Sketch War

Tag: humor

  • FSW: The Three Bees

    Okay, this one’s an odd egg. There are several jokes buried in here, but they’re targeted to specific audiences. I figure you either don’t get this at all, get pieces, or get everything. This might be my most layered piece yet. Now, whether it’s funny or not…

    David has already posted his piece for the week, an excellent one at that. He completely nailed his character’s voice. Michael’s on his honeymoon, so if a sketch shows up I’m going to be a bit concerned about the marriage! As for Red, she’s going to be out of the game for the next month or so as she lives the exciting life of a WSOP dealer. Poker, free drinks, and a salary. Not a bad gig.

    As always, we welcome – nay, beg – others to join in the sketch war games. Just email your piece or a link to your piece to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

    The Three Bees
    (Jim lies on a couch. He wears shirt and tie, stylishly loose. His hair is a mop that says “I don’t care how it looks” but in reality takes thirty minutes and much product to achieve. Seated in a chair behind him taking notes is Dr. Josefs, a 50-something man in a cardigan. A very traditional Freudian.)

    DR. JOSEFS
    How are you today, Jim?

    JIM
    Okay. A little anxious…I had that dream again last night.

    DR. JOSEFS
    Tell me about it.

    JIM
    I’ve told you about it before. It’s the same, every time. Nothing ever changes.

    DR. JOSEFS
    I know, but this is a process. Talk it through. Tell me about the dream.

    JIM
    Okay. (Deep sigh)

    (As Jim starts to speak, the lights go down on the doctor’s office and come up on the scene he’s describing.)

    I’m sitting at a table in an old-style nightclub. It’s late, maybe after hours, and there are only a few people left. This one table is right in front of me. There are two men – one in a white dinner jacket and dress shirt with his bow tie undone, the other has his jacket and tie completely off and draped over the chair. Oh, the guy with the jacket, he’s got a button on the lapel. A yellow smiley face button.

    DR. JOSEFS
    What are the men doing?

    JIM
    They’re talking to each other and laughing, but I can’t hear them. All I hear is the sounds of tables being bussed.

    DR. JOSEFS
    Do you recognize these men?

    JIM
    Same two as always. The one with his jacket still on is a musician I saw perform once. McCreary, something. The other one is that guy who hosts “Man vs. Wild”. That Bear Grylls guy. He starts gesturing pretty wildly, pointing and waving his hands for emphasis. The McCreary guy just shakes his head no during the rant.

    (The men in the dream freeze and the lights dim to half-power. Then they come back up on the therapist’s office.)

    DR. JOSEFS
    And you can’t tell what they’re talking about?

    JIM
    Nope. I try. Everytime I have the dream I try to hear them, or read their lips or something. Doc, it’s happening more often. I’ve had it three times this week alone. I wake up sweating and shaking. What is it?

    DR. JOSEFS
    I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out. What else happens?

    JIM
    I’ve told you! I’ve told you at least ten times already. I’ve been having this dream for months!

    DR. JOSEFS
    I know, Jim. But we’re getting close to a breakthrough, I’m sure of it. What happens next?

    (Jim settles down and breathes deeply to calm himself. The lights go down again and they come up on the club scene. The men unfreeze.)

    JIM
    They finish their argument and then a carhop comes to the table with a tray.

    DR. JOSEFS
    A carhop?

    JIM
    One of those girls on rollerskates they used to have at drive-in burger places. She doesn’t have on much, but it all sparkles. It’s like she got in a fight with a Bedazzler and lost.

    DR. JOSEFS
    What’s on the tray?

    JIM
    Two bowls and a big jar.

    DR. JOSEFS
    A jar?

    JIM
    Yeah. The bowls are empty. She puts them in front of the guys and then opens the jar and pours it into the bowls. It’s thick and red. Looks like blood.

    DR. JOSEFS
    Do the men eat it?

    JIM
    Yeah. Like they’re starving. She rolls away and they’re already bent over the bowls. They’re ravenous. After a minute, they put down the spoons. They just pick up the bowls and drink, gulping down the soup. The one guy, McCreary, he spills a little on his shirt. Gets some on his smiley button, too. Then they turn right to me, both of them staring at me.

    DR. JOSEFS
    What do you think they want?

    JIM
    I don’t know. I can’t tell. Their expressions are blank. The wilderness guy, he raises his arm and points at me, and then I wake up.

    (Blackout on the nightclub scene. Lights back up on the therapist’s office.)

    Doc, I can’t take it any more. What’s it all mean?

    (Dr. Josefs looks at his notes, jots a few more down. Doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. It feels like an eternity.)

    DR. JOSEFS
    Jim, how are things at work?

    JIM
    At work? They’re fine. Same as usual.

    (Dr. Josefs jots a few more notes. From the darkness where the nightclub sits a man walks out. It’s Edward James Olmos, wearing a tuxedo. He walks right up to the couch while Dr. Josefs scribbles, not noticing.)

    OLMOS
    Your table is ready, sir.

    (Smash cut to the same exact scene, but Olmos is gone. Jim opens his eyes with a start and gasps.)

    DR. JOSEFS
    Jim?

    JIM
    I saw him. He was right here.

    DR. JOSEFS
    Saw who?

    JIM
    The maitre’d. But it wasn’t…it was that guy from “Miami Vice”.

    DR. JOSEFS
    Don Johnson? Don Johnson was the maitre’d?

    JIM
    No. Not him.

    DR. JOSEFS
    Tubbs? You dreamt about Tubbs? This is more serious than I realized. We’ll need to–

    JIM
    –no. Not him either. The lieutenant. What was his name?

    (Dr. Josefs scratches a few peremptory notes and puts down his pen.)

    DR. JOSEFS
    Jim, I think I understand what’s been bothering you–

    JIM
    –What is it, doc?–

    DR. JOSEFS
    –but, we’re out of time today.

    (Dr. Josefs presses a button on his intercom and speaks into it.)

    Mary? Could you please schedule another appointment for Mr. Halpert. Sometime in 2009 would be fine.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Bob’s Knob Shop

    I fear I may be alone again this week, folks. Michael’s nuptials are here (if you’ve enjoyed his sketches in the past like I have, you should go on over and wish him and the bride luck) and David’s been up against a wall at work for a long while now. This might be a one-man war band.

    Imagine indeed, Mr. Lennon.

    Bob’s Knob Spot
    (Bob, in his 50s and portly, stands front and center by the register of a cramped store. At the register is Mabel who may be in her 50s or may be in her 90s; it’s hard to tell. Behind them are tightly packed aisles filled with doorknobs. At point of sale are more doorknobs.)

    BOB
    Hi folks. Bob Pushkin at Bob’s Knob Spot here to tell you about this week’s deals. We’ve got a sale on all of last year’s six-centimeter, seven-centimeter, and nine-centimeter cabinet knobs. Round ones, square ones, wood ones, metal ones. It doesn’t matter, they’ve got to go. We’ve got to make room for the new models and have slashed our prices. Take this knob for example…

    (Mabel hands Bob a small knob for a cabinet drawer.)

    BOB
    Regularly priced at 89 cents, we’ve cut the price to 67 cents! That’s a savings of 25%! And it’s not just the base models, either…

    (Mabel hands Bob a small porcelain knob with a design painted on it.)

    BOB
    Take this Miller & Steen porcelain knob. Regularly $3.75, we’ve slashed the price to $2.50! Don’t miss out!

    And now it’s time for this week’s comparison shopper where Mabel and I go under cover around town and check out the prices at our competitors.

    (Mabel hands Bob a blister pack containing a full knob and lock assembly for a door.)

    I picked up this LockJaw doorknob at Stan’s Hinges and Doors for $37.99. Our price: $35!

    (Mabel hands Bob another packaged knob set.)

    Mabel picked this one up just last night. It’s a Knob Factory solid brass knob which we sell for $60. Mabel got this one at Beds, Knobs, and Broomsticks for $75. $75?! Don’t pay the markup at these high-priced shops, folks!

    (Mabel hands Bob another package.)

    This Shmekl & Petsl knobset in brushed aluminum came from Home Depot and cost..

    (Bob looks at the price…and then tosses the knob away.)

    Forget that folks. The big boxes can’t compete with our legendary service, anyway.

    Bob’s Knob Spot, at the Corner of the Sevens. Seventh street and Seventh avenue. Two miles south of the Expressway.

    BOB AND MABEL
    Come on in today and let us polish your knob!

  • FSW: Rachael Ray, Terrorist!

    Tough choice today. Most of the day, the topic below seemed the most obvious target. Then around 4:30 I heard Harvey Korman had died. I thought about trying to write a sketch in honor of his greatness, but I’m not worthy. I wanted to give him a sendoff fit for a king, but I’m just a lowly piss boy.

    So instead, watch and mourn (and by “mourn”, I mean “laugh your ass off”) here.

    Now that I’ve properly bummed y’all out, here’s this week’s effort

    Rachael Ray, Terrorist!
    (We’re in the middle of a park on a beautiful May day in our nation’s capital, cherry blossoms in full color, wispy white clouds gently tracing paths across the rich, azure sky. Front and center is Rachael Ray, played by a fat man in a wig. She holds a small Dunkin’ Donuts. She wears a keffiyeh.)

    RACHAEL
    Hi! I’m Rachael Ray! When I’m on the road, I can’t always whip up a batch of baba ghanoush and big bowl of tabbouleh. So when I’m craving that taste of home, I stop in at Dunkin’ Donuts for their all new Falafel Munchkins!

    (Opening the box, Rachael plucks out a little ball of fried garbanzo goodness. Between her sausage-like fingers, the falafel ball seems particularly delicate.)

    RACHAEL
    He’s so cute! Look at that.

    (She pops it in her mouth and her eyes roll back in her head like a fat man, wearing a wig, possessed by a demon of the sort that likes its garbanzo flour deep-fried.)

    RACHAEL
    Delish! You can really taste the EVOO they fried it in, too.

    (She quickly finishes off four more falafel. She reaches down and picks up a cup of Dunkin’ Donuts Iced Coffee.)

    RACHAEL
    Nothing better to wash down your awesome Dunkin’ Donuts Falafel Munchkins than fresh-brewed Dunkin’ Donuts Iced Coffee!

    (Like a Shop-Vac, she sucks it up the straw and down her mighty gullet.)

    RACHAEL
    Dunkin’ Donuts. It’s not just donuts anymore!

    CUT TO: News Studio
    (Michelle Malkin – played by an Asian man because it is so hard to find an actual Filipino Tranny willing to make fun of one of his/her own – sits next to FOX News anchor Megyn Kelly. Behind them a monitor shows the frozen and deeply disturbing image of Rachael.)

    MEGYN
    Michelle, tell the viewers at home what bothers you about this ad.

    MICHELLE
    You’re kidding me, right Barbie?

    MEGYN
    It’s Megyn.

    MICHELLE
    Whatever. Look. That fat cow is wearing a keffiyeh. Anyone who wears a keffiyeh is a terrorist. Anyone who defends anyone who wears a keffiyeh is a terrorist. Yassir Arafat used to wear a keffiyeh and he was a terrorist. Don’t you get it?

    MEGYN
    I’m trying to follow you…

    MICHELLE
    I’ll speak slower.

    MEGYN
    That would probably help. Thanks.

    MICHELLE
    Yassir Arafat wore a keffiyeh. Rachael Ray is wearing a keffiyeh. Clearly she’s just like him.

    MEGYN
    Didn’t Yassir Arafat also wear shoes?

    MICHELLE
    What’s your point, Barbie?

    MEGYN
    Megyn.

    MICHELLE
    Whatever.

    MEGYN
    You’re wearing shoes. Does that make you a terrorist, too?

    (Michelle sticks her fingers in her ears and hums and goes LALALALA very loudly.)

    MICHELLE
    (Sing-song) I can’t hear you.

    MEGYN
    Michelle. Michelle!

    (Michelle takes her fingers out of her ears.)

    MICHELLE
    I hope I’ve made my point.

    MEGYN
    Clearly.

    I have a statement from Dunkin’ Donuts here I’d like to read. It says, “It’s a goddamn black and white silk paisley scarf you ignorant slut. And we didn’t pick it. But we’re going to pull the ads anyway because we’re owned by the Carlyle Group and are a bunch of pussies afraid of a loud-mouthed Filipino Tranny.”

    What do you have to say to that?

    MICHELLE
    Dunkin’ Donuts can lick my balls. At least for the next three months until I see the special doctor.

    No one, but no one who wears a keffiyeh should be allowed to live. They should be marched off to concentration camps. And the parents who let their children wear that evil symbol of jihad are worse. That’s the most un-American thing a parent can do, is let their children wear a keffiyeh.

    (The monitor behind Michelle changes to show a photo of Meghan and Cindy McCain. Meghan proudly sports a keffiyeh. Not a black and white silk paisley scarf that a fashion-less Filipino Tranny might confuse, but a traditional keffiyeh.)

    MEGYN
    Michelle? Any comments on the photo on the monitor?

    MICHELLE
    Yeah. Barack Hussein Obama went to a Madrassa and Hilary Clinton is almost as much of a man as I still am.

    MEGYN
    Thanks, Michelle. We’ll be right back.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Sixteen

    As the three-day weekend rolls to a close, it’s time to announce the winners and losers of this past Friday’s battle royale. In another two-man fight to the death,

    • Coyote drew first blood with his katana…
    • Michael parried with his claymore. What sucked for Coyote, was the Claymore was of the landmine variety.

    Winner: Michael.

    While we’re enjoying the small duels, it’s about time some friends and family join in the battle. We’re not the only writers here; we shouldn’t be the only writers fighting on Fridays. Email a link to your sketch to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

  • FSW: On the Couch

    (Trevor lies on a couch, while behind him Mary sits in a chair taking notes. She is wearing a suit and glasses. Her hair is in a bun held together with a pencil.)

    MARY
    How are you feeling today, Trevor?

    TREVOR
    I’m okay. A little sluggish. Didn’t get a good night’s sleep.

    MARY
    Yes?

    TREVOR
    Restless. My dreams were too vivid, I think. Probably shouldn’t have had that burrito before bed.

    MARY
    Tell me about the burrito.

    TREVOR
    You don’t want to hear about the dreams?

    MARY
    I haven’t had breakfast yet. (BEAT) And sometimes a burrito is just a burrito.

    (They both chuckle at her bad joke.)

    Alright. Tell me about your dreams.

    TREVOR
    They started out like they always do. I was thirteen and mowing the lawn. It’s July and I’m working up quite a sweat. Now, our yard was pretty small, maybe a quarter-acre of grass to mow, but in my dream it’s this huge expanse. It’s at least three, four acres. And it feels like I’m pushing uphill in both directions.

    MARY
    (Furiously scribbling notes) Mmmhmm…

    TREVOR
    I keep thinking I’m going to run out of gas and need to fill up the tank, but it keeps going. Engine sputters a few times, but it just keeps running. The sun’s beating down and I’m sweating a ton.

    MARY
    What are you wearing?

    TREVOR
    Wearing? I guess I’m in shorts. I’ve never thought about…no, wait…I’m wearing my uniform from my first job.

    MARY
    What job is that?

    TREVOR
    I was the guy in the El Pollo Loco costume who held the sign down by the road. Terrible job. I lasted a month. I think that was a record. That costume smelled like cigarettes and puke.

    MARY
    So you’re mowing the lawn in the costume. Do you have on the chicken head?

    TREVOR
    No. Just the rest of it. The feet are huge, too.

    MARY
    (More energetic notetaking) Mmmm…

    TREVOR
    And then suddenly, I find myself lying by a pool.

    MARY
    Are you alone?

    TREVOR
    My mother’s there, feeding me grapes. It’s kind of weird.

    MARY
    Are you still in your costume?

    TREVOR
    No. I’m in swim trunks. And you’re there, too, painting my toenails.

    MARY
    (Notes) I’m there? Hmm. What are your mother and I wearing?

    TREVOR
    She’s in one of those old-timey swimsuits. You’re dressed like you are now. Suit, hair up, glasses.

    MARY
    Very interesting —

    TREVOR
    — I love you, Mary.

    MARY
    No, no, no. You’re just projecting your feelings onto me.

    TREVOR
    No, Mary, really I do.

    MARY
    (More notes) Mmmhmm. (BEAT) Tell me more about your mother. How does it make you feel when she feeds you these grapes.

    TREVOR
    I guess it makes me feel good. I was hot and thirsty, and the grapes are cool and moist in my mouth.

    MARY
    And what do you think the grapes represent?

    TREVOR
    Represent? I don’t know.

    MARY
    Okay, we’ll get back to that. Let’s move on to something else. Last time you said you were having some performance issues. How is that going?

    TREVOR
    I, I just can’t get excited anymore.

    MARY
    Does anything excite you? Any fantasies?

    TREVOR
    Um, this is kind of hard to say…

    MARY
    This is a safe place, Trevor. You can say anything in here.

    TREVOR
    When I woke up from the dream I was pretty excited.

    (Mary flips pages, she’s taking so many notes now. Her pencil breaks and she pulls the one out of her hair to continue unabated. Her hair falls around her shoulders.)

    MARY
    I think we’re about to have a breakthrough–

    (The door opens and Sally, a teenage girl, comes in.)

    SALLY
    Mom? There’s a call for you from the hospital. Something about seizures, or something? One of your patients.

    MARY
    (Getting up) Thanks, Sally.

    SALLY
    Dad? Can I borrow the car tonight?

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Fifteen

    If you thought last week’s drunken scuffle was an embarrassment, wait until you see this week’s slap fight. There’s a rumor we might be joined by some fresh blood soon, so this lull in the war might merely be a short-lived ceasefire. Let’s hope.

    • Coyote wants to make an omelet, so he breaks a few eggs…
    • Michael has a date, but someone is ovulating.

    Clearly, we need more sketch writers to join in the festivities. Post your best and send an email to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

  • 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.

  • 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.