"SIGN FROM ABOVE"
By Bill Griffith & Diane Noomin and Charlie Rubin
with Bruce Kirschbaum

(Note: Charlie Rubin and Bruce Kirschbaum are both professional TV and movie writers. They also both worked on "Seinfeld".)

FADE IN:
EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES STREET- DAWN
The Santa Ana winds are really kicking up. Paper cups, plastic shopping bags, empty cigarette packs, bits of trash blowing down the street, swirling, flying into the air.
A NEWSPAPER KIOSK – JUST AS
A pile of newspapers is DELIVERED, thrown from a truck. WHAM! The top copy comes loose. We CLOSE IN on the paper as the gusting wind flips through the pages. Stories. Ads. Columns. The comics page (brief glimpse of the daily "Zippy" strip). We FOLLOW a sheet of newsprint as it’s lifted by a sudden gust.
EXT. STREET- TRAVELING
REALLY MOVING. The paper flattens against the front window of a convenience store. Quick glimpse of the "Sound Off" column on the Op-Ed page. The headline: "BODY ART— ‘MUTILATION CHIC’ OR THE END OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION?". We SEE the author’s name — GRIFFY — and his PHOTO. Another gust and the newspaper TAKES OFF.
TRAVELING –-
We FOLLOW the paper with Griffy’s article as it blows over and across the awakening city.
TRAVELING --
The paper flies past L.A. landmarks; Century City, Universal Studios, the Griffith Observatory.
TRAVELING -- BUT SLOWING – DOWN, DOWN - LEFT TURN –SHARP RIGHT – ALONG HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD --
ZOOM past Mann’s Chinese Theatre -- quick glimpse of a hatchet-faced street peddler, SHELF-LIFE, hustling tourists on the sidewalk. WHIZ by Frederick’s of Hollywood.
Now passing the NOSH ‘N WASH café/laundromat, a young woman, VIZEEN, coming out with a bag of clothes -- SINGING to herself ("Brylcreem, a little dab’ll do ya…"). WHIP past DONUT HUT and the LUCKY STRIKE LANES bowling alley -- tall guy with a bright blonde forelock (CLAUDE FUNSTON, the bartender) unlocks the front door. The paper wraps around his leg. He KICKS it away. We fly up---
TRAVELING – HIGH ABOVE THE CITY
A real bird’s-eye view. Then—
FOLLOW THE PAPER DOWN TO A VACANT LOT.
STREET NOISES are replaced by the sound of the insistent station ID for a TV home shopping show. The paper floats down into the lot, past A HUGE PLASTER DOG IN A CHEF’S HAT ON A POLE [THE DOGGIE]. Then CLOSER and CLOSER to where the ANNOYING VOICE is coming from. In contrast to the gritty reality of the Boulevard, the vacant lot is orderly and neat. Fake flowers in plastic pots. A mini-picket fence. A life-size Bob’s Big Boy statue stands guard near the astro-turfed entrance to a --
CELLAR DOOR IN CORNER OF LOT
Ajar. The newspaper floats down to a Hello Kitty welcome mat. It stays. We ENTER.
TRAVELING DOWN THE IRON STAIRS TO REVEAL --
SLEEPING FIGURE UNDER POLKA-DOTTED COVERS, AND --
INT. FAUX-FURLINED FALLOUT SHELTER
We PAUSE for a moment to drink it in: A room with faux fur-lined walls containing an amazing array of pop artifacts. Robots. A Charlie the Tuna statuette. Naugas. Flintstones jelly jars. TV show board games....CLOSE-UP:

TV SET: ON SCREEN - HOME SHOPPING SHOW
ANNOUNCER
Just thirty-one seconds remaining on the Hand-sculpted Body Rug! Call now to LOCK IN your EASY-PAY option! Than-KYEW!!


A HAND PICKS UP A REMOTE AND PUSHES "MUTE"
Silencing the "TV alarm".
ON FEET AS THEY SWING OVER THE BED AND LAND ON THE FLOOR
THUNK. Two hands pull on puffy, white shoes. Feet walk over to--
A DRY-CLEANER’S CONVEYOR BELT OF IDENTICAL MUU-MUUS.
Flipping through DOZENS of IDENTICAL GARMENTS. Tough decision. Picks one. Slips on the muu-muu. Pulls it down over his head. A big red bow tied around EIGHT HAIRS emerges from the high-boy collar. Unh… struggling… having a little trouble getting the muu-muu down … over … his … HEAD. Pop! Ah, at last---- full, frontal ZIPPY.
KITCHEN TABLE
An EXPECTANT, smiling Zippy keeps time with a SPATULA to TV THEME MUSIC.
ON TV – A COOKING SHOW
French chef JACQUES PEPIN creates a tasty entrée.
JACQUES (ON TV)
Today, we will be preparing for you a delicious stuffed striped sea bass with a shrimp and mussels filling.
ON ZIPPY- Holding a large knife.
JACQUES (ON TV, CONT’D)
. . .we take the filetted fish by the head and slice it lengthwise, just so. .

PAN DOWN to Zippy’s work surface.
CLOSE-UP: As he carefully slices a DING DONG lengthwise.

JACQUES (ON TV, CONT’D)
Now we combine the chopped shrimp with one minced onion and one cup heavy cream.
Zippy removes the crème center from the Ding Dong and puts it in a mixing bowl. He stirs in a container of Tic-Tacs, some baco-bits, a few Froot Loops and a soupçon of minced clams. For consistency, he pours in a bottle of Pepto Bismol. He scoops up the mixture and neatly "stuffs" it into the Ding Dong’s cavity. He carefully rejoins both halves.
He pours half a bottle of extra hot taco sauce over the finished creation and POPS IT IN HIS MOUTH.
ZIPPY
Yow! I just gave myself four stars in the Michelin Guide!
DISSOLVE TO:
Post-breakfast, contented Zippy. Patting his belly, his gaze slowly becoming TRANSFIXED across the room. A SEMI-RELIGIOUS RITUAL is about to begin.
FOLLOWING ZIPPY CROSSING TO: REDDY KILOWATT
A two-foot Reddy from the 1950’s. Zippy reverently removes him from a favored niche and places him on the floor. Then from other locales he grabs a Quisp bank, an old Yoo-Hoo bottle, Mr. Peanut, a Lost In Space lunchbox.... He’s building SOMETHING. . .
DISSOLVE TO:
PANNING, BOTTOM TO TOP, about a dozen items. The Jolly Green Giant, Poppin’ Fresh, Nauga, Colonel Sanders....
PULL BACK TO REVEAL: AN ALTAR
And Zippy admiring it -- it’s his ALTAR of AMERICAN POSTWAR POP ARTIFACTS. His holiest of holies.
ON ZIPPY - BIT LATER
Lemon-Pledging each totem on the altar. Lovingly. Especially the TOP of COLONEL SANDERS’ HEAD. Because, it develops, something else is going to rest there. There is ONE MORE FIGURINE to be placed at the TIPPY-TOP of the altar.........
BOMB KAT 500
A bowling ball-like, black and white PLASTIC CAT’S HEAD WITH TINY FEET AND ARMS. It has big yellow eyes and a striped orange tail which looks suspiciously like a fuse. Japanese, of course.
-- ZIPPY INTONES....


ZIPPY
Bomb Kat 500. Two eyes. Two ears. Three toes. Bomb Kat 500, master of the universe, is it lonely at the top? Bomb Kat 500, you know THINGS. And STUFF. You know things ABOUT stuff. Speak to me, Bomb Kat. Tell me about the human condition. Even better, tell me about MINT CONDITION!

He polishes Bomb Kat to a high gloss and caresses him with his FINGERS. Smooooth.
ZIPPY
Polypropylene is a very powerful emotion.

Pleased, Zippy holds spotless Bomb Kat aloft, then gently sets him on top of COLONEL SANDERS.
ON ZIPPY
Content. Bomb Kat in his place of honor. A job well done, he turns around and clicks on the RADIO. We hear the first few bars of "Your Feet's Too Big" by Fats Waller --
ANGLE ON BOMB KAT: Sliding. . sliding. . .

A SICKENING CRASH
Zippy spins and sees -- Bomb Kat, SHATTERED -- and Zippy too.
ZIPPY
Oh, Bomb Kat! We were so good for each other! If only I’d faux fur-lined the floor, too!
Bomb Kat is dead.
Zippy clutches the plastic shards of his beloved Bomb Kat to his chest. He looks heavenward, a tear in his eye.
ON THE WALL
A framed photograph of a smiling Zippy standing in front of the Griffith Observatory, his arm around a friend --

ZIPPY
(SUDDENLY FILLED WITH HOPE) Griffy!

CUT TO:
EXT. THE GRIFFITH OBSERVATORY - SAME TIME
Majestic. A giant TELESCOPE aimed at the stars. What lessons will they teach us? What secrets will----
The TELESCOPE unexpectedly tilts earthward from the galaxies (SFX: METAL, GNASHING) and keeps on tilting, as if somebody is pointing it at far more terrestrial matters, like --
A NEWSSTAND ON HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD - LENS-EYE VIEW --
GRIFFY (V.O.)
Come on, somebody buy a paper. Jeez, doesn’t anybody read?

WIDER - SAME POV
Now we see PEDESTRIANS sauntering by, all in varying stages of casual "undress". Sweats, t-shirts, everything festooned with logos, logos, logos. In other words: Modern America on parade. All PASSING the newsstand -- NOT EVEN GIVING IT A GLANCE.
CUT TO

INT. OBSERVATORY
Griffy looking through the telescope. A STACK of today’s newspapers on a table nearby. Also a tape recorder, pencils, notepads, a lap-top: his "work station".
GRIFFY
Dear God, is there not ONE INTELLECTUAL left in the entire L.A. Basin?!
LENS-EYE VIEW
ZIPPY’S FACE FILLS THE LENS

GRIFFY IS STARTLED.
GRIFFY
WAAAH!!?
EXT. GRIFFITH OBSERVATORY
ZIPPY DANGLING OFF THE END OF THE TELESCOPE

ZIPPY (DIRGE-LIKE SINGING)
BOMB KAT 500! His ears are sharp, his fuse is long, he once was mine but now he’s GONE. . .
ZIPPY PULLS HIMSELF ONTO THE TOP OF THE SCOPE

INT. OBSERVATORY - LONG SHOT
As Zippy comes SLIDING DOWN the ‘scope into Griffy’s hideaway, scattering Griffy’s carefully aligned stack of newspapers.
ON ZIPPY AND GRIFFY
GRIFFY
(PICKING UP THE PAPERS) Hey, hey. Watch it, Zippy. These papers are collector’s items.
ZIPPY
My collector’s item is in pieces, too. Look.

Zippy reverently displays A FEW HUNKS OF PLASTIC to Griffy.
ZIPPY (CONT'D)
BOMB KAT 500.

GRIFFY
(HOLDING ONE PIECE) His whisker?

ZIPPY
(SOBS) Fuse. He's gone. What should I do?
Griffy immediately wraps his arm around Zippy.

GRIFFY
Don't worry, Zip. I see a problem, I find a solution. You've come to the right man.

ZIPPY
You mean I can I have YOURS? Oh, thank you!
Zippy throws his arms joyfully around Griffy. Griffy extricates himself.

GRIFFY
Well, actually. . .I don't have one, but I'm sure we can find you another one.
ZIPPY (EAGERLY)
You think so?

GRIFFY
Of course. They must have made millions of those things. Hey, have you seen today's paper? They published my analysis of so-called body art. Those lug-nut forehead implants are clearly a cry for help.


ZIPPY (INTERRUPTING)
YOW! They printed your picture!
You’re famous.

GRIFFY

(FALSE MODESTY) I guess I AM kind of famous. I should get out there, among my public. Just think, Zippy -- I'll be able to effect change!


ZIPPY
Wendy’s accepts change.


GRIFFY
Who’s Wendy?
CUT TO:
EXT. ACROSS THE STREET FROM WENDY’S FAST FOOD RESTAURANT
Griffy and Zippy pull up in Griffy’s beat-up Volvo. It’s covered with earnest bumper stickers: "I (HEART) N.P.R. PLEDGE DRIVES", "IMPEACH KEN STARR", "SO MUCH KAFKA, SO LITTLE TIME".


ON GRIFFY AND ZIPPY WALKING TO THE RESTAURANT’S ENTRANCE

Griffy carries a newspaper under his arm.
GRIFFY
You’re sure this is where you got the Bomb Kat?

ZIPPY
Wait. (FINGERS TO TEMPLES) I’m getting a message from Dave Thomas -- Yes! This is the place! And he recommends the Double Bacon Cheeseburger!
GRIFFY
Ugh. Fast food. And, worse, fast food architecture. Yi, those garish colors. What are they supposed to put you in the mood for, deep-fried peptic ulcers?
INT. WENDY’S RESTAURANT
As they ENTER.
ZIPPY
Deep-fried peptic ulcers! Deep-fried peptic ulcers! Deep-fried peptic ulcers! I feel very close to Bomb Kat right now.

GRIFFY
As well you should, Zip. We had a dilemma, we applied logic, we formulated a plan. Ah, we’re next. Time to execute!
GRIFFY AND ZIPPY STEP TO THE COUNTER-
COUNTER KID
Can I take your order?

GRIFFY
Excuse me, I have a question. My friend here, unfortunately, broke his Bomb Kat and he, that is, we, need a replacement. Can you help us?

COUNTER KID
Bomb Kat? No problem. It comes free with the Xtreme Family Lunch Pak.

Griffy BEAMS.

GRIFFY
See, Zip? Mission accomplished.

COUNTERKID
That'll be $14.99.
GRIFFY
What? $14.99?!? For some overcooked, impossibly salty, preservative-laden bucket of greasy garbage?

Zippy closes his eyes and clasps his hands in prayer.

ZIPPY
(REVERENTLY) I just accepted trans-fatty acids into my life.


GRIFFY
Junk food! Of course! I’ll make it the subject of my NEXT article!

ZIPPY

(EYES CLOSED) Bomb Kat -- I’m visualizing
him right now in the PLACE OF HONOR . . .

COUNTER KID
Here you go. Number twenty-three. With the free toy.
Griffy hands the thing to Zippy. CLOSE IN on Bomb Kat. But something is TERRIBLY WRONG.

ZIPPY
INCORRECT! INCORRECT! THIS IS NOT BOMB KAT!! It’s too small! This is Bomb Kat 100, not Bomb Kat 500! It’s at least four hundred numbers off! I’m not having any fun! I’m EXTREMELY not having any fun!

VOICE (O.S.)
Gentlemen, gentlemen, what’s the problem? Perhaps I can be of assistance.

It’s SHELF-LIFE, the hatchet-faced street hustler we saw earlier this morning. He’s staggering under the weight of a pile of T-SHIRTS.
GRIFFY
(LESS THAN THRILLED) No, no. Everything’s under control here. There’s nothing in it for YOU, Shelf-Life.

ZIPPY
First I HAD Bomb Kat, then I BROKE Bomb Kat. Now Bomb Kat is INCORRECT. My life is ruined.
Shelf-Life snaps his fingers, the complete hipster.

SHELF-LIFE (RAPID FIRE)
Bomb Kat? Yeah, sure. From that Japanese sci-fi flick last summer.There were two models. The 100 and the…

ZIPPY
500! Bomb Kat 500! The big one! With the yellow eyes! And the li’l feet. . . and the cute, orange fuse. . . (SIGH)

GRIFFY
Right. NOT the one we just paid $14.99 for. (TOSSES IT IN THE GARBAGE)

SHELF-LIFE
You came to the right guy, amigos. Yeah. Listen, lemme access a few of my contacts in the collectibles market and get back at ya. You bein’ buds and all, I'll do it for a small finder’s fee. Chump change. No problem. Wha’d’ya say?
Zippy FALLS TO HIS KNEES and grabs Shelf-Life around the waist.

ZIPPY
Would you? Could you? You’re like a super-hero to me, Shelf-Life. Only without the Spandex. And with a small finder’s fee.

GRIFFY (TAKE CHARGE MODE)
Back off, Shelf-Life. I can handle this.

SHELF-LIFE (TO GRIFFY)
Sure, sure. Hey, didn’t I see your picture in the paper today, pally?

GRIFFY
(PLEASED) Oh, you saw my piece?

Zippy NOTICES the shirts Shelf-Life is peddling.

ZIPPY (TO SHELF-LIFE)

Are these REAL Tommy Hilfiger t-shirts?
A TOURIST perks up at the mention of the name and comes over.

TOURIST
(FEELING THE SHIRT) Nice poly blend. Wait a minute. This says Hil-FINGER. When I bought this in St. Paul, it said Hil-FIGER.

SHELF-LIFE
Phew. You got taken, amigo.

TOURIST
Gimme six.

GRIFFY
Nice, Shelf-Life. That’s what you’re good at, scamming the dim-wits.

SHELF-LIFE
Hey, I just give ‘em what they want – souvenirs of L.A. Star maps. Sleep in Cher’s bedroom. Sniff glue with a ex-Mouseketeer.

GRIFFY
I rest my case. I think we’ve wasted enough time here.
They LEAVE, Zippy looking wistfully back at Shelf-Life.
DISSOLVE TO: SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF WENDY’S – A MINUTE LATER

ON MOVIE BILLBOARD BEING HOISTED INTO PLACE HIGH ABOVE STREET: It says: "WOLFN, Your Worst Nightmare". A crane struggles with it in the high wind.

GRIFFY (V.O.)
WOLFN!?! (GROAN) That's what we need. Another cheesy slasher film whose sole purpose is to sell crappy action figures to adolescents with disposable incomes.

Griffy and Zippy walk, the WIND blowing HARDER now. A TOUPEE flies by, a GUY runs after it.

ZIPPY
Griffy, has anyone ever SEEN Tommy Hilfinger? Is he REAL?

GRIFFY
Hil-FIGER. Jeez, yeah, about as real as Shelf-Life’s promises.
ZIPPY
(WORRIED) Shelf-Life is real -- I know his Social Security Number!

GRIFFY
Forget about that guy. Relax, I’ll get you a Bomb Kat, no problem. Hey, half of L.A. was reading my byline over their soy lattes this morning.

ZIPPY
Griffy, WE’RE real, aren’t we?

GRIFFY
Well, speaking existentially, can we ever…

SWISH PAN TO GRIFFY’S CAR
as a METER MAID is writing out a ticket.

GRIFFY (CONT'D)
Hey! Wait a minute, that’s my car! That can’t be expired! The meter must be running fast. . .
The meter maid keeps on writing the ticket.

ZIPPY
I was Cleopatra’s meter maid in a past life. She could really parallel park.

METER MAID
We prefer the term Traffic Control Officer.
GRIFFY
And a fine job you all do. In fact, I’m thinking of honoring you wonderful people in my next Op-Ed piece. (HOLDS OUT HIS NOW WELL-WORN NEWSPAPER) Perhaps you saw my article in today’s Times?



TRAFFIC CONTROL OFFICER
Who has time to read?
She gets in her cart and GUNS her motor.


GRIFFY
Wait! You can’t do this! What is your badge number? I want to know your badge number! So I can be accurate when I write how the L.A. Traffic Control Department is OUT OF CONTROL!

WIPE TO: INT. - A LOUNGE
A SINGER - VIZEEN (HER ACT IS A MEDLEY OF COMMERCIAL JINGLES) - PINSPOT ON HER
VIZEEN (TORCHY, POURING HER HEART INTO IT)
When the values go up up up/And the prices go down down down/Robert Hall this season/Will show you the reason/Low overhead/High quality!

Done -- she drops her head humbly as the audience applauds WILDLY, and calls out like an OPERA CLAQUE:
PATRONS
BRAAAAAAAAA-VVVVAAAAAAAAAA!

Something odd about this crowd though: They’re all in bowling shirts, drinking watery scotch, league trophies everywhere. A DOOR OPENS (OFF.) and we hear the distant CLATTER of pins dropping, balls rolling.
ON ZIPPY AND GRIFFY AT THE BAR / LUCKY STRIKE LOUNGE
Zippy talking to CLAUDE, the Bartender. Claude is one slick dude. Stuck forever in an idealized, bell-bottomed early-Seventies-of-the-mind, he wears a vintage Acrylan disco shirt over a "Charlie’s Angels" tanktop, a real ladies’ man.


ZIPPY (TO CLAUDE)
It has these sharp, pointy ears. And big, yellow eyes. And the fuse.. the li’l orange fuse. . .

Claude serves Zippy a bottle of EXTRA HOT TACO SAUCE, as if it were a beer.

CLAUDE
Wish I could help, pardner. Sounds like a helluva dang cute pussycat. Now, if it was a mint Disco Duck Bath Buddy you needed. . .
ON GRIFFY
Ostentatiously reading his newspaper article.
GRIFFY
Checked out my column in the paper today, Claude? Right here on page thirty-two. Next to my photo.

Claude takes the paper and reads the article out loud:

CLAUDE
"...and the sooner we as a people demand a quick end to this degenerate fad of implanting lug-nuts in one’s forehead, the better. Foreheads are where ideas begin, not where hardware ends."

As Claude lowers the paper, we see Griffy MOUTHING the words from memory.

CLAUDE (CONT’D)
You know what I think? I think I don’t need the dang government tellin’ me what to do with (SLAPPING FOREHEAD AFTER EACH WORD FOR EMPHASIS) my private parts!

GRIFFY
And this (GESTURES TO CLAUDE), in case anyone is wondering, is how the militia movement got its start.

CLAUDE
Don’t knock militia meetings, pardner. Great place to pick up babes.

GRIFFY
You don’t think with your brain, Claude. Your thought process goes on a little further south – in your PANTS!

ZIPPY
I left my pants in San Francisco.

ON VIZEEN - CROSSING FROM THE STAGE TO THE BAR
Customers scurrying to let her pass -- she’s the Queen.

VIZEEN (TO CLAUDE)
Oh, Claude, did my "Polaroid Swinger" sheet music come in?

CLAUDE
Not yet, darlin’.


GRIFFY (TO VIZEEN)

Seen my lug nut piece, Vizeen?
VIZEEN
Oh, God, not the lug nuts again. Get real, Griffy. What people do with their own foreheads is their own business. You are such an elitist.

GRIFFY
Elitism is good, Vizeen. Elitism WORKS. Noblesse oblige. Caveat Emptor.

ZIPPY
E pluribus unum!

VIZEEN (TO GRIFFY)
There’s nothing wrong with you a weekend sensitivity training seminar wouldn’t cure.

GRIFFY
Right. Forty-eight hours deprived of bathroom privileges in an airless room with two hundred bubbleheads all hypnotized by the psychobabble of a former used car salesman on the lam from a paternity suit in Canada. Sounds dreamy. Sign me up.

ZIPPY
How far is Canada, Griffy? Do they have Bomb Kats there?
VIZEEN
Bomb Kat? From the movie? Those were cool.

ZIPPY
Bomb Kat is dead. I killed him. It was an accident. Manslaughter. Oh, no, it's Sipowicz! I’m gonna lawyer up! I need an alibi -- or a NEW Bomb Kat. Can I have yours?

VIZEEN
No, Zippy, sorry. I’m Bomb Kat-less.
Zippy bows his head in defeat. Dejected, he pushes his bottle of taco sauce away. Vizeen leans over and gives him a HUG.

VIZEEN
Aw, poor baby, you must really miss your Bomb Kat.

CLAUDE
Buck up, pardner. Here’s somethin’ that always helps me: Ask yourself, "What would Kojak do?"
A RHYTHMIC CLAPPING has begun softly, then louder.

ON LOUNGE
Patrons holding up LIT MATCHES, looking towards bar.
ON VIZEEN
Responding -- it’s SHOWTIME.
VIZEEN - MIKE IN HAND
VIZEEN
I’d like to do something a little bit special tonight. This one’s for you, Zip -- The THEME FROM BOMB KAT 500.
The tune is amazingly similar to the kitschy, pseudo- psychedelic oldie, "Incense and Peppermints".

VIZEEN (SINGING, CONT"D)
Some cats are cuddly and some cats are cold/ Some cats will claw their way right into your soul/ BOMB KAT 500 – you haven’t a prayer/ He’ll blow you away with nine lives to spare!
CLOSE-UP OF ZIPPY’S EYES. REFLECTIONS OF BOMB KAT BEGIN TO SPIN IN HIS PUPILS. SFX OF A SLOSHING WASHING MACHINE. A PING! -- AND WE’RE IN HIS MIND!
ENTERING ZIPPYVISION:
Vizeen is still singing, but there’s something a bit OFF about her – oh, yeah – she has BOMB KAT’S HEAD!
KA-BOOOOM!! Vizeen/Bomb Kat erupts in a VIOLENT EXPLOSION. When the smoke clears, we're in an altered reality – the world of "Anime", modern Japanese animation. The look is Toy Story meets Hello Kitty in cyberspace.
In ZippyVision, Zippy gets what he wants -- and then some. One Bomb Kat after another roll toward him and gleefully EXPLODE. Two, three, a DOZEN Bomb Kats inundate him. An elaborate, choreographed sequence follows. Zippy tries to JUGGLE them all ---
But it's too much of a good thing. He can't keep his balance -- YOW!!! They all SMASH on the ground. Smithereens.
ZIPPY
NO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!
The SCREEN MELTS and everything SWIRLS. SFX of SLOSHING WASHING MACHINE and we EXIT ZIPPYVISION.
INT. LOUNGE
The audience applauds and Vizeen immediately launches into the tune of a well-known KITCHEN CLEANSER COMMERCIAL.

ZIPPY
(REALLY FREAKED) Nooooo! Nooooo!

GRIFFY
It’s OK, Zip. I’m not a big fan of the Ajax jingle, either. (PUSHES OVER PLATE) Ding Dong?

ZIPPY
All I want is Bomb Kat.

DISSOLVE TO: STREET IN FRONT OF WENDY'S
Zippy and Griffy walking back to the car, the wind is BLOWING HARDER.

GRIFFY
Sorry it didn’t work out, Zippy. We gave it a shot, but I’m afraid we may have fallen victim to THE RULE. You know. . .

ZIPPY
"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s Bomb Kat" ?
GRIFFY
Not quite. It goes: "Any commonly found object will become impossible to find as soon as you start looking for it"!
They turn a corner, Griffy gets out his keys.
GRIFFY (CONT’D)
Perhaps there’s even a lesson to be learned from all this: Focus on what’s really important in your life, let go of the material --- WHAT? WHERE’S MY CAR??! Someone stole my goddamn car!

ZIPPY

Are you sure?
GRIFFY
Yes! I parked it right here! I remember this porn shop! What kind of a culture is this? Is there no social contract? Are we nothing but ANIMALS?

ZIPPY
I am the walrus.

GRIFFY
Well, I’m no goddamn egg man.
Griffy sits on the hood of another car, steaming.

SHELF-LIFE RUNS UP
SHELF-LIFE
Just missed you guys at the bowling alley. . .



He’s out of breath but holding –

ZIPPY
Bomb Kat 500! In mint condition! Original packaging!

GRIFFY
(TO S.L.) What is it, some shoddy knock-off?

ZIPPY
(SNIFFING) No, Griffy, it’s real! It’s got that new Kat smell!

SHELF-LIFE
Guy at the studio that made the B.K. movie told me poke through Harrison Ford’s garbage. Good tip. Hey, want some slippery shrimp? (OFFERS CHINESE CONTAINER) Harry brings in from Yang Chow’s. Man’s a class act.

GRIFFY
How much? And keep in mind some low-life just stole my Volvo.

SHELF-LIFE
No charge. ‘Course I entailed a few minor expenses. My gas, coupla calls, the pants Harrison's schnauzer ruined. Totals up to two-sixty three. Hell, call it two-fifty even. Deal?

GRIFFY
Two hundred and fifty dollars? Are you out of your greedy little mind?

SHELF-LIFE
Hey. I’m an entrepreneur. All right, if that’s how you’re gonna be.. . .

Shelf-Life tries to take Bomb Kat back from Zippy. Zippy holds tight. They TUG back and forth, a DESPARATE LOOK on
Zippy’s face until --
GRIFFY
OK, OK, here’s your money. Why do I think you must’ve enjoyed pulling the wings off flies as a kid --

S.L. walks off, counting his cash. Ecstatic, Zippy cradles his Bomb Kat.
ZIPPY

This is better than a three-day, all-expenses-paid weekend with Leona Helmsley! This is the most incredible thing a friend ever did for a friend. We’re like Starsky and Hutch! Sonny and Cher! Crate and Barrel!

GRIFFY
It’s OK, Zippy. Enjoy.

Out of sheer joy, Zippy does HAND SPRINGS down the street and lands in an awning.

ZIPPY
You’re my HERO! You should get the Pulitzer Prize! No, the Nobel Prize! No, even better — the Consolation Prize!
A HUGE GUST OF WIND
KA-BOOM!
The giant WOLFN billboard CRASHES just a few inches from Griffy. It kicks up smoke. Dust. Debris. Obscuring Griffy.
ZIPPY
His face, moving through the dust and fumes. Searching. Finds Griffy, who’s okay, leads him out. A GREAT STILLNESS descends.

CONTINUING
GRIFFY
I...I...was nearly killed. (SCREAMING) BY A BIG SIGN PROMOTING A VERY BAD MOVIE!


ZIPPY
It’s a miracle! You’re alive! And, look, Bomb Kat is also unscathed!

GRIFFY
(SOFTLY) You’re right – I’m alive – (THEN SCREAMING AGAIN) BUT I ALMOST BECAME THE CENTERPIECE IN A PIECE OF SHIT MOVIE’S OBNOXIOUS PUBLICITY CAMPAIGN! "WOLFN Claims First Victim!"

ZIPPY (WITH EMPATHY)
Does this mean we don’t get to go to the star-studded premiere?
CUT TO: INT. "NOSH ‘N WASH" CAFÉ/LAUNDROMAT – HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD – A BIT LATER
Dozens of SPINNING, SLOSHING WASHING MACHINES are in action. Griffy is gazing zombie-like into the PORTHOLE of a washer while a worried Zippy (cradling Bomb Kat) tries to console him –

ZIPPY
Follow the pink sock, Griffy. Become one with the rinse cycle. . .

GRIFFY

(SUDDENLY STANDS UP) Do you realize how close I came to dying out there? If I’d just gotten out of bed two seconds earlier this morning, I’d be GRAVY now!
And if I had been annihilated, what would I have to show for my life? Nothing that matters.
ZIPPY
Only you can determine your correct temperature setting. Feel the Fab. Reach for the bleach. Go with the Tide.

GRIFFY
Was some dumb diatribe against lug nuts my crowning achievement? What’s the difference if my car got stolen? When you look at the Big Picture, how important is ANYTHING, really?

ZIPPY
But, Griffy, Laundry is the Fifth Dimension!
GRIFFY
What it comes down to is -- EVERYBODY DIES. We spend our whole lives pretending it’s not gonna happen to us and then, BLAM! (PAUSE) Why bother?

ON CLAUDE

Laundering his disco duds at the next machine.


CLAUDE

What you need, pardner, is to get your Roscoe waxed. And pronto.


GRIFFY (TO CLAUDE)

For those of us whose IQ is a tad higher than our testosterone level, Claude, life is a bit more complicated. Sex isn't always the answer.

ZIPPY

Sex? I thought we were discussing ring around the collar!






CLAUDE

Well, all I know, pardner, is when I ease into this here all-Dacron, lime green leisure suit and head on over to the Y-Knot Club on a Friday night, the gals just can’t keep their hands offa me. I’m havin’ too much fun livin’ to worry about dyin’.

A WOMAN IN TIGHT CUT-OFFS bends over to pick up her laundry basket. Griffy LOOKS wistfully at her derriere.

GRIFFY
(SIGH) If only things were that simple for me. . .

ZIPPY

(BIG SMILE) Why am I suddenly imagining the Washington Monument entering the Holland Tunnel? . . . Why not?

DISSOLVE TO: EXT. THE Y-KNOT CLUB: THAT NIGHT
A bleak topless joint near LAX. Next to the "WET T-SHIRT WEDNESDAYS" sign in the window, another notice announces: "AN EQUAL OPPORTUNITY EMPLOYER".

CUT TO:

INT. Y-KNOT CLUB
Zippy, Griffy and Bomb Kat front row center, facing the stage. Zippy and Griffy clutching seltzer bottles. Griffy is wearing Claude’s lime green leisure suit. Not a good look for him. Buxom CONTESTANTS in t-shirts strut their stuff.

GRIFFY
Oh, God, what am I doing here? Why did I let you talk me into this, Zippy?

ZIPPY


We’re gonna judge the wet t-shirt contest! We have extra Y–chromosomes, male pattern baldness and a note from Dr. Ruth!

ON STAGE
The girls shimmy their way downstage.
EMCEE
Alllll riiiiiight! Let's get WET!

On cue, the entire front row shake up their cans and bottles, keeping time to the thumping beat. They SPRAY the girls. The crowd HOOTS.

SWISH PAN TO - NERVOUS, OUT-OF-HIS-ELEMENT GRIFFY

He hesitates -- then sprays.
One of the contestants LEANS OVER and really shakes it in Griffy's face. He's PANICKY at first -- holding his seltzer bottle upside down, etc. -- but warms up, liking it. Getting turned on.

GRIFFY

I'm starting to understand happiness,
Zippy.

ZIPPY

We've just arrived on Fantasy Island. You
can thank me later.


ON A SOAKED CONTESTANT: exiting stage left.

She signals Griffy to follow her back into the wings.

ZIPPY

Anchors aweigh, Griffy!

Griffy STANDS. Scared, interested.

GRIFFY

Right. What if the meaning of life is waiting for me backstage?

ZIPPY
And in a see-through Tommy Hilfinger t-shirt. Yow!

SMASH CUT TO:
Griffy making out with the CONTESTANT. Suddenly he notices -- a KID. Watching them. It weirds him out. Tries to shoo him.
GRIFFY

Hey, what’re you waiting for?

KID
My Dad. This is my weekend with him.

GRIFFY
Well, go find him.

KID
OK. He’s at the other end of your lips.

Pause. Griffy takes another look at his girl.
GRIFFY
Big hands. Excellent calf definition.

"GIRL"

Thanks.

GRIFFY

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH –-

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. NOSH ‘N WASH – NEXT DAY
Row of washers. Griffy and Vizeen. Zippy pouring something into a measuring cup.
VIZEEN
You didn't notice until then? You really oughta come down from your perch more often, swinger.

GRIFFY (SHAKY)
Well, she was really quite. . .you know, shapely. . .

ZIPPY
(OFFERS GRIFFY A CUP) Woolite?

GRIFFY
No, no thanks. . .

ZIPPY
(GULPS IT DOWN) Always perks me up after a rough night.

VIZEEN (TO GRIFFY)
Shapely? Ever hear of latex? Griffy, what happened to your keen powers of observation? They were transvestites. Cross-dressers!

ZIPPY
I was strangely moved.

VIZEEN
Did you really think you could find the answer in cheap, meaningless sex? You need to transcend the physical plane!

GRIFFY
.......Go on.

Vizeen shoots a dumbfounded look at Zippy and mouths "Go on"?
VIZEEN
It’s just that this is where you tend to deliver a diatribe and I stalk away.

GRIFFY
No.......Go on.
VIZEEN
Last weekend, I went on this Buddhist retreat. . .
Griffy moans.

VIZEEN (CONT'D)

You'll never be happy until you lose your ego. Follow your bliss. Life is an illusion.

GRIFFY
Vizeen, you're looking at someone who just confronted the VOID. New Age buzz words won't help. What's the point of ANYTHING in a universe where one minute you're a living, breathing human being and the next you're a mass of bleeding muscle tissue under a five-ton WOLFN billboard? Give me one good reason to go on!

ZIPPY
Griffy! You're MORE than five tons of bleeding muscle tissue! There IS a point to the universe. Otherwise, how do you explain Vanna White? Or the Frappuccino? Lose your Eggo! Follow your Blistex! Life is a Mitsubishi!
CUT TO:
EXT. An anonymous CHAIN HOTEL, out by the airport.
INT. HOTEL LOBBY
CLOSE-UP: a sign on an easel: "Today, 4 P.M., LEAP OF FAITH LTD., INTERNATIONAL."
PAN OVER TO:

GROUP LEADER
(LOUD) Alllllll rrrrrrrright!! Everyone who's ready to let go of their negative programming and commit to the LEAP OF FAITH, stand up and say "I CAN!!"
DEVOTEES (ALL IN ORANGE JUMPSUITS) SCREAM "I CAN"!
TILT UP to balcony high above the crowded lobby.
SWISH PAN along row of devotees, lined up at the balcony's edge, coming to a stop on -- Griffy and Zippy. Griffy's white-knuckling the railing.

GRIFFY
I can't believe I forgot I was afraid of heights. And day-glo jumpsuits.

ZIPPY
Feel the LOVE, Griffy! Its so ----ORANGE!
A "mosh pit" of the devotees below, arms outstretched.

MOSH PIT DEVOTEES
Leap! Leap! Leap of faith!
One by one, followers LEAP over the railing into the human "safety net". Now it's Zippy's turn. He holds Bomb Kat over his head and LEAPS.

ZIPPY
I CANNNNNNN ------- FLY!!!
ON THE FLOOR BELOW

MOSH PIT POV: Zippy's swan dive. At the last second, the devotees FLINCH and Zippy crashes right through them. THUD. But he BOUNCES right back up in one, smooth acrobatic move. He looks back up at Griffy.

ZIPPY
(WAVING BOMB-KAT) You can do it, Griffy! It only hurts if you didn’t pay the full, three-day registration fee with vegan-meal option.

GRIFFY (TRYING TO TALK HIMSELF INTO IT)
I can. . .I can. . .(suddenly) NO I CAN'T! Lemme outta here!
At the sound of this "negativity", the devotees suddenly TURN UGLY and start PUMMELING Griffy.
ANGRY CROWD BELOW
LEAP! LEAP! LEAP!
Terrified, Griffy DUCKS DOWN and CRAWLS VERY FAST between dozens of orange legs.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. SIDEWALK OUTSIDE HOTEL
First-aid lineament and Ace bandages being applied to Griffy's scraped and bruised knees. PULL BACK to reveal
"Dr. Zippy".
ZIPPY
Make three wishes and call me in the morning.
GRIFFY
I wish I'd never been born. Oh, jeez, look what I've been reduced to -- quoting from "It's A Wonderful Life".
SHELF-LIFE (O.S.)
(PITCHING) Crutches! Splints! Bacitracin! Ten per cent discount to Faith Leapers!
Now we see that Shelf-Life has set up a first-aid concession on the sidewalk outside the hotel.
GRIFFY
What are YOU doing here?
SHELF-LIFE
Just fillin' a need, pally.


GRIFFY
Shelf-Life, for you, money really does buy happiness, doesn't it?
SHELF-LIFE
You bet your sweet ass it does! That's what life's all about, pally. Money. Hard cash. Mazooma. SPON-DOO-LIX.
ZIPPY
Spon-doo-lix. Spon-doo-lix. It rolls off the tongue. Spondoolix. I don't know what it means, but I like saying it.
GRIFFY
Money. Maybe that's my problem. I never bought into the American Dream. I never played the game.
ZIPPY
(GETTING AN IDEA) It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how loud you shriek when you choose the cruise!
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. THE SET OF A QUIZ SHOW - "CELEBRITY STRIP SCRABBLE"
Griffy stands alone on a raised platform. He's sweating and down to his BOXER SHORTS. His opponent, HEATHER LOCKLEAR, is fully dressed.

SMARMY HOST
We're gettin' down to the meat and potatoes here! Remember -- the wrong answer -- Slime ‘n’ Packing Peanuts!

He indicates a SUSPENDED BUCKET over Griffy’s head.
SMARMY HOST (CONT'D)
Your letter, please!
GRIFFY
"V"?
ON SCREEN: AN ELECTRONIC SCRABBLE BOARD.
A "V" COMES UP. THE TILES NOW READ; V_YEU_.
SMARMY HOST
There's your "V"! Once again the definition is: "spectator", or "onlooker". What is the word we're looking for?
Countdown music begins.
ON ZIPPY IN THE AUDIENCE: In solidarity with Griffy, he's stripped down to HIS polka-dotted boxers. Audience members have cleared a space around him. He gives Griffy the WOO-WOO arm wave.
SMARMY HOST
I'm sorry, Griffy, time's up!
ON ZIPPY: In the audience, applauding wildly. The ONLY one applauding. Countdown music starts again.
SMARMY HOST (CONT'D)
Can you guess the word, Heather?


HEATHER
VOYEUR?

SMARMY HOST
...is riiight!
KA-BLOOSH! Griffy's COVERED in slime and packing peanuts.

CUT TO: EXT. STREET OUTSIDE TV STUDIO - LATER
Griffy’s clothes and skin are tinged GREEN, his hair is MATTED, and he has stray packing peanuts STUCK all over him. Zippy struggles into his muu-muu.

ZIPPY
You're right, Griffy, I should've gone with "Jeopardy"... But at least you got to meet Heather Locklear! (BEAT) What's that?
Griffy drops a box of Turtle Wax on the ground and kicks it viciously.

ZIPPY (REALLY HAPPY)
The consolation prize!
GRIFFY
Great. Now not only am I suicidally depressed, but I'll have to live the rest of my miserable life with the memory of myself half-naked in front of Heather Locklear. I give up. I've tried everything. Nothing’s worked. The meaning of life will forever elude me.
In that exact instant, a PANHANDLER wearing a frayed TOMMY HILFINGER t-shirt stands before them.

PANHANDLER
Help a guy out with a quarter?

GRIFFY
(PATTING HIS POCKETS, THEN) Money? What's the use? We're all just gonna die, anyway.

ZIPPY
He doesn't mean it, he's having a mid-east crisis. Here, take this.

AND HE HANDS THE PANHANDLER HIS PRECIOUS BOMB KAT 500.

PANHANDLER
Thanks.

AND LEAVES.
GRIFFY
(HORRIFIED, FURIOUS) Zippy, how could you do that ? After all I've gone through to get you that goddamn Bomb Kat, you just hand it over to the first bum who asks you for spare change? How absurd is that? (GROWING REALIZATION). Oh, my God, that's it! The answer to my quest has been right in front of me all along. It's not sex, or religion, or money. The meaning of life? THERE IS NO MEANING. It's absolutely and utterly absurd. I GET THE JOKE!

ZIPPY
The one about the priest and the rabbi?
GRIFFY
Don't you see? I'm absurd! You're absurd! LIFE is absurd! Of course! Thank you!

ZIPPY
Gesundheit. (BEAT) Hey. Isn't that your car?
Griffy turns and sees his car parked just where he left it -- in front of a porno store.
GRIFFY
My car! Yes! Incredible! It wasn't stolen after all. It's been here all along! This is great! Everything's working out perfectly! Yes. Finally. It's all falling into place. . .

ZIPPY
I didn't know you ordered a cool, new paint job.

GRIFFY
Paint job? (HE TURNS AND REACTS) Hey, you. . .
A PUNK is graffiti-ing Griffy's Volvo, a LUG NUT IMPLANTED prominently in his forehead. Griffy runs toward the car. Zippy stays. The punk takes off.
GRIFFY
What do you think you're doing? Come back here, you -- barbarian!
Griffy TEARS OFF after the punk.
GRIFFY (RUNNING)
Stupid son of a bitch! Doesn't anyone respect private property anymore?!
Griffy chases the punk down the street and into the distance, all his Zen acceptance forgotten, back to his cranky, judgmental self.
GRIFFY (CONT'D, O.S.)
You oughta be locked up, you low-life dirtball! (FADING AWAY) What have we come to as a society. . .

ON ZIPPY

STARING AFTER GRIFFY AS HE DISAPPEARS DOWN THE STREET.
BIG SMILE. ENJOYING THE MOMENT.

ZIPPY
Yow! Are we having fun yet?
STAY ON ZIPPY - The camera slowly begins to pull back as…
A streetlight comes on. The WIND PICKS UP. A SHEET OF NEWSPAPER blows past Zippy and SOARS SKYWARD.


EXT. ABOVE HOLLYWOOD BLVD.- DUSK
We follow the paper as it whips by the familiar landmarks -- Nosh 'N Wash, the Lucky Strike Lanes, a WOLFN billboard, the Griffith Observatory. A GUST really kicks it up, HIGHER, HIGHER -- high above the city, one of those nuclear L.A. sunsets on the horizon. Suddenly the WIND DIES. The newspaper starts to FLOAT DOWN. Down, down, down to the street. It lands and tumbles along the sidewalk, finally blowing up against. . .
CLOSE-UP: A MAN'S LEG
He KICKS AWAY the newspaper.

PAN UP TO SEE:
He's locking up his store for the night. Above the front door we READ: "HERMAN'S DISCOUNT OUTLET". He walks away.

PULL BACK TO REVEAL
The store's display window ---
Filled with DOZENS AND DOZENS OF SHINY, NEW BOMB KAT 500's.
Sign in the window: "BOMB KAT 500 BLOW-OUT/ 2 FOR $4.99"

Fade Out:
THE END