Sketch War

Category: Sketches

Sketch Entries from the warriors

  • FSW: Best Friends Edition

    Stop, hey what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin down….it’s the FRIDAY SKETCH WAR – BEST FRIENDS EDITION!!! And this week, I took “war” a little too literally.

    Richard gave our theme last week – not sure who theme duties fall to this week since Michael’s status is up in the air, but Dave rejoined the battle week!

    I’ll post updated links as combatants report to the arena.

    UPDATED: Michael snuck in when I wasn’t looking (well before I posted actually), and gave us a tale of banks, dildos, and prarie dogs (welcome back to the blogospehere Michael – even if is just a Friday drive-by). He also provided next week’s theme: Mad Scientist. More updates as others report in.

    __________________________________________________________________

    EXT. VIETNAM JUNGLE 1968 – NIGHT
    Explosions and sound of automatic gunfire can be heard from every side – we’re in the middle of a nighttime jungle firefight. People are screaming and voices can be heard barking orders in military jargon, planes streak past overhead.

    SOUTHSIDE, an African-American US soldier in his early 20’s enters, supporting CHARGER, a burly square jawed white soldier also in his early 20’s who appears to be wounded. Both wear jungle camo fatigues. SOUTHSIDE sets CHARGER down on the ground and pulls off his backpack. CHARGER grunts and grabs his leg in pain as SOUTHSIDE starts pulling medical supplies out of his pack and treating CHARGER.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Hang on man, we’re gonna to get you outta here. You’re gonna make it.

    CHARGER
    It’s bad man….I know it’s bad. You don’t have to lie to me.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Stay with me Charger….do not give up!

    CHARGER
    I always knew I’d buy it in ‘Nam, Southside…that I’d end up dying for my country. But…I….

    SOUTHSIDE
    You got something to say, now’s the time.

    CHARGER
    There’s a hundred ways to buy it in the Nam, Southside. But I’m glad I get to go with you by my side. You’ve been the best buddy a guy could ever have…always there for me no matter what.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Hang on man…hang on….we gonna get you home, I promise you.

    CHARGER
    No man, I ain’t gettin’ out of this jungle alive, but you are…and you gotta live for me…gotta do the livin’ for both of us from now on, you understand?

    SOUTHSIDE
    Yeah, I hear you….what you want me to do for you brother?

    CHARGER
    Make America mean something again….make it a shining beacon of truth and justice in the world
    SOUTHSIDE
    I will, man, I promise I will

    CHARGER
    Fight for clean air…

    SOUTHSIDE
    Until my dying day

    CHARGER
    And for pure water…

    SOUTHSIDE
    With every ounce of my strength…

    CHARGER
    And fight to make sure no black man ever becomes president.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Excuse me?

    CHARGER
    You gotta make that happen for me since I can’t!

    SOUTHSIDE
    Did you just tell me….ME…a black man, your best friend in Vietnam….the dude tryin to save your life, to make sure a black man never becomes president???

    CHARGER
    Oh thank God, you understand.

    SOUTHSIDE
    What the fuck Man?You can NOT be that much of a redneck. We been best friends the entire time been in country, and the whole time we were in bootcamp before that. My redneck detector would have gone apeshit a long time ago if you were bullshittin this whole time..

    CHARGER
    Power and money is all us white guys have left.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Ain’t that enough?

    CHARGER
    No man…Black musicians are cooler than whites, black athletes are better than white atletes, black men have bigger…

    SOUTHSIDE
    That’s a myth.

    CHARGER
    Remember the barracks showers at Fort Bragg?

    SOUTHSIDE
    (smiling)
    Okay, you got me. But look…we may be great athletes, but it’s rich white guys that own the teams.

    CHARGER
    Just when we’re old – it’s the only way white guys get laid after 55.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Good point.

    CHARGER
    Look man…white guys are losing all the cool stuff. Being president is the last great dream white kids can have without fear of competition.

    SOUTHSIDE
    So I should never let a black man be president.

    CHARGER
    Never

    SOUTHSIDE
    Not even if the whole country is going to shit and the black man in question was like super-smart and had all kinds of great ideas on how to fix things?

    CHARGER
    Every dumb white person in the US would move to Canada if a smart black man had to bail their asses out.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Might not be so bad.

    CHARGER
    You want a war with Canada?

    SOUTHSIDE
    Charger, man, I love you like a brother, but you ask too much

    CHARGER
    It’s my dying wish man…you gotta do this for me

    SOUTHSIDE
    What if our positions were reversed….what if I were dying and told you you’d HAVE to vote for a black president someday if the right guy came along?

    CHARGER
    I…..I don’t know….

    SOUTHSIDE
    What if I was dyin’ cause I took a bullet to save you?

    CHARGER
    Yeah..I’d do it for you…without thinking…you’re my best friend…I’d owe you my life

    SOUTHSIDE
    So IF you owed me your life, you’d vote for a black president someday?

    CHARGER
    If I owed you my life, I’d do anything to repay that debt.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Then you, my brother, are votin’ black.

    CHARGER
    What?

    SOUTHSIDE
    Man I stopped you bleedin’ five minutes ago. You’re gonna be fine.

    SOUTHSIDE helps CHARGER stand up. CHARGER tests his leg, looks down and see that it isn’t bleeding.

    CHARGER
    Shit

    SOUTHSIDE
    C’mon man, let’s get you back – an evac helicopter just landed over there

    SOUTHSIDE helps CHARGER limp offstage

    SOUTHSIDE
    What about a woman president?

    CHARGER
    No way…maybe a woman vice president if she was really hot.

    SOUTHSIDE
    Plays into that whole great white dream thing again doesn’t it?

    CHARGER
    (smiling)
    Oh hell yeah.

    BLACK OUT

  • FSW: Best Friends Edition

    I have returned from my sojourn into the cold, internetless world and I can only say one thing; Man did I get a lot of work done!

    I’ll post more about it later, but today is Friday and that means Sketch War.

    No word from Richard or Ken or Dave yet this week, but I’m sure they’re out there lurking somewhere.

    This week’s theme, brought to us by Richard, is “Best Friends”.

    I’ve been noodling around with a sitcom idea based on a couple of ne’er do well friends and I figured this would be a good excuse to actually do a little writing about them.

    Full Disclosure: The germ of this scene was created during a writing exercise with another creative cat. I’m hoping that they won’t be too offended that I’ve run off with it.

    I don’t have a title for it at the moment, but the file name I’ve been saving it under is “Jerks”.

    Oh, and next week’s theme is Mad Scientist.

    INT. BANK — MORNING

    JULIAN, bookish, 30s, stands in line at a teller window, check in his hand. Ani, sexy-nerdish, 30s, messenger bag slung on her shoulder, sneaks up behind him and jams her
    fingers into his ribs. He lets out an embarrassingly girlish giggle then immediately whips around to face Ani.

    JULIAN
    Why! Do you insist on doing that?!

    ANI
    God help me, I love that sound.

    JULIAN
    What are you doing here?

    ANI
    It’s the fifteenth. We always have lunch together on the fifteenth.

    JULIAN
    I know that, but this isn’t the Under the Tracks Grill.

    ANI
    Well, today being a special day and all, I thought maybe you’d want an extra ten minutes of me. Plus, I couldn’t wait to show you what I got you.

    JULIAN
    If you pull out a giant, black dildo, I swear to Christ-

    ANI
    Relax, Sister Mary Soggy Diaper, it’s nothing like that.

    She reaches into her bag and pulls out a latex, prairie dog mask and puts it on.

    ANI (CONT’D)
    Pretty sweet, huh?

    JULIAN
    Yeah, except I can still hear your voice.

    A Bank Guard notices them and begins walking in their direction.

    ANI
    I figured you could wear this in that cubicle farm of an office you work in.

    She starts to do a little dance. Julian notices the Guard heading their way.

    JULIAN
    Oh crap. You gotta take that off in here.

    ANI
    (Baby voiced)
    Aw, wassa matter, Julian? Am I embarrwassing you again?

    Her dancing becomes more frantic. Julian reaches for the mask but gets a handful of her hair instead.

    ANI (CONT’D)
    Ow! Douche.

    Ani pulls Julian’s hair and he emits a high-pitched, girlish scream.

    JULIAN
    Ani, stop fucking around.

    They begin to wrestle.

    GUARD
    Hey!

    In their struggling they bump into a little, old lady who was standing ahead of Julian and knock her over. A teller looks up at the commotion, sees the masked Ani, panics and hits the alarm. The Guard draws his taser.

    GUARD (CONT’D)
    Don’t move!

    Ani and Julian freeze in mid grapple.

    ANI
    Do you think he’s talking to us?

    The little, old lady has righted herself and thunks Julian over the head with her purse which causes him to bump into Ani, who spins towards the Guard. From the Guard’s point of view it looks like a giant prairie dog is about to attack him. He panics and fires the taser, but Ani has spun out of the way and onto the floor and the barbs attached to the electrodes embed themselves into the little, old lady who jolts a couple of times, her false teeth falling out, and collapses to the floor. As Julian is helping Ani up, they take all this in.

    JULIAN
    Maybe we should…

    Outside we hear the wail of sirens.

    ANI
    Definitely.

    They bolt for the door.

    EXT. BANK — DAY

    A small crowd is starting to gather as the bell can clearly be heard on the street. Julian and Ani, still wearing the prairie dog mask, come running out the door. People give them a wide berth as they race around the corner and into an alley.

    Police cars screech to a halt in front of the bank. The Guard comes through the bank doors, wheezing. Onlookers point police in the direction of the alley and they take off on foot while a couple of cars peel rubber to head around the block.

    EXT. ALLEY — DAY
    Julian and Ani are running for their lives. Ani is ahead of Julian.

    JULIAN
    You couldn’t have waited for me at the restaurant!

    ANI
    You’re kidding me, right? I couldn’t have planned a better birthday present for you if I tried!

    JULIAN
    How’s about next year you just bake me a cake?

    ANI
    What do I look like? Your mom?

    JULIAN
    Nah, you’re ass is too big.

    She stops dead in her tracks and whips off the mask. Julian runs a couple of steps past her then stops.

    JULIAN (CONT’D)
    What are you doing? They’re right behind us.

    ANI
    You think I have a fat ass?

    She smacks him with the mask, which he then grabs off of her.

    JULIAN
    I was kidding. Come on!

    ANI
    There’s 25% truth in every joke, you know.

    JULIAN
    You’ve met my mom. She’s built like a table leg.

    Ani thinks about this for a moment.

    JULIAN (CONT’D)
    I have a bigger ass than my mom.

    ANI
    I suppose.

    JULIAN
    Can we go now?

    ANI
    Yeah. Sorry. It’s just I’ve been trying to watch what I eat more and-

    OFFICER 1
    There he is!

    Officer 1 dives through the air and tackles Julian. Officer 2 joins the pile as they wrestle handcuffs onto him.

    ANI
    Um, Officers.

    OFFICER 2
    Stand back, ma’am.

    They drag Julian to his feet. He’s glaring at Ani.

    OFFICER 1
    Let’s go, Squirrel-Boy.

    ANI
    It’s a prairie dog actually.
    (To Julian)
    Do you want me to come bail you out?

    JULIAN
    Maybe you should just leave me alone for the rest of the day?

    ANI
    Really? Weird.

    JULIAN
    Oh, and you do have a fat ass.

    ANI
    I know you don’t mean that.

    They walk Julian to an awaiting squad car. They put him in the back.

    ANI (CONT’D)
    I’ll bring you some lunch.
    (beat)
    Protect your stink star!
    (beat)
    Happy birthday!

    They drive off. Ani pulls a large, black dildo out of her bag.

    ANI (CONT’D)
    Maybe I should have given him this first.

    She shrugs and heads to the Under the Tracks Grill.

    FADE OUT:

  • FSW: Reap the Whirlwind – ***Michael’s Sketch***

    Okay, crazy-man Michael is taking this no Internet (other than email, because, well, c’mon!) thing seriously. He didn’t post his sketch on his own blog tonight; he emailed it to me.

    So, without further ado, here’s Michael’s sketch for this week:

    Reap the Whirlwind
    (The burned out remains of a once beautiful home. Matt and Erin stand, holding each other, staring at the carnage.)

    Erin: I still can’t believe it.

    Matt: Our whole lives.

    Erin: It all happened so fast.

    Matt: All my trophies.

    Erin: Our wedding album.

    Matt: The plasma TV.

    Erin: My mother’s ashes.

    Matt: Well, those are probably all right.

    Erin: You think? Oh, honey, what are we going to do?

    (Matt gives her a hug.)

    Matt: It’s going to be all right.

    Erin: The only think keeping me from completely freaking out is the knowledge that we have insurance. At least we’ll be able to build a new home.

    Matt: Well…

    Erin: What?

    Matt: About the insurance…

    Erin: Don’t tell me you forgot to pay the bill. Matthew Christopher Glover, I swear to Christ, I will-

    Matt: I paid it. I paid it.

    Erin: What then?

    Matt: I sort of sold it to Stan.

    Erin: You what?

    Matt: You remember when he came over all upset because he’d just found out Kathy has ovarian cancer?

    Erin: Yeah.

    Matt: And how, since they didn’t have insurance they were going to have to sell everything just to pay for the treatments?

    Erin: Yeah.

    Matt: Well, I sort of sold him the right to our homeowner’s insurance.

    Erin: You what?

    Matt: I never thought our house would burn down!

    Erin: How much did you sell it for?

    Matt: That’s the beauty part. I got 10% interest on it.

    Erin: So he paid you money, betting that the house might burn down and then he’d get to collect the insurance?

    Matt: Not just him, either. Once I realized that people were willing to buy a policy against our policy I sold one to just about every guy at the office.

    Erin: That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.

    Matt: Wait, it’s gets better. Baby, I had fourteen different guys paying me $100 a month. Do the math. That’s extra money in our pockets.

    Erin: How long have you been doing this?

    Matt: Almost two whole years! That’s $36,000.

    Erin: And where’s that money now?

    Matt: Well, it paid for the new TV. And the new cabinets. Our trip to Branson.

    Erin: And how much was the policy worth?

    Matt: Pays out one million dollars.

    (She just stares at him.)

    Matt: What?

    Erin: Do the math, asshole! That’s 14 million dollars we have to pay out!

    Matt: Oh. (It really sinks in.) OH!

    (Just then a car pulls up outside. Stan walks over.)

    Stan: Oh my god, I’m so sorry you guys.

    Matt: Hey, Stan.

    Stan: I heard the sirens and saw them turn down your street and I hoped…I mean…I’m so sorry you guys.

    (Another car pulls up. Ernie gets out.)

    Matt: Hey, Ernie, what are you doing here?

    Ernie: Stan called and told me the news. I can’t believe it.

    Matt: Yeah, it’s all gone.

    Ernie: What an incredible return on an investment. I mean, my wife was pretty mad when she found out I was giving you $100 a month, but after tonight I am out of the dog house!

    (Another car pulls up. Jerry gets out, he’s got an open beer in his hands.)

    Jerry: Jackpot!

    Stan: Listen, man, not to be a douche or anything, but when do you think the claims adjuster is going to be out?

    Matt: We put a call into our guy, he said he’d be right over.

    Erin: Listen you guys, I don’t know what Matt promised you.

    Ernie: We have contracts.

    (They all pull out official looking documents.)

    Erin: Be that as it may, there’s no way we can pay each of you one million dollars.

    Jerry: Come on, man, I need that money. I took out a loan against this insurance so I could buy my buddy Val’s life insurance policy. He a marathoner. It’ll be years before I see any of that dough.

    Ernie: Yeah, I’ve gotta pay off the guys who just installed the swimming pool in our bedroom.

    Matt: You put a swimming pool in your bedroom?

    Ernie: Our mortgage guy thought it would increase the value. Plus, he bet me $500 that they couldn’t do it because it was on the second floor. Sucker.

    Erin: I’m sorry. But there’s no money. But, once our insurance guy gets here, we’ll settle up with him and they we’ll happily give you your money back.

    Stan: I don’t know. I was counting on that million.

    Jerry: Me too.

    Erin: Hey, something’s better than nothing though. Right?

    (They all murmur and mumble and basically agree. Just then Perry Paul peddles up on his bike. He is a rather large man and very out of shape.)

    Perry: (Winded) Sorry…I wasn’t…here….sooner…Cutbacks forced me….to give up…company car…I’m Perry Paul. How can AIG help you today?

    BLACKOUT

  • 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: Bailout

    I’ve been threatening to do it for a while, and whaddya know, this week I finally did it – a sketch with a musical number. I chose the theme of Bailout last week – can’t imagine why! And I’m posting late (geez lyrics take a while to write). But, since we seem to have a lot in common with the 30’s, I couldn’t help but add in my little homage to the golden age of musicals.

    Nothing yet from Michael or Richard – Michael may be taking a break (and he will be sorely missed), but I’ll update as combatants report to the field. Honors for theme-picking go to Richard next week…let’s see, we’ve had Apocalpse and Bailout….I bet he picks something like puppies 🙂

    UPDATED: After being away from the wonder-box Friday night and Saturday, I returned this morning to a great sketch from Richard, and a surprise entry from Michael (woooohoooo!!!). Richard gave us a taste of old Broadway too (I guess it isn’t a coincidence that the Golden Age of Broadway started during the great depression – finanacial chaos apparently inspires showtunes 🙂 and Michael, who’s taking a break from all-things internet, guest stars on Richard’s blog with insurance to get you through the tough times.

    Richard also set the theme for next week’s sketch war: Best Friends!
    _________________________________________________________________

    EXT. EMPRIRE STATE BUILDING OBSERVATION DECK – DAY
    A few people are milling about, but there’s not a lot of traffic. MR. THOMPKINS, a tour guide \ guard is there resplendent in his perfectly pressed navy blue uniform, brass rimmed spectacles, and immaculately groomed grey mustache over a beaming smile. The elevator dings and the doors open. CHARLIE and DAISY step out into the sun. Both are in their late 20’s, clean cut, innocent, bright eyed, almost stereotypically Midwestern, and very obviously tourists. Both have an air of bittersweet sadness about them. They step out into the sunshine on the deck.

    DAISY
    Oh Charlie, it really is magnificent. Just like everyone says.

    CHARLIE
    Staggering view.

    DAISY
    C’mon honey bun. Let’s just pretend everything is okay for a little bit. After all, this may be the last vacation we take for a very very long time.

    CHARLIE hugs DAISY

    CHARLIE
    You’re right, my little ray of sunshine. Say, let’s go peek over the edge and see how far we can see.

    They walk over to the edge of the observation deck, looking through the large fence around it.

    CHARLIE (CONT)
    Wow…the city looks so peaceful from up here, as if it were filled with nothing but nice considerate people who would never think of trashing an entire free market economy just for a couple of high-priced hookers and a custom Bentley.

    DAISY
    Now lamb chop….

    CHARLIE
    I’m sorry Daisy. Just slipped out. I’ll try and look on the bright side of things. Say…do you think that’s New Jersey over there?

    DAISY
    I think it is Charlie. Nice, respectable, kindly New Jersey, filled with kindly, respectable people, like loan sharks and mob bosses, the kind of people who only break the knees of people who have wronged them, and then only one at a time.

    DAISY starts sobbing, and CHARLIE wraps her up in his arms

    CHARLIE
    There there, my darling…

    MR. THOMPKINS strolls over to CHARLIE and DAISY, concerned

    MR. THOMPKINS
    ‘Scuse me folks, but I couldn’t help but notice you aren’t exactly thrilled by our view here.

    CHARLIE
    Sorry Mister…..

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Thompkins, William Thompkins, but call me Billy – all my friends do.

    CHARLIE
    Sorry Billy. My wife Daisy and I are just in a bit of a rough patch, with the economy being so rocky and all. We have a lot of bills…

    DAISY
    And some big credit card debts…

    CHARLIE
    And a big house back in Iowa that’s lost almost half it’s value…

    DAISY
    Not to mention a whole bunch of stocks that aren’t worth dick anymore.

    CHARLIE
    Fact is, Billy, we only came on this trip to New York because we already paid for it a while back, when times were good, and with this economy, we won’t be going anywhere more exciting than Dubuque for a long time.

    DAISY
    Dubuque!!!

    DAISY starts crying loudly again

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Awwww, you poor kids. No wonder you look so down in the mouth. Come on over here and have a seat. Take a load off

    He leads them to a bench by the wall around the deck. He pulls a box of animal crackers out of his pocket.

    MR. THOMPKINS (CONT)
    Animal Cracker? I keep a box in my coat ‘cause they always make life feel a little simpler…like those care free days when I was a boy.

    DAISY and CHARLIE both reach in a grab a cookie out of the box. They crunch them and start to smile a little

    MR. THOMPKINS
    There…now that’s better, isn’t it?

    DAISY and CHARLIE smile weakly and nod yes

    MR. THOMPKINS
    You know, me and Mrs. Thompkins went through some rough times when were about your age. Not as rough as these, but not too far off. Heck, we thought we were all set for a nice cozy retirement. Boy were we wrong. That’s why Mrs. Thompkins is on the street 4 days a week selling black tar heroin. Say, neither of you kids is a hopelessly addicted smack-head, are you? Mrs. Thompkins is looking for new business.

    DAISY
    Sorry Billy.

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Oh well, never hurts to ask. Me…well, I knew there was just one place for me, and that was right here, working security atop this grand old lady.

    DAISY
    Why is that Mr. Thomp…

    MR. THOMPKINS shoots her a playful disapproving look

    DAISY (CONT)
    I mean “Billy”

    MR. THOMPKINS smiles

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Because this is a magical place Daisy, where people come to see more than just the view – it’s a place where people see their past, their future, and see things in perspective. This is a a place where you can do things you can’t do anywhere else in the world. Let me put it this way…

    The music starts and soon MR THOMPKINS is singing a nice 1930’s musical number

    MR. THOMPKINS (CONT)
    (singing)
    When a panoramic view
    Just serves to make you blue
    And what used to make you happy makes you weep
    There’s a way that I have found
    To make a smile out of that frown
    Just make douchebag broker take a flying leap

    MR THOMPKINS starts talking again, the music plays on in the background

    MR. THOMPKINS (CONT)
    Here, let me show you…

    MR. THOMPKINS goes over to the fence, pushes a section aside so it no longer shrouds the ledge and looks down.

    MR. THOMPKINS(CONT)
    Boy, I wish I knew where to invest a few million right now – if only some savvy wall street broker was around to help an old ignorant but wealthy investor with his cash.

    A man, BROKER 1, in an expensive suit, dripping jewelry and carrying an expensive briefcase, come running over.

    BROKER 1
    Hey there….Mike Scabbers, financial genius…sorry about the tan bro, just got back from a big-wig conference in Aruba, I’d love to get you invested in ….

    MR. THOMPKINS pushes a button on the wall, and the railing slides over to reveal a gap. MR. THOMPKINS nods and smiles as he leads BROKER 1 over the to gap, then pushes him through and over the edge. MR. THOMPKINS sighs with a smile, and comes back smiling, and singing again.

    MR. THOMPKINS
    (singing)
    Throw a douchebag off a building
    And see if he can fly
    That greedy jerk put you out of work
    To grab a bigger piece of pie

    Just throw a douchebag off a building
    Give a smug exec the boot
    Watch the smarmy rat make a big ol’ splat
    Without his golden parachute

    The music continues playing

    MR. THOMPKINS
    See kids, a lot of these deal making, super rich, money-flauntin out-of-touch, above the law, guilt-free Wall Street types – the type we New Yorkers like to call “douche bags” – like to come up here and take in the view – kind of makes them feel like the king of world I guess. So there’s always several around to do with as you please. Watch this…

    (looking over the edge of the building)

    Oh look – I wonder whose chauffeur just turned off the engine in that Hummer Limo to save gas?

    BROKER 2 comes running over to the edge to look.

    BROKER 2
    Dammit – I told Lawson to keep circling until I’m ready…..

    BROKER 2 looks over, and MR. THOMPKINS pushes him over the edge

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Ahhhhhhh…there is nothing quite like the feeling of launching a financial douchebag into thin air!

    CHARLIE
    But Billy, isn’t that murder?

    MR. THOMPKINS
    In the old days, when a financial exec caused a mess like this, they had the courtesy to jump off a building under their own steam. We’re just helping them out this time around. Want to try it?

    DAISY
    Gee Billy, I don’t know where to start.

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Well Daisy, you just need to shout out something that would make the average money-grubbing Wall Street douchebag with no conscience come a-runnin’.

    DAISY
    Hey! I think I’ve got just the thing Billy. Let me give it a whirl.

    MR. THOMPKINS ushers DAISY over to the magic section of the wall.

    DAISY
    (shouting)
    Boy, I sure wish I could find a man compensating for a tiny penis with a lot of cash.

    BROKERS 3 and 4 flock over quickly. They look almost identical to BROKERS 1 and 2. They start hitting on DAISY with smarmy lines and telling her what they’ll buy for her. CHARLIE sneaks up behind them pushes them both over the edge. CHARLIE and DAISY look over the edge as they fall.

    CHARLIE
    Hey….that crowd down on the street is actually cheering!

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Of course they are – they’re people just like you!

    DAISY
    (waving at the crowd below)
    You’re welcome, non-wealthy New Yorkers!!!

    A cheer is heard from the street

    CHARLIE
    (singing)
    Throw a douchebag off a building
    For trashing the Dow Jones

    DAISY
    (singing)
    He made stupid bets on risky debts

    DAISY ANDCHARLIE
    (singing)
    And some fucked up subprime loans

    MR. THOMPKINS
    (singing)
    Just throw a douchebag off a building
    Introduce him to gravity

    DAISY
    (singing)
    The greedy lout

    CHARLIE
    (singing)
    Got a big bailout

    CHARLIE, DAISY AND MR. THOMPKINS
    (singing)
    For his financial depravity

    CHARLIE
    Hey! Let me try too!

    CHARLIE goes over to the magic wall section

    CHARLIE
    (shouting)
    Did you hear the bailout includes fraud-investigations for Wall Street executives AND closes all existing tax-loopholes for the ultra-wealthy???

    A whole stream of BROKERS, looking just like the others, screams and runs for the open hole in the fence and jumps out. This goes on for a while – a long stream of well dressed lemmings. A big cheer is heard from the crowd below. MR. THOMPKINS, DAISY and CHARLIE all look at each other and laugh.

    MR. THOMPKINS
    (singing)
    They’ve created a recession
    But don’t let it get you down
    Just make sure the great depression
    Is made by a douchebag hitting the ground

    DAISY
    (singing)
    Throw a douchebag off a building
    For messing up Wall Street

    CHARLIE
    (singing)
    High flying execs
    Caused these big train wrecks
    So they deserve to eat concrete

    (Key change)

    CHARLIE, DAISY AND MR. THOMPKINS
    (singing)
    Just throw a douchebag off a building
    And see if he can fly

    CHARLIE
    (speak-singing)
    Make an asshole plummet at the G7 summit

    DAISY
    (speak-singing)
    He’ll look so super rich in his self-made ditch

    MR. THOMPKINS
    (speak-singing)
    He won’t need net worth when he hits the turf

    CHARLIE, DAISY AND MR. THOMPKINS
    (singing)
    Just throw a douchebag off a building
    And wave those blues bye-bye!!!

    They end with a big finish and the music stops

    CHARLIE
    Wow honey-bunch! I haven’t seen you smile that much in a year!

    DAISY
    I haven’t felt this good in a year, Charlie! And I know one midwestern boy who’s finally going to get lucky when we get back to the hotel!

    CHARLIE
    Well what are we waiting for! Let’s head back right now!

    DAISY
    How can we ever thank you, Billy? We may not be better off financially…

    CHARLIE
    But we sure do feel better screwing over the people who screwed us over!!

    MR. THOMPKINS
    That’s the spirit kids! Just remember, when the going gets tough, the tough find the douchebags responsible and get even with them.

    DAISY AND CHARLIE
    Bye Billy!!!

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Bye bye kids!

    DAISY and CHARLIE wave and exit into the elevator. GUARD 2 walks over to MR. THOMPKINS as he waves back

    GUARD 2
    Do they know that Wall Street douchebags can’t really be killed?

    MR. THOMPKINS
    Why spoil their mood.

    BLACK OUT

  • Scenes I Predict Will Be in the Series Premiere of “Life on Mars”

    (GRUFF 70s COP and DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP are chasing down a suspect on foot.)

    GRUFF 70s COP (panting)
    We won’t catch him unless we split up. You go down the alley, past the pet rock store. I’ll head toward the Naugahyde factory. We’ll meet at the payphone on Plaid Street and Paisley Way.

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    The what-phone?

    GRUFF 70s COP
    Payphone! You put a dime in it, you make a call!

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    Like a land-line?

    GRUFF 70s COP
    What the hell are you talking about, “land-line”?

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    I mean – whoops!

    (DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP has suddenly fallen out of the shot. GRUFF 70s COP turns around.)

    GRUFF 70s COP
    What now?

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    My shoe flew off! These 70s loafers are useless to me! I need a pair of Reebok Pumps!

    GRUFF 70s COP
    What-bok whats?

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    You know, Reebok Pumps! The sneakers with the built-in air pump, for support, protection, and a custom fit!

    GRUFF 70s COP
    You’re dreamin’, rookie. There’s no such shoe!

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    What?? It’s the greatest sports performance shoe in the world! They’ve been around since nineteen-eighty-nine, and … Oh. Oh, no no no …

    (DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP buries his face in his hands and weeps.)

    • • •

    GRUFF 70s COP
    If you don’t crack this case, kid, you’ll never be anything more than Agnew to my Nixon.

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    Don’t you mean Cheney to your Bush?

    GRUFF 70s COP
    No one is getting chained to a bush!

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    Wait a minute!
    (He analyzes the evidence – a small, bloodstained square of shag carpeting – and is struck with an epiphany.)
    I see it all now, clear as Crystal Pepsi!

    GRUFF 70s COP
    Clear as what?

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    Oh my lord I AM LIVING A NIGHTMARE!

    (He tries to kick over a water cooler but misses, and his shoe flies off his foot, landing in GRUFF 70s COP’s coffee mug.)

    • • •

    (DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP is at a romantic dinner with SEXY 70s LADY COP.)

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    You know, Linda, I think I’m beginning to like it now. I mean, “like it here.” As long as you’re by my side, I can live through any era of our country’s history.

    SEXY 70s LADY COP
    That’s a very sweet and odd thing to say.

    (A WAITER enters and serves them a cheese fondue tray.)

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    In fact, I have something to ask you.

    (DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP plunges a fork into the melted cheese and pulls out a dripping object. With some difficulty, he uses a napkin to scrape the hot cheese away, eventually revealing a diamond ring. To cool it off, he pours a little Chablis on it.)

    SEXY 70s LADY COP (tears welling up)
    Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP (kneeling)
    When I’m with you, Linda, I feel I can burst into song at any minute.
    (He begins singing, softly and romantically.)
    “I can see a new horizon,
    Underneath the blazin’ sky.
    I’ll be where the eagle’s_ flyin’,
    Higher and higher…”

    SEXY 70s LADY COP (grimacing slightly)
    What are you … Oh, my …

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP (singing)
    “Gonna be your man in motion.
    All I need is a pair of wheels.
    Take me where my future’s lyin’,
    St. Elmo’s Fire…”

    (SEXY 70s LADY COP is writhing on the floor, her hands pressed frantically over her ears.)

    SEXY 70s LADY COP
    Stop! Stop making that noise, you monster!

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP (panicking)
    What was I thinking? Your ears are not ready for this music! Not without experiencing everything that happens between now and 1985!

    SEXY 70s LADY COP
    Oh, the dissonance! What pit of hell spewed forth that crushing cacophony!

    DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP
    “Love Will Keep Us Together!” “Jessie’s Girl!” “Do That To Me One More Time!” So many steps you haven’t had the chance to take!

    SEXY 70s LADY COP
    If you think I’ll marry you, you’re dumber than a worry stone!

    (DISPLACED TIME TRAVELER COP stands and runs out of the restaurant. One of his shoes falls off, but he doesn’t go back to pick it up, because all the other diners are calling for his head.)

    (Except for one. A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN watches him leave, then picks up his discarded shoe. We hear her thoughts in voiceover.)

    MYSTERIOUS WOMAN (voiceover)
    Hmmm. There’s something about that man I find fascinating. I shall search the whole city until I find the gentleman who fits this shoe.

    (The MYSTERIOUS WOMAN places the shoe into her handbag. When the camera pulls pack, we see that it is a promotional bag advertising “Lost” coming out on DVD! Season EIGHT!)

    THE END…???

  • 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: The Apocalypse is Coming…from all sides

    Alrighty everyone – it’s been a lllloooonnnnggggg day. 3 hour meetings and late improv workouts do not make for early sketch publishing.
    But at long last, here’s my foray into apolypse-land (our theme as given by Michael last week).
    So far, no sketch entry from the recently emancipated Richard, but Michael (who’s probably wondering if he’s playing alone this week due to my tardiness) gave us a blast from the future \ past.
    I’ll update as needed….which (if memory serves) will include me choosing our next theme (since I think it’s rotated back to me).

    UPDATED: While I was playing a mind-controlling dicator on the planet Berkeley (in an improvised Star Trek show at BATS in San Francisco) Richard played with genetics, and let me know that it is indeed my turn for theme picking.

    So….our theme for next week is: Bailout
    (I just pulled that out at random…no idea where it came from)
    __________________________________________________________
    INT. – LIVING ROOM – DAY
    A nice middle class living room with a big comfy sofa, coffee table, and a large TV – nothing fancy, just an inviting place to relax. STEPHEN enters, talking to his wife offstage

    STEPHEN
    Let me know if you want any help with the dishes honey…I’ll be watching “24”.

    STEPHEN sits on the sofa, picks up the remote control and turns on the TV.

    TV ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
    Wall Street continued it’s free fall today, losing another 300 points on news that existing housing has hit a 25 year low. The dollar dropped sharply again, and crude oil prices are expected to go up as a result.

    The sound of a horse galloping comes from offstage. STEPHEN gets up and goes to the window to see what’s going on. DEATH, wearing a long black robe, with his head covered by a black hood, appears from a cloud of smoke on the opposite side of the room.

    DEATH
    Behold and tremble!!! For, I, Death, herald of the four horsemen, have come on my pale horse, as the seventh trumpet sounds and the seventh seal is opened. Look upon me and despair, for the day of judgement is nigh!!!

    STEPHEN has to process this for several moments.

    STEPHEN
    Is….is that your horse on the lawn?

    DEATH
    Yesssssssssss. The Pale Horse of Death.

    STEPHEN reacts to a sudden bad smell in the air

    STEPHEN
    Ummmm…is that, ummm, smell….well, not to be rude, but is that your breath?

    DEATH
    Yeessssssssssssss

    STEPHEN
    That’s..wow…that’s uhhh, pungent.

    DEATH
    It is the smell of souls burning in the eternal flame of repentance. Souls that will soon be joined by far more, for I am the harbinger of the coming Apocalypse.

    STEPHEN
    Coming…ahhh….umm, when?

    DEATH
    When the Lamb of God, the Son of Man, has opened the seventh seal on the scroll of the covenant.

    STEPHEN
    God?

    DEATH
    He that is the beginning and end, the alpha an omega, maker and destroyer of all things, who gave his only son to purge the sins of this world. I am his horsemen, his herald of the apocalypse.

    STEPHEN
    Ummmm…wow, this is awkward but, we’re not Christian.

    DEATH
    His wrath will be…

    STEPHEN
    Look, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re not Christian. I don’t think…

    Another puff of smoke, and a swarthy, muscled, middle-eastern looking man with a long trumpet (literally, not a euphemism) wearing a small white toga appears – ISRAFIL. He blows a long loud blast from his trumpet, then speaks with a middle-eastern accent

    ISRAFIL
    The great battle approaches! True Muslims hear my call and rise up! The Dajall comes with his unholy army of Christians and nonbelievers. Allah commands me, Israfil, his angel, to blow the horn and summon true Muslims to the final battle of judgement and victory.

    ISRAFIL blows his trumpet loud and long.

    STEPHEN
    Look, would you mind not doing that here. My neighbors live really close, and my wife hates loud noises.

    ISRAFIL
    I must summon good Muslims to the final battle of judgement where they will smote the Christians and non-believers before receiving their final reward.

    STEPHEN
    Ooookkkaayyy….look, we’re not Muslims here, so blowing your horn will only summon the cops.

    DEATH
    You shall hear the horns when the seventh trumpet sounds

    STEPHEN
    No, please..one trumpet is plenty – we don’t need seven.

    ISRAFIL
    (to DEATH)
    Who be you? You are shrouded like a woman, but I cannot tell if you be woman or man.

    DEATH
    I am Death, rider of the pale horse, herald…

    STEPHEN gets between DEATH and ISRAFIL, and places his hand over DEATH’S mouth

    STEPHEN
    (to ISRAFIL)
    Don’t get him talking, please.

    STEPHEN checks to see both DEATH and ISRAFIL aren’t going to do anything stupid, then starts speaking to them again.

    STEPHEN
    Look, ummm….guys, Angels, heralds…whatever you are, we’re not Christians or Muslims here. I appreciate the warning, really. But you should find some good Christians, aor good Muslims, people who want to prepare for this Apocalypse thing, who stand to gain something from the Apocalypse. I mean, what can I do? I lose no matter what. I’m gonna get smote or eternally burned right?

    ISRAFIL
    Yes

    DEATH
    Yesssssssssssssssssss

    Both ISRAFIL and STEPHEN react to the smell of DEATH’S breath again.

    STEPHEN
    But neither of you is here to kill me outright, right?

    ISRAFIL
    No

    DEATH
    (breathily)
    Noo..

    STEPHEN cuts DEATH off and puts his hand over DEATH’s mouth

    STEPHEN
    Just…nod

    DEATH shakes his head “no”

    STEPHEN
    Good, so tell people who can benefit from knowing the Apocalypse is coming, cause if I’m the one who finds out first I’m going to feel guilty….

    MAGOG now appears in a cloud of smoke. He has long gray hair with the ringlet curls of a Hacidic Jew, a long gray beard, and speaks with a Yiddish accent

    MAGOG
    Guilt? What know you of guilt? I must attack Israel to start Armageddon, so God can destroy me. What do I know about attacking people? I should just let God win, but no, someone’s a stickler for scripture…

    STEPHEN
    That’s….look I’m sorry to hear that but I’m not Jewish, and I really don’t want to be the one knowing Israel is going to be attacked by some vengeful angel…

    MAGOG
    Angel, Ha! I wish!

    ISRAFIL
    Israel will fall in the final battle of judgment!

    MAGOG
    Listen to Mr. Macho. That’s some attitude for a trumpet-toting diaper wearer.

    DEATH
    All shall perishhhhhhhhhh……

    Everyone reacts to DEATH’S breath

    MAGOG
    You know, if you ate more you wouldn’t have such a sour stomach. Skin and bones, this one….without the skin

    ISRAFIL
    Food shall have little meaning when the battle…

    MAGOG
    Violence is no solution, Mr. Too Much Testosterone

    ISRAFIL
    Jewish dog

    MAGOG
    Sticks and stones

    ISRAFIL
    I shall…

    DEATH raises his head and exhales loud and long. STEPHEN steps in the middle of the room

    STEPHEN
    HEY!!! KNOCK IT OFF!!! Look you guys. Enough, okay? I’m not Christian, I’m not Jewish, I’m not Muslim – I’m an atheist all right? I believe all this Armageddon apocalypse stuff is just bullshit…stuff made up by people to keep other people in line. And even if it IS real, well, then I’m just fucked. Fucked for not being Christian Jew or Muslim, fucked for doing the right thing but not doing it in the name of some organized religion. So warning me does squat – it just scares the crap out of me waiting for you actually destroy the universe, and being helpless to stop it – so either get on with it or shut the hell up!

    ISRAFIL
    But we must Herald the Apocalypse for those true of faith.

    DEATH and MAGOG nod in agreement

    STEPHEN
    Honestly, “those of true faith” are completely fucked too!!! Look, you all have some apocalypse where your followers are saved, right?
    (They all agree)
    Then everyone who believes something other than your faith represent gets fucked, which means NO ONE SURVIVES. Jewish apocalypse, Christians and Muslims are fucked. Christian apocalypse, Muslims and Jews are fucked. You see what I’m saying?

    ODIM now appears in a cloud of smoke, with flowing golden hair, a magnificent golden beard, wearing a Viking helmet and lavish robes like something out a Wagnerian opera. He speaks with a booming voice and Swedish Accent

    ODIN
    The days of Ragnarok are upon us and I, Highfather Odin, have come to Midgard…

    ODIN sees the others, then continues speaking in a higher pictched voice, with a slight lisp.

    ODIN
    Oh my God, you guys are hear too?

    DEATH, MAGOG and ISRAFIL all nod. ODIN looks at Stephen, then whispers to the others.

    ODIN
    He doesn’t look Nordic.

    DEATH, ISARFIL AND MAGOG
    He isn’t!!!

    Everyone looks at each other during a long quiet pause, thinking over what STEPHEN said.

    ODIN
    Did I come at a bad time?

    STEPHEN
    Look guys…I can’t tell you what to do, but why not go back to the Gods who sent you…

    ODIN
    I sent myself…I’m my own god

    STEPHEN
    Fine…Odin go think things over someplace, everyone else go back, talk to your respective gods, and tell them that an apocalypse should wait – it’s not going to help your followers or anyone else, and no one can win, okay?

    ISRAFIL, DEATH, ODIN and MAGOG all sort of mumble and agree. They dejectedly walk towards STEPHEN’s front door, and exit

    MAGOG
    (to DEATH as they exit)
    Look, I know a great deli – you want to grab a bite? Just looking at you is making me hungry.

    ODIN
    (to ISRAFIL as they exit)
    Do you workout? I like to work out, but I can’t wear togas – too cold in Asgard and they make me look so hip-y, but it looks good on you.

    STEPHEN shuts the door behind them, then goes back and sits on the couch to watch TV.

    Lights flash, and smoke billows again. This time, the TERMINIATOR steps out.

    TERMINATOR
    I am a Cyberdyne systems model T100 terminator. I have been sent back in time to proctect you. Come with me if you want to live and stop the Judgment day that brings about my future.

    STEPHEN just stares at the TERMINATOR for a moment. Then stands up.

    STEPHEN
    Honey, I’m going out for a bit – just gotta take care of something.

    STEPHEN and the TERMINATOR exist through his front door.

    BLACK OUT

  • FSW: Apocalypse Edition

    I appear to be the first one out of the gate this morning. But since Richard and Ken are in later time zones, I suppose they could still be waking up. Or perhaps trying to shake off all the folksy charm that was slung at us last night. Especially Richard, who was live blogging the debate on his new site.

    At any rate, even though the politcos have been screaming that the sky is falling, it appears to be firmly in place. Nonetheless, the theme was Apocalypse, so that’s what I bring you.

    Enjoy.

    The Dream Scenario OR How Dick Never Stopped Loving the Bomb

    (A secret, underground bunker somewhere in the Midwest. Uniformed men sit at consoles and radar displays pushing buttons and looking very official. Suddenly an alarm goes off; a red light begins to flash. Commander Marcus and Captain Briggs rush into the room.)

    Marcus: Corporal, report!

    Corp: It’s the President, sir, he’s dead.

    Briggs: My God.

    Marcus: Prepare launch coordinates Alpha-Zulu-Foxtrot.

    Briggs: Commander, we don’t know even know how he was killed, how can we launch an attack?

    Marcus: Captain, I have my orders.

    Briggs: Corporal, what’s the status of the President’s death?

    Corp: They’re saying it was a heart attack, sir.

    Briggs: A heart attack?

    Marcus: Prepare launch sequence on my mark, Corporal.

    Briggs: Commander, he died of natural causes. There’s no need for a strike.

    Marcus: Mark!

    Briggs: Commander, wait, we’re about to start a war for no reason…

    Corporal: Launch sequence initiated, sir.

    Marcus: Captain, either you let me do my job or I’ll have you thrown in the brig for treason.

    Briggs: But what’s the target? Who are we bombing?

    (A secret door opens and Dick Cheney, dressed like Patton, strides into the room.)

    Cheney: Washington, D.C.

    Briggs: But –

    Cheney: President McCain is dead and it’s our duty to protect this country from its enemies.

    Briggs: By bombing the Capitol? Surely, Vice President Palin can…

    Cheney: What? Skin us a moose? No, son, we’re going to finish what we started eight years ago. Only this time we’re going to do it right.

    Briggs: But a nuclear bomb detonating over D.C. will kill hundreds of thousands of people.

    Cheney: And when the American people find out it was the Iranians who launched it. Well. (He chuckles to himself.)

    Briggs: This is a coup. I can’t let you do this.

    Cheney: If you aren’t with us, Captain, then you must be with them. Commander.

    Marcus: Captain, you are relieved of duty. Guards, take him to the brig.

    Corporal: Ten seconds to launch, sir.

    (The Guards grab the Captain.)

    Briggs: But this could lead to World War III.

    Cheney: God willing.

    (They begin to drag him away.)

    Briggs: You can’t do this! This is murder!

    (They drag him from the room. In the distance a great rumbling sound is heard.)

    Corporal: The bird’s away, sir.

    Cheney: Remind me to send those boys at Diebold a fruit basket. They made their country proud last November. Knew McCain’s ticker wouldn’t last the year.

    Marcus: Yes, sir. And might I say, it’s good to have you back, sir.

    (Cheney stares at him through squinted eyes.)

    Cheney: I will not tolerate faggots in my military!

    Marcus: No, sir, I was merely saying…

    Cheney: “Merely”? “Merely”? Who uses that word?

    (Cheney pulls out a .45 and shoots Commander Marcus in the face.)

    Cheney: Somebody clean up this mess.

    (He hunches over the Corporal.)

    Cheney: Let’s get two more of those rockets ready.

    Corporal: Targets, sir?

    Cheney: Point one at New York City and the other at Los Angeles. Might as well do a little of the Lord’s work while we’re here. This country will be much stronger without its Sodom and Gomorrah.

    Corporal: Yes, sir.

    (The secret door opens and George W. Bush skips in.)

    George: Hey, Dick, you ready for me yet? Oh wow! Look at all these buttons!

    (George leaps toward the control panel and starts flipping switches and pressing buttons. Cheney grabs him.)

    Cheney: Dammit! I thought I told you to wait until I came for you.

    George: I know, but the Veggie Tales video was over and I couldn’t find where you hid the juice boxes.

    Cheney: Go back to your room. I’ll get you another juice box in a minute.

    George: But I’m thirsty now, Dick.

    Cheney: Do you want a time out?

    George: No. You never let me have any fun.

    (George leaves. More rumblings.)

    Corporal: Uh, sir. We just launched three more rockets.

    Cheney: Where are they headed?

    Corporal: I got the coordinates in for New York and L.A.

    Cheney: What about the third one?

    Corporal: Looks like it’s on course to strike Israel.

    Cheney: That’s a lucky break. Just goes to show you that God is on our side. All right, Corporal, you’re in command here now. I’ve got to prepare Corky in there for his address to the nation.

    Corporal: Yes, sir.

    Cheney: Man, I love this job!

    (Cheney exits whistling “Hail to the Chief”.)

    END

  • FSW: Job Hunting Edition

    What a timely theme, as thousands of brokers, bankers and theives are looking for work. And oddly enough, Ken, Richard and I as seem to playing in the same ballpark with our sketches. I wonder why?

    Richard’s recruiters have the right man for the job.

    Ken’s rolling out a new talk show hosted by everyone’s favorite moose hunter.

    Next week’s theme, if there is a next week, is Apocalypse.

    Here’s my sketch. I wrote it last night watching the news. Enjoy.

    Curious George Visits the Farm

    (June 23, 2009. We are in the kitchen of the Bush Ranch House in Crawford, Texas. Laura is trying to make breakfast. George is constantly getting in her way.)

    Laura: George, for cryin’ out loud. I thought you said you were gonna to help.

    George: I am helpin’.

    Laura: What’s this?

    (She holds up a skillet with a dozen eggs smashed into it, shells and all.)

    George: Well, you just said eggs and I wasn’t sure which part or how many you wanted so I put the whole thing in there.

    Laura: (Sighs) When are you going to get a job and get out of my hair?

    George: Laura, I’ve been looking for a job since December. With the economy in the crapper, there’s just nobody hiring. I’ve called almost every business, baseball team and college in the country and none of them need a new commander in chief.

    Laura: Did you call that recruiter and ask about the travelling lecturer position?

    George: Yeah, but I think that fella was having some sort of break down. I’d no more than said my name and he just started laughing hysterically and didn’t stop.

    Laura: Well, you’ve gotta do something before I go out of my mind. Why don’t you head over to Jasper’s farm. I heard Maebell say they were looking for some help.

    George: Aw, honey, can’t I just stay here and clear brush?

    Laura: George, there’s not a lick of brush left on this ranch. You’ve cut, hacked and weed-whacked every piece of vegetation in a three mile radius. Go to Jasper’s. Tell him I sent ya.

    George: But honey…

    Laura: Go on! Get!

    (We jump to Jasper’s Farm. Jasper is working on a tractor. George kicks one of the tires.)

    George: So anyways, Laura thought maybe I could be of some assistance to you.

    Jasper: I don’t really see how George.

    George: I’ve got some ideas.

    Jasper: Do you now?

    George: I was thinking maybe we could invade Hamilton’s farm, take over their crop as well. That way you’d have twice as much corn to bring to market.

    Jasper: Ah, George, it doesn’t quite work like that.

    George: Well, we could always just torch it all. Make it so he has nothing to sell, thus increasing the worth of your crop.

    Jasper: You know, George, I’m afraid I can’t help you.

    George: Please, Jasper. Laura said if I came back without a job she was gonna put me in a time out.

    (Jasper scratches his head, thinking.)

    Jasper: Well, I do have a problem that maybe you could help me with.

    George: I’m your man, Jasper.

    (We jump to the middle of Jasper’s corn field. George is wearing overalls and has bells and shiny pieces of metal tied to his arms. He is standing on a small perch, with his arms tied straight out to a cross beam, as if he’s been crucified. A Secret Service Agent stands on the ground at his side.)

    George: Can you believe this? All I gotta do is stand out here and watch over the corn.

    Agent: Yes, sir.

    George: I bet Clinton will be jealous when he finds out.

    Agent: Yes, sir.

    (A crow lands on George’s arm.)

    George: Would you look at that. I think he likes me.

    (The crow begins pecking at George’s eyes.)

    George: Ow! Hey, bird, stop that. Ow! I don’t think he likes me no more. Ow!

    (More crows join in and soon George is covered with the black birds. His cries are drowned out by the cawing of the happy, feasting birds. The Secret Service Agent, out of reflex, takes a step towards George, but then stops himself, looks around, and heads back to the farm house.)

    And the world lived happily ever after….