Bit: Bobo Cross-Examines Observer

Episode 815- Agent for H.A.R.M.

Transcribed by Zap Rowsdower


(Servo is searching through a law book.)

Tom: (excited) Crow! Crow! Come quickly! I've found a legal precedent that I think might help Mike's case!

Crow: Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! What is it? What is it?

Tom: It's..... (reads further) Ah wait, it'll only work if Mike is a noisy goose within the city limits of Des Plains, Illinois.

Crow: (angrily) D'oh! Would you please? They've just sworn in The Observer!

Tom: Oh?


(Observer is in the witness stand. Pearl is questioning him, although she is facing the camera.)

Pearl: State your name.

Observer: Oh, I have no name. I am simply a fractal of a larger thought collective. Part of an omniscient neural net, if you will. To lesser beings, we reveal ourselves as Observers.

Pearl: All right then, Brain Guy....

Observer: (muttering to himself) Brain Guy!

Pearl: Why don't you describe the events on the day your planet was turned to vapor.

Observer: Oh, yes, yes, yes. Well, 'twas a lovely day. A, a thrush gave voice to some dreamy, half-remembered tune. And I tripped through a fragrant copse, whistling aimlessly...

Pearl: Don't pad your part!

Observer: Sorry, sorry. I was taking one of my famous fresh-baked pies to the Senior Observer Center, when, suddenly, out of the sky, rode seven horrible steeds! Smoke and fire belching from their....(breaks down sobbing) Oh God! It's too horrible!

Pearl: (gently) Fire, belching from where?

Observer: (choking back sobs) From their hellish muzzles! And astride them rode a grim-visaged man, laughing, "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!", and raining death above us, down, down! Ohhhhh!

Pearl: Of course. Is that, grim-visaged man here today? (Walks towards Mike, slyly pointing at him.)

Observer: Yes he is!

Pearl: (still pointing) Take your time.

Observer: Yes he is! Yes he is! (points to Mike) It's him right there! That's him! That's him!

Pearl: Let the record show that the egghead identified the grim-visaged death rainer as Michael J. Nelson. No further questions. (She bows and steps away. Observer continues his emotional outburst. Bobo rises to cross-examine.)

Bobo: (laid back and friendly, like Matlock) Well, well, well, now, now, now, that planet, that planet of yours surely did sound beautiful, sir.

Observer: Yes, yes, yes it was!

Bobo: Y'know, I can almost hear that thrush a-singin'. Maybe a cicada or two sounding a sort of lonesome tune over the treetops.

Observer: That's entirely possible, I suppose.

Bobo: Yes, yes. Did y'all have a Summer Festival on that planet sir?

Observer: Ah, yes! We had Medula Days!

Bobo: Ah!

Observer: There were street sales and brain tossing!

Bobo: (jovially) Ah, ha ha ha!

Observer: Children playing in the streets....

Bobo: Children playing in the streets! Why, I can almost hear their sweet voices!

Observer: Quite nice!

Bobo: My, my, my! Well, (pats Observer kindly on the knee) I won't keep you sir, you may step down.

Observer: Thank you very much. (He goes to leave, but Bobo stops him.)

Bobo: Well now, there is just one more thing, sir. Just a small, small thing, there. What kind of pie was it that you brought to those lovely old folks?

Observer: Uh, it was apple, I believe.

Bobo: Oh, apple. You know, that was my Pappy's favorite! Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm!

Pearl: (to herself) Now, where is he going with this?

Bobo: And, what kind of apples did you use in that pie?

Observer: Ah, red, red delicious, I believe.

Bobo: Red delicious. Don't those, uh, get kind of mushy?

Observer: (becoming increasingly more nervous) Well, I, uh, I like that!

Bobo: (agreeing) Some folk do! Some folk do! Now then uh, (Takes off his glasses and cleans them) corn starch for a thickener, I reckon?

Observer: Yes, yes, well, of course!

Bobo: Not tapioca? Not arrowroot?

Observer: (very nervous, drinking some water) No no! Corn starch, I'm sure! Heh! Heh!

Bobo: Yes, yes. Butter for the crust, or lard?

Observer: Ah, lard!

Bobo: Lard was my sister woman's favorite, oh indeed! Now, I suppose you just used a little warm tap water to work that lard into the flour.

Observer: Well, of course, how else do you do it?

Bobo: Yes, yes. And how did that crust turn out, sir?

Observer: Well, it was flaky and delicious. (angrily) Listen, what are you implying?

Bobo: I am insinuating sir, that, (points accusingly at him) this man is a fraud and a liar! He has never made a pie crust in his life!

Observer: (enraged) Why, my pie is famous! I have made hundreds!

Bobo: (proudly) Sir, I have eaten every pie this vast universe has to offer. I have eaten black bottoms, shoe-flys, custards, minces and meringues! I have eaten pecan and black chestnut!

Observer: (starting to crack) No! No!

Bobo: Key lime! Fruit! Creme pies!

Observer: No! No!

Bobo: (bellowing) Crumblins, madisons, and I have NEVER heard of using no warm water for no crust!

Observer: (completely broken, sobbing again) Oh no! I'm lying! All right! I'm lying through my teeth!

Bobo: (triumphantly) Your Honor, I move for an immediate dismissal!

Observer: Oh God!

Bobo: And, I think we ought to look into our little baker here, indicating Observer) as a possible suspect! Now, get this scum off my stand!

Pearl: (jumping up, angrily) No! You're out of order!

Bobo: (out of control) No, YOU'RE out of order! (to judge) YOU'RE out of order! The courtroom is out of order! The candy machine by the men's room is out of order! (judge bangs his gavel)

Observer: (petting his brain, sobbing) It's all right!