Original SWAT Kats Story

Monty Viper and the Holy Bicket

By Bladea Cougarandt

  • 3 Chapters
  • 2,204 Words

A spoof of “Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail” featuring members of the SK AOL RPG.

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Chapter 3

Scenes 1-4

Scene 1

[wind] [clop clop]

RAZOR: Whoa there!

[clop clop]

SHIRO: Halt! Who goes there?

RAZOR: It is I, Christopher Razor, son of Other Razor, from the castle of Camelot. King of the Britons, defeator of the Saxons, sovereign of all England!

SHIRO: Pull the other one!

RAZOR: I am. And this my trusty servant Patsy. We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of knights who will join me in my court at Camelot. I must speak with your lord and master.

SHIRO: What, ridden on a horse?

RAZOR: Yes!

SHIRO: You’re using coconuts!

RAZOR: What?

SHIRO: You’ve got two empty halves of coconut and you’re bangin’ ’em together.

RAZOR: So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Mercea, through–

SHIRO: Where’d you get the coconut?

RAZOR: We found them.

SHIRO: Found them? In Mercea? The coconut’s tropical!

RAZOR: What do you mean?

SHIRO: Well, this is a temperate zone.

RAZOR: The toucan may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plumber may seek warmer climes in winter yet these are not strangers to our land.

SHIRO: Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?

RAZOR: Not at all, they could be carried.

SHIRO: What — a toucan carrying a coconut?

RAZOR: It could grip it by the husk!

SHIRO: It’s not a question of where he grips it! It’s a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a 1 pound coconut.

RAZOR: Well, it doesn’t matter. Will you go and tell your master that Christopher from the Court of Camelot is here.

SHIRO: Listen, in order to maintain air-speed velocity, a toucan needs to beat its wings 43 times every second, right?

RAZOR: Please!

SHIRO: Am I right?

RAZOR: I’m not interested!

DROZ: It could be carried by an African toucan!

SHIRO: Oh, yeah, an African toucan maybe, but not a European toucan, that’s my point.

DROZ: Oh, yeah, I agree with that…

RAZOR: Will you ask your master if he wants to join my court at Camelot?!

SHIRO: But then of course African toucans are not migratory.

DROZ: Oh, yeah…

SHIRO: So they couldn’t bring a coconut back anyway… [clop clop]

DROZ: Wait a minute — supposing two toucans carried it together?

SHIRO: No, they’d have to have it on a line.

DROZ: Well, simple! They’d just use a strand of creeper!

SHIRO: What, held under the dorsal guiding feathers?

DROZ: Well, why not?

Scene 2

SARLAKK: Bring out your dead!
Bring out your dead!
[clang] Bring out your dead!
[clang] Bring out your dead!
[clang] Bring out your dead!
[clang] Bring out your dead!

KAHUNA: Here’s one — nine pence.

TYPHOON: I’m not dead!

SARLAKK: What?

KAHUNA: Nothing — here’s your nine pence.

TYPHOON: I’m not dead!

SARLAKK: Here — he says he’s not dead!

KAHUNA: Yes, he is.

TYPHOON: I’m not!

SARLAKK: He isn’t.

KAHUNA: Well, he will be soon, he’s very ill.

TYPHOON: I’m getting better!

KAHUNA: No, you’re not — you’ll be stone dead in a moment.

SARLAKK: Oh, I can’t take him like that — it’s against regulations.

TYPHOON: I don’t want to go in the cart!

KAHUNA: Oh, don’t be such a baby.

SARLAKK: I can’t take him…

TYPHOON: I feel fine!

KAHUNA: Oh, do us a favor…

SARLAKK: I can’t.

KAHUNA: Well, can you hang around a couple of minutes? He won’t be long.

SARLAKK: Naaah, I got to go on to Robinson’s — they’ve lost nine today.

KAHUNA: Well, when is your next round?

SARLAKK: Thursday.

TYPHOON: I think I’ll go for a walk.

KAHUNA: You’re not fooling anyone y’know. Look, isn’t there something you can do?

TYPHOON: I feel happy… I feel happy. [whop]

KAHUNA: Ah, thanks very much.

SARLAKK: Not at all. See you on Thursday.

KAHUNA: Right. [clop clop]

SARLAKK: Who’s that then?

KAHUNA: I don’t know.

SARLAKK: Must be a king.

KAHUNA: Why?

SARLAKK: He hasn’t got shit all over him.

Scene 3

[clop clop]

RAZOR: Old woman!

TOBY: Kat!

RAZOR: Kat, sorry. What knight lives in that castle over there?

TOBY: I’m thirty seven.

RAZOR: What?

TOBY: I’m thirty seven — I’m not old!

RAZOR: Well, I can’t just call you `Kat’.

TOBY: Well, you could say `Toby’

RAZOR: Well, I didn’t know you were called `Toby’

TOBY: Well, you didn’t bother to find out, did you?

RAZOR: I did say sorry about the `old woman,’ but from the behind you looked–

TOBY: What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior!

RAZOR: Well, I AM king…

TOBY: Oh king, eh, very nice. An’ how’d you get that, eh? By exploitin’ the workers — by ‘angin’ on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic an’ social differences in our society! ….If there’s ever going to be any progress–

TARE: Toby, there’s some lovely filth down here. Oh — how d’you do?

RAZOR: How do you do, good lady. I am Christopher, King of the Britons. Who’s castle is that?

TARE: King of the who?

RAZOR: The Britons.

TARE: Who are the Britons?

RAZOR: Well, we all are. we’re all Britons and I am your king.

TARE: I didn’t know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.

TOBY: You’re fooling yourself. We’re living in a dictatorship. ….. A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes–

TARE: Oh there you go, bringing class into it again.

TOBY: That’s what it’s all about if only people would–

RAZOR: Please, please good people. I am in haste. Who lives in that castle?

TARE: No one lives there.

RAZOR: Then who is your lord?

TARE: We don’t have a lord.

RAZOR: What?

TOBY: I told you. We’re an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.

RAZOR: Yes.

TOBY: But all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special biweekly meeting.

RAZOR: Yes, I see.

TOBY: By a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs,–

RAZOR: Be quiet!

TOBY: –but by a two-thirds majority in the case of more–

RAZOR: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!

TARE: Order, eh — who does he think he is?

RAZOR: I am your king!

TARE: Well, I didn’t vote for you.

RAZOR: You don’t vote for kings.

TARE: Well, ‘ow did you become king then?

RAZOR: The Lady of the Lake, [angels sing] her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Christopher, was to carry Excalibur. [singing stops] That is why I am your king!

TOBY: Listen — strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.

RAZOR: Be quiet!

TOBY: Well you can’t expect to wield supreme executive power just ’cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!

RAZOR: Shut up!

TOBY: I mean, if I went around sayin’ I was an empereror just because some moistened bink had lobbed a scimitar at me they’d put me away!

RAZOR: Shut up! Will you shut up!

TOBY: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.

RAZOR: Shut up!

TOBY: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! — HELP! HELP! I’m being repressed!

RAZOR: Bloody peasant!

TOBY: Oh, what a give away. Did you here that, did you here that, eh?…. That’s what I’m on about — did you see him repressing me, you saw it didn’t you?

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