Sketch War

Tag: horrible family holidays

  • Peter’s Commentary on the ‘Horrible Family Holidays’ Edition

    [Catching up on blogposts, now that I’ve recovered from the Dance Weekend That Ate My Life.]

    Just thought I’d put up some thoughts on the most recent Sketch War.

    Ken Robertson’s entry: laughed aloud at “No ‘Christians and Heathens’, okay?” / “Awwww.”. I liked the payoff at the end — possibly could have trimmed the number of awkward moments leading up to it, though Priscilla’s drunken pass at Massotihan was a great über-embarrassing exchange.

    R. A. Porter’s entry: Ow! Ow ow ow ow! These aren’t my memories, but it’s like they are my memories! My painful, painful memories! Ow!

    With regards to my own entry, I’m mostly just proud that I managed to pound *something* out on time. I spent Tuesday fishing for a topic, scribbled out some ideas on Wednesday, and carved out an hour or two from Friday night — in the thick of ALX — to lock myself in a little room until the pages were finished. Things I liked: simple sketch concept, wrote with clear characters in mind, invented a puppet troupe. Things I didn’t like: random ending (why would Katie flee the scene?), should have pushed the jokes to be more surreal and out-there, and I put an emotional tilt into a comedy sketch, which is kind of wrong. (Sketch comedy isn’t about emotional arcs — the structure is more like “funny. Funny. FUNNY! done.”)

    Oh, and I screwed up on the topic: I mis-read it as “horrible family gatherings”, came up with my sketch, and then realized it was “horrible family holidays”. Then I shoehorned some Christmas decorations into the stage directions. (That’s the magic of screenwriting, kids! Change the time of year just by typing a few extra words!)

    Lord knows how I’ll come up with a sketch on the topic of “Oprah”.

  • FSW: Horrible Family Holidays Edition (Peter’s Entry)

    Friday Sketch War
    Horrible Family Holidays Edition
    “Ted’s Wake”

    FADE IN:

    INT. ELEVATOR LOBBY – NIGHT

    KATIE (27, black formalwear) paces in a posh elevator lobby, going over a handwritten speech.

    CROWD NOISES emanate from a closed door. Beside the door hangs a poster with a black-and-white photo of a scowling old man reads, “In Memoriam: Ted Reynaldo”. Beside the poster sits a chair.

    Christmas decorations adorn the walls.

    HOMER (23, black suit) breezes in through the door.

    HOMER

    Katie! ‘sup!

    No repsonse.

    HOMER

    Dad says it’s time to do the thing —

    The elevator BINGS. The door opens.

    KATIE

    Dad can wait. I —

    And in the elevator, is —

    HOMER

    Sandra!

    — SANDRA (23), pretty and cheerful. She and Homer kiss. Homer points her at the room.

    HOMER

    I’ll be there in a second.

    Sandra heads in.

    Off of Katie’s look —

    HOMER

    I met her last week. She’s, like, this really cool —

    KATIE

    And you invited her to Uncle Ted’s wake?

    Homer just grins.

    KATIE

    (to herself)

    Do I do the prayer —

    The elevator BINGS.

    KATIE

    — or just go straight to the speech?

    A small crowd of people pile out of the elevator, carrying what look like Muppets.

    HOMER

    ‘sup, guys!

    PUPPETEERS

    ‘sup, Homer!

    They go into the room. Off of Katie’s look —

    HOMER

    Sandra’s, like, part of this puppeteering troupe.

    KATIE

    What?

    HOMER

    They do puppet shows.

    KATIE

    No. Why are they here?

    HOMER

    I guess Sandra invited them.

    The NOISE from the room gets louder, more festive.

    KATIE

    Did you actually tell any of these people this was a wake?

    Elevator BINGS.

    HOMER

    I — hmm. I said it was catered. I definitely said it was a Christmas party.

    KATIE

    Oh god.

    HOMER

    Well technically, it’s a party, and it’s Christmastime, right?

    A couple of DELIVERYMEN show up, pushing kegs on dollies.

    DELIVERYMAN

    Um — the Puppet Place Players?

    HOMER

    In there.

    DELIVERYMAN

    Cool.

    They join the wake.

    The NOISE from the wake gets louder. MARIACHI MUSIC starts up.

    HOMER

    I guess I sort of told Sandra she could invite people, and they invited people —

    The elevator BINGS. A MOTLEY ASSORTMENT OF PARTYGOERS spill out.

    HOMER

    ‘sup guys — it’s in there.

    The partygoers cheer, join the wake.

    KATIE

    Who are they?

    Homer shrugs. Off of that —

    KATIE

    I can’t believe you did this to me! I —

    Stops. Goes to the door. Looks in the room. Returns to Homer.

    KATIE

    Mariachis? How did they even get in?

    HOMER

    Oh, there’s this freight elevator, and it’s awesome, like this moving cavern, and —

    Katie collapses in the chair, distraught.

    HOMER

    What?

    KATIE

    I know I didn’t exactly like the guy, and I know I’d rather cram things under my fingernails than give this big speech about how great he was, but I got stuck with putting this together and I just want to do one thing right for this family! Is that so much to ask?! And then you go and —

    The elevator BINGS yet again, the doors open —

    KATIE

    OH GOOD GOD WHAT NOW?!

    — and Katie finds herself face to face with a POLICE OFFICER standing in the elevator doorway.

    Awkward pause.

    HOMER

    ‘sup, officer? My sister’s kind of off her meds.

    KATIE

    Meds?!

    POLICE OFFICER

    We’ve had a noise complaint.

    KATIE

    Oh. Oh! Yeah, they’re right in there.

    POLICE OFFICER

    Thanks.

    The officer crosses to the door, opens it.

    Meanwhile, Katie darts into the elevator. She drags Homer in after her. The elevator closes.

    POLICE OFFICER

    Puppets!

    The officer joins the wake.

    FADE OUT.

  • FSW: Horrible Family Holiday edition

    Happy almost-Thanksgiving everyone!
    This weeks theme was:
    horrible family holidays
    It was graciously provided by @tjonsek, who suggested it on Richard’s blog. Speaking of Richard, he took us out for a lovely Holiday dinner in New York for his salvo.
    I decided to examine the origins of Holiday drama in America.
    And…if you’d like to suggest a theme for next week, , leave it in comments here, or on one of the other blogs.
    Meanwhile, in the early 1600’s……
    ___________________________________________________________________
    INT. RUSTIC PILGRIM LODGE – DAY
    We’re inside a cabin in Plymouth in the days of the pilgrims. The furniture is all rough hewn wood, and various herbs are hanging from the ceiling drying. There’s a knock on the front door and MILES enters, dressed in full traditional pilgrim garb.

    MILES
    The pie looks fine. Just scrape the charred part off the top and no one will know the difference.

    MILES answers the door. Two American Indians in traditional garb, MASSOTIHAN and his wife POWANIQUA stand in the doorway carrying a few baskets. The sounds of squealing children can be heard outside behind them.

    MILES
    Heeeeeyyyy!!! Masso! What’s up, my savage?

    MILES and MASSOTIHAN go through and elaborate macho handshake \ chest bump \ grunting ritual

    MILES (CONT)
    Happy Second Thanksgiving Buddy!
    (to PRISCILLA offstage)
    Hey Babycakes, shake a leg…the Moonwolves are here!

    PRISCILLA (O.S.)
    Coming.

    MILES
    Come on in…make yourselves at home.
    (shouting out the front door)
    Hey Tobias, Dorothy…play nice with the Moonwolf kids, okay? No “Christians and heathens”, okay?

    CHILDREN
    (from off)
    Awwwwwww

    MILES
    (closes the door)
    Wow….it’s getting cold out there. Fucking Plymouth huh? Love the foliage, hate the cold.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Try living in a tent in this crap. Why you white guys wanted to have the first Thanksgiving outside last year is a mystery to me.

    MILES
    Hey….we’re European, we never spent any time outside before coming here. We were all hopped up on the “we escaped religious persecution AND survived our first year in the new world” thing, know what I mean? Any problems getting here?

    POWANIQUA
    We would have been here 30 minutes ago if someone wasn’t absolutely positive it was a left at the burned out oak.

    POWANIQUA shoots a glare at MASSOTIHAN

    MASSOTIHAN
    I’ve only rode over here once before, and that was in spring.

    MILES
    (to POWANIQUA)
    You must be Mrs. Moonwolf. I’m Miles Dogood. It’s nice to finally meet you. Masso talks about you whenever we’re in a hunting party together.

    MILES shakes POWANIQUA’s hand

    POWANIQUA
    Just call me ‘Pow’. We’ll be here all day if you always use my full name.

    MILES
    Nice furs…can I take those for you?

    MASSOTIHAN and POWANIQUA take off their fur wraps and hand them to MILES, who takes them offstage. MASSOTIHAN and POWANIQUAN set their parcels of food on the table.

    MASSOTIHAN
    I tell ya’, you white guys sure don’t know shit about wilderness living, but you got that the naming thing right. Short first name, long last name, call everyone by their first name – if that’s too long you just call someone by an even shorter version of their name…so much easier than these long-ass indian names. Just role call for tribal council meetings takes 4 hours.

    MILES re-enters and walks over to see what’s on the table.

    MILES
    Mmmmm…smells good. Corn?

    POWANIQUA
    Maize.

    MILES
    Oh right…sorry….forgot.

    MASSOTIHAN
    There’s maize bread, creamed maize, and maize on the cob. She’s been cooking all week.

    MILES
    That’s very nice of you Pow. You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.

    PRISCILLA enters, carrying a mug. She appears to be a little tipsy.

    PRISCILLA
    (to MILES)
    I’ve been cooking all week too…don’t remember hearing you say I shouldn’t go to all that trouble.

    MILES
    Hey honey…you remember Massotihan Moonwolf, from the hunting parties?

    PRISCILLA
    Oh yeah…you ride horses with your shirt off, right?

    MASSOTIHAN
    Sometimes, in summer. It can get hot on those hunts.

    PRISCILLA
    Oh I bet it does…you get pretty sweaty too. Do you workout, or are you just naturally muscular?
    MASSOTIHAN
    I play a lot of lacrosse.

    PRISCILLA
    So you’re good with a long stick huh?

    MILES
    (ushering PRISCILLA away from MASSOTIHAN)
    And this is his wife Powaniqua – ‘Pow’ for short.

    PRISCILLA
    Well aren’t you a cute young thing…Pow, WOW! HAHAHA

    MILES
    Let’s have a seat while dinner finishes cooking.

    PRISCILLA
    “Pow Wow”…get it? God that’s funny.

    MILES
    (to PRISCILLA)
    I think you’ve had eno
    ugh ale, turtledove.

    MILES tries to take PRISCILLA’s mug away

    PRISCILLA
    Just try it.

    MILES backs off and sits down. An uneasy quiet settles over the room. Priscilla makes a few subtle flirty gestures towards MASSOTIHAN, who looks uncomfortable. When MILES sees her she looks indignant, and just sips more ale. POWANIQUA shoots a few looks at MASSOTIHAN who gives her an “it’s not my fault” gesture right back.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Something smells good. Wild turkey?

    MILES
    Oh yeah….big bastard too. Shot it myself…just me and the old blunderbus, snuck up on that big bird and BLAMMO!!! One roaster.

    PRISCILLA
    (to herself)
    Only retarded turkey in Massachusetts.

    MILES
    What’s happening in the Wampanoag camp these days?

    MASSOTIHAN
    My father-in-law is running for chief again.

    POWANIQUA
    It’d be Daddy’s third term.

    MILES
    Nice.

    MASSOTIHAN
    He keeps saying he can get me on the tribal council, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for politics.

    MILES
    I’m with you there….I’m more a man of action myself.

    PRISCILLA
    Action my ass.

    MILES
    The church…that’s where the big money is, if you’re a self starter. Go out, convert people, build a congregation, develop your own zealots. Great franchise opportunities.

    PRISCILLA
    Miles could have been a town elder by now, but SOMEONE didn’t want to burn that witch last May.

    MILES
    They never proved she was a witch.

    PRISCILLA
    They threw her in a river and she floated! Helllloooooo!!!

    MILES
    It was a stream…it was six inches deep!

    PRISCILLA
    Pussy.

    POWANIQUA
    Europeans have really mixed feelings about magic, don’t they? We’ve always been supportive of magic people like our medicine man…

    PRISCILLA
    Just butt of out this, Missy Pow-Now-Brown-Cow, okay?

    POWANIQUA
    I was just saying…

    PRISCILLA
    Zip-it, you skinny buckskin-wearing bitch.

    POWANIQUA
    Well…I never….I…..

    POWANIQUA runs out the front door crying.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Honey, wait….

    MASSOTIHAN runs after her

    PRISCILLA
    Forget the whiny squaw, Squanto. Mama’s got your spirit quest right here!

    MILES
    Priscilla!

    PRISCILLA
    (running over to the door shouting after MASSOTIHAN)
    Once you go white, you never go back!!!

    MILES
    PRISCILLA!!!

    PRISCILLA
    I’ll give you something to be thankful for…lets’ lose that nobility, noble savage!
    (clapping hand over her mouth like an indian war whoop)
    Whoo whoo whoo whoo whoo whoo
    MILES
    Priscilla close that door and get over here right now or I will get the god damned village exorcist, I shit you not!!
    PRISCILLA shuts the door and walks back into the room, and sits.

    MILES (CONT)
    Every time…EVERY time you get a little too much ale in you, you get mean and completely out of control.

    PRISCILLA
    I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. It’s just the holidays…I start missing my family, civilized cities, currency, not having bears in the front yard….

    MILES
    I know honey.

    PRISCILLA
    And we haven’t been…fruitful…in so long.

    MILES
    We live in a one bedroom cabin with 2 kids and no doors Priscilla.

    PRISCILLA
    I know. It just gets to me sometimes.

    MILES hugs her.

    MILES
    Look….why don’t you go make some tea, and let the ale wear off a bit, okay? I’ll go find Masso and Pow and make peace, and then we’ll all have a great Thanksgiving dinner, okay? And after, we’ll figure out how soon we can build a second bedroom.

    PRISCILLA
    Alright honey. I’m sorry. Really.

    MILES hugs PRISCILLA again, then she goes off into the kitchen. The front door opens and MASSOTIHAN re-enters, the sounds of screaming kids playing behind him. MILES runs to the door and shouts out.

    MILES
    (to the kids outside)
    HEY!!! KEEP IT DOWN OUT THERE!!! YOU SOUND LIKE A BUNCH OF WILD INDIANS!!!!

    MASSOTIHAN gives MILES a pissed off look

    MILES
    It’s just an expression.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Sure….no problem. I tell my kids all the time to stop acting like anal-retentive puritans.

    MILES
    Okay…sorry. I’ll never say that again, okay? Truce?

    MASSOTIHAN nods

    MILES (CONT)
    How’s Pow?

    MASSOTIHAN
    She’s pissed but she’ll be fine…she’ll be back, she just needs a few minutes.

    MILES
    Good…Priscilla’s sobering up in the kitchen. Look, I’m sorry about all this.

    MILES closes the door. MILES and MASSOTIHAN sit down exhausted in the room.

    MILES
    I thought we’d squeezed all the drama out of this holiday last year, at the first one.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Nope. Trust me – we’ve had feasts for thousands of years. There’s always been drama at these damn things. The elders tell tales of holiday drama passed down from the last ice age.

    MILES
    Does it ever get better?

    MASSOTIHAN
    Nope. People keep trying though. Year after year…”maybe this year will be different”….”maybe next year will be different”. But it never will be.

    MILES
    So how do you guys get through these things without going nuts?

    MASSOTIHAN looks around to see if anyone’s looking, then pulls a peace pipe out of his tunic.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Let’s just celebrate the harvest brother….know what I mean?

    MILES
    Harvest?

    MASSOTIHAN
    Hell yeah….had a bumper crop of Cape Cod Wowee, you feel me?

    MILES
    Now you’re talkin’ my red skinned brother. Let’s sneak out back and make some peace.

    MASSOTIHA
    N and MILES get up, do a fist bump and head out the front door

    MILES (CONT)
    Oh Lord, we thank thee DEEPLY for this bounty we are about to receive….

    FADE OUT.