Friday, August 29, 2008

FSW: Gathering Edition

Another Friday, another sketch. Let the games begin.

Richard is up and ready with a sketch that might be my
favorite to date. I'm sure it has nothing to do with my own tendencies to write about high school crushes and the voices that guide us.

Ken has a tale of witches that think green.

Dave is still recovering from his tragic loss, so nothing from his camp yet.

It was Ken that pitched out this week's theme, Gatherings

I don't know if it's because great minds think alike or what, but I was going to post a funeral scene when I noticed that Richard suggested that for next week's theme. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself having a whole week to polish a scene.

Not wanting to disturb the dark clouds that are swirling in my bean this week, I figured I wouldn't stray too far from the funeral home. You might want to put down the slice of pizza before you start. You've been warned.

American Male

(City sidewalk. Early afternoon. A large crowd is gathered around one another looking at something on the ground. Gary, a well dressed man in his 30s, sees his friend Al, also well dressed and 30s, among the gawkers. Al is finishing his lunch, a hotdog. Gary has a large coffee.)

Gary: Hey, Al. Long time no see. How’s tricks?

Al: Gary! Buddy! Doing all right, thanks.

(They shake hands, doing the awkward chest bump “guy hug” thing.)

Gary: What’s with the crowd?

Al: Jumper.

Gary: No shit.

(They both look up at the building.)

Gary: What floor?

Al: Not sure. But it must have been up there pretty far. All that’s left is a suit full of pulp.

Gary: Damn.

Al: I know.

Gary: Did he land on anyone?

Al: Doesn’t look like it. Though that woman over there got a nice helping of splatter.

(They look over at a woman, covered in blood and brain matter, sitting at a bus stop staring off into space.)

Gary: Nice. Well, I guess she gets the rest of the day off, huh?

Al: Seriously. Lucky duck. Oh, hey, you gotta check this out.

(They push their way through the crowd to get a better look.)

Gary: Oh my God!

Al: I know, right? That’s got to be a $1000 suit.

Gary: What a waste.

Al: At least take the coat off before you jump.

Gary: Seriously.

(Gary squats to look closer.)

Gary: Dude, that’s a fucking Skagen. Completely smashed.

Al: Some people just don’t have a clue. (With a mouthful of hotdog.) Oh, hey, watch your shoes there, buddy.

(Gary looks down and realizes he’s inches away from stepping on something red and squishy. He stands.)

Gary: Thanks man. If I mucked up these Guccis, I’d fucking kill myself.

(There is the briefest of pauses as they look at one another, then burst out laughing.)

Al: Hey, you going to that meet and greet over at Sidley Friday night?

Gary: Standing around with a bunch of vultures in cheap suits trying to blow smoke up my stink star? No thanks. I think I’m going to take Nikki over to that new sushi place on Randolph.

Al: Dude, you gotta spring for the babe buffet. They lay out all this crap on a hot, naked Asian chick. A-mazing. Dipping pan-joon in her poon is not an option, sadly.

(Paramedics arrive on the scene with a stretcher and one of them bumps into Al.)

Al: Hey, Jack, where’s the fire?

Gary: Some people.

Al: Not an ounce of fucking respect in this city anymore.

Gary: Seriously.

Al: Hey, we should do golf or wine or something some time, yeah?

Gary: Totally. Text me.

Al: Will do. Well, I should be getting back to the slave quarters.

Gary: Yeah, time flies when you’re having fun.

Al: It must be like you’re living in a time machine, right?

(They share a laugh. They start to walk away. Gary points at Al’s shirt.)

Gary: Dude, I think you got some mustard on your shirt.

(Al looks down, trying to see.)

Al: Are you fucking kidding me? Goddamn it! That’s going to ruin my whole fucking day.

Gary: Seriously.

(They walk off. The crowd continues to stare at the scene. One of the paramedics is talking to the splattered woman.)



R.A. Porter said...

Oh the humanity!

Mustard doesn't come out, you bastard!