“Whitney, your twin sister, Outsourced Cummings, represented a significant investment to NBC,” the NASA Business Commission executive mutters, “We’d like to talk to you about taking over her contract and enlisting in the Avatar program.”
Whitney Cummings mouthfarts, “psshhh, what’s with the serious pants attitude!?” The NBC exec looks confused. “Whitney, you understand that your twin sister is dead, right?” Whitney rolls her eyes and slinks back in her chair, “it’s all cool dude!” Then she burps.
The flustered NBC executive strokes his devil beard and says, “Listen, we’ve got a pilot ready to launch on Thursday night. We need you to take over your sister’s mission – you have the exact same genetic make up as Outsourced, you’re the only one who can do it. Please! Whitney! Our planet is desperately low on Ratium and we think you may be our only hope of survival. We need to send you to the planet Avatar so you can convince the Avatar tribe to move their Avatars so that we can mine for the Ratium. Please! PLEASE WHITNEY PLEASE!” Whitney’s all like “Yeah whatever dude I’ll do it, I’m always down for a par-tayyy!”
The next five years of Whitney’s life are spent inside a tiny space ship en route to the planet Avatar. The passengers on the NBC-8-30 are given the option to go into cryogenic hibernation, but Whitney decides to stay awake and entertain the crew with her standup routine. Whitney keeps practicing her material on the crew right up until the day they land on planet Avatar. She was actually in the captain’s quarters doing a hilarious bit about how her vagina is like her gym socks while the pilot was struggling to land. It took the pilot five years to get here and it was already apparent that Whitney Cummings might not be the right person for this job, but by this point it was too late to go back. Everyone knew that they would have to endure this slow-motion train wreck until it runs its course. Everyone except Whitney herself, that is.
Whitney Cummings puts on a gas mask so she doesn’t breathe in the toxic Avatarian air. Retired actress cum anthropologist Sigourney Weaver rushes Whitney inside the lab where she studies the Avatars. Sigourney Weaver says, “This is my lab where I study the Avatars!” Sigourney Weaver walks Whitney to a tube containing an awkward looking CGI version of Sigourney Weaver. “And this is MY Avatar.” Then Whitney goes, “Cool beans?” and shrugs.
“And this,” Sigourney Weaver points dramatically, “is your sister Outsourced’s Avatar.” Whitney sees an awkward-looking CGI version of herself floating in a glass tube. Whitney rolls her shoulders and moans to no one in particular, “I’m bored!” Sigourney Weaver expositions, “You need to wear your own Avatar so you can communicate with the Avatars and convince them to move their Avatars off the Avatar, understood?” Whitney steps her foot inside the mouth of her Avatar and says “no problemo!” and she pulls the teeth of her Avatar up over her shoulders. Whitney Cummings is now an Avatar.
“Listen, Whitney, I need to confide in you,” Sigourney Weaver confides, “The Avatar program is evil. NBC wants to bulldoze The Community Tree to get to the Ratium. The Community Tree is the tribe’s sacred well of meta jokes and genre parodies!! It’s very relevant! You’re going to have to make a moral choice: Save the Avatars or save NBC. It’s all riding on you. Please, make the right choice, Whitney Cummings.” Whitney is tugging at the butt crack in her skin suit and moans, “This thing is ridin’ up my lady junk!” Sigourney Weaver looks really sad.
So then Whitney gets lost in the forest or something and after a few days she suddenly becomes the highest ranking member of the Avatar tribe. She’s giving an impassioned speech about how her gym socks are like her vagina. The other Avatars are clapping and applauding and praising her like a god. Whitney Cummings isn’t even really trying that hard to win them over, but the Avatars are extremely eager to accept a white person as their leader because they are hamfistedly written racist ciphers.
Then several months pass where nothing really happens. Whitney basically abandons her mission for no real reason. She also learns how to ride a horse by using her brain tail to have sex with it and then she learns how to ride a dragon by using her tail to have sex with it — she was having way too much fun to think about her mission. It’s like her mission was just an irrelevant first half of a movie with no real bearing on the second half of the movie – having brain tail sex with horses is her life now. THE ULTIMATE INTIMACY! She’s all about that now. It was like she didn’t really exist before this moment; like she was a stock character with a paper-thin backstory and this was the first time in her life that she was actually doing something!
One day while Whitney was busy plowing two guys with her tail, she hears the NBC bulldozers plowing over The Community Tree! Oh crap she totally forgot! Whitney spits the nerve endings out of her mouth and staggers down to the bulldozers. “Yoooooo,” she slurs, “What’s up in this hizz-ouse?”
Sigourney Weaver walks up from behind the bulldozers and she is PISSED. “You were supposed to keep this from happening, Whitney! GOD! You let a burgeoning cultural movement DIE because you were too busy LIVING IT UP to think about the SOCIAL RAMIFICATIONS of your HACKNEYED BULLSHIT. God. You’re what’s wrong with this society!” Sigourney Weaver stomps back to the bulldozers.
“Wait!” Whitney responds, “Wait no fuck you!” Sigourney Weaver stops and listens. Whitney continues, “How is it my fucking responsibility to save The Community Tree! Isn’t that your job? You’re the anthropologist. You know! Maybe I’m NOT qualified for this job! But what am I supposed to do, huh? Like, honestly, what do you expect from me? Do you really expect me not to take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity just because I can’t meet your ridiculously high standards? Would YOU turn down a life-changing opportunity just because you weren’t fully qualified?”
Sigourney Weaver mutters, “I uh–”
“No, you wouldn’t. You know how I know? Because you became an anthropologist despite the fact that you’re absolutely SHIT at it. You had one job. ONE JOB. To preserve the culture of these people! And you didn’t do it. And now you’re blaming me because society doesn’t work the way you want it to. And that’s just ridiculous. This is exactly like the shit everyone gave Colonel Lana Del Ray when she sang on the day that Mars attacked. But she stepped up to the plate! You guys just sat there and BITCHED. And who ended up saving the day by making the martians’ brains explode with the sound of her voice? Not you snarky assholes.”
Sigourney Weaver is looking a little indignant, “People like me play a vital role in society! It’s important that we provide criticism of the people in charge to keep things on track!”
“Yeah but you hold EVERYONE to the SAME standard. You realize not everyone can be a Community Tree, right? Not every single person can meet your ridiculously high cultural standards. And, you know, some things are more important than being ‘relevant’ — like — Ratium is important! Without Ratium this whole NBC network wouldn’t even exist and you wouldn’t even be here. And, look, The Community Tree is probably going to grow back in the spring, so just, chill the fuck out, okay?”
Sigourney Weaver sighs. “You’re right. I was so caught up in comparing our culture with the culture of the Avatars that I forgot that none of this matters. Really, there’s nothing inside The Community Tree that is that important to anyone outside of this tribe. It’s just a bunch of derivative self-referential horse shit.”
“Exactly. This entire world is a big pile of garbage. Nothing anyone does really matters at all. Who cares. We can do anything we want, Sigourney…” Whitney brushes her brain tail nerves against Sigourney’s lips, “Anything.”
Sigourney Weaver sucks Whitney Cumming’s dick.