“The Writers Guild of America is seeking to restrict the use of artificial intelligence in writing film and television scripts. Hollywood studios, battling to make streaming services profitable and dealing with shrinking ad revenues, have rejected that idea.” – Reuters
Four Bathrooms and a Urinal
Dirk runs up to Daphne, a human woman who wears sexiness like a coat made of teen models.
DIRK: Here are flowers. They are not a secret anymore.
Dirk is tall.
DAPHNE (giggles three times): Not like my other secret flowers.
Daphne winks. Her mascara is spidery.
DAPHNE: Why are you here, Dirk? Is it the bathroom problem again?
DIRK: No, I have a toilet this week, thank you.
Dirk puts one foot on a chair like a sports guy giving a speech about winning.
DIRK (his tan gleaming the color of Florida rust): I love you, Daphne.
Daphne swoons everywhere. And nowhere. She swoons in a specific place—near Dirk, who is now her romantic.
DAPHNE: I love… toilets.
They laugh about love. But not about the toilets. The toilets get upset at that.
WILLY (gasping): You are an undercover prince?
The hospital lights glow brightly so that nobody cuts into the wrong person anymore.
PRINCE PETER (nodding his chin, which resembles a butt): I am the undercover prince for all of Brotopia.
He takes a golden cape out of his man-satchel and swings it around his shoulders.
WILLY: Wow. That is a cape.
PRINCE PETER: I own 176 capes—one for every day of the year.
The hospital lights began to buzz in their own language. Willy gets down on one of his two knees.
WILLY: But how can an undercover prince love me, a child surgeon who saves countless adorable lives?
Willy pounds the ground, which is tile, so the pounding isn’t a very good idea.
PRINCE PETER (looking deeply into Willy’s twirling eyes): We will be equals once I am a child surgeon, too. Hand me the knife.
The two sweethearts live happily ever after and cut open a little girl, who was sick with bleeding.
The hospital lights looked from high above. That little girl was their daughter.
Love Potion Number Whine
GWENDOLYN (squeaking in frustration): But I have given you the Love Potion!
MARY ELLEN: I love this goat.
Mary Ellen holds the goat to her busty bosom.
MARY ELLEN: I ate the love potion and looked at a goat. Now I love this goat.
GWENDOLYN: Oh, what a situation.
Gwendolyn huffs. She holds up the “Love Potion How-To Pamphlet.”
GWENDOLYN: Yes, that is how the Love Potion works.
GOAT: I am honored by your love, Mary Ellen. I have a successful career job on the mountain eating things.
The goat bleats. It sounds like the most orchestra of songs.
GOAT: My name is Joanne, by the way.
MARY ELLEN: It is nice to meet you, Joanne.
Mary Ellen laces up her hiking shoes.
MARY ELLEN: Let us go to the mountain to leap around.
They leave to go to the mountain. Its name is Doug.
GWENDOLYN (pinging longingly): When will I learn not to drug women?
Lights, Camera, Love!
Kerilynne stomps across the glamorous red carpet to get away from Dominic. She is a sexy movie star and has irritable bowel syndrome. This makes her relatable.
KERILYNNE: I hate you!
The cameras flash to take a photo of her. Dominic holds one of them. He is a paparazzo and follows Kerilynne everywhere, which is romantic.
DOMINIC: No, you don’t hate me.
He grins, his teeth flashing like the cliffs of Dover. He was British.
DOMINIC: Shut up, also. You’re hysterical, babe.
Kerilynne tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder, but an assistant catches it just in time.
KERILYNNE: I don’t hate you? But that’s my whole thing. I hate the Redcoats ever since I made a movie about Woman George Washington. I am feisty.
DOMINIC (chuckling at her female antics): When I am rude, you get horny. But I will be nice sometimes, too.
He reaches down and picks something up.
DOMINIC: Here is a cat for you to have when I am failing.
KERILYNNE: I adore cats. And dancing to rap in my underpants.
The cat smirks for a while.
The Big Ick
RUPERT: We are best friends. We have been friends since childhood, Natalie.
NATALIE (nodding innocently): Yes, Rupert. We have been many friends over the years.
She bites her lip in a hot way, not with gore and tearing.
NATALIE: And yet, after years of being cool buds, I feel…
Rupert looks at her confidently. Rupert is ripped. Rupert is seventeen years older than Natalie. He leans in closer to her at the zoo, where they are.
RUPERT: And yet…
NATALIE (in her zoo uniform, because she is a professional Cute Animal Cuddler): Yet…
RUPERT (noticing how clean Natalie is because she only cuddles washed animals—it is better for her science): Yet…
NATALIE (scooching closer to him because his job was being handsome, and he did it most days): Yet…
The sun sets. They can never leave the zoo now.