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Thanksgiving: The Movie

November 1st, 2005 Posted in Blog Posts, Other Comics, Spoofs

1578.


Brave American pilgrims wrest their hard-fought independence
from the oppressive grip of their Native American leaders.

A
time of prosperity and thanksgiving begins. Covered wagons and
eagles are soon invented by Thomas Edison. Everyone can breathe
a sigh of relief, and finally begin to enjoy slavery.

America
has found peace.

Two
hundred years later…

The
Native Americans come back.

And
this time they’ve brought company.

The
Vikings. The most highly trained assassins on the planet.

The
Americans are doomed.

There’s
just one problem.

“Damn
it, Mayor Vacendak — those Native Americans and Vikings
are COMING, whether you become the next President or
not!”

“I
appreciate your concern, Mr. Miller. But I assure you
there’s no need to worry about the Native Americans and Vikings.
They are… silly.”

“Sir!
With all due respect—”

“Would
you have my armies commanded by a lowly pig farmer,
boy?

“I
rather think not.”

“You
are retarded.”

“Rather.

“Mr.
Vincenze. Please show Mr. Miller to Jail Forest. I
do hope he enjoys his stay.”

“You
son of a bitch!”

“Daddy,
why is everybody leaving Pilgrim City?”

“Because
they’re scared, honey. But I need you to be brave. Can you be
brave?”

“I
guess so.”

“Good.
Because there are 3,000 Cree Indians attacking the city at dawn,
and I can’t be here to protect it.”

“It’s
up to you, sweetie.”

“We
are a proud tribe, Mayor Vacendak. We seek only to be left alone,
so that we and the Vikings might kill white Christians in peace.

“I
am greatly surprised to see you here. Perhaps… you wish
to die.”

“You’ll
find that I’m full of surprises, Mr. Five Deadly Coyotes.
I
am positively brimming with them.

“I’m
here to discuss Flint Miller. I believe he has become a thorn
in both our sides.”

“You
would betray your own countryman, Mayor Vacendak?”

“MOO
HOO HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Nnnnnnnnnn…

“Yes.”

“My
people have a legend, Mr. Miller.

Long
ago, it is told a Warrior fell in love with the Daughter of
the Sun, and angered—”

“Squats,
I’m… I’m gonna need you to put a shirt on, I think.”

“I
do not understand, Flint. For my people, it is custom to…”

“Yeah.
No, I’m really going to have to insist on the shirt.”

“You
SOLD US OUT, Vacendak! For what? For discount prices on CORN!

“WE
END THIS! NOW!”

“I
couldn’t agree more, Mr. Miller. As you can see, however,
I am snooty, effeminate and British — whereas you
are six hundred pounds of muscular bravery. I’m afraid I hold
all the cards.”

“You
might be right, Vacendak. You want to know what I’M holding?”

“What?
I — hmm. Is it a stone?”

“THIS,
you son of a bitch!”

*THUNK*

“Agh!
CORN!”

“Thank
you for making me not Native American anymore, Mr. Miller, and
buying me a wife. I’ll never forget you.”

“The
thanks should go to you, Squats With Honor, for being brave
enough to stop being Native American.”

“Ha
ha ha!

“Also,
Mr. Miller? It’s John Smith now.”

“Don’t
become a drunk!”

“Ha
ha ha!”

“I
will sincerely try not to! Goodbye, Mr. Miller! Goodbye!”

IN
THEATERS THIS THANKSGIVING