Sketch War

Category: Sketches

Sketch Entries from the warriors

  • Toodle-oo, Tuvalu

    (An expanse of water, extending all the way to the horizon. Eventually, a ROWBOAT appears and drifts to center stage. DONALD, 50, is rowing. His son JASON, 18, is engrossed in a handheld holographic videogame. It is 2050.)

    DONALD (looking around)
    My gosh, this brings me back.
    (turns upstage, looks into the distance)
    Wow.
    (he looks to JASON)
    When I was your age, all this was land.

    (JASON gives the surrounding water a cursory glance and goes back to his game)

    JASON
    Hm.

    (pause. DONALD points to the middle distance.)

    DONALD
    You see out there? Jason, will you look?

    (JASON puts his game on “pause,” exasperated. he looks where his dad is pointing.)

    JASON
    Sure.

    DONALD
    No, to the left a bit.

    JASON
    Okay.

    DONALD
    Directly below there, about fourteen feet, is the Rhenium Vapor Fountain where your mother and I used to play Intra-Continuum Space-Candyland.

    JASON (creeped out)
    Aw, Dad. C’mon.

    DONALD (smiling)
    What? We weren’t always old. We used to be a young dating couple, like you and Nicole.

    JASON (blushing)
    Uh, no. I don’t think you were ever like me and Nicole.

    DONALD
    Things getting serious between you two?

    JASON (smiling)
    I don’t know. Whatever.

    DONALD
    You ever tell her you’re a Tuvaluan?

    JASON
    No.

    (pause. DONALD is visibly saddened.)

    DONALD
    Not even a word about it? How come?

    JASON (shrugs)
    It hasn’t really come up.

    DONALD
    It’s something to be proud of. Tuvalu took a look at the rising water levels and did something about it. They went into battle to save their homeland.

    JASON
    Yeah, I know. “They sued the U.S. and Australia to get them to cut down their CO2 emissions.”

    DONALD
    It’s an inspirational story.

    JASON
    No, “David and Goliath” is an inspirational story, because David won. How does our story end? Well, here’s our homeland. Oh, except for the “land” part.

    (pause)

    DONALD
    It was a brave fight. And it was the right fight. The outcome doesn’t change that.

    (pause)

    JASON
    I know, Dad. It’s just… It’s the past. It’s gone. I’m just focused on other things.

    DONALD
    Yep. Well. You’re not alone.

    (the boat runs up against something and lurches slightly. DONALD reaches down over the side of the boat and finds a tiny point of land sticking up an inch out of the water. he holds it at arm’s length to push the boat away from it.)

    JASON
    Is that…?

    DONALD
    Put your hand there.
    (DONALD takes JASON’s hand and holds it on top of the point of land.)
    That’s the highest point on Tuvalu. That’s your soil. It doesn’t matter if you can’t see it anymore. It’s always yours.
    (pause)
    You feel that?

    (pause)

    JASON
    Yeah.

    DONALD
    I used to have to reach up to put my hand on this point. You could sit here and watch the sun set into the South Pacific. You had a view of the whole nation stretching out in all directions, up to sixteen feet below you in some places.
    (DONALD removes his hand. JASON keeps his in place.)
    That’s yours.

    (pause)

    JASON
    Yeah.

    (DONALD looks around at the surrounding ocean while JASON continues to contemplate the land under his hand)

    DONALD
    I suppose the sunset must happen a few seconds sooner now than when I was a kid.
    (he reaches to the floor of the boat and pulls up a plastic bottle of water. he unscrews the cap and takes a swig. he holds it out to JASON.)
    You want to do the honors?

    (JASON looks at his dad and takes the bottle. he holds it out over the tip of land and pours. the water level gradually rises until the land disappears beneath it. he hands the bottle back to DONALD, who screws the cap back on. DONALD rows the boat off stage, while JASON stares at the point where the land was.)

  • FSW: Fantasy Dream Edition

    It’s time for another round of Friday Sketch War.

    Richard was first out of the gate today, with a cautionary tale about television doctors.

    Nothing from Dave yet, but if it’s anything like last week, he’ll toss something out that will 

    blow us all away.

    Update: Dave is up and, er, swimming. And we have a new battler in our midst. Red has joined the fray. Please make her feel welcome.

    Here’s my attempt at the funny. I think I need to cut it down some, but I like the premise a lot.

    And, as always, if you’d like to play along, simply post your sketch and send us a link.

    Enjoy!

    Dream Date Night Dream

    (We are in the small, studio apartment of PAUL. It is decorated as any geek, fanboy might. Lots of horror movie posters, action figures on shelves, an authentic lightsaber in a glass case, Star Wars bed sheets, etc. Paul sits in bed, wearing a headset, playing an online game on his computer. Through the wall we hear the unmistakable sound of enthusiastic lovemaking.)

    PAUL: (On headset) Jesus, my neighbor’s at it again. I swear that guy gets more tail than Aragon. (Beat) Oh, way more than Solo. (Beat) Well that’s your opinion.

    (The lovemaking gets louder and louder, then suddenly, there is a short scream of shock followed by a loud THUD!)

    PAUL: (On headset) Hang on, Slayer 9, I think I’ve got a situation here.

    (Paul leans back against the wall, trying to hear what’s going on. We hear a woman’s voice saying “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” Over and over again.)

    PAUL: (On headset) Dude, I’m gonna have to log off. (Beat) I know, I know, but you’ve got enough Hit Power to take the ogres should they attack. (Beat) Would you calm down, that wizard is long gone. I’m sure I’ll return before he does.

    (There is a knock on his door.)

    PAUL: (On headset) Holy shit, I think the chick he was banging is knocking at my door. (Beat) No, I’m not going to take a picture.

    (More knocking.)

    JAMIE: (Off) Hello? Is anyone home? Hello?

    PAUL: Just a second! (On headset.) All right, all right. But only because you saved my ass on the Isle of Gygax. After this we’re even.

    (More knocking.)

    PAUL: Coming!

    (He quickly removes his headset and positions the laptop so it’s pointing toward the door. He takes a tiny webcam and attaches it to the top of the computer. He crosses to the door and opens is. JAMIE, drop-dead gorgeous, enters, wearing a man’s t-shirt and nothing else.)

    JAMIE: Oh, thank god you’re home. I think my boyfriend needs a doctor.

    (Paul is frozen momentarily in the tractor-beam of her beauty.)

    JAMIE: Hello? You speak English?

    PAUL: Uh. Yeah. And Elven. A little Klingon, too. Enough to get by anyhow.

    JAMIE: Can you help me?

    PAUL: Sure. Uh. (Beat) What do you want me to do?

    JAMIE: Check on my boyfriend.

    PAUL: Right. Okay. Yeah.

    (Paul starts to leave, followed by Jamie. There is a BEEP from his computer and he turns to look at it.)

    PAUL: Uh. You know. You should. Wait here. Yeah. In case. You know.

    JAMIE: Okay. Thanks. I’m a little freaked out right now.

    (She goes to sit down on a beanbag chair near the wall. Another BEEP from the computer. Paul grabs her and stops her.)

    PAUL: Actually. Just stay right here.

    (He positions her so she’s in front of the camera. Another BEEP. Paul looks at the computer. He moves her slightly to the left and turns her sideways.)

    PAUL: Right here. I’ll be right back.

    (Paul takes another look at her and then quickly runs out of the apartment. Jamie stays where she was placed. A rapid series of BEEPS emanates from the computer. She looks for the sound and sees the computer. Through the wall we hear Paul.)

    PAUL: (Off) Dude! Dude! Wake up. Dude!

    (Paul runs back in. Jamie turns to him.)

    JAMIE: Why does your computer keep repeating “thank you”?

    PAUL: It’s a, uh, gratitude program I just installed.

    JAMIE: Oh. How is he?

    PAUL: Um, okay, I think. I think maybe he’s just unconscious.

    JAMIE: Do you think he’ll be all right?

    PAUL: I’m not a doctor but…

    (BEEP from the computer. Paul steps closer to read the screen.)

    PAUL: But, I think you should stay here until he comes to. He probably just needs a little air. Uh.

    (BEEP from the computer.)

    PAUL: Would you like something to drink?

    JAMIE: I could really use a shot of whiskey right now.

    PAUL: Oh. Well. I only have water and Diet Cherry Fanta.

    JAMIE: Water’s fine.

    (Paul heads over to the kitchen.)

    PAUL: I’m Paul, by the way.

    JAMIE: Jamie. Thanks for being here, Paul. I’m such a nutcase when it comes to emergencies.

    (Paul comes back with a glass of water.)

    PAUL: Oh, sure, I’m always home.

    (BEEP from the computer.)

    PAUL: Because I’m Rick.

    JAMIE: What?

    (BEEP.)

    PAUL: Rich. Because I’m so rich. I never need to leave.

    (Jamie begins to take in her surroundings.)

    JAMIE: Wow, you really like movies, huh?

    PAUL: Oh yeah.

    JAMIE: Is that a real light saber?

    PAUL: Darth Vadar’s. From A New Hope.

    JAMIE: No shit.

    PAUL: You like Star Wars?

    JAMIE: Love it. I was Princess Leia for Halloween this year. You know the outfit she wore as Jabba’s slave girl?

    (Paul has a physical reaction to this image. Another series of BEEPS from the computer. Jamie looks at it and seems to be a little shocked.)

    JAMIE: I don’t think your gratitude program is working very well. Now it’s just repeating “Take off your shirt” over and over again

    (PAUL leaps over and slams the laptop closed. A series of BEEPS. He yanks out the headset and the camera. He stuffs the laptop under the blankets.)

    JAMIE: You know, I should probably check on Jarrod.

    PAUL: Who? Oh yeah! No! Let me go. I don’t want you to get freaked out again or anything.

    JAMIE: Okay. Thanks.

    (Paul runs out again.)

    PAUL: (Off) Oh hey, dude. You’re up. Uh, no I haven’t seen her. What’s that over there?

    (There is a dull thud, followed by the sound of something heavy falling. Paul comes running back in.)

    PAUL: He had a relapse.

    JAMIE: Oh no.

    PAUL: But I think he’s going to be fine. You can hang out here until he’s better.

    JAMIE: Oh. Sure. Okay.

    PAUL: So…You wanna see the Steampunk action figures I’ve modded?

    JAMIE: You do Steampunk? Cool!

    PAUL: (In complete awe) Mela en’ coiamin

    JAMIE: What?

    PAUL: Nothing. Just an Elven blessing.

    JAMIE: That’s neat.

    PAUL: I could teach you, if you like.

    JAMIE: That would be nice. (Beat) What’s on your shirt? Are you bleeding?

    PAUL: What? Oh! No. (He wipes it away.) It must have been some sauce from my Spaghetti O’s.

    (They share a laugh. Jamie sits down on the bed. We hear faint moaning through the walls. Paul turns on his stereo.)

    PAUL: I hope you like Evanescence.

    (Paul sits on the bed next to Jamie.)

    JAMIE: They’re my favorite band.

    (An annoying BEEPING noise begins.)

    JAMIE: What’s that?

    PAUL: I don’t know.

    JAMIE: Listen, why don’t you check it out, while I slip into something a little more comfortable.

    PAUL: What’s more comfortable than just a t-shirt?

    JAMIE: You’ll see.

    (She exits into the bathroom. Excited, Paul takes off his shirt and pants. The BEEPING is getting louder, so he begins searching for it. He looks all over and eventually winds up looking under the blankets of his bed. He is completely covered. The lights change very subtly. He comes out from under the blankets, stretching and yawning.)

    PAUL: Wait. What? No no no no no no.

    (He runs to the bathroom and knocks on the door.)

    PAUL: Jamie? Hello?

    (He opens the door.)

    PAUL: NOOOO! Dammit!

    (Something is still BEEPING. He makes it back to his bed where he digs out his computer. He opens it up and the beeping stops. He puts on his headset. The sound of enthusiastic lovemaking begins next door. Paul sighs.)

    PAUL: (On headset) He, Slayer 9, what’s up? (Beat) Nothing, just listening to my neighbor get his baloney pony ridden. Again. Dude gets more tail than Apollo’s killed Cylons. (Beat) You’d be certifiable if you didn’t do Starbuck.

    (The door opens and Jamie comes in, dressed, with donuts and orange juice.)

    JAMIE: Good morning, sleepy head.

    PAUL: (On headset) Dude, I gotta get back to you. I think I’m still dreaming.

    (He pulls off the headset.)

    PAUL: You’re…you’re real.

    JAMIE: What? Last night wasn’t enough to convince you? Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed some of your clothes.

    (Paul is just standing, staring, flabbergasted.)

    JAMIE: Listen, I thought maybe we could take a shower together and then watch LORT. All three movies, director’s cut of course, straight through.

    (Paul falls to his knees and begins to weep.)

    JAMIE: Paul, are you all right?

    PAUL: I’m happier than a Ranchor in shit.

    JAMIE: Cormamin lindua ele lle.

    PAUL: It does, indeed.

    (Paul stands up and goes to hug Jamie. He steps on one of his action figures that is on the floor.)

    PAUL: Ow!

    (He begins hopping around, loses his balance and falls behind the bed. There is a sickly sounding, WET CRACK.)

    JAMIE: What are the odds?

    (She looks around. Shrugs. Takes the donuts and leaves.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Five for Health: Homemade Drugs

    This one’s a bit different. Most of you reading this should (hopefully) note a passing similarity to a certain television doctor and insane performer. This sketch had originally been intended as part of a C-story for a spec, but I’ve never been happy with my plans for the A-story and have put that spec on a back burner. I never wrote this bit out, but had a good chunk of it in my head and figured I might as well put it to use. Hope y’all enjoy.

    Five for Health: Homemade Drugs
    (Dr. Cyrill O’Syban stands behind a lab bench wearing a white coat and goggles. There are beakers, test tubes, and a bunsen burner on the bench.)

    CYRILL
    Hi. I’m Dr. Cyrill O’Syban. I’m a working physician with a degree from the Bangalore School of Medicine. If you’re like most people, then you’re tired of making pharmaceutical fatcats rich just to stop your headache or cure your hangover. I’m here today to show you how to make your own perfectly safe alternatives in your own kitchen or garage.

    (Cut to animated credits which play with upbeat music over. We see an animated caricature of Dr. Cyrill O’Syban in white coat performing various tasks with quick cuts and wipes from action to action:
    – taking a red-faced, sweaty patient’s temperature; the mercury thermometer explodes
    – performing the Heimlich in a restaurant on a very fat man; a huge meatball flies out of his mouth
    – using a defibrillator on a patient; he lives
    – handing a lollipop to a small girl; she smiles and shoots rainbows out her eyes
    Animated Cyrill turns to the camera.)

    ANIMATED CYRILL
    I went to medical school, so you don’t have to.

    (Cut to the real Cyrill. The final strains of the theme music finish and the titles read “FIVE FOR HEALTH WITH DR. CY”)

    CYRILL
    Nothing is more of a drag then seasonal allergies. This first home brew will cut right through that foggy head. We start with some over the counter allergy pills.

    (During the following dialog, Cyrill takes some pills out of a box and crushes them into a beaker, then with gloves and tongs he pours from a bottle into the beaker. Smoke pours out.)

    CYRILL
    Take those out of the package and crush them up into a microwave safe container. Now carefully pour some bleach in and stir. What you want to see are small crystals just starting to form.

    DIRECTOR
    Cut! Cut! What the hell…are you making crystal meth? You can’t do that on television!

    CYRILL
    No, it’s fine. It’s just for allergies. It’s perfectly safe.

    DIRECTOR
    If it’s just for allergies, why don’t you just tell them to take the allergy pills?

    CYRILL
    This is much faster acting and lasts twice as long. It’s because the anti-allergy chemicals get to the source faster when you smoke them.

    DIRECTOR
    No! Skip this one. What else have you got?

    CYRILL
    A mixture of cough syrup, tang, and goat’s milk.

    DIRECTOR
    What’s that for?

    CYRILL
    You put two drops in each eye and you can stay up for 72 hours. That’s how I got through finals at good old Bang U.

    JACKSON (O.S.)
    No, no, no. You can’t make the Hedgehog on TV!

    (Jackson Tyler enters with his entourage in tow. He’s wearing a retro jersey, white kicks, jeans, and a lot of bling.)

    CYRILL
    Hello, Jackson. What are you doing here?

    JACKSON
    Shooting a video for my new song, “Bernanke’s a Bitch”. Subprime crisis is killing my portfolio!

    ENTOURAGE MEMBER #1
    Word.

    JACKSON
    Heard you were here and thought I’d see if our package came in from Brazil yet. But then I saw what you were doing! Cops’ll shut you down if you make that on TV.

    CYRILL
    It never occurred to me. I guess I’ll just cut that one out, too.

    JACKSON
    What else you got, Cyrill O’Syban?

    CYRILL
    Ground up walnuts, ammonia, listerine, and lime je–

    JACKSON
    –British Navy. No way.

    CYRILL
    A tea made from oregano, thyme, brake dust, and nose hairs–

    JACKSON
    –Toon pang! Nope.

    CYRILL
    Crushed D-cell batteries, “Sanford and Son” on Betamax–

    JACKSON
    –Root beer?

    CYRILL
    Sprite.

    JACKSON
    That’s even worse! That stuff will mess you up! I had a cousin got hooked on “Lizbeth” and now she just chews her toenails and watches “Ellen” all day. She voted for George Bush! Twice.

    CYRILL
    I, I just didn’t know Tyler. So what do you think I should do for today’s segment?

    (Cut to Cyrill sitting behind a desk.)

    CYRILL
    Today on “Five for Health” we’re going to discuss the health benefits of oral sex. So start your TiVos now, ladies!

    BLACKOUT

  • Bookworms

    (A public library at night. JOYCE is a librarian, bespectacled, primly dressed, her hair in a bun. She is closing up for the night, saying “goodbye” to the final patrons and locking the door behind them. She turns off the overhead fluorescent lights and heads back to the counter. She stretches, exhausted.)

    (Suddenly, she leaps up and sits on the counter. She flicks a switch and is awash with radiant spotlights. A raunchy, sexy drum loop begins. She removes her glasses and flings them away with abandon. She reaches behind her head and removes a pin, sensually shaking her long, luxurious hair around her shoulders. She launches into a rap.)

    JOYCE
    You’re waitin’ in the straight lines,
    I’m dolin’ out the late fines.
    I love a page-turner (so you’ve heard through the grape vines).
    You sidle to the counter like you’re readin’ off the book spines.

    Let’s see your card.

    What’s on your mind?
    You wanna be my lover?
    The only date you’ll get from me is stamped inside the cover.
    I got stacks of new releases, so ya better not hover.

    Don’t try so hard.

    Yeah, I’ve seen ya. Lurkin’ in the shelves,
    Like a schoolboy giggling at Our Bodies, Ourselves.
    You’re too overdue, which goes to confirm,
    You ain’t quite man enough to handle this bookworm.

    (JOYCE bumps and grinds while MYRTLE, another buttoned-up librarian, enters. MYRTLE flings off her glasses, undoes her hair, unbuttons the top button on her blouse and takes over.)

    MYRTLE (pointing to the various aisles)
    History and mystery,
    Geography, biography,
    Psychology, theology,
    Feel like gettin’ knowledge-y?

    JOYCE
    Damn!

    MYRTLE
    Hell yeah, y’all ain’t gettin’ no apology!
    Language is elastic, better check your etymology!

    JOYCE
    True dat!

    MYRTLE
    Rifle through my card catalog.
    Yeah that’s right, I work it old school, analog.

    It’s all right here, systematic and methodical.
    The heaviest tome to the lightest periodical.
    The infinite down to the infinitesimal.

    JOYCE
    You better get acquainted with the Dewey decimal.

    MYRTLE
    It’s all about the Melvils.

    JOYCE
    Gotta find it where I stack it.

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    If you wanna peek inside my dust jacket.

    MYRTLE
    You think you belong in our philosophy section?

    JOYCE
    You’re a Norman Vincent Peale in a Chomsky collection.

    MYRTLE
    Now you’re layin’ down your learnin’?

    JOYCE
    Expectin’ me to squirm?

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    You ain’t got the skills to impress this bookworm.

    (JOYCE and MYRTLE dance ass-to-ass. LOUISE, a third librarian, glides in on a book cart. She leaps off, flings away her glasses, undoes her hair, and tears away her blouse, revealing a glittery bra.)

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    Research!

    LOUISE
    That’s why there’s cards in here!

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    Rare books!

    LOUISE
    That’s why there’s guards in here!

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    Old bums!

    LOUISE
    That’s why it stinks in here!
    Don’t bring no food or drinks in here!

    You gotta lotta nerve, droppin’ off your son and daughter,
    Then checkin’ out my ass while they check out Harry Potter.
    Hell, look all you want, but try not to pout.
    I’m a reference librarian, so you can’t take me out.

    You can access all these books for free
    But not my Gray’s Anatomy.
    Don’t know a dirty word? Just come to me.
    I’ll point you to the OED.
    Ya down with OED?

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    Yeah, you know me!

    LOUISE
    Ya down with OED?

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    Yeah, you know me!

    LOUISE
    Ya down with OED?

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    Yeah, you know me!

    LOUISE
    Who’s down with OED?

    JOYCE & MYRTLE
    This li-brar-y!

    (Enter FRAN, an older, more dignified librarian. She is disgusted.)

    FRAN
    Hey!
    (The music stops cold, and JOYCE, MYRTLE and LOUISE stop dancing.)
    What the hell is going on in here?
    (The other LIBRARIANS look sheepishly to the floor.)
    You gotta hike up them skirts, lay-deeees!

    (FRAN rolls her skirt up at the waist, revealing her ankles. The other LIBRARIANS cheer, and the music starts up again.)

    JOYCE, MYRTLE & LOUISE
    Awwww, yeah!!!!

    FRAN
    All other librarians,
    Take our advice
    And keep real quiet!

    JOYCE, MYRTLE & LOUISE
    Shush it good!

    FRAN
    ’Cause if you step to us,
    There’s gonna be a riot!

    JOYCE, MYRTLE & LOUISE
    Shush it real good!

    JOYCE
    All you other book-bitches? I don’t mean to slander ya!

    MYRTLE
    But we run the tightest since the one at Alexandria!

    LOUISE
    But if you insist, and you want a brawl…

    FRAN
    We’ll take it fist-to-fist, like Mailer and Vidal!

    ALL
    Just keep your head low and agree to our terms.

    FRAN
    There’s no way in hell you can beat these bookworms.

    (ALL cross their arms in front of their chests.)

    ALL
    Words.

  • Friday Sketch War: Fantasy Edition

    Haven’t heard anything from Dave yet. But Richard’s already posted, even though he’s not feeling well. And it seems as though Red isn’t joining us this week either.

    Update: Dave has posted and it is super fly! Check it.

    Here’s my entry, for what it’s worth. Probably reveals a bit too much about my current work situation. But then, that’s why I’m sending out resumes. Right?

    The Break Room

    (Office break room. Marge and Peggy, two middle-aged, over weight secretaries are eating donuts and talking.)

    MARGE: So I says to him, “Carl” I says “I know for a fact that Jim’s not keeping up with his work”.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) He’s such a slacker.

    MARGE: Right. We all know it. But Carl doesn’t see it. He goes “And what makes you think this?” And I almost laugh in his face. As if I have to make up stories about Jim.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Not likely.

    MARGE: Right. So I says, “Carl, I was looking at his email inbox and there’s a whole list of file requests he hasn’t completed yet.” And Carl has the gall to get upset at me. “You can’t do that,” he says. “It’s an invasion of his privacy”, he says. Like that’s going to mean anything when we’re all out of jobs because Jim’s poor work ethic causes this whole company to fold.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Seriously.

    MARGE: But Carl says he’ll look into it. He says he’ll say something to Jim.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Good for you.

    MARGE: I’m just looking out for the company. I mean, Carl thinks he’s such a fantastic Office Manager, but we all know that I should have been the one to get that job. The only reason they hired him was because we needed more men in the office to fill a quota of some sort.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Damn ACLU.

    MARGE: Exactly. The hippies ruined it for everyone. But I’ve already sent several emails to the CEO about Carl and his lack of caring about this company. I plan on getting him…

    (Carl enters the break room and goes to the fridge)

    MARGE: Oh hey Carl! How’s your day going?

    CARL: All right. Thank God it’s Friday, you know.

    MARGE: Amen to that. So, how’d it go with Jim? Is he going to straighten up and fly right?

    CARL: Marge, I already told you once, this really isn’t any of your business. Jim’s only been back a week since his wife died. He’s taking things slow.

    MARGE: Glacial, if you ask me.

    CARL: I didn’t, Marge. No one did. And I hope you’ll stop sending me emails about him.

    MARGE: He’s costing this company millions of dollars.

    (Carl sighs and shakes his head. He exits.)

    MARGE: Have a blessed day!

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut): Yeah.

    MARGE: Not.

    (Marge and Peggy share a laugh. Peggy nearly chokes on her donut.)

    MARGE: As you can see, the man clearly has no regard for this company.

    (Marge takes out a notepad and begins writing on it.)

    MARGE: This is going in his file.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) His file?

    MARGE: I keep a file on everyone in the office. That way, if they ever do anything really wrong, or something that I don’t think befits an employee of this company, I can take it to the CEO and have them fired. Carl’s file is almost as big as Jim’s.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Do I have a file?

    MARGE: Only because you’re my best friend here do I tell you this. Yes. You do. It’s the smoke breaks. You take a ten minute break every hour. That adds up.

    (Peggy just stares at her. Jim enters the break room.)

    MARGE: Hey, Jim. How are you doing? Again, we’re so sorry about your loss.

    JIM: Thanks.

    MARGE: But don’t you think using your wife’s death as an excuse to slack off at work only degrades her memory?

    JIM: Excuse me?

    MARGE: I couldn’t help but notice, as I read your emails, that you’re really far behind on…

    (Jim punches Marge in the face, toppling her over in her chair. He gets a soda out of the fridge and exits.)

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) And have a blessed day.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Barista Blues

    Barista Blues
    (Meg and Dex stand behind the counter of an upscale coffee house. He: late 20s, detached and jaded hipster. She: 18, fresh-faced, straight from the farmland. Dex is showing Meg how the brewing equipment works.)

    MEG
    It’s not a lot different from the one back at the Starbucks in Grover’s Corners. I should be able to run it. Thanks, Dex. I’m so excited!

    DEX
    It’s not that exciting. You brew, you steam, you move them along.

    MEG
    I don’t mean that! I mean I’ve only been in LA three days and I’ve already got a great job! My parents said I’d end up broke and have to come home and become a dental hygienist, but now I won’t have to.

    DEX
    I wouldn’t call this a great job.

    MEG
    But it is! Six days from six to two leaves me plenty of time to audition, and find a place to perform. Plus when Sol hired me he said I’d get to sing on the stage here, too!

    DEX
    (Laughing to himself) I remember that. By the time you get out of here, you won’t have the energy left to do much of anything. Besides, with what Sol pays you, you’ll end up taking extra shifts just to afford Ramen. And singing on that little stage over there…it’s just more scut work.

    MEG
    You’re a gloomy gus, aren’t you!

    DEX
    I’m opening up. Get ready.

    (Dex goes to the door and opens it up. A small line of movers and shakers has already formed. Each and everyone tapping furiously on his Blackberry or talking fervently on her Bluetooth. First in line is a smarmy, slimy man. Pretty much like everyone in line who isn’t a smarmy, slimy woman.)

    MEG
    Good Morning! What can I get for you today?

    ARI
    (Looking up and seeing fresh meat) Well, good morning princess. I’m Ari. Here’s my card. Call me sometime. I’d love to represent you.

    (Meg takes the card and beams broadly. She holds it up and glances at Dex who shakes his head in bemusement.)

    MEG
    I will call you, thank you! I’m an actress, and a singer-songwriter, and a —

    ARI
    — that’s great, babe. Tell it to my assistant when you call, okay?

    MEG
    Yes, sir! What can I get for you today?

    ARI
    I’ll have the usual, babe.

    (Ari smiles to himself at his unoriginal and unclever joke. Meg starts cackling in earnest.)

    MEG
    Wow! You’re funny!

    ARI
    Just make it a large coffee.

    (Meg pours and hands the coffee over to Ari, who then moves to the register to pay. Slimeball steps up.)

    SLIMEBALL
    I’ll have a half double decaffeinated half-caf…with a twist of lemon.

    (Slimeball waits expectantly…and Meg laughs.)

    MEG
    Oh, I love that movie! That’s great!

    SLIMEBALL
    Maybe you’d like to watch it with me sometime. Here’s my card. Call me. I’m an agent.

    MEG
    Thanks! Oh, I’ve got to go in back to get a lemon. I’ll just be one —

    SLIMEBALL
    — Actually, I’ll just have a large coffee.

    (Meg pours his coffee and hands it over. Sleazebag steps up.)

    SLEAZEBAG
    (Smiling to himself) I’ll have the usual.

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP
    (It’s later the same day, Meg’s hair is messed and there are coffee stains on her shirt. She looks harried. D-Bag steps up to the counter.)

    D-BAG
    I’ll have the usual.

    (Meg shows teeth, but it’s not a smile. Dex comes over to Meg.)

    DEX
    I’ll take this one. Sol wants some music.

    MEG
    (Cheered up immediately) That’s great! To tell you the truth, I could use the break. I have some great new songs I’ve been working on, too.

    DEX
    Didn’t Sol tell you? You’re just supposed to play that song “Bad Day”. Maybe some John Mayer when he’s in the mood, but that rarely happens.

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP
    (Some time has passed. Meg’s hair is spiky and parti-colored and she’s got a tattoo showing on her upper arm. She’s sleeveless now, and in general looks a bit skankier. She’s showing the tat to Dex.)

    MEG
    It hurt a lot. They don’t tell you that. But it’s pretty cool, don’t you think?

    DEX
    It’s nice.

    MEG
    I can’t wait till my friends back home see this! They’ll flip!

    DEX
    How was your audition on Friday?

    MEG
    I didn’t get the part. I don’t get it. There are movies and plays and TV shows all over, but there aren’t that many auditions.

    (Dex smiles to himself.)

    MEG
    Oh, I’ve gotta tell you! Last night at the club —

    DEX
    — that karaoke bar out in the valley?

    MEG
    Yeah. So anyway, I was DJ-ing and this group of really hot girls and guys came in and sang. One of the girls had this amazing voice and I asked her if she sang professionally. She just laughed and said it didn’t pay enough. (Stage whispers to Dex) She told me she did porn! Can you believe it?

    (Slimeball walks up with a few people behind him.)

    SLIMEBALL
    Hey, babe! How ya doing? You’re looking good today.

    MEG
    Oh, hey. Large coffee?

    SLIMEBALL
    Nah. I think I’ll have a half double decaffeinated half-caf —

    MEG
    — with a twist of lemon?

    SLIMEBALL
    Heh! You caught me. Actually, how about I get you something? Dinner?

    MEG
    Oh, I don’t know. I really shouldn’t. We’re not supposed to date the customers.

    (The people in line begin to grumble. Their very busy, very important lives are being put on hold with this inane chatter. Meg goes ahead and pours him a large coffee.)

    SLIMEBALL
    Well, I’ll keep asking anyway.

    DEX
    Meg, Sol wants another set.

    (Meg sighs deeply, grabs her guitar and heads for the stage. As the lights fade, we hear the opening bars of “Bad Day”.)

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP
    (Meg’s now got a full sleeve tat, a lip and two eye piercings, and a tat around her navel. She’s sleeveless and cropped. Slimeball is at the front of the line.)

    SLIMEBALL
    (Quietly, looking down) Large coffee please.

    MEG
    (Glaring…then finally exploding) You could have at least called me the next day! You said you’d call! Jesus. Damn it, you could at least look me in the eyes when you order your coffee!

    (Meg pours his coffee and slams it down on the counter. Slimeball slinks away to pay and the next customer steps up.)

    MEGADOUCHE
    Hello! I’ll have a half double decaffeinated half-caf…with a twist of lemon!

    (Meg screams, reaches below the counter, comes up with a shotgun and shoots him. Silence and stillness for a few seconds.)

    DEX
    I’ll clean that up. Sol wants you to do a set.

    BLACKOUT

  • Fuck Leonardo DiCaprio

    (JUSTIN and CRAIG, two twentysomethings, are sitting on a couch in their shared apartment. JUSTIN is reading a People magazine, and CRAIG is operating a video game controller.)

    JUSTIN (looking up from his magazine)
    Fuck Leonardo DiCaprio.

    CRAIG
    What?

    JUSTIN
    Oh, it’s just… he’s “romantically linked with Israeli supermodel Bar Refaeli.”

    CRAIG
    There are Israeli supermodels?

    JUSTIN
    And before that it was Gisele Bündchen, and who knows who else. The guy goes through beautiful women like Kleenex. I’m so jealous.

    CRAIG
    Eh. I used to be.

    JUSTIN
    Before you became gay?

    CRAIG
    No. The way I see it, someone is having sex with supermodels. Score one for us.

    JUSTIN
    Who’s “us”?

    CRAIG
    Men. Somewhere out there, there’s a man having sex with models. Yay men.

    JUSTIN
    Yeah, I don’t feel any luckier.

    CRAIG
    The real tragedy would be if these women were wandering around with nobody to throw them to the ground and do them in the soft grass. Would you want to live in a world like that?

    (pause)

    JUSTIN
    No.

    CRAIG
    Leonardo DiCaprio was available, and qualified, and he stepped up. Try saying this. What’s this model’s name?

    JUSTIN
    Bar Refaeli.

    CRAIG
    Say, “Leonardo DiCaprio and I are fucking Bar Refaeli.”

    JUSTIN
    “Leonardo DiCaprio and I are fucking Bar Refaeli.”

    CRAIG
    Congratulations, dude. She sounds hot.

    (pause)

    JUSTIN
    We don’t have any Oscars though.

    CRAIG
    No, but you and Jack Nicholson have a shitload.

    JUSTIN
    Hey, yeah.

    CRAIG
    And… (he throws down the video game controller) Leonardo DiCaprio and I just beat your high score in “Centipede.”

    JUSTIN
    Fuck both of you.

  • FSW: Someone New Enters the Battle!

    Wow. Someone (not the two people I was actually targeting, but someone) felt called out this week and decided to send in a sketch. It’s her first shot at sketch comedy, but I thought it was pretty decent. She’s homepageless at the moment, so I’m going to paste it below. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to our newest battler, Red. (I’m not going to include her email address as she suggested, because I fear she’d send money to all the deposed Nigerian princes who would contact her.)

    The Meeting
    (Two women and a man sit at a conference table wearing business casual attire. Ms Willson rushes in and stands at the head of the table, where we can only see her back. The other three get odd expressions on their faces, and glance between each other and Ms Willson. Smiles slowly creep across their faces.)

    MS WILLSON
    Is something funny? We have serious business to attend to, and since I am behind schedule we really don’t have time to have this conversation. (Brianne raises her hand.) Yes, Brianne, do you have something to say, and is it pertinent to the meeting?

    BRIANNE
    Well, I just wanted to tell you that–

    MS WILLSON
    –If it’s not about the meeting, I don’t want to hear it.

    (Ms Willson ad-libs on sales figures and clients for a few moments. The others continue to smile.)

    MS WILLSON
    The fact that our sales numbers are down, is that something you find amusing, Charlie?

    CHARLIE
    (Stammers) No, no, that’s not funny at all. It’s just that…

    MS WILLSON
    Just that what? Really, is this a case of Friday afternoon happy hour anticipation or are you all just on something?

    (They stare at the floor, holding back snickers.)

    MARIE
    Well, Ms Willson, what we’ve been trying to tell you, is that it’s hard to focus on sales numbers when your dress is tucked into your pantyhose and we can see your underwear. Is today Monday or Friday because I can’t tell from what you are wearing?

    (Ms Willson turns away from the table to face us and looks down. Her dress is tucked into her pantyhose in front and the front or her underwear is visible. We can clearly read the word “Monday” printed all over them.)

    MS WILLSON
    Ah, well. Thanks Marie, and all, sorry I didn’t let you speak sooner. (She heads to the door.) I’ll be right back…

    (The three co-workers burst into laughter.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: An Awkward Birthday

    Same spiel as every week. If anyone feels up to putting her sketch talents to the test, please email a link, or the body of your sketch if you have no place to post it, to sketchwar_at_dreamloom_dot_com. The results of the battle will be posted sometime Friday evening.

    An Awkward Birthday
    (Rob and Jean sit at a kitchen table with shreds of wrapping paper lying visible on the floor. He: mid 20s, wearing a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and glasses. She: early 20s, hair in a ponytail, white blouse, jeans.)

    ROB
    I thought you’d like it.

    JEAN
    How could…are you crazy? What would make you think I’d want…that?

    ROB
    I don’t know. You’re, it’s just that —

    (They freeze. A man in his 40s with touches of silver at the temples of his perfectly combed hair enters and crosses to stand behind Rob’s right shoulder. He is dressed identically to Rob, though his shirt is neatly tucked and buttoned all the way to the top.)

    ROB-2
    It’s just that you’re a difficult person for whom to shop.

    (Jean remains frozen, but Rob turns to look at his doppelganger.)

    ROB
    “For whom to shop?” Are you fucking kidding me? Look at her! She’s already pissed off and now you want me to talk like an English professor in the middle of a fight?

    ROB-2
    There is no wrong time for good grammar.

    ROB
    Right. Well I think I’m going to take this one myself if you don’t mind.

    (Jean unfreezes.)

    ROB (CONT)
    — you’re a hard person to shop for.

    JEAN
    Hard? Hard how? Look around the apartment, Rob. Look over there on the counter. What do you see?

    ROB
    A pile of magazines?

    JEAN
    Catalogs. They’re catalogs. With pages conveniently folded so you can see what I like. Trust me when I tell you not one of those catalogs has anything like…that.

    ROB-2
    She has a point.

    ROB
    (Glares at Rob-2) But Jeannie, if I just get you something from one of those, it’s like I put no thought in it at all. You might as well just take a card from my wallet and order it yourself. I thought I could surprise you with something different. Something personal.

    (Jean freezes. A third man appears, dressed the same but with his shirt completely undone and hair mussed. This one is 17 or 18. He stands behind Rob’s left shoulder.)

    ROB-3
    Dude! Tell her how long it took!

    ROB
    Not now.

    ROB-3
    Tell her, man. An hour, just standing there with that stuff slathered on.

    ROB
    I wish I was at work.

    ROB-2
    Were at work. You wish you were at work.

    ROB-3
    Nice hair, grandpa. You put Crisco in that?

    ROB-2
    Get a job!

    (Jean unfreezes.)

    JEAN
    You know I don’t…do that. Why would you buy me a dildo?

    ROB
    That’s just it! It’s not just a dildo! It’s an exact replica of me!

    JEAN
    What?

    ROB-3
    Tell her about the latex!

    JEAN
    What are you talking about?

    ROB
    Intimate Expressions – the sex shop by the Greyhound station – they have this new thing where they take casts of–

    JEAN
    –So now you’re hanging out at sex shops?!?

    (Rob-2 and Rob-3 both take a single, large step backwards.)

    ROB
    Just the one. I mean, no! I heard about it on the radio, is all. I swear. At Valentine’s Day they were talking about it and I thought it’d be something you’d like. You always say how much you miss me when I work nights–

    JEAN
    –So you thought you could give me a rubber–

    ROB-3
    –Latex

    ROB
    Latex

    JEAN
    –latex version of your dick and that’d be alright? That’s what you thought I meant when I said I missed you?

    ROB
    I just wanted–

    ROB-2
    –I just wanted, finally, to give you some memento to remind you of me.

    ROB
    Seriously! Who talks like that?

    ROB-3
    Tell her about the hot chick who took the mold!

    ROB
    Guys, really, I think I’ve got this. Thanks for all your help.

    I just wanted to finally give you something special. I screwed up. Again. I’m sorry. Here, I’ll throw it out.

    (Rob extends his hand. Everyone freezes. A woman who looks just like Jean enters and crosses to stand behind Jean. She holds out her hand.)

    JEAN-2
    Oh hell no! If you’re not going to use it, then give it to me!

    BLACKOUT

  • I’m Lucky To Have Met Nathaniel

    (JULIA and ALEX sit at a table in a coffee shop. JULIA is holding ALEX’s hand.)

    JULIA
    You know what? I want you to know that you’ve meant a lot to me during the time we’ve spent together, and that whatever our differences, and whatever needs we’re no longer able to fill for each other, you’ll always remain a part of me. I’m lucky to have met you, just like I’m lucky to have met Nathaniel. And he’s right for me at this point in my life. And I hope you find someone who’s right for you. And I know you will. I know you’ll find someone who can fully appreciate all you have to offer, and she’ll be a very lucky girl.

    ALEX
    Wow. Thank you, very much. I really needed to hear that. And as for you, I hope your relationship with Nathaniel fails miserably, and that you make each other very unhappy. And I don’t just mean for the week or so after you eventually break up; I want you to be deeply scarred by this relationship you’re about to embark on, to the point where you’ll never again come close to knowing true love. And I want you to turn to drink for solace, and to sink slowly into despair and alcoholism. And eventually, I’d like for you to run over some kids in a drunk driving accident, and for this to eat you up with grief until you finally take your life in a grisly and public suicide.