Forever Spam

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Trophy Spam

(was: ForeverKnight items for sale)

Teaser: The alley behind Nick's loft. It's a wretched mess today. Imagine what would happen if every garbage dumpster in Ontario was unloaded here, while every toilet in North America flushed its contents atop that, and then--after rotting to full rottenness under the noonday sun--drew every fly, louse and maggot that ever lived--

Yes, this means that a spammer has entered the otherwise pristine scene. We know that it's up to no good--but why is it studying the entrances to the loft?

Familiar music as the sun rises, then sets over Toronto.

"He was brought across in 1228.
Preyed on humans for their blood.
Now he wants to be mortal again.
To repay society for his sins.
To emerge from his world of darkness.
From his endless forever night."


Act One: The loft. Dressed in white, Natalie is lying on the floor by the fireplace. Nick lies next to her. LaCroix stands over them, a disapproving look on his face. He holds a long, sharp stick in one hand, and he uses it to poke a heap of empty beer cans and pizza boxes. As he watches, Nick belches and sits up.

Nick: What a strange dream . . .

LaCroix: I have cautioned you, Nicholas, against taking too much beer and pizza. Now look what you've done.

Nick looks aghast at the mess on the floor.

Nick: I couldn't stop myself. Natalie thought she could cure me this time . . . it almost worked.

Natalie groans, sits up and winces.

Natalie: Could you two turn out those lights? And stop shouting?

LaCroix: Shouting? *Moi?* The problem is that you are hung over, doctor.

Natalie: Don't remind me. Nick? Are you . . .

Nick: Still dead on my feet, so to speak.

Natalie: Damn. I thought it would work this time. The systemic shock of inappropriate nutrients should have had a paradoxical effect on your biochemistry.

LaCroix: *Italian* beer and *German* pizza? Really, doctor.

Natalie is saved from the need to answer by the telephone. Nick answers its ring.

Nick: Knight . . . yeah . . . now? Captain, you know I can't--

What he can't do is continue a conversation after someone hangs up on him. He looks helpless as he turns to Natalie and LaCroix.

Nick: Captain Reese wants me down at the precinct--now. I have to go.

LaCroix: During the day? What burning issue could make *you* risk burning?

Nick: Internal Affairs has some questions about that shooting . . . and Tracy's death. They think I overreacted when I killed the gunman who shot Tracy. They want to see me now.

Natalie: And you need someone to drive you downtown.

Nick nods and tosses her the keys to the Caddy. Nick nods to LaCroix, who looks rather disgruntled as Nick and Nat leave.

LaCroix: Family . . .
{shakes his head in despair}
Alas for Nicholas. After eight centuries he still fails to displair any flair for the vampiric arts. Can't choose decent servants . . . can't train them . . . grows attached to his mortal pets . . . even wants to be mortal again . . .

He yawns and goes upstairs. He lies down on the bed, but looks annoyed by the sunlight leaking through an improperly-covered skylight. With a shrug Uncle looks under the bed. He discovers that the massive frame conceals a hidden compartment, big enough to hide him. He smiles fondly.

LaCroix: Ah, Nicholas, it's good to see you've learned a *few* tricks of your own. Who would expect a vampire to hide here?

LaCroix crawls into the compartment, shut its lid--and chuckles.

LaCroix: Poor Nicholas. He really does have monsters hiding under his bed.

Uncle smiles and goes to sleep.

In the alley, we see the Caddy leave the garage and drive away. No sooner is it out of sight than the spammer oozes towards the door. It slithers under the closed door, a sign that it is down to no good.


The 96th Precinct. It has conveniently sprouted an underground parking lot. Natalie drives the Cadillac into it, parks it and gets out. She speaks as she goes to the trunk and fumbles with the keys.

Natalie: I'm telling you, Nick, it would make a lot more sense if you traded this barge for a pick-up truck. You could get a little camper shell, make it light-proof, and it would be a *lot* roomier and more comfy than this. You'd even have room for a little company, if you know what I mean--
{she notices a couple of men staring at her}
What's the matter? Can't a girl talk to her car any more?

The lookers-on scurry away. Natalie opens the trunk and Nick climbs out. He looks rumpled and a bit puzzled.

The Brick: "Room for a little company?" What's that mean?

Natalie rolls her eyes and leads him upstairs, into the precinct station. They enter Reese's office, where the window is covered by a heavy blanket. Reese sits behind his desk, a worried look on his face. Nick looks puzzled, as if by a half-familiar sensation.

Reese: Glad you could make it, Knight.

Nick: You said it was urgent. If Internal Affairs has any questions--
{pauses; looks around}
Where are they?

Reese: They decided that the gunman threw himself against the wall, broke his own neck and crushed his own skull.

Natalie: They decided *that?*

Reese: With a little help from Nick's partner.

Nick: Captain . . . my partner is *dead.*

Reese: Well, that's the problem.

The office door opens and Tracy walks in.

Tracy: Since when is not being dead a problem?

Natalie: Tracy?

Tracy smiles, showing her fangs as her eyes turn gold.

Tracy: Don't you just love surprises?


Act Two: The loft. It's the spammer. It defies description as it ransacks Nick's home. There's no telling what it wants--being a spammer, it probably doesn't know itself. Some people might believe that it has decided that breaking and entering, not to mention vandalism and burglary, are more worthy acts than spamming. While this is true, it is unlikely that a spammer would do anything more socially acceptable than spamming. The scene now shifts to something far more interesting, appealing and wholesome than a spammer.

The Toronto Municipal Dump. A mangy, ulcerated rat finds a bag of soy flour. The rat tastes the flour, turns and pukes its guts out.

And now for something completely different. The 96th Precinct, where Tracy is obviously having the time of her life, or whatever, as she explains it all to Nick and Natalie.

Natalie: Tracy, I've seen dead, and you were definitely dead.

Tracy: I got over it. Nick, you know how the gunman was shooting at you, only the bullets went right through you and hit me? Well, the bullets picked up some of your vampiric blood and put it in me--

Nick: --and that infected you.

Tracy: Right! It took a while for the change to finish. Fortunately it happened just in time for my shift, so I didn't miss any work. And when those Internal Affairs creeps showed up, I hypnotized them into realizing that my master hadn't done anything wrong. I mean, how could he?

Reese: Your master?

Tracy: Nick. That's a term we vampires use. And isn't this terrific? I couldn't have a better master! North, south, east or west, Nick's the vamp who is the best!

Nick looks to Natalie and speaks in quiet resignation.

Nick: Terrific. Now *I've* got a puppy named Sparky.

Natalie: Just as long as she doesn't follow you home.

Reese: What *I* want to know is, how many more vampires are there in my precinct?

Natalie: I think it's a question of how many mortals are still here.

Reese: Oi.


Meanwhile, back at the loft: the spammer watches as his minions (so-called because they look like mini-onions, and have an odor that causes the eyes to water) loot the loft. They carry assorted objects into a van parked in the garage: clothing, paintings, even a massive bedframe. The spammer exhorts them as they work.

Spammer: Work! Work faster! Get all you can!

Being a spammer, of course, it does not occur to him to do any work himself. Instead he shouts at others to work, and no doubt the intensity of his roars keeps everyone from noticing the loud snores that emanate from inside the bedframe.


The 96th: Natalie looks concerned.

Natalie: Tracy, Nick's told me about something called the "First Hunger." Who did you feed on?

Tracy: Huh?

Reese: Let me handle this. Detective Vetter, you've become a vampire, and vampires feed on blood--

Tracy: Ick!

Reese: So have you fed on anyone? Attacked anyone?

Tracy: What? Why would I do that?

Nick: Tracy--every new vampire feels an uncontrollable urge to drink blood. It's like an initiation rite.

Tracy: Oh, like when I joined my college sorority. But--blood?
{looks thoughtful}
Does it taste like chocolate?

The looks exchanged among Nick, Natalie and Reese say that this is going to take a while. However, they don't have that much time. A uniformed officer enters Reese's office.

Officer: Captain, we have a report of a burglary at 101 Gateway.

Nick looks disturbed, but before anyone can speak a second officer dashes into the office.

Second officer: Captain, we've just been spammed.

Natalie: Nick--

Nick: Screw the burglary, give me the spammer.

Everyone turns to Reese's computer terminal, which soon displays the spam:

Subject: ForeverKnight items for sale

    To all that may be interested. I have several original items and props from the series. These items include crew jackets, scarfs, paintings, and Nick's original bedframe. I have many other items for sale. If interested please reply. Thanks from Toronto


Act Three: Reese's office in the 96th. Nick is working the computer while everyone else looks over his shoulder.

Nick: Okay, the e-mail address is faked. I could do other things to hunt down the spammer, but--

Reese: I'd rather we caught him ourselves. Let's go to the crime scene.

Tracy glances at the two uniformed and uninformed cops in the office.

Tracy: Uh, captain, won't Nick and I have a problem at this time of the day? What with our sunlight allergies?

Second officer: You're both allergic to sunlight? The odds against that are--

Tracy slips into vampiric-hypnosis mode.

Tracy: Are about the same as George, Barbara *and* Millie Bush all coming down with Graves' disease. Which they did.

First officer: It still seems unlikely that you two would both have the same problem.

Tracy: Maybe what Nick has is just *slightly* contagious. Want to stick around and see?

The two officers take off like a blast from a double-barreled shotgun. It's evident that Tracy has the makings of a good vampire, which causes Nick to feel guilty (what doesn't?)


We now see the Caddy driving through daytime Toronto, with Natalie at the wheel and Reese in the passenger seat.

Reese: You've known about Nick's secret all these years?

Natalie: Well, yes--

Reese: And you haven't done *any* of the appropriate paperwork?

Natalie: It seemed simpler this way.

Reese: I don't know how I'll handle this if any of the department's higher-ups find out about Nick.

Natalie: Nick transferred from the 27th Precinct. Tell them it isn't your problem if somebody else let a vampire on the force.

Reese: That might work--but what about Vetter? Her father is going to kill me!

Natalie: Don't worry. Nick has a cure for that.

Reese shudders as they drive into the garage under the loft. Natalie gets out and opens the trunk. A pesky--er, perky Tracy and a weary-looking Nick climb out.

Tracy: It's really terrific, having you for a master. I mean, you must know all the secrets of being a vampire, right? And you must have seen all sorts of big historical events, didn't you? And met all sorts of famous people? I'll bet--I'll bet you even met the man who designed the first Barbie doll! And you must have known Sean Cassidy when he was young! And just think, we can have *centuries* to talk about it all!

Nick turns to Natalie and hands her his pistol.

Nick: Shoot me!

Natalie: That won't do any good. You're immune to bullets.

Nick: It's the thought that counts.

The foursome takes the freight elevator to the loft. They look around and see that the place has been stripped. Upstairs, Nick and Natalie discover that the bed is missing. Natalie is disappointed by the implication, while Nick searches his closet and finds it empty.

Nick: They got everything but the clothes on my back.

Natalie: I called dibs first. Hey--where's LaCroix?


An excellent question! We see a truck pull into an old abandoned warehouse. The spammer gets out and watches as his flunkies (people who flunked out of kindergarden--the only sort who can stand to work for a spammer) unload the truck. As they move the bedframe one displays a puzzled look.

Flunky: Uh, boss . . . now that we stole all this, what're we gonna do with it?

Spammer: We're gonna sell it for a million bazillion dollars.

Flunky: Cool! Uh--are those American or Canadian dollars?

Spammer: Well, we're in Canadia, so it won't be American dollars.

Flunky: Oh. Uh, can I have my money now?

Spammer: Sure. I have it right over here.

The spammer goes to a crate, opens it and pulls out a "Monopoly" game. He takes the game money and slowly counts it out to his flunky, who greedily fingers the play dough. The spammer pauses as he doles out the game-money, then greedily shortchanges his flunky. Meanwhile, a profound snoring noise emanates from inside the massive bedframe.


Act Four: The loft. Tracy sits at the kitchen table and watches while Nick pours blood into four large glasses.

Nick: These are the four major food groups: Type O, Type A, Type B and Type AB. Try one from each.

Tracy picks up a glass, takes a sip, grimaces.

Tracy: This tastes like . . . Republican . . .
{another sip}
*Utah* Republican . . .
God, I hate decaf! Can't I at least put some cream and sugar in it?

Reese, who has been watching, shows his impatience.

Reese: Knight, you're obviously doing something wrong here. Shouldn't she *want* to drink blood?

Nick: Well--issues of guilt and evil aside, yes.

Reese: Then you've got to make it appealing! You've got to make the sight, smell and taste of blood into the most exciting thing she can imagine!

Natalie: Were you two switched at birth or something? Nick, I think you're rushing this. When the time is right, she'll start drinking blood on her own. Until then, who knows? Maybe her ability to resist the first hunger will give me a clyew about curing vampirism.

Tracy: Why would you want to do that?

Nick: It's a long story. Look, the sun is setting. We can go out and hunt for the burglars, and for, uh--
{realizes he shouldn't mention LaCroix in front of Reese}

Natalie: For that giant Q-tip I gave you for your birthday?

Reese: Why would you give him--never mind. I suppose you have some vampiric way to hunt for them?

Nick: Yeah, and I may as well take the opportunity to show Tracy a few tricks of the trade. I guess it's time for a flying lesson.

Tracy: Keen! How do I fly? And--don't I need a license?

Nick: No. You just will yourself into the air, and then out through the skylight. Like this.

Nick rises into the air--and Natalie looks alarmed.

Natalie: Nick! Tracy! First you have to--
{noise of shattering glass}
--open the skylight.


The evening sky above Toronto. Nick and Tracy fly along, trailed by a V-formation of Canadian geese.

Tracy: I really have to drink blood? Couldn't I start out with something less gross, like tomato juice?

Nick: It doesn't work that way. Tracy, your first meal will have to consist of human blood, or you'll turn into a carouche. You wouldn't want that.

Tracy: Why not?

Nick: It's almost as bad as being known as a spammer.

Tracy: Oh, yuck!

Nick: So you'll drink some human blood?

Tracy: Well--if I *have* to . . . but wouldn't cranberry juice work? They're both red, and have lots of vitamins.

Nick lets out a sigh as he flies along, and raises his eyes heavenward.

Nick: Where is LaCroix when I need him?

"Heavenward"? Nick comes to his senses and looks *down.*

In the old abandoned warehouse, LaCroix wakes and climbs out of the bedframe. He looks annoyed to find that he is not in the loft.

LaCroix: Very funny, Nicholas.

LaCroix looks around and sees that the place is filled with Nick's stolen belongings--and one of the spammer's lackies (named, it must be said, in honor of its lack of brain). We see it digging into Nick's refrigerator while it grumbles over its limited contents.

Lackey: Cow's blood. Nothin' but cow's blood.

LaCroix does that lightning-quick thing, grabs the lackey and drinks its blood. Then he grimaces and tosses the husk aside.

LaCroix: Junk food. Nothing but junk food.
{hears noises in the building; smiles}
But, like peanuts, you can't eat just one.


Act Five: The sky above the warehouse. Tracy and Nick land in the alley behind it.

Tracy: So this LaCroix is here?

Nick: Yes. I can sense him, just as you can sense me.

Tracy: And he's *your* master? Wow! I'll bet he can tell me all sorts of fascinating things about you! I can't wait!

Nick looks worried as he slips into flashback mode. He recalls the time he got caught by the Spanish Inquisition. The time he caught a pipe-bomb and forgot to throw it away, *fast.* The time *Schanke,* of all people, figured out he was a vampire. The time he got really confused and brought across a woman who wanted him to render her pregnant. All the times he fell for LaCroix's tricks--

Tracy: Hey, partner, why are you blushing?

Nick: Never mind. It's time for your next lesson. Concentrate on the sounds you hear inside the building. What's in there?

Tracy: Well . . . I hear footsteps . . . voices . . . and a sound like a clogged, overflowing toilet being roto-rootered--ohmigosh, that must be a spammer!

Indeed and it is. At once the warehouse door bursts open and our spammer runs screaming into the night. It's clearly in fear of LaCroix, who is in pursuit of it. Nick stops LaCroix.

Nick: LaCroix, let Tracy take care of this one.

LaCroix: Your partner has become a vampire? Remarkable.
{takes Tracy's hand, bows and kisses it}
Welcome to our little family, my dear. Enjoy your meal.

Tracy: My meal?

Nick: The spammer. Chase it, catch it, then--well, you'll know what to do.

Tracy: You bet!

Tracy speeds off after the spammer, and LaCroix turns to Nick.

LaCroix: She seems a most apt student, Nicholas. Can you give her an education worthy of her?

Nick: I'm doing my best, LaCroix. And she seems to have a natural talent for vampirism.

Tracy returns in a flash, holding the spammer by the scruff of its filthy, unshaven neck. Tracy beams like a kitten that's just caught its first mouse.

Tracy: I did it, partner! Chased him, caught him, and read him his rights! Let's take him downtown and book him!

Nick: Tracy--this is a spammer, not a person. It doesn't have rights, and you aren't supposed to arrest it.

Tracy: Then why did you want me to catch it?

Nick: Tracy--bite into its throat and drink its blood.

Tracy: Ewww! Bite *that?* I might catch something!

The spammer has been kicking and squirming to get free. Now it recognizes Nick.

Spammer: You're supposed to be dead!

LaCroix: There's been a lot of that going around lately. Nicholas, perhaps *I* should see to the young lady's education. I do have a certain expertise in the matter. I at least can make a meal look appetizing.

Nick: No, I'll do this, LaCroix. Come with me, Tracy.

Nick takes the spammer from Tracy and flies off. She follows him into the air. Nick leads her to Pearson International Airport, where he spots a helicopter preparing to take off.

Nick: Tracy, go hypnotize the pilot into taking a nap, then back away.

Tracy swoops down to fulfill Nick's orders. Nick hovers five hundred feet above the helicopter's whirling blades and speaks to the spammer.

Nick: Why did you rob my home?

Spammer: I didn't do nothing wrong! Honest! It was somebody else! Let me go!

Nick: If you insist.

He lets the spammer go. As it falls Nick calls after it:

Nick: You don't mess with the bats unless you know how to fly!

And, indeed, the spammer does not know how to fly. Proof of this comes as it falls straight through the chopper's blades, which hack it into hundreds of thin slices. The slices fall to the ground amid a thick spray of blood. Nick lands, goes to the helicopter and shuts off the engine. Then he motions for Tracy to join him. As she does so he points at the ground.

Nick: Okay, Tracy, what does this look like? All this red stuff, with all the red slices on it?

Tracy: Pizza. *Pepperoni* pizza.

Nick: And what do you do with pepperoni pizza?

Tracy: Oh, I get it!

She reaches up, runs a finger along one of the helicopter's blades and tastes the blood on it.

Tracy: Mmm! This is just like when my Mom would ice a cake and she'd let me lick the mixing spoon! When I get done here I want to hunt down more spammers and drink their blood!

LaCroix, who has quietly followed, lands and watches as Tracy takes another taste of blood from the blade.

LaCroix: Well, Nicholas, I was wrong. I didn't think you had it in you.

Nick: It was just a matter of showing Tracy what the spammer had in him.


Tag: The loft. The furniture has been returned, and Nick and Natalie are putting things back in order. They're interrupted by a deliveryman. He comes in and hands Nick a package. Nick opens it after he leaves.

Natalie: What is it, Nick?

Nick: It's a gift from Tracy.

He finishes opening the package. It contains the spammer's ugly pinhead, mounted on a plaque. Natalie smiles in approval as Nick hangs it over the fireplace.


--fade to end theme and credits.

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Last modified: April 10, 2006