Beakazoid! b y Plucky Warner (pluck@ihug.co.nz) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi there. This is my latest fanfic, inspired by a weird thought I had after watching an episode of Freakazoid!. I figured it had potential, so I rolled with it. It's in a script format instead of my usual novella style, and is a comedy instead of my previous, more sombre (and depressing) stories. A list of formatting conventions are listed just before the start of the story. I hope you like this one, folks! Make sure to email me at pluck@ihug.co.nz if you do. Thanks to: Taper Wickel, for several story ideas. Dot Warner, also for several story ideas. Michael K. Neylon, for... several story ideas. (spot the pattern yet?) Also all of the above people and several residents of DALnet #WarnerCafe for their editing and advice. Thanks a lot, guys! Formatting conventions: (O/S) - Off screen (V/O) - Voiceover - Either audio or visual effect. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- [FADE IN: A flash of lightning illuminates the clock tower of Acme Looniversity. A strong wind blows some leaves past the steps leading up to the main entranceway, visible only by the moonrays that manage to penetrate the cloud cover. FADE TO: Interior, a computer lab. The dull glow of a computer monitor illuminates the otherwise pitch black lab. Two figures sit at the computer.] BUSTER (yawning): I knew we shouldn't have left this assignment so late. PLUCKY: Whaddya mean, late? We've got at least.. PLUCKY checks his watch, squinting at it to see the face in the glow of the computer screen. PLUCKY: ..five hours before we need to hand this baby in. BUSTER: We've had three weeks to do it.. why do we always do this? PLUCKY: Because you're a slacker. BUSTER: I said 'we'. PLUCKY: Because you're a role model slacker. I'm just impressionable. BUSTER thwaps PLUCKY over the head. BUSTER: Shut up and lemme type. BUSTER clickety-clacks away at the keyboard, typing up the first and final copy of his and PLUCKY'S toon physics lab report. BUSTER isn't the best of typists, and progress is slow. In fact, more of the material comes from a webpage that BUSTER is browsing than the brains of the two would-be report writers. PLUCKY looks around the room boredly. PLUCKY: I'm gonna go get a soda from one of the vending machines. BUSTER: Sure, sure, whatever. Could you fetch me a carrot soda while you're there? PLUCKY: Yeah, okay. PLUCKY gets up from his chair and wanders out of the lab, into the darkened hallwayss of the Looniversity. The hallway is illuminated occasionally by a flash of lightning. PLUCKY makes his way to the vending machine, and runs his fingers along the buttons, pressing them at random, whilst deciding what beverage to get. Eventually he decides on a Coke(TM) and inserts a few quarters. The 'empty' light appears next to the Coke(TM) button. PLUCKY (annoyed): Out of Coke(TM)? Sheesh, typical luck. Ah well, I guess I gotta get a generic substitute. PLUCKY examines the machine again for a moment, before reaching for the Delete Cola button. [CUT TO: Exterior, Acme Looniversity clock tower. A newspaper, blown through the air by the wind, hits the clock face and is held there by the wind. CLOSE-UP on the newspaper: The Hill Valley Telegraph. The main headline reads "Clock tower struck by lightning".] [CUT TO: Interior, EXTREME CLOSE-UP on PLUCKY'S hand as he presses the Delete Cola button.] [CUT TO: Exterior, clock tower. There is a brief white flash as the tower is struck by lightning, sending a shower of sparks flying as the electrical surge runs through the mechanics of the clock and down into the school's electrical system.] [CUT TO: BUSTER, reading over some notes. He notices the screen of the computer's monitor flicker. He hits the monitor gently.] BUSTER: Stupid thing. [CUT TO: Hallway. PLUCKY blinks as he hears the noise of the sparks flying from the clock, then flashes in typical cartoon electrical-shock fashion as the electrical jolt passes through him.] PLUCKY: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! PLUCKY disappears. [FADE TO: Mysterious vortex. The occasional can of Delete Cola floats past, as well as signs with "C4 H10 O2 N4 . H20" written on them. The background swirls in a green, spirally, vortex kinda way. There is a flash of light, and PLUCKY appears.] PLUCKY (dazed): Whoa, what a trip. That's some cola.. I didn't even drink it yet and already I'm seeing stars. PLUCKY shuts his eyes as there is another flash, and dozens of 1's and 0's appear from nowhere, and start to zip towards him. A few of them hit him, causing him obvious discomfort. PLUCKY: Ow! Hey! Watch it! Suddenly, all of the 1's and 0's zip instantly into PLUCKY, and he curls up into a little ball, shaking. PLUCKY: Another flash. PLUCKY convulses a few times, and a white glow moves over his body, transforming him. Yet another flash of light, and we see the full effect of the transformation. PLUCKY floats in the vortex, a tight, red lycra suit with white hands and feet covering his now more muscular body, and a 'B!' symbol emblazoned across his chest. His face and beak are blue, and a large crop of black hair sticks out backwards from his head, with two white streaks running through it, bearing a close resemblance to lightning. His eyes are surrounded by black feathers, giving a mask-like appearance to his eyes. He blinks, then looks down at himself. PLUCKY: Whoa. Nice threads. He disappears in another one of those white flashes. [CUT TO: Acme Looniversity, hallway. Another impressive white flash, and PLUCKY appears, dazed, and still in his costume. He shakes off, stands up, and glares at the camera. He narrows one eye and points a finger out at the camera, giving an accusatory stare.] PLUCKY: Just *ONE* more of those white flashes and I'm gonna come out there and-- PLUCKY'S violent-looking gestures are cut off as BUSTER pokes his head out into the hallway, wondering what all the commotion is about. BUSTER: Who're you? Where's Plucky? Where's my carrot soda? PLUCKY quickly strikes a muscular pose. PLUCKY: I'm.. PLUCKY (cont'd): ..The Beakazoid! BUSTER looks unimpressed. He pulls out a copy of TV GUIDE, with FREAKAZOID on the cover and looks at it, then at BEAKAZOID. BUSTER: Uhh.. huh. I assume you got sucked into the internet. I hear that happens quite often these days. 9 out of 10 transformations happen on the internet, y'know. BEAKAZOID: Nah, I didn't get sucked into the internet. BUSTER: What happened, then? BEAKAZOID (flatly): I got suckered into doing a lame Freakazoid!/Tiny Toons crossover. It's a living. BUSTER: Oh, fair enough. Well, c'mon in. I'm just working on a toon physics report. BEAKAZOID: It was the vending machine, though. Nasty thing, that. Oh, here's your carrot soda. BEAKAZOID tosses a can to BUSTER. BUSTER: Thanks! Say.. you know anything about toon physics, Beakazoid? BEAKAZOID (enthusiastically): Do I! [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: The Pasta Club for Men. FREAKAZOID stands, admiring a particularly fine tortellini toupee on display.] FREAKAZOID (dreamily): I never tire of the wonders of pasta sauce. SGT. COSGROVE enters and walks up to FREAKAZOID. COSGROVE: Hey, Freakazoid. FREAKAZOID: Oh, hey, Cosgrove. COSGROVE: I hear there's some duck in Acme Acres who's stealing your schtick. I'd check it out if I were you. FREAKAZOID prods at the toupee interestedly, only half-paying attention to COSGROVE. FREAKAZOID: Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. COSGROVE: Otherwise your show might lose its originality and not stand out from the crowd so much. FREAKAZOID: So? I'd still have the Pasta Club for Men. COSGROVE: Yeah, but then your show might get cancelled and we'd both be out of a job. FREAKAZOID: Who needs a job? I've got pasta. COSGROVE: Yeah. But without jobs we couldn't afford things like fudgsicles. FREAKAZOID appears panicked, and grabs COSGROVE by the lapels of his jacket. FREAKAZOID: No fudgsicles?! COSGROVE: Nope. FREAKAZOID: That's it, I'm gonna go straight out to Acme Acres right now! COSGROVE: Seeya. COSGROVE turns and begins to walk away. FREAKAZOID turns and watches him go. FREAKAZOID (shouting): Hey, Cosgrove! Aren't you coming? COSGROVE: Nah. I never liked Acme Acres. Too many anvils. I'm gonna get a fudgsicle and check out the new scale model of Charles Branson's hair made entirely of mancotti. Wanna come? FREAKAZOID: Wow! Count me in! [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: "We interrupt your program" written on a blue screen, with a B! symbol in the lower right corner.] ANNOUNCER (V/O): We interrupt your program to bring you an important announcement. [FADE TO: A medium shot of PAUL HARVEY sitting on his desk, wearing a grey suit and an annoying grin.] PAUL HARVEY: Contrary to popular opinion, pasta was never intended to become the wholesome, tasty food it is today. [FADE TO: A portrait of three Chinese men.] PAUL (V/O): Many years ago, three enterprising young Chinese men, named Ming, Mulan, and Moo Goo Gai Pan went into business together. Unsuccesful with their original business idea, Frog-a-roni, they decided a change in plans was necessary. After several years of painstaking research, they discovered a new material, and called it 'Pasta'. In its dry form it was a sturdy, robust material. The friends went with the obvious choice and became the 3M Building Contracting Company. They were hired by the Emperor to build a Great Wall through China, and thought this was an ideal opportunity to show off their invention. [CUT TO: A portrait of the Great Wall of Pasta.] PAUL (V/O): The Great Wall of Pasta became a major tourist attraction, and made the fortune of the 3M company. A few days later, an explorer named Marco Polo-- [CUT TO: A portrait of MARCO POLO.] PAUL (cont'd) (V/O): --visited the Great Wall and decided to have his portrait taken standing next to it, as a souvenir. [CUT TO: A portrait (incomplete) of MARCO POLO and the Great Wall of Pasta.] PAUL (V/O): Unfortunately, whilst he was having his portrait painted, it began to rain. This had the unpleasant side effect of causing the pasta to become soggy and rather unstable, but delicious in that fantastic pasta way. Marco Polo was buried alive by the teetering mountain of pasta, and due to a lack of heavy mechanized earthmoving equipment in the 12th century, was forced to eat his way out. A consequence of this was that he discovered the pasta-tastic taste and brought pasta back to Europe for the rest of the world to enjoy. Bless his heart. [CUT TO: PAUL sitting on his desk.] PAUL: And now you know... the rest of the story. Good day! ANNOUNCER (V/O): We now return you to your regular programming. [CUT TO: Interior, BUSTER'S burrow, about 8PM. A day has passed, and BUSTER is catching up on some missed sleep. Or trying to.] BUSTER lies in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He grimaces occasionally at a 'clank' or 'donk' or 'fzzzt' noise. He rolls onto his side and glares at BEAKAZOID, who is playing on a Mars SuperEntertainment HyperFun System 2000. BUSTER (yawning): Don't you ever sleep? We've been up for nearly two days with no sleep now. BEAKAZOID'S gaze doesn't move from the rapidly-flashing screen. BEAKAZOID: Hey, *you* get sucked into a vending machine filled with enough caffeine to blow Babs' mind and then try sleeping. It ain't gonna happen. BUSTER: But you've been up all night! First it was pro wrestling, then it was Monopoly, then it was chasing squirrels around the forest, then it was playing chicken with trees, then it was disassembling the fridge-- BUSTER glances at the pile of sparking machinery that once resembled a fridge, then back at BEAKAZOID. BUSTER: --now it's playing video games? BEAKAZOID: Yeah. The fridge didn't want to play anymore. I preferred the wrestler. He was a nice man. And he made funny noises when I squeezed his belly really hard! BUSTER (murmuring): I think those were unrestrained squeals of agony. BEAKAZOID carries on playing, and BUSTER rolls back onto his back. BUSTER: Why don't you have a rest? You've had your beak in that game for ages. BEAKAZOID: But I *like* having my beak in-- BEAKAZOID stops speaking as he suddenly starts to glow. Another flash, and he melts into a puddle and reforms into PLUCKY. PLUCKY blinks, then looks around a bit. PLUCKY: What a weird dream. PLUCKY is suddenly overcome by exhaustion as a result of his actions as BEAKAZOID, and passes out. BUSTER looks up at the ceiling, mouths 'Thank you' silently, and closes his eyes for some much-needed sleep. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: The forest above BUSTER'S burrow. After a very long sleep, both BUSTER and PLUCKY appear more cheerful than in previous scenes. The pair start off towards Acme Loo.] BUSTER: So, what's it like being transformed into a superhero? PLUCKY: Like being put through a wringer and injected with two million tons of caffeine, then being jolted with about a billion volts. BUSTER (sympathetically): Whoa. That bites. PLUCKY cricks his back. PLUCKY: Tell me about it. BUSTER: So, what're you going to do with your newly-acquired powers? Save the world? Help the victimised? Defend the innocent? Help late-night studyers stay awake with your caffeine powers? PLUCKY: Actually, I was thinking of going on the talk show circuit. BUSTER (unimpressed): Natch. PLUCKY: Oprah eats this stuff up. BUSTER rolls his eyes. BUSTER: Ducks. Always thinking with their wallets. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: Acme Looniversity. BABS and SHIRLEY stand together by the statue of Bugs, talking about various things. PLUCKY and BUSTER approach.] BUSTER: Hiya, girls! BABS: Buster! You're at school early today! What brings this on? BUSTER (grinning): Well, I wanted to spend more time with you, cutie. BABS blushes, then puts her hands on her hips. BABS: What's the real reason? PLUCKY: We went to sleep early. SHIRLEY: Like, how come? BUSTER: Uh.. we wanted to watch the sun rise. BABS looks over at SHIRLEY, who shrugs. The bell rings, and the foursome head inside. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: Interior, classroom. ELMER FUDD stands at the front of the class.] ELMER: Weww, as you aww know, today is show and teww day. I hope you've aww bwought something to show the other students. PLUCKY and BUSTER share an 'Oh, darn, we forgot all about show and tell day' look. ELMER: Wet's stawt with Hamton. HAMTON steps up to the front of the class and puts a large rock on ELMER'S desk. HAMTON: This is my pet rock. I've had him for several months now, and his name is Brian. He's a Scorpio, and his interests include skydiving, sunbathing, and rolling. His favourite colour is grey. BABS: Does Brian do any tricks? HAMTON (enthusiastically): Sure! Brian.. play dead! BRIAN doesn't move. HAMTON: Ta-da! EVERYONE except BRIAN applauds. ELMER: Weww, thank you, Hamton, that was vewy nice. Now, how about you, Elmywa? ELMYRA skips to the front of the room, swinging a cage with a cloth over it. She daintily places the cage on the desk, then whips the cloth off, revealing PINKY and THE BRAIN. PINKY: Narf! BRAIN: Quiet, Pinky. ELMYRA looks at the class, beaming. ELMYRA: These are my two pet mousie-wousie-heads. I found them in Acme Labs after Monty-Wonty bought it and took me on a tour! There were lots of cute critters in there but they all got away, apart from the little mousie-wousie-heads. PLUCKY looks through the window next to him, and blinks as he sees a giant, genetically engineered hamster with 'MADE IN ACME LABS' written on its back. He shrugs. ELMYRA looks down into the cage. PINKY looks back at her. PINKY: Poit. I like her, Brain. She's nice. BRAIN: You scare me, Pinky. Now stay quiet. Your incessant chatter might spoil my carefully-organized plan. PINKY: Sorry, Brain. BABS: Do they do any tricks? ELMYRA: Sure, bunny-wunny! [CUT TO: PINKY and BRAIN standing in their cage, dressed as clowns, juggling.] ELMYRA (O/S): They can juggle.. PINKY: Ha ha! Watch me, Brain! This is just like being in Circus Of The Stars! BRAIN (angry): I feel extremely humiliated to be near you, Pinky. [CUT TO: Close up of ELMYRA'S face.] ELMYRA: They can lift weights... BRAIN (O/S): Pinky! Put me down! PINKY (O/S): Right-o, Brain. [CUT TO: EXTREME-CLOSEUP of BRAIN'S face. He looks strained.] ELMYRA (O/S): They can defy graaaaaaaavity. [ZOOM OUT to reveal BRAIN superglued to the roof of the cage.] BRAIN: *sigh* Curse the strong bonding strength of this adhesive. [CUT TO: ELMYRA, standing by a large switch.] ELMYRA: They conduct electricity! ELMYRA flicks the switch. PINKY and BRAIN light up like Christmas trees. PINKY: NAAAAAAAAAAAARF! BRAIN: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! [CUT TO: CLOSEUP of ELMYRA'S face.] ELMYRA: They even fold neatly to fit under the bed. [CUT TO: CLOSEUP of BRAIN and PINKY squished under a mouse-sized bed.] BRAIN: I am going to hurt her. I am going to escape from this cage, and then I am going to hurt her in numerous ways, each more excruciatingly painful and humiliating than the last. PINKY: Poit. Should I get the 'Full House' tapes, Brain? BRAIN: No, Pinky. I'll save those for last. [CUT TO: MEDIUM SHOT of Elmyra and the cage. The mice are no longer under the bed.] ELMYRA: Aren't they neat? ELMYRA pokes her finger into the cage. BRAIN backs off to the other side of the cage, but PINKY rushes forward and hugs the giant finger in front of him. PLUCKY: Wow. Somebody that actually likes Elmyra. BRAIN, thinking quickly, uses the distraction to grab a pencil from Elmer's desk. He jams one end under BRIAN, and lays the pencil down so it pokes up into the cage at an angle. He looks around briefly before jumping on the pencil, which launches BRIAN up into the air. BRAIN rushes forward and grabs PINKY, then dashes through the hole that BRIAN made in the cage. HAMTON rushes towards the desk, concerned for the welfare of his pet. ELMYRA does the same, but the mice manage to slip out of the classroom. PLUCKY turns to BUSTER. PLUCKY: Well, this is an interesting piece of plot development. BUSTER: Uh huh. Of course you realize that now you're a superhero, you've got to capture those two mice before they take over the world with another of their fiendish but hilarious plans. PLUCKY: Well, foo. PLUCKY stands and rushes out of the classroom. [CUT TO: A hallway a fair distance from the classroom PLUCKY was just in. PLUCKY dashes onscreen, looks around, steps up to his locker, opens it, and steps in. A muffled 'Beak out!' escapes the locker, and there is another white flash. BEAKAZOID steps out. He steps up to the camera.] BEAKAZOID: Didn't I warn you about those flashes? BEAKAZOID turns to the source of the noise and prepares to dash off. BEAKAZOID: You never get any time to yourself when you're a super hero. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: A street. The Freakmobile zooms past, and the camera follows it. As a toll booth looms over the horizon, FREAKAZOID slows the car, and stops by it. A GENERIC POLICE OFFICER pokes his head out through the window.] GPO: Good afternoon, sir. FREAKAZOID: It is, isn't it? Want a candy bar? GPO: No thanks, sir. This is the entrance to Acme Acres. You have to pay a toll to get in. FREAKAZOID: Really? How much? GPO: Just a quarter. FREAKAZOID fumbles around inside the car, and then tosses a quarter to the GPO. GPO: Thank you, sir. By the way.. you must answer THREE QUESTIONS to gain entrance to Acme Acres. FREAKAZOID blinks. FREAKAZOID: Uh.. okay. Shoot. GPO: First question. How long is a piece of string? FREAKAZOID (playing with a paddle ball): Twice the length from the middle to one end. GPO: Correct. Second question. According to the theory of relativity, especially concerning time dilation and length contraction, shouldn't the Enterprise, when it jumps to warp speed in the beginning credits of Star Trek: The Next Generation, seem to the camera filming it (and thus, to our frame of reference) to get *shorter* as opposed to the elastic stretch it seems to have before going into warp? FREAKAZOID: Ah, but you're forgetting that the spectral emissions from the Enterprise as it engages its warp drive are immensely powerful and cause lightwaves to refract longditudinally. This overcompensates for the visual distortion you mentioned and results in the usual 'stretching' effect we see on every episode of TNG and Voyager. Duh, everyone knows THAT. GPO: Correct. Third question. Do you have a cousin named Sven? FREAKAZOID: No, but I once had a barber named Dominique. GPO: Close enough. You can go in. The GPO raises the gate, and FREAKAZOID zooms off into Acme Acres. FREAKAZOID: Acme Acres. Go figure. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: An Acme Loo chemistry lab. A generic OLD GERMAN PROFESSOR WITH LOTS OF GREY HAIR WHO BEARS MORE THAN A PASSING RESEMBLANCE TO EINSTEIN stands at a bench, with his GEEKY-LOOKING ASSISTANT.] PROFESSOR: Und zen ve mix ze caaaaarbon mit ze zinc und zo on. ASSISTANT (scribbling notes): Carbon, zinc. Got it. PROFESSOR: Zen ve take ze mixture to ze bunzen burner und zo on. ASSISTANT (still scribbling): Bunsen... burner. Got it. PROFESSOR: Zen ve mix ze blue mixture mit ze yellow mixture und zo on. ASSISTANT: Blue.. and.. yellow. Got it. PINKY and BRAIN sneak along the bench, staying hidden behind the various chemical equipment. Both of them appear quite out of breath. BRAIN (whispering): Now, Pinky, all I have to do is jab both of these men with this syringe-- BRAIN holds up a syringe full of red liquid. BRAIN (cont'd): --and they will be convinced they are giant chickens for several hours. PINKY applauds enthusiastically. PINKY (panting): Marvellous idea, Brain! Oh, wait.. wait.. how will them thinking they're giant chickens help us? BRAIN: Once they think they are poultry, we will have free run of this laborotory and all the equipment in it. PINKY (panting): Oh, right-o. PROFESSOR: Now, ve must be careful to not zpill ze mixture on ze bunzen burner, because if it mixes mit ze green liquid it vould be very bad und go boomie und zo on. ASSISTANT: No.. spill. Got it. BRAIN: Now is the time to put our plan into action, my mentally-challenged friend. PINKY (panting): Okay, Brain. I just need a bit of a rest first. I'm pooped! PINKY leans on one of the legs of the tripod that holds the mixture precariously above the bunsen burner. Naturally, it starts to tip. BRAIN: PINKY, NO! PINKY: Huh? The mixture tips over, and mixes with the green liquid. BRAIN grabs PINKY and runs as fast as he can along the bench. PROFESSOR: Ouch. Und zo on. BRAIN looks out from behind the beaker that serves as their shelter. As the smoke clears, he sees that the PROFESSOR and his ASSISTANT are both covered in black soot. They collapse onto the floor, out cold. BRAIN (surprised): I congratulate you on your ineptitude, Pinky. Once again, through sheer luck it has managed to work in our favor. PINKY blushes. PINKY: Naaaarf. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: Hallway in Acme Loo. BEAKAZOID springs onscreen and starts looking around.] BEAKAZOID zips around the hallway, opening lockers and looking in trash cans and behind posters for the mice. BEAKAZOID: Yoo-hoo! Dangerous, genetically altered mice! Hey, where are you guys? It's just me, your uncle Beakazoid! I just wanna play Twister, I'm not going to lock you in a cage and never let you out again or anything like that! I swear! Well, I would, if this wasn't a G-rated story and if I wasn't a lovably inept and cute character (with the potential of future sequels) that doesn't want to make the author mad. BEAKAZOID stops as he notices some bubblegum stuck to the wall. BEAKAZOID: Eww! He sniffs it and shrugs. BEAKAZOID: Well, at least it's strawberry. I like strawberry. Goes well with cheese. My grandma used to make this great strawberry and cheese sauce that would blow your socks off. BEAKAZOID blinks as he hears a voice from behind him. FREAKAZOID: Really? My grandma made this great salad dressing that'd peel the roof off your mouth! Only trouble was that it kept melting the bottles we kept it in. BEAKAZOID turns around to face FREAKAZOID. BEAKAZOID: Who're you? ANNOUNCER (V/O): Now, the two heroes meet. What villain would dare stand against the unstoppable might of our two champions combined? FREAKAZOID: I'm Freakazoid, the guy that the author copied blatantly to make you. BEAKAZOID: Wow. Nice clothes. FREAKAZOID: Thanks! I was about to say the same thing. So, what's your story? BEAKAZOID: It's called 'Beakazoid!'. We're in it at the moment. FREAKAZOID: Really? My contract didn't mention fanfic. I hope I'm getting paid for this. So, wanna play Pictionary? BEAKAZOID: Yeah! FREAKAZOID: What was that? BEAKAZOID: Sounded like a 'boom' to me. FREAKAZOID: I thought so. Where'd it come from? BEAKAZOID points. BEAKAZOID: Over there. FREAKAZOID: As heroes, we should probably go investigate that. BEAKAZOID: Yeah. It's probably those mice I'm looking for. There is a pause for a moment or two, then FREAKAZOID pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. FREAKAZOID: So, you wanna go first or should I? I haven't played Pictionary in ages. BEAKAZOID: Me! Me! [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: The same scene. Some time has passed, and the game has progressed.] FREAKAZOID reaches across and snatches the pad from BEAKAZOID. FREAKAZOID: It's FACELIFT! See? A face, and a lift! FACELIFT! BEAKAZOID: That's a *face*? And that's not a lift, that's a box! FREAKAZOID: What are ya, nuts? Of course it's a face! See? Eyes, nose, mouth, face! BEAKAZOID takes the pad back, tilts it a bit, and squints at it. BEAKAZOID: It looks like.. a lightbulb with some hair stuck to it. FREAKAZOID takes the pad back and looks at it. FREAKAZOID: Really? BEAKAZOID: Really. Just turn your head and squint a bit. FREAKAZOID does. FREAKAZOID: Yeah, I guess you're right. It *does* look kinda like a lightbulb. FREAKAZOID: There's another one of those booms. BEAKAZOID: Yeah. How many's that? Six? FREAKAZOID: I think so. We should probably go and investigate, y'know. BEAKAZOID: We probably should have done that two hours ago. BEAKAZOID points accusatorily at the pad. BEAKAZOID: Darn you and your fun addictive gameplay, Pictionary! BEAKAZOID looks crestfallen, and FREAKAZOID pats him on the back. FREAKAZOID: Not to worry, Beakazoid. We're not the first to fall into the addictive clutches of Pictionary. For many years-- FREAKAZOID sweeps his other arm in a panoramic arc. FREAKAZOID (cont'd): --Pictionary has threatened the liberty of Americans by surrepticiously stealing away their free time by baffling them with a cruel twist of irony: their own lack of drawing expertise. BEAKAZOID (sniffing): Really? FREAKAZOID smiles soothingly. FREAKAZOID: Really. Not to worry, friend. One day we shall face Pictionary and emerge victorious. FREAKAZOID thrusts his hand into the air and points to the sky. FREAKAZOID: To the Art Institute! BEAKAZOID: Erm.. weren't we going after those mice? FREAKAZOID pulls his hand back down. FREAKAZOID: Oh, yeah. Sorry. FREAKAZOID thrusts his finger back into the air. FREAKAZOID: To the evil mice! [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: The chemistry lab. BRAIN stands watching his chemicals working. PINKY wanders around the lab, keeping himself amused by playing with everything he can find. BRAIN has appropriated BRIAN THE PET ROCK to use as a paperweight for a thick chemistry book.] BRAIN raises his arms and looks up in delight at the complex chemical apparatus before him. A purple liquid bubbles and boils through a complex system of tubing, pipettes, distillers, and a small heating system. BRIAN shows no obvious signs of excitement and continues to fulfil his paperweight duties in silence. BRAIN: Ye-es! My chemical creation nears completion! PINKY: Is my fudge nearly ready, Brain? BRAIN slaps his forehead and points to the beaker full of fudge sitting on the bench next to the impressive apparatus, cooling. BRAIN (showing great restraint): Yes, Pinky, your fudge is nearly ready. PINKY: Yippee! BRAIN: Don't touch it yet, it has not yet cooled to an appropriate temperature for consumption. PINKY: Oh, I'm not worried about that, as long as it's not too hot. Narf! BRAIN slaps his forehead. [CUT TO: A shot of the lab door, which is held in place by several chairs stacked up against it. It suddenly explodes, to reveal FREAKAZOID and BEAKAZOID standing behind it in dramatic poses. FREAKAZOID lowers the bazooka he was holding.] BEAKAZOID: I get to use the bazooka next time! FREAKAZOID and BEAKAZOID walk in through the doorway and look at BRAIN. FREAKAZOID: Are you the evil villain mouse and his sidekick? BRAIN (nervously): Erm.. no. My assosciate and I are good-natured cleaning mice here to clean the scientific equipment. BEAKAZOID: How come the door was blocked, then? BRAIN (more nervous now): Uh.. we're compulsive cleaners. We had to eliminate any risk of dust getting into the room. BEAKAZOID and FREAKAZOID look at each other and shrug. BEAKAZOID and FREAKAZOID: Oh, okay. Seeya. The dynamic - if unfortunately dim-witted at crucial times - duo exit through the doorway they entered through. BRAIN (visibly relieved): Phew! [CUT TO: Hallway outside the lab. FREAKAZOID and BEAKAZOID walk down it, obviously stumped as to the location of the mice. BUSTER walks onscreen from the other direction.] BUSTER: Hiya, guys! Find those mice yet? FREAKAZOID (dejectedly): Yeah, we found some mice, but they weren't evil, take-over-the-world type mice, they were good-natured cleaning mice. BUSTER (confused): Er.. how'd you know that? BEAKAZOID: We asked them, and they told us. BUSTER slaps his forehead. BUSTER: You don't expect the villains to tell the truth, do you? BEAKAZOID: Well.. no. FREAKAZOID: But if they were villains, then naturally they'd lie and tell us they weren't. But, if they weren't villains, naturally they'd tell us the truth and tell us they weren't. This is confusing. BEAKAZOID: I feel dizzy. BUSTER: How many cleaning mice do you know? FREAKAZOID: Erm.. none. Well, two, if those two were telling the truth. BUSTER: I've tried subtle hints, I've tried thought-inducing questions, time for plan C, the obvious statement. Guys, listen up. FREAKAZOID and BEAKAZOID listen. BUSTER: The two cleaning mice are the villains. BEAKAZOID: The rabbit has a point. BEAKAZOID picks up the bazooka. BEAKAZOID (angry): Let's kick some butt! [CUT TO: A shot of the doorway to the chemistry lab. FREAKAZOID and BEAKAZOID walk through the doorway into the lab. BRAIN turns to face them.] BRAIN: You two again? What this time? FREAKAZOID: We've got you figured out, you evil villain you. If you're a good-natured cleaning mouse, where's your mop? Or your scrubbing brushes? Or your dustbuster? BRAIN (sweating): Uh, well, erm, that is to say, ah.. um.. FREAKAZOID steps towards BRAIN, pointing a finger at him. FREAKAZOID: You're no cleaning mouse, are you? BRAIN: Curses! You've seen through my web of deceit! FREAKAZOID lowers his finger, and scratches his chin. FREAKAZOID: If you're a villain, how come you weren't at the Villains vs. Heroes baseball game? BRAIN (aloof): I am above such barbaric forms of competition. I'm not a *villain* villain, anyway. Villain villains are evil and kill people. I'm just a friendly hyperintelligent mouse who happens to have an obsession with taking over the planet. Besides, the only way they'd let me in was if I agreed to let them scrunch me up and use me as the ball. FREAKAZOID: Well, I can understand that. PINKY: It was a shame, they offered me a front-row seat! Zort! BRAIN: Well, if you will wait a moment for my horribly vile and evil concoction to finish filtering, I will dispose of you. FREAKAZOID and BEAKAZOID exchange glances. FREAKAZOID: You got any plans for the next few minutes? BEAKAZOID: Well, I was supposed to open a new wing of the Acme Acres Modern Art With Soup gallery, but that can wait. FREAKAZOID: Wow, you have a soup art gallery? BEAKAZOID: Sure do, packed to the rafters with tasteful contemporary pieces of modern art made from soup and soup-related products. FREAKAZOID: Wow! Can we visit after we're finished here? BEAKAZOID: Can't think of a reason not to. BRAIN: *ahem* Excuse me? Sorry to interrupt your fascinating conversation, but I'm about to destroy you. FREAKAZOID: Oh, sorry. Go on ahead. BEAKAZOID: Wait! You have to explain your dastardly scheme first! BRAIN (irritated): Do I *have* to? BEAKAZOID crosses his arms and turns his back on BRAIN, pointing his beak up into the air. BEAKAZOID: Sure do! It's in the cliche list! I'm not going to let you destroy me until you do. BRAIN: *sigh* Very well. BEAKAZOID whirls around and sits on a chair, looking excited. FREAKAZOID sits next to him, looking equally interested. BEAKAZOID: Goody! BRAIN: Listen carefully. This liquid, when ready, will turn anyone who drinks it into a small blob of coloured jello. After destroying you two, I shall surrepticiously place this liquid into the water supply of the White House, thus turning the President into a small blob of jello. FREAKAZOID: How will you tell the difference between the President and and a small blob of jello? BEAKAZOID: Well, at the moment he looks like a large blob of jello. FREAKAZOID: Point taken. BRAIN: Once this happens, the ensuing chaos will lead to a rushed election. I will run in this election and turn any competitors into similar small blobs of jello, and once I become President I will assume control of the world! BEAKAZOID: A fiendish plan. FREAKAZOID: I'd give it a 7 out of 10 on the fiend-o-meter. BEAKAZOID: Wait a minute, haven't you already done the run-for-President bit? BRAIN: Well, yes. But this time I'm using jello. BEAKAZOID: Fair enough. BRAIN: So, anyway, if it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate being able to destroy you now. FREAKAZOID: Sorry, Brain, but we can't let you do that. We're the good guys, we gotta win. BEAKAZOID: Yeah, it's in the rules. BRAIN: Well, yes, but villains by their very nature don't follow the rules. BEAKAZOID and FREAKAZOID charge towards BRAIN, who reaches behind himself and looks for something to disable the rapidly approaching heroes. His gaze falls upon the perfect weapon. BRAIN: Eat hot fudge, Freakazoid and Beakazoid! BRAIN tosses the still-hot fudge towards BEAKAZOID and FREAKAZOID. It splats in their faces and makes a sizzling noise. The duo double over in pain. BEAKAZOID: Aaaaaaaah! FREAKAZOID: Fudge.. burning... face.. must.. ooh, this fudge tastes nice! FREAKAZOID stands up, licking some of the fudge off his face. FREAKAZOID: Is this Russian fudge? BRAIN blinks in surprise. BRAIN: Erm.. I think so, yes. Pinky? PINKY, who looks a little angry at BRAIN for throwing his fudge away, nods. FREAKAZOID: Could I get the recipe later? PINKY: Okay. Poit. FREAKAZOID: Thanks. FREAKAZOID returns to writhing in pain. Suddenly, THE HUNTSMAN smashes dramatically in through a window in the lab. He grins hugely at everyone, then puts his hands on his hips. HUNTSMAN: Not to worry, my fellow heroes! I will save you both! BRAIN: Another hero? This is intolerable! PINKY: But look at those pectorals, Brain. Naaaaaarf. HUNTSMAN poses for a moment, then begins to step towards BRAIN. He stops as he hears the Horn Of Urgency sound in the distance. HUNTSMAN: Darn the luck, darn! Torn between rescuing my fellow heroes or returning to defend my own city from a heinous crime! ANNOUNCER (V/O): Unbeknownst to the Huntsman, the horn's call was a hoax. The police chief's son was using it as part of his school science project on echoes. HUNTSMAN pauses for a moment, then turns to FREAKAZOID. HUNTSMAN: Sorry. Gotta go! HUNTSMAN does a dramatic backflip through the window he entered through and runs off. By this time, FREAKAZOID and BEAKAZOID have eaten the fudge from their faces. BEAKAZOID: A little fudge won't stop us! FREAKAZOID: It will slow us substantially, but it won't stop us! BRAIN: But *this* will! Pinky! Pass me the syringe! PINKY: Only if you promise to let me make some more fudge. Poit. BRAIN (panicking): Okay! Okay! Just give me the syringe! PINKY picks up the syringe and runs towards BRAIN carrying it, but trips over BRIAN THE PET ROCK and goes flying towards BRAIN. The syringe jabs him in the arm, and PINKY'S momentum causes him to impact on the plunger and push it in. BRAIN (dazzled): I meant *handle* *first*, Pinky... BRAIN'S eyes glaze over, and he shakes a bit. BRAIN: B'gawk! FREAKAZOID bends down and picks BRAIN up. FREAKAZOID: Aww, how cute! A mouse that thinks he's a chicken. BEAKAZOID: I don't know whether to send him to jail or a chicken coop. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: PINKY and the BRAIN'S cage. The hole has been fixed, and the entire cage reinforced to prevent escape. PINKY runs on the exercise wheel, and BRAIN sits on a thimble, head in his hands.] BRAIN: Pinky! Get off that infernal contraption! PINKY (still running): Why, Brain? BRAIN: Because we need a good, restful sleep to prepare for tomorrow night. PINKY: Why, what are we going to do tomorrow night? BRAIN: Same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try and take over the world! [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: Acme Acres Modern Art With Soup Gallery. BEAKAZOID and FREAKAZOID stand admiring a finely-crafted triceratops made from Hearty Beef flavoured soup, and nibbling on corndogs.] FREAKAZOID: This is a great gallery. BEAKAZOID: Sure is. There are some truly great soup artists. FREAKAZOID: Sure are. FREAKAZOID takes a bite of his corndog. FREAKAZOID (chewing): Of course, you're going to have to give up your superhero powers now. BEAKAZOID: Why? FREAKAZOID: Because you're young, innocent, inexperienced. You're a student, you should be studying, not saving the world. BEAKAZOID: So is Dexter Douglas. FREAKAZOID: Besides, the 'zoid bit is my schtick and you're not allowed to steal it. BEAKAZOID: Well, darn. I can't argue with that. FREAKAZOID: I'm glad you understand. BEAKAZOID: I'm going to miss being Beakazoid. FREAKAZOID: I'll give you a free Freakmobile toy, if that makes you feel any better. BEAKAZOID: Whee! [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: The Pasta Club For Men. SGT. COSGROVE stands, gazing at the scale model of Charles Branson's hair made entirely of mancotti. FREAKAZOID walks up to him.] FREAKAZOID: Hey, Cosgrove! COSGROVE: Hey, Freakazoid. Good work getting that Beakazoid thing sorted out. FREAKAZOID: Yeah, that's one problem that's sorted out. You've been looking at this exhibit this whole time? COSGROVE: Yeah. Mancotti is very easy to look at. FREAKAZOID joins COSGROVE in looking at the mancotti. FREAKAZOID: I see what you mean. COSGROVE: I find it relaxing. FREAKAZOID wanders off and returns with a couple of fudgiscles, one of which he gives to COSGROVE. COSGROVE takes it. COSGROVE: Thanks. Are you going to miss Beakazoid? FREAKAZOID: Yeah. Something tells me I might see him again some time, though. ANNOUNCER (V/O): This is what is called a plot point. Pay attention, kids, there will be a quiz on this after the show. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: Acme Loo cafeteria. BUSTER and PLUCKY sit, eating lunch together.] BUSTER: So, was it fun being a superhero? PLUCKY: It was a blast. BUSTER: Gonna miss it? PLUCKY: Yeah. BUSTER: I never did pay you back for that carrot soda. Want a drink? PLUCKY: Yeah.. thanks. BUSTER gets up and heads off to the vending machine. PLUCKY pulls the front of his tank top away from his chest, and looks down at it. He smiles as he sees the B! still emblazoned on his chest. He looks at the camera and wiggles his nonexistent eyebrows. ANNOUNCER (V/O): You guessed it, kids, this is another plot point. [FADE OUT] [FADE IN: The chemistry lab. The PROFESSOR and his ASSISTANT are just waking up.] PROFESSOR: Vhat a headache! I am goink home to vash up und vatch zome televizion und zo on. ASSISTANT: Me too. The PROFESSOR and his ASSISTANT walk out of the lab. [CUT TO: CLOSEUP of BRIAN THE PET ROCK.] ANNOUNCER (V/O): Little did the Professor or his assistant - or anyone else for that matter - know, Brain was not the mastermind behind the evil jello scheme. Brian, Hamton's pet rock, thought up the whole thing. He gave Brain the idea for his jellifying solution in exchange for a promise that he would be able to rule the world with Brain. He caused Pinky to trip deliberately in a savage double-cross, and now he, Brian the rock, is alone with the jellifying solution. BRIAN sits atop the heavy chemistry book looking ominous. Well, as ominous as a large rock serving as a paperweight can look. ANNOUNCER (V/O): If he ever figures out how to move so he can use the solution to put his evil plan into effect, there'll be a sequel. Until then, it is farewell from this twisted tale of diabolical evil, treachery, friendship, pasta, and tight red lycra outfits. Farewell and goodnight. FIN