Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery ~Part One: Shaggy's Story



Click here for the Table of Contents for Scooby-Doo's Unsolved Mystery.

Part One

It was February, and I was covering the final weekend shoot of Kiddyshack, the latest attempt of the direct-to-video industry in marketing a recognizable franchise to a family audience; and based on the footage I'd seen the idea was proving to be even worse than it sounded.

Still, it was good for the commerce. The miniature golf courses up in the mountains didn't get much use during the off season and the film shoot had attracted a bit of a surprise interest. And that was literally the only positive spin I could think of to promote the movie for my website.

So I'd been sitting in the local diner for about an hour, doing my best to transcribe the general optimism in the small Tennessee town into an article (with personal hopes of actually beating my deadline for a change) when he appeared in the diner's doorway.

His slender build with its carefree slouch was unmistakable. His hair was perhaps not as bushy as his Mystery Inc. days but the goatee and perpetual in-the-now grin on his face had been unchanged with time. The hostess showed him to a nearby booth and he took the menu out of her hands, skimming its contents the way one typically scans through TV channels.

This was too wonderful of as chance meeting to not take advantage of, so I waited for him to place his extremely detailed brunch order before leaving the tip on my table for the latte refill and casually working my way over to his booth.

"Excuse me," I said as softly and politely as I was able, "aren't you Norville Rogers?"

He smiled warmly and said "Like, call me Shaggy." At least I'm pretty sure that was the response; I know I heard 'like' which gave me enough delight to forget the rest of the sentence. For all I know he may have said "Like, yes I am," or "Like, the batteries in my viridian mangrove are swarming Universities." It didn't matter. This was THE Shaggy! Straight out of my childhood in the same green shirt and brown bellbottoms, gesturing to the seat across the table from where he'd just ordered several entrees.

I fell into the seat failing to maintain my professional composure as I insisted how high on the fandom scale I was of his. He seemed flattered and maybe a little puzzled, but in my line of work I've met many celebrities who truly were unaware of how much of an effect they have on their viewership.

Shaggy and I got to talking, and somewhere along the way I got it in my head that there might be some kind of a character study or expose I could write about him. I offered to pick up his tab (yes, that was a mistake, I think I paid a hundred and twelve dollars) if he let me record the conversation to use as a source for whatever my editor would allow. He agreed enthusiastically and we talked on the record for another hour.

Most of my conversation with Shaggy involved a lot of reminiscing about the criminals in the masks, and one of the things which surprised me a bit was how fondly Shaggy remembered his experiences with Mystery Inc. He cracked jokes about the time he'd been frozen in a block of ice and about being hypnotized into thinking he was a lion tamer, and he admitted with no shame at how easily manipulated he always was about accepting dog treats as bribes to put himself in danger. It wasn't at all what I expected from the guy who I always envision running/through the door/window/wall.

"So, was it always someone in a mask?" I asked him.

"You know," he shrugged, "half the time Scoob and I never could keep track. Like, there was this whole Vincent Van Ghoul period that was a complete blur. Most of the time we just did stuff and let the rest of the gang sort it all out. If Fred says we're meeting the Addams Family then I'm like, okay man we can go with that."

We laughed together. "So what got you guys into solving mysteries in the first place?"

"Velma. She was the driving force behind it all. Like, Fred was the glue that held us all together but Velma was the one who kept steering us toward the cemeteries that couldn't spell the word 'cemetery'. If she hadn't been so good at what she did I probably never would have seen Europe or Africa or any of the places we got to explore."

"Was there ever a mystery you guys weren't able to solve?"

Shaggy's demeanor changed slightly as he was about to tell me no on reflex but some lingering memory was evidently stirring in him. "Like, I don't know if you'd call it an unsolved mystery," he said after a moment's thought, "but there was this one where we all agree on what happened."



"It started the way it always did, Freddy was driving the Mystery Machine into the spookiest place he could possibly find for some reason that probably made sense to him. The sky was already getting dark enough without the trees reaching over us like they were ready to grab the van at any minute.

"Of course we stopped at the only general store we'd seen for miles to ask for directions. The creepy old man behind the counter was like "You kids better stay away from that big scary mansion just up the hill!" And I was like, "For once could we just listen to him?" And Fred says "Come on gang, let's check it out," which meant we were going up to the big scary mansion just up the hill that we had no business being in.

"We get up there, and man did it live up to the reputation! Everything about it said 'this place is haunted' so Freddy gets out the old flashlights and says "Come on gang, let's break in and rummage around a whole lot." So Scoob and I volunteer to guard the van to which Velma mutters something about us being spineless and they go inside.

"Like two minutes later this scary guy who looked like he must have been eight feet tall comes pounding on the windshield demanding to know what we're doing there. "Leaving!" I say and Scoob backs me up. It turns out he's the local sheriff and I'm like, no way I'd break any laws under his jurisdiction.

"So he tells us we need to leave, and we say that our friends are inside. He orders us to go collect them and get out. So we scramble inside and Freddy and the girls are nowhere to be found. And this place...it must have belonged to the Universal lot. I don't know what went on here, but they must have had some crazy fortune teller conventions. We see everything! Crystal balls, tarot cards, runic symbols on the wall; you name it, they knew you were going to name it.

"And that's when we saw him. This hooded figure with these glowing red eyes hissing "Beware" at us over and over. "Point taken," I said. "We'll be elsewhere." And we ran in and out of corridors until we smacked right into Velma, and I think we knocked off her glasses.

"Scooby and I dive into a couple of sarcophaguses and wait for someone to tell us the coast is clear when Freddy comes into the room with some glamazon woman who wasn't Daphne. We tell him about the spooky soothsayer and Fred says "Come on gang, let's split up and make ourselves easier prey for this thing." Velma tells us to go look for clues in the kitchen so we head that way.

"Scoob is searching through the pantry when wouldn't you know it? Old spooky soothsayer is back again saying "Beware" like there was something worse than him in that place. Scooby and I run and he follows, and we just can't seem to shake him. Finally we grab a tapestry off the wall and wait for the soothsayer to run through the doorway where we throw it over him and tackle him to the ground.

"But it turns out we've captured the wrong guy. It's some smiley weatherman type who's been hanging out with Velma. Fred and Daphne are with them and the glamazon is gone again, and apparently Velma has it all figured out and Freddy's been sorting out an overly complicated trap for the soothsayer, which means Scooby and I are the bait.

"Let's just say that never goes according to plan.

"Scooby probably has more of the details than I do, because I just remember tripping on something and winding up headfirst down a barrel and then rolling around a lot. I went down at least two flights of stairs and across what felt like some pretty unreasonable speed bumps before I found myself outside the mansion."



Shaggy trailed off as if he was surprised by the lack of resolution to his own story. It took him a minute or so to come back to himself and I waited without interrupting his thought process.

"You know," he said at last, "I've never forgotten a face. When it comes to the unmasking, you could show me any fiend we've ever come across and I could tell you exactly who it turned out to be. The soothsayer-"

It was like he didn't really know what he should be feeling other than confusion. "What happened?" I asked as gently as possible to remind him that I was still engaged in the story.

"The rest of the gang came out of the mansion, and they were...just not talking. Usually there's joking, and enthusiasm and...you know, a criminal being led away proclaiming how he would have gotten away with whatever it was. This time there was nothing. I said 'So what's up guys? You look like you've seen a ghost." Nobody made eye contact with me or each other. We all got in the Mystery Machine and drove away. It was the quietest the van had ever sounded. I even asked them at one point who was in the mask and I never got a response."

"Did you ever find out?"

"No. About a month later I mentioned the soothsayer to Scooby and he just whimpered so I left it alone. Occasionally the mystery would come up in the group, but we never really sat down and talked about it."

"What do you think happened?"

"I don't know, and frankly I'm fine not knowing. Because if whatever happened was enough to call off Velma then it's not something I ever want to revisit."

I glanced over at my recording device and thanked Shaggy for speaking with me for so long. I told him that I wasn't sure what would ever become of the transcript but I offered him a shot at any final word that he'd like to offer.

Yeah," he said with a trace of his smile returning to him. "Like, there is no amount of Scooby Snacks that could ever get me to set foot in that spooky place again."


Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery continues with Part Two: Velma's Scrapbook.

Blognostication Number Three: The End of the End of the World

Last one. If I remember correctly, David and I had sketched out the overall outline of the show before we figured out what we were going to call it. I have no idea how long it took us to settle on End of the World (or why it wasn't THE End of the World), but we must have accumulated at least an hour of just throwing potential names around. I think the first one that I was actually pushing for was A Walk on the Wooly Side, which David rightfully explained I should never use as a title for anything ever.


We knew we were going to have to close the show on a song; like an actual song, not a fake hoedown or a Disney parody. So one night I was walking back from the mailbox, grumbling about the water bill and imagining that Armageddon might actually have a comparatively liberating feel to it when a melody line popped into my head. Everything suddenly clicked.


No, I'm not going to try to describe the song's melody in a blog. Just know that the song does in fact have a melody (it's in my head now) and it's one of the things I'm quite fond of having written.


It's worth mentioning that to really give the song its big finish production value I needed ten words that rhymed with 'world'. I had six. I'm not above taking some creative liberties with the English language.

End of the World

The result of tossing dice
Is a series of unfairness
Every simple vice is a standard price
That entices vague awareness.

You can aim for heights to fly

And then settle for a glide.

But if you focus on the stop,

You miss the ride.

But at the end of the world.

At the end of the world.
With our minds aligned, entwined in wisdom pearled.
We need the local dunce and common git

To make the cosmic jigsaw puzzle fit.
It's our craft unfurled at the end of the world.

You know our life's novella swan
It reads 'contents under pressure'.
And conclusion's pawn is a stroke foregone
Or it was drawn by M.C. Escher.

But the protagonist detects
That there's a story in the news.
It's only choose your own adventure when you
Choose

And at the end of the world.

At the end of the world.
We'll be slumbering like lumber milled and birled.
Into the mouth of madness. Hope it laughed,

Because our crest at best is rather daft.
It's our nerve unfurled at the end of the world.

Now when you're trudging through the grudgedness and up against asymmetry
Remember life is not an opera; it's a chorale in every key.
You know there's room in that hand basket for every bore and misery.
Somebody tell Saint Pete to save a seat for me.

When that Omega dance is open call there's not a line to the abyss.
Go on, put on apocalypse-stick, and give the kiss of death a kiss.
Forget the RSVP, no regrets and there's nothing left to bring.
And everyone thank T.S. Eliot because we have a song to sing.

At the end of the world.

At the end of the world.
When that bounding main gets drained, debuoyed and girled.
It's kind of sad to know it couldn't last,

But by God we had ourselves a blast.
And it's bells unfurled at the end of the world.

At the end of the world.

At the end of the world.
We're reviled, beguiled, destyled, premoussed and squirreled.
We'll have our judgement day without a judge

And we'll say no more, grin, wink, and nudge.
And it's drapes unfurled at the end of the world.

At the end of the world.
At the end of the world.
With every rotten shot forgot and insult hurled.
That final maelstrom welcomes every dive
And in lore we'll score a perfect five.
And it's sails unfurled
Tales uncurled
We'll be whirled, swirled, twirled at the end of the world.




 

Blognostication Number Two: The Middle of the End of the World

Welcome to part two of my look back at End of the World (which didn't literally happen in case you were wondering).

We were finishing up our second draft of the script when it occurred to us that we didn’t really have a solid ‘exit’ from Act One into the intermission, and we could really benefit from having a song to take us out. Not having any subject in mind I chose the first thing to pop into my head, which happened to be an ostrich.

A little bit of online research through a tediously slow dial up connection produced the basic framework of the story that seemed to work well enough. I actually finished writing the lyrics the day the second draft was due, and I’m proud to be the only songwriter (according to Google) to use the word ‘cognomenic’ in a hoedown.

Feel free to try reproducing the song with your own banjo voiced synthesizer. Almost the entire song is spoken like a square dance caller. In the chorus, the first “Ostrich” is sung on the tonic (kind of like “Convoy”), the second is probably a whole step down, and then the “You can’t fly” just goes “La Ti Do” back to the tonic again. Can’t wait to hear your rendition.

(Oh by the way: Yeah sure, I know NOW that ostriches don’t ‘bwack’. Like I said, I had dial up, and only enough patience for one website to load. It might have been nice to know that they don’t have vocal chords before ‘bwack’ became a major plot point.)

Ostrich

 

Narrator:

Well the Hampshire farm is a sight to see, it's a wool and mutton keep.

And the ASI, they won't deny it's got the finest sheep.

Now the farmer, he'd been out of town, expansion for the job,

And his wife had grace to tend the place and face the furry mob.

Well the trip back home was mighty long in the sun's undying heat,
But by afternoon the range had strewn a cognomenic bleat.
The farmer hurried toward his ranch. God knows what state it's in.
But he froze in shock when he saw his flock, for prancing in his pen

There was an

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

Winged and feathered.

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

Not even tethered.

It's a bright ratite with its head in the sand and it scampers on command

'Cause it's an

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

 

Struthio genus.

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

Plumed ballerinas.

You're a moa's kin with a grin but you can't fly.

Now the farmer gawked in disbelief while his wife ran to his side.
She just adored that goofy bird as her face lit up with pride.

Wife:

She comes from Southern Africa. It's in her dossier.
I've had her keep me company while you were gone away.

Farmer:

What the hell's this beaked behemoth doin' in my pen?

Wife:

She's tending to the animals. She's just the sweetest hen.

Farmer:

I told you buy a sheepdog. Now were those instructions steep?

Wife:

No really, she's intelligent. She's trained to shepherd sheep.

Narrator:

Well the farmer'd had his fill of this. He glowered at his wife
So painful a rejection that it sliced her like a knife.

Farmer:

 

I'm only gonna say this once 'cause it's the final word.
Get rid of her, you hear me? Take away the flipping bird!
How could you be so stupid? Where on earth do I begin?
Do you phone up disaster? 'Here's the door. Now come on in.'
Don't bother me with yowling or that whimper all distraught.
If I find her in the morning, I'll have that buzzard shot!

Chorus:

Unwanted Ostrich!

Narrator:

Talk to the talon.

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

Eggs by the gallon.

What a pain in the neck when your sites are set for a word on the Internet

That rhymes with

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

Names ain't a applyin'.

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

That's why we ain't tryin'.

In a rickshaw race you would place but you can't fly.

(Instrumental bridge with a very tearful goodbye between the wife and the bird)

Narrator:

That night the world was in a dream as far as stillness spans
When past the ranch there came this truck and these two ruffians.
No sign of any watchdog and the farmer was asleep.

Thug One:

It seems an opportunity.

Thug Two:

Let's steal ourselves some sheep.

Narrator:

They loaded up the trailer with as much as it would hold.
So sure they'd have a fortune when their thieving gains were sold.
They rolled on down the highway, each with smugness on his face
When suddenly they heard a sound they simply couldn't place.

Ostrich:

 

Bwack!

Thug Two:

 

What was that?

Ostrich:

Bwack!

Thug One:

Tire's flat?

(Two measure pause)

Ostrich:

Bwack!

Thug One:

Stop the truck.

Ostrich:

Bwack!

Thug Two:

What the f- (insert a carefully timed audio cover)

Narrator:

Well the driver opened up his door and learned the pain of even score.
That ostrich jumped inside the truck and gave them boys a hefty chuck.
Her wings they beat. Her feathers flew. She showed them boys a thing or two.
She chased them bandits through the cab. They tumbled out in battered drab.
Then one jumped up like a startled boar and quick as rick he slammed the door.
The other sprang across the hood and shut that door tight as he could.
Then they took off into the wood. Them boys, they disappeared for good.

But sure as southern chicken's fried, our gal was trapped inside.

Ostrich:

Bwack?

Narrator:

Now the morning came as it always did and the farmer checked his flock.
He saw the place was empty and he found a busted lock.
When his wife ran over to him, you could see his anger spurred
An accusatory glare of what he figured had occurred.

Farmer:

I told you this would happen! Put an ostrich in my pen!

Narrator:

But his wife, she beamed triumphantly, with pride across her grin.

Wife:

Did you read the headlines? Our girl is ample luck.
I knew she was intelligent. She also stole a truck.

Chorus:

Convicted Ostrich!

Narrator:

Sheep were admitted.

Chorus:

Ostrich!

Narrator:

Case was acquitted.

Well she went downtown on a bus instead and enrolled in driver's ED

Chorus:

For Diesel! Ostrich!

Not caught speedin'.

Ostrich!

Headin' to Eden.

For the birds survive if they drive when they can't fly.

You can drive but you can't fly.

Ostrich:

Bwack!
 

Blognostication Number One: The Beginning of the End of the World

Hey everyone! Thanks for checking out my various blog posts (Chris Chappa, my buddy from college, came up with the word 'blognostication'. Feel free to use it and send him $1.25 in royalties). I've finished up July's Camp Nanowrimo with modest success (Yay me! Woo-hoo! I'm so happy I won!) and managed to write over nineteen thousand words about Weird Al, which I believe is the equivalent of three term papers. So overall this blog has been really productive; The Food Network Star notwithstanding.

So I've been taking a bit of a break while I figure out what I want to do next with the blog, and I thought I might comb through my personal archives again to see what I haven't already stamped on here. Over the next few days I'm going to post the song lyrics from my 2005 stage show End of the World, which I'm sure I've mentioned in a previous post.

The quick version is End of the World was a two act stage show I co-wrote (mostly wrote) with my Disney friend/co-worker David Armand which consisted of a series of three to seven minute comedy sketches and a couple of musical numbers. So what follows is the lyrics to the opening scene. Feel free to send me a video of you performing the song in your living room.

 

Trial Attempt

  



This scene is a courtroom sequence with defendant Roger Macalendar, whose repeated instants that his name is pronounced MacLENdar fall on deaf ears.

 

Roger is on trial for:

 

"two counts of intraperpelated variant waning
 

three counts of magnanical disentribulatory malapropriate zygotics
 

one count of second degree ubiquitous anachronistic yeoman amalgamance…by circumstantial association
 

and six counts of semigeometaphoricharismaticxenojerrozooriboniwaffalexitrepiduvalabjuquasi-polynomisthetispherikilofendismenquixotickoverthawlyphantasmitigoricalization".

 

After that final charge is spoken for the fifth time, the actress playing the court stenographer throws her hands up and storms out of the sketch, leaving the remaining performers stunned and a bit baffled since her character allegedly had the sketch's punchline.

 

After a brief discussion about how the actress has had a history of needlessly overcomplicating things, someone asks the group if there's a word with the meaning 'to overcomplicate something to make it seem important' which segues into the opening song, which is clearly a parody of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (and having performed this ON Disney property opened up a bit of behind the scenes trepidation that the high-ups might send us a cease and desist letter, which we addressed by simply keeping our mouths shut about it for the four days that we ran the show).

 

Grace: (coming center stage) On the contrary gentlemen, there's a very good word for it. (to Terry) Am I right?

Terry: Tell them what it is.

Grace: Right. It's…

Semigeometaphoricharismaticxenojerro-
Zooriboniwaffalexitrepiduvalabjuquasi-
Polynomisthetispherikilofendismenquixotick-
Overthawlyphantasmitigoricalization

Eeyam diddle-iddle-iddle um diddle aye...am diddle-iddle-iddle um diddle aye...jump in anytime guys I feel like an idiot doing this by myself!

When Roger was arrested under lorry petty theft
They saved his brights and waived his rights 'til there was nothing left.
The owner took the parrot home and ordered it to speak.
And then he heard this single word repeated for a week.

Oh

Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization
Long enough to buy a bluff for minor meditation
By the time you've said the crime the jury's on vacation
Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization

(gratuitous am diddling where the rest of the cast finally joins in)

Terry:

Because the jury constantly was hanging on defense
His honor struck the foreman out to name the precedents.
They entered in the record with the heading 'just because'

Grace and Terry:

A shocking charge for men at large and this is what it was.

Oh
Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization
Even though the sound of it can counter mitigation
Hope you've slung a nimble tongue or face a laceration
Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization

(more am diddling)

Grace:

They traveled to the highest court and left with no appeal.
The judge said 'Roger, you're the sort who's still the man of steal'.

Terry:

So proud they were of time they spent insuring his defeat
But while the judge pronounced the sentence Roger hit the street.

Grace and Terry:

Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization
Only word that causes third degree defenestration
Play it on a scrabble board and earn your graduation
Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization

(a bit more am diddling)

Blog note: The following verse was cut from the performance for pacing purposes, but it's restored here because I'm undeservedly pleased with my joke.

Terry:

And jolly Roger's final word is on his epitaph.
Of course the thing is long enough to hold a paragraph.
So blessed be the tie that binds the reader to the spot.
It's got too many characters for such a simple plot.

Grace and Terry:

Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization
Solely wrecked the dialect of true enunciation
If you say it loud you'll never last the whole duration
Semigeosomethingmitigoricalization

(one last round of am diddling)

Grace: You know you can say it backward, which I'm not going to.

Terry: Thank God.

Grace:

So when the press is causing stress there's no need for dismay.
Just clear your throat and share this quote, they'll stay the hell away.
But better use it sparingly or it could leave you flat.

Terry:

For somewhere a stenographer is carrying a bat.

Chorus:

Semigeometaphoricharismaticxenojerro-
Zooriboniwaffalexitrepiduvalabjuquasi-
Polynomisthetispherikilofendismenquixotick-
Overthawlyphantasmitigoricalization

The chorus repeats faster when the actress who stormed out of the sketch comes back on the stage, evidently still bitter about the experience, and orders the stage cleared.

And as long as I'm being self indulgent here, we then transitioned into a parody of the then current afternoon parade called Share a Dream Come True, which opened with a recording of Julie Andrews talking about Walt Disney, a kid's chorus of the main theme, and then a child's voice announcing the Magic Kingdom's (and later the mention of Kodak's sponsorship) presentation of the parade.

Here was our version:

 

Offstage voice: Hello everyone and welcome. This isn't Julie Andrews. I would like to apologize for the opening number. It was the result of a sad, lonely soul desperately reaching out to the world around him, and failing irreparably. Rest assured no amount of cynicism or lampoonery from our performers will be tolerated for the remainder of this evening's performance. If anyone feels discomfort, harassment, or neglect during the presentation, the individual responsible will be dealt with severely; including suspension, counseling, and the possibility of being publicly shot.

 

Chorus:

 

Original Lyrics                                         Our Lyrics:
 
We share a magic day                                   We've spared the magistrate
We share enchanted nights                           We've spared the copyright
It's a never ending story                                You'll forget the end is boring
That together we all write.                            And the clever scenes are trite.

It's been a part of me                                     Expended artistry
It's been a part of you                                    Is meant to target you
A part of growing up together                      An apropos enough endeavor
Sharing a dream come true.                          Rarely the themes construe.
 
Fake child voice: And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Magic Kingdom, Kodak, Right Guard, Dr. Pepper, Chiquita, Playtex, and Off present the End of the World Parade!