The Moth Meanders
"You, idiot! You created me," the Joker/Jack Nicholson spat. " You dropped me into that vat of chemicals. That wasn't easy to get over, and don't think I didn't try."
"I know you didn't," Batman/Michael Keaton growled in reply and hit him again.
Meanwhile, on the abandoned film lot, seven teenagers sat in front of the movie screen. Two were cowering, two were on the edge of their seats, fists clenched in anticipation of more violence. One sat with her arms crossed and her nose in the air. The remaining two were alternating staring at the screen with bites of popcorn. When the movie was over they began comparing and rating Tim Burton's film, which is what they had just watched, versus Christopher Nolan's film.
Gwen, who had been on the edge of her seat, favored Burton's film because of the Gothic atmosphere. On the other hand, fellow enthusiast Duncan thought Nolan's film was better, because it was more violent. Heather, the one with her arms crossed, condemned all superhero movies as garbage.
"Am I ever glad that's over," DJ moaned from under his chair. "I hate scary movies, and that Joker dude just freaks me out!"
"Yeah," said Trent, who was on the ground with DJ. "I hate clowns! They're so…creepy."
"I thought you got over your mime thing," LeShawna said through a final mouthful of popcorn.
"Seeing the movies brought it all back." Trent dusted himself off. "Anybody know what this week's challenge is?"
"Duh," Heather snarled. "We just watched two movies. Obviously our challenge has something to do with this crap."
"The Batman movies are not crap," Gwen said indignantly. "There's tons of psychological trauma involved."
"Yeah," chimed in Duncan. "Not just in the movies, either. The comics have even more. There was the time the Joker shot Batgirl in the stomach and took all these naked pictures of her before leaving her for dead. And the time he beat Robin to death with a crowbar…"
DJ screamed and hid behind Heather. "I'm tellin' ya dude, not cool!"
The roar of an engine cut off further conversation. A Batmobile type car zoomed into view and halted just behind Owen. Chris McLean, the host of the show hopped out.
"Heather's right," he said. "Today's challenge is to make a superhero movie. The person who turns in the best performance wins! Your movie will be about a hero named The Moth."
The teens stared at each other.
"The Moth?" Gwen asked.
"Our best writer's on vacation," Chris shrugged. "Plus the station couldn't afford to do anything with the actual Batman."
"Maybe if you didn't eat caviar for breakfast-!" Chef Hatchet hollered.
"We drew the parts out of a hat," Chris continued as if Chef had never spoken. "I have your scripts and costumes here in the trunk. Gwen, you're the Moth."
He tossed her a binder, plus a black catsuit with a psychedelic patterned cape. She stared dubiously at the costume but did not argue.
"Duncan, you're the confidant," Chris said, and tossed Duncan his things. "You'll have to take your piercings out and comb down your mohawk."
"I don't wear suits," Duncan growled.
"Million dollars!"
"Okay, okay. Just don't expect me to call her 'ma'am.'"
"Fair enough. Heather, you're the damsel in distress."
"What?" Heather demanded.
"You're the Moth's only friend," Chris explained. "Okay…Owen. You're the dirty cop."
Owen stared at his uniform. "But this is clean."
Everyone rolled his or her eyes.
"DJ," Chris sang. "You're the good cop who gets snuffed by the Maniac."
"Oh man," DJ said. "But I die in the line of duty! That'd make Momma proud."
"Ooh-kay. LeShawna. You're the Maniac's girl."
LeShawna stared at the green dress he gave her. "There ain't nothin' here."
"Sure there is. Legal approved it and everything."
"I ain't wearin' this!"
"It's more modest than your bathing suit. And anyway 'less is more.'"
"Hunh."
Chris grinned wickedly at Trent. "Trent, buddy, you're the Maniac. Here's your suit and make-up."
"Make-up?" Trent pawed through the bag. "What the-holy crap he's a clown!"
"Harlequin," Chris corrected him. "There's a big difference. Anyway, what's the big deal? It comes out with water. You don't even have to use soap, and it's guaranteed not to dry out your skin. What more could you ask for?"
Trent was shivering in his shoes. "I just really…really hate clowns…"
A small struggle later Chef and Chris dragged Trent into the craft-service tent, tied him to a chair, and applied his clown make-up. Then the lights went out.
"Guess you didn't pay the electric bill," Chris told Chef. "Well Trent, ready to see yourself?"
"No," Trent said, his voice low and dangerous.
"You're gonna have to sooner or later, man," Chris said. "There's mirrors all over."
He leered at his reflection in the hand mirror that Trent had just rejected. The poor kid looked away from Chris in disgust and saw his hands. They were white and the nails had been painted black.
"Untie me," Trent ordered, very softly.
Chef's eyes got wide, and he didn't move.
"Untie me!"
Chef obeyed, but Trent didn't move.
"Give me the mirror."
Chris put the mirror down, realizing that something was indeed rotten in the state of Denmark. Or Canada. Whichever.
"Give me the mirror!"
Chris handed it over, and Trent took a long look at his face. Then he smiled. The smile turned into a giggle, which morphed into loud, maniacal laughter. He flung the mirror at the wall where it shattered into a million pieces. Chef jumped into Chris' arms, and Chris fell over.
Outside, the other competitors heard the laughter.
"Is that Trent?" Gwen asked, looking worried.
"He sounds really messed up," DJ said.
"Like the Maniac." Duncan said, fighting his tie.
Trent emerged from the tent, still laughing his head off.
"Great Canadian cheese!" Owen screamed.
"Thank you," Trent said, grinning broadly.
Chris and Chef crept nervously out after Trent. Chef was actually worried-looking, and the last time he was worried was when Owen was seen talking to a coconut.
"Let's get this show on the road," Chris said, half-heartedly clapping his hands in the "chop chop" gesture. "Places! Chef and I will be inside the protective booth, so Trent won't try to kill us."
"What?" The campers asked in one voice.
"Yeah," Chris said, locking the door after Chef. "Feel free to interpret that any way you want."
This prompted a flood of confessions.
Gwen: Poor Trent! Who thought a little make-up could do this to him?
Owen: Even I know this isn't normal.
DJ: Momma!
Chris: This could be really good for our ratings, but…
Chef: This is gonna keep me walking the floor nights for a long-
Trent cut the Confession Cam lines. "That's some pretty mean things you're saying about me. You haven't even seen what I can do yet."
Despite their friend having undoubtedly gone off the deep-end, the campers started filming the movie. Things went very well, until Heather went to the museum. That was when Trent departed the text!
"What is this?" Gwen howled, thumbing frantically through her script while Trent proceeded to terrify Heather. "This isn't in the script!"
"Well duh," Duncan sniffed. "He's become the Maniac, and does he really look like the kind of guy who'd follow the script?"
"Well that observation ain't helpin'!" LeShawna yelled, trying to yank her dress both further up her chest and down over her butt at the same time.
"Oh, Momma this is screwed up," DJ moaned. "This is so bad we need a whole new set of words just to say how bad it is!"
"As much as I hate Heather, it's time for the Moth to show up, script or no script," Gwen said.
She jumped through the window after Trent.
Meanwhile, Chris and Chef had made the same epiphany inside their little fort.
"He's departed the script! There was nothing in the script about that! I didn't give him that gizmo!" Chris was pulling his own impeccable hair.
"Keep your shirt on," Chef said. "I'm calling the cops."
He dialed and listened. Nothing happened.
"Phone's dead."
Chris noted the lack of batteries and grinning face crudely drawn on the back of the cordless. "Trent killed it!"
The two men stared at each other with eyes the size of saucers.
"Help!" Chris yelled. "He's not acting! Call Jack Nicholson! Call the police! Call a doctor! Call the producers! Call anybody!"
Trent turned away from Heather and Gwen to glare at the two of them.
Chef hit Chris upside the head. "Now you did it. You ticked him off. Now the crazy boy is mad at us."
"Oh crap!" Chris yelled, and began biting his nails. "Uh, cut! Take five."
Gwen and Heather hightailed it over to the rest of the group, and they ran back to the trailers. Heather curled up in the fetal position on her bunk. LeShawna took out a bag of chips and started nervous-eating. Gwen began pacing the floor. The guys sat on their bunks, trying to puzzle out the situation.
"We need to get a game-plan," Gwen said. "Like when the psycho-killer was loose."
"The psycho-killer is loose," LeShawna said. "I had sixteen years in the Projects, and I've never seen anything like this before."
Heather was rocking herself, and not saying anything.
In the boys' trailer DJ was holding his pet bunny too tightly, and finally Duncan said "dude, you're strangling him."
"Oh, sorry bunny," DJ said, releasing his grip on the poor rabbit. "What're we gonna do? He's cut off the Confession Cam and everything else of that nature. What'll we do?"
"Get him on top of the tallest building around," Duncan said. "Didn't you pay attention to the movies? That's how they got him both times."
"Great," Owen said, "How do we get him up there?"
Duncan shrugged. The guys sighed and sat down, chins in their hands. Owen started eating some donuts. Trent's shadow appeared in the window. Bunny hid under DJ's blankets. Then Trent threw something through the window and everything went black.
DJ was initially awakened by a rabbit bite on the ear, and then fully roused by the panicked yelling from the girls' trailer. "What happened?" He asked, cuddling Bunny.
"Trent totally gassed us," Duncan said. "Cool."
Gwen kicked the door in. "Trent kidnapped Heather!"
"What?"
"He threw something through the window and while we were unconscious he took Heather."
"I didn't think he'd be that dumb."
"And he left this poem on her mirror," LeShawna added, squeezing into the trailer behind Gwen. "Ick. That's the worst poem I ever read."
"For the love of everything salty," Owen wailed. "This is just like the movie! Only worse because there's no popcorn."
Duncan kicked him in the shins. Owen went down yelling "Ow, that hurt!"
"Come on, you guys," DJ said. "We need to work together, and I suggest we go find Chris and Chef and get them to help us, too."
"That's a good plan," Gwen seconded the motion.
"They better help." LeShawna huffed.
But Chris and Chef were no longer in the protected booth. Chris' hair-gel was on the floor, and there was another poem written on Chef's hat. Underneath the hat was a gift box. LeShawna read the poem and gagged again. Owen opened the box; it contained a tape.
"Now what?" DJ asked.
"We watch it," Duncan said.
There was a moment of static and then the tape began. It was Trent wearing a weird hat, still Maniac-al.
"Maniac here," he said. "If you're watching this, you've probably figured out that I kidnapped everybody. Oh, don't worry, they're alive. Here, I'll show you in a minute, and I'll let them go, if you do exactly as I ask."
The camera cut to Chris and Chef tied together at the waist, looking terrified.
"If you don't do exactly as I ask," Trent said, walking over to Chris and pinching his cheeks, "I'll torture them. This one couldn't stand up to anything that the big guy could. In fact, I'm sure he'd break with a haircut with a weedeater. But to make sure, I'll make sure it's a very close shave. Ha ha ha."
Chris howled and collapsed in a faint, nearly toppling Chef over, who had trouble holding up his dead weight. Trent pulled out a feather and touched Chef with it. That was too much for Chef Hatchet, who passed out, too. Trent grinned.
"They don't make 'em like they used to. Now…for my demands…I want the Moth. The wing of the Moth that ate my suit. If you're watching, Mothie, come to the cathedral set, and we'll settle our score."
The tape went off.
"-," Owen said.
"You said it, brother," DJ replied.
Duncan picked up the Moth's mask and pressed it into Gwen's hand.
The tape came back on. "Oh, and one more thing, now that you're all through swearing," Trent said. "The girl. Well, she did the meanest things to me, and I have the best torture in mind for her."
The camera cut to a shot of Heather, tied up and gagged, wearing a red wedding dress. Trent cackled and the video cut off again.
"Oh man," Gwen said. "I hate Heather, but Duncan is right. With the Maniac out there the Moth has to act." She put on her mask and faced the cameras. "Love you, Mom, even if you did hire that girl to take my place at the dinner table."
The remaining competitors stood in stunned silence, watching Gwen walk toward the set.
"Okay," Owen said. "I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but we've got to go and help her."
"Yeah, sorry. I got caught up in the drama of the moment," Duncan replied. "C'mon. I know where they stash the paintball guns."
Gwen squared her shoulders and nervously began ascending the creaky wooden stairs that led to the top of the set. "Funny," she would say once the Confession Cam was on the air again, "I don't remember there being that many stairs."
When she was halfway up some of Trent's booby traps went off, but she managed to avoid them. Finally reaching the top, the sound of his new maniacal laughter greeted her. Music started to play, and Trent danced into view, wearing a different purple and orange suit, Heather in tow. Heather's hands were tied behind her back, and she was still gagged with the tape. Her blonde wig was askew, and she looked like seven different kinds of hell.
"To quote someone," Trent said expansively, throwing Heather into a corner.
"'Shall we dance?'"
"Trent," Gwen said. "Snap out of it. You're not the Maniac. The Maniac is just some crappy character Chris made up because the best writer is on vacation. You're Trent. We're dating, and you're obsessed with the number 9. Don't you remember?"
Trent faltered for a minute, but then he caught sight of himself in the dark metal on the bells. The harlequin face kept him in the realms of madness, and he and Gwen began their own version of the battle on the top of the towers.
The rest of the competitors, armed with paintball guns, burst through the trapdoor, but were attacked by the mistreated interns, whom Trent had had no trouble in recruiting for his diabolical scheme. "Take no prisoners," Duncan yelled, letting the intern nearest him have it. Heather walked on her knees through the paint-fight to hide behind Chris and Chef, who were also on the roof.
"Go Gwen!" Chris yelled. "I believe in the Moth!"
"I believe in the Moth!" Chef echoed.
Heather rolled her eyes, but realized what the alternative was and drummed her feet on the ground in approval.
Gwen, meanwhile, was losing the fight against Trent. Finally, in desperation, she pointed at nothing and yelled, "Look, a mime!"
True to form, Trent frantically looked around. "Where?"
And Gwen sucker-punched him. And he fell off the set roof. Into the water below.
"Yeah!" Chris yelled. "Gwen saved us from the Maniac!" Then realization set in. "He fell headfirst into the icy water below."
"Trent!" Gwen shed the mask and cape and jumped after him.
There was a moment of stunned silence from Chris, Chef, Heather, Duncan, Owen, LeShawna, DJ, the interns, and of course, Heather, who was still gagged.
"Crap," Duncan said.
"Ooh," Owen said, looking over the side. "That's a long way down."
DJ burst into tears on Chef's shoulder.
Chris cleared his throat importantly. Hats were removed.
"Gwen and Trent," Chris said. "Were good people. They had their flaws, but they added a lot to Total Drama. Who could forget Trent's music? Or Gwen's bravery in the face of the escaped psycho-killer with the chainsaw and a hook? They were perfect in their roles, today, in very different but important ways. Now they have crossed their own Reichenbach Falls in the form of the cathedral set here, and the Moth and the Maniac will walk through the pearly gates of Heaven together…"
As he continued his eulogy, two forms became visible through the open trap door on the floor of the roof. They were supporting each other. One form wore a black catsuit and had blue streaks in her hair. The other wore a purple and orange suit and still had white make-up dripping off his face and hands.
"Augh! Zombies!" Owen yelled.
"No, it's just us," came Trent's voice.
Everyone jumped into Chef's arms.
"It's okay," Gwen said as they emerged through the trapdoor. "He's cured. I think the shock of hitting the water did it."
"And it washed all my make-up off," Trent added, and giggled like the Maniac. "Um. Maybe I should see a doctor anyway, though."
For sure.
A short time later an ambulance appeared, and Trent was loaded onto it. Gwen kissed him goodbye, and the ambulance drove off.
"Due to the trauma, there will be no Gilded Chris Ceremony tonight," Chris said. "And the show will be taking a brief hiatus to recover. Brrrr. Clowns. If I never see another one in my whole life it'll be too soon."
The mime from "Phobia Factor" tapped him on the shoulder. Chris screamed and jumped into the water.
"And this concludes this week's installment of Total Drama Action!" Chef said, back to his normal scowl. "We'll be seeing you next time…I hope."
The End