Finny Land

Fin: Hey Gloria. What if I told you that I was the original creator of Mickey Mouse?

Gloria: I’d laugh. Walt Disney created Mickey Mouse. It’s common knowledge. Come on.

Fin: I knew you wouldn’t believe me.

Gloria: Well look at the facts. I mean, yes you are very old, and you’re an EXCEPTIONAL cartoonist, and I know you’ve never been to Disneyland, but really Fin? Mickey Mouse?

Fin: … Gloria? Did I ever tell you about when I first came to America?

Gloria: Why…no Fin, I don’t think you ever have.

Fin: I was, new to this country. I was as poor as I was naïve. Instead of a hand, I had a tentacle.

Gloria: (interrupting) Then why do you have a normal hand now?

Fin: Gloria, please. Close that ignorant mouth of yours. It’s an incredibly ignorant mouth, and whenever you talk, you just reveal your own stupidity.

Gloria: …

Fin: It’s sad.

(Gloria nods her head)

Fin: I lived on the streets. I had only two friends and they were both as poor as I was. One of them was a mouse. The other one…was Walt Disney. Instead of a hand, Walt Disney had a tentacle.

Gloria: But you said –

Fin: -We BOTH had a tentacle hand, Gloria. Could you please just try and follow along here?

Gloria: …

Fin: Because I don’t want to TALK about the tentacles, Gloria. What I WANT is to tell you about how I was the original creator of Mickey Mouse. But is that too much to ask? Is that going to be a problem for you?

Gloria: No.

Fin: It was Walt Disney who taught me how to draw. He had so much talent and a tentacle hand, but still, he lacked creativity and he needed a partner. Every day, Walt would attempt to teach me how to draw. Unfortunately, I was a slow learner. Slow like you’re slow, Gloria, and Walt had no patience for me. But I took his beatings; I understood. His genius was unmatched, and with genius comes eccentricity.

Gloria: …

Fin: Have I mentioned Walt had a tentacle hand?

Gloria: Yes.

Fin: Go to hell, Gloria. I hope you go to hell and they turn up the heat.

Gloria: You go to hell.

Fin: Baby, I’m already there.

Gloria: So…what happened?

Fin: One night while I was doodling I drew Mickey Mouse. Walt saw it, immediately recognized its commercial viability, stole it, and then sewed the drawing into his skin so I couldn’t get it back.

Gloria: He sewed it? How could he thread a needle if one of his hands was a tentacle?

Fin: DAMN IT GLORIA! I….I…Actually, that’s an excellent question. I don’t know why it never occurred to me.

Gloria: He must have had an accomplice, Fin.

Fin: But who? We didn’t have any friends.

Gloria: You had the mouse.

Fin: Gloria, you should have quit while you were ahead. You’re back to sounding like you’ve got feces slathered around your brain.

Gloria: Well he must have had somebody.

Fin: Yes….yes he must have. So it’s not too late then.

Gloria: To late for what?

Fin: Vengance, Gloria. I’m going to track down whoever helped Walt Disney, and then I’m going to kill him.

Gloria: Fin, it’s against the law to kill someone.

Fin: It’s against the law for a human to kill another human, Gloria. That’s not a problem for me.

Gloria: What are you saying, Fin?

Fin: Haven’t you figured it out by now, Gloria? I’m from Atlantis. I’m part octopus.

Gloria: All these years….it all makes sense now. Those ink stains...

Fin: Yes. I’m sorry I had to lie about those. I’ll explain more later. Right now I need to track down the mysterious villain who sewed my Mickey Mouse drawing into Walt Disney’s skin.

Gloria: But until today you didn’t know this person existed! How will you find him?

Fin: Gloria, I’m going to give you one more chance. Shut your fucking face. You don’t know shit about shit, and I’m really getting tired of you vomiting out whatever random idiocy your broken brain manages to churn up. I swear to God, if you keep this up, I will rip you apart with my part Octopus strength.

Gloria: …

Fin: …

Gloria: I’ll make you some coffee.

Fin: Smart.

Gloria: …

Fin: Now, as I was about to explain, Walt loved the Mickey Mouse sketch I drew so much that he never had it removed. He guarded it with his life, as it was the only thing in existence proving that he didn’t create Mickey Mouse. If we can get to the corpse of Walt Disney, we can examine the drawing sewn into his skin. And, if we can examine the drawing, we can examine the needlework. Needlework is like a fingerprint, Gloria. No two sewers seam or stitch the same way.

Gloria: Oh.

Fin: The needlework will tell us who Walt’s accomplice was. We just need to get access to the body.

Gloria: So we just need to find out where Walt Disney is buried?

Fin: I already know where he’s buried, Gloria. He’s in the Haunted Mansion’s graveyard in Disneyland.

Gloria: But Disneyland is notorious for its brutal security! Not to mention it’s always busy! How are we going to dig up a grave that’s right smack in the middle of Disneyland?

Fin: With a fucking shovel, you halfwit. We’re going to Disneyland - part octopus style.

Ka-Boom-Boom My Heart

KA-BOOM!

Johnny: They just blew it up!

Yvette: What?

Johnny: EVERYTHING! Run for it!

Yvette: But my house!

Johnny: Your house was part of everything! …So was mine.

Yvette: No!

KA-BOOM!

Yvette: That means…my car was blown up too?

Johnny: Yes. I’m sorry.

Yvette: Who ARE you?

Johnny: Until 15 minutes ago, I was part of the problem. Now I’m part of the solution. Name’s Johnny.

Yvette: I’m Yvette.

Johnny: RUN, YVETTE! RUNNNNNN!

KA-BOOM!

Yvette: Oh Johnny! Can’t we stop running? I’m so tired!

Johnny: Bombs don’t get tired, Yvette. So no.

Yvette: Johnny? You said you were part of the problem. What did you mean?

Johnny: I mean that before I wasn’t blowing stuff up to make you fall in love with me and now I am.

Yvette: Johnny you’re the bad guy? What?!

Johnny: I’m the only guy left. Everyone else is exploded. You HAVE to love me.

KA-BOOM!!

Johnny: I…DIE?!

Yvette: Now you are dead!

Johnny: But I did not make that bomb that killed me!

Yvette: Here is another bomb I drop: I never loved you!

Johnny: And here is the final bomb I drop: Maybe I was dead before the bomb, like my soul was dead if it thought it was okay to kill people.

Yvette: Now I love you but it is too late.

Johnny: ….

Yvette: Johnny? JOHNNY!!!

KA-BOOM!

Pick Your Poison II: Where No Roads Go

Yule: Hey Jay? Remember when you broke your arm?

Jay: Yeah. That was a while ago. Why?

Yule: It scared me. I was worried your arm would never heal.

Jay: It's fine.

Yule: Good. You know, when that happened I was also kind of scared that I'd break my own arm.

Jay: Well I hope you never do.

Yule: Thanks, Jay.

Jay: No problem.

Yule: So...Christmas is coming up pretty fast.

Jay: Yes it is. You see they're already selling Christmas lights in stores.

Yule: Consumerism, huh?

Jay: Yep. Everybody's buy buy buy.

Yule: Anything you want for Christmas?

Jay: Nah. I'm good.

Yule: I'll figure something out.

Jay: Well just so you know, you don't have to.

Yule: I know. You don't either.

Jay: You know what I don't want, right?

Yule: What?

Jay: Another broken arm.

Yule: (laughs) No! Who'd want that?

Jay: Not me.

Yule: Maybe I would...Sometimes I think that maybe subconsciously I like pain.

Jay: What makes you say that?

Yule: Well, I don't know. I guess the life decisions I make. Sometimes I do things I know aren't in my best interest.

Jay: Like what, for example?

Yule: Like I poison myself a little each day.

Jay: You poison yourself? No you don't.

Yule: I do.

Jay: Well I do to. There you go; we're both poisoning ourselves. What do you use?

Yule: My poisons are meat and dairy products.

Jay: And my poisons are non-organic foods.

Yule: Your poison slowly kills your body.

Jay: Your poison slowly kills your soul.

Both: Together, we are dead. Mind, body, soul.

Yule: I want a cheeseburger.

Jay: I want a store-bought apple.

Both: What do we do? How many nooses will we tie around our necks? Lali-ho! Two strangers approach.

Calf: I'm an orphan, but it smells like my mom. It smells like my mom in your belly!

Organic Apple Tree: Why has everyone turned their back on me? Can't you see that I provide safe and healthy food?

Calf: I'm all alone. I'm alone and hungry.

Organic Apple Tree: Come, young cow, Take nourishment in the fruit that I bear.

Yule: I wish we could be like them.

Jay: Why? They're so sad!

Yule: Jay, if we were like them, then we wouldn't be like us. That means We never would have eaten the Calf's mom. We never would have forgotten about Organic Apple Trees.

Jay: So then -

Yule: Right. They'd have nothing to be sad about.

Jay: I wish we could change it. I wish we could undo what we have done.

Yule: Jay, I once had the power to go back in time. I could have changed this. But I lost that power when I ate my first cheeseburger.

Jay: If you'd never eaten that first cheeseburger, we wouldn't need to go back in time anyway.

Yule: That's technically true.

Jay: Hey Yule?

Yule: Yeah.

Jay: I know what I want for Christmas now.

Yule: What's that?

Jay: A new car.

Yule: A new car? Why?

Jay: So we can drive away from all of this poison. So we can drive away from all the sadness we've caused.

Yule: Ain't no roads that go that far, Jay. Ain't no roads.

Praint

Yvonne: Hey Ronald? Want to go to a party?

Ronald: Damn it! No! Get the F out of my way! I'm going to paint this house! Hey…where'd all my paint go?

Elsewhere…

Barnaby: Hey Mike. You know, if we didn't paint these yellow lines on the road I bet cars would drive right the F into each other. You ever think about that?

Mike: I do think about that, Barnaby. I think about that all the time. I think about it and I think about it but now matter how much I think and no matter how much I worry, the danger is still there. It's real and it's there. Like old bastard time himself, it is relentless. Because if we don't do our jobs… people die. I cannot think away the danger; it is immortal. I cannot ignore it either. It is in-your-face. And so…I must accept it. I must face the danger and conquer it with dash-after-dash of painted yellow line. And so must you. Now stop jerking me around, Barnaby and hand it over. How are we going to conquer this danger if you keep hiding all the paint?

Barnaby: (whispering in a scared tone) Um…Mike?... Mike… I…I didn't hide any paint.

And on the visual TV...

Reporter: We have some breaking news. Where'd all the paint go?

At a High School:

Corbin Mantruck: And so class, if you look outside, you'll see rain clouds. Rain clouds are part of our weather system.

Madison Street: Oooh! They're so pretty!

Corbin Mantruck: For today's lab on weather, I'd like you all to paint the clouds outside, using the materials provided.

Tommy Johnson: Ain't no paint, Mr. Mantruck.

Corbin Mantruck: But that's… impossible! Unless…. Class, you're dismissed. Read pages of the book for your homework tonight.

(the class leaves)

Corbin Mantruck: (mumbling to himself) When I theorized about this…nobody believed…..thought I was crazy….I thought I was crazy…

(Corbin Mantruck does some equations on the dry-erase board, using both hands to write, just like Leonardo Da Vinci used to)

Corbin Mantruck: Weather…has evolved.

Four Hours Later

(Corbin is on the phone)

Corbin Mantruck: No! It is not okay to put me on hold! I've been on hold for 3 hours! You've got to listen! Weather has evolved! It's not just water that evaporates anymore! Don't you see? Paint is evaporating too!

(Corbin is put on hold)

Corbin Mantruck: G DAMN it!

(Corbin slams down the phone. Just then, a doorbell rings. Corbin answers the door)

Walt Van Shorn: Mr. Mantruck? Hi. It's Walt Van Shorn? I called last week about doing a teacher profile on you for the school paper?

Corbin Mantruck: Right. Get the F inside, Walt. I've got something to tell you.

Walt Van Shorn: Alright. So…my first question-

Corbin Mantruck: No no no. Forget the questions. I like your jacket. I've got something urgent, Walt. I've got the biggest story since ever.

Walt Van Shorn: EVER?!?!

Corbin Mantruck: You watch the news, Walt? You hear about the disappearing paint?

Walt Van Shorn: Yeah, I heard about it. Why?

Corbin Mantruck: The sky.

Walt Van Shorn: Ummm…

Corbin Mantruck: I know. You think I'm crazy, right? But look outside. See those rain clouds? I was just talking about them in my class today. See how with the sunset, they look so beautiful with the oranges and reds and purples?

Walt Van Shorn: Yes….

Corbin Mantruck: Well tell me how the F that's possible, Walt, since the sun set FIVE F'ING HOURS AGO!!!

Walt Van Shorn: !!!! But…But it's supposed to rain tomorrow!

Corbin Mantruck: Bring your paint thinner!

Walt Van Shorn: But what do we do?

Corbin Mantruck: We die.

Walt Van Shorn: There's got to be something we can do.

Corbin Mantruck: Did you know, Walt, that humans are almost 62% water? Water. Not paint, Walt. Water.

Walt: So…so what's going to happen?

Corbin Mantruck: Paint rain. Paint rivers and lakes. Diluted paint oceans. Lead poisoning. Ruined houses. Drinking water becomes paint water. Huffing becomes yet a greater epidemic. An entire color spectrum of destruction.

Walt Van Shorn: Well we can't just give up!

Corbin Mantruck: Then don't. Me? I think I gave up a long time ago. Walt, I'm not a perfect man. I've struggled with drugs, extreme sports, alcohol, violence... I've fought all of those demons, and I've won. I'm still here. But I don't have another fight left in me, Walt. I'm tired. This raining paint thing is going to kill me. I just want to warn the public, sit back, and let the paint color me away.

Walt Van Shorn: With all due respect, Mr. Mantruck: Go to hell.

Corbin Mantruck: Goodbye, Walt. Please, make sure people know. Give them a fighting chance.

Walt Van Shorn: Goodbye, Mr. Mantruck.

Later:

Eve: My umbrella! It's ruined!

Ian: Paint fumes?! We're getting high on paint fumes! Quick run to the house!

Eve: I don't like this! I don't do drugs!

Ian: I said get to the house!

Later:

Walt (voiceover): On September 15^th, 2008, weather evolved. We weren't ready. Nobody was. Around the world, paint began to evaporate. In response, the world made more - more of the same poison that would soon change the face of this world forever, more of the wet, liquid killer. But the first praint storm didn't kill everyone. Like me, some found shelter. Now, we live our lives searching for streams and indoor pools with a fresh water supply. Water is our God now. But there are others, too. Those that couldn't find shelter quickly grew intoxicated by the praint fumes. Now, these paint-stained savages stumble and stagger throughout the streets, living in the daze of praint, they are hungry and violent. With a lazy and methodical rage, they attack anyone that gets near them. So we hide. We hide from the praint, hide from the Huffers, hide from the grim reality that comes in every thick and sticky color. Sometimes I think that maybe Corbin Mantruck was right to give up. He wasn't alone. People give up every day, walking into the praint and embracing its fumes. Me? Most days I still have hope. That hope keeps me fighting. One day, maybe we can analyze the DNA of weather. And maybe, if there are enough scientists left, scientists that haven't given in to the praint or the huffers, maybe we can find a way to take that DNA and take out the paint evaporating gene. I live for that day

O Positive

LARS VONSON: I've always been different.

(INTENSE Flashback. 3-year-old LARS cuts himself on a piece of glass. A black substance oozes out from his injury.)

LARS' DAD: Are you okay, son? Wait… what is this? What kind of blood is this?! You're a freak, Lars! My kid is a freak! Lars, you get the hell out of my sight! I can be poor and abusive without you! I ain't never wanna see you again!

(Cut to PRESENT TIME. LARS is in a WHEELCHAIR)

LARS: But people don't like it when you're different.

(Cut to LARS in high school. He gets punched in the mouth from a bully)

LARS: Pfffha! My mouth!

Bully: I ain't never punched nobody with blood like this! What a loser! Take his freak wallet!

(Cut to PRESENT TIME. LARS gets up from the WHEELCHAIR. He was just PLAYING with it and DOESN'T NEED it.)

LARS: But some people…some people, when they find out you're different…some people try and steal what makes ya special.

(BULLETS rip through the walls and LARS DUCKS behind a couch.)

LARS: Never let them take it.

(Quickly, LARS takes out a POCKETKNIFE and cuts his hand. Instead of blood, BLACK DROPLETS fall to the floor. LARS makes a trail of his black blood that leads to a stack of FIREWORKS. BULLETS whiz by him. LARS JUMPS back behind the couch and pulls out his ZIPPO LIGHTER.)

LARS: Happy 4^th of July, dickweeds.

(LARS lights the trail of black droplets on fire, which easily ignite and quickly set the fireworks aflame. LARS uses the distraction and ESCAPES out the BACK DOOR)

LARS: My name is Lars Vonson. I bleed oil.

(Opening Credits)

LARS: They found me again, Todd. They found me. Don't call it a safe house if it isn't safe! Who knew I was there?

TODD: Nobody knew!

LARS: Somebody knew, Todd. Somebody knew and it almost killed me. Listen. You know how you have blood that keeps you alive?

TODD: Yes, yes. We've been through this! –

LARS: – Well I have oil! I have an unending supply of a precious fuel resource, and it flows through my veins like it was the most natural thing in the world!

TODD: But it isn't the most natura–

LARS: I KNOW IT ISN'T! That's why the government wants me! That's why they'll stop at nothing to catch me! I'm worth untold billions to them, Todd, and it doesn't matter if they catch me dead or if they catch me alive. They're going to clone the hell out of me either way.

TODD: Wow. Well maybe I told my girlfriend.

LARS: Then your girlfriend is a spy.

TODD: Don't say that!

LARS: It's true!

TODD: Nobody says that about my girlfriend!

(TODD pulls out a GUN like he's going to shoot LARS. LARS PUNCHES HIMSELF hard in the face and quickly HOLDS his lighted ZIPPO LIGHTER to his mouth.)

TODD: I don't care how much you're worth. Nobody calls my girlfriend a spy and lives!

(Before Todd can pull the trigger, LARS uses the OIL-BLOOD that has been accumulating in his MOUTH and by SPITTING it through the ZIPPO LIGHTER. LARS becomes a human FLAME THROWER and he lights TODD on FIRE. TODD screams and fires wildly into the air.)

LARS: Happy 4^th of July, Dickweed.

(LARS looks at a CALANDER and it is STILL the 4^th of JULY)

TODD: I'm….I'm sorry.

(TODD DIES)

LARS: No, I'm sorry Todd. I'm sorry she's a spy and I'm sorry it broke your heart. And I'm sorry I burned you to death. Please know that even if your spirit can forgive what I've done, know that I can never forgive myself.

(Cut to: A Government OFFICE at nighttime. LARS is breaking in. He HEARS two SECURITY GAURDS talking and LARS HIDES in the SHADOWS)

SECURITY GUARD 1: I feel like our job is too easy. With doors this squeaky, we can hear intruders coming from a mile away.

SECURITY GUARD 2: I know! It's enough to wake up a sleeping security guard!

BOTH: LAUGH!!

SECURITY GUARD 1: Let's go sleep.

(LARS, from the shadows, thinks for a minute and then looks at the DOOR HINGES and then looks at his HANDS and then looks at his POCKETKNIFE and then looks at the DOOR HINGES again.)

(Cut to: THE RAIN FOREST. LARS has smeared his own Oil-blood all over his body, and he is perfectly camouflaged against a muddy cliff)

FRANK: I know you're out there, LARS! Do us all a favor and either turn yourself in or shoot yourself! There's no way out of here! Freaks don't win, Lars! Freaks never win! You're nothing more than a human oil factory!

(LARS steps away from the muddy cliff and it turns out he's RIGHT BEHIND FRANK. But FRANK HEARS LARS and he turns and puts LARS in a CHOKE-HOLD. FRANK gets OIL all over his NEW SUIT. It is RUINED.)

LARS: ARGH! But… there's one thing… about oil factories.

FRANK: What's that?

LARS: They're extremely flammable.

(LARS lights himself on FIRE. The pain is unbearable, but FRANK also catches on FIRE.)

FRANK: I'm on fire! The burning! The burning!

(LARS pours BAKING SODA all over himself, dousing the oil fire. FRANK Continues to burn to death.)

LARS: Blood type "O" Positive. "O" for Oil.

(Cut to: A NURSERY HOME. An OLD MAN is in a wheelchair)

OLD MAN: And that's the story of Lars, the man whose blood was made of oil.

NURSE: Where do you come up with these stories? Come on. It's time for your bath. Your skin is looking dirty and oily.

OLD MAN: Yes. It does that.

(The OLD MAN WINKS at the camera and then gets up from his WHEELCHAIR. He was just PLAYING with it and DOESN'T NEED it.)

CREDITS.

The Point .08 Killer

HARRY: My hot rod is crashed because of that stupid wall.

JACK: No it is because you DRUNK DRIVE!

HARRY: Shut up! I’m a good driver and if I have a drink it is okay!

JACK: That is crazy! You almost died in the car reck! Open your eyes and see!

HARRY: Shut up!

JACK: No I won’t shut up until you realize that sooner or later your going to KILL somebody when you drink and drive.

HARRY: If you won’t shut up then I am going to kill you in your sleep!

JACK: Well you won’t be able to because I won’t sleep until you are dead!

HARRY: It is impossible to not sleep forever. If you wait until I die you will accidentally fall asleep and when you do I will know and I will kill you

JACK: DON’T YOU SEE?! YOU WILL DIE SOON BECAUSE YOU DRUNK TOO MUCH!!

HARRY: I AM NOT TO DRUNK TO FIRE THIS GUN IN YOUR FACE!

JACK: HA! You can’t. I am not asleep yet.

HARRY: But when you do sleep I will kill you then.

JACK: Agreed.

**when HARRY walks away it is revealed that JACK is also carrying a gun and he shoots HARRY in the back with it**

HARRY: You shot me. But I thought you were going to wait.

JACK: HAHA. I did wait. I waited for you to turn around. And then I did shoot you.

HARRY: Why did you murder me?

JACK: Because don’t you now? My grandpa was killed by a drunk driver! Now I kill drunk drivers.

HARRY: Your vigilante!

JACK: Yes I vigilanteed your ass. Now go to hell, drunk driver mother effer.

**HARRY dies and JACK laughs**

JACK: HAHAHA! That is one less drunk drive for the world to worry about. But what is sad is that I also am alcholholic.

**JACK leaves and goes to a tavern and gets drunk**

BARTENDER: Hello JACK. Where is HARRY?

JACK: I don’t know. Maybe he was trying to drive home drunk and he died.

BARTENDER: Like when you drove drunk home and killed your GRANDPA?!!!!

The Dead Space

The setting is Ryfle and Rue are floating in space and they are wearing regular clothes and not space suit clothes.

Ryfle McClanahan: We have been been in space for a long time!!

Rue Shahtguhn: Yes. Who knew that people can breath in the vacuum of space???

Ryfle: Nobody did at all.

Rue: Unfortunately there is something wrong.

Ryfle: Oh no!! What is wrong???

Rue: I'll tell you. We froze to death millions of years ago.

Ryfle: You mean we are ghosts???

Rue: Yes that is exactly what I mean. Even though we are closer to the sun while we are floating in space it is still cold too cold to live.

Ryfle: Yes, you are right. It is obvious that ghosts are real and that we are some of them.

Rue: Oh no do you know what that means???

Ryfle: Tell me.

Rue: It means that we are going to float in space forever because can ghosts die??? No.

Ryfle: Oh no you are right.

Rue: Right as rain.

Ryfle: I miss rain because it doesn't rain in space.

Rue: Except it rains meteors!!

Ryfle: Hahahahaha! Good joke, Rue!!!

Rue: Thank you, Ryfle.

Ryfle: Here is a question. Is it ture that when people in space become ghosts they are either a good ghost or a bad ghost???

Rue: No that is made up. It is a myth that people said on the Internet.

Ryfle: Look a black hole!!

Rue: We are getting sucked into it. It is a good thing we are already dead because a black hole would kill us.

Ryfle: You are right. Now it is interesting instead of scary.

Rue: We're getting sucked in!! I wonder whats going to happen!!!!

Ryfle: Scientists have a theory about what happens. Lets see if their right!!!

Rue: I'm in the black hole now and its so great because I'm alive now again and the plus cold space is okay and it doesn't kill me!!

Ryfle: They were right!!!!

Rue: And do you know what else is cool now????

Ryfle: There is more???!!!

Rue: Yes. If I paint something now it comes to life.

Ryfle: Paint us a huge spaceship that is filled with beautiful ladies. Paint us home.

Rue: That is hard to draw but I will do it. I will draw fast because now that I'm alive this black hole is starting to kill me!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ryfle: Draw as fast as you can!!!

Rue: There. All done. But I'm dead.

Ryfle: He did it. There is a spaceship with beautiful ladies. It is too bad he is dead. But I can bring him back to life by using his hand to draw himself back to life.

Rue: Thanks, Ryfle.


Ryfle: You are welcome. Seond star to the right and straight on till morn.

Rue: Yes captain.

Don't Call People

It is the year 2572 A.D. The future. The Global Warming… has been solved. The pollution …has been solved. Even the war crisis…has been solved. Yet, yet another problem is facing our nation like the deadly ferocity of a lion. That problem is called overpopulation. MIT students with 4.0s have made advances in food technology, sky houses, and space travel. Even though they did, overpopulation has made extra people something that’s bad. Because extra people means extra phone calls. The population explosion left phone lines so jammed that nobody could even call nobody. The United World of America Government was forced to take action. Immediately. And extreme circumstances called for extreme measures. So now, whenever somebody makes a call the government kills a random guy. When they do this, the person who made the call will feel guilty and won’t want to call again. Plus there will be one less person to use a phone in the future. But sometimes people still make phone calls.

Valtony is a government agent and it’s his job to kill somebody when a call is made. Whenever somebody calls somebody, he gets a random name is sent to him from Mr. Internet, who in 2572 is now a real person who can live forever. So one day Valtony gets the name of kill the United World of America’s Emperor. Something is bad about this! The Emperor’s name was supposed to not be on the list.

Valtony gets ready to kill the Emperor, but then he has a dream that says don’t. Somebody is a killer and wants Valtony to assassinate the Emperor! The name was sent to him on porpoise! But who is doing it that is the mystery. The dream was so real, so Valtony quits his job as a government agent so he can be a detective to see who tried to kill the Emperor. But to do the case Valtony has to make a ton of phone calls. People keep dying because of him and Valtony feels really crappy. Soon he finds out that the guy who is doing it is Mr. Internet!

How can Valtony stop Mr. Internet when he is a real person that knows everything? Valtony must hack into him and give him an Mr. Internet virus. Valtony goes to his Poltony and he asks him and he says that I need you to make a virus to kill Mr. Internet. Poltony went to MIT and so he starts to do it, but then he gets killed by a government agent because somebody in the world made a phone call. It was a coincidence. So then Valtony jumps out of the way of a bullet and takes the computer virus upstairs and forcefeeds it to non other than Mr. Internet. Mr. Internet gets sick and dies and its good because he wanted to rule the whole world that’s why he wanted the Emperor to die. Valtony calls the Emperor and says you’re safe, but its sad because when he called the Emperor a government agent coincidentally ended up killing his son. Meanwhile the same exact thing was happening on Mars, where humans have lived in since 2412.

Delay of Game

Scene: During a Yankee game, an alien ship descends onto the field. Yankee 3^rd baseman Morgan Ensberg steps out from the ship. The spaceship flies away.

Morgan: Hey everybody! I’m back!

Umpire: Morgan? We didn’t know you were gone!

Morgan: What do you mean you didn’t know? Who’s playing 3^rd base?

Umpire: That’s what’s so strange, Morgan…You’re!

(the camera goes to third base and sure enough, there’s Morgan Ensberg, playing catch with the shortstop)

Morgan: But that’s impossible! I’m right here!

(Morgan Ensberg stops playing catch and walks over to Morgan Ensberg)

Morgan: Hey! What’s going on?!

Morgan: That’s what I want to know.

Morgan: You look just like me!

Morgan: I guess I do. That’s so – Quick! Everybody run! There’s a werewolf on the field!

(nobody sees a werewolf)

Morgan: Morgan?

Morgan: Yeah?

Morgan: I don’t see a werewolf. Were you trying to say that you are the werewolf?

Morgan: No! Of course not! You mean…you mean you don’t see it?

Morgan: I’m sorry, no.

Morgan: That’s so weird. I guess…I guess that when the aliens took me they made it so I imagine werewolves are everywhere.

Morgan: Woah. I’m glad I’m not you.

Morgan: But you are! Look out! A werewolf!

Morgan: No. There are no werewolves.

Morgan: Hmmm.

(the crowd starts to boo)

Umpire: Can you guys talk about werewolves later? We’ve got a game going on here. Morgan, you’re needed at 3^rd base.

Morgan: I’m not going anywhere near 3^rd base. That’s werewolf country.

Morgan: He was talking to me.

Morgan: Oh. But I’m on the team too.

Morgan: Oh really? Well let me just check the roster. Let’s see, I see the name Morgan Ensberg. That’s me. I’ll check that one off. Now…le’s see…I’m looking for the name “The Morgan Ensberg Who Thinks There Are Werewolves Everywhere” That’s so strange. It’s not on here.

(Meanwhile, there’s no such thing as werewolves)

Morgan: You don’t have to be a jerk about it.

Morgan: Go back to where you came from, Morgan. Go call your alien buddies and get the heck out of here. There’s only room for one Morgan Ensberg, and I’m him.

Morgan: Don’t you see? I can’t go back! They’re gone. The aliens are gone. They left and they’re not coming back. So here I am. I’m suddenly in a world that doesn’t want me. I suddenly don’t belo- Look out! It’s the wolf man!

Morgan: Somebody get him out of here.

(Security comes and takes Morgan Ensberg away)

Morgan: Don’t take me, you idiots! Take the other Morgan Ensberg! The one wearing the alien spacesuit!

(Security releases Morgan and then walks away, sullenly)

Umpire: Hey look! A full moon!

Morgan: You know, maybe I should get some psychiatric care. I’m really…I’m sorry, but it really looks like there are werewolves all over the place.

Morgan: I’m done talking to you.

Umpire: Don’t be like that, Morgan. Morgan, if you think you need psychiatric care, that’s certainly an option. Do you think we can discuss it later though? Everyone here is waiting for this baseball game to resume.

Morgan: Sure. Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Baseball’s really great and I certainly don’t want to ruin it for any fans.

Later:

Morgan: Hey Umpire?

Umpire: Yes?

Morgan: Can you get me a gun and a bunch of silver bullets?

Umpire: Why, Morgan? Why do you need them?

Morgan: I don’t wanna say.

Umpire: Morgan, I think this paranormal detective agency we’ve opened is a great idea. I think it’s going to make us a lot of money. But, if we’re going to do this, I need two things from you. First, you’re going to have to get over all of the delusions implanted into your mind by space aliens. Second, you need to invent a poltergeist killing machine that can be affordably mass produced in case we decide to market that shit.

Morgan: What if I’m too busy to do those things?

Umpire: Too busy doing what?

Morgan: Too busy playing the best damn 3^rd base of my life.

Umpire: Play ball!

Drunk on Knowledge

Year: 1 Million A.D.

Place: The Future School

Teacher: Welcome to kindergarten, homo-sapiens. Time for your Liquid Lesson!

Bret: Radical!

Allison: I’m going to be smart now!

Teacher: That’s right, Allison. Boys and Girls, if this is your first time drinking a Liquid Lesson, don’t worry. They’re just drinks that program the neurons in your brain to learn whatever we want you to learn. Today we want you to learn Multiplication, so these Liquid Lessons are Multiplication Table flavored.

Girls: Gross!

Boys: Awesome!

(Teacher passes out the drinks to all of the students. Todd’s Liquid Lesson is a different color than all of the other students. His future bionic rainbow eye looks at the drink warily and with precision)

Todd: Hey, Teacher?

Teacher: What? What is it this time, Todd? And think before you speak, because my patience with you is running razor thin. You know what razors are, right Todd? Not only are they thin, but they’re extremely sharp and they can cut you.

Todd: …!

Teacher: Okay then. Everybody drink your Liquid Lesson

(Everyone in the classroom drinks their Liquid Lesson. The camera zooms in on the heads of the children and we see they are learning Multiplication Tables. Then the camera pans to Todd. Todd just drank his Liquid Lesson and guess what? He is looking really, really scared. The camera pans to his head and we see that his Liquid Lesson wasn’t Multiplication Table flavored at all. Todd drank a secret MURDER flavored Liquid Lesson. The following scene is what Todd learns)

Jim: Hey, what’s this paper I just found? Hmm. It says that if a person drinks a Liquid Lesson and lives to be 300, they will be automatically teleported to the Pan-Dimensional Neutral Zone. Then the people will be skinned alive and worn as clothing by the Alien Elite. Hey….WHA?!

Davis: I’m sorry you had to see that paper, Jim. Now I will have to murder you in secret.

Jim: No way, Davis. I wrote this paper. And I’m sorry you had to hear me read it out loud, because now I will have to murder YOU in secret.

Davis: Skedaddle!

(Jim chases Davis throughout the Liquid Lesson factory. Davis eventually hides in the factory and quietly begins creating a secret MURDER flavored Liquid Lesson. Then Jim finds Davis and he cuts his stomach out and feeds it to him. That’s the end of the lesson. The camera zooms away from Todd’s head and he’s screaming like non-stop.)

Todd: I’m just in kindergarten!

Teacher: No you’re not, Todd. Yesterday we gave you a Liquid Lesson teaching you that you were in kindergarten, but it was…inaccurate. We apologize. It was the only way. In reality, you’re a British Spy, a top agent of MI-a Million. Also, you’re 299 years old and your birthday is in three days.

Todd: That is the true lesson.

Teacher: Go for it, Todd. You’ve got a secret MURDER to solve.

Todd:(to himself) So….I’m not really in kindergarten…

Teacher: Go, Todd! Go!

Todd: Okay!

(Todd goes to the Liquid Lesson factory to look for Jim. He runs into a man wearing a false moustache, but that’s normal and very in vogue in the year 1 million A.D.)

Todd: Hello. I’m Todd, a top agent of MI-a Million. When did you last see Jim?

Mysterious Moustache Man: Never. I’ve never seen him.

Todd: But don’t you work here?

Mysterious Moustache Man: Yes I do. But still, I’ve never seen Jim. You see my friend, I am blind.

Todd: If you’re so blind, how come you’re not bumping into things and falling down?

Mysterious Moustache Man: How do you think? I took a Liquid Lesson on the factory’s layout. I have a perfect memory of where everything is.

Todd: That is so amazing.

Mysterious Moustache Man: Yeah. Also, did you know I’m in a band?

Todd: You are? Cool. No, I didn’t know that.

Mysterious Moustache Man: It’s true. Tell you what, Todd. Here. Listen to this demo tape. You seem like a really cool dude and I seriously think you’re going to like it. And, if you do like it, tell your friends at MI-a Million. Maybe my band could play for you guys at like an office retreat or something.

(The Mysterious Moustache Man gives Todd his demo tape)
Todd: That would be awesome. Thanks, man. I’ll check it out. This is cool. Thanks.

Mysterious Moustache Man: Not a problem. Catch you later, Todd. And when you’re listening, remember: a blind man sang those songs.

Todd: I will, dude. Thanks.

(Jim scurries across a corridor, waving a lit stick of future dynamite)

Todd: I see you, Jim! You’re going to pay for what you did to Davis!

(Jim throws the future dynamite at Todd. It blows up half of Todd’s head, killing him instantly. Then, amazingly, the camera zooms out from agent Larry’s Head. He is in kindergarten class, screaming, with an empty glass of Learning Liquid in front of him)

Larry: I’m only a kindergartner!

Later:

Larry: Learning Liquid can teach you a lot of things, Collette, but it can’t teach you how to love.

Collette: Yes it can. They have a love formula now.

Larry: I’ll give it to my enemies!

Later:

Mysterious Moustache Man: Hey, drink this. It’s about my demo tape.

(Collette drinks it.)

Collette: Wow. Now I LOVE your demo tape.

(Jim throws a proximity mine at Collete)

Whither the Wizard?

Scene: An old rickety mansion that is lit by oil lamps. It is the year 1944. A group of distinguished people have all just arrived

Mr. Galton: Thank you all for coming.

Tess Moonbloom: But why are we here? Why have we been summoned? Who are you?

Mr. Galton: You may call me Mr. Galton, and you are here because one of you…in this very room…is a magical Wizard.

Clyde Banter: Ha! That’s preposterous!

Orson Frock: I agree. My apologies, gentlemen, I didn’t realize this would be such a clear waste of time. I must be leaving.

Mr. Galton: Yes. Precisely the words a wizard would say.

Orson Frock: I see. You’re saying I’m the wizard?

Mr. Galton: No. But you very well might be. And your urgency to leave certainly raises suspicions.

Tess Moonbloom: Yes…yes it does….He is a wizard! Kill him!

Mr. Galton: Kill him? I believe a magical wizard would suggest that as well.

Tess Moonbloom: But I’m not a wizard!

Orson Frock: She’s the wizard! Kill her!

Mr. Galton: Mr. Frock, I have just stated that suggesting we kill a wizard is something a wizard would do. When combined with your other statement about leaving, you are up to two wizard points. Tess, you’re at one wizard point. Everyone else: zero.

Diana Ellington: I’m speechless! Speechless!

Mr. Galton: I should hope that’s not true, Mrs. Ellington. For if you are the wizard, being speechless would leave you unable to cast spells.

Diana Ellington: So now you’re accusing me? How many points am I at?

Mr. Galton: Is that a peacock feather in your hat?

Diana Ellington: …Yes.

Mr. Galton: You’re at 1 wizard point.

Diana Ellington: Absurd.

Mr. Galton: 2 wizard points! You see, I’m afraid I’m accusing everyone here of magical wizardry. While only one of you is a true magical wizard, despite my best efforts I’ve not been able to determine who.

(Mr. Galton hovers a foot off of the ground)

Tess Moonbloom: Mr. Galton! You’re…you’re floating!

Mr. Galton: What?! Who’s doing this?! Who’s making me float?! Whoever it is, this is worth 5 wizard points!!

(Mr. Galton continues to hover, flailing his arms and feet, but still unable to touch the ground)

Mr. Galton: Stop it right now or God help me, when I find out who did this it will be worth 10 wizard points!

(Mr. Galton falls to the ground, shaken but otherwise unharmed)

Mr. Galton: Was that you, Mr. Banter? Were you making me float? You’ve been awfully quiet lately.

Clyde Banter: It wasn’t me, Mr. Galton. I’m just been trying to keep quiet. I don’t want any wizard points.

Mr. Galton: Very wise, Mr. Banter. I like that. But was it wise like a wizard? Because that I don’t like!

Clyde Banter: It was wise like a man!

Mr. Galton: Very well. No points. Nevertheless, as my floating has clearly proven, magical wizards are real and there is one among us right now. By the end of the night, I promise you we will know who it is.

Later, in the parlor with the red leather chairs

Mr. Galton: No, Mr. Banton. You currently have only 3 wizard points. That is not what I find worrisome. What I find worrisome is the fact that you have 14, Mr. Banton, Fourteen Dracula points!

Clyde Banter: I just can’t win with you, can I, Mr. Galton?

Mr. Galton: 15 Dracula points! It’s three o’clock in the morning. The sun will be coming up in a few hours. And maybe that doesn’t scare our mysterious wizard, but I bet it scares you, doesn’t it Mr. Dracula?

Clyde Banter: Please. Don’t call me that.

Mr. Galton: Very well.

Later, in the ballroom with the checkerboard floor

Tess Moonbloom: Do tell us, Mr. Galton. How did you come to believe that the wizard was one of us?

Mr. Galton: A note was left on my doorstep. It said so right on it.

Diana Ellington: A note? Let me see it.

Mr. Galton: No. I lost it.

Diana Ellington: You lost it? I don’t believe you. You know what I think? I think there never was a note, Mr. Galton. I think we’re here at the whim of a madman.

Mr. Galton: Mind reading! That’s 4 wizard points! You’re up to 11 wizard points now, Mrs. Ellington! I suggest you watch it.

Orson Frock: I just want to go home!

Mr. Galton: No one’s going home! No! Everyone’s staying right here. With me. There’s a wizard in this house. We’re going to find him. And, if while we’re looking for him we all become friends, would that really be so bad?

Tess Moonbloom: What are you saying, Mr. Galton?

Mr. Galton: (sighs) I guess…I guess what I’m saying is… wizard hunting doesn’t have to be such lonely work. I just want to be friends with you.

(A fireball starts to form out of thin air. Then it goes away without doing anything)

Orson Frock: Mr. Galton, how can we be friends with you? We’ve known you for a total of 5 hours, and the entire time you’ve just been accusing us of magical wizardry.

Mr. Galton: My apologies, Orson. Can I call you Orson? Allow me to explain. You see, if someone gave you the chance to be a wizard, wouldn’t you take it? Understand - You wouldn’t have to be a bad wizard. You could be a good one. My meaning is that wizards can fly and make fireballs and enchant things and all of those things sound very enticing! Personally, I think being accused of magical wizardry is more of a compliment than anything else. I apologize for any misunderstanding Orson, but I’ve been trying to compliment you – and all of the other guests – for these last 5 hours.

Clyde Banter: Mr. Galton? Thank you.

Diana Ellington: Yes. Thank you.

Tess Moonbloom: Mr. Galton? It’s me. I’m the magical wizard.

Mr. Galton: 10 wizard points! Kill her! She’s the devil’s spawn!

Later, in the billiard room with floating daggers waiting outside every door:

Mr. Galton: We’re overmatched! The only one who can defeat her is Dracula!

Clyde Banter: I keep telling you, Mr. Galton! I am not Dracula!

Mr. Galton: Another Dracula point! That’s 17 points now, Clyde.

Clyde Banter: Mr. Galton, I can’t suddenly become a Dracula just because you choose to give me Dracula points.

Mr. Galton: Then we’re doomed.

Blown All Up!

Mysterious Man: Good Morning, Mr. F. While you were sleeping we took the liberty of surgically implanting thousands of micro-bombs into your stomach. Isn’t that something?

Mr. F: What?!

Mysterious Man: We have given you power. The strength of these micro-bombs range from that of a grenade to that of a nuclear bomb. If all of your bombs were simultaneously detonated, you could blow up something the size of the moon.

Mr. F: You mean I’m gonna blow up?

Mysterious Man: No, Mr. F., I should hope not. You see, we have taken each micro-bomb and set its individual timer to go off only when it is most needed. I cannot tell you how we know when you will need each bomb. I can only tell you that we have the ability to see the future. Also, I can guarantee that no matter what your situation, you will have precisely enough time to place a bomb and escape unharmed. Of course, you cannot waste a second.

Mr. F: So I’m like an explosive superhero.

Mysterious Man: Yes. Or an explosive super villain. The power is yours and thus, so is the choice.

Mr. F: Wow. I can…I can do anything! Still, I think I’m going to try to be good. I’m going to try and use these micro-bombs to do things like save people and ensure justice and–

(Mr. F blows up in an incredibly massive explosion. Opening credits. As the opening credits roll, we watch a moon-sized chunk of the Earth rocket through space, hurling away from the sun. The camera zooms in on Roddy Gotham, a survivor and resident of the rocketing Earth chunk.)

Roddy: Woah! Look, there’s a new moon in the sky! Wait! Oh Gaaaahd! Nooooooooo! It’s part of Earth! But…but that means…

Victoria: What, Roddy?

Roddy: It means we’re gonna die, Victoria! It means we’re speeding through space away from the rest of the Earth! It’s going to get cold, it’s going to get dark, and then we’re going to die.

Victoria: But I don’t want to die!

Roddy: I know, Victoria. I don’t either. Not anymore. Not since I’ve found you.

Victoria: Thanks. Well, couldn’t we just build big rocket thrusters and attach them to our current chunk? Then we could jet around space and meet up with the rest of Earth!

Roddy: Yes. Yes we could! Victoria, you’re a genius! Let’s do what you just said!

Victoria: Okay!

Later:

Roddy: We’ve completed our rocket thruster! Now just call Florida and see if they’ve finished theirs!

Victoria: I did, Roddy. And they’re done. But there’s just one problem-

Roddy: NOOOOOOOO!

Victoria: Take a pill, Roddy. Geez.

(Roddy takes a pill. It is an ecstasy pill and it is illegal)

Victoria: Roddy, did you just take an illegal pill?

Roddy: Victoria, the pill I just took is illegal on Earth. Earth, Victoria. But we’re not on Earth anymore. We’re on an Earth chunk which I consider a whole new planet, a planet where the laws have changed. I’m going to call this planet Bonersaurus Rex.

Victoria: You are opening up a can of worms, Roddy!

Roddy: And I’m so high!

Victoria: Dammit Roddy! Dammit, you’ve got to snap out of it! We’ve built two enormous rocket thrusters but we didn’t think about how we’d bring them together! Each one is bigger than Mount Everest, Roddy! How are we going to move them!?

Roddy: Hmm…Well, why don’t we just build rocket thrusters on top of the other rocket thrusters and then move them that way?

Victoria: That’s so smart it just might work!

Roddy: Yeah. I’m so cold.

Victoria: Roddy? Roddy, is that you? I can’t see you, Roddy! It’s so dark!

Roddy: Yeah, Bonersaurus Rex is getting too far from the sun. We’re going to have to build the rocket thrusters for the gigantic rocket thrusters in very dim lighting!

Victoria. Dear God.

Roddy: I’m legally overdosing!

Later:

Victoria: Roddy is dead. Bonersaurus Rex may not have laws, but make no mistake: it has sorrow and it has consequence. Roddy’s overdose has doomed us all. Without him, there’s simply no way we can finish the rocket thrusters for the huge rocket thrusters.

Mayor: Who said that? I can’t see.

Victoria: I know! It’s dark and it’s cold! We’re too far from the sun, we’re all going to die.

Mayor: Hey, you think maybe we could just fire the enormous rocket thrusters where they are? I mean, it couldn’t get any worse, right?

Victoria: Sure, whatever.

Mayor: I can’t find the ignition button! I can’t see!

Victoria: Well use a f***ing flashlight!

Mayor: Nevermind. I found it! Here.

(The Mayor pushes the ignition button. The enormous rocket thrusters fire, igniting everything around them in a bed of fire)

All: Scream!

Victoria: And so I die, enveloped in the fiery warmth I once longed for. SCREAM.