(Opening shot: the city skyline during the day.)
Narrator: The city of Townsville! Where three superpowered little girls spend their days…
(Cut to a hill well outside the city proper.)
Narrator: …manhandling monsters! Curbing crime! Vanquishing villains!
(These exclamations are punctuated by the sound of blows landing and the sight of various unsavory characters hurtling out of the city to land on the hill. First comes a huge, orange, platypus-like creature wearing goggles. Second is an alien with a large glass shield around its head to protect it from Earth’s atmosphere; one of its pincered arms is missing, but the severed limb is promptly thrown after it. Next up are Mojo Jojo, Princess Morebucks, Ace, Snake, and Big Billy. From here, cut to the girls, hanging wearily out the windows of a structure that looks roughly like their house, with the curved roof of an old camping trailer.)
Narrator: And frankly, they need a vacation.
(Pull back quickly; this is indeed a trailer, hitched to the rear bumper of the family car, which is parked in the forest. The Professor stands beaming, with arms spread wide.)
Professor: Which is why we’re here at Townsville Bayou. (Close-up.) You girls are just gonna love it here. (Pull back; they are with him now.) It’s the perfect place to relax and unwind.
(Extreme close-up of one tire on a speeding vehicle, then back to the group.)
Professor: Nothing but smooth sailing.
(Both tires on one side of the vehicle are seen; the engine sputters and coughs.)
Professor: Away from the daily grind.
(Close-up of the other driver’s gearshift lever as it is moved—Fuzzy Lumkins is at the wheel. The gears grind loudly.)
Professor: Not a care in the world.
(The rear of Fuzzy’s mode of transport now appears—he is driving a pickup truck and hauling lit bundles of dynamite. Close-up of the Professor.)
Professor: And the best part is— (laughing) —no bad guys!
(Pull back to frame the family, all of whom are surprised by what happens next. Fuzzy’s truck screeches to a stop in front of them, billowing clouds of exhaust fumes and with three of his smaller kinsmen in back. A rope is tied to the rear bumper and stretched o.c.; a moment later, his old shack slides into view and knocks the jalopy forward due to inertia. The other end of the rope is wrapped around the structure. The Professor and the girls cough in the black fumes, which quickly envelop them. Cut to Fuzzy, who stands there proudly.)
Buttercup: (as the girls fly over to him) Fuzzy Lumkins, what are you doing here?
Fuzzy: I’ll have you girls know that this here is my property!
Blossom: What?!
Fuzzy: And I just so happen to be here to raise a ruckus with my kin!
(As each one is named, he jumps out from behind Fuzzy to form a line and the camera pans slightly in that direction. The first one wears overalls just like those of the big pink hick, the second has pants held up with a rope instead of a belt, and the third wears red long-johns.)
Fuzzy: Wuzzy…
Wuzzy: Hey.
Fuzzy: …Buzzy…
Buzzy: Hey.
Fuzzy: …and Scuzzy!
Scuzzy: Hey some more.
Blossom: I’ll have you know that the bayou is a state park, which is public property—and you better not cause any trouble!
Fuzzy: I said, it’s my property.
Bubbles, Buttercup: She said “public property”!
Wuzzy: Are you callin’…
Buzzy: …my uncle…
Scuzzy: …a liar?
Buttercup: That’s sure what it sounds like to me.
(She and Fuzzy yell in each other’s faces for a while, but are stopped when the Professor inserts himself between them.)
Professor: (calmly) All right, kids, that’s enough now. Just count to three and let it be.
Buttercup: I don’t want to count to three.
Fuzzy: (puzzled) Count to what?
Professor: No one is going to argue or fight for the remainder of this trip. Understand?
Nephews, Fuzzy: Hmph!
Girls: Hmph!
(They look resolutely away from the Lumkins’ direction, but Blossom gasps happily upon turning her eyes toward the ground.)
Blossom: Look, girls!
(Close-up of an opossum there; one of its toes is swollen.)
Blossom: (from o.c.) A possum!
(Shift to just behind the animal’s head; the girls pop into view on one side.)
Girls: He could be our pet! (The nephews pop up on the other side, one by one.)
Wuzzy: He…
Buzzy: …could be…
Scuzzy: …our lunch! (The girls give them a very nasty look.)
Bubbles: Oh, no!
(Close-up of the opossum’s foot. The swollen toe has a thorn driven through it and is throbbing.)
Bubbles: (from o.c.) Something’s wrong with his toesy-woesy. (Pull back to frame the entire creature.)
Girls: (from o.c.) Let’s help him!
Nephews: (from o.c.) Let’s eat him! (Its eyes go wide; cut to Bubbles.)
Bubbles: (gasping in shock) Eat him? You’d eat that cute little possum?
Fuzzy: Yeah. (The girls charge.)
Blossom: The only thing you’re gonna eat are your words! (The Professor stops them.)
Professor: All right, that’s enough. He’s not going to be anybody’s pet— (turning to Lumkins family; pan that way) —and he’s not going to be anybody’s lunch! Do I make myself clear?
(Cut to the girls, just inside the door of the trailer.)
Girls: Fine!
(They slam it shut. Cut to the shack; the four hillbillies look out from their door.)
Nephews, Fuzzy: Fine!
(They slam their door. A couple of seconds later, Fuzzy reopens it.)
Fuzzy: My property!
(He blows a raspberry and slams the door again. Wipe to the interior of the trailer, which has been outfitted with a couch and a bit of artwork like the living room at home. Three very sullen girls are seated on the couch; the Professor is bending down to their level.)
Professor: Listen, girls. (Cut to a slow pan across them; he continues o.c.) We came here so that you could relax. There will be no feuding, no fighting, no anything except enjoying the peace and quiet of Mother Nature. (The camera has reached Buttercup’s end.)
Buttercup: But what about Fuzzy? (The Professor straightens up.)
Professor: Oh, we don’t need to stoop to the level of him and his— (making finger quotation marks) —“kin.” We’re Utoniums. (Back to the girls; he continues o.c.) Now off to bed. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.
(Wipe to them asleep in bed—a setup just like they have at home, complete with three-color blanket. The trailer’s interior lights have been put out. A loud impact, as of an object against the craft’s metallic shell, shakes them awake; they screw up their eyes briefly, then doze off again. However, a second such noise ruins their slumber. Cut to outside, at roof level; it is now nighttime, and a soda can has been balanced on top of the trailer. Two rocks sail into view and bounce off the paneling, just missing the can—this was the disturbance we just heard.)
Fuzzy: (from o.c.) Dang, Scuzzy, you throw like you was a little girl.
(One or more of the nephews are at fault for waking the girls, then. Another rock misses the can and trailer altogether, but the next one nails the aluminum container dead on.)
Scuzzy: (from o.c.) Hoo-wee!
(Pull back to frame the entire trailer and pan slowly across the camping area. Scuzzy and Buzzy are both hurling rocks at the roof.)
Scuzzy: I nailed it!
Buzzy: Lucky throw.
(Over at the shack, Fuzzy is relaxing on the front porch and playing his banjo, while Wuzzy plays a makeshift bass built from a washtub, broom handle, and piece of string. The rock-throwers carry on, and the camera cuts to the girls—now wide awake and really annoyed, as the commotion is heard through the trailer wall, accompanied by a yell of triumph from one nephew.)
Buttercup: (groaning) I can’t take it anymore! Those guys are due for a serious butt-whupping.
Blossom: We can’t, remember? Professor won’t let us fight.
Bubbles: (addressing herself o.c.) Please, Professor? Can’t we do something?
(Cut to him in his bunk. To block out the light while he sleeps, he wears a black eyeshade, one corner of which he has raised so he can see the girls.)
Professor: Remember, girls. This vacation isn’t about fighting. It’s about relaxing. (lowering shade, wrapping pillow over head) Now just lay down and block it all out.
(The girls do likewise with their pillows, but are still unable to go back to sleep for all the clangor outside. Fade to black.)
(Fade in to the girls and the Professor fishing on the bayou shore. It is now the next day.)
Professor: Ahh. Nothing like the peace and quiet of nature.
(Close-up of the water surface, panning slowly over the bayou. A fish jumps happily.)
Professor: (from o.c.) The serene majesty of the sparkling waters. (Camera stops; the family’s four bobbers are cast into view on their lines.) The silent morning air.
Fuzzy: (from o.c.) YEE-HA!!
(He drops into view to do a cannonball dive squarely amid the fishing lines. Pan along a bit farther to put each nephew in frame as he does likewise. Pull back to the bank; four patches of exhaled gas bubbles break the surface, followed by a couple of dead fish. When they put their heads up, the water around them is tinged with brown from their bodily filth and all the plants instantly wilt—this was what caused the fish kill. They are still liberally streaked with grime. Fuzzy whistles and scrubs himself with a fish impaled on a stick for a while.)
Fuzzy: All right, boys, that’s enough scrubbin’. After all… (He sniffs his armpit.) …ahh… we don’t wanna lose that Lumkins scent!
(On the end of this, zoom in slightly as noxious fumes start to emanate from that particular crevice and he lets off a whoop. Back on the bank, he and the nephews walk serenely past the Professor and the girls. As the latter stop their fishing and watch, horrified, the pink foursome shake themselves clean, throwing muck all over the girls. Cut to them; Bubbles and Buttercup open their eyes angrily through the brown mess, while Blossom wipes it from her face and arms.)
Blossom: That’s it! (They get ready to charge.) Enough’s enough! (The Professor’s hand stops them; pull back. He is clean as a whistle.)
Professor: Girls! Remember— (Close-up of them he pats Blossom’s head and continues o.c.) —it’s all about relaxing
Girls: (resignedly) Okay.
(Fade to black.)
(Fade in to a set of animal tracks on the forest floor. On the next lines, pull back to frame the girls, kneeling to inspect them, and the Professor, checking a field guide to identify the source.)
Blossom: Wow!
Buttercup: Cool!
Bubbles: Neat!
Professor: Looks like they may be bear tracks.
Buttercup: (covering nose, then fanning at air) P-U! What is that smell?
Professor: Apparently, bears secrete a smelly substance from their paws to help mark their territory. (They follow the tracks; pan along.) They look fresh. I’ll bet he’s nearby.
(His perspective: a wall of bushes stands in front of him, and he reaches up to part them. Something just beyond is emitting copious fumes.)
Professor: Oh, this is so exciting!
(He moves the greenery aside to reveal the source of the fumes as an outhouse—and the tracks lead straight to it. Cut to a close-up of the family; whose faces all fall in shock as the wooden shanty starts to rumble from o.c. Back to it; after a little more shaking and trembling, it explodes in a great flash of light. When the smoke clears, the boards lie strewn about; in their midst is a very surprised Wuzzy, sitting on the toilet—he left those footprints in the dirt. Fuzzy and the other two nephews pop up behind him and proceed to laugh themselves silly.)
Fuzzy: We blowed you up good, Wuzzy! (Wuzzy joins in the laughter.) Didn’t we, too? Yeah, we did!
(The old prank of flushing a cherry bomb, perhaps. Back to the Professor. He has gathered the girls into his arms, covering their eyes, and is backing slowly away from the scene.)
Professor: Just block it all out.
(Fade to black.)
(Fade in to the four of them roasting marshmallows around a campfire. It is now nighttime.)
Bubbles: Are they done yet, Professor?
Professor: Not yet, Bubbles. It’ll be too gushy if you pull it out now…That’s it. Wait until they’re really crispy.
Fuzzy: (from o.c.) It ain’t done yet! It’ll be too gushy if you go pullin’ it out now. That’s it. Wait ’til they’re really crispy.
(During this last line, the girls and the Professor look out past the fire and react with increasing revulsion to what they see. Cut to Fuzzy and his nephews; they are gathered around an electric bug zapper. One insect flies to its death against the thing, and Wuzzy pulls the departed creature loose and pops it into his mouth. Back to the girls, who are flabbergasted by this turn of events; the sound of the little Lumkins crunching down on the bug is heard.)
Girls: Ewwww! (Pull back to frame the Professor; he has turned away and shut his eyes.)
Professor: Relax…vacation…
(Wipe to the view through a pair of binoculars, tilting up slowly through the trees to stop on a large white bird perched among the branches. The next sound—a cry of pleasure from the Professor—marks this as his perspective; the bird starts to preen itself as he adjusts the focus. He and the girls keep their voices down on the next four lines.)
Professor: I can’t believe this!
(Cut to him and the girls, crouched behind a bush. He has lowered his binoculars; they each have a pair trained upward.)
Professor: We’re actually seeing a snowy egret preening herself!
Girls: Ooh! Wow! (He raises his binoculars.)
Professor: Oh, girls, do you know how rare these are? We may never be so lucky to see one of these again.
(A gunshot shatters the calm and is followed by an alarmed squawk and flapping of wings from the bird. Lowering their glasses, all four look off to their left; pull back to show Fuzzy’s nephews behind another bush on that side, set back a short distance. Buzzy has a small version of the pink backwoodsman’s shotgun in hand, pointed toward the sky—he was trying to kill the egret, but his face tells his lack of success.)
Buzzy: Oh, shoot!
Scuzzy: Shucks, Buzzy. I bet you won’t never get another shot like ’at. (Back to the mortified girls; he continues o.c.) You know how rare them things is—plus, they’re hard to find.
(The girls steam and look toward the o.c. Professor; pull back to frame him.)
Professor: Just ignore it.
(Dissolve to a close-up of him at an easel, painting merrily away. It is now the next day. As he speaks, pull back to frame the girls at easels of their own.)
Professor: Let’s put in a majestic old mangrove.
(Close-up of his painting, which is a good depiction of the background scenery: a creek running through the forest. However, the pine-covered mountains in the distance have not yet been put in. He continues to stroke his brush over the canvas.)
Professor: (from o.c.) With some happy little pine trees. (Cut to a bush.) A playful little bush.
(A gopher pokes its head up nearby. Back to the painting; he has stopped touching it up.)
Professor: (from o.c.) Mmm…that’s purty. (reaching into view with brush) But I think it needs…those majestic mountain peaks.
(He moves the brush to the horizon he has painted and starts to add them in, but an explosion over the horizon blows away part of one peak. Cut to him and the girls, staring wide-eyed in the glare, then pan quickly to Fuzzy and his nephews, all of whom are hooting and hollering. Fuzzy’s hand rests on the plunger of a dynamite detonator—he set off the blast. Close-up of him and Wuzzy; the latter has a can of soda in hand.)
Wuzzy: We sure blowed it up, Fuzzy. Blowed it up fit and proper!
Scuzzy: (from o.c.) Hey, guys! (Cut to him and Wuzzy.) Watch ’is. (He reaches one finger toward Wuzzy.)
Wuzzy: (turning to face him) Huh?
(That finger gets poked squarely into his eye. Everyone else laughs, and he winces as the camera zooms in on him. When he opens the eye, it is bloodshot and watery.)
Wuzzy: Man, that was a good burn, wasn’t it, too?
(The girls are growling under their breath at this latest offense against nature. Once more they try to rush in; once more the Professor restrains them.)
Professor: Easy, girls!
(Fade to black.)
(Fade n to the family talking a hike up into the hills. The girls are really not having too much fun by now, but the Professor is on cloud nine. He wears a backpack.)
Blossom: Where are we going, Professor?
Professor: A place that’s very special to me.
(He stops, looks ahead of himself, and gasps happily. Cut to his perspective, at the base of a very tall tree and gazing up toward its highest branches.)
Professor: There it is! (Back to him.) Hi, old friend. Remember me?
(Longer shot of the tree, which stands on the hilltop. The family is visible as four small silhouettes from this distance.)
Buttercup: (puzzled) But it’s just a tree.
Professor: Oh, it’s not just any tree, Buttercup.
(Wavering dissolve to the young Professor as seen in “Get Back Jojo.” The kid with the impossibly square head is in the forest, pushing a ruler down into a pile of dirt to measure its depth. This is a flashback to those childhood days.)
Professor: (voice over) When I was a young boy, learning about nature, I planted a seed here.
(Young Prof does so, withdrawing the ruler to make space for it. Now he empties a pair of test tubes over the spot.)
Professor: (voice over) It was my very first experiment.
(Wavering dissolve to the family in the present.)
Professor: And I’ve watched it grow to the majestic beauty she is today.
(A chainsaw starts up o.c.; the girls are alarmed, but he pays no mind as the arboreal giant begins to descend. The cutting tool is being applied to this very trunk.)
Professor: (patting trunk) Yep, this baby’s gonna be here a long, long time.
(The upper branches bang into his head and knock him down. Close-up of him as he stands up, rubbing his head; suddenly his jaw drops open as the motor dies down. Cut to said tree, or what is left of it: a thick trunk with a single sliver of wood sticking up from it. Chainsaw in hand, Fuzzy looks down happily at his feat of lumberjacking.)
(The Professor starts to stutter and babble incoherently at what has just happened to his beloved first experiment; as he goes on in this vein, back to Fuzzy, who plucks the sliver from the trunk and uses it as a toothpick. He brings up a large particle of food.)
Fuzzy: Woo-wee! Hoo-hoo! (laughing) Well, that’s the end of that pesky booger.
(He laughs to himself some more. The Professor, meanwhile, is doing his best not to blow his top and not having much success, judging from the gradual reddening of his face. Finally his eyes go bloodshot, the pupils narrowing to points and the whites turning a sick shade of yellow. He gets this under control and tries to make himself sound as calm as possible when he speaks next.)
Professor: (through gritted teeth) Girls? We’re here to relax—and that’s just what we’re going to do— (full voice, enraged) —after we rip the limbs off this ignoramus!
(With a yell of fury, he leaps across the hilltop and tackles Fuzzy; the two tumble across the grass in front of the latter’s nephews. The Professor sinks his teeth into Fuzzy’s arm, triggering a scream of pain. Now the pair roll back across the grass to where the girls are standing, and Fuzzy bites the Professor’s arm to make him scream. The Professor’s perspective: he is pinned down and looking up into the face of one really angry pink yokel.)
Professor: Girls! (Cut to him.) It’s okay to fight now! (Cut to Fuzzy.)
Fuzzy: It’s tag-team time, boys! (Pull back to frame both; back up slowly.)
Professor: Girls?
Fuzzy: Boys?
(Neither trio of youngsters is in sight anymore. The Professor and Fuzzy get to their feet and glare at each other for a long moment. From here, cut to a patch of forest; the Professor parts the underbrush for a clearer view.)
Professor: Girls? (Fuzzy calls over some other bracken.)
Fuzzy: Boys!
Professor: (on hill) GIRLS!
Fuzzy: (on another hill) Boys!
Professor: (in forest; pull back) GIRLS!!
Fuzzy: (elsewhere in forest; pull back) BOYS!!
(In this last shot, we see that several sticks of dynamite have been tied to a tree trunk and lit. From here, cut to a rustling patch of bushes; the two family heads look cautiously over these. The next two lines are spoken at the same time.)
Professor: Girls?
Fuzzy: Boys?
(What they see is the bayou shore, where the two groups of kids are playing happily together as the sun sets. Blossom and Scuzzy are fishing, Buttercup and Buzzy are skipping stones, and Bubbles and Wuzzy have their arms around each other’s shoulders. Pull back slowly.)
Professor: (from o.c.) Well, bless my heart. (He and Fuzzy come into view.) That is the most precious thing I have ever seen.
Fuzzy: Yeah. (putting arm on Professor’s shoulder) That is real precious.
(The man of science reciprocates, and the two watch the scene for some moments.)
Fuzzy: ’Course, my nephews is more preciouser.
(Ever so slowly, the Professor turns his head to send a hard stare at his opposite number, then gives him a sudden shove that sends him to the ground.)
Professor: Now that’s precious. (He is poked in the eye and yells out.)
(The background for the end shot comes up. A twanging banjo tune is heard instead of the usual episode-ending music.)
Narrator: And so once again the day is saved— (The Professor appears, covering his eyes.) —no thanks to the Professor…
Professor: MY EYE!! (He howls in pain; the girls take his place in their usual pose.)
Narrator: …but thanks to the Powerpuff Girls! You have to admit, Professor, that was a pretty good burn.
(The music changes to the usual closer under the banjo.)