If I could create my own half hour show; no holds barred. It would probably be a cross between the earlier years of the tv show Roseanne (which I can identify with) and Night Rider. I would play the lead role. I’d be an insecure teenager living in a blue-collar home with a domineering mother and a father who drinks too much. I’d go to school and be miserable in plain sight.
But at the end of the day, when all are fast asleep:
I’d sneak out my bedroom window with my cloaking device and silent shoes. I would hover down to the driveway which is to the far left of my bedroom window and summon my bad ass 1970 Monte Carlo with a bored out 350 engine and 4 barrel carburetor. I would get messages from my dog Snippet, who runs the operation from his doghouse in the back yard. Snippet’s doghouse greatly resembles Snoopy‘s doghouse from Peanuts: small and average on the outside but kicking it bigtime on the inside. Snippet would update me on people to assist and avenge. I would do the job for free because it gets me out of the house. Snippet can leave his house when ever he wants, so he begs me to ask those who require our assistance for doggie treats. Snippet does not like Beggin’ Strips.
In my Emerald Green Monte Carlo I chirp second gear and rush to the aid of a young boy whose cat happens to be in a tree three blocks west. Snippet, now in the front seat, asks me why we have to save the damn cat. “It’s just a cat,” he howls.
“There, there Snippet. Cats never hurt you,” I whisper. Snippet and I get into a philosophical conversation about cats and dogs as he tells me how the movie by the same name did no justice to dogs. I concur to appease ol’ Snippet.
Just as I turn the corner, I spot the tree. I put the car in neutral and roll quietly into a perfect parking spot near the maple tree which looks out of place in front of the yellow sided house on a small city street. I get out of the car. My cloaking device and silent shoes now activated, I sneak up the tree and grab the howling cat by the neck. I look over to the house that belongs to the tree and see a boy in my class staring out the window. He saw me. I hover over to his window.
“You’re dreaming. Go back to sleep,” I say hoping that it works. I do not yet have the ability of mind control. I hand the cat to the boy as he puts his arms out.
“Thanks,” he stutters.
“No problem,” as I turn I remember, “Do you have any doggie treats, boy?”
The kid disappears for a moment and comes back with some Whiskas cat treats. “Will this do?”
Snippet won’t know the difference. I tip my hat, and bid the boy ado.
I go back to my idling Monte Carlo, Snippet is glaring at me and won’t acknowledge me for the next three days. That’s okay. Extra treats for Snippet for behaving.
I pull up a half block from my house, my mother is awake on the couch watching some night-time soap opera. I tell my Monte Carlo to park until next time. Without a rumble, the car takes off.
My father is passed out in his chair. I order Snippet back to his abode. He goes graciously. I use my cloaking device and silent shoes to sneak in through the back door and up to my bedroom.
I did my good deed for this episode.
That is my first idea born from boredom for ridiculous half hour comedy/drama show. Gotta love sitting staring at a blank screen!