Title: A Flea Problem A Hotel Transylvania Specia
Title: A Flea Problem
A Hotel Transylvania Special
Wayne was playing fetch with 3 human children in the nearby forest, as he couldn’t help acting like a dog as he chased around in all fours and catches the ball with his mouth. But soon after another throw as he chased after it, Wayne stopped in his tracks to start scratching furiously, rolling on the ground and biting (\grooming) his fur, realizing he has fleas that are having are intense party, causing Wayne to itch. The only way for Wayne to stop scratching is for the children to tell the fleas to play more calmer music.
Info: (2nd opening scene) After Wayne catches the ball, he scratches his ears in front of the children as he nudges the ball to be thrown again as Wayne hops for joy. But the children don’t mind the scratching. Wayne does this 1-4 times, unaware that there is no discomfort or irritation. (DO NOT SKIP)
Info 2: Wayne whimpers and howls softly (but cutely in a way) when he realizes he has fleas.
Info 3: The children try to tell the fleas to play calmer music as Wayne scratches himself. The fleas process to play calmer music as Wayne’s itching and scratching slow down as he grunts in happiness. The fleas don’t leave, but the children mean no harm.
Info 4: Wayne acts like a dog, he doesn’t speak.
Info 5: (1st opening scene) After Wayne catches the ball for the first time, Daisy scratches him behind the ears and say “Who’s a good boy? <–(X2) You are!” , before Wayne scratches his ears as he nudges the ball to be thrown again.
Info 6: The characters play at nighttime.
Info 7: When Wayne scratches himself furiously, rolling on the ground and biting (\grooming) his fur, Max imitates what Wayne’s doing, but the two children stop them to their dismay.
Characters:
Wayne the Werewolf
Fleas
3 Children (Max, Daisy and Emma)
The moon hung high in the sky, casting an ethereal glow on the forest floor. Wayne, a werewolf with a heart of gold and a penchant for doggy antics, was in his element. He’d been playing fetch with three human children – Max, Daisy, and Emma – and his tail wagged with pure joy. Each time he’d catch the ball, Daisy would scratch him behind the ears, her voice sweet and warm, “Who’s a good boy? You are! Who’s a good boy? You are!”
After a particularly satisfying catch, Wayne couldn’t help but scratch his ears, nudging the ball with his nose, urging them to throw it again. His hopping for joy went unnoticed by the children, who were oblivious to the tiny party happening beneath his fur.
The fleas, invisible to the naked eye, were throwing a rave. They were bouncing on Wayne’s skin, playing their own brand of music – a high-pitched, frenetic symphony that only they could hear. Wayne didn’t notice at first. He was too caught up in the game of fetch.
But then, the music got louder. The fleas’ party became more intense. Wayne suddenly felt a strange itch, a prickling sensation beneath his fur. He scratched his ears, then his back, then his belly, his face contorting in discomfort. The itch wouldn’t stop.
He began rolling on the ground, his ears flat against his head, his paws frantically trying to reach the source of the itch. He whimpered softly, a low, mournful sound. The children watched, perplexed. Max, ever the imitator, started scratching himself, then Daisy, and even Emma, their faces scrunched in confusion.
“Stop! Stop it, guys!” Max and Daisy’s parents called out from the nearby cabin.
The children stopped, but the itch was driving Wayne mad. He whined and howled, his frustration rising. His body was a battlefield of tiny, invisible creatures. He scratched himself with growing desperation, digging his claws into his fur.
Suddenly, Max, who had been watching, had an idea. He looked at Daisy and Emma, then pointed at Wayne. “He’s got fleas! They’re playing too loud.”
Daisy, ever the brave one, took a deep breath and spoke to the air, “Fleas, fleas, please play calmer music! Wayne doesn’t like it loud.”
Emma followed suit, her voice small and earnest, “Yeah, please! Wayne wants to play fetch!”
The fleas, sensing a change in their environment, paused their raucous revelry. The music became softer, calmer, a soothing hum instead of a frenzied beat. The children, beaming with pride, watched as Wayne’s frantic scratching subsided. He relaxed, his whimpers fading into contented grunts.
The fleas, now playing mellow music, were still there, but Wayne was happy. The itch was gone, the party toned down. He was free to enjoy the game of fetch, his tail wagging once more, his heart filled with gratitude for his friends who understood his silent plea. The children, oblivious to the invisible world of the fleas, knew only that their furry friend was happy, and that was all that mattered.
