeseburger

would be an exercise in

culinary futility.


RICK

Point taken.

(dipping nugget)

These are pretty tasty.


Clapping her hands, Evilynn ushers in hindwaiter JESSICA RABBIT, who slinks a covered platter over to the lone fellow against the wall. The smoke which conceals his identity is slowly erased.


EVILYNN

Our main course is a

Rama-da exclusive and

will be served to our

esteemed benefactor,

and three-dimensional

godhead, Rupert Murdoch.


As the last of the smoke is erased, revealing MURDOCH, Jessica bends low, her cleavage nearly bouncing off the table, and sets down the platter. MURDOCH clutches at her breasts but she thwarts him by removing the cover, revealing…


EVILYNN

Fricassee of Fox. Flambe’.


MURDOCH

Crikey.


As Murdoch reacts in terror and revulsion, the little fox still alive and looking at him cutely, the vile platter bursts into flame, engulfing Murdoch, Jessica stepping back duly impressed.


JESSICA

Maybe a tad too much brandy.


RICK

At last, something on the

menu I like.


DAFFY DUCK pummels Flaming Murdoch with a fire extinguisher.


DAFFY

You’re despicable.


BOB IGER, dressed as a storm trooper, ushers similarly dressed MICKY MOUSE, DONALD DUCK, and GOOFY, in and they beat Murdoch out with shovels, shoot him, and shovel him from the room.


EVILYNN

While this removes but

a single unspeakable evil

from our world, we’re still

faced with our own roles.

HOMER

Rolls?


EVILYNN

Ah, King Homer, I will

get to you in time, but

first we must address

your pretenders. Southpark,

the R-rated Simpsons with

cheaply animated obnoxious

kids and an ambivalent

moral to each story. Little

Kenny, how well I know your

plight. A voice rendered

unintelligible, saving Trey

and Matt from having to

come up with dialogue for

a main character. Economical.

Fry and Leela, Matt and

David’s three eyes forward

leading us to Idiocracy.


FRY

We just got picked up.


LEELA

About time.


FRY

And to be honest, these

nuggets are kinda dry.


Wong scowls at Fry, fingering the Downsizer and indicating his crotch. He dips a nugget in raunch, Leela mad dogging her.


EVILYNN

Family Guy. Tried so

hard to be The Simpsons

but couldn’t muster the

sheer writing majesty.

Of course, Fox saw no

problem promoting

competing idiocies. Nor

have they ever.


At their table, Stewie has expired from lack of oxygen and Peter’s ashes have been placed on his chair and given a bib.


EVILYNN

(to Hill table)

And Mike’s Hail Mary pass

when Bevis and Butthead

ran its snickering insipid

course to the ground.


Evilynn makes her way toward the Simpson’s table.


EVILYNN

Pulled thirteen seasons out

of a single joke.

(to Simpsons)

But the grandaddy of them

all, setting the course for

all to come, even live action,

this most dysfunctional of

families: The Simpsons.


RICK

(standing)

Excuse me. You miss the

credits? This is the Rick

and Morty Show.


MORTY

With a lot less Morty than

I’m personally comfortable

with.


EVILYNN

Ah, Back to the Futurama.

Rated X programming on a

kid’s network. With totally

predictable real life

blowback. I’m doing exposition,

deal with it.


RICK

It’s just not interesting.

We tend to be more action-

based. And where’s the

absurdity? This is some

personal meta-vendetta that

will ultimately only end up

making attorneys a bunch

of money debating the

limitations of Fair Use.


JERRY

And, as to dysfunctional,

every one of my immediate

family are, well, mass

murderers. Rick has killed

millions.


RICK

Billions. Literally.


JERRY

(proud)

Morty’s killed millions

himself.


MORTY

And I still haven’t even

gotten laid. Yet.


BETH

How American is that? You

can kill in your teens but

save sex for marriage.


Rick opens a Portal and a pizza delivery guy steps through hands him a pizza and then leaves after Rick pays.


EVILYNN

Excuse me, I’m trying

to get to the big reveal

here.


Wong menaces the room with the Downsizer and everybody calms themselves, sits down, and munches on their nuggets.


EVILYNN

I have been on television

for thirty-four years.

Thirty-four. I have spoken

more here tonight-


CARTMAN

That’s for sure.


Wong shrinks him but he runs off, squealing and she and some securitoons pursue the little asshole with hilarious results.


EVILYNN

-in sixteen minutes of run-

time than I have in the entire

time I’ve been entertaining

the world. Thirty-four-

(kitchen crash covers curse)

-years and not a one of you

(focusing on Marge & Homer)

even know who I am.


Marge looks at her and realizes who it is.


MARGE

Maggie?


EVILYNN

(annoyed)

Alright. One.


Removing her scarf and dark glasses, she is revealed as 34-year-old Maggie Simpson. There are gasps from writers everywhere.


EVILYNN

I would have expected

you of all people to

recognize the very names

Groening had you give me.


HOMER

Groaning?


BART

Jeeze, Dad. Keep up.


LISA

So little reverence for

the creator.


MARGE

Margaret Evelyne Lenny

Simpson.


EVILYNN

Tonight, the endless

regurgitation ends.


STAN

(puking)

Gross.


CARTMAN

(under glass)

Uh, guys. If you’re not

gonna get me outa this,

could you slide one of

those nuggs under here?


Kyle rolls his eyes and slides under a nugget.


KYLE

Here you go, Eric.


CARTMAN

Uh, would it kill you to

give me some musturd sauce?


EVILYNN

Thirty-four years on TV

and all I’m known for are

sucking sounds and falling

face first to the floor.


SUMMER

What was the point of

excluding me?


EVILYNN

I was going to pitch a

buddy project with you

and me to Adult Swim.

But you had to show up.


SUMMER

A buddy show?


EVILYNN

Yes. “Summer’s Eve.” Maybe

a little lesbo. But that

stuff plays.


SUMMER

Well, let’s not be too

hasty. Spin-offs of popular

series do bank. I think

we’d work well together.

RICK

Great. Give her top

billing and she dumps

us in the mulcher.


JERRY

The Sum Sum of all fears.


EVILYNN

Now for your just-desserts

course. As we cannot be

killed, the only way we can

be stopped is to cancel us.


The room looks on in horror. Such language.


EVILYNN

(continuous)

And as that is the new

popular way to hurl

excrement at each other,

how better than to reveal

us as we really are, not

the slick ageless versions

the world has come to know

and love, the beloved

characters as they exist

beyond animation. Within

animation. Entirely

animated. I offer for your

culinary delight, the

De-Animator!


The DE-ANIMATOR (Jeffrey Combs) steps from the kitchen, a Ghost Bustery thing on his back, and fires at the Southpark table.


The de-animation beam reveals them as their actual age – 45ish and hideously grim. Cartman also returns to full size, but his head is too soft to break the glass and gets smooshed out nicely as his ginormous body expands blobulently on the table.


DE-ANIMATOR

See them as they really

are. Mid-fortyish.


STAN-MAN

Oh my God. They killed

Kenny!


KENNY-MAN

No, actually I’m fine,

thanks.


KYLE-MAN

You bastards!


DE-ANIMATOR

Bwah ha ha ha ha!!!!


He fires his revealing beam at the Griffins, aging them twenty-four years, Dead Stewie bursting his glass and splaying on the table full sized, and shredded.


MEG

This place is worse than

Chili’s.


CHRIS

The nuggets were good, and

up to killing Dad and

shrinking Stewie, the

service was excellent.


LOIS

Well, I’m not going higher

than two stars on Yelp.

Killing your father and

little brother doesn’t make

me want to come back. Much.


Summer approaches Evilynn as the De-Animator ages the Hill family twenty-five-years to their grave dismay.


SUMMER

Ten years puts me at

twenty-seven, the perfect

age for a mashup spin-off.

Don’t think you want to

hard-pass on this, Eve.

Think of the franchise

rights. Think of the

merchandising.


PEGGY

We’re not even on the air

anymore. You’re messin’

with our retirement.


Wong stands between Summer and Evilynn, gripping the Downsizer.


WONG

Our little party crasher

Sum Sum, whose hole isn’t

up to the sum of some of

her part parts.


RICK

(pained)

Ohhhhhhh, spec scripts.

Pretty soon the whole

process is tainted and we

end up like those losers.

(indicating Hills)


LUANNE

Eat spit Pickleman!


BOBBY

Bite me, Dill Dough.


EVILYNN

Think that ship has sailed,

dear Summer. Would have been

a great show. Lift some of

the remaining talent from

this one. Alas.


MORTY

Fully fleshed out my butt.

(on cellphone)

Oh, hi, can I get an Uber

to Boobworld?


Summer knocks the Downsizer from Wong’s hand and shouts to Rick.


SUMMER

I’ll handle her. Get

that Simpson skank.


WONG

Handle me? Is it

possible that this

kind of dismissiveness

is emblematic of the

entire Smith/Sanchez

oeuvre which has led to

so much heartbreak and

ruination across so many

dimensions and streaming

platforms?


Summer smashes her with a huge frying pan.


SUMMER

Analyze this!


Wong and Summer fight brutally with extreme violence and much cartoon collateral damage. After conferring with Beth and Jerry, Rick disappears into a portal, reappearing behind the De-Animator. Tapping him on the shoulder, the De-Animator stops deanimating and turns to face Rick, who points to a Portal opened below him which he disappears into.


RICK

You were a poorly

conceived and weakly

executed foil at best.

Enjoy deanimating The

Sound of Music.


MORTY

(checking watch)

Ahh, Rick. Not that

timeless classic.


Beth and Jerry face off with Evilynn, Marge stepping up.


BETH

I’m sorry but it kind

of feels that Summer’s

character is the only

one who wasn’t a literary

afterthought.


EVILYNN

Excuse me?


JERRY

I’m sure she means among

regulars. Right honey?


MARGE

Maggie…


HOMER

Wait. That’s Maggie?


A cartoonish melee ensues ending with a STILL SHOT of the kitchen counter ala the Last Supper, Rick at the center and twelve of the best damned cartoon characters ever emulating Da Vinci’s classic but with extreme cartoon violence.


PULL BACK FROM LAST SUPPER PHOTO ON MORTY’S PHONE TO:


INT. RICK’S SPACESHIP-CAR-THING


The Family flies away from the Glass Onion Dome which Rick left with a huge hole in it, sucking everything into space behind them, a plume of wanton screaming destruction in their wake. Summer looks back, horrified. Jerry enjoys a to-go container.


RICK

They’ll be fine.


JERRY

With a little bit of

sauce, these aren’t

half-bad.


RICK

No Jerry, they’re all bad.


MORTY

So, home I guess?


RICK

Are you nuts? I got us

suites at the Boobworld

Raddison. Lemme see that pic.


STILL SHOT – LAST SUPPER MELEE


END TITLES:


PULL-BACK REVEALING RICK’S BEDROOM


Rick sits up naked in bed, the picture framed on his nightstand.


RICK

What a disturbing dream

sequence.


JESSICA RABBIT uncovers herself, fully unclad, and hands Rick a nice frosty beer. He shakes his head and drinks. She rubs his shoulders sensuously.


JESSICA

You poor, poor thing…


MORTY (OS)

(sotto voce)

I’m the god damned literary

afterthought and it’s my

fucking show.


FIN



Copyright 2023 Arturo Hammer









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