The Avengers in Green Acres - part 5 (final)

[Peel and Steed tumble out of a chute, through a panel in the wall, into a bright room. They struggle to their feet. They have landed in a fantastic, futuristic laboratory.

Two elderly people in farm clothes are waiting.]

Peel: It’s Mrs. Ziffel!

Steed: And Mr. Ziffel, I presume. Only … who are you, really?

Mr. Ziffel: [Eeeevil Russian accent] Our names are not important. It is our Organization which will go down in history.

Steed: The Soviets, you mean.

Mr. Ziffel: No! The Soviets are weak. They will never achieve their aim! Our Organization has broken off from them, and from their goons, the KGB!

Mrs. Ziffel: As you see, we have been hard at work here. We have lived here in Hooterville for the past few months. In fact, we selected this town, this farm, for our operation long ago! Using radical plastic surgery techniques, our … organization changed our appearance. Then, it was easy enough to travel to the United States, invade the home of these working-class pig farmers and put our great plan into action.

Steed: And what exactly is your plan?

Mrs. Ziffel: A plan to send a powerful satellite into space, which will shoot lasers at our American targets with deadly precision. Whole buildings, or certain key people – nothing will escape our weapon! Even the Soviets will learn, our Organization is a force to be reckoned with!

Steed: Diabolical!

Peel: And what have you done to the real Ziffels?

Mrs. Ziffel: They are alive – for now. Along with their bumbling hired hand.

Mr. Ziffel: [crosses the room, lovingly regarding the walls of computers, radar screens, and machinery] But living here incognito was only the beginning of the Organization’s plan …

[As the Ziffels talk, Peel manages to move one tied hand and remove a small laser torch from her belt. She burns through a few ropes; they fall away. Unnoticed, she moves to do the same for Steed’s ropes.]

Mr. Ziffel: We had all the funding we needed, but we required equipment – and expertise. That’s where our friends the Ukranians came in. Oh, it was easy to convince them they were being smuggled to the West in order to gain political asylum. We knew they were capable of such betrayal. Once here, though, they eagerly agreed to work for us … in exchange for their continued good health, that is.

[Mrs. Ziffel touches a button. A wall pulls back to reveal an outlandishly large cage. Three men in white lab coats are inside, as well as the real Ziffels and the real Eb.]

Mrs. Ziffel: However, as of tonight, their usefulness has come to an end. You must all be disposed of … perhaps I’ll start with my double … I wouldn’t be wearing this ugly face if it weren’t for her …

[Steed and Peel break away and make their move to take down both the Ziffels. A good plan, but Mr. Ziffel has a surprise for them. He whips out a small black box like a remote control – it’s the mind-control device.]

Mr. Ziffel: Stop! Or I’ll stop you!

[He switches it on and points it toward both Steed and Peel. Desperately, they cover their ears against the noise. But Steed immediately stiffens and his eyes glaze. Happily, Mr. Ziffel adjusts the ray to focus on Steed alone.]

Mr. Ziffel: Now Mr. Steed, you will finish off your fair partner!

[Steed shuffles forward to do their bidding – but when he gets close enough to Mr. Ziffel, he suddenly swats the device with his umbrella, sending it crashing to the ground. Then he pulls earplugs out of his ears. He brought them along against just such a possibility, you see. Brilliant! The two men skirmish. Steed brings Mr. Ziffel down.

Peel sees Mrs. Ziffel run to a computer bank. Mrs. Ziffel slaps a button. She turns, looking crazed. She’s started the launch sequence! They feel a horrid rumbling – the rocket in the nearby silo will shoot into space in a matter of – according to the ominously ticking countdown clock - 90 seconds.

Steed lunges for the computer. Mrs. Peel engages in hand-to-hand combat with Mrs. Ziffel, who is deucedly fast for someone her age. But in the end, she’s no match for Peel’s judo. Down she goes in a tangle of calico. Peel dashes to Steed’s side. They glance wildly at all the equipment. How will they stop the launch?]

Scientist #1: [Yelling from the locked cage.] Go to the next panel! The one on the left! That’s it! The buttons must be pushed in this sequence …

Steed: Do we trust him?

Peel: Good question, Steed. What would Wittgenstein say?

Steed: Don’t know. Looks like we’ll have to wing it.

[The scientist shouts commands. It is getting hard to hear him above the horrifying rumble. Peel and Steed dash about. Thankfully, a final lever pull makes the roar begin to die down. The countdown is aborted! They’re all safe!

Peel goes to work on the cage. Soon she has freed the crowd. Steed, who in the meanwhile has tied up the fake Ziffels, stands and dusts his hands.]

Real Mr. Ziffel: Whew doggie, Doris, time in the cage ain’t done my rheumatism no good!

Real Mrs. Ziffel: Oh no you don’t. Don’t think you’re going to get out of helping Eb ‘n’ me muck out the sty! Them Russkies probably don’t know the first thing ‘bout pig-farming.

[They all hear a noise and freeze.]

Steed: It’s coming from that panel –

Real Eb: Tarnation! It’s me! I mean, the other me! I mean - He’s sliding down the chute!

Steed: Quick, everyone! Places!

[The chute opens, and Eb slides out, luger in hand, looking wild-eyed. The first thing he sees is the Ziffels; next he sees Steed and Peel, standing with their hands seemingly tied behind their backs. He holsters his gun and crosses into the room.]

Fake Eb: What has happened? Why was the rocket launch aborted? I ran in from the field when I heard …

[Eb’s back is turned to Peel. Ghastly mistake, wot? Peel pulls a cast iron skillet from behind her back and clomps Eb on the head. He goes down in a heap.]

Peel: [hefting the skillet] I do believe I could get the hang of country cooking yet!

EPILOGUE:

[Steed and Peel are both balanced up on the telephone pole, being debriefed by Mother.]

Steed: … and I began to be suspicious after the encounter with old Uncle Festus at the Shady Rest Hotel. I was quite certain the döppelgänger Ziffels had previously replaced the real Eb with a look-alike agent. He then communicated with his operatives using a transmitter he secreted in a scarecrow.

Mother: By Jove!

Steed: By the way, the real Ziffels are back in their home, along with their pet, er, pig, and the real Eb will soon take his place back here, as the Douglas’s handyman.

Peel: [Looks at Steed in dismay] Don’t make any long-range plans, Steed.

Mother: Well, the satellite will be dismantled as soon as possible. This new group, the Organization … we’re trying to get a bead on it, but its leadership exists in shadow. There may be more of them in the States. We have our top people working round the clock. Oh, and the Ukranian scientists have been granted asylum as they requested. By the way, Steed, the CIA tried to send a man down to you, but he got lost.

Steed: Typical.

Mother: Well, you two have done a bang-up job. Absolutely top of the milk. The U.S. government is eternally grateful. So grateful, they have officially requested both your help uncovering other operatives in this mysterious Organization. Will you consider it? It would mean remaining in Hooterville under cover …

Steed: Yes, of course.

Peel: [At the same instant] Absolutely not.

Mother: Well, do think it over and send word. Cheerio!

[The two of them descend the pole, deep in discussion. Below, we see that the bottom of the pole is now in the middle of the master bedroom. The room is being inexpertly enlarged by the Munroe brothers. They pick through the construction, go outside and look back at the ramshackle house.]

Steed: Renovations are proceding swimmingly, Mrs. Douglas. Will this help?

Peel: Steed. You must be out of your mind. Hooterville? No matter what you say, I see absolutely no earthly inducement to stay here.

Steed: [Gestures expansively] The chores!

Peel: The stores!

Steed: Fresh air!

Peel: Piccadilly Square!

Steed: [with finality] Mrs. Peel, we are needed.

Peel: [Stops. Sighs heavily] Good bye, city life. Right, then. Well the bedroom is a start, Mr. Steed, but about that shower stall …

END

Comments

[Sheri "Biff" Biffle]

I love it! I'm alerting my Avengers fanatic friends immediately. You know what's best about this hilarious tale? The fact that you wrote the characters of Steed and Peel so well. Witty banter (a lot to banter about in Hooterville, their typical cool, the way they carry themselves. Perfect. Er, well, just one criticism -- Steed doesn't carry a cane. It's a brolly (umbrella). Thanks so much for alerting me to this fun story.

[pam]

Thanks, Sheri. It probably wouldn't have gotten finished, if you hadn't said you liked the first installment, months ago. (BTW, I went back and changed "cane" for "umbrella". Rookie move!)

[Mona]

Was told to read this by Sheri. Luckily, I've spent the last six months watching on TVLand the Green Acres eps I'd never seen before, so I understood all the jokes. My by far favorite line for hilarity was when Emma said she sent the pig away but then actually she didn't; second was Steed's line about her attacking him because of his comment on the almondine. VERY funny. All in all a good romp and well written for a parody. The coup de grace was when you had Steed beat a mind-controlled Mrs. Peel and when you had him astutely fake his own mind-control. Anyone who realizes the greatness of Steed is my kind of gal!

[Barbara Peterson]

It's been a loooooong time since I've seen Green Acres, but this brought it all back to me. And yes, the Steed/Mrs. Peel by play was great. Lots of good humor in this. Well done!