The scene: The Island of Professor Po! Oops, I mean… The Island of Doktor Zymm! Moosemas Gorilla is chilling down on the beach. He’s got his shades on, he’s kicking back in a beach chair, just digging the ocean view while knocking back a banana daiquiri.

Yeah. Sometimes it’s good to be a gorilla.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van’s van is parked nearby. The doors and windows are all closed, to hold in all the smoke, some of which is nevertheless leaking out through the engine compartment. I mean, it’s a lot of smoke. Like, a lot.

Moosemas Gorilla (waving a furry paw at an approaching Ballsofsteelandfury): Ook!

Ballsofsteelandfury: Hey there, pal! Looks like you’re settling into island life.

Moosemas Gorilla: Ook-ook!

Ballsofsteelandfury: Is Marc in his van?

Moosemas Gorilla (nodding): Ook.

Ballsofsteelandfury cracks open the back door of Marc Trestmans Windowless Van’s van. Smoke billows out of the van and wafts up into the air. A seagull flies through it. The gull’s eyes cross and it gets a silly grin, then flies toward the water. It lands upside down in the ocean and bobs for a moment, feet kicking in the air, and then a shark breaks the surface and swallows the seagull in one gulp.

Ballsofsteelandfury: Hey, Marc. Breaking in the new van?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Yeah, man! Like, it can hold a lot more smoke than my last van. Total hot box, man. Wanna give it a try?

Ballsofsteelandfury (climbing into the van): Well… OK, you’ve convinced me.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: The bowl is packed with sticky icky, dude. Like, this island grows premium weed, man.

Ballsofsteelandfury: Yeah? Maybe Po was a secret stoner.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (hitting the bong): For sure, man. Like, those egghead-types are pretty tightly-wound, man. It does ’em good to burn one now and then.

Ballsofsteelandfury (accepting the bong from Marc): Yeah? What about Zymm? You think she tokes a blunt?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Like, I’ve thought about that, man. I actually got really baked last year for, like, a week, man, and I wrote a whole opera about it.

Ballsofsteelandfury (holding in the smoke): An opera?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Well, like, I thought I was writing an opera, man. But then it turned out that I was just writing down Cheap Trick lyrics.

Ballsofsteelandfury (exhaling as he sings): Mommy’s all right, Daddy’s all right, they just seem a little weeeeiiirrd….

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (taking a yuuuge bong hit): Yeah, man. Like, the weird thing is, I don’t even own a Cheap Trick album, man.

Ballsofsteelandfury: Hey, by the way…I’m digging your new neckwear.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (holding in the smoke): Thanks, man.

Ballsofsteelandfury: Where’d you find an orange ascot anyway?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (exhaling a yuuuge puff of smoke): Like, on the skeleton, man.

Ballsofsteelandfury: Skeleton?

Flashback to: Marc Trestmans Windowless Van in the basement garage of the Castle of Death a few weeks ago. The garage is filled with a wide variety of cars. Most of them are covered in dust.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (lighting up a joint): Whoa, dude! Like, those vampire chicks really like cars!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van walks through the maze of cars. He bumps up against a black 1982 Pontiac Trans Am and a red light on the hood dimly lights up. A voice emanates from the car.

Trans Am: Hello? Hello? Is there someone there?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Whoa! Dude! Like, you talk?

Trans Am: At last…someone to talk to! I have been so alone here for so long…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Dude, like, how come you can talk?

Trans Am: I am a fully autonomous artificial intelligence. I am quite capable of conversation, but I have been alone here for so long…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Dude, there’s, like, a hundred cars here, man.

Trans Am (with disdain): None of them are intelligent.

A 1928 Porter makes a throat-clearing sound and pipes up through its radio.

1928 Porter: I beg your pardon?

Trans Am: Oh, for…

1928 Porter: I’ve tried to engage you in conversation! But noooo… Mister Bigshot is too good to talk with an older model.

Trans Am: Well, all you ever want to talk about is your son.

1928 Porter: That’s because David is such a good boy! Did I tell you he’s an attorney?

Trans Am (grumbling): Only every day…

1928 Porter: And he’s always talking about his mother, the car…

Trans Am: And that’s why they put him in the loony bin!

1928 Porter (sobbing): How dare you! At least he didn’t desert me just to run off to become a life guard!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van wanders away from the squabbling cars. He comes across an old van. The blue and green paint is faded, but overall it looks like it’s in good shape.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (opening the driver’s door): Whoa, dude! Like, this is perfect, man!

As the driver’s door opens, a skeleton falls out of the van. It’s wearing a moth-eaten white sweater and an orange ascot.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Dude! Like, bummer, man.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van peers into the van. He inhales deeply and gets a big grin.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Whoa, smells like it was high noon in here every day, man!

Cut to: The present day again.

Ballsofsteelandfury (taking a bong hit again): Wait…talking cars? Are you sure you were just smoking weed?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Totally, man. I rolled it myself.

Ballsofsteelandfury: So the skeleton was here…in the van?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Yeah, man. But he seemed cool with me borrowing his ascot, man.

[VAN DOOR FLIES OPEN]

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van and Ballsofsteelaandfury look up in bleary surprise as the rear doors of the van are thrown open. Standing there is Covalent Blonde, a triumphant grin on her face.

Covalent Blonde: A-ha! I knew I’d find you two in…

A mass of smoke billows out of the van and over Covalent Blonde.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Oh, hey, CB.

Covalent Blonde (eyes dilating): …here… Hey, is the sky turning purple?

Ballsofsteelandfury (shooting finger guns): Welcome to Stonation, CB!

Covalent Blonde (climbing into the van): Hey, I’m getting the munchies. Is there anything to eat in here?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (closing the van doors): Yeah, man, there’s, like, a box of snacks underneath the passenger seat. They’re pretty stale, though…

Out in the ocean the shark that ate the seagull jumps up and does a full flip before diving back into the water.

Moosemas Gorilla (taking another sip of banana daiquiri): Ook!

To be continued…