Showing posts with label animation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animation. Show all posts

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Duncing With the Stars - An Opinion Piece




Duncing With the Stars

Having been employed in the entertainment industry since Netflix personally drove the actors to your house to perform your order, I have become friends with a small cadre of practicing thespians.  Additionally, having spent a regrettable amount of time wallowing in the fetid, festering spiritual cesspool that is children’s animation, I am acquainted with a number of talented individuals who make their living giving voice to artistic renderings of cute furry animals and intense do-gooders wearing capes.  For nigh on a decade now, these flexibly-larynxed entertainers have lamented their industry’s perplexing penchant for hiring celebrities.  In effect, they’re employing people with memorable faces to do voice work.  Why, that’s brilliant!  Talk about thinking outside the box.  Why pay dedicated professionals, who’ve spent a lifetime perfecting their craft, to weave their paralinguistic magic when you can pressgang some sitcom-star-of-the-week or pre-arrest cinematic idol to do it?   That’s like hiring the handsomest waiter at a restaurant to cook all the food.  

“Garcon!  This Liberty Duck Breast avec Confit tastes like shit!” 
“Oui monsieur, but it is made by our most popular waiter.  Everyone just loves him.  Would you like our waitress with the big tits to mix you up a Pisco Sour?”
To see if the cavils of the cartoon community had any credence – I checked out an animated movie at random.  I selected “Frozen” – for no other reason than I Googled “3D animated movie” at its name came up.  So, why don’t we check out the cast of this high profile cartooned “gem” and scan their mile long voxographies.
Idina Menzel – Voice credits – 1 – Frozen
Kirsten Bell – Voice Credits 2 – Frozen and guest spot on The Cleveland Show

Jonathan Groff – Voice Credits 1 – Frozen
Josh Gad – Frozen and two or three other credits. (One other movie)
Santino Fontana – Voice credits -1 Frozen
Alan Tudyk – Voice credits - Frozen and one or two other parts.
Hmmm.  To think these frigid freshman beat out every available voice actor in North America and beyond on shear talent would be a feat akin to Rob Ford showing up sober to Toronto’s Festival of Beer.
But, perhaps this is just an anomaly.  A kooky quirk.  A misleading defect in the time/space continuum.  Let’s look at the cast of Monsters University and see what it has to offer in the way of insight.  
Billy Crystal, John Goodman, Steve Buschemi, Helen Mirren, Joel Murray, Dave Foley and Alfred Molina.
Now, do you suppose these fine actors were hired because they brought a depth and reality to their computer generated characters, never even dreamed of by the creator, or because they are Billy Crystal, John Goodman, Steve Buschemi, Helen Mirren, Joel Murray, David Foley and Alfred Molina?
It’s enough to make Mel Blanc burst out of his grave, throw up and then die again – because let’s face it, Mel didn’t look that good, even when he was alive. 

And for what?  The audience they’re aiming these 3D buckets of pabulum at wouldn’t know Steve Buschemi if he blew their head off during a contraband whisky dispute.  Now, Mr. Buschemi is a fine, fine actor (a personal fave) but is he better at voicing cartoon characters than Danny Mann, Maurice LaMarshe or Jan Rabson?  No, he is not.  Is Julia Roberts a better voice actress that June Foray, Nancy Cartwright or Candy Milo?  Let me put it another way…Ringo Starr is an excellent, excellent Beatle, but if you need a really good drummer, for Christsakes hire Bill Bruford!

Alas, this celebrity psychosis among the entertainment executive elites is not just limited to brightly-colored, ridiculously round-eyed, steaming piles of cute. 
An example:
When I toiled under the acrid scowling eyes that ruled Warner Brothers Television back in the day, my partner and I sold quite a few pilots.  Once a pilot is sold, you have to do two things.  1: Remove any imagination, originality and humor from the script. 2: Cast it.
The casting process is long and heartbreaking.  You see literally dozens and dozens of actors (many of them deserving of the part and even more whom I’ve admired for years).  After we’ve auditioned our brains out, we take our 3 or 4 top choices to the studio brass for their invaluable input. 
The casting director prepares 4 pages of names for our confab with the big wigs: Actors we have auditioned and liked, actors who will only audition for the network, actors who will meet but not audition at all and actors who are unavailable or not interested.  When you get in the room with these mega-mogals, they invariably flip to the “Unavailable/Uninterested page and start asking, “What about Leonardo DiCaprio?  Will he come in for a read?” 
“Why, yes he will, Tony!  Thank God we have your wisdom and insight to lead us through these confusing times.  Just because he’s unavailable and uninterested, he’d love to drop whatever he’s doing for a lengthy chat with a balding, ass-licking halfwit who wouldn’t be trusted to hand out free-steam-cleaning coupons in the real world.  Let me go get him on the phone!”
It was like this for every role – no matter how small.  The more unattainable an actor was, the more their saliva glands bubbled-over with desire.  If we’d have had a fifth page with dead actors on it, they would have been begging us to bring in Lillian Gish to read for the grandma.  

Andrew and I were once dragooned into saving a sitcom starring Faye Dunaway – an actress of magnificent ability but a human being who took the phrase “totally fucked up” to a level inconceivable to mere morals.  We valiantly turned down their generous offer three times but were pushed and pushed and pushed until we eventually acquiesced.  Faye could hardly remember her own name, never mind half an hour of dialogue to be regurgitated in front of a live audience.  Movie productions can last forever.  They’re the natural breeding ground of prima donnas.  Television is a meat grinder.  You cram shit in one end; crank it day and night until even shittier shit comes out the other end.  And then, after an incredibly short weekend of wishing you were never born, you start the whole shit-cramming process again.  After working with David Steinberg and a dialogue coach for three whole days during a long weekend, she walked on stage, during the pilot, and got her very first line wrong.  

After several weeks of unimaginable suffering on the part of those around her and ratings dropping like a herd of buffalo of a cliff; someone asked the obvious question.  “Why would anyone put this crazy woman in a sitcom?”
The answer was very revealing.  “Because Mr. X (a CBS exec I actually liked) wants to be sitting in his office and hear, ‘Faye Dunaway, on line two.’”
They pumped millions into “It Had to Be You” and it lasted 4 episodes.  Ms. Dunaway’s TVQ (a rating of likeability) dropped from 55 in the pilot to minus 17.  Until Faye, I didn’t even know the number went below zero. 
The pilot in question was actually shot the year before (and tested quite well) with Twiggy but not picked up because CBS didn’t think Twiggy was a big enough name.  It isn’t about who was right for the part or even what the public wants – it’s about “star fucking”.  About flipping to that back page of the casting list and imagining getting invited over for weekend barbeques with Kate Blanchett and Michael Caine, taking their kids for play-dates over at the Brad Pitt compound or just rappin’ to Jennifer Lawrence about “stuff” while she shaves her legs in the shower.  

The cult of celebrity has corrupted the entire system.  Every actor with the slightest clout now has a production company.  Tom Cruise, Sandra Bullock, Drew Barrymore, Demi Moore, Penny Marshall, Bette Midler, Wesley Snipes, Jodie Foster, Billy Crystal, Michael Douglas etc, etc, etc.  These “companies” are selling shows all over town.  Now, these people don’t write the shows they sell.  They won’t direct them.  And they certainly won’t lower themselves to be in these shows.  So, what possible contribution could a “Star” make to a production that a run-of-the-mill writer or regular producer couldn’t?
The Answer:
Those writers and producers can’t get some soulless jack-off executive to scream into his Android, “Guess what honey!  I have Tom Fucking Cruise in my outer office!”
So now, instead of having to convince a lowly studio executive to convince a higher studio executive to buy a project to take it to the network to get it on the air, you have to go to a celebrity’s development executive who takes it to the celebrity who takes it to the lowly studio executive who convinces a higher studio exec to sell it to the network to get it on the air (and guess whose money the Celebs slice of the pie comes out of).
In Conclusion:
These Gods and Goddesses of the silver screen who shit pure gold and piss the healing celestial light of heaven have it pretty darn good already.  They’re paid millions of dollars to half remember words somebody else wrote for them.  They get to sleep with whomever they want.  The snort the finest of drugs.   

They get their ever-so-glamorous dicks sucked (figuratively and literally) by everyone they deign to meet.  They never have to wait for a table at a restaurant or line-up at a club.  They live in fabulous mansions and party on yachts and overdose in the very finest of hotels.  Large brutish men in their employ roughly remove the unsightly from their gaze.  They have minions pre-light their cigarettes and pre-chew their gum.  I mean, isn’t that enough?
Do they really need to take jobs off hard working voice actors, who are so lowly, they have to cook their own food at restaurants?  Isn’t the writer’s demeaning lot in life demeaning and lotty enough without having to drag their soon-to-be butchered masterpieces before yet another layer of smug, disinterested cunts? 
Call me a cock-eyed optimist, but I dream of a world where pilots fly, doctors heal and policeman taser people ahead of them in line at donut shops.  But alas, I fear it’s in only a matter of time before we hear someone screaming into his Android at a Starbucks, “Unbelievable news!…They got Lady Gaga to do my brain operation!”

And just because…here are two attractive women in bikinis kissing an eggplant.


If you like the writing, then check out my serial novel at the link below.
There is a new chapter every Monday.
Chapter 12 is now available.





Wednesday, January 15, 2014

THE ADVENTURES OF JIMMY NEUTRON - BOY GENIUS - Granny Baby (the original script)



Writing Jimmy Neutron was a lot of fun.  This is the first pass of the script.  Usually, the comedy police come in and take everything that's funny out of your draft.  Luckily, that wasn't the case with this show.  This was also our first 3D animation project and it took a little getting used to.  This was from the early days of the technology.  Characters couldn't hold each other's hands, change clothes (the still can't) and llamas couldn't sit down. (I'm not kidding)  The models they had for Carl's favorite animal were designed to stand and that was it. 





THE ADVENTURES OF JIMMY NEUTRON:  BOY GENIUS

Granny Baby

First Draft

FADE IN:

INT. FRONT HALL – DAY

3 or 4 SUITCASES by the back door.  HUGH takes some preparatory weightlifter breaths, bending to lift them.

          JUDY (OS)
Oh no you don’t, Mister Muscles!

JUDY looks disapprovingly on.

          JUDY
If you hurt your back lifting those you’ll be no use to me tonight on our third honeymoon when I want all the hotel room furniture rearranged.

JIMMY and Goddard stand by the cases.

          JIMMY
Goddard!  Fork-lift!

Goddard’s lower jaw lowers to the floor like a forklift, scoops up the cases, backs up – BEEPING - and trundles the cases out the door.

          JIMMY
Don’t couples usually go on second honeymoons?

          JUDY
We had one of those but thanks to a certain young genius and his Forgetto-Blaster it was wiped out of our brains.

          JIMMY
Oh yeah.

          JUDY
Along with the entire fifth year of our marriage.

INT. KITCHEN – DAY (FLASHBACK)

The Neutrons, looking dazed and brain-dead, are shown around the kitchen by Jimmy, holding his FORGETTO-BLASTER.  As if to a 2-year-old:

          JIMMY
And this... is toast.

          HUGH
Toast.

Hugh puts his foot through the toast like Frankenstein putting on a pair of pants.

INT. FRONT HALL – DAY

Hugh chuckles at the memory.

          HUGH
I just hope to darnation we didn’t have any other children.

          JIMMY
Da-a-ad!  I woulda told you that!

          JUDY
You told us your allowance was four thousand dollars a week.

Jimmy flashes a busted smile.

EXT. DRIVEWAY - DAY

Minutes later, at the car, packed for the trip.  Judy writes on a slip of paper for Jimmy.

          JUDY
If you need us here’s where we’re staying:  Wild Animal Land, in the Dead Zebra Carcass Suite.  Granny Neutron’s coming over while we’re gone.

          JIMMY
Mo-o-om!  Don’t you remember my theorem proving mathematically I don’t need anyone to watch me?

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT (FLASHBACK)

Jimmy stands before a blackboard full of equations, which all boil down to the last line, “∑ a2  babysitter.”  He concludes, triumphantly:

          JIMMY
... ergo, “Sigma Alpha-squared” does not equal babysitter!

Judy and Hugh sit with their bound copies of the theorem.

          HUGH
The math does seem to be in order.

EXT. DRIVEWAY / FRONT LAWN – DAY

          JUDY
She’s not watching you, you’re watching her She’s an old lady who’s been through a lot, even if you don’t include raising your father -

On the lawn Hugh pretends to be a tiger snapping at a BUTTERFLY.

          HUGH
Grrr!  I’m a wild tiger!  Snap!

          JUDY
- so don’t try any more of your tonics or crazy brain rays on her.

          JIMMY
Whatever do you mean?

Jimmy pushes a button on his belt.  A metal HALO raises from his collar over his head.  Judy pushes it back down.

          JUDY
Don’t play Mister Innocent with me!   At her age the last thing you want, besides an overabundance of cheese in your diet, is excitement.

With a screeching of tires a CAB hurtles down the street and careens to a stop against the Neutron’s trash cans.  GRANNY NEUTRON gets out of the driver’s seat and addresses the terrified CABBIE cowering in the back.

          GRANNY
Told ya I could get here from the airport in under fifty cents!

She flicks two coins in the window and goes to the cab trunk.

          GRANNY
Jimmy, you tote my clothes...

She hands Jimmy a small valise.

          GRANNY
... and Hugh, you carry my pills, syrups, salves, serums, girdles, ointments, medical devices and miscellaneous supports.

She takes 4 BIG cases from the trunk and drops them in Hugh’s arms.  CRACK!  his back goes out.  Judy shakes her head.

          JUDY
Tst tsk.  Sounds like the 5th cervical vertebra again.

EXT. DRIVEWAY – DAY

TIGHT ON Hugh’s face, trying to be brave and reassuring.

          HUGH
I’m sure I’ll be okay by the time we get there, Sweetie-Doodles.

The car lurches; Judy drives away.  Hugh is stretched on the roof, roped to a back-support board.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Jimmy (holding a cookie) turns to the cases in the living room.  From one of them he gingerly half-lifts A DEVICE with bolts, straps, elastic bands.

          JIMMY
Why do you need all these weird contraptions?

Jimmy takes a bite of his cookie, not looking as Goddard’s eyes pop WIDE and his SCREEN flips out, playing a pre-record:

ON GODDARD’S SCREEN (FISH-EYE):  Granny rambles:

          GRANNY (b.g.)
... some mornings my bones pop like a fat guy diving onto bubble wrap!  Then there’s this thing dangling from the back of my knee...

ON THE SCREEN Jimmy leans close and whispers a memo to himself:

          JIMMY
“Urgent Reminder:  never ask Granny about her health!”

BUT BACK IN THE ROOM it’s too late:

          GRANNY
Why do I need ‘em?  If it wasn’t for those supports I’d be touching the ground in eight places!  Lemme tell you about my bursitis...

Jimmy stands with one bite out of his cookie, mouth open.

FLIP TO:

EXT. NEUTRON HOUSE - NIGHT

Establishing that night.

          GRANNY (OS)
... my osteotometrist says I’ve got something called Pauntlett of Scrugg...

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Jimmy listens to his Granny, his mouth still open over the uneaten cookie.

                        GRANNY
... I’ll spare ya the details but it has to be emptied of Scrugg twice a month.  And there’s a hair in my ear they think might go right through to my foot.

She pulls A HAIR in her ear – up and down, up and down - and her foot lifts and falls.  Jimmy stares in open-mouthed horror.

INT. JIMMY’S ROOM - NIGHT

Jimmy lies awake in bed, with Goddard lying on his feet in a metal nightcap.  Jimmy sighs.  On his nightstand, next to a photo of his parents, is a framed photo of Granny when she was YOUNG.

          JIMMY
Age is a cruel thing, Goddard.  In a short 65 years you completely lose your ability to tell when people want you to stop talking.

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Downstairs, Granny keeps going.

          GRANNY
And my eyesight!  I can’t even see things I hit in the car any more, I only hear ‘em scream.

REVEAL she’s talking to a DUMMY of Jimmy, also holding a cookie to its open mouth.

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

Inspiration!  Jimmy picks up the photo.

          JIMMY
I bet if I made her young again she’d stop complaining.  What a perfect opportunity to try my Anti-Ageing Tonic on a willing human subject without her knowing.
      (remembers)
But I promised mom I wouldn’t experiment on Granny.  Especially after that time I made her magnetic.

EXT. DRIVEWAY – DAY (FLASHBACK)

Granny stands with her bags at the curb, with Jimmy’s parents.

          GRANNY
I had a wonderful tiiiiiiii - !

A BUS goes by.  Granny flies up and sticks to it.  It drives away with her splayed on the side like a fridge magnet.

INT. JIMMY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Pondering this, Jimmy orders Goddard:

          JIMMY
Analyze mother’s exact warning, with subprogram search for potential loopholes.

Goddard’s oscilloscope re-traces Judy’s words “don’t try any more of your tonics or crazy brain rays on her” and PRINTS something out.  Jimmy rips it off and reads:

          JIMMY
“A: She wasn’t talking to me.”  Not bad.  “B:  She was joking.”  Mom never jokes.  “C:  She was talking about my other Granny.”
     (Bingo!)
Perfect!

INT. JIMMY’S LAB - DAWN

A bleary-eyed Jimmy naps on a lab table.  Some flasks boil over heaters, with a 3-D MOLECULE rotating on the monitor above them.  The molecule on the monitor FLASHES RED:  finished!  A mechanical ARM comes out and taps Jimmy’s shoulder, awakening him.

A small flask at the end of this process upends a few CCs of glowing fluid into a test tube.  Jimmy grabs it.

          JIMMY
She’s awfully old, I hope this is enough.

INT. HALLWAY – DAY

Jimmy runs down the hall with the Youth Tonic.  HOLD ON a framed print of “American Gothic” on the wall; it gets a few drops of the Youth Tonic sloshed on it as Jimmy runs by.  The farmer and his wife morph into a yuppy-handsome YOUNG MAN and WOMAN.

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

Granny sits across from the Jimmy Dummy, trying to open a small bottle, as the real Jimmy enters with the Tonic behind his back.

          GRANNY
Good morning.
     (points to the dummy)
I was just telling you over there about my deviated spatchum.  On cold mornings it rattles like the Tin Man throwing up a hoagie full of wood screws.

          JIMMY
What’s in the bottle?

          GRANNY
Tongue De-Furrer.  Your tongue gets furry when you’re old. 

INT. OTHER LIVING ROOM – DAY (FLASHBACK)

PAN UP Granny’s sleeping body on a couch.

          GRANNY (OS)
Sometimes I wake up and the cat’s chewing on it.

Reaching her head:  The CAT paws languidly at Granny’s tongue.

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

Jimmy helpfully offers:

          JIMMY
Let me open that for you.

Jimmy takes the bottle, turns his back - and when he turns back granny’s medicine is GLOWING and his flask is empty.

          JIMMY
I think you’ll feel much better – and quieter - after you drink this.

She up-ends it and smacks her lips distastefully.

          GRANNY
Tastes funny.  Of course, what do I know – after sixty your sense of taste completely disapp-

KA-ZING!  She disappears, leaving just a pile of clothes on the armchair.

          JIMMY
Granny?!

There’s a LUMP under her dress.  A diapered BABY crawls out.

          JIMMY
Granny!  You’re a babe!

          GRANNY BABY
You shoulda seen me at 16.  When I walked down a beach lifeguards swallowed their whistles.

          JIMMY
No, I mean you’re really a babe.

Goddard turns one shiny metal side to her.  She sees her reflection and gasps.

          GRANNY BABY
Holy ga-ga.

          JIMMY
This isn’t good.
     (puzzled)
Where’d you get the diaper?

          GRANNY BABY
I was already wearing it.  Waaaaa!  I need my blankie!

          JIMMY
No problem!  3-D modeler!

A DEVICE like a steroidal laser printer raises from the floor.

          JIMMY
Import generic security blanket design and output using couch cushion material.

The device vacuums the cover off a couch cushion, screams like a dot-matrix printer and spits out a BLANKIE.  Jimmy hands it to Granny.

          GRANNY BABY
I need my binkie!

          JIMMY
No problem!  Import binkie prototype and output using rubber from dad’s shoes.

The device sucks in a LOAFER, whirrs and spits out a PACIFIER.

          GRANNY BABY
I need my didie changed.

SHOCK ZOOM on Jimmy.

          JIMMY
Problem
     (inspiration)
Goddard!

ANGLE ON Goddard, who really doesn’t want to change a diaper.  Goddard’s FRONT LEGS FALL OFF.  He smiles sheepishly.

          GODDARD
Sorry.

          GRANNY BABY
Change me NOW!

          JIMMY
     (to Goddard)
Who can change a diaper?

Goddard’s screen shows:  an icon of a NURSE.

          JIMMY
I don’t know any nurses.

On screen:  icon of his MOTHER.

          JIMMY
No way.  I love and respect Mom far too much to let her know I disobeyed her

3rd icon:  CINDY!

Jimmy swallows and looks out the window.  HIS POV:  CINDY runs a garage sale in her driveway:  racks of clothes, open boxes.

          JIMMY
Uh-uh, no way no how!  I’d rather die than ask Cindy for a favor!

          GRANNY BABY
So change me yourself.

          JIMMY
Then again, some things are worse than death.

EXT. CINDY’S DRIVEWAY – DAY

The garage sale in progress:  “CINDY & LIBBY YARD SALE.”  CINDY and LIBBY are at the folding table with the cash box.

          LIBBY
I’m starving.  Could I take my half of the profits and get a fajita?

          CINDY
Libby, Number One we haven’t sold anything.  Number Two, whereas my family has provided fifteen years of priceless heirlooms for the delectation of our customers, the only thing you brought to the Cindy And Libby Yard Sale...

Cindy holds up an unclothed fat doll with one arm missing and a raggedy piece of blue cloth.

          CINDY
... was a fat broken doll and a handkerchief with two holes in it.

          LIBBY
I’ll have you know that handkerchief has great sentimental value.

          CINDY
Why, did your great-grandfather blow his nose in it?

          SHEEN (OS)
Hey!

SHEEN stands up inside the cardboard box he’s been rummaging through, a bra on his head.

          SHEEN
You got any UltraLord game cartridges?

          CINDY
No.

          SHEEN
Any UltraLord soundtrack CDs in quadraphonic Smash-O Sound?

          CINDY & LIBBY
No. 

          SHEEN
Any UltraLord movie-themed recreational clothing?

          CINDY
Do I look like the kind of pathetic self-deluded dweeb-case who’d have any UltraLord anything?

          SHEEN
You mean it’s at the bottom?
     (looks down)
ULTRALORRRRR... !
     (reads the label)
naw, ultralarge sweat pants.

Sheen dives back down into the box.  Jimmy walks over hiding Granny behind his back, nervous.  Cindy scowls.

          CINDY
What are you doing here? 

          JIMMY
Fine, thanks.  So, say!  Great stuff!  Aaaaaa, I was wondering where your mom is.

          LIBBY
At the Five-and-Dime buying more cheap stuff she can pretend she’s sacrificing at bargain prices.

          CINDY
She is not!
     (to Jimmy)
Why?

          JIMMY
I need some help with –
     (no way around it)
this.

He thrusts Granny/Baby forward.  The girls qvell.

          CINDY & LIBBY
Ooooooo!  Ahhhhhhhhhh!
     (then; sniffing)
Ewwwwww!  Ahhhhhhhhgh!

They back off.

          JIMMY
I think she might need changing. 

The girls wave their hands in front of their faces.

          LIBBY
What was your first clue?

          JIMMY
So you’ll do it?

          CINDY
As much as I detest helping smug pseudo-brainiacs, my nurturing female instincts will not let me leave a helpless infant in your care.  Where’s the new diaper?

          JIMMY
What’s wrong with the one she’s wearing?

Libby laughs.  Cindy can’t believe Jimmy’s that dumb.

          CINDY
It’s full of POO!  I thought you were a genius!

          GRANNY BABY
Hey he’s a guy.

Cindy and Libby are shocked.

          LIBBY
She talked.

          JIMMY
Cindy, Libby; granny Neutron.

          CINDY
You turned your own grandmother into a baby??

          JIMMY
I have a loophole, I mean an explanation!  This could have happened to anyone with a genius I.Q. and access to unstable chemicals!

          GRANNY BABY
Could we hurry up?  I’m teething and I’m getting dizzy from my own fumes here.

          CINDY
How long is she going to be a baby? 

          JIMMY
I’m not sure. 

          CINDY
Well how many diapers do we need?

Granny makes a pooting sound.

          GRANNY BABY
I’d err on the side of hundreds.

Jimmy hands over some cash and a piece of paper.

          JIMMY
So, great!  So here’s some money and a list of things I need for the antidote, I’ll see you when you get back from the store.

          CINDY
Oh no you don’t.

Jimmy turns to high-tail it but Cindy grabs him back. 

          CINDY
Libby, you run the yard sale while Doctor Spock and I go shop.

          LIBBY
But I’m hungry!

Cindy, Jimmy and Granny go off.  HOLD ON the box Sheen is in.

          SHEEN (OS)
UltraLords’s nose!  No it’s just my elbow.

PAN BACK to Libby, who says to a YOUNG WOMAN eating from a box of fries and examining a bedroom lamp.

          LIBBY
That’ll be two dollars. 
     (inspiration!)
Or... I’ll trade you for those curly fries.

INT. STORE – DAY

Jimmy picks up bottles of DANGEROUS CHEMICALS (labeled as such).  Cindy looks at a shelf, carrying Granny, who holds a rattle.

ANGLE on Cindy and Granny.

          GRANNY BABY
I’m bored!  Pull a funny face and let me hit you with the rattle.

          CINDY
No.

In the b.g. some adults look in their direction.

          JIMMY
Granny, quiet

Carl comes around a corner holding a soda.

          CARL
Hey Jimmy!  I was just buying this soda to trade with Libby for a CD rack and - whose weird-looking baby?

          JIMMY
Uhhhhh Cindy’s!

          CINDY
Is not!

          GRANNY BABY
Hey farm boy!  I’d check your reflection in the wienie rotator before ya call someone weird-looking.

          CARL
Did that baby talk?

          JIMMY
Shh!  No!

          CARL
Did you invent it?  Hey everybody my friend invented a talking baby!

Curious PEOPLE gather in the aisle.  Jimmy sees them.

          JIMMY
Carl’s imagining things.  Everyone knows babies can’t talk.

          GRANNY BABY
That’s right, cos if we could the Videotubbies’d be cancelled so quick it’d make their head aerials spin.

ANGLE ON the faces of the amazed crowd.

EXT. STREET – DAY

5 minutes later, Jimmy and Cindy run from the clamoring mob.  Cindy carries Granny Baby and the diapers.  Jimmy carries a bag of stuff.

          GRANNY BABY
Slow down, I need to be (BUUUUURP) never mind.
         
BEHIND THEM, on CROWD MEMBER # 1, running, with a camera.

     CROWD MEMBER # 1
Someone call that reality show, World’s Most Amazing Infants Who Weren’t Eaten On “When Pets Attack”!

BACK ON JIMMY, running with his store purchases. 

          JIMMY
Luckily I’ve got 36 hours to make the antidote before my parents return.

RING RING! - his cell phone.

          JIMMY
Hello.

INT. NEUTRON’S CAR – DAY (TRAVELING)

Judy drives home alone.

          JUDY
Honey it’s mom, I’m coming home.

          JIMMY (OS, phone)
No I mean, great.  I mean why?

          JUDY
Oh your father was plucked off his safari mule by a mother eagle and I need my Wounded Lamb Puppet to distract her so he can avoid being fed to her ravenous nestlings.

EXT. JIMMY’S STREET – DAY

Jimmy and Cindy and Granny run.

          JIMMY  (into phone)
Could it wait a coupla days?

          JUDY (OS phone)
Time’s of the essence, honey; eaglets eat their weight in your father every day.  See you and Granny soon.

HOLD ON the Vortex residence as Jimmy and Cindy run by.  Almost all Cindy’s stuff is GONE.  Libby has the remains of a huge MEAL on the folding table in front of her:  dessert, fruit, chicken bones.  She tells a browsing customer:

          LIBBY
Sorry, that’s not for sale, I’m stuffed.

The CROWD runs by.

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

Jimmy madly throws ingredients from the store bag into some beakers on the coffee table.  Cindy looks out the window.

          CROWD (OS)
We want the talking baby!
We want the talking baby!

          JIMMY
Goddard!  Compare antidote completion with mother’s return time!

Goddard calculates then says:

          GODDARD
Your butt is grass.

          GRANNY BABY
I’m bored!  Can’t someone go
     (fingers between lips)
blrblblr! or pretend to eat my toes?

Sheen runs in, accusing Cindy:

          SHEEN
Aha!  You said you didn’t have any Ultralord toys; what do you call this?

He produces a one-armed DOLL with a blue handkerchief tied over its face like a mask, the holes serving as eyeholes.

          CINDY
Libby’s doll with her handkerchief over its head.

          SHEEN
Wrong!  It’s UltraLord from the episode where he disguised himself as a Sumo Wrestler.

          CINDY
When exactly did Libby tell you that?

          SHEEN
When she saw my ice cream sandwich.

          CINDY
It’s a doll.

          SHEEN
It’s UltraLord!

          CINDY
Doll!

          SHEEN
UltraLord!

Cindy grabs the string in the doll’s back and pulls it out.

          THE DOLL
Give me a cuddle.

          CINDY
Is there something about UltraLord we should know?

          SHEEN
That’s to make the enemy drop their guard before he pile-drives his fists into their evil larynxes.

          CINDY
     (to Sheen)
You are a pathetic delude-o.

          JIMMY
A doll!  That’s it! 
    (re: antidote, to Cindy)
As soon as that turns blue pour it in a baby bottle and bring it outside!

He grabs Granny and her empty DRESS and runs out.

EXT. FRONT LAWN – DAY

Jimmy stands in front of the rapt camera-toting crowd with Granny in his arms. 

          JIMMY
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the amazing talking baby!

          CROWD
Oooooh!

He looks down the street; his mom’s car TURNS THE CORNER.

ANGLE:  Jimmy pulls a talking doll-type STRING rigged to Granny’s back.  He WINDS IT UP with his hidden fingers.  She recites:

          GRANNY BABY
Give me a cuddle.  And a diaper change while you’re at it.

          CROWD MEMBER # 1
There’s a string in her back! 

          JIMMY
Oh no I have been found out!

          CROWD MEMBERS
Fake! / It’s a doll! / Let’s go back to our humdrum lives.

The crowd leaves.  Jimmy is relieved.  Cindy walks out and grudgingly hands Jimmy a baby bottle full of BLUE LIQUID.

          CINDY
Here.  Anything else you’d like?  Your slippers and a pipe maybe?

Jimmy stuffs the bottle in Granny’s mouth and throws her DRESS over her.  SPROING! Granny’s standing there normal-sized, in her dress, as the family car pulls in the driveway and Judy gets out.

          JIMMY
Hi mom!  Nothing unusual here, just me and Granny, obeying all your rules, yes ma’am!

CAWING, OFF, and WHAM!  Hugh falls on the roof of the family car. 

          HUGH
Oof!

          JUDY
Hugh!  There you are!
    (checks her watch)
If we race back we’ve got just enough time to catch the early-bird honeymoon buffet.

          HUGH
     (stunned, scared)
B-b-bird?

Judy gets back in and DRIVES OFF with Hugh still on the roof. 

          CINDY
I’d love to stay and help you narrowly avoid even more consequences of your stupid actions but Libby just traded my parents’ china cabinet for an antacid.  Libbyyyyy!

Across the street:  Almost all the sale items are GONE.  A couple carries a china cabinet away.  Libby looks sick.

NEUTRON LAWN:  Carl runs up, panting and sweaty, holding COINS.

          CARL
Jimmy you forgot your change.  I ran all the way from the store, and... oh I forgot my soda. 
         
          GRANNY
Drink this.

Granny hands Carl the baby bottle.

          JIMMY
No!

ON JIMMY as we hear a SPROING!  Feebly:

          JIMMY
Carl!  You okay?

ANGLE:  Carl, bottle to lips, has turned into HIS FATHER.

          OLD MAN CARL
My eyes hurt, my hair’s gone, and I have a powerful urge to dance badly!

          GRANNY
I’ll take a piece of that!

Granny kicks Goddard, a SPEAKER comes out of the dog’s head and as DISCO blasts and Granny and OLD CARL boogie on the Neutrons’ lawn...

          JIMMY
I’ll go get a bucket for your Scrugg.

He sighs and heads inside as Sheen steps outside, boogeying.

FADE OUT.