Mr. Dentist's Evil Plan: The HODOX Protocols

"And now, gentlemen, behold my latest--and most abominable--creation!" bellowed Mr. Dentist as he swept a white sheet back from the large platform that dominated the center of the auditorium. Assembled around the room were representatives from various rogue nations and terrorist organizations known and feared around the civilized world. They had come in anticipation of being the first to bid on Mr. Dentist's new superweapon, a project that he had spoken of cryptically for some time. As the sheet flew into the air, each of the men in the room craned his neck for a better view of the table.

The viewing platform in the center of the room rotated upright to display what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a man dressed in cardboard boxes to give him the appearance of a robot. The boxes were spray-painted a cheap chrome, the head-unit had two eye-holes and a broad smile painted across the bottom and there were what looked like bleach caps glued to the chest portion, along with several coat buttons and a drawn-on control panel. Topping the machine (man? man-chine?) was a wire coat hanger that slowly rotated as the robot stared into the crowd.

Mr. Dentist strode confidently forward and exclaimed, "Behold, the Human Or Dog Operating X-Terminator...or, as I like to call it, HODOX!!!!"

At this, he threw his arms back in delight, waiting for a wave of stunned gasps to wash over him. Instead, he was greeted with a cacophony of derisive laughter that threatened to shatter the windows of Mr. Dentist's auditorium. Sullenly, he quieted the crowd.

"Just what in the hell is so funny, you beetleheads?" he demanded. "This project cost me over five hundred million dollars and almost five years. It is the ultimate in anti-personnel/canine weaponry! With only one of these, I could destroy the entire DCPD, their entire canine unit and finally destroy that nuisance Jim Trooay! You fools, with even five of these, you could rule all of the Florida panhandle!!"

"But...Mr. Dentist...there are no terrorists on the Florida panhan--"

"Shut up Basketball!! Shut up shut up shut up!!!! You've been against this from the start!" Mr. Dentist yelled at Basketball Jones, his diminutive assistant who suffered horribly from Alopecia. Cowed, Basketball slunk away.

"I yam afryaid yyour assistyant is ryight, Myeester Dyeentist," intoned Beluga C. Dostoyevsky, the immensely obese on-site representative of the Russain mafia. "Thyis...ryobit...it lyooks wyeak."

"W-yeak? W-YEAK?!?! I'll show you w-yeak. Beluga, come down here and point your gun at HODOX. If you can stop him before he disables you, I will give everyone in this room one free order of weapons grade plutonium. If not, you must each order at least one HODOX. Fair?"

The entire room mumbled assent and Beluga C. Dostoyevsky waddled next to the platform and drew a pistol from his coat. He aimed the gun squarely at the robot's head as Mr. Dentist unfastened the strap holding HODOX to the platform. Mr. Dentist took out the remote control and pressed a button. Jerkily, much like a child pretending to be an automaton, HODOX headed for the Russian gangster. Beluga laughed and the room joined him in a wave of mild chuckles, eager to obtain their free plutonium.

"Myeester Dyeentist, thyis wyill bye thye yeasiest plyutyonium Y hyave evyer gyotten," Dostoyevsky laughed as he prepared to fire his gun. As his finger tightened on the trigger, however, Mr. Dentist pressed another button on the control and HODOX spoke: "IamONADock...ANDABOARD" whirred the robot in a mechanical drone that sounded like a high-strung telemarketer near the end of his rope. Mr. Dentist pressed the button and the robot said it again.

"Whyat? Whyat dyoes hye myean?" Dostoyevsky asked. Mr. Dentist just shrugged and smiled as the advancing HODOX unit reached arm's length from the gangster.

"Nyo myatter, Y cyan styill shyoot hyim," laughed the mafioso, raising his gun once more. As he did, however, Mr. Dentist jammed a button on the control and HODOX delivered a brutal kick directly to Beluga's balls, causing the Russain to literally explode in a massive ball of flames. The audience sat in stunned silence.

"So now, gentlemen, how many HODOXes can I get you?"

As the terrorists jumped and shouted out their orders to Basketball Jones, Mr. Dentist smiled to himself and rubbed his hands together. "Yes, yes. Soon, my HODOXes will sweep over the world, first destroying DCPD headquarters, capturing the chief and setting the trap for Jim Trooay. And once Trooay has been disposed of, my next phase can begin. Little do these fools know that I will remain in permanent control of each HODOX, waiting until the moment when I can activate their core brains, causing them to turn on their masters and exact my bru--Basketball, did you turn off my microphone? Oh GODDAMMI--"

Fifteen Years Later

[NOTE: As this blog finds its footing, expect major shifts in tone and style.  Our hope is to expand beyond the basic script format as we delve deeper into our characters' backstories. While we slog through this obligatory exposition, however, you're just going to have to deal with it.]

This scene takes place roughly FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER the Opening.

Night scene in a small DCPD office.  Despite the oversized leather chair behind his desk, THE CHIEF stands tensely in front of it, with the shadows from the window slats slicing his features.  THE CHIEF is a man notable only for his perfect cube of a body -- his height, width, and depth are all roughly four feet ten inches long.  He is clearly agitated with JIM TROOAY, who slouches in the solitary chair in front of the desk.  TROOAY is dressed like someone who used to give a damn -- jacket draped across the chair, suspenders instead of a belt, porkpie hat jammed without a thought onto a corner of his weather-beaten skull, and a crushed cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

THE CHIEF: Trooay, you're never gonna make detective if you keep killing witnesses!  That makes, what?  Three you've offed in the past eight months?  Do you have any idea how much ass I'm gonna hafta eat down at City Hall?

TROOAY attempts to straighten and light his cigarette.

THE CHIEF: Look, Trooay.  You and I both know exactly where we're at in this Dentist case.  My pesky shrinks at the thought, but you're the only one with a bead on the guy and the whole town knows it.  I'm stuck with yas, but that doesn't mean you get a free pass to piss all over me and my department.  You're  gettin' a partner.

TROOAY [unfazed]: Aw, chief, c'mon... we've done this dance before!  You set me up with some company stooge who can't hack it and I end up havin' to trick him into a locked closet or somethin'... You know I'm good for Dentist on my own -- a partner would only slow me down.

THE CHIEF: Maybe so, Trooay.  I've said it before, but this time ... I think you're wrong.  [pressing the intercom button on his desk] Ms. Cycline, send in Ms. Trillion.

TROOAY scoffs.  The door opens and DIANA TRILLION enters.  TRILLION is beautiful, but hasn't quite figured that out for herself yet -- her hairstyle and wardrobe are at least ten years behind the times, she wears large glasses despite needing only a weak prescription, and she lugs around a distinctly un-feminine bag overflowing with papers and sundry lady accessories.  TROOAY doesn't look up, leaving her standing.

TRILLION: Is this the right office?  Ms. Cycline ... was that her name?  It sounded so strange to me ...  Is she a bicycle enthusiast or something?  Anyway, she told me it was the fourth office on the right, but I dropped my bag and I may have miscounted ... I'm ... Diana Trillion?

THE CHIEF: Yes, Ms. Trillion, you're in the right office.  Thank you for coming down on such short notice.  This is ... Trooay, stand up!  For God's sake, Jim, grow up and shake your new partner's hand.  I'll go get you a chair, Ms. Trillion.

While THE CHIEF exits, TROOAY drags himself out of the chair and reveals a charm long thought dead.

TROOAY: James R. Trooay, DCPD.  Ms. ... Trillion, was it?  As in a thousand billions?

TRILLION: That's right -- twelve zeroes.  Diana S. Trillion, FB --

THE CHIEF [rushing back in behind a rolling chair that knocks TRILLION into it]: That's DCPD now, Ms. Trillion!  We're your, uh, family now!  Ho ho, sorry about that ... are ya comfortable?

TRILLION: I suppose I better be ...

-----------------------------------

Will Trooay put up with Trillion?  Will their combined effort be enough to stop Mr. Dentist's nefarious plot to ... What is Mr. Dentist's nefarious plot this time?  More importantly, FB WHAT?  Tune in to the next episode of The Trooayverse to be confronted with a whole new set of questions!

Opening: The Origins of Jim Trooay

Welcome to the Trooayverse, home to an ever-expanding world of preposterous nonsense and comic hilarity. In today's first installment, you'll meet the main character--Jim Trooay, a hard-boiled detective--and his arch-nemesis, the supervillain Mr. Dentist. You'll also learn a little bit about the history of their epic feud. And now, without further ado, we take you to...the TROOAYVERSE!

SCENE ONE

Interior of a high school. Two students who share an obvious but mild dislike of each other are waiting in line at a soda machine. The first, MR. DENTIST, wears a strange-looking suit-- an odd choice for a high school freshman. The second, JIM TROOAY, is dressed like Lou Reed. MR. DENTIST approaches the drink machine and buys a Coke. JIM TROOAY follows and presses the Coke button. Nothing happens.

MR. DENTIST: Oh...sorry. I guess I got the last one?

JIM TROOAY: Oh, that's okay.

DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYS!!

SCENE TWO

That night. Closeup on Jim Trooay's face where we can see flames flickering in his sunglasses. He smiles and lights a cigarette. The camera slowly pans back as he turns and walks away. We see that he has been watching a house in flames. As he walks away, the camera shifts to display him walking away from the burning, exploding house in slow motion.

JIM TROOAY: (In voice-over) There are only two rules in this world: never hit a woman and DON'T FUCK WITH JIM TROOAY!

As he concludes speaking, there is a large explosion that ejects a smoking MR. DENTIST from the house. He rockets through the night sky and crashes into a tree. As TROOAY keeps walking away, we hear for the first time of many:

MR. DENTIST: TRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!!