(Opening shot: the city skyline in the afternoon.)
Narrator: The city of Townsville!
(As he continues, cut to street level and pan along a couple of blocks. A fireman rescues a cat from a tree for a little girl, and a Boy Scout helps an old woman cross the street.)
Narrator: A community where random acts of kindness are an everyday occurrence.
(Dissolve to the park. As the Narrator continues, two smiling men pop into view. A child pops up between them.)
Narrator: And where warm, fuzzy smiles grace the faces of everyone you meet. (The child smiles as well. The Narrator continues icily.) Except some people.
(Pan from them across the countryside; stop on the forest outside the city and zoom in.)
Narrator: Some people who've decided to be far, far away.
(Zoom in past several signs showing variations on the message "Keep Out" and toward a barbed-wire fence.)
Narrator: Some people who don't like visitors.
(Zoom in on a run-down shack. Fuzzy Lumkins, the big, pink hillbilly creature from "Meat Fuzzy Lumkins," sits in a rocking chair on the front porch. A jug stands behind him; in front of the chair is a slice from a tree trunk to serve as a footstool. He is holding an old shotgun and looking very ornery.)
Narrator: Some people like...
Fuzzy: Hey, you! (working action of gun) Get offa my property! (aiming at camera) Now!
(He fires; the Narrator cries out, and the screen fills with gunsmoke. When it clears, the camera has pulled back quickly past the barbed wire, putting as much distance between the Narrator and Fuzzy as it can to avoid another round of buckshot from him.)
Narrator: Some people like... (Close-up of Fuzzy.) ...Fuzzy Lumkins!
Fuzzy: Dern trespassers. I'll get anyone or anything that gets on my property!
(He works the action again to load another round. A leaf floats slowly down into view in front of him. He eyes it suspiciously and tilts his gun forward to keep it trained on this intruder. Finally it settles onto the porch.)
Fuzzy: Get offa my property!
(He fires, blowing a hole in the porch and obliterating the leaf. Now a butterfly flits into view behind him; when it moves into his field of vision, he aims at it.)
Fuzzy: Hey! Get offa my property right now!
(He fires, putting a hole in the wall of the shack. The butterfly is nowhere to be seen, either having managed to flitter out of the area Fuzzy fired at, or something much worse. He jumps out of his chair and faces the camera.)
Fuzzy: Consarn it! Anyone else wanna try and get on my property?!
(His perspective of the woods. No living thing is in sight. Close-up of him.)
Fuzzy: Good. Hm. (smiling) Reckon it be time for some old-fashioned relaxation. Yep, yep, yep. (looking o.c around himself) Ahh, now let's see.
(Close-up of a straw hat on the porch; he reaches into view and picks it up.)
Fuzzy: (from o.c.) Good ol' hat. (Back to him; he puts it on.) Check.
(Close-up of a corncob pipe on the porch; he picks this up as well.)
Fuzzy: (from o.c.) Trusty pipe. (Back to him; he puts it in his mouth.) Check.
(Close-up of the jug.)
Fuzzy: (from o.c.) Jug o' water, check. (His gun, propped against the wall.) Boomstick. (laughing) Che-e-eck!
(His perspective of an empty corner of the porch, panning to the door.)
Fuzzy: Jo. Ch- (Back to the corner, then the door.) Jo? (The corner again, then cut to him, frantic.) Where you at, Jo? Where is you? Jo! Joey! J-oh...
(He laughs, relieved, and bends over to a banjo leaning against a post.)
Fuzzy: There you is. (picking it up) Hello, Jo.
(He straightens up and strums a few notes, sighing contentedly. Now he carries it back to his chair.)
Fuzzy: Now you stay right 'cheer, Jo... (setting it down) ...where you gonna be safe... (angrily, shaking fist at camera) ...from all y'all who wants to get your mitts on my property!
(He stretches and flops back into the chair, rocking and nodding off. Cut to his perspective as he begins to snore and close his eyes, the screen blacking out to simulate his drooping eyelids. What he doesn't see at first is a squirrel peering over the end of his porch and getting closer each time his eyelids droop shut before opening again as he continues to mutter to himself.)
Fuzzy: (sleepily) ...off my property...you better get off my property now, I'm not gonna tell you again...
(On this last, his eyes open slightly, revealing the squirrel now sitting in front of him. The screen goes black to the sound of his snoring; after a moment, he snaps awake, yelping in surprise. The barrel of the gun swings into view to point at the animal, and we hear the action being worked as the squirrel quickly goes slack with fear as its fur stands on end upon looking down the barrel of Fuzzy's gun.)
Fuzzy: Get offa my property!
(He fires, wiping out part of his footstool. The squirrel is gone, but a moment later it pops into view again, unharmed. Fuzzy fires a second time, and it disappears once more. When it shows up again, it hangs upside down from the top of the screen - it is on Fuzzy's head. Side view of him.)
Fuzzy: Hey! (pointing gun up at squirrel) Get offa my property, you ornery varmint!
(He fires, and his face is hidden in a cloud of smoke. When it clears, the squirrel is gone and his face is covered with soot. He stands up, angered that the squirrel made him shoot himself in the face to get rid of it, whether or not on purpose or accidentally; camera follows him as he walks to the end of the porch during his next line.)
Fuzzy: Why, you...I'm gonna learn you to get on my property!
(The squirrel looks up at him from the corner, then runs o.c. Fuzzy follows it.)
Fuzzy: Come back here... (Cut to the two running through the woods.) ...and get... (firing) ...offa... (firing) ...my...property!
(Overhead view of the forest, panning toward the city. Fuzzy's gunshots flash through the trees.)
Narrator: Oh, no! He's heading towards Townsville!
(Close-up of the squirrel as it runs into the city proper, shots ringing out behind it o.c. It runs into an alley, Fuzzy close behind; overhead view of the two leaving the other end. Camera shifts to point down a street, where a truck is approaching. Fuzzy jumps into view.)
Fuzzy: Where you at, you crazy critter?
(The truck driver leans on his horn; Fuzzy turns around just in time to be hit head-on. The hat, pipe, gun, and one of his boots fly up into the air. The hat settles to the ground in front of an old woman. Zoom in on it.)
Old woman: (from o.c.) Oh, my. (She picks it up.)
(Pan slowly down the street to Fuzzy, lying on the pavement in front of the wrecked truck, and zoom in on him. The old woman walks into view.)
Old woman: Excuse me, sonny, but I believe you dropped your hat.
(He snaps back to consciousness and looks over at her. Alternate between close-ups of her, with the hat, and him. This sequence is repeated four times, zooming in closer on the hat and his face, respectively; he goes from merely dazed to boiling mad in the process. Pull back to show both of them - he is now bright red with rage, and he screams.)
Fuzzy: GET YOUR WRINKLES OFFA MY PROPERTY!!
(He throws a punch that knocks her flying and pants hard with exertion and fury. A man walks into view beside him, holding the pipe.)
Man 1: Um...excuse me, sir, but isn't this your - (He is hit in the face and knocked back o.c.)
(Close-up of Fuzzy; a hand reaches into view with the lost boot.)
Man 2: (from o.c.) Here's your boot.
(Another punch is thrown, and we see the man - a bald fellow with a bow tie - sail down the street. Back to Fuzzy; a third man stands behind him, holding his gun.)
Man 3: Your boomstick. (He takes a punch as well.)
[Animation goof: In this shot, the gun has two barrels instead of one.]
(Fuzzy stands up, roaring and pounding his chest.)
Fuzzy: Stop it, stop it, STOP IT! Stop touchin' my property!
Voice: (Irish brogue) Hey, pal!
(Cut to a close-up of the speaker - a policeman standing in Fuzzy's shadow.)
Policeman: So, you like punchin' out old ladies, huh? Well... (Side view of both.) ...I have one question for you. (smiling, holding up Fuzzy's hat) Is this your hat?
(Fuzzy screams again; the screen explodes into stars, and the policeman goes flying. Now the hillbilly goes on the warpath; he smashes a store window, jumps on a car, and crushes a mailbox with his bare hands. Two men, a woman, and the Talking Dog are next to get a taste of this wrath. Fuzzy grabs a lamppost and bashes a truck with it, then smashes another window and a car and punches out another bystander. Close-up of him, roaring at the top of his lungs.)
Fuzzy: Y'ALL GET YOUR MITTS OFFA MY PROPERTY!!
(Cut to a group of terrified people, with a growing shadow falling over them.)
Narrator: Oh, no! (backwoods drawl) Fuzzy's gone plumb crazy!
(The people run o.c.; pull back slightly around a corner as a bus falls into view where they stood and rolls out of sight. As he continues, the squirrel pops into view.)
Narrator: (normal voice) Who can stop this wild man on the loose?
(Cut to the exterior of Pokey Oaks Kindergarten.)
Bubbles: (from inside) It's mine!
Buttercup: (from inside) It's mine!
Bubbles: (from inside) No, mine!
(Close-up of Octi inside. The doll is being pulled back and forth.)
Buttercup: (from o.c.) Mine!
Bubbles: (from o.c.) Mine!
Buttercup: (from o.c.) Mine!
Blossom: (from o.c.) Girls!
(Pull back; she floats above her sisters' tug-of-war.)
Blossom: What did we say about sharing? (Cut to Bubbles; pan back and forth between her and Buttercup.)
Bubbles: But Buttercup's gonna...
Buttercup: I am not! I just wanna see Octi.
Bubbles: So you can...
Blossom: Bubbles, share with Buttercup.
(Cut to Blossom, glaring down o.c. toward Bubbles, then to the others. Bubbles lets go, and Octi is snatched away.)
Bubbles: (resignedly) Okay.
(Close-up of the hotline as it begins to buzz, then of Blossom.)
Blossom: Uh-oh! The Mayor! (She flies o.c.; back to the others.)
Bubbles: (recoiling) Don't!
Buttercup: Don't what?
Bubbles: Just don't!
Buttercup: Oh, you mean... (hitting Bubbles over the head with Octi) ...this!
Bubbles: Ow! Yes! (Back to Blossom; she has hung up.)
Blossom: Girls! Trouble! Move out!
(Cut to the exterior of the school as they take off through the roof, then to them in flight.)
Narrator: Hurry, girls! Hurry! You've got to get downtown! (Cut to a wrecked street littered with semiconscious people.) It's a mess!
Buttercup: (from o.c.) Whoa!
(As she says this, the girls land and survey the scene. Cut to their perspective, panning along the street. More dazed, injured people are scattered about everywhere.)
Blossom: What happened here? (Close-up of Bubbles.)
Bubbles: Know what? I'll bet it was something bad. (Pull back to show her sisters, glaring at her.)
Blossom: Okay. Split up and search for clues! (They take off in different directions.)
(Close-up of each speaker in turn.)
Blossom: Excuse me...
Buttercup: ...but can you tell us...
Bubbles: ...who did this?
Old woman: (dazed) Hat...hat...hat.
Man 1: My property, my-my-my-my property. My property, my-my property.
Man 2: Not now! My head hurts!
Man 3: Watch out, he's got a boomstick!
Policeman: (dazed) I-I-remember...pink. (Back to Blossom and Buttercup.)
Blossom: (groaning in frustration) Nobody's making any sense!
Bubbles: (from o.c.) Girls!
(Close-up of her, kneeling on the ground; her sisters land behind her.)
Bubbles: (over her shoulder) I think I found someone who can help! (to camera) Okay. Now just tell 'em what you told me.
(Close-up of the individual to whom she has addressed herself - it is the squirrel. It chitters for a few moments. Cut to Blossom, standing just behind Bubbles - the top of her head is visible. Buttercup leans into view.)
Buttercup: (to Blossom, whispering) She's talking to squirrels again!
Blossom: Quiet, Buttercup! (Pull back to show all three and the squirrel.) Bubbles! Ask him if he knows who did this.
(Bubbles turns to the squirrel and chitters back to it; the animal responds. She turns back to Blossom. Buttercup, meanwhile, cannot believe any of this.)
Blossom: Can he take us to them?
(Bubbles speaks to the squirrel again; after a moment, it runs o.c.)
Blossom: Come on! (She and Bubbles fly after it.)
Buttercup: (shrugging) Oh, brother! (She flies after them.)
(Cut to them in flight.)
Narrator: Go, girls! G- (Pull back; the squirrel is soaring along with them.) What? (laughing) Go, squirrel, go!
(Cut to the exterior of Fuzzy's shack, then to the fireplace inside. His banjo twangs o.c.; pan slowly across the room to him, playing by the window and smiling serenely. Close-ups of him from various angles are superimposed on the view, after which the scene dissolves to him standing against a slowly panning backdrop of a peaceful countryside. As the music stops, cut to him by the fire. He sighs calmly.)
Fuzzy: Oh, Jo. You always make me feel a whole lot better.
(He sets the banjo down. A crash from o.c. startles him; he looks over his shoulder.)
Fuzzy: Huh? (The girls and the squirrel are at the door.)
Blossom: Not so fast...
Bubbles: ...Lumkins! (Close-up of Fuzzy, his back to the camera. He has turned red again, indicating his berserking rage has been awoken once more, this time by the Girls being on his property, especially in his house.)
Blossom: (from o.c.) Who are you to come mess up our town?
(He turns around; once again he is boiling mad. He rushes toward the girls. They don't even have a chance to prepare for him as he catches them all by surprise by his enraged charge.)
Fuzzy: GET... (Close-up of Blossom; from o.c., he slashes her with his claws.) ...OFFA... (Close-up of Bubbles; from o.c., he kicks her.) ...MY... (Close-up of Buttercup; he bites her leg as he finishes.) ...PROPERTY!!
(The girls are flung against the walls and collapse in a heap on the floor. Fuzzy stands over them, panting and snarling, just waiting to have another go at them when they come to. Zoom in on his face; the squirrel's chittering from o.c. shakes him out of his gloating.)
(Cut to the squirrel, which is holding the banjo close to the fire, then to a 360-degree view of Fuzzy in close-up.)
(He runs toward the squirrel, yelling and gibbering. Cut to just behind it; as he approaches; it tosses the banjo to Blossom, who has recovered from Fuzzy's surprise attack on her and her sisters. He goes for her, but she hands off to Bubbles, also having recovered. Now he charges at her, but she passes to Buttercup, having recovered as well. Head-on view of him running at full speed; zoom in on his face, dissolving into terror, and stop on an extreme close-up of one eye, the firelight reflecting in it.)
Fuzzy: OH, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
(As he screams, the scene changes to the fire itself. Pull back to show the body of the banjo just inches from the flames; as Buttercup speaks, pull back again to show her holding it. Now she threatens to do what the squirrel had threatened to pull earlier to get Fuzzy away from the Girls so they could recover from his earlier attack.)
Buttercup: And I'll do it, too!
(Cut to her perspective of Fuzzy, still panting hard and red with fury.)
Buttercup: Now relax...RELAX! (He does so, instantly assuming a dumbfounded expression as his arms hang at his sides, though he still retains his angry red appearance for the moment. Side view of her, talking soothingly.) That's it. Now, come and get it. (Pan to him, putting her out of view; he has calmed and reassumed his normal appearance.) Don't worry. I'll give it to you.
(As she continues, cut to a close-up of his foot rising from the floor, then to inside the fireplace, looking out at the approaching Fuzzy.)
Buttercup: (from o.c.) Okay, just a little more. (Close-up of the banjo body as he reaches for it.) There you go. (Cut to her sisters.)
Bubbles: (panicky) Look out, Fuzzy! She's gonna...
(Blossom slaps a hand over her mouth to avoid warning Fuzzy of what Buttercup plans to do to him, possibly what her sister pulled on her earlier with Octi. Back to Buttercup and Fuzzy.)
Buttercup: Okay, Fuzzy, here you go.
(And with those words, she hauls off and hits him over the head with the banjo, similar to what she pulled with Bubbles earlier. Back to the other girls.)
Bubbles: I told you. (Pull back to bring all four and the squirrel into view; Fuzzy is out cold thanks to Buttercup and her stunt she pulled with his banjo.)
Narrator: Way to go, girls...oh, and squirrel!
(Dissolve to the exterior of the jail.)
Narrator: Townsville Prison!
(Inside, Fuzzy - now dressed in orange prison coveralls - sits in the corner of a cell, holding his banjo. It has a broken neck.)
Fuzzy: (sighing sadly) Well...at least I still got you, Jo.
(A hulking shadow looms over him; it belongs to his cellmate.)
Cellmate: (yanking banjo away) My property! (He walks o.c., and Fuzzy hangs his head.)
Narrator: (laughing) How do you like that, Mr. No-Share?
(The standard end shot comes up.)
Narrator: So once again the day is saved...thanks to the Powerpuff Girls! I get a warm, fuzzy feeling just saying that.