SCENE: The Wu-Tang Hangout, night. Strong Bad, Homestar and Pom Pom enter. Drunks, dancers and spilled food are everywhere. A pounding beat drives in the background.

STRONG BAD: Man, what a dump.

HOMESTAR: I know. I should have waited until I got to the bathwoom.

STRONG BAD: …What?

HOMESTAR: Uh, nothing.

POM POM: (bubbles)

STRONG BAD: I dunno, man. Do you think we should be flashing his picture around or something?

POM POM: (bubbles)

STRONG BAD: What do you mean? Of course I can blend in! I’m like a freakin’ chameleon, man!

A stage manager gets a signal, and knocks on a dressing room door.

STAGE MANAGER: Yo, Z. You’re on in three.

We see the interior of a dressing room. Coach Z is slumped over his dressing table, eyes bloodshot, a bottle of Listerine in his shaking hand.

COACH Z: Okay, Eddie. I’ll be out in a minute.

Coach Z looks at a photograph on his table. It is an old black-and-white photo of an Afro-wearing Coach Z standing with Homestar, Marzipan, Strong Bad and Pom Pom as children. On the photograph is written ‘Best Wishes, Coach Z: Third Grade, Free Country Elementary’. Coach Z sighs and wipes a tear from his eye. He downs the last of his mouthwash, rises to his feet, and adjusts his hat. He slumps out of the dressing room and towards the stage entrance, a towel still draped over his shoulders.

MC: All right! Thanks again to J Bucket for that boss performance! And now, we have the act you’ve been waiting all night for! Dudes and babes, may I present, our very own…Coach Z!

The crowd cheers. Coach Z steps onto the stage. He looks at his backup singers.

SINGER: You okay, Z?

COACH Z: Yeah, I’ll be all right. Come on boys, let’s rock this jernt.

SINGERS: Right!

Coach Z turns towards the screaming crowd.

CUSTOMER: Give us some jam, Z!

Something seems to light up within Coach Z’s eyes. Suddenly filled with energy, he throws his towel to the floor, grabs his microphone and spins towards the audience.

COACH Z: These peoples keep trying to fade me!

The crowd goes wild. Soon the entire crowd is jamming to Coach Z’s rap. The entire room seems to pulse with the beat. Lost in this sea of rhythm are Homestar, Strong Bad, and Pom Pom.

HOMESTAR: Wow. These guys love Coach Z.

STRONG BAD: It’s kinda sad, really. These people have no fulfilment in their lives, and have to rely on some guy who isn’t any better off than them to entertain them.

POM POM: (bubbles)

STRONG BAD: What? Did I just say something hideously ironic?

Coach Z’s rap number comes to a finish. The crowd cheers enthusiastically. Coach Z waves to his fans, and then retreats, his backup singers patting him on the back. He walks into his dressing room, and collapses facedown on the floor.

POM POM: (bubbles)

STRONG BAD: You’re right. Now’s our chance to see him.

They approach the dressing room.

STAGE MANAGER: Sorry, dawgs. Coach Z won’t be signing autographs tonight. He’s meditating.

STRONG BAD: In Coach Z’s case, I assume that means passed out on the floor.

STAGE MANAGER: Actually, it sounds like you know Coach Z, all right…. Hey, wait! I know who you are! Coach Z showed me your pictures! Let’s see: (to Homestar) you’re the Track Star, (to Pom Pom) you’re the Whiz Kid, (to Strong Bad) and you’re Big Mouth!

STRONG BAD: Big Mouth?

STAGE MANAGER: Oh, man! Not a day has gone by when he hasn’t wondered how you guys are doing! He’ll be stoked to see you!

He knocks on the door.

STAGE MANAGER: Hey, Coach! I’ve got some visitors for you!

COACH Z’s VOICE: Tell ‘em to come back next week. I’m meditating.

STAGE MANAGER: They’re friends of yours!

COACH Z’s VOICE: Okay, Eddie. But make it fast. I’m on another astral plane and I’m gettin’ airsick.

STRONG BAD: Big Mouth?

The Stage Manager opens the door.

STAGE MANAGER: Go right in, boys.

The three approach Coach Z. He groggily gets to his feet.

COACH Z: Okay, fellahs. Sorry about the…

He stares.

COACH Z: Oh, gee whiz. Sorry, guys. I’m seein’ things. You reminded me of some guys I used ta know.

HOMESTAR: We do? Did any of them speak Finnish? Because if they did, I’m not one of them.

COACH Z: Wait a minute…. Homestar?

HOMESTAR: Oh. Uh, wight. That’s me.

COACH Z: Strong Bad? Pom Pom?

POM POM: (bubbles)

STRONG BAD: Hey, Coach.

Suddenly all three are wrapped in a Coach Z bear hug.

COACH Z: Oh, man! My boys are back! I don’t believe it! Eddie! These are my boys! They came back!

STRONG BAD: Why the crap is everybody so hug-happy these days? Doesn’t anybody know how to high-five anymore?

COACH Z: Oh, I can’t believe you guys came to see your old Coach! What brings you guys here?

STRONG BAD: You may wanna pull up a chair, Coach Z. It’s a long story.

Later, the group has made themselves comfortable in Coach Z’s dressing room. Strong Bad and Pom Pom have explained their plans.

COACH Z: Gee, I dunno, fellahs. I mean, that Homeschool is a wrong one if I ever saw one, and I’d like my share of the Dead Benjamins and all…

STRONG BAD: So? What’s the problem?

COACH Z: I’ve found my niche, boys. I’ve found people who not only enjoy my rhymes, but worship them! I’m a gaerd to these people! How could I leave this behind?

HOMESTAR: We’re all gonna get together, Coach Z. It won’t be like old times if you’re not awound.

Coach Z suddenly has a flashback, in sepia. He is his young, afro-wearing self, overlooking a group of pre-schoolers. Little Homestar kicks a soccer ball, which then bounces off a pole and hits him in the face. Little Strong Bad kicks little Strong Sad in the ribs. Little Marzipan furiously protects a flower from being flattened by the ball. Little Pom Pom makes a flying kick, sending the ball through the hoop. Coach Z smiles, albeit mouthlessly…

COACH Z: All right, fellahs. You’ve talked me into it. I’m in.

HOMESTAR: All wight!

STRONG BAD: Great. Who’s next?

POM POM: (bubbles)

COACH Z: Bubsy? Oh, geez. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from him.

STRONG BAD: Well, we need him. He’s the best of us with money, and we need him to examine the financial records and find out how much Homeschool stiffed us.

COACH Z: Well, there is one place I think Bubs might be… come on, boys!

Coach Z, strength anew, exits, the room, the rest following.

STRONG BAD: Big Mouth?