hpe/25

Hpemail #25

Horrible Painting and the Goblin have one last chance to save their email show from cancellation.

Page Title: Grody Nine

Running Time: 28:41

Date: December 28, 2021

Script
HP: {singing} Email song, email song, while some might say they're dumb... email song, email song, there's many more to come!

HP: {laughs, then begins typing} Boss, you crack me up. There's no way we've been checking emails for ten years.

''{Cut to a wide shot. The Goblin walks in with a party hat and throws confetti.}''

GOBLIN: Hey, Goblin! It's our tenth anniversary! Let's celebrate!

{HP's eyes widen and he collapses on the floor.}

GOBLIN: That's not exactly the response I was expecting.

HP: It's over. We're through.

GOBLIN: {sigh} Right. I always figured it would come to this eventually. I really hoped our friendship would work out, but... after ten years, I think it's finally time to admit that we're not really compatible.

HP: I'm talking about our email show. The boss fired us.

GOBLIN: Oh, of course. Then, uh, you can forget what I just said.

HP: {crestfallen} What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life?! Am I doomed to live in eternal emptiness? With no purpose, nothing on the horizon?

GOBLIN: If email is really the only thing that gives your life meaning, then why do you only check, like, one per year?

HP: I spend a lot of time napping. {thinks for a moment} Come to think of it, I probably shouldn't be surprised that we've been fired.

GOBLIN: You need to find some hobbies, a career, a project, something to do with your life. I've spent the last few years getting a doctorate in applied linguistics, starting a charitable organization, writing that novel saga I've always thought about... Don't you have any ambitions of your own?

HP: I've always wanted to try toppings on a slice of watermelon. You know, ketchup, whipped cream, that sort of thing.

GOBLIN: You don't have anything else on your bucket list?

HP: I like the ones made of metal. Plastic ones are fine too... and I should probably put Dave the paint can on there, he's great.

GOBLIN: No, a bucket list is for things you want to do before you die.

HP: Ah, yes. Well, first off, I'd want to stop breathing. I don't think it'd really count as death otherwise. Oh, and I guess I should write a will... I'm not letting you have any of my snacks, I'm keeping those in my coffin. Oh yeah, and I'll need one of those too.

GOBLIN: They don't have to be death-related, you know. Just a list of things you want to do with your life.

HP: Check 26 emails. Check 27 emails. Check 29 emails. I don't care about the 28th one to be honest.

GOBLIN: Well, if all you want to do is check emails, then we should probably take it up with the boss. Who knows, maybe we can convince him to give us our jobs back!

{Cut to the outside of an office building.}

HP: {voiceover} What do you mean "not in a million years"?!

''{Cut to an ominous, dimly-lit room, where HP and the Goblin are sitting across a desk from a silhouetted figure in a bowler hat. A steaming mug labeled "#1 BOSS" sits in front of him.}''

BOSS: I'm sorry, that phrasing was uncalled for. I should have added a few thousand for good measure.

HP: I can't wait that long! If all goes according to plan, I'll be nothing more than a pile of dust by then!

GOBLIN: "If all goes according to plan"?

HP: Yeah, my personal goal is to complete everything on my bucket list before I turn 256. That includes decomposing, but with my procrastination habits, who's to say when I'll get around to that?

BOSS: Your procrastination is exactly the reason I'm firing you. You've only just barely managed to release 25 emails over this past decade. You started out strong, releasing 10 emails within the first year, but this problem has gotten far worse over time.

HP: But that's only because our emails have gotten longer and better as time has gone on! Don't you remember how terrible we were in the early days?

{Cut to a flashback of HP sitting at the Computa 001.}

HP: {typing} Well, not the boss, I know some jokes. Why'd the snowman eat pie?

GOBLIN: Why?

HP: Because it was a pie-psicle.

GOBLIN: Ha ha, oh the hilarity.

CUS: {growls}

HP: Yes, Cus, you're in this email too.

''{The Horrible Paper comes down. Cut to the present day.}''

HP: See? We didn't know how to make a single joke back then, and look at us now! We oughta win a "most improved" award methinks. Just imagine how much more we could improve if you just gave us another decade!

GOBLIN: Ugh, I forgot you used to regularly call yourself Horrorguy. Dropping that nickname has surely been our greatest improvement.

HP: That name was just a holdover from my edgy teen years. I used to demand that people call me "His Royal Highness, Lord Horrorguy of Frightenburge III". No one ever called me that, though. Seventh graders can be cruel.

BOSS: See, that's another reason I'm firing you. Your early emails were absolute garbage.

HP: Hey, that's no fair! You can't fire us now for something that happened in the past!

BOSS: I'm also firing you for putting spaghetti in my hat.

HP: That was also in the past! Five minutes, but still!

GOBLIN: How can you fire us for bad emails if our emails aren't bad anymore?

BOSS: I'm glad you've improved so much in the past ten years, but those bad emails can never truly be erased. I'd like to start anew with a blank slate, free of past mistakes. A series that is consistently good all the way through.

HP: So let's just go back and remake all our old emails!

BOSS: It's not that simple, I'm afraid. The problem with those early emails is that there wasn't anything interesting about them, and that's because your show was a fundamentally flawed idea with no potential.

HP: What are you talking about? Have you seen our latest episodes? Those are, like, the epitome of realized potential!

BOSS: Neither of you have a personality in the original toons, so the idea to give you guys a show simply didn't work at first. But you evolved, you gained personalities and told more ambitious stories with your show... but to do that, you had to diverge from the source material. You've become completely different characters. Can this really be called a Homestar Runner email show when the similarities are mostly tangential and arbitrary?

HP: We can fix that! We'll just check emails as our canon-accurate selves!

''{Cut to the computer room. HP is on the computer.}''

HP: Come on in heeere...

HP: {typing} Yes, Mr. Brothers, that's what happens when I say "come on in heeere"!

''{Cut to the Goblin in the Spooky Woods. He dances as his tune plays. Pan over to a pile of bones resembling Cus. Cut back to the computer room.}''

HP: {typing} So, you see, I like it when people come on in here, but telling them to do so gives them the jibblies. See you next time!

''{The Paintper comes down. Cut back to the office.}''

HP: How was that? Note that I didn't once mention the fact that the jibblies are no longer a problem due to the microscopic jibblie hivemind feasting on pastries in my pantry.

BOSS: That wasn't much better than your early emails. At the end of the day, the fact that you two are the main characters are irrelevant. Most of your emails could work equally well with, say, Stave it Off Guy and Scotty Titi, as long as they had your personalities.

GOBLIN: I'd actually kinda like to see that.

BOSS: Due to all of these factors, I'd like to start fresh with a brand new show. One born from a good idea, rather than making the most of a bad one.

GOBLIN: So who's going to be the star of this new show?

BOSS: That's a good question, and one I hope to soon find the answer to.

HP: Wait a minute. You fired us without even figuring out who our replacement is gonna be?! Did you really wanna get rid of us that badly?

BOSS: No, no, it's not that at all. I was going to have my next show planned before I fired you, but then I realized that your ten-year anniversary was coming up. I thought it would be fitting for your finale to be released that day, but I didn't have time to plan my next project first.

{HP gives the boss a slip of paper.}

BOSS: What's this?

HP: My job application. Since it hasn't been decided yet, I might as well apply to be the star of your new email show.

BOSS: This is just a post-it that says "I am very qualified."

HP: I just found out the position was open like ten seconds ago.

BOSS: That's not how it works. You don't apply to me, I apply to you. {throws the post-it in the recycling bin}

HP: Ah-ah! Read the fine print.

BOSS: {picks up the post-it and reads} "Asterisk. By throwing this application away, you legally agree to be bound by this contract, and must allow us one (1) last chance to get our jobs back." {throws it in the bin again} Why did you write out "Asterisk"?

HP: There wasn't enough room for a real one.

BOSS: That disclaimer doesn't change anything. I didn't throw it away, I recycled it.

HP: I didn't specify where it had to be thrown. The recycling bin still counts as "away".

BOSS: Does it? It's not really "away", it's right next to my desk.

HP: {reading} "Throw away, phrasal verb. To discard something unwanted." That's what this dictionary says.

BOSS: That's another post-it.

HP: I know, I didn't bring a dictionary so I had to make one on the spot.

BOSS: {sigh} You got me. I guess I'm legally obligated to give you guys another chance. I'll call you when try-outs start.

''{The dark office backdrop lifts like a curtain to reveal a game show set behind it. The boss gets out his phone and dials HP's number.}''

BOSS: {on the phone} Try-outs are starting now. Meet me in my office.

HP: Okay, just give me a second. I technically have to leave before I can meet you again. {leaves and comes back} Am I late?

BOSS: By two seconds. You're fired.

HP: You already fired us, though.

BOSS: I know. Now that you guys no longer work for me, I can fire you all I want. Hey Goblin, you're fired for looking at me funny. Heh. That never gets old.

GOBLIN: I think it got old the first time.

BOSS: Yeah? Well, you're fired again, so there.

{Cut to the boss on the set of the game show.}

BOSS: Welcome, viewers and gentleviewers, to the Email-Check-Off 2021! If you win, you get to be the star of my new email show! If you lose, you're going to have to come face to face with Check-Off's Gun. {holds up a gun}

HP: Wait, you're gonna shoot us if we lose?

BOSS: Nah, it's just a screenwriting pun. A fun gun pun.

HP: {worried; to Goblin} We should run.

GOBLIN: But soon it'll be one. That's when the game show will be done. By then we might have won.

HP: I can't think of a natural way to include sun. Or stun.

BOSS: You've all been introduced to Horrible Painting and the Goblin since they just rudely interrupted, so let's introduce our other contestants!

STRONG SAD: I'm not really interested in the position but I felt bad turning down the offer. I like to write poetry and look at rocks, both sedimentary and igneous.

OLD-TIMEY STRONG BAD: Yes, my numerous enemies refer to me with fear and admiration as J. Willingest Stachenheimer Strong Bad the Seventh! I am quite familiar with the practice of communicating to others via telegram, so I would say I am qualified to fill the vacancy in this line of profession!

GREGGO: My boss Z Sabre was just defeated by Stinkoman, so I had to find a new job. I'm intrigued by these, how you say, "emails". Where I come from, messages are instantaneously received through our internal transmission chips.

SCI-FI GREG: If you don't mind my asking, galactic overlord, which planet have we been beamed onto? I'm noticing a distinct lack of hexagons embedded into the fabric of spacetime.

{Credenza is silent.}

As for my qualifications, my hat currently contains 7,256 breadsticks. If that doesn't convince you, then frankly, you have no business having a job at all.

GOBLIN: Hi, I'm the Goblin. I have lots of email-checking experience, so I think I'm ready for a show of my own.

HP: Wha&mdash; Goblin?! I thought you were on my team!

GOBLIN: I never agreed to that. You can't blame me for seizing the opportunity laid out before me, can you?

BOSS: Now that all of our contestants have been introduced, let us begin the proceedings. We'll start with a brief interview. {holds up a card and reads it} Strong Sad, for the block. How many fingers am I holding up?

STRONG SAD: Er, it's a bit hard to tell.

BOSS: Wrong, the answer is twelve. Old-Timey Strong Bad, for 1000 dolla points, what do you do with an email you dislike?

OLD-TIMEY STRONG BAD: Any message addressed to me, should it fall short of my criteria, is promptly DISCARDED!

BOSS: Just swell, just swell. Greggo, let's say you get the job &mdash; what's an example of an episode we might see?

GREGGO: Um, I could investigate what makes the Negative Zone so glitchy, or locate the source of the falling objects from Level 3, or assemble the crystal shards for Z Sabre...

BOSS: Excellent, I see a lot of potential there. Gregs, let's say you receive an email asking about your favorite color. How do you respond?

D N' D GREG: Green.

BOSS: Is that it? Simply answering the question would make for an awfully short email. You need to expand on the premise somehow.

OPEN SOURCE GREG: We could get into a heated online debate over which color has the best hex code...

D N' D GREG: Then we cast our astral forms beyond this mortal realm in search of a color we can all agree is the greatest.

BOSS: There you go, that's perfect. Credenza, would you care to share with us some of your polictical views?

{Credenza is silent.}

BOSS: I'll take that as a {silence}. Gfd, why are you so great?

{The boss runs offscreen, and Gfd returns to stand behind his pedestal.}

If I had to explain it, though, I'd say it all started when I was about 3 years, 174 days, and 1,902 seconds old. I was like, "Hey, why don't I be great?" and then I did it. I be'd great. The rest is history.

{Gfd leaves, and the boss returns, out of breath.}

BOSS: Thank you for your thoughts, Gfd. Goblin, if your inbox is empty and you had to write an email for yourself to answer on the show, what would you write?

GOBLIN: "Dear Goblin, have you ever been on a trip?". I imagine that could lead to me taking a vacation or going on a road trip to various locales, maybe getting lost in different universes and ending up in humorous predicaments.

BOSS: Good, good. I see a lot of jokes and interesting moments coming from that idea. Now it's time to begin the most important part of the screening process: the hilarious training montage!

''{Music plays. Cut to the boss with HP and Goblin in the Field.}''

BOSS: All right, Rocoulm, give me the elevator pitch for your email show.

HP: Wacky shenanigans abound as the Horrible Painting checks emails with help from the Goblin!

BOSS: Yeah, sure. Now, Goblin?

GOBLIN: Wacky shenanigans abound as the Goblin checks emails with help from the Horrible Painting!

HP: That's literally what I just&mdash;

BOSS: Now there's a show I'd like to see! Five hundred points to you.

HP: Oh, come on! How many points do I have?

BOSS: At this point it's in the negative triple digits.

HP: Phew. I was worried I had reached quadruples.

{Cut to Strong Sad on a computer.}

 subject: foots Dear Strong Sad, Why you got elephant feet? Signed, Illegible Signature

STRONG SAD: {typing} They're called soolnds. I was born with them. Thanks for your question, and see you next time.

BOSS: {peeking into the screen} I told you your response had to be at least five pages long.

STRONG SAD: I can increase the font size if that helps.

{Cut to the boss with Old-Timey Strong Bad in the Field.}

BOSS: {holds up a cue card} Grodenplurghm.

OLD-TIMEY STRONG BAD: Storebrowsing rascabout!

BOSS: That's... not related to the name at all, but okay. {holds up another card} Frescherson.

OLD-TIMEY STRONG BAD: You trouser-necked delinquian! I'll give you what's for!

BOSS: Wait, now I'm not sure if you're making fun of me or the name on the card.

{Cut to a sheet of notebook paper with the boss and the Gregs on it.}

BOSS: I want you to check an email without dying.

SCI-FI GREG: I think we can manage that.

BOSS: I like your confidence. Good luck.

{A computer falls on them.}

NARRATOR STRONG BAD: SYSTEM CRASH!

OPEN SOURCE GREG: I always knew I'd go out this way!

BOSS: What a shame. They didn't even get a chance to read it.

{Cut to the boss at a table with Credenza.}

BOSS: Let's hear your best email intro song.

{Credenza is silent.}

BOSS: {wiping away tears; sniffs} Beautiful.

{Cut to the boss in front of a computer.}

BOSS: Okay, let's see how you delete this email.

''{The boss leaves. Cut to Gfd at the computer.}''



{Gfd eats the words off the screen, then turns to the camera and smiles, revealing the letters of "DELETED" stuck to his teeth.}

''{Cut to the stage with a banner reading "DANCE CONTEST". The Goblin does his usual dance. Strong Sad points his fingers. Old-Timey Strong Bad shoots his pistols in the air. Greggo stomps in place. Credenza stays still.}''

{Cut back to the game show set.}

BOSS: All right, the judges (me) have made their decision. The winner of the Email-Check-Off is...

''{The boss draws a cue card as a drumroll begins. There is a pause for dramatic emphasis.}''

BOSS: GREG&mdash;

OPEN SOURCE GREG: Huzzah! Our data entry has been accepted!

SCI-FI GREG: The stars have aligned in our favor!

D N' D GREG: The fates have chosen our destinies with great provision!

JAPANESE CULTURE GREG: Goukaku!

BOSS: &mdash;go. Greggo.

D N' D GREG: What? Are we not worthy of wielding the +5 Fame and +3 Glory stardom stats?

OPEN SOURCE GREG: Has there been a database corruption?

JAPANESE CULTURE GREG: Nani?

SCI-FI GREG: I'm fine with this. Robots are cool.

HP: I'm not! How could you choose a generic robot over me?!

BOSS: I'm a bit of a fan of science fiction settings, and 20X6 era is rife with potential for worldbuilding and interesting stories. I'm looking forward to learning more about the levels, enemies, and bosses that make up Planet K. It'll be fun to continue the story set up at the end of level 10, and to see that play out from the perspective of a lowly minion. And if I'm being honest, writing characters with established personalities isn't really my strong suit.

{Credenza is silent.}

BOSS: Except you, Credenza.

{Cut to HP at his computer.}

HP: {typing} Well, that was a colossal waste of time. This finale is almost over and we haven't done anything cool yet. What do we do now?

GOBLIN: {offscreen} How about a clip show?

''{Cut to a wide shot. HP turns toward the Goblin.}''

HP: No way, clip shows are just a lazy excuse for writers and animators to pad out running time. No one wants to see stuff they've already seen. Seriously, who wants to see my first email again?

''{A wavy flashback transition begins, showing HP at the Dusty 300. An email is seen on the screen:}''

HP: Woah! The Goblin! You wrote this Hpemail?

GOBLIN: I sure did, Mr. H and P!

HP: Call me Horrorguy.

GOBLIN: Sorry.

HP: {sings} Weeeeeeell... {stops singing} I want people to come on in heeeeeeere! I get lonely. AND I should really get a The Paper. Yeah.

{The screen dims.}

HP: {voiceover} Or that time we destroyed my computer by totally ripping off multiple Strong Bad Emails at once?

''{Transition to another scene. Another email is seen on the Dusty 300:}''

HP AND GOBLIN: DE-LE-TED!

''{HP deletes the email so hard, the Dusty 300 explodes. Cut to Strong Mad's room. The closet shakes and the door falls off. Cut back to the inside of the painting, covered in ashes.}''

HP: I think I deleted that email too hard. Uh... come down, the Horrible Paper. {black ashes fall from the sky} Oh. Er... nevermind.

{The screen dims.}

GOBLIN: {voiceover} That wasn't the only time we ripped off sbemails. That email "Hpemail206" was all about that, remember?

HP: {voiceover} Ah yes, that was back when a year without Hpemails was considered a massive hiatus. Now that's the regular deal.

GOBLIN: {voiceover} And our emails tend to be a bit longer than 30 seconds now.

{Transition to HP sitting at a kitchen microwave.}

HP: Wait a minute... have I not checked my emails on kitchen appliances all this time?

GOBLIN: Waitwaitwait! HP, you're just copying Strong Bad's email 206.

HP: I know not of this "Strong Bad" of whom you speak.

GOBLIN: You were watching his sbemails all morning!

HP: Oh, yeah. THAT Strong Bad.

GOBLIN: I don't even REMEMBER the last time you checked an original email.

HP: I would do that right now if I had a computer. It exploded in that other email. Hey! I know! I'll get a new computer, and wait until it gets covered in dust, transforming it into&mdash;

GOBLIN: Ahem.

{The screen dims.}

HP: {voiceover} That's enough of that. Let's see the next one.

{Transition to HP riding waterskis being pulled through the ocean by a walrus.}

GOBLIN: You're really sure this is the only way to uncover the secrets of the universe?

HP: Of course, the universe loves walruses. Why do you think it invented them?

{The screen dims.}

HP: {voiceover} Oh, yeah, that one. We never did uncover the secrets of the universe, did we?

GOBLIN: {voiceover} Maybe you didn't.

''{Transition to a shoe crawling across an oversized slice of cake. Reality crumbles in the background as spacetime collapses.}''

HP: {voiceover} That's funny, I don't remember this one. What's going on here?

GOBLIN: {voiceover} You don't want to know.

''{Transition to HP looking around suspiciously. He opens the pantry and takes out some snacks.}''

GOBLIN: {voiceover} Hey, this is one I don't remember. Aren't those mine?

HP: {voiceover} Heh, I, uh, didn't mean to show this one. Let's move on.

GOBLIN: {voiceover} Yeah, let's see that time we travelled through time and saved the multiverse from being consumed by Trogdor's fiery rage!

{Transition to static, with text reading "FOOTAGE NOT FOUND".}

HP: {voiceover} Aw man, looks like Trogdor burninated the footage too.

GOBLIN: {voiceover} Let's see here... if we bypass the encryption and access the corrupted data, then...

{Cut to HP and Goblin filing taxes.}

HP: {voiceover} This isn't really the email I was hoping to see.

GOBLIN: {voiceover} Eh, close enough. It has us in it, right?

HP: {voiceover} Yeah. Hey, let's take a look at that time I won the lottery and became a worldwide celebrity and tyrant!

''{Transition to a poorly-drawn animation of HP in an elaborate gold frame in a fancy museum. Inside the painting, he sits on a gold cushiony throne wearing a jewel-encrusted crown. A silhouetted crowd cheers and throws money at him.}''

HP: {somehow poorly imitating his own voice} I am so great. {drinks from a fancy wine glass full of gold coins}

GOBLIN: {voiceover} Yeah, that never happened.

HP: {voiceover} But the audience doesn't know that.

{Cut back to the computer room.}

HP: Anyway, as I was saying earlier, a clip show is a terrible idea.

GOBLIN: Perhaps we could find a more subtle way to take a look back at our previous emails. Like, what if we bring back some beloved characters?

HP: That would be a great idea if we had any beloved characters besides me.

CUS: {contradictory growls}

HP: Sorry, Cus, just being honest. It would be untrue to describe you as even remotely interesting.

GOBLIN: Super forgettable. You've hardly been an important part of any email.

HP: Yeah, pretty useless. There's no reason for you to be on the show. No one would even notice if you left.

GOBLIN: No one.

HP: At all.

CUS: {roars}

HP: What? Do you want me to be dishonest?

{Gorblin walks in.}

GORBLIN: Hewwo! I am da Gorblin!

HP: Um, who are you and why are you in my house?

GOBLIN: Bringing all the old characters back. Don't you remember Gorblin from the Easter egg found in Hpemail #14?

HP: Oh, right, the worst character in the show.

STEVEN: Wa-hey-hey!

HP: I stand corrected.

{A portal opens, and several of HP and the Goblin's variations walk out.}

SIR PHOTO: Ah, this must be the future.

CREEPY PICTURE: Ah, this must be the past.

H. PAINTING: Ah, xhix muxt be not xhe nineties.

THE HORRIBLE PAINTING: "Hey, that's what I was going to say,"

NARRATOR STRONG BAD: said The Horrible Painting.

HP: Who are these freakos?

GOBLIN: I called some alternate universes and found out you have clones.

HP: What are you talking about? These guys are nothing like me.

CREEPY PICTURE: I agree, you do not look like someone well-versed in the ways of fighting and challenge.

SIR PHOTO: And your mustaches are all pitiful.

{Everyone from the Homestar Ween Con '17 shows up.}

HP: Hey, nice to see you all again!

BAD GRAPHICS GHOST: {beeps}

LARGE BEAN: {cold silence}

MR. POOFERS: Miffa miffa!

STABBY GABBY: {snickers}

HP: Aw, that's so sweet of you to say. Hey, Jerry and Gabby, how's the marriage thing going?

JAUNDICE JERRY: Pretty well. We're haunting a nice place in the suburbs. The people renting the place are always freaked out by our appearance in their photos, it's great.

''{Dr. Evil Bad Guy Antagonist Character walks in.}''

HP: Okay, who invited the murderous supervillain?

GOBLIN: I told you, I called everyone.

{An email pops up on the Grody Nine.}

HP: Even John?!

GOBLIN: Everyone.

{Cut to a robot with a nametag reading "miguel los robot".}

MIGUEL: Yo también estoy aquí por alguna razón.

HP: Okay, I don't even recognize this one. Is this some obscure reference I'm not getting, or are you just calling random people now?

GOBLIN: How could you forget the two times I offhandedly mentioned my Spanish robot friend?

HP: You know, all these forgettable characters are making me realize how terrible this email show really is. Nobody even cares about our grand finale.

GOBLIN: So how do we make our finale grand?

HP: We make 'em care! We'll traumatize our viewers for life with the ultimate finale... We're going to kill off a character!

{Everyone gasps.}

GOBLIN: Isn't that just murder?

HP: No, no, we'll do it indirectly. We'll make it all emotional, heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching, spleen-wrenching... it'll wrench just about every organ in your body.

DR. EVIL BAD GUY ANTAGONIST CHARACTER: I'm fully on board. Who's gonna be the victim?

STEVEN: {nervously} Don't vote me, please. I&mdash; I can do a 220 in 4:45!

HP: Relax, Steven, you're fine. As much as I'd enjoy it, killing you off would have no emotional impact.

GOBLIN: How about John?

HP: Depends. Has he crossed everything off his bucket list?

{A message pops up on the Grody Nine.}

HP: Aw, man. I guess he physically can't be killed then.

GOBLIN: I think you still don't understand how a bucket list works.

OLD MAN ROOTBEER: I vote Mr. Poofers.

HP: Him? But he's too powerful, he's... {sigh} a pretty good candidate, actually. I guess I might as well try.

{Cut to Mr. Poofers walking through a meadow.}

HP: {voiceover} Mr. Poofers was taking a saunter through the swift autumn breeze&mdash;

''{Mr. Poofers walks over to a manhole.}''

HP: {voiceover} &mdash;when he came upon an open manhole. "Miffa meeka!" he cautiously bellowed, well prepared for the parlous conundrum he found himself in.

''{Mr. Poofers coughs up a hairball into the hole.}''

HP: {voiceover} He coughed up a hairball, covering the manhole with his cotton candy fur, and the mayor made him the new chief of police.

''{Cut to a mayor's office, where Old Man Rootbeer has a sash reading "MAYOR". He gives Mr. Poofers a badge.}''

HP: {voiceover} "Swell job protecting them pimecones!" blandished Old Towne Mayor Rootbeer.

''{Cut back to HP as a cloud bursts around him. He is sweating and out of breath.}''

HP: I... I tried my hardest, but... he was no match.

SIR PHOTO: Let us try it together.

{Cut to Mr. Poofers in a pile of trash.}

SIR PHOTO: After the great pimecone drought of '32, Mr. Poofers had no choice but to forage through the town rubbish heap for his daily morsels.

{Sawblades and chainsaws emerge from the pile.}

H. PAINTING: Xhen he found himxelf caught in quite xhe pickle, as keen bladex xurrounded him from all xidex.

CREEPY PICTURE: He took aim toward the pile with his laser vision, awakening the slumbering robot underneath.

''{Mr. Poofers blasts the blades away, and a giant robot rises from the trash.}''

THE HORRIBLE PAINTING: "Congratulations, you've found the secret stash of pimecones," said the shambling automaton.

{The robot opens its mouth and pinecones pour out.}

SIR PHOTO: Mr. Poofers cashed in his 401k and retired to the coast, where he feasted on an abundance of cones, of both the pine and ice cream varieties.

{Cut back to the variations as a cloud bursts around them.}

CREEPY PICTURE: Even our combined power... it was not enough?!

{An email pops up on the Grody Nine.}

HP: No, you didn't. His name is "Poofers", not "Poofer".

{Gorblin passes out.}

GOBLIN: I guess Gorblin's last name was Poofer.

HP: Try it again, and spell it right this time.

STABBY GABBY: {snickers}

JAUNDICE JERRY: Gabby says she wants to try.

HP: All right, fine, but don't expect to&mdash;

STABBY GABBY: {snickers}

''{Mr. Poofers poofs away.}''

HP: You... you did it. What did you say?

JAUNDICE JERRY: You don't want to know.

HP: Well, we did it. We killed off a character. I'm sure the audience is bawling their eyes out as we speak. Heck, they're probably bawling out their teeth, their limbs, their lungs... all wrenched, of course.

GOBLIN: That's rather gruesome.

HP: Oh. Is it? I don't really know how humans work.

''{Mr. Poofers reappears.}''

HP: Wait, he's back? I thought Gabby killed him.

OLD MAN ROOTBEER: He's too powerful. Even when he dies, he reincarnates in the exact same form. Poofers is eternal.

HP: Well, shoot. Guess we gotta kill someone else off then. Let's see, which character does the audience have the most attachment to...? {looks at the Goblin}

GOBLIN: {nervously} Please don't look at me like that.

HP: Fine, I'll look away. {looks into the distance with a blank expression}

GOBLIN: That's maybe even worse.

STEVEN: Wa-hey-hey-hey, guys? Your pet is looking kinda dead.

HP: Of course he does, he's died twice now.

STEVEN: Twice?

HP: Yeah. He was already a skeleton when you killed him, right, Goblin?

GOBLIN: {sheepishly} Yeah, I had to stop him from attacking those poor, misguided fools who thought I'd spin their candy into gold. Probably not my finest moment.

STEVEN: So I guess I shouldn't be concerned that he's lying on his side and not breathing.

HP: What?

{HP runs over to Cus and kneels over him.}

HP: CUS! No! Wake up! Speak to me!

{Emotional music plays as tears run down HP's face.}

HP: I&mdash; I never wanted to kill you off! Especially not a third time! Come on, you've got&mdash; {sniff; in a falsetto voice} you've got the heart of a champion!

{Cus gets up, growls, and walks away.}

GOBLIN: You woke him up.

HP: Okay, maybe killing off a character isn't the best way for us to jump the shark. We need to find some other shark-jumping method.

GOBLIN: How about a wedding? A lot of finales have a wedding in them.

HP: That's true. Hey, uh, Jerry? Gabby? You wanna renew your vows?

JAUNDICE JERRY: They said I'd never marry twice, and I'm pretty sure they're right about that.

HP: Hmm. Let's see, who else can marry?

{An email pops up on the Grody Nine.}

HP: No, please. Anything but that!

GOBLIN: Anything?

{Cut to HP and Goblin wearing top hats.}

HP: He accepts me for who I am.

{The Goblin dances as his tune plays.}

JAUNDICE JERRY: And they said they'd never marry.

STABBY GABBY: {snickers}

HP: You know... I've really enjoyed having you all here. I love to entertain. {pause} Wait, that's it!

GOBLIN: What's it?

HP: You're right, Goblin, checking emails isn't the only thing that gives my life meaning. There was once a time when I only loved to entertain. I used to ask people to come on in here, but that only caused the jibblies. Discouraged, I turned to checking emails, so I could entertain people without directly interacting with them. It's been so long, I forgot why I started checking emails in the first place, and now that the jibblies are a thing of the past... I can invite people on in here again. I can serve visitors tea and cake. I can entertain, like I always wanted.

GOBLIN: Aww, that's nice. I wasn't expecting this episode to have a character arc.

HP: Oh, that's not the only character arc in this episode. Gorblin learned how to stop being dead for once.

GORBLIN: Hewwo! I am da Gorblin!

HP: Turns out dying was the last thing on his bucket list, and he hadn't completed the rest of it yet.

GOBLIN: Huh. I wasn't aware that adding "dying" to your bucket list grants immortality.

HP: Well, duh. How are you supposed to complete your bucket list if you're dead?! Sheesh, just think about it for a second.

{A message pops up on the Grody Nine.}

HP: Thank you too, John. I'm glad you like the show, I love to entertain.

GOBLIN: That's nice, even John had a character arc.

HP: So did Large Bean. He's a joyous bean now.

LARGE BEAN: {warm silence}

OLD MAN ROOTBEER: After I made Mr. Poofers the chief of police, I learned that he's actually a good dog. And I'm fairly certain I'm not just being influenced by his unfathomable power.

MR. POOFERS: Miffa moo!

OLD MAN ROOTBEER: Mr. Poofers has confronted his inner demons and emerged from his downward spiral into hopeless depression.

DR. EVIL BAD GUY ANTAGONIST CHARACTER: Seeing your pathetic blubbering over your carcass's carcass taught me that murder maybe isn't so great after all.

GOBLIN: I don't think these really count as character arcs when they all happen offscreen. And I'm still not feeling satisfied with this finale.

HP: Well, there is one thing we haven't tried, and that's the classic staple of any good finale, walking into the sunset. The only problem is, where can we find a sunset?

GOBLIN: I know! We have all these beloved and forgotten characters with us, including counterparts from other dimensions. Our fine finale is coming to a close. What better time is there to embark on an epic journey to find the last sunset?

''{Adventurous music plays. Cut to the title card for "Horrible Painting Emails: The Last Sunset". Below it, "styled out by Another Dang Chimendez". Cut to HP giving an inspiring speech.}''

HP: Friends, acquaintances, enemies, interdimensional visitors... today, we set out on a quest. A quest that will&mdash;

GOBLIN: Psst, we'd better hurry this up. The scroll bar is nearing the bottom of the page again.

HP: Oh dang. Can you call Trogdor? I have a favor to ask of him.

''{Cut to static, with text reading "FOOTAGE NOT FOUND". Cut to everyone in front of a sunset.}''

HP: We did it! We found the last sunset! And we made it just before that dang lonely goat.

GOBLIN: Wasn't much of an adventure. We just went outside and walked in circles until the sun started to set. It's just a matter of waiting for&mdash;

HP: {whispering} Shhh! Don't ruin it for the fans!

GOBLIN: Fans?

{Everyone walks toward the sunset.}

GOBLIN: Is this really the best idea you have for a finale?

HP: Well... I guess we could try an abrupt ending.

{Cut to black.}

''{A photo appears, showing the character currently being described. Text appears below, reading:}''

"Rocoulm never checked an email again, instead choosing to spend the rest of his life building relationships and entertaining people without letting jibblies get in the way. He still lives with the Goblin inside the painting, which was donated to a fancy museum."

"After the Goblin finished getting a doctorate in applied linguistics, starting a charitable organization, and writing that novel saga he's always thought about, he spent the rest of his days travelling around the world and performing his dance routine."

"Cus continued acting in Hollywood blockbusters, and even took the director's seat for the critically-acclaimed 'Thnikkaman Conquers the Martians'. The director was not amused. At the time of his seventh death, he was ranked the #1 most beloved celebrity."

"The Grody Nine was buried in a time capsule, acting as an archive of 21st century culture to be unearthed in X0 years."

"Mr. Poofers cashed in his 401k and retired to the coast, where he feasted on an abundance of cones, of both the pine and ice cream varieties."

"Dr. Evil Bad Guy Antagonist Character turned away from his life of evil, instead turning to a life of mild immorality. He is currently imprisoned for repeated jaywalking."

"Trondog the Flamifyer, Rhinosaurus, and Trogdoor the Door are still just drawings because, well, what did you expect?"

"Steven managed to do a 220 in under 4:45. John improved his grammar. Gorblin sneezed when a feather fell on him."

"Thankfully, Paper Towel Man doesn't exist, and he never did."

''{Fade to a 5-by-5 grid, each square showing a looping clip from one of the 25 emails, with the email name written below in the Bauhaus 93 font. In the center, the same font reads "10 years of Horrible Painting Emails".}''