Sketch War

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  • FSW: In the Coop

    In the Coop
    (Two women wearing partial chicken costumes sit next to each other on nests on a raised platform. A conveyor belt runs beneath the platform, on which eggs occasionally pass.)

    MILDRED
    Did you hear? Esther’s boy came by her coop for Sunday dinner.

    RUTH
    My Irving didn’t even call on my birthday and you should tell me this?

    MILDRED
    I was making conversation. You’re not the only one whose children don’t come by, you know. I haven’t seen my Rachel since she moved.

    RUTH
    Chicks these days. In my day, family was the number one thing. You respected your mother, you respected your father. Now, they’re running off to coops as soon as they’re old enough to peck their own seed.

    MILDRED
    No respect for tradition.

    RUTH
    We lay them, sit on them while they incubate–

    MILDRED
    –I had the worst case of hemorrhoids when I was incubating my Susie–

    RUTH
    –and teach them how to live. And how do they repay us? Do they call? Do they write?

    MILDRED
    I can’t read that chicken scratch.

    RUTH
    That’s not the point. Is it asking too much a mother should she her grandchicks? Maybe spoil them a little?

    MILDRED
    Grandchicks?

    RUTH
    I…I’m ashamed to say it.

    MILDRED
    Ruthie, you know me. You’re like a sister to me. You can tell me anything.

    RUTH
    And you’ll tell it to all the other hens.

    MILDRED
    I promise I won’t. Trust me.

    RUTH
    (Ashamed) Sarah’s taken up with one of those farkakt Rhode Island Reds. She’s been laying for him like crazy.

    MILDRED
    I’m so sorry, Ruth. All we can do is raise them the best we can. Eventually they have to make their own choices.

    RUTH
    But a Red?!? I’m no racist–

    MILDRED
    –I know that, dear.

    RUTH
    But couldn’t she find a nice Jewish Rooster?

    MILDRED
    Maybe he is Jewish. Like Sammy Davis, Jr.

    RUTH
    My mother would have fricasseed me if I’d ever taken up with a Red.

    MILDRED
    These are different times, Ruth.

    RUTH
    I know. They have no respect for the old ways. No respect for their parents. Now, they just run off with the first cock that smiles at them.

    MILDRED
    Does she love him?

    RUTH
    Love?! I didn’t love Moishe when I married him.

    MILDRED
    Neither did I, but we grew to.

    RUTH
    That’s because Moishe was special.

    MILDRED
    Remember the way he could make the sun come up, just by crowing?

    (Ruth and Mildred sigh contentedly and moon for a few seconds, thinking of Moishe.)

    RUTH
    Oooh! One’s coming!

    (An egg drops onto the conveyor belt below Ruth and is carried off.)

    MILDRED
    That was easy. They’re never that easy for me.

    RUTH
    You don’t relax enough. You just need to breathe.

    MILDRED
    Oh! I felt that. I think it’s almost time!

    (Ruth reaches over with her wing/hand and takes Mildred’s wing/hand.)

    RUTH
    Just remember your breathing, dear.

    (Ruth demonstrates Lamaze-style breathing to Mildred who starts doing the same. She makes a face, and an egg drops onto the conveyor belt. Ruth looks down at it and shakes her head.)

    A *brown* egg? You too?

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Fourteen

    This week we just had a drunken scuffle between two irate generals.

    • Coyote spies on post-coital pillow talk…
    • Michael chooses neither paper nor plastic…
    • David fired a late shot, too drunk on absinthe to make it out earlier.

    Let’s get some more battlers next week. Post your best and send a link to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

  • What Happens in Degas, Stays in Degas

    (A WOMAN and MAN sit sullenly in a Paris café in 1876. The woman stares ahead drunkenly, a glass of absinthe on the table in front of her. The man smokes a pipe and stares offstage. They sit next to each other but don’t acknowledge each other. They are silent for several moments.)

    (Enter MARK and CAROLYN, two modern-day American tourists in their fifties. They wear Hawaiian shirts and carry maps and a digital camera. CAROLYN nudges MARK and points, none-too-subtly, at the French couple. MARK nods and snaps a picture of them.)

    (MARK and CAROLYN sit down next to the couple. MARK flags down a WAITER, who squints at them quizzically.)

    MARK
    Deux absinthe, merci.

    (The WAITER contemplates them, bewildered, for a beat, then turns and exits.)

    CAROLYN
    Well, I thought that ballet was simply charming.

    MARK (reading a guidebook)
    Yes.

    (CAROLYN turns and speaks to the WOMAN.)

    CAROLYN
    Bon jour. We adore your ballet. We just came from there.

    (The WOMAN turns her ghostly gaze on CAROLYN and blinks languidly a few times. Apparently unsure whether or not MARK and CAROLYN are hallucinations, she returns to contemplating the middle distance.)

    MARK (to CAROLYN)
    Now, don’t drink it until we’ve prepared it.

    CAROLYN
    Oh, will you get your nose out of that book? Relax!

    MARK
    We have to do the ritual. Do you want to experience this or not?

    CAROLYN
    We’ll be fine.

    (The WAITER wheels a cart up to the table. He sets before MARK and CAROLYN two glasses of absinthe, a pitcher of water, a bowl of sugar cubes, and two flat metallic utensils.)

    MARK
    Merci.

    (But the WAITER has already turned and begun wheeling the cart off.)

    CAROLYN (delighted)
    Well look at this!
    (She notices something missing.)
    Oop. We didn’t get spoons. Waiter!

    MARK (holding up a flat utensil)
    No, these are the spoons.

    CAROLYN
    How are you supposed to stir with those?

    MARK
    You don’t stir. Look.
    (MARK performs these steps as he describes them.)
    You set a spoon over the glass. Then you put a sugar cube on it.

    (CAROLYN turns to the WOMAN and whispers mischievously.)

    CAROLYN
    This isn’t legal in our country. Or time.

    MARK (continuing)
    Then you pour water over the sugar cube and into the glass until it gets milky.

    CAROLYN
    Goodness!

    MARK
    You try.

    (CAROLYN repeats the steps with her own glass.)

    CAROLYN
    Do we drink it now?

    MARK
    Let’s go for it!

    (MARK and CAROLYN raise their glasses to each other, then to the MAN and WOMAN, who ignore them. MARK and CAROLYN sip.)

    CAROLYN
    Oh, my gosh. It tastes like… Oh, I can’t put my finger on it.

    MARK
    It’s bitter.

    CAROLYN
    Crows. It tastes like Crows.

    MARK
    What do you mean it tastes like crows?

    CAROLYN
    The movie candy. Crows. They’re like Dots, but they’re black, and they taste like black Jujyfruits.

    MARK
    Yeah. Licorice.

    CAROLYN
    Oh!

    MARK
    It’s supposed to taste like licorice.

    CAROLYN
    I didn’t know it was supposed to taste like black licorice. This whole time I was thinking red licorice.

    MARK
    Red licorice isn’t licorice.

    CAROLYN
    I thought it would be like a glass of strawberry liqueur. Like that Alizé strawberry liqueur?

    MARK
    Alizé isn’t strawberry, it’s passion fruit.

    CAROLYN
    Then what was the strawberry liqueur we had at that aquarium fundraiser? It was so fun!

    MARK
    Dolfi.

    CAROLYN
    Dolfi. I was thinking this whole time that we’d be drinking strawberry Dolfi liqueur.

    MARK
    Absinthe is green. Why would you expect a green drink to taste like strawberry?

    CAROLYN (to MAN)
    Excuse me.
    (The MAN does not react.)
    Excuse… Par-done mwah, monsieur.
    (The MAN slowly turns to CAROLYN.)
    I’m sorry, would you mind putting out your pipe?
    (The MAN continues sucking disinterestedly on his pipe.)
    We’re American. It’s just a little jarring.

    (The MAN slowly turns away again.)

    MARK (to CAROLYN)
    Do you want to switch seats?

    CAROLYN
    No, I won’t give him the satisfaction.

    MARK (whispering)
    They’re French. They’re notoriously rude. Do not take it personally.

    CAROLYN (a little louder than necessary)
    Well they have no problem taking our money personally.

    MARK
    Shh. Switch places with me.

    CAROLYN
    Licorice isn’t green either.

    MARK
    Who said it was?

    CAROLYN
    I don’t think I like this. The bloom has just evaporated off the charm of the evening for me. I’d like to go back to the hotel.

    (The WOMAN startles them by unleashing a long sigh of infinite sadness. MARK and CAROLYN look at her for several seconds, but she is unaware of their existence. The WAITER passes through again, and MARK flags him down.)

    MARK
    The bill? Um… L’addition, s’il vous plaît?

    (MARK holds up a credit card. The WAITER makes no attempt to take it, staring back with a look of brazen, open-mouthed confusion.)

    CAROLYN
    They won’t have heard of credit cards, Mark.

    MARK
    Oh, dammit, you’re right.
    (MARK takes a wad of paper money from his fanny pack.)
    French francs? Do you take French francs?

    (The WAITER blinks at them, then makes the vaguest cursory gesture excusing himself and exits.)

    CAROLYN
    Just leave some money on the table, and let’s go.

    (CAROLYN gets up and leaves. MARK counts out a few bills and sets them on the table. He follows CAROLYN off. A beat. The MAN refills his pipe, relights it, and puffs deeply.)

  • FSW: Small Store Edition

    Richard is the early bird this week with a hilarious sketch about a little pillow talk.

    I know Dave was headed to a Cubs game today, so he could be busy putting on his parka and snow boots before heading to the stadium. It’s like March here today.

    Here’s my sketch for what it’s worth. After seeing Campaign Supernova the other night, I really wanted to blast one out of the park. But I’ll settle for a single. As long as I don’t strand the runner on base.

    (A small, country grocery store. JIM stands behind the counter as JERRY finishes unloading his basket. Jim is ringing up items on the cash register, no barcode scanner here, through their conversation.)

    JIM: You are going to love these strawberries. Meredith just picked them yesterday.

    JERRY: Your produce is always so good.

    JIM: Well, it helps when our orchard is only ten miles away. We can pick it and sell it the same day.

    JERRY: It certainly makes a difference.

    JIM: You can almost taste the love.

    JERRY: Is that where that extra sweetness comes from?

    (They laugh. Jim has finished tallying up the order.)

    JIM: All righty. That’s going to be $27.50.

    (He reaches under the counter and pulls out a plastic bag.)

    JERRY: Don’t worry about the bag, Jim, I brought my own.

    JIM: Well, look at you. Janet’s finally got you paying attention to the environment.

    JERRY: She told me that if I brought home another plastic bag from the store she’d smother me with it.

    (They laugh.)

    JIM: Well, I’m glad to see you’re doing your part. Here, let me bag it up for you.

    JERRY: You don’t have to-

    JIM: No, no. Come on.

    (Jim takes the bag and freezes. His mood shifts.)

    JIM: What the hell is this?

    JERRY: What?

    JIM: This?

    (Jim points to the logo on the bag.)

    JERRY: It’s a reusable bag, Jim.

    JIM: From Wal-Mart, Jerry. Why do you have a bag from Wal-Mart?

    JERRY: I…I…I don’t know. I just have one.

    JIM: All these years, Jerry. All these years you’ve been buying your groceries here. I thought we had something special.

    JERRY: We do, Jim. You know I love your store.

    JIM: Yet here you stand with a Wal-Mart bag. In my store, Jerry! In my store!

    JERRY: Calm down.

    JIM: How many times?

    JERRY: What?

    JIM: How many times have you shopped…(chocking back tears) at Wal-Mart?

    JERRY: Oh, come on. Don’t do this. It didn’t mean anything. I swear.

    JIM: It means something to me, Jerry.

    JERRY: Jim, listen, would you rather I shopped in your store with this bag or shop there with…well you don’t even sell reusable bags.

    JIM: I am aware of my shortcomings, Jerry! You don’t have to slap me in the face with it. (beat) Did you like it?

    JERRY: I don’t know…

    JIM: Come on, tell me, what was it like?

    JERRY: Jim, please, don’t do this to yourself.

    JIM: I have to know, Jerry! Were their honeydew as juicy as mine? Did they have 97 varieties of apples?

    JERRY: No. God no. I didn’t even look at his melons. I swear. You know your produce is the tops.

    JIM: Then what? Why did you do it?

    JERRY: I was weak…

    JIM: Just tell me.

    JERRY: I don’t-

    JIM: Tell me!

    JERRY: There are just so many more options! All right? Is that what you wanted to hear? And they sell giant, family size boxes of cereal.

    (Jim gasps and nearly faints.)

    JERRY: You only sell the smaller ones.

    JIM: I don’t have the shelf space and you know it.

    JERRY: I know. I’m sorry. But, sometimes it’s just easier to buy the bigger box.

    JIM: You could always buy two smaller boxes.

    JERRY: But the bigger box costs less. Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I’ll just get my things and go.

    (Jerry begins bagging his groceries. He finishes and heads for the door.)

    JIM: Wait.

    (Jerry stops and turns. Jim takes a small container of raspberries over to Jerry and puts them in his bag.)

    JIM: Just a little something to remember me by.

    JERRY: Thank you.

    JIM: Do you think you’ll ever come back?

    JERRY: Would you have me?

    JIM: I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.

    JERRY: Yeah. (beat) Yeah.

    (Jerry exits. Jim watches him go, the grief washing back over him, he begins to sob and slowly slides down the door to the floor.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Pillow Talk

    Pillow Talk
    (Mark and Vanessa lie side by side in bed with the sheets pulled up to strategically cover their nudity. Hair is mussed. They’ve clearly just finished an energetic session of lovemaking.)

    MARK
    That your thong?

    VANESSA
    Where?

    MARK
    Ceiling fan.

    VANESSA
    Um, no I think that one’s yours.

    That was…where did you learn that new trick?

    MARK
    The one with the rolling pin?

    VANESSA
    No, the other one.

    MARK
    “The New Yankee Workshop.” Norm’s a stickler for shop safety, so I figured–

    VANESSA
    –measure twice

    MARK & VANESSA
    cut once!

    (Vanessa leans across Mark and grabs a bottle of Gatorade from a side table.)

    VANESSA
    Frost?

    (Mark leans across Vanessa and grabs his own bottle of Gatorade from her side table.)

    MARK
    (Indicating bottle) Orange. I’m old-school.

    So…um, that thing you said?

    VANESSA
    Which thing? About the mold in the basement? Because that wasn’t dirty talk. I just think we need to have that looked at.

    MARK
    No, not the mold. The other thing.

    VANESSA
    Oh. That. I just…I thought you’d like that. Guys like to hear stuff like that, don’t they?

    MARK
    Um, in the abstract, sure. You were just so…specific. It was unnerving.

    VANESSA
    How do you mean?

    MARK
    I mean, saying “you’re the best” or “no one’s ever made me feel this way” is a hell of an ego boost. I’m not going to lie. But usually – and it’s not like I’ve been with a lot of other women, and I’m not trying to compare – usually it doesn’t come with such a detailed list of people and places and…positions.

    VANESSA
    I don’t follow.

    MARK
    Well…alright. For example, when I was doing that thing with the watering can and toilet brush you said (in a monotone) “ooh baby, the way you move your hips is better than Joe Piscopo doing me reverse cowgirl in the back of that Hoboken cab with the bad shocks, summer of ’98, baby, baby, baby.”

    VANESSA
    No. I didn’t say that. I mean, maybe I said something like–

    MARK
    –word for word.

    VANESSA
    Really? You were going pretty fast then, how can you be sure?

    MARK
    I’ll never forget. Those words – and that look in your eyes, like a starving hyena – are etched in my memory.

    VANESSA
    I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I was…it was just so good. Like you’d taken it to another level. I guess I just lost my head. But what about you? I mean, I wasn’t the only one talking. What was that you were trying to say before I took the Saran Wrap off your head?

    MARK
    Help me, please. I can’t breathe?

    VANESSA
    Oh.

    (They sit in a moment of awkward silence.)

    MARK
    Mold?

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Thirteen

    Whoo doggy! Lucky round 13. Let’s get right into the action.

    • Coyote threw a million little pieces of shrapnel at his foes…
    • Michael trained a firehose of Evian into the fray…
    • David gave us all hemlock and consumption.

    Three warriors entered. None survived. They’re dead. All of them dead.

  • Shadows on the Cave Wall

    (RICK and STEVE in the front of a car. RICK is driving. STEVE is in the passenger’s seat.)

    (RICK suddenly swerves, then honks his horn.)

    RICK
    Look at this jackass.

    STEVE
    What a moron.

    RICK (yelling out window)
    Jackass!
    (pause)
    Sometimes I think everyone except me is an idiot.

    (pause)

    STEVE
    Am I an idiot?

    RICK
    Well, let’s approach this Socratically. Are you me?

    STEVE
    No.

    RICK
    Then I’m afraid you are an idiot. QED.

    (pause)

    STEVE
    I’m not a fan of that conclusion.

    RICK
    Well, your problem is with Socrates, not with me.

    (pause)

    STEVE
    No, you know my problem with Socrates? That cave allegory. That’s some bullshit right there.

    RICK
    You think bare language, in and of itself, is an adequate method to describe the depth and breadth of reality?

    STEVE
    Well, no. I just think it’s a shitty metaphor. It’s too baroque. Prisoners since birth in a cave who can’t move their heads and are therefore forced to watch shadow puppets cast by a fire above and behind them? Come on.

    RICK
    I see.

    STEVE
    If you have to go that far to prove a point, maybe you don’t have a point at all.

    RICK
    That was Plato.

    STEVE
    Bullshit. It was Socrates.

    RICK
    It was the character of Socrates in Plato’s Republic.

    STEVE
    Oh.

    RICK
    That’s essentially like saying you hate Toulouse-Lautrec because you don’t like the way he sang “Nature Boy” in “Moulin Rouge.”

    (pause)

    STEVE
    Well, I don’t.

  • FSW: Meta-Bistro Edition

    I’m gonna second what Richard said about his post this week.

    Not quite firing on all cylinders. I’m really looking forward to the weekend. And not doing a damn thing if I can help it.

    No word from Dave yet, but he could be busy putting razor-wire around his apartment.

    (A small table in a stylish bistro. A man and woman are chatting about a book at one table. At another, Craig sits looking at the menu. A waiter approaches.)

    WAITER: Could I get you something to drink while you’re looking over the menu?

    CRAIG: I’ll just have a bottle of Evian.

    WAITER: I’m sorry sir, but bottled water has been banned in the city.

    CRAIG: Really?

    WAITER: I’m afraid so. We just have tap water.

    CRAIG: Oh, then, Aquafina I guess.

    WAITER: That’s bottled water, sir.

    CRAIG: Really? I read something on Slate.com about it being just tap water.

    WAITER: It may be, but they still put it in a bottle and ship it out.

    CRAIG: Where does your water come from?

    WAITER: The lake, I suppose.

    CRAIG: No aquifer or mountain stream?

    WAITER: There are no mountains in Chicago.

    CRAIG: Wow. This is tough. I really had a taste of water when I came in here.

    WAITER: I can bring you a glass of water, if that’s what you want.

    CRAIG: Why didn’t you just say so? I’ll have an Evian.

    WAITER: But. It will be a glass that I hold under the tap in the kitchen sink. Because there is no bottled water.

    CRAIG: Ew. Sink water? I thought this was a Zagat’s rated restaurant.

    WAITER: The food is very good sir.

    CRAIG: But the water’s from the toilet.

    (Craig takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulls one out. He takes out a lighter.)

    WAITER: Excuse me, sir.

    CRAIG: What now?

    WAITER: There’s no smoking in the restaurant.

    CRAIG: (Sighing heavily) You didn’t ask me if I wanted smoking or non-smoking. I would have told you I wanted smoking.

    WAITER: No smoking in the entire restaurant.

    CRAIG: Fine. I’ll sit at the bar then.

    WAITER: The entire restaurant. Including the bar.

    CRAIG: You know I should just take my money and find another restaurant.

    WAITER: But?

    CRAIG: But nothing. Just bring me your foie gras appetizer. Unless you banned geese as well.

    WAITER: Geese no. Foie gras yes.

    CRAIG: Oh, come on!

    (The lights come up on another table, at which Richard and Dave are sitting, drinking cocktails.)

    RICHARD: The third one should have been funny.

    DAVE: Foie gras is pretty funny, when you think about it.

    RICHARD: It should have been something outlandish, though. Something extreme.

    DAVE: Force feeding geese to make their livers swell isn’t outlandish or extreme?

    RICHARD: Oh, shut up.

    DAVE: I’m just saying.

    (The lights go down on their table and come back up on Craig and the Waiter.)

    CRAIG: Who are they?

    WAITER: I don’t know, but they’ve been in here all morning commenting on everything anyone says.

    CRAIG: Weird.

    WAITER: I know. So, have you decided?

    CRAIG: I’ll just have the grasshopper gonad soup. And a glass of your iced Deported Immigrant Tears.

    WAITER: Venti or Grande?

    CRAIG: Grande, of course.

    (The waiter and Craig freeze mid laugh. The lights come up on David and Richard’s table. The look at one another and roll their eyes.)

    DAVID: (Calling towards the bar, holding up his glass.) Yeah, I’m gonna need another one of these.

    RICHARD: (Holding up his glass) Make that two.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Blind Date

    Please forgive me ahead of time for a boring sketch. I’ve had a rough week and didn’t get to this until an hour ago. It’s not good. Seriously. Sorry.

    Blind Date
    (Meredith sits at a small table in a stylish bistro with a glass of wine. She is fashionably dressed. She frequently raises her eyes from a copy of “All the Pretty Horses” to glance about. Liam enters, carrying a copy of “No Country for Old Men” under his arm. He wears dirty jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair and beard are long and unkempt. He looks around, spots Meredith, and crosses to her table.)

    LIAM
    Meredith?

    MEREDITH
    (Looking up) Yes?

    (Liam indicates his book and then points to Meredith’s. She invites him to sit down.)

    It’s nice to meet you finally, Liam. Would you like a drink?

    LIAM
    A beer would be great.

    (Meredith waves at a waiter who comes over.)

    MEREDITH
    A beer for my friend, and another glass of chablis for me, please.

    (The waiter goes off to fill the order.)

    Did you find the place okay?

    LIAM
    Yeah, once I realized it was near The Y, I knew I’d been here before.

    MEREDITH
    Oh? Do you workout at the Y?

    LIAM
    I live there.

    MEREDITH
    Oh. What do you do?

    LIAM
    Odd jobs. I used sweep out the back alley at this place for their day-old bread. But the new manager is a prick. He’d rather throw it out than give it away.

    MEREDITH
    I didn’t realize. Well…

    (The waiter appears with their drinks. Meredith finishes hers off in one swallow, points to the glass, and holds up two fingers to the waiter.)

    LIAM
    I loved what you said about “The Road” on the forum. That was the best analysis I’ve ever seen of McCarthy’s lyrical descriptions of the wasteland.

    MEREDITH
    Thank you. That’s very sweet. Especially considering what you had to say about “All the Pretty Horses”. I’m re-reading it now, and it’s not the same book to me at all after what you said.

    LIAM
    Thanks.

    (There’s an uncomfortably long pause in conversation. Liam finishes his beer. Both try to say something and stop themselves. The waiter arrives with another beer and two glasses of wine. He sets them down and Meredith and Liam both take long drinks.)

    MEREDITH
    Keep them coming, would you?

    So, you have a computer at The Y?

    LIAM
    No. I use the one at the public library. I like it there, especially during the summer. They don’t like us in The Y during the day, so I’ve gotta find someplace cool.

    So what’s a woman like you doing looking for men online? You must be beating them back with a stick.

    MEREDITH
    Hardly! I’ve tried everything. Match.com, eHarmony, JDate —

    LIAM
    — Oh, you’re Jewish?

    MEREDITH
    No. But all the dates I went on were terrible. All the men were idiots. One of them thought the Coens had written “No Country for Old Men”!

    LIAM
    You’re kidding!

    MEREDITH
    I’m serious.

    (The waiter returns with yet more alcohol and takes away the empties.)

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP

    (Meredith and Liam have been at the table a while and are clearly well lubricated. She’s moved to the seat next to Liam and is cozying up to him.)

    MEREDITH
    You want to get out of here?

    LIAM
    Sure. Your place or mine?

    MEREDITH
    Mine.

    (As Meredith picks up her bag, its contents spill onto the floor. Amidst the brush, mascara, compact, and wallet is a copy of “A Million Little Pieces”. Liam picks it up and turns it over in his hands. He hands it back to Meredith who looks ashamed.)

    LIAM
    Actually, I’m feeling a little tired. I think I’m just going to head back to The Y. Thanks for the drinks.

    MEREDITH
    No, Liam, wait. I can explain!

    LIAM
    No. I don’t think you can.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Twelve

    After last week’s light battle, the warriors return with vengeance on their minds and blood on their hands. Three great armies amassed to vie for contested land. Who would prevail? Would any survive? Would any live to sing songs of the clash?

    • Coyote led the charge atop a mighty warhorse, leading a terrible horde of hideous, slavering beasts hungry for flesh…
    • Michael and his battalion of silent assassins crept behind their enemies and swung heavy iron implements…
    • David used guile and deception to enter the field, then used explosives to finish the job.

    A mindless eating machine, a wordless display, and architectural genius are on display this week.