Howie Noodnick #1

Welcome to Toddler Time, with your host  Jesse Isa Toddler!

Opening Scene: Faux Newz Studio – 7:59 PM

The camera sweeps across the glossy floor of “The Toddler Hour with Jesse Isa Toddler”, Faux Newz’s highest-rated show among men who get ID’d buying fireworks.

The theme song—Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl”—blasts through the studio.

Spotlights flicker. Pyrotechnics go off for no reason. And there, center stage, eyes closed, arms out like he’s about to rapture into MAGA heaven, stands Jesse Todd—shimmering tan, hair styled like a raccoon with a blowout, swaying to the music.

As the final chorus fades out, Jesse opens his eyes, grins wide enough to blind an orca, and sings directly to the camera:

“Don’t you wish you were my girl?”

Wink. Freeze-frame. Faux Newz Logo spins across the screen like a fidget spinner.

CUT TO: Jesse Seated Behind His Desk

He smacks the desk and laughs.

JESSE TODD: “America, what is up! My numbers are bigger than Shawn Vanity and Laura Ding-Dong combined. And you know why? Because every member of Grump’s cabinet comes crawling to me for MAGA points like I’m handing out Kool-Aid at a Jonestown family reunion.”

He leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“They beg, folks. Grovel. Just for the chance to praise their glorious leader—and maybe, just maybe—get to assist Stevie Boot-Liquor in sniffing out traitors!”

He slaps the desk again.

“But tonight? Oooooh, tonight. We got a big one.”

He hits a big red button labeled “Desperation Cam”, and it instantly cuts to split screen.

On the right: Commerce Secretary Howie Noodnick, already sweating, blinking into the camera like a man at gunpoint in a hostage video.

On the left: Jesse, arms crossed, eyes gleaming.

JESSE TODD: “Welcome, Howie. Or should I say... Pisla’s last hope?”

He chuckles darkly.

“Go ahead. Tell America why you’re really here.”

Howie NOODNICK (Sweating Profusely)

“Th-thank you, Jesse. It’s an honor. I’m here tonight because... because Pisla is under attack. Egon Tusk’s DOGIE numbers are brutal, and the Deep State press is smearing us. So I’m asking—no, begging—America... please. Buy a car. Buy the stock. Pisla needs you.”

He clasps his hands like he’s praying.

“Buy the Pisla HyberJunk. It’s the future of MAGA mobility!”

There is a beat of stunned silence.

Jesse slowly swivels in his chair.

JESSE TODD:
“...Are you out of your commerce-certified mind?”

He stands and starts pacing.

“You just violated like... nine ethics rules. Maybe twenty. Are you aware you’re the Commerce Secretary? You can’t just go on national TV and shill a collapsing electric death trap! That’s not free speech—it’s market manipulation with a tan!”

Noodnick blinks.

“I-I thought this was a safe space…”

JESSE TODD (snapping): “Safe space? I OWN TWO PISLAS, YOU GREASY GOBLIN!”

He slams his hand on the desk.

“One of them is a HyperJunk! That thing has less battery range than a microwave burrito. It’s being recalled, and I’ve been waiting for a tow truck for a month! My second Pisla locked me inside when I splashed a puddle. It triggered the ‘Car Wash Alert’ and thought I was drowning. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE, NOODNICK?!”

Noodnick leans back, eyes wide.

JESSE TODD (waving arms): “Twenty-three minutes of flashing lights, screaming sirens, and then the cops broke my window. That activated the Vandalism Defense Protocol, and guess what happened next?”

Split screen flashes to: A security cam video of Jesse’s car interior exploding in red mist.

JESSE TODD (voice-over): “PEPPER SPRAY. My car tear-gassed me. I coughed for two days!”

Back to Jesse in the studio, red in the face.

“AND YOU—YOU—come on here, in a robe that looks like you stole it from Caesar’s Palace, to beg my audience to invest in this mess?”

Noodnick is trembling now.

Howie NOODNICK: “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—It’s just... my job is so hard. Egon watches everything. He reads all our Slack messages. I tried to update my LinkedIn and three Secret Service agents showed up. My family won’t talk to me. I can’t even open my own fridge without wondering if it’s bugged. I sleep in my office. I cry into my soup.”

He breaks down, sobbing into his sleeve.

“I just wanted someone to believe in me...”

Jesse leans back, eyes narrowed.

JESSE TODD: “You know what, Howie? I do believe in you.”

Noodnick blinks hopefully.

“I believe you should RESIGN IMMEDIATELY and stop embarrassing the species.”

Cue dramatic guitar sting.

Jesse leans forward, grinning.

“And next time you want to pump a stock, do it like everyone else in Grump’s cabinet—offshore and in a shell corporation.”

He smirks into the camera.

“We’ll be right back after this message from our sponsor: Elon’s Flamethrowers for Toddlers™ — When You Want to Melt the Competition and the Constitution.”