Starts with a fade to complete black. Then there's suddenly imposed the title "Font Police" in big yellow lettering (really big). This then rushes into the black background, not for any real purpose, but because it's a cheesy cool effect. And that's what you want. Roll credits, and start the theme music.
The music is actually Leonard Cohen's _Jazz Police_ with all occurrences of the word "Jazz" being changed to the word "Font". "Jazzer" will probably be changed to "Fonzie" but I'm not completely sure on this one. Anyway, as the music plays and the song is sung, there'll be various action vignettes in the background, starring our heroes. These will fit in with the music (to at least some extent).
I don't intend to replicate the whole song, but to give some idea:
"Font Police are looking through my folders." - pictures of Comrade and Rhys going through folders and looking at documents with big magnifying glasses, both frowning.
"Font Police are talking to my niece." - shots of a girl being asked to identify fonts in a line-up whilst the intrepid pair look on anxiously.
"Font Police have got their final orders." - picture of the pair being shouted at by some fat individual who is obviously The Chief. He's waving a piece of paper marked 'Miscellaneous Expenses' at them. It's got all sorts of items written on it like 'Cool Clothes', 'Styling', 'Ego Masseusse', 'Unnecessary But Cool Stuff'.
"Fonzie, drop your axe, it's Font Police!" - a man raises an axe to brain a grinning (of course) Comrade, but halts suddenly as Rhys rushes in and puts a Newton to his head.
"Blood is thicker margerine than grease." - shots of the Font Police grocery shopping, with Rhys reaching for the grease, but Comrade restraining him and picking up the carton of congealed blood instead.
"Stick another turtle on the fire." - A Luau like scene on the beach with Comrade presiding over a roaring fire, madly tossing in turtles. He's wearing a 'Kiss The Cook' apron.
"Guys like me are mad on turtle meat." - Same Luau, a little later. Rhys picks up an entire turtle, and throws it in the air, tilting his head back and opening his mouth. Mid-air, the turtle extrudes it's head. As the turtle falls, the head lands in Rhys' mouth, the shell hits the rest of his head, he falls over backwards, eyes bulging.
Shots of an ambulance racing away from the beach, a stretcher being wheeled through various doors in a hospital, and finally banging through two that are clearly marked 'Turtle Extraction Unit'.
End credits, show starts.
So a font crime has been committed. Quick, call the font police!:
Informant: (after dialing) Hello, font police? It's just horrible! Awful. You've got to come at once. We can't deal with it on our own. Yes, it is a font crime. The worst I've ever seen. Just hurry, please.
[Minutes later, the font police arrive. The font police are Rhys and Comrade. Comrade is in front with Rhys behind, holding onto Comrade's waist. Comrade is bobbing his head up and down whilst smiling resolutely, pretending to be a flashing light, whilst Rhys is making "AWOOGA! AWOOGA!" noises and pretending to be a siren. As they enter the room, Comrade stops abruptly, causing Rhys to knock into him. Both fall to the floor and draw Newtons, looking for font crimes at which to fire.]
Comrade: Okay, I'm here. What's the problem.
[A man in one of those KEWL disease-protection suits they had in Outbreak is gingerly holding a sheet of paper. He passes it to Rhys.]
Rhys: Hey, a piece of paper. I think I'll stick my tongue on it.
Disease guy: (in Darth Vader voice to Pete) Font crime sir. We're taking no chances with this one. We can't risk it getting out into the community. The infection must be contained.
Comrade: Okay, Rhys, let me see it.
Rhys: I don't think you should do that Pete. It's a bad one. It... it might bring back some stuff. Some bad stuff.
Comrade: Nonsense. What are you talking about? Sometimes you can be really strange, Rhys. Especially when you talk about your manifest destiny as the God-King.
Rhys: Okay then, have your silly piece of paper. See if I care. You'll all bow down before me in the end.
[Comrade takes the paper and looks at it. Slowly, his face becomes a mask of horror (even more so), and he falls to his knees. He starts screaming and doesn't stop. ]
Comrade: AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Rhys: Pete! Pete! Snap out of it!
Disease Guy: What is it sir?
Rhys: (amidst anguished screams) He keeps having flashbacks. A really bad case a while ago. He always said he had gotten over it, but this was always going to be a danger.
Comrade: NOT THAT FONT! NOT WITH THAT BOLDFACING! NOT ALL IN CAPITALS! GOD SAVE ME! I'LL NEVER BE ALL-KNOWING ENOUGH TO CRITIQUE AGAIN!
Disease Guy: But what could have been that bad?
Rhys: An old issue of Pelican.
Rhys: You know, I don't feel so good.
Disease Guy: Well, you aren't wearing a suit, and you did lick that piece of paper.
Rhys: Hmm. You're right. Damn these irrational impulses. They'll be the death of me yet. Especially those that have to do with disco.
Disease Guy: Your end might be nearer than you think, monkey-boy!
Rhys: You know, I'm beginning to think that there's something not quite right about you. There's the total enclosure fetish, the Darth Vader voice, calling me "monkey-boy" and...
Disease Guy: Yes, and?
Rhys: And you keep calling me "Sir". No one calls me "Sir". "Master", yes, "Eternal God-King" yes, but not "Sir". Just who are you, anyway?
Disease Guy: (pulling off hood) I am he who is always miserable. I am he who never smiles. I am he who wears black by choice. I am the anti-Rhys and I am your doom!
Rhys: Egad! This is unexpected. And all this time I thought you were just plain Evan.
Evan: That's what I wanted you to think, puny fleshling. And it has meant your doom!
Rhys: Can't we sit down and discuss this like reasonable beings? And do you have some kind of a fixation with the word 'doom'?
Evan: Enough of this twaddle. Even now the specially engineered microbes on that piece of paper you licked are making their way towards your brain, where they will take up residence, and play endless loops of Crowded House, Petshop Boys, and most dastardly of all, Shampoo.
Rhys: You fiend! You can't do this to me.
(Then tinny music erupts from his ears (pick any tune by any of the above) and he keels over screaming)
(Unnoticed in all the excitement, however, is Comrade, who has been slowly inching his way towards a big red recessed button, covered in glass. The words "Only in the most extreme of dire emergencies" are printed above it". Comrade breaks the glass (which Evan notices) and then pushes the button as Evan rushes towards him (Evan is hampered by the suit))
Evan: My God! What have you done?
(Comrade gives a cheshire-cat grin, then falls unconscious. There's a moment of complete silence. Then the smurf song is heard, gradually growing louder)
Evan: No, not that. He can't have done that.
(The smurf song builds to crescendo, then, lightly skipping his way into the room comes...)
Leonard: Hello everyone! Are we all feeling happy today?
(Complete fade to black. When the picture returns, it's to a scene in the hospital. Comrade and Rhys are in beds placed beside each other, both white-faced but recovering. A doctor is also on hand)
Doctor: Well you both seem to be recovering nicely. Comrade would appear to be returning to his kind of normal, and as for you Rhys, we've managed to blank out the Crowded House and the Petshop Boys. And we expect a breakthrough in the Shampoo situation at any moment.
Rhys: (brightly) Actually doctor, I quite like Shampoo now. "Oh Oh! We're in trouble..."
Doctor: And I'll schedule some counselling for you as well.
Comrade: Could I possibly see my chart doctor?
Doctor: Why certainly, here it is.
Rhys: No you fool, don't do that! It's...
Comrade: AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Rhys: ...12 point Attica.
Fade to black. Roll credits.