Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Some Random Thoughts


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It has only just occurred to me: those 4,000 holes that it takes to fill up the Albert Hall – did John Lennon mean Assholes?  As in assholes sitting in the seats and filling it up?  If so, the Albert Hall holds just over 5,000.  Does that mean that only 4,000 of them are assholes and the other 1,000 attendees are rather nice people?  And if that is so, how does the Albert Hall manage to maintain its asshole-to-nice-person ratio when dispensing tickets?  Do they sell the first 1,000 tickets to, say, little old ladies and then the rest to the Koch Brothers?


            Some other things that have been on my mind that might interest you.


“Are we human, or are we dancer?”  What in the living, steaming, piss-bucket of pointless, shitty lyric-writing does this mean?  I hear it constantly at my gym and want to punch an unsuspecting trainer every time it rains down on us from the ceiling speakers.  Now, I sort of like The Killers.  Mr. Brightside was a reasonably good song.  But, if they are vying to be the worst lyricists in rock and roll?  They don’t and will never hold a candle to the puerile, meaningless resplendence of Neil Peart or Jon Anderson so they’d better sit down, grab a goddamn pencil and stay in that fucking recording studio until they’ve got something sensible to sing about.

When I was a bachelor, I often wondered, “Can potpourri be used as a vegetable?”  I mean, you visit people’s houses and it’s just sitting there on top of the toilet with nobody eating it.  Seems like such a waste.  I imagined, when you boiled it up, it would taste sort of like really pleasant smelling broccoli.  


Shouldn’t we make beef jerky even worse for you, health-wise?  I mean, it already looks like a doowanger stolen from an Aztec mummy.  The “people” who eat those grizzly, revolting sticks of desiccated meat obviously don’t care whether they’re alive or dead so why should we or the Department of Health?  Why not stuff these noxious nibbley nummy-nums with every imaginable banned additive and trans-fatty flavor-enhancer until they ooze coagulated arterial sludge out of every dehydrated pore?  Perhaps, toss in a dollop of radioactive waste.  It would be of inestimable aid to society by getting rid of unwanted and highly toxic refuse and the conscientious carrion connoisseur would be able to locate the handy snack in his glove compartment without having to turn on the light in his pickup truck.  


Am I the only one who thinks there are too many fucking musical genres today?  Trance, dance, techno, minimal, ambient, downtempo, chillout, house, Euro House, progressive house, electro house, (just how the fuck do these differ?) Italodance, tech house, dubstep, beats, breakbeat, glitch, abstract and lounge.  That’s an awful lot of sub-categories for a type of music that’s about as enjoyable as being caught masturbating by your mother while wearing striped knee-socks at a big plastic duck bill.  

 

Do you think the Crab Nebula being shaped like an actual crab is mere coincidence or is it God on high saying to all people of all nations, “You should try eating these things.  Sure, crustaceans are as ugly as fuck but they’re really quite tasty.”

 

And lastly (and probably leastly), how the hell does “Homeland” get nominated for and win Emmy Awards?  Have the Academy members that voted for this intellectual bidet actually seen the show?  If you want to reward an actress who can pop the eyes out of her like J. Wellington Wimpy when espying a succulent hamburger, then by all means vote for Claire Danes but this woman’s acting is about as subtle and nuanced as a colonoscopy performed by the Three Stooges.  Ms. Danes appears to be a serious candidate for spontaneous human combustion in just about every scene stampedes through.  I’ve met less crazy people at stop lights, washing my windshield with their soiled underwear.  I can only imagine that they cast poor Claire in this part because Soupy Sales is no longer with us.  Wal-Mart would have second thoughts about letting this woman into one of its stores as a customer but the CIA head honchos seem more than happy to entrust the wellbeing of the entire free world to her. 
But I guess in a show where, if you want to warn a terrorist leader in the Middle East of an impending assassination, you can simply text him on your cell phone from inside the White House war room (As long as you keep your I-Phone under the table, no one will notice.)…well, anything is possible.  
I’ve always thought of television as the “special needs” brother of the entertainment world but it appears to be sliding downhill faster than a Brazilian village in a downpour.  Mandy Patinkin must wish he were still being knocked unconscious by the Dread Pirate Roberts every time he picks up a script.  This drama/thriller has bigger holes in it than Lindsay Lohan’s septum.  If you have to move a man’s family to a “Safe House” because they’ve been targeted for assassination by a crack team of international bad guys?...  Well, put them in an apartment that has floor to ceiling windows the entire length of the living room and never draw the curtains!  Now, I’m as big a fan of sproingy breasts and downy female posteriors as any man alive, but this show would have to have pre-orgasmic, undulating supermodels hanging from suspension ropes in every scene to  make me watch a third season.
Sure, there have always been shitty shows with talentless casts vomiting up witless dialogue but they didn’t win Emmys!  (well, mostly)  If only “My Mother the Car” had stayed on the air, Ann Southern would have won a big shiny statue for best performance by an actress farting nitrogen oxide.  
I’m sorry, but Cory Monteith was a mediocre actor and a so-so singer who couldn’t even take drugs right, while Jack Klugman had a sparkling career going back to 1950.  He was brilliant at the fluffiest comedy and the darkest drama.  So, which recently deceased performer did the Academy decide to spend big minutes honoring?  It’s enough to make you scream like Roger Daltry.   
At some point, the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences has to take a good look at itself and say, “You know what?   Most of what we produce is unadulterated crap.  Let’s only give out awards when they’re actually merited.”  Television would have to change for the better or the Emmy Awards Show would only be about 25 minutes long, including lively dance numbers.

Now, for something far more sensible:  

People send me all kinds of cool and groovy stuff at Radio Vickers to share with my mailing list. (Which you can become apart of by writing me at radiovickers1@gmail.com!)

Steve B. sent me this terrific video.  It’s a six minute musical tour through the different guitar solo styles that have tickled our eardrums since the early days of rock and roll.

 

Brent M. sent in a brilliant trailer for Monty Python and the Holy Grail…if it were made today.   This is so true.  Very nice piece.

Something else quite sensible:
I have discovered some top notch music over the last month – while not writing a column.  Take a listen and try to forgive my typing tardiness.


The Wild Feathers – Backwoods Company  - this thing really rocks.  Good old fashioned rock and roll like you almost never hear on the radio these days. 



Another terrific song by the Wild Feathers from their debut album.

The Wild Feathers – The Ceiling




Ida Maria – Last Dance – There is something wonderfully 80’s about this song – the good CFNY kind of 80’s – not that teeth-bleedlingly horrible shit CHUM used to inflict on its poor, criminally undiscerning listeners.  It even has a little lead riff that remains me of Tom Verlaine.



The Golden Suits – Swimming in 99 – pop music at its best.  Plus, the video offers two very attractive watches for your consideration.




The Strypes – Blue Collar Jane – Massively cool and noisy song performed by two year-olds.  I wonder if the singer meant to look so much like a young Paul Weller in the opening shot.


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The Girl on the Other Side of the Window




The Girl on the Other Side of the Window

            Blood dripped down the sleeve of his Ralph Lauren jacket and puddled in the bumpy crust of bird-shit on the thin strip of decorative concrete.  Kevin’s day was not going well.
The suit had been a parting gift from his late mother when he foolishly decided to ditch his preordained small town future and move to New York.  Kevin detested his big-city life and job with a passion typically reserved for World Series umpires and African-American presidents, but when the urge to storm into his asshole-of-a-boss’s office and scream “I QUIT!” threatened to consume him, he’d wear “the suit.”  It provided a constant and well-tailored reminder to “Stick with it” like his mother had implored him as he boarded the Bolt Bus.
When she passed away suddenly, Kevin felt even more duty-bound to soldier on despite his staggering ennui.  Since then, his life had turned into “The Out-of-Towners” but without the laughs or the sad but sweet Sandy Dennis by his side.  In fact, there had never been anyone by Kevin’s side.  While hardly “a catch” in his hometown, at least in Bingham, there wasn’t quite the mindless, voracious competition for female flesh that drove this vibrant Mecca of commerce and carnal Darwinism. 
Kevin’s most vivid memory was a blink-of-a-moment during the dark and brooding days of high school.  He was sitting in the hygienically-challenged cafeteria finishing up some suspect piece of meat buried under over-salted gravy when something in the window caught his eye.  A girl outside was rushing to class when she abruptly turned on her heel and extended her arm backwards so she could walk into the school holding hands with her boyfriend.  Since that day, the tender memory had haunted him like the ghost of Jacob Marley.  Her hair.  What she was wearing.  The way she smiled when she turned to gaze at that lucky, lucky boy.  He could still see every minor detail like he was staring at a painting.
 But, as the colors and the textures of that mystical event had become ever more lucid over the years, Kevin himself had slowly faded into the invisible man.  He had dwindled down to that one person in the office-party photo who no one can quite remember the name of.  While most of his fellow translucent insignificants turned to booze, drugs and prostitutes to salve their psychic wounds, Kevin wrapped himself in dreams.  He dreamt of fresh-faced girls and success and his mother and a life far away from this beastly abattoir of souls.
 The temperature behind him was rising alarmingly.  The building belched out its hot, smoky breath like a wounded dragon, roasting him inside his own skin. 
Kevin had never felt comfortable working on the 109th floor and that was when he was on the other side of the window.  Now there was nothing between him and the hellacious, bloodcurdling drop that had frightened him witless for the last four-and-a-half years.  It wasn’t nearly as windy as he imagined it might be.  But, perhaps today was just abnormally calm…weather-wise.  Perhaps the surreal chaos and tumult inside his former workplace and on the street below made his present precarious perch seem tranquil in comparison.  The cracked and brittle glass had become almost molten on the back of his neck and head but he needed a just few more minutes to gather himself, so he hung on and endured.  Kevin tried to think of his family back home and all those traditional things that are supposed to be so important when one’s life trickles down to the last few grains of sand, but all he could think about were girls.  The girls that his dreams were made of.  All those lips he had kissed but could never feel.  All the intoxicatingly rapturous love affairs doomed to a sudden and tragic end whenever he would open his eyes.  All those enchanting, kind and caring women that he would never know except in the warm soothing arms of a Morphean embrace.  And that girl at the window in high school, reaching back her arm.
He clung to a piece of exposed rebar with his good hand, using the material from his sleeve to mitigate the scorching of his palm. 
Kevin wasn’t a brave man but he didn’t want to be a coward.  He didn’t want his last few moments on this Earth to be spent blubbering like a baby or begging and bargaining for a salvation that he realized was not in the offing.  The fat lady was most definitely reaching the end of her final refrain and the curtain was about to fall.  God, he felt lonely. 
But, one must keep things in perspective.  Kevin was keenly aware that other people had calmly and nobly faced far worse fates than the grim task that lay before him.  People with horrible diseases and afflictions that slowly and corrosively devoured them from within.  He thought of the innocent who had been unspeakably tortured and Third World children, hungry and unloved.  Life had not treated him so badly up until right now.  At least his end would be quick and not too horribly painful.  He hoped so, anyway.  His lip quivered and he bit down on it hard.  His life may be forfeit but he would not surrender his dignity.  He may have lived without glory but he would die without shame and if there was a hereafter, they would know that, while far from perfect, he had accorded himself admirably under the most trying of circumstances.  Deep in his heart, Kevin hoped there wasn’t an afterlife.  He’d always had such a difficult time making new friends and an eternity of infinite blackness seemed far more appealing than finding oneself sad and lonely in heaven.
  And still the temperature rose.
 It was a miracle he heard it, really.  Above all the screaming and explosions and the sirens, the tiniest of sound had found his ear.  The sound of a woman crying.  About 20 feet along the ledge clung Molly, coughing and weeping and staring down at the street so very, very far below.  Kevin had been hopelessly smitten by her from the second she joined the company two years earlier but predictably, he had never managed to catch her eye.  Molly was dazzling and radiant and laughed like angels at play.  The marrow in his bones used to ache with longing at the mere sight of her.  There was no greater bliss or   deeper despair than Molly when she smiled.  Kevin used to fantasize that she’d take pity on him and reluctantly agree to dinner.  Or perhaps she’d go out with him on a date to win a silly bet with a fellow worker only to discover that she was charmed by how much he adored her.  There had been hundreds of these deliriously fanciful scenarios conjured, mostly with happy endings, but they had come at a cost.  Lately, he had begun to fear that one day he would chance upon such a transcendently romantic and beguiling hideaway deep within the folds of his own mind and he and his beloved Molly would remain there forever and Kevin, the sentient being, would simply cease to exist.
But there his Lady of Cytherea stood in the real world, terrified and lost.  Her Elie Tahari skirt had been reduced to shredded rags and the gash on her right leg was deep and charred.  Oh, how Kevin longed to be Molly’s Superman.  How we wished he could fly over to her with a heroic and reassuring smile and whisk her away to safety; or selflessly offer up his life for hers.  As he gazed at this wondrous girl that had graced so many of his idyllic imaginings, he knew that he could easily be one of those men who would gallantly sacrifice his seat on the last life raft because honor demanded no less of him.   
“Fuck it,” he thought.  “If I fall, I’ll be doing myself a favor.”  Kevin released the scalding rebar and began to amble along the thin grey protrusion like it was a foot off the ground instead of 1300.  Within seconds he was standing beside his despondent princess. 
“It’s very hot,” she whimpered.  Her cheeks and forehead were scratched and bruised but she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever been blessed to espy.  Thunderous booms and cracks from the conflagration within the building roared through the shattered windows but all he could hear was the trembling voice of his dear, sweet Molly.
“Yes it is,” he said very calmly and smiled.  “Please don’t cry.  A face as pretty as yours should never know tears.”  He softly wiped the hair from her eyes with his one good hand.
“Your arm!”
The intermittent blood trickles had become an incessant stream.  Kevin adjusted his shoulder to hide the offending, lifeless limb behind his body and shrugged matter-of-factly.  “I don’t need it anymore.”
It was the only gift he had to give her; the person he had always hoped to be.
The nightmarish screams for help from inside had all gone quiet.  They were the only two people left alive at the top of the world.  Soon, their time would come, but in these final, meagerest of moments, Kevin would not allow his former self to deny him one tiny act of courage.  If the huddled musicians of the Titanic could play on until the icy waves did claim them, then by God, he would not fall short of their example.
“It seems ironic that I should finally get to meet you,” he half-laughed.  His vision was beginning to fail him but he kept on talking as if they were sharing a picnic by the lake.  “I’ve been trying to build up the nerve to ask you out for months,” he fibbed.  It had actually been years but he felt that the truth would sound a little stalkerish.
“That would have been nice,” she warmly fibbed back.  He wasn’t really Molly’s type and she had a boyfriend but this was no time for hurt feelings.  Kevin was a kind and gentle man offering her comfort and cheer in the last seconds of her life.
The heat from the inferno on the other side of the wall was virtually intolerable now.  It was becoming hard to breathe and keep their balance. 
“I’m so very frightened.”
“It’ll be much easier, if we do it together,” he reassured her in a confident tranquil tone that gave her strength. 
Molly slowly lifted her arm towards him.  “Could you…hold my hand?”
“Yes.  Yes, I’d like that.”  Kevin softly squeezed her hand in his.  The magical healing touch of a woman was beyond his realm of understanding.  This was what it was like to be that boy on the other side of the window.  For the first time in ever so long, he wasn’t alone.  Kevin knew he could do this now.
“I think we should be traditional, don’t you?” he cheerfully suggested, “And go on three.”
She nodded and smiled.  What a funny sort of a fellow he was.  Molly kissed his blistered cheek and wiped the lipstick off out of habit. 
One. Two.  Three.
They looked into each other’s eyes one very last time and stepped out into the morning sky.
The cool air rushing past them was actually a relief from the blazing heat. 
Soon Kevin would be dead and remembered by no one but for the next few moments, the loneliest and man in the world was a soaring eagle and holding hands with the girl of his dreams. 


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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.


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