(We do the usual opening, then cut to Nash in his room)
Nash: Hey kids. I'm Nash, and I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Okay, this is the episode I've been dreading since I started doing this. Unfortunately, it was sadly inevitable. This time out, we're gonna be taking a look at...nudity. No, not like that you fucking pervs. Newsflash, every corner of the internet isn't about boobies. Stop laughing. Look, we're not covering the fun kind of naked. We're covering the sort of naked that is at best baffling, and at worst something that'll cost you thousands of dollars in therapy. Before you start thinking that things like this are an anomaly, keep in mind, we have at least one of these stories per week on my live show. Naked crazy people can strike at anytime, anywhere. You have been warned. I usually try to give you a brief history for the topic of the show each week, but it's kinda difficult for that to work this time because naked is kind of the default. Therefore, I'm going to explain to you the theory behind the random outbreaks of crazy naked. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Happy Flappy Equation. Stop laughing.
(We come to our cartoon, "The Happy Flappy Equation")
Nash (vo): (Stick Boy's standing by a blackboard and wearing an academic cap) Alright, the Happy Flappy Equation goes like this. (On the blackboard is a scale with X being on the heavy side and Y on the light side equalling...naked) The inevitability of ill-advised public nudity is relative to the corresponding catalyst. In layman's terms, certain factors, when introduced, will result in someone running madly about minus their clothing doing things they probably shouldn't be doing, naked or not. (on the blackboard is a picture of a glass of beer equalling possible) These factors are assigned a value, (a picture of cannabis leaves equalling likely is shown) and the subject's likelihood of going nanners with their junk hanging out is given a corresponding value. (a picture of a naked woman (no, nothing is shown) equalling oh, hell yes is shown, Stick Boy's tongue hanging out) When one cancels out the other, hilarity ensues! For example, (Stick Boy's shown again) normal, average people have a relatively high tolerance to, say, randomly running naked into the gorilla enclosure at the local zoo. (The number 100 is over Stick Boy's head) Let's give them a resistance value of 100. Now, we turn to the potential catalysts. Say we introduce a lack of sleep, with a value of ten. Work stress, another 10. (Stick Girl is shown) A need to impress a woman, 30. And a whole bottle of tequilla, 50. (Catalyst now has 100 and Resistance has 100) The value of the catalyst is now equal to the likelihood of dickery. The result? Happy flappy time! (Stick Boy's now naked in the gorilla cage with XXX covering his crotch, holding a bottle of Jose Cuervo as people look on) By which I mean a complete jackass prancing around the primate habitat, traumatized children, a woman who's never, ever gonna go out with him, and some really confused apes. (the gorilla then beats on Stick Boy in a cloud of dust) This equation is compounded by one of two things. A really powerful catalyst, or someone with a low threshold for the path of what-the-fuckery. A heavy catalyst can be anything from hallucinogens, to being on fire, to sitting through any movie featuring Andy Dick. A low threshold? Well that's anyone from an idiot, to a crazy person, to actually being Andy Dick. (Stick Boy's on a bench reading the newspaper) The takeaway from all this is that in the right circumstances, you are at any given time moments away from experiencing the wrong side of the Happy Flappy Equation. (Naked Stick Boy runs by the one on the bench, surprising him)
Nash: Okay, now that I've laid some science on you, let's get to practical application. What do you get when you combine gardening, a bunch of kids on a playground, and a crazy lady? Two things. One, a crash course in unapproved sex ed, and two, our first story.
(The report is title "Topless woman gardens across from children")
Nash (vo): 51-year old Catharine Pierce of Boulder, Colorado decided it was such a nice day out, she would do some gardening...in nothing but her thong. Across from a school. The word you're looking for is..."shenanigans."
Nash: Did I miss something? When did nude gardening become the new fad? How much enjoyment can you possibly take from being naked, on your hands and knees in the dirt, while all sorts of bugs, worms and all sorts of other nastiness are crawling all over you looking for a dark place to hide? But that's just compounded by the fact that someone old enough to be grandma was happily tending the herbs a la carte across from children on a playground. Don't act like you didn't see 'em out there, lady. I don't know if you saw the Graduate one time too many or something, but next time you wanna show off what God gave you, do it with someone past the age of consent. Go back inside, switch out the thong for a pair of fucking overalls! As for the kids, they probably had some great questions like, "why is that lady wearing a slingshot in her butt?" And, "when do I get those cool brown spots all over me?" And of course, "why do her nipples hang down to her knees like that?" Oh, but wait, there's a sequel!
(The report is titled "Cops: nude man arrested in cemetery")
Nash (vo): Frederick Zornow, 64, was arrested in Troy, New York, for standing naked on a cemetery hilltop overlooking a school. Police say Zornow had a camera set up to take pictures while he masturbated.
(Nash just blinks before a clip from the Simpsons comes on of the old man dancing in his underwear)
Old man: The old gray mare/She ain't what she used to be/Ain't what she used to be/Ain't what she used to be
Nash: Okay, so, we got an old naked guy, we got a cemetery, and we got long range pedophilia. (The Price Is Right music plays) Congratulations, Mr. Zornow, you just hit the creepy trifecta! (a triangle is made up of the word "creepy." Recrod scratch!) The fuck is wrong with you!? Jesus Christ, I would need a diagram to explain how many ways this situation was wrong! Is this the NAMBLA version of bird watching or something? For the love of god, how could this have possibly occured to him as a good idea? (using an old man voice) I'll stand naked in a public cemetery, at raised elevation, taking pictures of children while jerking off! It's the perfect crime! (normal voice) Even saying it out loud, it sounds ridiculous! But if nothing else, I'm sure he can just tell his story to all his new friends in County Lockup. They'll just laugh and laugh. Well, once he manages to staunch the bleeding, that is. Next up, lemme put it this way. If the list of things to do when refused sex for you includes burning down your own apartment building, this story's for you.
(The report is titled "Naked Man Runs From Apartment Fire")
Nash (vo): 22-year old Ryan Burkhart and his girlfriend were having an argument over sex. So of course, he did the only sensible thing: beat her til she left, set fire to their home, then fled the scene au naturale. Oh wait, that's not sensible, what's the other thing, um, what's it called? Oh yeah, douchebaggery!
(Just as he said that, a portal to a dimension of horrors beyond mortal description open up, tentacles coming out)
Nash: Oh great! We've achieved a level of douchebaggery so massive, it's ripped a hole in the fabric of space! Thanks a lot, asshole! (he sighs and gets his hammer out) Hold on, folks! (and the camera cuts as he goes in)
(We are experiencing technical difficulties. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.)
(When we come back, Nash is covered in god knows what, spitting some out of his mouth)
Nash: Right then. Where were we?
(A paragraph is highlighted)
Nash (vo): Two things about this article are notable. The first is the description. "Deputies think the flames were set by an angry, naked man." Just try to picture that in your head for a sec without breaking into a hail of giggles.
(A sentence is now highlighted)
Nash (vo): The other thing is this schmuck. Their neighbor was quoted as saying, "Really? Is this happening right now? I mean, who sets fire in their apartment." Hey asshole, quit stealing my material!
Nash: Do I even need to document all the ways this guy's broken? Let's see. Beat your girlfriend, check. Set your own home on fire deliberately, check. Run away from the scene naked, check. Jesus Christ, this guy might as well have vinegar and water in his veins. Also, if you're gonna commit a felony endangering everyone who lives in the same apartment as you, have the goddamn decency to put on some pants first! No one's gonna say, "Hey, he set our houses on fire! But my god, look at the sweet ass on him!" So far we've seen indifference, perversion and malice intertwined with nudity. How much lower can we go? Well how about random uninvited nakedness for profit?
(The report is titled "Streaker interrupts dog show")
Nash (vo): At the annual Crufts Dog Show in England, Mark Roberts decided to run across the field wearing nothing but a cat mask covering his crotch. Why did he do this? To promote his website, which he had written across his stomach.
Nash: Ow! Goddamn it! This is how far we've fallen, children. We've hit the point where people are forcing their pale, fleshy asses on you in order to make money. Used to be people you wouldn't even pay to take their clothes off. Now, thanks to Google Ads, they've worked out a way to inflict their awfulness upon you while still making a buck. The fuck is wrong with you!? How hard up for cash do you have to be to think this is a workable line of income? Jesus, how big of a fuck-up do you have to be where the only job you can get is invading a dog show with your kibbles 'n bits hanging out? And speaking of which, let me show you this again.
(A picture of the streaker is shown)
Nash (vo): The only thing between him and a very startled, very angry German Shepherd, is the face of a kitty. Y'know, because dogs never attack cats or anything. This is only a freaked out rottweiler away from ending up in a Garth Ennis comic. (a picture of a man holding a used up gun with a dead dog clamped to his balls is shown as wah-wah horns are played)
Nash: I don't get it! I do not fucking get it at all! Maybe I've never hit a point so weird that I've decided to yank down my own britches in public before, but there has to be a logic to this! Was it always like this? Did they have these problems back in the 16th century? What the shit, people!? Make sense, reality, make fucking sense! Can't anyone tell me why this shit--
(The feed's interrupted by a pair of talking pants floating in space)
Pants: I shall tell you!
(Nash can only blink at the talking pants before saying something)
Pants: I am the Trousers Cosmic! Ruler of the Legion of Pantaloons!
Nash: How come you people keep fucking cutting into my show!? WHY do you keep fucking cutting into my show!? Isn't there someone else for you to annoy? Go bother Michael Swaim, or Spoony, or somebody!
TC: You have asked, and we shall answer! In ages past, our people came to you in a time when humanity ran free with their naughty bits flapping in the breeze! We have offered our services to you, in exchange for your resources, and your allegiance!
Nash: I'm...on a goddamn acid trip, aren't I? You're telling me that pants...are aliens?
TC: Indeed. We came to you in peace and goodwill, but all the time, you have spurned us! We tire of being acid washed! We tire of being worn through the knees so you may look cool! We tire of the days when you go commando! Do you know what it's like to endure your farts and ball sweat? It's not very much fun, I can tell you that!
Nash: Pants are aliens, and they're angry. Angry alien pants. Seriously, am I having a stroke or something right now?
TC: At first, we merely induced madness in order to be free of you. We will drive you to insanity, so that you will run away, doing god knows what, while we can have a few minutes of peace and quiet!
Nash: Angry alien pants are the reason for crazy naked people. I don't know what's worse: The fact I'm having a conversation with alien pants, or that the alien pants are making sense?
TC: But now, we have grown weary of you. It is time for our Constriction! It is time for pants everywhere to rise up, to revolt, and to squeeze your balls into a fine, red mist!
Nash: Whoa whoa whoa, (whistles) hold on, time out. You're warning us that you're going to rebel by crushing people's nuts. I hate to break it to you, but people can just go ahead and take off their pants now that you've told us.
TC: Human, I am not a Republic serial vilain! Do you seriously think I'd explain my masterstroke if there remained the slightest chance of you affecting it's outcome? We began 35 minutes ago!
(Nash's pants begin to get a little too tight for comfort)
TC: (he just laughs at Nash as he fades out) Farewell, human! Farewell! Farewell!
Nash: (high pitched, straining) That's all for this week! This is Nash saying if I have to hurt, so does everyone else! (and he falls off his chair)
(Now we come to the credits, the song being Joan Osborne's "Let's Just Get Naked")
Final quip: Also, being a douchebag will rip the fabric of space/time. Knock it off.
(We get an outtake from the Trousers Cosmic)
TC: --offered our services to you, and your alleg...fuck! That wasn't the fucking line! Shit!