EXT. SKY OVER EASTERN CALIFORNIA — DAY
A perfect, postcard-blue sky.
Big, friendly clouds. The kind that look like rabbits if you're bored enough.
Then the clouds do something they are not allowed to do.
They begin to rotate.
Not "windy" rotate—mechanical rotate. Like a giant hand is turning a dial in the heavens.
SFX:KCHK… KCHK… KCHK…
The clouds ripple, and for half a second the sky flashes different "channels" inside the swirl—
—A pickle with the face of a distinguished man sits upright on a polished desk, lit like a prestige drama. The pickle blinks once, gravely, as if delivering a lecture to the universe.
—A ridiculously muscular man in spandex rockets across a blue sky like a patriotic meteor, jaw clenched with divine certainty.
—A spiky-haired blonde kid screams mid-air as he clashes with a robot man, the impact freezing into a single over-animated frame of pure violence and friendship.
—A grimy bar booth: five people slumped unconscious with VR headsets on, drinks sweating on the table—while something unseen in the goggles makes one of them twitch like they're losing a boss fight.
Each one appears for a blink, then clicks away.
SFX:KCHK… KCHK…
The center of the vortex bulges downward like the sky is chewing gum.
It stretches.
It forms… lips.
Too puffy. Too wet. Like a cartoon mouth that drank an entire lake.
Then, with a horrendous, gurgling dignity:
SKY-MOUTH
BLEHHHHH—!!
A wave of mist sprays outward.
And something shoots out of the mouth like a rejected rocket booster.
LUFFY (GEAR 5) tumbles through the air, spinning end over end, laughing the entire time like he's having the best dream of his life.
He's so bright and unreal against the blue that even the sun looks confused.
LUFFY
(laughing, delirious)
SHISHISHISHI—!!
As he falls, the world tries to "catch up" to him. The air around him warps like a lens struggling to focus.
A little sparkle twinkles next to his head.
SFX:SCHINK!
Then a giant, bureaucratic stamp appears out of nowhere in the sky—red ink, harsh edges, totally out of place—
—and slams onto Luffy's back mid-fall.
SFX:THWOMP!
STAMP:RETURN TO SENDER
Luffy doesn't even flinch. He just boings a little, like the stamp is a trampoline.
LUFFY
(gleeful, squinting up)
What's a sender?!
The vortex above makes a noise like it's offended to be questioned.
SFX:KCHK…!
The sky-mouth puckers and blows again—like it's spitting out a sunflower seed it regrets.
SKY-MOUTH
PTOO!!
A little chunk of cloud launches after Luffy like an afterthought.
It hits him in the face.
It becomes a pie.
SFX:SPLAT!
Luffy's eyes go wide with delighted betrayal.
LUFFY
PIE?!
The pie instantly evaporates into mist, like it was never real.
Luffy laughs even harder.
Below him, the land rushes up: desert ridges, scrub, highway lines like thin gray stitches.
A road sign blurs past.
SIGN:WELCOME TO—
(the rest is scratched out, rewritten in marker:)
WELCOME TO WHATEVER THIS IS
A distant COMMERCIAL AIRLINER cruises by. The pilots glance over and see a white-haired, smiling man falling out of a vortex.
The co-pilot blinks.
The pilot slowly flips a switch labeled: DO NOT TOUCH (TOON)
PILOT
…Nope.
The plane calmly turns away.
Back in the clouds, the vortex shudders like it's about to close.
But before it does—
A small hole pops open in the sky like someone poked it with a finger.
A DODO BIRD head emerges, rubbing a bruise on the side of its skull like it got shoved out of a cannon a moment ago.
The Dodo's eyes narrow in pure, ancient annoyance.
It stares down at Luffy with the fury of a creature who has seen too many universes and hates all of them.
The Dodo shakes its fist and begins shouting—
Except it's not English.
It's not anything.
It's like a printer error became a language.
DODO
(absolute rage)
✶☟☠︎✶⌘⌧☍☉✹☠︎‼︎‼︎
It holds up a hand-painted sign.
SIGN (CLEAR ENGLISH):WRONG CARTOON, CLOWN.
Luffy squints mid-tumble, trying to read it upside down.
LUFFY
(cheerful)
D…O…? I can't read!
The Dodo's eye twitches so hard it looks medically dangerous.
It whips out a second sign.
SIGN:NOT MY PROBLEM.
Then it vanishes back into the hole.
The hole snaps shut with a petty little pop.
SFX:PLOP!
The vortex begins to close.
But Luffy's laughter is still tugging at it like a magnet.
For a moment, the clouds wobble between styles again—anime, rubber-hose, sitcom—
Then, finally, the sky gives up and smooths back into normal blue.
Luffy continues falling.
Except… he's not falling like a human.
He's falling like a cartoon trying to remember gravity.
He flails—
—and the air catches his hands like it's a rope.
His arms stretch instinctively, rubber-limbs grabbing nothing—
—and somehow gripping it anyway.
SFX:TWANG!
Luffy swings.
Not off trees. Not off buildings.
Off the idea of a swing.
He arcs over the desert like Tarzan with no jungle, laughing like this is the most reasonable thing in the world.
Down below, a tumbleweed rolls across a stretch of sand.
It pauses.
Looks up.
Pulls out a tiny pair of binoculars.
TUMBLEWEED
…Bruh.
Luffy swings again, faster, his arms snapping back with elastic force.
SFX:BOIOIOING!
As he arcs, the background subtly shifts—desert ridges giving way to distant city haze.
The LA basin. The sprawling grid. The faint geometry of studio lots.
The RETURN TO SENDER stamp on his back glows faintly, like it's trying to find an address.
Luffy laughs so hard the wind around him ripples.
A small sound-effect bubble pops into existence by his head, totally uninvited:
SFX BUBBLE:"WHEEEEE!"
It trails behind him like a balloon.
CUT TO:
EXT. WARNER BROS. BACKLOT — "FOREST" SET — DAY
Bugs, Daffy, and Elmer staring up at the sky like the universe just opened a complaint ticket.
A distant speck approaches… fast.
And it's laughing.