The Show Must Go Roy (WRONG!)

Panel 1:Wide shot of the WereHouse loading dock. Stacks of road cases, speaker cabinets, cables, and lighting rigs fill every inch. Roy — disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, a technical manual tucked under one arm and a coil of cable over his shoulder — hauls a heavy speaker cabinet across the floor. Jennifurr crouches nearby torquing a rigging bolt with her bare hands. Cadillac leans against a road case with a toothpick in his mouth, watching.

“Jennifurr: No shift dude! Its been slammed! Cadillac : Even I moved a couple cases this week!”

Panel 2:Close-up on Roy's face: exhausted, sweaty, eyes bloodshot. He holds a thick technical manual titled 'PRISMATIC SOUND ENGINEERING VOL. 3' with sticky notes jutting from every other page. He has an evil vape in his mouth

Panel 3:Medium shot. Gary floats through a wall holding a clipboard, beaming, a gold star sticker sheet in his ghostly hand. He presents Roy with a printed schedule showing a week's worth of packed days — each day covered in Roy's own handwritten notes and corrections.

“Gary : Roy! You've been clocked in for 23 hours straight without sleep! That’s a human record for this shop!”

Panel 4:Wide panel. The entire WereHouse floor is visible — road cases labeled 'PRISM SHOW' stacked to the ceiling, speaker arrays rigged on dollies, a massive mixing board on a wheeled cart. Evil Forklift sits in the corner, glowing green eyes half-lidded, a fat green joint smoldering on his forks, Gadsden flag sticker gleaming. Green smoke drifts lazily across the carefully packed gear.

“Evil Forklift : If Roy dies before the clients ask for a refund I win office pool””

Narrator:“One week of prep. One show. One chance to get it right.”

Panel 1:Medium shot. It's late evening — the WereHouse is dim, most lights off. Roy sits alone at a folding table, books and printouts spread everywhere, a cold cup of coffee at his elbow. The clock on the wall reads 5:00. Axel appears in the doorway, silhouetted, pointing at Roy.

“Axel: Roy. The Prism Beings are extremely sensitive to feedback. You need to—”

Panel 2:Close-up on Roy's face. His eyes are barely open, lids drooping. He raises one hand in a dismissive wave without looking up from his notes, the other hand propping up his chin.

“Roy : Yeah, yeah. Well actually, Axel. Got it. I’ve had enough of your feedback about feedback!”

Panel 3:Medium shot from behind Axel in the doorway. Axel stiffens, arms crossed, staring at Roy's slumped back. One eyebrow raised. A long beat of silence.

“Axel: …I don’t think “too much feedback” and “Roy” belong in the same sentence…”

Panel 4:Insert panel — extreme close-up on the clock on the wall. The hands land exactly on 12:00. The second hand ticks forward.

Narrator:“The clocks stops for no Wolf! ”

Panel 5:Wide shot. Roy's head drops forward and hits his open book with a soft thud. He is completely asleep at the table. Axel is gone from the doorway. The room is silent and empty except for Roy and his mountain of notes.

Narrator:“The night before the show. Roy slumbers! ”

Panel 6:New panel

Panel 1:Establishing wide shot. A grand supernatural concert venue — enormous, ornate, filled with supernatural beings in formal wear. The stage blazes with prismatic light. A massive banner reads 'THE PRISMS — A CELEBRATION OF LIGHT.' The Supernatural Prism Being stands at a podium center stage — a diamond-shaped figure of pure radiant glass in a sharp suit, monocle, and a rainbow halo of refracted light. The audience glitters.

Narrator:“Show night. Roy’s first time running sound for a big show. Roy’s first time to make it or break it. Literally. ”

Panel 2:Medium shot. Roy stands at the sound mixing board in the wings, headphones around his neck, staring at the board with intense concentration. Jennifurr stands beside him with a tablet and a cable tester, watching the stage. Both look sharp — as sharp as they get.

“Jennifurr: How's the mix sitting? Roy : Clean. Real clean. I've got this.”

Panel 3:Close-up on Roy's hand hovering over the mixing board. His index finger rests on a single fader labeled 'PRISM DAD — MAIN VOC.' He nudges it up — just a millimeter. His face is focused, confident.

“Roy : Just a tiny bit more presence...”

Panel 4:Wide shot of the stage. The Supernatural Prism Being is mid-sentence at the podium, arms spread wide. Then — a horrible screech of feedback tears through the hall. Sound waves visually rendered as jagged red lines radiating from the speakers, slamming into the Prism Being's glass body.

“Supernatural Prism Being : And it is my honor to welco— AAIEEEEE—”

Panel 5:Full-panel explosion shot. The Supernatural Prism Being SHATTERS — a spectacular burst of a million glass fragments, each one glowing with prismatic rainbow light, radiating outward in every direction like a diamond bomb going off. The monocle spins in slow motion. The suit jacket flutters. The audience ducks.

Narrator:“Roy’s horrible mixing created the prefect mixture of feedback and stupidity to shatter the Celebrity Prism Speaker into oblivion! ”

Panel 1:Wide shot. Roy and Jennifurr are on their hands and knees on the stage floor, surrounded by thousands of tiny glittering glass prism fragments. Roy has a roll of gaffer tape. Jennifurr has a tube of industrial glue. They are desperately trying to stick pieces back together. The result is a sad, lumpy, lopsided pile of glass shards held together with tape and glue.

“Roy : Okay. Okay. We can fix this. Jennifurr: Roy, we cannot fix this.”

Panel 2:Medium shot. A gaggle of knights in full plate armor — All the Kings Men — clanks onto the stage from stage left, carrying buckets of mortar, a tiny stepladder, and a scroll labeled 'REASSEMBLY PROTOCOL.' They are clearly from the Humpty Dumpty tradition and are extremely confident about this.

“All the Kings Men : Fear not! We've done this before!”

Narrator:“All the King’s Men arrive to help to put Prism together again! ”

Panel 3:Wide shot. All the Kings Men have made it worse. One knight has glued his gauntlet to the floor. Another has the monocle stuck to his visor. A third has assembled what appears to be a small glass pyramid, which is not the Prism Being. Roy and Jennifurr stare at the result, faces blank. Split panel, All the Queen’s Women (a female version) sit at home bored, but capable.

Narrator:“Once again, All the King’s Men failed. All the Queen’s Women never even got the call….”

Panel 4:Close-up on Roy and Jennifurr sitting side by side on the stage floor, surrounded by tape, glue, glass, and a knight who has fallen over and cannot get up. Roy's head hangs. Jennifurr's hands are covered in glue. They both stare at the pile of glittering pieces. Their shoulders touch.

“Roy : I'm so sorry, Jen. Jennifurr: ...Yeah.”

Panel 1:Medium shot. Axel strides onto the stage, arms crossed, chin up, wearing an expression of transcendent smugness. Their werewolf ears are perked forward. One hand holds a set of headphones. The other is raised with a single finger pointed skyward — the universal gesture of 'I told you so.'

“Axel: I love to say I told you so…But I told you so!”

Panel 2:Close-up on Roy's face looking up at Axel from the floor. His expression is a masterpiece of exhausted defeat — eyes half-closed, tape stuck to his hair, a smear of glue on his cheek.

“Roy : Ok… Actually I was wrong….”

Panel 3:Medium shot. Axel cracks their knuckles, rolls their neck, and places the headphones on. Their eyes begin to glow — a deep amber-gold werewolf light. Psychic energy crackles around their fingertips in visible arcs. They close their eyes and raise both hands, palms outward toward the pile of glass.

“Axel: I'll reverse the sound waves. Amplify with psychic power. Essentially: I will unfuck Roy's mistake!”

Panel 4:Wide shot. Axel thrusts their hands forward. Visible sound waves — rendered as concentric golden rings — radiate outward from Axel's palms and wash over the pile of glass fragments. The fragments begin to vibrate and lift off the floor, spinning slowly in the air, catching the light.

Panel 5:Full-width panel. The thousands of glass fragments swirl together in a vortex of golden light and prismatic color. They spiral inward, clicking and locking together with tiny flashes of light. The Supernatural Prism Being REFORMS — standing tall, suit straight, monocle back in place, radiating a full prismatic rainbow glow. Magnificent.

Narrator:“The Prism Being Has Been Resurrected! It Has Risen!”

Panel 6:Wide shot of the audience — supernatural beings on their feet, applauding wildly. All the Kings Men clank their gauntlets together in armored applause. One falls over again. The crowd is euphoric.

Panel 1:Medium shot. Roy approaches Axel with his hand raised high for a celebratory high-five, grinning ear to ear — the first real smile he's had all issue. His arm is fully extended, palm flat, ready.

“Roy : YES! Axel! High five!”

Panel 2:Close-up on Axel's hand — just as Roy's palm is about to make contact, Axel whips their hand away smoothly and combs their hair back with it instead. The smuggest expression in the history of smug expressions.

“Axel: Too slow.”

Panel 3:Wide shot. Jennifurr, Cadillac, Frank, Gary, and Evil Forklift are all visible — they've made it to the venue. Evil Forklift's green eyes crinkle with glee, exhaust pipe puffing celebratory green. Gary floats above, laughing so hard he phases halfway through a lighting rig. Cadillac has his toothpick in place, shoulders shaking. Jennifurr covers her mouth, laughing. Frank lets out a huge belly laugh.

Panel 4:Close-up on Roy's face. He's still got his hand out in the failed high-five position. He looks at the camera. Then, slowly, a genuine grin breaks across his exhausted face.

“Roy : ...Yeah. Okay. Fair.”

Panel 1:Wide establishing shot. The Howling Pint bar — warm, glowing, packed with supernatural patrons. The crew has claimed the full length of the bar: Evil Forklift on a raised platform beside the bar, green eyes half-lidded, a glowing green joint the size of a traffic cone in his forks; Jennifurr on a stool, jacket off, laughing; Axel perched on a stool with arms crossed but a rare satisfied smile; Roy slumped on a stool, still has gaffer tape in his hair; Cadillac leaning back with his toothpick; Frank filling two stools. Mil the Bartender stands behind the bar, purple glow lighting the bottles as she telekinetically lines up shot glasses.

Narrator:“Post-show. The Howling Pint.”

Panel 2:Medium shot. Mil the Bartender stands behind the bar, six shot glasses floating in a perfect arc in front of her, each filling simultaneously with a glowing amber liquid — all without her touching them. Her purple glow pulses warmly. She raises an eyebrow at Roy.

“Mil the Bartender : Round's on the house. For surviving.”

Panel 3:Close-up on Axel's face. They turn to look at Roy with a perfectly calibrated expression — half-smirk, one eyebrow raised, absolute forensic smugness.

“Axel: What was that shit show, Roy? Were you smoking Crystal Mess?”

Panel 4:Wide panel. The whole crew — Roy, Jennifurr, Axel, Cadillac, Frank, Gary (floating), Evil Forklift — raises their shot glasses in unison. Gary's glass phases halfway through his hand but he holds it up proudly. Evil Forklift balances a shot glass on his forks. Mil stands behind the bar, glass raised telekinetically. A moment of pure crew solidarity.

“Roy : I suck! Jennifurr: Roy sucks! Axel: I was right! Gary : Pithy line! Evil Forklift : I wasn’t really in this episode!”

Panel 5:Wide shot. Split in two. First shot: The entire crew hurls their empty shot glasses in unison toward the back of the bar. They all yell “catch Gremlin!” Second shot: Gremlin — hunched, sweaty, smock filthy — is bussing tables when the glasses rain down on him. Each one hits and SHATTERS against him in a burst of brilliant prismatic rainbow light — exactly like the Prism Being earlier. Gremlin stumbles, rights himself, and keeps bussing. He does not stop. He never stops.

Panel 6:Final panel. Black caption box at the bottom of the page. Below it, a small insert image of Gremlin still bussing tables, surrounded by broken glass, a single crack of prismatic light across his face. He doesn't look up.

Narrator:“Once again alcohol, carelessness, and chaos win the day! The moral is lost — somewhere in the glass-ridden back of the hapless bar back!”