The Hunchback of Adventure Bay

Tracker

 (the back of this mysterious Tracker ringing them. As we end on a beautiful shot of the bells ringing. to an exterior with the frozen forms of Rocky and Zuma, with a bird's nest in his mouth, on the balcony. As Tracker comes out, the bird awakens.)

Tracker: Good morning!

(The bird squeaks its approval.)

Tracker: Will today be the day? Are you ready to fly?

(The bird squeaks its disapproval.)

TRacker: You sure? Good day to try. Why, if I picked a day to fly, oh, this would be it! The Festival of Fools! It will be fun--the jugglers, and music, and dancing...

(The bird, who had been resting in Tracker's hand, has begun to flap its wings. Tracker slowly removes his hands until the bird is hovering in place. He chuckles and shows his hands to the bird, who finally realises that it is flying. It squeaks an approval, then a question, as a flock of birds fly by.)

Tracker: Go on! Nobody wants to be cooped up here forever!

(The bird flies off to join the flock. As soon as it's gone, Rubble,
and later, Rocky, come to life. Rubble spits out the nest.)

Rubble: Oh, man! I thought he'd never leave! I'll be spittin' feathers for a week!

Rocky: Well that's what you get for sleeping with your mouth open.

Rubble: (Sarcastic chuckle) Heh, heh, heh...go scare a nun! Hey, ! What's goin' on out there? A fight? A flogging?

Rocky: A festival!

Rubble: You mean the Feast of Fools!?!

Tracker: Uh huh!

Rubble: All right, all right! Pour the wine and cut the cheese!

(Rubble makes farting noises in his armpit.)

Rocky: It is a treat to watch the colourful pageantry of the simple peasantfolk.

Rubble: Boy, nothin' like balcony seats for watching the ol' F.O.F.

Tracker: (Dejected) Yeah, watching.

(Tracker turns and leaves, obviously sad.)

Rubble: Hey, look--a mime.

(Rubble hocks up a phlegm in his throat, and is about to spit, when Rocky covers his mouth. Rubble is forced to swallow his prize. They proceed inside to Tracker. Zuma catches up to them.)

Rubble: Hey, hey, what gives?

Rocky: Aren't you going to watch the festival with us?

Rubble: I don't get it.

Rocky: Perhaps he's sick!

Zuma: Impossible. If 20 years of listening to you two hasn't made him sick by now, nothing will.

Rocky: But watching the Festival of Fools has always been the highlight of the year for Tracker.

Zuma: What good is watching the party if you never get to go near it?
(Birds have begun to roost on Zuma. He waves them away.)
Get away from me, go on, you bunch of buzzards! He's not made of stone, like us.

(Zuma goes to Tracker, who is at his table with a model
of the city and small toys painted like townspeople.)

Zuma: Tracker, what's wrong? You wanna tell ol' Zuma all about it?

Tracker: I...I just don't feel like watching the festival, that's all.

Zuma: Well, did you ever think about going there instead?

Rocky: Sure!

Tracker: I'd never fit in down there. I'm not...normal.

Zuma: Oh, Tracker, Tracker, Tracker.
(He pauses as the birds have returned to perch on her again.)
(To birds:) Do you mind?
I'm would like to have a moment with the boy, if it's all right with you!

Rubble: (To Tracker:) Hey, quit beating around the bell tower.
Whadda we gotta do? Paint you a fresco?

Rocky: As your friends and guardians, we insist you attend the festival.

Tracker: Me?!?

(Enter Rubble, with a figurine of a Pope, from Tracker's tabletop scene.)

Rubble: No, the Pope. Of course, you!

(Rocky shoves the Pope figurine in Tracker's mouth.)

Rocky: It would be a veritable pope-pourri of educational experience.

(Rubble pulls the figurine out of Tracker's mouth.)

Rubble: Wine, women and song!

Rocky: You can learn to identify various regional cheeses!

Rubble: Bobbing for snails!

Rocky: And the indigenous folk music.

Rubble: Dunk the monk!

Zuma: Tracker, take it from an old spectator. Life's not a spectator sport. If watchin's all you're gonna do, then you're gonna watch your life go by without you.

Rubble: Yeah, you're human, with the flesh, and the hair, and the navel lint. We're just part of the architecture, right Rocky?

Rocky: Yet, if you chip us, will we not flake? If you moisten us, do we not grow moist?

Zuma: Tracker, just grab a fresh tunic and a clean pair of hose and--

Tracker: Thanks for the encouragement, but you're all forgetting one thing.

Gargoyles: What?

Tracker: My master, Humdinger.

Gargoyles: (Dejectedly) Oh, yeah, right (etc.)

Rocky: Well, when he says you're forbidden from ever
leaving the bell tower, does he mean "ever ever?"

Tracker: Never ever! And he hates the Feast of Fools! He'd be furious if I asked to go.

Rubble: Who says you gotta ask?

Tracker: Oh, no.

Rubble: Ya' sneak out...

Zuma: It's just one afternoon...

Tarcker: I couldn't--

Rubble: ...and ya' sneak back in.

Zuma: He'll never know you were gone.

Tracker: I mean, if I got caught--

Rocky: Better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.

Tracker: He might see me.

Rubble: You could wear a disguise. Just this once. What Humdinger doesn't know can't hurt you!

Rocky: Ignorance is bliss.

Rubble: (aside) Look who's talking...

Zuma: Nobody wants to stay cooped up here forever.

(Tracker thinks for a moment, then a smile creeps across his face.)

Tracker You're right! I'll go!
(The gargoyles cheer.)
I'll get cleaned up.
(Another cheer)
I'll stroll down those stairs.
(Another cheer)
I'll march through the doors and--

(Tracker and the 'goyles have been advancing on the door leading downstairs. As Tracker nears it, Humdinger appears in the doorway suddenly, cutting Tracker short and returning the 'goyles to stone.)

Humdinger: Good morning, Tracker.