Sketch War

Author: rporter

  • FSW: Bailout!

    Okay, the funny stuff in here? The good words? Stolen from greater men than I. Or worse, stolen and munged by a degenerate just to get them to fit my nefarious needs. So, to Alan Jay Lerner, Joe Darion, and Frank Loesser, I give all my humble and feeble thanks.

    Ken picked out this week’s theme – bailout – and came out of the gate first with, you guessed it, a musical sketch! His is original and funny and ends with the biggest laugh I’ve had all week. Michael hasn’t shown up yet – he’s thinking about a break from the Internet for a little while – but I’m still hoping his worse angels get the better of him. And I can’t believe I forgot…David returns with a sketch! It’s not on-theme, but who cares?

    As for next week, the theme is…best friends.

    As usual, if you want to play along with us, email a link to your entry to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.

    Bailout!

    EXT. THEATER – NIGHT

    A small crowd of bedraggled and weary souls are gathered under a marquis. Their faces are sunken but their smiles are beaming. Behind them are posters for “Bailout!”

    WOMAN #1

    I found a Jujube under my seat! And it was warm in there. It’s been so cold.

    CAMERAMAN (O.C.)

    But did you enjoy the play?

    WOMAN #1

    It was amazing. I cried. A lot.

    WOMAN #2

    Best show in years.

    INT. THEATER – NIGHT

    Three actors dressed as SENATORS LIEBERMAN, SPECTER, and COLEMAN huddle to one side.

    NARRATOR (V.O.)

    Come see the smash hit everyone’s talking about, “Bailout!” Winner of seven Tonys, including Best Play, Best Drama, and Best Place to Stay Warm in February. With songs you won’t soon forget, like this one…

    CLOSE ON SENATORS

    SENATORS LIEBERMAN, SPECTER, AND COLEMAN

    (singing)

    The Secretary is just a Goy
    Not a M.O.T., just a Goy.
    To finagle and dangle and skillfully wrangle
    The financial hoi polloi
    The Wall Street meltdown is not
    Safe in the hands of a Goy.

    INT. THEATER – NIGHT

    The stage is set for a Senate hearing. An actor playing LEHMAN BROTHERS CEO, RICHARD FULD sits at the witness table with his ATTORNEY. Several SENATORS sit across him at their desks.

    NARRATOR (V.O.)

    Or this hilarious number…

    LEHMAN BROTHERS CEO, RICHARD FULD

    Senators!

    (singing)

    Do you recall the other night that I distinctly said you might
    Shore up my junk bonds and bad mortgages?
    Well, I’m afraid there’s someone who I must sell to in place of you
    Someone who plainly is beyond compare
    China’s portfolio is more tremendous than I have e’er seen anywhere
    And when an offer is that tremendous
    It, by right, should buy up all my shares.

    SENATORS

    (speaking)

    But Richard, let us bargain with them and beat them!
    Don’t refuse us so abruptly, we implore!
    Give us the opportunity to outbid them
    And China will be smashed upon the floor!

    LEHMAN BROTHERS CEO, RICHARD FULD

    You’ll bash and thrash them?

    SENATORS

    We’ll smash and mash them.

    LEHMAN BROTHERS CEO, RICHARD FULD

    You’ll give them trouble?

    SENATORS

    They will be rubble.

    LEHMAN BROTHERS CEO, RICHARD FULD

    A mighty whack?

    SENATORS

    Their market will crack.

    LEHMAN BROTHERS CEO, RICHARD FULD

    Well…

    (singing)

    Then you may buy up all my shares
    If you do all the things you promise
    In fact, my heart would break should you not buy up all my shares.

    INT. THEATER – NIGHT

    A lone spot on an actor portraying SENATOR MCCAIN. He stands in front of the curtain, facing the audience.

    NARRATOR (V.O.)

    Or this soul-wrenching number about thwarted dreams from Tony-winner Neil Patrick Harris…

    SENATOR MCCAIN

    (singing)

    I have dreamed thee too long,
    Never seen thee or touched thee.
    But known thee with all of my heart.
    Half a prayer, half a song,
    Thou hast always been with me,
    Though we have been always apart.

    Oval Office… Oval Office…
    I see heaven when I see thee, Oval Office,
    And thy desk is just a place
    I’ll never sit in… Oval Office… Oval Office!

    CUT TO:

    Titles. “Bailout!” in white letters on black.

    NARRATOR (V.O.)

    Come see “Bailout!”, playing now and forever at the Winter Garden Theater. Located between the Helping Hands Soup Kitchen and the Unemployment Office.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: It’s the End of the World As We Know It

    Michael’s selection for this week was the prescient apocalypse. All too close to bearing fruit, I keep hearing hoof beats and horn blasts. I tell you, if seven brothers club seven baby seals for their seven brides, I’m stocking up on bottled water tequila.

    Micheal’s already come through this week with a sketch about the day after yesterday. I got chills reading this. Ken followed up with a hopeful story about tolerance, belief, and deli food. Honors for next week’s theme fall to him, so be sure to check out his blog for an update to his post.

    As usual, if you want to play along with us, email a link to your entry to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.

    It’s the End of the World As We Know It

    INT. LIVING ROOM – DUSK

    MARISOL, HECTOR, and BRAD wear tattered rags and sit in the decrepit remains of a once grand living room. Marisol and Hector huddle in one corner, Brad in another. The former captain of industry looks as beaten as his cook and gardener. PHOEBE throws open upstage doors and glides in wearing a short skirt, pressed blouse, and new Christian Louboutins. Her hair and makeup are immaculate. Her arms are full of bags.

    PHOEBE

    It’s so stuffy in here! What is wrong with all of you? It was a beautiful day today, but you’re all sitting right where you were when I left this morning. I bet you didn’t even get up once.

    BRAD

    Hector got up once, to shoot a giant ant that was coming toward the house.

    HECTOR

    Si. I shoot between the eyes.

    BRAD

    Which ones? It had like, a million.

    PHOEBE

    And what about you? And Marisol? You just sat there? I bet you didn’t even clean and dress the carcass. We haven’t had fresh meat in two weeks, but you just left it on the lawn, didn’t you? It’s probably already gone bad.

    HECTOR

    No. The flying cats come and drag it to their nest.

    MARISOL

    They’re so pretty. Why I can’t have one?

    PHOEBE

    We’ve been over this before, Marisol. No dogs or killer mutant cats in the house. Mr. Finley has allergies.

    MARISOL

    Yes, Miss Phoebe.

    PHOEBE

    Come on. Come help me with the bags.

    The others trudge to Phoebe and take her bags.

    PHOEBE (CONT’D)

    I found a few cans of pineapple juice under the bar in the Jensen’s pool house. I remembered Patrick made those killer hurricanes last Memorial Day.

    BRAD

    Any Myers left?

    PHOEBE

    No. No booze. Looks like squatters got it all. But they left the fruit juice.

    BRAD

    Lucky us.

    PHOEBE

    You’re damn right, lucky us! What’s with all of you?

    BRAD

    What’s with us? You’re running around town like nothing’s wrong, while we’re here fighting off killer ants and flocks of flying cats. It’s over, Phoebe! The world’s over!

    Marisol and Hector freeze.

    PHOEBE

    No, Brad. The world’s not over. Your cushy life is over. Your two-martini lunches and Wednesday golf and Thursday afternoons with that tramp, Charlotte Greggson, are over. Life goes on. The world goes on.

    (Beat)

    Oh? You didn’t think I knew about her? I knew, Brad. I! Didn’t! Care!

    Phoebe is steaming, but keeps it together. She crosses her arms. Hector looks in the last bag, not finding what he wants.

    HECTOR

    Miss Phoebe, you not bring bullets?

    PHOEBE

    Of course I did, Hector. Nine mills, .38s, and 12-gauge. They’re right here.

    Phoebe spins a little and we see the third arm jutting from the center of her back holding one last bag. Her blouse is perfectly tailored to accommodate the extra appendage.

    HECTOR

    Thank you ma’am.

    Hector goes to Phoebe and takes the bag. As he walks away, we see he has two extra eyes on the back of his head.

    PHOEBE

    No problem, Hector. It’s nice to see someone else around here doing his part.

    (Stares at Brad)

    But you really have to get out of this house more. You too, Marisol. The weather’s just been perfect. It’s my favorite time of year, when the lung-squid walk up the beach at night to spawn and the ocean burns just a little brighter. Both the moons are full tonight. You and Marisol should take a walk on the overlook.

    MARISOL

    (Fearful)

    The bat-coons!

    PHOEBE

    Marisol, you know those are a myth. I’ve never heard a notion as silly as a bat-coon. Now you two go watch the mating dance of the lung-squid before the cock-a-mice come fly off with their eggs.

    Marisol and Hector exit.

    BRAD

    That’s just great. The world is burning and you’re playing matchmaker.

    Phoebe sashays up to Brad. She wraps her two front arms around his waist.

    PHOEBE

    Someone has to repopulate the world. It certainly isn’t going to be us.

    BRAD

    It’s just…you’re different since you grew…that.

    Phoebe flexes her third arm and strokes his face seductively

    PHOEBE

    This?

    BRAD

    No.

    (Nods at crotch)

    That.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Morton’s Executive Search

    Okay. This week’s topic is job hunting. Nice and straightforward in honor of my upcoming job switch. And *clearly* we can avoid politics tonight.Michael’s got the call for next week, so don’t forget to read his submission when he posts it to find out what next week’s topic is. And of course, because his and Ken’s will be funny as hell.If you want to play along with us, email a link to your entry to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.Morton’s Executive Search

    INT. CONFERENCE ROOM – DAY

    JANET, 30s slender and no-nonsense, enters and strides to the head of the table. She joins GARETH, 40s and tweedy, and EMILY, 20s and achingly hip.

    JANET

    Sorry I’m late. Dick’s sister and kids are visiting. The baby cried half the night. What’s on the agenda today?

    GARETH

    First up is a new position. I got the call right before coming in here. G.O. is in the market for a new CEO. This could be really big for us.

    JANET

    You’re not kidding. Commission on that could run high six figures. Who’ve we got in the stable?

    EMILY

    (Shuffles a few files and reads from the first)

    We’ve got a Columbia grad, Harvard Law, former state legislator and a few years in the Senate. He’s really good in front of crowds. He’d be great calming the stockholders.

    JANET

    (Aghast)

    You’re kidding me, right? This isn’t your local coffee house looking for a part-time manager for Poetry Slam Saturdays. This is one of the biggest companies in the world. Who else have we got.

    Emily is chastened. Gareth grabs a file from her stack and reads.

    GARETH

    Alright. Someone a bit older and more seasoned. We’ve got an Annapolis grad, four-term Senator–

    JANET

    –Please! Again, let me remind you people. We’re hiring for a Cee Eee Oh! Give me someone with some executive experience.

    EMILY

    Okay, I’ve got one. Two-term mayor of a small town, governor–

    JANET

    –Alright. Is that all you’ve got? Come on. G.O., people. G.O. is synonymous with high tech. They started Silicon Valley in their garage. Emily. When I say G.O., what do you think of?

    EMILY

    Well, I guess big-ticket high tech.

    JANET

    Exactly. And we need a CEO who under–

    GARETH

    –We don’t.

    JANET

    We don’t what?

    GARETH

    They told me they’re looking to change. They want to get out of the large-margin business and move into consumer electronics. More sales through Wal-Mart than to Wal-Mart.

    JANET

    So they’re looking for someone to get them out of selling to big business and into the bargain bins. I’ve got the perfect candidate. Checks off all the boxes. She’ll swoop in – and earn us a pretty signing commission – change the corporate culture, and be out the door in five years with millions. Gareth, put together the standard golden chute package.

    (Beat)

    Alright, what’s up next?

    EMILY

    Huh. Interestingly enough, I’ve got a coffee shop looking for a part-time manager.

    JANET

    Alright Mr. Harvard Law, that’s you. What else?

    GARETH

    Kruger Industrial Smoothing needs a new senior sales rep. But I think I’ve got that one covered.

    EMILY

    The Lions have an opening for a GM. I think I’ve got a guy for that. He’s got experience, and we can bring in him for high dollars; he’s making a lot at his current job.

    JANET

    Is he going to be interested in moving on?

    EMILY

    He’s got strong ties to the Detroit area, and apparently is in quite a rush to get out of New York. He’s something of a

    (air quotes)

    “bad boy”, but they love him in Motor City.

    JANET

    And he knows football?

    EMILY

    Not exactly, but he knows sports. And he’s used to the pressure of being a GM.

    GARETH

    We should move quickly on this. Before–

    JANET

    –Before Detroit knows what hit ’em.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: A Game of Horse

    Ken suggested this week’s theme – sports. He was looking to avoid the teeth gnashing of politics and “failing financial giants”. Let me know how he did.

    I’ve got the baton, so next week’s theme will be…ah yes! In honor of quitting my job today (and unfortunately taking another one,) next week’s theme will be job hunting. If you want to play along with us, email a link to your entry to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.

    A Game of Horse
    (Three young boys of 9 or 10 shoot a basketball listlessly: BARRY a tall, skinny, African-American kid, rebounds an errant shot and struts. JOE, a skinny white kid, narrates the action.)

    JOE
    Look, up in the sky! It’s a bird…it’s a plane…

    BARRY
    How about a game of horse?

    (The last member of our trio is JOHN, a stocky white kid. He slaps the ball from Barry’s hands.)

    JOHN
    Great idea. I’ll go first.

    BARRY
    Don’t be a dick, man.

    JOE
    Yeah, don’t be a dick, man.

    JOHN
    Whatever. You want to protect the hoop? You can’t even protect the ball. Okay. From here, off the backboard.

    (John at the free throw line dribbles many times and lets loose a brick. Not even close. Barry leaps and retrieves.)

    BARRY
    (snarky) Nice shot, John.

    JOE
    Never before in the annals of human history has someone done so little with so much effort.

    (Barry lines up at the baseline, beyond the arc. He shoots. Nothing but a ripple as the ball falls through the net. Joe rebounds and dribbles to Barry’s spot.)

    JOHN
    Behind the line! Get behind the line!

    (Joe sets up and lets fly an abomination. An uglier shot you’ve never seen.)

    BARRY
    That’s ‘H’. Your turn, John.

    (John grabs the ball and dribbles.)

    JOHN
    It’s not fair to shoot from back here. You know I can’t raise my arms above my head!

    JOE
    There’s no crying in basketball.

    (John shoots granny-style and still misses.)

    BARRY
    And ‘H’ for you.

    (Barry grabs the ball and dribbles to the top of the key.)

    BARRY
    Left-handed reverse layup.

    (Barry dribbles left, crosses over right, drives to the hoop, powers under and lays it in silky smooth with his off hand.)

    JOE
    You’re despicable.

    (Joe grabs the ball and executes…that’s not right. He dies. John tries and does even worse, tripping over his feet at the end.)

    BARRY
    Ho-ho-ho! That’s ‘H-O’ for yo’!

    (Barry takes the ball again and goes to the free throw line. He faces away from the hoop.)

    BARRY (CONT’D)
    Ai-ight. Backwards, off the backboard.

    (Cocky bastard. Serves him right when he misses.)

    JOE
    Juuuust a bit outside!

    (John grabs the ball. Out of turn. What a little punk. He goes to the free throw line again.)

    JOHN
    Losers buy the winner tacos!

    (He shoots and banks it in.)

    JOE
    Do you believe in miracles???

    BARRY
    You didn’t call bank!

    JOHN
    I always bank it. You know that.

    BARRY
    Fine.

    (Barry takes the ball and shoots without looking. Cocky. I mentioned that, right? He misses.)

    JOHN
    Ha! That’s an ‘H’! Man, I love Spanish food!

    BARRY
    What?

    JOHN
    I love Spanish food. I can already taste those tacos.

    BARRY
    Spain’s in Europe, John. Tacos are from Mexico.

    JOHN
    Same diff.

    JOE
    He only seems to lack the knowledge ladled out daily in high schools.

    (A petite girl skips to courtside. She’s got a BB gun with her.)

    SARAH
    Can I play?

    JOHN
    No! I told you to quit trying to hang out with us!

    SARAH
    Mom said you have to let me play with you.

    JOHN
    I don’t care. Go home.
    (to Joe)
    Your turn.

    (Joe lines up to shoot and lets the ball sail. Sarah picks it off midair and it deflates as it falls to the ground. Who’d have thought a BB gun would have that much stopping power? Sarah poses like a big girl.)

    SARAH
    Now can I play?

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Change Edition

    The change meme is floating in the ether a lot these days. Michael picked up on it and made it the theme for last Friday’s sketch war. Well, “sha na na na na”.

    • Coyote sent the Justice League to do his bidding…
    • Michael embraced the wonder of the universe…right before kicking it in the teeth…
    • Ken negotiated a pay raise.

    Ken’s suggested next week’s seasonally appropriate theme of sports. So get your thinking caps on, sharpen your pencils, quills, and broadswords, and submit your best effort by midnight Friday to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.

  • FSW: Change We Can Believe In

    This weeks’s topic, selected by Michael, was change. I figured I should go with the season, and go with the political flow. Let’s give honors to…Ken for next week. Ken, pick it and put in comments!

    If you want to read this the way it really should be formatted, click here for the Scribd version. It’s not radically different in appearance, except that the dual dialog is better laid out.

    Oh, and yes. This would have to be animated. Assume Hanna-Barbera style.

    Change We Can Believe In
    INT. STAGE – DAY
    (JOHN MCCAIN and SARAH PALIN in front of a green screen. He just can’t get away from them.)

    JOHN
    People like to bandy the word ‘change’ around a lot. My opponent–

    SARAH
    Our opponent.

    JOHN
    (flinching like a frequently whipped dog)
    Yes Sarah. Our opponent wants you to believe change comes from diplomacy, compromise, and hard work. That’s simply not true.

    SARAH
    That’s right, John. Real change comes from magic rings.

    (John and Sarah brandish IDENTICAL RINGS on their upheld fists.)

    SARAH (CONT’D)
    Magic rings stolen from alien teenagers!

    JOHN & SARAH
    Wonder Twin powers, activate!

    SARAH
    Shape of…a Bald Eagle!

    JOHN
    Form of…a puddle of dirty water! Just like the water on the floor of the cage I spent six years in being tortured daily. When I was a war hero.

    (Sarah and John transform into a bald eagle and puddle of
    water respectively. Still able to speak, though.)

    SARAH
    I’m a small-town girl with small-town values. Values like honoring the symbol of our great nation and honoring our great war heroes.

    JOHN
    Barack Obama called my running mate a pig. Does she look like a pig? No. She’s a majestic eagle.

    (Sarah-eagle touches wingtip to John-puddle.)

    JOHN & SARAH
    Wonder Twin powers, deactivate!

    (In a flash, Sarah and John revert to their normal forms.)

    SARAH
    The big-city elites want to take your guns away.

    JOHN
    They want to teach your preschoolers about sex.

    SARAH
    They want to take your pickups and SUVs away.

    (Sarah and John touch rings…)

    JOHN & SARAH
    Wonder Twin powers, activate!

    SARAH
    Form of…a completely safe and unthreatened polar bear!

    JOHN
    Shape of…a piece of Arctic glacier, undisturbed by liberal lies about global warming.

    (Sarah and John transform again. Sarah-bear stands atop John-ice.)

    SARAH
    My opponent–

    JOHN
    (timidly)
    –actually, he’s my opponent, Sarah.

    SARAH
    Right. Our opponent wants you to drive a hybrid. Or walk! He wants you to believe in global warming. Well, I’m from the great state of Alaska and I can tell you, it’s
    not getting any warmer!

    JOHN
    Well, it is getting warmer, Sarah. But the science isn’t conclusive as to whether our actions have anything–

    SARAH
    –I said it’s not getting warmer, John!

    JOHN
    Right. Sorry, Sarah.

    JOHN & SARAH
    Wonder Twin powers, deactivate!

    (Sarah-bear and John-ice touch and transform.)

    SARAH
    Every day I wake up, I have to worry about the threat of Russian invasion. Barack Obama wants to disband the military and send all your children to madrassas. That’s not change we can believe in.
    (beat)
    This is change we can believe in…

    (Sarah and John touch rings again…)

    JOHN & SARAH
    Wonder Twin powers, activate!

    JOHN
    Shape of…a bucket of tears. The tears I cried each night after the Vietcong had tortured and beaten me trying to make me turn against America. America, the greatest
    country on Earth!

    (John transforms into a bucket of tears. It’s magic. Don’t ask.)

    SARAH
    Form of…a moose!

    (Sarah transforms into a moose.)

    JOHN
    That’s quite a set of antlers you’ve got there, Sarah.

    SARAH
    What? Oh. Moose! Where’s my gun!

    (Sarah-moose runs in circles a few times, finds a tophat, pulls a lion out of it…)

    SARAH
    Guess I don’t know my own strength.

    (Sarah-moose pushes the lion back in and pulls out a rifle and shoots herself!)

    JOHN
    Sarah! Sarah, are you alright?

    (Sarah’s dead.)

    JOHN
    Oh, great. Now I’m stuck like this.

    EXT. PODIUM – DAY
    (Bunting and flags everywhere on this cold January day. It’s inauguration day. JOE LIEBERMAN stands behind a dais holding John-bucket-of-tears up to a microphone.)

    JOE
    John, John!
    (calling off stage)
    Someone get me a hotplate! The President’s frozen again!

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Funeral Edition

    Last week’s reunion special got me a bit melancholy, thinking about the ultimate reunion. When all your friends and family (or, in my case, a county official and anonymous creamatorium worker) get together to celebrate who you were and how you lived. Brings a tear to my eye. A tear, because a cinder from your remains got in my eye!

    This week’s challenge sees four warriors (once David stopped washing his damn hair) on the field of battle.

    • Coyote spied on a lackey’s funeral…
    • Michael sent a ghost to do his bidding…
    • Ken sold me a new coffin…
    • David made a [adjective] [noun] of death.

    Next week’s topic is selected by Michael: change. Same call for sketches as always…if you wanna show us the funny, email sketchwar_AT_dreamloom.com.

  • FSW: Death of a Henchmen

    So last week, TheWife suggested I write my sketch on gatherings about a funeral. I already had an idea in mind which I liked, so I decided against it. But when it came time to pick this week’s topic, I was happy to burden the other guys with funerals! This way, we ALL get to put the fun back in funeral.

    I’m moderately happy with this one, though I realized as I was wrapping it up that I had no ending for it. That kinda sucks. Thankfully, I had Victor.

    Death of a Henchman
    (A bright living room: neatly decorated with feminine touches throughout. Several tables are laid out with casseroles and bowls of food. A large wreath dominates one corner. Many people mill about in black. The widow, MARJORIE STEVENSON, is talking with BILL JENSEN.)

    MARJORIE
    I still can’t believe Walt’s gone. It’s just like him though. He promised he’d clean out the gutters this weekend. Now he’ll never…
    (Sobbing)
    …he’ll never make up another excuse to get out of helping around the house.

    (Bill puts his arm around Marjorie.)

    BILL
    I know. He was good at that. Used to get out of cleanup at work, too. Not that anyone cared. He was worth ten of us. We were happy to do his share around the hideout.

    MARJORIE
    Thanks, Bill.

    BILL
    Quite a turnout. I’ll bet every henchman in town is here.

    (Sargent O’Herlihy walks over. A stout Irish man raised on beef and Irish stout, his nose looks like a potato left in a drawer too long.)

    O’HERLIHY
    Bill. Marjorie. I’m sorry for your loss. Walt was a black-hearted bastard, but he was always the first to buy a round at the pub. When he wasn’t in the clink, that is.

    MARJORIE
    He always liked you, Clancy. Said you were the only clean cop he could stand.

    O’HERLIHY
    I liked that he never kicked me in me nether regions.

    (O’Herlihy takes out a hip flask, toasts the air, and swigs. He walks away as HARLEY QUINN comes up with a covered platter.)

    HARLEY
    Marjorie, Mr. J. couldn’t make it, but he sends his regards. And this dish he cooked himself.

    (Harley pulls back the cover, exposing a very large Joker Fish. Marjorie is stone faced.)

    MARJORIE
    Thank you, Harley dear. Why don’t you put that on the table. Leave it covered; we don’t want it to…get cold.

    HARLEY
    It’s a dish best served cold.

    MARJORIE
    Than hot. Wouldn’t want it to get hot.

    (Harley walks away with her platter of scary fishiness. STAN HOOPER comes to pay his respects. He’s young, but using a walker.)

    STAN
    Marjorie. I don’t know if you remember me. I was the Gay Blade’s wheelman back in ’02.

    MARJORIE
    Oh, right. You were the one who put the solid fuel rocket on the Blade’s Kia.

    STAN
    (Blushing) Yeah.

    BILL
    How’ve you been? It’s Stan, right?

    STAN
    Yeah. Stan. Uh, I’ve been okay. Got out of traction last month. Doc figures six, seven months of therapy and I should be back in business, God willing. You know anyone looking for a driver?

    BILL
    No, no. Sorry.

    MARJORIE
    Well thank you very much for coming by, Stan. It means a lot.

    STAN
    I was just wondering…I…I don’t want I should be rude, but…how did it happen? You hear all sorts of rumors…

    MARJORIE
    He was setting up a giant boxing glove on the roof of the Fremont Tower. Some crazy scheme of The Marsupial. Something about jets or missiles–

    BILL
    –Captain Awesome. It was part of a trap for Captain Awesome. Missiles to box him in and the glove to finish him off.

    MARJORIE
    (Getting tight-chested) Right. That’s it. But the springs were second rate – everything The Marsupial does is second rate – and the whole thing collapsed on…

    (Marjorie trails off and starts to cry some more.)

    STAN
    Geez, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I should–

    BILL
    –It’s a difficult time for us all.

    (Stan backs away respectfully. Victor Von Doom strolls over carrying a plate of food.)

    VON DOOM
    Marjorie, Bill, darlings! You know I feel strange asking this, so soon after your dear husband was buried, but I’ve come to praise this Caesar salad. What’s your secret?

    BILL
    What? Uh, it’s the croutons. They’re double-baked with garlic and herbs.

    VON DOOM
    You must give me the recipe.

    BILL
    You know, now’s not the best–

    VON DOOM
    –you MUST!

    (Bill sighs and walks off with Von Doom. GINGER STEINBERG comes over. She’s older, but was once obviously a rare beauty.)

    GINGER
    Marjorie, I’m sorry.

    MARJORIE
    Thank you, Ginger. If anyone can understand, it’s you.

    GINGER
    I hope not too well. You know I lost my Irving the day before his pension vested.

    MARJORIE
    Two days for Walt.

    GINGER
    Ach. It’s that damn Marsupial! Why did he go work for him?

    MARJORIE
    Something about profit sharing and stock options. I don’t know. I wish he’d just stayed on Black Manta’s crew. That was nice. We got to summer at the beach and all I ever had to worry about was Aquaman sending a jellyfish to sting Walt. But he was sure The Marsupial was an up-and-comer.
    (BEAT)
    At least there’s the Henchmen’s Widows fund. And Walt carried a lot of life insurance.

    GINGER
    I’ll bet.

    (In the corner, Von Doom knocks over the wreath.)

    VON DOOM
    Let’s Limbo!

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: The Reunion

    Newest warrior Ken got theme honors this week and selected gatherings. I’ve been only moderately happy with my entries of late, so I reached back several months to a sketch I’m still quite proud of for inspiration. This entry would benefit greatly from a second draft and a little polish, but I’m posting this early on Thursday morning before going offline for the weekend. I hope y’all appreciate it a bit as it stands.


    I believe it is my turn to select the theme again, so I’m going to go with…ooh, this is a nasty one…funerals.


    If you want to get in on the fun, email a link to your sketch – or its full text if you’ve got no web home – by midnight, next Friday to sketchwar at dreamloom.com

    The Reunion
    (ROB, late 20s and weary, wears a wrinkled dress shirt. He sits at a table in a gaily decorated high school gym. He is joined by RICH and SCOTT, also late 20s, equally rumpled.)

    RICH
    Cathy looks good. You should go talk to her.

    ROB
    I don’t know, it’s weird. Bill’s watching.

    SCOTT
    Dude, it’s Cathy. You mooned about her all through high school–

    RICH
    –since sixth grade.

    SCOTT
    Seriously? Then too?

    RICH
    Yeah. It was hilarious. He was what, five foot even, and she was as tall as she is today, but he thought he had a shot.

    ROB
    Thanks. I just…it’s different now.

    RICH
    Yeah. Now you have a shot. Come on.

    (ROB gets up and shuffles to CATHY’s table. She’s a classic blond beauty, 10 years lovelier than when she was homecoming queen.)

    ROB
    Hey, Cath.

    CATHY
    Hey, Rob. I was wondering when you’d finally come say hi.

    ROB
    I just…

    (Freeze. DUDE-ROB, late teens and dressed like Rob but rattier, enters and stands next to Rob.)

    DUDE-ROB
    Aw, man she looks good! Tell her you were busy talking to your Lamborghini mechanic. Chicks dig hot cars.

    ROB
    No, I think I’ve got this, thanks.

    (Unfreeze.)

    ROB (CONT’D)
    I just don’t know what to say. Bill’s here with you, right?

    CATHY
    Rob, things are complicated with me and Bill.

    (BILL walks up. He’s a classic athlete, 10 years balder and seedier than when he was a star, but still rocking his letterman’s jacket. He sits opposite Cathy.)

    BILL
    Hey, Rob.

    ROB
    Uh, hi Bill.

    BILL
    You two keep talking. Don’t mind me.

    DUDE-ROB
    Man, you can totally kick his ass now! Remember that atomic wedgie he gave you on the field trip to Colonial Williamsburg? Now’s your chance! Get him back.

    (Freeze. WISE-ROB, dressed like Rob but nattier, silver at the temples and horn-rimmed glasses, stands next to Dude-Rob.)

    WISE-ROB
    Violence never solved anything. Turn the other cheek.

    DUDE-ROB
    Pussy!

    ROB
    I’m not going to fight him.

    (JOCK-BILL enters. He’s a behemoth in his letterman’s jacket. Built like a lineman with the skills of a QB.)

    JOCK-BILL
    Of course he’s not going to fight. He’s always been a pussy.

    (Dude-Rob moves behind Rob to shield himself.)

    WISE-ROB
    William, you scare no one. (Indicates Bill) Look at you. You’re probably wrestling with your inner demons as we speak, fighting to suppress your latent tendencies.

    JOCK-BILL
    What the hell’s that mean, four-eyes.

    (OLD-BILL flounces in. He’s in his 50s, happy, and wearing a boa. Yes. I went there.)

    OLD-BILL
    Don’t be rude! (Flirty to Wise-Rob) Hi, Rob!

    WISE-ROB
    (Uncomfortable) Uh, hello Bill.

    (Everyone unfreezes.)

    CATHY
    Bill and I are separated. He wouldn’t come tonight by himself.

    ROB
    Wow. I…are you guys okay?

    BILL
    Yeah. I’m just really confused lately.

    DUDE-ROB
    Goddamn right you’re confused, fairy!

    WISE-ROB
    Rob! Grow up! (To Old-Bill) I’m sorry.

    OLD-BILL
    It’s alright. It doesn’t bother me anymore.

    JOCK-BILL
    I should kick your ass, old man!

    OLD-BILL
    As if! Bring it on, junior!

    (Jock-Bill tackles Old-Bill and they thrash about on the floor. Bill watches dispassionately. Dude-Rob and Wise-Rob pretend to look away.)

    ROB
    I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you figure things out. You were always such a cute couple.

    BILL
    I bet you hated me, huh?

    CATHY
    He didn’t hate you, Billy.

    BILL
    It’s okay. I’d have hated me. I do hate me.

    (Old-Bill gets up and brushes off. Jock-Bill is down for the count.)

    BILL (CONT’D)
    But I’m getting better now.

    (Bill gets up to leave.)

    BILL (CONT’D)
    I’m going to stay at my parents’ tonight, okay? The house is yours.

    (Bill leans over to give Cathy a chaste peck on the cheek and leaves, OLD-BILL in tow.)

    DUDE-ROB
    Dude, she’s yours. Tap that fine ass!

    WISE-ROB
    “Tap that?” Are you twelve? She’s a woman, not a keg at one of your salacious parties. Rob, treat her with the respect and affection you’ve always had for her. Ah yes, of course! The poem!

    ROB
    Poem? Oh, that. I don’t remember it.

    DUDE-ROB
    I do:
    (snickering)
    An hundred years should go to praise
    Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
    Two hundred to adore each breast,
    But thirty thousand to the rest;
    I know where I’d spend that 30000!

    WISE-ROB
    Miscreant! I didn’t mean that. I meant:
    (solemn)
    But at my back I always hear
    Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
    And yonder all before us lie
    Deserts of vast eternity.

    DUDE-ROB
    Just ’cause you’re about to kick the bucket don’t mean he is.

    ROB
    Guys! I’ll handle this.
    (To Cathy)
    You want to dance?

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Back to School Edition

    We’ve been ambushed! Michael gave us this week’s theme and we set about sharpening our bayonets and targeting our rockets and seducing our Rockettes. Before either of us (or David, still bone-weary from last week’s beatdown) could get in a shot, our newest and boldest battler launched a salvo!

    David might still throw a last-minute grenade in this week, but all he’s going to pick off are the nurses and medical corpsmen tending the wounded at this point. But next week, we could have a four-man or even five-man battle royale! Hell, it could be more if anyone else feels brave and bold enough to join in. The theme for next week was selected by Ken, our newest warrior: gatherings.

    If you want to try your luck, email your sketch, or a link to where it’s posted to sketchwar AT dreamloom.com by midnight on Friday.

    We’ve got the sad truth of NCLB, the Softer Side of Sears, and a typical day in a rust belt city this week. Lots of good stuff.