(Our story begins in an apartment. More specifically, the livingroom of said apartment. Seated upon the couch and sprawled over the assorted bean bags and dining room chairs therein are a collection of ghostly figures of all shapes, sizes and colors. A transparent girl comes out of the kitchen and faces the crowd with a tray of hot pockets in hand.)
Gilda: Okay, third official meeting of GAG is now in session. Hot Pockets are done!
(The ghosts let out various cheers and settle in as Gilda passes the food out.)
Gilda: ‘Course they’ll just fall out again once we chew them up…(she clears her throat) Okay, Abe Lincoln, will you read the minutes from last week’s meeting?
Abe: Of course, young lady. (he unfolds a piece of paper.) Four score and seven days ago—
Jimi Hendrix: Will you stop opening the minutes like that?
Abe: Oh, shove it, Jimi. I’m Abraham Lincoln, for crying out loud. Okay, anyhow, onto the minutes. "7:01- Address issue of Gary being zapped into containment by Ghostbusters. 7:02- Issue addressed, Ghostbusters are jerks and must be stopped. 7:04- Falco wants a bigger beanbag."—what? That part isn’t my handwriting!
Falco: Well, I want one! And you guys wouldn’t write it down.
Gilda: Falco’s request is denied, because "Rock Me, Amadeus" sucked. Let’s discuss this Ghostbuster issue. Who has a beef as of late? Howbout you, glowing turquoise blob thing?
Leon: I’m LEON. LEON.
Gilda: I calls ‘em as I sees ‘em.
Leon: Well, there I was minding my own business at the laundromat. I was getting a bunch of little Tide boxes from the vending machine so I could have a relaxing bubble bath in the large load washers when suddenly a few people scream and run to the payphone. Then next thing I know, four guys are zapping the living dead outta me and screaming about a trap. I escaped, luckily, and now I’m angrier than Ted Nugent at a Paul Simon concert.
Gilda: Fellow Ghosts Against Ghostbusting members, I propose we have a little talk with our flesh-ridden neighbors.
Abe: Who’s Paul Simon?
(Over at the firehouse, meanwhile, Egon is tinkering with a few exposed wires coming out of an unfinished robot’s head. Ray is taking a wrench to its arms.)
Ray & Egon: (singing apathetically) 99 luftballons, Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont Hielt man fuer UFOs aus dem All Darum schickte ein General…
(Offended by the noise, Peter walks by)
Peter: Oh no. No, you aren’t. You so AREN’T.
Egon: So aren’t what?
Peter: Are you building another robot?
Ray: Boy howdy we are! Oh, it’s gonna be GREAT! We’ll use it to do laundry and grocery shopping and cleaning out traps, and OOH! Egon, tell Peter his name!
Egon: Dueling Banjo-bot of the Apocalypse.
Peter: (gets a scornful look in his eye) This isn’t going to turn out like the other, more evil robot you built before, is it?
(Flashback a year ago, where a robot with a shirt saying "Show Me Yer C-Drive" is lounging on the couch, watching Starskey and Hutch and popping cheetoe after cheetoe into its mouth. Peter comes in and frowns at it.)
Peter: Hey, Evil-bot, the laundry doesn’t do itself.
Evil-bot: Screw you.
(Peter growls and leaves)
Evil: Time for some SUGAH! (he pulls out a Speak n Spell and turns it on) Hey, baby.
Speak n Spell: U…R…A…Q…T…
Evil-bot: Aaaww yeah.
(The present time returns.)
Egon: Peter, how did you remember the part after you left the room?
(Suddenly, the doors and windows rattle. Wind howls through the trees outside. Dogs bark and the sky grows red. The members of GAG appear in front of the Ghostbusters, arms folded across their chests and feet tapping irritably.)
Jacob Marley: SCROOOOOGE!!!
Gilda: (hits Jacob) No, you idiot!
Egon: Everybody, get ready! (he starts to tug on his weaponry)
Gilda: Egon Spengler, don’t you even THINK about it.
(Egon stops, as does everybody else. They stare at the ghosts.)
Gilda: That’s right, we all know your names. Spengler. Venkman. Stantz. And...um...what the hell’s the token black guy’s name again?
Winston: Oh, for crying out loud, it’s Winston Zeddmore. And for the last time, I’M NOT TOKEN!
Peter: To what do we owe this pleasure, Miss...Miss...?
Gilda: I’m Gilda Funderclese. I am president of GAG, Ghosts Against Ghostbusters. We’ve come today to confront you about trapping and storing us at your lesiure.
Leon: We don’t like it!
Peter: Oh, gee, are we making things inconvenient? Are we making you mad because you can’t go pillaging New York and scaring little children in their rooms at night? Oh, I’m SORRY. I guess we’ll have to close RIGHT DOWN, huh, guys?
Gilda: You know, being dead won’t stop me from giving you a kick in the ribs.
Peter: You STEPPIN’?
Gilda: I’m REPRESENTIN’!
Egon: Ms. Funderclese, I must say in our defense that we only zap those spirits who try to harm humans.
Gilda: BULL! Ony Mainibrary is a ghost with no nose. Step on forward and tell them why you have no nose, will you, Ony?
(A guy with an eerie patch of transparent skin where a transparent nose once sat proudly steps forward. He’s PLENTY mad.)
Ony: See dis? Ya see DIS?
Peter: Why does a ghost even NEED a nose?
Ony: I vas minding my own damned business at a daycare center teaching the children how to avoid paying off a student loan ven suddenly the teacher comes out, takes von look at me and screams, "HELP!! DAT BALD, CLEAR MAN’S HARRASSING MY KIDS!" Den you guys come up and zap me twice in da face. One so’s I’m stumbling and running around incoherent and screaming. Den another one to try gettin’ me into a trap! Vell, I vas too smart for dat trap. However, my nose wasn’t so smart, so it vent in dere and you guys seemed happy so ya left. And now I’m a freak! Ya happy? EH?
Ray: You were only giving them advice for college?
Ony: Dat’s vat I said, isn’t it? Am I talking into a black hole? HELLO? Are you hearing me?
Egon: Well, we apologize…
Ony: You gonna go fetch my nose for me, den?
Egon: No.
Ony: I ask da world for a cheese sandwich and it gives me eggs.
Gilda: Shall we keep the exhibits coming or have you gotten our point?
Egon: I think we got the point. And I’m pleased to say I have a solution.
(The members of GAG await eagerly. Egon and Peter smirk at each other.)
*One Hour Later...*
Ray: (dusting off his blaster) That didn’t take half as long as I thought it would...
Winston: It’s all in the wrist, Ray. And aiming accurately probably plays a high card in it, too.
Egon: Trap’s empty!
Peter: (surveying the wreckage in front of the guys) I’m just glad everything’s back to normal. That guy with no nose was freaking me out.
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