The BetterWorld Show
Another Junior Chronicles Chronicle
by Robert Alan
(not yet illustrated)


Chapter 1. The Pilot. As in sitcom. Not airplane, pen, furnace light, or Yodel Bus. Although our Yodel Bus certainly makes quite an entrance in the next chapter!

The name's Kid. The BetterWorld Kid. You got a problem with that? Oh, you do. Oh, okay. That's cool.

"Cut! Cut! Junior we are not doing an 11 year-old's comic strip on our show!"

That's my sister, Ellie. She does this to me all the time. She's 15. She thinks she's a grown up. She wants our show to be about grown up stuff. Stuff that'll "wake people up" and turn them into save-the-world activists. War and poverty, gang violence and world hunger. That kind of stuff. I'm 11. I'm a kid. I want the show to be about kid stuff. Pokemon, wizards and video games. With a twist of course. After all, this is "The Better World Show" we're talking about.

"That's great. Keep going with it.

" That's our director. He loves it when we argue. "Makes good TV!" he claims.

I know you're wondering how and why it is we, of all people, were chosen to make a pilot for a new reality show.

Of course, Sis thought they picked up our reality show concept because of all the important social issues she talked about on our audition tape.

Dad thought it was because he claims to have been a celebrity in some other-dimensional-universe.

Mom thought it was because of her witty banter while she baked her award-winning pies.

Me, I thought it was because our family is just about the strangest one you'll ever meet. There's lots of STRANGE stuff on TV, but we're stranger than EVERYTHING else I've ever seen.

Turns out they just liked the irony. Our audition tape for "The Better World Show" had quite a bit of "friendly disagreements" going on. They didn't really pay attention to the content on the tape, however.

They should have before they signed our six-episode contract. If they'd have actually watched our tape, they would have been a little more prepared for the "strangeness" that was about to be recorded on their TV cameras. Because a few guest stars were about to drop in, and our reality show was about to take a sharp turn away from reality.


Chapter 2. Now that's an entrance!

So picture this.

Dad's going on and on about his bubblegum-blowing trophies over on the mantle in the living room, and the camera-guy's doing his best not to nod off.

But of course he can't because Sis is standing on a stack of soap boxes, spouting about starving kids in Africa, debt-relief and the crises in Darfur and Uganda, while flipping down sharp-edged photographs with disturbingly sad pictures at the poor camera guy, who is trying to keep the cameras rolling while he does his best to dodge the disturbing images and sharp edges.

And Mom's off to the left in the kitchen trying her best to get the camera-guy's attention through the picture window in between the kitchen and living room. She's got this cheesy smile painted on her face while she's juggling six bowls of custard and pudding and meanwhile stirring six others on the counter, two with each hand, and one with each foot. And the spoon wedged in between her painted smile is whipping up each of the six flying bowls as they fly by. And the poor camera guy's doing his best to dodge the splashes of pudding and custard that keep flying at him.

The director, of course, is in his own world watching some video on his iphone. And the way his eyes were bugging out of his head, I'm sure it wasn't G-rated.

And me, I'm just sitting on the couch watching my watch, because I was expecting guests, and they were running late.

But they sure did make quite an entrance.

Even the Director tore his eyes away from his steamy video when the Yodel Bus crashed through the front door and screeched to a stop, inches away from the camera-guy.

The poor guy nearly had a heart attack, but I don't think he flinched, and the cameras rolled on without a pause.

"Um, I didn't do it," Dad gasped, from underneath the pile of trophies that had crashed down on him, after the light fixture he'd leaped up onto ripped from the ceiling and crashed onto the shelf, spilling all the trophies down onto his head on the floor.

I should point out that Dad is definitely not the best driver in the world, and when things like this usually happen (and they usually do happen at our house) it's always Dad behind the wheel.

This time, we found out when the camera-guy zoomed in, and we all turned to the TV monitor, that a little kitten had been driving. It cutely jumped up and down on the wheel, and each time it jumped it split in two or three or six and back to three and two andů

"Six Pack!" Ellie, Mom, Dad and I shouted excitedly as we raced toward the Yodel Bus, climbing over broken pieces of the wall and shards of what used to be our front door, to get to it.

The camera-guy's mouth was practically hanging on the floor, but he kept filming. be continued...


Not yet illustrated.

© 2009 Robert Alan
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