Thursday, April 12, 2007

New Thing #18: Punky Power!

Today’s Thing is sort of ongoing, in the sense that I’ve been generating ideas and making notes throughout the day, but can’t actually sit down and do it until my nether-time between work and Blue Man, during which I usually clean my office or delete old voicemails. It’s yet to be completed, and when it is I will post a link. Today I am writing fanfic. I’ve signed up for the site (fanfiction.com) and picked the subject (Punky Brewster, my favorite childhood show, the DVDs of which I re-watched in order last year). I’ve also realized that there is no such thing as “cool” fanfiction (which would be like a “cool” trekkie convention), so I’m excited about being able to just let my nerd flag fly!
Now all I have to do is do it!


I did it! I wrote fanfic!
Ok, so apparently, fanfiction.com is having internal errors; it won't let me upload my story.
I'll just post the thing here. What I didn't realize until I started reading other fanfic is that these things aren't written in script format. They're written like short stories, but basically adhere to the format of the show (or movie, video game or whatever). I stay true to the conventions, fallacies, inconsistencies and irritating characteristics of PB while still penning a loving tribute. I am SO glad I didn't know about this stuff when I was younger. I never would have gone outside. Not that I'm planning on taking up a new hobby now. So here it is, in all its manufactured nerdy glory. And now if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy a wig for my boyfriend.

PUNKY GOES TO NEW YORK
Punky Brewster rolled out of her flower-cart bed, letting the foot of it hit the ground with a loud “BANG!” Her golden retriever, Brandon, woke immediately and barked twice.
“I know, Brandon,” exclaimed Punky, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t wake up Henry, her foster father. “Today’s the day we go to New York! I can’t wait either!”
Punky grabbed her rainbow-colored duffle bag and led Brandon into the living room. Just as Brandon was settling onto his pillow next to the kitchen door, the doorbell rang. Punky ran to answer it, and found her upstairs neighbor and best friend, Cherie, wearing an acid-wash denim jacket over her pink one-piece and a blue leather belt around her head.
“Hi, Cherie!”
“Hi Punky!”
Cherie stepped into the living room. She was carrying her own duffle bag, and behind her was her grandmother, Betty Johnson.
“ Spring vacation in New York!” She exclaimed, shaking her head. “What’s next, Spring vacation in a minefield?” The studio audience laughed sycophantically. Brandon barked twice.
“Mrs. Johnson, New York is safe!” Punky laughed as she sat down on the couch with Cherie and Mrs. Johnson. “Ever since Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer got elected as mayor!”
Cherie giggled and snorted. “Hee, yeah!” she said. The studio audience laughed sycophantically.
“Honey,” said Mrs. Johnson, loosening the pink nurse’s jacket she was wearing even though she was going to be off duty for five days, “I think you mean Rudolph Giuliani!” Brandon barked twice.
Henry came into the living room, from a hall that seemed to lead only to Punky’s room, but apparently didn’t.
“Pepper spray, check!” he said. “Attack whistle, check! Brandon, I hope you’ve been sharpening your teeth!” Brandon barked twice.
“HenREE,” whined Punky, “There’s nothing to be worried about! New York’s a lot safer now that Rudolph Jellohoney is mayor!”
“Honey…” began Mrs. Johnson, “we’ll work on it.” The studio audience laughed sycophantically.
“Well,” said Henry, “We better get going if we want to beat all that airport traffic.” He put on his pork-pie hat and buttoned his brown-and-tan sweater vest as Punky and Cherie grabbed their duffle bags.
“Look out New York,” shouted Punky, “Here comes Punky Brewster!”
Cherie giggled and snorted. “Hee, yeah!” she said.
Brandon barked twice. Henry opened the door and held it open as Punky, Cherie and Mrs. Johnson exited. The he stepped out into the hall and closed the door. After a second, he opened the door again and Brandon ran out into the hall, barking twice. The studio audience laughed sycophantically.

In what seemed like a montage set to synthesized fife music, Punky, Cherie, Henry, Mrs. Johnson and Brandon arrived at the airport and got in the ticket line. Punky started looking around at everything and wandered behind a ticket desk. A stern-looking ticket agent grabbed her by the shoulders and marched her back to Henry. The long line moved a tiny bit and Henry rolled his eyes and scooted everyone’s luggage forward with his feet. Brandon, inexplicably wearing a ball cap, jumped up on a luggage claim conveyer belt and started jogging on it like it was a treadmill. Cherie found her way into a bathroom and started turning the faucets on and off. The long line moved a tiny bit and Henry rolled his eyes and scooted everyone’s luggage forward with his feet. Mrs. Johnson suddenly noticed Cherie was missing, and immediately left the ticket line to go find her, turning her back the very second that Cherie rejoined the group. The long line moved a tiny bit and Henry rolled his eyes and scooted everyone’s luggage forward with his feet. Punky pulled Brandon off the conveyor belt, then got on it herself and walked through the fringed luggage opening. A stern-looking baggage handler grabbed her by the shoulders and marched her back to Henry. Mrs. Johnson returned to the group and pressed her hand over her heart to express relief that Cherie had returned. The group finally reached the front of the ticket line, where Henry had a silent but animated argument with the ticket agent. He nodded his head definitively, and the ticket agent reached down and removed from Brandon’s back a “LUGGAGE” sticker that nobody saw her put there.
On board the plane, and still in what seemed like a montage set to synthesized fife music, Henry put his bags in the overhead compartment. They fell out. Mrs. Johnson tried to squeeze into a seat. Punky wandered into the cockpit. A stern-looking pilot grabbed her by the shoulders and marched her back to Henry. Brandon, inexplicably wearing a flight-attendant’s uniform, stood on his hind legs with his front paws on a food cart. Cherie found her way into a bathroom and started flushing the toilet over and over. Henry put his bags in the overhead compartment. They fell out. Mrs. Johnson tried to squeeze into a seat. Then she suddenly realized that Cherie was missing, and left her seat to go find her, turning her back the very second that Cherie sat down again. Henry put his bags in the overhead compartment. They fell out. Punky pulled Brandon off the food cart, then she climbed into it. A stern-looking flight attendant grabbed her by the shoulders and marched her back to Henry. Mrs. Johnson returned to the group and pressed her hand over her heart to express relief that Cherie had returned. The plane finally took off and Henry, Mrs. Johnson, Punky and Cherie all slept, while Brandon, inexplicably wearing headphones, watched the movie and ate peanuts.
The plane landed in New York, after flying past the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Eiffel Tower and the Chrysler Building, all of which are apparently situated in the same square mile.
“Here we are,” said Punky triumphantly as the group arrived in the terminal. “New York City!”
Cherie giggled and snorted. “Hee, yeah!” she said.
“Oh my Lord,” said Mrs. Johnson, for no apparent reason.
Henry kept glancing around nervously, as they made their way to baggage claim. “Watch out, Betty,’ he said to Mrs. Johnson. “There are thieves everywhere!”
“HenREE,” whined Punky, “I TOLD you, Mayor Jellyfunky sent all the bad guys to jail.”
Mrs. Johnson started to correct her, but threw her hands up in the air instead. The studio audience laughed sycophantically.
After what seemed like a very brief cab ride set to synthesized car honks, the group was standing on a generic-looking city corner.
Henry held a map. “Well girls, I guess we head north if we want to go to FAA Shorts, the biggest toy store in the world!”
“All RIGHT,” shouted Punky.
Cherie giggled and snorted. “Hee, yeah!” she said.
Brandon barked twice.
They set off, Henry, Mrs. Johnson and Cherie walking a few paces ahead of Punky and Brandon.
“Brandon, look!” said Punky, pointing. “There’s the Empire State Building! I bet Henry and Cherie and Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t notice if we went up to the top real quick!”
Brandon barked twice, and off they went.
Meanwhile, Henry, Mrs. Johnson and Cherie had walked all the way from nondescript city corner to FAA Shorts, the world’s largest toy store.
“Here we are,” said Henry, gesticulating grandly. “FAA Shorts, the world’s largest toystore!”
Cherie giggled and snorted. “Hee, yeah!” she said.
“Henry-‘ Mrs. Johnson began.
“Ahh, ,” said Henry, completely oblivious to her panicked tone, “I remember coming here as a little boy, playing with miles of rocking horses, sampling the best playthings the world has to offer.”
“Henry,” Mrs. Johnson said again.
“I doubt much has changed,” Henry continued. “The wonder of the imagination, the joy on a child’s face-“
“HENRY!” Mrs. Johnson shook him. “Punky and Brandon are gone!”
Henry looked at her, confused. Then his eyes widened. “Punky and Brandon are gone!” Then the two of them set off.
At the top of the Empire State Building, which they seemed to have reached in record time, Punky and Brandon, inexplicably wearing a Statue of Liberty headband, gazed out over the city.
“It sure is a big city, Brandon,” said Punky. “Even bigger than Chicago, where my mom abandoned me.”
Brandon barked twice.
“Well, come on Brandon,” said Punky, turning away from the ledge, “Let’s go catch up with Henry and Cherie and Mrs. Johnson. I bet they’re almost at FAA Shorts.”
Brandon barked twice.
Down on the street, in what seemed to be a montage set to synthesized trumpet music and sped up by six times the normal speed, Henry, Mrs. Johnson and Cherie stood at the bottom of the Statue of Liberty. Seconds later, they were standing in Central Park, talking to a cop on horseback who was shaking his head. Then they were in Times Square, silently calling for Punky. Then they were in the aisle of a Broadway theatre, talking to an usher, who was shaking her head.
Punky and Brandon arrived at the door to FAA Shorts, just as the sun was setting.
“It sure did take a long time to get here,” said Punky. Brandon barked twice.
“Hey,” said Punky, looking around. “Where are Henry, Cherie and Mrs. Johnson?” She sat down on the steps.
“Well, Brandon,” she said, “It finally happened. Henry doesn’t want me anymore and he’s abandoned me, just like my mom.” Brandon didn’t bark.
Seconds later, it was dark.
Henry, Mrs. Johnson and Cherie were in the back of a taxi cab.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Bellowed Henry. “My foster daughter, whose mother abandoned her, could be anywhere! She could be hurt, or kidnapped, or lying in a gutter!”
The cab driver, a European-American with a white moustache and jaunty cap, looked at them in his rearview mirror.
“You got it!” He yelled in a thick Brooklyn accent, and drove the cab onto the sidewalk. People screamed and scattered. The studio audience, who had been quiet for a while, laughed sycophantically.
Punky and Brandon were walking along Central Park on a completely empty sidewalk. Suddenly, a boy of about 12, with blonde hair sticking out from under a green bandana, jumped in front of them.
“Gimme all your money!” He yelled. Brandon barked once. “Gimme your dog, too!”
As Punky froze in fear, a pair of headlights sped toward them on the sidewalk. The thug fled. The cab screeched to a halt, and Henry, Mrs. Johnson and Cherie jumped out and ran toward Punky and Brandon.
“Punky!” cried Henry.
“Henry!” Punky ran toward him and jumped into his arms. “You didn’t abandon me after all!”
Henry looked perplexed. “Why would I abandon you? You mean more to me than anything in the world!”
Behind them, Mrs. Johnson began to cry. “This is beautiful,” she sobbed, as Cherie rubbed her arm and adjusted the belt on her own head.
“Well Henry, you were right. New York is a pretty scary place,” said Punky.
“But Punky,” said Henry, “I thought you said Mayor Jellyfunky took care of all the crime!”
“Henry,” said Punky, “I think you mean GIULIANI!” They both giggled, Brandon barked, Cherie snorted, and the audience laughed syncophantically as Punky, Henry, Cherie, Mrs. Johnson and Brandon froze indefinitely, set to what seemed like synthesized xylophone music.

THE END

4 comments:

Michael Jeffrey said...

Fanfic is funfic.

I never saw "Punky Brewster," but now I feel I watched the whole first season DVD of it.

ps. oiutxkwb

Lynn said...

You are the best person ever for doing this.

sugarbunny119 said...

I had to try so hard to stifle giggles so my supervisor wouldnt know I was playing with the internet. brilliant!!

Yuki said...

haha. fanfiction is fun, until people start bugging you to "omg plz write another chap. I cant wait anymore because it's already been liek 2 whole minutes"

I used to do it always. Now I can't stand it... at least not posting it for other people.