THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION.
Super Faxo Guy is an accidental hero with the secret identity of an office nobody in this satire on the super hero universe and the professional working world.
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Animated!
Preview a sample Flash version of our hero Issue #1: Don't Feed the Machine Faxel learns of his superheroic nature and as Super Faxo Guy, encounters his first adversary The Angry Taxpayer Issue #2: I Was Just Saying... Faxo hears of The Crystal Chicken's diabolical doings through the Super Hero Hint Hotline and also confronts the crazed Enunciator at his local library Issue #3: The Jaywalking Menace Angry Taxpayer's origin as Wife Beater is revealed and Faxo faces his most dangerous enemy yet The Doily Peddler story by M.D. Koffin artwork by Von Phantasi |
Issue #1: Don’t Feed the Machine
PAGE 1. We begin at WORLD WIDE LOAD, INC., your typical business-like company. The fluorescent lights reveal generic furnishings and plants which are very obviously made of rubber. A drab receptionist, who looks like an alien version of Thelma from Scooby Doo, with rosy cheeks, coke bottle glasses, and dagger-like finger nails; sits behind a desk with a placard that reads “Miss Perky”. She answers the busy phone, a hundred-line type with all the lines flashing ‘on hold’.
Narrator: It was an ordinary day unlike any other, when SUPER FAXO GUY came into nonexistence.
Miss Perky: Los Angeles Office. What can I do you for?
That gets funnier every time I say it.
From phone: That’s more funny.
Miss Perky: Who asked you?
Narrator: The perkiest receptionist.
Editor: That’s the ‘most perky’ receptionist *
Narrator: Oh, shut up!
PAGE 2. Near the water cooler, our super nerd is filling a thimble-sized paper cone with water. You can see a hose running from the cooler to a tap on the wall. He’s wearing a wrinkled, uncoordinated suit that is way too small for him with a name tag that reads “peon : FAXEL”.
He stands thoughtfully and you can see that the water cooler is really an aquarium-sized tank. Inside the tank, a killer whale is eating a diver. Behind Faxel, a man in a maintenance uniform is trying to nail a sign to the glass that reads: “Don’t Feed the Fish”. The glass is cracking and spraying water, while Faxel very obviously talks to himself.
Narrator: Unsuspecting of the fate in store for him in the very near future, our hero ponders life’s mundane problems.
Editor: Sure, why don’t you just give the whole story away?
Faxel: If I stand by the water cooler long enough, someone is bound to notice me.
They will think I was working so hard that I needed a break.
I’ll get a promotion!
PAGE 3. In the messy break room, two employees are talking in front of a table with a coffee machine. The table is littered with various used bits of coffee making paraphernalia, such as; half melted stirrers, opened packets of sugar, and scattered coffee grounds. A tall man with a fashion ponytail holds up a sign which reads “Coffee 5c - Thank You. The Management.” And a cup which reads “Money”, while a fat man with a bob hairdo listens to his brilliant scheme.
Narrator: Near the coffee machine where the really cool people hang out.
Pony: If we put up this sign with this cup, people will think that they have to donate for coffee and we can keep the money.
Bob: Do you think that’ll work?
Pony: Of course, most of the people at this company are half-way illiterate anyway.
The fat man nods as another man dressed in a safari outfit walks up holding a monkey and gestures towards the cup.
Safari Guy: How are we supposed to fit monkeys in there?
Shouldn’t they have provided a barrel or something?
PAGE 4. At a local, dimly lit, and smoky bar, two employees with margaritas and shots enjoy their break. A sign advertises “We Have Beer!”. Both are wearing outdated concert T-shirts and are pierced in odd places.
Narrator: At Happy Hour where the really, really cool people hang out.
Charlie: (smoking a cigarette) - How much time do we got?
Randy: (glancing at watch) - Well, let’s see, we get an hour. I think we left around 12:15 and it’s 1:30 now … we still have 45 minutes.
The bartender brings two large mugs of beer and Randy looks disappointed.
Randy: Can’t I get a plastic cup?
Charlie: This isn’t your back yard, you keg party reject.
PAGE 5. Finally, back at the office, all the cubicles are empty except for a crippled old man. The supervisor and the assistant are standing over him dressed in dominator attire, all leather straps, whips, and chains. The assistant supervisor’s tag reads ‘ass. super’ and the supervisor is cracking a whip.
Narrator: And finally in the phone room, the bowels of World Wide Load, Inc.
Supervisor: Work you slackers, what are we paying you $4.25 for?
Crippled Old Man: (looking truly pathetic) - When are they going to fix the handicapped ramp?
Assistant: After everything this company has done for you, all you can do is whine!?! You’re lucky they have a ramp at all!
Crippled Old Man: I’d like to go home.
Assistant: Go home? Aren’t you scheduled for work tomorrow?
Crippled Old Man: I need to take my medication.
Supervisor: What? Why are we hiring drug addicts? I’ll have to speak to the Big Boss about this.
PAGE 6. The supervisors go to the Big Boss’ office, various monkeys in background. The door says ‘Big Boss’. His office has the same generic furnishings. He looks like an old world, godfather-like gangster. There are huge lines of cocaine across his desk.
Narrator: With heavy hearts and troubled consciences, the kindly supervisors know what must be done.
Editor: Who are you kidding?
Narrator: Haven’t you ever heard of sarcasm? Now stop interrupting.
Big Boss: What do you want? I’m busy, I’ve got tons to do.
The supervisor holds up a death certificate that says ‘Crippled Old Man’. She does not look remorseful.
Assistant: We want to fire someone and we need you to sign this.
The Big Boss begins peeling an orange, acting unaware of the drugs across his desk.
Big Boss: Can’t fire ‘em. Then we have to pay severance.
An oversized and overstuffed chair spins around. A man in an immaculate wrinkle-free black suit, trenchcoat, and dark glasses is sitting in it. Everyone is surprised. He holds up a ticket to Winky Dinky World.
FBI-Looking Guy: Thought of that.
Everyone: Who are you?
FBI-Looking Guy: Company security. I like to keep a low profile.
PAGE 7.
Big Boss: Nice to meet you. Do you think you can get me one of those tickets too?
Close up on supervisor, who has a big evil smile. Whole atmosphere seems to darken even more.
Supervisor: Oh, I think I can get you one. I’ve got connections.
The next day outside the company, the Big Boss is on the street begging next to the crippled old man. Looks like months have gone by instead of hours. They are both wearing tee-shirts that say “ I went to Winky Dinky World and all I got was this lousy tee-shirt!” A yuppie executive hurries by.
Narrator: And the very next day…
Big Boss: This could be you some day!
PAGE 8. Back at the water cooler (tank), our hero has fallen asleep. A monkey is standing on the edge of the tank with his arms in the air as the killer whale is in mid-jump over him, reminiscent of the Free Willy advertisements. We can see a silhouette of Miss Perky in the background looking like Edward Scissorhands.
She approaches with a paper speared on a fingernail that says “FAX”. Faxel is instantly awake.
Miss Perky: Hey, I know you must be busy, but can you do this for me?
Faxel: Sure! It never hurts to lend a hand.
Miss Perky: Then you won’t mind doing these as well.
Faxel: (stuttering) Uh, um…
Miss Perky: Good, I owe you one, OK?
As Miss Perky turns to walk away she is thinking to herself, “Yeah right.”
PAGE 9. We follow Faxel to the fax room. The room has a radiation symbol and a warning sign outside the door. A man comes out in a decontamination suit with a fax in hot dog prongs.
Our hero enters bravely. The room has searing bright lights. A skeleton is laying on the floor next to a copier with a torn decontamination suit on. The fax machine is flashing ‘DANGER - out of order’ and a sign behind it reads ‘Warning - if machines are not operational, fax our trained maintenance professionals’.
Faxel sees broken machine and gets totally dejected look but then his face suddenly brightens.
Faxel: Darn… Wait! Maybe I can fix it!
PAGE 10.
Narrator: Do not try this at home.
Faxel throws down the box and rolls up his already too high sleeves. He feels around the outside, scratching his head as he reads the sign on the feeder that says “WARNING - DO NOT stick HANDS or OTHER OBJECTS in slot indicated by arrow”, arrow points into feeder slot. Faxel snaps his fingers.
Faxel: I’ve got it!
Narrator: There’s always one isn’t there?
Editor: And you would know wouldn’t you?
Narrator: What is that supposed to mean?
Editor: You know.
Faxel strikes a dramatic pose. He holds up his pen which gleams mightily in the light. Then just as dramatically, he jabs the pen in the feeder slot.
Faxel: My favorite pen! It’s…stuck!
Narrator: No, I don’t know.
Editor: Exactly
PAGE 11.
Narrator: What are you talking about?
Editor: Don’t get all sensitive now?
Faxel struggles excessively with the machine, putting his foot on it and pulling. He starts smacking buttons and hits the flashing ‘send’ button.
Faxel: Oh my…it’s being sucked in!
Narrator: Sensitive about what? I’m talking about him, no one would hold on to a worthless pen.
Faxel: My arm! My arm!
Editor: But this is no ordinary man.
PAGE 12. At a scummy, roach infested pizzeria a neon sign advertises ‘pizza on stick’. Phones are ringing off the hook in the background while clone-like pizza boys mill about in confusion.
Narrator: At one of the finer restaurants on Hollywood Blvd., a crisis is at hand.
Cal: Our fax machine is broken.
Sal (Manager): I know, now how will people order their pizzas?
Cal: We’ve got to do something, the cheese is getting restless!
Hal: (by fax machine) I think something is coming through…
Faxel comes through as a piece of paper character in a generic super hero uniform with a big F on his chest. Part of his head got folded in the fax machine. Puff the Magic Dragon in one of the pizza booths looking in his magic bag in confusion.
Narrator: And through a feat of superheroic stupidity, a legend is born.
PAGE 13.
Hal: Who are you?
Faxel: (woozy) Where am I?
Am I dreaming?
This place…it looks oddly familiar.
Other employees from World Wide Load are in the background dressed in Wizard of Oz costumes. Pony - tin man, Bob - lion, cripple - scarecrow, supervisor - wicked witch, and flying monkeys are hanging from the lights and ceiling. Faxel shakes his head.
Al: He must be a superhero!
Cal: He’s here to save the day!
Faxel looks down at his uniform and flattened body, and then at the fax machine.
Faxel: I’m The Caped, no,
The Super, um, guy?
Yeah, that’s it!
I AM SUPER FAXO GUY!!
Hal: Super Fatso what?
PAGE 14.
Sal: I don’t care who you are. Can you fix a fax machine? There might be a free pizza in it for you.
Super Faxo Guy: Well then, what seems to be the problem?
Hal: It’s broken…sniffle.
Faxo: (confidently) Don’t worry boy, it’s not broken. You’ve just run out of paper.
Hal: (staring up at Faxo’s confident pose in awe) Wow, you’re a genius.
Al: (with beaming admiration) Let’s make him our King!
Faxo: (embarrassed) Aw c’mon, that’s not necessary.
Cal: We can’t have a king, idiot, this is a democracy and all the figurehead positions are already filled.
Val: I know!
PAGE 15.
Let’s make him our symbol of freedom from FAXIST oppression!
Faxo: (with false modesty) Well, really?
Cal: Of course !! A martyr !!
Faxo: (becoming alarmed) Now wait a minute.
Narrator: Suddenly the friendly neighborhood delivery boys turn into a single minded mob.
All Pizza Boys: Yes, a martyr !!
Let’s kill him !!
Sal: Not again, maybe this isn’t so good for business.
The mob organizes to rush him. They are carrying picket signs from out of no where with Faxo’s picture on them, along with sticks and pitchforks and other unlikely weapons.
Faxo: Uh, I think I’ll step outside.
(thinking to himself as he exists) Hopefully this volatile situation will diffuse itself before the pizza gets cold.
But as he steps outside he sees the streets are in a rioting mess. Gangsters and hookers go running by in absolute terror. Our hero grabs a slimy looking character.
Faxo: What’s wrong friend?
PAGE 16.
Pimp: It’s…horrible !!
He’s outta control, man !!!
Faxo: Oh no, is it a Disgruntled Postal Worker?
Pimp: No, it’s much worse than that, it’s an Angry Taxpayer !
Pimp shakes off Super Faxo Guy’s grip and runs. Down the street, with an LA subway construction sign in the background, we can see a Homer Simpson/Hulk looking man. He’s wearing a hard hat equipped with beer cans and clapping hands, a holey and stained tank shirt, pants in shreds beneath the knees, and Fred Flinstone bare feet. He’s knocking people down and blowing them away with an impossible high pressure spray of beer.
Narrator: And not far away, our hero’s new rival rampages relentlessly.
PAGE 17. Angry Taxpayer grabs a drug dealer who’s running by. The drug dealer is wearing a red shirt that has a double ‘D’ logo on it, small sequined horns strapped to his head, large sunglasses, and is carrying a walking cane. Angry Taxpayer lifts him up and draws back his fist.
He stops in mid punch and both of them look up as narrator and editor begin arguing.
Editor: Ooh, the way you roll your R’s, it gives me goosebumps.
Narrator: That’s it !
Angry Taxpayer puts down the drug dealer in frustration and begins small talk.
Angry Taxpayer: Looks like we get a break again.
Editor: That’s the final straw that broke the camel’s back.
DD: So how ‘bout this heat?
Angry Taxpayer: It ain’t the heat, it’s the humidity.
DD: You got a cigarette?
Angry Taxpayer: No. But how about a hit off of this?
PAGE 18. Angry Taxpayer whips out a huge bong, taller than the both of them, and offers it to the drug dealer.
DD: Sorry, never touch the stuff.
Angry Taxpayer: This is America’s cash crop right here.
Narrator: You can finish telling the story the way you want !
Angry Taxpayer takes a hit while the drug dealer looks up at the narrator box like he’s reading it.
Narrator: The whole idea was stupid anyway, you…
Angry taxpayer tries to hold up the narration box, like it’s a thousand ton weight crushing down, as it fills with profanity symbols. The drug dealer is crouched down as Angry Taxpayer strains, muscles bulging excessively.
DD: Hey !
Angry Taxpayer grabs the drug dealer again as the narrator gets carried away and leaves.
Narrator: I’m out of here.
Editor: Good. I thought he’d never leave.
Angry Taxpayer: OK, here we go.
DD: Ahem, er…
Dude, I’ve got no beef with you ! Just chill !
Angry Taxpayer: That’s right you marijuana tree hugger !
PAGE 19.
Because I pay taxes !
Do you?
DD: Let me go ! I’ll give you anything you want, anything !
Angry Taxpayer: Do you pay taxes ?!?
DD: No?
Angry Taxpayer: NO! It’s low life, drug pushin’ scum like you that’s costing me millions!
Angry Taxpayer claps drug dealer on the head with his helmet hands and throws him down. The drug dealer falls unconscious.
Faxo: I better stop him. Innocent and helpless people are getting hurt.
Skinheads run behind Super Faxo Guy. Angry Taxpayer picks up a cardboard box with a homeless guy hanging out of it.
Faxo: Unhand that disadvantaged soul !
Angry Taxpayer: Are you talking to me, you damn commie vegetarian !
Super Faxo Guy looks behind himself to make sure Angry Taxpayer is talking to him. Angry Taxpayer throws down the box.
PAGE 20.
Faxo: (thinks to himself) I’m obviously dealing with a delusional and paranoid mind. This could be dangerous but I’ve got to talk him down.
Angry Taxpayer: My taxes paid for this road you’re standing on, I work for a living and you dare…
Editor Our hero approaches carefully and attempts to identify with the sick individual.
Faxo: My taxes paid for it too.
I have a full time job when I’m not out saving the universe.
Angry Taxpayer: (physically shrinking in size) Your? Your taxes?
And full time?
Faxo: That’s right, and with really lousy benefits. There ought to be a law protecting us taxpayers.
View rest of the conversation on Angry Taxpayer, who shrinks with every exchange.
PAGE 21.
Angry Taxpayer: A law?
Editor But he must be careful not to take the role too far, or he may slip into the same hysteria, never to return.
Faxo: Of course, to stop the government -(shrink)- from screwing us -(shrink)- you know, the NEW WORLD ORDER and all that.
Angry Taxpayer shrinks down one last time to pinky size and starts sobbing.
Angry Taxpayer: Finally someone understands me.
Super Faxo Guy gets down on his knees so he can peer down at Angry Taxpayer
Faxo: (Flicks Angry Taxpayer) I don’t think so.
He stands up and dusts off his hands.
Faxo: (looking directly at reader) He wasn’t so bad a guy.
Editor: The end.
PAGE 22.
Narrator: Oh no you don’t. You just can’t end it like that.
Editor: I can do what I want. I thought you left.
Narrator: I was going to, but now you’re ruining the ending. It’s time for a self-praising monologue.
Faxo: EVIL BEWARE!
There is no fax problem I can’t fix…
PAGE 23.
Hal: (tapping on Faxo’s shoulder) We put in the paper and it still won’t work.
Faxo: I’ll look at it later…anyway, I shall not rest until…
Al: (poking Faxo’s arm) It’s still broken.
Faxo: I’ll be there in a second!
So where was I?
Oh right, I realize that the task I have undertaken will be difficult and thankless…
Cal: (tugging on Faxo’s sleeve) But we need it.
Faxo: Can I finish? Is that alright with you?
Cal: Okay! Don’t freak out on me!
PAGE 24.
Faxo: OK.
But the knowledge that justice is being serviced, er, I mean served, will be satisfaction enough for -
- SUPER FAXO GUY!
SUPER FAXO GUY © 2002 M.D. KOFFIN, VON PHANTASI
THIS DRAFT IS FOR PREVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT COPY OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S EXPRESSED PERMISSION.