Sketch War

Tag: humor

  • FSW: Someone New Enters the Battle!

    Wow. Someone (not the two people I was actually targeting, but someone) felt called out this week and decided to send in a sketch. It’s her first shot at sketch comedy, but I thought it was pretty decent. She’s homepageless at the moment, so I’m going to paste it below. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to our newest battler, Red. (I’m not going to include her email address as she suggested, because I fear she’d send money to all the deposed Nigerian princes who would contact her.)

    The Meeting
    (Two women and a man sit at a conference table wearing business casual attire. Ms Willson rushes in and stands at the head of the table, where we can only see her back. The other three get odd expressions on their faces, and glance between each other and Ms Willson. Smiles slowly creep across their faces.)

    MS WILLSON
    Is something funny? We have serious business to attend to, and since I am behind schedule we really don’t have time to have this conversation. (Brianne raises her hand.) Yes, Brianne, do you have something to say, and is it pertinent to the meeting?

    BRIANNE
    Well, I just wanted to tell you that–

    MS WILLSON
    –If it’s not about the meeting, I don’t want to hear it.

    (Ms Willson ad-libs on sales figures and clients for a few moments. The others continue to smile.)

    MS WILLSON
    The fact that our sales numbers are down, is that something you find amusing, Charlie?

    CHARLIE
    (Stammers) No, no, that’s not funny at all. It’s just that…

    MS WILLSON
    Just that what? Really, is this a case of Friday afternoon happy hour anticipation or are you all just on something?

    (They stare at the floor, holding back snickers.)

    MARIE
    Well, Ms Willson, what we’ve been trying to tell you, is that it’s hard to focus on sales numbers when your dress is tucked into your pantyhose and we can see your underwear. Is today Monday or Friday because I can’t tell from what you are wearing?

    (Ms Willson turns away from the table to face us and looks down. Her dress is tucked into her pantyhose in front and the front or her underwear is visible. We can clearly read the word “Monday” printed all over them.)

    MS WILLSON
    Ah, well. Thanks Marie, and all, sorry I didn’t let you speak sooner. (She heads to the door.) I’ll be right back…

    (The three co-workers burst into laughter.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: An Awkward Birthday

    Same spiel as every week. If anyone feels up to putting her sketch talents to the test, please email a link, or the body of your sketch if you have no place to post it, to sketchwar_at_dreamloom_dot_com. The results of the battle will be posted sometime Friday evening.

    An Awkward Birthday
    (Rob and Jean sit at a kitchen table with shreds of wrapping paper lying visible on the floor. He: mid 20s, wearing a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and glasses. She: early 20s, hair in a ponytail, white blouse, jeans.)

    ROB
    I thought you’d like it.

    JEAN
    How could…are you crazy? What would make you think I’d want…that?

    ROB
    I don’t know. You’re, it’s just that —

    (They freeze. A man in his 40s with touches of silver at the temples of his perfectly combed hair enters and crosses to stand behind Rob’s right shoulder. He is dressed identically to Rob, though his shirt is neatly tucked and buttoned all the way to the top.)

    ROB-2
    It’s just that you’re a difficult person for whom to shop.

    (Jean remains frozen, but Rob turns to look at his doppelganger.)

    ROB
    “For whom to shop?” Are you fucking kidding me? Look at her! She’s already pissed off and now you want me to talk like an English professor in the middle of a fight?

    ROB-2
    There is no wrong time for good grammar.

    ROB
    Right. Well I think I’m going to take this one myself if you don’t mind.

    (Jean unfreezes.)

    ROB (CONT)
    — you’re a hard person to shop for.

    JEAN
    Hard? Hard how? Look around the apartment, Rob. Look over there on the counter. What do you see?

    ROB
    A pile of magazines?

    JEAN
    Catalogs. They’re catalogs. With pages conveniently folded so you can see what I like. Trust me when I tell you not one of those catalogs has anything like…that.

    ROB-2
    She has a point.

    ROB
    (Glares at Rob-2) But Jeannie, if I just get you something from one of those, it’s like I put no thought in it at all. You might as well just take a card from my wallet and order it yourself. I thought I could surprise you with something different. Something personal.

    (Jean freezes. A third man appears, dressed the same but with his shirt completely undone and hair mussed. This one is 17 or 18. He stands behind Rob’s left shoulder.)

    ROB-3
    Dude! Tell her how long it took!

    ROB
    Not now.

    ROB-3
    Tell her, man. An hour, just standing there with that stuff slathered on.

    ROB
    I wish I was at work.

    ROB-2
    Were at work. You wish you were at work.

    ROB-3
    Nice hair, grandpa. You put Crisco in that?

    ROB-2
    Get a job!

    (Jean unfreezes.)

    JEAN
    You know I don’t…do that. Why would you buy me a dildo?

    ROB
    That’s just it! It’s not just a dildo! It’s an exact replica of me!

    JEAN
    What?

    ROB-3
    Tell her about the latex!

    JEAN
    What are you talking about?

    ROB
    Intimate Expressions – the sex shop by the Greyhound station – they have this new thing where they take casts of–

    JEAN
    –So now you’re hanging out at sex shops?!?

    (Rob-2 and Rob-3 both take a single, large step backwards.)

    ROB
    Just the one. I mean, no! I heard about it on the radio, is all. I swear. At Valentine’s Day they were talking about it and I thought it’d be something you’d like. You always say how much you miss me when I work nights–

    JEAN
    –So you thought you could give me a rubber–

    ROB-3
    –Latex

    ROB
    Latex

    JEAN
    –latex version of your dick and that’d be alright? That’s what you thought I meant when I said I missed you?

    ROB
    I just wanted–

    ROB-2
    –I just wanted, finally, to give you some memento to remind you of me.

    ROB
    Seriously! Who talks like that?

    ROB-3
    Tell her about the hot chick who took the mold!

    ROB
    Guys, really, I think I’ve got this. Thanks for all your help.

    I just wanted to finally give you something special. I screwed up. Again. I’m sorry. Here, I’ll throw it out.

    (Rob extends his hand. Everyone freezes. A woman who looks just like Jean enters and crosses to stand behind Jean. She holds out her hand.)

    JEAN-2
    Oh hell no! If you’re not going to use it, then give it to me!

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Seven

    After last week’s two-man wrecking crew, this week we’re back to three combatants. Still, there were some lingering personal, health, and weather issues keeping the warriors from fighting at peak form. See for yourselves as…

    • Coyote rouses the team to fight, fight, fight…
    • David tells it like it is…
    • Michael shows us it really is a wonderful war.

    This week we’ve got the greatest coach ever, the greatest boyfriend ever, and the greatest ¿angel? ever.

  • FSW: The Pep Talk

    I’d like to pre-apologize for this sketch. My week so far:

    • dirty, nasty unclean hands of a salad chef (I believe that was the source) gave me salmonella on Tuesday
    • I tried desperately to give it back, all of it back, on Wednesday (and today)
    • Got to work at 4am this morning so I could make it home in time to watch the tourney (when is this Highest of High Holy Days going to be made a national holiday?!?)
    • Watched a shitload of basketball (meanwhile, I frequently unloaded much shit)
    • Hammered out this sketch while watching WVU kick UA’s asses!!! (I hate the Pac-10.)

    So yeah, it’s not very good. 🙁

    The Pep Talk
    (Locker room, we see the backs of a few players sitting quietly, heads bowed. Coach Lou Calipahounewski walks in with a clipboard and a disgusted look on his face. He stands in front of the players silently for a few seconds, shaking his head.)

    COACH
    That has got to be the most godawful half of basketball I’ve ever seen. What the fuck are you doing out there? Can you tell me that? Can anyone answer me that? What the fuck are you —

    PLAYER 1
    — they’re just too —

    COACH
    — if I wanted you to speak, I’d ask a goddamn question! Did I ask a goddamn question?

    (Tick, tick, tick)

    COACH (CONT)
    Did I?!?

    PLAYER 2
    I think you —

    COACH
    No I did not! (He throws his clipboard; it shatters.) I didn’t ask any fucking questions!!! Billy! You have those stats yet?

    (An assistant scurries over with another clipboard and sheepishly hands it to Coach Lou.)

    COACH (CONT)
    Three rebounds? We had three rebounds? Three boards to their 17. That makes me sick. Johnson? Son, you need to box out. What did we work on all week long?

    (Tick, tick, tick)

    COACH (CONT)
    Johnson?! You deaf, boy?!

    JOHNSON
    Boxing out?

    COACH
    That’s right, boxing out. Get up here. Get up here and show me how you box out!

    (Johnson walks to the front of the room and stands next to Coach Lou. He gets into a defensive crouch, hands at the ready, and boxes out.)

    COACH (CONT)
    No, goddamn it! No! How many times do I have to show you this?

    (Coach Lou drops the clipboard and gets into a crouch, but it isn’t a defensive one. He arches his back, puts his hands on his hips, shoves his ass into Johnson, and starts to grind. “Shake That Thing” starts playing in the background.)

    COACH (CONT)
    That’s right. That’s the way to work it. That’s how you box out.

    (Coach gets more and more into it until finally Johnson, in a mixture of fear and disgust, backs away.)

    COACH (CONT)
    See what I did there? I own the paint. I own the paint. You box out like that in the second half, Johnson. (Picking up the clipboard) Robinson! One assist. One assist to seven turnovers?!? Come on. That’s not how we play ball. Thats not how we play ball at all. You’ve gotta protect the ball, Jeremy. Billy! Give me a ball!

    (A ball is passed to Coach Lou. The clipboard goes flying. The ball goes flying. Coach Lou goes flying. He picks himself back up off the floor and holds the ball in his hands.)

    COACH (CONT)
    Remember what I always say: two dribbles is two too many. Always look to pass. You can move the ball faster passing it than dribbling it. (Starts dribbling. The way he does it is more like he’s spanking the ball for being naughty.) If you have to dribble, remember to keep your eye on the ball. Don’t look around or you’ll lose sight of that big, round (slapping it more forcefully) hard ball. And use both hands, don’t just rely on your right hand. (He dribbles once with his left, but loses complete control of the ball and it smacks him in the face, knocking him back to the floor. He gets up and passes the ball off screen with as limp-wristed a motion as can be imagined.)

    BILLY (O.S.)
    Two minutes, Coach.

    COACH
    Alright guys, gather round.
    They said we wouldn’t win a game and they were wrong. We won that exhibition game against Lazy Pines back in September.
    They said we wouldn’t win our conference tourney and they were wrong. I knew once that blizzard hit the 94 the Governor was going to declare a state of emergency and shut down all the roads to Fargo.
    They said we wouldn’t win the play-in game and they were wrong. Though that bad shrimp in the other locker room was a one in a million break.

    Look fellas, we’ve been through a lot. I want to tell you about another fella I know who went through a lot. Fella by the name of George. Now I’m going to tell you something I’ve kept to myself for years. None of you ever knew George. He was long before your time, but you all know what a tradition he is. One of the greatest natural athletes I’ve ever seen. Could jump straight out of the gym, run all day, and still be getting into trouble when everyone else was ready for sleep. But George wasn’t just an athlete. He was a student, always questioning, always curious. Well, curiosity finally caught up with George one day. The last thing he said to me was “eep eep eeeeep! eep eep eeeeep!!!”

    Now I’m not a religious man. I don’t know if there’s a heaven or hell, or a separate monkey heaven and monkey hell. But if there is – I mean, either the one heaven and hell for everyone, or possibly the separate monkey heaven and hell – George is up there watching. So go out there with all you’ve got and win just one for the monkey.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Red’s Welcome

    Apologies for being late with this one; it had to go through a little more processing than usual. It’s not as funny as some weeks, but it wasn’t written with that solely in mind. I hope you all enjoy. David’s had his up since yesterday here. It’s very funny, especially if you know someone like the protagonists or, sadly, are someone like the protagonists. Michael did not put up a sketch this week and is sitting on the sidelines with some family business. My best wishes go out to him and his family.

    For those “keeping score”, David and I played shuffleboard instead of fighting this week. He beat me when the sound of helicopters gave me a flashback.

    Red’s Welcome
    (Long queue at the Pearly Gates. At the front of the line, dapper in his tux, stands Leo “Red” Rush, a man’s man of 84 years. Hale and hearty, the tux strains against the rejuvenated body within. St. Peter sits at the desk.)

    PETER
    Red! Welcome. We’ve been waiting for you.

    RED
    Oh good! I wasn’t sure which way I was going.

    PETER
    It was never really in doubt up here.

    RED
    Long life, you know. A few, er, indiscretions and dalliances. And I might have been a little loose with my tongue a few times.

    PETER
    Well fuck, Red! Where the hell you think you are here? A tea room?

    RED
    I uh, didn’t expect you to…did I just hear you right? Did you say —

    PETER
    — fuck? Fuck yah, I did. I was a fisherman, Red. How did you think I’d talk? Like a Hallmark card? C’mon. I’ve got a break due, why don’t I show you around the place and give you the skinny. Everyone, I’m taking five. Cherubs should be by with honey roasted peanuts and fresh baked cookies in a minute. If you’re a little tired from your death, ask for a moist cloth. They’re very refreshing.

    (Peter and Red head through the gates and into heaven. It looks like a pristine German village, so clean as to appear brand new. Innumerable happy people stroll, sit at cafes, and laugh with friends.)

    RED
    Heaven looks like Bavaria?

    PETER
    Think of it as an infinitely large Epcot Center. I thought you might like a Märzen after your trip.

    (Peter puts out his hands and two tall, frosty beers appear. He hands one to Red and takes a long draught of his own.)

    RED
    You’ve got a little…there’s…St. Peter, you’ve got foam in your beard. (Peter wipes off) I’ve got to tell you, this isn’t what I was expecting. All my life…I just figured there’d be halos and harps and angels with wings.

    PETER
    We’ve got that too, but who wants to hang out with those types? You were in the war, right Red?

    RED
    Yes sir.

    PETER
    You’ll find things are a little different here. If you’d like, you can join a league and play against your old enemies. We’ve got ping pong, softball, soccer, volleyball, actually an infinite number of games. Usually the old warriors get a kick out of that.

    RED
    There are Nazis in heaven?

    PETER
    Not exactly. There are quite a few former soldiers, though. You know, now that I think about it, you might enjoy this. See that movie theater?

    (Sign on the marquee reads: “Hitler Boiling In Oil: Shows start every 15 minutes”)

    PETER (Cont)
    It’s run longer than “Cats”.

    RED
    Peter? You know what I’d really like is to look in on my family. Is there any way to do that?

    PETER
    Sure. Come over here. We’ve got these kiosks all over the place. You just type in the name of the person you want to see and they pop up on the monitor. You can even send them messages.

    RED
    I can?

    PETER
    Sure. Here’s the icon for Ethereal Messenger. You click this…no wait, you have to double click. Sorry. We just changed over from Macs to Windows. There’s a little adjustment. Damn Apple store sold us a bunch of computers and promised on a stack of bibles they’d run all our software. We installed the EM software on all these shiny new boxes and it just wouldn’t start. Boss said he’d had it with Jobs and “that whole bunch of clove-smoking, beret-wearing, shiny happy lemmings.” Called up Gates and put in the order the next morning. Good thing that guy gave all that money away or we’d be stuck running Ubuntu or something. Good luck getting support for that!

    Anyway, here we go. Who’d you like to message?

    RED
    My grandson Michael. How does this work?

    PETER
    You can just click one of these smileys and he’ll get a warm, protected feeling for a minute. Or you can type a message here and it will be delivered the next time he dreams. You want to type it?

    RED
    Yeah. Thanks, Peter.

    (Red types his message on the clunky, but fully functional computer: “You’re a good boy, Michael. I’ve always loved you. Granddad.”)

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Sketch War: Round Five

    Our hearty meals digested, our concubines put aside, we stepped up to the dohyō. Again, three of us had come to the ceremonial ground to battle for supremacy. The yobidashi brush the sand smooth where we had sat as we step up to the shikiri-sen.

    • Coyote is terrifying in his non-traditional hemp mawashi. He strikes first…
    • Michael sports a bright red and yellow mawashi and cuts a noble figure…
    • David looks as though he’s been woken from a deep slumber by a ringing phone in his pale blue mawashi…

    This week we’ve got hippies, new jobs, danger at 3am, and secrets too frightening to reveal. Come revel in our words!

  • FSW: Fight the Patriarchy

    I’m firing off an early attack in an attempt to draw First Blood. Or maybe to draw Rambo: First Blood Part 2. Should any new grapplers feel up to entering the Sumo ring of sketch war, please email a link to your submission (or its full text if you are homepageless) to sketchwar_at_dreamloom_dot_com.

    Fight the Patriarchy
    (Two hippies, Breeze and Anton, sit at a card table outside Whole Foods. Scent lines of patchouli and pot wafting from their hemp clothing and unkempt dreads are almost visible. A middle-aged man walks away from the card table with a pamphlet Breeze has handed him.)

    BREEZE
    You shouldn’t let your parents control your life.

    ANTON
    It’s not like that. I want to be an engineer.

    BREEZE
    That’s because you’ve been indoctrinated. Why else would you want to rape Mother Earth?

    ANTON
    Dude, I don’t want to rape anything. I just wanna build dams and bridges.

    BREEZE
    Dams block the natural flow of Gaia’s tears. Bridges support the war machine. Engineering was invented by white men so they could fight wars and enslave women and minorities.

    ANTON
    C’mon. It’s just cool to build stuff. When I was a kid, I’d play with my Legos for hours, building space stations and cities, and imagining all the people who lived and worked there. Didn’t you do that?

    BREEZE
    Plastic tools of the patriarchy! With all those round…pegs forced into innocent holes by grubby male hands!

    ANTON
    Whoa. You’ve got some serious issues.

    BREEZE
    Sorry. It’s the rape culture. It gets to me.

    There’s a tribe in the rainforest where the women are in charge. They don’t even have a word for war. They don’t have a word for yellow either, but that’s okay. They call it “color of the pus from a scorpion sting”.

    (A well-kept woman in her 40’s walks up to the table and glances at the material.)

    ANTON
    Do you want to sign our petition?

    WOMAN
    What’s it for?

    ANTON
    Um…

    BREEZE
    It’s a petition requiring all the schools in the district to use paper made from locally grown hemp. It’s biodegradable, renewable, and supports small farmers instead of evil international paper corporations.

    WOMAN
    Uh, maybe I’ll sign on my way out…

    (Woman rushes away and into the store)

    BREEZE
    Did you forget why we’re here?

    ANTON
    I just…Tuesday it was to stop Japan’s whale hunt, Thursday it was to rename MLK Boulevard to Rosa Parkway —

    BREEZE
    — MLK was a tool of the hegemony! —

    ANTON
    — and yesterday it was to require Herstory be taught in grade school. I just lost track of the day.

    BREEZE
    You know, there’s a tribe in Laos that doesn’t have calendars or clocks. We could learn a lot from them. They have a wise-woman who tells them when it’s time to reap and time to sow. She uses her menstrual cycle to determine everything. I’m thinking of spending the summer there. Or maybe on a walking tour of Nepal.

    (As Breeze has been jabbering, a 20-something dude in a pink shirt with popped collar has approached.)

    CHAD
    Bethany? What happened to your hair?

    BREEZE
    Uh, um, Chad. It’s, great to…see…um. Anton? This is Chad. He…I…we went to high school together.

    CHAD
    ‘Sup.

    So I was talking to your mom at the club yesterday. She said you weren’t going to Rome this year ’cause you just wanted to veg on the beach. You going to Cannes, or just hanging in the Hamptons?

    BREEZE
    (Embarrassed in front of Anton) The Hamptons.

    CHAD
    Coolio. Me too. Dakota and Bryce’ll be there, too.

    BREEZE
    (Failing to hide her excitement) Bryce? Oh…uh, whatever.

    CHAD
    Ai-ight. Peace out. See ya later.

    (Chad struts off.)

    BREEZE
    Don’t say a word.

    ANTON
    Bethany?

    BREEZE
    Not a word!

  • Friday Sketch War: Round Four

    The armies assembled on their respective sides of the battlefield the evening before committing their forces to the attack.

    • Unbeknownst to everyone, Michael stealthily climbed atop a tor a thousand yards distant from the battlefield. Selecting an arrow from his quiver, he pulled his bow taut and let it loose…
    • Hearing the arrow whistling through the air, Coyote rallied his troops…
    • Late but well provisioned, David ordered his trebuchets fire!

    This week we’ve got the One True Plan – the millennial cell phone plan, Erin Andrews at the NFL Combine, and cube dweller hijinks. Come on it, the comedy is fine!

  • FSW: 2008 NFL Combine

    (Scott Van Pelt and Mel Kiper stand in a broadcast booth at an arena. Graphics read “2008 NFL COMBINE”.)

    SCOTT
    Welcome back. I’m joined now in the booth by Mel Kiper. Mel, what are your thoughts on the first three days of competition?

    MEL
    Scott, this has been a great combine. It’s been an especially strong year for the skill positions, with quarterbacks and receivers performing particularly well. We’re still waiting on the official scores on the Wonderlic, but early reports show none of the surprises we’ve had in years past. Today we’ll be seeing defensive linemen and defensive backs and I know a lot of GMs are anxious to see how they do.

    SCOTT
    It looks like we’ve already got our first defensive back warming up down on the course now. It’s Darren McKnight out of Purdue. Mel, what can you tell us about Darren?

    (Down on the field, we see that an obstacle course has been set up. There’s a large seesaw, a series of jumps, a long line of slalom poles, a curved tunnel. A layout familiar to anyone who has ever seen dog agility trials.)

    MEL (O.S.)
    Darren’s a smaller d-back, but he’s quick and agile and can run all day. You really love watching guys like this, the way they just jump around, always excited and happy to please.

    (Darren and a middle-aged woman are at the starting line. Darren is hopping around like a Jack Russell and the woman holds out a piece of bacon for him.)

    MEL (O.S.)
    Darren’s handler is his mother and agent, Myrtle McKnight. She’s an experienced handler, having managed both of Darren’s older brothers at the combine in year’s past. Vince is a wide receiver for the Cardinals, and Trey is a punter and backup QB up in Buffalo. She knows what she’s doing out there, and as long as she can keep Darren’s attention, he’ll do great.

    (A gun sounds and Darren starts running the course. Myrtle guides him through it.)

    SCOTT (O.S.)
    He’s going great out there. Looks like a real pro, doesn’t he?

    MEL (O.S.)
    He sure does, Scott. Myrtle’s giving him just enough freedom to really fly, but still keeping him focused. Look how she’s always one step ahead of Darren so he knows where to go next.

    (Darren overshoots the entrance to the slalom poles and Myrtle has to get him back to restart them.)

    MEL (O.S.)
    Oh no! That’s a five second penalty! He’s going to have to really work hard to make up that loss.

    (Darren finishes the course and jumps into his mother’s arms and kisses her.)

    SCOTT (O.S.)
    That really was a shame, wasn’t it. Looked like he had a shot at the course record.

    MEL (O.S.)
    He sure did, Scott, but I think his time will still put him in the top three for his position.

    SCOTT (O.S.)
    Let’s go down to Erin Andrews on the field and see what the competitors have to say.

    (Sideline reporter and Internet sensation Erin Andrews stands by Myrtle and Darren. Darren jumps out of his mother’s arms and hops around, still excited from his run.)

    ERIN
    Myrtle, can you tell us what happened out there?

    (Darren gets down on all fours and starts to sniff Erin’s crotch.)

    ERIN
    Oh my! That’s a good boy. Okay! That’s enough, now. Down, big fella!

    MYRTLE
    Darren! Mind your manners, boy!

    (Darren stops sniffing and sits by Myrtle.)

    MYRTLE
    Sorry, Erin. He gets a little excited sometimes.

    (Erin, excited herself, fans herself.)

    ERIN
    That’s alright, Myrtle. He’s a cutie pie. Aren’t you, Darren? Such a good boy.

    (Back to the booth.)

    SCOTT
    Okay. We’ll come back to Erin in a bit. Up next, wide receivers jump off a pier to retrieve a stick.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Three

    On the killing floor, before the assembled masses the gladiators prepare for battle…

    Will no one join our bloody conflict? Are your livers lillied and aspects yellow? Until next time, we writhe in our own blood and entrails, waiting for the bold and the noble to join the fray.