Sketch War

Tag: sketch war

  • 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!

  • FSW: Procrastination Edition

    The third week of our themed entries. And, true to the theme, I waited until the last minute to start working on it. Not that I haven’t been mulling the idea over in my head all week. But still…

    Next week’s theme is “Disney” for those of you playing along at home.

    Richard is already up with a scene from the historical moon mission.

    Mine doesn’t have nearly the honorable lineage.

    Procrastination

    (We see a television screen. A talking head news anchor.)

    ANCHOR: And today is the 75th Anniversay of the passing of James McAveney. Mr. McAveney’s passing is notable primarily because he was the last person known to have died in the past 75 years.

    (The channel changes. We see a reporter standing in the middle of a massive crowd of people.)

    REPORTER: Things have only gotten worse. With death rates still at zero, the planet’s resources have been pushed to the brink. And with land becoming a scarce commodity as well, desperate people are looking to man-made islands to save the ever increasing population.

    (The channel changes. A Reporter is talking to a distraught businessman.)

    BUSINESSMAN: We thought it was a fluke at first. But it’s been really hard to run a funeral home when there are no funerals.

    REPORTER: I understand this has been particularly trying on your wife.

    BUSINESSMAN: Yeah, well, she tried to commit suicide a while back, but it didn’t work. I came home and she was just hanging from banister, frustrated that she had failed. Guess it was her third attempt that day too.

    (We cut to a lavishly decorated office lobby. A beautiful woman sits behind the desk. The door opens and an incredible, white light fills the room. A voice emanates from the light and seems to be coming from everywhere at once.)

    GOD: Is he in?

    RECEPTIONIST: One moment, please. (Into intercom) Sir, the Great I Am is here to see you.

    DEATH: (On speakerphone) Sweet! Send him in.

    (We’re in the Death’s office. It looks like something from Edward Gorrey’s nightmares. God enters.)

    GOD: We need to talk. You’ve fallen behind on your quotas.

    (We see a hooded figure standing in front of a large screen TV. A large sickle leans against one wall. He holds a Wii remote in his bony hand which he swings like a tennis racket.)

    DEATH: Have you played this thing? It’s like you’re actually playing tennis. But without all the wear and tear on your joints. Amazing.

    (Death continues to play. God just shakes his head and sighs.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Spider

    This week’s topic, as chosen by Michael, is procrastination. Oddly enough, I didn’t wait until the last minute to write this. I’m sure you can’t tell based on its quality, however. A couple items of note: 

    • There were enough scene changes in here that trying to format as anything but a screenplay was irritating and hard to follow, so I did that and exported a pdf. If you can’t see the Scribd plugin below, please let me know in comments and I’ll gen a text version as well. If you like the way the Scribd plugin works for things like this, let me know that in comments. I might start using it for the occasional posting.
    • If y’all couldn’t guess, I’m joking here. Tom Kelly is a frakin’ hero to me, as are all the engineers who worked on Apollo, Gemini, and Mercury. I recommend his book Moon Lander: How We Developed the Apollo Lunar Module if engineering and project management are at all interesting to you.
    • Jim McDivitt and Rusty Schweickart flew LM-3, callsign Spider, in low Earth orbit while CM Pilot Dave Scott remained in Gumdrop on the 10-day Apollo 9 mission. This was the first manned flight of the LM and the little foil and mylar bastard passed with flying colors. (I’m exaggerating about its construction, again.)
    • Next week’s theme is…ah! Yes! In honor of what August 8 is, next week’s theme will be DISNEY.

    Read this document on Scribd: fsw spider

  • FSW: Cross Dress Edition

    Richard tossed this one out last week. And, like him, I’ve waited until the last minute to crank it out.


    Not to self: Start tossing out ideas earlier in the week.

    Next week theme: Procrastination. 

    All right. This here’s what we call a “blackout”. A quickie that, hopefully, ends with a laugh. Much like my sex life.
    Party Pops
    (A team of ad execs are sitting around a table. There are take out contains littered everywhere. Everyone is fried.)
    James: We’ve been at this all night. Let’s just call it and get some sleep.
    Peter: No. We have (looking at watch) four hours until deadline. Come guys, we can do this.
    (David hops to his feet and starts doing jumping jacks.)
    David: We just need a little energy. We’ve got some decent ideas here. We just need that one killer idea to push us over the top.
    Martin: All right, if no one else is going to say it, I’ll point out the huge elephant in the room. This product is  just not marketable.
    James: Every product is marketable, Martin. We just have to find the right angle.
    Martin: We’ve come at this thing from every angle imaginable. There’s just no way we’re going to make Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public race out the grocery store and buy a pack of Boy George’s new “Party in Your Mouth Popsicles.” I mean, for god’s sake, they’re even ribbed.
    Blackout

  • FSW: President Paul

    Um, well…so last week I selected the topic of cross dressing for this week’s sketches. Little did I know that it wasn’t an easy theme and I wouldn’t get my first opportunity to work on it until a half-hour ago. Ugh. It’s…okay. I treated it like an improv sketch and once I had the basis, just pushed forward without much concern about what was happening. It suffers from not having a really good through-line. Sorry. Next week, hopefully, I will have more time to write my sketch, but for now, take some small enjoyment from President Paul.


    (A crowded press room. Reporters crammed in, shoulder-to-shoulder. There’s a constant low-level murmur coming from them as they wait. As one, they all turn their heads and track someone moving to the podium. We’re still on the reporters.)

    REPORTER 1
    Mr. President! Mr. President! Chuck Masters, LA Times. President Paul, how do you respond to those who say your election was a fluke? That if Barack Obama and John McCain hadn’t been caught with their hands in Cookie Jar you would never have been anything more than a spoiler.

    (We cut to the podium. Standing behind the Seal of the President: Ru Paul.)

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    First off, baby, it’s Madame President! If Hilary had this much style she’d be standing here today. Second, I know Cookie Jar. She’s huge on the erotic dance circuit. Y’all’ve been treating her like a pariah and that’s not right. She’s a sweetie and it’s no wonder my former opponents were enthralled by her charms. As to your question, Chuck, let me say that I think the American public made an informed choice, an intelligent choice, and a choice they’ll be very happy with.

    REPORTER 2
    Madame President! Cindy Shermer, Miami Herald.

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    Go ahead, Cindy.

    REPORTER 2
    Madame President, you won Florida handily, dominating in Miami-Dade county. Is this another case of confusing ballots and people voting for the wrong candidate?

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    Cindy, you look awfully pale. You don’t get out much, get away from your computer screen, do you?

    REPORTER 2
    That’s not relevant. Are you avoiding my question, Madame President?

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    Not at all, Cindy. I’m trying to answer it. Maybe you should get outside sometime and walk around your beautiful city. That’s my city. My people. The freaks and fabs of Miami got up and voted for one of their own.

    REPORTER 2
    Are you saying you don’t think the Serpentine ballots might have had something to do with it? With your name right next to Ron Paul’s name?

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    Y’all think Miami and Fort Lauderdale would have voted in record numbers for a crazy man yelling about the gold standard? Why would they do that when they could vote for the real Gold Standard?

    REPORTER 3
    Madame President! Over here, please, Madame President! Pick me, pick me!

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    That’s more like it! Go ahead, Francesco.

    REPORTER 3
    Thank you, darling! Francesco Batisti, Vogue. Madame President, what do you say to the rumors that you plan on picking Ralph Lauren to be your Secretary of State?

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    Sounds like you’ve got a source deep, deep inside, Francesco! That’s right, I’m picking Ralph. He’s a little darling, and when I think how America should present herself to the world, I think Lauren.

    REPORTER 4
    Madame President! Thank you. Cal Trumbo, FOX News. What are your plans for the court? It is likely that two or three Supreme Court justices could be replaced during your term in office. What sort of candidates are you going to seek to fill those openings?

    PRESIDENT PAUL
    Cal, I’ll seek the same sort of candidates for those openings as for all my openings. Fabulous ones! Thank you all for coming, but I have to meet with the Joint Chiefs now!

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Workaholic Edition

    It’s not bad enough that I’ve been trying to cram a little writing in this week, but now I have theme. Sheesh. I don’t work well with guidlines and structure. I’m more or a free range animal.

    At any rate, Richard thought this might be a fun way to spice things up. He also thinks that going to the dentist is better than a day at Disney World. Sick twist. You can peep his hard work here.

    For myself, well, somehow once I got this idea in my head, I couldn’t shake it. I’m also counting this as my make-up “founding fathers” sketch from the 4th.

    Enjoy. And remember, you’re more than welcome to become more than just a spectator. Next week’s theme is “cross dressing“. So get to work.

    (An old farm house in Virginia, 1776. Martha is in the bustling kitchen giving orders to servants.)

    Martha: Doris, go out to the coup and fetch me a dozen eggs. Abligale, make sure there’s plenty of mint for the tea. Who’s supposed to be churning butter?

    Bea: I am, ma’am.

    Martha: Well get to it. It’s not going to churn itself.

    (Thomas enters with a flourish and sets down his valice.)

    Thomas: Honey, I’m home.

    Martha: That’s great dear, but the Adamses are coming over for dinner and I still have to get this pie dough rolled out.

    Thomas: I thought we were going to have a nice, quiet dinner.

    (He slides up behind her and puts his arms around her waist.)

    Thomas: Just the two of us?

    (She smacks his hands away and moves to another counter.)

    Martha: TJ, please. Not in front of the servants.

    Thomas: But dear, I’ve been gone for over a month.

    Martha: Do you think that when you leave this place just shuts down? No. I’ve got an entire house to run here. It’s been even worse since you started on this Declaration of Independence business. Every Tom, Dick and Benedict Arnold in the state wants to stop by and give you their two farthings.

    Thomas: Martha, please. Let’s just slip off into the larder. Just for a minute or two. I’ve missed you so much.

    Martha: I’m sorry, dear, but you’ll have to wait.

    Thomas: But I have important household business I want to conduct with you.

    (He tries to take her in his arms again. She smacks him with a towel.)

    Martha: If you’re not going to roll up your sleeves and help me with this meal, I would appreciate it if you would just remove yourself from my kitchen.

    Thomas: Some welcome home this is.

    Martha: (Softening some) Oh, don’t sulk like a little child. Go get your things unpacked. I’ll send Sally up to the room with a glass of tea and some biscuits.

    Thomas: Oh, Sally, yes, of course. That sounds just fine dear.

    (He kisses her on the cheek, grabs his bag and exits. She begins rolling out dough.)

    Martha: If it wasn’t for that woman’s vagina I would never get any work done around here.

    Blackout

  • FSW: Working Through the Pain

    We’ve decided that writing a sketch a week, often a few hours before it’s due, isn’t nearly challenging enough. From now on, we’re going to write on set topics or themes. Michael’s picked this week’s theme: workaholics. I’ll go ahead and pick next week’s theme right now…cross dressing. (TheWife and I are going to see Eddie Izzard in Vegas next weekend.)

    I wish I had more time to give this a bit more polish, but it’s 10:45pm. I’m going to a 3:15am showing of “The Dark Knight” and need at least a little sleep. So my apologies for the rough edges.

    (Ravi, a surgeon in his early 30s in surgical whites, works on a patient with OR nurse Betty at his side. Anesthesiologist Karl sits on the other side of the operating table monitoring his equipment. Ravi is performing delicate brain surgery on Amanda. An intricate ballet occurs between Ravi and Betty. Her responses to his one word grunts for instruments occur almost before he makes them. His hands fly.)

    RAVI
    Retractor. Melman. (BEAT) Damn it! Where’s that priest?

    BETTY
    He should be here any moment. Are you sure you need him?

    RAVI
    Am I sure? Damn it, Betty – Debakey – don’t you think I know what I’m doing? Kimmel.

    BETTY
    It just seems too soon for a priest. You’re the best damn surgeon in the state. It’s too soon to give up.

    (Oh yeah, turns out this is the sort of brain surgery where the patient is awake.)

    AMANDA
    I’m right here!

    RAVI
    Take it easy, Amanda. Everything’s going fine.

    BETTY
    I’m sorry. I just think…well…I’m sorry.

    RAVI
    Damn it, Betty. That’s enough! Hemostat.

    (The door to the OR flies open and a man rushes in. He’s also dressed in surgical whites.)

    RAVI
    Father Rodriguez?

    (It’s not Father Rodriguez. It’s Chip, Amanda’s 20-something assistant.)

    CHIP
    No, sir. Amanda, there’s a problem in Singapore. I did what I could without you, but the foreman said if the worker’s demands aren’t met they’ll strike.

    AMANDA
    That’s alright Chip. Come on over here. Doctor Cheswick, you don’t mind if Chip takes your seat for a moment, do you?

    KARL
    But I have to watch this monitor here. See how it goes beep, beep, beep? If it stops, I have to press these switches and turn these dials. I can’t just–

    AMANDA
    –Thanks. Scoot. Alright Chip, what’s the skinny?

    RAVI
    Leno. Wipe, please.

    (Betty wipes Ravi’s brow with a piece of gauze held by forceps.)

    CHIP
    They’re demanding a six-percent cost of living raise–

    AMANDA
    –That’s doable.

    CHIP
    And Friday night off.

    BETTY
    I’m sorry, Doctor. I was out of line.

    RAVI
    That’s alright. It’s understandable. Balfour.

    AMANDA
    Friday night off? Every Friday? We can’t do that. We’d never meet the production goals.

    CHIP
    Actually, just this Friday. George Michael is playing Jalan Besar Stadium and they want to go.

    AMANDA
    The entire shift?

    CHIP
    Apparently George Michael is like the David Hasselhoff of Singapore. Singapore’s Germany in this analogy.

    AMANDA
    Fine. Do it. But every shift has to cut ten minutes off lunch for the next three weeks. Anything else?

    CHIP
    No, ma’am.

    (Chip gets up and Karl takes his seat back. He turns a few dials, but nothing happens. As Chip leaves, another man enters the OR – Father Rodriguez.)

    RAVI
    Finally! I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it in time.

    FATHER RODRIGUEZ
    I came as quickly as I could, my son. Is this the woman?

    RAVI
    Yes. Amanda, this is Father Rodriguez.

    AMANDA
    I’d shake your hand, but I’m otherwise occupied.

    (Polite chuckles all around, but from Betty. She’s steamed.)

    RAVI
    Carson.

    FATHER RODRIGUEZ
    Ravi Srinivasan, do you take Amanda Palmer to be your lawfully wedded wife?

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Radio Show Edition

    Another Friday and another sketch that I’m pulling out of my filing cabinet. Being tech week for Metaluna, I just haven’t had a free moment to write, let alone think of anything other than my lines for the show.

    Richard’s all new this week, though, and not messing around. People have gotten hurt.

    Dave’s been AWOL for a couple of weeks. But don’t give up on him. He’s out there watching from the tree line.

    So this piece is on the long side. I wrote it for WNEP’s “Armageddon Radio Hour New Year’s Eve” show a couple of years ago. There aren’t a lot of stage directions because, well, it’s radio. Think 30s/40s.

    “Helen on Wheels”

    ANNOUNCER: Grinkleman’s Prosthetic Limbs is proud to bring you another exciting evening of mystery and mischief with everyone’s favorite wheelchair-bound detective, Helen Slater. Grinkleman’s Prosthetic Limbs; When you need a helping hand, or hook, you need Grinkleman’s.

    SXF: Noir-ish music.

    HELEN: (Voice over) Father McDougan was in quite a state. Some creeps had bagged the baby Jesus from the Nativity Scene in front of City Hall.

    MCDOUGAN: It’s not just any baby doll, Helen. It was hand crafted in Rome, out of 24 carat gold and blessed by the Pope himself.

    HELEN: (V.O.) I’d never seen him so upset. He had the look of man who had seen Lucifer himself poking around his back door. He wanted the baby Jesus back and he didn’t want to wait for the Second Coming to see him again.

    MCDOUGAN: Do whatever you have to do, my child, just short of breaking a commandment. Unless it’s murdering the thieving son of a bitch that stole our baby Jesus.

    HELEN: (V.O.) Keeping the commandments in tact was no small feat in my line of work. But if someone was going to get plugged over this doll, it sure wasn’t going to be me or Franny, God bless her heart. I felt bad making her work on the day after Christmas, but I knew this case wouldn’t wait. McDougan didn’t give us much to go on, so we started at the only place I could think of.

    SFX: Door chimes. Squeaky wheels.

    MOSHE: (Heavy Jewish accent) Welcome to Moshe’s Jewelry & Deli, how can I help you?

    HELEN: We’re looking for baby Jesus, you seen him?

    MOSHE: What are you, pulling my leg or something?

    HELEN: I’m not pulling nothing. Has anybody been in here lately trying to push baby Jesus on you?

    MOSHE: Do you know what part of town you’re in?

    FRANNY: It’s a solid gold, baby Jesus.

    HELEN: That ring any bells for you?

    MOSHE: A baby made out of gold. Sheesh, who could afford such a thing?

    HELEN: So nobody’s come in trying to sell one off fast and cheap?

    MOSHE: What are implying?

    HELEN: I know the type of clientele you deal with here, so don’t try and play all kosher with me.

    MOSHE: I haven’t heard of this baby Jesus, but if it’s gold I know someone who might be able to help you.

    HELEN: Spill. And fix us a couple of ham sandwiches while you’re talking.

    FRANNY: Um, Helen.

    SFX: Driving car and windshield wipers.

    HELEN: (V.O.) After we got our order straight, Moshe told us where we might find our Jesus thief. I don’t know why the crooks and scum of this city always have to pick the day with the worst weather to be up to no good in, but it hasn’t stopped raining since we got this job. Don’t they know that rain plays the devil on a woman’s hair?

    FRANNY: What kind of a twisted soul steals the baby Jesus right out from under his mother’s nose?

    HELEN: I think we’re about to find out, Franny.

    SFX: A car’s brakes squeal to a stop. Car doors slam and men’s voices mumble.

    HELEN: Come on, let’s make tracks.

    SFX: Car door opening and closing. Footsteps on gravel. Trunk being opened and wheelchair being pulled out. Squeaky wheels. Another car door opening.

    HELEN: Turn the chair around.

    FRANNY: Let me help you.

    HELEN: I can do it myself. Ouch, you’re pinching my –

    FRANNY: I’m sorry, I don’t want you –

    HELEN: Just hold the damn chair still!

    SFX: Body sitting down hard. Car door closing.

    HELEN: Umbrella!

    SFX: Umbrella opening. Raining, hitting umbrella.

    FRANNY: Are you sure you want to go in there?

    HELEN: We don’t have any choice. Let’s make tracks.

    SFX: Squeaky wheels. Door opening and Jazz music.

    HELENThe place was jumping. Nothing but sad sacks spending their Christmas bonuses on booze and loose women as far as the eye could see.

    BARTENDER: Welcome to Dashiell’s Hamlet, ma’am, what can I get you?

    HELEN: Did you see two men just come in here?

    BARTENDER: Who said that?

    HELEN: I did. Down here.

    BARTENDER: Sorry, didn’t see you.

    HELEN: Two men just came in here a minute ago.

    BARTENDER: You should put a tall flag on your chair or wear a bell or something.

    FRANNY: Helen, over there. That’s him.

    BARTENDER: That’s Biggie Beahaul and his head goon, Felsch.

    HELEN: Let’s go introduce ourselves, Franny.

    SFX: Squeaky wheels. Two loud thuds.

    FRANNY: Helen, are you all right?

    HELEN: Who puts steps in a bar? Lord. Excuse me, Mr. Beahaul?

    SFX: Ice being stirred in a glass.

    BEAHAUL: Sorry, lady, I don’t work with charity cases.

    HELEN: I’m not here for a handout Mr. Beahaul, I’m looking for something.

    BEAHAUL: This look like the lost and found?

    HELEN: I’m not talking about lost mittens here, this “something” is worth a lot of scratch.

    BEAHAUL: What makes you think I’d know anything about it?

    HELEN: Call it woman’s intuition.

    BEAHAUL: How’s about you call it a day and get lost before I lose my temper and flatten your tires. Felsch, see these dames to the door.

    FELSCH: Yes, sir, Mr. Beahaul, sir.

    HELEN: Not so fast, Felsch. I think we might have something that interests you. Franny, show him.

    SFX: Cat call whistle.

    BEAHAUL: Nice melons.

    HELEN: Honeydew. Moshe said they were your favorite.

    BEAHAUL: Out of season too. You ladies went through a lot of trouble to get my attention.

    HELEN: Now that we’ve got it, I wonder if we might have a moment of your time.

    BEAHAUL: Sure, why not. Let’s go back to my office.

    SFX: Squeaky wheels and footsteps. A door opens and closes.

    BEAHAUL: You can set the melons down over there.

    SFX: Two melons being set down.

    BEAHAUL: Start talking.

    HELEN: We’re looking for a doll.

    BEAHAUL: Try the toy store.

    HELEN: A Jesus doll.

    BEAHAUL: Try the church.

    HELEN: A Jesus doll made out of solid gold. (Pause) What’s the matter Mr. Beahaul, cat got your tongue?

    BEAHAUL: I’m not in the solid gold, baby Jesus sales market.

    HELEN: Oh no? What exactly does it say on your business cards?

    BEAHAUL: It says “Be wary of strange women in wheelchairs who come baring melons”.

    HELEN: I hope you didn’t have to pay by the letter.

    BEAHAUL: Wait a minute. You’re that broad that thinks she’s a detective, ain’t ya?

    HELEN: How do you know that?

    BEAHAUL: It says so right there on the engraved plaque on your chair.

    HELEN: That was a gift from Franny.

    BEAHAUL: I’m afraid it’s time for you to go.

    HELEN: No
    t until we get what we came for.

    BEAHAUL: If you came for a fat lip, then you might be in luck.

    HELENL: You wouldn’t dare hit a defenseless, crippled woman in a wheelchair, would you?

    SFX: Slap!

    HELEN: You could have just said “yes” or “no”.

    BEAHAUL: Actions speak louder than words.

    HELEN: Yes they do. And your actions tell me you’re one rotten bastard. Franny, the melons.

    BEAHAUL: Oh, so you’re an Indian giver too.

    SFX: A melon being smashed on the ground.

    BEAHAUL: Hey! Don’t waste those!

    SFX: A gun being cocked.

    BEAHAUL: What the devil!

    FRANNY: Keep your hands where I can see them or I’ll plug ya. You too Felsch.

    BEAHAUL: The ol’ .45 in the melon trick. I shoulda known.

    HELEN: Mr. Beahaul, would you come here for a second?

    SFX: A step.

    HELEN: Closer.

    SFX: A step.

    HELEN: Bend down here, I want to tell you something.

    BEAHAUL: Nuh-uh, you’re just going to hit me.

    HELEN: I’m not, I just want to whisper something in your ear.

    BEAHAUL: You can tell me from there.

    HELEN: Just come here.

    BEAHAUL: No.

    SFX: Squeaky wheels.

    BEAHAUL: Ow! My foot.

    SFX: The door bursts open.

    MCDOUGAN: Helen!

    SFX: Gun shot.

    FRANNY: Oops.

    HELEN: Franny, what did you do?

    FRANNY: He startled me!

    BEAHAUL: You just shot Father McDougan!

    HELEN: Father McDougan, can you hear me? Are you all right? Franny call an ambulance.

    SFX: Footsteps running off.

    MCDOUGAN: (Labored breathing) I was just comin’ to tell ya.

    HELEN: What? Tell me what?

    MCDOUGAN: The baby Jesus.

    HELEN: We were just about to get it for you, Father.

    MCDOUGAN: Sister Mary Catherine put it in the wrong closet. It was in the church all along.

    SFX: Running footsteps.

    FRANNY: They’re on their way. How is he?

    BEAHAUL: You shot him, how do you think he is?

    HELEN: Hang on, Father, help is on the way.

    FELSH: I haven’t been to church in a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s a sin.

    SFX: Faint sound of a siren.

    ANNOUNCER: Will Father McDougan finally meet his maker? Will Franny go to prison for killing a priest? Will Helen give up detective work forever? Tune in next week when Grinkleman’s Prosthetic Limbs brings you another exiting chapter in the ongoing saga of everyone’s favorite wheelchair-bound detective, Helen Slater. And remember, at Grinkleman’s the pant leg is always half full.

    SFX: Dramatic music out.

  • FSW: Rules of Order

    (Amy stands at the head of a packed and unruly conference table. Everyone is talking over everyone else, trying to be heard above the din and chaos. Kurt sits quietly by Amy’s side.)

    AMY
    People! People! Please! Can we have order, please?!

    (She bangs her hand on the table and the chattering stops. Amy’s got control for the moment.)

    AMY
    Thank you. Alright, now as I was saying–

    STEVEN
    –Amy, look we’re not getting anywhere with this, right? Can I make a suggestion?

    AMY
    Sure, Steven. What do you–

    KURT
    (whispers) –he can’t talk yet.

    AMY
    What?

    KURT
    (still whispering) He hasn’t been recognized by the chair. He can’t talk.

    AMY
    But I’m the chair.

    KURT
    (still, like a weenie, whispering) You have to say it.

    AMY
    (sighs) Fine. The chair recognizes Mr. Denton.

    STEVEN
    Uh, right, okay. Where was I? Oh, yeah. I think we should just put it to a vote whether we should even use the money from the bake sale for new band uniforms. I think it should help pay for the field trip to the capitol, and why should we fight over band uniforms if we aren’t even going to have the money to buy them?

    AMY
    Okay. Anything to just get on to the next agenda item. Who thinks we should buy new uniforms? Raise your hand.

    KURT
    (whispering…seriously? what’s with this guy?) You can’t do that! He has to make a motion first, then it has to be seconded. We’re nowhere near voting on it.

    AMY
    You’re serious? We’ve been at this for two hours already. Let’s just try to make some headway. Don’t you want to go home to your family? I know I’d love to get the hell out of here and get a drink or three.

    KURT
    (whispering…now he’s just doing it to piss me off) As much as I love my wife and kids, I love RONR. Without it, we’d be no better than savages!

    (Kurt holds up his copy of “Robert’s Rules of Order Newly Revised” triumphantly and Amy considers it seriously for a moment. Then she snatches the book from the little twerp’s hand and CONKS him over the head with it. Kurt’s knocked backward and knocked out.)

    AMY
    Okay, everyone raise your hand if you think we should buy uniforms.

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP 

    (Same configuration as before, only now Kurt sits a little farther from Amy. Everyone is dressed differently: another week, another meeting.)

    AMY
    Alright, our first order of business tonight–

    KURT
    Ahem. Excuse me?

    AMY
    (sighs) The chair recognizes Mr. Burton.

    KURT
    After last week’s meeting I had a lot of time to think. After I came to, anyway. And I think you were right, Madam Chair. I think for our little PTA, RONR is just too cumbersome and formal. So I’d like to propose we change to the Native American model.

    AMY
    What’s that, Kurt?

    (Kurt picks up a large stick from behind his chair and holds it up.)

    KURT
    The Talking Stick. Whoever holds the stick can speak. No one else can speak without the stick. It gets passed around to each person in turn who can speak, or elect not to. It’s very fair.

    (Amy holds out her hand for the stick. Kurt hands it over.)

    AMY
    Hmm. I see what you mean. This does seem better than that fussy little book.

    (Amy CONKS Kurt with the talking stick. Over and out.)

    AMY (CONT’D)
    Okay. First order of business tonight is the pancake breakfast.

    BLACKOUT