User blog:Meester Feesh/Mixamajig Parody Script part 1

Since you can't actually read the script since it's in the form of a Google Doc, I'll be posting it in several parts here. It will most likely be much longer than the actual QFM, since basically every other line is a joke. Also, there are going to be a lot more Mixes, since I want every character to voice a Mix. If you'd like to participate, you can write who you'd like to play in the comments.

 Part 1

 Waka: (Sings theme song.)

 King Nixel: Mixels. Mixels! Mixels everywhere!

 Nixels: NIX NIX NIX NIX NIX!

 King Nixel: With their candy-like assortment of colors, their nauseating way of working together, and constant Mixing Mixing Mixing! And what’s worse is the… Will you please shut up!

 Major Nixel: Your highness, I assure you we-

 King Nixel: Silence Major!

 Major Nixel: But, sir-

 King Nixel: Silence!

 Major Nixel: But-

 King Nixel: Major! You have failed to crush the Mixels!

 Major Nixel: Yes, your hugeness, but-

 King Nixel: SIIIIIIIILEEEEEENCE! This time you will not fail me, Major. Or I’ll have your pretty moustache.

 Major Nixel: No, no, no, your great-

 King Nixel: Moar silence!

 Major Nixel: May I please-

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> King Nixel: Science!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (His moustache falls off.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> King Nixel: Give me that! You never saw anything! I don’t need another one of your feeble plans, Major. This time we’ll use my feeble plan. You see, the Mixel lives to Mix. To Mix you’ve got to get along. And if not… Mwahahaha! Yes, as we speak a plan is in motion to create a seed of discontent, one that will have them at each other’s throats! We’ll lure them with false treasure, gathering all the Mixels into one place where they can be easily exterminated! You must find us a lackey, Major. One of simple mind. We’ll send him on an adventure he’ll never forget!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: Uh, I get it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> King Nixel: Scilence! You have your orders, Major Nixel.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: At once, your silence!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (Cut to Krog and Chilbo sliding down a hill. They high five.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Krog: Where’s Snoof?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof: Gee, everyday it’s the same old thing. We climb to the top of the hill and we slide back down and we climb up another hill and we slide down that one and we…

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Krog: Look, what do you want from me? We live on the freaking frozen tundra!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof: And for what? it’s all just so ordinary. I want something more. I want to be someone special!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Chilbo: Retire from your delusion and descend from that apex!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof: What?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Krog: Snap out of it, Snoof, and get your tuchus down here!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (Cut to Major Nixel in the screen room.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: All right, men. Show me what you got.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Nixels: Nix! Nix Nix!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (The Nixels pull up a picture of Berp eating.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: Eh, too much.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (They pull up a picture of Volectro electrocuting himself in the shower.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Volectro: Ah!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: Too late.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (They pull up a picture of Zaptor electrocuting himself in front of his computer.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Zaptor: Hamlogna sandwiches!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: Oh god! Next one! Next one!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (They pull up Snoof’s picture.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof (singing): Somewhere over the rainbow…

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: Now there’s someone dimwitted enough for his royal high horse! Hahaha!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (King Nixel comes up behind him.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: Always prancing around with that big fancy cape like a bunch of Nixels stacked on top of each other. And don’t get me started on that fake moustache …

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Nixel: (Clears throat.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel: He’s behind me, isn’t he?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Nixels: Nix nix.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> King Nixel: You may keep your mustache for now, Major. So he yearns to be special, yes? Careful what you wish for. Proceed with the plan, Major.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Major Nixel (to 2 Nixels): You have your assignment, men.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Nixels: Nix Nix!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (They come out of the elevator.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Nixels: Nix nix nix nix nix nix...ow! Hehehehehe!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (The capsule launches from the slingshot thingamabob.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Nixels: Ow! Ow!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof: Oh great Allah, if I’m someone truly special, come on down and show me a sign.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Krog: Did he just say Allah?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Chilbo: Indeed.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (Snoof sees the capsule flying.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof: Now that’s what I call a sign! It came in the form of a flying nuclear warhead! Come on, you guys! Al Ackbar!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (He zooms past Krog and Chilbo.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Krog, Chilbo: Woah!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Krog: Can he say that?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Chilbo: I believe not.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Krog: Come on, let’s go get him!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (He holds out a cubit. They mix into a mix resembling a caricature of Barack Obama, which runs after Snoof. Cut to Snoof following the capsule.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof: I knew it! I knew it!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (It flies over Glorp Corp land. Slusho flies past Gurggle and Dribbal’s houses, delivering papers. They come out of their houses.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Gurggle: I thought I told you to stop leaving the window open!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Dribbal: I’m sorry! It’s not me, it’s my grandmother!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Gurggle: Holy Mixels!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Dribbal: What is that?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Gurggle: I think it’s a Mixelroid.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Dribbal: My grandmother had one of those. She makes me open the window when I take care of her…

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (Snoof, then the Mix, flies by.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Mix: You really need to take care of that smell!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Dribbal: What was that?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Gurggle: Come on, let’s find out!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (They Mix into a caricature of Donald Trump.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Slusho: Wait up, guys! My paper route only has two houses on it!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (The capsule flies into Muncho Land.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> King Nixel: Ah, Muncho Land. The perfect place for a soft landing.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snax: Wow, cool party.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Vaka: Yeah, but where’s all the food? I’m starving!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Waka: Can I eat him?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Vaka: No, he’s a friend.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snax: Joy! A waiter!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Berp: Hors D'oeuvres, Munchies, Finger food, Canapes, a can of peas…

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Vaka: Okay, him you can eat.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (Waka eats Berp.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Vaka: Great Mixels! What is that!?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Waka: Is it food?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snax: What does it mean?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (Berp comes out of Waka with a deeply disturbed expression on his face.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Berp: I have seen horrible, unholy things… hey, what is that?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snax: It scorched that field of Mix Mallows!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Waka: I wanna eat it!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Vaka: And bring some chocolate!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Berp: And graham crackers!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (Snoof, followed by the Barack Obama Mix, runs past the Munchos.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Snoof: Coming through!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Mix: Sorry!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Vaka: Has it been four years already?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> (The Donald Trump Mix, followed by Slusho, runs past them.)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Mix: Scuse us!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Slusho: Gangway!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> Vaka: See, this is what happens when you don’t vote!