ElectroBabe and DynaChick 4
Disclaimer, copyright info.
Opening credits (theme song).
1
We open on ElectroBabe tied to train tracks. She slowly comes to.
EB: Unnnh. Oh! Not again! If only I could activate my RingComp!
A close-up reveals a golden ring on EB's gloved finger. A hobo comes along, dragging a doll on a leash. He seems not to notice EB.
Hobo: (to his doll) Clementine, the train oughta be along anytime now. We'd best make camp for the night.
EB: Excuse me? Sir? Citizen? Hello?! Could you do me a favor and untie me? Sir?
Hobo: Now another guy that never did warsh his socks was Johnny Hooligan, Clementine. You remember him, don't you? Hoo boy! We had orchestra seats for Waiting for Godard and that was an endurance test, yes sir it was. (he sees EB's ring comp) My, but that's a purty bracelet, ain't it? I seen one like that oncet, but that was before the fire....
The hobo takes EB's RingComp and leaves. The train approaches. At the last minute, DC rescues her. They dive out of the train's path, landing in a heap along the tracks. The train passes.
EB: Wow! That was really close, DynaChick! How did you know where to find me?
DC: I got this emergency transmission on your RingComp. It sounded like some old bum. He was babbling about orchestra seats or something. I knew something was fishy.
EB: (sniffs) Yeah, I smell it, too. Fish and burnt rubber....
DC: That's hobo stew, ElectroBabe. Bums like to cook the carp they catch in old trashcans. And somehow a burning tire always gets tossed into the mix.
EB: We'll have to drop in for dinner some other time, DynaChick. For now, we need to figure out how I wound up tied to these tracks.
DC: Don't you remember?
EB: I was a little unconscious at the time, so....no. All I remember is someone sneaking up behind me, and then pulling a giant sweat sock over me. But I can't remember anything else, except....
DC: Except?
EB: Except the color of the sock. DynaChick! It was PURPLE!
DC: You mean...?
EBDC: The Purple Scoundrel!
We cut to The Commissioner's office. He is on the phone. We know that he is The Commissioner because he wears, over his conservative business attire, a beauty-pageant sash that says, simply, "Comissioner."
Commish: That's not a point worth discussing, Mulligan. And that's not what I'm paying you for. Well, then that's not what the city's paying you for. But don't forget that you work for me. I'm not going to discuss that with you, Mulligan, I....Mulligan! We don't pay you to... Pish posh! Allow me to dumb it down, so even you can get it: We can't discuss that point. What? Oh yeah? Well, thank you, too, buddy!
EBDC enter.
C: Oh good. I was hoping you two would drop by to give me a little rise in the morning.
EB: Hunh?
C: Well, what I meant to say was, "You two always know how to get a rise out of me."
EBDC: Oh, well, that's okay. Yeah.
C: President Bush called to congratulate you, Voltage Vixens. He just wanted to say "fine work," and to ask me to give you a nice pat on the back later. He said, "I don't know how they do it, but those two always manage to pull through, and they don't look half stupid doing it, either." Or something to that effect. I may have added a little of my own, ah, flavor, to the mix....
EB: President Bush?
DC: Who's that?
C: Oh my God, ElectroBabe and DynaChick! You don't even know who the president is? Phew! That's a real nice generation we've got coming up. Good Lord. I mean, really, how could anyone be so stupid? Don't you even watch the local news?
Blank stares from ElectroBabe and DynaChick.
C: Oh, never mind. I just called you in to tell you that we've found your sidekick, Norman.
EBDC: Norman!
C: Yes, somehow, he wound up in The Stickler's cell. Nobody knows how. That poor boy! Some guards came by and found him disoriented, and wearing The Stickler's orange prison jumpsuit, but not that hat and mask that The Stickler always wears. You know, I have to say it must have been an easy mix-up for the guards. Norman and The Stickler have the same build, hair cut and voice. (genuinely worried) Do you think Norman would sue us for false imprisonment?
DC: Where is Norman now?
C: That's the funny thing. Orange prison jumpsuits are all the rage with kids that age. Everybody's wearing them. It seems that Norman mixed in with a high school "Scared Straight" tour, and just kept mixing his way out of our maximum security facility.
EB: (laughing) You're right, Commissioner. That is pretty funny!
C: I mean't "funny" in the ironic sense, ElectroBabe. (sternly) There is no room for levity in law enforcement, dear girl. Always remember that. Now what have you discovered about the recent spate of stranglings in our fair city? (Insert shot: He taps his finger on a newspaper with an appropriate headline.)
DC: We think the Colfax Strangler has a scarf fetish. All of the victims were wearing them.
C: You don't say....
DynaChick pulls a scarf from her utility belt and caresses it about ElectroBabe's neck, unaware that The Commissioner, in the corner, is having a breakdown of some kind. He suddenly seems like a sweating, deranged, dirty old man. His hands alternately throttle and caress the air.
C: (quietly, desperately, to himself) No, no....
EB: (to DC, oblivious to The Commish) This would go great with gold foil.
DC: Yeah. Or silver or red foil!
EB: Yeah, like our ElectroSuits. Good call, DynaChick!
DynaChick puts the scarf away, and The Commissioner's pulse rate comes down.
C: Ah, good work, girls. There'll be a little something extra in your paychecks next Christmas, if the budget holds up. But I'm not going to discuss that. It's...it's not worth discussing.
EB: We'll be going, then?
C: Oh, just one more thing, ElectroBabe. Your old arch-nemesis, well, one of your many old arch-nemeses, really, is out on parole and acting kind of rude in public, if you know what I mean. Talking through movies, smoking in smoke-free restaurants, venturing unpopular political opinions....
EB: Who's out on parole?
C: The Purple Scoundrel.
EBDC exchange looks of horror.
In their groovy bachelorette pad, the girls change into their undercover disco hooker outfits.
EB: You shouldn't have made fun of the misspelling on The Commissioner's sash, DynaChick. Now we have to work the undercover disco hooker detail.
DC: Can I help it if "Commissioner" is spelled with two m's? If you can't spell what you are, be something else.
EB: Well, this stinks. These costumes make us look like prostitutes, DynaChick.
DC: That reminds me, ElectroBabe. We have to stop by the dry cleaners to pick up our ElectroSuits.
EBDC arrive at the dry cleaners, to find the store curiously empty.
EB: Hmmmm. The store seems curiously empty.
DC: Look! Free lollipops!
EBDC help themselves. From the side, Purple Scoundrel and his BananaMen watch.
EB: DynaChick. I'm getting woozy.
DC: So am I, ElectroBabe. Do you think these lollipops are dru-dru-dru-drugged?
They collapse in a heap as the villains gather around them, laughing. They place the girls in a giant laundry bag.
BananaMan or Henchchick: Those suckers sure fell for those suckers, Boss, but wouldn't it be great if these two were really ElectroBabe and DynaChick?
PS: These two really are ElectroBabe and DynaChick, you fool. They're merely in disguise. Now, in the back of this store, you'll find the ElectroSuits they came to pick up, minus their usual boots, of course. I guess they'll have to die with their hooker boots on, but we owe them at least that much.
BananaMan or Henchchick: So much for these two disco dare-dolls. What a prize package!
PS: Say, that gives me a great idea. Let's try out that miniaturization booth I got you for Christmas. These dare-dolls will make wonderful dolls, indeed.
Bound and gagged, the girls wake to find themselves inside a clear plastic piggy bank; they still wear their thigh-high disco hooker boots, but are otherwise dressed in their EBDC costumes. A giant BananaMan hand slaps a piece of tape over the change slot at the top, sealing off their air.
BananaMan or Henchchick: But won't they suffocate inside there, PS?
PS: I don't know. Maybe. Probably. And did you just abbreviate my name? Don't you ever do that again!
BananaMan or Henchchick: Sorry, Mr. Purple Scoundrel.
PS: I remember somebody else who cut me down before, and now I'll bet she's really, really sorry....
BananaMan or Henchchick: Who's that, Boss?
PS: ElectroBabe! We went to high school together.
ElectroBabe and DynaChick pass out.
ElectroBabe wakes to find herself inside a DonCo SloDrip Pudding Pot, which looks like a coffee maker. A drip tube oozes pudding down EB's body, as the level rises slowly from her knees to her neck. Villains gather around to laugh and gloat.
Purple Scoundrel: Oh, hi, ElectroBabe. Is it pudding yet?!
EB: You fiend! Old wounds dry crustily, don't they, old fourth-form chum? But then, I guess we were never really chums.
PS: You've got that straight, classmate.
EB: Well, do whatever you want with me, but let DynaChick go.
PS: Never!
EB: Your feud is with me, Purple Scoundrel.
PS: And any sidekick of yours is a mortal enemy of mine, ElectroBoob.
EB: Tell me something, Purple Scoundrel. If I'd have been a little nicer to you in high school, would you have grown up to be such a heartless monster?
PS: You know, I never really thought about that. Oh well. Time to check in on DynaChick. You'll be a pudding pop, presently, precious pearl. Now perish!
EB struggles.
Cut to DynaChick, about to be cut in two by a pendulum. Purple Scoundrel and his henchmen loom over her.
PS: Nothing like the old-timey deathtraps to really get the pulse racing, eh, DynaChick? I'm sure you're familiar with Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum," or the Roger Corman version, at the very least, so I won't bother to mention that this blade will steadily lower as it swings, until it has finally sliced you in two.
DC: Scum!
PS: Ah, sticks and stones! BananaMen! Throw the switch.
The pendulum begins its deadly motion path, steadily lowering as it swings.
PS: Kind of brings back all those memories of biology class, with the frogs in formaldehyde, eh what? Come along, boys, this could get messy, and I'd like to see what's doing with the Dow. My stock is on the rise. Ciao, DynaChick!
Cross-cut between the two predicaments. Both seem hopeless. And then, EB suddenly arrives, now back to her normal size.
DC: ElectroBabe! Thank goodness you've arrived in time. Quickly! Stop this thing!
ElectroBabe produces a watch and stares at it intently.
EB: Just a minute, DynaChick!
DC: I haven't got a minute, ElectroBabe!
EB: Ten, nine, eight, seven....
DC: ElectroBabe! Are you ElectroNuts? Stop this crazy thing!
EB: Six, five, four, three....
DynaChick suddenly grows to her normal size.
DC: Whoa! That was too close. ElectroThanks, ElectroBabe!
EB: Don't mention it, DynaChick. I'm only too happy to return the favor.
DC: But how did you escape?
EB: The Purple Scoundrel must have used a proprietary compression scheme when he shrank us, DynaChick. At the very last second, I suddenly shot back to my normal size. And I calculated your girth to figure out when you'd grow back to normal, right down to the millisecond, give or take a few seconds.
DC: ElectroNeato! But do you think you can figure out how to shrink us back down another ten pounds or so?
EB: Gee, I hope so. I've got a high-school reunion coming up!
2
We open the second half in medias res. ElectroBabe and DynaChick are investigating an old, abandoned factory, as always. They meet up after separately canvassing the place.
EB: Did you find anything?
DC: It's tough to find something when you don't know what you're looking for.
EB: There's something in this old, abandoned cardboard box factory that emits a high-frequency pulse. That's not normal. And anything that isn't normal is abnormal, and therefore worth investigating.
DC: I guess that's why you're ElectroBabe and I'm only DynaChick. You're always thinking, ElectroBabe.
EB: It wasn't my idea. Norman left me voice-mail this morning. I have no idea why he would have been scanning for electronic abnormalities, but he is kind of a freak, isn't he?
DC: The word is "geek," ElectroBabe.
EB: Whatever. Do you hear something?
DC: Look!
A robot spider enters their path, circling randomly. Each time it bumps into something, it backs up and broadens its arc.
EB: There's only one way to deal with one of those, DynaChick!
ElectroBabe raises her ElectroComp.
DC: Allow me, partner!
DynaChick eschews the "phasers on stun" approach, and merely stomps the spider to bits.
EB: Well, that worked, but I'm pretty sure you just violated regulations, DynaChick.
The walls suddenly hum ominously, and ElectroBabe and DynaChick are pulled steadily backward to the wall.
DC: ElectroBabe, what's happening to us?
EB: It's some kind of monster magnet, DynaChick! It's got us by the metallic objects in our utility belts!
They struggle like flies against flypaper.
Stock shots of people in a theater. They wait expectantly. Lenny, a ventriloquist, and Mr. Lipschitz, his dummy, watch those assembled from the wings.
Announcer: And now, for your comedic pleasure, the ethnic comedy stylings of Lenny and Lipschitz! Give it up for Lenny and Lipschitz, y'all! Lenny and Lipschitz, Ladies and Gentlemen! Lenny and Lipschitz!
The crowd applauds and the duo take center stage, beneath a lonely spotlight. On his bar stool, Lenny is obviously afraid--scared stiff, in fact--and probably wishing he were in some bar instead, far from the spotlight. After a long, awkward silence, with much throat-clearing and heckling from the audience:
Lenny: Mr. Lipschitz, I heard that you took a second mortgage on your house.
Lip: Yeah, that wife of mine. She wears a mink stole like polyester.
Cricket noises, scattered coughing.
Lenny: Is it true, Mr. Lipschitz, is it, ah, true that wooden dummies have more fun?
Lip: Yeah, we wake up stiff as a board.
Audience Member: That made no sense.
Lip: Hey! I got one. Is that a banana or a nose you're eating?
2nd Audience Member, with binoculars: You know, I think I can see his lips moving.
Audience Member: Doesn't surprise me. This guy's awful.
2nd Audience Member: No, I mean I can see the dummy's lip's moving. When the big guy talks. The little guy's lips move.
Lenny: Ah, Mr. Lipschitz, would you like to recite the alphabet while I drink some more bourbon?
Audience Voiceover: Do the old "I'm Lenny, he's Lipschitz" routine!
Lenny stands up, knocking over his stool.
Lenny: You people can all die and go to hell!
He runs off.
Audience Voiceover: What happened to you guys? You guys used to be cool!
In the abandoned cardboard box factory, EBDC continue their search.
DC: That was good thinking earlier, ElectroBabe. The way you broke us free of that giant magnet, I mean.
EB: It was a simple electromagnetic reversal, DynaChick. I reversed its polarity with our electro comp. Instead of attracting us, it repelled us.
DC: Boy! Did it ever! I'm lucky I didn't break my face when I got tossed across the room. That wall really hurt!
EB: Oh, yeah. It's all about you, DynaChick! It's always all about you. When the weather's bad, why is it you alone who has to suffer?
DC: That's the price I pay for being so sensitive. Ooh! Butterflies!
Butterflies encircle the girls.
EB: Must be a nest of them. Very pretty. But what do they mean?
DC: Sometimes a butterfly is just a butterfly, ElectroBabe.
Back in their dressing room, we discover the truth behind the Lenny/Lipschitz power dynamic. Lenny lies motionless and wide-eyed--a dummy. Lipschitz moves freely about the room, perhaps drinking and smoking.
Lip: Don't let it bother you kid. Anybody can have an off-night. I'll adjust the action on your lower lip next weekend when we get back to Baltimore, and then everything'll be salad and sardines.
Lipschitz takes a swig of bourbon, which pours down his chin much like Cookie Monster's crumbs, but is interrupted by the nightclub's manager, who angrily pounds on their door.
Manager: What kind of bullcrap was that? I thought you were ready for the major league, kid. Guess I was wrong. You're not even ready for little league. You'll never work in this club again.
Lip: (slurring, thanks to the bourbon) I don't care if I never work in this town again, pal. I've got other plans.
Manager: You'll be sorry, punk. And don't let the door hit your butt on the way out.
The manager storms off.
Lip: Don't you pay him any mind, Lenny. We don't need him. We don't need anybody. (beat) We just need to finish off our hated arch-nemeses, ElectroBabe and DynaChick. Because I can't have them upsetting any more of my high-frequency magnet stations. I'm going to need those for my ultimate plan. My ultimate plan!
He laughs demonically.
Cut to EBDC in their ElectroCar.
EB: Good thing you remembered to check the answering machine before we left, DynaChick. I forgot all about that hot tip on Mr. Lipschitz. Who knew he was back in town?
DC: Oh, you're just getting older, ElectroBabe.
EB: You're getting older, too, DynaChick.
DC: Yes, but you're getting older first.
ElectroBabe and DynaChick, with their trusty ElectroRope, climb the side of Lipschitz's abandoned warehouse.
EB: Just a few stories more, DynaChick, and we'll be crashing Lipschitz's party in true ElectroStyle!
DC: Gee, ElectroBabe. This is a lot of work. Don't you think we could take the stairs next time, or maybe even the elevator?
EB: But that would give away our element of surprise, DynaChick!
DC: I don't see how. We always come crashing through the window. And they're always ready for us, with some fiendish trap.
EB: Exactly! They probably think we're too smart to crash through the window one more time, so we'll crash through the window one more time and catch them off-guard!
DC: Well, you're in charge, ElectroBabe....
After crashing through the window, EBDC assume their usual overly confident, hands-on-hips pose.
EB: Surprise, Lipschitz!
Lipschitz and company capture them with champagne party favors. The confetti neatly entwines their bodies as they struggle. BananaMen enter frame and apply chloroform to thoroughly knock them out.
EB: These sickos look and act just like your last date, DynaChick!
DC: What's that supposed to (muffled)?
EBDC awake to find themselves pinned down like butterflies. Above them appear the tags "Damselfly Delectipus" and "Spandex Swallowtail." A BananaMan appears, carrying a box. Several BananaMen climb out of it, and finally, a giant butterfly emerges, hungrily. Another one follows on its heels
EB: Oh! How pretty! A giant butterfly!
DC: That's not just any giant butterfly, ElectroBabe. It's a Black-tongued Monarch. They're omnivorous!
EB: Omnivorous?!
DC: That's right, ElectroBabe. That means they like to eat....
EBDC in unison, grimacing: ....EVERYTHING!
The butterflies proceed to do just that, EBDC squirming all the while.
DC: ElectroBabe! Can you activate your ElectroBeam?
EB: Of course, DynaChick, but what good would that do us?
DC: Well, if you boosted the polarity on the ElectroBeam, we could fry these monsters like fresh fish.
EB: That's not a bad idea at all, DynaChick. We could sure try it!
Free of the giant butterflies, EBDC visit the set of The Commissioner's talk show, "If Ya Asked Me..." Already seated is Lenny and Lipschitz, who have apparently found the comeback trail. The Commissioner's sash now displays a crudely markered second "m."
Commish: Wow, audience, can these two guys perform a clever comedy routine, or what? I nearly pooped my pants, I laughed so hard!
Lenny: It's all in the timing, Commissioner.
Commish: So settle those pesky rumors once and for all, guys. Which one of you is the boss at home?
Lip: Well, he's kind of a knothead, so I make all of the decisions.
Commish: And speaking of knotheads, we've got a special treat for our viewers this evening. Please welcome ElectroBabe and DynaChick.
The girls come in and sit down on the end of the couch.
Lip: Hey! You're not dead! Or even chewed up by butterflies to a noticeable degree!
EB: Nor are we planning to be anytime soon, Mr. Lipschitz! (whispering, to DynaChick) If we adjust our ElectroComps to match Lipschitz's frequency, we can blow his little wooden mind...literally! I just thought of that. There can't be more than a triple-A battery powering that little Hitler.
DC: You mean, because his skull is balsa wood rather than bone, it's sensitive to electromagnetic vibration?
EB: Exactly. He'd stand less chance of surviving the charge than a pacemaker in a microwave.
Commish: So ElectroBabe, what's with that Purple Scoundrel, huh? Do you think he could be another GlamourRock or Lord Belveduke if he put his mind to it and really applied himself to, you know, villainy...?
EB: It's not the size of the culprit that counts, Commissioner. It's the callousness of his coldness.
Commish: Coming from you, ElectroBabe, that's almost poetry.
The laughtrack swells as we cut away to that same bogus audience stock footage used at the beginning of the segment.
EB: (whispering to DynaChick) Did you wire your ElectroComp to the PA mix?
DC: Yes, ElectroBabe, just like you said.
EB: Well, let's see if we can't tune into Lipschitz's mental wavelength.
DC: Time for a little wood-burning demonstration?
EB: You said it, partner.
Commish: Hey! What's all that whispering over there? Why don't you two share it with our at-home viewers?
EB: Just a little science experiment, Commissioner.
DC: (aiming her electro comp) Now, ElectroBabe?
EB: Let 'em have it, DynaChick!
We hear The Commissioner's thoughts sound out over the PA system:
Commish: [Voiceover: Man, what I wouldn't like to do with them two and a can of pineapple rings....] Hey, that's me! Or, ah, somebody impersonating me, I mean. Yeah! That's it! [Voiceover: Must block out dirty thoughts! Must block out dirty thoughts!]
The Commissioner slaps his hands over his ears, and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the truth of his turpitude.
EB: You can aim better than that, can't you?!
DC: Okay, already.
Lenny and Lipschitz both conk out.
The Commissioner rejoins the conversation, still fearful.
Commish: What just happened?
EB: Let's just say there will be no encore from Lenny and Lipschitz.
Commish: You mean....
DC: Yes. They've been...cancelled.
Back home, ElectroBabe checks her mail. From behind approach DynaChick and Norman. Norman wears a moustache, and is looking pretty suave. Whassup?
DC: ElectroBabe, I brought a friend home from school. Say hello to Skank Martindale. (from behind her hand, in a stage whisper) Isn't he the ginchiest?
EB: DynaChick, can I have a word alone with you?
DC steps forward, though certainly not out of Norman's earshot, and she and EB converse in normal conversational tones, as though he can't hear them.
EB: DynaChick, have you lost your mind?
DC: Huh?
EB: Can't you see that's just Norman, with a fake moustache?
DC: Oh, yeah, right, ElectroBabe. Could you be a little more jealous? You know, if you had a love life of your own, you wouldn't care so much about mine.
EB: Really, DynaChick? My God. How could anyone be so stupid? Good Lord!
DC: Don't ruin a good thing for me, ElectroBabe. It's not often we get a new hunk at my school, and I already claimed this one. It was like he was waiting for me.
EB: No kidding. Well, you two run off and have a good time, and don't do....
DC: (cutting her off) Angel dust?
EB: Well, I was going to say "anything I wouldn't do," but yeah, that too.
We eavesdrop on ElectroBabe and DynaChick, who seem to be teaching each other dance steps or something.
EB: Hey, kids! Glad you could stop by after the show.
DC: Yeah. ElectroBabe and I just wanted to make it clear that we in no way condone the harrassment or mistreatment of sock puppets or ventriloquist's dummies by anyone, for any reason.
EB: Yeah, kids. Dummies and puppets are people, too, and just because they're small doesn't mean that they can't be your good friends.
DC: Yeah. Everybody needs a friend.
EB: True. There may be some members of the sock puppet and dummy society that scoff at the law and are just bad people in general, but the majority of them are law-abiding, productive members of society.
DC: That's right, ElectroBabe. And kids, always remember...
EBDC: Crime never pays!
Freeze on their usual thumbs-up.
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