Sketch War

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  • FSW: New Pants

    Michael selected this week’s theme: back to school. I thought about using a scene from my spec sequel to the Rodney Dangerfield classic, but it’s just too good to waste on the likes of y’all. Instead I give you…

    NEW PANTS
    (TOM, early 40s with a comb-over and MEMBERS ONLY JACKET, and his son BRANDON, 11 and old enough to be embarrassed by his father, eat cereal at a kitchen table.)

    BRANDON
    But mom promised she’d take me to the mall this weekend!

    TOM
    I know sport, but your Aunt Tina hasn’t had her baby yet. Mom can’t just up and leave her right now, you know that.

    BRANDON
    I know. But school starts Tuesday and I don’t got new clothes.

    TOM
    (Gently chiding) Don’t have.

    BRANDON
    Sorry. I don’t have new clothes. It’s just it’s a new school and–

    TOM
    –and you don’t want to start it off on the wrong foot. I know. I remember what it’s like. I was a kid once too, you know. Tell you what, how about the old man takes you clothes shopping instead?

    BRANDON
    You?

    TOM
    Yes me! Your mom’s not the only fashion plate around this house, you know. Back in my single days I used to be a pretty snappy dresser. How else do you think I landed a babe like your mom?

    BRANDON
    I thought she felt bad her boyfriend ran you over?

    TOM
    Haha! Chuck didn’t run me over, he just dinged my Corolla up pretty good. Your mom was so sweet, making sure he finally paid me for the repairs. But by then it was too late. She was a victim of the Tom-bomb. (BEAT) So how about it sport? You and me, trolling the mall for chicks and clothes?

    BRANDON
    Eww…

    (Lights down and back up. Tom sits at the table, now piled with folded clothes. Brandon enters.)

    BRANDON
    What’s all this?

    TOM
    I figured it’s your last chance to sleep late before the school year starts and you’re busy all the time, so I didn’t wake you. But I was so excited, I went out and did all your clothes’ shopping for you!

    BRANDON
    You…what? But how did you–

    TOM
    –I had a little trouble finding you pants.

    (Brandon picks up a rugby shirt with bold stripes. He picks up six just like it as his father talks.)

    TOM
    Can you believe that mall your mom likes doesn’t have a Sears?

    (Brandon’s eyes widen in terror.)

    TOM
    Had to run over to the Shelbyville Town Centre, but they must have been out.

    BRANDON
    Out?

    TOM
    Yeah, that’s what we get for shopping so late, I guess. But don’t worry, I stopped by your gramma’s house and found my old stash.

    (You thought Brandon’s eyes were wide in terror before? They’re Tex Avery-like now! Lights down again and back up. Brandon wears one of the rugby shirts and a pair of tan Toughskins.)

    TOM
    You look sharp, Brand!

    BRANDON
    My knees! I can’t bend my knees!

    TOM
    Keep trying, you’ll break ’em in eventually!

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Sketch War – No Child Left Behind

    After being a long-time reader (and fan) of the Friday Sketch Wars, I decided to toss my hat into the ring (aka – get my ass in gear and get something written in time to play with the other kids 🙂 ). This weeks theme was “Back to School”.

    UPDATE:
    Richard got us dressed for school, and Michael made sure we got to class – so go check ’em out! And….they even kind enough to invite me to toss down the theme for next week (oh, the pressure).

    Sooooooooo…….in honor of the Democratic National Convention next week, let’s say the theme this week is: Gatherings
    ___________________________________________________________________

    INT. HIGHSCHOOL CLASSROOM – DAY
    Several students are milling about before class, talking to each other, flirting, the class nerd trying to be as invisible as possible….the usual classroom goings-on.

    The school bell rings, the classroom door opens, and in walks the teacher, MR. PHILLIPS

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Everyone settle down, settle down….I know you all have a lot to talk about after spending all summer hanging out together, but it’s learning time now.

    The students grumblingly sit down.

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    Alright…..welcome to your senior year at William Taft highschool. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Mr. Phillips, and I will be your homeroom teacher for first semester. You will meet here first thing every morning, I will go over any announcements, hand out any official paperwork, and send you on your merry way. I will also be the first person you talk to if you have any questions or problems, and I will be the person who proctors the many standardized tests now required by the state throughout the year. Are there any questions?

    TIFFANY raises her hand

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    Yes, Ms. Morelli.

    TIFFANY
    When can we buy yearbooks?

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Year books will be available for pre-purchase at the yearbook office after the new year.

    Another hand goes up – it’s LEILA’s

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    Yes, Ms. Gray?

    LEILA
    What about student tickets for the football games?

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Student tickets for Taft Golden Wombats’ football games, either for individual games or season tickets, will be available for purchase from your homeroom teacher, in this case myself. This also applies to all other varsity sports throughout the year.

    A hand goes up from one of the boys in the back of the class

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    Yes Mr., uhhhh, Clarkson is it?

    CHIP
    Yes sir, Chip Clarkson.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    What’s your question Mr. Clarkson?

    CHIP
    I wanted choir this fall, but it’s not on my schedule. Can I get that changed?

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Unfortunately Mr. Clarkson the entire music program has been eliminated due to budget cuts.

    The students break out grumbling amongst themselves

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    We’ve also lost the drama program…

    More grumbling

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    home economics….

    More grumbling

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    …and Field Hockey.

    Not a peep

    MR. PHILLIPS
    The entire national economy is in the crapper right now people, and school budgets are stretched right to the breaking point. State and federal government wants us to focus solely on reading, math and sciences, because the U.S. is behind almost every other industrialized nation in those disciplines. They want regular standardized tests to gauge progress, and our funding will be directly related to how well you kids do on those tests. Low scores on those tests will result in lower funding and more cut programs, possibly even varsity sports.

    A grumble goes up from the entire class

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    Which reminds me….Mr. Williams, are you here today? Tyson Williams?

    TYSON, one of the cool kids, athletic, stylish, and obviously a heartbreaker, stands up. He’s wearing a athletic letterman jacket and stylish tousled blonde hair, looking like he just walked off the set of Gossip Girl.

    TYSON
    Right here, yo!

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Mr. Williams, you’ve been the captain of the basketball team for the last two years, an all-state wrestling champion, and a star half-back for the Golden Wombats, have you not?

    TYSON
    You left out rock star and pimp of the nation bro!!!

    The class hoots and applauds at TYSON’s brashness. Mr. Phillips looks at Tyson’s record on his desk

    MR. PHILLIPS
    You barely passed your last two years of algebra, and earned a combined score of less than 500 on your practice SAT’s last year, which means you didn’t even spell you name correctly on the test.

    TYSON
    What can I say? I’m naturally gifted! GOLDEN WOMBATS RULE!!!

    While TYSON is talking, Mr. Phillips rings a little bell sitting on his desk. Two men in dark suits with dark sunglasses rush in through the door. Phillip’s points out Tyson, and the two men run over to him. They taser the boy, then pick him up and rush him out of the classroom. This all happens with the speed and precision of a military special forces operation.

    TIFFANY
    Oh my God Mr P! Those men just took Tyson!

    MR. PHILLIPS
    This is just a part of how things are going to be done at William Taft High from now on!

    CHIP
    What? We’re going to be tasered and kidnapped and never seen again?

    MR. PHILLIPS
    On the contrary – Mr. Williams is fine. Look…he’s coming back into the classroom right now.

    A thin small Indian teen, SANJEET, steps into the doorway, wearing Tyson’s letter jacket, which hangs on him, and wearing a blonde wig similar to Tyson’s hair. SANJEET speaks shyly with a heavy Indian accent He tries to speak hip, but has absolutely no clue how.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    There you are Mr. Williams. Welcome back. Please take your seat now that you’ve returned from using the restroom.

    SANJEET
    Thank you Mr. P. What is up my home skillets….I am wicked refreshed now that I my lizard has been successfully drained.

    Everyone stares as SANJEET takes TYSON’s seat

    TIFFANY
    That is NOT Tyson Mr. P.

    CHIP
    It’s some Indian dude!

    MR. PHILLIPS
    WRONG!!! This is the NEW Tyson Williams, former athletic wonder, who, thanks to an epiphany about where his low grades would lead him, has returned from Summer vacation an expert in complex mathematics and theoretical physics.

    SANJEET
    Quarks are my bitches!

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Now, if we can continue….

    TIFFANY
    NO!!! THIS IS SO TOTALLY WRONG!!! WHAT’S HAVE YOU DONE WITH TYSON???

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Ms. Morelli, your reading comprehension scores were embarrassingly low last year, weren’t they?

    TIFFANY
    DO NOT CHANGE THE SUBJECT MR PHILLIPS! I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO TYSON!!!

    MR. PHILLIPS rings a little bell sitting on his desk. TIFFANY falls to the floor as if dragged down below her desk where we cannot see her, and the electric crackle of a taser is heard. After a few seconds an Asian girl, YEI, dressed like Tiffany and wearing a wig identical to Tiffany’s hair, sits back up in Tiffany’s chair. YEI speaks with a Chinese accent, and the same awkwardness as SANJEET

    YEI
    Forgive please, Mr. Phillips. I drop number 2 pencil to floor. Please continue.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    That’s quite alright Ms. Morelli. I’m sure that someone like you, who, at your age has already completed two entire books analyzing the works of Lord Byron, which may or may not have been written in your native language, must be very attached to her number 2 pencils.

    Every student except SANJEET and YEI glance nervously around, afraid to move, but trying to make sure there is no one on the floor around them.

    LEILA gingerly and nervously raises her hand.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Yes, Ms. Gray?

    LEILA
    Mr. P….I’m not saying that something just happened, in fact I’m sure absolutely nothing just happened, and I defintiely didn’t see anything just happen, and I’d swear to that on a stack of bibles even though my parents have raised me Budhist…but IF something just happened, which it didn’t, why would it have just happened?

    MR. PHILLIPS
    That is a well thought out question Ms. Gray. As I said before, educational funding, which includes my salary and tenure possibilities, is now being determined solely by student scores on standardized tests. A teacher may be fired, have their salary reduced, or be denied tenure simply if their students score too low on those aforementioned tests, whether or not it is the fault of the teacher, the failure of apathetic parents to properly motivate their children, or whether the children in question are simply morons. A teacher will ultimately pay the price for the failure of his or her students, even if the teacher in question was once a member of U.S. Military special forces who still has close friends in covert operations. Does that answer your question Ms. Gray?

    LEILA
    (scared out of her mind and almost stuttering)
    Y…y…y…..yes, Mr. Phillips.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    I think it’s a great shame that there are so many bright ambitious students in poorer countries around the world, who would give anything for the quality education American students take for granted, and that those same foreign students are being denied that opportunity while American students take it for granted and waste it. I wish I could find a way to address that injustice, to provide those motivated hard-working foreign students with a solid education, don’t you Ms. Gray.

    LEILA
    (still scared out of her mind)
    Y…y…y…..yes I do , Mr. Phillips.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    In fact, I very confident that the students in this classroom who have, shall we say, discovered a new dedication to their education, are smart and driven enough to earn merit scholarships from some of the best universities in the world. And I feel certain that the rest of you will be motivated to work harder simply by their example, won’t you class?

    No one says a word. MR. PHILLIPS snaps his fingers and the two men in dark suits step inside the doorway, looking ominous.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    I SAID ‘WON’T WE CLASS’???

    THE ENTIRE CLASS
    (in unison)
    YES MR. PHILLIPS

    MR. PHILLIPS waves the two goons off….they Leave

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Any other questions before we proceed?

    CHIP carefully raises his hand

    MR. PHILLIPS (CONT)
    Mr. Clarkson….what is your question?

    CHIP
    (extremely nervous)
    Mr. Phillips….sir….with all due respect….we live in the in a country where kidnapping and torture of citizens is illegal and a complete violation of our the Constitution. The United States was founded on principals that directly refute such police state tactics.

    MR. PHILLIPS stares at CHIP, then slowly raises his little bell to eye level. MR PHILLIPS rings his bell again. The students on either side of CHIP slide down out of view, and tasering can be heard. Two new students of obvious foreign descent, wearing clothing and wigs that vaguely resembles that of the students they just replaced, pop up as if nothing had happened.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Mr. Clarkson, your test scores have been exemplary, so I will tolerate your outburst. However, students with borderline test scores will be placed in seats around you at all times. Should you feel the need to deliver a civics speech, those students will suffer to the consequences of your actions and your arrogance. Are we clear Mr. Clarkson?

    CHIP
    Crystal, sir. Thank you sir.

    CHIP sits back down gingerly and quietly. LEILA carefully and slowly raises her hand.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Another question already Ms. Gray?

    MR. PHILLIPS picks up the bell and holds it for LEILA to see, but doesn’t ring it.

    LEILA
    Sir…ummmm…won’t the parents of the students who have, umm, altered their appearance slightly here today, notice that they look different?

    MR. PHILLIPS
    You’re teenagers Ms. Gray – your parents never see you anyway.
    PRINCIPAL WATERS stands in the doorway and knocks on the frame

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Ah, Principal Waters, please come on in. We were just discussing the standardized test process for this year.

    PRINCIPAL WATERS
    That’s exactly what I came by to discuss. As I understand it, you had several students in your classes last year who scored lower than desired on their state-mandated tests, is that correct.

    MR. PHILLIPS
    Unfortunately it is Principal Waters. However, we were just discussing how everyone in this room has re-dedicated themselves to good study habits and….

    The taser noise is heard again, and MR. PHILLIPS collapses to the floor disappearing behind his desk. A middle eastern man, GABRIEL, stands up wearing the same sweater as MR. PHILLIPS

    PRINCIPAL WATERS
    By the way kids, Mr. Phillips spent the summer in an Israeali kibbutz, where he picked up a slight accent, but earned two PHd’s in 18th century English literature and quantum physics. He also got a quite a tan, but we all agree he bears absolutely no resemblance to any Mossad agent who might be hiding out int the United States, don’t we??

    PRINCIPAL WATERS grabs the bell and holds it up threateningly for all to see

    THE ENTIRE CLASS
    Yes Principal Waters!

    PRINCIPAL WATERS
    Excellent, children! Have a wonderful school year Mr. Phillips!

    GABRIEL
    Go Wombats!

    Fade out

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Payroll Edition

    This week sees the return of the three-man battle royale edition, and to grease the skids for his reentry to the fight, David picked this week’s theme. And then? He just managed to set his bomb off with seconds to spare in the fight!

    Next week’s theme has been selected by Michael and is back to school. I think this is a good time for someone else to enter the fray with a surprise attack. We’re bloodied, weary, and too focused on the fight in front to see a sneak sketch from behind. If you want to try your luck next week, email your sketch, or a link to where it’s posted to sketchwar AT dreamloom.com by midnight on Friday.

    Read, learn, love. And get writing your own sketches, people. Clearly, anyone can do it.

  • Whose Side Are You On?

    (A recording studio. SCOTT stands alone, fretting. After a beat, THERESA enters.)

    SCOTT
    He still out there?

    THERESA
    Yeah.

    (pause)

    SCOTT
    If he can’t go through with it, are you willing to do the voiceover?

    THERESA
    No! I have a horrible voice!

    SCOTT
    Don’t say that.

    THERESA
    It’s true! It’s worse than yours.

    (pause)

    SCOTT
    Yeah, I guess it is.

    THERESA
    I could never sell something as radical as this. Hell, I could tell people the earth was round, and they’d second guess themselves and consult a globe.

    (pause)

    SCOTT
    The jury’s still out on the earth being round, as far as I’m concerned.

    THERESA
    Not today. Please.

    (ROB enters.)

    SCOTT
    What’s up?

    ROB
    I’m in.

    THERESA
    You sure? Because we can’t screw around on this stuff anymore, we only have the studio till 2:30.

    ROB
    Right. Let’s just plow through it. I just want it to be known that I don’t believe any of this crap.

    SCOTT
    You don’t have to.

    (THERESA and SCOTT retreat to the recording equipment and ROB positions himself in front of the microphone. All three put on headphones.)

    THERESA
    Take it from “slurry walls.”

    ROB (reading)
    “The slurry walls, three-foot-thick walls of concrete buried deep underneath the World Trade Center, were designed to hold back the ocean and the Hudson River. But these walls were displaced, in some areas by up to eighteen inches. If the walls were strong enough to support the weight of the towers and the ocean for over twenty-five years, why would they be knocked out of alignment?” Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because two one-hundred-story buildings had just fallen down on top of them?

    SCOTT
    Cut!

    ROB
    I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t get behind this because I don’t believe it.

    THERESA
    Hey, Rob, I see on your résumé that you played Nathan Detroit in “Guys and Dolls.” So, did you “believe” that you had to find a place for the big craps game?

    ROB
    The fact that I was in “Guys and Dolls” is not going to make people not want to work with me in the future!

    THERESA
    No, your unprofessionalism will do that nicely!

    SCOTT
    Please. Everyone just calm down. Rob, you’re very good. You have the steely timbre, the gravitas we need.

    ROB (grudgingly)
    Thank you.

    SCOTT
    There’s a reason we hired you for this. 9/11 was an inside job. The idea that a handful of guys with box cutters could do this is ridiculous, and everyone knows it.

    ROB
    Okay. I need to tell you something. Sometimes a conspiracy theorist will make a grand conspiracy statement, and he will follow it with the phrase, “and everyone knows it.”

    SCOTT
    Okay.

    ROB
    Those four words tag you as a crackpot. They carry the implication that when I claim to disagree with you, that means I must be “in on it.” Or that they’ve “gotten to me” and threatened my family or something.

    SCOTT
    All right.

    ROB
    And since I know that neither of those is the case, your entire theory crumbles. If there is no room in your worldview for me to disagree with you without being a coward, or a shadowy architect of clandestine machinations, then you are a crackpot, and you are to be ignored.

    SCOTT
    Noted. Are we doing this?

    (SPYDER, owner of the recording studio, enters.)

    SPYDER
    Guys, I need you to wrap this up. I got a “My Little Pony” Christmas special coming in here at 2:30.

    THERESA
    Spyder, can they reschedule? We’re trying to open the eyes of the nation here.

    SPYDER
    No, man, I want them in and out of here ASAP. They’re unlicensed.

    SCOTT
    What do you mean?

    SPYDER
    It’s not an official “My Little Pony” video, it’s a knockoff they’re going to sell on the street.

    (pause)

    THERESA
    Let’s just drop it.

    SCOTT
    Are you serious?

    THERESA
    Yeah. I guess the truth loses again. Give Rob his money and let’s go home.

    SCOTT
    Yeah, okay.

    THERESA
    I guess I’ll read the closing paragraph later. We can cobble together the rest

    (SCOTT stares down ROB for a moment, then shakes his hand.)

    SCOTT
    You fucked us, Rob. But you took a stand. On some level, I have to respect that.

    (ROB watches everyone pack up. He is about to take his water bottle and leave, but he stops himself. He swipes the script back from SCOTT.)

    ROB
    Roll the tape.

    SCOTT
    What are you doing, Rob?

    ROB
    Just roll it.
    (They do. ROB is magnificent, heartfelt, as he recites from the script.)
    “To review. George W. Bush was eager to create enough chaos to allow his half-brother Osama bin Laden to divert Afghanistan’s heroin trade through Putin’s Russia. So he asked the 107-year-old Dick Cheney to combine the Catholic Church’s weather machine with the water engine technology owned by Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. Using it all in conjunction with a holographic sky-projector with possible origins in the blueprints from the ancient alien astronauts, they staged the most massive act of treason our country has seen.”
    (pause)
    “The President has said, you’re either with us or you’re with the terrorists. Open your eyes, America. They are one and the same.”
    (pause)
    “Whose side are you on?”

    (pause)

    THERESA (softly)
    You nailed it.

    ROB
    Well.

    THERESA
    No, you fucking nailed it.

    SCOTT
    Rob. Thank you.

    (SCOTT nods and makes his way out of the studio. SPYDER approaches THERESA.)

    SPYDER
    Hey, is that stuff true? About the water machine and the ancient astronauts?

    THERESA
    Every last word.

    SPYDER
    Could I get a copy of this video?

    (ROB, hearing this, nods at THERESA and SCOTT. They nod back. ROB exits.)

  • FSW: Payroll Edition

    This week’s theme was “payroll”.

    Richard said he had trouble with it, but turned in a fine sketch none the less.

    No word from the theme originator yet.

    Here’s my effort this week. Not crazy about the ending. But it’ll do for now.

    Next week’s theme is “Back to School“.

    And, as always, if you’d like join us, simply write a sketch and let us know where to read it.

    The Meeting

    (The backroom of a warehouse. A table sits in the middle of an empty room. A single, bare bulb swings from the ceiling. Eight of the roughest, meanest looking thugs sit at the table. Jimmy “The Clam” Garbosi stands at the head of the table. He has a briefcase and a large shopping bag.)
    Jimmy: As you’s fellas know, it’s been a rough year for The Family. Peoples ain’t been able to pay as much for protection and whatnot.

    (He takes a stack of stapled papers out of his briefcase. There is a colorful pie chart on the front page. He hands the stack to Ernie “The Node” Farconni.)

    Jimmy: Take one and pass it around.

    (They do.)

    Jimmy: As you’s can see from the chart here-

    Ernie: You do this?

    Jimmy: So what if I did?

    Ernie: It’s nice work.

    Jimmy: Grazie. As I was sayin’. Our income is down 32% from this time last year.

    Barry: Is that the yellow chunk?

    Jimmy: (sigh) Yes, Barry, it’s the yellow chunk. Now, what this means, unfortunately, is that we’re going to have to let some of you go.

    (Everyone tenses up. Some of them reach for the inside of their jackets. Everyone watches everyone.)

    Jimmy: Whoa, whoa, whoa. It ain’t gonna be like that. Hands on the table guys. Come on.

    (Everyone slowly pulls their hands out of their coats and puts them on the table.)

    Jimmy: The Family understands that you’s gotta feed your own and if that means you gotta find work with another family, that’s the way the meatball bounces. But. Know this. If you choose this option and I see you out on the street, I’ll shoot your fuckin’ face off. (beat) Questions?

    (Harry “The Limp” Barollo is flipping through the hand-out. He raises his hand.)

    Jimmy: Harry.

    Harry: It don’t say nuthin’ in here ‘bout our benefits.

    Jimmy: Right. Good question. We will continue your benefits package for six months after your termination.

    (Everyone tenses. A couple people reach for their coats.)

    Jimmy: Tah, tah, tah. Relax.

    (Everyone does.)

    Jimmy: So you can still get free lunches at Gordo’s on 63rd and the fish fry Fridays is free at Sal’s, but only during Lent. The backroom at Mac’s is available to for parties, but you’re gonna have to pay for your own booze.

    Ernie: No dames?

    Jimmy: No dames, Ernie. You’re gonna have to settle for your wife like the rest of us.

    (Everyone chuckles.)

    Ernie: You disrespectin’ my wife?

    Harry: No, he’s disrespectin’ you, ya mook.

    Ernie: Who you callin’ a “mook”, ya hose?

    Jimmy: Fellas, fellas. Please. Could we not live up to the stereotype for one stinkin’ meetin’?

    Barry: So who’s goin’?

    (Everyone nods and looks at Jimmy. He pulls out a sheet of paper.)

    Jimmy: Before I read off these names I want you to know that this wasn’t an easy decision. We looked through your past performance records, took into account the number of years you’ve been workin’ with –

    (Harry shoves himself back from the table, reaches into his coat, pulls out his gun and shoot’s the man across from him, dead.)

    Jimmy: Wait!

    (Immediately everyone is on their feet. Shots ring out. Goombahs dies. When the dust settles, Jimmy is still at the head of the table. Harry, Barry and Ernie are the only three left standing. Jimmy looks down at the piece of paper in his hands and shakes his head.)

    Jimmy: What are the odds? Right. Get this mess cleaned up. There’s work to be done.

    (Harry and Barry begin dragging bodies off.)

    Ernie: Hey, Jimmy. What’s in the bag?

    Jimmy: It was PSPs and iPods for the fellas that was gonna get axed.

    Ernie: Can I have one?

    Jimmy: You’re still here, Ernie.

    Ernie: Yeah, but I’d like an iPod.

    Jimmy: Well, you shoulda thought of that before you got all trigger happy. Now help these guys out before I get sore at ya.

    (Jimmy walks off. Ernie is using one of the hand-outs to scoop up someone’s splattered brains.)

    Jimmy: (To himself) Middle management sucks.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Highway Robbery

    Not my best work. I’m going to leave it at that. I think it’s a cute-ish setup, and I don’t mind the payoff, but it’s clunky and clumsy and the dialog sucks. Sorry. Blame David for picking this week’s theme of payroll. Michael’s up for next week’s theme. My fingers are crossed that it doesn’t hurt quite like this one!
     

    (Payroll department. TIM, 30s and beige as the cubes and carpet of his department, sits at his desk. MARY, late 20s but holding tight to her early 20s, stands at his side.)
    TITLE: WELLS FARGO SOUTHWEST REGIONAL DATA CENTER, PAYROLL DEPARTMENT, PAYDAY, 11:59AM.

    MARY
    I don’t understand why we don’t just send out an email.

    TIM
    Corporate needs hard copies of everyone’s AR-13s, in triplicate.

    MARY
    Tree killers.

    TIM
    That’s just the way things are done. If we don’t get those in, no one’s getting paid next month.

    MARY
    I know, I know. I’ll take care of it. I just don’t know why it’s got to be this way.

    TIM
    Personally, I like doing things the old way. I like knowing I’ve got a file cabinet filled with all the documents I need to get us through any audit. What do you have with an email?

    (Gunfire announces the arrival of THREE COWPOKES, dusty, mustachioed, and 120 years too late. Ringleader DALE steps front and center and shoots his two six-shooters.)

    DALE
    Yeehah! Alright you lily-livered hangdogs. Hand over the loot.

    MARY
    Sir, you can’t fire guns in–

    (Dale shoots Mary. Dead.)

    DALE
    Yeehah!

    TIM
    (sighing)
    Great. Do you know how long it takes to train a good payroll clerk? What do you want.

    DALE
    We’re aimin’ to take your payroll off your hands, pardner.

    TIM
    Take our…you want to steal our payroll?

    DALE
    You betcha!
    (to henchmen)
    He ain’t the sharpest fella, is he?

    TIM
    You do realize that most of our employees just have direct deposit, right?

    DALE
    What in tarnation is that?

    TIM
    Pay is deposited directly into their bank accounts. No paychecks, no cash. All they get is a stub.

    DALE
    Goldang it all! The world’s just changin’ too fast for this ol’ outlaw.

    TIM
    I know how you feel.

    DALE
    I s’pose they get medical, too.

    TIM
    And dental.

    (Dale raises his eyebrow suggestively. Lights come down and back up. Tim sits alone at his desk. Dale comes up in the same dusty cowboy gear. He shoots into the air.)

    TITLE: WELLS FARGO SOUTHWEST REGIONAL DATA CENTER, PAYROLL DEPARTMENT, ONE WEEK LATER

    DALE
    Yeehah! Here are them AR-13s, boss!

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Disney Edition

    “Disney” was the theme tossed out by Richard this week in honor of his applying for the Disney-ABC Television Writing Fellowship. Here’s hoping it was just the push he needed to get accepted.

    His sketch this week brings us the Walt-cicle taking in the Olympics.

    Dave jumped in last week after getting a reaming from the creator of Wall-E. Nothing from him yet, but the theme is in his hands should he choose to join us.

    I think it’s interesting that I chose to deal with Walt as well. Not sure what that says about Richard and I. Aside from the “great minds think alike” stuff.

    Origin of Species.

    (A dark and dingy basement/laboratory. A young man is standing over an operating table working on a body. We can’t really see what’s on the table. He is whistling while he works. Suddenly a light is turned on and we hear footsteps coming into the basement.)

    Dad: What are you doing down here, Walt?

    Walt: Knock! I asked you to knock before coming down here!

    (Walt frantically throws a sheet over the body. His Dad enters.)

    Dad: I’m sorry, son, but something’s happened.

    (He notices Walt’s apron is covered with splattered blood.)

    Dad: What are you working on?

    Walt: Nothing. Science experiment. Nothing.

    (The body under the sheets twitches. Dad looks around Walt at the figure on the table.)

    Dad: Is it alive? You’re not torturing one of Mrs. DeVille’s cats again are you?

    Walt: No, Dad.

    Dad: We talked about that, remember?

    Walt: I remember, Dad. Now, what did you want to talk to me about? I have work to do.

    Dad: There’s no easy way of saying this. It’s your mother.

    Walt: What about her?

    Dad: Well, she was out picking berries and some hunters mistook her for a deer…

    (There is a sound from under the sheet. A strange guffawing, laugh-like sound.)

    Dad: What the hell do you have under there?

    (Dad whips away the sheet to reveal a strange humanoid looking dog. Dad recoils with disgust.)

    Dad: Sweet Jesus! What have you done?

    Walt: It’s not finished yet!

    Dad: Is that Pluto?

    Walt: No, dad. I would never hurt our dog.

    Dad: Then?

    Walt: It’s the Darling’s goofy-looking mutt.

    (The “dog-man” twitches and guffaws again.)

    Walt: He is going to be able to walk and talk, just like we do.

    Dad: Oh son. Son, this is wrong. You have to stop this.

    Walt: Why can’t you believe in me? My work.

    Dad: Walt, trying to make animals behave like us isn’t work, it’s….it’s immoral.

    Walt: You just wait and see. I’ll show you. I’ll show everyone!

    (Walt bolts up the stairs.)

    Dad: Son wait! Come back!

    (We hear a door slam in another part of the house. Dad takes a look around the basement. The “dog-man” twitches and guffaws.)

    Dad: Jesus. This is worse than those damn mice he kept putting short pants on.

    (He picks up a shovel and bashes the “dog-man” with it. There are a couple of yelps and then it is still. He wipes his hands and heads for the stairs.)

    Dad: He’s gotta cut this shit out. A thing like this can stick with a man forever. After all, it’s a small world out there.

    (He climbs the stairs. A cricket in a top hat and coat leaps onto the table. It takes one look at the “dog-man” and vomits.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Walt and the Olympics

    Today’s the Disney-ABC deadline. My application got in the mail yesterday, but in honor of the day, I suggested that this week’s theme should be Disney. Hope you enjoy. Next week’s theme *should* be up to David, but if he’s not fully back in the battle, it’ll fall to Michael.
     

    (A lab. An odd mixture of modern and Gernsback-inspired equipment. THREE MEN in white lab coats hover over a metal tube. WALT DISNEY sleeps inside.)
    TITLE: TODAY. A TOP-SECRET LAB DEEP BENEATH EPCOT CENTER.

    PERRAULT
    His vitals are almost normal, he should be up any–

    (Walt pops up. A bell goes off.)

    WALT
    Oh boy, that was a good nap. Heya fellas.

    HAND
    It worked! It really worked!

    WALT
    Well of course it did, son. This is the best reanimation equipment money can buy. What’s the date?

    HAND
    2008. August 2008.

    WALT
    That was a little longer than I expected. Darn. Tell me, how’s the company doing? Did it get by alright once our copyrights went into the public domain?

    LUSKE
    Into the…no. Mr. Disney, we still have all our copyrights.

    WALT
    You did say 2008, right son?

    HAND
    Yessir.

    LUSKE
    You can thank Sonny Bono.

    PERRAULT
    Sonny Bono’s dead.

    HAND
    Actually, he’s in that tube over there.

    WALT
    Alright. So we’ve still got our characters. Good. What else. (BEAT) Hey! It’s 2008. It’s an Olympiad!

    HAND
    Yessir. Would you like to watch them while you’re finishing your recovery?

    WALT
    Sure! Who doesn’t love the Olympics?

    (A TV is turned on, and we hear Bob Costas spinning a melodramatic tale of woe over a John Tesh score. Walt’s face drops as he watches.)

    WALT
    Where the hell is Jim McKay?!?

    CUT TO:

    (Another lab room, the same mixture of high and sci-fi tech. Walt stands behind a bank of monitors and a board. The three techs operate the board.)
    TITLE: 2012. A TOP-SECRET LAB BENEATH EPCOT CENTER

    WALT
    Hit is, boys!

    (On the screens, we see an Animatronic JIM MCKAY.)

    MCKAY
    Hello. Welcome to ABC Sports coverage of the Thirtieth Olympiad. I’m Jim McKay.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Procrastina-a-tion…

    …is making me wait.

    It’s been a few weeks since I’ve done a Sketch War roundup, but we’ve been running strong. Michael and I have been fighting enameled-mouth-grinder and keratin-back-scratcher for weeks, and were happily rejoined by David and his rock-n-roll zombies this week.

    The rules have changed recently. Our weekly battles are now themed instead of free-for-alls. The theme for this week’s brawl was selected by Michael based on our usual approach to writing our sketches: procrastination. For those playing along at home and those of you brave enough to step onto the killing fields, next week’s theme is Disney. Write your Disney-themed sketch and send it, or a link to it, to sketchwar AT dreamloom.com. Now, onto the mayhem!

    Enjoy!

  • Hot Rocks, Cold Bodies

    (A morgue. Four bodies are covered with sheets. TONY PRATT, coroner, lifts one of the sheets and speaks into a handheld tape recorder.)

    TONY
    …and the renal and liver failure, along with the low sodium concentration in the plasma, makes for a textbook case of Legionnaires’ disease. In younger victims, this would have been very treatable, but these subjects had elderly, oft-abused bodies, and this outbreak was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back.
    (TONY walks to another of the sheets and lifts it.)
    Keith Richards lasted the longest, but the severe bouts of vomiting finally drained his body of all hydration, leaving him a dried husk of a man.
    (TONY drops the sheet and begins walking across the room.)
    And if I may add a personal note, I am saddened by the fact that the band I grew up worshipping, the band I thought would never die, has been felled by something as random as a bacterial infection spread by the air conditioning system of their five-star hotel. Their end does not hold with the hard-living reputa- WHOOP
    (TONY has slipped on something. He bends down and examines it.)
    What the hell?
    (He leans closer.)
    That’s disgusting.

    (BRENT HERNANDEZ, an assistant coroner, enters. He has tears in his eyes.)

    BRENT
    Tony, have you seen- WHOOP
    (BRENT has slipped too. He looks around him on the floor.)
    Oh no. It happened again.

    TONY
    What happened again?

    BRENT
    It’s the new intern, sir. She keeps wandering in here, and, well…

    TONY
    Well what?

    BRENT
    Have you seen her? She’s fucking hot.

    TONY
    Brent, if the two of you have been fornicating in the morgue, I’ll see to it that you never work in the industry again.

    BRENT
    No! Not at all! In fact, she’s a bit of a tease… It’s, uh, it’s why I’m crying.

    TONY (indicating the floor)
    Then where did this come from?

    BRENT
    It’s the bodies, sir. I think… I think it’s from the bodies. This happens every time the new intern comes in here.

    TONY
    Are you serious?

    BRENT
    She’s really fucking hot.

    TONY
    Be that as it may, the floor is covered in corpse ejaculate, and I am not going to clean it up. Send the intern in here with a mop.

    BRENT
    All due respect, sir, that would cause a bit of a vicious cycle.

    TONY
    Tell her to wear some dowdy clothing!

    BRENT
    I can’t. She’d take us to court in a sexual discrimination case.

    And Now, The Punch Line.

    (TONY looks to the camera and rolls his eyes.)

    TONY
    This is the worst musical predicament we’ve had here since Roberta Flack’s lover went on that soft-song killing spree!!!!!!!!!

    The End.