vietnamese jam and bread

"OH NO, PUTTIES!"
The cry rang true. Helmeted heads of all colors rushed to the scene, doing backflips when appropriate. Would this teach the kids a valuable lesson? The youth of tomorrow, here, today. Austin sure hoped so!
"CUT!"
"What the fuck do you think you're doing out there?" Spielberg Spielbergson spat, "You think this is some kind of fucking gymnasium baseball field outdoor swimming pool fucking faggot hole shit? You think you're doing this for your fucking health?" He spat again. It was probably reflexive. Uncontrollable, Austin thought to himself. Not like me! He grinned at his handsome TV reflection in his handsome TV-star mirror. This is it! This is how everyone's gonna see ol' Austin St. John! No more 'Suck John' after this, alright! Just 'Star John,' even 'SuperStar John!' What a star!
"ACTION!"
Here we go! This is it! Duck! Dive! Yeah, alright! Boy, don't I look cool! I'm like Magnum P.I.! Or a robot alien! St. John took a fall. He knew that even the tallest heroes had to get knocked over sometimes. Every kid had to learn that some day, if he was going to grow up as big and strong as me, he thought. He knew.
And here he was, teaching them all of life's lessons, the easy way! Boy, oh boy! If Ol' Dad could just see me now! Wouldn't he be proud! He sure never would have died in that car crash, that's for sure! He'd be here. We'd be high-fiving! Alright!
"BREAK! That's it you fuck shits. Get lost. You fucking know when to be the fuck here tomorrow!" Spielbergson spat a fat red glob out of his fat fucking mouth. He's going to die, David Yost thought. I hope he fucking dies, chokes on his sick fucking tongue. Looking over at St. John's idiot grin, he wanted to throw himself off of a bridge. Why was he still doing this? Couldn't he get a real job? Make his mom happy? Do something fucking right for once in his miserable goddamn life? Is it even worth it, he thought. I should just do it, one day. Right on camera, in front of some snotty studio audience, all full of screaming kids.
He imagined it, the 'Blue Ranger', the runt of the team, unexpectedly steps forward. Wind blowing majestically by him as his idiot comrades fight those stupid dolls. He snaps Rita's neck, expressionless, rips it off cruelly, and steps center-stage. This is not a TV show anymore.
"THIS IS IT KIDS. YOUR LIVES WILL NEVER BE THIS EXCITING AGAIN." And slowly, methodically, he eats the actress's head. It's awful, the kids don't know if it's the show--their one-time favorite show--or a sick nightmare they can't awake from. It doesn't matter to Yost. He laughs raucously, roaringly, brain matter all flying from his mad maw.
"--David! Hello? David? Do you want to come get smoothies with us or not?" DuBois cut in on his reverie. "Walter's paying. It's because he's rich."