Another exciting day of sketchy goodness. You really should be playing along.
In case you missed them...Dave's having some office trouble. Richard's got some competition issues. And I've got to lay off the 700 Club.
Seriously people, get in the game. I can feel you out there judging us. So let's see what you got.
Or are you yella?
The armies assembled on their respective sides of the battlefield the evening before committing their forces to the attack.
(CHERYL is in her cubicle, talking on the phone.)
CHERYL
I know, Sue, I couldn’t believe it either… No, you were so right to feel that way…
(GREG enters and stands in the doorway. CHERYL sees him but continues talking.)
Don’t be. He shouldn’t have been taking up two seats.
(GREG knocks softly on the doorway. CHERYL holds up a finger.)
There were two comfortable chairs in the entire coffee shop, and he sits in one of them and drapes his coat over the other. I would have been pissed too.
(GREG sits on the edge of the desk.)
Sorry, Sue, I have to go. Uh-huh… Yeah… Well, these things have a way of coming back around, don’t you worry… Uh-huh… Uh-huh.
(GREG taps his watch.)
Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.
(CHERYL hangs up. GREG stares at her a few seconds.)
GREG
Cheryl, we’ve been over this.
CHERYL
Are you serious?
GREG
Of course I’m serious. Did you think I was joking?
CHERYL
It’s just that I can’t believe you would hound me about my personal phone calls when Jim is in the next cubicle, building a siege engine!
(pause)
GREG
A siege engine?
CHERYL
Yeah! He’s got a catapult he’s working on in there!
(pause)
GREG
I didn't know he was doing that.
CHERYL
He totally is!
GREG
That's wrong too. That can't happen.
(GREG stands and exits the cubicle. The stage rotates, and we follow GREG into the neighboring cubicle, where JIM sits typing at his computer. On the floor are enormous planks of timber, giant wooden bolts, and several feet of leather belts. GREG carefully steps over a huge wheel.)
GREG
Jim?
JIM
Hey!
GREG
Can I talk to you for a second?
JIM
Sure thing.
GREG
Um… I shouldn’t have let it get this far, so in a way the blame lies with both of us–
JIM
If this is about the Bellwether invoices, I’m on it. I’ll upload them to the database this afternoon.
GREG
No, Jim, it’s the catapult. I can’t have you constructing a catapult in your office.
JIM
Technically, it’s a trebuchet.
GREG
It makes no difference what form of siege engine you’re building…
JIM
Hells yeah it does! Technically, a trebuchet is a type of catapult. But when Americans think of a “catapult,” they think of a “mangonel.” That’s the clunky, stiff-armed log that just hurls something off into the distance.
(He cranks his arm with exaggerated clumsiness.)
Thwunk.
GREG
And that’s not what you’re doing.
JIM
Uh, no. The trebuchet utilizes a sling. Much more elegant, much more accurate, gets a little extra torque at the release point. This is what you want to use to launch some flaming garbage or a diseased corpse over a wall.
CHERYL (off)
You better not be thinking of launching any corpses into my cubicle!
JIM
Don’t flatter yourself!
GREG
Jim, the point is that I can’t have you working on this in your office.
JIM
I only work on it during my lunch break…
(louder)
…unlike a certain person chatting with her sister all damn day!
CHERYL (off)
She’s going through a breakup!
GREG
I’m more concerned about safety. I don’t want it to go off accidentally and send a photocopier crashing into a conference room.
JIM
It takes several strong men working in tandem to fire one of these. It’s not going to go off accidentally.
GREG
Siege engines are obsolete pieces of weaponry, rough-hewn and unpredictable. Unlike modern firearms, there are no regulations or licensing procedures in place concerning their safety in an office environment. Accidents happen, Jim.
JIM
I don’t know what kind of idiot you think you’re dealing with, but I would not have embarked on this project without a thorough understanding of what I’m doing.
GREG
I don’t think you’re an idiot, Jim.
JIM
Who caught the error on the Bellwether invoices right before they were sent out? I saved this company tens of thousands of dollars!
GREG
Thank you.
JIM
And frankly, unless you can point me to the Rules & Regs where it says I can’t construct a trebuchet in the workplace, I think I’ll keep right on constructing mine.
(pause)
GREG
Do you know what a rollmop is, Jim?
JIM
A pickle wrapped in herring.
GREG
It’s a pickle, wrapped in herring. There was a project manager named Ackerman who used to make them, and it stank the place up something fierce. I told him to knock it off. He pulled that “show me the Rules & Regs” crap, and no, according to the letter of the law, there was no anti-rollmop clause. But the next time we updated the Rules & Regs, we added one. And the next time he stank up the break room with herring, he was out of here.
JIM
When was this?
GREG
Seven months ago.
JIM
And how often are the Rules & Regs updated?
(brief pause)
GREG
That’s not your concern.
JIM
Cheryl, how often do they update the Rules & Regs?
GREG
You don’t have to answer that, Cheryl.
CHERYL (off)
Every five years.
(pause)
JIM
It appears we are at an impasse.
GREG
It appears we are.
JIM
And I’m the one with the siege engine.
(GREG and JIM stare each other down for several moments. Then GREG leaves. JIM returns to his computer. After a beat, GREG reappears at the cubicle door.)
GREG
But watch your back, Jim. If I catch you so much as thinking about wrapping a pickle in herring, you are out on your ass.
(GREG leaves again. JIM once again returns to his computer. Beat.)
CHERYL (off)
Hey, Sue, sorry we got interrupted… What I was saying was one of these days that guy is going to take up two seats in the wrong coffee shop. Then he’ll know what it feels like.
(JIM shakes his head in exasperation. Blackout.)
Full Disclosure: I've been dealing with some family issues and haven't had much of a chance to write this week. I wrote this sketch for a class I took a while back. Though I have made some changes to it. I hope to have something brand, spanking new for next week's skirmish.
Update: Richard's arrived on the field and run the ol' nickleback defense. Nicely done.
(A shopping mall. Melody and Ernie enter. )
MELODY: Just wait here, I want to see if they have any blue ones.
(Melody exits and Simon Peter enters and approaches Ernie.)
SIMON PETER: Buying a new cell phone?
ERNIE: My wife is just looking at covers for hers.
SIMON PETER: You can make the outside look as beautiful as you want, but if the inside isn’t beautiful what’s the point?
ERNIE: Excuse me?
SIMON PETER: Have you accepted the One True Plan as your only calling plan?
ERNIE: We’re pretty happy with our current plan.
SIMON PETER: Pretty happy? That doesn’t sound very convincing. Have you given much though to Eternal Minutes?
ERNIE: Eternal minutes?
SIMON PETER: Does your plan offer that?
ERNIE: No plan can give you eternal minutes.
SIMON PETER: The One True Plan can. Brother, just give me a few minutes of your time and I’ll show you the way to everlasting battery life.
ERNIE: Well...
SIMON PETER: Would you like to live in a world where you’re free from the burden of roaming fees?
ERNIE: Who wouldn’t.
SIMON PETER: Why should you be punished for making a call just because you’re outside of your calling area?
ERNIE: Right.
SIMON PETER: It feels good to make that call doesn’t it? We all want to do it, but we know that we’re going to pay for it later. The One True Plan says it’s all right to do it. It forgives us for our action even before we’ve done it.
ERNIE: Wow.
SIMON PETER: Wow, indeed, brother.
ERNIE: So what’s the catch?
SIMON PETER: There is no catch. The One True Plan isn’t trying to trick you. Look at the lilies of the field. Do they worry about whether their call is going to be cut off mid-sentence? No. And neither should you. All the Plan asks of you is that you pass on the good news to the world.
ERNIE: I have to work for them?
SIMON PETER: It isn’t work if you love it, Ernie. Besides, you’re going to be so happy with this plan you’ll want to share it with everyone. Tell them how good it feels to call knowing that the One True Plan is there for you. How once you were lost, but now are found.
ERNIE: This all sounds a little too good to be true.
SIMON PETER: Because it is too good to be true. We don’t deserve this plan, but it’s still here for us. Because the Plan knows we need it. This is the Alpha and Omega of calling plans. The first and last plan you’ll ever need.
ERNIE: Well…
(It becomes darker as if clouds are blocking out the sun.)
SIMON PETER: You’re a doubter. I used to be just like you. You’ve made some money, found a woman to settle down with and are looking forward to being a father.
ERNIE: How did you know we’re going to have a baby?
(We hear thunder and see a flash of lightning.)
SIMON PETER: But in a moment it could all change and you’ll be working at the Shoe Barn wondering why your wife left you and why your child looks like the fellow who delivers your Chinese food.
ERNIE: Ty Ping?
SIMON PETER: I know. I‘ve been there. But the One True Plan saved me. Ernie, it wants to save you too. Do you believe?
ERNIE: Yes.
SIMON PETER: Do you have faith in the One True Plan?
ERNIE: Yes!
SIMON PETER: Praise the Plan Brother Ernie!
ERNIE: Praise the Plan!
(Simon Peter pulls out a contract and a pen.)
SIMON PETER: All you have to do is sign right here and One True Plan will fill your heart with love.
ERNIE: Glory be!
(Melody returns. Ernie takes the pen.)
ERNIE :Oh honey, I’m so glad you’re here. (He hugs her) My eyes have been opened to the coming of the Plan.
MELODY: The what?
SIMON PETER: Sign Brother Ernie! Sign!
ERNIE: Sign!
(Melody takes the contract.)
MELODY: Sign what?
(She reads. Then hands the contract back to Simon Peter)
MELODY: We’re happy with our current plan.
ERNIE: But Honey, this is the Alpha and Omega of calling plans.
MELODY: They want us to sign a lifetime contract, Ernie. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes can I? Maybe we’re not ready for kids.
(She starts to walk away. Ernie and Simon Peter share a meaningful look.)
SIMON PETER: Brother Ernie.
ERNIE: Simon Peter.
MELODY: Let’s go!
(Ernie hurried off after her.)
SIMON PETER: Brother Ernie! Why have you forsaken me?!
(A mother pushes her daughter up to the bench in a wheelchair.)
MOTHER: You wait here and I’ll be right back.
(The Mother exits and Simon Peter approaches the little girl and puts his hands on her head.)
SIMON PETER: Arise and walk my child, you are possessed no more!
(The little girl pushes herself out of her chair and falls flat on her face. Simon Peter looks around to make sure no one saw him and disappears into the crowd.)
BLACKOUT
(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
Michael says it, and I echo...
Think you can write a better sketch? Prove it. Write it, post it, and send us the link at sketchwar at dreamloom.com
(If you have nowhere to post it, just send the text of it and one of us will put it up for all the world to see.)
Be the envy of your friends, the coveted of your neighbors, and the wonder of the years!
Is your sketch ready? You know you've been checking out Friday Sketch War the last couple of weeks thinking "I could do that. Hell, I could do better than that." Well, put your pencil where your mouth is and fire off a sketch. Post a link and join the melee.
You can find more information here.
You can read past sketches here, here and here.
(The waiting room at a blood drive. NURSE BLAKE (Alec Baldwin) and NURSE WILLIAMSON (Kevin Spacey) stand in their scrubs before LEVENE (Jack Lemmon), MOSS (Ed Harris), and AARONOW (Alan Arkin), who are sitting at tables and filling out forms to give blood.)
BLAKE
Are they all here?
WILLIAMSON
All but one.
BLAKE
Well, I’m going anyway.
(to the group)
Let’s talk about something important!
(BLAKE sees LEVENE picking up a Nutter Butter from a plate on the counter)
Put that cookie down! Cookies are for donors only.
(LEVENE laughs incredulously. BLAKE approaches him.)
You think I’m fucking with you? I am not fucking with you. I’m here from Red Cross HQ. I’m here from Mitch and Murray. And I’m here on a mission of mercy. Your name’s Levene?
LEVENE
Yeah.
BLAKE
You call yourself a blood donor, you son of a bitch?
MOSS (standing)
I don’t gotta listen to this shit.
BLAKE
You certainly don't pal. ’Cause as you all know, first prize is you can donate a pint of whole blood. Anybody wanna hear second prize? Second prize is you donate platelets. Third prize is you’re anemic. You get the picture? You can’t donate blood, you can’t donate shit, you are shit, hit the bricks pal and beat it ’cause you are going out!
MOSS (sits)
What’s your name?
BLAKE
Make Your Next Meal A Hearty One, that’s my name. You know why, Mister? ’Cause you had a piece of toast and a cup of coffee for breakfast this morning, I ate a twelve-dollar omelet. That’s my name!
(to LEVENE)
And your name is “You’ve Spent 5 Cumulative Years In Europe Since 1980.” Then have a fucking Oreo and go home.
(to everyone)
Because only one thing counts in this life! Get them to draw from the vein which is dotted! You hear me, you fucking fairies?
(BLAKE flips over a blackboard that features two sets of letters. He points to “B-S-E.”)
“B-S-E.” B: Bovine. S: Spongiform. E: Encephalopathy. Have you got it, you fucks? If so, get your pulpy, Creutzfeldt-Jakob riddled brainpan the fuck out of my waiting room.
(He points to “A-B-AB-O.”)
“A-B-AB-O.” “A” can receive “A” and “O.” “B” can receive “B” and “O,” ’cause it’s fuck or walk. “AB” can receive “A,” “B,” “AB,” and “O” -- the universal recipient, for Christ. “O” is the universal donor.
(walks to MOSS)
Nice guy? I don’t give a shit. Allergic to iodine? Fuck you -- go home and vomit some shellfish.
(to AARONOW)
You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can’t take this -- how can you take the abuse when you sit in that chair with a fucking needle sticking into your forearm? You don’t like it -- leave. You know what it takes to donate blood?
(BLAKE goes to his briefcase and removes a vial of copper sulfate solution with a drop of blood in it. He dangles it in front of his crotch.)
It takes a hemoglobin concentration of over 12.5 grams per deciliter to donate blood.
(throws the vial back in the briefcase, pulls out a stack of cards)
These are the “Be Nice To Me” stickers. And to you, they’re gold. And you don’t get them. Why? Because to give them to you is just throwing them away.
(he hands the stack to WILLIAMSON)
They’re for donors. I’d wish you good luck but you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it.
(exit BLAKE and WILLIAMSON)
On the killing floor, before the assembled masses the gladiators prepare for battle...
(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
If you'd like to get in on the fun, simply write a sketch and post a link to it. If you'd like to check out some of the battles that have already transpired you can go here. If you'd like to see a funny video about a guy flipping off a phone you can go here.
Dave, like last week, is the first one to strike. Hilarious.
Update: Richard's joined the fray.
Here is my answer to the question "How can we spur the market and turn this recession around?"
(Michael Chertoff, Secretary of Homeland Security, is giving a press conference.)
MICHAEL: We have received word of some rumors of possible attempts at terrorism somewhere in or around the United States. So we are raising the Terror Threat Level to Orange.
(Members of the press call out to him. He points at one.)
GAIL: Gail Jones, CNN. Should the American people be afraid for their lives?
MICHAEL: We live in a nation that is under constant threat of violence from people who truly hate our guts, but the American people shouldn’t be worried.
(More shouting, Michael points to someone else.)
MATT: Matt Rod, NBC News, America’s News leader. Secretary Chertoff, if the people shouldn’t worry, then is there any real threat?
MICHAEL: Oh my God, yes. These are vicious, freedom hating people who want to see all of us die a horrible, painful death. You know, they’ve infiltrated our country and are living among us, waiting for the opportunity to kill us all in our sleep. I just thank God I’ve got the Secret Service protecting me.
(More shouting, Michael points to someone else.)
LEE: Lee Scott, CEO of Wal-Mart. Should people stockpile food and clothing during this heightened state of panic in America?
MICHAEL: Yes. We are recommending that all Americans stock up on bread, milk and the latest in fashion and electronic goods. We strongly urge them to purchase these items at a discount chain store with everyday low prices.
(The scene shifts to a resort beach. Two men are lounging in the sun.)
ZANJI: Ahmed, what are we doing at this resort? I thought as a terrorist I would be getting to create more terror than this.
AHMED: Relax Zanji. Chill out. There really is not much for us to be doing anymore.
ZANJI: But how can we call ourselves terrorists if we do not terrorize anyone?
AHMED: The world has changed, my friend, and we have to change with it. The infidels are so busy trying to scare their own people that we can take it easy for a while.
ZANJI: And you like it this way?
AHMED: Are you kidding me? I love it! Come on, let us go inside. We will order a couple of coconut mimosas, play some blackjack and pay an expensive call girl to run around in a burka.
(Brickabrac enters, very excited)
BRICKABRAC: Ahmed! Zanji!
AHMED: What is it Brickabrac?
ZANJI: Are we to blow up this infidel sin palace?
BRICKABRAC: No, I have a massage scheduled at 3 o’clock.
ZANJI: Then what?
BRICKABRAC: I just called our accountant and the stock portfolio has tripled!
AHMED: Praise Allah!
BRICKABRAC: You were right, Ahmed, Exxon/Mobile is having a fantastic year.
AHMED: (Sarcastic) Gee, I wonder why?
(They all begin laughing. The scene shifts back to the press conference.)
BETTY: Secretary Chertoff, what are we doing to protect our oil reserves?
MICHAEL: Instead of wasting man power on oil fields that are located in a hot, hostile environment, we are preparing a preemptive invasion of The Soviet Union to take theirs.
BETTY: Why would we do that?
MICHAEL: To protect the American way of life and bring democracy and Jesus to all heathen people. Besides, it’s something the boys at the Pentagon have been wanting to do for quite a while.
BETTY: But it’s not even called The Soviet Union anymore.
MICHAEL: Shh. Don’t let the boys in the Pentagon hear you say that.
GINNY: Secretary Chertoff, were there any specific targets named in the unspecified threats?
MICHAEL: We know that these hate-mongering people hate us, our freedom and our lifestyle. That is why we think that their next attack will strike the very heart of all we hold dear.
BRAD: Our children?
GAIL: Hollywood?
MICHAEL: McDonald’s.
(Everyone gasps.)
BRAD: Should people stop going there?
MICHAEL: No. That would be playing right into their hand. If our children can’t have saturated fat and cheap plastic toys served to them by an underpaid teenager in a paper hat then the terrorists have truly won. I implore all Americans to eat at McDonald’s morning, noon and night as a sign of defiance to these men of terror.
(The scene shifts back to Ahmed, Zanji and Brickabrac who are looking at a newspaper.)
BRICKABRAC: (Pointing at something in the paper) There! There it is!
AHMED: McDonald’s is up 35%!
ZANJI: Praise Allah!
(The scene shifts back to the press conference.)
GAIL: Have there been any threats to disrupt the elections in November?
MICHAEL: All elections have been postponed indefinitely. His Eminence, Premier Bush, feels that since he was President when all this began, he should remain in power until it is over.
GAIL: And when will all this be over?
MICHAEL: Until evil is obliderated from the face of the Earth or until the Bush bloodline ends. Which ever comes first.
(The scene shifts back to Ahmed, Zanji and Brickabrac. Brickabrac and Ahmed are on the phone talking to different people.)
BRICKABRAC: (On phone. Very menacing.) Yes, I would like to report a terrorist threat…Not just to this one Coca-Cola plant but to all Coca-Cola plants worldwide.
(He hangs up the phone.)
AHMED: (On phone.) That’s right, Jerry, I want you to buy as much Coca-Cola stock as you can. I have a good feeling about it.
(He hangs up)
ZANJI: (Sipping a cocktail) Ahmed, I am sorry that I doubted you.
AHMED: Zanji, my friend, if there is one thing I have learned from studying our enemys in Washington, it is that they hate their people way more than we do. Now, who wants to go to Disneyland?
(The men all cheer and high five each other.)
BLACKOUT
Richard's got the final numbers on today's sketch war. It might not have been WW III, but we gave 'em hell.
For those of you standing on the sidelines, shaking in your boots; tuck in your skirts and get in the fight.
For those of you who battled, bled and lived to tell the tale, I tip my hat to you and say "Nice work. You are worthy adversaries whom I look forward to disemboweling next week."
PSYCHIATRIST
Your wife maintains that you don’t show her enough affection.
PATIENT
I show my wife a lot of aggression.
PSYCHIATRIST
“Affection.”
PATIENT
Yes.
PSYCHIATRIST
You said “aggression.”
PATIENT
No, I said affection.
PSYCHIATRIST
It’s very interesting to me that you confused those two words.
PATIENT
Whatever I said, I meant “aggression.”
PSYCHIATRIST
Aggression?
PATIENT
No, aggression. You’re browbeating me.
PSYCHIATRIST
Not at all. I think your wife feels unappreciated because of the lack of physical displays of affection.
PATIENT
I think my wife is turned off by it. I think she hates public displays of aggression.
PSYCHIATRIST
“Affection.”
PATIENT
When we’re out, I try to give her a slug, or even just a little kill on the cheek, and she’s up in arms. It embarrasses her.
PSYCHIATRIST
Have you attempted this in private?
PATIENT
This isn’t private stuff! It’s not like I’m trying to French kill her, or unbutton her shoot or anything.
PSYCHIATRIST
French kill her?
PATIENT
Kiss. It’s not a French kiss, just a little punch on the cheek.
PSYCHIATRIST
But is she more responsive in private?
PATIENT
I try to get aggressionate in private. But usually she’d rather talk.
PSYCHIATRIST
She wants a conversation?
PATIENT
Yes, but I’m not in the mood for conflagration. She keeps drowning on and on, and talking gets in the way, when I just want to strangle up with her, or do some killing.
PSYCHIATRIST
“Kissing”?
PATIENT
And this isn’t deadroom talk, it’s more like nagging. Like a pop quiz about our suffocationship.
PSYCHIATRIST
You just referred to your bedroom as a “dead-room.”
PATIENT
Whatever tomb it is, that’s not the point. I can’t get into physical aggression if she keeps going on about “expressing our true flayings for each other.”
PSYCHIATRIST
“Feelings”?
PATIENT
Yes! Isn’t that ridiculous? She keeps talking about “revealing our true ammunitions” and “expressing our flayings.” “Finding true stabbiness in our knife together.”
PSYCHIATRIST
I think she just wants to hear that you’re committed to maintaining the relationship.
PATIENT
I’m definitely committed to maiming the relationship. That’s not even a question. We’re very attacked to each other.
PSYCHIATRIST
She needs to hear that. It seems to me.
PATIENT
I shove my wife. I shove her very much. And I don’t want anything to gun between us. But sometimes, I swear, I just want to grab her by the hair and run her through a meat grinder.
(pause)
PSYCHIATRIST
That was a very violent image.
PATIENT
Yes, I’m sorry.
The stage was set, the battle begun...
(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!
I wrote a sketch and posted it. Richard did the same and challenged me to a Sketch War. This will, hopefully, be an ongoing exercise, which you are free to join us in. Simply write a sketch and post it on your blog every Friday. Be sure to let me or Richard know about it and we'll post links to it. I haven't seen one from Richard yet, but he's in a different time zone, so I'm just assuming he's still in bed. But Dave, the early bird, has already lobbed the first sketch grenade of the day and it's pretty damn funny.
Update: Richard has launched an assault. (Not to be confused with an insult.)
But enough chit-chat! Once more unto the breech dear friends!
"A Dream Upon Waking"
(Mary #1 stands in the middle of the stage wearing a surgical gown. Dr. Peter enters with a chart.)
MARY #1: Give it to me straight, doc. I’m dying aren’t I?
PETER: No no no. But I am going to need you to tell me why your father loved your sister more than you.
MARY: Well, I suppose, I wasn’t enough of a tomboy for him.
PETER: Oh Mary, this isn’t good. It isn’t good at all.
(Jerry races in and shakes Mary.)
JERRY: Mary, wake up! You’re dreaming.
(Jerry races off.)
PETER: Now, Mary I’m just going to take off my pants and we’ll continue the examination.
(Peter begins unbuckling his pants. The lights shift to another part of the stage and Mary #2 is sitting at table having coffee with Denise.)
MARY #2: And then I woke up.
DENISE: A doctor, with no pants, talking about your father? Sounds like a perverted sex dream to me.
MARY #2: Everything is sex to you.
DENISE: That’s because I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body.
MARY #2: You’re a lesbian?
DENISE: No. I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body.
(Jerry races in and shakes Mary #2)
JERRY: Mary, wake up! Wake up!
(Jerry runs off. Denise removes her wig and begins to unbuckle her pants.)
DENISE: Now you tell me if you’ve ever seen a unit this big in the girl’s locker room before.
(The lights shift to another part of the stage and Mary #3 is talking to Chip in the office break room.)
MARY #3: And it was me, but it wasn’t me, you know?
CHIP: I hate dreams like that.
(Jerry races in.)
JERRY: Seriously Mary, Wake Up!
(Jerry races off. Dr. Peter enters without his pants.)
PETER: Ah, there you are. If you would kindly bend over that table we can continue with the examination.
(The lights shift to another part of the stage. Mary #1, Mary #2 and Mary #3 are standing next to each other.)
MARY #3: This can’t be good.
MARY #2: I wouldn't think so.
MARY #1: You guys want to make out?
(The three Marys look at one another. They shrug their shoulders.)
MARY #2/MARY #3: Sure.
(The lights go out on stage and single spot comes up on Jerry sitting in the audience. He awakens with a start and looks around at everyone looking at him.)
JERRY: Damn it. You always wake up before the best part.
(Dr. Peter, still pantless, appears behind Jerry.)
PETER: All righty then. If you’ll just bend over we can continue the examination.
BLACKOUT
Seriously, Sketch War '08 has begun. If you wanna be part of the surge then post a sketch this Friday. Then send a link to sketchwar (at) dreamloom (dot) com. Richard and I will post links and everyone can attack everyone else.
Okay, maybe not attack. But "offer encouragement and support" just doesn't sound bad-ass enough.
Ai-ight. Looks like Michael and I are definitely going to do battle on Fridays. We've reached out to a few other writers and have gotten a smattering of interest back, so I suspect we'll see one or two others joining us this week, and maybe a few more after that. My hope is that we can get five to ten sketches each week, but that might be overly optimistic.
Regardless, anyone who *does* want to play along, email a link to your sketch to sketchwar at dreamloom dot com. Michael and/or I will put up links to all the entries each week.
Friend and fellow writer, Richard Porter, read my post yesterday and decided he had to one-up me with a very funny sketch about Mitt Romney and Al Gore. Not only that, but slapped me across the face with his fancy, leather gloves, threw them to the ground and challenged me to a duel. A sketch off if you will, to be posted every Friday. Being a red-blooded, American male I have no choice but to accept this challenge and hope that he won't be too embarrassed in front the lady folk when I beat him soundly with a rubber chicken.
All kidding aside, as a writer, it's always nice to have someone in your corner to raise the bar a little and push you further and further. WNEP's Write Club is great for this. As is, the Joe Janes led, Robo-Writers. (Which I need to get back in the habit of attending.) But if you don't belong to a group or have time to attend a gathering, a little friendly competition can do the trick too.
So come join us as we do battle during Friday Night Sketch War! I dare ya.
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 | 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. |
I've been trying to exhibit a little more discipline with my writing. So, to keep the muscles churning and to take a break between more serious projects, I try to write a sketch or two. Here's an example.
Bad Credit Baby
(Tom and Debbie enter their house. Immediately Dan and Dawn and Ben and Betty jump up from behind furniture.)
ALL
Surprise!
TOM
What the hell?
DEBBIE
Dawn, Betty, what are you guys doing here?
DAWN
We wanted to be here when you brought the baby home.
BETTY
We wanted to be the first to meet the little guy.
DAN
So where is he?
BEN
Don’t tell me you guys forgot him in the car already?
DEBBIE
Why don’t you tell them, Tom.
DAWN
Oh no, is something wrong with him?
TOM
No, he’s fine. The hospital wouldn’t let us bring him home is all.
DEBBIE
Tell them why dear.
TOM
Do we have to do this now?
DEBBIE
They’re going to find out sooner or later.
BETTY
Find out what?
BEN
He’s a retard isn’t he?
DEBBIE
He’s not retarded. He’s perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, two nostrils, two ears, two eyes.
DAN
So where is he?
TOM
Our credit check came back with some glitches.
DEBBIE
“Our” credit check? It was your goddamn student loans that did this. I told you just to pay them.
DAWN
What are you going to do?
TOM
They want $250,000 in cash before they’ll release him. What can we do?
(Chester Appleway stands up from behind the couch and speaks directly to the audience. He is dressed in a polyester suit with a bad hair piece.)
CHESTER
How many times has this happened to you? Has your bad credit history caused you to forfeit your children so they could be sold by the hospital to pay for your bill? Well worry no longer. I’m Chester Appleway and I’m here to help.
TOM
Who’s this?
DEBBIE
Did you guys invite him?
DAN
I’ve never seen him before.
CHESTER
For three easy payments of $59.95 I can restore your credit history.
DEBBIE
You guys let a salesman into our house?
DAN
He must have slipped in when we were bringing in the cake.
DEBBIE
Where’s the repellant?
TOM
There’s some under the sink
(Tom exits into the kitchen.)
CHESTER
Act now and I’ll send you, free of charge, this brand new waffle iron.
(Tom re-enters.)
TOM
Damn it, we’re out!
DEBBIE
Well we have to get rid of him. What can we do?
(Bradley Wiffler stands up from behind the chair. He wears coveralls over a white shirt and tie. He wears a button that reads “Ask me how to kill things.”)
BRADLEY
How many times has this happened to you? You have a pesky salesman in your home, but you’re fresh out of repellant. Well, my friends, your worries are over. My name is Bradley Wiffler and I’m here to help.
DEBBIE
Jesus, another one!
DAWN
You’ve got an infestation.
TOM
Are you sure none of you guys let them in?
(Silence. They all look at Ben.)
TOM
Ben. Are you sure none of you guys let them in? Ben? Hello, Earth to Ben.
BEN
Sorry guys I forgot my line.
(They all moan and shake their heads. Dirk Wrightwood, the director enters with a clipboad and wearing a headset.)
DIRK
Cut!
BEN
I’m sorry everyone. I blanked.
DEBBIE
Well, if you weren’t snorting so much fucking coke, maybe you could remember your fucking lines.
BEN
Blow me, Debbie! Oh wait, that’s how you got this job to start with.
DEBBIE
Fuck you!
BEN
Fuck yourself.
DIRK
People, people, people, people, people, settle down. Let’s get everyone back to their starting positions. We’re gonna take it from Tom and Debbie’s entrance. Debbie, honey, let’s see some emotions, huh? You’ve just come back from the hospital without your baby. For fuck’s sake, you’ve been carrying this thing around for nine months and now they won’t let you keep it? Show me some grief, babe.
DEBBIE
Dirk, I’m trying, but I have nothing to draw from. What can I do?
(Miranda Queezland stands up from behind the couch. She wears black pants, a black turtleneck and a black beret. She has a red scarf tossed carelessly around her neck.)
MIRANDA
How many times has this happened to you? You’re in the middle of an emotional scene but you’re completely drained. You have nothing to draw from. Well fret no more because Miranda Queezland is here to help.
DIRK
And can someone get an exterminator in here or something? Seriously! These things are everywhere.
BLACKOUT
