Brain Wreck

I am Boris. She is Natasha. You know us from KGB. Also, you know us from stupid show about stupid moose and stupid squirrel. Stupid moose with IQ of one finger and stupid flying squirrel who could only fly with wires like Peters Pan Tinkerbell boy. Bullwinkle Moose and Rocket J. Squirrel (J. for Wendell) they are called.

Natasha and I, Boris J. Badenov (J. for traditional Russian name Skippy) are always stars of show. Stupid producers never give us enough on-air time. They waste time with Dudley Dumbass DoRight, Mr. Peabody Dumbass Dog and Sherman the Dumbass Kid, and, main cause of my chronic and often inconvenient diarrhea, Rocky and Bullwinkle. Stupid producers never let me kill moose and squirrel. Would have been ratings bonanza on live TV, but no they say. Too gross for audience. Would have gone over bigtime in Vladivostok. So, what happens? Show is cancel, that’s what!

Producers realize, too late, probably because of time spent in drunken debauchery, that we, Boris and Natasha, not moose and squirrel, are real stars of show. So, they come to us on bended kneecaps and they say, “Boris, Natasha, we are so sorry. If only we had realized truth!

So, here’s the thing they say to Boris and Natasha. They say, “We are going to make it up to you. We give you your own show on new thing called Food Network. ” I say, “What the hell is Food Network, already?” They say, “Is whole network dedicated to nothing but shows of cooking and is all live! No film, no tape, just live cooking!”

What the hell does Boris know about cooking? What the hell does Natasha know? We know borscht. We know vodka and a few other things. These are main dietary staples of all Russians except for small children. Small children get potatoes and vodka. We know good breakfast is foundation of good education. Natasha and I talk it over. She wants to do show about breakfast. I am in agreement, but then I remember what producers said and Boris gets idea.

“Is all live?” I ask. “All live,” they say. “And can we have any guests we want?” “Of course. Anybody you want. Just say the word.” “Okay,” I say. “First show I want stupid moose and squirrel.” “You got it, Buddy!” they say.

Okay. Few weeks later we have first show. Sponsors are Green Goose Vodka, Tonto Tasty Trail Mix, Wheaties, and secret sponsor with enough influence to get Boris and Natasha their own cooking show, KGB. Okay. Director says, “Live in 5..4..3..2..1. Action!” Then stupid moose and stupid squirrel make grand entrance on set, and I give them plenty action! I drop stupid moose in his tracks with slug from my new Remington 243 rifle. Right between the antlers. Rifle is gift from other secret Food Network sponsors called NRA. Nice guys!

Okay, this is where things start to go away from script. Stupid moose weighs about 2,000 pounds, plus or minus, in U.S. That’s about a thousand kilos, plus or minus. And, bad part, at least half of moose, as I always suspect, is nothing but moose shit. Moose always look smaller on TV because of way he is drawn. People always say, “But you’re so much bigger in person!” Yeah, He is bigger. Moose is full of it.

So, next thing you know, studio is knee deep in moose shit. Smell is horrible. Some live studio audience members faint. But then Natasha saves day. She whispers in my ear, “Boris Dear, do you remember when we used to bake Moose Crap Pie in the old days in Vladivostok?” And that’s what we did. Show was big hit!

For our next live TV Food Network show we made Squirrel Scrotum Stew. That is when FCC bans us from television forever. Now we are forced to make living by writing stupid recipes for schmucks (but not you dear reader. I am talking about other schmucks).

Moose Crap Pie:
You’ll need:
About one thousand pie shells.
Brown sugar, cinnamon, bug zapper, fly swatter, room deodorizer, salt, fifth of vodka.
Instructions:
Kill all flies on moose crap. Scoop one substantial plop into pie shell. Sprinkle cinnamon, brown sugar, salt, and deodorizer, (underarm deodorant may be substituted for deodorizer), and mix with large paddle while consuming vodka.
Bake for 2 to 3 hours at the highest possible oven setting.
Cool and serve to live studio audience.

For this and other recipes, please purchase our most recent cookbook, “Cooking With House Pets!” It is now available at all three Conoco Stations in Des Moines, Iowa, or you can order from us direct at: Schmucktacular@Vmail. KGB