Last night the Hollywood Foreign Press held their annual Golden Globe Awards, where the people with the most money talent were given a golden (false) idol for their mantel (sinners). Many of the winners used their platforms to bring attention to major modern issues, such as women’s rights and Australia being on fire (WAIT WHAT?! WTF YOU GUYS?! IT’S ON FIRE?! If I had known that sooner I would have already given my thoughts and prayers. I’ll start on that tomorrow morning I guess). The rest of the celebrities in attendance used it as an excuse to get drunk and plan orgies together. Gervais carved his own path, as per usual.

His theme for the night was, “f*ck it, I don’t care,” which would be edgier if most Americans didn’t feel the same way. Apparently that was also his take on drinking anything remotely like alcohol that came near him. That’s no big deal of course, that’s called mid-morning in L.A. What doomed the creator of the British (aka boring and soulless) version of The Office was meeting up with Globe presenters Will Ferrell and Pierce Brosnan. Those two drug machines could get anyone to snort acid and inject marijuana.

As you all know, Ferrell and Brosnan are dynamic drug kingpins who have managed to make appearances in movies and at live events for years while evading capture. They were spotted with Mr. Gervais at after parties and after after parties until around 4 am pacific standard time. After that the Ferrell Brosnan split off from Gervais and went on a tirade together. Chasing after dogs and cats, peeing on fire hydrants, and growling at innocent bystanders. If you see them you’re being asked to call police. Please don’t confront them yourselves, they have rabies and will lunge at you on all fours the second they have a solid visual.

The once mediocre comedian, who today is best known as a vegetarian, was heard quoting his own television shows into the night as authorities hunted for Ferrell Brosnan. We first got word of this when the guys over at seriouslyjustletmelivemylifemom.com reported that Ricky Gervais’ best friend and roommate said Gervais didn’t make it home. Said roommate was Tony Rudy Frost. A man who was described as a 73-year-old couch cruising pothead, whose thoughts and actions were to be taken lightly, according to his 95-year-old disappointed father.

Eyewitnesses from the parties were interviewed following Frost’s statement. Jennifer Aniston recalled the last time she encountered Gervais.

“He was confrontational, loud, smelling of scotch, and bragging about getting a second season of whatever his Netflix show is called.”

When asked how he normally behaved Aniston replied, “I don’t understand the question. That’s how he always acts. Can I go back to having my assistant brush my hair now?”

Turns out that Tony Rudy Frost, a man who has never held a job in his life and who was twice sent to prison for stealing boxes of Cheerios, hadn’t seen Ricky in six months. I was able to talk with Frost earlier this evening at his (well, Ricky’s) apartment.

“It’s weird, man. I thought he was shooting a movie in the jungle this whole time,” said Frost, after I asked him where the bathroom was.

He continued, “I’ve never felt so lost, brother. I’m as lost as those letters I’ve been writing to Ricky that get sent to the jungle.”

He had been smoking weed all day. I could tell because I’m attuned to keen observation. I’d know that aroma anywhere. Plus he took hits from his bong every few minutes, so it seemed like a safe guess either way. Finally he got to some theories.

“Where could he have been all this time? I’ve been going over it in my head a lot, like too much thinking kind of a lot. And let me tell you, these last fifteen minutes have made me really hungry. Do you want a cheese sandwich?” he asked.

Frost and his shitty memory continued to dick me around until he ate a peanut butter sandwich (they were out of cheese) and got back on track.

“I think the cartel took him. Probably in April. They’re the only ones with the resources to get a man that famous and that loud mouthed out of the country without anybody hearing about it.” he explained.

I sprang to my feet and responded with, “what is wrong with you? Seriously, what the hell is going on here? You’re too old to be this stupid, Tony! The cartel didn’t take Ricky Gervais because that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and you’ve said a lot of dumb shit the last thirty minutes. Even if you haven’t seen him in six months, your timeline doesn’t make any sense. How would they have taken him in April? It’s January. Right now. Did you know that? Happy f*cking New Year, you goddamn moron.”

He sat still and calm for a minute. Finally speaking he remembered, “oh yeah. He was hosting the Oscars or something this week. Told me I could go with. When do I need to get ready for that?”

It was then that I realized this poor airhead, this financially poor geezer, this high as a blimp old man couldn’t help me. I really shouldn’t have even put the last few paragraphs in this article, but I was so pissed that he wasted my night that I wanted to share my pain with you. Anyway, what really happened is quite simple. When I got home a friend of mine, Leo Winters-Smith, called me to give me the scoop.

“Gervais is in Burbank right now, acting like an asshole. Like, more so than usual. I mean, I’ve never been a fan of his, other than his stuff in Night At The Museum. Yet even taking that into account, trust me he’s being a total jackass.” he insisted.

I believed him. I had to. I got to video chatting and texting my way to the full story. The truth is below:

Like Kyle Reese in a cold, dark alleyway; armed with a handgun and scaring the shit out of a local police officer, Ricky Gervais screamed into the world “what year is it?” He had just awoken from a mighty slumber and was, as the young kids say, “drunk off his f*cking ass.”

After splitting up with Ferrell/Brosnan, Gervais went to the Los Angeles Zoo and attempted to free the animals. He ended up fracturing his knee and spraining both of his ankles trying to scale the fence. Somehow, the drugs he was on kept him from feeling any pain whatsoever and he walked to Burbank, where fell asleep behind a dumpster that his roommate Frost lived behind 17 years earlier.

His journey was not made easier by the fact that he was the victim of three hit and runs before reaching the dumpster. We know this because at some point during his trek, Gervais acquired a GoPro camera and attached it to his head. Miraculously, he barely received a scratch from the three cars plowing into him, as he only broke both his arms, his right leg, suffered a minor concussion. Truly amazing the way he escaped Scot-free.

He woke up seven hours later screaming in pain. He had no memory of hosting the Golden Globes, and his adoring fans tried to tell him that’s where he had been last night. He became irate and confused.

A woman who wishes to remain anonymous said, “he was basically crawling, it looked like he could barely move. When I told him I enjoyed his monologue at the Globes last night, he started panicking and saying, ‘is it 2007? Is that where I am? Am I from the future?WHAT YEAR IS IT?!’ It was at that point that I grabbed my two young kids and ran for it.”

Against all odds, Gervais made his way to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the entire time asking what year it was to strangers. The drugs had worn off, but the confusion and damage from the concussion had not. Luckily, iconic dramatic actor Ben Stiller, who once saved Gervais’s career by casting him in Night at the Museum, saved his life by throwing Ricky in his trunk and driving him to the hospital. Truly a selfless act.

Ricky Gervais is now safe and sound in the emergency room. Right where he should be. Thank God this story has a happy ending.

*Once again the FBI has asked me to remind you that if you do see Ferrell Brosnan anywhere in the United States, that you are encouraged, in fact being begged to call your local authorities. Their reign of evil must come to an end.

Published by Seth Dayrich

Founder of WSYS and writer of two motion pictures (Catching Summer, Dan's Humongous Apartment) and a play (The Restaurant Tango). View all posts by Seth Dayrich