03x18 - Sabrina, the Teenage Writer

[bunniefuu]

Toast is up.

That's odd. We weren't making toast.

Oh, no!

It's a chain letter.

There are no metaphors
in the Other Realm, are there?

Other Realm chain letters
are the worst.

If we don't immediately
send strong iron chains

to other people,
horrible things will befall us.

Okay, so which of my dearest
friends do I hate the most?

Stop right there.

Bad luck is not brought on
by silly superstitions like chain letters.

You're right.
They're brought on by black cats.

That is a hateful stereotype.

It's brought on
by midgets in dresses.

ZELDA:
Give me that.

We are going to throw
this chain letter away.

And nothing horrible will happen.

I'm sure this is just a coincidence.

If the in-flight movie's bad,
I'm jumping.

A "B"? What did you get?

A C-minus?

Wow. This is the first time
I ever got a better grade than you.

Yep. It's my paper.

"Your characters are undeveloped,
and your plot seems contrived."

- Of course it's contrived. I made it up.
- Hey. I got a C-plus. What did you get?

She got a C-minus.

Sabrina got a C-minus?

Sabrina, the genius, got a C-minus.

I always feel
the minus part is personal.

I've never gotten
a C-minus in my whole life.

[CHUCKLING]

[BELL RINGS]

I gotta talk to Mr. Franco.
And remember to floss.

Mr. Franco, I wanted to talk to you
about this C-minus I got.

I'm sure you'll do better next time.

I'm horribly upset about it this time.

I've grown accustomed
to getting A's.

They cushion the blow
when I get a pimple,

or have to climb the rope in gym.

Sabrina, everyone gets
a C once in a while,

and no one can climb
the rope in gym class.

It's there to humiliate people.

I should have trusted
my instincts and taken Shop.

Hey. I gotta get to gym class.
We get to climb the rope today.

[MUFFLED CHATTER]

So to recap,

you have done nothing to respond
to this chain letter?

You both held your tongues.
Excellent.

You will find the best way to stop
a chain letter is to simply ignore it.

Let's let the professionals
track down the culprit

and bring him to justice.

You can't lose faith.

Because if I must say so myself,

I think all of us
are doing a pretty good job.

Ladies.

[HILDA MOANS]

Oh.

Well, we can't catch everybody,
now can we?

Sabrina, is something
bothering you?

You look like I do when I've
accidentally eaten apricots.

Your larynx hasn't collapsed, has it?

No. I'm just working on this story.
I got a C-minus on the last one.

I heard.

I'm working hard to prove
it was an aberration.

Oh, then, I'm sure
this one is wonderful.

Let me hear some.

Okay. Well, it's supposed to be
a genre piece, so I picked romance.

"Clare looked at Robert,
and Robert looked at Clare.

Clare and Robert
were looking at each other.

Clare didn't wanna fall in love,

but nothing in her crazy life
made sense

and she lost all feeling
in her thumbs."

You don't have to be good
at everything.

KRAFT:
Well, if it isn't "C-brina."

Perhaps you can improve your grades
by studying in detention.

Detention? What did I do?

Even John Grisham has
to pick up his trash.

Missy?

Or should I say, Miss-C Minus?

[KRAFT CHUCKLES]

More sugar for your tea?

This is more awkward than when
we had lunch with the Elephant Man.

Please let me send the chain letters
and get rid of these annoying curses.

No. We are taking the postmaster's
advice and not giving in.

Fine. Then get your big, fat hand
out of my way.

You get your big,
fat hand out of my way.

- Oh! Oh.
- Ow!

You broke my big, fat nail.

Hey, shouldn't you be
working on your story?

I'm trying to find some stupid inspiration
to write my stupid story.

I recommended she watch
this spy movie.

Is this movie helping you at all?

Well, so far, it's about
a very handsome spy

who drives a sports car
with machine g*ns in the headlights,

beautiful women,
an evil scientist with an eye patch,

more beautiful women, and a plot
to corner the uranium market.

But I'm only ten minutes in.

Maybe you'd be more inspired

if you had the classic
accoutrements of a writer.

Gin, night sweats
and a bad marriage?

I was talking about
my old manual typewriter.

It always used to inspire me
when I was in college.

I think it's still up in the attic.

Well, I'll try anything.

Beats sitting around here
with Salem yelling, "Bring it on, baby,"

every time there's a woman
on the screen.

Okay. Here goes nothing.

Hopefully, a well-written nothing.

Let's see.

"International spy, Derek Kink,

has been given
the assignment of stopping..."

I need a villain.

"Dr. Bad."

I'll fix that later.

Uh...

"An evil scientist
bent on taking over the world."

Ha. I'm good. Wow.

Soon, my face will be on
the side of Barnes & Noble bags.

[HILDA GIGGLES]

ZELDA: Hilda!
- Go away.

I am mailing
these chain letters tonight

and getting rid of these wolf ears.

- No.
- Yes.

[SIREN WAILING]

[BOTH HOWLING]

Where were we?

- Yes! Yes!
- No! No!

I aced my story. I just know it.

I might have blown mine. I wrote
a techno-thriller, but I set it in the ' s.

C? But that's impossible.

I typed it on a manual typewriter.

The same kind
William Faulkner used

when he wasn't passed out drunk
on the veranda.

[BELL RINGS]

If it makes you feel any better,

I've gotten so many Cs,
my next one's free.

And if it makes you feel any worse,

I got a B.

Can I talk to you about this?

Sure. I thought this story was better,

but it had some of the same
problems as the first one.

Even though the spy genre
was a good choice,

the characters didn't seem real.

Didn't seem real?
But I based them all on real people.

I mean, come on,
Dr. Bad, an evil scientist

who kills teenagers
with detention slips of death.

Sound like a certain
"Krafty" vice principal?

You give much thought
to that name, "Dr. Bad"?

W-- And-- And "Derek Kink"?
Harvey Kinkle.

I mean, it was practically nonfiction.

That's not character development.

A good writer knows everything
about her characters:

their history,
their strengths and weaknesses,

and what motivates them.

I put it in a nice binder.

Shirt untucked.

I drew straight from life.

Dr. Bad?

Here's your detention slip

of death.

[DR. BAD CACKLING]

Oh, no. My characters
have come to life.

And that means
that student's about to die.

All I did was wear
my skates to school.

And Mr. Franco said
that my characters weren't real.

I've gotta stop Dr. Bad.

Ah, Lydia. Lydia Kissenkill,
my favourite double agent.

And this is my newest w*apon:
The pom b*mb.

A cheerleader tosses it at someone,
say, a spy,

and then: rah-rah, sis-boom.

Oh, dear. His head came off.

- Oh.
- Hee-hee.

It's marvellous what they can do

with a little crepe paper
and plastic expl*sives.

[BOTH LAUGH]

- Oh!
- About your crashing GPA.

There's an enrichment program
for remedial students.

They have chocolate milk. And once
a year, they take a trip to the zoo.

How did magic get into my story?
I have to get home and talk to my aunts.

- Valerie.
- Vivian.

Oh, right. Vivian Soontodie,

the beautiful agent who works
with Derek Kink. And UNICEF.

- We have to meet Derek.
- Love to, but I have to get home.

I have a black belt in disciplines
of Oriental martial arts.

Then clearly, I'm coming with you.

- Harvey?
- Kink's the name. Derek Kink.

Of the European Special Service.

Pineapple smoothie?

Derek, we have to get to our briefing.

- Right.
- And I have to get home.

Hey, you're making me
spill my smoothie.

Mrs. Doohickey.

No time for niceties, Kink.

We have the special equipment
you'll be needing for this assignment.

These seemingly
innocent-looking erasers

when clapped together
emit a poisonous gas.

Chalk up another success.

Fortunately, the effects
are only temporary.

Well, good luck
with your weapons and poison.

I'll just toddle along.

[SABRINA SHRIEKS]

- You okay?
- Yeah.

That last scream
really cleared up my sinuses.

Are you going to lunch?

Can't. I gotta go home
and figure out--

Why I forgot my lunch.

ZELDA: I don't like this show.
Do you have the remote?

HILDA: No. I foolishly forgot to pick it
up before I unexpectedly grew feet.

ZELDA: I'm going to blame the altitude
for your rudeness.

The characters in my story are alive.

Thank goodness my home can be
a shelter from the madness.

HILDA:
Sabrina, could you speak up?

It's hard to hear you from up here.

The people in my spy story came to life
and they're running around my school.

The only way that could happen

is if you accidentally used
Hilda's magic typewriter,

but she got rid of that years ago,
didn't you, Hilda?

By "get rid of,"
you don't mean "kept," do you?

ZELDA: Hilda.
- I'm sorry.

I know I was supposed to give it away,
but I love writing romance stories

with myself as the heroine,
and then watching them come to life.

It isn't pathetic, is it?

Can we come up with a solution?
There's a group of spies

running around my school.
And my neck is k*lling me.

Oh, dear. What kind of an ending
did you write for your story?

Well, it was late, and I was really tired,
so I just had Dr. Bad...

When this b*mb goes off,
all the teenagers will be annihilated,

and everyone will think
they were k*lled

in a science lab experiment
gone terribly awry.

Dr. Bad, you are a genius.

An evil genius.

[DR. BAD CACKLES]

I had him blow up the school.

ZELDA: When working
with a magic typewriter,

you can never let
your characters die.

Well, I didn't know I was working
with a magic typewriter.

Right. Sorry.

The problem is,
when your characters die,

their real-life counterparts also die.

Oh.

And I just spent the last two years
foolishly making friends.

I suggest you go up to your room
and rewrite that ending.

Don't worry. We'll help you.

How do you plan
for us to get upstairs?

There. See?

Man, there are a lot
of Frisbees on the roof.

SABRINA:
I've got the ending.

Dr. Bad is about to blow up the school,
but then decides not to.

Oh, honey, you can't
just force the ending.

It has to come
from the character's history,

motivated by their strengths
and weaknesses.

That's the same thing Mr. Franco said,
and I still find it annoying.

But the good news is,

if you find the right ending,
it practically writes itself.

What is my bra doing on the roof?

Uh, the squirrels need a nut feeder.

ZELDA: Sabrina, we can help you
write a new ending.

Try this. Dr. Bad has captured Derek
and tied him to a buzz saw.

There's always been an unpleasant
edge to you, Dr. Bad.

I am k*lling you just to stop the puns.

Suddenly, Dr. Bad turns
to Lydia and says...

Turn off the saw.

- Why?
- Why?

Well, the way the courts have been
cracking down on evil geniuses lately,

it wouldn't be practical
for me to k*ll him.

I'd end up having to pay
a legion of lawyers,

which I'm sure would just wipe
out my entire retirement plan.

That's a terrible ending.

I thought it was very contemporary.

HILDA: You have to come up
with a believable ending,

or your characters will reject it.

What am I saying?
Turn the saw back on!

[DR. BAD CACKLING]

Fictional characters
can be such prima donnas.

Can we get back to the ticking b*mb
that's gonna vaporise my friends?

Not to mention the only candy machine
in town that has Nutrageous bars.

Right. Try this.

As the other characters
look on helplessly,

Derek Kink and Dr. Bad
are locked in a fight to the death.

Yes, I have found
a worthy opponent in you, Kink.

Much too worthy to k*ll.

How about a square dance instead?

Delightful.

What? That's a much worse ending
than mine.

It's an unexpected twist.

Who are you people to judge my art?

No wonder I'm no good.
Look at my gene pool.

A cat could write a better ending
than that.

And will, if you start typing.

Kink had surprised Dr. Bad...

You're through, Dr. Bad.

I-- I--

I would like to ask you
to square dance.

WOMEN: Salem.
- Okay. I froze.

Uh-oh.

We're changing again.

Whoa.

Had to plant rosebushes
under Sabrina's window.

SABRINA:
I figured something out.

- Oh, the ending?
- No.

I've figured out
I'm no writer, I'm a doer.

So I'm gonna go back to school
and solve this thing myself, in person.

There's a little something
on your teeth, Zelly.

Hey.

No spots.

No wings. No webbed feet.

Hilda, we've beaten
the chain letter.

I knew I was right to hold out
against that silly superstition.

Actually, I sent out
letters this morning.

I was not going to apply mascara
to my six new eyes.

Oh, well, I have to admit
it's kind of a relief to be normal again.

I liked being taller though.

I know. You can wear
anything when you're tall.

[GASPS]

They're loose in the school again.

I've gotta somehow get them together
and disarm the b*mb.

Vivian!

- Where's Derek?
- Huh?

Wouldn't a laptop computer
be more convenient?

Still can't work Windows .
Gotta go.

If I'm her weird friend,
I must be really weird.

Excuse me. Even the head cheerleader
can't be in the hallway without a pass.

Okay. I am having a heart attack,
and I have to fill out a form for the hole.

Talk about a glamour don't.

Cat suits went out six years ago.

Hyah!

I wouldn't start any long books
if I were you.

Oh, no.

Uh... "Dr. Bad's wheelchair
started spinning out of control like--"

Whoa!

"Like a wheelchair
spinning out of control."

Run, Harvey.

Why couldn't it have been
a magic legal pad?

Mrs. Quick.

Mrs. Quick.

Have you seen Libby Chessler?

She brought some sort
of lethal laser device

to school today and nearly k*lled me.

Huh?

Harvey, have you seen Sabrina?
She's acting--

Is there an afternoon prom
that nobody asked me to?

Lydia.

Okay, that was weird.

All right. Don't start whimpering
until you get to your office.

Don't start whimpering
until you get to your office.

[WHIMPERING]

Oh, Mrs. Quick.
I mean, Mrs. Doohickey.

- Have you seen Derek?
- Who wants to know?

Will you hold this a second?

"A mysterious blond spy

asks Mrs. Doohickey
for help in locating Derek Kink.

Mrs. Doohickey leads her to him."

Follow me.

Next time, write that Mrs. Doohickey
carries the typewriter.

[WHIMPERS, SCREAMS]

- Don't hurt me. Oh, God.
- Mr. Kraft.

- Why are you acting like a freshman?
- Because--

You're not armed?

- In that case, you are suspended.
- What?

- Yes.
- Valerie needs to be suspended.

She kicked me.

Well, that-- That would explain
your strange behaviour.

Miss Birkhead fries. Come on.

Huh! Oh, dear.

Substitute teacher.
I don't think she looks like you at all.

The psychic was right.

I was separated at birth.

Ah! Keep her away from me.
She has poison chalk dust.

I don't even have gum.

What is going on
at this school today?

Oh, it's a pretty normal day.

Although, I did learn
I have an exact duplicate.

She just ran down the hall
with Sabrina.

You know, every time anything strange
happens around this school,

the trail always leads to Sabrina.

Or to janitor Bob.

But we know that Sabrina
is still in the country.

Come on.

SABRINA:
Derek. Dr. Bad has planted a b*mb.

An expl*sive situation.

- I know where it is. Come with me.
- Dynamite idea.

And you can cool it with the puns.

Look, what happened
between us was wrong.

Sabrina's my best friend,
and you're her boyfriend, and--

- When did you change your clothes?
- Couple days ago?

Miss Birkhead, I am suspending you
for attacking Libby.

- What?
- When did you change your clothes?

What did you do
with your wheelchair?

- What?
- Oh, look.

There's Sabrina.

Who's that with her?

Someone who looks like-- Harvey?

- And you?
QUICK: And me.

Hi!

I could've been pulling down
grand a year selling gold.

But no, I had to teach.

Okay.

- Turn it off.
- Delighted.

What's the procedure here,
Mrs. Doohickey?

I only make things blow up.

I don't know how
to stop them from blowing up.

I don't know which wire to cut.

Oh, no.
My characters don't know what to do.

They don't know why they're doing what
they're doing. Character development.

Okay. "Derek Kink's father wanted him
to go into the family business: corn.

But Kink loved science.

Against his family's wishes, he joined
the b*mb Disposal Unit of the FBI."

Does anyone have a pair
of -millimetre insulated wire cutters?

I believe you are all my prisoners.

You don't understand.
There's only a few seconds left.

If Derek doesn't disarm the b*mb,
we're all gonna die.

Then we will all die together.

[DR. BAD CACKLES]

Sabrina Spellman, this is Mr. Kraft.

Come out with your hands
behind your head.

Don't move.

Come on, Kinkle.
A separated shoulder won't hurt.

DR. BAD:
Hey!

SABRINA:
The wire. The wire.

DEREK:
I've got it.

This is all going on your
permanent record, young lady.

"The end."

Three weeks' detention,
starting this afternoon.

Another happy ending.

So I saved the school from blowing up,
and I rewrote my story in detention.

Teacher gave me a B-minus.

It's not an A, but it's not a C either.

I always feel
the minus part is personal.

I'm just glad you realised that
because you're not great at something

doesn't mean you can't learn from it
and have fun with it.

That's what I always say
about dating.

But I never learn anything,
and I don't have fun.

Wait a minute.

So you're saying
I'm not a great writer?

Well... You see...

[BELL DINGS]

Oh, my. There's toast.

Oh, it's from the
Other Realm postmaster.

He says they caught the person
who started that chain letter,

and he's been dealt with accordingly.

Good. What kind of a foul fiend
would abuse the mails?

- I was just reaching out to people.
ZELDA: Oh, dear.

The postmaster also says that because
we sent chain letters ourselves,

we have to be punished too.

But--

SABRINA:
I loved you in The Wizard of Oz.

Fly. Fly.