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charlie_cochraneOne of my victims - sorry, participants - at the workshop was Mike Torr who's kindly allowed me to post his character mash-up here. The cards he drew gave him the stunning combination of Buzz Lightyear and Maggie Smith. I could never have written that, but he nailed it (and don't forget this was written in somewhere around fifteen to twenty minutes):
Buzz Meets Maggie
“Everybody stay back!” said Buzz, holding up a commanding arm to the toys behind him. “This is Space Ranger level adventure!”
“What can you see?” said Woody.
Buzz scanned the horizon, which in this case consisted of old costumes, curtains, crates of props, winches, lighting rigs, tripods, headphones, tatty scripts stapled together at one corner, mugs of tea, and in one case, even a hardback book with a streak of white powder still faintly visible on its surface. He frowned, and made a silent note to report that to base.
“I think this is it,” he told the others. “We’re definitely backstage. Wait! Hold it – someone’s coming.”
They all shrank back behind the sacking, as a woman in a glamorous dark blue gown bustled into view from the stage wings, her face tired but not quite grumpy.
Bo Peep climbed up onto a discarded boot. “That’s her!” she cried. “That’s Maggie Smith!”
“All right, Pigsy, you’re up,” said Woody. “Remember, stick with Buzz. He’ll look after you.”
Pigsy waddled forward. He was a dark brown cloth hippo, worn from decades of abuse. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice shaking.
“Good luck!” said Bo Peep, as Buzz grabbed Pigsy by the foot and ran forward, taking the new toy’s weight easily as he dashed along the dusty floorboards. He slipped into the dressing room just in time, as the woman closed the door.
“Good evening, Ma’am,” said Buzz, as politely as he could.
“Goodness gracious!” said Maggie as she looked down and saw them. “What is this?”
“We won’t take up a lot of your time, ma’am,” said Buzz. “This is my friend Pigsy, and he needs your help.”
“Pigsy? But isn’t he a…”
“Please don’t say it! He’s very sensitive.”
He beckoned her with a finger to lean down, pulled her ear towards him, and whispered, “He’s a pig, trapped in a hippo’s body.”
“I see,” said Maggie, gravely. “But what can I do about that?”
“Can’t you just transfigure him?”
She fixed her eyes on Buzz for a few seconds.
“I don’t quite know how to tell you this,” she said, kindly, “but I am, to my eternal disappointment, not Professor McGonagall.”
Buzz Meets Maggie
“Everybody stay back!” said Buzz, holding up a commanding arm to the toys behind him. “This is Space Ranger level adventure!”
“What can you see?” said Woody.
Buzz scanned the horizon, which in this case consisted of old costumes, curtains, crates of props, winches, lighting rigs, tripods, headphones, tatty scripts stapled together at one corner, mugs of tea, and in one case, even a hardback book with a streak of white powder still faintly visible on its surface. He frowned, and made a silent note to report that to base.
“I think this is it,” he told the others. “We’re definitely backstage. Wait! Hold it – someone’s coming.”
They all shrank back behind the sacking, as a woman in a glamorous dark blue gown bustled into view from the stage wings, her face tired but not quite grumpy.
Bo Peep climbed up onto a discarded boot. “That’s her!” she cried. “That’s Maggie Smith!”
“All right, Pigsy, you’re up,” said Woody. “Remember, stick with Buzz. He’ll look after you.”
Pigsy waddled forward. He was a dark brown cloth hippo, worn from decades of abuse. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice shaking.
“Good luck!” said Bo Peep, as Buzz grabbed Pigsy by the foot and ran forward, taking the new toy’s weight easily as he dashed along the dusty floorboards. He slipped into the dressing room just in time, as the woman closed the door.
“Good evening, Ma’am,” said Buzz, as politely as he could.
“Goodness gracious!” said Maggie as she looked down and saw them. “What is this?”
“We won’t take up a lot of your time, ma’am,” said Buzz. “This is my friend Pigsy, and he needs your help.”
“Pigsy? But isn’t he a…”
“Please don’t say it! He’s very sensitive.”
He beckoned her with a finger to lean down, pulled her ear towards him, and whispered, “He’s a pig, trapped in a hippo’s body.”
“I see,” said Maggie, gravely. “But what can I do about that?”
“Can’t you just transfigure him?”
She fixed her eyes on Buzz for a few seconds.
“I don’t quite know how to tell you this,” she said, kindly, “but I am, to my eternal disappointment, not Professor McGonagall.”
