FSW: Job Hunting Edition

What a timely theme, as thousands of brokers, bankers and theives are looking for work. And oddly enough, Ken, Richard and I as seem to playing in the same ballpark with our sketches. I wonder why?

Richard's recruiters have the right man for the job.

Ken's rolling out a new talk show hosted by everyone's favorite moose hunter.

Next week's theme, if there is a next week, is Apocalypse.

Here's my sketch. I wrote it last night watching the news. Enjoy.


Curious George Visits the Farm

(June 23, 2009. We are in the kitchen of the Bush Ranch House in Crawford, Texas. Laura is trying to make breakfast. George is constantly getting in her way.)

Laura: George, for cryin’ out loud. I thought you said you were gonna to help.

George: I am helpin’.

Laura: What’s this?

(She holds up a skillet with a dozen eggs smashed into it, shells and all.)

George: Well, you just said eggs and I wasn’t sure which part or how many you wanted so I put the whole thing in there.

Laura: (Sighs) When are you going to get a job and get out of my hair?

George: Laura, I’ve been looking for a job since December. With the economy in the crapper, there’s just nobody hiring. I’ve called almost every business, baseball team and college in the country and none of them need a new commander in chief.

Laura: Did you call that recruiter and ask about the travelling lecturer position?

George: Yeah, but I think that fella was having some sort of break down. I’d no more than said my name and he just started laughing hysterically and didn’t stop.

Laura: Well, you’ve gotta do something before I go out of my mind. Why don’t you head over to Jasper’s farm. I heard Maebell say they were looking for some help.

George: Aw, honey, can’t I just stay here and clear brush?

Laura: George, there’s not a lick of brush left on this ranch. You’ve cut, hacked and weed-whacked every piece of vegetation in a three mile radius. Go to Jasper’s. Tell him I sent ya.

George: But honey…

Laura: Go on! Get!

(We jump to Jasper’s Farm. Jasper is working on a tractor. George kicks one of the tires.)

George: So anyways, Laura thought maybe I could be of some assistance to you.

Jasper: I don’t really see how George.

George: I've got some ideas.

Jasper: Do you now?

George: I was thinking maybe we could invade Hamilton’s farm, take over their crop as well. That way you’d have twice as much corn to bring to market.

Jasper: Ah, George, it doesn’t quite work like that.

George: Well, we could always just torch it all. Make it so he has nothing to sell, thus increasing the worth of your crop.

Jasper: You know, George, I’m afraid I can’t help you.

George: Please, Jasper. Laura said if I came back without a job she was gonna put me in a time out.

(Jasper scratches his head, thinking.)

Jasper: Well, I do have a problem that maybe you could help me with.

George: I’m your man, Jasper.

(We jump to the middle of Jasper’s corn field. George is wearing overalls and has bells and shiny pieces of metal tied to his arms. He is standing on a small perch, with his arms tied straight out to a cross beam, as if he’s been crucified. A Secret Service Agent stands on the ground at his side.)

George: Can you believe this? All I gotta do is stand out here and watch over the corn.

Agent: Yes, sir.

George: I bet Clinton will be jealous when he finds out.

Agent: Yes, sir.

(A crow lands on George’s arm.)

George: Would you look at that. I think he likes me.

(The crow begins pecking at George’s eyes.)

George: Ow! Hey, bird, stop that. Ow! I don’t think he likes me no more. Ow!

(More crows join in and soon George is covered with the black birds. His cries are drowned out by the cawing of the happy, feasting birds. The Secret Service Agent, out of reflex, takes a step towards George, but then stops himself, looks around, and heads back to the farm house.)

And the world lived happily ever after….

FSW: Morton's Executive Search

Okay. This week's topic is job hunting. Nice and straightforward in honor of my upcoming job switch. And *clearly* we can avoid politics tonight.Michael's got the call for next week, so don't forget to read his submission when he posts it to find out what next week's topic is. And of course, because his and Ken's will be funny as hell.If you want to play along with us, email a link to your entry to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.Morton's Executive Search

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

JANET, 30s slender and no-nonsense, enters and strides to the head of the table. She joins GARETH, 40s and tweedy, and EMILY, 20s and achingly hip.

JANET

Sorry I'm late. Dick's sister and kids are visiting. The baby cried half the night. What's on the agenda today?

GARETH

First up is a new position. I got the call right before coming in here. G.O. is in the market for a new CEO. This could be really big for us.

JANET

You're not kidding. Commission on that could run high six figures. Who've we got in the stable?

EMILY

(Shuffles a few files and reads from the first)

We've got a Columbia grad, Harvard Law, former state legislator and a few years in the Senate. He's really good in front of crowds. He'd be great calming the stockholders.

JANET

(Aghast)

You're kidding me, right? This isn't your local coffee house looking for a part-time manager for Poetry Slam Saturdays. This is one of the biggest companies in the world. Who else have we got.

Emily is chastened. Gareth grabs a file from her stack and reads.

GARETH

Alright. Someone a bit older and more seasoned. We've got an Annapolis grad, four-term Senator--

JANET

--Please! Again, let me remind you people. We're hiring for a Cee Eee Oh! Give me someone with some executive experience.

EMILY

Okay, I've got one. Two-term mayor of a small town, governor--

JANET

--Alright. Is that all you've got? Come on. G.O., people. G.O. is synonymous with high tech. They started Silicon Valley in their garage. Emily. When I say G.O., what do you think of?

EMILY

Well, I guess big-ticket high tech.

JANET

Exactly. And we need a CEO who under--

GARETH

--We don't.

JANET

We don't what?

GARETH

They told me they're looking to change. They want to get out of the large-margin business and move into consumer electronics. More sales through Wal-Mart than to Wal-Mart.

JANET

So they're looking for someone to get them out of selling to big business and into the bargain bins. I've got the perfect candidate. Checks off all the boxes. She'll swoop in - and earn us a pretty signing commission - change the corporate culture, and be out the door in five years with millions. Gareth, put together the standard golden chute package.

(Beat)

Alright, what's up next?

EMILY

Huh. Interestingly enough, I've got a coffee shop looking for a part-time manager.

JANET

Alright Mr. Harvard Law, that's you. What else?

GARETH

Kruger Industrial Smoothing needs a new senior sales rep. But I think I've got that one covered.

EMILY

The Lions have an opening for a GM. I think I've got a guy for that. He's got experience, and we can bring in him for high dollars; he's making a lot at his current job.

JANET

Is he going to be interested in moving on?

EMILY

He's got strong ties to the Detroit area, and apparently is in quite a rush to get out of New York. He's something of a

(air quotes)

"bad boy", but they love him in Motor City.

JANET

And he knows football?

EMILY

Not exactly, but he knows sports. And he's used to the pressure of being a GM.

GARETH

We should move quickly on this. Before--

JANET

--Before Detroit knows what hit 'em.

BLACKOUT

FSW: Job Hunting

Welcome back to another Friday Sketch War! WOOHOOO!!

This week, Richard gave us the topic of "Job Hunting". And even though I know everyone and their brother \ sister \ cross-dressing uncle has written a Sarah Palin sketch, I just couldn't resist.

I'll update links to the other battlers as they come in....

UPDATED: Richard is doing some heavy recruiting and Michael shows us that there are great jobs out there, even for those wishing they only had a brain. And Michael gave us next weeks theme: Apocalypse. I'm guessing he's been into the financial reports again :-)
____________________________________________________________________

INT. - TALK SHOW LIVING ROOM SET - DAY
Soft jazzy flute music plays and pink and green graphic comes up: “Job Hunting with Sarah Palin”. The graphic fades out to reveal SARAH sitting in a lovely living-room talk-show set, sipping a big mug of coffee.

SARAH
Welcome back to “Job Hunting ” everyone. I’m your host of course, Sarah Palin. Today we’re talking about how to get a job in a tough economy. I’m doing this because...

JOHN (O.S.)
“We” Sarah

SARAH
Thank you John....WE’RE doing this...

JOHN (O.S.)
Thank you Sarah

SARAH
...because we want every American to feel confident they can get a decent job even in tough times....just in case, you know, things don’t get better any time soon. And if you have those skills, you won’t blame your government for being unemployed, so John and me...

JOHN (O.S.)
Thank you

SARAH
...can work on important things like banning gay marriage, invading Iran, and blaming things on the Democrats. Now many of you are probably thinking “Sarah, what do you know getting a jobs in a tough market?” Folks, let me tell you something. In Alaska there are 15,472 men for every 3 women, and yet I got elected to two different public offices with only "Third Place Beauty Pageant contestant" and "Sports Reporter" to show for experience. Trust me, I know tough job markets.

Speaking of experience, did you know that’s the number one thing that keeps people from getting the job they really want - lack of experience? Most people will never apply for a job for which they have absolutely no experience. But I think God has qualified each and every one of us to be whatever we can apply for, and delusions of grandeur are just God’s way of saying “go get ‘em!”

So I’ve developed...

JOHN (O.S.)
WE

SARAH
WE’VE developed (thank you John) some unique but tested strategies to land that dream job whether you’re qualified or not.

First of all, let’s talk interview outfit. Pick something that’s a little conservative, then sexy it up a bit - shorten the skirt a little, leave an extra button on the blouse undone, etc. Think “sexy librarian”. The sexy gets them hot, but the conservative says “no touching”. Just let them try to think about your experience when you’re sitting down and that skirt is riding up. And if you’ve ever been in a beauty pageant, mention that in the interview...a lot. And don’t forget those glasses - a good pair of glasses both enhances and tones down the sexy - they’re just a little accessory miracle.

Obviously, that last bit of advice is only for the job-hunting women out there. It goes without saying that any man thinking about putting on a skirt is a homosexual, and deserves to burn in hell.

Now, when you show up to the interview, see if you can bring along an elderly person, preferably a war veteran, or even better an ex-prisoner of war with some sort of lingering torture injury. When you’re with someone like that, interviewers think “wow, this person must be reliable and trustworthy if a feeble old geezer like that is hanging out with them.” At the very least, interviewers will be thinking “how nice that they’re hanging out with the elderly”. So really, you really can’t lose with a senior citizen in tow.

So now let’s move on to the interview. You’re sitting there, and the interviewer is looking over your resume’.

Well, there’s your first mistake - NEVER let anyone see your resume’. If they see it, they have hard evidence that you’re unqualified. Instead just say things like “I think my resume’ speaks for itself”, and let them imagine just how great your resume’ must be.

Now, how do you handle that question we all hate:

“So, what qualifies you for this position?”

Wow....that’s A scary one, huh? But here’s a way to answer that question perfectly every time. Remember the word “ONCE” - O...N...C...E. That stands for Old job, new job, cosmetic enhancement. For example, let’s say you’ve been a garbage man and your applying to be the CEO of Sony. When the interviewer says “So what makes you think you could be the CEO of a major multinational company, just say “You know the difference between a garbage man and a Sony CEO? A good hair cut”. Trust me - it doesn’t have to make sense, just say it like it’s completely self evident, then let them figure it out. They’ll just smile and go along with you rather than admit they don’t get what it has to do with anything!

Ladies, try to use “lipstick” as your that cosmetic enhancement - that reminds them of that conservative sexy look you’ve been cultivating.

You can also claim “experience by proximity”. They say you’ve never been a CEO of a major corporation. You reply “well I live within 100 miles of dozens of CEO’s - so I’m probably over-qualified”.

If they keep pushing it, just turn the tables on them . They’ve never been a CEO or they wouldn’t be interviewing you, so they don’t have enough experience to be asking YOU about YOU CEO experience, do they? See how nicely that works?

Now, as a last resort, if they keep pushing you about experience, just accuse them of being a liberal intellectual elitist who’s completely out of touch with the American public. They may come back and argue with you about this, but you will have successfully taken all focus off your lack of experience. Mission accomplished!

Well, it looks like we’re out of time for today.

Thanks for tuning in everyone, and join me...

JOHN (O.S.)
US!

SARAH
...join US (thank you John) tomorrow when we tell you how to take out the competition by stealing their strategy and taking everything they say about you as a sexist assault. Bye bye now!

FSW: Sports Edition

Richard's up with a basketball story that seems strangely familiar.

Ken, the theme originator, brings us three fans who just want to believe in something.

Dave's been absent the last couple of weeks, but that doesn't mean he isn't writing. He's just not writing silly sketches.

In honor of Richard's recent good news, next week's theme is Job Hunting.

Here's my stab at this week's theme.


American Dreamer

(An elegant restaurant. Barry and Jill Hamilton are dressed for a night out.)

Barry: Thanks for arranging this evening, honey. I can’t remember the last time we got dressed up for a date.

Jill: Well, I know you’ve been working so hard, studying for your certification test. And since Barry, Jr. is old enough for a sitter, I thought we could use a night out.

Barry: Can we afford this place?

Jill: It’s all taken care of.

Maitre d’: (With a wink to Jill) Right this way please.

(He leads them to a back room, closed off from the rest of the restaurant by a curtain.)

Barry: Our own, private room? How romantic.

Maitre d’: Enjoy.

(The Maitre d’ pulls back the curtain to reveal Earl and Edith Hamilton, Barry’s parents. Helen and Gary Whiteman, Jill’s parents. They are all seated in a circle. There is no table.)

Edith: Surprise!

Earl: Goddamn it, Edith, it isn’t his birthday.

Barry: What’s all this?

(Jill sits leaving one chair for Barry.)

Earl: Son, we need to talk to you. And you need to listen. Please, sit down.

(Barry reluctantly does so.)

Barry: Honey, what’s going on?

Gary: What’s going on is, we’re not going to let you ruin your life any longer.

Helen: Easy, Gary. We’re here as ambassadors of love and support, Barry.

Gary: Jesus Christ.

Helen: What? That’s what Dr. Phil says when he presides over an intervention.

Barry: This is an intervention? For me? For what? I’m not a drug user. I’m not having an affair. I don’t gamble. Why does my life need intervening?

Earl: It’s about your future, son. Your career choice.

Barry: What about it?

Edith: Well, we just think, and it’s not because we’re not proud of you, we are, but we think you need to take a good look at what your goals are in this life and realize that you're never going to achieve them.

Barry: I'm going to be a teacher, mom. My goals are to help educate the leaders of tomorrow.

Edith: (To the Whitemans) We thought it was a phase.

Barry: I’m sorry you don’t approve of my career path, but I have a chance to make a difference in this world. The United States ranks 18th out of 24 nations in education. Over 50% of students can’t even find Iraq on a map. And don’t even get me started on spelling and grammar.

Helen: You’re never going to be able to raise a family on a teacher’s salary.

Edith: And what happens if a student shoots you?

Gary: Hell, it’s fine if you’re a spinster or a homo or someone who’s never going to have kids, but you’ve got responsibilities now.

Barry: Gary, I’m not going to argue with you there. I would do anything for Jill and Barry, Jr., but material wealth isn’t very high on our priority list.

Helen: Oh really?

(Helen nudges Jill with her elbow.)

Jill: Look, honey, I have needs. And some of those needs have to be met with Gucci and Prada and Gap.

Helen: And that’s just for the baby.

Barry: But, you told me you didn’t care about those things. You said we could live in a tent under a bridge as long as we were together.

Jill: I’d just had four orgasms, Barry. You could have told me that we were going to live on an Amish farm and I would have gone along with it.

Helen: Four? Really?

Gary: Well she’s not with him because he’s a provider, that’s for sure.

Earl: Look, son, we’re here today because we’ve enrolled you as a walk on at Cubs spring training.

Barry: You what?

Edith: Honey, base salary for professional baseball players is close to $400,000 a year.

Gary: And that’s just for the ones that suck.

Edith: The average is closer to $2.5 million.

Gary: You could ride the pine all year and still make a great salary.

Barry: But I haven’t played baseball since high school.

Earl: That’s why Gary and I have agreed to help get you in shape.

(He pulls out a baseball mitt and ball.)

Gary: It’s the American Dream, Barry.

Barry: Because American’s are lazy and would rather play a stupid game than roll up their sleeves and work.

Gary: Cool your jets there, comrade. I didn’t spend three years of my life burying land mines along the MeKong so you could bad mouth patriots.

Barry: Actually…

Edith: Honey, we just want you to give it a try. A couple of years is all we’re asking.

Helen: Heck, the average career span is only something like five years anyhow.

Earl: You could be back in the classroom before your 30th birthday.

Gary: And with a sizable nest egg to boot.

Jill: Don’t you think Barry, Jr. would be so proud to have a father who was a real, live, major league, baseball player?

Barry: Well, I suppose it would be cool to be part of the American Pastime. To play in some of the same stadiums as Ruth and DiMaggio.

Gary: They’ve torn most of the old parks…

Earl: (Waving Gary off) Ah-ah-ah. (To Barry) That’s the spirit, son.

Barry: And we’d get to travel. See the country.

Jill: Think of all the history we could soak up when we play Philadelphia.

Earl: Or the Senators.

Gary: You could give your students firsthand accounts of all the major cities’ finest museums.

Barry: Okay. I’ll do it!

(Everyone cheers and hugs one another.)

Earl: I’m proud of you son.

Helen: (To Jill) Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. Your son will have a nanny.

Barry: I just…

Edith: What is it, dear?

Barry: Well, what if I don’t make the team?

Earl: We’ve already planned for that.

Helen: You’re going to be a reality TV star.

Jill: A camera crew is going to follow you all through spring training.

Gary: “Major League Dreamer”.

Edith: We’ve also already sold the movie rights to your story.

Earl: Edith! I thought we were going to save that for Christmas.

Barry: Wow. You guys have thought of everything. When do we start?

Jill: We already have.

(She points to a large two-way mirror on the wall.)

Barry: Sweet. Well, dad, what do you say we have a catch?

Earl: I’d love to son.

(Earl throws the ball at Barry, who misses it and it hits him in the face. A man steps out from behind a curtain.)

Director: Hold it. Stop tape. Earl, throw the ball again, but this time at his nads. Barry, let it hit you. Roll tape!

(He ducks behind the curtain. Earl looks at Barry and shrugs.)

Barry: Wait, can’t we talk about-

(Earl beans Barry in the beans. He doubles over. The Director pops out.)

Director: Perfect! We’re minting gold here, people, gold. Moving on!

BLACKOUT

FSW: A Game of Horse

Ken suggested this week's theme - sports. He was looking to avoid the teeth gnashing of politics and "failing financial giants". Let me know how he did.

I've got the baton, so next week's theme will be...ah yes! In honor of quitting my job today (and unfortunately taking another one,) next week's theme will be job hunting. If you want to play along with us, email a link to your entry to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.

A Game of Horse
(Three young boys of 9 or 10 shoot a basketball listlessly: BARRY a tall, skinny, African-American kid, rebounds an errant shot and struts. JOE, a skinny white kid, narrates the action.)

JOE
Look, up in the sky! It's a bird...it's a plane...

BARRY
How about a game of horse?

(The last member of our trio is JOHN, a stocky white kid. He slaps the ball from Barry's hands.)

JOHN
Great idea. I'll go first.

BARRY
Don't be a dick, man.

JOE
Yeah, don't be a dick, man.

JOHN
Whatever. You want to protect the hoop? You can't even protect the ball. Okay. From here, off the backboard.

(John at the free throw line dribbles many times and lets loose a brick. Not even close. Barry leaps and retrieves.)

BARRY
(snarky) Nice shot, John.

JOE
Never before in the annals of human history has someone done so little with so much effort.

(Barry lines up at the baseline, beyond the arc. He shoots. Nothing but a ripple as the ball falls through the net. Joe rebounds and dribbles to Barry's spot.)

JOHN
Behind the line! Get behind the line!

(Joe sets up and lets fly an abomination. An uglier shot you've never seen.)

BARRY
That's 'H'. Your turn, John.

(John grabs the ball and dribbles.)

JOHN
It's not fair to shoot from back here. You know I can't raise my arms above my head!

JOE
There's no crying in basketball.

(John shoots granny-style and still misses.)

BARRY
And 'H' for you.

(Barry grabs the ball and dribbles to the top of the key.)

BARRY
Left-handed reverse layup.

(Barry dribbles left, crosses over right, drives to the hoop, powers under and lays it in silky smooth with his off hand.)

JOE
You're despicable.

(Joe grabs the ball and executes...that's not right. He dies. John tries and does even worse, tripping over his feet at the end.)

BARRY
Ho-ho-ho! That's 'H-O' for yo'!

(Barry takes the ball again and goes to the free throw line. He faces away from the hoop.)

BARRY (CONT'D)
Ai-ight. Backwards, off the backboard.

(Cocky bastard. Serves him right when he misses.)

JOE
Juuuust a bit outside!

(John grabs the ball. Out of turn. What a little punk. He goes to the free throw line again.)

JOHN
Losers buy the winner tacos!

(He shoots and banks it in.)

JOE
Do you believe in miracles???

BARRY
You didn't call bank!

JOHN
I always bank it. You know that.

BARRY
Fine.

(Barry takes the ball and shoots without looking. Cocky. I mentioned that, right? He misses.)

JOHN
Ha! That's an 'H'! Man, I love Spanish food!

BARRY
What?

JOHN
I love Spanish food. I can already taste those tacos.

BARRY
Spain's in Europe, John. Tacos are from Mexico.

JOHN
Same diff.

JOE
He only seems to lack the knowledge ladled out daily in high schools.

(A petite girl skips to courtside. She's got a BB gun with her.)

SARAH
Can I play?

JOHN
No! I told you to quit trying to hang out with us!

SARAH
Mom said you have to let me play with you.

JOHN
I don't care. Go home.
(to Joe)
Your turn.

(Joe lines up to shoot and lets the ball sail. Sarah picks it off midair and it deflates as it falls to the ground. Who'd have thought a BB gun would have that much stopping power? Sarah poses like a big girl.)

SARAH
Now can I play?

BLACKOUT

FSW: Sports Edition

Thank God its Friday Sketch War!!!

So I chose the theme for the week - and I went with something to take our minds off politics and failing financial giants....SPORTS!!!

I'll update links to the other sketches as combatants enter the arena, but here's my offering....a tribute to fans of bad NFL teams everywhere (I know your pain :).

UPDATE: Richard shows us which candidate(s) have game and Michael helped us on a new career path, which shows some serious esp, since Richard has given us "Job Hunting" for next weeks theme.

P.S. - Congrats to Richard on his upcoming release from hell...I mean 2 week countdown to departure from his current job!!! WOOHOOO!_________________________________________________________________

INT. - SPORTS BAR - DAY

Rod, Gary and Frank - 3 middle aged, balding, mustached, overweight men - sit at a table, wearing football jerseys, faces painted in team colors, wearing baseball caps for their favorite team. The table is littered with the remains of beers, hot wings, popcorn, peanuts, and several other paper-covered plastic baskets that contained foods we can only imagine. These are superfans, but now they sit, staring at an unseen television, mouths agape as if they just witnessed the most horrific accident in the history of man in close-up slow motion.

ROD
Hol-eeeeee shit.

GARY
63 to 2

ROD
Hol-eeeeeeee shit.

FRANK
How’d we even score 2?

GARY
The other team deliberately dropped the ball in their own end zone...

ROD
Holeeeeee...

GARY
...one of our guys tripped and accidentally fell on it.

ROD
shit.

FRANK
This is the worst. 4 lousy losing seasons, 3 number one draft picks, and we still get the ever-loving-crap kicked out of us on Monday Night Football.

ROD
This team sucks balls.

GARY
Big ones

FRANK
Big hairy ones

ROD
Sweaty and hairy

GARY
And dangly....big sweaty hairy dangly loser balls.

FRANK
That’s the kind of balls this team sucks.

ROD
Goddamn Ball suckers

GARY
They can’t get any worse.

ROD
Bottom feeding ballsuckers

FRANK
We said that last year.

GARY
We did?

FRANK
And the year before.

ROD
Chronic bottom feeding ball suckers

GARY
Shit.

GARY pauses a moment...they sit in silence, depressed, until an idea hits GARY

GARY (CONT)
You know what? I’m through.

FRANK
Through?

ROD
You mean with the wings?

GARY
Nah....I’m done being a fan. I will never cheer for this lousy stinkin’ team ever again.

GARY throws his baseball cap on the table and starts wiping colored makeup off his face

FRANK
You gonna switch to some other team?

GARY
Fuck that....I mean I’m done, period. End of story. No more football, ever.

ROD
Holeeeeee shit!

GARY
Think about it...what has football ever given us?

FRANK
Heartburn

ROD
Depression

FRANK
Suffering

ROD
And sorrow

GARY
Right....and what have you given to football?

FRANK
Piles of money

ROD
Every Sunday from September to February.

FRANK
Those Monday nights too.

ROD
My youth

FRANK
My waistline

ROD
My pre-spastic colon

GARY
I lost my first wife because of football.

ROD
Yeah?

GARY
And my second.

FRANK
My wife barely talks to me any more...and we ain’t had sex in two years.

ROD
Football?

FRANK
Damn straight - she wanted to have sex this time two years ago when a game was on, and I ignored her.

ROD
Shit

FRANK
So she went and dressed up like a cheerleader, then bounced around doing splits...I got pissed cause she was wearing the wrong colors and blocking the screen.

ROD
Shit

FRANK
So she leaves, comes back in, butt naked this time, bouncing around doing splits...

GARY
And...?

FRANK
You guys have seen my wife - naked was not step up. I haven’t watched a game at home since.

ROD
Shit

GARY
What about you Rod?

ROD
What about what?

FRANK
Football made any girl trouble for you?

ROD looks like a deer in the headlights

ROD
No...no issues with, um, girls, at all


GARY
Look...let’s make a pact....right here, right now, the three of us...NO MORE FOOTBALL

ROD AND FRANK
(in unison)
NO MORE FOOTBALL!!!

GARY
We’ll find other things to get exited about

FRANK
To dedicate our lives to!

ROD
To get fanatical about!

GARY
Other reasons to drink beer!

FRANK
To eat nachos!

ROD
To dress up

FRANK and GARY look at ROD for a moment, thinking about that one

GARY
We’ll talk about other things

FRANK
Watch something besides ESPN!

ROD
Read other parts of the paper!

GARY
We don’t need football to be men, do we?

ROD AND FRANK
HELL NO!!!

GARY
We’ll be the type of men who lived before football was invented!

FRANK
We’ll read books!

GARY
Watch plays

ROD
Go dancing!

FRANK
Debate issues!

GARY
Explore shit!

ROD
Go dancing!

GARY
And never, ever, EVER again will we let some stupid silly game control our emotions, wreck our self esteem

FRANK
Make us dress up like idiots

ROD
Shout like retarded cavemen

GARY
Or dictate our schedules and isolate us in dingy bars. And never again will football come between us and our children...

FRANK
Our wives...

ROD
Our parents...

GARY
A-fucking-men! From now on it’s real conversations about real shit with the people we care about....OR NOTHING!!!

GARY raises a near empty beer mug, the other follow suit

GARY
Gentlemen.....FUCK FOOTBALL!!!

ROD
(in unison)
FUCK FOOTBALL!!!

They clink glasses and chug down the last swigs of beer in their mugs. They slam the mugs down on the table in triumph. Then, as they look around at each other, they become aware of how quiet it is. Each tries a few times to think of something to say, starts to say something to the others, then thinks about it, and doesn’t say a word. All three look at each other with a growing sadness, frustration and fear.

GARY finally breaks the silence.

GARY
Uhhhh....

ROD and FRANK hang on for his next word.

GARY
Who do we play next week?

ROD
New Orleans

GARY
Oh hell yeah, we should be able to kick the shit out of them!!!

Animated excited conversation resumes

BLACK OUT

Friday Night Sketch War: Change Edition

The change meme is floating in the ether a lot these days. Michael picked up on it and made it the theme for last Friday's sketch war. Well, "sha na na na na".

• Coyote sent the Justice League to do his bidding...
• Michael embraced the wonder of the universe...right before kicking it in the teeth...
• Ken negotiated a pay raise.
  

Ken's suggested next week's seasonally appropriate theme of sports. So get your thinking caps on, sharpen your pencils, quills, and broadswords, and submit your best effort by midnight Friday to sketchwar at dreamloom.com.

FSW: Spare Changes

If I keep this up, the west coast guy is going to get a reputation for consistently being late to post! What can I say - we San Franciscans just get lost in our gay marriages and medical marijuana :)

Speaking of such radical things, this weeks theme (provided by Michael), was "change" . I decided to play with the word change on two levels, as well as working on a more relationship \ character based slice of life scene (with a healthy does of satirical social commentary as well...t least I HOPE that's how it comes off :)

RICHARD (not Robert...sorry about that Richard....see aformementioned note about medical marijuana) gave us the kind of change we could only get through super-powers ("form of a pig...with lipstick"), and Michael helps us look at the bright side of life (feel free to whistle along, Monty Python fans).

And....since it appears I've been given the honor of picking the topic for next week...

I was very tempted to pick "lipstick on a pig" as our theme, but I'll veer away from political inspiration this round.

Instead, our theme will be (drum roll, please)........SPORTS
in honor of this being the time of year when Baseball winds down and footbal ramps up.

___________________________________________________________________

EXT. - COMMUTER TRAIN STATION - DAY

CHARLIE, a well dressed business man in a suit, stands waiting for the morning train into the city, Wall Street Journal tucked under one arm, sipping a Grande Starbuck’s coffee. A few other well heeled commuters also stand around the platform waiting for their train.

RAOUL, a ragged homeless-looking black man stumbles up onto the platform. He approaches a few of the commuters panhandling. All of them turn him down, ignore him, or just step away in disgust. Finally, RAOUL approaches CHARLIE.

RAOUL
Hey man, can you help a brother out?

CHARLIE
Sorry....I Don’t have any change.

RAOUL
Change?? I didn’t say shit about change....can’t buy shit with change now days. I asked for some help...but you wanna share some cash I’ll haul off a few dead presidents for you! Ha ha!

CHARLIE
I don’t have anything smaller than a twenty.

RAOUL holds out his hand with a smile, waiting for CHARLIE to hand it over.

CHARLIE
I’m not giving you 20 dollars.

RAOUL
Tell you what...give me that twenty, and I’ll go get change for you.

RAOUL holds out his hand and smiles again
CHARLIE just stares at RAOUL for a moment in disbelief

CHARLIE
I forgot....I don’t have any cash on me right now...I didn’t have a chance to go by an ATM last night.

RAOUL
You got NO cash on you at all???

CHARLIE
Nope

RAOUL
Rich lookin’ muthafucka like you?

CHARLIE
Zilch

RAOUL
Not even single ratty old Benjamin you keep stuffed in your shoe for emergencies?

CHARLIE
Not a single bill.

RAOUL
So how’d you pay for that coffee?

CHARLIE
Starbuck’s card.

RAOUL looks frustrated, and starts to go, then turns back.

RAOUL
Train fare?

CHARLIE
Commuter card.

RAOUL
Shit

Starts to leave again....but gets an idea for one last go

RAOUL
How you buyin’ your lunch?

CHARLIE
Debit-ATM card.

RAOUL
Goddamn plastic cards everywhere man - no wonder the planet’s fucked.

CHARLIE
Excuse me.

RAOUL
Planet-fucking asshole.

CHARLIE
You have no right to pass any judgment on me, my stinky little friend!

RAOUL
I have every damn right man! You middle class money-sluts fuck up everything you touch. I’m out here living the utopian ideal.

CHARLIE
Oh please!

RAOUL
Man, dig this - I don’t commute, so I don’t pollute. I eat what other people were going to throw away. I wear what others are done wearing.

CHARLIE
And you smell like a baboon.

RAOUL
I don’t fuckin’ shower man...I don’t waste no water!!! I live wherever I want, under whatever I find, no house made from no cut-down forest, don’t use no electricity generated from no fossil fuels, don’t use no air conditioning leaking toxic chemicals....

CHARLIE
You pay no property taxes so you do nothing to help the community. You pay no income tax, so you do nothing to help clean up the environment or get homeless people off the streets. You consume no fuel, so you create no profit for companies developing alternative energy sources...

RAOUL
Blah-dy blah-dy blah-dy blah-dy blah-dy blah. You’re just scramblin’ your ass off to fix what you fucked up. I’m not fucking nothing up to begin with, so it ain’t my job to pay for fixin’ it.

CHARLIE
Give me a break. You’re just making excuses for being a worthless drain on society.

RAOUL
And you’re living your entire life in denial, trying to buy off your guilt for messing things up.

CHARLIE
I have nothing to feel guilty about. I live a good environmentally conscientious Christians lifestyle.

RAOUL
Man, you’re a middle class white guy....every last bit of shit in the world is your fucking fault! Racism, sexism, holy wars, genocide, diabetes, heart disease, Michael Bolton, keeping “Two and a Half Men” at the top of the Nielsen ratings....ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!!

CHARLIE
Look, you’re getting a little loud, let’s calm down...

RAOUL
Oh....the homeless black man is getting a little too uppity for the nice white man...overstepping his station in life...

CHARLIE
(Looking around the platform)
People are starting to stare...let’s just tone this down.

RAOUL
You can’t even look at me, can you....you look at me and all you see is guilt...guilt for sucking up money that could be distributed amongst everyone in society instead of being hoovered up by the elitist white minority to upgrade their iPhones.

CHARLIE
I haven’t upgraded, I’m waiting for them to fix the 3G issues....

RAOUL
When you look at me, you see thousands of years of oppression, of your kind screwing over people that didn’t look like you, didn’t pray like you, or just plain got a bit too uppity for you

CHARLIE
Quiet down friend...people are starting to stare.

RAOUL
Man, I ain’t you’re god damn friend! I am your goddamn stepping stool!!

CHARLIE
Look, pal...

RAOUL
I’m a man...respect me and call me by the name my mama gave me!!!

CHARLIE
You haven’t told me your name!!!

RAOUL
That’s your own goddamn fault!

CHARLIE
(noticing people staring)
Just, please...quiet down....you’re making a scene.

RAOUL
Ohhhhhh....I see how it is. Big bad money-making white dude can’t handle a helpless little homeless man. Mr. middle-class gettin’ all embarrassed that other white folks see him crumble in the face of the ugly truth.

CHARLIE
I’m....I feel no guilt...it’s my fault you’re homeless....it’s your choices that have..

RAOUL
(to the crowd)
THAT’S RIGHT PEOPLE....MR. WALL STREET FUCKING-JOURNAL HERE CAN’T HANDLE ONE DOWN ON HIS LUCK BLACK MAN!!! MR. MONEY BAGS WOULD RATHER SPEND HIS WHOLE LIFE SHOVELING MONEY INTO A CORRUPT SYSTEM...A SYSTEM THAT HIDES PEOPLE IN SHELTERS!!! HE WANTS A WORLD WHERE HIS VIEW ISN’T CLUTTERED WITH POOR PEOPLE SO HE CAN DRINK HIS LATTE IN PEACE!!!

CHARLIE
Oh God....

RAOUL
HE WANTS SOME CORPORATE MEGAPOWER TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE POOR BLACK PEOPLE INTO CLEAN BURNING FUEL FOR HIS GODDAMN LEXUS!!!

CHARLIE
I never said that...I...

RAOUL
I COULD BE THE SECOND GODDAMN COMING OF JESUS-FUCKING-CHRIST, BUT AS LONG AS I’M A POOR BLACK MAN THIS RICH FUCKER HERE WOULD TURN JEW BEFORE HE GAVE ME A SINGLE DOLLAR!!!

CHARLIE
Look...I just remembered I keep some money in my briefcase...here’s a ten.

RAOUL
I ain’t takin’ that.

CHARLIE
What?

RAOUL
I ain’t takin your goddamn dirty money. I will not be pulled out of Utopia by your hush-money, Satan.

CHARLIE
But this all started with...

RAOUL
(for the benefit of other commuters)
I DO NOT WANT YOUR GOD DAMN GUILT MONEY, WHITE DEVIL!!! YOU CAN’T BUY YOUR CONSCIENCE BACK FROM ME, OPPRESSOR!!!

CHARLIE
Look....here’s a twenty....you said you’d take a twenty earlier, right?

RAOUL
(again performing)
RICH WHITE MAN BUYS CONSCIENCE FROM POOR NIGGER FOR TWENTY BUCKS...FILM AT ELEVEN!!!

CHARLIE
Oh dear God...look, here’s a hundred and fifteen dollars, and my Starbuck’s card...there’s still thirty-five dollars on it...all yours if you’ll just stop this...please!!!

RAOUL thinks it over

RAOUL
Can you get them breakfast sandwiches with that card?

CHARLIE
Yes...it’s Good for anything in the place

RAOUL
Whole bean coffee?

CHARLIE
Yes...everything

RAOUL thinks it over even more

RAOUL
Alright...I accept your guilt money, and your environment-destroying cash card to the white supremacist coffee empire, in the name of restoring peace to my Utopia.

CHARLIE
Thank you.

RAOUL
I can see you feel real regret, and have rethought your place in the world.

CHARLIE
You have no idea.

RAOUL
This doesn’t absolve you from your crimes or relieve you of your guilt.

CHARLIE
I know.

RAOUL
Alright. You’ve got a a good heart under that oppressor’s skin.

CHARLIE
Thank you. And I'm truly sorry for everything my people have ever done to yours...I'll spend the rest of my life being unbelievably aware of that, and trying to find a way to make it right.

RAOUL walks off stage. CHARLIE closes up his briefcase, relived that it’s all over.

RAOUL suddenly darts back on stage and over to CHARLIE

RAOUL
Say, you gonna be back for the morning commute tomorrow?

BLACK OUT

FSW: Change Edition

So far, Richard is the only combatant on the field with his funny, Wonder Twins sketch.

This week's theme was "Change". Been a lot of it happening around me lately. It seems like my world has been build on a fault line and the Earth is beginning to shift and move like a bowl of Jell-O in great-grandma's hands. But change is good, right? Lord I hope so.

So here's today's offering. When I tossed out the theme I was thinking of writing a more political-centric sketch. But the Muse had other ideas. And there's no arguing with her, either. It's her way or the highway.

Enjoy


Be The Change

MONTAGE: We see a series of shots of Brendan Johnson walking around the city doing good deeds. Someone tossing a cup at a trashcan and it misses, Brendan picks it up. Brendan is collecting pages of newspaper that blow in the wind and takes them to a recycling can. Brendan is carrying a little, old ladies groceries for her as they cross a busy street. Brendan is taking soup to a sick friend. Brendan is in the park with a pooper scooper. Brendan is scraping gum off the sidewalk.

Cut to:

INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Brendan is sitting at a small table, sipping a steaming cup of tea while reading the Tao Te Ching. The bell rings over the door and Han Kerin enters looking down trodden. As the door closes, he slings his heavy book-bag over his shoulder and it slams into a woman reading notices on a corkboard.

WOMAN: Hey!

Han is oblivious and walks to the counter. After ordering he reaches into his pocket to pull out money and a fistful of coins scatter all over the counter and floor. In an frantic effort to try and catch some, he manages to knock over the display of CDs that were on the counter and spill two different people’s coffees. People mutter “asshole” and “jerk” as they try to avoid this walking disaster. As Han is on his hands and knees picking up his lost change, Brendan joins him and hands him a bunch of coins he’s picked up.

BRENDAN: Rough morning?

HAN: Aren’t they all?

BRENDAN: Each day starts with a clean slate, full of potential and possibility.

HAN: Yeah. Potential for more shit to go wrong.

BRENDAN: If you only look for the negative that’s all you’re ever going to find.

HAN: It’s better than constantly having your hopes dashed.

BRENDAN: If you want good things to happen, you have to make them happen. Be the change you want to see in the world.

HAN: Are you high or something?

BRENDAN: On life, my friend. On life.

HAN: Okay, well, it makes you sound like a crazy person.

BRENDAN: And what if I’m the only sane one here?

HAN: Then you’re delusional as well.

BRENDAN: What are you doing right now?

HAN: Well, I’m supposed to go to the unemployment office to see if…

BRENDAN: You should come with me to the park.

HAN: So you can murder me?

Brendan laughs and pats Han on the back.

BRENDAN: Just for an hour. I want to open your eyes to the possibilities that this world has to offer you.

HAN: In the park?

BRENDAN: Come on. When was the last time you really took a chance? Huh? The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.

HAN: Well, I suppose it can’t hurt.

They are standing. Brendan has put his arm around Han.

BRENDAN: The world is a beautiful, serene place. It’s us and our attitudes about it that make it ugly.

Han is getting a little chocked up.

HAN: You know, you’re the first person who’s actually said anything to me other than “Watch it, asshole.” or “How’s about a shower, fuckface.” in a long time.

BRENDAN: Let’s go generate some positivity for you, my friend.

HAN: All right. Let’s do it.

Brendan grabs his things and they head for the door. Han is smiling.

HAN: I can’t remember the last time I felt this…light. This excited about something.

BRENDAN: Once you open the door to positive energy it's hard to keep it out.

Brendan begins to cross the street.

HAN: Hey, what’s your name?

Brendan stops and looks back. He opens his mouth to speak just as a city bus blows past running him over. Han shakes his head. While Han is standing there, looking at the carnage, a shady fellow gently pulls Han’s laptop out of his bag and walks off with it. He turns to leaves and stops as he has stepped in something. He picks up his shoe to reveal a long, sticky string of bubble gum and dog crap.

HAN: That’s more like it.

He walks away.

FADE TO BLACK

FSW: Change We Can Believe In

This weeks's topic, selected by Michael, was change. I figured I should go with the season, and go with the political flow. Let's give honors to...Ken for next week. Ken, pick it and put in comments!

If you want to read this the way it really should be formatted, click here for the Scribd version. It's not radically different in appearance, except that the dual dialog is better laid out.

Oh, and yes. This would have to be animated. Assume Hanna-Barbera style.

Change We Can Believe In
INT. STAGE - DAY
(JOHN MCCAIN and SARAH PALIN in front of a green screen. He just can’t get away from them.)

JOHN
People like to bandy the word 'change' around a lot. My opponent--

SARAH
Our opponent.

JOHN
(flinching like a frequently whipped dog)
Yes Sarah. Our opponent wants you to believe change comes from diplomacy, compromise, and hard work. That’s simply not true.

SARAH
That’s right, John. Real change comes from magic rings.

(John and Sarah brandish IDENTICAL RINGS on their upheld fists.)

SARAH (CONT’D)
Magic rings stolen from alien teenagers!

JOHN & SARAH
Wonder Twin powers, activate!

SARAH
Shape of...a Bald Eagle!

JOHN
Form of...a puddle of dirty water! Just like the water on the floor of the cage I spent six years in being tortured daily. When I was a war hero.

(Sarah and John transform into a bald eagle and puddle of
water respectively. Still able to speak, though.)

SARAH
I’m a small-town girl with small-town values. Values like honoring the symbol of our great nation and honoring our great war heroes.

JOHN
Barack Obama called my running mate a pig. Does she look like a pig? No. She’s a majestic eagle.

(Sarah-eagle touches wingtip to John-puddle.)

JOHN & SARAH
Wonder Twin powers, deactivate!

(In a flash, Sarah and John revert to their normal forms.)

SARAH
The big-city elites want to take your guns away.

JOHN
They want to teach your preschoolers about sex.

SARAH
They want to take your pickups and SUVs away.

(Sarah and John touch rings...)

JOHN & SARAH
Wonder Twin powers, activate!

SARAH
Form of...a completely safe and unthreatened polar bear!

JOHN
Shape of...a piece of Arctic glacier, undisturbed by liberal lies about global warming.

(Sarah and John transform again. Sarah-bear stands atop John-ice.)

SARAH
My opponent--

JOHN
(timidly)
--actually, he’s my opponent, Sarah.

SARAH
Right. Our opponent wants you to drive a hybrid. Or walk! He wants you to believe in global warming. Well, I’m from the great state of Alaska and I can tell you, it’s
not getting any warmer!

JOHN
Well, it is getting warmer, Sarah. But the science isn’t conclusive as to whether our actions have anything--

SARAH
--I said it’s not getting warmer, John!

JOHN
Right. Sorry, Sarah.

JOHN & SARAH
Wonder Twin powers, deactivate!

(Sarah-bear and John-ice touch and transform.)

SARAH
Every day I wake up, I have to worry about the threat of Russian invasion. Barack Obama wants to disband the military and send all your children to madrassas. That’s not change we can believe in.
(beat)
This is change we can believe in...

(Sarah and John touch rings again...)

JOHN & SARAH
Wonder Twin powers, activate!

JOHN
Shape of...a bucket of tears. The tears I cried each night after the Vietcong had tortured and beaten me trying to make me turn against America. America, the greatest
country on Earth!

(John transforms into a bucket of tears. It’s magic. Don’t ask.)

SARAH
Form of...a moose!

(Sarah transforms into a moose.)

JOHN
That’s quite a set of antlers you’ve got there, Sarah.

SARAH
What? Oh. Moose! Where’s my gun!

(Sarah-moose runs in circles a few times, finds a tophat, pulls a lion out of it...)

SARAH
Guess I don’t know my own strength.

(Sarah-moose pushes the lion back in and pulls out a rifle and shoots herself!)

JOHN
Sarah! Sarah, are you alright?

(Sarah’s dead.)

JOHN
Oh, great. Now I’m stuck like this.

EXT. PODIUM - DAY
(Bunting and flags everywhere on this cold January day. It’s inauguration day. JOE LIEBERMAN stands behind a dais holding John-bucket-of-tears up to a microphone.)

JOE
John, John!
(calling off stage)
Someone get me a hotplate! The President’s frozen again!

BLACKOUT

Friday Night Sketch War: Funeral Edition

Last week's reunion special got me a bit melancholy, thinking about the ultimate reunion. When all your friends and family (or, in my case, a county official and anonymous creamatorium worker) get together to celebrate who you were and how you lived. Brings a tear to my eye. A tear, because a cinder from your remains got in my eye!

This week's challenge sees four warriors (once David stopped washing his damn hair) on the field of battle.

• Coyote spied on a lackey's funeral...
• Michael sent a ghost to do his bidding...
• Ken sold me a new coffin...
• David made a [adjective] [noun] of death.

Next week's topic is selected by Michael: change. Same call for sketches as always...if you wanna show us the funny, email sketchwar_AT_dreamloom.com.

The Lemon-Scented Passing of Jack Kaufmann

(A funeral. The casket is upstage center, and black-clad MOURNERS are milling around. TIMMY, a boy of five, is downstage, shyly standing next to his mother, MARJORIE. EDWARD, holding a notepad, is kneeling and talking to TIMMY.)

EDDIE (to TIMMY)
A noun? It’s like a person, place or thing.

MARJORIE (to TIMMY)
What’s something you saw today, sweetheart? Just name anything.

(TIMMY whispers something to MARJORIE, who laughs.)

EDWARD
What did he say?

MARJORIE (to TIMMY)
Tell him what you said, sweetie.

(TIMMY whispers to EDWARD. EDWARD laughs and writes something in the notebook.)

EDWARD
That’s perfect. That’s perfect. Thank you, Timmy.

(The FUNERAL DIRECTOR approaches EDWARD.)

FUNERAL DIRECTOR
Any time you’re ready.

(EDWARD nods and makes his way to a podium by the casket. He clears his throat, and the MOURNERS take their seats and quiet down.)

EDWARD
The Eulogy.

Friends and family, well wishers and pomegranates, we are gathered today to mourn the lemon-scented passing of Jack Kaufmann.

Jack Kaufmann was a soggy soul, a man who was quick with a cheesy handshake and a kind Q-Tip. And he was always willing to lend a helping jack-o-lantern to someone in need.

Things weren’t always easy for Jack Kaufman. As one of sixty-nine children, he constantly had to pistol-whip for attention. But most would agree that this only made him hotter. In fact, he drew upon his experience just last year, when he finally fulfilled his dream of eating Mount Everest.

He is survived by his lovely wife Angelina Jolie, his son Rick Astley and daughter Miley Cyrus, and of course McNuggets, his faithful thirteen-lined ground squirrel. And most of us would argue that, at a mere one hundred billion years old, he was far too hoarse to die.

But today is not only a day for sadness, for we still have many ticklish memories of this drunken man. And Jack Kaufman himself would have wanted each and every one of us to seize the toilet.

(EDWARD steps down from the podium as the MOURNERS wipe away tears. Organ music.)

FSW: Putting the fun in Funeral

Ahhh Friday, and the hills are alive with the sound of sketches!

I'm a little tardy posting today - I've been off work this week, so I've been slacking on everything!

The topic this week was funerals, and I have to admit, for the first half of the week, I was really stuck - all I could picture was the famous Bill Braskey funeral sketch written by Adam McKay and Will Ferrel for Saturday Night Live a few years back. Every sketch idea I had seemed to be a variation on that. But once I was able to get past that, some nice ideas started breaking, and in the end it came down to a Bill Brasky variation, a Viking funeral sketch, or this, which is more filmic commercial parody and less character driven (which is a fancy way of saying "this is pure unadulterated silliness with lots of visual gags"). But it's definitely different from what I usually tend towards writing, and ended up being dialogue light ("show, don't tell" is something I try to work towards more and more with sketches).

Well, enough of my rambling....Michael let us sit in on a funeral WITH the deceased watching and Robert whacked a super-villain's lackey.

And here's my funeral offering for the week....next week's theme is "Change".

___________________________________________________________

INT. - FUNERAL PARLOUR
An austere but reverent viewing room. An open casket surrounded by flowers is at the front of the room and a line of mourners file by paying their respects

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
It’s never easy to lose a loved one....

The widow stands over the casket with 2 sons flanking either side, all looking down into the casket and shaking their heads slowly. The camera moves in closer to the casket

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
But that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun!

The camera pans down into the casket to show the deceased packed in ice set with cold bottles of bear. Against the corpse’s chest is a small flat screen TV showing an NFL game, held between the deceased’s hands. Tortilla chips inset with bowls of salsa and nacho cheese ring the deceased’s head.

CUT TO:

EXT. - P.T. BUCKETKICKERS FUNERAL PARLOUR - DAY

The place looks somber from the outside, except for the TGI Friday’s style sign and red \ white striped awnings

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
At P.T. Bucketkicker’s Funeral Parlour we create the kind of funerals that people look forward to! Want to turn those tears of loss in tears of laughter? Try our “Jack in the Casket”

CUT TO:

INT. - FUNERAL PARLOUR
An elderly couple walks up to view the casket. A “SPROING” sound is heard and the corpse immediately sits upright in the casket. The elderly woman laughs, the elderly man clutches his chest and falls to the floor.

On the screen, a disclaimer is superimposed:
“Jack in a Casket option must be selected prior to rigor mortis”

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Saying goodbye makes wake attendees more aware their own days are coming to end. You can make them feel like a kid again with Wakey - our funereal clown!

CUT TO:

INT. - FUNERAL PARLOUR
Another wake, people sit in front of an open casket while others file past to pay their respects. WAKEY is also in line mocking the other mourners with exaggerated wiping of tears and other mimed gestures. WAKEY is a traditional party clown with white face, big orange hair, red nose, etc, except his jumpsuit and shoes are black and white, like a clown tuxedo, and he has crosses attached to each shoulder.

WAKEY makes a big “shush” gesture to the sitting mourners, and as standing mourner leans in over the body, WAKEY pulls out an oversized box with a big red button. When the standing mourner is looking into the casket, WAKEY pushes the button, and an arm pops up from the casket hitting the standing mourner square in the face with a pie. WAKEY mimes laughing as the pie-dripping mourner stands bakc upright. As the pie-smacked mourner turns to look at WAKEY, a powerful stream of seltzer sprays from the coffin hitting the him right in the face.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Speaking of kids, don’t you hate bringing them to funerals? P.T. Bucketkicker’s is the only funeral parlor in the tri-state area with a state-of-the-art video game arcade AND bowling alley.

CUT TO:

INT. - FUNERAL PARLOUR
Another funeral wake, mourners sit respectfully as BRUCE stands before them. The sounds of bowling can be head loudly as BRUCE starts to speak

BRUCE
I’d like to thank you all for coming. I know my mother would have been touched that all of you are here for her.

The “whoo-whoo-whoo” sound of PAC-MAN hitting a ghost is heard.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Losing a spouse is especially hard. You haven’t been to a party alone in years. So why should you go to a funeral alone? P.T. Bucketkicker’s can provide you with a funereal escort so you don’t have to face this all alone.

CUT TO:

INT. - FUNERAL PARLOUR HALLWAY
A man holds a door open as mourners file into a viewing room. The widow walks in on the arm of a topless rippled Chippendale’s dancer, complete with black spandex pants and fake white wrist cuffs. She pauses, turns and waves behind her to an elderly man entering another view room. The elderly man is in a wheel chair, very frail looking, wearing an oxygen mask attached to a bottle on his chair. The elderly man is wheeled in by a stiletto-heeled-boot wearing, leather bustier, leather shorts and fishnet clad Pussycat Doll. The elderly man smiles, and gives a thumbs up and we hear a deep pull on that oxygen.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Speaking of spouses, you began your married life with that romantic first dance. Shouldn’t you have a last dance to say goodbye? At P.T. Bucketkicker’s, we can make that happen.

CUT TO:

INT. - FUNERAL PARLOUR
Chairs have line the sides and a big area is cleared in the middle of the view room. The lights go down except for a spotlight in the center. The widow steps into the light and “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” starts playing. The deceased is wheeled in by a well-dressed funeral director on a hand truck, upright, with arms splayed in waltz position like a mannequin. The widow steps in an arranges herself so the deceased’s arms hit in the right places, which takes some time. The funeral director puts his arms under the deceased’s to help. They finally start dancing, awkwardly, with the funeral director wheeling the deceased around, and the widow doing her best to keep up.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Don’t you hate those people at the eulogy who try to make the deceased sound like a saint just because they’re dead? Let them try that with our eulogy lie detector.

CUT TO:

INT. - CHURCH - DAY
Mourners sit in the church as CHARLIE stands up at the pulpit. He stands under a wooden frame, like an airport metal detector, with a large red and a green light at the top of the frame

CHARLIE
Dan was a giving man, a loving father, and a devoted husband

A loud BUZZ sounds, and the red light lights up. Charlie and The congregated mourners burst into laughter

CHARLIE (CONT)
Oh geez...alright...let’s face it, Dan loved his underage hookers! He lived life like a penicillin tycoon on a Bangkok shore leave!

The green light lights up as a bell sounds, everyone laughs, except the widow who looks surprised and appalled, and starts crying even harder.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Finding it hard to say that final goodbye? With the Pop-up Pit, you won’t have to!

CUT TO:

EXT. - CEMETARY - DAY
All of the mourners stand grave-side as the casket is lowered into the earth. The mourners turn to leave, weeping loudly, and the casket is launched up out of the hole and lands on the ground next to the pit.

CUT TO:

EXT. - P.T. BUCKETKICKERS FUNERAL PARLOR - DAY

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
With so many options, you can customize your funeral to suit YOUR kind of fun!

A list of options starts scrolling up the screen:
CELEBRITY ENDORSEMENT NOVELY WREATHS
PARTY HUMMER-HEARSE (WITH HOT TUB)
“WHOOPEE” CASKETS
GLOW-IN-THE-DARK EMBALMING FLUID
OUR PROFESSIONAL SLAPSTICK PALLBEARING TEAM - “THE PALLIES!”
EXOTIC DANCERS FOR ALL FAITHS AND DENOMINATIONS
STAND-UP PRIESTS (FROM LAS VEGAS)

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
So if you’ve got someone to bury why not bring them on down to P.T. Bucketkicker’s...where we put the FUN back in Funeral!

The camera pans over slightly so the marquee sign in front of the Funeral Parlor can be seen. On the sign:
“Lenderman viewing: Mon 3-7
Ladies Night: Weds 7-Midnight”

FADE OUT

FSW: Funeral Edition

"Funeral" was Richard's theme and he's already up and running with a clever sketch.

Nothing from Ken yet, so we'll have to wait and see what he comes up with.

Dave still has that just washed glow so I'm not sure if he's joining us this week or not.

As for next week's theme, since it's a word I haven't heard enough the last couple of weeks, let's go with Change.


I'll Be Back

(A funeral home. Everyone is dressed in black. A closed casket sits at the center of the aisle. Julia stands and addresses the crowd.)

JULIA: Friends. Family. People who just showed up for the free food. It’s so good to see you all here today. I’m sure Henry is looking down on all of us and smiling. Smiling because so many of his friends have come to pay their respects. Smiling because he died doing what he loves, helping little, old ladies cross the street. Smiling, because he died owing large sums of money to all of you. If you’ve come looking to collect I’m afraid I have bad news. We don’t even have the funds to give him a proper burial. And the suggestion that we hack his corpse into tiny pieces and let dogs eat then shit him out, while colorful, isn't really in keeping with the spirit of the day.

(A number of people rise, grumbling and exit the room.)

Julia: We're here to remember the kindness and love that he shared with us.

Steve: He borrowed my books and never returned them.

Kate: He told me I had a fat ass.

Greg: He always ate my lunch whenever I brought it to work.

Voice From the Back of the Room: Come on. We can do better than that can’t we?

Julia: Henry? Is that you?

(Henry stands in the back. Everyone gasps.)

Julia: You're alive!

Greg: I knew it was too good to be true.

Henry: No, no, I’m dead. I just wanted to come back and check out my funeral. It's not going as well as I had hoped.

Julia: Well, it appears that you weren't the best guy to know.

Henry: Me? Come on. We all have quirks that we're ashamed of.

(Looking at those gathered. He points to a woman in the front row.)


Henry: Like Jenny here. She steals money from her senile grandmother. Or Max over there. I took his pedophilia secret to the grave with me. And Jeremy.

(He looks around the room.)

Henry: Where's Jeremy?

(A hand raises toward the back corner.)

Henry: Jeremy here is the one that pushed me in front of that train.

(A gasp from the crowd.)

Henry: Right, huh? That's shittier than eating someone's peanut butter sandwich every day. Right?

Greg: Well...

Henry: But don't worry, Jeremy. I didn't come back to haunt you. I came back to forgive you.

Jeremy: Uh...Thanks.

Henry: That and I wanted to deliver the good news myself.

Jeremy: Good news?

Henry: I'm going to be reincarnated as your son!

(Henry hugs Jeremy.)

Jeremy: That's going to be tough seeing as I don't have a girlfriend I have no plans to settle down.

Henry: I know, right. But that high school girl you’ve been diddling is about to call you and tell you she missed her period.

Jeremy: But we always use a...

(Jeremy’s cell phone rings)

Jeremy: (Into phone) Hello?....Hey, babe, can I call you right...What?...Aw shit!...Are you sure?...

Julia: You get to choose who you want to come back as?

Henry: Only in certain cases. I wasn’t supposed to die for another forty-seven years, so since I got short changed with that life, I get to pick how I want my next life to go.

Julia: The whole thing?

Henry: Pretty much. It’s going to be rough for a while. Being the child of a high school senior is never easy. But it helps build character. Besides, my grandparents are loaded. And I grow up to be the most powerful man in the world.

Julia: You’re going to be The President of the United States?

Henry: No. CEO of ExxonMobile.

Jeremy: (Hangs up the phone) Well, smart guy. Stephanie and I are going to meet to discuss our options.

Henry: What options are those? Dad.

Jeremy: Well, I think the only smart thing to do is abort you.

Henry: (Gasps) You’d kill me twice?

Jeremy: What’s to kill. You’re a zygote at this point. A teeny-tiny blob of jelly.

Henry: Haven't you heard? Life begins at the moment of conception. What about the soul?

Jeremy: Well, the way I look at it. If you’re supposed to be the baby, but you’re still here, then that means there isn’t a soul to worry about.

Henry: You’re an evil, liberal bastard.

Jeremy: Evil? You’re the one that decided to seek revenge by planting yourself in Stephanie’s uterine wall.

Henry: You haven’t seen the last of me. There's still time to come back as a mountain lion or a crocodile or grizzly bear. You better be careful where you vacation because you never know where I'll be lurking.

Jeremy: Yeah, but with the increase in global warming and more and more park land used for drilling and mining, most of the top food chain predators will be extinct soon.

Henry: Yeah, well, you better hope I don't come back as a...a...spider or something. I'll lay eggs up your nose and then you'll be sorry.

Jeremy: I'll keep plenty of Raid handy just in case.

Henry: Balls!

(Henry storms off.)

Julia: Are you really going to talk her into having an abortion?

Jeremy: Why not? Neither one of us wants to be a parent. Besides, she’d be six months pregnant when cheerleading try-outs roll around. Some things are just more important.

Julia: True.

Blackout

FSW: Death of a Henchmen

So last week, TheWife suggested I write my sketch on gatherings about a funeral. I already had an idea in mind which I liked, so I decided against it. But when it came time to pick this week's topic, I was happy to burden the other guys with funerals! This way, we ALL get to put the fun back in funeral.

I'm moderately happy with this one, though I realized as I was wrapping it up that I had no ending for it. That kinda sucks. Thankfully, I had Victor.

Death of a Henchman
(A bright living room: neatly decorated with feminine touches throughout. Several tables are laid out with casseroles and bowls of food. A large wreath dominates one corner. Many people mill about in black. The widow, MARJORIE STEVENSON, is talking with BILL JENSEN.)

MARJORIE
I still can't believe Walt's gone. It's just like him though. He promised he'd clean out the gutters this weekend. Now he'll never...
(Sobbing)
...he'll never make up another excuse to get out of helping around the house.

(Bill puts his arm around Marjorie.)

BILL
I know. He was good at that. Used to get out of cleanup at work, too. Not that anyone cared. He was worth ten of us. We were happy to do his share around the hideout.

MARJORIE
Thanks, Bill.

BILL
Quite a turnout. I'll bet every henchman in town is here.

(Sargent O'Herlihy walks over. A stout Irish man raised on beef and Irish stout, his nose looks like a potato left in a drawer too long.)

O'HERLIHY
Bill. Marjorie. I'm sorry for your loss. Walt was a black-hearted bastard, but he was always the first to buy a round at the pub. When he wasn't in the clink, that is.

MARJORIE
He always liked you, Clancy. Said you were the only clean cop he could stand.

O'HERLIHY
I liked that he never kicked me in me nether regions.

(O'Herlihy takes out a hip flask, toasts the air, and swigs. He walks away as HARLEY QUINN comes up with a covered platter.)

HARLEY
Marjorie, Mr. J. couldn't make it, but he sends his regards. And this dish he cooked himself.

(Harley pulls back the cover, exposing a very large Joker Fish. Marjorie is stone faced.)

MARJORIE
Thank you, Harley dear. Why don't you put that on the table. Leave it covered; we don't want it to...get cold.

HARLEY
It's a dish best served cold.

MARJORIE
Than hot. Wouldn't want it to get hot.

(Harley walks away with her platter of scary fishiness. STAN HOOPER comes to pay his respects. He's young, but using a walker.)

STAN
Marjorie. I don't know if you remember me. I was the Gay Blade's wheelman back in '02.

MARJORIE
Oh, right. You were the one who put the solid fuel rocket on the Blade's Kia.

STAN
(Blushing) Yeah.

BILL
How've you been? It's Stan, right?

STAN
Yeah. Stan. Uh, I've been okay. Got out of traction last month. Doc figures six, seven months of therapy and I should be back in business, God willing. You know anyone looking for a driver?

BILL
No, no. Sorry.

MARJORIE
Well thank you very much for coming by, Stan. It means a lot.

STAN
I was just wondering...I...I don't want I should be rude, but...how did it happen? You hear all sorts of rumors...

MARJORIE
He was setting up a giant boxing glove on the roof of the Fremont Tower. Some crazy scheme of The Marsupial. Something about jets or missiles--

BILL
--Captain Awesome. It was part of a trap for Captain Awesome. Missiles to box him in and the glove to finish him off.

MARJORIE
(Getting tight-chested) Right. That's it. But the springs were second rate - everything The Marsupial does is second rate - and the whole thing collapsed on...

(Marjorie trails off and starts to cry some more.)

STAN
Geez, I'm sorry. I didn't mean I should--

BILL
--It's a difficult time for us all.

(Stan backs away respectfully. Victor Von Doom strolls over carrying a plate of food.)

VON DOOM
Marjorie, Bill, darlings! You know I feel strange asking this, so soon after your dear husband was buried, but I've come to praise this Caesar salad. What's your secret?

BILL
What? Uh, it's the croutons. They're double-baked with garlic and herbs.

VON DOOM
You must give me the recipe.

BILL
You know, now's not the best--

VON DOOM
--you MUST!

(Bill sighs and walks off with Von Doom. GINGER STEINBERG comes over. She's older, but was once obviously a rare beauty.)

GINGER
Marjorie, I'm sorry.

MARJORIE
Thank you, Ginger. If anyone can understand, it's you.

GINGER
I hope not too well. You know I lost my Irving the day before his pension vested.

MARJORIE
Two days for Walt.

GINGER
Ach. It's that damn Marsupial! Why did he go work for him?

MARJORIE
Something about profit sharing and stock options. I don't know. I wish he'd just stayed on Black Manta's crew. That was nice. We got to summer at the beach and all I ever had to worry about was Aquaman sending a jellyfish to sting Walt. But he was sure The Marsupial was an up-and-comer.
(BEAT)
At least there's the Henchmen's Widows fund. And Walt carried a lot of life insurance.

GINGER
I'll bet.

(In the corner, Von Doom knocks over the wreath.)

VON DOOM
Let's Limbo!

BLACKOUT