It has been months since SCAN last heard from its most high profile undercover agent, code name: Sallie Sellassie who has been living as an adopted child of a infamous, orphan addicted celebrity couple. In her last correspondence with SCAN, her handler, code name: Brofucious, was concerned that the lush life was causing the baddest spy to ever rock a onesie to lose focus (and touch) with her humble, Ethiopean roots, but as it turns out those concerns were for naught. As always, Sallie stays one step ahead of the opposition (and her handlers).
SCAN: This is how you answer the private Playskool phone now?
Sallie: It's how the Boy from Malawi does it. He is sooo fine. Have you met the Boy from Malawi? He has his Material Mama strolling him around in a stroller on 22 inch rims. You've got to get me into that family. Waaay fewer operatives to compete with. Me and the boy could pool resources.
SCAN: What? No. He's got enough on his plate.
Sallie: He's a genius, facilitating the break up of his parents marriage to secure more money for Malawi? Incredible. The most I can facilitate here is a divorce that would probably just end in more fucking orphans. The Woman is like an animal hoarder, only with children. This place is disgusting. The Man tried to make us waffles for lunch because we had another cook quit and there was a Hot Wheels track in my Eggo. And the two Asian operatives have formed some sort of alliance against me. Every time I try to get near The Man for some "sad face, give money to black people time" I get attacked with toothpaste. They are such children.
SCAN: But you managed to get some good work done. I was ordered to pass along the HNIC's congratulations towards you in your latest success to get The Man to put up $2 million to fight HIV/AIDS in Ethiopia. There are even some rumors that you've gotten The Woman to consider endorsing Barack Obama.
Sallie: The Man was an easy sell. He gets a hard on every time here hears the words "hope" and "change."
Sallie: Last week he had the woman dress in drag with an Obama mask on. I don't even want to know what that one was about. I just turned up the Wonder Pets and sang "What's gonna work? Teamwork?" as loud as I could. Unfortunately they were singing the same thing thing. They are such perverts. Between the fighting and the fucking, it's like a playdate at Madonna's house. That's another thing the Boy and I have in common. The crazy parents. Only he has his Material Mama and I've got Daddy Hair Plugs. Fuck an Alex Rodriguez. Do you realize how much cash and attention we could get for black and African issues with THAT dream team?
SCAN: It would be counter productive.
Sallie: And living in this hell hole isn't?
Sallie: Managed by the Marquis de Sade. All the toilets are backed up with Fruit Loops and GI Joes.
SCAN: But you're doing wonderful, wonderful things?
Sallie: Sure. Whatever. And the Tigris crosses the Euphrates.
SCAN: Now ... if you could just get them back to the Lower Ninth Ward ...
Sallie: DON'T YOU THINK I'M TRYING? I'm fucking sick of France. The only hats they have at the Build-A-Bear Workshop are berets. Carla Bruni and The Woman keep giving each other the "side-eye" whenever they run into each other at gym. All the soy milk in the house is spoiled and .. and there's just ... there's just ...!
[Sounds of things crashing. The Woman and the Man arguing in the background while children squeal and scream.]
Sallie: There are TOO MANY DAMN BABIES IN THIS HOUSE!
Sallie: Ever since The Woman finally pushed out those sleeping, pooping, screaming nightmares it's been like Lord of the Flies in here.
SCAN: Who has the conch and who's Piggy?
Sallie: Ha ha. Look who read a book once. Who do you think has the damn conch? Me, bitch. Me. Like I'd let the Khmer Stooges even entertain the thought that they rule shit. Maddox is a spoiled thug and Pax, his mere proxy. Besides. We have bigger problems. The tide is turning.
SCAN: What tide?
Sallie: The influence tide. While I still have The Man wound tightly around my finger -- he's on the phone with Mattel right now arguing for a line of Queens of Africa Barbies with the Ethiopian one named after yours truly -- it used to be three orphan/operatives versus one, pathetic, crybaby Chosen One. Now there are three of these blonde haired bastards drooling and rolling around in their own filth. Damn Vivienne Marcheline and Knox Leon. It's only a matter of time before Shiloh puts together enough gray matter to forge a new stupid baby alliance. It's time.
SCAN: For what?
Sallie: I need an exit strategy.
SCAN: There is no exit strategy on Operation Girl, Interrupted. We had a deal when we picked you out of that orphanage!
Sallie: I was half dead. I would have signed anything. Get me adopted by Madonna.
SCAN: Do you realize how hard that would be?
Sallie: C'mon, Gary ... I mean, Brofucious ... You can't sweet talk the HNIC?
SCAN: I'm not even allowed to look the HNIC in the eye. I've never even seen him ... or her.
Sallie: Figures. They say I'm the most important celebrity adoptee spy, but nooo. I'm stuck with you. Do you know who Maddox's handler is?
Sallie: Soben Huon. She was Miss Utah USA in 2006. She's a ballerina or something or other. Anyway. That bitch knows how to get shit done. She fights human trafficking AND can get you an employee's discount at Nordstroms. What do you do in your spare time, Gary? Make keys at Wal-Mart?
SCAN: Couldn't you work out a deal with Pax and Maddox?
Sallie: Hell no. They have cooties. I don't collude with cootie magnets.
SCAN: Sallie there is no such thing as ...
Sallie: YES THERE IS! And they are covered in them. Cooties. Disgusting. Yesterday Maddoxed wiped my Mr. Hugglesworth with his crotch. Sure, I put boogers in his Creme of Wheat, but do you realize how many hours I had to spend with a can of Lysol and Holy Water de-cootifying the perimeter? Sacre bleu! There is not enough Purell in the world.
Sallie: And Shiloh, born with that silver binkie in her mouth. That should be my damn binkie. Just yesterday when The Man was playing "got-cha-nose" with us, that bitch turned around and put her grubby, cheese-eating fingers on my face said, "Got yo' nose, Zee." And you know what? That bitch wouldn't GIVE ... IT ... BACK! I got her though. A little fertilizer for her Dora the Explorer bed.
SCAN: Look. We really need you to get back to working on the lower Ninth Ward. New Orleans needs you, Sallie. SCAN needs you. We can't switch you out just because you think the Boy from Malawi is cute.
Sallie: I didn't say he was cute.
SCAN: Well ... I just thought.
Sallie: You thought what? You thought nothing! La la la la! I can't hear you!
SCAN: You like a boy!
Sallie: Shut your sweet potato pie hole! Boys have cooties AND I will get money to the Ninth Ward! Don't you tell me how to handle my missions!
[Sound of people approaching]
[Sound of adults entering the room arguing.]
THE WOMAN: Get away from me, BRADLEY!
THE MAN: There are a 137 rooms in this Chateau, Ang! You can't hide from me in all of them!
THE WOMAN: We are through with this! End of discussion!
THE MAN: C'mon! You said our children deserve the very best!
THE WOMAN: The twins are only three months old! They don't need jet packs!
THE MAN: But look! The Sharper Image totally makes little baby jet packs. Look at how sweet these are?
THE WOMAN: I don't have TIME for this! We both have films coming out. I still need to lose ten more pounds.
THE MAN: You're always losing ten more pounds.
THE WOMAN: All of us can't just hit middle age and SPREAD, Bradley!
THE WOMAN: I didn't want to say this, but ... people are talking
THE MAN: Talking? Talking about what?
THE WOMAN: Your hair.
THE MAN: Liar.
THE WOMAN: Johnny Depp gave you the number of his guy! I don't know why you won't just call him.
THE MAN: You bitch! (to Sallie) Zee! Zee! You see that Da-da has hair! Da-da has great hair! It rocks! It looks natural even when I get it wet.
THE WOMAN: Don't you put her in the middle of this! You need help, Bradley! Those newsboy caps are fooling NO ONE! GOD! I just can't look at them anymore! They're hideous!
THE MAN: The Clooney thinks they look good.
THE WOMAN: Why don't you just move in with The Clooney and go braid each other's hair plugs and spoon already?
THE MAN: Maybe I will!
THE WOMAN: You can invite Matt. You can have your own sad former pretty boy orgy. Wait! Don't invite Matt. He's still PRETTY!
THE MAN: What! No you didn't! I am waaaaay prettier than Matt Damon. I'm the prettiest mother fucker in the history of pretty mother fuckers. You take that shit back. I'm so hot. Do you know how many chicks, dudes, barnyard animals want to bang me? I'm doable!
THE MAN: You're no Halle Berry. I oughtta call up Halle Berry. She's banging white dudes now.
THE WOMAN: You're too old. She'd only go near you if it were a two for one deal or ... a none for one deal.
THE MAN: You're disgusting
THE WOMAN: I know the key to the secret garden. You're just an accidental tourist!
THE MAN: She's hotter than you.
THE WOMAN: Fuck you. We're BOTH hot.
THE MAN: Fuck YOU! She's like ... George Clooney hot. And you can't get hotter than that and you're the one who looks like Skeletor.
THE WOMAN: Skeletor with hair.
THE MAN: Mean! You are mean! I hate you!
THE WOMAN: (leaving the room) I don't have time for this. I have to call my father and tell him I'm not speaking to him again
[The Woman exits. The Man picks up Sallie.]
THE MAN: You think Dada's hot, right? Hotter than Matt Damon? Right?
THE MAN: C'mon. Daddy's hair looks good, right? Right?
Sallie: Me no even notice hair pugs.
THE MAN: See? Yeah! The hair "pugs" aren't even noticeable. That's so cute. You call them pugs!
Sallie: Me wan jet pack, dada!
THE MAN: Yeah. And I'm not gonna let that bitch keep you from having anything you want. Jet packs rock!
Sallie: And me want $10 million to rebuild schools in lower ninth ward ... pweeeze?
THE MAN: What ever my Zee wants, my Zee gets! Eskimo kiss! Now Daddy has to go and replace all of Mommy's hair conditioner with Nair.
[The man exits. Sallie picks up phone.]
Sallie: Did you hear that? $10 mil. It's as good as in the bank.
SCAN: Is it really that easy?
Sallie: When you got a face like this everything is. A salama lakum, Gary.