SCENE: An ancient barnyard, Hong Kong
This expertly restored photograph
from the 1970s, depicts Cluck Loonie
, poultry farmer and aspiring musician. Admittedly it has little, if anything, to do with the exciting screenplay at the left. In all honestly, it's completely gratuitous inclusion—a sad, laughable attempt to bulk up the article and fill space in order to make it appear more epic
than it is.
THI, a domesticated fowl of great philosophical insight, deeply immersed in the martial arts, receives an invitation by carrier pigeon.
"Greetings to you, Shaolin Monk. I am Ham. As your Master has undoubtedly told you, I was once also a student of The Order
, but was expelled once my skill became too great and my power too fearsome. Word has reached my ears that you too are powerful. I therefore challenge you to a competition of the greatest of greats. Unless, of course, you're... chicken."
(grimacing visibly, at least to the degree possible with a beak)
"Come to my island and face your destiny, if you dare... My messenger will relay your reply to me."
(looking at the pigeon with disdain)
Bwauk bwauck bwauck bwauck bwauck? Buckauwk!
The pigeon takes flight, and flucks off into the distance. A large brown cow approaches.
Excuse me, Mr. Thi? I'm Bredthwidth, Bovine Intelligence. Could I have a word?
I have it on good authority that a man, well... a pig, named Ham may attempt to contact you.
I'm afraid so. What's more, he's a notorious drug dealer, a brutal human trafficker, and a deadly matrial artist. I've also heard he's a fine painter and a passable banjo player, but that's as maybe. Anyway, Bovine Intelligence would like to recruit you for a secret, undercover mission.
Yes, I'm afraid Ham's island is out of our legal jurisdiction and INTERPOL's busy recording a new album... But we need to act now. I want you to attend the tournament being held at Ham's martial arts school.
(looking the cow straight in the eye)
Bwauk bwauck bwauck bwauck...
I see... but before you refuse there's one thing you should know... Ham is responsible for the death of your sister, Delicious Lemongrassballs.
(with unhinged fury)
SCENE: A desolate island, parts unknown
If an explanation would provide better context to the preceding apology,
you must understand the intense pressure that writers have to include pictures in articles. Even in the cases of tremendously well written ones, like the one to the left, critics will fire a salvo of insults if there isn't at least some attempt to brighten the margins with visual distractions. So really, that's all this is. Conformity.
THI, seized with the insane rage of his newfound loss, sits in quiet meditation in an attempt to steady and calm his quivering wishbone, or "Qi".
(approaching from behind)
Greetings to you, Shaolin Monk. I am Ham, and I am gratified that you have accepted my invitation to compete. I would love to introduce you to some of the other participants, but the writer is getting rather bored at this point and doesn't feel like making up additional names or cheap backstories. So, feel free to introduce yourself to whoever you imgaine you might see standing nearby. Eventually, someone is bound to great you in return, once you've stumbled upon someone with a critical role in carrying the plot forward. Enjoy!
THI wanders around in earnest, trying to talk and shake hands with others who are, not surprisingly, not really there. Naturally, it doesn't make for great conversation. However, just as he is about to leave, a long, lean, lithe female dove steps in front of his path.
(stepping in front of his path)
The scriptwriter hasn't provided her with a name, nor any lines, but it is obviously implied that she is to go away with Thi somewhere off screen, where they will spend the night together doing things not shown nor described, but clearly some form of mating activity. This is an obviously lame attempt to engage the audience using cheap sexual innuendo, before they lapse into a deep sleep due to the lengthy, bland dialogue and the lack of any fight scenes.
Ten minutes later, smiling widely and looking greatly relieved, Thi emerges back into view. Warbling cheerfully, he ambles toward his hut to nest for the night.
SCENE: Same desolate island, sunnier
blaming it all on conformity made our apology sound hollow, so we'd like to apologize for that in addition to reiterating our previous apology about needlessly including pictures that are only marginally related to the exciting screenplay to your left.
It is morning, and THI emerges from his hut well rested, still smiling, and feeling fine except for the mildly alarming itch on his giblets. Still, he is determined kick tailfeathers, impress Bovine Intelligence, and avenge the death of his dear sister Delicious Lemongrassballs.
Entering the arena, THI sees three sinister-looking opponents: a Canadian crow, an American vulture, and a Russian rooster.
(offering his wing to shake)
So, like, how's it going, eh?
Seeing his chance to strike the crow during his well-intentioned gesture of friendship, THI flattens the Canadian with a single chop to the gizzard. The crow falls, and the vulture approaches.
(keeping a safe distance away)
So, listen. Before we start, can I just say something? First off, I just want to say that I was standing back there watching what you did to that Canadian and I thought, "Hey... wow. Did I just see that?" But of course I obviously saw it, I mean, who didn't? I think we all did. And at first I thought, "Hmmm... what do I think about that?" Because on one hand that seemed like an awfully dirty trick to play on someone who was just trying to be a nice guy, but then on the other hand, wow, I mean I've really got to admire the result. It was thoughtless, yet really spectacular. I mean, you completely flattened him. And I think that's a great, great take-away lesson for us all to learn and use in our own lives. I mean, in retrospect, how stupid was that guy for trying to be nice to you? Moron. He completely deserved it. It's almost comically funny when you consider it. I mean if he would've just stopped and thought about it for a moment he would've been more careful. Instead, the stupid fool just blundered over there, stuck out his wing, and never even saw it com—
With a great leap and a single chop to the throat, the American is struck and falls to the ground... dead, and thankfully, silent.
(slowly coming back to consciousness)
Hey... Good one, eh? Beauty!
(winks, and gestures with a small salute to the crow)
(approaching from the sidelines, until he is beak to beak)
I must break you.
(looking the rooster straight in the eye)
With a punch to THI's wings, the rooster sends him sprawling backward. THI is unfazed. The two opponents circle each other like two chickens circling the feed troughs in a barn yard. In fact, almost exactly like that, except not in a barn yard, and without the feed troughs.
Seconds later, and at exactly the same time, both warriors fly into the air, drumsticks outstretched in mighty kicking poses. Then, midair, their talons grasp together and they hurl savage wingchops at each other like two prisoners joined by leg irons. The camera freeze-frames the drama and then shows their conflict from multiple angles in quick succession. It's poultry in motion — except for the freeze-frame. Frozen poultry, I guess you could say.
Then, unexpectedly — but only for people who have never seen his kind of movie before — HAM appears at the edge of the arena and begins his own move toward THI.
(in the same stilted acting style as before)
Greetings to you, Shaolin Monk. I am Ham. As I undoubtedly told you, I was once a student of The Order
, but was expelled once my skill became too great and my power too fearsome. Now you will experience my fearsome power personally, as I pluck you clean in order that I may repair the rather lumpy pillow I'm stuck using at the moment.
(looking at the pig with disdain)
Bwauk bwauck bwauck bwauck bwauck? Buckauwk!
Yes. Yes, it's true. I did kill Delicious Lemongrassballs... and then ate her with spring rolls and chow mein on the side, and only a glass of tap water to drink because I'm cheap that way. What do you intend to do about it?
(becoming rather psychotically unhinged again, with wishbone all aquiver)
Try, if you must. But prepare to fry!
THI spins and chops like a Salad-spinning® Slap-Chop™, whirling dervishly and rather circularly in generally round and revolutionary gravitationally-defying ways that make audiences cheer and physicists roll their eyes. Close-ups of terrified retinas, squalling beaks and flying feathers give plausible indication that our hero is winning, without providing too clear an idea how exactly, owing to the increased burden this would place on the special effects budget.
Minutes later, when the film reel is nearly empty or the hard drive is nearly full — depending on whatever we're using to film this — THI stands alone and victorious, while HAM and ROOSTER sit in nice, neat slices on styrofoam trays covered with plastic wrap. Meanwhile, the Canadian is alternately gesturing towards the packages and himself, in hopes of being able to take them home.
But, the story is not over. Another figure emerges from the edge of the arena.
It's the DOVE, who the writer has now named CLARA because it is revealed that she will now play a larger part of the plot than was originally planned, but will not require a backstory as was originally feared.
you enjoyed our little show.
(trying desperately to speak)
___ ____ ___. _____ _____ __ ____ _ ____!
The scriptwriter is reminded that while a backstory isn't necessary, a few lines of dialogue are.
(ecstatic to have been finally given a line)
I'm with egg. We're going to have a baby!
They embrace, wings wrapped tightly around each other.
Unexpectedly, the lights come back up, and our hero steps back into frame, looking concerned and pointing at his recently acquired rash.
Oh... That... Sorry. I had stubble.
They embrace again, wings wrapped tightly around each other.
- ↑ No, not an eagle, because that would be too corny, and this script is already packed with corn.