Showing posts with label Learning to Love Your Wax Limbs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Learning to Love Your Wax Limbs. Show all posts

Friday, November 21, 2008

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.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Wax The Floor 1


Howard: Hey Melinda!

Melinda: Yeah, Howard?

Howard: You know that dance contest the high school is having?

Melinda: The one where the winners get a free surgery?

Howard: Bingo. I need that surgery. So I’m going to dance. And what’s more, I’m going to win. But I can’t do it alone. That’s why I need you. You’re the best dancer in school. I need you to help me.

Melinda: Come on, Howard. Thanks to a rare genetic defect and your laughably low income status, your arms are literally made out of shaped candle-wax!

Howard: Damn it, Melinda! Don’t you see? That’s why I need to win so bad! I need the surgery prize! I need to have my candle-wax arms removed and replaced with a durable, heat-resistant, plastic alloy!

Melinda: Forget it, Howard! You’ve got wax arms and you’ll always have wax arms! You’re a loser, Howard! Find yourself some other partner! But listen to me: whoever you find, she had better be good. Because I’m the best dancer around, and there’s no way you’re gonna take that surgery away from me!

Howard: You f***ing c***, Melinda.

Later:

Grace: Howard? I’ll be your dance partner Howard.

Howard: You?! Don’t make me laugh, Grace. Your legs are made out of shaped candle-wax!

(Howard drinks his whiskey)

Later:

Howard: How’d you learn to dance so well, Grace?

Grace: Well…Howard? …Did I ever tell you about how I lost my legs?

Howard: No.

Grace: They were accidentally torn off. In the dance Olympics.

(Flashback to Grace at the dance Olympics. She’s in a bloody, legless mess screaming and shouting “Why?!” over and over. Cut to the audience at the dance Olympics. A little boy gets hit in the face with Grace’s torn-off legs. He falls to the ground. He doesn’t get up.)

Howard: Is that…is that why you have candle-wax legs?

Grace: It is. And yes, maybe now my legs are made out of candle-wax, but the rest of me can still dance at an Olympic level. You see, even with wax legs I haven’t forgotten how to dance.

Howard: No. No you haven’t. Thanks, for helping me, Grace.

Grace: No problem, Howard. I just wish my brother wasn’t in the mafia.


Later:

(Melinda and Raul go to the beach and their legs and arms don’t melt)