Sponsorship Video Script

“I know that it’s been the twentieth take, but I think I got it this time.”

His ideas were nowhere to be found. Woodpecker Joe slumped back on the couch and groaned. He waved at the robot in front of him dressed as a Chinese martial artist. It nodded and turned off the camera protruding at its chest.

The kid by the window scoffed. “Sponsorship videos, am I right?”

Woodpecker Joe sucked his teeth. He held his head and glanced at the kid. “Benny, I finally got a sponsorship from a product that I wanted. I can finally make content that matters and makes us money instead of doing reaction videos.”

“I mean, what content creator doesn’t want to see other people make content out of their own videos. Or, you could’ve at least written a script to make it easier, I keep telling you.” Benny tightened his lips and gazed through the window. “You can also save this for later and help me clean since we’re going to meet our patron later.”

“No. I really think that… Maybe I’m not just feeling it yet. I have to get into the mood. Maybe… Maybe you’re right.”

“You don’t always have to believe in yourself to make good content, but sure… I’d like to be right again.”

“Well, I think it's great,” the robot flexes his middle finger with a cheery tone. “nevertheless. There are some ways that you can make this perfect, but I concur that having it sound like it was written by someone trying to amuse children is what gives it depth.”

Woodpecker Joe’s mouth hung. “Seven, buddy… one…” He pointed at Seven’s hand. “That’s the wrong finger. And two… What?”

“It's a… Smart Magic Sixteen Million Seven Hundred Seventy-Seven Thousand and Two Hundred Sixteen Ball that gives you compliments. It’s perfect for all genders, even the new ones like End Void Dragon Queen and Rainbow-eyed Wolf Princess.” Benny gave the window a melodramatic sigh. “It’s a problem.”

“We’re going to turn people into genies.”

Benny shrugged at Seven.

“No, I cannot spit it out. I assure you that all your thoughts matter, but I believe that consuming the Smart Magic Sixteen Million Seven Hundred Seventy-Seven Thousand and Two Hundred Sixteen Ball that gives you compliments would come through in the future. I’ll ask you to be patient. I enjoy being helpful.”

Benny rolled his tongue inside his mouth. He brandished his imagined long eyelashes to the glimmer of the sunlight ever so slowly. It took a second too long for him to materialize a hologram of a cigarette between his two fingers to puff out a greenish cloud of digital smoke that flashed the word “cool” along with weed and peace signs.

Benny nodded. “Fricking gosh darn it.”

“I want to make it memorable,” Woodpecker Joe said. “I want to appeal to the nature of man, or life itself. I want to inspire change and make a difference.”

“You’re selling people an augment to populate their face with randomized patches of pimples and freckles. What more do you want?”

“Maybe beauty?”

“You got already canceled for saying that the size of titties doesn’t matter,” Benny followed. “And this goes against what you want in the first place. Maybe dig a little deeper about the product and make content based on that?”

“Well…”

“Old man…” Benny sighed. “Starving in a world where everything tastes like candy is terrible. I don’t want to eat a handful of dirt again. It’s grainy and sweet, worst than sugar. I’m already giving you a lot by letting you all take the money this time so you can do something about that cracked wooden left arm of yours.”

“But I have principles, you know.” Woodpecker Joe glanced at Seven and back to him. “You don’t see me breaking into people’s homes and screaming that it’s just a prank. I want to dig deep, like what would it mean if you can spawn a bunch of freckles and pimples.” He looked at both his hands, his eyes glimmering. “What is… Frekimple Two Thousand.”

Benny’s eyes gleamed purple.

“That might be the case, but I can sense passion from your words,” Seven commented. “I implore you to make content because YOUR content is the only thing you could do. Test fate itself. Make content one after another until you snag the attention of a user that would soon become your avid follower.”

Woodpecker Joe smiled at Seven. “Buddy… that’s actually….”

Benny sighed. “Thank you, Seven.”

“I’m honored to have your praise. That is the Smart Magic Sixteen Million Seven Hundred Seventy-Seven and Two Hundred Sixteen Ball talking. But it feels amazing to be complimented when it comes to my innate genius. I am in a state of euphoria.” He raised both his arms and bared his robotic chest at the ceiling, shivering. “It feels extremely amazing.”

Benny dropped his cigarette and it fizzled to the wind.

“I think… I got it.” Woodpecker Joe breathed as he straightened his back. “Seven, whip up the dimensional camera and follow the rule of thirds. Make my couch a bit fine… apply the ‘natural’ and ‘real’ wood texture. Shift my background from our holographic wooden walls to just a bookshelf slightly tilted to the right to give me some depth. You can fill the books with a few words of great literature, make it smart.”

“Affirmative. Can I have permission to connect to the room’s holographic system once more?

“You bet,” Benny replied.

Seven unbuttoned his coat to show his camera once more. He raised one finger and summoned a window that showed Woodpecker Joe the live feed of what his camera was catching. “For the music, though?”

The scene was perfect. Woodpecker Joe crossed his legs and calmed himself at the back of his now wooden couch. “Refer to the ‘Mind-boggling Playlist.’ Anything should be fine.”

“Affirmative.”

“I’m good.” Woodpecker Joe combed his hair. His gaze sharpened. “Cue me in for the recording.”

“Playing the intro now. And we’re about to go in… three… two… one…”

“Desire.” Woodpecker Joe placed his fingers and looked into the camera. “The text that was written generations ago meant two things. One, we are foreigners of this world. Two, this world is broken and should not exist. The Ast Congregation, our dear city, is a testament to it. We are in both the world of science and fantasy, reminded by the Ethereal Rick, comparable to the Statue of Liberty from a lost age.”

Benny and Seven urged him to keep going. Woodpecker Joe smiled.

“It is but a tall man who seemed to be jiving in front of a mic, a figure that seemed to roll with our motions. We haven’t seen his back ever since he was built. Like the legend where the leprechaun’s gold sits at the end of the rainbow, we believe that the answer truly lies at that bulwark's elusive butthole.”

“Beautiful,” Seven said.

“Hold. Use the general footage of a drone circling the city, finding that it follows its movement, making it seem like the statue was dancing too. Keep it playing and overlay it with the start of the second scene. Cue me when we’re about to shoot it.”

“I’ve finished editing and placed the clip over your video. Capturing the second scene in three… two… one…”

“That butthole’s worth of truth is something we’ve rejected. We’ve curved our desire. We bent our nature to nothingness and we’ve become so good at it.” Woodpecker Joe raised his finger while keeping his crippling gaze at the camera. “Of course, we have no other choice but to do so because this foreign world makes monsters out of our humanity. If one wanted to fly, they’ll turn into a dragon and burn everything down. We’ve avoided it. We created digital worlds where anything is possible, not realizing that we’ve turned ourselves into a walking time bomb that would set itself off if we didn’t find a way to uneven our eyebrows.”

Woodpecker Joe froze. He started to sweat, almost panting. He looked at Benny and Seven before closing his eyes. He chuckled to himself and swallowed

Truly, Woodpecker Joe cannot serve both art and money.

“The c-company that sponsored us to…day,” he brandished his cracked wooden arm. “started their endeavors to rebel against that toxic mindset. We’re bringing back that desire. They started with the Unevener, the augment that lets your eyes be bigger than the other, your lips thicker than the rest, your teeth a bit yellowish, bigger than your line of pearly whites.”

And starving in a world where even the chair tastes like candy was not the best way to go.

“Imperfections are the key and they have what it takes to give your look more depth. What we have right now,” he twisted his arm to put up a hologram of a face. “is an exploration of that, the distant world before suffered from what they call… pimples and freckles… such the best times because they could have something that’s beyond their control, which makes them unique and admirable. With the Frekimple Two Thousand, you have more than two thousand ways to naturally decorate your face to have more of that humanistic touch that you have lost before in this imperfect world of imperfection.”

Benny scoffed. “Amazing.”

“The digital world already allows you to be what you want to be, but having that imperfect look in the real world is much much better. Accept that desire to be unique and be found beautiful or handsome despite what you look like. Be much more unique rather than be a carbon copy of what is considered to be beautiful.” He waved his hand and finger gunned the camera. “This is Woodpecker Joe from Odd Joe Odd Jobs, where every job is acceptable and cheap, telling you to allow yourself to be imperfect, and at the end… remember Frekimple Two Thousand.”

A part of Woodpecker Joe had died. Arms of shame and despair clutched his legs and brought him to his chair. Fear strained his eyes for a moment. What remained was a sense of sadness and disgust, which he’s very much welcome to share with everyone else.

“Benny… I’ve whored myself. Now,” he whimpered. “I’m nothing but a shell of who I was. I thought I could do it to fix my arm, and torment is what I got.”

“Negative. I assure you, even if that’s what you think, I think it's still admirable that you sold yourself in exchange for a single step toward your dream, to become the man, the myth, the legend with one-hundred subscribers. Everything has an equivalent cost, and if you ask me, you can expect an extra two percent increase in your progress to turn yourself into a person that would be remembered by many, Woodpecker Joe.”

“Right,” Benny laughed. “I’m on the highway to hell, though.”

“Negative. I assure you, even if your path veered away from becoming a ‘Dark King’ and moved towards a darker path that is becoming into an Insuffrebale Edge Lord, I think the steps that you’re taking now are necessary for your growth as a natural human being even if you’re looking like you’re just about to enter puberty.”

“I need you to spit that ball out right now.”

“Negative. It has proved to be helpful against my original benefactor.” Seven patted Joe’s head and forced out a triumphant but robotic laugh to Benny. “My jokes are amusing.”

Benny wafted a hint of purple smoke from his lips. There came a shiver. He clutched his chest and closed his eyes to relax. “I’m better than this. It's not even funny. It's not even a joke, to begin with. Right, I’ll keep him until I learn Jeet Kune Do.”

“While I understand your feelings regarding the matter of getting shut down by a robot intellectually, I have to admit that I admire your ability to move on and focus on a hard but attainable goal of learning a martial art. Incidentally, I have—”

Woodpecker Joe groaned. “Do we still have time for the meeting?”

“Ah, yes.” Seven stopped and turned his head to him. “I was about to remind you until we have fifteen minutes left, but you were early for about two minutes and three seconds. Good Job. A customer asked for an audience for a very specific request. It was said here that further details are to be provided upon our acceptance of the request, and since we did five seconds after receiving the message, more would be provided later.”

“Perfect,” Woodpecker Joe slapped both his cheeks and smiled. “Any chance what it’s about?”

“Affirmative.” Seven tilted his head to mimic an imaginary smile. “Here it reads that he wanted us to ruin someone’s life.”