(Or "The Monster of BULLWINKLESTEIN")
"WELL THE LAST TIME YOU REMEMBER, ROCKY AND BULLWINKLE HAD JUST ARRIVED IN 1816, ENGLAND."
"Here you are chaps!" Percy spoke, handing Rocky, Bullwinkle and Mr. Peabody cups of tea. "Mary, you were not jesting when you said they were human-like animals! My word!"
"Yes, yes, that's all fine and dandy, husband…" Mary replied, stirring her cup of tea and taking a sip before placing it on a nearby end table. "Now then, let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?"
"What is it that you want?" Shelley inquired to the small dog, taking another sip of her tea.
"We understand that there is a writing contest coming up at Lord Byron's estate, correct?" Peabody inquired.
"In about two years, yes." Shelley replied. "So what's your idea?"
"Our idea for a novel we're giving to you is about a doctor who decided to defy all that is ethical in this world and creates a HIDEOUS monster made from parts of human corpses. The monster proceeds to roam the countryside while the doctor anguishes, proving that when it comes to science, you shouldn't play God." Peabody spoke, explaining the plot of what would become Shelley's future macabre tale just as lightning struck outside.
"—AAGH!" Bullwinkle exclaimed, frightened by the sudden noise.
"Fascinating!" Shelley gave a huge smile. "It's a brilliant idea, Peabody!"
"--For a man, perhaps!" Percy scoffed, filling the cups with more tea. "They'll NEVER take a novel written by a woman, it's a STUPID concept!"
"He's correct you know." Peabody replied.
"ROCKY AND BULLWINKLE WERE INCREDIBLY SHOCKED AT THE FACT THAT PEABODY WAS ACTUALLY AGREEING WITH SHELLEY'S MISOGYNISTIC HUSBAND."
"—A little reverse psychology, fellows…if I tell her I don't agree with her, it'll only add to her desire to create the Modern Prometheus." Peabody winked at Rocky and Bullwinkle. He returned to face Shelley. "Yes sir, you should be in the kitchen, not your husband…"
"MARY SHELLEY HAD MULTIPLE CHOICE WORDS FOR OUR HEROES, BUT SINCE CHILDREN COULD BE WATCHING, I WON'T DEPICT THEM."
"—AAND STAY OUT!" Mary exclaimed, tossing Rocky, Bullwinkle, and Peabody out on the curb.
"What's goin' on with Mary Shelley, Mr. Peabody?" Rocky inquired to the intellectual dog.
"She appears to be experiencing a case of…writer's block." Peabody replied, observing the brick that'd just been thrown at Bullwinkle's head.
(*ba-dum-tsss!*)
"So what are we gonna do?" Rocky inquired, adjusting Bullwinkle's tie.
"We'll give her what every writer needs…" Peabody spoke, a mischievous grin on his face, a shovel in his left hand. "—inspiration…"
(*lightning strikes in the background, organ note plays*)
"MAKE SURE TO BE WITH US NEXT TIME FOR "Human Resources" OR Got me in Stitches!"