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dev-catscratch — Wubbzy as a dog
Published: 2012-07-14 12:52:07 +0000 UTC; Views: 5662; Favourites: 30; Downloads: 13
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I think Wubbzy would be a great name for a Chihuahua or Basenji dog.Related content
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When I was 18... 18 years old, I saw for the first time in my life... I saw an image of clarity. I saw a comic strip... a three panel comic strip that, though simple as it seemed, changed me... changed my being, changed who I am... Made me who I am...
Enlightened me...
The strip, Garfield, the comic strip was new... no more than maybe a month and a half since inception, since... since coming into existence... and there it was before me in print, I saw it... a comic strip... What was it called?
Garfield.
The story here is of a man, a plain man. He is Jon, but he is more than that... I will get to this later, but first let us say that he's Jon, a plain man.
And then there is a cat... Garfield.
This is the nature of the world, here. When I see the world, the politics, the future, the... the satellites in space, and... the people who put them there...
You can look at everything as a man and a cat... two beings, in harmony and at war...
So, this strip I saw; this man, Jon, and the cat, Garfield, you see...
Yes... hmm...
It is about everything. This... little comic is, oh, lo and behold... not so little anymore.
So yes, when I was 18, I saw this comic... and it hit me all at once, its power. I clipped it, and every day, I looked at it, and I said "Okay... let me look at this here. What is this doing to me? Why is this so powerful?"
Jon Arbuckle, he sits here, legs crossed... comfortable in his home, and he reads his newspaper... The news of the world, perhaps... and then he extends his fingers lightly, delicately... he taps his fingers on an end table, and he feels for something...
What is it? It is something he needs, but it is not there.
And then he looks up, slightly cockeyed, and he thinks... His newspaper's in his lap now, and he thinks this...
Now where could my pipe be?
This... I always come to this, because I was a young man... I'm older now, and I still don't have the secrets, the answers, so this question still rings true, Jon looks up and he thinks...
Now where could my pipe be?
And then it happens... You see it, you see... it's almost like divine intervention, suddenly it is there, and it overpowers you...
A cat is smoking a pipe.
It is the man's pipe, it's Jon's pipe, but the cat... this cat, Garfield, is smoking the pipe... and from afar, and someplace near, but not clear... near but not clear... The man calls out... Jon calls out, he is shocked. "Garfield!" he shouts.
Garfield. The cat's name.
But, let's take a step back... let us examine this from all sides, all perspectives... and when I first came across this comic strip, I was at my father's house... a newspaper had arrived, and I picked it up for him, and brought it inside.
I organized its sections for him and then, yes, the comic strip section fell out from somewhere in the middle, and landed on the kitchen floor... I picked up the paper pages and saw, up somewhere near the top of this strip... just like Jon, I was wearing an aquamarine shirt.
So I thought, "Ah, interesting. I'll have to see this later." I snipped out the little comic, and held on to it... and five days later, I reexamined it... and it gripped me, I needed to find out more about this. The information I had was minimal, but enough...
An orange cat named Garfield...
Okay, that seemed to be the lynchpin of this whole operation, yes. Another clue... a signature in the bottom right corner, a man's name...
Jim Davis.
Yes, I'm on to it for sure.
So... one: Garfield, orange cat, and two: Jim Davis, the creator of this cat...
And that curiously plain man.
I did not know, at the time, that his name was Jon. This strip, you see, had no mention of this man's name, and I'd never seen it before.
But I had these clues; Jim Davis, Garfield.
And then I saw more, I spotted the tiny copyright mark in the upper left corner. Copyright 1978 to... what is this? Copyright belongs to a... PAWS Incorporated...
I use the local library and mail services to track down the information I was looking for...
Jim Davis, a cartoonist, had created a comic strip about a cat, Garfield... and a man, Jon Arbuckle. Well, from that point on, I made sure I read the Garfield comic strips, though as I read each one, as each day passed... the strips seemed to resonate with me less and less...
I sent letters to PAWS Incorporated, long letters, pages upon pages... asking if Mister Jim Davis could somehow publish just the one comic, over and over again... "It would be meditative," I wrote, "the strength of that."
Could you imagine?
But... no response... The strips lost their power, and eventually I stopped reading, but... I did not want my perceptions diluted, so I vowed to read the pipe strip over and over again... That is what I call it, "The Pipe Strip."
The Pipe Strip.
Everything about it is perfect. I can only describe it as a miracle creation, something came together... the elements aligned... It is like the comets, the cosmic orchestra that is up there over your head... The immense, enormous void is working all for one thing, to tell you one thing...
Gas and rock, and purity, and nothing.
I will say this... When I see the pipe strip... and I mean every single time I look at the lines, the colors, the shapes that make up the three panel comic...
I see perfection.
Do I find perfection in many things?
Some things, I would say... Some things are perfect... and this is one of them. I can look at the little tuft of hair on Jon Arbuckle's head... it is the perfect shade... The purple pipe in Garfield's mouth... How could a mere mortal even MAKE this?
I have a theory, about Jim Davis...
After copious research and, yes, of course, now we have the internet, and this information is all readily available, but...
Jim Davis, he used his life experiences to influence his comic...
Like I mentioned before, none of them seem to have the weight of the pipe strip... But you have to wonder about the man who is able to even, just once, create the perfect form, a literally flawless execution of art, brilliance! Just as in a ward... I think there is a spiritual element at work...
I've seen my share of bad times and... when you have something... Well, it's just... emotions, and neurons in your brain, but... something tells you that it's the truth...
Truth's radiant light.
Garfield, the cat? Neurons in my brain, it's... it's harmony, you see? It... Jon and Garfield, it's truly harmony, like a... continuous, looping, everlasting harmony... The lavender chair, the brown end table, the salmon-colored wall, the fore's green carpeting, Garfield is hunched, perched... perhaps with the pipe stuck firmly between his jowls... His tail curls around. It's more than shapes too, because... I...
Okay, stay with me... I've done this experiment several times.
You take the strip. You trace only the basic elements. You can do anything, you can simplify the shapes down to just... blobs, just outlines, but it still makes sense...
You can replace the blobs with magazine cutouts of other things, replace Jon Arbuckle with a... car parked in a driveway sideways, cut that out of a magazine, stick it in... Replace him there in the second panel with a... a food processor... Okay, and then we put a picture of the planet in the third panel over Garfield...
It still works.
These are universal proportions. I don't know... how best to explain why it works, I've studied the pipe strip, and analyzed Jon and Garfield's proportions against several universal mathematical constants.
E, Pi, the Golden Ratio, the Feigenbaum Constants, and so on... and it's surprising... scary even, how things align. You can take just... tiny pieces of the pipe strip, for instance, take Jon's elbow from the second panel... and take that, and project it back over Jon's entire shape in the second panel, and you'll see a near perfect Fibonacci sequence emerge...
It's eerie to me... and it makes you wonder if you're in the presence of a deity, if there is some larger hand at work...
There's no doubt in my mind that Jim Davis is a smart man...
Jim Davis is capable of anything to me... He is remarkable, but this is so far beyond that, I think we might see that... this work of art is revered and respected in years to come.
Jim Davis is possibly a new master of the craft, a... a genius of the eye; they very well may say the same things about Jim Davis in five hundred years that we say about the great philosophical and artistic masters from centuries ago... Jim Davis is a modern day Socrates, or... Da Vinci... mixing both striking visual beauty with classical, daring, unheard-of intellect...
Look, he combines these things to make profoundly simple expressions...
This strip is his masterpiece... The Pipe Strip is his masterpiece... and it is a masterpiece and a marvel...
I often look at Garfield's... particular pose, in this strip. He is poised, and statuesque... and his cat stare is reminiscent of the fiery gazes often found in religious iconography... But still, his eyes are playful, lying somewhere between the solemn father's expression in... Rembrandt's "Return of the Prodigal Son," and the coy smirk of Da Vinci's "Saint John The Baptist".
His ears stick up, signifying a peaked readiness... It's as if he could, at any moment, pounce; he is, after all, a close relative and descendant of the mighty jungle cats of Africa that could leap... after prey. You could see the power drawn into Garfield's hind quarters, powerful haunches indeed.
The third panel.
And I'm just saying this now, this is just coming to me now... The third panel of the pipe strip is essentially a microcosm for the entire strip itself... All the power dynamics, the struggle for superiority, right?
WHO has the pipe? WHERE is the pipe? All of that is drawn, built, layered into Garfield's iconic pose here. You can see it in the curl of his tail... Garfield's ear whiskers stick up, on end, the smoke billows, upward... drawing the eye upward... increasing the scope...
I'm just... amazed... really, that after 33 years of reading, and analyzing the same comic strip, I'm able to find new dimensions. It's a testament to the work...
For six years, I delved into tobacco research, because... can a cat smoke? This is a metaphysical question... Yes, can any cat smoke? Do we know? Can just Garfield smoke?
The research says no. Nicotine poisoning can kill animals, especially household pets. All it takes is the nicotine found in as little as a single cigarette.
[ *Okamoto M, Kita T, Okuda H, Tanaka T, Nakashima T (Jul 1994). "Effects of aging on acute toxicity of nicotine in rats". Pharmacol Toxicol. 75 (1): 1-6. doi: 10.1111/j.1600-0773.1994.tb00316.x. PMID 7971729 ]
Surely, Jon's pipe hold a substantial amount of tobacco, and it is true that pets living in the homes of smokers are nearly 25% more likely to develop some form of cancer... most likely due to secondhand smoke... but these are facts of smoking, its tolls on our world.
But after visiting two tobacco processing plants in Virginia... and the Phillip Morris cigarette manufacturing facility, I came no closer to cracking the meaning. I was looking for any insight. A detective of a homicide case has to look at every angle, so I'm always taking apart the pipe strip. I focused on every minutiae, every detail of this strip.
Jon Arbuckle's clothing... I have replicas. I'm an expert in textiles... so, you see, this smoking thing was a hang-up for me... but it was the statement here... until...
This is key, this is the breakthrough.
The pipe is not a pipe, really.
Obviously there is symbolism at work here... I saw that from the beginning, and I looked at the literal aspects of the strip to gain insight into the metaphors at play... I worked at a newspaper printing press for eighteen months, in the late 1980's... I was learning the literal to inform the gestural... the subliteral, the in-between...
Jon reading this newspaper means so much more than just... Jon reading the newspaper... but how could you ever hope to decipher the puzzle without knowing everything there is to know about newspapers?!
Okay... for example... Jon holds his newspaper up with his left hand, thumb gripping the interior. I learned that this particular grip here was the newspaper grip of nineteenth century aristocrats... and this aristocrat grip was a point of contention that influenced the decision to move forward with prohibition... in the United States, in the early twentieth century!
So Jon's hand position is much more than that, it... it is a comment on class war... and the resulting reactionary culture... but I didn't know about the aristocratic newspaper grip until I came across some microfiche archives at the printing press.
It's about information. You have to take it apart.
...and the breakthrough on the smoking cat came late... just eight years ago, actually. "Smoking cat" is an industry term. It's what the smoking industry calls a tattletale teenager who tells on his friends after they've all tried smoking for the first time... and it is actually a foreign translation, bastardization of the term "smoking rat"... But the phrase was confused when secret documents went back and forth between China and America...
These documents are still secret, and the only reason I know about the term is because I know a man, my friend. Let's call him "Timothy," yeah... yes, it's a fake name, for his protection. Timothy worked for Phillip Morris for sixteen years, and he had seen the documents... and when he told me, it was an Aha moment... and he said, "But how? How could this cartoonist, Jim Davis, know about this... obscure term from the mid-70's, used exclusively by a few cigarette companies!?"
This is still a mystery to me... but I connect the dots by noting Jim Davis' childhood experiences on a farm. He must have seen something...
What could it be?
Timothy went on to tell me there was one particular smoking cat, a boy, from... yes, Indiana, a boy named Ernie Barguckle, who became a thorn in the side of the tobacco companies for a couple of years... He did more than tattle to his parents; he and his family took legal action, and they eventually received a huge settlement payout...
But that name is too similar... Ernie Barguckle...
Jon Arbuckle.
Jim Davis must have used this.
There's more here. Ernie Barguckle spent nearly half of that settlement money on experimental medical procedures to cure his... impotence. He was impotent.
So... he was a smoking cat with a... a metaphorical pipe, that did not work... Are you starting to see the layers here? This is exciting stuff, you start to get a whole picture here, and it informs the work! It's... it's just remarkable.
Jim Davis took these raw ideas, these... pieces, and he transformed them into smart social commentary that is... all so ravishingly beautiful.
I have cried.
I've cried, I've cried... I've cried, cried over this piece. It just... gets in my soul.
I try to explain this to people, I have... the newspaper articles about Ernie Barguckle... People have fought me on this, they don't see it, or they're close-minded, "How could a comic strip about a cat smoking a pipe mean any more than that?"
But it is more... and when I feel spiritual, or start to think existentially, I still see this comic.
Here's something from 1981 that I wrote in thinking about the implications of this strip; this is just an excerpt here... there's more before and after, but this part is the essence to me... If a comic about a cat smoking a pipe can be the only thing in the universe... then maybe this is the strongest evidence for that.
fumbles with tattered sheet from 1981
"Many of you say, 'Oh, but I am not blind. I have never been blind,'... But when you truly see, you will understand just how truly blind you once were to even think it right to say you were not blind.
What does a blind man see?
Blackness. Darkness. Blankness. Blank darkness. Dark blankness.
The absence of things, quite literally NO thing. No things. Nothings.
So, you see nothing, and I bring you into the light. A cat has your pipe! You've been blind, do you understand this!?
The cat has your pipe.
You can't fully immerse yourself, you don't have the light. You don't have the radiance, the radical light, the radically radiant light of truth and truth's belonging love, and nature of light, and loving truthful radiance.
So don't be bold, and make bold statements. I know of you.
The cat has your pipe.
The. Cat. Has. Your. Pipe.
Remember that."
puts paper back in pocket
That writing, well... It's kind of rough... Kind of an... early eighties feel... and I see that, but I'm still... I'm still proud of it.
Sometimes I imagine that it is the editorial column in the newspaper Jon Arbuckle is reading. It's an exercise in recursion, it's like a vortex opens up... It's like you hold two mirrors up to each other, one is reality and the other is a cartoon strip.
Let's see here... Oh yes, I must bring this up, because I think, surely, Jim Davis is again speaking on multiple levels by including the details set before us in the comic.
Notice the glimpse of Jon Arbuckle's foot in the first panel. The size of the shoe would indicate that maybe the man just has small feet... but a deeper investigation takes us to the footbinding rituals of certain Asian cultures. Inflicted usually on women for the desire of men, this practice was incredibly painful and crippling...
Aha! Mister Davis is, here, presenting us with a man, or rather... "man", who engages in footbinding, a body modification for women, on top of "being without his pipe"... or impotent. This is a man facing extreme inner turmoil, the panels tell that story... subconsciously.
Notice the background wall shading of the first panel points inward toward Jon in the second panel... and the sharp tapered end of the purple pipe in the third frame also points at John in the second panel, inward; the eye is drawn to the center panel. You can connect these points and draw a triangle across the panels, and this triangle will align with the reoriented points of Jon's collar! This, this is majestic artwork!
...and to uncover this hidden order is... bliss like I've never known.
Comforting, in an empty world.
I can't help but read the thought bubble, over and over again.
Now where could my pipe be?
Now where could my pipe be?
It is a profound question.
Why am I here? What is my purpose? It is reflection and self-examination here. It is facing the dust, the misery of a cold, careless universe. You can feel the weight of it.
But where could my pipe be?
One imagines the author, Jim Davis, teetering on the edge of insanity... his rationality, his lucidity, hovering over the void... and he seeks the truth.
You can see it in the line quality of the drawings; the thoughtful, controlled outlines mixed with the... occasional, chaotic scribbles at work in the shadows and Garfield's dark stripes.
It's almost as if Garfield is chaos himself.
Yes, he is the embodiment of chaos, disorder, hatred, fear... Thievery, death, destruction, desolation!
These are the things Garfield represents; HE stole the pipe, HE sits with his back to Jon, Garfield... Garfield, this chaos cat, Garfield has turned his back on everything, everyone!
One recalls the great existential forces in literature... Camus' Meursalt, Kafka's Gregor Samsa, or Sartre's Antoine Roquentin... Garfield the Cat sees the hopelessness of life, which...ah, yes...
This is why Jim Davis has chosen smoking. It represents a recklessness, a... a disregard for what some would define as the beauty of life. Garfield may die from the nicotine, he may not... He defies life; he sits defiant, saying nothing, but looking as if he could say... "Then let me die... it does not matter."
It does not matter.
...and we are faced with this; Could Jon behave the same? Is Jon the glimmer of hope?
He seems to be unsure. Again, his question... "Now where could my pipe be?" indicates that he is wrestling with his own existence. The center panel centers the issue, and again, this hearkens to many of the great religious works of art.
I'm talking about the Pipe Strip in relation to religion. It's... it's interesting to assign the roles of God... and anti-God, or, as many know him to be, the devil... or on a much larger scale, simply the forces of... good and evil. Garfield, the thief-cat, evil and malicious... He is the devil, placed to the right... and note, the two forms of Jon; the Jon on the left, still innocent, still draped in the... delight, of the lack of knowledge. He is... the humans in the Garden of Eden. He feels for his pipe... but he has yet to eat from the tree... and Garfield, the sinister serpent... and notice, notice how Jim Davis has framed this... The center Jon is locked in a struggle, between his innocence, and his knowledge of the truth... knowledge of the existence of evil.
It is stunning. The great struggle, the struggle that transcends time... and Jim Davis floats over all this, as creator... the God, of sorts, in his own right.
... and he presents this cautionary message to us all; it is as if he is speaking from high and... he is saying, unto our awaiting ears...
Where will you be, when the cat reveals himself? [-Jim 7:27:78]
I can tell you where you'll be. You will have a choice; you can face endless suffering, and eternal misery... You can be forced and beaten down with barbarians, who claw at each other just for a view of salvation. They'll tear your eyeballs out, and rip your gizzards from end to end. They worship this cat, this... this false idol! This evil, horrible cat, do not be seduced by the cat and the pipe!
Garfield... thy name is a mark of the demons of hell. Something like this, and to those listening, it is a stark reminder to follow the path of the first panel Jon; be humble, be grateful, honor the law, and honor thyself. Be true, and be good, and no harm will come to you... Pray for salvation, and it will be granted unto you. Be like Jon Arbuckle, as he lowers his head. Be like Jon Arbuckle as he lowers his paper, as he turns his head. Bow with Jon Arbuckle, and praise unto the creator, Jim Davis... and banish demon Garfield from your life.
So, what is all this? What am I saying? Aha... hmm... What does all this mean? Why is this one comic strip so important to me... and why do I feel the need to share this?
Obligation. I have an obligation to you all. This is a redemption, this is a belief in redemption, a sacrifice of all the obvious trappings of this false modern life.
Look at the simplicity in this strip, in the pipe strip. Look at the simple clothes Jon wears, look at his simple, basic furniture... No adornments on the wall, even the very pipe his cat Garfield stole; it is a plain, modest pipe... and I have adapted this way of life, it speaks to me.
In our times... well... you don't need me to point out the hyperbole of our times; you have children being born eight or nine at a time, you have more money being spent on a single Hollywood movie than some nations can spend... feeding their starving people. Torture, distrust... Look around you, it's overwhelming.
What can you contribute?
...and every day, I look in the mirror, and I hold this comic up to the mirror, and I look into the mirror, and at this little comic strip.
Be humble.
Be thankful.
It is a reminder, be respectful.
You are a statue. You are fragile... and when you break, when you shatter... Where will those pieces go?
Ask... ask, ask, ask this question. Will you ask?
Humankind is only as great as you, YOU, the individual, it begins and ends with you! You must treat this expedition, this search, this... life, with a reverence and intensity found only in the smallest sticks. The littlest leaf, the tiniest stone! The most miniscule grain of sand... on a beach of billions!
This is the secret.
Do you want the pipe?
Do you want to know where the pipe has gone?
You ask yourself, you ask... you ask... you ask...
Now where could my pipe be?
When I was a young man... remember, now, I first saw this comic when I was eighteen years old... Ages ago... but I was youthful, vibrant. For weeks, I didn't hide that a comic strip was having such a profound effect on me.
I was much like Jon Arbuckle. In this middle panel, he says, "Now where could my pipe be?"... you could look into his eyes, his half-lowered eyes, and think to yourself... "Now, surely, Jon... Surely, you cannot be this naive... This is nothing new for you..."
And if you've read more of the Garfield comic strips by Jim Davis, you understand what I am saying now; Garfield the cat does things like this all the time. He will take things from Jon; food, items, anything... This is his very nature.
So you see this, and you want to say, "Jon Arbuckle, come now. You are lying to yourself. You are lying to yourself, and to all of us, if you pretend to have not... any idea of where your pipe has gone. Perhaps you think you've left it somewhere else, but... hmph, you're not so forgetful. You are lying to yourself, ah... yes...
You are lying to yourself, Jon Arbuckle. You know that Garfield has the pipe... somewhere, deep down, you know this. You don't even need to think the question."
And that was me when I saw this strip. One week passed, and each morning I'd open my drawer and slam it shut again. I would go to look at the comic... but I'd pause, and think... "Oh no, I don't need this comic, I don't n... I don't NEED to look at it..."
But there I was, lying to myself.
I DID need to see it, and so I did, it's... cathartic. You give in, and that is the transition, from the second panel of life, to the third panel of life! It is a simple story structure, the passage from the second act to the third, the twilight of things. Jon gives into his suspicions; he knows the truth, he's ALWAYS known the truth, he yells out, "GARFIELD! GARFIELD! GARFIELD!"
It is like... pressure from a steam valve, being released; the buildup is unbearable, and then... PSSHHWW, it's gone.
So it is like this... when I speak about the truth... the truth, the light, the radiance, this... this is the kind of thing I'm talking about. This is the essence of this brilliant work of art, the practical mixing, meeting, agreeing with the spiritual, it is all HERE.
...but spirituality is not an easy thing to confront. You might find yourself able to wrap your mind around a simple math problem, or a basic newspaper article, or... but intellect... is much less subjective.
What is spirituality... and how have I found spiritual peace and serenity in Garfield?
A long time ago, after I encountered the Pipe Strip... I spent some time, as I mentioned before, soul-searching. When something impacts you, or alters your very perception so greatly, there is a long period of confusion, recovery time...
It's as if you don't know who you are, and that can be a... a very scary prospect, especially if you thought you had a good grasp on that sort of thing.
Imagine if Jim Davis did not know who he was. Would he be capable of shaping the cultural landscape as he's done?
No. No, of course he wouldn't.
...and how about his characters? Jon... what if Jim Davis suddenly woke up, and didn't know who Jon was? What if he couldn't make the informed decisions to accurately depict Garfield's personality, because of... he could no longer specify, or demarcate the boundaries of Garfield's behavior?
What kind of comic would THAT be? You see?
So draw the parallel. I saw this comic and, yes, I was disoriented... and if I didn't reconcile this issue with myself, what kind of person would I be?
Undoubtedly dire circumstances, but remember; this was not a math problem, this was not an article, this was not something I could just... figure out... and as skeptical as I was, I realized that faith and spirituality were avenues that... required exploring.
At first I tried... long nights, reading Garfield by candlelight, or... aromatic meditation settings, while thinking of Garfield, but... nothing snapped. Nothing clicked, I still felt lost... but I kept it up, I hired a shaman, and a young... personal Yogi Sikh Guru; Avram Dahb Singh Sahib. I pushed and pushed, determined to find myself.
And then, a miracle happened.
Upon retrieving my morning paper, to clip the Garfield comic... I noticed a young girl, selling lemonade two houses down. She sat, occupied at her stand. She had no customers in sight.
So, I approached, and saw that she was coloring. I looked at her drawing...
Three rectangular boxes.
A man, in a blue shirt. An orange cat.
I knew what this was. Even in her crude scribbles, I knew EXACTLY what this was.
She was drawing a Garfield comic.
I looked at her words, and I saw that, in her strip, Jon asked Garfield to retrieve a newspaper. Heh, funny... since I'd done just that with myself... Garfield is sarcastic, but agrees to. He returns and calls Jon... "Sahib".
Jon exclaims that the paper's all chewed up, but then Garfield says, and I quote, "Sahib asks fish, paper is wet. Sahib asks cat, paper is holey." I remember the words, and ran back to my house, and thought, "How odd that Sahib shows up in the strip, and my spiritual advisor's name is Avram Dahb Singh Sahib!"
Coincidence surely, but, nonetheless, I spent the next sixteen hours poring through my clipped Garfield comics, looking for the strip this young girl had been coloring... I couldn't find it... and I eventually fell asleep, right on my kitchen table.
Next morning, I retrieved my paper again, and I clipped the Garfield comic. The date was July 12th, 1983.
There it was.
The Sahib Strip, in all its glory.
The girl had been drawing the next day's strip!
So, I ran right out of my house, I ran back to where she was... but she was gone, and in place of the lemonade stand was a "For Sale" sign.
They'd moved out.
I rushed back to my house to call Avram, but... I was informed that he'd moved away as well. I reeled, for several hours, and then it all connected for me.
It was meant to be. It w... it was meant to be this way! Jim Davis... Jon, Garfield... It was always meant to be this way for me.... They move to the forefront, and everything else fades away, EVERYTHING else; the girl, the lemonade stand, Avram Dahb Singh Sahib, it all existed to show me the way, and when I'd found the way...
Everything else melted away.
It was a beautiful miracle... and if July 27th, 1978, the day I first saw the pipe strip... was the first day of my life, then that day, July 12th, 1983, was the second day of my life.
I've never looked back. Garfield has transformed me... and I am a man, born anew, because of Garfield.
When I was in my mid-thirties, I was interviewed for a documentary... It was a documentary on the subject of cat behavior. Now, I've had cats my whole life; I have three cats now, and at the time of this documentary interview, I had four cats. I sat down for the interview and was joined by a veterinarian who specialized in felines: Doctor Caroline Wellmitz was her name, I believe... and the doctor discussed colorblindness in animals, and how it affects their behavior.
She specifically brought up the fact that cats are red-green colorblind; they can see colors, but they can't tell the difference between red and green ...and look at the color choice in this strip here.
Garfield sits on a green floor, behind a pinkish red wall.
I heard this, and I immediately pulled a copy of the comic from my wallet to show to the doctor... I moved so fast, I'm sure I nearly scared her, I... pointed at the paper and said, "Like this! Like this! Look, at this here! This cat, Garfield, he's colorblind, he must be! That must be the answer here... like this."
As over-excited as I was, I managed to take in her response; she said "Yes, a cat in this room would have a hard time differentiating the wall from the floor. Add to that a cat's known spatial confusion, and you have the makings of a Cat Rage room." Now, she informed me that this isn't exactly common knowledge among cat owners... but a seasoned cat owner, or someone particularly perceptive will have picked up on it.
So what's incredible here is not only is Garfield's behavior symbolic of the devil, and all the evil constructs in the world, but... but, but... but also, it is rooted in science and scientific fact.
Look at that. You cannot spell fact without "cat".
Hah, just a little joke there... just some wordplay, but getting back on track...
...and you can't spell track without "cat."
Okay... I digress. I gotcha, I gotcha, enough... kidding around.
It is established here that Garfield is in a rage; an ultimate rage of fury and hatred, caused by colorblindness. We know the "what", we know the "why"... but let us examine the "how", the how of his rage is particularly interesting here.
We've looked at his posture and called it "powerful", "in control", "statuesque", "etc., etc." Composed rage... It's peculiar, and I've talked to a number of psychologists and psychiatrists, and even a couple of anger management therapists about this concept...
Could we see the same kind of behavior in a human? Is Garfield representative of something more specific than just chaos and rage? Deciphering this is going to take some perseverance. for sure.
The psychologists pointed to a phenomenon in humans, and, yes, I believe one of the anger management counselors brought it up as well. The idea that people, oftentimes, will bottle their rage... Garfield the cat, here... well, he could be bottling his anger, inside, shoving it deep into his cat gut, to ignore and deal with at a later time.
Eh, well... No, that's not exactly right. Garfield has already acted out, he's already stolen the pipe... he's SMOKING the pipe, he's already dealt with his anger. He's already lashed out, so, psychologically, what is going on here? What is this cat doing, and how does it impact his owner, Jon Arbuckle... psychologically?
Well, Garfield is angry. He is acting on his anger... but is this passive anger, or aggressive anger?
Passive. It is passive because if Garfield has a problem with Jon specifically... he's choosing a passive way of dealing with that problem. He has not confronted Jon, and said, "Jon, I have a problem with the way you've decorated this room; as a cat, I am colorblind, and this room sends me into a rage... You've created a rage room for me here, and I don't like it; I want you to change it."
Instead of that confrontational approach, though, Garfield has chosen to steal Jon's pipe... and that, in turn, angers Jon... but Jon decides to be aggressively angry, and yell at Garfield, so... now, instead of a calm conversation between two respectful parties, you have two... heated, angry individuals, each with a problem and no direct line to solving it.
The layered emotions here tell a story with tight, focused brevity that would make Hemingway weep. This is an entire drama, in just three panels, people.
...but let's not be remiss, and miss the humor of the situation, the... absurdity of it all... for certainly, there is a reason that the visual shorthand for drama includes both the crying mask AND a laughing mask. Comedy and tragedy complement each other, and meld together to create drama, tension, the height of humanity, the peak of art, that reflects back to us our own condition...
...and here... in its basest form, we can laugh at this comic... yes, COMIC, in which a cat smokes a pipe... Hah... when was the last time you've SEEN such a thing in your life?
Never, I presume... I certainly never have...
The Greek muse, Thalia's presence is strong in this work of art, here. Comedy, it is COMEDY... and if you look at the structure again, you'll see this perfect form of thirds works magically for the transmission of, yes, YES, a JOKE.
The joke.... is as old as time... even cavemen told jokes, and the joke here is that Jon has lost his pipe... or he thinks he has... but lo and behold, it is the cat, Garfield, who has the pipe.
Surprise, surprise, the cat is smoking!
Again, the transition, from set-up to punchline takes place between the second and third panels... but make no mistake, the comic is more than just a comic... Yes, it IS funny, of course it is... it is operating at the height of sophisticated humor, on par with any of Shakespeare's piercing wit.
On the one hand, Garfield the comic, with Jon the man, humor as art... the other hand, Garfield comic, with Jon the man, stirring... no, RIVETING drama... as with everything, it is tension, and release. TENSION... and RELEASE...
A cycle.
I keep returning to this idea, because it is so omnipresent. Yes, you could... and yes, I have done this, on more than one occasion... you could print this comic strip on a giant piece of paper. The dimensions would be something like... thirty-four inches by eleven inches.
Now, tape the ends together, with the comic facing inward. Stick your head in the middle of this Garfield comic loop and READ, start at the first panel; Jon is reading the newspaper... he feels for something on the end table.
Second panel; he sets the newspaper down, something is not right...
"Where could my pipe be?" he thinks.
...and then, the payoff; the third panel, Garfield has Jon's pipe, and is smoking it.
But, aha! The paper is in a loop, around your head... so that you can see that, once again, Jon is in his seat, reading the paper... and so on, and so on, you can literally read the comic strip for an eternity!
I spent many a relaxing Sunday afternoon reading this strip, over and over... reminded of the Portuguese death carvings, which always begin and end with the same scrawled image.
[fig. 6b - Portuguese Death Carving c. 1330]
So, this idea of repetition, of the beginning being the end, and the end being the beginning... It's not new, it is an ageless tradition among the best storytellers humanity has ever offered... and I'm not wrong to include cartoonist Jim Davis in that exalted set for this particular strip alone
I'm not foolish enough to deny that great art is subjective... divisive, even, and that some people see this Garfield comic and shrug with no real reaction... but I will say that I believe everyone in the world should see it; at the very least, see it!
You should all see it. Read it. Spend some time with it. Spend an hour reading it... what's an hour? Yes, you could watch some television program, you could play some fast-paced video games or computer games, yes, you could do all those things...
But it's just an hour... and if you give this strip a chance, if you look into Jon Arbuckle's eyes... if you look into Jon Arbuckle's SOUL...
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT DON'T MINE AT NIGHT
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
what the hecc _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Wubbzy stays on a stick
She wants to play, play, play
He had a long tail
And she wants him that way
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Your widget is a friend
He wants to build
Look up and smile
And your basket box is full!
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Walden is your friend
He is wise
He is concerned about science
Books and vendors
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Wubbzy and Widget
Walden was a friend
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
And when they were assembled
It does not end up being fun
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Alas! Alas!
Alas! Alas! Alas!
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. Nice. Great. e.deviantart.net/emoticons/s/s… " width="15" height="15" alt="
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
Wubbzy stays on a stick
She wants to play, play, play
He had a long tail
And she wants him that way
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Your widget is a friend
He wants to build
Look up and smile
And your basket box is full!
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Walden is your friend
He is wise
He is concerned about science
Books and vendors
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Wubbzy and Widget
Walden was a friend
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
And when they were assembled
It does not end up being fun
Alas! Alas! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Alas! Alas!
Alas! Alas!
Alas! Alas! Alas!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Wubbzy lives in a tree
He likes to play, play, play
He's got a bendy tail
And he likes it that way
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Widget is his friend
She likes to build
She hammers and she saws
And her toolbox is full!
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Walden is their friend
He's really smart
He knows about science
And books and art
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Wubbzy and Widget
And Walden are friends
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
And when they get together
The fun never ends
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Wow! Wow!
Wow! Wow! Wow!
👍: 0 ⏩: 2
XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD SO GOOD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD TOP 10 BEST ANIME ARTS AND DEVIANTART XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD HIGH QUALITY ART XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD
SO BEST ART XD XD XD XD XD iojefhesbuiifu ewajkbduhjbua XD XD XD XD XD XD
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Rick and Morty. The humour is extremely subtle, and without a solid grasp of theoretical physics most of the jokes will go over a typical viewer’s head. There’s also Rick’s nihilistic outlook, which is deftly woven into his characterisation- his personal philosophy draws heavily from Narodnaya Volya literature, for instance. The fans understand this stuff; they have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciate the depths of these jokes, to realise that they’re not just funny- they say something deep about LIFE. As a consequence people who dislike Rick & Morty truly ARE idiots- of course they wouldn’t appreciate, for instance, the humour in Rick’s existential catchphrase “Wubba Lubba Dub Dub,” which itself is a cryptic reference to Turgenev’s Russian epic Fathers and Sons. I’m smirking right now just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their heads in confusion as Dan Harmon’s genius wit unfolds itself on their television screens. What fools.. how I pity them. 😂
And yes, by the way, i DO have a Rick & Morty tattoo. And no, you cannot see it. It’s for the ladies’ eyes only- and even then they have to demonstrate that they’re within 5 IQ points of my own (preferably lower) beforehand. Nothin personnel kid 😎
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
this just has 'wat' could you d a proper critique please? i would love to see it!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
ok tell me,
how does saying "wat" for a critique help a artist?
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
It helps their self esteem XD
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
What goes up must come down
Yet my feet don't touch the ground
Seeing the world spinning upside down
A mighty crash without a sound
I can feel your every rage
Step aside I'll turn the page
Breaking through your crazy maze
Like a laser beam my eyes on you
Watch me rule the night away
Watch me save the day
Feel my storm is getting close
Heading your way
Sonic Heroes
Sonic Heroes
Bind you confine you defying your reign
Sonic Heroes
Sonic Heroes
Setting the stage for a hero's parade
I won't even hesitate
A second left to alter fate
You try to strike but a bit too late
I got you hooked by my own bait
Watch me rule the night away
Watch me save the day
Feel my storm is getting close
Heading your way
Sonic Heroes
Sonic Heroes
Bind you confine you defying your reign
Sonic Heroes
Sonic Heroes
Setting the stage for a hero's parade
You can bet there ain't no doubt
As the words spill from the mouth of a hero
I can chase another day
Fight you all the way
Like a hero
And together we stand strong no matter how
No one can bring us down...
Sonic Heroes
Sonic Heroes
Bind you confine you defying your reign
Sonic Heroes
Sonic Heroes
Setting the stage for a hero's parade
Sonic Heroes
Sonic Heroes
Give us a reason we'll be on our way
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
[The screen fades in to a shot of desert road, similar to Meet the Sniper. Light flute music plays with a soft drum accompaniment. A slow downwards pan to a crushed Bonk! can is punctured by a brass flourish. Suddenly, a Red Bread truck screeches into view from the right, knocking away the can and fishtails, nearly ripping off its rear bumper. It continues down the left lane.]
[Cut to a right side view of the van. The camera pans from the rear towards the front while a heavy drum beat plays. The logo is pock-marked with bullet holes and the white paint has been scraped off the sides. The camera continues panning and steadies at the van's open air cab, revealing a sleeping Scout and the Heavy hunched over at the wheel.]
[Interior shot of the cab. The windshield has bullet holes on the left and is completely knocked out on the right. The Heavy's bulk is apparent on the left as compared to the Scout's relaxed pose with his feet on the dashboard. Fuzzy dice adorn the rear view mirror. The Heavy continues to drive the van on the right side of the road when the dashboard monitor begins to softly beep.]
[Cut to a side view of the right-hand side of the cab. The Heavy looks disapprovingly at the sleeping Scout. He returns his eyes to the road. The dashboard beeps again and the Heavy hits the Scout without taking his glance off of the road. Shaken, the Scout jerks awake.]
Scout: Gwaa! Bwaa! What?! What? Oh.
[The Scout reaches over and with his right hand, pushes a button on the monitor. It is a video call from Miss Pauling.]
Miss Pauling: Scout, it's Pauling. Tell me you got the briefcase.
Scout: Yeah sure.
Miss Pauling: And nobody saw you?
Scout: Ehhh. [He raises his hands and shrugs his shoulders] Basically nobody.
Miss Pauling: [Her expression darkens] Scout, I'm here right now.
Scout: Well that's a funny story...
[The cab's rear door abruptly opens and the Soldier steps out, and with his right hand, hastily pushes Scout's face into his seat. The Scout throws up his hands, the Heavy is startled and momentarily loses control of the van, and the Soldier takes over the monitor.]
Soldier: [brightly] Hello, Miss Pauling! We killed everyone and took a briefcase!
[He brandishes a BLU briefcase ]
Miss Pauling: Not everybody, Soldier. You left seven witnesses, guys.
[A bloodied hand can be seen in the background reaching for help. Miss Pauling turns and shoots him with a silenced pistol. The hand collapses.]
Miss Pauling: [matter-of-factly] Six.
[The camera cuts to a rear shot of the van pulling into a dirt road flanked by rocky cliffs and several Sentries and a RED-owned building in the distance. A dead BLU soldier can be seen draped on the roof of the van. As the van drives in, a wooden prop of a cactus with some desert plants pops up and a painted curtain background falls into place, disguising the entrance.]
Miss Pauling: [she continues talking as the camera pans] Look, just keep the briefcase safe okay?
[Side shot of the van rolling down a ramp and pulling into a garage. The rear bumper falls off.]
Miss Pauling: Have a good weekend guys.
[Front shot of the van pulling into the garage. A BLU Demoman's boot can be seen sticking out from underneath of the hood which has a hood ornament reading "SWORD". The Heavy looks harassed and brings the vehicle to a stop. The dead BLU soldier slides off the roof. The Heavy leaves the keys in the ignition and exits the van.]
Soldier: [his hand still covering the Scout's face] Goodbye, Miss Pauling! I'm leaving the van now. (Note: captions read "Mrs. Pauling")
[The Soldier disappears into the rear of the van and the door slides closed behind him. Cut shot to the Scout who looks relieved at the hand being removed from his face. He adjusts his hat and headset with both hands. He looks back at the door.]
Scout: Bye bye. Okay then.
[The background music stops and the van grows quiet. The Scout turns back to the monitor.]
Scout: Hey, hey Miss Pauling! Before you go. Ahh-
Miss Pauling: Uh huh?
[She is dragging a body. He stammers and scratches his face.]
Miss Pauling: [distracted] Scout? What? Say something.
Scout: [regains confidence] You're probably real busy this weekend, right?
Miss Pauling: [finished with dragging body, she stands up and wipes the dirt from her hands] Funny you should mention that. Um. Looks like I will be... burying bodies all weekend. [she grabs a Fire Axe and brings her face closer to the camera] So you don't go to jail.
Scout: [stammering] Oh g-good. So...we're both busy.
[Cut to Miss Pauling on the monitor. She looks at him quizzically in silence. He returns the glance awkwardly. Suddenly a siren can be heard in the background with guards shouting. Miss Pauling reacts and turns hurriedly from the camera.]
Miss Pauling: Oh! Got to go.
[She disappears off-camera. Muffled shots can be heard. The monitor buzzes off. Cut back to the Scout with a pained expression on his face. Side view of cab with the Scout leaning back resignedly.]
Scout: Lot of people busy with busyness. (Note: caption reads "business")
[Heavy can be seen in the background, checking the fridge's contents. The Spy walks slowly, passing front of the camera left to right, cigarette in hand.]
Spy: [smugly] Asking out that dial tone again, I see.
Scout: [sitting up and angrily gesturing] Go to hell, Spy.
[He drops his demeanor and looks dejected. He looks down, then chuckles sadly to himself. He gets out of the van. The Heavy takes a drumstick from the fridge and tosses it over his shoulder.]
[The camera pans slowly with the Scout walking left to right from the van to the table. A medium tempo jazz instrumental starts with flute, piano, and drums. He tosses the keys in the air and deftly catches them. The Soldier attempts to extricate the BLU Demoman's body from the hood of the van. The RED Demoman takes a quick spin on the Teleporter and disappears. The Heavy manages to find a Sandvich and leans contently on the fridge door and takes a bite.]
Scout: [gestures to the table which holds another Teleporter, a loaf of bread, and an ashtray] Hey, look at all this. What have you two eggheads been workin' on?
[The Medic and the Engineer are discussing something, but turn to Scout when he addresses them. The Scout tosses the keys. They both glare at him, ignoring the keys which clatter to the floor.]
Scout: Nice catch.
[The Engineer turns to the Medic. He turns to address the Scout while the Medic steps back.]
Engineer: Yeah. Listen now... We've been running some experiments on the Teleporter.
[The Engineer gestures with his head to the Teleporter. The Soldier wanders over, interested. The Heavy remains at the fridge door, eating his Sandvich, but observing.]
Engineer: Well yeah. Y'all ought to take a look at this.
[The flute continues to trill in the background. The Engineer picks up his PDA and activates the Teleporter; it starts whirring into action. The Soldier stands with his arms akimbo. Suddenly, another loaf of bread appears, silently hovering. The Heavy is somewhat intrigued, but the Soldier is utterly amazed, reaching out with both hands to grab the loaf. The Scout, however, is unimpressed.]
Scout: [disinterestedly while the background drum beats a steady tattoo] Wow. You can teleport bread. That is...big news. Um. Is the Demo back with the beer yet? Cause I...
[He turns back while the Medic breaks open the loaf with a sickening crunch. The interior of the loaf contains pulsating green lumps and teeth. The Engineer winces while the Scout yelps and throws his hands in the air. The background music stops]
Scout: Whoa! What the hell is that?!
Medic: [cheerily, gesturing slightly with a half of the throbbing loaf] Tumors!
[Cut to the Heavy. He suddenly looks concerned and stops eating his Sandvich. He eyes it worriedly.]
Engineer: [adjusting his helmet] Y'all know what this means right?
[The Soldier suddenly grabs the Scout by the neck and slams him onto the table.]
Soldier: Arrghh! We cannot teleport bread anymore!
[He nearly chokes the Scout and raises a hand as if to punch his face. The Heavy still leans nonchalantly on the fridge door. The Engineer intervenes raising his hands.]
Engineer: Whoa! Whoa... Not exactly, Soldier. [he places his hand on the Soldier's back and smiles] You teleport as much bread as you like.
[His smile fades and he removes his helmet. Ominous sounding strings start up. The Heavy looks at his Sandvich, sniffs it, shrugs, and continues eating.]
Engineer: That goes for all of ya. If there's something any of y'all wanted to do before ya...Well. Died. Now would be a...good time.
[Suddenly, the Spy's voice is heard. The Engineer turns. Cut to the Spy, languidly brandishing a cigarette from its case]
Spy: How long before these...tumors kill us?
Medic: Vell, let's see. [he gestures, thinking out loud.] Ve all use the teleporter, let's say six times a day...
[Cut to the rest of the team, Scout is still rubbing his sore neck, the Soldier stands stoically, the Heavy still leans on the fridge door, Sandvich now half-eaten, and the Engineer replaces his helmet, backwards as usual. Cut back to the Medic]
Medic: Times four years. Minus...ve're not bread. Hmm.
[He turns abruptly. The Spy is startled]
Medic: Three days. Yes.
[The strings rise to a crescendo while the camera dramatically zooms to the Medic's face. Deep chimes accent the moment]
Medic: We all have three days to live.
[The strings slow then stop. Cut back to the team. The Scout and Heavy look worried while the Engineer looks down at the floor. The Soldier, confused, counts off: one, two...]
Demoman: Whooooooooo!! Woooooo!!
[He appears in a flash from the idle Teleporter. He triumphantly celebrates his arrival with a crate of beer with limes wedged in the necks, his grenades on his vest removed to carry bottles. As his wobbles precariously on the Teleporter as it slows down, we can see that he is also festively clad in a sombrero and novelty Margarita shaped sunglasses while also carrying another beer]
Demoman: Woo. [he looks around at their faces] What?
[Expiration Date Title Card]
[RED BASE: 70 HOURS TIL DEATH Cut to the RED BREAD building. It is now night and a lone Level 1 Sentry guards the entrance. A march-like drum beat plays]
[Cut to a close-up of a poker table. A cigar smolders in the ashtray while the Spy unceremoniously drops a metal pail. It is filled with note cards. A literal bucket list.]
Spy: This is a bucket.
[Cut to a side shot of the mercenaries at the poker table. With the Demoman on the far right in the foreground grasping his bottle, everyone else is arranged counter-clockwise from him: Pyro, Sniper, Heavy, Scout, Soldier, and Spy on the right foreground. Everyone is wearing an odd watch with a large digital display. Half-standing, the Soldier examines the bucket.]
Soldier: Dear God.
Spy: There's more.
Soldier: [astonished] No!
Spy: [ignoring him] It contains the dying wish of every man here. [turns] Scout. You did collect everyone's dying wish?
Scout: Oh, you bet!
[He salutes. The Heavy slowly folds his arms.]
Spy: Excellent. Gentlemen, synchronize your death watches.
[Cut to a close-up of the watch. Red embossing tape declares it a "DEATH CLOCK". The display beeps as the various mercenaries set their watches. It reads 70:00:00. 70 hours left to live and counting. Taps-like trumpet-playing is heard.]
[All the mercenaries are expressionless except for the Heavy who is on the verge of falling asleep with his arms folded. The Spy steps from the front of the table and walks from right to left, lit cigarette in his right hand, and the left firmly clasped behind his back.]
Spy: We have seventy hours to live. For most men, no time at all.
[The camera cuts to a shot of the Spy walking behind Heavy's back. A Payload Pinball machine can be seen in the background. The music swells from mournful to patriotic. He places a hand on the Heavy's shoulder, jerking him awake. The Heavy momentarily looks guilty.]
Spy: We are not most men.
[The Spy now walks behind the table. The camera pans to a shot showing all the mercenaries gathered around the table intently focusing on his words.]
Spy: We are mercenaries. We have the resources. The will. To make these hours count! [he gestures emphatically with his lit cigarette while the trumpets and drum beats swell]
Spy: [sudden close-up while the background music cuts off] The clock is ticking, gentlemen. Let's begin.
[Reverse shot with the bucket in the foreground. The mercenaries' expressions show varying degrees of interest. The Spy draws a note card from the bucket.]
Spy: Our first dying wish is Scout's. [he gestures] He's...
[The Spy examines the card. His brow wrinkles]
Spy: ...drawn a picture of me getting hit by a car.
[The drawing is somewhat crude. The muscle car is drawn in much greater detail than the Spy who is thrown up into the air, becoming disemboweled with blood spurting everywhere.]
Spy: [he peers closer] I have something radiating off of me.
Scout: Yeah, those are stink lines.
[He turns to the rest of the mercenaries in a mock whisper. The Heavy is mildly amused.]
Scout: That's why the car hit him. Cause he smells.
Spy: [rolling his eyes as he draws another card] Yes I see. Here you've drawn me having...
[The camera tastefully remains on his face.]
Spy: [somewhat bemused] ...sexual congress with the Eiffel Tower. [he tosses it and draws another while the Scout giggles] The Eiffel Tower having sexual congress with me. [toss and giggle] Both of us relaxing post-coitus.
[The Demoman confusingly mouths "post-coitus" and the Scout is nearly in tears with laughter.]
Spy: [growing more irritated] I'm crying and the Eiffel Tower has stink lines coming off of it. [he angrily throws the card down] Did anyone besides Scout put a card into the bucket?!
[The Heavy and Sniper are slightly amused. The Scout is near breathless with laughter.]
Scout: [giggling] Oh man, Classic Scout.
Spy: [sighing] Fantastic. This was a huge waste of my time.
Soldier: [pulling out a card] You did not read mine!
Spy: [another sigh] Does it say you want the bucket?
Soldier: [interrupting] Yes!
[Disgusted, the Spy slides the bucket over as the rest of the mercenaries get up to leave. The Soldier greedily grabs the pail with both hands. The camera moves to an overhead shot of the now-empty table as the Spy pulls his Cigarette Case from his jacket and draws a cigarette.]
Spy: See you all in hell. [he snaps the case shut]
[The camera switches to the mercenaries walking down a hallway. The Soldier stops and examines his new bucket next to a sign pointing to the "LAB". Mid-tempo mysterious music plays with rhythmic drums, piano, and plucked strings. The Engineer and Medic walk by pushing Teleporters and piles of bread on two carts to the lab. A loaf of the bread falls off of the pile and Soldier gasps and grabs his bucket more tightly. The camera spotlights the loaf with ominous bass piano notes. A grin appears on his face as he stares at the fallen loaf. The screen cuts to black.]
[SPY'S SMOKING ROOM: 58 HOURS TIL DEATH Cut to rear shot of the Spy sitting back in his leather arm chair. The room is dimly lit with moonlight and the warm glow of the fireplace. The Spy swirls his cut crystal glass and takes a drink whilst reading "Dapper Cadavar Monthly" magazine, as the track of the same name plays in the background. Someone knocks on his door.]
Spy: Go away.
[He flips a page and frowns. The Scout opens the door and peeks in.]
Scout: Hey, ah, you got a second?
Spy: Oh, Scout. Please. Go [bleep] yourself.
Scout: [nervously] Yeah. Hey that's, that's funny. Um. Anyway I-
[The Spy suddenly lunges towards the door, slamming it shut on Scout's body. He leans on it trying to force Scout out.]
Scout: [in pain] Wait! Wait! Wait! Ow. Come on, Spy.
[The Spy raises his knife, threateningly]
Scout: I'm wedging my head through a door here to tell you I'm sorry.
Spy: [rolls his eyes and gets off the door, light chimes and strings play] Make it quick. [he lights a cigarette]
Scout: [straightening himself out] So, I did write down a last wish. [he brings out a card] I'd uh. I'd like to go on a date...with Miss Pauling.
Spy: [turns] You? You're terrible with girls.
Scout: What? No. No. No. Spy, look at this. And this. And this here. Spy, look at all of this. [he gestures to different parts of his body and spins around] Heh. No. I'm great with girls.
[Scene flashes back to a cheap fast food joint. Scout and a busty, blonde haired woman are standing at a counter with buckets of "Conquistador Fried Giblets" brand chicken drumsticks.]
Scout: We both got buckets of chicken. Wanna do it?
Blonde Woman: [shrugs] Eh, okay.
[Scene switches back to Spy and Scout.]
Scout: [frantic yet hushed strings play] But you, Spy. You are amazing with ladies. You know, classy ones. The kind that smell good, and can read. And that always have their glasses on just kind of crooked. You know? The ones that don't go for a guy like me.
[Spy looks at Scout with a smug grin.]
Spy: Hmm, and why is that, do you think?
Scout: C'mon, Spy, I don't know.
Spy: Well, a mystery we will take to our graves then. Goodbye.
[Spy walks away to pour a drink. The bar has several bottles of RED wine, glasses, and a console. He selects a rocks glass to pour a hard liquor.]
Scout: Wait. Wait. Ah. [sigh] Okay. Look. Fine. Spy. This never leaves this room [sigh]. You are better than me. All right? I need your help.
[Spy stops pouring, looks up, and turns towards Scout.]
Spy: I'll do it. On one condition.
[The Spy pushes a button on the console and a microphone pops up. He blows into it, causing feedback which reverberates throughout the building. The camera goes from the poker table with the Demoman drinking, the Heavy and Sniper dozing, and the Pyro reading a magazine; to the Medic and Engineer in a lab, with the tumorized bread; and to Soldier carrying away a giant pile of bread loaves in his arms. All perk up to the sound of feedback on the speakers.]
Spy: Say that [pushes microphone towards Scout] again.
[The strings hold, then fade as the scene cuts to black.]
[TRAINING GYM: 51 HOURS TIL DEATH Camera slowly pans into a nearly empty gymnasium. The Scout bounces on his feet on the right, looking nervous. The Spy calmly places a wine bottle on a cart and inspects two wine glasses. Behind him is a crash-test dummy, hanging on a stand. He places down a glass. Ominous bass strings play.]
[The Scout coughs and the Spy delicately places the second glass down. He pushes the cart which rolls to a stop in front of the Scout. It also holds a bucket of drumsticks, red roses, a vase, and a box of RED chocolates.]
Spy: [nonchalantly] Seduce me.
[The Scout looks back, confused, and turns forward, arms akimbo.]
Scout: You?
Spy: [pointedly] Seduce me.
Scout: What, Spy? I ain't gonna...
Spy: SEDUCE ME!.
Scout: [taken aback] Right! Right. Okay. [He looks down at the cart. He immediately picks up the bucket of fried chicken and lets out a quick sigh.] Okay... [He walks up to the Spy.] H-hey there, good-lookin'... I got a bucket of chicken...
Spy: [He slaps the chicken out of Scout's hands.] I'm not one of your fried chicken tramps! I'm a woman! I like my men dangerous... Mysterious... [Spy takes the dummy into his arms and starts dancing with it briefly before holding it in front of him.] You want to be my lover?! Earn it! Seduce me! [He uses the dummy to slap Scout across the face, who looks up at him with a hurt expression in his eyes. Spy simply looks down at him with a smug grin on his face. An upbeat, funky jazz track starts playing.]
[The camera cuts to a shot of Spy and Scout in a classroom setting. The word DINNER is written on the chalkboard as Spy says something to the Scout. Later, the Scout can be seen sitting at the head of a long banquet table. At the other end, the Demoman and Sniper can be seen playing the Piano and Saxophone, respectively. Behind him, the Pyro and Spy are holding a bottle of wine and a bucket of chicken. Scout reaches for the bucket of chicken with a grin on his face, but Spy slaps his hand away. The fork flies out of his hand and lands on the Demoman's eyepatch, whose other eye immediately widens.]
[Cut back to Spy and Scout in the classroom, only this time DANCING is written on the chalkboard. Back in the previous room, Scout can be seen awkwardly dancing energetically. He points both his fingers at Spy, who merely shakes his head with disgust. The Spy proceeds to show Scout the proper way to dance, while Scout looks on in confusion. He attempts to mimic the Spy's actions, but instead sends the dummy flying into the Reel-to-Reel player behind them.]
[In the classroom, the word DEMEANOR is now written on the board as the Spy continues to educate Scout, who is busy drawing a picture of Spy being shot in the head. He hits Scout in the face with the pointer, who reels back in pain.]
[Scout can be seen reading a book titled Pick-up Lines for Fast Food Junkies. A can of BONK! is set in front of him. Jump cut to the future, and a pile of books has begun to accumulate around Scout, who has a pencil clenched between his teeth. More cans of BONK! can be seen littered around the room, and he is now reading a book titled Dating Nice Girls. Another jump cut, and the pile of books has been turned into a makeshift throne, which the Scout, who has the Bonk Boy on, reclines in it, a more confident expression on his face.]
[Cut to the Scout back at the banquet table, and he extends his pinkie out as he holds the chicken. Later, he can be seen gently kissing the hand of the dummy as the Spy watches. The Scout then can be seen dancing around the room with the dummy. He lowers the dummy down, holding onto its back with one hand as he looks up to Spy, who nods his head in approval. The head of the dummy falls off as the music reaches a crescendo, and Spy eyes it with a bemused expression on his face. Cut to black.]
[TRAINING GYM : 2 HOURS TIL DEATH Floodlights come to life, illuminating the Scout, who is sitting in a classroom chair in the middle of a wrestling ring. After a brief delay, he raises his hand in front of him to shield his eyes from the bright lights.]
Spy: Final Question... [Cut to a shot of Spy, who is silhouetted against the floodlights.] You have a dinner date for seven... what time do you arrive? [He walks across the ring, awaiting Scout's answer.]
Scout: Seven. A.M. Case the restaurant, run background checks on the staff. Can the cook be trusted? If not, I gotta kill him. [He makes a gun formation with his right hand. Spy can be seen walking around Scout as the camera rotates around him in the opposite direction.] Dispose of the body, replace him with my own guy no later than 4:30...
[Spy looks down at Scout, and after a few seconds of thought, speaks...]
Spy: You're ready.
Scout: [hopeful] Really?
Spy: [chucking softly] No. Everything you just said was insane... and, we are out of time. [He sets a glass of liquid in front of the Scout.] Congratulations. You're a failure.
Scout: Oh... [He stands up, bringing the desk with him. He sits back down and slides out of his chair. The Spy rolls his eyes and shakes his head in amusement.] I failed, did I?
Spy: [grinning] Yes.
Scout: Did I?
Spy: Yes...
Scout: Did I?
Spy: [Annoyed] Scout, where is this going?
Scout: Where it's going is I don't need you. I'll put this date on myself!
Spy: [An expression of disbelief crosses his face] Yourself...?
Scout: That's right, fancy pants, myself! [The Spy's mouth twitches as he stops himself from laughing] So why don't you take your little failure, roll it up sideways, and- [The Spy taps his watch, voicelessly reminding Scout of the death watch] -Okay, crap, I gotta go... [He quickly downs the rest of his drink and begins to walk off-screen, but leans back towards the Spy.] Screw you, though... [He walks by an alarm that's labeled In Case of Briefcase theft, push button. As he does so, he turns around, casually hits the button with his fist, and points at the Spy as he walks away. Klaxons start going off and red alarm lights begin flashing.]
[Fade to a shot of the Medic's Laboratory.]
[MEDIC'S LAB : 1 HOUR TIL DEATH]
[The blackboard has the results of previous teleporter experiments written on it. The camera slowly pans to the left, revealing the Engineer and Medic with a pair of teleporters set up between them. As the Medic inspects the teleporter, the Engineer calls out to him.]
Engineer: Y'all ready?
Medic: [Turning to the Engineer] Ready!
[The Engineer picks up a loaf of bread. The tumors are now plainly visible on the outside. He sniffs it briefly, then recoils backwards, making a noise of disgust. He places the bread on the teleporter, and it disappears in a flash of light. About a second later, it reappears in front of the Medic, and begins chittering loudly, squirming in place.]
Medic: Ooh!
[The Medic leans forward with interest. The bread grows teeth and roars at the Medic, who lets out a scream of fear as the bread creature leaps at his throat and latches onto it. The Medic continues to scream as he grabs onto the bread creature and attempts to pry it off.]
Engineer: Aww hell...
[The Engineer walks off-camera as energetic drums start to play in the background. Cut to a shot of Miss Pauling on a scooter, speeding towards RED Base. A body bag and shovel can be seen strapped to the back of it. She ramps off the wooden bush and flies right through the curtain. A look of determination can be seen on her face. She comes to a stop outside a steel plate door and hops off of the scooter, shotgun in hand.]
[RED BASE : 40 MINUTES TIL DEATH]
[As Miss Pauling walks towards the door, the scooter falls onto its side. The severed hand of what is presumably the BLU Heavy falls out of one of the bags. Miss Pauling briefly turns towards the scooter, as if to set it back upright, but instead continues on towards the door. She places her back up against the wall to the left of the door and glances upwards briefly.]
Miss Pauling: [Quickly] You're ready. Alright. [She lets out a deep breath, cocks the shotgun, and pushes the door open, spinning around and bringing the shotgun to Scout's chest, who's waiting for her there.]
Scout: [unconvincingly] Miss Pauling. What an unexpected surprise.
Miss Pauling: They took the briefcase... Don't worry, we can fix this. [She pushes past the Scout, who follows her.] We'll get it back, and the Administrator never has to know.
[A security camera tracks their movements as Miss Pauling adjusts her glasses.]
Scout: You look... You look... aahhhhhh...
[Close up of the camera, then cut to a shot of Demoman, Soldier, and Spy in a room full of monitors, watching the two interact. Spy is sitting in the chair in front of the monitors while Soldier and Demoman stand behind him.]
Demoman: DRUNK!
Soldier: Round! Soft! No, round!
Demoman: Blurry!
[The Spy shakes his head, lowers his eyes, and brings his fingers to his temple in annoyance. Cut back to Scout and Miss Pauling.]
Scout: ...Ravishing.
Miss Pauling: [Briefly glancing over at Scout] Uh-huh. You too. [Brief flash over to Spy, whose gaze returns to the monitor.] Hold on... That's the briefcase right there... Scout, you... [She turns to Scout, then she notices something off-screen.] Scout, are we having a prom?
[Cut to a shot of the room behind them, which is decorated with ribbons, balloons, streamers, and various themed decorations while rocking jazz music plays. One of Medic's doves can be seen sitting in a birdcage hanging from the ceiling.]
Scout: Yeah. Nah. Yeah-ah. Well the... Yeah, the thing is...
[Cut to a shot of Soldier, Spy, and Demo watching the monitors. Soldier has a grin on his face, Demo looks concerned, and Spy looks very worried. Suddenly the Engineer bursts in through the door behind them.]
Engineer: Guys! Hey fellas, listen! It's just bread that gets tumors!
Medic: [Appearing behind the Engineer] It's not even tumors! It's some form of self-aware beauty mark that only metastasizes in an environment of pure wheat. Here, watch this.
[The Medic shakes up the jar he's carrying, which contains the bread creature from earlier. It spins around in the jar and comes to a stop.] Ooh, look! It hates me so much! [The bread creature attempts to bite the Medic again as the Soldier leans in for a closer look. The bread creature flips itself in the jar and gnashes its teeth at the bottom of the container, and the Soldier chuckles to himself at its actions. The Engineer walks up to Soldier and Medic and places his arms around their shoulders.]
Engineer: [Laughing] So, we're fine. As long as nobody teleports any bread.
Soldier: Question.
Engineer: What's your question, Soldier?
Soldier: I teleported bread.
Engineer: You what?
Soldier: You told me to.
Engineer: [Threateningly] How... much...?
Soldier: [Leaning backwards] I have done nothing but teleport bread for three days.
[The Medic throws the jar containing the bread creature onto the ground. Shattering glass can be heard.']
Medic: Where?! [He grabs the Soldier by his coat.] Where have you been sending it?!
[An ominous rumble shakes the entire base as the group look up at the ceiling. Cut to Scout and Miss Pauling, who are also looking up at the ceiling].
Miss Pauling: Scout... I get one day off a year. And you just wasted it on-- [She looks around her, pausing mid-sentence.] --this! Goodbye!
Scout: Wait! Wait! Wait! Ah... [Scout walks towards a door labeled Dining Area.] Why don't we discuss it over dinner...? (Note: captions read "diner")[He opens the door to reveal the maw of a giant bread monster, who lets out a loud roar, all while an epic orchestra plays.]
Miss Pauling: [Yelling] What the hell is that!?
[The bread monster crashes through the door as Scout pulls Miss Pauling out of harm's way. The two run for the exit as the bread monster lunges after them, crashing through a wall. Scout backs up as one of the tentacles swipes at him. The dove from earlier flies at the monster and is promptly eaten by it. The wooden platform they're standing on creaks from the weight of the monster. Both Scout and Miss Pauling look down at the wood below them. Another jolt knocks them off their feet. Now weakened, the wooden platform collapses, sending the trio plummeting to the dirt below. Miss Pauling tumbles unceremoniously to the ground, helmet falling off of her head. The Scout, meanwhile, bounces off the bread monster and lands on his feet in a battle stance. He glances down to his right, and picks up a long piece of twisted metal with a spike on the end of it to use as a makeshift weapon.]
Scout: Miss Pauling, run!
[Scout motions for her to escape to safety. Miss Pauling climbs to her feet and darts away, pressing herself up against the RED payload bomb. Heavy, Medic, and Pyro rush to the aid of Scout and Miss Pauling. Heavy and Medic pause and look at the bread monster with fear in their eyes.]
Heavy: [Turning to the Medic] NOW, DOCTOR!
[Medic looks at the Heavy, then flips the handle of his Medi Gun. The healing beam latches onto the Heavy, and the Medi Gun crackles with energy as the ÜberCharge is deployed. Heavy revs his mini-gun up and walks towards the bread monster, firing his weapon. The Pyro can also be seen engulfing the monster in flames. It smashes the cliff face with a tentacle, causing rock to come tumbling down on the Heavy, who ducks to avoid it.]
[Cut to a shot of Miss Pauling watching the battle. The Pyro can be seen dashing back to the battle, having presumably been knocked back by the bread monster. Miss Pauling steps forward and turns to look at the bomb. The camera zooms in on the top of the bomb where the words DANGER: BOMB are spray-painted onto it. A look of realization appears on her face.]
[Cut back to the battle, and the Pyro stomps on one of the tentacles. The bread monster turns his attention towards the Pyro, and immediately has its mouth filled with fire. It recoils in pain, letting out a loud roar. Scout can be seen dodging the tentacles, jumping onto one and using his makeshift weapon to impale one of the other tentacles. The Engineer smacks his Sentry Gun with his wrench, upgrading it to Level 2, and he motions for Demoman to join the battle as well.]
[Miss Pauling has now removed the panel off of the detonation mechanism of the bomb, and can be seen frantically messing with the wires. Scout, meanwhile, runs up to the side of the bread monster and slams his club into it. He then gets grabbed by a tentacle and is yanked into the air. The Sniper arrives at the battle, and after a brief moment of aiming, shoots the tentacle holding Scout, freeing him from its grasp. The monster throws Scout at the Demoman, and they both collapse onto the ground. The Scout scrambles to his feet and rushes forward, but is stopped by an uncloaking Spy.]
Spy: I think it's going pretty well... [He gives the Scout a pat on the back as a cloud of dust rolls over them.] Now go...! [He waves the Scout off and runs forward into battle. Scout turns back to Miss Pauling.]
Scout: Hey, Miss Pauling. Oh, I am so sorry...
Miss Pauling: [Looking up from the wires] God, Scout, what for? Pressing the one button you're never supposed to press? Do you have any idea what's in a briefcase that-- [Miss Pauling spots the watch on Scout's arm] --Oh, oh! Give me your watch! [She holds her hand out expectantly]
Scout: Yeah. Exactly! [He removes the watch from his arm and gives it to Miss Pauling] See, that is where this all starts! No, actually, wait...
[The Scout is interrupted by a scream, and the Soldier flies into the hangar and lands on the ground.]
Soldier: [proudly] HA HA HA! I TELEPORTED BREAD!
[Soldier is grabbed by a tentacle, dragged over towards the monster, and then thrown into a pile of broken lumber. The Sniper attempts to take another shot at the monster, but instead is lifted into the air by a tentacle that has grabbed a hold of the barrel of the rifle. He gets swung to one side and loses his grip on his gun. The Sniper tumbles through the gravel briefly before getting back to his feet and taking out his Kukri. He's about to rush forward to attack the monster, but pauses as the RED Bomb trundles into view.]
Scout: ...so that brings me to the point of this story, which is I like you, and you should probably be sitting for this...
Miss Pauling: GUYS! CLOSE THE BLAST DOORS! [She points at the hangar they just exited from.]
[Engineer looks at her, then abandons his Sentry, which is now Level 3, to rush into the hangar. The Medic runs in front of the camera as it focuses back on Scout and Miss Pauling.]
Scout: Miss Pauling. Look, my last few hours I just wanted...
[The bread monster grabs a hold of the bomb and swings it around in the air. It lets out another roar.]
Heavy: [Struggling to keep the blast doors open] COME ON!
Scout: Um, never mind...
Miss Pauling: RUN!
[The two rush towards the hangar, but they get cut off by the payload bomb being thrown at the blast doors, bending them and denying them access.]
Scout: Oh God...
[They back up towards the blast doors as the bread monster lumbers towards them slowly. A large fire has broken out behind it. Cut to a close-up of Scout and Miss Pauling. Scout is busy searching for an escape route while Miss Pauling has a look of terror on her face. Scout grabs a hold of her and yanks her off to one side as the bread monster knocks the bomb around. They take shelter behind it. Scout looks at the monster, which lets out a long roar. Fast zoom to the inside of its mouth, and the dove it swallowed earlier is seen sitting inside it. Scout and Miss Pauling look on, amazed, as the dove takes off and flies away.]
[Miss Pauling looks Scout in the eyes, grabs a hold of his arm, and gives him a nod of approval. She lets out a yelp as one of the bread monster's tentacles slams into the ground. Scout grabs a hold of her and, making use of the dance moves he learned from Spy, keeps her safe from harm. They stop as he holds her up and looks at her. She looks back at him for a few moments, then shoots an oncoming tentacle with the gun in her hand. He twirls her back onto her feet and the two start running.]
[Cut to a close-up of the timer, which ticks down to two seconds. Scout and Miss Pauling run at the bread monster as she lets out a yelp. The timer ticks down to one second as they leap straight into the open maw of the monster. It closes its mouth as the bomb explodes. A bright flash of light can be seen engulfing the monster, then the screen cuts to black.]
[A match is lit, revealing Scout and Miss Pauling pressed up against each other in a dark enclosed space.]
Scout: [Struggling] Aaahhhh... Ah... Miss Pauling, you all right?
Miss Pauling: [Opening her eyes] I can't feel anything below my neck...
Scout: Oh God...
Miss Pauling: Oh. Now I can feel it. Ow. Ow.
Scout: Oh God, I am so sorry. This is...
Miss Pauling: That... was so... much... FUN! [A smile forms on her face]
Scout: [A look of confusion on his face] You're not mad?
Miss Pauling: [quickly] I was furious. Oh my God, you set off the briefcase alarm and you were having a prom for some reason. But then there was this monster and we shot it and we built a bomb and I think my leg's broken. Can we do this again?
Scout: Yeah, sure! [He smiles, then it quickly turns into a frown] Wait, nah. We can't. I'm going to be dead.
Miss Pauling: [Confused] Wait, what?
Soldier: [Poking his head into the cavity] Good news! We're not dying! We are going to live forever!
[The Heavy lifts up the side of the monster's body, allowing light to flood over Scout and Miss Pauling.]
Medic:I didn't say that! I just said we're not filled with tumors!
Scout: Oh thank God. [relaxes and chuckles] So yeah, Miss Pauling. I guess it's a date.
Miss Pauling: Actually this is my only day off this year.
Scout: Oh...
Miss Pauling: Oh, but you can ride along with me on some jobs. [brings out a flip notebook]
[The camera slowly pulls back to reveal the body of the monster, which now lays motionless. Engineer and Medic are seen at the bottom of the shot discussing something. Spy flicks open his disguise kit, plucks a cigarette out of it, then snaps it closed again. Heavy grabs one of the detached tentacles and heaves it off to one side, then walks over to the Demoman, who is carrying a case of beer under his arm. The Sniper is on the backside of the monster, cleaning his Kukri. As the camera pulls back farther, the Pyro can be seen coming into the shot, who has the small bread monster darting around his legs like a puppy as he tries to keep track of it.]
Miss Pauling: Tomorrow...I'm belt sanding the fingerprints off a pile of corpses.
Scout: Ah, no.
Miss Pauling: Oh! You can help me yank the molars out of a box full of heads.
Scout: No to that.
Miss Pauling: Well, on Friday I got to kill someone who pressed a briefcase alarm button and...oh.
[Cut to black]
Miss Pauling: You're already going to be at that one.
[The screen then cuts to a text with the Team Fortress 2: Free to Play logo with the sharp tolling of a bell. Another ring comes with the appearance of the text "www.teamfortress.com". The bell rings a third time and the screen blacks out again]
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Do you owe more than 10,000 dollars to the IRS or stated back taxes? Hi, I'm Max from Blue Tax! Due to the current economy, the IRS' state taxing cha-chings are being more lenient, but this won't last long. Here's how it works, let's say you owe, 20,000 dollars. With Blue Tax, this is what your settlement can look like! Great, right? There are many really programs that tax payers just don't know about, and you can wind up paying way less than you owe! Our team of attorneys and a row of agents can: Negotiate settlements, lift bank levies, remove wage garnishments, eliminate penalties and interest, and reduce back payroll taxes. And at Blue Tax, we mean business! Those are my tax attorneys, and they don't mess around. They'll call the IRS' state and your cab will negotiate your settlement for you! It's that easy. So call us right now for free consultation at 800-840-1675. Or visit WWW.BLUETAX.COM. And remember you heard it from me, Max! At Blue Tax! Hmm hmm hmm! 800-840-1675.
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How can you see into my eyes like open doors?
Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb
Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home
(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
Bid my blood to run
(I can't wake up)
Before I come undone
(Save me)
Save me from the nothing I've become
Now that I know what I'm without
You can't just leave me
Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life
(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
Bid my blood to run
(I can't wake up)
Before I come undone
(Save me)
Save me from the nothing I've become
Bring me to life
(I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside)
Bring me to life
Frozen inside without your touch
Without your love, darling
Only you are the life among the dead
All this time I can't believe I couldn't see
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything
Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul
Don't let me die here
There must be something more
Bring me to life
(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
Bid my blood to run
(I can't wake up)
Before I come undone
(Save me)
Save me from the nothing I've become
Bring me to life
(I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside)
Bring me to life
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ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS
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Young man, there's no need to feel down
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground
I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town
There's no need to be unhappy
Young man, there's a place you can go
I said, young man, when you're short on your dough
You can stay there, and I'm sure you will find
Many ways to have a good time
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
They have everything for you men to enjoy
You can hang out with all the boys
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
You can get yourself clean, you can have a good meal
You can do what about you feel
Young man, are you listening to me?
I said, young man, what do you want to be?
I said, young man, you can make real your dreams
But you got to know this one thing
No man does it all by himself
I said, young man, put your pride on the shelf
And just go there, to the YMCA
I'm sure they can help you today
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
They have everything for you men to enjoy
You can hang out with all the boys
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
You can get yourself clean, you can have a good meal
You can do what about you feel
Young man, I was once in your shoes
I said, I was down and out with the blues
I felt no man cared if I were alive
I felt the whole world was so tight
That's when someone came up to me
And said, young man, take a walk up the street
There's a place there called the YMCA
They can start you back on your way
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
It's fun to stay at the YMCA
They have everything for you men to enjoy
You can hang out with all the boys
YMCA you'll find it at the YMCA
Young man, young man, there's no need to feel down
Young man, young man, pick yourself off the ground
YMCA, it's fun to stay at the YMCA
Young man, young man, are you listening to me
Young man, young man, what do you wanna be?
YMCA, you'll find it YMCA
No man, young man, does it all by himself
Young man, young man, put your pride on the shelf
YMCA, and just go to the YMCA
Young man, young man I was once in your shoes
Young man, young man I was down with the blues, YMCA
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Mmmmmmmmmmmm mmmm
Mmmmmmmmm ummmmmm
ah
MmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmMmmmmmmm Aiuh
MmmmmmmmmmMmmmmmmmmMMMMmm Aiouh
Uuuuuuu Uuuuuu Uuu Uaaah
Uuuuu uUuuuuU uu Uaaah
MmmmmmmMmmmmm Aiah
MmmmmmmmmmmMmmmmmmmMMmmmm Aiah
Uuuu Uuuu Uuuu Uuuu Uaaah
Uuuuuuu Uuuu Uuuuuuuu uuuu UuuUAH
Mmmmmmmmm Uh AhAhahah
Uuaaahoooouuuhh
Mmmmmyyaaaahhhh
Mmmmmmm
Mmmmmmmm Mmmmmmmuuuaaoooo
MmmmmAaaaueeeeeuuuuu
do
J'aime faire des croquettes au chien
Laaa
Laaaaaa LAa Laaa
La Laaaa
Laaaa LaaLaaLaaaa
LA LA la
Laaaaa
Laaaaa LAaaaLaaa
Laa
La
Laaaaaa Laa LAaaaa
LA
Laaaa
La La Laaaa
MmmmmmmmmmmMMmmmmmmmmmmAaauuiiiooo
MmmmMmmmMmmmmmmmmmAiaia
DudududududududududuUuuuuUUUUUUU
MmmmmmmmmmMmmmmMmmmmmAiah
MmmmmmmmmmmmMmmmMmmMmmmmAiah!
Aouuuuhhh
Ummmmmmmm Mmm MmmmmmMmmm
MmmmmAaaaauuuuoooooooo
Aaaaaaooooooouuuuuu
Aaaaaaaeeeeaaaaeeeeooooo
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Since you never gave a damn in the first place
Maybe it's time you had the tables turned
'Cause in the interest of all involved I got the problem solved
And the verdict is guilty
Man nearly killed me
Stepping where you fear to tread
Stop, drop and roll
You were dead from the git-go
Big-mouth fucker
Stupid cocksucker
Are you scared of me now?
Then you're dumber than I thought
Always is, never was
Foundation made of piss and vinegar
Step to me, I'll smear you, think I fear you?
Bullshit, just another dumb punk chomping at this tit
Is there any way to break through the noise?
Was it something that I said that got you bent?
It's gotta be that way if you want it
Sanity, literal profanity hit me!
Spit it out!
All you wanna do is drag me down!
All I wanna do is stamp you out!
Spit it out!
All you wanna do is drag me down!
All I wanna do is stamp you out!
Maybe it's the way you spread
A lotta rumor fodder
Keeping all your little spies
And leaving when you realize
Step up, fairy
I guess it's time to bury your ass
With the chrome
Straight to the dome
You heard me right, bitch
I didn't stutter
If you know what's good
Just shut up and beg, brother
Backstab
Don't you know who you're dissing?
Side swipe
We know the ass that you're kissing!
Biggity-biggity bitch boy, halfwat Hauser
Don't hear shit 'cause I keep getting louder
Come up, and you get a face full of tactic
Lipping off hard, going home in a basket
You got no pull, no power, no nothing
Now you start shit, well, ain't that something?
Payoffs don't protect, and you can hide if you want
But I'll find you coming up behind you!
Spit it out!
All you wanna do is drag me down!
All I wanna do is stamp you out!
Spit it out!
All you wanna do is drag me down!
All I wanna do is stamp you out!
About time I set this record straight
All the needlenose punching is making me irate
Sick of my bitching falling on deaf ears
Where you gonna be in the next five years?
The crew and all the fools, and all the politics
Get your lips ready, gonna gag, gonna make you sick
You got dick when they passed out the good stuff
Bam are you sick of me, good enough, had enough
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Fuck me!
I'm all out of enemies!
Spit it out!
All you wanna do is drag me down!
All I wanna do is stamp you out!
Spit it out!
All you wanna do is drag me down!
All I wanna do is stamp you out!
Spit!
Spit!
Spit!
Spit!
Spit it out!
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That would totally explain this.
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Hey could you not have critique available if no one will take it seriously?
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Wubbzy lives in a tree
He likes to play, play, play
He's got a bendy tail
And he likes it that way
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Widget is his friend
She likes to build
She hammers and she saws
And her toolbox is full!
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Walden is their friend
He's really smart
He knows about science
And books and art
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Wubbzy and Widget
And Walden are friends
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
And when they get together
The fun never ends
Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Wubbzy! Wubbzy!
Wow! Wow!
Wow! Wow!
Wow! Wow! Wow!
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