I wrote this in 11th grade for English class. Up to this point, it's the only essay I've ever written that got an A, even though it's very flawed. We were assigned to write a personal essay, and could write about anything we wanted, and as soon as I got the approval, I immediately started writing. Normally, in this section, I would divulge every single detail I can remember about writing this, but this time, I'll let you, the reader, make those inferences if you wish. Today, I return home and my first year of college is concluding. I'm posting this completely unedited, as it was originally written when I first turned it in.
I’m a pessimistic person. It’s a known fact. I can recall maybe a few things of my childhood that are precious enough to exhibit on a photo album with Precious or Treasured Memories already printed on the cover, with the same elegant font. You would think companies like that wouldn’t switch it up every once in a while. My whole childhood does resonate in my mind frequently, but it’s a painful, killing motion just like firing a pistol in an enclosed space and hearing the booming noise of the Liberty Bell smacking against both sides of your brain. Don’t get me wrong, the whole freedom of being a child was certainly enjoyable(along with the occasional tantrum), but I seriously can’t find many defining moments in the past 17 years that would be worth mentioning casually at dinner. But…there have been some.
Toy Story is my favorite film of all time. Many would scoff at such a decision, same as I would scoff at them for laughing at the “funniest thing ever” only for that position to be usurped in a day. I can imagine the emperor, in the shape of a banana peel, choking and coughing on a drink served to him by “knock knock joke”. I still remember, vividly, when I was only 3 yrs. old, the family took out the new Nissan ‘95 model for a spin, which is no longer as magnificent and powerful as it once was. We drove to a Jons marketplace, though not the one close to where we live, my parents saw the cardboard standup of Buzz flying as high as his aspirations, with Sheriff Woody, tightly grabbing Buzz’s leg, and praying that he doesn’t fall. My parents just couldn’t resist that tempting cardboard and bought the movie, in Spanish. We came home, we turned on our television set, vrrrring then clicking to reveal the snow, turned on the VCR set, and then I fell in love. I was captivated by the characters, the colors, the humorous actors and situations, the wonderful music, and finally, the credits. The whole movie was absolutely perfect, and it was a position that I never challenged, even in my later years, as an obnoxious, pessimistic teenager. There are just too many classic moments to recall in that film: Woody’s meeting with the toys, the plastic army men performing an impressive espionage mission, and John Ratzenburger with his amazing voice, being supplied to the classic know-it-all, Hamm. It wasn’t just a small role for John. And who could forget ol’ Forrest Gump himself, Mister Tom Hanks? Tom is my favorite actor and though I’ve seen him in many movies, I hereby declare his career defining performance to being the voice of Sheriff Woody. I know some will disagree…I know many will disagree, but I can’t help but just want to state that as a fact, since it is a fact, a factual fact. Anyway, Toy Story is one of the few defining moments of my childhood. After seeing that movie, I began drawing and haven’t stopped yet. It’s become one of my most enthusiastic endeavors, alongside writing. My dream is to create as a story as beloved as Toy Story, and one that makes its permanent mark in the film industry and the world. Such high aspirations for such a low thinker.
Something happened upon re-watching Toy Story upon finally becoming seventeen. People claim that I obsess over the most ridiculous details. But one particular detail from the movie struck me like a harpoon, piercing the durable flesh off a whale in the middle of a thunderous storm. For much time, I enjoyed the joke that Etch N Sketch draws the lamp that Woody used to push Buzz out the window. Oh, wait. It’s not a lamp, is it? For most of my life, that’s what I wanted to imagine it was. Toy Story was a cute film with adorable characters that had problems that get resolved in the end like a fairy tale. Toy Story is also an unapologetic human drama that explores the rawest emotions that toys can develop. It was then, I realized but refused to accept, Etch N Sketch drew a noose, fit for the most bastardy scoundrel. Even the most wonderful part of my childhood had grown up. (There’s also a kiss ass joke and a vulgar joke but that doesn’t pertain here.)
Growing up is a challenge. That sentence has been written and typed by many people, in different ways, and can be considered as the eponymous statement of the century, but only since it’s true. For a long time I wanted to consider the noose as a lamp, not only due to its shape, but because it would just make more for sense for me as an ignorant 10 year old, who wanted to believe that everything was okay when his mother told him so, even when it clearly wasn’t. Toy Story is a film that has grown up alongside with me over time. I can now find different, sophisticated reasons to appreciate the wonders that this film delivers. However, the first time I found out that it was a noose, I laughed. Hard. At 11: 00 pm. With no one else around to ask me what the joke was. But after laughing, I started shivering. Shaking. I felt like my joke was macabre, offensive, as a badly worded Holocaust joke which for the record, I have tried on several occasions. I always get blank stares. When at one point, as a kid, I thought about how awesome the rocket scene in the movie was, now when I think of Toy Story, I thinking about Bo Peep saying, “why don’t I get someone else to watch the sheep tonight?” and then Woody laughs as awkwardly, yet as teasingly as he could. What a horn-dog. I can’t even blame that kind of thinking as simply being immature, now I’m challenging the logic of reproduction with these plastic figures. I can’t even believe I just typed that sentence.
It’s a difficult transition to go through in gaining such responsibility, a word I hereby nominate as severely overused. When, at an early age, you begin to draw outside the lines or play in the sandbox with the kid and his little red truck, suddenly you’re presented with explaining why you drew outside the lines and designing that same red truck or even improving its design. Much like my progression with the movie, it seems that many of the films choices are no longer adorable or frightening just because that’s how the movie was made, with no previous planning. Now, I realize the guys at Pixar are geniuses at what they do, but they fight and struggle with their choices as much as any other career does. The guys at Pixar are the same as the race car driver, the choreographer, or the scientist. Woody wasn’t the handsome cowboy we know and love at one point, originally he was a cynical, snarky, rude, short-tempered ventriloquist doll who looked frighteningly like Chucky. Also, my idol, director John Lasseter and his team went through hundreds of drafts for Woody’s first line in the movie. His first line! To think it must’ve taken weeks for them to come up with, “Pull my string. The birthday party’s today?” Geniuses. That’s the only way I can describe them. I’ve decided, half-heartedly, that I want to become an animator, but I’m still not absolutely confident I can pull such a thing off. Hell, it’s taken me 16 years to realize that I should write my thoughts down…on paper. Not just say it to people and hope they like it, but to…write…it…down. And it took me 17 years to finally understand what I’m supposed to be figuring out for essays, which is still such a struggle. In trying to articulate my thoughts as coherently as possible, I have taken the first step towards maturity. But if seeing those moments in Toy story makes me uncomfortable and even traumatic, am I capable of taking that step? Can I fathom what a drop that step will be? I predict it’ll be, at least, a 30,000 foot drop, with the cartoon smoke that always dooms Wile E. Coyote.
As a little kid, I found myself negatively obsessed with Toy Story. Now let me explain what that means. Just like any franchise, I found myself purchasing whatever product I could from the toy store that was about Toy story. I even bought the Luxo ball so that I could bounce on it, even though the weight distribution would prompt immediate death and a frightening squeal from the ball. I was as abusive as the psychosomatic maniac, Sid, when it came to the treatment of my “prized” Toy Story figures. I remember on a cloudy day, nothing like Andy’s room’s wallpaper, where if weather reflected emotions, it would be pitch black. For no impertinent reason, I walked to the middle of the driveway, holding my Buzz Lightyear with both hands, and shouting “To Infinity and Beyond!” hurling Buzz through the air almost 20 feet. He was a spaceman and had been trained to handle such intense forces of gravity, but he was also made of PLASTIC-Kkk and couldn’t survive the flight back down to cruel mother earth even he tried to. I was always careful, and when I knew I couldn’t catch the spaceman, I didn’t try to. I would be absolutely traumatized if I saw Buzz penetrating the rock-solid concrete at such a frightening speed, no one to help him as his carefully designed buttons and features would scatter across the place, cracking and breaking into indiscernible bits. I rarely swear in public if it’s only a stream of curse words with no subject, verb, or meaning. Saying it just for the sake of saying it, but I promise that I would frighten the poor bastard for daring to rape the integrity of that beautiful film by doing just as the film’s villain had, and not realizing the significance of these wonderful characters. Then again, I was 4. I wasn’t thinking about rape nor did it ever occur to me to type, write, or say the word. It even confounds me that such a word even exists or that it’s always thrown out in public like “the” or “and”. I’ve never heard of a conversation that didn’t contain either word, and can’t imagine anyone trying it, even for some kind of viral recognition. YouTube is making just too easy for anyone to become recognized, and that wouldn’t be a problem for me if the people being recognized were worthy of being recognized. Such random exposure to things like in YouTube would’ve confused and possibly annihilated the curiosity of a 4 years old toy torturer/space explorer that he would never want to think about anything else since he’d realize just how horrible and unapologetic any word, term, or phrase can be. What he had once thought as innocent, millions of others see as a destructive, poisonous force.
But I’m being pessimistic. The film, no doubt, has some of its morals intact, memorable life lessons that I will remember forever since people won’t stop repeating them. You can stop telling me to be myself; I learned that lesson a long time ago. Strangely enough, I can’t find myself to stop making the connections between Toy Story and A Streetcar named Desire. At first glance, yes this comparison is not worthy of being compared. The two movies have absolutely no possible way of being compared, and without even…Okay, I’ll stop now. Blanche Dubois was someone who didn’t want to let go of what her life had established, a reputation of a life that had no chance of evolving into this time period, a woman with her moth-like gestures trying to suck up as much of the spotlight as she can, yet not allowing it to consume her in a blanketed inferno that no soul would try to put out. I know that sounds confusing so…let’s try that again. Blanche is a misunderstood woman, living in a city she misunderstands, trying to find an explanation that justifies all of her torment. As it turns out, Blanche never finds this justification and is thrown into the mental institution, even though she was the sanest of the other characters. Arguably. Favorable spaceman Buzz Lightyear went through the same mental scenario; arriving in Andy’s room, he captures the attention of all but one toy, the most resilient one who won’t dare to move from his established position. Yes, Woody is Stanley Kowalski and better yet, Marlon Brando would’ve seen the connection as well. Heh, imagine if Woody shouted like Stan-oh wait… “YOU… ARE… A…TOY!!!” Brando would’ve been proud. Anyway, both Buzz and Blanche search for their identities without doing so, but are forced to confront reality when it is the most and only appropriate solution to their ongoing conflicts. Pixar took risks by placing Woody and Buzz in that dramatic and Oscar-worthy scene, where both on the toys “death row”, contemplate their previous actions and (realize what they had been missing all their lives). It’s truly a noteworthy scene that…well, I don’t remember if I did cry the first time I saw it, but I promise that it would make me emotional if I saw it today or even years or decades later. Woody is talking the whole time, but Buzz never looks up, even to relax his neck, just…thinking. Even the actors mention that Buzz is legitimately depressed at this moment and it seems that nothing can pull him out of it. This moment is Blanche’s moment at the very end of Streetcar, though not done quite as graphically, but just as emotionally, and on some days, I feel like I’ve been strapped onto that rocket, and I don’t care about how heavy or volatile the rocket may be, but all I know is that rocket is the only thing it takes for my life to end, in a fiery explosion, in a blocked out state of mind, in a reality that has lied to me for the last time. But…Pixar does what I can’t even do without some kind of help. They remind me that there is someone nearby who can help, a cowboy, sitting under a crate just a foot away, standing as the brightness of the morning sky clears away the thickest fog painted onto the window, pushing with all of the might his stuffy arms and delicate exterior can exact onto the crate. Woody pushes, the uplifting music joining him, pushes, pushes, and then Buzz joins him, and they push, and push, and then Woody is freed, and then Buzz keeps pushing and then… Classic movie moment. The moment is purely physical comedy, but it’s done with such finesse and nostalgic brilliance that I promise I will laugh at that sequence every single time it happens. Woody may be my favorite character, but you have to have to laugh at yourself every once in a while. Woody’s expression just as the toolbox falls on him is just classic. God, I love this movie!
Yes, I have been…a little pessimistic throughout the whereabouts of my life, and now that I think about it, I’ve been unfair to myself. But it hasn’t been my entire fault. Life has been a constant struggle that challenges me every day to do something worthwhile. Life can be pretty damn annoying in that sense. I mean, I can’t even take a 5 minute break without life telling me that I should stretch out my arms in order to get more comfortable. I just typed a…2, 637-ah, make that 8, word essay and life still wants me to keep working. At this point in time, I will freely admit that I have been disappointingly lazy, despite my sudden interest in everything except academics, so that could be a factor for not wanting to work. But, also, work can’t be the only factor of my life, and Pixar knows this. Their careers encapsulate everything I dream of accomplishing in the future, and my appreciation for their remarkable and ingenious contribution to films will be everlasting. But that’s not what my childhood was about. No, my childhood was about the story of two toys, which were different from one another, who learned to accept each other as individuals, and become lifelong friends. I will admit part of that sentence was said by Tom Hanks in a television interview, and I paraphrased it…a little, but I do respect Tom that much to confess, and to acknowledge that he explained the meaning of the film better than I could. All right, I give it another shot. Toy Story is about a group of toys that have an undying appreciation for their imaginative owner Andy; it’s also about human struggles, the search for oneself in an ever-changing world, and the complications that plague their lives constantly. It’s a wonderful, beautiful film that I cannot help, but look back on sometimes when I want a simplified explanation to life, and sadly, for this, the film no longer delivers. But that is my fault since my personal philosophy can be connected back to the movie (and Curb Your Enthusiasm), and everyone knows that philosophy tends to be complicated. What it does deliver is something that, even after all these years, I still can’t directly explain, gives me a renewed appreciation for the wonders of life, and reminds me of the imaginative potential that everyone is capable of. There are exceptions, small ones. It’s a movie that reminds me that toys are not just a product of commercialism as we’ve forced ourselves to believe in trying to seem mature, but that toys are the only aspect of our lives that we have an eternal connection to, a never-ending wire that can reach long and beyond the end of the universe, a cementation of our souls that we will always love, no matter how much more complicated the world becomes. I love Toy Story, and… will never forget the permanent influence it’s given me, for it is not simply a 76 minute long strand of film. Toy Story is me, and as far as I know, that’s a pretty good thing.
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
P106-The Car Accident(Rough Draft)
Harold gets into a car accident and is forced to walk down the 405 while
trying to remember how the accident happened, trying to deliver an
important package to the closed post office, and trying to deliver a
gallon of milk for his wife.
This is something I've promised for a very long time, one of the few Presenter episodes that I thought had such potential that it would be worth writing about, but ultimately, like all of my ambitious ideas, it blew apart the minute I realized I wouldn't be up to the task of writing an entire episode, plus, the creative spark that lead to the episode's inception just hasn't returned in a versatile way. Despite those shortcomings, to satisfy the "audience" I have, I will post the incomplete first draft of the episode. Things to note: this draft only has half of the ideas from the original premise. Things that weren't included is a scene of 3-4 minutes of Harold talking to the milk as though it was his companion, similar to how I talk to myself in a state of paranoia when I'm alone for a period of time; another scene is where Harold is picked by a friendly stranger but kicked out when Harold decides to eat only a third of a candy bar; and even the original premise didn't have an ending. Admittedly, this premise borrows heavily from elements of Curb Your Enthusiasm, only exaggerated to levels even Larry David would never consider. The dialogue isn't as "fresh" as I remembered when I first tried to write this and may seem to be more disturbing than hilarious. Maybe I've become a harsh self-critic but recently, everything I've written hasn't been up to my standards, whatever those may be. Also, Season 3 will be posted very soon, but it will be the last season. I do love the premise of the Presenters, but I think it's time to move on. With that said, don't take this script very seriously as everything written is only for the sake of comedy, even if it's unfunny comedy. Thanks for reading and enjoy (if you do). Comments are always welcome.
Things (in parenthesis) are alternatives to lines written. They also indicate actions the characters make. A (weird) running joke is that Harold's wife doesn't have a name. This issue is addressed with in a later episode.
(Amateur Version) A blank screen. Unlike previous episodes, it opens with the theme from Curb Your Enthusiasm. The song plays for several seconds until cutting to a flashing siren and a loud wail. We cut to tow officers discussing the wreckage. Another cut shows the 405 still active although there's a noticeable curve of red lights and a patch of red, blue, and white. Another cut shows a car that has been flipped upside down. The camera moves towards the front of the car and the vague representation of fingers curled around the wheel. At this point, the song abruptly stops; a close up reveals Harold, still grabbing tightly onto the wheel, eyes blank and staring straight ahead at the road or sky. He looks quickly to the left and the right and unbuckles his seat belt. His body drops onto the floor, and his head bounces off the surface. In a panic, he searches around his car, and sees a gallon of milk, still strapped in the back seat. He carefully unbuckles it and grabs once it drops. An outside shot shows the side door trembling until a foot pushes it out. Harold carefully crawls out of the car. Once out, he turns back and sees the wreckage just as a fire ignites from the underside.
Harold: Hmm...
Harold sees an officer making a call and walks up to him.
Harold: Scuse me.
Officer #1: Hm?
Harold: Are you busy?
Officer 1: A little. Wait just a second.
Harold waits and checks on the damage of the car. A weird feeling creeps in on Harold and he begins coughing and hacking up loudly. Off camera, he spits out his cell phone.
Officer 1: Sir, what seems to be the problem?
Harold: (cleaning up the spit with his sleeve) Uh, well, I was the person who just had an accident. I, uh, climbed out of my car. I might have damaged my internal organs!
Officer 1: Sir, calm down. You look fine. Please return to your vehicle.
Harold: Is that a joke?!
Officer 1: Yes. Terrible, isn’t it?
Harold: Where are the paramedics? I, I need to get checked out. Something might be out of place!
Officer 1: Straight ahead. And don’t scream in front of an officer. You could be seen as a threat. (walks away)
Harold: (raises his hand) Won’t do that again. Sorry. (under his breath) Asshole.
Harold turns again to see the damage on his vehicle. (He pulls his wallet out and whimpers upon realizing the amount it will be to repair his car, or at least to be sold to a foolish buyer). Harold sees the paramedics.
Harold: Uh, scuse me?
Paramedic 1: What’s the problem, sir?
Harold: well, I just got into an accident and I was wondering if I might have any broken bones, or anything in that criteria.
Paramedic 2: What criteria?
Harold: Well, you know, the physical damage to the body. Look, can you just check me?
Paramedic 1: (shrugging at Paramedic 2) You look fine. Most people probably couldn’t walk up to us if their bones were broken. You did, so…
Harold: Walking is nothing! I might’ve gotten a temporary dose of adrenaline. My stomach might’ve been pierced. My small intestine twisted up! Please, just a quick checkup!
Paramedic 2: Sir!! You’re fine! Now, please, we have to see if everyone else is okay.
Harold: And who could that be?! I have the only upside down car right now!
Paramedic 1: Sir!
Harold: All right. God! (walks away)
Harold feels a rumble in his pants. He checks his phone. A close-up shows 6 missed calls from the Editor.
Harold: Oh, shit. (pushes send) ...helloooo?
The Editor: Harold, what the fuck happened to you? When I call a person, I expect him to fucking answer!
Harold: I know, I know. I’m sorry. I…I just got into an accident and-
The Editor: Harold, (don’t start flinging this shit in my direction). You’re supposed to be the reliable one.
Harold: I know.
The Editor: For God’s sake, I have to constantly hear this hullabaloo from those idiots you call friends and suddenly I get the same fucking routine from you?
Harold: Sir, it’s not a routine. I was driving down the 405 in a hurry, I black out for a second, and suddenly I’m upside down-
The Editor: Harold, you’re full of shit. Listen, I need you to do something for me.
Harold: What is it?
The Editor: There’s a really important package that you need to pick up from the post office.
Harold: Uh, I think it’s-
The Editor: I’ll text you the address. Now hurry. And next time, I will call you only once. If you don’t respond, you’ll be kicked out of my responsible list. Understood?
Harold: Yes, but-
The Editor: See you tomorrow. (hangs up)
Harold: How am I going to get there? (closes his phone) Damn it.
Harold holds his phone tightly and remembers the gallon of milk. He goes back to the car and picks it up. He begins walking away from the wreckage and towards the edge of the freeway when a huge explosion stops him. He turns back and sees his car smoldering and burning.
Harold: Course.
Harold walks away from the worse wreckage and walks into the darkness.
Harold shakes the gallon of milk to make sure it doesn't have any punctures or holes. Harold feels his phone vibrating and answers it.
Harold: Hello?
Wife: Hi, honey!
Harold: Oh, hi, (), how are you?
Wife: Fine, fine. Just been working on my (stuff). It's taking me a goddamn hour to complete it. How are you?
Harold: Uhhh...don't get worried. I'm fine...I kinda got into an accident-
Wife: WHAT?! Oh my god, are you okay?!
Harold: Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, I only have a few scratches. 'Cording to the paramedics, I'm perfectly fine if I can take a few steps forward.
Wife: Oh, that's a relief! Did you get the milk?
Harold: What?
Wife: The milk?
Harold: Oh, the milk. Yes, it was...my second passenger. In fact, it was the first thing I thought about after I got flipped upside down that the milk was still intact.
Wife: I'm sorry, but you know how important the milk is for the cake. It's a specific brand that's very popular-
Harold: I know, I know. I'm sorry, honey. Didn't mean to overreact on you.
Wife: It's okay. You have the milk, right?
Harold: Honey, I'm cradling it in my arms as we speak.
(Wife: Good. Do you want me to pick you up?
Harold: You could...uh, it's gonna be a little tricky, though.
Wife: You can just stay at the edge of the highway and wait for me to pick you up.
Harold: I know, but...there's a lot of rapists in dark places. (You might not want to pick me up when you arrive.)
Wife: Harold, don't be silly. No one's sane enough(going) to rape you.
Harold: How do you know?!
Wife: Harold.
Harold: Sorry, sorry.
Wife: Where exactly are you?
Harold: You know that giant hotel that's right at the crossroads of the 405?
Wife: You know...I'm just gonna use the GPS. I'll be over there pretty soon.
Harold: All right, see you later, then.
Wife: Bye. Don't get raped.)
She hangs up.
Harold: I'll try not to. Harold: Hmm...
.......................
If you want to see a visual interpretation of this scene, go here.
This is something I've promised for a very long time, one of the few Presenter episodes that I thought had such potential that it would be worth writing about, but ultimately, like all of my ambitious ideas, it blew apart the minute I realized I wouldn't be up to the task of writing an entire episode, plus, the creative spark that lead to the episode's inception just hasn't returned in a versatile way. Despite those shortcomings, to satisfy the "audience" I have, I will post the incomplete first draft of the episode. Things to note: this draft only has half of the ideas from the original premise. Things that weren't included is a scene of 3-4 minutes of Harold talking to the milk as though it was his companion, similar to how I talk to myself in a state of paranoia when I'm alone for a period of time; another scene is where Harold is picked by a friendly stranger but kicked out when Harold decides to eat only a third of a candy bar; and even the original premise didn't have an ending. Admittedly, this premise borrows heavily from elements of Curb Your Enthusiasm, only exaggerated to levels even Larry David would never consider. The dialogue isn't as "fresh" as I remembered when I first tried to write this and may seem to be more disturbing than hilarious. Maybe I've become a harsh self-critic but recently, everything I've written hasn't been up to my standards, whatever those may be. Also, Season 3 will be posted very soon, but it will be the last season. I do love the premise of the Presenters, but I think it's time to move on. With that said, don't take this script very seriously as everything written is only for the sake of comedy, even if it's unfunny comedy. Thanks for reading and enjoy (if you do). Comments are always welcome.
Things (in parenthesis) are alternatives to lines written. They also indicate actions the characters make. A (weird) running joke is that Harold's wife doesn't have a name. This issue is addressed with in a later episode.
(Amateur Version) A blank screen. Unlike previous episodes, it opens with the theme from Curb Your Enthusiasm. The song plays for several seconds until cutting to a flashing siren and a loud wail. We cut to tow officers discussing the wreckage. Another cut shows the 405 still active although there's a noticeable curve of red lights and a patch of red, blue, and white. Another cut shows a car that has been flipped upside down. The camera moves towards the front of the car and the vague representation of fingers curled around the wheel. At this point, the song abruptly stops; a close up reveals Harold, still grabbing tightly onto the wheel, eyes blank and staring straight ahead at the road or sky. He looks quickly to the left and the right and unbuckles his seat belt. His body drops onto the floor, and his head bounces off the surface. In a panic, he searches around his car, and sees a gallon of milk, still strapped in the back seat. He carefully unbuckles it and grabs once it drops. An outside shot shows the side door trembling until a foot pushes it out. Harold carefully crawls out of the car. Once out, he turns back and sees the wreckage just as a fire ignites from the underside.
Harold: Hmm...
Harold sees an officer making a call and walks up to him.
Harold: Scuse me.
Officer #1: Hm?
Harold: Are you busy?
Officer 1: A little. Wait just a second.
Harold waits and checks on the damage of the car. A weird feeling creeps in on Harold and he begins coughing and hacking up loudly. Off camera, he spits out his cell phone.
Officer 1: Sir, what seems to be the problem?
Harold: (cleaning up the spit with his sleeve) Uh, well, I was the person who just had an accident. I, uh, climbed out of my car. I might have damaged my internal organs!
Officer 1: Sir, calm down. You look fine. Please return to your vehicle.
Harold: Is that a joke?!
Officer 1: Yes. Terrible, isn’t it?
Harold: Where are the paramedics? I, I need to get checked out. Something might be out of place!
Officer 1: Straight ahead. And don’t scream in front of an officer. You could be seen as a threat. (walks away)
Harold: (raises his hand) Won’t do that again. Sorry. (under his breath) Asshole.
Harold turns again to see the damage on his vehicle. (He pulls his wallet out and whimpers upon realizing the amount it will be to repair his car, or at least to be sold to a foolish buyer). Harold sees the paramedics.
Harold: Uh, scuse me?
Paramedic 1: What’s the problem, sir?
Harold: well, I just got into an accident and I was wondering if I might have any broken bones, or anything in that criteria.
Paramedic 2: What criteria?
Harold: Well, you know, the physical damage to the body. Look, can you just check me?
Paramedic 1: (shrugging at Paramedic 2) You look fine. Most people probably couldn’t walk up to us if their bones were broken. You did, so…
Harold: Walking is nothing! I might’ve gotten a temporary dose of adrenaline. My stomach might’ve been pierced. My small intestine twisted up! Please, just a quick checkup!
Paramedic 2: Sir!! You’re fine! Now, please, we have to see if everyone else is okay.
Harold: And who could that be?! I have the only upside down car right now!
Paramedic 1: Sir!
Harold: All right. God! (walks away)
Harold feels a rumble in his pants. He checks his phone. A close-up shows 6 missed calls from the Editor.
Harold: Oh, shit. (pushes send) ...helloooo?
The Editor: Harold, what the fuck happened to you? When I call a person, I expect him to fucking answer!
Harold: I know, I know. I’m sorry. I…I just got into an accident and-
The Editor: Harold, (don’t start flinging this shit in my direction). You’re supposed to be the reliable one.
Harold: I know.
The Editor: For God’s sake, I have to constantly hear this hullabaloo from those idiots you call friends and suddenly I get the same fucking routine from you?
Harold: Sir, it’s not a routine. I was driving down the 405 in a hurry, I black out for a second, and suddenly I’m upside down-
The Editor: Harold, you’re full of shit. Listen, I need you to do something for me.
Harold: What is it?
The Editor: There’s a really important package that you need to pick up from the post office.
Harold: Uh, I think it’s-
The Editor: I’ll text you the address. Now hurry. And next time, I will call you only once. If you don’t respond, you’ll be kicked out of my responsible list. Understood?
Harold: Yes, but-
The Editor: See you tomorrow. (hangs up)
Harold: How am I going to get there? (closes his phone) Damn it.
Harold holds his phone tightly and remembers the gallon of milk. He goes back to the car and picks it up. He begins walking away from the wreckage and towards the edge of the freeway when a huge explosion stops him. He turns back and sees his car smoldering and burning.
Harold: Course.
Harold walks away from the worse wreckage and walks into the darkness.
Harold shakes the gallon of milk to make sure it doesn't have any punctures or holes. Harold feels his phone vibrating and answers it.
Harold: Hello?
Wife: Hi, honey!
Harold: Oh, hi, (), how are you?
Wife: Fine, fine. Just been working on my (stuff). It's taking me a goddamn hour to complete it. How are you?
Harold: Uhhh...don't get worried. I'm fine...I kinda got into an accident-
Wife: WHAT?! Oh my god, are you okay?!
Harold: Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, I only have a few scratches. 'Cording to the paramedics, I'm perfectly fine if I can take a few steps forward.
Wife: Oh, that's a relief! Did you get the milk?
Harold: What?
Wife: The milk?
Harold: Oh, the milk. Yes, it was...my second passenger. In fact, it was the first thing I thought about after I got flipped upside down that the milk was still intact.
Wife: I'm sorry, but you know how important the milk is for the cake. It's a specific brand that's very popular-
Harold: I know, I know. I'm sorry, honey. Didn't mean to overreact on you.
Wife: It's okay. You have the milk, right?
Harold: Honey, I'm cradling it in my arms as we speak.
(Wife: Good. Do you want me to pick you up?
Harold: You could...uh, it's gonna be a little tricky, though.
Wife: You can just stay at the edge of the highway and wait for me to pick you up.
Harold: I know, but...there's a lot of rapists in dark places. (You might not want to pick me up when you arrive.)
Wife: Harold, don't be silly. No one's sane enough(going) to rape you.
Harold: How do you know?!
Wife: Harold.
Harold: Sorry, sorry.
Wife: Where exactly are you?
Harold: You know that giant hotel that's right at the crossroads of the 405?
Wife: You know...I'm just gonna use the GPS. I'll be over there pretty soon.
Harold: All right, see you later, then.
Wife: Bye. Don't get raped.)
She hangs up.
Harold: I'll try not to. Harold: Hmm...
.......................
If you want to see a visual interpretation of this scene, go here.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Ideas That Will NEVER Happen: Vol. Cuatro
What's this? Another project from 7th grade that went unfulfilled? Almost. Let's start from the beginning...
The Idea: A long time ago, when making drawings brought out encouragement from my parents, rather than shameful silence, I began work on my first and only graphic novel that I've ever completed: Sonic the Hedgehog vs The Dark Emerald: An epic adventure in 4 parts! The comic follows the adventures of a blue, anthropomorphic hedgehog as he is, once again, forced to stop everything he's doing to destroy Dr. Robotnik's latest creation, a gigantic(and lazily drawn) Mecha Sonic with rectangular eyes and noses. An epic 10 page battle rages on until Sonic single-handedly annihilates the machine with his spin jump. Ready to chase after Dr. Robotnik, Sonic uses the seven chaos emeralds to transform into Super Sonic. The emeralds merge into Sonic's body, only be expelled out of it, launching Sonic a few feet away. The emeralds merge into a large emerald that becomes darker and darker. Dr. Robotnik, in his floating mobile, chuckles endlessly at his diabolical plot of "pretending" to lose only for Sonic to use the emeralds haphazardly. Keep in mind that I (and probably many other dedicated fans) came up with this idea long before Sonic Unleashed. The dark emerald communicates(through some unusual way) to Sonic that it plans to obliterate itself from within the core of the earth, cause a powerful energy surge that will spread across the entire planet and cause hundreds of years of darkness. Of course that's what it'll do. After laughing hysterically and spitting at Sonic's face, the emerald flies off and Sonic runs after it. An elaborate chase sequence involving lasers, clouds, and planes occurs and a direct hit at the emerald causes it to shrink. The emerald flies off to the nearest volcano while Sonic and a horrifically drawn Tails head off to Tails' laboratory to design an unfashionable shrinking suit that's impervious to lava. A few pages later, Sonic chases after the emerald again, all the way to the deepest part of the ocean where, after a young blogger decided that drawing the lava suit was simply too much trouble, decided Sonic can proceed in his adventure able to breathe underwater. Another dramatic battle goes on that leaves Sonic bruised up until he remembers the six chaos emeralds, still in his possession somehow, begin glowing and fire a rainbow-colored laser at the dark emerald, that just arrived at the core of the earth(if this doesn't make sense, blame my 10 year old self for learning about the 42 presidents instead of the layers of the earth). The dark emerald's power diminishes dramatically(seems to be a trend 'round here) until it self-destructs, launching Sonic out of the ocean and onto an island. Sonic, in a few panels, recovers and smiles triumphantly towards the sky, thumbs sticking out, hubris assured. If only my love of nonsensical plots continued to this day, I'd have finally finished my goddamn screenplay.
Why this will never happen: The story, to my ten year old self, is as convoluted yet endlessly entertaining as any summer blockbuster but even for a property like Sonic the Hedgehog, the only places a plot involving a floating, talking dark chaos emerald would be suitable is in fan-fiction or the comic book series. It's been really great trying to recreate this story from the original drawings that are, unfortunately, long gone, but it does show how quickly ideas can flow when they have a chance to be revised in anyway, and although the overall plot doesn't make sense, at least the transitions from one scenario to another make sense. Having said that, this relic from an ancient time will remain that way since, due to college, cynicism, and some bouts of depression, making a story like this would involve a ridiculous amount of time I simply don't have right now. Oh right, the other reasons. Um...SEGA already has a stable of ideas/plot-lines for Sonic's next video games but even they won't try to write a plot as farfetched as a dark emerald...but if they do, I was the one who called it.
The Idea: A long time ago, when making drawings brought out encouragement from my parents, rather than shameful silence, I began work on my first and only graphic novel that I've ever completed: Sonic the Hedgehog vs The Dark Emerald: An epic adventure in 4 parts! The comic follows the adventures of a blue, anthropomorphic hedgehog as he is, once again, forced to stop everything he's doing to destroy Dr. Robotnik's latest creation, a gigantic(and lazily drawn) Mecha Sonic with rectangular eyes and noses. An epic 10 page battle rages on until Sonic single-handedly annihilates the machine with his spin jump. Ready to chase after Dr. Robotnik, Sonic uses the seven chaos emeralds to transform into Super Sonic. The emeralds merge into Sonic's body, only be expelled out of it, launching Sonic a few feet away. The emeralds merge into a large emerald that becomes darker and darker. Dr. Robotnik, in his floating mobile, chuckles endlessly at his diabolical plot of "pretending" to lose only for Sonic to use the emeralds haphazardly. Keep in mind that I (and probably many other dedicated fans) came up with this idea long before Sonic Unleashed. The dark emerald communicates(through some unusual way) to Sonic that it plans to obliterate itself from within the core of the earth, cause a powerful energy surge that will spread across the entire planet and cause hundreds of years of darkness. Of course that's what it'll do. After laughing hysterically and spitting at Sonic's face, the emerald flies off and Sonic runs after it. An elaborate chase sequence involving lasers, clouds, and planes occurs and a direct hit at the emerald causes it to shrink. The emerald flies off to the nearest volcano while Sonic and a horrifically drawn Tails head off to Tails' laboratory to design an unfashionable shrinking suit that's impervious to lava. A few pages later, Sonic chases after the emerald again, all the way to the deepest part of the ocean where, after a young blogger decided that drawing the lava suit was simply too much trouble, decided Sonic can proceed in his adventure able to breathe underwater. Another dramatic battle goes on that leaves Sonic bruised up until he remembers the six chaos emeralds, still in his possession somehow, begin glowing and fire a rainbow-colored laser at the dark emerald, that just arrived at the core of the earth(if this doesn't make sense, blame my 10 year old self for learning about the 42 presidents instead of the layers of the earth). The dark emerald's power diminishes dramatically(seems to be a trend 'round here) until it self-destructs, launching Sonic out of the ocean and onto an island. Sonic, in a few panels, recovers and smiles triumphantly towards the sky, thumbs sticking out, hubris assured. If only my love of nonsensical plots continued to this day, I'd have finally finished my goddamn screenplay.
Why this will never happen: The story, to my ten year old self, is as convoluted yet endlessly entertaining as any summer blockbuster but even for a property like Sonic the Hedgehog, the only places a plot involving a floating, talking dark chaos emerald would be suitable is in fan-fiction or the comic book series. It's been really great trying to recreate this story from the original drawings that are, unfortunately, long gone, but it does show how quickly ideas can flow when they have a chance to be revised in anyway, and although the overall plot doesn't make sense, at least the transitions from one scenario to another make sense. Having said that, this relic from an ancient time will remain that way since, due to college, cynicism, and some bouts of depression, making a story like this would involve a ridiculous amount of time I simply don't have right now. Oh right, the other reasons. Um...SEGA already has a stable of ideas/plot-lines for Sonic's next video games but even they won't try to write a plot as farfetched as a dark emerald...but if they do, I was the one who called it.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Twentieighth One
The advent of the past year concludes with the customary New Year's Eve post, where we reflect on the choices and events of the past year...and my blog is no exception. It's only been up for a few months, but already it seems that the blog is taking on an unusual direction as far as content goes. Originally, the blog was meant to only be a public anthology of my writing, but I've also posted updates on my first semester in college, as well as trying to create continuous segments such as "The Presenters" and "Ideas That Will Never Happen". The blog has been very challenging to update and maintenance, but it has also been such a pleasure writing up each post(unless, as this post shows, it becomes painful to write about anything) as I've been able to see the development of my writing as the year progressed. The next year will bring about other challenges...
---
With the impending end of 2011 comes the impending start of the numerous blog posts that "reflect" on the events of the past year. I will continue the tradition with my own customary post.
2011, like it or not, was a terrible year for your fellow blogger. Many challenges and experiences have threatened to ...yada, yada, yada.
---
2012 is almost upon us, as well as 2013, 2014, and the impending invasion of Bigfoot and his many siblings.
---
Things to look forward to in 2012: Hopefully, by February or March, my short film, Semaphore, will be completed and I'll post the screenplay. In other news, a pet project I've been working on since 11th grade will finally have its proper debut(Here's a hint as to what's coming). Sides that, I'm not sure what my blog will have. At this point, the blog is shifting from a showcase of my old projects to a showcase of...well, anything that comes to mind. I know from reading other blogs that most of them have a central theme that the blog revolves around, and admittedly, even if my blog claims to be about "simple words from a complicated man-child", even it has a central theme: my imagination and how overrated it's becoming to me. When I talk to friends and colleagues about their interests and intelligence, I always tell everyone that my creative thoughts are what differentiate me from everyone else, but as the first semester of college has shown, realistically how far can that take me? Course, other people say that one semester of college cannot define what you'll become, and for others, not even the first year will do that, so again, I'm at a loss at what I'm supposed to believe or think. Nowadays, any outside thought influences more than my own...or so I think. Course, sometimes, even the outside influences can be more damaging than helpful. How complicated does the world have to become that a simple post about reflection wraps itself around endlessly as I've allowed to be? AGH! Seriously, what did I just type? Can anyone explain it to me? Let's try again.
---
This year has taught me that writing things is really f*cking hard, and yes, I will censor it this one time since even the f-word doesn't completely envelope the countless struggles I've suffered in writing essays and blog posts, and as this post continues to show, even a blog post about reflection and revision demonstrates just how much more I will have to go through before I feel comfortable with saying hello and goodbye. Happy New Year and much luck in your...damn it.
---
Merry Christmas and happy...wait, hold on...
---
Another year has come and gone, as all of them tend to do. I'd like to say that for those have been following the blog that I greatly appreciate your support and will try to be more active with the blog in the following year. Also, it's been somewhat unusual seeing the difference between my older posts and newer ones and noticing how even with simpler ideas that slowly but surely I am progressing as a writer. With 2012 coming very, very soon, I'd just like to say that the blog will improve in the following months, and hopefully, I will become more coherent and understandable, and less of an annoying man-child as I currently still am. One of the biggest changes to the blog is the inclusion of more personal, update posts, much like these, as occasionally, the numerous complications of college and life demand those kinds of spontaneous posts. Rest assured, there is still a lot more of my past works left to be posted, and I will start working on the episode descriptions of the Presenters if the shorter ones don't completely explain the intent of the episode. I'll admit that whatever difficulty the blog has given me, it's been completely worth it in trying to have my voice "properly" represented in the middle of a seemingly brilliant universe. One thing I will try to do is highlight other people's projects so that they will also have an opportunity to bloom within this cynical spectrum of internet users. As my patient readers, if anything is going to happen, I'll be sure to tell you all about it.
---
Sorry for the spontaneous rambling in the beginning.
---
I hope you have all have a wonderful New Year's Eve, a fantastic New Year's Day, and a great year. With the amount of complications the world keeps presenting, a positive outlook could only help us further.
---
Stay safe. Give hugs. Be nice, be kind, be good.
Your confused, yet enlightened friend,
Arley Harold
---
With the impending end of 2011 comes the impending start of the numerous blog posts that "reflect" on the events of the past year. I will continue the tradition with my own customary post.
2011, like it or not, was a terrible year for your fellow blogger. Many challenges and experiences have threatened to ...yada, yada, yada.
---
2012 is almost upon us, as well as 2013, 2014, and the impending invasion of Bigfoot and his many siblings.
---
Things to look forward to in 2012: Hopefully, by February or March, my short film, Semaphore, will be completed and I'll post the screenplay. In other news, a pet project I've been working on since 11th grade will finally have its proper debut(Here's a hint as to what's coming). Sides that, I'm not sure what my blog will have. At this point, the blog is shifting from a showcase of my old projects to a showcase of...well, anything that comes to mind. I know from reading other blogs that most of them have a central theme that the blog revolves around, and admittedly, even if my blog claims to be about "simple words from a complicated man-child", even it has a central theme: my imagination and how overrated it's becoming to me. When I talk to friends and colleagues about their interests and intelligence, I always tell everyone that my creative thoughts are what differentiate me from everyone else, but as the first semester of college has shown, realistically how far can that take me? Course, other people say that one semester of college cannot define what you'll become, and for others, not even the first year will do that, so again, I'm at a loss at what I'm supposed to believe or think. Nowadays, any outside thought influences more than my own...or so I think. Course, sometimes, even the outside influences can be more damaging than helpful. How complicated does the world have to become that a simple post about reflection wraps itself around endlessly as I've allowed to be? AGH! Seriously, what did I just type? Can anyone explain it to me? Let's try again.
---
This year has taught me that writing things is really f*cking hard, and yes, I will censor it this one time since even the f-word doesn't completely envelope the countless struggles I've suffered in writing essays and blog posts, and as this post continues to show, even a blog post about reflection and revision demonstrates just how much more I will have to go through before I feel comfortable with saying hello and goodbye. Happy New Year and much luck in your...damn it.
---
Merry Christmas and happy...wait, hold on...
---
Another year has come and gone, as all of them tend to do. I'd like to say that for those have been following the blog that I greatly appreciate your support and will try to be more active with the blog in the following year. Also, it's been somewhat unusual seeing the difference between my older posts and newer ones and noticing how even with simpler ideas that slowly but surely I am progressing as a writer. With 2012 coming very, very soon, I'd just like to say that the blog will improve in the following months, and hopefully, I will become more coherent and understandable, and less of an annoying man-child as I currently still am. One of the biggest changes to the blog is the inclusion of more personal, update posts, much like these, as occasionally, the numerous complications of college and life demand those kinds of spontaneous posts. Rest assured, there is still a lot more of my past works left to be posted, and I will start working on the episode descriptions of the Presenters if the shorter ones don't completely explain the intent of the episode. I'll admit that whatever difficulty the blog has given me, it's been completely worth it in trying to have my voice "properly" represented in the middle of a seemingly brilliant universe. One thing I will try to do is highlight other people's projects so that they will also have an opportunity to bloom within this cynical spectrum of internet users. As my patient readers, if anything is going to happen, I'll be sure to tell you all about it.
---
Sorry for the spontaneous rambling in the beginning.
---
I hope you have all have a wonderful New Year's Eve, a fantastic New Year's Day, and a great year. With the amount of complications the world keeps presenting, a positive outlook could only help us further.
---
Stay safe. Give hugs. Be nice, be kind, be good.
Your confused, yet enlightened friend,
Arley Harold
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Ideas That Will Never Happen: VOL. 2!!
What you are about to read will never happen. It doesn't matter how much money you contribute, how many brilliant minds you stuff into a cramped room to make the idea comprehensible, it will NEVER happen. Though the mind is free to create whatever scenarios it can, even it is fully aware of some ideas that poison the mind and endanger it. This is one of those ideas.
In 7th grade, I began work on my most ambitious project to date: Spongebob Squarepants in an adventure through time!!!! (Spongebob: Trapped in Time!!!). Originally written to be the next bestselling novel, this version is the film adaptation. Our hero Spongebob retreats away form society when a mistake at the annual fry cook games costs him the gold spatula and a life of happiness working at his favorite job. Nearly everyone in Bikini Bottom insults Spongebob for his mistake, and so, Spongebob decides to stay in his pineapple until it rots. Just when all hope is lost, his friend Patrick encourages Spongebob, through much comical complication, to experience the outside world again. Reluctantly, Spongebob does until waltzing into Plankton's clunky restaurant, The Chum Bucket, where he and Patrick uncover Plankton's latest diabolical device, a time machine! Plankton goads the two bestest buddies to go into the machine, only to be teleported back in time, back to the days of Ancient Egypt. Spongebob's adventure takes him on a rampage with a flying car of the future, getting swallowed by a Sphinx, makes him and Patrick the last ones remaining when the Titanic splits open, accidently kill a few gladiators and lion fish in Rome, wonder about their lives as they run away from the battle happening in Gettysburg, and inadvertently cause the end of the universe which, since it's a Spongebob movie, they somehow repair and make it back to the present. The adventure features an impressive combination of classic cel animation and CGI(Computer Generated Imagery) in the designs of the future buildings of Future Bottom and the Titanic, as well several other set pieces such as the kickass flying car, and the Sphinx which somehow comes to life and has functioning organs. It's a PG-13 rated flick so it features intense cartoon violence that might frighten a tot or two, some profanity, and a few low-brow jokes.
Why it will never happen: The idea, although practically understandable for standard saturday morning cartoon fare, is far too ambitious to ever be produced. Imagine me, in 7th grade, lacking of any kind of friends, rushing home every day after completing his homework, booting up his computer to write the next chapter of the Spongebob epic that would cement his place in history. Even with that kind of determination, it would never be picked up by anyone, and trying to make a blockbuster film of this degree would require a budget larger than for the making of Tarzan, the most expensive animated movie to date. It's also a fairly risky feature in trying to tell a coherent story that mixes in high-speed dramatic thrills, suspense, and pitch-perfect comedy all in one. It's also risky for even being more violent than a regular animated movie and for being more risque. Also, even with Spongebob, the market film companies are chasing after these days are CGI features, leaving the cel animation features to be left in the dust. The reason I would ever write a story like this was because of my disappointment of the promise of a Spongebob special(Dunces and Dragons) that ended up only being 30 minutes long. The movie would run for about two hours, again something almost unheard of for an animated movie, but if the Spongebob creators were risky enough to make a character like a walking, talking sponge, then maybe this idea might work. It's such a large idea that I will spend more posts talking about it, but in the near future.
In 7th grade, I began work on my most ambitious project to date: Spongebob Squarepants in an adventure through time!!!! (Spongebob: Trapped in Time!!!). Originally written to be the next bestselling novel, this version is the film adaptation. Our hero Spongebob retreats away form society when a mistake at the annual fry cook games costs him the gold spatula and a life of happiness working at his favorite job. Nearly everyone in Bikini Bottom insults Spongebob for his mistake, and so, Spongebob decides to stay in his pineapple until it rots. Just when all hope is lost, his friend Patrick encourages Spongebob, through much comical complication, to experience the outside world again. Reluctantly, Spongebob does until waltzing into Plankton's clunky restaurant, The Chum Bucket, where he and Patrick uncover Plankton's latest diabolical device, a time machine! Plankton goads the two bestest buddies to go into the machine, only to be teleported back in time, back to the days of Ancient Egypt. Spongebob's adventure takes him on a rampage with a flying car of the future, getting swallowed by a Sphinx, makes him and Patrick the last ones remaining when the Titanic splits open, accidently kill a few gladiators and lion fish in Rome, wonder about their lives as they run away from the battle happening in Gettysburg, and inadvertently cause the end of the universe which, since it's a Spongebob movie, they somehow repair and make it back to the present. The adventure features an impressive combination of classic cel animation and CGI(Computer Generated Imagery) in the designs of the future buildings of Future Bottom and the Titanic, as well several other set pieces such as the kickass flying car, and the Sphinx which somehow comes to life and has functioning organs. It's a PG-13 rated flick so it features intense cartoon violence that might frighten a tot or two, some profanity, and a few low-brow jokes.
Why it will never happen: The idea, although practically understandable for standard saturday morning cartoon fare, is far too ambitious to ever be produced. Imagine me, in 7th grade, lacking of any kind of friends, rushing home every day after completing his homework, booting up his computer to write the next chapter of the Spongebob epic that would cement his place in history. Even with that kind of determination, it would never be picked up by anyone, and trying to make a blockbuster film of this degree would require a budget larger than for the making of Tarzan, the most expensive animated movie to date. It's also a fairly risky feature in trying to tell a coherent story that mixes in high-speed dramatic thrills, suspense, and pitch-perfect comedy all in one. It's also risky for even being more violent than a regular animated movie and for being more risque. Also, even with Spongebob, the market film companies are chasing after these days are CGI features, leaving the cel animation features to be left in the dust. The reason I would ever write a story like this was because of my disappointment of the promise of a Spongebob special(Dunces and Dragons) that ended up only being 30 minutes long. The movie would run for about two hours, again something almost unheard of for an animated movie, but if the Spongebob creators were risky enough to make a character like a walking, talking sponge, then maybe this idea might work. It's such a large idea that I will spend more posts talking about it, but in the near future.
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