Fuzzy Logic

transcribed by Louis Badalament II (lb140900@ohio.edu)

Warm sunlight shines down upon...

NARRATOR: The City of Townsville! A community where random acts of kindness are an everyday occurrence, and where warm, fuzzy smiles grace the faces of everyone you meet!

A community where firemen rescue kittens trapped in trees, Boy Scouts help old ladies across roaring traffic lanes, where perfect strangers trade welcoming smiles in chance encounters.

NARRATOR: ...Except some people. Some people who've decided to be far, far away. 

Some people deep in the extensive region of hilly forestland neighboring the metropolitan City of Townsville. Some people who surround their territory with barbed wire and badly-spelled signposts discouraging further approach.

NARRATOR: Some people who don't like visitors. 

Some people who live in ramshackle wooden shacks with tree stumps, old farm equipment, and old, battered bathtubs as lawn ornaments. Some people who spend mornings such as these alone on their front porches, sitting in rocking-chairs and clutching loaded firearms in their hands.

NARRATOR: Some people like...
FUZZY: Hey, yew! Git offa mah propity! NOW!
NARRATOR: WAAH!

Some people who like to shoot at NARRATORS if they dare venture too close to their domain.

NARRATOR: Some people like Fuzzy Lumkins! 

Simply put, FUZZY LUMKINS is a crude and unsophisticated hermit hillbilly, complete with Southern accent and blue-collar overalls. He has an inhospitable disposition towards all who would intrude upon his territory, and a gun probably older than he is; a musket that might very well have seen action in the Civil War. He looks, and sounds like one in the 'prime of his life', his age cannot be established with absolute certainty, for FUZZY isn't human. 

'Humanoid' comes closer to the mark. He is bipedal, wears clothes, and has hands with opposable thumbs. He is capable of tool use, speech, and possesses human intellect. Beyond that, classification gets fuzzy. All of FUZZY'S body is coated in a thick length of rugged pink fur, he has an unusually wide jaw, a bulbous green nose, and a pair of antennae on the top of his head.

FUZZY: Durn trezpazzers! Ay'll git any-won 'r any-thang 'ou gits on mah propity!

A dried, old leaf floats its way down, twisting and turning in strange epicycles. Unfortunately, it makes the mistake of being spotted by FUZZY, who homes his musket on, not firing until he sees it has made the double mistake of coming to rest on his personal porch.

FUZZY: Git offa mah propity!

With one pull of the trigger, he sends the dead leaf off to that special place in the sky where dead leaves go when they get shot by trigger-happy recluses. He also blows out a portion of the porch as well. Next, a butterfly flutters its innocuous way past FUZZY LUMKINS. This time, FUZZY doesn't actually wait for the offender to make any sort of landing...

FUZZY: HAY! Git offa mah propity raight NOW! 

...And fires away. It doesn't help his mood anywhat that a new hole has been blasted through the front wall of his house. He stands up from his rocking chair and glares towards the woodland.

FUZZY: Gosh-DARN IT! ANYWON ELSE WANNA TRY 'N' GIT ON MAH PROPITY?! 

The forest is as silent as a forest can be.

FUZZY: GOOD! 

Then FUZZY smiles, looking a lot more calmed down.

FUZZY: Huh! Reckon it be time fer sum ol'-fashun re-lax-a-shun! Yeah, yep, yep!

He sits back on his rocking chair and looks down towards his porch's floorboards, where a straw hat sits nearby. 

FUZZY: Now let's see...good ol' hat?

He pops it on his head, over his antennae.

FUZZY: CHECK! Trusty pipe? 

He reaches over and picks a cork pipe up from his floor, setting it within his mouth.

FUZZY: CHECK!
FUZZY: Jug-water? Check! 

Unlike the previous two items mentioned thus far, FUZZY leaves the jug with the 'XXX' marking alone, content for now just knowing where it is.

FUZZY: Boom-stick? Heh-huh! 

The 'Boom-stick' is, of course, his word for the ancient blunderbuss he wields as a weapon, set aside at the moment.

FUZZY: (chuckling) Che-yeh-yeck! Huh! 

Lastly, FUZZY looks for...

FUZZY: Joe? J...Joe? 

FUZZY doesn't spot Joe right away the way he found all his other stuff, and he immediately falls to pieces.

FUZZY: (Panicking) WHERE YA AT, JOE?! WHERE IS YA?! JOE?!?! JOEY?! Ja...ah he, he, he. 

He laughs, instantly relaxed when he finds his banjo propped up against a post.

FUZZY: There yew is! 

FUZZY picks Joe up.

FUZZY: Hello, Joe! 

He strums a quick, tuneful chord of music, and sighs contentedly. Then he sets Joe over to a place more within arm's reach in front of his rocker.

FUZZY: Now yew stay raight here, Joe, where yew gonna be safe...

Then FUZZY turns his head towards the forest and shakes his fist at the whole world in general.

FUZZY: ...FRUM ALL YA'LL WHO WANTS TO GET YER MITTS ON MAH PROPITY! 

Then he gently lifts up his rear and settles it gently into his rocking chair. He rocks back and forth for a little while before settling into a cozy sleep rife with slow snores. FUZZY'S eyes lift and then droop back down again, as he lets slumber overtake him, he almost misses the cute little brown SQUIRREL standing at the base of the stump FUZZY uses as an ottoman.

FUZZY: (Muttering in sleep) gwaaaah...ha...git offa my propity...hunh...ya bedda git offa my propity now...

Almost.

FUZZY: (Violently coming to himself) ...gah....AAH!!

The SQUIRREL'S hackles raise in fear as FUZZY levels the boomstick point-blank at his head.

FUZZY: Git offa mah propity!

He fires a loud, smoky blast. When the gunsmoke clears, a chunk of his footstool-stump has been blown off, and the SQUIRREL hangs over, upside-down at the rim of FUZZY'S hat.

FUZZY: HAY! GIT OFFA MAH PROPITY, YA ORNERY VARMINT! 

FUZZY makes the rather stupid decision of trying to aiming his gun towards his head and kill the SQUIRREL where he sits in his hat instead of first shaking him off. Fortune smiles on both of them; the SQUIRREL dodges the shot, and FUZZY gets away with singing his facial fur and the front brim of his hat black. He rises off his chair and chases the SQUIRREL off his porch in a fury.

FUZZY: (Furious) Why, YEW! AH'M GONNA LEARN YEW TA GIT ON MAH PROPITY! 

The SQUIRREL jumps off the porch, but FUZZY'S not going to let him get away that easily, pursues him through the forest, while the SQUIRREL races for dear life.

FUZZY: COME BACK 'ERE AN' GIT...!

BLAM!

FUZZY: ...OFFA...! 

BOOM!

FUZZY: ...MAH...! 

BANG!

FUZZY: ...PROPITY!!
NARRATOR: Oh, NO! He's heading towards TOWNSVILLE!

Indeed, it isn't until the SQUIRREL has crossed the threshold between the forest he and FUZZY LUMKINS inhabits and the rather luckless City of Townsville that he is able to outdistance his pursuer; FUZZY looses sight of the SQUIRREL at the first street he happens across. He stops right in the middle of the street, boomstick readied, and barks out...

FUZZY: WHERE'S YA AT, YA CRAZY CRITTER?!

So absorbed is FUZZY in finding the SQUIRREL, he doesn't at all notice the giant truck honking wildly and bearing right down on him; until it's too late. FUZZY'S gets hit by the truck, sending his gear flying in all directions, and knocking him out. One of these items, his straw hat, lands at the feet of a little old lady with square spectacles and white hair.

OLD LADY: Oh, my!

She picks up the hat and brings it over to FUZZY LUMKINS. FUZZY is knocked out on the pavement, but strangely enough, it is the truck which has taken the brunt of the damage; it is all bent out of shape, and its driver has crashed straight through its windshield, still holding the steering wheel.

OLD LADY: Excuse me, sonny, but I believe you dropped your hat. 

FUZZY instantly snaps back to consciousness at the sound of the OLD LADY'S voice. He sees, first in disbelief, then in steadily increasing outrage, that she's holding his hat, this stranger dares sully his property with her filthy, ancient fingertips! He springs to his feet, howling like a wolf, and scaring the dickens out of the OLD LADY.

FUZZY: YA-OOH! GIT YER WRINKLES OFFA MAH PROPITY!! 

FUZZY swings back his fist, and rolls a good punch right on the OLD LADY'S jaw.

OLD LADY: Whoooa! 

She flies through the air like a tin can kicked from the ground. FUZZY stands there, both hands balled into first, trying to calm himself down with deep, heavy breathing, when another Townsville citizen, an inattentive, cheerful guy dressed in a brown businessman suit, comes up to FUZZY, his cork pipe held out in his hand...

PIPE RETURNER: Um, excuse me sir, but isn't this your?...

And promptly pays the price for laying fingers on that which is FUZZY; a fist to the teeth. Other Townsville townsfolk, equally as inattentive, still continue to return FUZZY'S paraphernalia; and FUZZY, in turn, continues to dispense LUMKINS justice for their crimes of hospitality.

BOOT RETURNER: Here's your boot!

BAM!

BOOMSTICK RETURNER: Your boom-stick. 

POW!

FUZZY throws his head back, exposing a frightening array of long canines, howling and beating his chest like an enraged gorilla.

FUZZY: RAAAAAAH! STOPIT, STOPIT, STOPIT!!! STOP TOUCHIN' MAH PROPITY!!! 
SHORT IRISH COP: Hey, pal.

He pauses in his raving to see who is addressing him. Standing in FUZZY'S shadow is a short policeman with an Irish accent.

SHORT IRISH COP: (brusquely) So, ya loike punchen out old ladies, huh? Well, Oi have one question far ya! 

For the first time, FUZZY looks a tad bit uneasy. Then the COP holds up an object quite familiar and dear to FUZZY.

SHORT IRISH COP: (pleasantly) Is this yar hat? 
FUZZY: (infuriated) YEEEEEESSS!!!!!

The COP is smashed out of commission before he has time to draw his gun, or whip out his nightstick, or even put up his dukes.

FUZZY: YAAH!

From there, FUZZY attacks everyone and everything in sight in a full-out frenzy, pummeling through a store's display window, crushing the roof of a car by springing up and down on top of it, and crushing a mailbox between his arms like a loaf of bread.

None of these objects, of course, have touched any of FUZZY'S possessions, and neither have the young man, young woman, store clerk, or little doggie he next assaults, but by now, FUZZY'S overwhelming rage is too powerful and unfocused for him to care. He then wrenches a street lamp straight out of the pavement, and beats in the grill of another truck, before moving on to smash more windows, cars, and people.

FUZZY: (Utterly crazed) RAR-RAA-REEE-YEEE-YEEE-EEEE!! YA'LL GIT YER MITTS OFFA MAH PROPITIIIIIIIEEEE!!!!

A crowd of people stare in horror as huge shadow descends on them, finally breaking out of their paralysis to take flight, as the bus full of scared-looking people, assumedly thrown by FUZZY LUMKINS, lands on the ground, and speeds off.

NARRATOR: (Southern accent) Oh, NO! Fuzzy's goan plum CRAZY!

From behind the corner of a disregarded alleyway, the SQUIRREL that FUZZY chased into this town watches the rampage in alarm and concern.

NARRATOR: Who can stop this wild man on the loose?!

The three little ladies best suited for such a job are attending their kindergarten class, a place far removed from the chaos ensuing in Townsville's downtown district.

BUBBLES: It's mine!
BUTTERCUP: It's mine!

Both BUBBLES and BUTTERCUP each have two tentacles of a brand-new Octi doll and are trying to wrest it from the other in a tug-of-war match, while BLOSSOM observes in disapproval.

BUBBLES: No, MINE!
BUTTERCUP: MINE! 
BUBBLES: MINE!
BUTTERCUP: MINE!
BLOSSOM: (reproachfully) Girls! What did we say about sharing?
BUBBLES: But Buttercup's gonna...!
BUTTERCUP: I am NOT! I just wanna see Octi!
BUBBLES: So you can...!
BLOSSOM: Bubbles, share with Buttercup. 
BUBBLES: BUT...! 

BLOSSOM fixes BUBBLES with a silent, authoritative stare. BUBBLES sighs, and releases Octi to BUTTERCUP.

BUBBLES: (resignedly) OH-KAY. 

BUTTERCUP smirks at BUBBLES triumphantly. Just then, the Hotline buzzes...

BLOSSOM: Uh, oh! The Mayor! 

...And BLOSSOM goes to answer it. Unseen by her, BUBBLES is recoiling away from BUTTERCUP, as if expecting an attack, while BUTTERCUP only smiles at her with her eyes closed, looking all the smugger yet.

BUBBLES: DON'T!
BUTTERCUP: (feigning ignorance) Don't what?
BUBBLES: Just DON'T!
BUTTERCUP: Oh...you mean THIS!

She brings Octi over her head, and smashes the octopus doll on BUBBLES' skull.

BUBBLES: (wincing) AH! YES! 

BLOSSOM hangs up the phone.

BLOSSOM: GIRLS! TROUBLE! MOVE OUT!

And all three of them rocket through the roof of Pokey Oaks Kindergarten.

NARRATOR: Hurry, Girls! Hurry! You've got to get downtown! It's a MESS!
BUTTERCUP: Whoa!

The POWERPUFFS land and take a moment to absorb just how much of a mess downtown has become. Though there is massive property damage, there fortunately doesn't seem to be any casualties, although everybody looks at least a little woozy and disoriented. FUZZY LUMKINS is nowhere to be seen.

BLOSSOM: What HAPPENED here?!
BUBBLES: Know what? I'll bet it was something bad! 
BLOSSOM: Okay! Split up and search for clues! 

They divide.

BLOSSOM: (To someone) Excuse me...
BUTTERCUP: (To someone else) ...but can you tell us...
BUBBLES: (To yet another person) ...who did this? 

The punches FUZZY LUMKINS administered have really done fair head-damage, indeed. Nobody is capable of giving a straight answer to the POWERPUFFS, their words might as well have been the senseless chattering of animals.

OLD LADY: Hat. Hat. HAT.
PIPE RETURNER: My property! My-my-my-my property! My property! My-my property! 
BOOT RETURNER: Not NOW! My head hurts!
BOOMSTICK RETURNER: Watch out he's gotta BOOMSTICK! 
SHORT IRISH COP: Oi...oi......remember...PINK.

After listening to all this bewildering drivel, BLOSSOM heaves a frustrated sigh to BUTTERCUP.

BLOSSOM: UNGH! Nobody's making any sense! 

Suddenly, BUBBLES calls out.

BUBBLES: GIRLS! 

They fly over to where BUBBLES is kneeling down on the ground.

BUBBLES: I think I've found someone who can help!

Then she turns her attention back to the helpful informant.

BUBBLES: Okay, now just tell them what you told me! 

Obligingly, the informer repeats himself to BUBBLES' sisters.

SQUIRREL: Eengh-eengh-eengh-eengh, ooh-ooh-ooh, eengh-eengh-eengh-eengh!
BUTTERCUP: (In undertone to BLOSSOM) She's talking to squirrels again! 
BLOSSOM: Quiet, Buttercup! Bubbles, ask him if he knows who did this! 
BUBBLES: (To SQUIRREL) Chee-chee-chee, chee-chee-chee, cha-chee-chee-chee?
SQUIRREL: (Excitedly) Engh-engh-engh-engh-engh! 
BUBBLES: YES! 
BLOSSOM: Can he take us to him?

Again, BUBBLES translates BLOSSOM'S request to the SQUIRREL.

BUBBLES: Chick-chick-chee-chee-chee-chee-chee-chee-chee-chee? 

The SQUIRREL is only to happy to accommodate them, scampering on to lead them to the perpetrator the moment BUBBLES has finished asking her question.

BLOSSOM: C'MON!

BLOSSOM and BUBBLES speed off. BUTTERCUP takes a second to roll her eyes...

BUTTERCUP: Oh, BROTHER. 

...Then she speeds off, too.

NARRATOR: Go, Girls, f...WHA? 

It seems this SQURREL is of the flying variety, he has his 'wings' out and is floating right alongside the POWERPUFF GIRLS.

NARRATOR: Ha, ha! Go, SQUIRREL, Go! 

At this point, FUZZY LUMKINS is once again back inside his humble mountain lodgings, a fire crackling away on the hearth. Strumming his banjo with a peaceful smile on his face, it looks as all FUZZY'S massive fury has been used up, and he is One With The Universe again. When he completes his strummings, FUZZY breathes out a satisfied sigh.

FUZZY: (peaceably) Oh, Joe, ya always make me feel a whole lot better! 

He sets Joe down, then is distracted by the sound of his front door being kicked in.

FUZZY: Huh?

He finds himself looking into the faces of four uninvited guests. All of them, even the SQUIRREL, have serious expressions and looked steeled for combat.

BLOSSOM: Not so fast!...
BUTTERCUP: Fuzzy!...
BUBBLES: Lumkins!
BLOSSOM: Who are you to come mess up OUR town?!
FUZZY: RRRAAAA-OOOOOH!!!!

FUZZY turns his head around, showing all his teeth to the POWERPUFFS, snarling and drooling and quivering with rage.

FUZZY: GIT!...

He charges forward...

FUZZY: ...OFFA!...

...Slashes at BLOSSOM'S midsection...

FUZZY: ...MAH!...

...Kicks BUBBLES in the head...

FUZZY: ...PROPITY!!!

...and bites down on BUTTERCUP'S foot. Next, BLOSSOM and BUBBLES are hurled to the ceiling, while BUTTERCUP is thrown to the ground. When all is done, the POWERPUFFS lie prone in a pile on the floor, while FUZZY LUMKINS looms over them, breathing in deep, feral gasps. He looks undecided whether to eat them or simply claw them to ribbons.

SQUIRREL: Engh-engh-engh-engh!!!
FUZZY: (Distracted) Huh?

The SQUIRREL is holding Joe in his filthy woodland paws. This is more than he can bear, and whatever vestige of restraint FUZZY still has vanishes into nothingness.

FUZZY: YAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOH!

He sprints at the SQUIRREL, arms screwed up into claws...

FUZZY: GYAAEEYAYAEEEYAYAYAYAOOH! 

But then, just as he's about to reach him, the SQUIRREL throws Joe over to...

FUZZY: G'yah?!?!

...BLOSSOM, who, along with her sisters, has gotten back to her feet in the interval the SQUIRREL provided in distracting FUZZY. FUZZY then hurtles at BLOSSOM...

FUZZY: GYAEEHYAYAOOH! 

...Who only throws it to BUBBLES the moment FUZZY is almost upon her.

FUZZY: WAAAAOOOHH! 

This dangerous game of Keep Away ends with BUBBLES passing Joe to BUTTERCUP...

FUZZY: RRRAAAOOOH----

...FUZZY charging at BUTTERCUP...

FUZZY: ----OH, NOOOOOOOOO!!!!

...And realizing, to his horror, that she's holding it inches away from the flames blazing away in his fireplace.

BUTTERCUP: And I'll DO IT, TOO! 

It is enough to finally get FUZZY to stop. He stands there, claws still outstretched, staring at BUTTERCUP and his banjo with a look of confusion and dumb rage, taking in more of those throaty, animalistic gasps.

FUZZY: Rrah-whoo, rrah-whoo, RRAR-whoo...
BUTTERCUP: Now relax...RELAX!!!

FUZZY LUMKINS lets his face droop and his limbs fall. For the first time, he looks pathetic and completely helpless.

BUTTERCUP: That's it! Now, come 'n' get it, don't worry, I'll give it to you!

Ever so slowly, FUZZY inches forwards towards BUTTERCUP and the banjo she's holding out. Arms outstretched, every drop of FUZZY'S attention is zeroed in on the banjo.

BUTTERCUP: Okay, just a little more, there ya go! 
BUBBLES: LOOK OUT, FUZZY! SHE'S GONNA...!

But BLOSSOM, perceiving BUTTERCUP'S plan, slaps her hand over BUBBLES' mouth. The banjo is now almost within FUZZY'S grasp, he stares at it with huge, saucer-sized eyes as if mesmerized, and tries futilely to snatch at it.

BUTTERCUP: Okay, Fuzzy, here ya go! 

She brings Joe over her head, and smashes the musical instrument on FUZZY'S skull.

BUBBLES: (Sounding tired) I told you! 

FUZZY LUMKINS has now been defeated, and lies flat on the floor.

NARRATOR: Way to go, Girls! 

Always one to give proper credit where credit is due, our NARRATOR quickly adds...

NARRATOR: Oh! And Squirrel! 

This done, FUZZY is taken away, and given a new home in a cell within...

NARRATOR: Townsville Prison! 

FUZZY has traded his hillbilly's blue overalls for a prisoner's orange duds. He has been allowed to bring his banjo with him to his cell, though it is a bit bent out of shape.

FUZZY: Huh, well, at least ah still got yew, Joe! 

His gigantic, ugly, over-muscled cellmate chooses this moment to step over and yank Joe from FUZZY.

BULKY CONVICT: MY PROPERTY!! 
NARRATOR: Ha ha ha! How do you like THAT, Mr. No Share?

The Flashing Heart Logo Flashes Its Hearts.

NARRATOR: So, once again The Day Is Saved Thanks To The Powerpuff Girls! I get a warm, fuzzy feeling just SAYING that!

T H E  E N D