THE MOJO DILEMMA
a 'Powerpuff Girls' fanfic, by Jennifer Lynn Weston
STANDARD OPENING SHOT - Townsville Skyline, Night.
NARRATOR: (mellow voice) The City of Townsville, after dark. All is calm, all is bright.
(The following narration is spoken over a series of FADE-INS; the POWERPUFF GIRLS sound
asleep in their shared bed, PROF. UTONIUM in his stark white bunk, the MAYOR in his
oversized four-poster, MISS BELUM [slumbering on her side so her face is hidden] on a
frilly circular mattress, and MISS KEANE under an neat apple-printed coverlet.)
NARRATOR: The good citizens of Townsville are hard-working folks. They've put in a long
day of educating the children, doing scientific research, running the city, saving the
day. So, after night falls, they all make a point of retiring early enough to get a proper
(SLOW PAN along the Townsville skyline, past the observatory- the only structure with its
lights on- and further.)
NARRATOR: So now everyone's nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of, whatever,
dance in their heads. All resting up for... (suddenly urgent) Hey, hold on! (FAST PAN back
to the observatory; CLOSE IN) It looks like one denizen of Townsville *is* still
awake. And we can be sure it's not because he's up to any good!
(CUT TO: Observatory Interior. MOJO JOJO, laughing his usual villainous laugh, is standing
on a stool beside a tall laboratory table covered with test tubes, flasks and such. As he
talks, MOJO pours several measured liquids and powders into a large glass beaker, mixing
each one in.)
MOJO: Oh, this is my most brilliant and diabolical scheme yet! When I have completed
synthesizing this formula and secretly incorporate it into the Townsville water supply,
every citizen who utilizes tap-water in the making of their morning coffee will discover
their start-of-the-day beverage has lost its power to energize them! In despair at
being unable to relieve that groggy early-morning stupor, they shall all call in sick and
go back to bed! With the entire adult population thus incapacitated, Townsville will be
mine for the taking!
(In the manner of a sous chef, MOJO lifts the mixing spoon and delicately sips his
concoction, smacking his lips with satisfaction.)
MOJO: Ah, perfect! And now: I have come to the last and most precarious stage of the
preparation. (He inserts an eye-dropper into a vial of green fluid, siphons up a small
amount, and positions the dropper above the beaker.) This is the final ingredient, but I
must be extremely careful to add only one drop. Any more will over-stimulate the chemical
balance, causing a denaturing of the entire formula.
(CLOSE UP of MOJO's hand as he *slowly* squeezes the dropper; a single green drop bulges
forth. CUT TO the outside door to the observatory: a very large fist on a metal rod pounds
loudly on the door.)
MOJO: (startled) Huh?
(Distracted, MOJO squeezes too hard; three green drops fall into the beaker. To MOJO's
dismay, the contents immediately come to a rolling boil, overflow the beaker, and spread
out to melt an unsightly hole in the table top.)
MOJO: (pounding a fist on the counter) *Curses!* I had just had this table resurfaced!
(MOJO sourly goes to answer the door. As he opens it, his eyes are hostile slits, but they
widen when he gets a look at his visitors.)
(POV PAN down a row of peculiar, MOJO-sized apparitions, which appear to be part-robot,
part-animal. Each one has glowing red eyes, and a radio antenna emitting wavy lines &
pinging noises. Their animal components are more variant: gorilla hands, kangaroo legs,
turtle-shell, beaver teeth, scorpion tail, shark's head, octopus tentacles.)
MOJO: Very nice costumes, kids. But since it is now August and therefore not even close to
Halloween, I am not in possession of any caloric foodstuffs to give you. So scram!
(MOJO slams the door and starts back towards his project, but halts when he hears a sound
like a buzz-saw behind him. He looks back to see the beaver teeth rapidly chewing their
way up the side of his door, across the top, and down the other side. The detached portion
of the door falls; the crowd of robot-things springs inside.)
MOJO: (dryly) You could not content yourselves with festooning my home with toilet paper?
(angry) Very well! If you want to play rough, I am quite able to accommodate you!
(MOJO darts into a near-by closet, quickly emerging with a small arsenal of weapons
strapped to his back & machine gun in hand. Fast Fight Montage as he begins firing at
the robots; most dodge the bullets, the turtle-shell one deflects them. Suddenly the
shark-head appears at MOJO's side and bites the gun in half. MOJO draws a laser ray gun;
the beaver teeth clamp down and flatten the muzzle. MOJO swings the weapon like a club;
the kangaroo legs kick it from his grip. While he's distracted, the octopus tentacles
reach to lift away his remaining firearms. MOJO, turning to establish where his guns have
gone to, sees the octopus passing them to the gorilla hands, which bend them into
pretzels. Disarmed, MOJO attempts to use martial-arts defenses, but soon finds he's
outclassed- he's kicked to the ceiling by the kangaroo legs, tripped up by the tentacles,
squashed between the gorilla hands, and gets a hard head-butt from the turtle-shell. MOJO
is forced to take refuge atop his lab table, apprehensively watching as the robot-things
close in around the base.)
MOJO: (unnerved) By now, it is evident these are not garden-variety trick-or-treaters.
(Even as he speaks, the scorpion-tailed robot climbs onto the counter behind him. SLO-MO
as the tail swings to impale MOJO's shoulder.)
(Continue SLO-MO as MOJO falls, unconscious, to the observatory floor. As the things move
to surround him, CLOSE IN on MOJO's slack face. The surface beneath him changes to stone,
and the lighting to a bluish color-scheme. MOJO groans, his eyes slowly opening. POV Shot
of jail-cell bars coming into focus.)
MOJO: (instantly roused) Hey! They have no right to incarcerate me *before* I have engaged
in any felonious activities! (MOJO gets up and marches to the cell door) Officer! I demand
to be...! (He stops short, looking past the bars with surprise)
(SLOW POV PAN of a well-equipped laboratory. Several long counters sport bubbling flasks,
state-of-the-art microscopes, electronic scanners, and a Public Address unit. The shelves
above contain many jars of preserved animal specimens, whole or partial.)
MOJO's VOICE: This is not the Townsville Jail, unless they have redecorated, which I
seriously doubt. So, where am I?
MAN'S VOICE: (somewhat nasal, with a snooty British accent- Mark Hamill would be my first
choice to do it) You're inside the old Townsville Natural History Museum.
(FAST PAN in the other direction to settle on the speaker: a very dapper middle-aged man,
dressed in a tailored gray business suit, with impeccably combed blonde hair and a neat
brown mustache. The man is busily sketching something onto a clipboard, using a
Swiss-army-knife-like gizmo with compass and t-square attachments. His manner is aloof and
MAN: Specifically, you are in that portion of it which I have converted into my secret
MOJO: I see. And is it your intention to also inform me who *you* are?
MAN: Doctor Phineas T. Binsworthy, formerly the director of this fine institution, which
regrettably closed some years back due to financial difficulties. Since then, I've been
primarily engaged in unconventional research geared toward nefarious ends.
MOJO: So you are a Mad Scientist. I must say, you look pretty well-groomed for that line
BINSWORTHY: (unfolding a nail-file from his gizmo and giving his fingernails a going-over)
We don't all conform to the conventional image, you know. But I assure you, I possess
ample credentials. Perhaps you read my profile in the last issue of 'Evil Geniuses
MOJO: (rubbing his jaw) Yes; come to think of it I do recall reading that. You are the one
who is converting animals into obedient part-robot drones, to harness their special
physical abilities and produce an undefeatable cyborg army?
BINSWORTHY: Quite right. In fact, you've already encountered several of them.
(BINSWORTHY pulls something from his pocket that looks like a TV remote, and begins
pushing buttons- familiar wavy lines emerge from the remote's end. With antennae pinging,
the aforementioned group of robot-things files into the room and lines up outside the
barred cell. MOJO eyes them disdainfully.)
BINSWORTHY: I find that the natural adaptations of animals- the injection capacity
of scorpions, strength of gorillas, speed of kangaroos, and so forth- when combined
with technology, produce particularly formidable results. (He pushes a button to make
various tools unfold from the cyborg's backs; a chain saw, bottle opener, pruning shears,
laptop, power drill.) Quite useless to resist, as you've experienced for yourself. And, of
course, the mechanical implants put them completely under my control. I have very nearly
enough of them now to begin my take-over of Townsville. (frowning) This city owes me, you
know- cutting off all funding to my museum, just because that flashy new one opened...
MOJO: (waving his palm impatiently) All right, you may consider me suitably impressed! But
am I correct in my assumption that you had your drones bring me here for some purpose
other than to brag about them to me?
BINSWORTHY: Oh, I do like your way of getting to the point, Mojo- I can call you that,
MOJO: (growl) Yesss...
BINSWORTHY: So, as I was saying; I'm in the final phase of my preparations to send my
cyborgs to seize control of Townsville. But, to cope with the resistance they'll no doubt
encounter, my army needs one more component: mechanical aptitude. That's a talent sadly
lacking in the animal kingdom, but which you, Mojo Jojo, demonstrably possess in
MOJO: (dismissively) Well, I am flattered, Dr. Binsworthy, but when it comes to evil
conquest schemes I only work as a single. In fact, I have one on the burner at home which
I really should be getting back to...
BINSWORTHY: My dear fellow, you misunderstand me. I'm not offering you a partnership.
*You* are going to become my final cyborg-drone.
(BINSWORTHY turns clipboard so MOJO can see the sketch. It's of MOJO himself, fitted with
mechanical parts, red eyes, and an antenna.)
MOJO: (outraged) WHAT?! Are you mad?? (to himself) Come to think of it, that's a
(MOJO leaps to grab onto the bars at BINSWORTHY's eye-level, & reaches through the
bars to shake a fist in the man's face.)
MOJO: Do you not have the slightest appreciation of who it is you are dealing with here? I
am Mojo Jojo- Criminal Mastermind, Greatest Supervillain in the history of Townsville,
Arch Enemy of the Powerpuff Girls! I Am Nobody's Trained Monkey!!
BINSWORTHY: (unruffled) Oh, I concede you can be troublesome when you have access to your
various gadgets and inventions. However, on your own you're simply an extra-intelligent
chimpanzee with a misanthropic mindset and deplorable fashion-sense. I mean; turquoise and
purple with white accessories? That's simply not on, old boy.
MOJO: (to himself, thru gritted teeth) I am beginning to *really* dislike this guy.
BINSWORTHY: (stepping to a wall and flicking a switch) And now it's about time we got
started. Shall we adjourn to the table?
(The wall slides back to reveal an adjacent chamber. This contains a large metal table
with restraining straps at the corners, encircled with dissection tools clutched by long
robot arms, all hooked up to a control panel. For a few seconds MOJO looks genuinely
alarmed, but then his expression changes to sad resignation.)
MOJO: Oh, very well; I suppose I know when I am beaten. I'll come quietly.
(MOJO descends to the floor. He stands meekly as his cell door opens and he's quickly
surrounded by the cyborg-drones. They start to escort him towards the chamber, followed by
BINSWORTHY with remote in hand. But at the chamber entrance, MOJO suddenly points to one
MOJO: (aghast) WAIT! What Is That?!?
BINSWORTHY: (turning to look) Eh?
(MOJO promptly dashes off in the other direction.)
MOJO: (gleefully, as he darts from sight around a corner) I can not believe he fell for
BINSWORTHY: (irritated) Now, really! (He aims and 'fires' the remote; the pack of
cyborg-drones takes off after MOJO. BINSWORTHY nonchalantly steps over to the PA and lifts
BINSWORTHY: See here, Mojo; all you're doing is postponing the inevitable.
(The following VO is spoken over a montage of MOJO being pursued through the natural
history museum. MOJO repeatedly gets the cyber-pack to run past him by disguising himself
as parts of the exhibits; in the Geology Hall, he pulls his cape over himself to look like
a purple rock. In the Reptile Room, he crouches behind two mounted turtles so his turban
passes for a third one. In the Chinese Culture Exhibit, he assumes the traditional
Warrior Monkey pose in front of a painted theater screen.)
BINSWORTHY'S VO: (PA distortion) My cyber-drones are equipped with the best tracking
senses the animal world has to offer- eagle's eyesight, bloodhound's sense of smell, owl's
hearing apparatus- the lot. It simply isn't feasible that you'll be able to evade them
indefinitely. Once they catch up, resistance, as you know, is futile.
(MOJO makes it to a door, but his most strenuous efforts are inadequate to pull it open.
He dashes to a boarded-over window, and has no better success trying to open that.)
BINSWORTHY'S VO: Furthermore, all the doors and windows in this place are completely
sealed, as you've no doubt discovered for yourself by now. You've no chance of getting out
through any of them.
MOJO: (low voice) Very well; then I shall make use of the ventilation system for my
(MOJO spies a handy air-vent cover, pries it off and slips within. CROSS-SECTION IMAGE of
MOJO swiftly crawling along first horizontal, then ascending, air ducts. OUTSIDE SHOT of
the museum rooftop, as MOJO's faces rises into view inside an ventilation hood. But,
looking down, he gasps in dismay. PULLBACK SHOT to show, in the light of the just-rising
sun, that the museum is completely surrounded by a dense crowd of cyborg-drones.)
BINSWORTHY'S VO: (coming over an outside speaker) As a final precaution, I have my entire
cyborg army stationed around the perimeter of the building- even if you make it outside
you won't get any further than that. So why don't you save us both a lot of aggravation
and turn yourself in- there's a good chap.
(Scowling, MOJO sinks back down the duct and resumes his horizontal crawling.)
MOJO: Much though it galls me to admit it, I shall apparently require outside assistance
to escape from this place. Fortunately, I know where to get it, if I can succeed in
accessing a telephone.
(Coming upon a vertically descending duct, MOJO braces his hands and feet against the
sides of it and slides swiftly downward. CUT TO: the basement of the museum, with an
old-fashioned multi-armed furnace. There's a sound of sliding inside one of the arms, then
a muted THUMP. The furnace's grated door opens and MOJO pokes his head out, his eyes
darting left and right.)
MOJO: (his gaze focusing on something) Ah-ha! (PULLBACK to show a janitor's
desk w/ an old dial telephone)
(CUT TO: the phone ringing in the living room of the POWERPUFF GIRLS' home. PROF UTONIUM
walks in and answers it.)
PROF: (pleasantly) Hello!
MOJO'S VOICE: Professor Utonium, this is Mojo Jojo. I need to speak to the Powerpuff Girls
immediately. Put me on speaker-phone, if you please.
PROF: Okay! (as he switches over, PULLBACK to show the three PPG's at the breakfast table,
each about to ingest a spoonful of Lucky Captain Rabbit King Nuggets) Girls! Phone call
BLOSSOM: Who is it?
(Three spoonfuls of cereal go into mouths)
PROF: It's Mojo Jojo.
(Three mouthfuls of cereal get spat across the table.)
ALL THREE PPGs: MOJO JOJO?!?
(They zoom into the living room; BUBBLES reaches the receiver first.)
BUBBLES: What do *you* want, you bad monkey?
MOJO's VOICE: (coming out of the speaker-phone) Listen; I am requesting your help! I have
been kidnapped by an evil mad scientist- a Dr. Phineas T. Binsworthy- and I need you to
come get me out of Townsville's old Natural History Museum.
BLOSSOM: (snatching the receiver) Just what kind of trick is this, Mojo?
MOJO'S VOICE: This is no trick! Dr. Binsworthy intends to dissect me and convert me into a
cyborg-drone to obey his every command. He is already in possession of hundreds of animal
cyborgs in and around the museum, which is why I am unable to extricate myself from this
situation by myself.
BUTTERCUP: (snatching the receiver in turn) Even if you *are* telling us the truth, why
should we care what happens to *you*? You're a Supervillain!
(CUT TO Museum Basement. MOJO, in his jumping-up-and-down-shaking-a-fist mode, does not
notice when the pack of cyborg-drones enters the basement behind his back.)
MOJO: What does that matter?? You goody-goodies are supposed to render assistance to
anybody who requires it, and in my current predicament there is no doubt that I...
(MOJO freezes, hearing the 'ping' of antennae. BACK VIEW as he whirls toward the sound,
his expression terrified. POV shot of the scorpion tail descending.)
(BACK TO the PPG living-room. The girls display varying degrees of alarm as MOJO's loud
scream sounds over the speaker. It's suddenly cut off, there's a 'THUD', then a click and
dial-tone. With a pained 'what else can I do?' expression, PROF hangs up.)
BUBBLES: (truly distressed) Oh, poor Mojo!
BUTTERCUP: Whadaya mean, 'poor Mojo'? He's our worst enemy!
BUBBLES: But it sounds like he's in real trouble!
BUTTERCUP: Then he's getting his just desserts. I say; let's leave him to it.
BUBBLES: Buttercup, we owe Mojo for our very existence! Twice over!
BUTTERCUP: Those were accidents! Mojo's never done anything good on purpose in his entire
BLOSSOM: Nonetheless, he did have a point, Girls; as Superheros, we're under obligation to
help whoever needs it. Even evil primates.
BUTTERCUP: (folding her arms stubbornly) That really stinks! You two can go without me.
BUBBLES: We can't split up- we're a team!
BLOSSOM: Right! We may need you, Buttercup. There's no telling what defenses that Dr.
Binsworthy might throw at us.
BUTTERCUP: I've got an easy solution to that: let's *all* stay home.
BLOSSOM: (irked) Hey! Who's the leader here, you or me??
(For a few noisy seconds, BLOSSOM and BUTTERCUP squabble about leadership issues, and
BUBBLES begins to cry.)
PROF: (cutting them all off) NOW GIRLS! You've wasted enough time arguing- you've got to
get over to that museum and rescue Mojo!
(BUBBLES and BLOSSOM beam; BUTTERCUP looks rebellious.)
BUTTERCUP: Professor, that mangy monkey's been making trouble for us since the day we were
born! Why should we help him now?
PROF: (holding up a finger) One simple reason, Buttercup; without Mojo, this show won't be
nearly as entertaining.
(There's a long moment of no sound or motion [except blinking] as BUTTERCUP ponders this.
Finally, she raises both arms in exasperated concession.)
BUTTERCUP: Oh, all right! Come on, Girls; let's get this over with.
(The three PPGs zoom off.)
PROF: (fondly) That's my little angels.
(Standard Footage of the PPG's in Fast Flight.)
NARRATOR: Go, Girls, go! Even a crook like Mojo doesn't deserve what Dr. Binsworthy has
planned for him!
(CUT TO the dissection chamber. MOJO, now strapped down to the metal table, is struggling
fiercely against his bindings. BINSWORTHY, meanwhile, is carefully arranging the
tool-clutching robot arms above him.)
BINSWORTHY: I really don't understand why you're making such a fuss about this, Mojo. As a
cyborg you'll be more powerful than you've ever been- I was under the impression you
MOJO: Obtaining powers at the price of becoming your personal slave is not what I consider
an equitable exchange!
BINSWORTHY: (stepping over to the control panel) You have to expect to give up
*something*- that's just the way the world works. No free lunch, and all that. (He
activates the controls; the robot arms stir to life.) Now I suggest you hold still for
this; it might possibly be less painful. Maybe...
(The arms, wielding their sinister instruments, start to descend towards MOJO, who,
sweating profusely, can only grit his teeth in preparation....)
(... suddenly, a booming crash shakes the room.)
BLOSSOM'S VOICE: Not so fast, Dr. Binsworthy!
(PAN TO the three grim-faced PPG's, silhouetted against a gaping hole in the ceiling.)
MOJO: (in his habitual angry tone) Oh, the Powerpuff... (he does a double-take; changes to
a happy tone) The Powerpuff Girls!
BINSWORTHY: (frowning a bit) Well, well! I wasn't expecting a visit from you three.
BUTTERCUP: (grumpily) It wasn't exactly on our social calendar either.
BUBBLES: And just what do you think you're doing to Mojo?
BINSWORTHY: Nothing that I'd have thought you Girls would have any objection to. He's not
exactly a friend of yours, is he? Rather a bad egg...
MOJO: Oh, you are one to talk! Have you not built yourself an army of super-powerful
cyborgs for the express purpose of taking over Townsville?
BLOSSOM: 'Taking over Townsville'? Then you're just as bad as Mojo!
BUBBLES: (staring in horror at the rows of preserved specimens) He's *worse* than Mojo!
He's mean to animals!
BINSWORTHY: My dear girl, animal research is absolutely essential to the progress of
BUBBLES: (flying right up to BINSWORTHY) Oh yeah? How would you like it if somebody did
that to *you* ?
BINSWORTHY: As you yourself are a product of the present state of medicine, you're hardly
in any position to...
(A livid BUTTERCUP interjects herself between the two.)
BUTTERCUP: NO MORE DEBATING!! We've already had enough of that for one episode!
(poking BINSWORTHY'S nose) Are you gonna turn that monkey loose, or are we going to start
kicking some tail??
BINSWORTHY: Well, if it has to be one or the other...
(BINSWORTHY reaches under the edge of the metal table, as if intending to undo the straps.
But, as a low-angle shot reveals, he's actually depressing a big red button labeled
'SUMMON ALL DRONES.' The Girls hear a great sound of pinging and clanking behind them, and
turn to see the entire cyborg army has just entered the room.)
BINSWORTHY: (fishing out his controller) Then let the tail-kicking, as you call it,
BUTTERCUP: (Gleeful) All right! (She launches herself into battle, her sisters close
behind. The first thing she does is literally kick a scorpion-drone's tail.)
(Fast Fight Montage; the PPG's seem to be holding their own. At one point BUBBLES darts
back to the table, grabs the straps at MOJO's wrists and tugs until they snap.)
BLOSSOM'S VOICE: Bubbles! Take care of that later- we need you here!
(With an apologetic shrug, BUBBLES zooms back to the fight. MOJO sits up, quickly unstraps
his legs, vaults off the table and runs to hide behind an adjacent counter. He pokes his
head around the further edge to check how the battle is going.)
(More Fast Fight Montage. The tide is turning against the Girls; they're being worn down
by the sheer number of drones, and their laser-eyes are ineffective since the
turtle-shells keep deflecting the rays. As BINSWORTHY welds his remote, CLOSE-UP of the
wavy lines emitting from it, and the similar lines sparking from the drones' antennae.)
(MOJO looks up and sees, on top of the counter, a miniature radio-tower, with identical
wavy lines emerging from the apex. His expression becomes sly.)
(The PPGs are in trouble now. Dozens of drones manage to grab hold of them, until each
girl is immobilized amid a huge mound of clinging cyborgs. Their angry struggling is
ineffective. BINSWORTHY pushes the appropriate button; to the Girls' additional dismay, a
number of scary-looking cutting-tools unfold from the cyborg's backs.)
BINSWORTHY: I must commend you Powerpuffs for giving my troops some excellent
combat-training. However, I believe one such session will be adequate. What they're most
in need of now is practice at finishing off the enemy. So, if you're ready...
(The Girls aren't ready; they look like they're about to scream. CLOSE UP as BINSWORTHY
pushes a large black button marked KILL.)
(BACK TO full-room view. For several long silent seconds, nothing moves, except the PPG's
(He pushes the black button again, and then repeatedly. The cyborgs remain motionless.)
BINSWORTHY: (shaking the remote) Oh, confound it, I just changed the batteries yesterday!
What's the matter with this thing?
MOJO'S VOICE: Perhaps the problem is... (PAN to where MOJO leans smugly against the side
of the counter, an outlet-plug dangling from his hand)... that I have unplugged your
(DRAMATIC CLOSE-IN on the hanging plug. The PPGs look to MOJO with delight.)
MOJO: (gloating) Yes; I, Mojo Jojo, by the simply expenditure of disconnecting your
radio-transmitterfrom it's power-source, have by that one action incapacitated your entire
army! Without electricity, the transmitter is unable to relay the signals from your
control-unit to the intended recipients, and so your drones, instead of taking the actions
you are signaling to them, do precisely nothing! (CLOSE-UP of the plug as MOJO flings it
to the floor) Your mighty cyborgs are now useless lumps of inert matter!
(FRONT VIEW of MOJO, now in a very threatening crouched-to-spring posture.)
MOJO: (darkly) And now, Doctor; let us determine what *you* are without *your* gadgets and
(POV shot of the enraged MOJO hurling forward; teeth barred & claws
(POV shot of the about-to-be-sprung upon BINSWORTHY, looking startled.)
BINSWORTHY: Oh, I sa.....
(They collide. Fast Fight Montage of MOJO giving BINSWORTHY a thorough thrashing.
BINSWORTHY takes plenty of damage, but somehow manages to retain hold of his remote.)
(CUT TO the still-trapped PPGs, staring round-mouthed at this display of carnage. With a
final loud SLAM, the fight-noises cease. PULL BACK to show MOJO, breathing hard, crouched
beside the wreak which was BINSWORTHY. MOJO pries the remote from BINSWORTHY's misshapen
fingers and, growling with fury, crushes it between his own palms. The pieces fall like
(There's a general sound of machinery shutting down. The glowing red eyes of the cyborgs
switch off, then they all slump limply to the floor, releasing the PPGs in midair. With
BUBBLES in the lead, the three of them float over to MOJO, still bent over with his back
BUBBLES: (concerned) Mojo? Are you okay?
MOJO: (whirling about and waving his arms frantically) No, I am not okay! I am nothing in
the vicinity of okay! Okay is the antithesis of what I am! Furthermore, I am in a great
quandary and agitation of mind!
(MOJO paces frenetically back and forth across the bottom of the screen as he rants; the
PPGs follow him with with their eyes.)
MOJO: As you know, I have dedicated my life to destroying the three of you, since it is
you who always foil my power-mad schemes and so forth. But now that you have by your
intervention saved me from the most ignominious fate of being converted into a
cyborg-drone, I am in your debt, I am indebted to you, I owe you one! And what effect is
this going to have on my life-style? Shall I have to cease my efforts against you? Will I
be obligated give up being a Supervillain- the only position for which I possess any
substantial qualifications? (He halts and shakes both fists in the air) Am I now
going to have to become a *Good Guy* ???
BUTTERCUP: Heck, no! The whole reason we saved you is because we *need* a Bad Guy like you
BLOSSOM: That's right! Periodically going up against your unique brand of villainy is an
indispensable part of what makes us the Powerpuff Girls.
BUBBLES: Not to mention; your amusingly redundant dialogue is a trademark running-joke.
BLOSSOM: In other words: the best way you can repay your debt to us is to keep right on
doing what you've always done best. (sweetly) So; do we have a deal?
(Front View of MOJO as he thinks this over. His mouth twitches, hescratches his chin, he
rubs the back of his head. Finally, he shrugs, smiling amiably.)
MOJO: Okay! Deal.
(CLOSE UP of MOJO extending his hand; BLOSSOM takes it and they shake. PULLBACK to show
the Girls all sporting wry half-smiles. BUTTERCUP & BUBBLES are looking askance at
each other, as if thinking, 'We did the right thing, but just barely.')
NARRATOR: Well! You gotta admit that's a different way to end an episode.
(CUT TO: Standard Closing Shot of the PPGs over background of pulsating-color
NARRATOR: So once again, the day is saved, thanks to: the Powerpuff Girls!
MOJO'S VOICE: Just a minute!
(To the Girls' surprise, a scowling MOJO scrolls up into their space, crowding them to the
MOJO: Aren't you overlooking someone?
NARRATOR: Oh, yeah. And also thanks to: Mojo Jojo!
(MOJO looks well-satisfied with himself; the Girls are somewhat annoyed.)
NARRATOR: (low voice) Like I said, folks; it's an unusual ending.
(The PPG's sigh; MOJO blinks, once.)
FADE TO: THE END