Friday, September 19, 2008

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!



R.A. Porter said...

Man, I wish my parents loved me like Barry's parents do.

Ken Robertson said...

I hope you copyrighted "Major League Dreamer" - whenever you introduce a new reality TV concept into the wild an Angel gets a development deal at Fox (and several Hollywood producers had 4 orgasms of their own).

Nice work...and a satirical point near and dear to my heart!