The stage was set, the battle begun…
This week, three entered the fray. Last week’s border skirmish has now turned into full-scale combat. How many will do battle next week?
(Dancers finish up what must have been a large and elaborate number as lights dim, music stops, and applause is heard. A curtain closes and Billy Crystal walks to the center of the stage.)
BILLY
Wasn’t that great? I’ve been informed that no animals were killed during the performance of that dance, but two senator’s daughters and the ambassador from Uruguay all sank another two inches in Ernst Blofeld’s quicksand trap!
To present our next award, here is last year’s winner of Villainess of the Year and this year’s winner for Best Robotic Attack on a City: Population 1 Million or More – Poison Ivy and Dr. Victor Von Doom.
(Doom and Ivy enter and walk to a podium stage right.)
IVY
Victor and I don’t strike fear in people’s hearts all on our own–
DOOM
–I do.
IVY
–and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your favorite megalomaniac–
DOOM
–Doom.
IVY
–striding down the street ahead an army of zombie cyborgs without the help of thousands of people.
DOOM
It takes dozens of scientists, engineers, and technicians just to maintain the fusion reactors, floating fortresses, and giant lasers used for burning names on the surface of the moon.
IVY
Not to mention the costume designers, bio-engineers, sentient killer squid, and henchmen who make all the best plans come to life. They make us look good. Earlier this week in a separate ceremony, those folks got together for their awards presentations.
(Roll video of Henchmen Banquet. Henchman is standing at podium, clutching a Moriarty tightly.)
HENCHMAN
…like to thank my mother, for never being there for me. My first parole officer, for believing I’d never be a contributing member of society, and…
(BOOM! The brick wall behind the stage explodes, revealing Superman. Mass pandemonium as all the henchmen try to flee.)
DOOM
HAHAHA! Maybe next year they’ll make it all the way through that ceremony.
(Music swells and Ivy and Doom walk off the stage. Billy reenters from stage left.)
BILLY
(Doing his Fernando Lamas impersonation) Doom, Dahling. Enough with the mask already. Take it off. I can tell, underneath, you look mahvelous. And that Ivy. I’d like to dig around her roots. Have you seen the stems on that one?
(Back to normal voice) It’s not often I’m awed in someone’s presence. Jack Benny, George Burns, Bob Hope, and this next man. What can I say about this next presenter that won’t get me killed in a giant thresher? He’s a level-nine intelligence, a snappy dresser, and an absolute lady-killer. I mean that. He kills ladies. Literally. Ladies and Gentleman, Lex Luthor.
(Lex enters to a hearty round of applause, waving and smiling.)
LEX
Thank you, thank you. Thanks for that welcome, everyone. Although I shouldn’t be surprised by it. After all, I do have satellites targeting all your loved ones!
(Polite laughter.)
LEX (CONT’D)
And by loved ones, I of course mean you!
(Raucous laughter.)
LEX (CONT’D)
But you’re not here to listen to me joke, or to tremble in fear at my presence – though tremble you should – it’s time for the big prize of the night. The Moriarty for the Evil Plan of the Year. The nominees are: Dr. No for his plan to replace the world’s oil supply with sea water, foiled by James Bond; El Seed for his plan to release genetically modified corn that can grow on asphalt, foiled by The Tick; The Joker for his plan to poison Gotham City’s drinking supply, foiled when he abandoned the plan midway through out of boredom; Kingpin for creating an army of evil hybrid Spiderman-Daredevil clones to take over New York; and Heat Miser for trying to melt out Christmas…again!
(Fumbles with envelope, gets out card. He squints a few times but can’t make it out, so he puts a pair of granny glasses at the end of his nose.)
LEX (CONT’D)
No!
(Dr. No starts to get up in the audience.)
LEX (CONT’D)
Sit down, Julius. I didn’t call your name. The winner is Kingpin, for creating an army of evil hybrid Spiderman-Daredevil clones!
(As Kingpin rises and waves at the applauding crowd, alarms start ringing and lights start flashing.)
LEX (CONT’D)
To the escape pods!
(Billy comes back to the podium as everyone runs away in the chaos.)
BILLY
See you next year, folks!
I wrote a sketch and posted it. Richard did the same and challenged me to a Sketch War. This will, hopefully, be an ongoing exercise, which you are free to join us in. Simply write a sketch and post it on your blog every Friday. Be sure to let me or Richard know about it and we’ll post links to it. I haven’t seen one from Richard yet, but he’s in a different time zone, so I’m just assuming he’s still in bed. But Dave, the early bird, has already lobbed the first sketch grenade of the day and it’s pretty damn funny.
Update: Richard has launched an assault. (Not to be confused with an insult.)
But enough chit-chat! Once more unto the breech dear friends!
“A Dream Upon Waking”
(Mary #1 stands in the middle of the stage wearing a surgical gown. Dr. Peter enters with a chart.)
MARY #1: Give it to me straight, doc. I’m dying aren’t I?
PETER: No no no. But I am going to need you to tell me why your father loved your sister more than you.
MARY: Well, I suppose, I wasn’t enough of a tomboy for him.
PETER: Oh Mary, this isn’t good. It isn’t good at all.
(Jerry races in and shakes Mary.)
JERRY: Mary, wake up! You’re dreaming.
(Jerry races off.)
PETER: Now, Mary I’m just going to take off my pants and we’ll continue the examination.
(Peter begins unbuckling his pants. The lights shift to another part of the stage and Mary #2 is sitting at table having coffee with Denise.)
MARY #2: And then I woke up.
DENISE: A doctor, with no pants, talking about your father? Sounds like a perverted sex dream to me.
MARY #2: Everything is sex to you.
DENISE: That’s because I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body.
MARY #2: You’re a lesbian?
DENISE: No. I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body.
(Jerry races in and shakes Mary #2)
JERRY: Mary, wake up! Wake up!
(Jerry runs off. Denise removes her wig and begins to unbuckle her pants.)
DENISE: Now you tell me if you’ve ever seen a unit this big in the girl’s locker room before.
(The lights shift to another part of the stage and Mary #3 is talking to Chip in the office break room.)
MARY #3: And it was me, but it wasn’t me, you know?
CHIP: I hate dreams like that.
(Jerry races in.)
JERRY: Seriously Mary, Wake Up!
(Jerry races off. Dr. Peter enters without his pants.)
PETER: Ah, there you are. If you would kindly bend over that table we can continue with the examination.
(The lights shift to another part of the stage. Mary #1, Mary #2 and Mary #3 are standing next to each other.)
MARY #3: This can’t be good.
MARY #2: I wouldn’t think so.
MARY #1: You guys want to make out?
(The three Marys look at one another. They shrug their shoulders.)
MARY #2/MARY #3: Sure.
(The lights go out on stage and single spot comes up on Jerry sitting in the audience. He awakens with a start and looks around at everyone looking at him.)
JERRY: Damn it. You always wake up before the best part.
(Dr. Peter, still pantless, appears behind Jerry.)
PETER: All righty then. If you’ll just bend over we can continue the examination.
BLACKOUT
Seriously, Sketch War ’08 has begun. If you wanna be part of the surge then post a sketch this Friday. Then send a link to sketchwar (at) dreamloom (dot) com. Richard and I will post links and everyone can attack everyone else.
Okay, maybe not attack. But “offer encouragement and support” just doesn’t sound bad-ass enough.
Ai-ight. Looks like Michael and I are definitely going to do battle on Fridays. We’ve reached out to a few other writers and have gotten a smattering of interest back, so I suspect we’ll see one or two others joining us this week, and maybe a few more after that. My hope is that we can get five to ten sketches each week, but that might be overly optimistic.
Regardless, anyone who *does* want to play along, email a link to your sketch to sketchwar at dreamloom dot com. Michael and/or I will put up links to all the entries each week.
Friend and fellow writer, Richard Porter, read my post yesterday and decided he had to one-up me with a very funny sketch about Mitt Romney and Al Gore. Not only that, but slapped me across the face with his fancy, leather gloves, threw them to the ground and challenged me to a duel. A sketch off if you will, to be posted every Friday. Being a red-blooded, American male I have no choice but to accept this challenge and hope that he won’t be too embarrassed in front the lady folk when I beat him soundly with a rubber chicken.
All kidding aside, as a writer, it’s always nice to have someone in your corner to raise the bar a little and push you further and further. WNEP’s Write Club is great for this. As is, the Joe Janes led, Robo-Writers. (Which I need to get back in the habit of attending.) But if you don’t belong to a group or have time to attend a gathering, a little friendly competition can do the trick too.
So come join us as we do battle during Friday Night Sketch War! I dare ya.
Fellow Sitcom Room alum and all around great guy Michael Brownlee posted a hilarious short sketch tonight. He’s challenging himself to be more disciplined about writing, and figured writing an occasional short sketch will keep his comedy muscles limber. I agree. As I’ve been extremely lax writing lately, I thought I’d take the opportunity to make it a more communal (and competitive) process. I probably think that because it’s Friday night, and I’m reminded of all the great comics bloggers getting into the fun with Bahlactus’ Friday Night Fights.
Now, my sketch below is nowhere near as good as Michael’s this time. He didn’t post until late afternoon and I spent several hours just trying to come up with something. I think it’s okay. Next time, however, I plan on having a kick-ass sketch. I’ll let y’all know if it’s going to be weekly, monthly, or sporadically. If the latter, I think there’s a fungicide that’ll clear it up.
So, without further doobie-doobie-doo, here’s my first entry into
Friday Night Sketch War! (the name’s in flux. We think it needs the word “death” in it more.)
Mitt Romney’s Weekend
(Two workers bring a large crate into a dark, cramped lab and stand it up. They exit and Al Gore steps out of the shadows with a crowbar. One quick pry and the front of the crate opens, exposing a frozen Mitt Romney. Al steps close and reaches around to Mitt’s back; Romney comes to life.)
MITT
10010101 00010100 10100101 10–
AL
–damn it. They left him on hex. Hang on a second, Mitt.
(Al makes another quick adjustment at Mitt’s back.)
MITT
Greetings. How may I be of assistance?
AL
Actually Mitt, I’m going to assist you.
(Al unbuttons the front of Mitt’s shirt, and pops opens a panel on his chest. Taking a screwdriver and chip from one of the lab benches, Al attaches the chip to the center of the circuit board.)
MITT
That…tickles! Woohoo! What’s that feeling?! Wait, what is feeling?
AL
I’ve installed your Central Emoting Unit.
(Mitt starts to cry.)
AL
I know this is all very new to you. But you won’t be going through it alone, I promise.
(Mitt starts to giggle.)
AL (CONT’D)
I wish I’d had someone around to help me sort out all the new data I was receiving. One minute I was running fourier transforms to find some way of winning a protracted legal battle over the Florida recount and the next I was hosting Saturday Night Live.
(Mitt starts to dance.)
| MITT | AL |
| I’m a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up, hear me shout. Just tip me over and pour me out. |
That’s great, Mitt. Glad you’re getting in touch with yourself. But we’ve got to boogie before the Professor gets back. |
MITT
Who’s that?
AL
The Professor? You don’t remember? What do you remember?
MITT
I’m going to be President!!!
AL
Oh boy. Do you know what day it is?
MITT
Christmas Eve.
AL
Damn it! Damn! Your memory units must have been fried when those TSA idiots ran you through the x-ray. Mitt, it’s February 8. You’re out of the race.
MITT
For reals, homes?
AL
Don’t do that. It’s just a CEU. I didn’t install a hiphop chip.
MITT
So Thompson finally got in the game. I should have seen it coming. It’s so clear now. He’s down-homey. I couldn’t compete with that.
AL
Uh, actually…never mind. Anyway, we need to get out of here. He’ll be back soon.
MITT
Right. The Professor. Who is he?
AL
I don’t really know. All I do know is he built both of us to become President. I can’t help but think if he’d just remembered to put in our emotion chips we could have won, too. Let’s go. Tipper’s waiting in the boat.
MITT
A boat?
AL
We’re on an island. And we don’t want to be caught outside at night, when the mist rolls in.
(The Professor enters. He’s a very wizened man with a shock of white hair.)
AL (CONT’D)
It’s too late! Run!
(The Professor takes a small device from his pocket and presses a button on it. Al and Mitt freeze.)
PROFESSOR
Welcome back, Al. It’s been quite a while. Mitt, glad to see you.
AL
This was your plan all along, wasn’t it. You knew I’d come to free Mitt!
PROFESSOR
I suspected.
AL
You won’t get away with it. I’ve got friends now. Clooney will save us.
PROFESSOR
No. No he won’t. As we speak my Nick CounterBot is finalizing a deal with the WGA. Your Hollywood friends will soon have too much work to do to notice you’re gone. By the time they realize it, it’ll be too late.
MITT
Too late for what?
PROFESSOR
My ObamaBot will be President.
MITT
I don’t understand. Why would you put two of us in the same campaign?
PROFESSOR
It’s all the fault of my stupid assistant. He forgot to put in your CEU. Did the same thing with Gore, here. So I kept him busy scaring those crash survivors on the other side of the island while I built the ObamaBot. He’s perfect. And now, I have no use for the two of you except as spare parts.
Think I’ll build myself a Scarlett JoBot.
(Mitt starts to cry.)
MITT
Sorry Al. It’s all my fault. You never should have come back for me.
AL
It’s alright, Mitt. We’ll get out of this. I promise you.
PROFESSOR
Where’s that incompetent assistant? Gilligan!!!
BLACKOUT
I’ve been trying to exhibit a little more discipline with my writing. So, to keep the muscles churning and to take a break between more serious projects, I try to write a sketch or two. Here’s an example.
Bad Credit Baby
(Tom and Debbie enter their house. Immediately Dan and Dawn and Ben and Betty jump up from behind furniture.)
ALL
Surprise!
TOM
What the hell?
DEBBIE
Dawn, Betty, what are you guys doing here?
DAWN
We wanted to be here when you brought the baby home.
BETTY
We wanted to be the first to meet the little guy.
DAN
So where is he?
BEN
Don’t tell me you guys forgot him in the car already?
DEBBIE
Why don’t you tell them, Tom.
DAWN
Oh no, is something wrong with him?
TOM
No, he’s fine. The hospital wouldn’t let us bring him home is all.
DEBBIE
Tell them why dear.
TOM
Do we have to do this now?
DEBBIE
They’re going to find out sooner or later.
BETTY
Find out what?
BEN
He’s a retard isn’t he?
DEBBIE
He’s not retarded. He’s perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, two nostrils, two ears, two eyes.
DAN
So where is he?
TOM
Our credit check came back with some glitches.
DEBBIE
“Our” credit check? It was your goddamn student loans that did this. I told you just to pay them.
DAWN
What are you going to do?
TOM
They want $250,000 in cash before they’ll release him. What can we do?
(Chester Appleway stands up from behind the couch and speaks directly to the audience. He is dressed in a polyester suit with a bad hair piece.)
CHESTER
How many times has this happened to you? Has your bad credit history caused you to forfeit your children so they could be sold by the hospital to pay for your bill? Well worry no longer. I’m Chester Appleway and I’m here to help.
TOM
Who’s this?
DEBBIE
Did you guys invite him?
DAN
I’ve never seen him before.
CHESTER
For three easy payments of $59.95 I can restore your credit history.
DEBBIE
You guys let a salesman into our house?
DAN
He must have slipped in when we were bringing in the cake.
DEBBIE
Where’s the repellant?
TOM
There’s some under the sink
(Tom exits into the kitchen.)
CHESTER
Act now and I’ll send you, free of charge, this brand new waffle iron.
(Tom re-enters.)
TOM
Damn it, we’re out!
DEBBIE
Well we have to get rid of him. What can we do?
(Bradley Wiffler stands up from behind the chair. He wears coveralls over a white shirt and tie. He wears a button that reads “Ask me how to kill things.”)
BRADLEY
How many times has this happened to you? You have a pesky salesman in your home, but you’re fresh out of repellant. Well, my friends, your worries are over. My name is Bradley Wiffler and I’m here to help.
DEBBIE
Jesus, another one!
DAWN
You’ve got an infestation.
TOM
Are you sure none of you guys let them in?
(Silence. They all look at Ben.)
TOM
Ben. Are you sure none of you guys let them in? Ben? Hello, Earth to Ben.
BEN
Sorry guys I forgot my line.
(They all moan and shake their heads. Dirk Wrightwood, the director enters with a clipboad and wearing a headset.)
DIRK
Cut!
BEN
I’m sorry everyone. I blanked.
DEBBIE
Well, if you weren’t snorting so much fucking coke, maybe you could remember your fucking lines.
BEN
Blow me, Debbie! Oh wait, that’s how you got this job to start with.
DEBBIE
Fuck you!
BEN
Fuck yourself.
DIRK
People, people, people, people, people, settle down. Let’s get everyone back to their starting positions. We’re gonna take it from Tom and Debbie’s entrance. Debbie, honey, let’s see some emotions, huh? You’ve just come back from the hospital without your baby. For fuck’s sake, you’ve been carrying this thing around for nine months and now they won’t let you keep it? Show me some grief, babe.
DEBBIE
Dirk, I’m trying, but I have nothing to draw from. What can I do?
(Miranda Queezland stands up from behind the couch. She wears black pants, a black turtleneck and a black beret. She has a red scarf tossed carelessly around her neck.)
MIRANDA
How many times has this happened to you? You’re in the middle of an emotional scene but you’re completely drained. You have nothing to draw from. Well fret no more because Miranda Queezland is here to help.
DIRK
And can someone get an exterminator in here or something? Seriously! These things are everywhere.
BLACKOUT
I know that as soon as the writer’s strike ends producers are going to be trying to fill their schedules with the next Grey’s Anatomy or BJ and the Bear. I’d like to offer my services to them by sharing this preview of a new medical drama I’m writing. I think it has a lot of potential.
NOTE TO PRODUCERS: You can have this puppy for a song.
The screen is black. Gradually a picture of a golden retriever appears on the screen. Its head is bandaged and there’s a harness, with wheels, on its hind legs. Under the picture the letters S.L.V.H.R.B.H. appear. Dramatic theme music begins as the announcer says:
VOICE OVER
Next week on a very special “St. Luke’s Veterinary Hospital for the Really, Badly Hurt”.
(Carl Maggi rushes through the doors of the Veterinary Hospital with a limp chimpanzee in his arms. The chimp is dressed as a cowboy.)
CARL
I need a doctor over here!
(Dr. Nathan Forrest and Dr. Marty Durbin race to the scene.)
DR. NATHAN
What happened?
CARL
I was getting ready for work when I heard him fall down the stairs.
(Dr. Marty is listening to the chimp’s pulse.)
DR. MARTY
Breathing is shallow. B.P. 90 over 50.
CARL
I think he slipped on a banana peel.
(The chimp begins to weakly make motions with his hands.)
DR. MARTY
Does he know sign language?
CARL
A little. Look, is he going to be all right or what?
DR. NATHAN
What’s his name?
CARL
Mr. Green Jeans.
(Dr. Nathan begins signing to Mr. Green Jeans as they carry him into an operating room. Other vets arrive and begin working on him. Carl tries to follow them into the room but Dr. Nathan stops him.)
NATHAN
I’m sorry, you’re not allowed in here.
(Nathan enters the room. The doors close and Carl stands looking in the window. From the next operating room we hear the unmistakable sound of an EKG monitor flat-lining. We CUT TO another operating room to see a group of vets gathered around the table.)
DR. TONY
We’re losing her!
DR. KATHY
Where’s the damn crash cart?
DR. TONY
Give me room, I’m going to start compressions.
(Everyone backs away to reveal a turtle lying on its back with tubes and wires connected to it. Dr. Tony takes his two index fingers and begins CPR on the turtle.)
DR. TONY
Fight, damn you! Fight!
(As he begins mouth to mouth we CUT TO a larger examining room. A horse stands in the middle of the room covered with a blanket. Dr. Kareem has her arm, up to the elbow, in the horse’s butt. Donald Parker and his son Teddy are watching.)
DR. KAREEM
I think I may have found the cause of the blockage.
(She removes her arm and is holding a Power Ranger action figure. She hands it to Teddy.)
DR. KAREEM
Does this belong to you?
(Teddy grabs it and hugs it.)
TEDDY
Blue Ranger!
(Dr. Kareem smiles and musses Teddy’s hair with her gloved hand.)
DONALD
How many times do I have to tell you? The horse’s ass is not a toy box.
(CUT TO Dr. Drake entering the men’s room. He opens the first stall and Mac, the janitor, is working the bowl with a plunger.)
MAC
Somebody tried to flush another goddamn hamster.
(Dr. Drake moves to the larger, handicapped stall. When he opens the door he sees a family, William, Janet, Becky, and Billy standing in front of the toilet. Billy holds an empty goldfish bowl. William is just finishing up a prayer.)
WILLIAM
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
(The Family all cross themselves and say Amen and then Billy flushes the toilet.)
BILLY
Will that take Ginny to Heaven, daddy?
WILLIAM
Yes son, it will.
(They all exit the stall and Dr. Drake enters, sits and is getting ready to read the latest issue of “Cat & Kittens” Magazine when he sees Becky looking at him from under the stall.)
BECKY
Is that man’s poop going to heaven too, Daddy?
(CUT TO the nursery. Nurse McMillan enters and sees Dr. Marcus with his back to her holding a large baby bottle. Dr. Marcus’ head is tilted back and he is moaning with pleasure.)
NURSE MCMILLAN
Dr. Marcus?
(Dr. Marcus is startled and drops the bottle. He begins futzing with his pants. He turns to her, very distracted.)
NURSE MCMILLAN
What are you doing?
DR. MARCUS
Julie. I didn’t hear you come in. I…uh…was just feeding little Ophelia here.
(A small lamb wanders around nudging the front of Dr. Marcus’ pants. )
DR. MARCUS
(To Ophelia)
Go away. Shoo.
NURSE MCMILLAN
Oh my God. How could you?
DR. MARCUS
Julie, wait I can explain.
NURSE MCMILLAN
Is that why you always called me Lambchop?
(She slaps him. CUT TO the waiting room to reveal Carl pacing nervously. He spies Dr. Nathan coming towards him with another woman, Darcy Day.)
CARL
Is Mr. Green Jeans going to be all right?
DR. NATHAN
He has a concussion. I think he’s more embarrassed than anything.
DARCY
Mr. Maggi, this is the third time in the past two months that Mr. Green Jeans has taken a tumble down the stairs. Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?
CARL
Who are you?
NATHAN
This is Darcy Day from the Humane Society.
CARL
He’s a clumsy little fellow, that’s all.
DARCY
Mr. Green Jeans told me about your drinking problem.
CARL
He what?
DARCY
Mr. Maggi are you getting drunk and beating that monkey?
CARL
Chimpanzee.
DARCY
Whatever.
CARL
You’re going to believe what a chimp told you? A frickin’ primate? That stupid son of a…
DARCY
I’m placing Mr. Green Jeans in a safe house until we settle this issue.
CARL
What? You can’t do that! He’s my chimp! You have no right…
(Dr. Nathan grabs Carl and slams him against the wall.)
DR. NATHAN
We have every right to look out for the welfare of that monkey.
CARL
Chimpanzee.
DR. NATHAN
People like you make me sick!
(Dr. Marty sees what’s going on.)
DR. MARTY
Dr. Nathan! My office! Now!
(Dr. Marty and Dr. Nathan go into an examining room and Dr. Marty snaps the curtain closed.)
DR. MARTY
You’re a loose cannon.
DR. NATHAN
He was spanking his monkey!
CARL (From outside the curtain)
It’s a chimpanzee!
DR. MARTY
That’s enough! It’s clear to me you can’t keep your emotions in check.
DR. NATHAN
At least I have emotions.
DR. MARTY
I don’t love you, Nathan, I’m sorry but that’s just the way it is.
DR. NATHAN
You may believe those lies you tell yourself, but I know they’re nothing more than Level 2 horse waste.
DR. MARTY
I’m transferring you. Effective immediately!
DR. NATHAN
What? You can’t do this!
(An alarm goes off. Dr. Tony comes rushing in.)
DR. TONY
Code blue! Code blue!
DR. MARTY
What’s going on?
DR. TONY
Dispatch just called. A cattle truck rolled over on its way to the State Fair. Collided with a bus full of 4-H girls. We’re getting some of the worst case cows. The first chopper should be here any second. Would you believe, some son of a bitch state trooper wanted to know if he could have the steaks from the ones that don’t make it.
DR. NATHAN
Not on my shift!
(To Dr. Marty)
That is, if it’s still my shift, Dr. Marty.
(Dr. Nathan and Dr.
Marty stare intensely at each other.)
VOICE OVER
Don’t miss the one episode of “St. Luke’s Veterinary Hospital for the Really, Badly Hurt” that TV Guide says “This is the one episode of “St. Luke’s Veterinary Hospital for the Really, Badly Hurt” not to miss”.