[ejenk21]

Synopis: Whatever happened to---

Author's Notes: This is a parody. There is no intent to profit or to injure reputation.



Partial transcript of The Glenda Golden Show, Wednesday, June 16, 1999 - adapted for the visually challenged by the Milton Institute.


Glenda: And now folks, something you've been waiting for! It's been just about fifty years since you fell in love with Snow-White on the big screen. Maybe, after you grew up, you wondered what happened afterward. How many children did she have with the prince? Did that storybook romance work out as advertised, or was she really bulimic? Did the Queen actually die? If not, was she executed? Banished? Put in rehab? And what happened to the dwarves? Well, now you can find out. Because, we have here the surviving five dwarves. They've come all the way from Europe to be here today. Please welcome Doc, Sleepy, Dopey, Bashful, and Sneezy!


The dwarves entered, but only one looked as might be remembered: Bashful still wore the shapeless trousers and shirt that were the work and home outfit of a mining dwarf. Doc wore a blue velveteen jogging suit; Dopey had on Dockers and a net top over heavy chest muscles; Sleepy was dressed in a three-piece Savile Row suit, and Sneezy wore a smart gold Donna Karan number with blue pumps. It was clear that Sneezy had had a sex-change operation.


Glenda: I certainly want to welcome you to the exciting world of American network television! Your appearance has generated so much excitement! It's really exciting to have you as my guests. I feel I've scooped Oprah and Roseanne and every other gurll on TV. Now, although you surely need no introduction, you do look different than you did in the picture, so please introduce yourselves.


Doc: Howdoo, I'm Doc. Still got the beard. Chick magnet. Think I'll take the lead here. I still tend to do most of the talking. Stand when I call you, please. Here is Dopey... Sleepy... Bashful... and Sneezy.


Sneezy: That's S N E E Z I E now. I E at the end. It still sounds the same, but it's feminine, like I am.


Glenda: Me too. Ha ha ha. Me and the audience want to hear about that very much, but first I think we better know what, uh, happened...


Doc: How would you think Grumpy would go?. Always pissed, he was. I'll give you a hint. Red meat. He loved it, ate it every night, got mad when it wasn't served. 'Nother hint. Television was a godsend to him. Quit the mine, sat on his can and cursed at the TV.


Glenda: Well, you've pretty much given it away. Heart attack.


Doc: Close. Stroke. One day - 1972 I think it was - he got so mad at some lady newscaster that he rose up and kicked the walls. Kicked and kicked and kicked. Broke his toes, screamed, and just kept kicking. Couple minutes more of this, and the next thing you know, he was on the floor, blood streaming out of his ears and nose, eyes rolled up into his head.

Well, it's not like we had a hospital nearby. Hell, it was the middle of the forest. Yeah, we were still there at that time. They 'coptered in a med team, but... Oh, he was a case. He lay in the bed for - what was it Bash, four months? Good thing he couldn't smell himself. P.U. He was always bad for B.O., but you couldn't tell him. You could, but he didn't care. We'd just toss him in the creek every six weeks.

There was no sense going on. He had only us, after all. Even Snowy didn't care after he smacked the prince enough to bruise. We pulled the plug. Pulled out the feeding tube. He was tough. TOUGH. Lingered on for 3 weeks plus.

Guess he had some friends, though. Four old war buddies we never heard of showed up for the funeral. Known Grumpy since 800, time of Charlemagne. Hadn't seen him in a couple centuries. Shocked, dismayed, etc. Nice guys. We see 'em fairly often. If they could handle Grumpy, they were our kind of dwarf.


Glenda: Wow, what a story! Right folks? (Generous clapping.) Unh. I...feel bad. After all, he was a human being.


Bashful: Not really. He was a least a third troll. I know for a fact that one of his two fathers was a troll.


Glenda: You speak? Whoops, that was Dopey. Well, still, you were pretty passive.


Bashful: I'm over that. Call me Bash. A nickname I got for my relations with the sexually diverse crowd. Did you know that nickname comes from comes from Old Nick, the Devil? Your real name has magical power; if someone knows it they have power over you, so you have a name to fool Old Nick. As long as he thinks that's your name, he can't hurt you.


Glenda: Really?


Bashful: Sure.


Glenda: What have you been doing all this time?


Bashful: Work, of course. Study. Adult studies. I go to a private university. They teach divining there.


Glenda: Divining?


Bashful: Foretelling the future. Like the gypsies. I think I must have been a gypsy child. My mother never wanted to talk about my birth.

There are dozens of ways to forecast. Think about it, just the ways everybody knows about. There's tea leaves, tarot, dream interpretation, I Ching, crystal gazing, and omens. Remember that, from Julius Caesar? The comet in the sky, the eagle over Rome? Warned of his death.


Dopey: Speaking of death, I'm about ready to kill you. Bad enough what he does at home. Let him get off on it in front of thirty million people and he'll be utterly unbearable. Stop him, somebody.


Glenda: I'm sure those thirty million- thirty-six million, actually -are as fascinated as I am. I love fortune-tellers. Who doesn't? Why do we all read those papers in the supermarket checkout line?


Bashful: I'll tell your fortune. From sheep liver. Just like they did in Rome.


Dopey: Sure, show that to your audience. It's how we live. He has pens full of animals. Brought one with you, didn't you, Bash?


Bashful: Well, I did have hopes...


Dopey: Bring it out here. (Stage hands brought it out.) Big ol' sheep. You can't use a nice, cute, clean-smelling lamb. Has to be a big ol' stinky sheep. See, I've learned by listening to his lectures. Couldn't help it. I hear it twelve times a week. Got your special knife, Bash?


Bashful: Uh huh.


Dopey: Glenda, this is just Acrilan carpet, isn't it? High traffic sort of stuff? Not cheap, but easily cleaned?


Glenda: I guess so. My producer is signaling "Yes".


Dopey: Good, because he's gonna have blood all over it. And the stuff in the intestines.


Bashful: It's okay to puncture the intestines, as long as you don't accidentally cut the liver. The liver has to be in perfect shape so you can read the veins and the lobe structure and just how the fat sits...


Glenda: How about it folks? Do you want to see my future in the lobes of a sheep liver? (Loud and repeated wails of EWWWW!!) How about you and I talk this over, Bash, while we go to commercial?


.....COMMERCIAL BREAK.....


Glenda: We're back, and chatting with the five dwarves from Snow-White and company. Dopey - do you mind being called that? - I'm surprised at myself. I just took your forthright comments for granted. Now, I'm nonplussed. You used to be mute. Or was that an act?


Dopey: No, that was real. But what it was was psychosomatic.


Glenda: Whew! There's a mouthful! You mean, all in your head?


Dopey: Duh! Psychosomatic. A symptom of the body whose origin is in the mind. I was from a dysfunctional family. My Mom and Dad - Mater and Pater, they made me call them - were normal..actually above average in height. So were my siblings. But I was a dwarf. They tolerated it - denied it- up until I was four or so. Then they took their frustrations out on me.


Glenda: Awww.


Audience: AWWWWW!


Dopey: Stop that! I don't need your pity. Pity and the like made me nuts. I stopped talking and tried to act as cute and non-threatening as I could. It turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Being dumb made me likeable, at least with some people.


Sleepy: Please Glenda, let me break in here. You really don't want to walk down this this trail. It's not a fun story. I don't think it should be aired publicly.


Dopey: I don't need you to speak for me, you smug bastard! I'm big enough to face my losses!


Glenda: Uh, gee, maybe you're right. What's your story, Sleepy? You don't seem sleepy today.


Sleepy: Thyroid. Can you believe it? Six hundred and and thirty years of drowsing my way through life. Finally it was properly diagnosed. Oral thyroid. No problem.


Dopey: Yeah, you're lucky. What about poor Happy? What about me?


Doc: Oh, give it up. You're far luckier than Happy.


Glenda: What happened to him?


Doc: Well, he was just happy, most of the time. I mean, that's the side the world saw. We lived with him. We saw the other side. The side that could stay in a pitch-black mine tunnel for three weeks at a time.


Glenda: You don't mean...


Dopey: Yeah, that's right. Manic-depressive. And while they were away, at a subterranean technology conference in Dresden, he missed one too many meds.


Bashful: Don't do this, Lewis. Don't rub our noses in it again.


Dopey: He wrote a note. How he was going to live with the beautiful fairies in the cave pools.


Doc: The mine's near an underground river system. The caves are magnificent, laced with grottoes and rushing waterfalls. Tubes 'n' channels where the water pulses through with treacherous speed. When we opened a new cavity for the mine, water started leaking in. The conference was on techniques for dealing with those problems.


Dopey: Dammit, Doc! No one gives a crap about mine flooding.


Glenda: Did you save him, Dopey? Or try to?


Dopey: No. No!! I wasn't there either. I was married and gone.


Bashful: Yeah, leaving us to slave away underground!


Glenda: I think it's time we went to commercial.


.....COMMERCIAL BREAK.....


Glenda: We're back..Lewis, the dwarf we knew as Dopey, was just about to tell us about his marriage.


Dopey: Look, I'm used to Dopey. I think of it as a stage name. I met someone at court. Roseberry, her name was. She was a giantess. Well, comparatively speaking. She was about eight foot.


Glenda: And?


Dopey: She saw things in me that no one else did. She flirted with me. Carried me around on her shoulders. Laughed with me, not at me. Read to me. Kissed me. On the lips, not on my head.

It was like when the Prince kissed Snow-White. A coming to life after a death-sleep. The sun parting endless clouds. I wasn't Dopey, after all. In fact, I was rather bright. Caught up to university level in about seven years.


Glenda: Isn't that a beautiful story, folks?. (Applause.) It's inspiring.


Doc: Was. Until he ran her off.


Dopey: I don't need this from you. She left. I didn't run her off.


Bashful: Did so.


Dopey: That what she told you, pipsqueak?


Bashful: I know what I know. You were buried so deep in your psychology books you didn't have time for a real life.


Dopey: Listen to him. As if he didn't waste every waking moment on witchcraft.


Sleepy: Let it go, Dopey. You're moving on. The body-building is good. And so are the gold futures we're both into in Basel.


Glenda: I think it's about time to wrap this up. We're all dying to know, what happened to Snow-White?


Doc: She's okay. Put her foot down after five kids. I think she was disappointed they weren't..you know..the fairest in the land. Little Rupert, the last, is probably the best of the lot. But the throne went to Farralon, her first. Ugly bastard. Shouldn't say that. It's the rumor he's ugly because he was conceived while the prince was off gathering taxes. Can't be true though. Just a cheap shot. Because she turned out to be kind of prissy. Too much so for our beer-guzzling populace.

Snow-White. What kind of queen would you expect with a name like that, and bluebirds around her head all the time?


Glenda: Oh, gee, we're out of time. Tune in tomorrow, folks, when our guests will be the three queens of Wonderland, White, Red, and Alice. This is Glenda, saying "May all your moments be GOLDEN!"

[Lubesh]

I could pick out the one liners and brillaint onslaughts that made this a great interlude for me, but suffice to say this was very, very funny.

[Gilamesh]

...wonderfull job...not the funniest thing ever but its very nice...it reminds me why I vist Storiesmania

['Ginnis]

Ha, lovely satire

[Perscription]

well put together. Got some good laughs out of it. cheers for sharing!