(untitled)

INT SET 0F P0RN0 M0VIE DAY

ON SET with Adult film star Admiral Pavel Becker, the Naval Pecker, with additional cast and crew, for the filming of the last scene in his Christmas special, Chestnuts Roasting On Your Open Mouth, Part 6.

------------

Fred: Thank God, we're finally gonna shoot the last scene of this movie and then we can wrap this bitch.

Andy: You know, Fred, I was thinking. "Pavel" and "Naval" don't even rhyme. That sort of kills the whole thing for me.

Fred: Fuck you, smart guy. It looks great on the box, especially with the anchors and that Donald Duck uniform. That's all we give a shit about in this business; it's all about presentation. You can take your lacy frills and Mother Goose bullshit down the block.

Andy: Hey, Freddy, don't mind me. I'm just impressed you got Gina Gershon in this movie.

Jeanie: (walks in) Uh, sweetie, it's Jeanie Gershonn. With two Ns (puffs on a cigarette and blows the smoke in Andy's face)

Director: Bitch, who said you could smoke on my set? (walks up behind Jeannie) Is Dick Van Dyke gonna chimney sweep the fucking tar out of my lungs? Get your ass on that sleigh, you rusty old cunt. (to the crew) Alright everybody! Chop chop, you little fucksticks! Okay, Jeanie. It's time to save Christmas. And by "Save Christmas," I mean "videotape you getting fucked raw." (puts on headphones)

Jeanie: (licks palm of her hand and extinguishes the cigarette in it) Sure thing, sweetie. (gets on the sleigh with Becker, who is wearing nothing but a fake white beard and boots)

Director: Now, Becker, just go through your lines like we did in rehearsal, okay?

Becker: Ready!

Director: Okay, places, everyone! Quiet on the set motherfuckers! I am more important than all of you! Lights are good!...Camera rolling!...Cue the snow!...Aaaand cue the reindeer!...And ACTION!

Jeanie: So, can you tell me, are you...are you really Santa Claus?

Becker: Yes, Virginia...I am...Santa Claus.

Jeanine: Well, then...maybe I could meet...Santa's Little Helper?

Becker: Cut!

(bell rings)

Director: (takes off headphones) Goddamn it Bruno, I'M the one that says cut! I'm the goddamn director!

Becker: Sorry, boss, but...it's....it's....

Director: Just spit it out, princess--

Becker: We don't have my, uh, full attention.

Director: Jesus Fucking Christ, Becker, you and your rubber torpedo are gonna be the death of me.

Becker: That's RUGGED Torpedo!

Director: Whatever, lady. (turns around) Fred, can you get Michelle out here? Time to fluff up another flat pecker.

Fred: Sorry, boss. Michelle's taking an early lunch at Panera, but the agency can send someone over right away.

Director: Agency? Since when did we hire a fucking agency?

(from the back) Not a fucking agency, sir! A fluffing agency!

Director: (looking around) Who the fuck was that?

Maurice: (enthusiastically) It's me! (hands resume to director)

Director: Wha--what the fuck is this? Most fluffers don't hand in resumes...(looks at resume)...uh, Morris?

Maurice: That's Maurice! Not Morris.

Director: Well, okay, Maurice not Morris (hands resume to Fred), get over there and get your hands dirty.

Maurice: Hands?! Well, what if I just take this and give a good (baritoned gagging sound)

Becker: Holy--wha...woowwwwww.

Andy: Wait, did he just--

Fred: Excuse me, is this a valid address? 800 Occidental Ave South, Seattle? Box 20?

Director: You're a goddamn professional, Becks, just go with it. Carl, are you getting this?

Carl: (operating camera) Oh, I'm getting it. This is like taping Rodney King, but reversed. And gay.

Director: Yeah, that boom cam's looking like a pretty good investment now, isn't it?

Fred: (watches while slowly shaking his head) Wow, he's really getting after it.

Director: I always enjoy watching someone so masterful at his craft. Just amazing.

Sean Astin: He's telling his own story; you can truly feel the pathos.

Carl: Somebody needs to feed that guy. He's like a starving orphan over there.

Andy: Where have I heard that expression before?

Director: Hang on, I think he's finally coming up for air...

Maurice: (out of breath) Let's...try something else...I call this (drops to his knees)...the "Trey Wingo."

Director: Why's he standing behind him?

Carl: And why's he holding up those three fingers and coating them with Astroglide?

Fred: You know, I think he's gonna jam them right up his--

EVERYONE: AWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

Fred: Jesus Shit! I think he got some elbow on that!

Andy: That's an uppercut for the ages.

Director: I hope Maurice not Morris remembered to take off his watch.

Carl: Don't you need a guardian present to jump into the deep end like that?

Maurice: (pumping feverishly) This will give that grumpy little prostate something to think about!

Fred: Uppercut! Uppercut!

Director: Now, does he call it the "Trey Wingo" because he's using three fingers? Like Trey as in Three?

Carl: Or because when you set your hand like that, it looks like a W? You know, W for Wingo.

Andy: Or is it because this whole ordeal is associated with sports somehow?

Maurice: (retrieving his arm)...There. I just went two yards right up the middle. That ought to do it.

Becker: (looks down with delight) All right! All hands, attention on deck!

Director: God bless you, Maurice.

Fred: And God bless these fifty United States.

Director: Alright, places everyone! Let's get set here! (puts on headphones) Cue the snow!...aaaand Go for reindeer! Aaaand ACTION!

Jeanie: So, can you tell me, are you...are you really Santa Claus?

Becker: Yes, Virginia...I am...sorry, sorry, guys. I just...

Director: CUT! (Bell rings) Goddamn it, now what?

Becker: Just remind me...what's my motivation?

Director: (throws headphones to the ground) Fuck this shit, I quit.