starring Arnold as himself

 “Hi dear.  How’re you?”  Said Arnold’s wife.
 “Ah gahta headache.”
 “You’ve had a headache for three weeks-- and that unsightly bulge on your head is even bigger,” she said, concerned.  “Perhaps it’s a tumor.”
 “It’s nahta tumah.”
 “Maybe you should see a doctor.”
 Arnold’s wife grabbed and twisted his collar.  “I said see a doctor!!!”
 “Fine.  Ah’ll see da stupeed doctah.  Now put me down so Ah can make ze ahpointment!”
 She dropped Arnold unceremoniously on the floor.  “And don’t try running off to Mars again.  You remember what happened last time.”


 “Ah’ll be back,” said Arnold, stepping outside.
 “Bye honey,” she said, kissing his cheek.
 “Hasta la vista, Baby.”  He kissed her neck in response and worked his way upward to the side of her head, where he stopped suddenly.  “You haf somting growing out da side of your head!” He said, quite concerned.
 “That’s my ear, dear.”
 “Oh.  Ees very cute.”  He kissed it and walked out the door to the waiting taxi.


 “Mister Arnold Schwa--Scwaaaaa--Schwarzen-something...you get the idea...”
 “Dat’s me, baby.”
 “Well Mr. Schw--Arnold, walk this way.”
 “Ah valk how I vant.


 “Well, Mr. S, I believe you have a very large tumor.”
 “It’s nahta tumah.”
 “Yes.  It is.”
 BLAM!!!  Arnold had taken a shiny silver handgun from the doctor’s pocket and blown the doctor’s brains out.  A nurse ran in.
 “What was that?!” She screamed.  “What happened to him??”  She pointed at what was left of the doctor.
 “He gaht a tumah.”
 “A tumor??”
 “Did that?!?”
 BLAM!!!  The nurse’s brain tissue spattered the walls.  Arnold bolted out of the hospital and hailed a taxi.
 “Hi,” said the plastic taxi driver happily, “I’m your local JohnnyCab!”
 “Naht you again” said Arnold
 “Have we met?” said JohnnyCab
 “It vas another movie.”
 “Oh.  Where to?”
 “TUMAH!!!”  BLAM!!!
 “...zzzzt!....pLeaSE r-R-r-ePeaT thAt-t-T-tHe ADreSssss...zzzzzt?!...”
 “TUMAH!!!”  BLAM!!!  Arnold tore the JohnnyCab from his socket and bashed it repeatedly with the butt of his gun.


 When he reached home, his wife ran up to him and gave him a big hug.  “Oh!  You’re home!  What was wrong?”
 “Are you sure?”
 “It was?  Oh no!  How long do you have?”
 BLAM!!!  He blew a hole through her shoulder.
 “Not long, huh?”
 “You said that already.”
 BLAM!!!  Blood spurted out of one of her eye sockets.
 “TUMAH!!!”  BLAM!!!  He shot her again, point blank.  Her nose was torn off.  “TUMAH TUMAH TUMAH!!!”   BLAM BLAM BLAM!!!   Her ears were wrenched off.
 “You wanna talk about it?”  She asked, strangely still living.  Just then, their son walked in.
 “Daddy!  Didja bring me anything?”
 “I don’t want one of those!”
 BLAM!!!  Arnold’s son’s head exploded, blood flew all over the room. His skull, or what was left of it, fell on the cat.  “Meow!” said the cat.
 “TUMAH TUMAH TUMAH TUMAH TUMAH!!!!!!!” BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!!!!  The cat was gone, except for  a nasty stain.
 “Oh no!  I’ll never get that out of the carpet!”  Arnold’s wife said.
 “TUMAH!!!”  BLAM!!!  Arnold managed to finish off his wife.
 He bolted out of the house and into the hands of three burly cops.
 “You’re under arrest!”
 “NO!!!”  Screamed Arnold.
 “Um, we’ll let you loose if you buy us donuts.”
 “Fine.  Come with us.”
 “NO!!!” Screamed Arnold again.
 “YES!!!” Screamed the cops.
 “TUMAH!!!”  Screamed Arnold.
 BLAM!!!  The shot tore through one of the cops’ temples, and out the other side.  Blood splattered into the faces of the other cops, temporarily blinding them.
 “TUMAH!!!  TUMAH!!!”  BLAM!!!  BLAM!!!
 The cops were all dead.  Arnold took their weapons, ammunition, and car, and drove away.
 He drove around aimlessly for awhile until he got hungry.  He pulled into a McDonald’s drivethru.
 “Hello.  Welcome to McDonald’s.  May I take your order?”
 Arnold was busy loading one of the guns.
 “Sir?  What would you like?”
 Arnold still did not hear.
 “We don’t serve those.”
 RATTATATATTTATATATATATATA!!!  The barrel of Arnold’s new automatic smoked.  The intercom fizzled.
 “zzzzt. S-ir?  Pl-se pull u- to -he win-owzzzzzz…”  Arnold did so.
 “Do you have the money to pay for that intercom?” asked one of the McDonald’s employees.
 “Well, I’m calling the cops.”
 “I vill KILL de cops!!!”
 “Not this one,” said the employee as Robocop approached Arnold’s stolen car.
 Arnold reached behind the counter and pulled out a compact rocket launcher.
 “Dude! Where’d that come from?”
 “Ah keep a stash, Baby,” said Arnold as he got out of the car.
 Robocop said, “Stop, Criminal!  You are under arrest!”
 “Come peacefully and you will not be harmed!”
 “Peace sucks!”
 “No, Criminal.  Peace does not suck.  Come with me.”
 “That is no excuse for your actions.”
 “That is not the sound a rocket launcher makes, Criminal.”
 “Oh.  Sorry.”
 “Quite alright.  Now, if you would please…”
 “Why do you keep saying that?”
 “That’s better,” said Robocop.  “And, ‘ouch!’”
 “God.  Not again.”
 Arnold got really mad.  He totaled about 53 rockets, more than four hundred full clips of ammo from the automatic, and plugged Robocop with somewhere around five hundred rounds with the original handgun.  Robocop was not even fazed. He simply stood there.
 “Are you finished?”
 Arnold, now extremely angry, simply punched Robocop in the face.  The cyborg immediately collapsed, spewing sparks and fizzling a bit.  He did not move again.
 “Tumah, Baby.”  He shot Robocop once more, just to be cool.
 “Hey mister!”  Said a nasally voice behind him  “You better be able to pay for that cyborg!”
 “Oh, shaht up, vimp!”
 “Well, do you have the money?”
 “Um, do you at least have a socket wrench?”
 “I’m calling the cops.”
 “Cop dis, Baby!”
 “Cop what?”
 “ ‘Cop a tumor?” Now, that doesn’t make any sense at all…”
 “Vimpy little nerd.”
 The wimpy little nerd had a Porsche.  Arnold jumped into it and drove away.  Soon, he arrived at his summer home on the beach.  As he got out of his new car, he saw a strange little old lady coming toward him.
 “Hey mister!   Would you like to hear me play my tuba?”
 “IT’S NOT A TUBA!!!” Wailed Arnold.
 “It is too!”
 “TUBA!!!  Er, Ah mean: TUMAH!!!”  BLAM!!!
 “TUMAH!!!”  FWIIIIIISSSSH!! KABOOM!  The tuba exploded, partially melting from the heat and splattering all over the poor woman’s face.
 “AAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!” She said again.
 “TUMAH!!!” Arnold shouted, and literally blasted the poor old woman to pieces.  Her limbs flew in all directions in a cloud of blood, splattering the beach with red.  Little bits of her vital organs sizzled on the sand, and the seagulls who were waiting for Arnold to leave so they could devour the Tuba Woman’s reamains were pelted with bone fragments.
 Arnold wiped sweat from his brow and went inside the beach house.  He took a shower and settled in to watch the news.
 “Reporting live from a truly grotesque scene, I’m Bobby Jinkletorque with a developing story.  I am standing in the living room of Arnold Scwarzesomethingorother, amidst the scene of six grisly murders committed earlier today.  Mrs. Scwarzesomethingorother, their son, and family cat appear to have been shot to death by an unidentified assailant.  Outside are the bodies of three police officers, also shot brutally to death by the assailant.  I have no words to describe how truly disgusting are the bodies’ conditions.  The murderer evidently drove away in the squad car the police arrived in moments before they were gunned down.  This just in…the squad car has been found abandoned at the nearby McDonald’s fast food restaurant, near the remains of Robocop and one unidentified nerd.  The search is continuing for the perpetrator of these crimes.  And now back to you, Earl…”
 Arnold was worried about being caught, so, thinking quickly, he cut two holes in a paper sack and placed it over his head.  “Now dey vill nevah recognize me,” he said to himself, smugly.  He sat back and opened a beer.  “Ahhh, sveet alcohol!  How I adore you!”  He sipped it slowly and watched the television.
 “Today in health news:  The number of reported brain tumors is on the upswing this week in the country-”
 “TUMAH!!!”  Arnold threw his beer can at the television.  He ran downstairs and pulled out his personal Acme Box-O-Explosives and tucked it into the Porsche outside.  He tucked all of the guns he could carry into the trunk, and kept a couple handy in the front seat.  He peeled out down the beach, cutting through people’s lawn and smashing through fences.
 “Hey, asshole, this is private property!” yelled a tall man with a beard, surrounded by dozens of scantily clad bimbos who were rubbing and kissing his body.  Arnold decided he was a movie star.
 “Vhy don’t you jahst go jerk off somevhere?  You know, like you did een my yard last veek.”
 “Hey, man,  don’t NEED to jerk off!”
 “Baht you do, I got eet on film!”
 “Eeeew,” said the women, backing away.
“Hey, asshole, get outta that car and we’ll see who’s a real man!  The one who is, or you.”
“Ah am da real man.”
   “Uh-huh.  Sure you are.  Get outta the car and we’ll see.”
 “Fine.  Ah vill ge out of ze car.”  Arnold reached into the backseat and pulled out some plastic explosive.  Then he got out of the car.
 “Good.  Now.  First things first.  Put ‘em up.”
 “Put vhat up?”
 “Your fists, you nimrod,” said the man.
 “Vhy don’t Ah just kill you ahn get it ovah vith?
 “I’d like to see you try,” the man sneered.
 “Fine.  Have a nice eternity een hell, baby.”  Arnold threw a punch that crushed the man’s face inward.  He fell back into the sand.  His face, now more like a bowl, filled with blood, overflowed, and began spreading out on the sand.  Most of the sexy women passed out.  Arnold covered the man in pastic explosive and rigged a radio detonator.  He moved the car to safety and pulled out the remote with a single red button.
 “TUMAH!!!”  He pressed the button.  A humongous BOOM!!! Rolled across the beach.  Charred pieces of the man zoomed outward, the house caught fire, and a shower of debris and sand and blood rained on Arnold, who stood smiling with his arms crossed.
 “Oh God!  What happened?” Screamed a young lady, running up to Arnold.
 “Ah crashed his pahty.”
 “Who are you?”
 “Ah am da pahty poopah,” Arnold said.
 “Oh.”  The woman stood silent a moment.  “What’s that?”
 “Dat is he’s arm.”
 “Oh well.  He was a sexist jerk anyway.  Thanks for blowing him up!  B’bye!”
 “Goodbye.  Have a nice day,” said Arnold, watching her as she jogged away.
 Arnold climbed into the car and drove off the beach.  He decided he should get out of the state before he was caught.  He hadn’t gone far when he was stopped by a four-car pileup.  He got out of the car.
 “Get deez cars out of my vay.”
 “Shut up, Bub,” said a man, who’s limo had just been converted into a compact.
 “Shaht ahp yourself, you vimpy lowlife scum,” Arnold said.  The man hit him.  Calmly, Arnold reached over to a woman standing near him.
 “Excuse me,” he said, and reached into her purse. He pulled out a shotgun and some ammo.
 “I didn’t put that in there!” She said, startled.  “How’d you do that?”
 “Magic, baby.”
 “I’m not stupid.  There’s no such thing as magic!”
 “You are correct.  Dere is no such ting as magic.”
 “Then where’d that gun come from?”
 “I keep a stash, baby.”
 “Ahnd now back to you, mistah,” Arnold said to the man who had hit him.  He loaded the shotgun and snapped it closed.  He raised it right up to the man’s face and stopped an inch away from it.
 “TUMAH!”  BANG!  The man’s cranium exploded in a shimmering cascade of blood.  The small group that gathered threw their arms up to their faces to protect themselves from the bone fragments flying everywhere.
 “My GOD, man!  Have you any idea what you’ve done??” screamed a nearby woman.  “You’ve stained my $150 silk blouse!  You MONSTER!”
 “What did you say, young man?”
 BLAM!  Blood gushed out of the new hole in the woman’s chest, spreading out across the expensive garment.
 Arnold drove to the airport, wanting to get out of the state, and sneaked into the cargo bay of a plane headed for LA.  He emptied out six suitcases and put his miscellaneous gins into them.  Then he took a nice nap.


 Arnold sneaked out of the plane with his guns and made his way to a parking garage where he stole a nice red convertible.  He put his handguns in the glove compartment and stored the rest under the seats.  He hotwired the car, backed up to the opposite wall, and floored the gas.  The car tore through the wall in front of him, and sailed gracefully into open air.  Pedestrians on the street looked up in surprise as a red convertible sailed theough the air from the third story of the garage.  Miraculously, it made a safe landing a block or so from the damaged parking garage and peeled off down the street.  Arnold was making his way to the suburbs to visit a psychologist he knew when he saw a black car behind him.  He could see the driver well.  The driver looked very, very familiar.
 The driver of the other car was a cop, or at least dressed like one.  He had a blond crew cut, a thin smile, and big ears.  He turned on the lights and the siren and motioned for Arnold to pull over.  He did, for some reason he would never understand.
 Vhy ahm I stopping? He thought to himself.
 The cop got out of the car and walked up to Arnold, who rolled down the window and smiled politely.
 “Have you seen this boy?” The cop asked, showing a small snapshot of a young brown-haired boy.  Arnold’s eyes widened in recognition and he screamed girlishly.  He now remembered this man.  Arnold pressed the gas and tore off down the street.  The cop was soon in hot pursuit.
 Arnold drove into a  ;large open building.  It was hot.  Very hot.  Arnold could see molten lead being poured into a huge vat.  He jumped out of his car and ran.  The cop did likewise.
 Arnold ran out onto a catwalk over the bubbling vat of molten lead.  He could hear the cop behind him, feel the heat rising from below.  Then he felt the catwalk end.  Just as his foot was losing contact with the walk, he shoved off with all his strength, and managed to catch hold of a chain with a hook on the end.  The cop followed, winding up on a similar chain just out of arm’s reach of Arnold.  Silently, they swung back and forth.
 “Go avay!” Shouted Arnold.  “Leave me ahlone!”
 “You remember me.  I’m touched.,” said the cop.  “Sure brings back memories, huh?”  The cop morphed into Sarah Connor.
 “Geez.  Again vis da liquid metal thing.  Vhy don’t you stahp showing ahff?”
Sarah morphed into her son, John Connor.
“Oh no!  Leetle John Connor!  Vhy did da movie have to end?  Vhy did I have to go ahnd kill mahself?  I vanted to be vis you alvays!  Vhy?  VHY????” Arnold screamed, face contorted.  “TUMAH!”
 BLAM!  *blip!*  John Connor splurted a little bit of liquid metal.  The wound healed itself.
 “Where did that gun come from?” He asked.  “You didn’t come in here with a gun!”
 Arnold was bawling like a baby.  “I just have dem, okay?  I don’t know vhere dey come from!”  Arnold blubbered a bit more.  “Ah vant my daddy.”
 John Connor morphed into Darth Vader.  “Arnold!  I am your father!”
 “…no!  NO!  Eet’s impahssible!  nnnnNNNNOOOOOooooo!”
 “Search your feelings, Arnold!  You know it to be true!”
 “Arnold!  Together we can destroy the mayor of this city, and rule LA as father and son!”
 “Vhould you just qvit already?  Vhy do you toy vis my mind?”
 “Well, because…Because it’s easy.”
 “Vhat?  Now you insult me?  Vhy don’t you stahp toying vis me?  Eef you are going to kill me, vhy dohn’t you get eet ovah vis?”
 Darth Vader morphed back into the cop.  “Just remember, you’re the one who wanted me to do this…”  As the two chains swung close to one another, the cop spit in Arnold’s eyes.
 “Oh my GAHD!!!! You  zpit een my eyes!!!  Vhy? Vhy?!  VHY!?!?!?”  He clawed at his eyes with his hands, forgetting his hands were the only things hodling him to the chain.
 “Toodles!!  Hehehe!”   Giggled the cop, wiggling his fingers and grinning.  Arnolds movements slowed to slow-motion as he fell.
 “TUUUUUUUUUMAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!”  As he fell, Arnold emptied a clip of ammo into the cop, who, also in slow motion, splattered into many little blobs of liquid metal.  The blobs sailed through the air, oozing little geometric shapes, and reflecting the dim light and glow from the molten ore into which the little blobs of cop and one screaming Arnold were very, very slowly falling.
 Arnold fell feet-first into the ore, and because he was moving so slowly, began to scream even louder as he sank.  He had enough left in him to extend his arm above his head so it was the last thing to sink below the surface.  As it sank, he extended his middle finger in that universally famous gesture of vulgarity in the general direction of  the blob that still resembled the cop’s head, which was also still screaming loudly.  The middle finger sank slowly into the liquid ore and-
* * *

 Arnold Schwarzenegger sat bolt upright in his bed, body rigid and drenched in sweat.  His head hurt, so he got up to get some cookies and tylenol.
 Awhile later, his wife came downstairs, too, the morining sun streaming through her hair.  She looked at Arnold.
 “Is anything wrong?” She asked.
 “Nahthing much.”
 “What, then?”
 Well, Ah gaht a headache.”


…or is it?

Will there be a TUMAH 2?…

…God, I hope not.

The Credits