This is a sort of project that I have going on similar to MegaBauer's novelization of the Ruby-Spears Mega Man cartoon. In my case it's a novelization of Aladdin -the series. So yes, it will be a musical, yes I will adapt the TV series episodes, and yes it will be in chronological order. And no Saleen will not be appearing in the story.
Ch. 1 Part 1 - Prelude
A long time ago, in the sands of distant Arabia, there stood a great enclave in the midst of the desert. According to nomads who passed this point, it was said that the enclave was once ruled by the fire demon Amok Mon Ra. That was the rumor until a caravan of nomads arrived. Their leader was a merchant named Hamed. His band’s quest to find a home lead to stories reaching all across the Seven Deserts. It was on that day that he met a group at the enclave.
“Whoa!” said Hamed, stopping the caravan. The small group’s leader walked up to him. “Uh, excuse me... Hamed?”
“Yes. How do you know me?”
“You're famous!”
“Oh, yes, well, I suppose our quest has become legendary. We have searched many years for someplace that we might call home. Sometimes I fear our quest will never end.”
The small group’s largest member made a suggestion, “If you settled here you'd be home right now!”
The leader’s wife agreed, “The city you build here will be glorious!”
At first the idea of a city being built here was ridiculous, that is until the caravan’s tent maker, Abnor Mal, sprang a leak while pounding in their tents’ steaks. Hamed made a proclamation after his tent maker’s accident.
“In this place there will be a city more wonderful, more magnificent, than any other on Earth. It will be called Agrabah, and it shall be our home.” Out of frustration of no longer having to make tents, Abnor left the caravan and left for the temple of the tiger god, seeking refuge from the harsh conditions of the desert.
Centuries passed since Hamed settled Agrabah. In that time, it grew from a humble village to a magnificent kingdom ruled by the good Sultan Bobolonius, named after his wise and kind grandfather. The Sultan was soon to be wed to his eventual sultana and thought it necessary to find a beautiful flower to give his bride. A fortune teller told him of a magnificent garden north of Agrabah. He found such a garden, which looked more like a palace, like the one he lived in.
“Extraordinary!”
In the palatial garden he found many beautiful works of floral art. Among them were a beautiful harp made of vines, its strings were all perfectly tuned. Then he saw it: a beautiful red flower. “Lovely…” he noted.
The sultan pulled the flower from its spot, which was followed by a shrill shrieking noise.
“Who trespasses in my garden? My masterpiece?” rumbled a deep booming voice. A large treant appeared. This was the lord of the garden, Arbutus. The sultan drew his sword, only for it to be snatched away by vines.
“You are a fool! Your sword may sever every limb, but my power will always bloom!” exclaimed Arbutus as he grabbed the Sultan in his massive hand. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to bring a flower to my new bride!”
“No one shall defile the art of Arbutus and live!”
“Release me and you shall be greatly rewarded!”
”Your reward means nothing to me.”
“You have my word! My most precious treasure will be yours!”
Arbutus was now in thought, stroking his beard made of willow leaves. “Yes… Perhaps one day your kingdom could enhance mine... an addition to my garden's beauty.” He put the sultan down, now frightened.
“Oh, indeed. Agrabah is rich with wonderful treasure.”
“Hear me! In twenty summers I shall come for your most precious treasure!”
Seven years past since the Sultan married. In that time his brown beard turned grey and grew longer. But more importantly he was now a widowed father. Yes, the sultana gave birth to a lovely daughter, Jasmine. Unfortunately, the sultana passed away within months of her daughter’s birth. The problem was Jasmine herself. Having no mother-figure to raise her, she was slightly spoiled.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Jasmine?”
“As a princess, what will I be able to do?”
“Oh many things. You can be an inspiration to all of Agrabah and the Seven Deserts combined. You can do anything you want.”
“Well when I grow up I might run things my way:
Call me a princess, I don't care
Call me obsessed with nails and hair
Only concerned with what to wear
Shallow and so blasé
Go ahead, call me ‘royal pain’
I'm unimpressed with your disdain
Let me repeat one sweet refrain
Princesses get their way
Other girls cook, but that's not relaxing
Princesses make reservations
Life's much too short and Lord, it's so taxing
Ruling these darn Third World nations
Some say that when I nag a whine
Nobody's voice is as shrill as mine
Daddy thinks that I sound just fine
He's in my royal sway
Other girls study, why do they bother?
I study how to grease up my father
Fathers were born to pay
And princesses get their way
Call me a princess, I don't mind
Selfish disgrace to womankind
People need hobbies - I unwind
Watching how much I weigh
Other girls work for law degrees
Some scrub the floor on hands and knees
I'd rather have a facial, please
Slather her face in clay
Soon I'll get married - what could be sweeter?
To some Salim or Abdullah
Whoever he is, the two things he'll need are
Earplugs and plenty of moola
Princesses write a check - it clears
That's 'cause they spend those wonder years
Running to Dad and faking tears
Training him to obey
Fresh outta cash? No problem, I drop a
Snit and go running straight to my papa
Then everything's okay
Princesses get their way
Believe it
Princesses get their way“
“Jasmine, you don’t understand. There's more to being princess than getting your way all the time.”
“There's more?”
“Everything you see exists together, in a delicate balance. As a princess, you need to understand that balance, and respect all the cultures—from Quirkistan to Odiferous. For everything the light touches is our kingdom.”
Jasmine saw way out into the distance from the great balcony a shadowy part of the desert. “What about that shadowy place?”
“That is the Land of the Black Sand. It is ruled by an evil sorcerer, Destane.”
The doors behind them opened and in came Jafar, the Sultan’s Grand Vizier. “Princess, it’s time for your history lesson.”
In another part of Agrabah, a young couple were blessed by God with a son, just two years after the sultan returned from Arbutus’ garden. Knowing that the baby would put the family into the poorhouse, the father, a carpet merchant named Cassim, left to find riches to support his family. Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. Unfortunately, the mother did not live to see her husband return from his journey. She passed away when their son, Aladdin, was five. Cassim returned home one night after finding treasure in the Temple of the Tiger God, having recovered it from a thief named Nor Mal. But to his dismay he did not find his wife or Aladdin. At that moment, he would have traded anything to get his wife back. This cry of pain was met by a band of thieves, led by the marauding Abu Hassan. Cassim and Hassan did battle, upon which Cassim came out the victor and was made the King of the Forty Thieves.
In the meantime, Aladdin had made friends with another street-rat named Amal. Amal was a kind lad of 11, just one one year older than Aladdin. It occurred on the day of a full-moon that Amal pressured Aladdin into stealing money. They evaded the guards before arriving at an old well.
“Hurry up, slowpoke! I’ve seen sand worms move faster than you, Aladdin!” Aladdin arrived panting “I don’t think we should have stolen that.”
Amal mocked him, “Like you’ve never stolen anything before.”
“I only steal food! To eat!”
Amal stood on top of a wall and gloated. “Oh, big difference. Listen, I’m not gonna be a street rat forever, like you. Someday, I’m gonna make something of myself!”
Aladdin sighed “I won’t be a street rat forever. But I’m not going to make something of myself by doing bad things, Amal.” His friend was nowhere to be seen. In his worry, Aladdin saw a dark figure jump into the well. What was that thing?!
Ch. 1 Part 1 - Prelude
A long time ago, in the sands of distant Arabia, there stood a great enclave in the midst of the desert. According to nomads who passed this point, it was said that the enclave was once ruled by the fire demon Amok Mon Ra. That was the rumor until a caravan of nomads arrived. Their leader was a merchant named Hamed. His band’s quest to find a home lead to stories reaching all across the Seven Deserts. It was on that day that he met a group at the enclave.
“Whoa!” said Hamed, stopping the caravan. The small group’s leader walked up to him. “Uh, excuse me... Hamed?”
“Yes. How do you know me?”
“You're famous!”
“Oh, yes, well, I suppose our quest has become legendary. We have searched many years for someplace that we might call home. Sometimes I fear our quest will never end.”
The small group’s largest member made a suggestion, “If you settled here you'd be home right now!”
The leader’s wife agreed, “The city you build here will be glorious!”
At first the idea of a city being built here was ridiculous, that is until the caravan’s tent maker, Abnor Mal, sprang a leak while pounding in their tents’ steaks. Hamed made a proclamation after his tent maker’s accident.
“In this place there will be a city more wonderful, more magnificent, than any other on Earth. It will be called Agrabah, and it shall be our home.” Out of frustration of no longer having to make tents, Abnor left the caravan and left for the temple of the tiger god, seeking refuge from the harsh conditions of the desert.
Centuries passed since Hamed settled Agrabah. In that time, it grew from a humble village to a magnificent kingdom ruled by the good Sultan Bobolonius, named after his wise and kind grandfather. The Sultan was soon to be wed to his eventual sultana and thought it necessary to find a beautiful flower to give his bride. A fortune teller told him of a magnificent garden north of Agrabah. He found such a garden, which looked more like a palace, like the one he lived in.
“Extraordinary!”
In the palatial garden he found many beautiful works of floral art. Among them were a beautiful harp made of vines, its strings were all perfectly tuned. Then he saw it: a beautiful red flower. “Lovely…” he noted.
The sultan pulled the flower from its spot, which was followed by a shrill shrieking noise.
“Who trespasses in my garden? My masterpiece?” rumbled a deep booming voice. A large treant appeared. This was the lord of the garden, Arbutus. The sultan drew his sword, only for it to be snatched away by vines.
“You are a fool! Your sword may sever every limb, but my power will always bloom!” exclaimed Arbutus as he grabbed the Sultan in his massive hand. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to bring a flower to my new bride!”
“No one shall defile the art of Arbutus and live!”
“Release me and you shall be greatly rewarded!”
”Your reward means nothing to me.”
“You have my word! My most precious treasure will be yours!”
Arbutus was now in thought, stroking his beard made of willow leaves. “Yes… Perhaps one day your kingdom could enhance mine... an addition to my garden's beauty.” He put the sultan down, now frightened.
“Oh, indeed. Agrabah is rich with wonderful treasure.”
“Hear me! In twenty summers I shall come for your most precious treasure!”
Seven years past since the Sultan married. In that time his brown beard turned grey and grew longer. But more importantly he was now a widowed father. Yes, the sultana gave birth to a lovely daughter, Jasmine. Unfortunately, the sultana passed away within months of her daughter’s birth. The problem was Jasmine herself. Having no mother-figure to raise her, she was slightly spoiled.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Jasmine?”
“As a princess, what will I be able to do?”
“Oh many things. You can be an inspiration to all of Agrabah and the Seven Deserts combined. You can do anything you want.”
“Well when I grow up I might run things my way:
Call me a princess, I don't care
Call me obsessed with nails and hair
Only concerned with what to wear
Shallow and so blasé
Go ahead, call me ‘royal pain’
I'm unimpressed with your disdain
Let me repeat one sweet refrain
Princesses get their way
Other girls cook, but that's not relaxing
Princesses make reservations
Life's much too short and Lord, it's so taxing
Ruling these darn Third World nations
Some say that when I nag a whine
Nobody's voice is as shrill as mine
Daddy thinks that I sound just fine
He's in my royal sway
Other girls study, why do they bother?
I study how to grease up my father
Fathers were born to pay
And princesses get their way
Call me a princess, I don't mind
Selfish disgrace to womankind
People need hobbies - I unwind
Watching how much I weigh
Other girls work for law degrees
Some scrub the floor on hands and knees
I'd rather have a facial, please
Slather her face in clay
Soon I'll get married - what could be sweeter?
To some Salim or Abdullah
Whoever he is, the two things he'll need are
Earplugs and plenty of moola
Princesses write a check - it clears
That's 'cause they spend those wonder years
Running to Dad and faking tears
Training him to obey
Fresh outta cash? No problem, I drop a
Snit and go running straight to my papa
Then everything's okay
Princesses get their way
Believe it
Princesses get their way“
“Jasmine, you don’t understand. There's more to being princess than getting your way all the time.”
“There's more?”
“Everything you see exists together, in a delicate balance. As a princess, you need to understand that balance, and respect all the cultures—from Quirkistan to Odiferous. For everything the light touches is our kingdom.”
Jasmine saw way out into the distance from the great balcony a shadowy part of the desert. “What about that shadowy place?”
“That is the Land of the Black Sand. It is ruled by an evil sorcerer, Destane.”
The doors behind them opened and in came Jafar, the Sultan’s Grand Vizier. “Princess, it’s time for your history lesson.”
In another part of Agrabah, a young couple were blessed by God with a son, just two years after the sultan returned from Arbutus’ garden. Knowing that the baby would put the family into the poorhouse, the father, a carpet merchant named Cassim, left to find riches to support his family. Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. Unfortunately, the mother did not live to see her husband return from his journey. She passed away when their son, Aladdin, was five. Cassim returned home one night after finding treasure in the Temple of the Tiger God, having recovered it from a thief named Nor Mal. But to his dismay he did not find his wife or Aladdin. At that moment, he would have traded anything to get his wife back. This cry of pain was met by a band of thieves, led by the marauding Abu Hassan. Cassim and Hassan did battle, upon which Cassim came out the victor and was made the King of the Forty Thieves.
In the meantime, Aladdin had made friends with another street-rat named Amal. Amal was a kind lad of 11, just one one year older than Aladdin. It occurred on the day of a full-moon that Amal pressured Aladdin into stealing money. They evaded the guards before arriving at an old well.
“Hurry up, slowpoke! I’ve seen sand worms move faster than you, Aladdin!” Aladdin arrived panting “I don’t think we should have stolen that.”
Amal mocked him, “Like you’ve never stolen anything before.”
“I only steal food! To eat!”
Amal stood on top of a wall and gloated. “Oh, big difference. Listen, I’m not gonna be a street rat forever, like you. Someday, I’m gonna make something of myself!”
Aladdin sighed “I won’t be a street rat forever. But I’m not going to make something of myself by doing bad things, Amal.” His friend was nowhere to be seen. In his worry, Aladdin saw a dark figure jump into the well. What was that thing?!