DR. BELCH
10-15-2001, 01:25 PM
[Text on screen: "A musical interlude."]
ANNOUNCER: And now, a musical interlude.
[FREAKAZOID, seated at a piano, plays a horribly off-key version of that WB favorite "Beautiful Dreamer".]
ANNNOUNCER: This concludes our musical interlude. We now commence with our program.
[Main title theme.]
[Title Card: "That's Why the Lady is a Freak!" An illustration of a voluptuous young woman, in silhouette, showing a definite trademark lightning-streaked Freak-ish popadour.]
ACT ONE
[Fade in on a live-action shot of the Chicago skyline.]
ANNOUNCER: Ah, Chicago, Illinois. City of the Big
Shoulders. Home to the Bulls, Bears, White Sox, and Mrs. O'Leary's cow.
[Zip pan.]
ANNOUNCER: A darn pity it has nothing to do with
today's story.
[Pan in on an exterior shot of Harry Connick High
School. Fade in on interior and dolly through a
typical hallway.]
ANNOUNCER: Our story takes place here in the hallowed,
revered, and--[sniffs]--somewhat smelly halls of
HCHS...attended by our hero Freakazoid! [heroic
fanfare] That is to say, when he's in his civilian
identity of the mildest of the mild-mannered, Dexter
Douglas.
[Cut to a shot of DEXTER in a classroom. A
pitiful-sounding "wah-wah!" trumpet sounds. He is
listening intently to the lecture, but the other
students seem apathetic or asleep.]
TEACHER, off-camera [with a definite Minnesota
acccent]: ...so in the Middle Ages, the small European
duchy of Brabant, now known as Belgium, had a very
prosperous domestic industry of lace-making, dont'cha
know. Already? Well, that's it for me,
class.
DEXTER [raises hand]: Uh, Mrs. Chatterly, what about
our homework?
MRS. C.: Oh, ja. Thanks for reminding me, dont'cha
know, Dexter. Okay, read pages 1050-1135 and do
questions 1-27 on page 1137. [The other classmates
groan and throw paperwads at DEXTER. He whines in
pain.]
[Cut to hallway. Students are milling in each
direction. SFX: mooing cattle.]
ANNOUNCER: Get to class, students. A mind is a
terrible thing to...well, now, who is this little
lady?
[Cut to shot of a small young lady in an olive-green
military field-jacket, too-big sneakers, and baggy
jeans. She is carrying a heavy-looking stack of
textbooks, hugged to her chest. She is jostled left
and right by students who either ignore her or insult
her as they pass. She'd be quite pretty, actually, if
her clothes weren't so big on her and she didn't
always look so sullen. She wears glasses, no makeup,
and a kinky, neck-length haircut. She bears a striking
resemblance to Emily Bergl ("The Rage: Carrie 2".)]
ANNOUNCER: Why, that's Mary McClaus, the new girl in
Harry Connick High. My word, she is a sulky little
thing, isn't she? What has she got to be so mad about?
[As if to answer the ANNOUNCER's question, a large
jock-type walks by and rudely slaps MARY's books to
the floor, and, as she stoops to pick them up, makes a
rude flatulent noise with his mouth. Her eyes widen
and she blushes. The JOCK laughs and points and holds
his nose. Several other students laugh as well.]
MARY [thoroughly frustrated]: Ohh! Grrr....frig it!
ANNOUNCER: My, such language. Do you kiss your mother
with that mouth?
MARY [muttering to self]: Every day they do this to
me...it's so immature...why don't those guys get a
frigging life? Aack! [Her angry rants continue until
she sees a handsome student walk past, and she quiets
instantly. The YOUNG MAN in question looks a lot like
"Dawson's Creek" star James Van Der Beek....and you
can tell by MARY's expression and the romantic music
in the background that she is smitten with him. The
back of his football jacket bears the YOUNG MAN's
surname, "Johnson". In a low, purring tone:]
Hello-ooo-oo-o, baby.
ANNOUNCER: Ahem. Meantime...
[Zip pan to a shot of police headquarters. A trumpet
sounds. It's the Horn of Urgency. Cut to SGT. KING at
his desk, feet up, thumbing through a newspaper. The
HUNTSMAN enters, with theme fafare.]
HUNTSMAN: I heard the horn blow, Chief. Whose the
culprit? Cave Guy? Candle Jack? Cobra Queen, maybe?
KING: False alarm, Huntsman. My son Charlie was
playing around with the Horn. His mother spanked his
bottom real good for that little prank. Sorry to
bother you.
HUNTSMAN: Not even a cruddy little jaywalker to beat
up on? [smacks fist into his palm]
KING: Not that I know of. Sorry.
HUNTSMAN: Darn the luck! Darn it all! [sighs] Well,
long as I'm in the city, I think I'll go see my mother.
KING: Mm-hmmm. You sound like a good son, Huntsman.
HUNTSMAN: Darn right. She lives over on Sonny Tufts
Boulevard.
KING: Ah. Rough neighborhood.
HUNTSMAN: I know. With any luck I might scare up a
pickpocket...or a carjacker. Adios, chief. I did give
you my mom's number, didn't I? Doris Feeb?
KING: I got numbers for all your relatives, Huntsman.
Something goes down, you're the first guy we call.
Have a good one.
[HUNTSMAN exits, and we see his back as he recedes
down the hall, clenching his fists and muttering,
"Darn!" repeatedly.]
[Cut to exterior of building, where a black car is
parked across the street. A FAMILIAR VOICE is heard
from inside.]
VOICE: The Horn of Urgency. A summoning tool for a
third-rate hack in a "Robin Hood Daffy" getup--or
something far more...*sinister*? [dry chuckle]
ANNOUNCER: Bum-bum-bummmmm!
[commercial break]
ACT TWO
[Open on HCHS, exterior. Pan in on a window and
dissolve to interior. MARY is seated in a computer
lab, typing at one of the keyboards. Three BURLY JOCKS
enter, one of which is the guy who knocked her books
out of her hands earlier.]
JOCK #1: Hey, Louse--what'cha doin' there, huh?
MARY [sullenly] None of your darn business,
Monkenschpenk. And don't call me Louse.
MONKENSCHPENK: Whatever you say...*Louse*. [The other
two JOCKS snicker and repeat the word "louse" as they
guffaw.] What'cha up to there? Looking for naughty
websites? [produces a can of soda and cracks it open]
MARY [heavy sigh]: If you *must* know, I am gathering
research data for a report on the Lower North American
spotted dung beetle for zoology class. Now if you'll
pardon me--
MONKENSCHPENK : You hear that boys? She's
looking up stuff on poo bugs! [cackles, as do his
friends] I bet it's great finding info on your
relatives, huh, Louse? [swigs soda]
MARY: Ye-eah. [eyes soda distastefully] And for the
love of Charles Babbage, Monkey. There are rules, you
know. No drinks allowed in the comp lab.
MONKENSCHPENK [sarcastic]: Oh, geez, I am so sorry! I
didn't know! Can you ever forgive me? [pours his soda
on the keyboard; there is a loud crack of electricity,
and the screen fills with gibberish.]
MARY: Oh, frig it! Look what you did, you dumb ox!
You've ruined a very expensive piece of hardware!
MONKENSCHPENK: Don't sweat it, doll. Nobody cares
about computers. All this school's money is being
funneled into sports! [claps MARY on the back,
knocking her glasses askew; laughs madly and exeunts
with his guffawing buddies.]
MARY: Putz. [straightens her glasses and looks at the
soda-soaked keyboard. POV shot of the screen, with a
very familiar "formula" on it.] Frig it. I'll just
delete this garbage and clean up the mess. [closeup of
MARY's figer, in slo-mo, hitting the DELETE button.
The computer beeps, makes a noise like a blender on
the fritz, and generates an electrical field that
envelops MARY. She shrieks...and what happens next is
truly amazing. MARY goes from drab to dynamite in a
very Sailor Moon-ish tranformation sequence,
accompanied by a FREAKAZOID theme played in a
"feminine" register (flutes, piccolos and violins),
360-degree turns, special effects backgrounds, and a
chorus warbling "FREAKAZETTE!" The baggy pants and
jacket are replaced by a skintight blue unitard and
white heeled boots, and her drab brown hair is swept
up and infused with color.
When the smoke and lights clear, the camera pans in on
a closeup of FREAKAZETTE's boots, then slowly up her
body until it reaches her face. Background music: "The Lady in Red" ,instrumental. Like her male counterpart, two actors are used--one for plain-Jane MARY, and for FREAKAZETTE, Alison Court (Lydia Deetz on "Beetlejuice", Jubilee on "X-Men). She's
information overload personified...but with a definite
X chromosome, bearing the imprint of every female pop
icon for the last 40 0r 50 years.]
FREAKAZETTE [looking at her chest]: Whoa. Better be
careful, boys--you get too close, I might poke an eye
out. Oh-ho-ho! Am I bad, or
what? Can we talk? [imitating Eva Gabor] But you look
mah-velous, dah-link! Simply mah-velous! [imitating
Betty Boop as she tap-dances] Freak-a-deek-a-deek!
Deek-deek-deek-deek! [squeals]
[A knock on the door startles her.]
Uh-oh. It's the pleasure police. Gotta make like the
seat on a pair of cheap Fruit of the Looms and split.
[turns into lightning and leaps into the computer,
which then spits a very groggy MARY onto the floor.
She comes to, dizzy, as a teacher enters.
TEACHER [concerned]: Mary? [alarmed] Mary! [hurries to
help her up] Are you all right? What happened?
MARY: Uh...I--I'm not sure. The Monkey and his goon
squad were in here, and he poured a can of soda on the
computer. I tried to clean it up, and I must have
gotten a shock from the--oof! [The TEACHER drops MARY
suddenly, causing her to land hard on her bottom, and
runs to the computer. She babies it, quite forgetting MARY.]
TEACHER [crooning softly]: My poor little
sweetums--did you have a nasty power surge? Did this
mean little girl do something to you to make you have
a meltdown? [sternly, to MARY] Do you realize that
this computers are expensive? Drinks are [b]prohibited
in the computer lab, Ms. Louse--
MARY [exasperated]: *McClause*.
TEACHER: --and it's very irresponsible of you to
ignore the rules--and then try to pin it on our
school's top quarterback, our only hope of winning the
pennant for the first time in ten years. Well, little
missy, I hope you're satisfied. Because of you, the
cost of replacing this computer will have to be taken
out of the school budget somewhere.
MARY : Might I suggest deducting the cost
from the bloated and overblown [b]athletic department?
TEACHER [angry]: Is your brain just painted on, young
lady? The football team is our one hope of ever
putting our little podunk school in a hayseed town a
modicum of respect! We'll just take a little money
from one of the nonessential programs this school
offers--like horticulture! Or--or mathematics! Yes!
[leaves, cackling]
MARY [groans]: The story of my life. [holds her
forehead] My skull is throbbing. I need to go home and
lie down. [exeunts]
[Spin cut to the next scene, with a grinning
FREAKAZOID head advancing towards the camera, then
retreating. The scene opens on a storefront: "B.
Tovenmyer's Tune Zone". Pan to interior. FREAKAZOID
is talking to the proprietor, who is behind the
counter. He looks a lot like Beethoven from the A!
short "Roll over Beethoven" and H! #40, "Music", and
speaks in a Christopher Lloyd voice. The background
music is "Fifth Symphony", then switches from "Ode to
Joy" when FREAKAZOID promises to catch the criminal
responsible.]
TOVENMEYER: And that's the story, Mr. Freakazoid. Some
meshugenah broke in here last night and stole every
reed I had in stock. [holds up saxophone] You can't
play this ferschlugginer thing without a reed. [holds
up clarinet] This one, you need two. Every woodwind in
my store--useless without reeds.
FREAKAZOID: Don't you worry, Mr. Tovenmyer. I'll catch
this no- good red thief reed-handed. Um--I mean,
*reed* thief *red* handed.
TOVENMYER [putting ear trumpet in ear]: What was that?
I didn't hear you.
FREAKAZOID [slightly louder]: I said don't sweat it,
Mr. Tovenmyer. I'll catch the thief.
TOVENMYER [still holding trumpet to ear]: What?
FREAKAZOID [slightly louder]: I said I will catch the
guy who stole your reeds.
TOVENMYER [still with trumpet]: I'm sorry, son. You'll
have to speak up.
FREAKAZOID [at top of voice, enunciating]: I said I
will catch the guy who did this! What are you, deaf or
something?
TOVENMYER [also in loud voice]: I'm sorry, I can't
hear you! I'm almost completely deaf!
FREAKAZOID [loudly]: Now he tells-- [catches himself;
lowers volume] Now he tells me.
[Pan to exterior of shop as FREAKAZOID leaves and
walks down the street.]
FREAKAZOID: A dozen burglaries in the last two weeks.
All involved music stores. No money was stolen, just
little wooden sticks. Why would anyone want a bunch of
worthless sticks? I'm going to have to ponder this one
very carefully and not let anything distract me.
[COSGROVE drives up in his squad car.]
COSGROVE: Yo, kid. You want to go to Taco Barn? They
have a great deal going--six tacos for a buck.
FREAKAZOID [excited]: Cheap tacos? You bet your sweet
bippy I do! [hops into car, which drives away.]
[Spin-cut to next scene with flying FREAKAZOID head.
Overhead pan to MARY, lying in her bed in a T-shirt,
in the grips of a nightmare, tossing, turning,
mumbling incoherently, and sweating profusely. The
background music is "In the Hall of the Mountain
King", slowly increasing in tempo, and just as it hits
a crecendo, the phone rings. MARY awakens screaming.
She looks about and sighs in relief.]
MARY: Wow. What a nightmare. I must be losing my mind.
The phone rings again; MARY picks it up. Split screen
to reveal HUGH JOHNSON, the object of MARY's
affection. HUGH's voice sounds like John Travolta.]
MARY: Hello?
HUGH: Hey, Mary. This is Hugh, from school. [MARY's
eyes widen.] I know it's a bit short notice, but my
big brother invited me over to a party at his college,
and said I could bring a date. Naturally I thought of
you. So...you interested?
MARY [squeals]: Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes!
[clears throat, says demurely] I mean, sounds amusing.
I consent.
HUGH: Great. It's at the Kwaffa Lotta Bru frat house.
I'll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow evening. Wear your
best dress, babe. [hangs up]
[MARY squeals with delight and bounds out of bed. She
looks at herself in the mirror, humming "The Bridal
March". She sees her reflection go out of focus, and a
strange blue girl's face--her alter ego--stares back
at her. She shakes her head with a rattling noise and
rubs her eyes, then looks again. The image is gone.]
MARY: Fuh-REEEEEE-ky. [sighs] Oh well. [squeals] I
have a date! [dances victoriously about the room]
NARRATOR: Meantime...
[Cut to interior of Taco Barn, where COSGROVE and
FREAKAZOID are eating tacos. FREAKAZOID has amassed a
pile of wrappers two feet high.]
COSGROVE: You eat that many tacos in one sitting,
junior, you're gonna get an urpy belly. By the way, I
hear some music stores in the area have reported all
their guitar strings stolen.
FREAKAZOID: Guitar strings? First wooden sticks, and
now strings? What do you make of it, Cosgrove?
COSGROVE: Don't ask me, kid. I'm not a music lover.
Though I *do* play a mean comb. [takes from his breast
pocket a comb and a bit of tissue paper, drapes the
paper over the comb, and plays a passable rendition of
"Dixie" by blowing over it.]
FREAKAZOID: Thanks, Cosgrove. You've been a modicum of
help. [zips off]
COSGROVE: Thanks, junior. I appreciate the kind words.
[Spin cut with flying FREAKAZOID head. Open on shot
of large building with strange Greek letters on it and
lights and loud music coming from within. We see a
crowd of college students milling into the
building--including EMMITT NERVEND and a female EMMITT
NERVEND, all dressed up. Pan to interior, on the dance
floor. MARY, in a green gown, is dancing with HUGH
JOHNSON's, her head on his chest. A closeup shows a
dreamy look on her face.]
MARY: This is *elysium*. I never imagined I could be
so happy, Hugh.
HUGH [slightly confused]: Uh, yeah. E-leez-uhm.
Whatever you say, doll. Hey, I think they're about to
make an announcement.
[An EMCEE takes the stage; he resembles/sounds like
the late Wolfman Jack. He barks into the mike.]
EMCEE: Hey, this is "Dogface" Joe, your moderator for
the eve-a-ning. We're about to crown the king and
queen of the Kwaffa Lotta Bru Spring Fling Thing
Dance-O-Rama Bash Festival Event. And--[produces an
envelope]--your winners with the most votes...[drum
roll]...Hugh Johnson and Mary McClaus!
[MARY squeals with delight, although HUGH looks
nonchalant. They take the stage, and "DOGFACE" JOE
places a crown on HUGH. MARY awaits her own
eagerly--but instead of a crown, JOE snaps a rubber
pig nose on her face.]
"DOGFACE" JOE: Congratulations, Hugh my boy, on
bringing the biggest pig to the party. [The crowd
starts chanting "pig, pig, pig" in a rhythmic cadence.
MARY looks about and notices all the handsome guys
have homely dates--fat girls, pimply girls, gawky,
too-thin girls. She is shocked, then seething; tears
stream down her face. Someone sneaks up behind her and
pours an entire bowl of blood-colored punch over her
head, soaking her thoroughly. The background music is
"Mountain King", low, throbbing, psychotic-sounding,
rising to a slow crecendo. A 360-degree pan captures
MARY's expression of hurt and fury and bewilderment,
the chanting crowd, and HUGH's laughing face. A POV
shot of MARY's uplifted hand shows it dripping with
punch. A closeup of her eyes shows a spark of
anger--resembling a computer screen coming to life.]
MARY [growls and shouts]: Frig it!
[Suddenly MARY explodes in a pillar of flame;
frightening the crowd. FREAKAZETTE emerges. The music
for the scene is reminiscent of the background theme
to "Beetlejuice".]
FREAKAZETTE [in gravelly voice]: I-iii-ii-it's
[i]showtime! [cackles madly]
DOGFACE: [stammers]: Sh-she's a freak!
FREAKAZETTE [placing her arm over his shoulder, speaks
sweetly]: You're half right, gruesome. I'm a
Freakazette! ["Barber of Seville" plays in the
background.] Ooh, what nasty split ends! Let me help
you. [grabs DOGFACE's hair and beard and yanks,
tearing it out and leaving him bald.] A pig party,
huh? Insulting less-than-supermodel-material women? Is
*that* your idea of a good time, Lon Chaney?
DOGFACE: You don't understand!
FREAKAZETTE [trills, imitating Judy Tenuta in a high
voice] Oh, I think this stuff is going right to my
head! [shrieks as Judy] And I like it! [hiccups
prettily, with a hand to her mouth. Cut to exterior of
building, where a thunderous belch sounds that blows
out every window in the Kwaffa Lotta Bru house. Cut
back to interior. FREAKAZETTE is wobbling unsteadily
on her feet, hand on her mouth.]
FREAKAZETTE [giggles] Pardon me. [zips over to THE
MONKEY, and trills again. In Southern belle voice:]
Why, grits 'n' gravy if it ain't my old buddy Bernard
"The Monkey" Monkenschpenk, Harry Connick High's top
q.b. How you doing, Monkster?
THE MONKEY [gulps]: L-Louse! What are you--I-I mean,
how--?
FREAKAZETTE: It's you I have to thank for
my...newfound capabilities, Monkey-boy. Here, let me
illustrate my appreciation. [pulls his underwear over
his head, then zips to the stage. THE MONKEY's date, a
beautiful blonde, shrieks and runs away. FREAKAZETTE
tears the cord from one of the amps, zips back, ties
MONKEY's ankles and wrists, and zips over a rafter
trailing the cord. The result is MONKEY, wedgied and
looking like the world's ugliest pinata hanging from
the ceiling. That done, FREAKAZETTE confronts HUGH.]
HUGH [stammers]: The pig party was my brother's idea,
love. Him and his frat brothers. I had nothing to do
with it. I didn't know. I swear.
FREAKAZETTE [mock-sypmpathetically]: I believe you,
Hugh [as Katherine Hepburn] [i]Raaaaaaah-lly I do. [normal voice] Think fast, Slick. [hands HUGH the other amp and takes a few steps back. HUGH looks down to see himself standing in
a puddle of spilled punch. A POV shot of the cables
trailing from the amp, and FREAKAZETTE holding the
wires--which are live and sparking. A fast cut to show
HUGH shaking his head "no, no, no", then another to
FREAKAZETTE's head nodding "yes, yes, yes." She grins
wickedly and joins the two wires.]
HUGH [as he is elecrocuted, with his skeleton showing
through his skin]:
HOBBADAHOBBADAHOBBADAHOBBADAHHOBBADAH!
[HUGH is burned as black as a piece of overdone toast.
He crumbles into a pile of ash, starting from his feet
up to his head.]
FREAKAZETTE [blowing a kiss]: Adios...suckers! [zips
at lightning speed through locked doors; the camera
follows her into the night, and we can hear her
giggling madly. The PARTYGOERS, their clothes wet and
torn and dirty, watch her disappear into the night
with open mouths.]
[Zip pan to across town, with FREAKAZOID, chin in
hand, staring at the pavement in deep thought. Not
looking where he's going, he collides with a
lamppost.]
FREAKAZOID: Owie! [rubs head] What a stupid place to
put a lamppost! I'm going to write my government
representative a ranting letter of complaint!
[suddenly looks interested as a black car drives by. A
POV shot of the car's ear bumper. The license plate
reads LOBEY#1.] What's The Lobe's car doing cruising
the streets at this time of night? Either he's up to
something no good, or he's found a great new nightclub
to boogie at. Either way, I want in! [runs along after
the limo and makes whooshing noises. Just as
FREAKAZOID exits stage left, FREAKAZETTE enters stage
right at top speed. She makes a "beep beep" noise,
darts her tongue in and out a la Roadrunner, and zips
away.]
[Spin cut with a big F! symbol to a creepy-looking
factory surrounded by smog and leaking disgusting-
looking fluids into a river through huge drainpipes.
FREAKAZETTE zips in, stage left, and stops in front of
the chain-link fence. She notes the lights in the
windows and LOBE's limo parked there and looks
bemused.]
FREAKAZETTE: Looks like a party at the Shreeve
Laboratories just outside town. And they didn't invite
me? I'm hurt. [goes into a Tasmanian Devil spin and
bores into the ground.]
[Cut to interior. FREAKAZOID and LOBE are squaring
off, edging around in a circle, each ready to pounce
on the other.]
FREAKAZOID: All right, Lobe, talk. I have a feeling in
my gut it's you who's running about stealing guitar
strings and saxaphone reeds. Of course, that could
just be the three dozen tacos I just had for dinner
catching up to me.
LOBE: Your shabby diet habits disinterest me,
Freakazoid. Yes, I did steal the strings and reeds,
and what of it? I needed them for my latest
project...just as I needed this. [holds up a spool
of wire]
FREAKAOID [in childlike voice] What'cha gonna do with
all the pretty things you stole? Huh? C'mon! Tell me!
LOBE: Well, it's really quite simple, you see. With
these things, one is able to cause-- [catches himself]
Oh, no. You won't catch me with the
make-the-villian-tell-you-his-plan-to-facilitate-thwarting-it
gambit. Reserve that for a less cerebral foe, like
Cave Guy, or Cobra Queen, or Longhorn. Good day to
you. [begins to walk away]
[The ground shakes under LOBE and FREAKAZOID's feet,
and up pops FREAKAZETTE. She throws her arms up and
takes a bow.]
FREAKAZOID: Homina homina huh?
LOBE: Who is this? A groupie? Your twin sister,
perhaps?
FREAKAZOID: I don't have a sister! I don't know who
this--who are you, anyway?
FREAKAZETTE: I'm Freakazette. The new girl in town. No
applause, just throw money and kisses. [notes FREAKAZOID's outfit] Oh, I [b]hate it when I show up to a party and someone else is wearing the same thing I am! [does a spin and reappears in a robin's-egg blue suit] Ah, well. I look better in blue anywho. I think it brings out my eyes. [slaps her right palm on the back of her skull, causing her eyeballs to pop out into her left palm. They blink coquettishly at FREAKAZOID.]
FREAKAZOID : Ewww! Hoyl! Oh, creepy lady! With the thing of the eyes and the hand and the popping out of the noggin and the blue spandex--[Jerry's serious voice] Please don't do that again, [i]querida. It sickens me, and it cheapens you.
FREAKAZETTE [Valley girl voice]: What-ev. [She sees LOBE and starts to giggle uncontrollably]
LOBE [quite confounded]: What? What are you laughing at?
FREAKAZETTE: You. Your head. It looks like a big
tuchus. [giggles.]
LOBE [indignant]: What? How dare you. It does not.
FREAKAZETTE: It does too! It looks like a big fat
giant tuchus! [giggles more]
FREAKAZOID: You know, I always thought it looked like
an uncooked meatloaf. But you're right--it *does* look
like a tuchus. [starts to giggle also]
LOBE [whining]: It does not look like a tuchus. You're
so mean, Freakazoid.
FREAKAZOID [ceases laughing, as does FREAKAZETTE]: I'm
sorry. I hadn't realized how hurtful I was being. I
can be a real jerk sometimes.
Like right now. [kicks the metal spool out of LOBE's
hands, sending it clattering down the floor.]
LOBE: Hey! No fair!
FREAKAZOID [runs to catch the spool]: Freakazette! Go
long! [picks up spool, runs with it like a football.
Background music is "Freddie the Freshman".]
FREAKAZETTE [arms in air]: I'm open! I'm open!
[FREAKAZOID sends it flying to FREAKAZETTE over LOBE's
head. FREAKAZETTE takes the spool. She fakes left,
fakes right, and passes it to FREAKAZOID, who runs
with it. FREAKAZOID dodges the LOBE, fakes, and passes
it to FREAKAZETTE. She outmaneuvers the LOBE as
FREAKZOID heads for an open window and stands below
it, then calls to her. She is about to throw the spool
to him--but slips on a patch of grease and stumbles
heavily into some fuel oil barrels, causing them to
spill. She drops the spool; LOBE grabs it, waves
good-bye, and ducks out a door in the rear. The oil
spreads to an overloaded socket in the wall that is
sparking dangerously. Cut to FREAKAZOID and
FREAKAZETTE fright reaction. Cut to exterior of
building going up in huge fireball. Cut to LOBE,
crouching behind his limo door, holding up the spool
and laughing triumphantly as flaming debris rains down
around him.]
LOBE: [i]Adios, enimigo mio! [cackles as he enters the
limo, and it heads off down the debris-littered street.]
[Cut to pile of smoking ashes, all that's left of the
lab. "Taps" sounds in the background. The rubble
moves, and a charred FREAKAZOID emerges, his costume
in rags. He coughs and blows a cloud of smoke.]
FREAKAZOID [grimly]: Nutbunnies. [looks around] Where
the blazes did she go? That seductive little nymph
cost me a chance at nabbing The Lobe! [looks off into
smoke-filled sky, says in subdued tone] I wonder if
I'll ever see her again. She was so lovely...her skin
so soft, her hair like flax. I want to look into those
deep blue eyes of hers just once more, tenderly,
and...and... [angrily, eyes threaded with red veins]
rip her freaking head off and spit a loogie down her
throat! [breathing heavily with fury]
[commercial break]
ANNOUNCER: And now, a musical interlude.
[FREAKAZOID, seated at a piano, plays a horribly off-key version of that WB favorite "Beautiful Dreamer".]
ANNNOUNCER: This concludes our musical interlude. We now commence with our program.
[Main title theme.]
[Title Card: "That's Why the Lady is a Freak!" An illustration of a voluptuous young woman, in silhouette, showing a definite trademark lightning-streaked Freak-ish popadour.]
ACT ONE
[Fade in on a live-action shot of the Chicago skyline.]
ANNOUNCER: Ah, Chicago, Illinois. City of the Big
Shoulders. Home to the Bulls, Bears, White Sox, and Mrs. O'Leary's cow.
[Zip pan.]
ANNOUNCER: A darn pity it has nothing to do with
today's story.
[Pan in on an exterior shot of Harry Connick High
School. Fade in on interior and dolly through a
typical hallway.]
ANNOUNCER: Our story takes place here in the hallowed,
revered, and--[sniffs]--somewhat smelly halls of
HCHS...attended by our hero Freakazoid! [heroic
fanfare] That is to say, when he's in his civilian
identity of the mildest of the mild-mannered, Dexter
Douglas.
[Cut to a shot of DEXTER in a classroom. A
pitiful-sounding "wah-wah!" trumpet sounds. He is
listening intently to the lecture, but the other
students seem apathetic or asleep.]
TEACHER, off-camera [with a definite Minnesota
acccent]: ...so in the Middle Ages, the small European
duchy of Brabant, now known as Belgium, had a very
prosperous domestic industry of lace-making, dont'cha
know. Already? Well, that's it for me,
class.
DEXTER [raises hand]: Uh, Mrs. Chatterly, what about
our homework?
MRS. C.: Oh, ja. Thanks for reminding me, dont'cha
know, Dexter. Okay, read pages 1050-1135 and do
questions 1-27 on page 1137. [The other classmates
groan and throw paperwads at DEXTER. He whines in
pain.]
[Cut to hallway. Students are milling in each
direction. SFX: mooing cattle.]
ANNOUNCER: Get to class, students. A mind is a
terrible thing to...well, now, who is this little
lady?
[Cut to shot of a small young lady in an olive-green
military field-jacket, too-big sneakers, and baggy
jeans. She is carrying a heavy-looking stack of
textbooks, hugged to her chest. She is jostled left
and right by students who either ignore her or insult
her as they pass. She'd be quite pretty, actually, if
her clothes weren't so big on her and she didn't
always look so sullen. She wears glasses, no makeup,
and a kinky, neck-length haircut. She bears a striking
resemblance to Emily Bergl ("The Rage: Carrie 2".)]
ANNOUNCER: Why, that's Mary McClaus, the new girl in
Harry Connick High. My word, she is a sulky little
thing, isn't she? What has she got to be so mad about?
[As if to answer the ANNOUNCER's question, a large
jock-type walks by and rudely slaps MARY's books to
the floor, and, as she stoops to pick them up, makes a
rude flatulent noise with his mouth. Her eyes widen
and she blushes. The JOCK laughs and points and holds
his nose. Several other students laugh as well.]
MARY [thoroughly frustrated]: Ohh! Grrr....frig it!
ANNOUNCER: My, such language. Do you kiss your mother
with that mouth?
MARY [muttering to self]: Every day they do this to
me...it's so immature...why don't those guys get a
frigging life? Aack! [Her angry rants continue until
she sees a handsome student walk past, and she quiets
instantly. The YOUNG MAN in question looks a lot like
"Dawson's Creek" star James Van Der Beek....and you
can tell by MARY's expression and the romantic music
in the background that she is smitten with him. The
back of his football jacket bears the YOUNG MAN's
surname, "Johnson". In a low, purring tone:]
Hello-ooo-oo-o, baby.
ANNOUNCER: Ahem. Meantime...
[Zip pan to a shot of police headquarters. A trumpet
sounds. It's the Horn of Urgency. Cut to SGT. KING at
his desk, feet up, thumbing through a newspaper. The
HUNTSMAN enters, with theme fafare.]
HUNTSMAN: I heard the horn blow, Chief. Whose the
culprit? Cave Guy? Candle Jack? Cobra Queen, maybe?
KING: False alarm, Huntsman. My son Charlie was
playing around with the Horn. His mother spanked his
bottom real good for that little prank. Sorry to
bother you.
HUNTSMAN: Not even a cruddy little jaywalker to beat
up on? [smacks fist into his palm]
KING: Not that I know of. Sorry.
HUNTSMAN: Darn the luck! Darn it all! [sighs] Well,
long as I'm in the city, I think I'll go see my mother.
KING: Mm-hmmm. You sound like a good son, Huntsman.
HUNTSMAN: Darn right. She lives over on Sonny Tufts
Boulevard.
KING: Ah. Rough neighborhood.
HUNTSMAN: I know. With any luck I might scare up a
pickpocket...or a carjacker. Adios, chief. I did give
you my mom's number, didn't I? Doris Feeb?
KING: I got numbers for all your relatives, Huntsman.
Something goes down, you're the first guy we call.
Have a good one.
[HUNTSMAN exits, and we see his back as he recedes
down the hall, clenching his fists and muttering,
"Darn!" repeatedly.]
[Cut to exterior of building, where a black car is
parked across the street. A FAMILIAR VOICE is heard
from inside.]
VOICE: The Horn of Urgency. A summoning tool for a
third-rate hack in a "Robin Hood Daffy" getup--or
something far more...*sinister*? [dry chuckle]
ANNOUNCER: Bum-bum-bummmmm!
[commercial break]
ACT TWO
[Open on HCHS, exterior. Pan in on a window and
dissolve to interior. MARY is seated in a computer
lab, typing at one of the keyboards. Three BURLY JOCKS
enter, one of which is the guy who knocked her books
out of her hands earlier.]
JOCK #1: Hey, Louse--what'cha doin' there, huh?
MARY [sullenly] None of your darn business,
Monkenschpenk. And don't call me Louse.
MONKENSCHPENK: Whatever you say...*Louse*. [The other
two JOCKS snicker and repeat the word "louse" as they
guffaw.] What'cha up to there? Looking for naughty
websites? [produces a can of soda and cracks it open]
MARY [heavy sigh]: If you *must* know, I am gathering
research data for a report on the Lower North American
spotted dung beetle for zoology class. Now if you'll
pardon me--
MONKENSCHPENK : You hear that boys? She's
looking up stuff on poo bugs! [cackles, as do his
friends] I bet it's great finding info on your
relatives, huh, Louse? [swigs soda]
MARY: Ye-eah. [eyes soda distastefully] And for the
love of Charles Babbage, Monkey. There are rules, you
know. No drinks allowed in the comp lab.
MONKENSCHPENK [sarcastic]: Oh, geez, I am so sorry! I
didn't know! Can you ever forgive me? [pours his soda
on the keyboard; there is a loud crack of electricity,
and the screen fills with gibberish.]
MARY: Oh, frig it! Look what you did, you dumb ox!
You've ruined a very expensive piece of hardware!
MONKENSCHPENK: Don't sweat it, doll. Nobody cares
about computers. All this school's money is being
funneled into sports! [claps MARY on the back,
knocking her glasses askew; laughs madly and exeunts
with his guffawing buddies.]
MARY: Putz. [straightens her glasses and looks at the
soda-soaked keyboard. POV shot of the screen, with a
very familiar "formula" on it.] Frig it. I'll just
delete this garbage and clean up the mess. [closeup of
MARY's figer, in slo-mo, hitting the DELETE button.
The computer beeps, makes a noise like a blender on
the fritz, and generates an electrical field that
envelops MARY. She shrieks...and what happens next is
truly amazing. MARY goes from drab to dynamite in a
very Sailor Moon-ish tranformation sequence,
accompanied by a FREAKAZOID theme played in a
"feminine" register (flutes, piccolos and violins),
360-degree turns, special effects backgrounds, and a
chorus warbling "FREAKAZETTE!" The baggy pants and
jacket are replaced by a skintight blue unitard and
white heeled boots, and her drab brown hair is swept
up and infused with color.
When the smoke and lights clear, the camera pans in on
a closeup of FREAKAZETTE's boots, then slowly up her
body until it reaches her face. Background music: "The Lady in Red" ,instrumental. Like her male counterpart, two actors are used--one for plain-Jane MARY, and for FREAKAZETTE, Alison Court (Lydia Deetz on "Beetlejuice", Jubilee on "X-Men). She's
information overload personified...but with a definite
X chromosome, bearing the imprint of every female pop
icon for the last 40 0r 50 years.]
FREAKAZETTE [looking at her chest]: Whoa. Better be
careful, boys--you get too close, I might poke an eye
out. Oh-ho-ho! Am I bad, or
what? Can we talk? [imitating Eva Gabor] But you look
mah-velous, dah-link! Simply mah-velous! [imitating
Betty Boop as she tap-dances] Freak-a-deek-a-deek!
Deek-deek-deek-deek! [squeals]
[A knock on the door startles her.]
Uh-oh. It's the pleasure police. Gotta make like the
seat on a pair of cheap Fruit of the Looms and split.
[turns into lightning and leaps into the computer,
which then spits a very groggy MARY onto the floor.
She comes to, dizzy, as a teacher enters.
TEACHER [concerned]: Mary? [alarmed] Mary! [hurries to
help her up] Are you all right? What happened?
MARY: Uh...I--I'm not sure. The Monkey and his goon
squad were in here, and he poured a can of soda on the
computer. I tried to clean it up, and I must have
gotten a shock from the--oof! [The TEACHER drops MARY
suddenly, causing her to land hard on her bottom, and
runs to the computer. She babies it, quite forgetting MARY.]
TEACHER [crooning softly]: My poor little
sweetums--did you have a nasty power surge? Did this
mean little girl do something to you to make you have
a meltdown? [sternly, to MARY] Do you realize that
this computers are expensive? Drinks are [b]prohibited
in the computer lab, Ms. Louse--
MARY [exasperated]: *McClause*.
TEACHER: --and it's very irresponsible of you to
ignore the rules--and then try to pin it on our
school's top quarterback, our only hope of winning the
pennant for the first time in ten years. Well, little
missy, I hope you're satisfied. Because of you, the
cost of replacing this computer will have to be taken
out of the school budget somewhere.
MARY : Might I suggest deducting the cost
from the bloated and overblown [b]athletic department?
TEACHER [angry]: Is your brain just painted on, young
lady? The football team is our one hope of ever
putting our little podunk school in a hayseed town a
modicum of respect! We'll just take a little money
from one of the nonessential programs this school
offers--like horticulture! Or--or mathematics! Yes!
[leaves, cackling]
MARY [groans]: The story of my life. [holds her
forehead] My skull is throbbing. I need to go home and
lie down. [exeunts]
[Spin cut to the next scene, with a grinning
FREAKAZOID head advancing towards the camera, then
retreating. The scene opens on a storefront: "B.
Tovenmyer's Tune Zone". Pan to interior. FREAKAZOID
is talking to the proprietor, who is behind the
counter. He looks a lot like Beethoven from the A!
short "Roll over Beethoven" and H! #40, "Music", and
speaks in a Christopher Lloyd voice. The background
music is "Fifth Symphony", then switches from "Ode to
Joy" when FREAKAZOID promises to catch the criminal
responsible.]
TOVENMEYER: And that's the story, Mr. Freakazoid. Some
meshugenah broke in here last night and stole every
reed I had in stock. [holds up saxophone] You can't
play this ferschlugginer thing without a reed. [holds
up clarinet] This one, you need two. Every woodwind in
my store--useless without reeds.
FREAKAZOID: Don't you worry, Mr. Tovenmyer. I'll catch
this no- good red thief reed-handed. Um--I mean,
*reed* thief *red* handed.
TOVENMYER [putting ear trumpet in ear]: What was that?
I didn't hear you.
FREAKAZOID [slightly louder]: I said don't sweat it,
Mr. Tovenmyer. I'll catch the thief.
TOVENMYER [still holding trumpet to ear]: What?
FREAKAZOID [slightly louder]: I said I will catch the
guy who stole your reeds.
TOVENMYER [still with trumpet]: I'm sorry, son. You'll
have to speak up.
FREAKAZOID [at top of voice, enunciating]: I said I
will catch the guy who did this! What are you, deaf or
something?
TOVENMYER [also in loud voice]: I'm sorry, I can't
hear you! I'm almost completely deaf!
FREAKAZOID [loudly]: Now he tells-- [catches himself;
lowers volume] Now he tells me.
[Pan to exterior of shop as FREAKAZOID leaves and
walks down the street.]
FREAKAZOID: A dozen burglaries in the last two weeks.
All involved music stores. No money was stolen, just
little wooden sticks. Why would anyone want a bunch of
worthless sticks? I'm going to have to ponder this one
very carefully and not let anything distract me.
[COSGROVE drives up in his squad car.]
COSGROVE: Yo, kid. You want to go to Taco Barn? They
have a great deal going--six tacos for a buck.
FREAKAZOID [excited]: Cheap tacos? You bet your sweet
bippy I do! [hops into car, which drives away.]
[Spin-cut to next scene with flying FREAKAZOID head.
Overhead pan to MARY, lying in her bed in a T-shirt,
in the grips of a nightmare, tossing, turning,
mumbling incoherently, and sweating profusely. The
background music is "In the Hall of the Mountain
King", slowly increasing in tempo, and just as it hits
a crecendo, the phone rings. MARY awakens screaming.
She looks about and sighs in relief.]
MARY: Wow. What a nightmare. I must be losing my mind.
The phone rings again; MARY picks it up. Split screen
to reveal HUGH JOHNSON, the object of MARY's
affection. HUGH's voice sounds like John Travolta.]
MARY: Hello?
HUGH: Hey, Mary. This is Hugh, from school. [MARY's
eyes widen.] I know it's a bit short notice, but my
big brother invited me over to a party at his college,
and said I could bring a date. Naturally I thought of
you. So...you interested?
MARY [squeals]: Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes!
[clears throat, says demurely] I mean, sounds amusing.
I consent.
HUGH: Great. It's at the Kwaffa Lotta Bru frat house.
I'll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow evening. Wear your
best dress, babe. [hangs up]
[MARY squeals with delight and bounds out of bed. She
looks at herself in the mirror, humming "The Bridal
March". She sees her reflection go out of focus, and a
strange blue girl's face--her alter ego--stares back
at her. She shakes her head with a rattling noise and
rubs her eyes, then looks again. The image is gone.]
MARY: Fuh-REEEEEE-ky. [sighs] Oh well. [squeals] I
have a date! [dances victoriously about the room]
NARRATOR: Meantime...
[Cut to interior of Taco Barn, where COSGROVE and
FREAKAZOID are eating tacos. FREAKAZOID has amassed a
pile of wrappers two feet high.]
COSGROVE: You eat that many tacos in one sitting,
junior, you're gonna get an urpy belly. By the way, I
hear some music stores in the area have reported all
their guitar strings stolen.
FREAKAZOID: Guitar strings? First wooden sticks, and
now strings? What do you make of it, Cosgrove?
COSGROVE: Don't ask me, kid. I'm not a music lover.
Though I *do* play a mean comb. [takes from his breast
pocket a comb and a bit of tissue paper, drapes the
paper over the comb, and plays a passable rendition of
"Dixie" by blowing over it.]
FREAKAZOID: Thanks, Cosgrove. You've been a modicum of
help. [zips off]
COSGROVE: Thanks, junior. I appreciate the kind words.
[Spin cut with flying FREAKAZOID head. Open on shot
of large building with strange Greek letters on it and
lights and loud music coming from within. We see a
crowd of college students milling into the
building--including EMMITT NERVEND and a female EMMITT
NERVEND, all dressed up. Pan to interior, on the dance
floor. MARY, in a green gown, is dancing with HUGH
JOHNSON's, her head on his chest. A closeup shows a
dreamy look on her face.]
MARY: This is *elysium*. I never imagined I could be
so happy, Hugh.
HUGH [slightly confused]: Uh, yeah. E-leez-uhm.
Whatever you say, doll. Hey, I think they're about to
make an announcement.
[An EMCEE takes the stage; he resembles/sounds like
the late Wolfman Jack. He barks into the mike.]
EMCEE: Hey, this is "Dogface" Joe, your moderator for
the eve-a-ning. We're about to crown the king and
queen of the Kwaffa Lotta Bru Spring Fling Thing
Dance-O-Rama Bash Festival Event. And--[produces an
envelope]--your winners with the most votes...[drum
roll]...Hugh Johnson and Mary McClaus!
[MARY squeals with delight, although HUGH looks
nonchalant. They take the stage, and "DOGFACE" JOE
places a crown on HUGH. MARY awaits her own
eagerly--but instead of a crown, JOE snaps a rubber
pig nose on her face.]
"DOGFACE" JOE: Congratulations, Hugh my boy, on
bringing the biggest pig to the party. [The crowd
starts chanting "pig, pig, pig" in a rhythmic cadence.
MARY looks about and notices all the handsome guys
have homely dates--fat girls, pimply girls, gawky,
too-thin girls. She is shocked, then seething; tears
stream down her face. Someone sneaks up behind her and
pours an entire bowl of blood-colored punch over her
head, soaking her thoroughly. The background music is
"Mountain King", low, throbbing, psychotic-sounding,
rising to a slow crecendo. A 360-degree pan captures
MARY's expression of hurt and fury and bewilderment,
the chanting crowd, and HUGH's laughing face. A POV
shot of MARY's uplifted hand shows it dripping with
punch. A closeup of her eyes shows a spark of
anger--resembling a computer screen coming to life.]
MARY [growls and shouts]: Frig it!
[Suddenly MARY explodes in a pillar of flame;
frightening the crowd. FREAKAZETTE emerges. The music
for the scene is reminiscent of the background theme
to "Beetlejuice".]
FREAKAZETTE [in gravelly voice]: I-iii-ii-it's
[i]showtime! [cackles madly]
DOGFACE: [stammers]: Sh-she's a freak!
FREAKAZETTE [placing her arm over his shoulder, speaks
sweetly]: You're half right, gruesome. I'm a
Freakazette! ["Barber of Seville" plays in the
background.] Ooh, what nasty split ends! Let me help
you. [grabs DOGFACE's hair and beard and yanks,
tearing it out and leaving him bald.] A pig party,
huh? Insulting less-than-supermodel-material women? Is
*that* your idea of a good time, Lon Chaney?
DOGFACE: You don't understand!
FREAKAZETTE [trills, imitating Judy Tenuta in a high
voice] Oh, I think this stuff is going right to my
head! [shrieks as Judy] And I like it! [hiccups
prettily, with a hand to her mouth. Cut to exterior of
building, where a thunderous belch sounds that blows
out every window in the Kwaffa Lotta Bru house. Cut
back to interior. FREAKAZETTE is wobbling unsteadily
on her feet, hand on her mouth.]
FREAKAZETTE [giggles] Pardon me. [zips over to THE
MONKEY, and trills again. In Southern belle voice:]
Why, grits 'n' gravy if it ain't my old buddy Bernard
"The Monkey" Monkenschpenk, Harry Connick High's top
q.b. How you doing, Monkster?
THE MONKEY [gulps]: L-Louse! What are you--I-I mean,
how--?
FREAKAZETTE: It's you I have to thank for
my...newfound capabilities, Monkey-boy. Here, let me
illustrate my appreciation. [pulls his underwear over
his head, then zips to the stage. THE MONKEY's date, a
beautiful blonde, shrieks and runs away. FREAKAZETTE
tears the cord from one of the amps, zips back, ties
MONKEY's ankles and wrists, and zips over a rafter
trailing the cord. The result is MONKEY, wedgied and
looking like the world's ugliest pinata hanging from
the ceiling. That done, FREAKAZETTE confronts HUGH.]
HUGH [stammers]: The pig party was my brother's idea,
love. Him and his frat brothers. I had nothing to do
with it. I didn't know. I swear.
FREAKAZETTE [mock-sypmpathetically]: I believe you,
Hugh [as Katherine Hepburn] [i]Raaaaaaah-lly I do. [normal voice] Think fast, Slick. [hands HUGH the other amp and takes a few steps back. HUGH looks down to see himself standing in
a puddle of spilled punch. A POV shot of the cables
trailing from the amp, and FREAKAZETTE holding the
wires--which are live and sparking. A fast cut to show
HUGH shaking his head "no, no, no", then another to
FREAKAZETTE's head nodding "yes, yes, yes." She grins
wickedly and joins the two wires.]
HUGH [as he is elecrocuted, with his skeleton showing
through his skin]:
HOBBADAHOBBADAHOBBADAHOBBADAHHOBBADAH!
[HUGH is burned as black as a piece of overdone toast.
He crumbles into a pile of ash, starting from his feet
up to his head.]
FREAKAZETTE [blowing a kiss]: Adios...suckers! [zips
at lightning speed through locked doors; the camera
follows her into the night, and we can hear her
giggling madly. The PARTYGOERS, their clothes wet and
torn and dirty, watch her disappear into the night
with open mouths.]
[Zip pan to across town, with FREAKAZOID, chin in
hand, staring at the pavement in deep thought. Not
looking where he's going, he collides with a
lamppost.]
FREAKAZOID: Owie! [rubs head] What a stupid place to
put a lamppost! I'm going to write my government
representative a ranting letter of complaint!
[suddenly looks interested as a black car drives by. A
POV shot of the car's ear bumper. The license plate
reads LOBEY#1.] What's The Lobe's car doing cruising
the streets at this time of night? Either he's up to
something no good, or he's found a great new nightclub
to boogie at. Either way, I want in! [runs along after
the limo and makes whooshing noises. Just as
FREAKAZOID exits stage left, FREAKAZETTE enters stage
right at top speed. She makes a "beep beep" noise,
darts her tongue in and out a la Roadrunner, and zips
away.]
[Spin cut with a big F! symbol to a creepy-looking
factory surrounded by smog and leaking disgusting-
looking fluids into a river through huge drainpipes.
FREAKAZETTE zips in, stage left, and stops in front of
the chain-link fence. She notes the lights in the
windows and LOBE's limo parked there and looks
bemused.]
FREAKAZETTE: Looks like a party at the Shreeve
Laboratories just outside town. And they didn't invite
me? I'm hurt. [goes into a Tasmanian Devil spin and
bores into the ground.]
[Cut to interior. FREAKAZOID and LOBE are squaring
off, edging around in a circle, each ready to pounce
on the other.]
FREAKAZOID: All right, Lobe, talk. I have a feeling in
my gut it's you who's running about stealing guitar
strings and saxaphone reeds. Of course, that could
just be the three dozen tacos I just had for dinner
catching up to me.
LOBE: Your shabby diet habits disinterest me,
Freakazoid. Yes, I did steal the strings and reeds,
and what of it? I needed them for my latest
project...just as I needed this. [holds up a spool
of wire]
FREAKAOID [in childlike voice] What'cha gonna do with
all the pretty things you stole? Huh? C'mon! Tell me!
LOBE: Well, it's really quite simple, you see. With
these things, one is able to cause-- [catches himself]
Oh, no. You won't catch me with the
make-the-villian-tell-you-his-plan-to-facilitate-thwarting-it
gambit. Reserve that for a less cerebral foe, like
Cave Guy, or Cobra Queen, or Longhorn. Good day to
you. [begins to walk away]
[The ground shakes under LOBE and FREAKAZOID's feet,
and up pops FREAKAZETTE. She throws her arms up and
takes a bow.]
FREAKAZOID: Homina homina huh?
LOBE: Who is this? A groupie? Your twin sister,
perhaps?
FREAKAZOID: I don't have a sister! I don't know who
this--who are you, anyway?
FREAKAZETTE: I'm Freakazette. The new girl in town. No
applause, just throw money and kisses. [notes FREAKAZOID's outfit] Oh, I [b]hate it when I show up to a party and someone else is wearing the same thing I am! [does a spin and reappears in a robin's-egg blue suit] Ah, well. I look better in blue anywho. I think it brings out my eyes. [slaps her right palm on the back of her skull, causing her eyeballs to pop out into her left palm. They blink coquettishly at FREAKAZOID.]
FREAKAZOID : Ewww! Hoyl! Oh, creepy lady! With the thing of the eyes and the hand and the popping out of the noggin and the blue spandex--[Jerry's serious voice] Please don't do that again, [i]querida. It sickens me, and it cheapens you.
FREAKAZETTE [Valley girl voice]: What-ev. [She sees LOBE and starts to giggle uncontrollably]
LOBE [quite confounded]: What? What are you laughing at?
FREAKAZETTE: You. Your head. It looks like a big
tuchus. [giggles.]
LOBE [indignant]: What? How dare you. It does not.
FREAKAZETTE: It does too! It looks like a big fat
giant tuchus! [giggles more]
FREAKAZOID: You know, I always thought it looked like
an uncooked meatloaf. But you're right--it *does* look
like a tuchus. [starts to giggle also]
LOBE [whining]: It does not look like a tuchus. You're
so mean, Freakazoid.
FREAKAZOID [ceases laughing, as does FREAKAZETTE]: I'm
sorry. I hadn't realized how hurtful I was being. I
can be a real jerk sometimes.
Like right now. [kicks the metal spool out of LOBE's
hands, sending it clattering down the floor.]
LOBE: Hey! No fair!
FREAKAZOID [runs to catch the spool]: Freakazette! Go
long! [picks up spool, runs with it like a football.
Background music is "Freddie the Freshman".]
FREAKAZETTE [arms in air]: I'm open! I'm open!
[FREAKAZOID sends it flying to FREAKAZETTE over LOBE's
head. FREAKAZETTE takes the spool. She fakes left,
fakes right, and passes it to FREAKAZOID, who runs
with it. FREAKAZOID dodges the LOBE, fakes, and passes
it to FREAKAZETTE. She outmaneuvers the LOBE as
FREAKZOID heads for an open window and stands below
it, then calls to her. She is about to throw the spool
to him--but slips on a patch of grease and stumbles
heavily into some fuel oil barrels, causing them to
spill. She drops the spool; LOBE grabs it, waves
good-bye, and ducks out a door in the rear. The oil
spreads to an overloaded socket in the wall that is
sparking dangerously. Cut to FREAKAZOID and
FREAKAZETTE fright reaction. Cut to exterior of
building going up in huge fireball. Cut to LOBE,
crouching behind his limo door, holding up the spool
and laughing triumphantly as flaming debris rains down
around him.]
LOBE: [i]Adios, enimigo mio! [cackles as he enters the
limo, and it heads off down the debris-littered street.]
[Cut to pile of smoking ashes, all that's left of the
lab. "Taps" sounds in the background. The rubble
moves, and a charred FREAKAZOID emerges, his costume
in rags. He coughs and blows a cloud of smoke.]
FREAKAZOID [grimly]: Nutbunnies. [looks around] Where
the blazes did she go? That seductive little nymph
cost me a chance at nabbing The Lobe! [looks off into
smoke-filled sky, says in subdued tone] I wonder if
I'll ever see her again. She was so lovely...her skin
so soft, her hair like flax. I want to look into those
deep blue eyes of hers just once more, tenderly,
and...and... [angrily, eyes threaded with red veins]
rip her freaking head off and spit a loogie down her
throat! [breathing heavily with fury]
[commercial break]