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The Carbon Rod's Random Writing Dump Topic Thingy

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Teh title is self-explanatory. Just a place to dump stuff I started but never finished and whatnot.

First off, here's what I started for a lit I planned on starting sometime back with the Beatles, in a tone similar to their 1960s TV cartoon:


Sometime ago, only patrons of English (as well as German) clubs knew Paul McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr, better known as the Beatles, were. Today, there isn’t one person in the entire world who doesn’t know who these four fine(?) young men are. Once the toast of England, the fad that has come to be known as “Beatlemania” has spread like a musical virus, exploding like an atom bomb, throughout the entire Earth. Especially in the US of A, when the band made a historic guest appearance on the popular Ed Sullivan Show. Teen girls all over the world have ditched such performers as Frank Sinatra, Perry Como and Andy Williams in favor of these boys as idols, decorating their bedrooms in a Fab Four theme from ceiling to floor. In every record shop all over the world, sales of Beatles records have gone through the roof. “I can’t believe it,” commented one store owner. “These bloody young people have been stampeding through my shop like a pack (or is it gaggle?) of rhinos every week just to buy themselves the latest Beatles records! Why don’t any of ‘em bother to check out any of the other artists I sell?”


So what caused the newfound popularity of the world’s favorite band, this sudden transformation from local talent to becoming international celebrities? Musicologists (the big squares! Like, straight outta Cubeville, man!) all over the world have been scratching their head for hours on end trying to figure it out. They haven’t yet (confidentially I blame the fact they prefer Percy Faith and Ray Conniff over our beloved moptops), but the real reason that’s been right under their little noses is this: their music has a distinctive sound, quite unlike any other contemporary musician around. At times, the sheer genius of the group is so much that nobody can come up with a good term to sum it up. As the group’s leader, John Lennon, once commented, “our music is just…well… our music.” Add to that a great sense of humor and irresistible good looks and charm, and BOOM!- you’ve got one fine group.


If you don’t believe us, look around you! Everywhere you go you’ll find a galaxy of merchandise devoted to this wonderful group: clothing, games, toys, instruments, and even tape with their likenesses on them. And not just in the stores and newsstands: you’ll find their faces on the television, in a humorous cartoon show aimed at the milk-and-cookies set (kids to you), and now, in their own series of amusingly written stories, or as the younger generation might call them, “literatures,” or “lits” for short. So, without further ado, the act you’ve known for all these years…





Episode #1:

“Ape Escape”


Okay, we know what you’re thinking: the one and only Fab Four, together in the same story with a giant ape? C’mon now! That’s the kind of wacky romp better suited for that other singing group, the Monkees! I’ll bet you think Davy Jones is a Beatle! Peter Tork, too! And let’s not forget Mickey or Mike! Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll show you the Beatles are every bit as wacky and goofy as those four animals (Gosh- that’s another group!). Oh- and before the giant ape comes in- some exposition!


It was a lazy Sunday morning in Liverpool, and even old Father Time seemed to want to laze around, for the time just kinda seemed to slow down (We’d best resist the attempt to type up the lyrics to that song!). The birds were chirping their little hearts out, the clouds were gently passing through the stratosphere, and the sun was shining just right.


Amidst the beautiful scenery, a certain Fab Four were just kind of lying about in their backyard, relaxing on the grass.


“Gee, it was awfully nice of Brian to give us two weeks’ worth of vacation time,” said Paul dreamily, who was busy slurping a drink (a Coke for those of you interested).


“You bet, Paul,” replied George, who was looking up at the clouds, looking for interesting formations formed by the sundry cumulus and cirrus. “Touring’s so hectic! And a pain, too! All those teenagers, screaming like the Dickens, drowning out our music! I tell you, Macca, I’d rather be sitting around the house than be standing in a stadium in front of a hundred thousand screeching fans!”


“True, true, me friend!” replied Paul. “Makin’ music in the studio with Mr. Martin’s great and all, but there’s nothin’ like relaxing and just sort of lying about! I’m even going do take a break from working on that song about Martha to take in this serene scene!”


“Same here,” added Ringo, who was sticking his nose in the latest issue of Skins Quarterly. “I love pounding ol’ Ludwig, but the old kit can wait! For now I’m content watchin’ the telly and having fun!”


“Yeah, vacations are great,” mused John, who was polishing his glasses. “I really do hope that nothing really happens over these two weeks! Even if a giant ape was terrorizing New York, I don’t want to do anything about it! These two weeks ought to be the most relaxing in the story of our lives, and nothing’s going to change that!” (Watch your mouth, Lennon!)


“Agreed!” shouted the other three Beatles in unison.


Suddenly… ERRRRK! A white car pulled up at the Beatles’ house, and the little old driver of the vehicle hurried out and was speeding like the Road Runner towards the boys.


“Help! I need somebody! Not just anybody! Help!” he shouted, waving his arms. 


Good heavens!, John thought. Three days in and already a fan’s tracked us down! Help indeed! Better not be like that the girl with the duck mask who wouldn’t leave us for a whole week!


“You four! John! Paul! George! And Ringo! You’ve gotta help me! Won’t you help a humble man in his hour of need? It’s an emergency!” the man continued.


“Say,” asked John, getting up. “Who’re you? And why do you need our help?”


“Yeh,” chimed in Ringo, also slowly getting up. “Who do we look like, the Marine Corps?”

“Or the Thunderbirds?” added George, still looking at the clouds up above.


“You don’t understand, gents,” said the fellow in an urgent, serious manner. “You four are the only one who can help me! Nobody else will do!


“I’m the zookeeper for the Central Park Zoo! Our newest acquisition, the 50 ft. tall ape, ‘Tiny Tim,’ has escaped from his special cage, and has left nothing but destruction in his wake! Broken lampposts! Smashed autos! Toppled monuments! Demolished buildings! The works!! Oh, it’s terrible! T-E-R-R-I-B-L-E!!”


“You didn’t need to spell it out for us!” replied John.


“I can,” chimed in Ringo. “I-T! Hyuh, hyuh, yeah.”


“Can the corny comedy, Starkey! This is serious!” snapped John.


“Sorry, John!” obliged Ringo. “Can’t help it! Y’see, when I was knee-high to a…”


“Save the excuse for later, Richie,” said John. “We haven’t time for your long and winding backstories!


“Now, anyway, how come you want us? Are you daft, asking a bunch of musicians to deal with your glorified chimpanzee?”


“But that’s exactly why you’re the ones!” said the zookeeper. “Because you’re musicians! And everybody knows that old saying: ‘music has charms to soothe the savage beast,’ and that proves true in the case of ol’ Tim! Nothing he loves more than some good music, and he really goes for your kind of your music, your rocking beat! He can even hum note for note every word of a good portion of your songs!


“So if you’d fly over to New York with me and give the old boy a little concert, that’ll be enough to stop his destructive and chaotic episodes of…er…. destruction and…uhm… chaos! You simply must!”


After hearing the whole story of the zookeeper’s plight, the boys wanted; as much as they despised traveling, because of well, you know, the fans; to fly over to the Big Apple, but they wanted to think about it first.


“Uh… would you like to give us a minute?” said John.


“Well… alright,” said the zookeeper.


And after precisely one minute, they decided to do it, as they didn’t want to disappoint the man.


“We’ll do it!” said all four Beatles in unison.


“Splendid! SPLENDID!!!” cheered the old fellow. “You don’t know how much this happy you’ve made this old man!”


And so the old zookeeper and our heroes drove over to the airport to make their trip. But of course, if you’re a Beatle, this isn’t easy!! For hiding in a couple of bushes in front of a fence near the airport were two Beatlemaniacs of the highest tier, who were hanging out for days waiting for a glimpse of their idols. And today was to be their lucky day.


“Here we are, three days we’ve been camping out in these shrubs in hopes of seeing even a glance of those Beatles!” griped the first fan. “How’re we ever going to get those genuine autographs from our favorite singing group? How, Stuart, how?”


“I hear ya, Pete,” said Stuart. “Between us we own probably every Beatles-related piece of paraphernalia, and the one thing that’s eluded us is a genuine autograph from our boys! Board games, bobbleheads, lamps, posters, tea sets, conga drums, zoetropes and even a little wind-up robot that walks around and bellows out the entirety of ‘If I Fell’ on an endless loop when you wind it up, but not one autograph! None! Zilch!!”


Then Stuart remembered something. “Hey, Pete! I just remembered! That ‘Beatle-Tracker’ I invented a couple years back! Maybe if I turn it on, it’ll let us know where our boys are!”


And so he turned it on, and to his amazement, its little alarm started beeping like crazy. The four were near, and our two Beatlemaniacs went wild at the dulcet tones of that high-pitched beeping. 


“Hey, how about that!” Stuart exclaimed. “Our four boys- they’re close to this spot! The tracker tells me that they’re in the airport we’ve been camping out in front of!”


“You don’t say!” Pete gasped in amazement. “Our idols- our sole reason for existing on God’s green Earth- the four greatest musicians who’ve ever walked this blue sphere we call our home- are in the airport? Oh, suh-woon! Suh-woon!! At least we can meet our favorite foursome and get their authentic signatures! The missing piece in our extensive collection! Woo-hoo!”


“And we’d better make it snappy,” informed Stuart. “They’re boarding a plane, probably to do yet another concert overseas, and any minute now they’ll be flying the friendly skies of Air Liverpool! We’d best seize this golden opportunity before we miss out! C’mon!”


“Right on, O constant companion, bosom buddy, lifelong pal!” said Pete happily, as the two blokes walked out of the bush, as the tracking device continued to beep like the Dickens.


“There they are!!” said Stuart, pointing to the Beatles as they started to board the plane. 


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Appetizer tries his hand at a SB spin-off:

Episode 1:

Yesterday’s News


Everybody who knows SpongeBob knows that he loves the fantastical adventures of those two defenders of the briny deep, those fearless guardians of the creatures of the deep, Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy, who protect the vast ocean from such nefarious-type baddies as the Dirty Bubble and Man Ray, like Bo Peep protecting her three little darlings (Yes, I know I referenced Toy Story in a SpongeBob literature. So sue me!). 


Our favorite poriferan is probably the ultimate fan of the damp duo’s exploits, maintaining an ever-expanding collection of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy paraphernalia, memorabilia, and other assorted items, including every comic book ever printed of the crimefighters’ various thrilling adventures. He never misses the re-runs of their television series, which is great because they never come on until after his shift at the Krusty Krab, except on weekends, when Channel 2 shows three hours of ol’ MM and BB straight, commercial-free! He even wrote a 100-page essay on the two for a high school writing assignment on heroes! And he and his pink pal Patrick have even crossed paths with their superhero idols multiple times; even if they’d rather eat their meatloaf in peace in their octogenarian state; thrusting them out of retirement back into a life of crime fighting, albeit less glamorous as it was when the two were younger and stronger.


However, there’s another comic that the little square dude absolutely adores, and it’s that one that’s the subject of today’s story: The Wisenheimers! For years our friend has chuckled, guffawed, and chortled at the antics of this kooky family: Victor; the grouchy, irascible husband; Roxy; his eccentric wife (then again, the whole family is pretty darned eccentric), Chip; the gloomy son who loves all things scary and macabre, and Derpina, the ditzy daughter, not to mention Billy Banana Nana Bo Filly, the wacky dog! (Well, those were their personalities for the first five days of the strip, before the creator, one Hank Bubbleton, just decided to have the personalities take a backseat to the offbeat and nonsensical gags and dialogue.)


However, most of the yellow fellow’s pals don’t know about his love for this wacky strip, as it’s been a secret love of his for years! Why? Because most of his friends don’t read the comic section of the Bikini Times- that SpongeBob knows about - for now! So he isn’t quite sure what his friends would think if he told them he read the Sunday funnies! It’s his darkest secret. Sometimes he thinks of it, but then he changes the subject to jellyfishing, or Mermaid Man or whatever.


Anyway, like I said, for years he’s enjoyed the nonsensical zaniness of The Wisenheimers, enjoying every strip and keeping clippings of all of them in several volumes of scrap books hidden away in some obscure cranny in SpongeBob’s edible abode. Today was no exception.


This Sunday morning started out like a typical one for the sponge, whom we first meet lying in bed like an angel, dreaming himself a sweet little dream in which he was doing the thing he loves best: making delicious Krabby Patties for the hungry masses frequenting the Bikini Bottom’s most renowned greasy spoon: the Krusty Krab.


“One Krabby Patty, extra cheese, hold the relish!” yelled Squidward, his grumpy cephalopod co-worker and neighbor. “Neptune knows why.”


“Comin’ right up, Squidinator!” cheerfully replied SpongeBob.

And exactly five minutes later- because as SpongeBob would tell you, “You can’t rush perfection!” the Patty was ready. Marching out of his station into the eating area of the Krab with the sandwich, the sponge gave the customer his meal. “Le Krabby Patty, she is, how you say, ready,” he said in a mock-French accent.


“Thanks!” said the hungry customer, salivating at the sight of the scrumptious sandwich. He then took a big bite out of the Patty, with SpongeBob watching as he chewed it down.


“So, tell me, sir,” asked the fry cook. “How’s your Krabby Patty?”


The response was one that SpongeBob did not expect: “Meow!”


The sponge was confused at the response the customer gave him. “‘Meow?’ What kind of response is that? Speak English, my good man!”


“Meow mow.”


“Huh?” asked SpongeBob, still confused. “What do you mean, ‘meow mow?’”


And then he woke up. Gary was sitting atop SpongeBob’s alarm clock, trying to get his beloved owner to wake up from his slumber.


“Oh, the meowing was you, Gary!” said the sponge. 

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Script I wrote back in my senior year that I never finished. I've made some slight edits for privacy reasons:



A Fantasy


Plot and Script

By The Appetizer


Based on characters created by the talented folks at

Pixar Animation Studios

Emeryville, CA


Special Thanks to:


For undying support in my artistic endeavours.


Everybody who supported my wild animation studio dream.

Really I doubt this’ll happen in the future (I’m sure we’ll all go extinct or be on Mars in the future on account of pollution and all that jazz), but, still, I thank you for your genuine support.








Nothing much of interest to the viewer, although some might think of this is a pretty little abode in a nice little neighborhood in the ‘burbs. Birdsong can be heard in the background.


Suddenly, the camera notices an open window. It zooms in on the window, and goes inside the house, finding itself in the living room. We follow it up the staircase, until it discovers an open door. We go through the door, and find ourselves in a bedroom.





 This room displays the various interests of the owner from top to bottom. There are all sorts of objects on shelves, standing on the floor, hanging on the walls… EVERYWHERE. Toys, posters, collectable vinyls, LPs, comic books, model kits… you name it. The camera slowly strolls through the room, as if in awe of the potpourri of paraphernalia on display… until it discovers something of particular interest, sitting on a table near the owner’s bed. The music, too, shares the same awe as the camera. T’would perhaps be appropriate for a movie about a magical museum, or a documentary highlighting the majesty of the beluga whale… but this film isn’t about any of that. Now, where were we?


Anyways, the camera and the music are in awe of this assemblage of collectables and such, but the camera soon discovers one object of more interest than anything else in the room, sitting on a table near the owner’s bed - a lamp with a certain nursery rhyme shepherdess and her flock - BO PEEP and her SHEEP - our protagonists. You know which one I mean… I imagine. The camera is perhaps more interested in this than anything else in the room, and it’s got good reason to - for those are our protagonists standing atop that lamp.


The camera is fixed on this item for a few seconds, as if to tell us, “Keep this in mind, folks!” Then, we pan over to an alarm clock. 




At precisely 7:15 AM, it emits its annoying BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! A hand comes down and SLAMS it off. That hand belongs to the owner of this eclectic collection - and our protagonists - APPETIZER (in other words - the author of this very screenplay! So sue me.


Cut to M.S. of APP slowly waking up from his sleep.






He yawns.



Oh, morning already?


He slowly gets out of bed.



I hate to get up so early… but if I want to spend all day at that Comic-Con with (IRL friend), I’ve got to get up bright and early!!  Like the man said… “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man early to the convention!”


He chuckles, and turns over to Bo’s lamp.



Sorry, Bo, you can’t go to the convention! Frankly, I don’t think they’d allow sheep at the convention center! (giggle)


Cut to a C.U. of Bo, staring blankly in space.


Cut to M.S. of APP, staring at the camera, unimpressed.


APP (deadpan, aside):

Of course, she can’t talk… I think?


(pause, as if to rethink what he just said)




He starts to walk off. The camera follows him as he starts to motion towards the door. At some point when he says the following lines, cut to BO and her SHEEP in a wide shot, and have APP’S dialogue heard only.



Well, what do you expect from a figurine on a lamp? All her and her sheep do is just stand there, motionless! If they’re secretly alive, I’ll bet all that little shepherdess does is watch her flock… what am I saying? That’s downright ridic! I know the difference between fantasy and reality… and that… that was just in the movies! There’s no way they’re secretly alive. I repeat - that’s ridic!


The door shuts, and the camera remains fixed on BO’s lamp. A few seconds later, the eyes on Bo’s SHEEP ping-pong back and forth, as if to ask, “is the coast clear yet?”


After a few seconds of this “ping-ponging,” a big, beaming smile emerges on the middle SHEEP. The other two SHEEP immediately take notice at her grin, and look at it with an inquisitive look in their little eyes. They bleat in a way that seems equally inquisitive. The middle sheep then proudly pitches her idea to her fellow sheep in a series of energetic bleats.


TRANSLATION (in subtitles, although this might end up being a series of rebuses instead):

Girls!! We ought to do something for Bo, amirite? She’s been good to us for who-knows-how-long, and we love her - and she loves us! We’re grateful for her, right? So we should give her something… a little token of our gratitude. Maybe a flower or something? You two with me? 


The other two SHEEP nod in agreement.


The middle SHEEP then emits another bleat, translating to:

Okay, then! Let’s go find something for Bo!


The three then hop off their post on the lamp, and attempt to climb down the table, using the various items in the room to help move them from one end of it to the other. Of course, I’d like to think up some sort of funny pantomime “business” for the sheep to take part in, but that’s all going to depend on what items end up in the bedroom.


Anyways, once they exit EVAN’S bedroom, they proceed to SLIDE down the bannister and soon notice an open window. They proceed to hop through it and continue on their merry way to fulfill their personal errand. 


Later, BO PEEP wakes up.



M.S. on BO’s lamp, slowly zooming in.


CUT TO closer shot of BO stretching as she wakes. Although she spends all day standing on her post (or does she?) tending to her flock, she still seems a bit tired.


BO PEEP (tired, but still attempting to retain a sunny disposition):

(Yawn) Good morning world, and all who inhabit it!


She turns over and notices that the “giant” who owns her and her sheep has gone for the day.


CUT TO: WS of empty bed.



Well! Looks like ol’ Four-Eyes is gone for the day! Maybe I can watch my sheep in peace!


(venting her anxiety)


How can a shepherdess like myself tend to her flock with that kook blasting his music and monologuing to himself? Nice guy, but he could be a little more considerate! I could give that guy a piece of my mind if I wanted to… but he’d probably think I was possessed or something for coming alive on him!



(now trying to keep from cracking up)


It’d sure be peaceful if that boy… oh, I don’t know what would happen if that was to happen, but it’d sure be worth it, eh, girls?


She hasn’t realized that her sheep have “taken off” on her yet.



(con’t, muttering to herself)

Hmmm… unusually quiet today. Maybe if ol’ Four-Eyes didn’t have to take off for his special convention, maybe they could’ve gotten a bit more shut-eye.


She notices the bright and sunny weather outside in a nearby window, and she gets off the lamp and, with a little help from her trusty crook, manages to get close enough to the window to “drink” in the niceness of it all.



Ahhh… smell that morning air! And dig that sun! Nice to see ol’ Sol up in the sky after all that rain yesterday…


She continues to marvel at the majesty of the landscape outside.


BO (con’t):

Yessir! What a beautiful day outside! Couldn’t ask for a nicer day for that four-eyed kid to “amscray,” eh, girls?


No response from her sheep, for obvious reasons. Bo patiently waits for their bleating, but she chances to look over to her side - and does a double take! She’s shocked as H--- to see that her flock’s vanished. A big, cliche dramatic stinger underscores her reaction.


BO PEEP (shocked, overly dramatic):



After that reaction, THUD! She hits the ground, but immediately rebounds, determined to find her sheep.


BO PEEP (determined):

I do solemnly swear that I shall not rest UNTIL I find my flock… even if it’s the last thing I do!


(MONTAGE) She then scours the house in search of her little darlings - checking everywhere - under the bed, under the couch, in drawers, in the trash, the sink, in the cupboard - you name it - but to no avail (wah wah waaaaahh…) The music should reflect her determination to fulfill her goals of reuniting herself with her sheep - containing a sense of urgency


CUT to an M.S. of a weary BO, propped against a wall.



(sigh) How do you like that? No sign of those three anywhere… even in the waste paper basket! At least the garbage ma… I mean, the sanitation officer hasn’t come yet… if he did… I’d hate to lose my flock to the incinerator!


All of a sudden… DING! A lightbulb goes off in her head.


BO PEEP (con’t):

SAY...I haven’t checked outside yet! Maybe those rascals sneaked into the backyard for a quick frolic! They always liked to caper around like three giddy little chipmunks when it was nice out… provided that What’s-his-Face was out!


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