The Magic School Bus Gets Psychoanalyzed!
The Walkerville Elementary science classroom. The class waits for Ms. Frizzle to arrive.
ARNOLD: Ugh, I had the weirdest dream last night —
WANDA: Arnold, not again!
ARNOLD: I was at baseball practice, but my coach was an ice cream sandwich? But when I tried to eat —
There is a commotion as Ms. Frizzle bursts through the door, knocks over a beaker, and sets off a small explosion in the corner of the room.
MS. FRIZZLE: Good morning, class!
TIM: Ms. Frizzle, this is the third time this week Arnold’s told us about his messed up dreams. Is there something wrong with him?
MS. FRIZZLE: Excellent question, Tim! As my good friend Sigmund Freud once said, “Dreams are the royal road to the unconscious.”
ARNOLD: ”Royal road”? Uh-oh. Does that mean we’re going on a… field trip?
MS. FRIZZLE: Not for you, Arnold! I’m sure you, an unsupervised and anxiety-ridden fourth grader, will be perfectly fine keeping an eye on things here by yourself.
Arnold gulps. Ms. Frizzle spins around, knocking over another beaker and setting off another, larger explosion. Suddenly her dress is covered in drawings of cigars and copies of DSM-5.
MS. FRIZZLE: Everyone else, to the bus!
The rest of the class runs outside and piles onto the bus, which has assumed the shape of a giant couch. It honks in such an expressive way that one can almost believe it’s sentient: an agile, self-aware mind trapped in an inanimate object. Undoubtedly a fate worse than death. It honks again, more weakly.
MS. FRIZZLE: First stop, the unconscious mind of a highly neurotic child! Seatbelts, everyone!
The bus shrinks microscopically, flies back inside the classroom, and slips into the ear of Arnold, who is listing every World Series matchup sequentially to calm himself down.
The bus swims through a swirling dreamscape of parents, siblings, hot older cousins, shirtless baseball players, and anthropomorphized versions of the Land Before Time dinosaurs.
RALPHIE: What is all this stuff?
DOROTHY ANN: (taking out giant encyclopedia) According to my research, everything here is a thought or feeling that exists outside Arnold’s conscious awareness.
MS. FRIZZLE: That’s right, Dorothy Ann! That phallically symbolic encyclopedia you always carry around to give you the fleeting sense of traditionally male power has proven itself useful once again!
KEESHA: Why is Arnold’s mom here, and why is she 15 feet tall and naked?
MS. FRIZZLE: Because deep down, Arnold wants to sleep with her. Follow me!
They go into another chamber.
DOROTHY ANN: This must be the Psychic Apparatus Room!
CARLOS: Wow, that Arnold over there sure looks like he’s having fun!
WANDA: Look at all those corn dogs!
RALPHIE: And that orgy. Hubba hubba!
MS. FRIZZLE: That’s Arnold’s id, class. It contains Arnold’s basic instinctual drives, like hunger, thirst, and libido.
CARLOS: Libi-don’t mind if I do!
WHOLE CLASS: CAR-LOS!
TIM: If that’s Arnold’s id, then that Arnold in the policeman’s uniform over there must be his superego.
MS. FRIZZLE: Excellent observation, Tim! The superego reflects the moralizing internalization of cultural norms. It works opposite the id to keep Arnold’s depraved latent desires in check! Watch!
The class watches as the superego grabs the id and puts it in handcuffs.
KEESHA: Wow! The superego stopped the id just as it was about to do something terrible to that giant, evil distortion of Arnold’s dad!
MS. FRIZZLE: Precisely, Keesha. It’s this grossly oversimplified conflict between the id and superego that leads to Arnold’s crippling anxiety and infuriating neuroses! Not too close to the dream orgy, please, Ralphie!
PHOEBE: At my old school, we never violated our classmates’ emotional privacy in order to learn from cartoonified depictions of unproven psychoanalytical theories.
RALPHIE: Uhh, Ms. Frizzle? Why is the superego heading towards us?
MS. FRIZZLE: Well, Ralphie, it appears the superego has recognized us as intruders. It thinks we’re a rogue part of Arnold’s unconscious that needs to be eliminated in order to maintain his fragile psychological state!
WHOLE CLASS: (screams)
MS. FRIZZLE: Isn’t this exciting, class?
WANDA: I know! If we can activate Arnold’s ego, it can strike a balance between the id and the superego.
Wanda grabs one of the baseball players swirling by and thrusts it in front of the oncoming superego. The baseball player blinks to life and swings its bat at the superego, allowing the kids to slip away.
TIM: That was a close one! Let’s get out of here!
A squeal of brakes. The kids turn to find the bus, which honks despairingly. They climb in, blast out of Arnold’s subconscious, and back into the classroom.
ARNOLD: …Red Sox-Dodgers, Nationals-Astros. Hey, guys, you’re back! How was it?
CARLOS: We had quite a… Freudian trip!
WHOLE CLASS: CAR-LOS.
The class’s laughter rings out throughout the school. Ms. Frizzle knocks over a third beaker, turning half of the classroom into a smoking crater.
CARLOS: By the way, you want to do your mom.
