We Need You to Be a Star!

Hey Moother!

It finally happened. I was visited last night by the animators. Ever since Ferdinand, your uncle, was visited by Disney himself I’ve dreamed of the day when it would be my turn. That’s why I moved to the big city in Howlywood and got odd jobs.

But you knew this already. The first inkling I had that something strange was up was when I received a letter. No one get’s mail anymore. It’s all electronic this or Tron that and everything just seems to come directly to us without any need for props. And let me tell you, Moother, it was definitely a prop. This text was big enough to be seen from space, and the language? Pure 3rd grade. “We need You to Be a Star!”

Someone had peculiar ideas about what would be necessary for a star as I felt my strength leaving me and my zip increasing. I was fast, Moother, like roadrunner fast. Unfortunately, I don’t think that my cartoon debut was everything it should have been. Not only did I flub talking to a door star, but I got knocked ass over teakettle right into the bushes. When I came to, and found myself face to face with a walrus I suddenly felt irrational anger and head butted him through a window, silhouette hole and all.

Now, you know me, Moother, and know that I’m one of the least speciest toons among my friends. I mean Wally is one of my best friends and he’s as walrus as they come, but I wanted to kill that Walrus and I made sure that he spend as much time out of the picture as possible.

One of the others threw a pie at me so I did my first thin-air-materialization. It’s awesome, Moother. Best thing that ever happened to me was being in this production. You’re can’t imagine the power it gives you. Sure, it’s temporary, but I can see why Bugs had such a long career. I could see it becoming addictive.

So, after a few minutes of us just being zany, a camera appeared. Now, mind you, this is the first time that I’ve ever seen a camera, but it was weird even by all accounts. It seemed more interested in moving the story along than in catching the action of the story, and not only that, but it seemed to be missing at the most important moments. Not only that, but it had an ACME proof limo. What Camera worth it’s film would ACME proof it’s limo I ask you?

Well, I was run over by a mail truck that I ended up summoning myself when I mailed the walrus. Yes, I know, not my proudest moment, but it wasn’t a horrible gag. So, pulling out all the stops, and looking up at the clouds attached to the top of it, I began to peddle for everything I was worth.

Oh, wait, back up a bit. We got out of the limo and were looking up at a beanstalk sprouting right from the middle of Howlywood Boolevard. Sure, that place is haunted by all manner of spooks and ghosts of Howlywood past, but I never expected to see a plot hook caught in the middle of it. Well, instead of using the tools everyone else was, I just decided to use my peddle power helicopter to get to the top of the beanstalk. Sure, it’s old, but I keep it well oiled and it’s never failed me in the past. While on my way to the top the squirrel THOR! suceeded in passing me by running up the side the the beanstalk of all things. The camera stopped him for a couple of action shot poses and I tossed grease under the both of them. The camera finally succumbed to a gag and fell, shattering into a thousand peices. The squirrel soon joined him.

Here’s where I started to feel the other aspects of my Animator’s curse. I wanted money and the more of it the better. Letting anyone else into that castle would stop me from getting that, so I plugged in a multi-purpose hand crank to the cloud and cranked the steel grate shut on top of my erstwhile comrades in arms.

It worked perfectly, but then the Camera brought everyone up to the cloud. Spying the castle I suddenly felt that irrational anger again. I began to charge, and the Walrus seeing his opportunity saddled me like a pony and rode me all the way. The Unestimable B.H. Bradly pulled an NSEA Protector communicator from his pocket and warped reality so he was at the end instead of the beginning. Flaps the Parakeet of Unusual Size took a detour to Albuquerque, but we made it to the castle without further ado. I tried to get clever and went right through the cloud drawbridge falling to the patchwork fields below us in a cloud of smoke. Now, don’t ask me how we went from downtown Howlywood out to Corny Country, but we did.

My compatriots made their way to the door and began trying to get in, while B.H. got in without much trouble. They spent a few moments trying to get in while B.H. succeeded in getting all the doors shut in our faces. Getting tired of waiting I opened the door from the inside for our compatriots and let them in.

Bullwinkle, having gotten a glimpse of the French Poodle Maid began to search frantically for her. Now, I will point out that Bullwinkle is neither a Moose nor Joe Cool, but he is a camel. And he was persistent eventually getting the girl while the rest of us got the treasure, a Talking Tuba of Tuneful Tum….wait, the Tuba was a girl so that really doesn’t work…and she fell for the feminine felicitations of Flaps…which is something I’m not even going to think about. It’s just unnatural the two of those girls getting together. You know my feelings on Mineral/Fauna couples.

So, I got bored. The script was stalled, we were standing in a giants dining room and the food was too big to eat. I stuck my thumb in my mouth…and I blew myself to three times my size. While I wasn’t yet a giant, at least I could climb onto the table without difficulty. Then, B.H., the Blasted Banal Bastard of Basest Beginnings and Banter Busted my Baloon with a tack. I shattered into 50 little versions of myself and began running around the table with 50 smaller versions of Flaps clinging to my back. Did I mention that Flaps hitched a ride to the table while I was increasing my girth?

So, I pulled myself together and while no one was watching I pulled a Morose Disilusioned Beatnik with a bongo and let him began speaking about the pointlessness of life in traditional beatnik fashion. While the audience was distracted I opened a plot hole and slipped through it directly into the treasure room.

B.H., meanwhile failed to make any dough in the kitchen, something that Flaps later succeeded at, and the rest of the team tromped upstairs and down in an attempt to find the place I’d already found.

Well, Flaps began to form a Conga Line with the hypnotizing sounds of her tuba, which she blew for all she was worth. There were Oompas and Boompas to beat the band. And we were dancing to that music I’m sorry to say. So, the Giant appeared. I sprayed him with a Drink Me potion and he shrunk down to size so we could deal with him. Unfortunately it didn’t stay that way. Looking at my Drink Me Shrink Me potion I realized that part of the label was covered. I’d accidentally pulled out the every so popular Shrink then Super-Grow formula version of the potion. The giant became wedged in his own house and was quickly dispatched by the lot of us.

We began searching the house one more time and came up with…well…I blush even now thinking about it…but it was one of those toys that you always kept in your underwear drawer.

Since I didn’t want to climb down the beanstalk, and as you know invisible peddle powered helicopters are better at going up than going down, I grabbed the multi-purpose handle and cranked the cloud to the ground.

We got to the ground and the Camera demanded the Star Bar from us. Suddenly, for the first time in the Short every one of us had a common purpose. Neadless to say that while not everyone’s idea worked we did rid ourselves of the clicking crafty creation and rode off in his limo into the sunset.

Well, Moother, that’s the end of that, but please, let me know what you think. Your loving Bull-headed Son, Brooce.

Image from wikimedia.org