Tag: humor

  • FNSW: The Certificant

    (Scott Johnson sits at his desk. Ivo Princip enters the office, wearing a suit and carrying his resume. He crosses, shakes Scott’s hand, and sits opposite.)

    SCOTT
    Nice to meet you, Mr. Princip. I’m Scott. May I call you Ivo?

    IVO
    No.

    SCOTT
    O–kay…why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.

    IVO
    Did you not read my resume?

    SCOTT
    I did, but I was hoping maybe you could maybe elaborate, go into a little detail about some of your experience, tell me why you think you’d be a good fit for this position.

    IVO
    You are hiring for engineer, yes? I am engineer.

    SCOTT
    O–kay. Let’s start with a few questions, then. I see you’ve got your masters, that’s good. But you’ve only got one year of experience —

    IVO
    — I am certified.

    SCOTT
    What now?

    IVO
    I have MCSE, CNA, CNE, SCJP —

    SCOTT
    — That’s great, too. How about a couple of quick tech questions? Let me get a feel for your level. Can you explain polymorphism to me?

    IVO
    Polymorphism. No.

    SCOTT
    Nothing? Maybe you want to try talking through it, see if you can’t give me a few of its traits?

    IVO
    No.

    SCOTT
    Can you tell me why you would use an abstract class?

    IVO
    No.

    SCOTT
    Define inheritance?

    IVO
    Inheritance?
    …No.

    SCOTT
    Ivo —

    IVO
    — Mr. Princip.

    SCOTT
    Mr. Princip. It says here that you’re an expert in object oriented programming.

    IVO
    Object oriented programming. Yes. I am certified.

    SCOTT
    Can you define that for me?

    IVO
    Object oriented programming?

    SCOTT
    Please.

    IVO
    No.

    SCOTT
    Alright. Let’s step back a bit, then. I see here under this technology section you’ve also got Photoshop listed. You certainly wouldn’t be doing any of that here, but while I was working my way through college I actually worked in a graphics shop. So why don’t you tell me how you’d use an alpha channel?

    IVO
    Alpha channel?

    SCOTT
    Yes.

    IVO
    That is…there are channels…many of them…this is the first. It is first channel.

    SCOTT
    O–kay. Let’s jump back over to programming for a minute. Can you give me an example of a recursive algor —

    IVO
    — May I ask question first?

    SCOTT
    Sure.

    IVO
    Are you certified?

    SCOTT
    Me? No. I don’t have any certifications. It’s never come up. I really only have time for the occasional conference or seminar and haven’t had call to get certified.

    IVO
    Then how can you be expected to ask me question? Is like…is like student, asking teacher, no? I am certified, but you are not. It make no sense, yes?

    SCOTT
    Excuse me??

    IVO
    How can I…to explain, be clear, to you? You are member of team, yes? Maybe I speak with someone more senior. Your manager is certified?

    SCOTT
    I’m the team lead.

    IVO
    So, is team of junior engineer.

    SCOTT
    We get by. Well Ivo —

    IVO
    — Mr. Princip.

    SCOTT
    Mr. Princip. It’s been interesting meeting you. I wish you luck in your job search.

    (Ivo sits for a minute, then gets the hint and leaves.)

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP

    (Scott sits at his desk. The door opens and Steve Kramer enters.)

    SCOTT
    Boss. What’s up?

    STEVE
    Scott, you know you’ve been trying to get some help on the team, well, I’ve got it fixed. I just interviewed a rockstar of an engineer.

    SCOTT
    That’s great! Do you want me to talk to him?

    STEVE
    No need. Already hired him. Whipsmart, and has certifications out the ass. Hell of an engineer. Ivo Princip. You’ll be reporting to him starting Monday.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War

    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?

  • FNSW: 62nd Annual Moriarty Awards

    (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!

  • Friday Night Sketch War

    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