EPISODE 1, SCENE 1:

[June 2026 — Writer’s Room, late afternoon]

[A cluttered West Michigan loft-studio: lyric sheets everywhere, mugs, guitars, Morgan the pomchi snoozing on the “Executive Producer” chair. Everyone looks half-burned-out, half-delirious.]

DR. KAT (smiling at the absurdity):
So the irony is… Alaine thought she was bartering for a one-night cameo — couch scene, two lines, tops.
Now she’s enshrined in the opening credits of a show called Isn’t It Ironic?
She wrote herself in without realizing she was writing herself in.

RICKLES:
Hold up. She signed on for one line, one couch, one night—
and now she’s stuck singin’ the theme for the whole damn series?
That’s not irony, that’s extortion.
Or good management—depending who’s cashing the checks.

PHIL LUNDY:
You have to admit, it’s cosmic.
The woman who gave us a song called “Ironic”—which technically wasn’t—
is now the voice of our irony song.
That’s either fate or one helluva callback.

CASEY BRIGHT (deadpan, to camera):
She gave us one verse in the contract.
Page twelve. Dead pilot clause.
Now it’s the hook of the whole franchise.
She’s not mad—she’s laughing.
’Cause that’s irony too..

[A knock. The door creaks open. Sunglasses. Attitude.]

[Enter ALAINE MORRISLES, amused but wary.]

LORENZO CHAMPION (standing, instantly flustered):
Ms. Morissette — uh, Ms. Morrisles — per your contract, here’s the revised Isn’t It Ironic theme.

[He slides a crisp lyric sheet. She sighs, rolls her eyes… then smiles.]

ALAINE:
Alright… let’s see what you people cooked up.

CASEY (to camera):
Eight writers, eight verses.
One possible lawsuit.

[A soft acoustic strum begins. She reads straight from the sheet — first take, no rehearsal.]

LORENZO’s VERSE (sung):
It’s Lorenzo laughing while the plan falls apart,
Casey’s steady pen, Kat’s therapeutic heart;
Rickles roasts the room then somehow plays it kind.
Isn’t it ironic?
We’re writing our own punchlines.

[She half-smiles, tilts her head toward Lorenzo: 

ALAINE:
You poured your heart out here, didn’t you?

RICKLES’ VERSE (sung):
Lorenzo says he’s done — then starts another book,
Casey calls it genius, Rickles calls it luck;
Lundy cackles, Eko’s rolling his eyes.
Isn’t it ironic?
We’re legends in disguise.

[Alaine leans in, stares at his bald head. He squirms. The room erupts.]

CASEY’s VERSE (sung):
It’s ‘Cheap Whiskey’ on a comeback stage,
Introverts united, never actin’ their age;
It’s Morgan the Pomchi barkin’ right on cue.
Isn’t it ironic?
This song’s about you.

[She delivers it earnestly. Casey gives a quiet, almost proud nod.]

EKO’s VERSE (sung):
It’s introverts makin’ a show about fame,
It’s winnin’ the lottery without knowin’ the game;
It’s gettin’ your big break when you’re old and gray.
Isn’t it ironic?
You wouldn’t want it any other way.

[She locks eyes with Eko. He blushes. She grins.]

ALAINE (to Eko, spoken):
I actually like that one.

[Applause, laughter. She finishes all the proposed lyric verses, then sets the sheet on the table. The room holds its collective breath.]

ALAINE:
Okay. Yes, I’ll sing your theme song — for real.
In fact… I kinda like you people.

[She picks up the mic again.]

ALAINE:
…but I’m only keeping my verse. And Eko’s. Okay?

[She tears off the last page, hums a new melody, and belts her rewritten closing verse:]

ALAINE (sings):
It’s singin’ a joke line just to help pay the rent,
And findin’ your voice becomes the show’s cement;
Thinkin’ you’re background when the spotlight’s on you —
Isn’t it ironic…
that’s what artists do.

[Mic drop. Silence — then cheers!!]

RICKLES:
Of course she keeps pretty-boy’s verse.

[Eko hides his face. Kat pats his shoulder.]

CASEY:
And that’s why you read the fine print.

[Alaine heads for the door, then stops, playful glint in her eye.]

ALAINE:
Oh — and about that contract?
I want the Airbnb host role.
The one who overhears the old hippie laughing and talking to himself while co-writing his book online.
That one’s mine.

[She bows, exits.]

[Rickles bursts out laughing.]

RICKLES:
Of course she wants to play the woman who calls you crazy!

LORENZO:
She just gave us our show’s heartbeat.
Let her have the role — and the verse.
Yaaay!!

[Laughter fills the room. Morgan barks once, perfectly on cue.]

SCENE 1: Loss of the Beagle

Camera drifts in on CLANCY CEE, mid-60s, gentle-faced, still in his teacher
lanyard. He stands beside a 2012 Chevy Equinox, clutching an empty leash.
The tag reads “Hazel.”
The car engine ticks in the chill.
One long beat, then a whisper:

CLANCY:
Good girl, Hazel … you did so good.
He closes the car door softly,
as if not to wake anyone.

Cut to: [CHARTER SCHOOL OFFICE – NEXT MORNING]
Kids’ crayon drawings line the wall: “Mr. Cee is the Best!”
Two students run in and hug him around the waist.

CLANCY (smiling through it):
Hey, team — I got your essays.
Everyone passes if you spell “onomatopoeia.”

They giggle and run off. He exhales.

The DEAN (mid-stride, not looking up):
You still here, Carl?

CLANCY:
My name’s Clancy… Clancy Cee.

DEAN:
Right… Clancy. You’re still listed as part-time, right?

Silence, just the hum of fluorescent lights.

CLANCY:
Yeah. Fifteen years, part-time. Guess I’m consistent.

The Dean keeps walking. Clancy’s smile holds a second too long, then folds.

CLOSE UP — Clancy’s fingers absently loop the leash. Empty.

* * * * *

SCENE 2: Invisible Man

[COMMUNITY COLLEGE -- NIGHT CLASS]

A lonely overhead buzz. A half-empty box of donuts sits on the lectern beside a coffee mug that reads “WRITE ON.” Clancy Cee, an adjunct professor at the Community College one night per week, faces a dozen night-students — nurses, retirees, single dads.

CLANCY:
Tonight’s the easy part. You already have a voice.
You just gotta stop asking permission to use it.

A phone pings. Chairs squeak. Students begin zipping bags before he’s finished.

CLANCY (half-smile):
Okay… guess we’re done early.

One student waves on the way out.

STUDENT:
Good luck, Mr. Cee!

They’re gone before he can reply. He mouths his first name under his breath.

CLANCY:
…Clancy.

[ADJACENT OFFICE – MOMENTS LATER]

The DEAN (same one from the charter-school scene, different tie) scrolls email without looking up.

CLANCY:
I might, uh… need some time off.
Travel, maybe. Figure things out.

DEAN:
You’re hourly, Clancy. Time off is built-in.

That lands like a punchline no one laughs at.

CLANCY (softly):
Right. Built-in.

[CLASSROOM – LATER]

Clancy sits at the teacher’s desktop.
On-screen: “Creative Writing 201 – Find Your Voice (Roster 2025).”
Cursor blinks.
He selects All → Delete.
Confirm? YES.

A faint trash-can ping echoes in the empty room.
He exhales — first clean breath all night.
Picks up the donut box, walks out into the hall light.

[SOUND CUE: Same soft-guitar motif from Act 1 returns, one note higher.]

SCENE 3: Substitute Teacher Hell

[MONTAGE – A Day in the Life of Mr. Cee]
playful upright-bass cue begins;

[CHARTER SCHOOL CLASSROOM – MIDDLE SCHOOL]
Clancy reads from the sub plans:
“Show the Bill Nye video. Answer questions after.”

CLANCY (trying earnest charm):
Okay, gang, I’m Mr. Cee—any questions before we—

A paper airplane sails past his ear.
He catches it, smooths it open.
Inside: “Good Luck, Mr. Seaweed.”

[TEN MINUTES LATER]
Projector won’t start.
Kids chant: “BILL NYE! BILL NYE!”

He finally hits Play — the bulb pops.
Room goes dark.
Applause!

* * * * * 

[CHARTER SCHOOL CLASSROOM – ELEMENTARY]

Clancy crouches beside a kid crying over a glue spill.

CLANCY:
Hey, buddy, accidents happen.

He pats the child’s shoulder—two teachers walk by. Awkward silence. 

FEMALE TEACHER:
He’s a hugger.

[LATER THAT DAY]

Fire-alarm blares mid-sentence.

CLANCY (shouting):
Quiet down, guys—!

Red strobes flash; papers scatter like confetti.

[FACULTY LOUNGE – LATER THAT AFTERNOON]

Clancy stands at the copier. It beeps.

SCREEN: “ACCESS DENIED.”

He swipes again. Same result.

CLANCY (Voice-Over):
Even the copier stopped recognizing my password.

Cut to — copier light blinking like a tiny blue eye of judgment.

[CAFETERIA – LATE DAY]

Wide shot. Clancy alone at the teacher table, stabbing cold tater tots, students roaring somewhere offscreen.

CLANCY (V-O):
Sometimes the universe has to turn off your badge before it lets you start over.

[FADE OUT -- light jazz / upright-bass with brushed-snare] 

SCENE 4: Charlie Brown Moment

[CLANCY CEE’S LIVING ROOM – NIGHT]

Dim lamplight. Stacks of short stories, unpaid bills, a half-empty bottle of ginger ale. On the wall hangs Hazel’s leash, looped like a question mark.

CLANCY (pacing, phone to ear):
Hey Wally… it’s me. You ever feel like you’re the punchline after the credits?

(long pause)
I mean, I keep waiting for the audience to leave so I can clean up the popcorn.
Anyway—call me back if you get a minute.

He ends the voicemail. A beat later, the phone buzzes with a text:

WALLACE: 
“Sorry bro, double-shift tomorrow. Good luck out there.”

Clancy smiles at the screen, a small defeated smile.
He turns toward the leash on the hook.

CLANCY (softly):
I guess it’s finally Nomad time.

[BEDROOM / MONTAGE]

Clancy lays a stack of books in a beat-up trunk.
Laptop wrapped in an old flannel shirt.
He sits on the bed, shoebox open beside him with Hazel’s tag and one crumpled photo.

CLANCY (to the room, half-laughing):
Good grief. It seems I really am a retired Charlie Brown now —
Only I’m sixty, can’t retire, and my ‘Linus’ has a real job, and my ‘Snoopy’ just died.

He closes the trunk. Clicks off the lamp.

Although, I have finally learned to steer clear of the ‘Lucy’s’… if I can help it.

SCENE 5: Supertramp Leaves the Garage

[CLANCY CEE’S GARAGE – MORNING]

The Equinox idles under a single dangling bulb. Boxes, the old leash, Hazel’s collar hanging beside a rake. Clancy slides the last tote into the trunk, wipes his palms on his jeans.

CLANCY (to himself):
Another gig I never started. Another voicemail they’ll delete on Monday.

He dials Lorenzo Champion’s number. Goes to voicemail.

CLANCY (to Voicemail):
Hey Lorenzo — sorry to bail before I barely even start, man.
I guess I’m not your guy after all. 
I’m actually doing that Nomad travel idea that I mentioned. 
On my way to Cleveland.
Thanks for the shot. Stay brilliant.

He hesitates, then adds, softly:

CLANCY:
Tell Casey I finally found my voice — just don’t think anybody’s listening.

He ends the call, tosses the phone on the passenger seat.

CLANCY (to himself):
First trip alone. No Amazon Music. No Hazel. Just me and my CDs.
(beat)
What could possibly go right?

He buckles up. Fumbles through a collection of loose CDs, and selects a cracked plastic case:
Supertramp – Greatest Hits.

The jewel case pops open, disc wobbling like a coin.

CLANCY:
Let’s see if you still remember me, old friend.

He jams the disc in backward, fixes it, laughs at himself.
The stereo skips—then catches—to Track 2.

CAR SPEAKERS:
“Goodbye, stranger, it’s been nice / Hope you find your paradise…”

CLANCY (blinks, half-smiles):
Weird how Jesus always plays the right song —
even when you tried to choose a different one.

Clancy drives away down the block; daylight flares across the windshield.

Cut to: Clancy on the highway, window cracked, his last hairs in the wind.

Next track: “The Logical Song.”
He’s singing every line until—

“…Now watch what you say or they’ll be calling you
a radical / a liberal / fanatical / a criminal…”

He quiets, chuckles darkly.

CLANCY:
I guess Supertramp really does know its Facebook demographic.

Beat of silence. Then he cranks it up anyway, belting the chorus.

SCENE 6: We Made the Team

[MICHIGAN HIGHWAY – EARLY EVENING]

Montage: Clancy driving past cornfields and rusting billboards. He is still singing along with Supertramp, off-key but free.

CLANCY (to himself):
First Airbnb. First vacation in a decade.
Kent County Kompanions are two wins from the frickin’ playoffs.
All signs point to… maybe.

Phone rings. Unknown number. He almost ignores it.

CLANCY:
Hello?

LORENZO (ON PHONE, noisy bar ambience):
Clancy Cee? Hey, brother — it’s Lorenzo Champion!
I just talked with Casey Bright — you still doing those daily journals?

CLANCY:
Uh… yeah, just for me.

LORENZO:
We want to hire you -- while you’re on the road. 
Our music, and Isn’t It Ironic, need that heart.
You write what you live.
Casey and I think you’ve got gold in there, man.

CLANCY:
Wait — you mean like… actual hire me?

LORENZO:
Full salary, expenses covered 
… more details to follow? 

Clancy freezes, mouth open. Traffic honks behind him. He pulls to the shoulder.

CLANCY:
You’re serious?

LORENZO:
Dead serious. Welcome to the Writers Room, baby. Talk later.

Click. Call ends.

[HIGHWAY SHOULDER]

Clancy steps out, laugh-crying into the sky. He pumps a fist, then another.

CLANCY:
You hear that, Hazel? We made the team!

He leans against the car, laughing through tears as Supertramp fades into the background.

Phone buzzes again — WALLACE

CLANCY:
Wally! You won’t believe this — I got a break, man!
Cheap Whiskey is gonna pay me to write my own life!

WALLACE (ON PHONE, deadpan):
That a thing now? Get me one.

CLANCY:
You kidding? You already got a life. I just finally found mine.

MONTAGE — Highway signs, gas stations, laughter.
CD PLAYER: “Guess I’ll always have to be / Living in a fantasy / From now on…”

Camera drifts up as Clancy’s Equinox disappears down the two-lane.

SCENE #7: Supertramp Promotion

[AIRBNB NIGHT – LATE NIGHT]
Laptop open. Clancy types his report to the Writers Room, eventually spinning it into a short-story skit.

CLANCY (TYPING):
Subject: Day 1. Jesus orchestrated my playlist.
Supertramp is now officially my #1 favorite all-time rock band.
That first hour felt like a message.
Played it again just to be sure.

SEND.

Moments later, a reply pings from CASEY BRIGHT:

CASEY (EMAIL):
You do know what a “Supertramp” is, right?

CLANCY (REPLY):
Yeah. Me.
Finally got the promotion.

He throws his arms up as the car door slams and the music surges — full-band Supertramp, joyous and ridiculous.

SCENE 8: The Road to Cleveland

[Cue same Supertramp instrumental — now under a low AM-radio filter.]

[REST-AREA PARKING LOT – NIGHT]
Clancy’s Equinox sits under buzzing sodium lights. He’s eating vending-machine peanuts, watching the baseball replay on his phone.

DAN POPLIN (SPORTSCASTER/VOICE-OVER):
The Kent County Kompanions make it six straight wins at home!
Playoffs in sight for the first time in fifteen years—

Clancy pumps a fist, alone in the car.

CLANCY (to himself):
Six in a row, baby. Don’t you dare lose now.
(pause)
I sure hope I don’t jinx ‘em.

He looks toward the dark highway — GPS blinking CLEVELAND – 171 mi.

CLANCY:
All they need is two more wins.
And I’ve got two nights to kill in Cleveland.

He starts the engine; the map voice chirps, “Proceed to route.”

[BAR IN CLEVELAND – NEXT NIGHT]
Clancy orders a whiskey sour and notices a woman in a sequined turban flipping Tarot cards beside a TV showing the Kompanions warming up.

MADAME ZELLA:
They’ll lose almost every game on the road.
The Kompanions don’t travel well.

CLANCY:
You mean the players?

MADAME ZELLA (smiling):
No, honey. The holy ones in their clubhouse.

She raises her glass just as the broadcast cuts to commercial.

ANNOUNCER (V-O):
Coming up next — live from Cleveland!

SUPER ON BLACK:

Supertramp – “Take the Long Way Home” (Instrumental Reprise) 

SCENE 9: Irony Writes Itself Around You Introverts

[WRITERS ROOM -- NIGHT]

Empty coffee mugs. Rickles is scrolling on his phone;
Casey is scribbling doodles of album covers;
Kat is perched on the arm of the couch.
Lorenzo stands at the whiteboard, marker squeaking.

LORENZO:
That’s twelve tracks for the second album.
One open slot -- reserved for Casey’s closer.

RICKLES:
Hold up -- you’re cutting ‘HAIR(cut)’ from the album set list?

LORENZO:
Yeah, not feeling it. I’m done fighting folicles.
I’m cutting my hair --
Shorter hair, clean head, clear mind.

RICKLES:
Jesus, the irony writes itself, being around you introverts.

RICKLES:
(scribbling “IRONIC” on his pad)
The Man spends eight episodes defending a song about Hair, with a bald guy … then cuts it.

KAT:
He’s shedding the symbolism. Less hair, more honesty.

RICKLES:
So that means Joyous Sadsack makes the cut?

LORENZO:
Clancy is gonna be geeked, eh?

Lorenzo dials Clancy’s cell phone.

[CLANCY’S AIRBNB -- 10 MINUTES LATER]

Clancy is seated on the couch of his Airbnb, still on the phone with Lorenzo.

LORENZO:
Yeah, sooo sorry about Hazel, man.
Sometimes the world breaks your heart … just to remind you it still works.

(pause)
I do have some good news for you, though.
Album 2 is locked in.
Joyous Sadsack made the cut!!

RICKLES (yells from afar):
Cry if you want to, Clancy. We’re already drinking.

Clancy laughs through the tears welling up.

[LATER THAT EVENING:]

CLANCY (to himself):
Hazel girl … we made it.

He picks up the collar, presses it to his chest. Laughter breaks again -- sobs and giggles wrestling, pure Joyous Sadsack. Then he grabs his phone.

CLANCY (dialing):
Hey, Wally. It happened.
Yeah, for real. Album credit. Bonus.
And get this --
Isn’t It Ironic got picked up. All five slots.
Looks like I’ve got a full-time gig that’s actually a real job.

(chokes up, laughing)

They get me, Wally.
Finally -- somebody gets me.

Silence on the line, then Wallace’s voice.

WALLACE (Voice-Over):
Hazel’s probably wagging like crazy up there in Heaven, huh?

Clancy wipes his face, smiles at the Airbnb ceiling.

[Cut back — to Writers Room]
CASEY:
He good?

LORENZO:
Oh, he’s better than good.
He’s heard.

Soft underscore of the Joyous Sadsack riff rising as the scene fades to black.

SCENE 10: Clancy Can’t Cee

[CLANCY DRIVING HIS EQUINOX -- NIGHT]
Clancy is singing along to more Supertramp. “Rudy’s on the train to nowhere.”

He shuts off the CD player, and begins humming a different tune.
One he’s been working on writing for a few days now….

(Clancy sings aloud in car — Chuck Berry tempo, electric swing) :
Clancy Can’t Cee, and he’ll admit it
Squints at the GPS like he’s trying to knit it
He drives ten-under with holy conviction
One hand on the wheel, one on his prescription
If you see his blinker on since last July
Just pass him gently and wave goodbye.

Clancy grabs his handheld recorder and clicks Record.
Then begins his song again from the top, vowing to send this to his new employers.

SCENE 11: Tattoo on the Soul

[CLANCY’S AIRBNB -- NOON]
Clancy is wired from the recent news and his new life. Emboldened, he dials Lorenzo’s cell phone. They converse for several minutes about their shared love of Supertramp.

CLANCY:
First time I heard them was ‘Crime of the Century’ 
— I was 17, post-dental work, still numb.
I thought: who is this band?
They went straight to my soul. Mesmerized.
And minutes later, my sister died in that freak accident.
No regrets I didn’t go greet her that day —
I’d just hugged her the night before, after babysitting.
Still, Supertramp carved its place right then.

LORENZO (quiet, reflective):
That’s not just a memory.
That’s a tattoo on the soul.
Of course Supertramp rises to #1 on your list.

CLANCY:
I’ve got my all-time Top 22 ranked now, revised.
Criteria keeps shifting.
But Supertramp’s officially my #1 now.
Always updating. Always refining.

JULIAN EKO (overhearing the conversation): 
Music as criteria for hierarchy. INFJ logic. I respect it.

RICKLES: 
Top 22? Only Clancy Cee picks a number that doesn’t fit on a jukebox card.

SCENE 12: The Real Hazard

[HIGHWAY OUTSIDE CLEVELAND – NIGHT]
Clancy is back on the road. A driver behind him is shining its brights and driving way too close for Clancy, who always leaves an extra car length or two in front of him.

CLANCY (singing to the tune of his in-progress ‘Clancy Can’t See’ ditty):

(Chuck Berry tempo, electric swing) :
Hey kid, don’t tailgate me
I paid my dues in ‘73
When your textin’ thumb meets my bifocal aim
We’ll both wind up in the Hall of Shame.

(Jazzy shuffle, honky-tonk piano):
You think I’m dangerous?
Here’s the fact I found:
The real hazard is any old man
Keepin’ up with your sound
Now the road signs blur like Monet art
So I follow tail-lights home from Walmart
Slow down now, son,
That ain’t rage you see
That’s just Mr. Magoo --
And it might just be me!

Headlights sweep across Clancy’s windshield;
dashboard lights glow blue on his face.
He’s mid-verse, recording:

A TRUCK ROARS PAST, horn blaring.
Clancy jerks the wheel; the Equinox veers onto the shoulder, gravel spraying.
He steadies, breathing hard, recorder still running.

Silence.
Wind.
The soft click-click of the blinker he forgot to shut off.

He starts laughing—half nerves, half relief.

CLANCY (still laughing):
Hazel girl… guess you’re still doing the spotting.

He lifts the recorder.

CLANCY (recording, calm now):
Note to self: Don’t text. Don’t tailgate. Don’t stop singing.
And maybe — don’t underestimate angels with bad timing.

He sets the recorder on the dash, pulls back onto the road.
As taillights recede, Supertramp’s “From Now On” (instrumental) fades in — soft at first, then swelling.

FADE OUT → TITLE CARD:

TO BE CONTINUED —

[END OF EPISODE 1 — Extended Premiere]
 

Clancy Cee, an adjunct professor at the Community College one night per week, faces a dozen night-students — nurses, retirees, single dads.

Clancy’s life-long close friend, Wallace

Clancy Cee drives past cornfields and rusting billboards, while singing along with Supertramp — off-key but free.

Clancy is seated on the couch of his Airbnb, receiving good news on the phone with Lorenzo (aka Cheap Whiskey).