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Asylum Ad
Author's Notes: Just a little something I decided to write; it's a fictitious commercial for an insane asylum. Does it hint at something yet to come? Perhaps… Anyways, I don't do a very good job of describing the characters; I'll leave that to your imagination.
"Hi, I'm Mr. Ected." The middle-aged man said to the camera as he stood in front of the dark, creepy building. "For 20 years now, I've run this insane asylum in the small town of Lowly Heights as a cover for world domination, and—."
"Cut!" The director yelled. "Mr. Ected, you can't tell people that you use your asylum to plan and take over the earth; it'll make people not want to trust you with the insane." "There's such a thing as truth in advertising laws, Bill!" Mr. Ected yelled angrily.
"For 20 years now, I've run this insane asylum in the small town of Lowly Heights to help the town's many insane inhabitants." Mr. Ected said. "In fact, the locals see me as a bit of a hero."
A kid in a baseball hat walked up to him. Then, with acting skills as wooden as Ahab's leg, he said, "Hi, Mr. Ected." He held up a football. "Well you autograph my foo-ball?"
"Why certainly, young man!" Mr. Ected said as he took the football, wrote something on it, and held it up. "Go long!" He yelled. The kid ran off towards the road. "DEEP!" Mr. Ected yelled. The kid ran into the road, where he was swiftly run over by an 18-wheeler.
Mr. Ected burst into laughter. "W-was that supposed to happen?" He struggled to ask through the laughter. The director sighed. "Cut." He said.
Mr. Ected walked across a room in the asylum where many of the inmates were playing chess, watching TV, or hitting each other with fish for fish-ferapy. "Here at Mr. Ected's Home for the Dangerously/ Bizarrely/ Comically Insane, we make sure the inmates all take time to enjoy life."
A 19-year-old boy with a wide smile on his face walked up to Mr. Ected. "Why, here's one of our inmates now, Pete Peterson! How are you, Pete?"
Pete laughed happily. "Oh, everything's TERRIBLE!" He yelled, still grinning from ear to ear. "There are too many colors in the world! Why the hell do we need 32 teeth? Why is the White House white, huh? Why not INDIGO?"
Mr. Ected shoved Pete aside. "Yes, well, moving on." He said, motioning for the camera crew to follow him. They came to a 24-year-old man playing solitaire.
"Mr. Ected's Home for the Insane also takes in beings with staggering mental abilities for experiments." Mr. Ected's eyes widened at his mistake. "I MEAN RESEARCH—RESEARCH! Uh… CUT!"
"—Also takes in beings with staggering mental abilities for research." Mr. Ected with a cheesy smile. "Here's one of them now; Hugo… uh… Hugo!" He looked at the man playing solitaire. "Tell the nice people something about yourself."
Hugo turned to look at the camera. He stared at it with staggering intensity for several seconds. Suddenly, the cameraman screamed and dropped the camera, going insane. "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE!" He yelled as he jumped out of a nearby window. Mr. Ected smiled nervously.
Mr. Ected walked into the cafeteria, followed by a new cameraman. "Here at Mr. Ected, we serve only the finest food." He walked up to a 16-year-old girl eating some sort of… paste. "Here we have Ms. Alex Rider. Ms. Rider suffers from hallucinations."
"Who says I suffer from them?" Alex asked as she stopped eating. "My beaver friend Wally is one of the nicest guys I've ever met! … well, except for Dan…" She sighed.
Mr. Ected coughed nervously. "Yes, speaking of Mr. Manson… where is the punk?" Alex leaned to the left, as if listening to something. "Uh-huh… Wally says he's using the secret escape tunnel."
"Oh, okay." Mr. Ected said. "I'll just make sure to send some guards there to—SECRET ESCAPE TUNNEL?" "Yeah, didn't you know?" Alex asked as she got up and walked away.
Mr. Ected stood in front of a hole that had been hidden underneath a bead. A roughly 15-year-old boy climbed out, singing to himself. "Mr. Ected is an idiot/ Mr. Ected is an idiot!"
Mr. Ected coughed. "Mr. Dan Manson…" he said sternly. Dan turned to him and waved cheerfully. "Oh, hey, stupid." He said bluntly.
Mr. Ected coughed, leading to an awkward silence. "Mr. Manson… how long have you been using this escape tunnel?" He asked. Dan looked around. "What escape tunnel?" He asked.
Mr. Ected pointed to the hole Dan had just come out of. "Oh, right." Dan said. "Uh… hey, I brought you back a hobo!" He reached into the hole and pulled out a middle-aged hobo. The hobo mumbled something which roughly translates as, 'I put the "genius" in "archduke."'
However, Mr. Ected didn't speak Mumbling Hobo, and mistranslated it. "You've been using this tunnel ever since you came here?" Mr. Ected yelled, shocked. Dan glared at the hobo angrily. "Blabbermouth…" He dropped the hobo back down the hole.
Dan suddenly noticed the cameras. "Hey, are you making a movie?" He asked. Mr. Ected sighed. "No, Dan, I'm making a commercial, and I need you to be in it."
"Cool!" Dan said. "I've been acting since I was 18!" "… Aren't you 15?" Mr. Ected asked, confused. "Yup!" Dan said proudly. "That's a whole negative-three years of acting!"
"Just talk about the asylum, Dan." Mr. Ected said. "Cut!"
"So, Dan, what do you think of the asylum?" Mr. Ected asked with a cheesy cheerfulness. Dan nodded. "Well… the food's terrible… half of the people aren't even insane, just your enemies… you brainwash some of us… it's bor—."
"Cut!" Mr. Ected interrupted. "Dan, you're supposed to say good things about the asylum. It's not acting if you tell people what it's actually like."
"So, Dan, what do you think of the Asylum?" Mr. Ected asked. "It's fantastic!" Dan yelled, scaring everyone. "It rains jellybeans every day, there are unicorns and rainbows and live Broadway shows! This is the most wonderful place on earth! I LOVE IT HERE!"
"Cut!" Mr. Ected yelled. "Uh… Dan?" "LOVE IT!" "Dan! Try to tone it down a notch, okay?" "Was that too much?" Dan asked, suddenly serious. Mr. Ected nodded. "Yeah—yeah, a little."
"Hi, I'm Dan Manson." Dan said to the camera. "And I think that Mr. Ected's—." He stuck his tongue out suddenly. "Sorry, I just f-forgot my line."
"Hi, I'm Dan Monsoon." Dan said. He suddenly burst into laughter. "Dan Monsoon? W-who's Dan Monsoon?"
"Hallo, ben ich Dan Manson." Dan said in German. "Der FeuerlKW ist rot. Kennst du Rudolf? Ja!" "English!" The director corrected.
"Hi, I'm Dan Manson." Dan said. "You may know me, however, as Carlos, the other member of the Brady Bunch." "What?" Mr. Ected asked. "It's true!" Dan yelled.
"Forget this!" Mr. Ected yelled. "Let's just skip to the insanity test!"
Mr. Ected stood in front of a metallic chair with a helmet attached to it. A black screen with the number 0 on it was attached to the side of the chair. "This is my Insane-o-meter." Mr. Ected said with a wave. "It measures a person's insanity on a scale of 1 to 1,000. Let's try it out."
Mr. Ected sat in the chair and put the helmet on. "Now, a normal person will rate anywhere from 60 to 69 on this test." Mr. Ected explained. "Any higher and you're probably insane. Now turn it on, bunky."
The 0 on the screen began climbing, going from 1 to 2 to 3 to 16 to 4 to 5, climbing higher and higher until, at last, it stopped at 624. Mr. Ected quickly covered the 4 with his hand so it looked like it read 62. "Well, I'm perfectly sane." Mr. Ected said as he took the helmet off with his other hand; the number on the screen dropped to zero. "Now let's test Dan Manson."
Dan walked up to Mr. Ected, wearing a sombrero. "Hey, man." Dan said as he tossed the sombrero off his head. "What's up?" "Sit in this chair." Mr. Ected said as he pointed at the Insane-o-meter.
"Ohbee kaybee." Dan said as he sat down in the chair. Mr. Ected lowered the helmet onto his head and the number on the screen began soaring. Within a few seconds, the screen cracked, the Insane-o-meter shot out confetti, and music began playing.
"It's not supposed to do that." Mr. Ected said to the camera as Dan swayed to the music.
"Well, that's a look at my asylum." Mr. Ected said with a cheerful smile. They were back outside the asylum again. "A cottage for the crazy; a manor for the mad; a… habitat for… humanity. And, don't forget to check out the gift-shop, run by our resident kleptomaniac, Mitch." Mr. Ected dropped his smile. "And if you don't like Mitch, you can all just get in line and kiss my—we're still rolling? Well, stop it! Stop! Stop! Sto—!"
