We all remember the show Win Ben Stein’s Money. The show… was a fucking lie. The show aired on comedy central and featured proud republican “Ben Stein” supposedly putting up $5,000 of his real money against three contestants that all fucking hated him. What you probably don’t know is that the entire show was a fucking lie, they lied to you, to me…. To us. You see, as stated in the show’s closing credits, Stein’s “money” was from a prize fund furnished by the show’s creators. Any leftover money was paid to Stein after, and, after 715 episodes and a prize fund of $5,000 per episode, well, you do the fucking math, sparky.
Ben Stein is a scam artist and I don’t even think he’s human. I have a friend who claims he is related to the real count Dracula, who lives in Pennsylvania and drinks the blood of the innocent. What you probably don’t know is that there’s an episode of “Win Ben Stein’s Money” that never aired, because no one, neither the audience, contestants or Stein himself, won money. In fact, everyone ended up a loser in the end. Much like life itself, they were all fucked in the end.
He introduced the audience members and they all showed up. Shit got real very quick, very fucking quick. The audience was clapping, but the video was very grainy, this episode originally aired in 1998, 20 years ago from this fateful day. We already knew the show was a fucking lie. “You can win $5,000 of my money!” he yelled, but it wasn’t his money. “It’s my money!” They’re not allowed to show real money on television because of counterfeiting laws. Someone could pause the video of ben stein holding up a US dollar, walk into Walmart to buy condoms with the connected tv and several extension cords, and get arrested with no possibility of parole, as per united states law.
“I counterfeited something once.” Ben Stein said, looking directly through the camera, at ME. “I pretended that the dead stare I call a gaze contained a human soul.” The audience laughed uproariously, applauding, and some were yelling “Hail Satan!” and “I love the fuckin’ devil! Hee haw!” A donkey noise.
Jimmy Kimmell, who later hosted The Man Show and Later the Jimmy Kimmell show, showed up, as he was the co-host. “You know it’s not really your fucking money, you fucking lying, cheating sack of shit!” The audience laughed, applauded, some started to cry, and displayed symptoms of Bell’s Palsy. “And now for our first contestant.” It was Ben Stein, or someone who looked exactly like Ben Stein. A clone? Wait a minute, it was a completely different person, they just looked similar.”You look exactly like me you piece of fuckin’ shit!” Ben stein smiled, and started fingering his earlobe, uncomfortably. There were no other contestants, but Ben Stein had placed some potted ferns in the back that resembled humans. But they weren’t humans… they were ferns.
The categories sure were strange. “Transyl-VEIN-ya”, “No one likes garlic,” “Vampire? Or Umpire?” and “I am Ben Stein, and actually a vampire.” I was starting to suspect that Ben Stein was a vampire. “I’ll take Vampire? Or umpire? For 500 Ben.” Ben Stein smiled, it was a sinister smile, that’s all I can say, and calling him disheveled would be an understatement. He picked up a fucking baseball, smiled wide, and “pitched it” at the man’s head.
It smacked him square in the cranium and he fell over bleeding, cold, dead. Ben stein smiled, his tongue elongated by six inches and he started to lick the blood pooling around the man’s head. “We’ll be right back.” Jimmy Kimmell said, and the film clipped completely.
Don’t ask me how I got the VHS. I’m one of the higher ups, a top executive at ComedyCentral productions, and I. Have. Connections. I’m one of the top dogs at the firm, one of the higher ups, a real good guy and not a miserable pile of bones.
Ben Stein was wearing a cape but no shirt, pants or underwear. “What do you call a fat vampire?” Ben stein smiled. “A hampire!” No one laughed and I was becoming increasingly scared and uncomfortable.
There was something off about Ben Stein…he may have been a vampire. I mean we all watched Ferris Bueller’s day out. We never knew he was a vampire. “Capitalism is a metaphor for drinking blood!” Ben stein smiled. “And.” My heart skipped a beat. “I…AM A VAMPIRE!”
I screamed, dropping my fanta vanilla coke float with matching cup and kettle. Ben Stein was a vampire. This wasn’t “Win Ben Stein’s money,” It was win Ben Stein’s Blood Money. Stein had been hiring guests to win his “Fake prize money” inviting them on the show, paying them nothing, sedating them, and drinking their blood for republican sustenance. Jimmy Kimmel pretended to look horrified, but he knew. They all knew. The audience clapped, and several bats enveloped the screen.
Ben Stein was a vampire. I suddenly got very scared.
I ejected the goddamn VHS and put it in the fucking slipcase, a slipcase. Without the slipcase, the VHS would be naked, and everyone would see its fleshy tape insides. No one wants a naked VHS. It made me uncomfortable. That was when I saw him, at my window.
…Ben Stein. He was floating, he had vampire teeth, and he planned on sucking my blood. I knew- I knew he planned on sucking my blood. He sucked in general. “Let me in.” Mr. Stein said. “We can watch more Win Me Money.”
Well there’s a little known rule about a vampire, if you ever happen to see one at your window, and you will. You NEVER, EVER, invite them in. NEVER, EVER invite Ben Stein into your house. He held up some monopoly money. “Cmon…” he whispered. “Let me in.” I reached out to open the door but suddenly stopped myself, slapping my hand. “NO!” I said. “You’re a fucking vampire and I am going to destroy you with garlic. He rattled the doorknob a little, begging to be let in. “Cmon…” he whispered. It was Ben Stein.
He had bloodshot eyes and kept rattling the doorknob, gently rattling, to be let into my home, but I didn’t let him in. I turned the volume up on the tv, and started polishing wooden stakes. Kebab skewers. I started polishing wooden stakes. “I got some cash for ya, Karl fuckin’ Marx, let me in…” he whispered. My icebox held several ripe, fresh cloves of garlic. “I’m ben bat stein, the batman of our time. Let me in and I’ll tell you a joke about a hampire, swine.” He whispered. That didn’t even make any fucking sense. “I’m ben stein.” He whispered, and rattled the doorknob again, it didn’t even have a knob it was a patio door. “Rattle rattle.” He whispered.
Just my luck, I had some silver, and a bullet. “I can come down your chimney, or slide through your drain pipes, or live in your walls, I’ll be in your pudding, sleeping in your bedsheets, diggin’ your funky game consoles, cmon, let me in.” Ben Stein’s eyes looked pale and his face was gaunt; the flesh was stretched and he looked comatose, like Ben Stein.
The sun would rise soon. The sun would rise and I don’t think he’d like it all that much. “”Please…” he whispered. “I love you…” … “Let me in….” Contary to popular myth, vampires don’t drink blood. They drink the victim’s vital force, lifeblood, or elan vital. You know… the thing that makes you you, instead of someone else. You know you’re you, even if no one else does. I opened the local window.
He probably wasn’t even a vampire. “You just dug your fucking grave.” He said, cursing. He wasn’t even anything. Nobody is anything, finact. I picked up the VHS and chucked it at his head. He screamed as I heard a loud crack, the vhs made a sucking sound, it was sucking. More than the show sucked it was sucking, sucking him in. “Nooo!” He screamed. “I’m ben Stein!
And pretty soon he was gone. Consumed by the video home system, as many mortal men are, and I was scared, sweating, and screaming, but at least I got to keep my mortal soul. At least I got to keep breathing. It’s not worth it, it wasn’t worth it, it’s not worth it to win “Ben Stein’s Money.” I just want to live, breathe, live another day. As weak as I am… I’m alive. I can’t say as much for Mr. Stein, who is now lost forever in a maze of plastic tape and broken dreams. And so am I. And so were we.
Why do you even want money? Material objects are pointless- me, I could’ve been any number of terrible things, but I chose to be me. I don’t need money- there’s nothing to buy. I know I’ll be dead soon- in fact, I am dead, but… I chose not to participate. I chose not to compete. I am the rare, dead sperm on your couch cushion, the rare, dead sperm, that should’ve been a human. For every slow sperm that missed the egg, that’s another person that never existed. Hundreds of millions of trillions of billions of people that never, ever existed, and never will, lost forever in the cushions of your mom’s couch.
And all those greedy capitalists with their fat fucking pussy purse lips can go fuck themselves- do you think that skeleton in the background was just there for decoration? Go watch the show- I AM that skeleton. Ben Stein wasn’t a biologist or a doctor or an endocrinologist. He drank my blood and he hired the local taxidermist to skeletonize me, and I am now that skeleton. I reek of bad dreams and excessive calcium- it doesn’t matter how strong your bones are if you’re just a skeleton- but where’s the flesh?! I’ll tell you where- NOT on Win Ben Stein’s money, a show that had no substance and it wasn’t even his money. What a bunch of fucking liars, but me? Pthph. I’m fine. Every once in a while they see me in the background- every once in a while they see “that skeleton in the background” and just assume smart people own skeletons. But smart people don’t own skeletons.
Smart people don’t own skeletons at all.