This Is All Your Fault (The New Batch)

(We start off with Nash in his room poking around on his phone when Stick Boy comes over to him)

Nash: Oh, hey, what's up, man? (Stick Boy tries to signal to him) What? (Stick Boy gets a little mad, then signals again) What, Timmy's in the well? What? (Stick Boy pulls out a sign saying "You've got mail, a-hole," then leaves) Why do you never do that in the first place?

(Nash gets up and we cut to black where something's growling. Nash opens it and he's startled)

Nash: Huh. (Stick Boy peers in) That's, uh, that's something. (Nash reaches over and gives the whatever it is a piece of turkey. The thing growls and Stick Boy ducks out of the way) Jesus. (Stick Boy comes back up) Yeah, I think we're gonna have to clarify what I mean by "viewer submission" from now on.

(He gives it a poke that makes it growl and scare Stick Boy again, then we get to our usual intro)

Nash: Hey kids. I'm Nash, and I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Well, no matter how long I try to avoid or delay it, the inevitable has come yet again: Viewer Submission time. It's an emotional time for all of us here. Pain's an emotion, right? Well, nonetheless, it's the point where we reach into the proverbial mailbag and pull forth all manner of horrors with my sole consolation being that if my show ever goes under, I'll have had practical experience as a proctologist. Well this is normally the point in the episode where I'd elaborate on the show's theme, but since we don't have one, it's time for another Great Moment in Stupid History.

(We come to our cartoon, "Great Moments in Stupid History")

Nash (vo): Once upon a time, the human race stood poised to kill itself. Now I know you kids have grown up in the post-9/11 era where the threat of crazy people inflicting random violence is a fact of life, but during the Cold War, it wasn't the crazy people you had to worry about. It was the people running the largest governments on the planet. (a cartoon of Daffy Duck hitting Hitler with a mallet is shown) Crazy people would have been a welcome improvement. In our quest to make the whole of the earth glow in the dark, the US decided we needed an entirely new method of warhead delivery. Not only did it need to kill absolutely every motherfucker in the room, but we latched on the idea of doing so invisibly. Since Wonder Woman already held the patent on that technology, we needed to devise a new method. (Crazy Stick Boy is near a catapult with a switch in his hand. Stick Boy drops onto the launching end with a missile in his hand and a buzzer is heard. A can of spray paint makes Stick Boy and the bomb turn straight black. The buzzer is heard, but CSB pushes the button to launch him) Not every idea was...practical. (an explosion is heard as the scene is covered in white) Finally, the Northrup Corporation developed the B-2 Stealth Bomber. Each plane with a price tag of around $1.4 billion. Or about 1 4/10 Instagrams. It's one of the most sophisticated airplanes on earth with one eensy, teensy, tiny little fault: the air pressure sensors tended to fuck the dog if exposed to excess condensation from humidity. (Stick Boy and CSB are in the shot, with CSB holding a hair blower) But no worries, they just needed to add "drying off the sensors" (Stick Boy's word balloons have a picture of condensation, then a desert) to the preflight checklist, firmly placing the problem in human hands. (CSB sticks the hair blower into his mouth, blowing his head up like a balloon) What could go wrong? Wel... (a clip of the plane crashing on the airstrip is shown as the Price Is Right fail horns are heard. Following that, a Someecard is shown saying "Sorry you destroyed a billion goddamn dollars. But hey! Still got your health.") Yeah, uh, do they make Someecards for this, uh, situation?

Nash: Well, that should firmly prepare us for the stupidity to come. (Nash then just laughs) God, kill me. (he calms down from that laughter) Well, our first story is about some crazy from last month's Halloween, or as I like to call it, another excuse for you to bitch about my production schedule.

(The report is titled "Donald Junior Green, UK Man, Gives Children Cocaine Instead Of Candy On Halloween")

Nash (vo): Donald Green did what many of us do on Halloween: Offer up treats to the ravening hordes of crotch goblins so they don't pee in our mailboxes. But this week, Donald went a little above and beyond because parents discovered their kids coming home with chocolate, candy, and cocaine. Man, what happens when they run out?

(Nash is seen snorting up pixie sticks like cocaine)

Nash: Damn these pixie sticks aren't doing it for me anymore! I need something harder! (He takes out a package of pop rocks and snorts that makes him blow up in a nuclear fireball)

(Back to the report)

Nash (vo): Fortunately the story indicates that none of the kids ingested the cocaine but, honestly, how would they tell the difference?

(A clip is shown of a kid cheering excitedly after getting a Wii for a present)

Nash: I've always said there's no finer birth control than other people's kids. Anyway, back to the story. How? How in the unending fuck manage to get the Mike & Ikes mixed up with the Columbian Marching Powder? It's like going out to buy a christmas tree and coming home with a bag full of dayglo dildos. Just because it's called "nose candy" doesn't mean it's safe for kids 8 and up. So next time, keep the crack, and the crack candy, seperate! Well, next up, there have been whole novels and dissertations dedicated to the careful, methodical cunning of the criminal mind. Then there's this guy.