KC2: I Can't Believe It's Really a Tumor!

Iconic movie quotes help make a film unforgettable. The right words, delivered succinctly at the perfect time, provide a microcosm of the filmmaker’s intent. When a beleaguered Jack Nicholson is restrained by a police officer and advised to “Forget it…it’s Chinatown,” the line punctuates line the point that despite the best efforts of the most beguiling and shrewd detective in Los Angeles, a dark shadow always falls on part of the truth because some webs of treachery are so thickly opaque that they block out the sun. The truth-seeker fails to expose and defeat the rapacious tyrant. We’re led to believe that bringing justice to powerful scum is about as easy as, say, teaching Chinese arithmetic to the class dunce. Forget it.

Certain actors deliver memorable quotes with great regularity. Arnold Schwarzenagger is one of these actors. My favorite Arnold quote wasn’t coined in one of the heroically violent action flicks he is best known for, but rather from a comedy. The quote is from “Kindergarten Cop,” when he refutes a misdiagnosis of his headache suggested by one of his students.

“It’s not a tumor!”

Those four words marked a crossing of the threshold for tumor jokes. No longer taboo and insensitive, tumor jokes finally became accessible to the entire family. Arnold’s most notable achievement is not starring in Terminator 2, nor becoming the governor of California; it’s the way he convinced the world that it’s okay to laugh about tumors.

Aside from this monumental breakthrough, the rest of Kindergarten Cop is a letdown. The hilarious possibility of a tumor burgeoning on Arnold’s skull has no bearing on the film’s plotline. The original Kindergarten Cop ultimately has nothing to do with tumors. It focused on some bullshit about a Neanderthal finding his tender side, stroking a ferret, and hunting down a sinister deadbeat dad.

Thankfully, a class I took in college taught me the gist of writing screenplays, and I have created a script to rectify all the mistakes made by the original Kindergarten Cop. The script I have completed is titled KC2: I Can’t Believe It’s Really a Tumor!


Within the Kindergarten Cop universe, two months have elapsed since the original. In real life, almost two decades have gone by since KC1. Here are two things to keep in mind about those two facts: First off, the kindergarten children won't be played by the original cast; by now they're all in their twenties, some of them aren't even cute anymore, and two of them overdosed on a drug so lethal it can only be purchased on the Columbian black market. Most of the new cast of children will be comprised of rejects from the Mickey Mouse Club, and they will be paid the lowest wages permitted by law. Secondly, the producers (me included) intend to use the money saved by not paying the children acceptable wages to invest into hiring the best damn make-up artist in Hollywood. We'll spare no expense in order to make Arnold's time-worn face look twenty years younger.

Here is an excerpt from an early scene in the movie.

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

ARNOLD the Kindergarten Teacher reads from a large, illustrated book, periodically showing the pictures to his attentive students. From far across the room, we see Arnold coughing, harmlessly at first, then harshly. From a new angle, behind Arnold, he takes a hearty chug of water.

ARNOLD: Excuse me, children.

He is dressed in a fuzzy red sweater and blue jeans, as kindergarten teachers are wont to do. A student named JEFFREY, raises his hand. He addresses his mentor with tactful concern.

JEFFREY: Gee Arnold, I hate to be rude, but...what's that thing on your face?

ARNOLD: Oh, do not worry, little Jeffrey, it is probably just a wart or man-pimple or some other thing of no big deal.

JEFFREY: I don't know. It looks pretty scary. Maybe it's a tumor.

The room is deathly silent. Arnold creases his thick brow, irritated. He quickly relaxes and then forces a laugh.

ARNOLD: Oh, very funny, little Jeffrey. Ha-ha, I remember this joke. You are such a rascal of all trades sometimes, do you know that?

Another student, CRYSTAL, raises her hand.

CRYSTAL: No. Jeffrey's being serious, Arnold. It does look pretty scary.

Before Arnold can respond, the cutest kid in class, DELLA ROSE, nods sternly in agreement.

DELLA ROSE: Yeah, it does look like a tumor. My God. It’s hideous.

Other students begin chirping too, speculating. Most sound nervous and a few sound excited by the grotesque spectacle. Arnold raises his voice in anger, something he hasn't done in the classroom for quite some time.

ARNOLD: CHILDREN!

Not a peep is heard in the classroom. Arnold is the next to speak, and everyone knows it.

ARNOLD: I will have no more of this...tumor business! The joke is over now. I don't know what has gotten into you all, but please...you are starting to hurt my feelings.

The children look around at each other, their gazes angled toward the floor. Everyone is tense, but Della Rose will not be denied in expressing her troubled compassion.


DELLA ROSE: Arnold, I think you need to see a doctor.

Arnold fumes quietly, huffing and puffing but not screaming. Then: a close-up on the tumor verifies Della Rose's concern. It's a tumor, all right, and it sure isn't pretty. The recess bell rings and the students file out of the room quickly, not saying a word. Alone now, Arnold runs his monstrous hand across his tired face. He sighs and heads for the teacher's lounge.

END SCENE.

After much cajoling by his fellow teachers in the lounge, Arnold agrees to visit the doctor for an inspection of the revolting growth on his face. After running some vital tests of Arnold’s blood work, and more importantly, owning the ability to detect an obvious tumor when he spots one, the doctor reveals his prognosis in a game of Hangman. His rationale is that the news will be too devastating if delivered with succinct swiftness, and he believes the patient can cope better if his grave illness is revealed one letter at a time. Five letter-spaces are slit to the left of the crudely drawn gallows. The doctor assures him that he will still receive a proper diagnosis should he fail to guess the five appropriate letters, but he will charge an additional $5,000 every time a cartoon man is hanged.

Possibly due to subconscious denial, or maybe sheer stupidity, the last five letters of the alphabet that Arnold guesses are, in order: T-U-M-O- and R.It takes him a few tries to sound out the word, but once he does, Arnold’s massive hand squeezes his pencil into a dozen little chunks of graphite and wood. The camera zooms tightly into his distraught face and he delivers the titular line of KC2, a phrase you will be reading on t-shirts in the year 2011 as frequently as you encountered “Vote for Pedro” shirts several ago. Here is another excerpt from the script.

INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY

ARNOLD: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S REALLY A TUMOR! Nooooooooooooooooooooo!

End scene.

Arnold’s good friend Carl Weathers—whom you might remember from Predator and four of the Rocky films—is so concerned for the Kindergarten Cop’s well-being that he has rented a condo in Astoria, Oregon, temporarily relocating from his estate in Burbank.

During dinner at a Ponderosa steakhouse, Arnold confides to his pal that he can’t bear to face death without the companionship of a beautiful and compassionate wife. His tumor is compounded by profound loneliness. Carl aches sympathetically for Arnold, and sets his mind on ways to sooth his friend's pain.

The next day, during Arnold's lunch break at school, Carl makes a surprise visit to the classroom. Grinning with immense pride, hardly noticing the gargantuan and ghastly tumor on his friend's face, Carl tells Arnold that he has checked out some tasteful web-sites and arranged a blind date for him.

What he does not tell Arnold, however, is that the woman he has arranged to meet his friend will understand his plight completely because she has precise knowledge of the travails that are plaguing Arnold. Why? Because she’s got a tumor, too.

Arnold laughs, nervously and with a trace of childish giddiness. His face reddens and he downplays the offer, saying that he has never been on a blind date before. Determined, Carl provides some more information for Arnold. Her name is Sheila, she teaches at the town junior high school, she is nine years Arnold's junior, and she had a brief stint as an underwear/ night-gown model in the regional Sears Catalog. Hearing this last bit of news, Arnold gulps, the hungry lump in his throat nearly matching in size the bulbous growth on his head. He asks some more questions excitedly...

INT. CLASSROOM - DAY

ARNOLD: Do you think she'd like to do dinner and a movie and a grope? Or maybe dinner and a grope and then a movie? Perhaps she’d be more comfortable getting the grope out of the way immediately; I would not argue with that.

He laughs anxiously, flustered by his eager longing for flesh.

ARNOLD: Maybe I am putting the horse ahead of myself. I mean, let’s get one thing in the clear: Is this woman pro-grope or anti-grope?

CARL: Oh. Pro-grope, definitely.

ARNOLD: She is pro-grope? This is fantastic! That is for my money the most important woman quality. Do you think she'd be up for some heavy grope-loving, say, half-an-hour into the first date? Because I usually can’t wait that long.

Carl is steadily running thin on patience, but Arnold persists.

ARNOLD: Maybe I could wear a ski-mask and break into her house shortly before her date with me and just give her a quick yet harmless grope. Then she will be flustered and slightly eroticized, and when I show up later on without the ski-mask, I can tell the cops to buzz off because I was once on the force and I can take it from here, which will impress her, and then I’ll console her and give her assurance that the Big-Bad Groper will never touch her again. Then once she’s been soothed and she feels secure, it’s time for some serious groping, but without the ski-mask this time!

CARL: Oh heck, Arnold, that might be pushing it. You’ve got to get to know a woman before you start pawing-up the triple-Cs and whatnot.ARNOLD: I understand your reference to booby size! I will soon be in ecsta-triple-C!

(He takes a deep breath.)

ARNOLD: Okay. I am prying too much. Forget this. The important thing is that she is pro-grope. I am going to pick her up on my Harley at seven o'clock tonight.

End scene.

In the climactic end to Act 2, after being told he has but a 25% chance of surviving the surgery, Arnold proposes a radical new procedure: He intends to save himself by punching the tumor off his face. The logical alternative, the doctors assure him, is laser surgery, in which a highly concentrated crimson beam would trace the base of the tumor and, hopefully, remove it without melting Arnold’s face. After much persuasion from Carl, Arnold decides against this option because Predators employ infrared lasers to target their pray and disembowel mercenaries. The mistrust Arnold shares with Carl for Predators leads him to dismiss any medical procedure that involves lasers.

Prior to the operation (broadcast live on FOX News and Pay-per-View), Arnold, dressed in doctor’s scrubs, considers the surgical tools on the tray: Boxing gloves, brass knuckles, and two “We’re #1” foam fingers.

He thinks deeply, grins slowly, and raises his bare hands up close to his face, in complete reverence of their prodigious power.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - DAY

ARNOLD: Yes. The same tools I use to grope with will save my life. I will show self-love without gloves. Under pressure the brass knuckles will buckle. Foam fingers are...for stupid girly men! Of course. I’m going to defeat this tumor with my bare hands!

End scene.

And here is where I must draw the curtain on the summary of KC2. To be honest, I’ve already told you far too much. All I will type is that regardless of whether Arnold’s self-punching cure is successful,* we cannot forget about the bleak condition of his new girlfriend Sheila, whom Arnold gropes joyfully for ten solid minutes (over her sweater to maintain the kid-accessible PG-13 rating). The true climax of KC2: ICBIRAT poses the question, “Would you punch the one you love in the face as hard as you can in order to save their life?” This is the decision the mischievous Gods of Drama pose to Arnold. Much to his dismay, he cannot defeat Sheila’s tumor by groping it.

There remains little doubt that moviegoers would flock to see KC2. Once the public’s appetite for tumor humor is sated and the film has grossed more money than The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars sagas combined, the question is: Does Nick have a trilogy hiding up that slender sleeve of his? Indeed I do.It is debatable if the most memorable line from Kindergarten Cop is really, “It’s not a tumor!” Fans of this film aren’t likely to forget another brilliant quote—a quote that doesn’t concern tumors but rather the difference between male and female genitalia. During a calamitous lack of order in the classroom, one of Arnold’s students, the impassive and pale son of a gynecologist, declares, “Boys have a penis; girls have a vagina.”

As a kid, I remember thinking that little boy had it all figured out, that he was wise and self-assured beyond his years. Unfortunately, gender can’t be simplified so easily due to genetic anomalies known as hermaphrodites. The third installment of the KC trilogy features the addition of a new student to Arnold’s classroom, a student that defies and challenges the simple categorization offered by the gynecologist’s son. The film will be titled KC3: Hermaphrodites Have a Penis and a Vagina? In addition to breaking the barriers that shield the boom of tumor humor, I want to inform the PG-13 crowd about hermaphrodites as soon as possible.

Kindergarten Cop may not have followed through on its best quotations, but at least the film provided the roots for some ideas that really matter.

*It is.