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Thursday, March 1, 2007

Before They Worked for Fanta

The Prepettes

Camera pans in to a speedboat containing scantily clad, buxom babes Capri, Lola, Kiki, and Sophia, racing toward an island paradise on an undulating ivory ocean of hemorrhoid cream. On the beach, people are partying, dancing, and generally having the time of their lives. The addictive, Gloria Estefanesque chorus rings out over a dance party backbeat.

Inflammation? Preparation! Inflammation? Preparation!

On the beach, an unhappy-looking man sitting on a donut pillow peers up to find the Prepettes joyously gyrating all around him. As they attempt to pull him up to join the rhythmic celebration, he grimaces, as if to say, “I would love to, but I’ve got these hemorrhoids, see?” The Prepettes follow his cue.

Pan in to Kiki, rubbing Preparation H onto a large coconut.

Hemorrhoid pain can be quite tragic, what you need’s a tube of magic!

Pan in to Sophia, lavishly distributing tubes of cream to an ecstatic conga line.

Don’t fall victim to your lesions, rub THIS in your nether regions!


Pan in to Capri and Lola, mock-whispering into the suffering man’s ears while bumping their hips to his.

We’ve got something to elate ya: Try this Preparation H-uh!

The man emerges from an outhouse with an overjoyed expression and begins to dance the Macarena while riding a unicycle. The Prepettes continue in Dionysian revelry, distributing leis to partygoers and rubbing hemorrhoid cream on one other’s lips, faces, and torsos. The cap blows off a giant tube of Preparation H, spraying the entire crowd of excited partiers with the magical cream. Mission accomplished, the Prepettes hop on jet skis and ride into the sunset, waving goodbye. Camera fades out.

— End —

The Viagra Vixens

Camera pans up to bikini-wearing Capri, Lola, Kiki, and Sophia base jumping off the Transamerica Pyramid in downtown San Francisco toward a languishing dance party in the intersection below. The audio funk enters. As the Vixens descend, they sing their sirenlike song to the beat.

Need a stiffy? In a jiffy! Need a stiffy? In a jiffy!

A group of sultry women gets down to a feverish groove as three dejected men stand opposite them across the dance floor. The women sexily beckon the men out onto the floor, but the men, embarrassed about their impotence, refuse to heed the amorous gestures and instead stare sadly at a kiddie pool filled with soggy pasta. Coming to the rescue, the Vixens make landfall and run toward the men, keeping rhythm to the music while employing pill containers full of Viagra as handheld percussion instruments.

Pan in to Kiki, frenziedly shaking a jar of Viagra next to one man’s ear while smiling widely and sensually shoving noodles into his mouth.

Struggling to pitch your tent? Here’s a pill that’s heaven-sent!

Pan in to Capri, lying atop a plush, round bed in her underwear, squeezing a pink heart-shaped pillow and slurping a wet strand of pasta.

Listen, boys, you can’t be soft! Want to get them to your loft?

Pan in to Kiki and Lola, freaking one another in front of a flame-throwing obelisk, which is covered in pasta. The sky begins to rain Viagra pills.

There’s no time to dillydally, come rejuvenate your phalli!


Pan out to all four babes shooting Viagra out of bazookas and into the willing mouths of the men, whose eyes subsequently ignite with passion. Follow all onto the dance floor, where a gyrating cadre freaks the Vixens for a brief moment until the obviously horny group of men and women conga-line into a rocket ship and blast off. Kiki pops a Viagra with a “Why not?” gesture, then winks. Camera fades out.

— End —

The Forest Lawn Mortuary Hotties

Camera pans in to a dark, silent living-room scene with mourning family strewn about the frame. A funky dance groove suddenly pierces the silence as the Hotties run into the room, throwing party streamers and ashen remains, pulling open mini blinds to let the beaming sunlight in. They sing in elated synchronicity.

Got dead bodies? Call the Hotties! Got dead bodies? Call the Hotties!

The family looks around, astonished at first, until the teenage son joins the dancing and begins popping and locking with Capri . The other family members are still reluctant. Kiki and Lola start wrestling half-naked in a pool of embalming fluid, while Sophia struts around the room rubbing rose petals into the faces and torsos of the family, who now have the fever, for sure.

Pan in to Capri, donning sexy lingerie and fondling a white bunny rabbit while resting supine inside a purple casket.

Don’t be sad and don’t be nervous, let US plan that lovely service!

Pan in to Kiki, bending over sexily while shoveling dirt onto the casket holding Capri and the rabbit.

Make that frown turn upside down! Put your father in the ground!

Pan in to Sophia and Lola, pumping a corpse full of shiny yellow fluid while licking and caressing various surgical instruments.

Body charred past recognition? We love a restorative mission!


Pan in to all four, pall bearing in tuxedo-style bikinis.

Got a body? Take to task it! Get that corpse into a casket!

Cut to cemetery lawn where a raging party has inexplicably commenced. The Hotties and family members are joined by some groove-savvy zombie corpses and a break-dancing priest that looks like Bootsy Collins. Everybody straps on headlamps and joins in the conga line/funeral procession. Capri blows a kiss toward the camera before turning and entering a low-riding hearse with wicked hydraulics. Camera fades out.

— End —

Eric Feezell has appeared, among other places, at McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Opium, and 7-Eleven. He can be found on the InterWeb at