Sketch War

Tag: sketch war

  • FSW: Party Planners

    Allow me to preface this sketch with a preemptive “meh”. High concept, but it really goes nowhere. Not without a multi-million dollar budget to make it all happen, at least. Hmm…

    Party Planners
    (A large number of people fill a cavernous hall, dressed formally. The lights go down, and crossing, moving spots cut through the darkness. Just off center, a man with clipboard and walkie-talkie stands ready.)

    EMCEE (O.S.)
    (Deafening) Ladies and gentleman, put your hands together and welcome Mr. and Mrs. David Fagin for their first dance as a married couple!

    MICHAEL
    (Into walkie-talkie) We’re go for pyro!

    (Flames shoot out of the top of the wedding cake. Fireworks go off in the background. The bride and groom walk through the smoke and flames to the center of the dance floor.)

    MICHAEL
    (Into walkie-talkie) Bring it home, people!

    (The fireworks display becomes more intense as Aerosmith begins to play at high volume. The newlyweds begin to dance.)

    MICHAEL
    (Into walkie-talkie) Great work, everyone. (Turning to camera) Hi. I’m Michael Bay. For years I’ve worked in Hollywood making movies and making millions. But now, I’ve decided to branch out. So if you’d like your next wedding, sweet sixteen, or Bar Mitzvah to be a real blockbuster, call Michael Bay’s Party Planners!

    (Cut to Michael in the lobby of a small office. He’s standing in front of reception, where a sexy young woman sits busily answering phones.)

    TRIXIE
    (Answering phone) Michael Bay’s Party Planners. How may I help you today?

    MICHAEL
    Here at MBPP we cater to your every need from the moment you first walk in. Take Trixie over here. Pretty easy on they eyes, right fellas? I spent months working with the best casting directors in town to trying to find the perfect mix of sex appeal and girl next door. But once Trixie walked through the door, we knew we had our receptionist. That same attention to detail is what sets MBPP parties apart. Whether you want Scarlett Johansson to jump out of your wedding cake, Sean Connery to give you away or Ben Affleck to check coats, we can deliver. Let’s meet some of the wizards who make it all happen.

    (Camera follows Michael as he walks through a door and into the warehouse-sized back of the building. Sparks are flying from someone welding in the distance, people working everywhere, and a VW Bug in the foreground. Michael walks up to Rick and Stacy who are sitting at a small table.)

    MICHAEL
    This is Stacy Lavelle. She’s in charge of pyrotechnics at MBPP. Stacy, why don’t you tell us what you’re working on here?

    STACY
    We’re making flashpots for the Rosencrantz/Guildenstern wedding. There’s going to be a lot of noise and a lot of smoke.

    MICHAEL
    Fantastic! What’s the theme?

    STACY
    Rick?

    RICK
    The bride’s father passed away recently, so we’re going to make it look like his ghost has returned to walk her down the aisle. First we’re killing all the lights, then the flashpots go off, and then we’re projecting images of him on a scrim. We’ll play a recording of his voice, as well. The bride will never expect it!

    MICHAEL
    Sounds great! I’ll let you guys get back to work.

    (To camera) As you can see, we take our jobs very seriously here at MBPP. We want to make sure your party is bigger, louder, and more exciting than any party before. Here’s Todd McElroy, our demo expert. Todd? What are you working on?

    TODD
    The finale of the Sussman Sweet 16. Chloe wants a BMW convertible and of course her father’s bought her one. But we’ve decided to bring in this new Bug instead as a joke. She’ll obviously be upset and angry, and just when her tantrum reaches its peak, our stunt driver speeds in with her BMW and shoots the Bug with this fake rocket launcher. We blow a charge under the Bug and it should flip over three times before ending upside down. Then we cue fireworks.

    MICHAEL
    That sounds awesome, Todd. You’ve been with me for a long time. How is party planning different from the movies?

    TODD
    Well, I can’t fall back on CGI so much, so it’s made me relearn some of the old ways of doing things. Otherwise, it’s about the same. I mean, movies and parties are all about the same thing, right? Bombs, crashes, and rolling fire.

    MICHAEL
    Truer words were never spoken. Thanks, Todd.

    (To camera) I hope you’ve enjoyed your behind the scenes look at Michael Bay’s Party Planners and want to choose us for your next party. At MBPP, no party is too big for us to handle, though many are too small. If you’re looking for an intimate affair with just close friends and family, try someone else. But if you want the rockin’est party ever, give us a call.

    (BLACKOUT)

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Ten

    Oh, the humanity!

    Three score and three days ago Michael and I brought forth on this internet a new challenge, conceived in Comedy, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created funny.

    Now we are engaged in a great comic war, testing whether that challenge, or any challenge, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that challenge might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

    But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate – we can not consecrate – we can not hallow – this web. The brave men and women, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here…

    • Red led a cavalry charge into the thickets early…
    • Coyote performed valiant but futile battlefield surgery on the wounded…
    • Michael schemed and planned and plotted and napped through it all…
    • David surveyed the great loss of life and limb from high above.

    This week we’ve got babes in naves, doctors on telly, great warriors felled by beautiful maidens, and a little man in a boat.

    If you feel my usage of this great speech for such a trivial adventure was sacrilegious, please go here to see it in its intended glory here.

  • FSW: Fantasy Dream Edition

    It’s time for another round of Friday Sketch War.

    Richard was first out of the gate today, with a cautionary tale about television doctors.

    Nothing from Dave yet, but if it’s anything like last week, he’ll toss something out that will 

    blow us all away.

    Update: Dave is up and, er, swimming. And we have a new battler in our midst. Red has joined the fray. Please make her feel welcome.

    Here’s my attempt at the funny. I think I need to cut it down some, but I like the premise a lot.

    And, as always, if you’d like to play along, simply post your sketch and send us a link.

    Enjoy!

    Dream Date Night Dream

    (We are in the small, studio apartment of PAUL. It is decorated as any geek, fanboy might. Lots of horror movie posters, action figures on shelves, an authentic lightsaber in a glass case, Star Wars bed sheets, etc. Paul sits in bed, wearing a headset, playing an online game on his computer. Through the wall we hear the unmistakable sound of enthusiastic lovemaking.)

    PAUL: (On headset) Jesus, my neighbor’s at it again. I swear that guy gets more tail than Aragon. (Beat) Oh, way more than Solo. (Beat) Well that’s your opinion.

    (The lovemaking gets louder and louder, then suddenly, there is a short scream of shock followed by a loud THUD!)

    PAUL: (On headset) Hang on, Slayer 9, I think I’ve got a situation here.

    (Paul leans back against the wall, trying to hear what’s going on. We hear a woman’s voice saying “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” Over and over again.)

    PAUL: (On headset) Dude, I’m gonna have to log off. (Beat) I know, I know, but you’ve got enough Hit Power to take the ogres should they attack. (Beat) Would you calm down, that wizard is long gone. I’m sure I’ll return before he does.

    (There is a knock on his door.)

    PAUL: (On headset) Holy shit, I think the chick he was banging is knocking at my door. (Beat) No, I’m not going to take a picture.

    (More knocking.)

    JAMIE: (Off) Hello? Is anyone home? Hello?

    PAUL: Just a second! (On headset.) All right, all right. But only because you saved my ass on the Isle of Gygax. After this we’re even.

    (More knocking.)

    PAUL: Coming!

    (He quickly removes his headset and positions the laptop so it’s pointing toward the door. He takes a tiny webcam and attaches it to the top of the computer. He crosses to the door and opens is. JAMIE, drop-dead gorgeous, enters, wearing a man’s t-shirt and nothing else.)

    JAMIE: Oh, thank god you’re home. I think my boyfriend needs a doctor.

    (Paul is frozen momentarily in the tractor-beam of her beauty.)

    JAMIE: Hello? You speak English?

    PAUL: Uh. Yeah. And Elven. A little Klingon, too. Enough to get by anyhow.

    JAMIE: Can you help me?

    PAUL: Sure. Uh. (Beat) What do you want me to do?

    JAMIE: Check on my boyfriend.

    PAUL: Right. Okay. Yeah.

    (Paul starts to leave, followed by Jamie. There is a BEEP from his computer and he turns to look at it.)

    PAUL: Uh. You know. You should. Wait here. Yeah. In case. You know.

    JAMIE: Okay. Thanks. I’m a little freaked out right now.

    (She goes to sit down on a beanbag chair near the wall. Another BEEP from the computer. Paul grabs her and stops her.)

    PAUL: Actually. Just stay right here.

    (He positions her so she’s in front of the camera. Another BEEP. Paul looks at the computer. He moves her slightly to the left and turns her sideways.)

    PAUL: Right here. I’ll be right back.

    (Paul takes another look at her and then quickly runs out of the apartment. Jamie stays where she was placed. A rapid series of BEEPS emanates from the computer. She looks for the sound and sees the computer. Through the wall we hear Paul.)

    PAUL: (Off) Dude! Dude! Wake up. Dude!

    (Paul runs back in. Jamie turns to him.)

    JAMIE: Why does your computer keep repeating “thank you”?

    PAUL: It’s a, uh, gratitude program I just installed.

    JAMIE: Oh. How is he?

    PAUL: Um, okay, I think. I think maybe he’s just unconscious.

    JAMIE: Do you think he’ll be all right?

    PAUL: I’m not a doctor but…

    (BEEP from the computer. Paul steps closer to read the screen.)

    PAUL: But, I think you should stay here until he comes to. He probably just needs a little air. Uh.

    (BEEP from the computer.)

    PAUL: Would you like something to drink?

    JAMIE: I could really use a shot of whiskey right now.

    PAUL: Oh. Well. I only have water and Diet Cherry Fanta.

    JAMIE: Water’s fine.

    (Paul heads over to the kitchen.)

    PAUL: I’m Paul, by the way.

    JAMIE: Jamie. Thanks for being here, Paul. I’m such a nutcase when it comes to emergencies.

    (Paul comes back with a glass of water.)

    PAUL: Oh, sure, I’m always home.

    (BEEP from the computer.)

    PAUL: Because I’m Rick.

    JAMIE: What?

    (BEEP.)

    PAUL: Rich. Because I’m so rich. I never need to leave.

    (Jamie begins to take in her surroundings.)

    JAMIE: Wow, you really like movies, huh?

    PAUL: Oh yeah.

    JAMIE: Is that a real light saber?

    PAUL: Darth Vadar’s. From A New Hope.

    JAMIE: No shit.

    PAUL: You like Star Wars?

    JAMIE: Love it. I was Princess Leia for Halloween this year. You know the outfit she wore as Jabba’s slave girl?

    (Paul has a physical reaction to this image. Another series of BEEPS from the computer. Jamie looks at it and seems to be a little shocked.)

    JAMIE: I don’t think your gratitude program is working very well. Now it’s just repeating “Take off your shirt” over and over again

    (PAUL leaps over and slams the laptop closed. A series of BEEPS. He yanks out the headset and the camera. He stuffs the laptop under the blankets.)

    JAMIE: You know, I should probably check on Jarrod.

    PAUL: Who? Oh yeah! No! Let me go. I don’t want you to get freaked out again or anything.

    JAMIE: Okay. Thanks.

    (Paul runs out again.)

    PAUL: (Off) Oh hey, dude. You’re up. Uh, no I haven’t seen her. What’s that over there?

    (There is a dull thud, followed by the sound of something heavy falling. Paul comes running back in.)

    PAUL: He had a relapse.

    JAMIE: Oh no.

    PAUL: But I think he’s going to be fine. You can hang out here until he’s better.

    JAMIE: Oh. Sure. Okay.

    PAUL: So…You wanna see the Steampunk action figures I’ve modded?

    JAMIE: You do Steampunk? Cool!

    PAUL: (In complete awe) Mela en’ coiamin

    JAMIE: What?

    PAUL: Nothing. Just an Elven blessing.

    JAMIE: That’s neat.

    PAUL: I could teach you, if you like.

    JAMIE: That would be nice. (Beat) What’s on your shirt? Are you bleeding?

    PAUL: What? Oh! No. (He wipes it away.) It must have been some sauce from my Spaghetti O’s.

    (They share a laugh. Jamie sits down on the bed. We hear faint moaning through the walls. Paul turns on his stereo.)

    PAUL: I hope you like Evanescence.

    (Paul sits on the bed next to Jamie.)

    JAMIE: They’re my favorite band.

    (An annoying BEEPING noise begins.)

    JAMIE: What’s that?

    PAUL: I don’t know.

    JAMIE: Listen, why don’t you check it out, while I slip into something a little more comfortable.

    PAUL: What’s more comfortable than just a t-shirt?

    JAMIE: You’ll see.

    (She exits into the bathroom. Excited, Paul takes off his shirt and pants. The BEEPING is getting louder, so he begins searching for it. He looks all over and eventually winds up looking under the blankets of his bed. He is completely covered. The lights change very subtly. He comes out from under the blankets, stretching and yawning.)

    PAUL: Wait. What? No no no no no no.

    (He runs to the bathroom and knocks on the door.)

    PAUL: Jamie? Hello?

    (He opens the door.)

    PAUL: NOOOO! Dammit!

    (Something is still BEEPING. He makes it back to his bed where he digs out his computer. He opens it up and the beeping stops. He puts on his headset. The sound of enthusiastic lovemaking begins next door. Paul sighs.)

    PAUL: (On headset) He, Slayer 9, what’s up? (Beat) Nothing, just listening to my neighbor get his baloney pony ridden. Again. Dude gets more tail than Apollo’s killed Cylons. (Beat) You’d be certifiable if you didn’t do Starbuck.

    (The door opens and Jamie comes in, dressed, with donuts and orange juice.)

    JAMIE: Good morning, sleepy head.

    PAUL: (On headset) Dude, I gotta get back to you. I think I’m still dreaming.

    (He pulls off the headset.)

    PAUL: You’re…you’re real.

    JAMIE: What? Last night wasn’t enough to convince you? Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed some of your clothes.

    (Paul is just standing, staring, flabbergasted.)

    JAMIE: Listen, I thought maybe we could take a shower together and then watch LORT. All three movies, director’s cut of course, straight through.

    (Paul falls to his knees and begins to weep.)

    JAMIE: Paul, are you all right?

    PAUL: I’m happier than a Ranchor in shit.

    JAMIE: Cormamin lindua ele lle.

    PAUL: It does, indeed.

    (Paul stands up and goes to hug Jamie. He steps on one of his action figures that is on the floor.)

    PAUL: Ow!

    (He begins hopping around, loses his balance and falls behind the bed. There is a sickly sounding, WET CRACK.)

    JAMIE: What are the odds?

    (She looks around. Shrugs. Takes the donuts and leaves.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Five for Health: Homemade Drugs

    This one’s a bit different. Most of you reading this should (hopefully) note a passing similarity to a certain television doctor and insane performer. This sketch had originally been intended as part of a C-story for a spec, but I’ve never been happy with my plans for the A-story and have put that spec on a back burner. I never wrote this bit out, but had a good chunk of it in my head and figured I might as well put it to use. Hope y’all enjoy.

    Five for Health: Homemade Drugs
    (Dr. Cyrill O’Syban stands behind a lab bench wearing a white coat and goggles. There are beakers, test tubes, and a bunsen burner on the bench.)

    CYRILL
    Hi. I’m Dr. Cyrill O’Syban. I’m a working physician with a degree from the Bangalore School of Medicine. If you’re like most people, then you’re tired of making pharmaceutical fatcats rich just to stop your headache or cure your hangover. I’m here today to show you how to make your own perfectly safe alternatives in your own kitchen or garage.

    (Cut to animated credits which play with upbeat music over. We see an animated caricature of Dr. Cyrill O’Syban in white coat performing various tasks with quick cuts and wipes from action to action:
    – taking a red-faced, sweaty patient’s temperature; the mercury thermometer explodes
    – performing the Heimlich in a restaurant on a very fat man; a huge meatball flies out of his mouth
    – using a defibrillator on a patient; he lives
    – handing a lollipop to a small girl; she smiles and shoots rainbows out her eyes
    Animated Cyrill turns to the camera.)

    ANIMATED CYRILL
    I went to medical school, so you don’t have to.

    (Cut to the real Cyrill. The final strains of the theme music finish and the titles read “FIVE FOR HEALTH WITH DR. CY”)

    CYRILL
    Nothing is more of a drag then seasonal allergies. This first home brew will cut right through that foggy head. We start with some over the counter allergy pills.

    (During the following dialog, Cyrill takes some pills out of a box and crushes them into a beaker, then with gloves and tongs he pours from a bottle into the beaker. Smoke pours out.)

    CYRILL
    Take those out of the package and crush them up into a microwave safe container. Now carefully pour some bleach in and stir. What you want to see are small crystals just starting to form.

    DIRECTOR
    Cut! Cut! What the hell…are you making crystal meth? You can’t do that on television!

    CYRILL
    No, it’s fine. It’s just for allergies. It’s perfectly safe.

    DIRECTOR
    If it’s just for allergies, why don’t you just tell them to take the allergy pills?

    CYRILL
    This is much faster acting and lasts twice as long. It’s because the anti-allergy chemicals get to the source faster when you smoke them.

    DIRECTOR
    No! Skip this one. What else have you got?

    CYRILL
    A mixture of cough syrup, tang, and goat’s milk.

    DIRECTOR
    What’s that for?

    CYRILL
    You put two drops in each eye and you can stay up for 72 hours. That’s how I got through finals at good old Bang U.

    JACKSON (O.S.)
    No, no, no. You can’t make the Hedgehog on TV!

    (Jackson Tyler enters with his entourage in tow. He’s wearing a retro jersey, white kicks, jeans, and a lot of bling.)

    CYRILL
    Hello, Jackson. What are you doing here?

    JACKSON
    Shooting a video for my new song, “Bernanke’s a Bitch”. Subprime crisis is killing my portfolio!

    ENTOURAGE MEMBER #1
    Word.

    JACKSON
    Heard you were here and thought I’d see if our package came in from Brazil yet. But then I saw what you were doing! Cops’ll shut you down if you make that on TV.

    CYRILL
    It never occurred to me. I guess I’ll just cut that one out, too.

    JACKSON
    What else you got, Cyrill O’Syban?

    CYRILL
    Ground up walnuts, ammonia, listerine, and lime je–

    JACKSON
    –British Navy. No way.

    CYRILL
    A tea made from oregano, thyme, brake dust, and nose hairs–

    JACKSON
    –Toon pang! Nope.

    CYRILL
    Crushed D-cell batteries, “Sanford and Son” on Betamax–

    JACKSON
    –Root beer?

    CYRILL
    Sprite.

    JACKSON
    That’s even worse! That stuff will mess you up! I had a cousin got hooked on “Lizbeth” and now she just chews her toenails and watches “Ellen” all day. She voted for George Bush! Twice.

    CYRILL
    I, I just didn’t know Tyler. So what do you think I should do for today’s segment?

    (Cut to Cyrill sitting behind a desk.)

    CYRILL
    Today on “Five for Health” we’re going to discuss the health benefits of oral sex. So start your TiVos now, ladies!

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Nine

    We’ve got an interesting battle this week. Back from the brink of doom (probably after making a Mephistophelian deal) Michael is firing on all cylinders. Red’s got a new home on the web, but didn’t join in the festivities. David channeled his inner Sondheim. It was a slugfest out there today…

    • Michael launched an early salvo on Thursday, setting off EM devices in the atmo…
    • Coyote scrambled bombers out of a secret Antarctic base while Crystal Palace struggled to come back online…
    • Michael fired rail guns from orbit, leveling Cleveland and Minsk…
    • David launched every missile out of every attack-hardened silo, leaving the Earth a smoking cinder.

    There was a lot of pain, crying, and gnashing of teeth today. We lost a lot of good people (and a lot of deadwood too…nukes and railguns are indiscriminate.) Hapkido, shotguns, fisticuffs, and song were the weapons of choice this week, my good readers. Go forth and be amused.

  • Friday Sketch War: Fantasy Edition

    Haven’t heard anything from Dave yet. But Richard’s already posted, even though he’s not feeling well. And it seems as though Red isn’t joining us this week either.

    Update: Dave has posted and it is super fly! Check it.

    Here’s my entry, for what it’s worth. Probably reveals a bit too much about my current work situation. But then, that’s why I’m sending out resumes. Right?

    The Break Room

    (Office break room. Marge and Peggy, two middle-aged, over weight secretaries are eating donuts and talking.)

    MARGE: So I says to him, “Carl” I says “I know for a fact that Jim’s not keeping up with his work”.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) He’s such a slacker.

    MARGE: Right. We all know it. But Carl doesn’t see it. He goes “And what makes you think this?” And I almost laugh in his face. As if I have to make up stories about Jim.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Not likely.

    MARGE: Right. So I says, “Carl, I was looking at his email inbox and there’s a whole list of file requests he hasn’t completed yet.” And Carl has the gall to get upset at me. “You can’t do that,” he says. “It’s an invasion of his privacy”, he says. Like that’s going to mean anything when we’re all out of jobs because Jim’s poor work ethic causes this whole company to fold.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Seriously.

    MARGE: But Carl says he’ll look into it. He says he’ll say something to Jim.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Good for you.

    MARGE: I’m just looking out for the company. I mean, Carl thinks he’s such a fantastic Office Manager, but we all know that I should have been the one to get that job. The only reason they hired him was because we needed more men in the office to fill a quota of some sort.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Damn ACLU.

    MARGE: Exactly. The hippies ruined it for everyone. But I’ve already sent several emails to the CEO about Carl and his lack of caring about this company. I plan on getting him…

    (Carl enters the break room and goes to the fridge)

    MARGE: Oh hey Carl! How’s your day going?

    CARL: All right. Thank God it’s Friday, you know.

    MARGE: Amen to that. So, how’d it go with Jim? Is he going to straighten up and fly right?

    CARL: Marge, I already told you once, this really isn’t any of your business. Jim’s only been back a week since his wife died. He’s taking things slow.

    MARGE: Glacial, if you ask me.

    CARL: I didn’t, Marge. No one did. And I hope you’ll stop sending me emails about him.

    MARGE: He’s costing this company millions of dollars.

    (Carl sighs and shakes his head. He exits.)

    MARGE: Have a blessed day!

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut): Yeah.

    MARGE: Not.

    (Marge and Peggy share a laugh. Peggy nearly chokes on her donut.)

    MARGE: As you can see, the man clearly has no regard for this company.

    (Marge takes out a notepad and begins writing on it.)

    MARGE: This is going in his file.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) His file?

    MARGE: I keep a file on everyone in the office. That way, if they ever do anything really wrong, or something that I don’t think befits an employee of this company, I can take it to the CEO and have them fired. Carl’s file is almost as big as Jim’s.

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) Do I have a file?

    MARGE: Only because you’re my best friend here do I tell you this. Yes. You do. It’s the smoke breaks. You take a ten minute break every hour. That adds up.

    (Peggy just stares at her. Jim enters the break room.)

    MARGE: Hey, Jim. How are you doing? Again, we’re so sorry about your loss.

    JIM: Thanks.

    MARGE: But don’t you think using your wife’s death as an excuse to slack off at work only degrades her memory?

    JIM: Excuse me?

    MARGE: I couldn’t help but notice, as I read your emails, that you’re really far behind on…

    (Jim punches Marge in the face, toppling her over in her chair. He gets a soda out of the fridge and exits.)

    PEGGY: (Mouthful of donut) And have a blessed day.

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Barista Blues

    Barista Blues
    (Meg and Dex stand behind the counter of an upscale coffee house. He: late 20s, detached and jaded hipster. She: 18, fresh-faced, straight from the farmland. Dex is showing Meg how the brewing equipment works.)

    MEG
    It’s not a lot different from the one back at the Starbucks in Grover’s Corners. I should be able to run it. Thanks, Dex. I’m so excited!

    DEX
    It’s not that exciting. You brew, you steam, you move them along.

    MEG
    I don’t mean that! I mean I’ve only been in LA three days and I’ve already got a great job! My parents said I’d end up broke and have to come home and become a dental hygienist, but now I won’t have to.

    DEX
    I wouldn’t call this a great job.

    MEG
    But it is! Six days from six to two leaves me plenty of time to audition, and find a place to perform. Plus when Sol hired me he said I’d get to sing on the stage here, too!

    DEX
    (Laughing to himself) I remember that. By the time you get out of here, you won’t have the energy left to do much of anything. Besides, with what Sol pays you, you’ll end up taking extra shifts just to afford Ramen. And singing on that little stage over there…it’s just more scut work.

    MEG
    You’re a gloomy gus, aren’t you!

    DEX
    I’m opening up. Get ready.

    (Dex goes to the door and opens it up. A small line of movers and shakers has already formed. Each and everyone tapping furiously on his Blackberry or talking fervently on her Bluetooth. First in line is a smarmy, slimy man. Pretty much like everyone in line who isn’t a smarmy, slimy woman.)

    MEG
    Good Morning! What can I get for you today?

    ARI
    (Looking up and seeing fresh meat) Well, good morning princess. I’m Ari. Here’s my card. Call me sometime. I’d love to represent you.

    (Meg takes the card and beams broadly. She holds it up and glances at Dex who shakes his head in bemusement.)

    MEG
    I will call you, thank you! I’m an actress, and a singer-songwriter, and a —

    ARI
    — that’s great, babe. Tell it to my assistant when you call, okay?

    MEG
    Yes, sir! What can I get for you today?

    ARI
    I’ll have the usual, babe.

    (Ari smiles to himself at his unoriginal and unclever joke. Meg starts cackling in earnest.)

    MEG
    Wow! You’re funny!

    ARI
    Just make it a large coffee.

    (Meg pours and hands the coffee over to Ari, who then moves to the register to pay. Slimeball steps up.)

    SLIMEBALL
    I’ll have a half double decaffeinated half-caf…with a twist of lemon.

    (Slimeball waits expectantly…and Meg laughs.)

    MEG
    Oh, I love that movie! That’s great!

    SLIMEBALL
    Maybe you’d like to watch it with me sometime. Here’s my card. Call me. I’m an agent.

    MEG
    Thanks! Oh, I’ve got to go in back to get a lemon. I’ll just be one —

    SLIMEBALL
    — Actually, I’ll just have a large coffee.

    (Meg pours his coffee and hands it over. Sleazebag steps up.)

    SLEAZEBAG
    (Smiling to himself) I’ll have the usual.

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP
    (It’s later the same day, Meg’s hair is messed and there are coffee stains on her shirt. She looks harried. D-Bag steps up to the counter.)

    D-BAG
    I’ll have the usual.

    (Meg shows teeth, but it’s not a smile. Dex comes over to Meg.)

    DEX
    I’ll take this one. Sol wants some music.

    MEG
    (Cheered up immediately) That’s great! To tell you the truth, I could use the break. I have some great new songs I’ve been working on, too.

    DEX
    Didn’t Sol tell you? You’re just supposed to play that song “Bad Day”. Maybe some John Mayer when he’s in the mood, but that rarely happens.

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP
    (Some time has passed. Meg’s hair is spiky and parti-colored and she’s got a tattoo showing on her upper arm. She’s sleeveless now, and in general looks a bit skankier. She’s showing the tat to Dex.)

    MEG
    It hurt a lot. They don’t tell you that. But it’s pretty cool, don’t you think?

    DEX
    It’s nice.

    MEG
    I can’t wait till my friends back home see this! They’ll flip!

    DEX
    How was your audition on Friday?

    MEG
    I didn’t get the part. I don’t get it. There are movies and plays and TV shows all over, but there aren’t that many auditions.

    (Dex smiles to himself.)

    MEG
    Oh, I’ve gotta tell you! Last night at the club —

    DEX
    — that karaoke bar out in the valley?

    MEG
    Yeah. So anyway, I was DJ-ing and this group of really hot girls and guys came in and sang. One of the girls had this amazing voice and I asked her if she sang professionally. She just laughed and said it didn’t pay enough. (Stage whispers to Dex) She told me she did porn! Can you believe it?

    (Slimeball walks up with a few people behind him.)

    SLIMEBALL
    Hey, babe! How ya doing? You’re looking good today.

    MEG
    Oh, hey. Large coffee?

    SLIMEBALL
    Nah. I think I’ll have a half double decaffeinated half-caf —

    MEG
    — with a twist of lemon?

    SLIMEBALL
    Heh! You caught me. Actually, how about I get you something? Dinner?

    MEG
    Oh, I don’t know. I really shouldn’t. We’re not supposed to date the customers.

    (The people in line begin to grumble. Their very busy, very important lives are being put on hold with this inane chatter. Meg goes ahead and pours him a large coffee.)

    SLIMEBALL
    Well, I’ll keep asking anyway.

    DEX
    Meg, Sol wants another set.

    (Meg sighs deeply, grabs her guitar and heads for the stage. As the lights fade, we hear the opening bars of “Bad Day”.)

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP
    (Meg’s now got a full sleeve tat, a lip and two eye piercings, and a tat around her navel. She’s sleeveless and cropped. Slimeball is at the front of the line.)

    SLIMEBALL
    (Quietly, looking down) Large coffee please.

    MEG
    (Glaring…then finally exploding) You could have at least called me the next day! You said you’d call! Jesus. Damn it, you could at least look me in the eyes when you order your coffee!

    (Meg pours his coffee and slams it down on the counter. Slimeball slinks away to pay and the next customer steps up.)

    MEGADOUCHE
    Hello! I’ll have a half double decaffeinated half-caf…with a twist of lemon!

    (Meg screams, reaches below the counter, comes up with a shotgun and shoots him. Silence and stillness for a few seconds.)

    DEX
    I’ll clean that up. Sol wants you to do a set.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Eight

    I’d been holding off on reporting the results of this week’s battle in hopes that Michael would make it out of the M*A*S*H unit, where he was playing grab ass with Hot Lips Houlihan, in time to post. He’s been under the weather this week, and in Chicago, there’s been a LOT of weather this week under which to be.

    But then I remembered that even if he did make it out, he was meeting up with the brothers from the Water Buffalo Lodge for a Bowl-A-Thon. So hold back, I shall no more!

    • Coyote rises to periscope depth and fires a torpedo…
    • David and Leonardo DiCaprio drop depth charges from their battleship…
    • Red surprises the combatants with a fuel-air bomb dropped from a B-52.

    That’s right: someone new tossed her hat in the ring! Finally, PHX can represent with two mirth agents against the combined might of the Chicago comedy mafia! (I’ll nag her to get her own damn blog next time.)

    What’s that you ask? What have we got this week? Bad gifts, guy talk, and people who dress funny!

  • 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