Isle of Dogs Page #3

---

the mental health question:

maybe it's because of that

propeller-clutch stuck

in the side of his head

I can't say, I'm not a doctor,

but I think the little pilot's

got a screw loose.

Those are the cons.

You heard the rumor, right?

About the little pilot.

Which rumor?

What is that?

Kobayashi is

his distant uncle.

He's the mayor's ward.

- What?

- ALL:
Whoa.

Be that as it may,

let's look at the pros.

That boy flew here, all alone,

and crash-landed

onto this island

for one reason;

one reason only:

to find his dog.

To the best of my knowledge,

no other master,

not one single human master,

has made any effort

to do that.

They've forgotten

all about us.

I propose we start tomorrow,

first-light.

We'll cross

the Middle Fingers.

We'll find the tugboat

on the Dune.

We'll go see Jupiter

and Oracle.

They'll know what to do.

Let's take a vote.

All in favor say "Aye".

- ALL:
Aye.

- CHIEF:
Nay.

Who's the nay-sayer?

- ALL:
Him.

- CHIEF:
Me.

That kid is gonna get us all

put to sleep. Euthanized.

We won't find the dog,

but we will die trying.

Not a bad way to go.

You're out-voted, anyway.

(SPEAKING JAPANESE)

Science-Party Candidate

Professor Watanabe

has been placed

under house-arrest today

at Toho Mountain Ryokan

after offering sharp criticism

last night

of the

Kobayashi Administration's

Canine Saturation-crisis

policy:

(WATANABE SHOUTING)

(SPEAKING JAPANESE)

student Walker.

Thank you, Editor-Hiroshi.

You all know me.

I speak my mind,

and sometimes

that ruffles some feathers.

Please, forgive my bluntness.

Mayor Kobayashi is a crook,

and I hate him.

Right now,

he faces a divided congress

during a hotly-contested

re-election year.

Dogs are dying

on a miserable island.

Gullible masters

have been brainwashed.

The Science-Party Candidate

is being held against his will

with no recourse

to legal counsel.

Somebody is up to something.

(STUDENTS SPEAKING JAPANESE)

a conspiracy theory?

I have a hunch.

I don't print hunch.

(STUDENTS CHATTERING)

Huh?

I'll spell it out.

I believe

Municipal Dome propaganda

has deliberately stoked

irrational, Anti-Dog fear

and suppressed a medically

proven Dog-Flu treatment

in order to promote

a secret campaign

to turn the country against

its innocent house-pets.

There. I said it.

Can you prove it?

I don't know.

To tell you the truth:

I don't know.

(I WON'T HURT YOU PLAYING)

MAN:

I've lost all of my pride

I've been to paradise

and out the other side

NARRATOR:
Part Two:

"The Search for Spots."

With no one to guide me

Torn apart by a fiery wheel

inside me

An untouched diamond

That's golden and brilliant

without illumination

Your mouth's

a constellation

The stars are in your eyes

I'll take a spaceship

and try and go and find you

NARRATOR:
The Middle Fingers

of Trash Island

wind and weave up-river,

inter-stitched

by zig-zagging pipe-lines

and rusty viaducts.

The ruins of

a failed utility-complex

washed-out by tsunami.

The rubble of an abandoned

power-plant

demolished by earthquake.

The remains of a deserted

industrial estate

destroyed by volcanic blast.

I won't hurt you

I won't hurt you

I won't hurt you

I won't hurt you

NARRATOR:
The Old Trash Island

Athletic Club,

member-less

and long-forgotten.

KING:
Okay, I got a question.

What's your favorite food?

REX:
A double-portion

of Doggy-Chop from the can

mixed into a bowl

of broken Puppy-Snaps

with a vitamin

crushed up into it.

BOSS:
King's the spokes-dog

for that.

He's the Doggy-Chop dog.

KING:
Mmm. Used to be.

DUKE:
Was that

your daily meal?

REX:
Not always. My master

was a school-teacher.

We weren't rich,

you know. You?

KING:
A center-cut Kobe

rib-eye, seared,

on the bone,

with salt and pepper.

REX:
Wow.

KING:
It was my birthday

supper. Every year.

BOSS:
Mine's hot-sausage,

yakitori-style.

The snack vendor always

saved me one on game-days.

KING:
Hmm. Duke?

DUKE:
Ah, green-tea ice cream.

My master had a sweet-tooth.

I probably inherited it

from her.

(SNEEZES)

You heard the rumor, right?

About Doggy-Chop.

Remind us again.

What rumor?

Oh, they folded.

Oh, no.

Doggy... Doggy-Chop folded?

How about you, Chief?

What was your favorite food?

Me? Oh, I don't care.

Garbage, trash,

scraps of rubbish.

I'm used to left-overs.

ALL:
Hmm.

REX:
Yeah, yeah.

CHIEF:
Of course,

I wasn't always a stray.

Wait. What'd you say?

I said I wasn't always

a stray.

REX:
Really? Since when?

BOSS:
Tell us about that.

(CHIEF SIGHS)

I've been hunted by

dog-catchers all my life.

I'm not easy to trap.

I've only got three captures

on my record

where I actually got sent

to the pound, I mean,

and the first two times,

I escaped within 24 hours,

but the third time...

(WIND HOWLING)

I got adopted before I could

finish digging

the break-out-tunnel.

It was a big family.

Five kids.

Two other dogs, already.

They stuck me

in the back of a station-wagon

and drove me out

to the middle of the sticks.

Grass, trees, swimming pool.

Cartoons on TV.

Anyway, one morning

a week later,

the youngest boy,

his name was Toshiro,

woke me up at 6:
15,

bright-eyed, wide-awake,

and he tried to pet me.

He didn't mean anything by it.

He was just being friendly.

Apparently, I bit him so hard,

I nearly chewed his hand off.

Blood all over

the kitchen floor.

They rushed him

to the emergency room

and I got pad-locked out

in the tool-shed

with the lights out.

It gave me some time to think.

What happened?

Why did I do that?

To this day, I have no idea.

I guess he scared me.

I bite.

That night, an old woman,

she must've been

the grandmother

brought me out a bowl of some

homemade hibachi-chili.

I like to think she cooked it

for me,

personally -but who knows?

Maybe it was just

more left-overs. But...

You've got a tick.

(SPITS)

Anyway, that's my favorite

food I ever ate.

The old woman made

a great bowl of chili.

What happened after that?

I dug my way out by morning,

jumped on the back

of a dump-truck,

and hitched back to Megasaki.

I was always a street-dog,

let's face it.

(RUSTLING)

Somebody's stalking us.

(SPEAKING JAPANESE)

As you know, we all hate dogs.

Chairman Fujimoto-san,

President of

Kobayashi Pharmaceutical.

You secretly introduced

mega-quantities

of infected fleas

and contagious tick-larvae

into a metropolitan

city center,

creating an unprecedented

animal-disease out-break.

Thank you.

(APPLAUSE)

General Yamatachi-san,

Commander of the Megasaki

Municipal Task force.

You oversaw the deportation

of over 750,000 caged-animals

to a nearly uninhabitable

off-shore refuse-center.

Good work.

(APPLAUSE)

Supervisor Kitano-san,

Director

of Kobayashi Robotics.

You developed the most

promising artificial life-form

in the history

of corporate-technology-

and a powerful new weapon,

to boot.

Well done.

(APPLAUSE)

Yakuza Nakamura-san,

Head of

the Clenched-Fist Gang.

You eliminated

all Pro-Dog opposition

Rate this script:2.3 / 3 votes