Author’s incredibly ramble note: I’ve been encouraged to post the original Moe saves TV as it was when I first wrote it a thousand years ago. This is despite my strongest urges to kill it in the archives of a wax paper lined shelf to gather dust forever. Stepping stones be damned.
Welcome to the only time I will likely present you with the original edition of a Moe piece only because some of the magic is lost when you show people rougher versions.
This particular Moe story was written sometime in 2006. I believe, but I’m guessing, that it was written around the middle of the series as it was. 2006… Almost ten blasted years ago. Makes me feel really ugh. Old. To have been “working on the craft” all these years.
Looking back, I’ve come a damn long way. My standards are much higher now. What I produce is better. And that comes from writing every spare moment I could get. Writing even when I knew what was going down on paper was complete shite. Failed projects and incomplete pieces are all practice. Or as the painters put it: “my early works”. Kind way of saying: this piece sucks, but without it we wouldn’t have the later works. Ha.
I’m telling you, never giving up has been the key to getting better. Duh, I know. But you can’t expect to vomit up a masterpiece first time out. Not second time out. Sure as hell not third. Probably not even the 1,666th time out. Simply working hard. Every single day. Gets you that tiny step closer. Hones your skills, sharpens the brain.
It’s funny how my techniques and habits have pretty much remained the same. I still rely on sugar and caffeine to get into the ridiculous mood needed to project Moe onto the page. I still put on my headphones and blast the music loud enough to block out the external world: (when I’m in the zone I don’t even hear the music anymore). I still like to hand write Moe stories. And I still write the story in fragments as ideas come to me. I only piecing it all together in chronological order at the end. I’ve always written the dialogue first, and added the descriptors afterwards.
What’s different now, really, is I take more time to flesh out a scene. And I try hard to pay attention to the pacing of a story. Which, as you’ll discover below, was not much of a concern of mine back in the day. I also don’t like to rush an ending anymore. Was kind of a signature of mine, particularly when I was a kid. (Yes. I’ve been writing that long. A Star Trek episode in a screenplay format which I wrote in grade six is the first fictional piece I can recall writing.)
Wow! What an infodump of an italicized introduction you neither needed nor wanted. ROFLCOPTER. I’m a little evil sometimes. Xoxoxo.
So, yeah. The year was 2006 and here we go!
Moe saves TV (the original)
I awoke to hear the Wind threatening my electrical equipment that lay near the half-open balcony door. Alfred my feline butler/bodyguard/slave was his usual vigilant self curled up on the floor with Gorilla Bear. His snores were competing with the Wind — a threat the Wind wasn’t about to take idly.
“I’m going to destroy your television!” screamed the Wind. He cackled a rather poor imitation of a maniacal laugh: “Mwhahaha.”
“Like Hell you are!” I screamed right back minus the puny laughter.
“A little rain will fix your T.V. for good! You’ll never watch another episode of Law & Order S.V.U again! Which is too bad really considering it is a good show dealing with complex issues our modern society really needs to see more of.”
“Alfie!!!” That cat just wouldn’t wake up.
“Alfred can’t save you now! No one can! Nothing can stop me now!” There was another of the Wind’s cackling.
Desperate situations call for desperate measures done by desperate superheroes. Though I didn’t think Batman could reach Ottawa from Gotham City in time. “Give me a second, will ya?”
“Evil winds wait for no man!”
“Good thing I’m not a man and that you’re fond of giving lame ass self-serving evil monologues. Without me you’ve got no audience.”
“Ah dammit! Why did I have to pick the apartment with the sarcastic plant?”
“That’s Mr. Palmtree to you asswipe.” I dug out last New Year’s Mardi Gras mask and shifted it through my green hair. It rested a little cockeyed but the effect was enough. “This calls for Mr. Tequila!”
“Oh no!!!!” screamed the wind. “Wait! Mr. Who?”
“And what exactly are your special powers? Making alcohol appear out of nowhere?”
“Why? Don’t you think I have any? That this is just some New Year’s Mardi Gras mask? I’ll have you know, sir, I have powerful… laser beam eyes.”
“I didn’t realize plants even had eyes.”
“Well they do, I mean I do. Just try me. Just you try raining in here.”
The rain swirled in threateningly close to the power bar. My whole life with T.V. flashed before my eyes. Cold winter nights cuddled up to it’s radiating warm glow while it shared the adventures of Hank and the rest of his dudes in Corner Gas. Or the one time I ever cried (one tear that’s it) when the mouse got crushed in the Green Mile. I mean that mouse was going to be a star in his own little mousy circus. Such a wasted talent. Sniff.
My devotion to T.V. and all its glories built up until all I saw was red. Then the red flew out of my eyes and attack every last frickin’ raindrop until that had all evaporated.
“Blast! This is not the end of this, Mr. Tequila! I will avenge!”
“Well you said ‘I will avenge’ but you didn’t say what you were going to avenge. Like the rain drops or your lost dignity or the fact that a plant in a homemade mask with pretend laser eyes defeated you.”
“Never mind! I’ll just be back.”
T.V. thanked me for saving her life once that annoying loud mouth had left. She turned on to a tropical commercial about Tequila. It was 3 a.m. and I was in heaven. That is until Nette walked in with her peppy Asian boyfriend Don. She ran right over to the still open balcony door and swore. “It’s been open this whole time and even with that crazy wind and rain outside there’s not even a drop in here. Not one single drop.” She looked as though she was about to cry. “I made you drive me all the way downtown at 3 a.m. to save my TV from rain that doesn’t exist! And why the hell is the TV on?”
Your Bro with the Green Fro,
Moe “Mr. Tequila” Palmtree