In the backyard of 101 Dalmatian Street, Dolly dances to DJ’s music while the puppies cheer her on.
PUPPIES: Dolly! Dolly! Go, Dolly!
DJ: Put your paws in the air like you just don’t care!
Portia and Spencer appear. The music stops with a record scratch and everyone silences.
PORTIA: Yeah, DJ, need you to soundtrack my not-a-party party tonight.
DJ: ‘Kay, but I’m keeping my artistic integrity.
PORTIA: Fine! No silly, popular stuff. In fact, keep it bleak and I’ll double your kibble fee.
DJ: Done and done! (to puppies) …Everybody say, “Yeah!”
PORTIA: Don’t do that.
DJ: Aww!
Dylan peeks over and sees Portia.
DYLAN: (swooning) Portia! Ohh! (chuckles)
Dylan approaches Portia and Spencer. They stop and look shocked.
DYLAN: Ho-ho, a party. Can I come?
PUPPIES: (popping up) Can we come? Can we? Can we?
PORTIA: It’s a not-party.
PUPPIES: Aww…
PORTIA: But it’ll be dark, so whatevs.
PUPPIES: Yay!
DYLAN: Whoo! (He begins dancing unimpressively.) Yeah! Ah! All right! (He falls and his bones crack.) Ouch.
SPENCER: So young.
PORITA: So tragic.
Portia and Spencer chuckle. Dolly skateboards to them.
DOLLY: Yo, you two! He was bad on purpose. (whispering) Right, bro?
DYLAN: What’s wrong with my dancing?
DOLLY: Oh, so, was it a flea attack?
Dylan pushes her skateboard, causing Dolly to roll away.
SPENCER: Hey, Portia, you know what would be delish? A prize for the worst dancer!
PORTIA: Uh, like loser eats a platter of cat furballs?
In the window of the fence, Constantin holds a plate of furballs. He coughs one up and gags.
CONSTANTIN: (smirking) Bon appetit.
Dylan whimpers at the sight of the plate. Constantin continues coughing up furballs.
CONSTANTIN: Oh, that’s a good one.
PORTIA: That’s the rule if you wanna come to the not-party.
DYLAN: (confidently) Sure! I’ll come! And I’ll bring my awesome moves, you’ll see! No furballs on this guy!
Portia and Spencer chuckle mischievously and walk off.
DYLAN: See you guys at the party! (He runs over to DJ as soon as they leave.) DJ, your soundtrack services are required!
DJ: Sure! What for?
DYLAN: My dance training. I do not wanna feast on furballs. I’ve got allergies, for dog’s sake!
DJ: So don’t.
DYLAN: Don—Don’t what?
DJ: Do it just ‘cause those two say so? Mean, even if you were the worst dancer in Camden— (gulps) Uh, which you’re not… (smiles nervously)
DYLAN: Look, I’ll double Portia’s fee if you swear not to tell Dolly!
DJ: Ka-ching!
DYLAN: Last time she saw me dance, she made fun of me for a whole year.
Cut to a flashback of Dylan with an annoyed expression in various locations. Dolly mockingly laughs at him. Cut back to the present.
DYLAN: First stop, foxy Fergus! (sing-song) ‘Cause he got da moves!
DJ shakes his head at him.
DYLAN: (stammers) Sorry.
Inside the dimmed house, Dylan and DJ sneak out. DJ has his keyboard. Dylan reaches for the paw-scanner and Dolly appears and turns on the lights.
DOLLY: Hey, where you two headed acting all shady?
Dylan and DJ look at each other then point elsewhere.
DYLAN: Oh, look! Hansel!
DOLLY: (turns around) Where?! (pants)
While Dolly is turned around, Dylan and DJ exit. Dolly sees the doggy door flap behind her and growls suspiciously. At the canal, Dylan and DJ are with the Canal Crew. DJ has his keyboard set up.
FERGUS: ‘Kay, D-Dog, check out my Fox Flop.
DJ plays music and Fergus spins. Big Fee and Sid cheer him on. Fergus finishes.
FERGUS: Now you try.
Dylan takes a deep breath before attempting the dance move. He poorly spins around plops to the ground.
DYLAN: (grunts) Ooh…
SID: Yeah, that’s more of a belly flop.
Dylan is dizzy and begins stumbling around.
DYLAN: Whoa-oa-oa!
FERGUS: Just push back up on your paws. No! Not into the…!
Dylan stumbles into the canal and splashes water onto Fergus.
FERGUS: …Canal.
Big Fee and Sid laugh. Dylan sighs and spits out some water. DJ notices Dolly approaching.
DJ: (gasps) Dylan! (hides)
Dolly, riding her skateboard, arrives. She looks into the pond and sees Dylan.
DOLLY: Uh, whatcha doin’?
BIG FEE: Doggy paddle.
FERGUS: (hastily) Thanks for participating in our official water quality inspection, D-Dog! (He lifts Dylan out of the water and shakes his paw.) All citizens of Camden and canal dwellers everywhere salute your sacrifice!
He nervously smiles at Dolly. Big Fee and Sid clap. Dolly squints her eyes.
DOLLY: (suspiciously) Hmm. I see.
Fergus, physically nervous, nudges at Dylan. Dylan chuckles awkwardly. Dolly skates away and DJ walks back to the group.
DYLAN: (whispering to Fergus) You think she bought it?
DOLLY: (peeking from above) So not buying that. What’s he up to? And why’s DJ involved?
BIG FEE: (resting on Dolly’s head) Mm. Such intel will cost you. Six stacks of Stilton!
DOLLY: Dream on. Guess I’ll just have to tail ‘em!
Spots transition. On the roof of Stanislav’s market, Dylan tries to dance while Snowball watches. DJ plays traditional Russian music.
SNOWBALL: You move like an old pierog! You’ll never make good dancer!
DYLAN: (stops dancing) I don’t wanna be good! I just wanna be…not the worst!
SNOWBALL: Again! One, two, three, turn! (Dylan does as she says.) Again! Move your legs! Spin! Turn! (demonstrates)
Dylan turns, causing his whole body to be winded up. He unwinds and falls. The music stops.
DJ: (sucks teeth) Looks painful.
SNOWBALL: (to DJ) Without pain, beauty cannot be. It’s the way of the Barkshoi Ballet! (to Dylan) Now, for a Barkostan Bounce.
The music resumes and Snowball grunts as she hops to the beat. The music progressively gets faster. Dylan watches her with his pupils going up and down before she stops.
SNOWBALL: Well? What you waiting for? Party’s tonight.
Dylan imitates Snowball’s dance. He ends his dance by leaping in the air and doing the splits upon landing. He howls in pain. Dolly hears this from the ground.
DOLLY: What? Howling? With DJ and Snowball? Wait, he wouldn’t be. He couldn’t be. (gasps) Reforming Howl-O-Rama?
Cut to flashback. Dylan, Snowball, Hansel, and Roxy howl in unison while Dolly beatboxes.
DYLAN: That’s it! We are breaking up. Creative differences. (departs)
DOLLY: (looks around) What?
Cut back to the present. Dolly is in 101.
DOLLY: (growls) Traitor! (Using binoculars, she watches Dylan and Roxy talking in Dylan’s treehouse.) Roxy? (gasps) Yet another ex-Howler? Ugh, I knew it!
In the treehouse, Roxy teaches Dylan her dances. DJ plays samba music.
ROXY: Prepare to… (begins dancing with Dylan) Cha, cha, cha, cha, cha cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha!
She grabs Dylan and throws him in the air for the finish. Dylan hits the roof and lands in the splits position. Dylan and Roxy howl.
DOLLY: Why, those double-crossing, shady, two-faced… (growls)
Dorothy yaps at her, blows a raspberry, and yaps again.
DOLLY: Can you believe they’re reforming Howl-O-Rama without me?
Dorothy shakes her head and yaps.
DOLLY: You’re right, Dorothy. I’ll give ‘em something to howl about!
Spots transition. DJ walks into the kitchen and sees Dylan hiding under the table. The sun is setting.
DYLAN: Oh, this is hopeless. One furball feast, coming right up.
DJ: Why? Why would you go with that?
DYLAN: Because rules are rules, DJ. (romantically) Especially Portia’s rules.
DJ: Dylan, time out! Just go to the not-party, be cool, and—
DYLAN: Cool! Of course—Hansel! Why didn’t I think of him before? Thanks, DJ! (runs off)
DJ: Hey!
The door closes offscreen and DJ face-palms. Dolly appears behind him.
DOLLY: I know what you two are up to!
DJ: You do? Oh, phew. ‘Cause he’s gonna do himself an injury.
DOLLY: Not if I get to him first! (begins walking off) The double-crossing, low-down, dirty dog! Cheating on me with Howl-O-Rama!
DJ: What? No! You’ve got the wrong idea!
The door slams offscreen and DJ groans. Spots transition to Dylan with Hansel in an alley.
HANSEL: (frowning) Yeah, I mean, it’s not the worst Husky Hustle I’ve seen, but, uh…
Dylan grunts as he tries to dance.
HANSEL: Maybe just stick by me at the party. Heh. Cool by association? (chuckles)
Dylan clings to Hansel and confidently smiles.
HANSEL: (clears throat) Stand that close and I’ll lose my cool! Step back. (Dylan does as he says.) Further. Further.
Dylan is now offscreen.
HANSEL: (whispers) Little bit further. (normal volume) That’s better.
In a wide shot, Dylan is many feet away from Hansel, sitting in the shade of the alley. Transition to Portia’s not-party at a graveyard. DJ plays spooky music. It is night, and most of the party-goers are cats.
SPENCER: (to Portia) Now, to choose our loser! Ah, so many contenders!
He sees the crowd of cats bobbing their heads to the music. He then looks over and sees Dylan poorly dancing next to Hansel.
DYLAN: (to Hansel) Ah, looks like your plan is working! (chuckles)
Hansel smiles nervously and shuffles off.
DYLAN: H-Hey, Portia! (continues dancing)
PORTIA: (holding the plate of furballs) Someone’s gonna have a great dinner!
SPENCER: (giggles) Quelle surprise!
Constantin walks over and coughs out a furball onto the plate. DJ spots Dylan in the crowd.
DJ: Dylan!
Dylan doesn’t hear him and continues dancing. Portia and Dolly walk over to him from opposite sides of the yard. DJ runs over and grabs Dolly by the collar. Portia and Spencer chuckle.
PORTIA: Hey, everyone! It’s furball time!
Behind a gravestone, DJ talks to Dolly.
DJ: What are you doing here?
DOLLY: I won’t let them reform Howl-O-Rama without me!
DJ: It’s nothing to do with Howl-O-Rama.
DOLLY: Then why were you creeping around with its former members?
DJ: They were trying to teach him to dance!
DOLLY: (gasps) Ohh, hence the howling! Heh. Yeah, he—he—he is the worst.
DJ: And you know he’s going to obey that dumb furball rule!
DOLLY: Oh, no!
She sees Portia aiming a furball toward Dylan’s mouth. Dylan whimpers and, due to his allergy, his eyes swell.
DOLLY: We’ve gotta stop him. He’s way allergic!
Just before Portia puts the furball in Dylan’s mouth, Dolly begins beatboxing. Portia, Spencer, and Dylan watch.
PORTIA: Dolly, that is every kind of wrong.
SPENCER: Ugh! Are you hurt?
DOLLY: Check me out, party puppies! (She scoots around and beatboxes.)
DYLAN: (whispering) Dolly, what are you doing?
DOLLY: Dig it, bro? Heh. I call it “The Scoot!” (laughs)
DYLAN: You’re gonna end up eating furballs!
Portia holds out the plate to Dolly.
DOLLY: So you don’t have to! (She beatboxes and shuffles over to the plate.)
DYLAN: You’d do that for me?
PORTIA: Grub’s up.
DOLLY: (grabs a furball) Pfft. I was hungry anyway. (She takes a closer look at the furball. Flies surround it.) Eww…
She looks back at Portia, who is smiling mischievously. Dolly hesitates as she aims for a bite.
DYLAN: Well, sis, I’ll do this for you. (He flips the plate out of Portia’s paws. The plate hits her in the face.) Take that!
DJ: (back at his set) (laughs) Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!
He hits a key and energetic music begins to play. Dylan and Dolly beatbox. The puppies pop up around the graveyard, swarm the party, and cheer.
PORTIA: Agh! (The plate slips off.)
SPENCER: Eat your furballs!
DYLAN: (scoffs) DJ was right! Who died and put you two in charge?
Portia and Spencer gasp.
SPENCER: The horror!
The puppies surround them and cheer. The puppies, including Dizzy and Dee Dee, dance, driving the cats away. Dolly puts her arm around DJ.
DOLLY: Put your paws in the air like you really don’t care!
Portia and Spencer’s bodies begin to dance on their own.
PORTIA: Aah! I think it’s contagious!
SPENCER: Ohh! Run away!
DYLAN: Looks like this not-party…
DOLLY: …Just turned into a party par-tay!
Dylan laughs and the puppies cheer. Portia and Spencer walk away.