The blankets are the first thing Mr. Peanutbutter notices as he wakes up. They're a welcome distraction from that creepy dream. Have they always been this soft? As Mr. Peanutbutter works to untangle his legs from the bedsheets, he realizes they feel different against his... skin. He has skin now?
After stumbling out of bed - a bed he realizes is not the circular bed he's had for years - he makes his way to a nearby mirror. Staring back at him isn't the lovable face of a playful yellow lab - instead, it's a human face with strange features. If they could, his ears would shoot straight up.
Beyond his own reflection in the mirror, he realizes this isn't his room. After he leaves the room to explore, he realizes this isn't his house. Shaking his head, he mutters to himself in quiet disbelief:]
Am I the lead single to Talking Heads' fourth studio album? Because I may find myself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. And I may ask myself... "How did I get here?"
[At least his quirky references remain intact.]
[II. Don't be a square
If not for the party hat that's just been shoved on his head, one might assume Mr. Peanutbutter is one of this town's strange inhabitants already. He's eagerly scarfing down the gelatin they've prepared, laughing at everyone's jokes (and delivering some solid zingers of his own), and making friendly conversation.
Sure, none of them seem to be familiar with his filmography or clever references, but what can he say? He likes parties! At one point mid-conversation, he spots something out of the corner of his eye. It couldn't be - ]
Erica? Erica!
[It seems Mr. Peanutbutter believes he may have spotted an old wallflower friend of his from back home. He lets out a bark of jovial laughter.]
Man, I guess this place'll abduct just about anyone, huh?
[At which point, this old dog will disengage and try to slip through the crowd of people. Chances are he may bump into you along the way, or once he gets to his destination, it's possible he may have actually mistaken you for his old acquaintance! Whoops.]
[III. At some point in October
Perhaps you've decided to try and investigate this town with Mr. Peanutbutter. As you make your way through the neighborhood together, he gladly shares his findings with you.]
Okay, okay, so I get that we're in California, and the year is 1951. It's nice and brisk outside, and there's leaves scattered all over the place. According to those cartoons on TV, we're only weeks away from Halloween, so that must mean... it's either October or January.
[It makes sense in his head. Just trust him on this one.]
[IV. Always respect the dead
The jingle abruptly ends, cutting off the small tinny voice trying to speak through the bursts of static. Mr. Peanutbutter stares, mouth agape, at the television before lighting up as bright as a jack o'lantern - ]
Wow. That was pretty ominous!
[ - if only its candle were lit. There's a sharp knock at the door, and Mr. Peanutbutter's grin grows wider. He strolls towards the front door, a big bowl of candy in hand.]
Now who could that be?
[Hopefully the grubby little fist that punches straight through the window is enough of a hint for the others in his household.]
[V. Wild card
Got something else in mind? Feel free to PM this journal to plot, or just hit me with your best shot here!]
Mr. Peanutbutter | BoJack Horseman
The blankets are the first thing Mr. Peanutbutter notices as he wakes up. They're a welcome distraction from that creepy dream. Have they always been this soft? As Mr. Peanutbutter works to untangle his legs from the bedsheets, he realizes they feel different against his... skin. He has skin now?
After stumbling out of bed - a bed he realizes is not the circular bed he's had for years - he makes his way to a nearby mirror. Staring back at him isn't the lovable face of a playful yellow lab - instead, it's a human face with strange features. If they could, his ears would shoot straight up.
Beyond his own reflection in the mirror, he realizes this isn't his room. After he leaves the room to explore, he realizes this isn't his house. Shaking his head, he mutters to himself in quiet disbelief:]
Am I the lead single to Talking Heads' fourth studio album? Because I may find myself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. And I may ask myself... "How did I get here?"
[At least his quirky references remain intact.]
[II. Don't be a square
If not for the party hat that's just been shoved on his head, one might assume Mr. Peanutbutter is one of this town's strange inhabitants already. He's eagerly scarfing down the gelatin they've prepared, laughing at everyone's jokes (and delivering some solid zingers of his own), and making friendly conversation.
Sure, none of them seem to be familiar with his filmography or clever references, but what can he say? He likes parties! At one point mid-conversation, he spots something out of the corner of his eye. It couldn't be - ]
Erica? Erica!
[It seems Mr. Peanutbutter believes he may have spotted an old wallflower friend of his from back home. He lets out a bark of jovial laughter.]
Man, I guess this place'll abduct just about anyone, huh?
[At which point, this old dog will disengage and try to slip through the crowd of people. Chances are he may bump into you along the way, or once he gets to his destination, it's possible he may have actually mistaken you for his old acquaintance! Whoops.]
[III. At some point in October
Perhaps you've decided to try and investigate this town with Mr. Peanutbutter. As you make your way through the neighborhood together, he gladly shares his findings with you.]
Okay, okay, so I get that we're in California, and the year is 1951. It's nice and brisk outside, and there's leaves scattered all over the place. According to those cartoons on TV, we're only weeks away from Halloween, so that must mean... it's either October or January.
[It makes sense in his head. Just trust him on this one.]
[IV. Always respect the dead
The jingle abruptly ends, cutting off the small tinny voice trying to speak through the bursts of static. Mr. Peanutbutter stares, mouth agape, at the television before lighting up as bright as a jack o'lantern - ]
Wow. That was pretty ominous!
[ - if only its candle were lit. There's a sharp knock at the door, and Mr. Peanutbutter's grin grows wider. He strolls towards the front door, a big bowl of candy in hand.]
Now who could that be?
[Hopefully the grubby little fist that punches straight through the window is enough of a hint for the others in his household.]
[V. Wild card
Got something else in mind? Feel free to PM this journal to plot, or just hit me with your best shot here!]