Carl: Wow. You and Libby must be so proud. She's beautiful, she really is.
Sheen: I don't know what to say, (His eyes begin to mist) I'm just so happy.
(Carl pantomimes the llama toy as if it were galloping.)
Carl: Baa! Baa!
Sheen (joyfully): Look! Did you see that? She smiled!
(The camera ZOOMS out to show what the two are looking at: One of those Dance Simulator Arcade Games, with the blinking lights on the floor, perched on a large dolly. The machine blinks with pink and yellow neon bursts; the screen requesting INSERT COIN.)
Judy Neutron (voice over): Hugh.. What in the world..?
Hugh Neutron (voice over & cheery): Hush. You'll see!
Carl: You're both gonna smoke everyone for today's show-and-tell.
Sheen: Yeah! (He turns to Carl in manic glee.) You wanna be the godfather?
Carl (the balloon he is holding floats away as he points to the machine): That means when you die. I get to keep it, right?
Sheen: Yeah, that sounds pretty much right.
Carl (wistfully): Libby too?
Sheen: Hmm, I don't know if that would be allowable, I can look it- (He realizes what Carl said.) HEY! (He gives him a threatening shove.) What did you say?
Carl (quickly): Nothing!
Sheen (he shoves him again): Don't you lie to me! I heard what you said!
Carl (challenging): Well why did you ask? (He returns a shove.)
Sheen: 'Cause I knew you wouldn't have the guts to repeat it! (Shove!)
(Jimmy and Cindy walk into view before Carl and Sheen's shoving match turns into something more violent.)
Cindy (in loud anger): You know, its a good thing for you guys that I didn't come earlier, 'cause I have a feeling that if I was here during your past conversation, you would both end up being on dialysis for the rest of your dorky lives.
(Carl gives a final shove to Sheen before they both turn to face them.)
Carl: What's up with you? You sound more bitter and loud than you normally do.
Sheen: Heh, that's because she and Jimmy lost to me and Libby's totally awesome dancing skills. That's how we got the Dance game in the first place, because we are the king and queen of rythm (He straightens up as he poses an authoritive posture.) Retroville will be our fodder for when we decide to build our castle of music and love of action figures.
Jimmy (objective): Oh yeah, well, we could have beaten you if it wasn't for that crowd of weird tourists taking pictures of us during the final round. Their very presence made my flesh crawl.
Cindy (in disgusted agreement): God, I know! It's like their perverted eyes were peering into my pre-adolescent soul.
Jimmy: Yeah, I ended up having three showers, a disinfecting biohazard wash, and I burned the clothes I wore as well. Then I invented a machine that burns things that have already been burned and then burned the machine that contained said re-burned material.
Sheen (he giggles): Overkill is funny.
Cindy (she frowns at Sheen): I bet your victory was tainted by the guilt of cheating. You probably stole Jimmy's Ultra Shock Dance Teacher.
Sheen (countering): No way! Libby and I practiced the true way of dance nearly everyday after school. I was clearly born to be a great dancer.
Carl: Oh? Improved that much have you?
Sheen (he grins with manic delight): Imagine if Gene Kelly and MC Hammer had a baby. I am that said baby.
Libby (off camera): That is probably the most horrible concept ever imagined.
(The group turns to see Libby, looking quite downcast, approaching their comforting presense.)
Cindy: Hey Libs!
Sheen (sounding worried): Hey, how come you didn't laugh at my Gene Kelly and MC Hammer joke? It was brilliant.
Libby: I'm not much into a laughing mood, Sheen.
Jimmy: What's wrong?
Libby (taken aback): You guys haven't heard? Willoughby is removing all the music classes from Lindbergh's entire school program.
Cindy: What? Why would he do that? Didn't he just succeed in picketing for more revenue to add more content to the school?
Libby: Yeah, but he claims he didn't get enough cash because of cutbacks from when the board of education bought all those pinball tables and back issues of Rolling Stone for the new lounge.
Carl: That's so stupid!
Libby: Yeah, why punish the students for the board's poor choices in handling school finances?
Carl: No, I mean, why back issues of Rolling Stone? Only old people and mollusks read Rolling Stone.
Sheen: Well, alot of those teachers are really old. I mean, look at Ms. Fowl.
(Ms. Fowl pokes her head out of a nearby window.)
Ms. Fowl: Hey, I heard that! I may be old, but don't you dare accuse me of reading that steaming pile of monthly garbage written by losers who probably never picked up a guitar, let alone, touched a piano!
(She returns into the school, shutting the window in angry volume. Cindy looks to Sheen.)
Cindy: I bet she's adding that to her lengthening list of why she hates you.
Libby (in desperate intensity): Come on you guys! This is serious. Without music classes, the kids with rhythm and beat in their souls will be manipulated by awful capitalists so they may corrupt their dreams and talent with breast implants and bad digital pitch correction.
Cindy (hesitant): Uh.. Libby. That's already happened; Ashlee Simpson is real.
Jimmy: Yeah, I wish I could tell you that it's some cruel nightmare, but it isn't. You have Corporate America to thank for opening that Pandora's Box.
Libby (She cups her hands over her mouth in complete dread): Oh my God...
Carl (in teasing torment): And she's got a sister too! I'd be scared.
(Libby's legs begin to shake as if she may collapse. She covers her ears at Carl's remark.)
Libby (frightened): Stop it!
(Sheen rushes to catch her, giving her a comforting hug. Libby returns it.)
Sheen (reassuring): It's okay buttercup, let it all out. Your man's here to protect you from those awful locusts they call talent.
(Libby quickly gets control of herself. She steps away from Sheen; complete determination on her face.)
Libby: No! There is no time for crying! I must do something to prevent further acts of evil against the goodness that is true music.
Sheen (yelling with joy): To the hovercar!
Libby: Ah, I was thinking more in the lines of confronting Willoughby with a passionate speech filled with cold hard facts and jokes targeted at top 40 music. I don't think the hovercar is neccessary.
Sheen (disappointed): Oh.
Jimmy (he scoffs as he looks at Sheen): Like, I'd let you drive my hovercar in the first place.
Judy Neutron (voice over): Oh! Now this is actually getting interesting.
Hugh Neutron (voice over): Yeah, I'm pleased with the results too!
(CUT To EXT Shot - After school in the teacher's parking lot. Principal Willoughby is about to enter his car when Libby approaches him with focused speed.)
Libby: Principal Willoughby!
Principal Willoughby: Oh, afternoon Miss. Folfax.
Libby: I want to discuss your heinous decision on removing the music classes from our school.
Principal Willoughby: Now, now. I'm not completely removing all the music related education. There's still some content that's staying.
Libby: But what you have kept is so impersonal! How can kids learn the true heart of music when the work they hand in is never reviewed?
Princiapl Willoughby (taken aback): That's absurd! What are you talking about?
Libby: We only do multiple choice tests, no one volunteers to be available after class for song workshops and the only advice that's given is to listen to the Top 40 garbage that's currently on the radio. (She crosses her arms defiantly.) What's next? Replacing teaching assistants with convicted criminals?
Principal Willoughby (defensively): For your information, I have already delegated convicted criminals to be available for the next semester. There shouldn't really be a problem.
(Libby stares in mortified shock at Willoughby's casual statement. He opens his car door.)
Principal Willoughby: Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get home so I can set up my VCR so I can tape tonight's episode of Lost. (He giggles.) Man, that Matthew Fox is too cool.
Judy Neutron (voice over): Pfft, Lost? (She snickers.)
Hugh Neutron (voice over): Yeah, thought I'd add some comedy there.
(Willoughby drives off. Leaving Libby alone in the parking lot. Her face contorts into a determined look of resolution.)
Libby: You want a fight, Willoughby? I'll give you a fight.
(CUT To EXT Shot - Outside Lindbergh School. Libby has set up a large collapsable table, a big sign next to it with SIGN THE REMOVE WILLOUGHBY PETITION. GIVE US A NEW PRINCIPAL. next to it. A pile of pamphlets explaining her goal is out in the open for people to take. Betty Quinlan scribbles her name on the petition, which is already flooded with many signatures.)
Libby: Thanks Betty.
(Betty nods and exits. Brittany, a minor character, shows up and gives a haughty sniff at Libby's setup.)
Brittany: I don't see what the big deal is, like we need more school work to do anyway.
Libby: Call it divine atonement. Music classes help people realize what music bests suits them, thus preventing a mass explosion of sheep that only listen to mainstream monotony.
Brittany: There's already something like that, it's called Billboard Magazine.
Libby (disgusted): Ick, I don't read Billboard Magazine.
Brittany (she smirks arrogantly): Feh, then how do you know what music you're supposed to be be liking then?
Libby (revolted): God, you can't be serious..
(Jimmy enters the scene, reading one of Libby's pamphlets.)
Brittany: Oh yeah? (She turns to Jimmy.) Hey Jimmy, what magazine do you read so you'll know what kind of music you are supposed to be enjoying?
Jimmy (in cheery sarcasm): I make multiple sacrifices to Nug and Yeb, the twin blasphemies of Nyogtha, they have superior tastes you yourself cannot imagine.
(Libby grins at Jimmy's acid stab of an answer. He jots his name onto Libby's petition as Brittany blinks with mystified surprise.)
Libby: Thank you "Mr Lovecraft."
Jimmy: Heh, best of luck Libby.
(Jimmy proceeds to inside the school. Brittany watches him curiously.)
Brittany: Wow, those sound like great reviewers. Does that come out weekly or monthly?
Libby (eyes closed & mantra-like): I'm a delicate flower, I don't hit other girls. I'm a delicate flower, I don't hit other girls.
(Brittany heads inside the school to follow Jimmy.)
Brittany: Hey Jimmy! Didn't you hear my question?
(Brittany exits as she pursues Jimmy. Libby sighs as she opens her eyes and tidies up her growing petition. She already has a dozen pages full of students names. Sheen appears, his eyes dart from the sign to her in curious glee.)
Sheen (in restrained excitement): You're trying to get Willoughby fired? (His voice turns into a yell as he releases his manic joy.) THAT'S HOT!
(Libby narrows her eyes in a tired frown at Sheen's outburst. He quickly turns away from her, in an act of nonchalance. He raises his hand to look at his nails in an arrogant manner.)
Sheen: I mean, I'm flattered. (He polishes his nails on his shirt in a pompous manner.) It's so obvious that you are trying to impress me.
Libby (semi-insulted): What? I'm not doing this to impress anybody! I ain't that petty!
(She taps her collected signatures on the desk to straighten them out neatly before stapling them together. Sheen turns toward her, his manners more relaxed.)
Sheen: Then..why are you doing this?
(Libby sets down the stapler and looks at her mass pages of signatures.)
Libby (in calm honesty): Pride. Sheer, dirty pride.
Judy Neutron (voice over): Oh my..
Hugh Neutron (voice over): There's more!
(CUT To INT Shot - Willoughby's Office. He sits behind his big important looking desk as he speaks to "someone" we cannot see.)
Principal Willoughby: I'm sorry Miss. Folfax, but I have decided not to approve your petition to fire me.
(The camera quickly ZOOMS out to a WIDE shot to show both Libby and Willoughby in the scene.)
Libby (in complete shock): What? You mean, you're a principal, and you decide academic petitions?
Principal Willoughby (happy!): That's right!
Libby: Isn't that a conflict of interests?
Principal Willoughby (he shrugs): Probably. (His voice becomes cheerful.) Why don't you file a petition?
(Willoughby gets up from his seat, leaving Libby to mull over her defeat. She turns toward the direction he left in, a fist clenched in perservering defiance.)
Libby: I don't remember hearing 'bout any of this in the tour!
(Willoughby opens his door to see a number of four year olds and their parents waiting outside.)
Willoughby: Alright future students! Are you ready for the grand ol' tour of Lindbergh school?
Four Year Olds: Yeah!
(Willoughby exits, the kids and parents happily marching behind him. Libby watches this with revolted contempt.)
Libby: I didn't want any of this to get dirty, but he's pushed this too far. He'll be sorry he crossed paths with this girl.
(CUT To The Next Day - INT Shot - Ms. Fowl's Classroom. Education as always.)
Ms. Fowl (concluding): And that's why all the dinosaurs were communists.
(The class sits in confused silence. Carl then raises his hand.)
Carl: What about the stegosaurus?
Ms. Fowl (incensed): Especially the stegosaurus!
(The class's door opens, Willoughby enters.)
Principal Willoughby (sing songy): Good morning students!
Ms. Fowl (she sighs): What is it now Principal Willoughby?
(Willoughby walks up to Jimmy's desk. Jimmy gives him a suspicious look.)
Principal Willoughby: Jimmy, just the young genius I'm looking for. I have a very important job for you.
Jimmy: Ah, you do?
Principal Willoughby: Yes, as I was cleaning out my basement, I found my old Dexy's Midnight Runners t-shirt. Still in really good shape, too! I need you to use your Shrink Ray on reverse mode so it will fit me again.
Jimmy (huh?): What? I have no time to use my inventions for menial things like increasing the size of sentimental clothing!
Ms. Fowl (she glares at Willoughby): Yes, I am not impressed of how you interupted my class just so you could acquire a shirt marked with a band that no one even likes anymore.
Butch (menacingly): Hey! Come on Eileen is a great song!
Cindy (countering): What? No it isn't! Quit pretending you know anything about eighties music!
Ms. Fowl: Bah, Styx could totally take those wussies on in a fight.
Principal Willoughby (countering): Oh, yeah right! Like that cheese factory could match the awesomeness of Kevin Rowland's bittersweet songs of catholic guilt.
Sheen (he puts a hand to his head in a fatigued gesture): Ugh, all this talk about bands that we ignorant youth have yet to hear of is giving me a headache, and the only cure is for all of you to (he begins to shout) SHUT UP!
(The classroom door opens, a tall and serious looking old man with a shaggy gray hairstyle and a black suit enters. He looks accusingly at Principal Willoughby. Willoughby's face pales as he recognizes him.)
Principal Willoughby (in frightful surprise): Oh..! Superintendent Yorke! What a surprise..
Superintendent Yorke: Willoughby! Perhaps you can explain all of these complaints I've been receiving about you.
Cindy (she leans toward Libby): Woa! You got a superintendent to show up?
Libby: Yeah, they were supposed to talk in private, but with Willoughby's nostalgia for bad eighties bands causing him to show up here, all of us will be able to watch the entire show. What a grand stroke of luck, huh?
(Superintendent Yorke removes a piece of paper from one of his suit pockets. He unfolds it to read it aloud.)
Superintendent Yorke: "Refuses to compromise on student complaints, verbally harasses anyone when given the chance, grades unfairly as a substitute teacher, and probabley hates cute baby ducks."
Principal Willoughby (in shocked surprise): Wha-What? Those are utterly outrageous accusations! None of that is true!
Superintendent Yorke (he gives an imposing stare): You can see by the look on my face that I am taking these complaints very seriously; for they distrub me greatly.
Principal Willoughby (defensive): Oh yeah? You know who else was bombarded with complaints on his views?
Libby: Duvalier?
Cindy: Stalin?
Jimmy: Ceausescu?
Carl: Henry the VIII?
Sheen: George W. Bush?
(Yorke eyes Willoughby with stern reprehension. Willoughby looks at the floor in defeat.)
Principal Willoughby: I was going to say Copernicus; but I guess the point is moot.
Sheen (raising a hand & smiling happily): What's a moot?
(Yorke gives another dirty look to Willoughby.)
(CUT to INT Shot - Back in the Neutron living room. Judy is sitting down next to Hugh on the couch, listening intently to his story. She gives him an inquisitive look.)
Judy Neutron: And?
Hugh Neutron (he shrugs): That's it.
Judy Neutron (she blinks with surprise): What? You're just gonna leave it unfinished?
Hugh Neutron: Hey, its got an ending. Willoughby complies with Libby's demands and everyone's happy again. The end.
Judy Neutron (in angry disappointment): Sounds more like a cop out to me.
Hugh Neutron (reassuringly): Alot of episodes end in cop outs, sugar booger.
Judy Neutron (she gives a disappointed huff): You could have been different and original by adding at least another humorous scene, maybe have Libby say a soliloquy or two. You didn't even add a quirky invention our son could have made to increase the appeal of the plot. I mean, what's up with that?
Hugh Neutron: He did make that burning machine.
Judy Neutron (she frowns): You know what I mean.
Hugh Neutron: Guess I just lost interest in the plot. Just like that pottery class I took last month.
Judy Neutron (shaking her head): Oh Hugh..
Hugh Neutron: Don't worry your pretty head about it, cotton doll. I got more ideas frolicing about in my cerebrum than a tick rodeo in a stable.
Judy Neutron (in low indignation): What a disgusting metaphor...
Hugh Neutron: Okay, I like to call this one: Responsible Pet Ownership. (He points to the camera.) Roll it!
(CUE Rotating Atom)