FSW: New Pants

Michael selected this week's theme: back to school. I thought about using a scene from my spec sequel to the Rodney Dangerfield classic, but it's just too good to waste on the likes of y'all. Instead I give you...

NEW PANTS
(TOM, early 40s with a comb-over and MEMBERS ONLY JACKET, and his son BRANDON, 11 and old enough to be embarrassed by his father, eat cereal at a kitchen table.)

BRANDON
But mom promised she'd take me to the mall this weekend!

TOM
I know sport, but your Aunt Tina hasn't had her baby yet. Mom can't just up and leave her right now, you know that.

BRANDON
I know. But school starts Tuesday and I don't got new clothes.

TOM
(Gently chiding) Don't have.

BRANDON
Sorry. I don't have new clothes. It's just it's a new school and--

TOM
--and you don't want to start it off on the wrong foot. I know. I remember what it's like. I was a kid once too, you know. Tell you what, how about the old man takes you clothes shopping instead?

BRANDON
You?

TOM
Yes me! Your mom's not the only fashion plate around this house, you know. Back in my single days I used to be a pretty snappy dresser. How else do you think I landed a babe like your mom?

BRANDON
I thought she felt bad her boyfriend ran you over?

TOM
Haha! Chuck didn't run me over, he just dinged my Corolla up pretty good. Your mom was so sweet, making sure he finally paid me for the repairs. But by then it was too late. She was a victim of the Tom-bomb. (BEAT) So how about it sport? You and me, trolling the mall for chicks and clothes?

BRANDON
Eww...

(Lights down and back up. Tom sits at the table, now piled with folded clothes. Brandon enters.)

BRANDON
What's all this?

TOM
I figured it's your last chance to sleep late before the school year starts and you're busy all the time, so I didn't wake you. But I was so excited, I went out and did all your clothes' shopping for you!

BRANDON
You...what? But how did you--

TOM
--I had a little trouble finding you pants.

(Brandon picks up a rugby shirt with bold stripes. He picks up six just like it as his father talks.)

TOM
Can you believe that mall your mom likes doesn't have a Sears?

(Brandon's eyes widen in terror.)

TOM
Had to run over to the Shelbyville Town Centre, but they must have been out.

BRANDON
Out?

TOM
Yeah, that's what we get for shopping so late, I guess. But don't worry, I stopped by your gramma's house and found my old stash.

(You thought Brandon's eyes were wide in terror before? They're Tex Avery-like now! Lights down again and back up. Brandon wears one of the rugby shirts and a pair of tan Toughskins.)

TOM
You look sharp, Brand!

BRANDON
My knees! I can't bend my knees!

TOM
Keep trying, you'll break 'em in eventually!

BLACKOUT

FSW: Payroll Edition

This week's theme was "payroll".

Richard said he had trouble with it, but turned in a fine sketch none the less.

No word from the theme originator yet.

Here's my effort this week. Not crazy about the ending. But it'll do for now.

Next week's theme is "Back to School".

And, as always, if you'd like join us, simply write a sketch and let us know where to read it.


The Meeting

(The backroom of a warehouse. A table sits in the middle of an empty room. A single, bare bulb swings from the ceiling. Eight of the roughest, meanest looking thugs sit at the table. Jimmy “The Clam” Garbosi stands at the head of the table. He has a briefcase and a large shopping bag.)
Jimmy: As you’s fellas know, it’s been a rough year for The Family. Peoples ain’t been able to pay as much for protection and whatnot.

(He takes a stack of stapled papers out of his briefcase. There is a colorful pie chart on the front page. He hands the stack to Ernie “The Node” Farconni.)

Jimmy: Take one and pass it around.

(They do.)

Jimmy: As you’s can see from the chart here-

Ernie: You do this?

Jimmy: So what if I did?

Ernie: It’s nice work.

Jimmy: Grazie. As I was sayin’. Our income is down 32% from this time last year.

Barry: Is that the yellow chunk?

Jimmy: (sigh) Yes, Barry, it’s the yellow chunk. Now, what this means, unfortunately, is that we’re going to have to let some of you go.

(Everyone tenses up. Some of them reach for the inside of their jackets. Everyone watches everyone.)

Jimmy: Whoa, whoa, whoa. It ain’t gonna be like that. Hands on the table guys. Come on.

(Everyone slowly pulls their hands out of their coats and puts them on the table.)

Jimmy: The Family understands that you’s gotta feed your own and if that means you gotta find work with another family, that’s the way the meatball bounces. But. Know this. If you choose this option and I see you out on the street, I’ll shoot your fuckin’ face off. (beat) Questions?

(Harry “The Limp” Barollo is flipping through the hand-out. He raises his hand.)

Jimmy: Harry.

Harry: It don’t say nuthin’ in here ‘bout our benefits.

Jimmy: Right. Good question. We will continue your benefits package for six months after your termination.

(Everyone tenses. A couple people reach for their coats.)

Jimmy: Tah, tah, tah. Relax.

(Everyone does.)

Jimmy: So you can still get free lunches at Gordo’s on 63rd and the fish fry Fridays is free at Sal’s, but only during Lent. The backroom at Mac’s is available to for parties, but you’re gonna have to pay for your own booze.

Ernie: No dames?

Jimmy: No dames, Ernie. You’re gonna have to settle for your wife like the rest of us.

(Everyone chuckles.)

Ernie: You disrespectin’ my wife?

Harry: No, he’s disrespectin’ you, ya mook.

Ernie: Who you callin’ a “mook”, ya hose?

Jimmy: Fellas, fellas. Please. Could we not live up to the stereotype for one stinkin’ meetin’?

Barry: So who’s goin’?

(Everyone nods and looks at Jimmy. He pulls out a sheet of paper.)

Jimmy: Before I read off these names I want you to know that this wasn’t an easy decision. We looked through your past performance records, took into account the number of years you’ve been workin’ with –

(Harry shoves himself back from the table, reaches into his coat, pulls out his gun and shoot’s the man across from him, dead.)

Jimmy: Wait!

(Immediately everyone is on their feet. Shots ring out. Goombahs dies. When the dust settles, Jimmy is still at the head of the table. Harry, Barry and Ernie are the only three left standing. Jimmy looks down at the piece of paper in his hands and shakes his head.)

Jimmy: What are the odds? Right. Get this mess cleaned up. There’s work to be done.

(Harry and Barry begin dragging bodies off.)

Ernie: Hey, Jimmy. What’s in the bag?

Jimmy: It was PSPs and iPods for the fellas that was gonna get axed.

Ernie: Can I have one?

Jimmy: You’re still here, Ernie.

Ernie: Yeah, but I’d like an iPod.

Jimmy: Well, you shoulda thought of that before you got all trigger happy. Now help these guys out before I get sore at ya.

(Jimmy walks off. Ernie is using one of the hand-outs to scoop up someone’s splattered brains.)

Jimmy: (To himself) Middle management sucks.

BLACKOUT

FSW: Highway Robbery

Not my best work. I'm going to leave it at that. I think it's a cute-ish setup, and I don't mind the payoff, but it's clunky and clumsy and the dialog sucks. Sorry. Blame David for picking this week's theme of payroll. Michael's up for next week's theme. My fingers are crossed that it doesn't hurt quite like this one!
 

(Payroll department. TIM, 30s and beige as the cubes and carpet of his department, sits at his desk. MARY, late 20s but holding tight to her early 20s, stands at his side.)
TITLE: WELLS FARGO SOUTHWEST REGIONAL DATA CENTER, PAYROLL DEPARTMENT, PAYDAY, 11:59AM.

MARY
I don’t understand why we don’t just send out an email.

TIM
Corporate needs hard copies of everyone’s AR-13s, in triplicate.

MARY
Tree killers.

TIM
That’s just the way things are done. If we don’t get those in, no one’s getting paid next month.

MARY
I know, I know. I’ll take care of it. I just don’t know why it’s got to be this way.

TIM
Personally, I like doing things the old way. I like knowing I’ve got a file cabinet filled with all the documents I need to get us through any audit. What do you have with an email?

(Gunfire announces the arrival of THREE COWPOKES, dusty, mustachioed, and 120 years too late. Ringleader DALE steps front and center and shoots his two six-shooters.)

DALE
Yeehah! Alright you lily-livered hangdogs. Hand over the loot.

MARY
Sir, you can’t fire guns in--

(Dale shoots Mary. Dead.)

DALE
Yeehah!

TIM
(sighing)
Great. Do you know how long it takes to train a good payroll clerk? What do you want.

DALE
We’re aimin’ to take your payroll off your hands, pardner.

TIM
Take our...you want to steal our payroll?

DALE
You betcha!
(to henchmen)
He ain’t the sharpest fella, is he?

TIM
You do realize that most of our employees just have direct deposit, right?

DALE
What in tarnation is that?

TIM
Pay is deposited directly into their bank accounts. No paychecks, no cash. All they get is a stub.

DALE
Goldang it all! The world’s just changin’ too fast for this ol’ outlaw.

TIM
I know how you feel.

DALE
I s’pose they get medical, too.

TIM
And dental.

(Dale raises his eyebrow suggestively. Lights come down and back up. Tim sits alone at his desk. Dale comes up in the same dusty cowboy gear. He shoots into the air.)

TITLE: WELLS FARGO SOUTHWEST REGIONAL DATA CENTER, PAYROLL DEPARTMENT, ONE WEEK LATER

DALE
Yeehah! Here are them AR-13s, boss!

BLACKOUT

FSW: Cross Dress Edition

Richard tossed this one out last week. And, like him, I've waited until the last minute to crank it out.

Not to self: Start tossing out ideas earlier in the week.

Next week theme: Procrastination. 

All right. This here's what we call a "blackout". A quickie that, hopefully, ends with a laugh. Much like my sex life.

Party Pops

(A team of ad execs are sitting around a table. There are take out contains littered everywhere. Everyone is fried.)

James: We've been at this all night. Let's just call it and get some sleep.

Peter: No. We have (looking at watch) four hours until deadline. Come guys, we can do this.

(David hops to his feet and starts doing jumping jacks.)

David: We just need a little energy. We've got some decent ideas here. We just need that one killer idea to push us over the top.

Martin: All right, if no one else is going to say it, I'll point out the huge elephant in the room. This product is  just not marketable.

James: Every product is marketable, Martin. We just have to find the right angle.

Martin: We've come at this thing from every angle imaginable. There's just no way we're going to make Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public race out the grocery store and buy a pack of Boy George's new "Party in Your Mouth Popsicles." I mean, for god's sake, they're even ribbed.

Blackout

FSW: Trapezoid Traffic Stop

(Harold and Debbie sit in their car, strobing blue and red lights shining through the rear window making clear their plight. At the wheel, Harold looks forlorn, Debbie irritated.)

RADIO ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
...come on in to Spiedermann's Metal Gazebos. With every great bower comes great bronze stability!

DEBBIE
Turn that off!

(Harold kills the radio. A trooper strides to the window in full regalia. His boots a-gleam and his hat brim arrow-straight, Dudley Do-Right's got nothing on him.)

TROOPER
License and registration, please.

(He examines the provided materials for a moment.)

Do you know why I pulled you over this evening, folks?

HAROLD
I sure don't, officer.

DEBBIE
Harold! Don't be difficult. You know what you were doing. Tell the nice man.

HAROLD
I suppose I might have been just a smidge over the speed limit back there. Sorry, officer. I was just keeping pace, you know. And yes, I know that's wrong.

TROOPER
Speeding, huh? Didn't notice that. Let me get that down. Just how fast do you think you were going, Mr. Renshaw?

HAROLD
Oh, I wouldn't say more than a couple of miles over...maybe six?

DEBBIE
Harold!

HAROLD
Ten. Okay, I was going ten over. I'm real sorry.

TROOPER
Ten. I should probably write you up for that.

(The Trooper pulls out his ticket pad and gets poised to write.)

You know, that's actually not why I pulled you over this evening, Harold. Do you mind if I call you Harold?

HAROLD
That's fine.

DEBBIE
What else did you do, Harold?

TROOPER
Now ma'am, don't get too mad at Harold. It's not what he did, but what I can do for you. Folks, I pulled you over tonight to talk about Prickly Pear Products. Are you familiar with the healing power of prickly pears?

HAROLD
Prickly...what?

DEBBIE
Are you giving him a ticket or not?

TROOPER
Well ma'am, that depends. You see, I'm a distributor for 3-P, that's what we call Prickly Pear Products, and I'd like to ask whether I can interest you in making hundreds of extra dollars a month with just a few hours of work. Our products practically sell themselves. From hair care to health care, soap to supplements, prickly pear pulp can change the way you live.

Did you know that before the white man arrived, the native Americans of the Southwest never got cancer?

HAROLD
I really don't think we're inter...wait. That can't be right. You're saying they never got cancer? And you expect us to believe that?

(The Trooper looks at Harold and Debbie for a second, then raises his pen to the ticket.)

TROOPER
No sir. I suppose I don't. You said fifteen miles over the limit, correct? You know in this state that's considered reckless. I think you should step out of the car.

HAROLD
I said ten! Ten!

DEBBIE
Excuse me. Officer? I was wondering if there were any other uses for prickly pears. It all sounds so fascinating. Doesn't it Harold?

TROOPER
I'm glad you asked. My product display case is in the trunk of my patrol car if you'd like to take a look, folks. Don't mind the man in the back seat. He's harmless.

BLACKOUT

FSW: The Three Bees

Okay, this one's an odd egg. There are several jokes buried in here, but they're targeted to specific audiences. I figure you either don't get this at all, get pieces, or get everything. This might be my most layered piece yet. Now, whether it's funny or not...

David has already posted his piece for the week, an excellent one at that. He completely nailed his character's voice. Michael's on his honeymoon, so if a sketch shows up I'm going to be a bit concerned about the marriage! As for Red, she's going to be out of the game for the next month or so as she lives the exciting life of a WSOP dealer. Poker, free drinks, and a salary. Not a bad gig.

As always, we welcome - nay, beg - others to join in the sketch war games. Just email your piece or a link to your piece to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

The Three Bees
(Jim lies on a couch. He wears shirt and tie, stylishly loose. His hair is a mop that says "I don't care how it looks" but in reality takes thirty minutes and much product to achieve. Seated in a chair behind him taking notes is Dr. Josefs, a 50-something man in a cardigan. A very traditional Freudian.)

DR. JOSEFS
How are you today, Jim?

JIM
Okay. A little anxious...I had that dream again last night.

DR. JOSEFS
Tell me about it.

JIM
I've told you about it before. It's the same, every time. Nothing ever changes.

DR. JOSEFS
I know, but this is a process. Talk it through. Tell me about the dream.

JIM
Okay. (Deep sigh)

(As Jim starts to speak, the lights go down on the doctor's office and come up on the scene he's describing.)

I'm sitting at a table in an old-style nightclub. It's late, maybe after hours, and there are only a few people left. This one table is right in front of me. There are two men - one in a white dinner jacket and dress shirt with his bow tie undone, the other has his jacket and tie completely off and draped over the chair. Oh, the guy with the jacket, he's got a button on the lapel. A yellow smiley face button.

DR. JOSEFS
What are the men doing?

JIM
They're talking to each other and laughing, but I can't hear them. All I hear is the sounds of tables being bussed.

DR. JOSEFS
Do you recognize these men?

JIM
Same two as always. The one with his jacket still on is a musician I saw perform once. McCreary, something. The other one is that guy who hosts "Man vs. Wild". That Bear Grylls guy. He starts gesturing pretty wildly, pointing and waving his hands for emphasis. The McCreary guy just shakes his head no during the rant.

(The men in the dream freeze and the lights dim to half-power. Then they come back up on the therapist's office.)

DR. JOSEFS
And you can't tell what they're talking about?

JIM
Nope. I try. Everytime I have the dream I try to hear them, or read their lips or something. Doc, it's happening more often. I've had it three times this week alone. I wake up sweating and shaking. What is it?

DR. JOSEFS
I don't know. But we'll figure it out. What else happens?

JIM
I've told you! I've told you at least ten times already. I've been having this dream for months!

DR. JOSEFS
I know, Jim. But we're getting close to a breakthrough, I'm sure of it. What happens next?

(Jim settles down and breathes deeply to calm himself. The lights go down again and they come up on the club scene. The men unfreeze.)

JIM
They finish their argument and then a carhop comes to the table with a tray.

DR. JOSEFS
A carhop?

JIM
One of those girls on rollerskates they used to have at drive-in burger places. She doesn't have on much, but it all sparkles. It's like she got in a fight with a Bedazzler and lost.

DR. JOSEFS
What's on the tray?

JIM
Two bowls and a big jar.

DR. JOSEFS
A jar?

JIM
Yeah. The bowls are empty. She puts them in front of the guys and then opens the jar and pours it into the bowls. It's thick and red. Looks like blood.

DR. JOSEFS
Do the men eat it?

JIM
Yeah. Like they're starving. She rolls away and they're already bent over the bowls. They're ravenous. After a minute, they put down the spoons. They just pick up the bowls and drink, gulping down the soup. The one guy, McCreary, he spills a little on his shirt. Gets some on his smiley button, too. Then they turn right to me, both of them staring at me.

DR. JOSEFS
What do you think they want?

JIM
I don't know. I can't tell. Their expressions are blank. The wilderness guy, he raises his arm and points at me, and then I wake up.

(Blackout on the nightclub scene. Lights back up on the therapist's office.)

Doc, I can't take it any more. What's it all mean?

(Dr. Josefs looks at his notes, jots a few more down. Doesn't say anything for a few seconds. It feels like an eternity.)

DR. JOSEFS
Jim, how are things at work?

JIM
At work? They're fine. Same as usual.

(Dr. Josefs jots a few more notes. From the darkness where the nightclub sits a man walks out. It's Edward James Olmos, wearing a tuxedo. He walks right up to the couch while Dr. Josefs scribbles, not noticing.)

OLMOS
Your table is ready, sir.

(Smash cut to the same exact scene, but Olmos is gone. Jim opens his eyes with a start and gasps.)

DR. JOSEFS
Jim?

JIM
I saw him. He was right here.

DR. JOSEFS
Saw who?

JIM
The maitre'd. But it wasn't...it was that guy from "Miami Vice".

DR. JOSEFS
Don Johnson? Don Johnson was the maitre'd?

JIM
No. Not him.

DR. JOSEFS
Tubbs? You dreamt about Tubbs? This is more serious than I realized. We'll need to--

JIM
--no. Not him either. The lieutenant. What was his name?

(Dr. Josefs scratches a few peremptory notes and puts down his pen.)

DR. JOSEFS
Jim, I think I understand what's been bothering you--

JIM
--What is it, doc?--

DR. JOSEFS
--but, we're out of time today.

(Dr. Josefs presses a button on his intercom and speaks into it.)

Mary? Could you please schedule another appointment for Mr. Halpert. Sometime in 2009 would be fine.

BLACKOUT

FSW: Bob's Knob Shop

I fear I may be alone again this week, folks. Michael's nuptials are here (if you've enjoyed his sketches in the past like I have, you should go on over and wish him and the bride luck) and David's been up against a wall at work for a long while now. This might be a one-man war band.

Imagine indeed, Mr. Lennon.

Bob's Knob Spot
(Bob, in his 50s and portly, stands front and center by the register of a cramped store. At the register is Mabel who may be in her 50s or may be in her 90s; it's hard to tell. Behind them are tightly packed aisles filled with doorknobs. At point of sale are more doorknobs.)

BOB
Hi folks. Bob Pushkin at Bob's Knob Spot here to tell you about this week's deals. We've got a sale on all of last year's six-centimeter, seven-centimeter, and nine-centimeter cabinet knobs. Round ones, square ones, wood ones, metal ones. It doesn't matter, they've got to go. We've got to make room for the new models and have slashed our prices. Take this knob for example...

(Mabel hands Bob a small knob for a cabinet drawer.)

BOB
Regularly priced at 89 cents, we've cut the price to 67 cents! That's a savings of 25%! And it's not just the base models, either...

(Mabel hands Bob a small porcelain knob with a design painted on it.)

BOB
Take this Miller & Steen porcelain knob. Regularly $3.75, we've slashed the price to $2.50! Don't miss out!

And now it's time for this week's comparison shopper where Mabel and I go under cover around town and check out the prices at our competitors.

(Mabel hands Bob a blister pack containing a full knob and lock assembly for a door.)

I picked up this LockJaw doorknob at Stan's Hinges and Doors for $37.99. Our price: $35!

(Mabel hands Bob another packaged knob set.)

Mabel picked this one up just last night. It's a Knob Factory solid brass knob which we sell for $60. Mabel got this one at Beds, Knobs, and Broomsticks for $75. $75?! Don't pay the markup at these high-priced shops, folks!

(Mabel hands Bob another package.)

This Shmekl & Petsl knobset in brushed aluminum came from Home Depot and cost..

(Bob looks at the price...and then tosses the knob away.)

Forget that folks. The big boxes can't compete with our legendary service, anyway.

Bob's Knob Spot, at the Corner of the Sevens. Seventh street and Seventh avenue. Two miles south of the Expressway.

BOB AND MABEL
Come on in today and let us polish your knob!

FSW: Man Down Edition

The day got away from me. End of the month is always hectic at work. Add in a little rehearsal, a lot of wedding stuff and you've got yourself a Sketch War without the "war".

Richard, The Universal Soldier, comes through as always with a topical sketch about the sleeper cell that is Rachel Ray.

I haven't heard from Dave since RAW closed. Hopefully he didn't go overboard on the wine and end up in the Lake.

I'm afraid the next couple weeks could be more of the same. I'll try and get some things together so you won't miss me while I'm off on the honeymoon.

FSW: Rachael Ray, Terrorist!

Tough choice today. Most of the day, the topic below seemed the most obvious target. Then around 4:30 I heard Harvey Korman had died. I thought about trying to write a sketch in honor of his greatness, but I'm not worthy. I wanted to give him a sendoff fit for a king, but I'm just a lowly piss boy.

So instead, watch and mourn (and by "mourn", I mean "laugh your ass off") here.

Now that I've properly bummed y'all out, here's this week's effort

Rachael Ray, Terrorist!
(We're in the middle of a park on a beautiful May day in our nation's capital, cherry blossoms in full color, wispy white clouds gently tracing paths across the rich, azure sky. Front and center is Rachael Ray, played by a fat man in a wig. She holds a small Dunkin' Donuts. She wears a keffiyeh.)

RACHAEL
Hi! I'm Rachael Ray! When I'm on the road, I can't always whip up a batch of baba ghanoush and big bowl of tabbouleh. So when I'm craving that taste of home, I stop in at Dunkin' Donuts for their all new Falafel Munchkins!

(Opening the box, Rachael plucks out a little ball of fried garbanzo goodness. Between her sausage-like fingers, the falafel ball seems particularly delicate.)

RACHAEL
He's so cute! Look at that.

(She pops it in her mouth and her eyes roll back in her head like a fat man, wearing a wig, possessed by a demon of the sort that likes its garbanzo flour deep-fried.)

RACHAEL
Delish! You can really taste the EVOO they fried it in, too.

(She quickly finishes off four more falafel. She reaches down and picks up a cup of Dunkin' Donuts Iced Coffee.)

RACHAEL
Nothing better to wash down your awesome Dunkin' Donuts Falafel Munchkins than fresh-brewed Dunkin' Donuts Iced Coffee!

(Like a Shop-Vac, she sucks it up the straw and down her mighty gullet.)

RACHAEL
Dunkin' Donuts. It's not just donuts anymore!

CUT TO: News Studio
(Michelle Malkin - played by an Asian man because it is so hard to find an actual Filipino Tranny willing to make fun of one of his/her own - sits next to FOX News anchor Megyn Kelly. Behind them a monitor shows the frozen and deeply disturbing image of Rachael.)

MEGYN
Michelle, tell the viewers at home what bothers you about this ad.

MICHELLE
You're kidding me, right Barbie?

MEGYN
It's Megyn.

MICHELLE
Whatever. Look. That fat cow is wearing a keffiyeh. Anyone who wears a keffiyeh is a terrorist. Anyone who defends anyone who wears a keffiyeh is a terrorist. Yassir Arafat used to wear a keffiyeh and he was a terrorist. Don't you get it?

MEGYN
I'm trying to follow you...

MICHELLE
I'll speak slower.

MEGYN
That would probably help. Thanks.

MICHELLE
Yassir Arafat wore a keffiyeh. Rachael Ray is wearing a keffiyeh. Clearly she's just like him.

MEGYN
Didn't Yassir Arafat also wear shoes?

MICHELLE
What's your point, Barbie?

MEGYN
Megyn.

MICHELLE
Whatever.

MEGYN
You're wearing shoes. Does that make you a terrorist, too?

(Michelle sticks her fingers in her ears and hums and goes LALALALA very loudly.)

MICHELLE
(Sing-song) I can't hear you.

MEGYN
Michelle. Michelle!

(Michelle takes her fingers out of her ears.)

MICHELLE
I hope I've made my point.

MEGYN
Clearly.

I have a statement from Dunkin' Donuts here I'd like to read. It says, "It's a goddamn black and white silk paisley scarf you ignorant slut. And we didn't pick it. But we're going to pull the ads anyway because we're owned by the Carlyle Group and are a bunch of pussies afraid of a loud-mouthed Filipino Tranny."

What do you have to say to that?

MICHELLE
Dunkin' Donuts can lick my balls. At least for the next three months until I see the special doctor.

No one, but no one who wears a keffiyeh should be allowed to live. They should be marched off to concentration camps. And the parents who let their children wear that evil symbol of jihad are worse. That's the most un-American thing a parent can do, is let their children wear a keffiyeh.

(The monitor behind Michelle changes to show a photo of Meghan and Cindy McCain. Meghan proudly sports a keffiyeh. Not a black and white silk paisley scarf that a fashion-less Filipino Tranny might confuse, but a traditional keffiyeh.)

MEGYN
Michelle? Any comments on the photo on the monitor?

MICHELLE
Yeah. Barack Hussein Obama went to a Madrassa and Hilary Clinton is almost as much of a man as I still am.

MEGYN
Thanks, Michelle. We'll be right back.

BLACKOUT

Friday Night Sketch War: Round Sixteen

As the three-day weekend rolls to a close, it's time to announce the winners and losers of this past Friday's battle royale. In another two-man fight to the death,

• Coyote drew first blood with his katana...
• Michael parried with his claymore. What sucked for Coyote, was the Claymore was of the landmine variety.

Winner: Michael.

While we're enjoying the small duels, it's about time some friends and family join in the battle. We're not the only writers here; we shouldn't be the only writers fighting on Fridays. Email a link to your sketch to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

FSW: Office Edition

Richard's playing doctor this week.

Dave is quiet at the moment. Perhaps his still dreaming about his dream job.

Your sketch is probably really funny. But since you won't let us read it we'll never know.

I really wanted to have a Memorial Day themed sketch today. But that just seemed like too much work. So here's my entry this week.

Enjoy.

The Day Job

(An office cubicle. Jarred sits at his desk entering data. He is having a hard time staying awake. Colleen enters and stands behind his chair, watching him work.)

COLLEEN: Man, I love the way you tear into a spreadsheet.

JARRED: (Not taking his eyes off the screen.) Hey, Colleen.

COLLEEN: Seriously, it’s like watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel or something.

JARRED: M-hm.

COLLEEN: If I didn’t have my own work to do, I could just stand here, watching you do this all day long.

JARRED: Thanks.

(She pats him on the back.)

COLLEEN: Well keep up the awesome, awe-inspiring work.

JARRED: Will do.

(Colleen exits. Barry pops his head over Jarred’s cube wall.)

BARRY: Man, Colleen’s going a little overboard with this new positive reinforcement initiative, don’t you think?

JARRED: Seriously. Does she really think going around to everyone and comparing their data entry to master painters is going to make us work harder?

BARRY: She compared you to a painter?

JARRED: Michelangelo.

BARRY: She didn’t say anything like that to me.

JARRED: No?

BARRY: All I got was a blowjob.

(Jarred stops typing.)

BARRY: Well, better get back to it.

(Barry disappears back to his cube. Jarred sighs and starts typing again.)

BLACKOUT

FSW: On the Couch

(Trevor lies on a couch, while behind him Mary sits in a chair taking notes. She is wearing a suit and glasses. Her hair is in a bun held together with a pencil.)

MARY
How are you feeling today, Trevor?

TREVOR
I'm okay. A little sluggish. Didn't get a good night's sleep.

MARY
Yes?

TREVOR
Restless. My dreams were too vivid, I think. Probably shouldn't have had that burrito before bed.

MARY
Tell me about the burrito.

TREVOR
You don't want to hear about the dreams?

MARY
I haven't had breakfast yet. (BEAT) And sometimes a burrito is just a burrito.

(They both chuckle at her bad joke.)

Alright. Tell me about your dreams.

TREVOR
They started out like they always do. I was thirteen and mowing the lawn. It's July and I'm working up quite a sweat. Now, our yard was pretty small, maybe a quarter-acre of grass to mow, but in my dream it's this huge expanse. It's at least three, four acres. And it feels like I'm pushing uphill in both directions.

MARY
(Furiously scribbling notes) Mmmhmm...

TREVOR
I keep thinking I'm going to run out of gas and need to fill up the tank, but it keeps going. Engine sputters a few times, but it just keeps running. The sun's beating down and I'm sweating a ton.

MARY
What are you wearing?

TREVOR
Wearing? I guess I'm in shorts. I've never thought about...no, wait...I'm wearing my uniform from my first job.

MARY
What job is that?

TREVOR
I was the guy in the El Pollo Loco costume who held the sign down by the road. Terrible job. I lasted a month. I think that was a record. That costume smelled like cigarettes and puke.

MARY
So you're mowing the lawn in the costume. Do you have on the chicken head?

TREVOR
No. Just the rest of it. The feet are huge, too.

MARY
(More energetic notetaking) Mmmm...

TREVOR
And then suddenly, I find myself lying by a pool.

MARY
Are you alone?

TREVOR
My mother's there, feeding me grapes. It's kind of weird.

MARY
Are you still in your costume?

TREVOR
No. I'm in swim trunks. And you're there, too, painting my toenails.

MARY
(Notes) I'm there? Hmm. What are your mother and I wearing?

TREVOR
She's in one of those old-timey swimsuits. You're dressed like you are now. Suit, hair up, glasses.

MARY
Very interesting --

TREVOR
-- I love you, Mary.

MARY
No, no, no. You're just projecting your feelings onto me.

TREVOR
No, Mary, really I do.

MARY
(More notes) Mmmhmm. (BEAT) Tell me more about your mother. How does it make you feel when she feeds you these grapes.

TREVOR
I guess it makes me feel good. I was hot and thirsty, and the grapes are cool and moist in my mouth.

MARY
And what do you think the grapes represent?

TREVOR
Represent? I don't know.

MARY
Okay, we'll get back to that. Let's move on to something else. Last time you said you were having some performance issues. How is that going?

TREVOR
I, I just can't get excited anymore.

MARY
Does anything excite you? Any fantasies?

TREVOR
Um, this is kind of hard to say...

MARY
This is a safe place, Trevor. You can say anything in here.

TREVOR
When I woke up from the dream I was pretty excited.

(Mary flips pages, she's taking so many notes now. Her pencil breaks and she pulls the one out of her hair to continue unabated. Her hair falls around her shoulders.)

MARY
I think we're about to have a breakthrough--

(The door opens and Sally, a teenage girl, comes in.)

SALLY
Mom? There's a call for you from the hospital. Something about seizures, or something? One of your patients.

MARY
(Getting up) Thanks, Sally.

SALLY
Dad? Can I borrow the car tonight?

BLACKOUT

Friday Night Sketch War: Round Fifteen

If you thought last week's drunken scuffle was an embarrassment, wait until you see this week's slap fight. There's a rumor we might be joined by some fresh blood soon, so this lull in the war might merely be a short-lived ceasefire. Let's hope.

• Coyote wants to make an omelet, so he breaks a few eggs...
• Michael has a date, but someone is ovulating.

Clearly, we need more sketch writers to join in the festivities. Post your best and send an email to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

FSW: Cop Out Edition

So I've been a little busy lately. And more than a little unfocused. So the sketch I was working on for today didn't really come together. But that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you empty handed. I have this play I've been working on forever. A comedy, of course. About a poor fellow who goes out on a date with a woman who may or may not be murdering the men she goes out with. At the moment it's titled The Blind Date Black Widow. This is a scene from early in the first act. Our hero, Mitch, has just had a little verbal confrontation with a nosy neighborlady and now his best friend, Stew, has come over. It's set in Mitch's tiny, one bedroom apartment. Please feel free to leave any feedback you may have.

For those playing by the rules this week, Richard's flown the coop and Dave has too.

The Blind Date Bandit

(The door begins to open but the chain catches it. There is a thud.)

STEW: (Off) Ouch! Mitch, open up!

MITCH: Hang on Stew.
(He opens the door)
Sorry about that.

(Stewart, 30’s and husky, enters. He is wearing his police uniform.)

STEW: Why are you using the chain?

MITCH: Why don’t you knock like a normal person?

STEW: Because you gave me a key.

MITCH: I gave you that in case I lock myself out. Not so you could let yourself in here whenever you want. What if I was with someone?

(Stewart makes himself at home. Getting a beer from the fridge, eating whatever food might be lying around.)

STEW: Like who?

MITCH: What if I had a date?

STEW: I think I know you better than that.

MITCH: What do you want, Stew?

STEW: What do you mean?

MITCH: What brings you by?

STEW: Nothing. My shift ended early today so I thought I’d stop by and shoot the shit with you.
(Beat) That’s an odd turn of phrase, isn’t it? Do you suppose people in olden times used to sit around and actually shoot shit?

(Mitch just looks at him)

STEW: What? The entomology of words and phrases has always fascinated me.

MITCH: Don’t you mean etymology?

STEW: Isn’t that the study of birds or something?

MITCH: No, that’s ornithology.

STEW: I thought that was teeth.

MITCH: Maybe you should look into another hobby.

STEW: Eh. So what are you cooking? It smells good.

MITCH: Dinner for my date. Tonight. I hate to rush you out of here, but I still have to get ready.

STEW: Is this one of the girls Alison set you up with?

MITCH: No, Stewart, your wife had nothing to do with this date. Thank God.

STEW: What’s that supposed to mean?

MITCH: Alison’s a terrible matchmaker.

STEW: Mitch, she runs her own dating service. I think she knows what she’s doing.

MITCH: She’s set me up three times and every one was a complete disaster.

STEW: You ever think that maybe that has more to do with the matchee than the matcher? I mean, they don’t just throw people together willy-nilly. There’s a science to it, Mitch.

MITCH: Like physics and biology?

STEW: Did you lie on your form? I bet you lied on your form. Trying to make yourself look better so you could rate a better class of woman.

MITCH: I didn’t lie on my form.

STEW: What did you put down as your occupation?

MITCH: I don’t remember.

STEW: Did you put down temp?

MITCH: I told you, I don’t remember.

STEW: No, you put down writer.

MITCH: Just because I’ve never had anything published doesn’t mean I’m not a…hey, how did you know I put down writer? Does Alison let you look at the forms?

STEW: Sometimes.

MITCH: What about the confidentiality agreement?

STEW: Mitch, I’m your best friend. I know more about you than what you put on a stupid dating service form. (Beat) And if you’re only 160 pounds, I’m Liza Minelli.

MITCH: I had just gotten over the flu when I filled out that form. And the women she set me up with were all nuts.

STEW: She screens her clients very well.

MITCH: Stew, the last one was covered in tattoos.

STEW: Tattoos are very sexy.

MITCH: She had over a dozen Elvises on her ass.

STEW: You got to see her ass? That sounds like a pretty good date to me.

MITCH: Some of them had real hair for sideburns.

(Alison bursts through the door. She is worked up. She heads straight for Stew.)

ALISON: I thought I’d find you here.

STEW: Honey, I was just on my way home. What’s up?

ALISON: I’m ovulating.

STEW: Now?

ALISON: No, whenever it’s convenient for you, yes now!

STEW: Okay, take it easy. Let’s go.

(Alison begins undressing.)

ALISON: There’s not enough time.

MITCH: What’s going on here?

STEW: We’re trying to have a baby.

ALISON: Less talking, more undressing.
(To Mitch)
Stew’s sperm is a little sluggish.

STEW: The doctor gave her these hormone pills that make her a little agitated sometimes.

ALISON: Stewart, I swear to Christ, if we aren’t having sex in the next 38 seconds I will cut off Mr. Tinkle and feed him to the dog. Move!

(She begins to drag Stew towards the bedroom. Mitch blocks them.)

MITCH: Wait, I have a date tonight. You guys can’t do this here.

ALISON: Mitch, once we get started it’s going to take all of seven minutes. Four if Speedy here would take off his pants already!

(She reaches for Stew’s belt and begins taking off his pants.)

STEW: We don’t want to mess up his sheets honey.

ALISON: Fine!

(She pulls Stew down behind the couch.)

MITCH: Oh…I…uh…I think…wow…I’m going to check on my dinner.

(Mitch exits into the kitchen. Stew and Alison are concealed behind the couch.)

ALISON: You have to tilt it more!

STEW: I’m tilting it as far as it’ll go.

(The phone rings. Mitch enters and sees them and exits back into the kitchen.)

ALISON: Farther!

STEW: Ow! It doesn’t bend like that.

(The phone rings.)

ALISON: Answer the damn phone, Mitch!

STEW: Honey, getting stressed like this isn’t helping.

ALISON: PUT A BABY IN ME!

Friday Night Sketch War: Round Fourteen

This week we just had a drunken scuffle between two irate generals.

• Coyote spies on post-coital pillow talk...
• Michael chooses neither paper nor plastic...
• David fired a late shot, too drunk on absinthe to make it out earlier.

Let's get some more battlers next week. Post your best and send a link to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

FSW: Small Store Edition

Richard is the early bird this week with a hilarious sketch about a little pillow talk.

I know Dave was headed to a Cubs game today, so he could be busy putting on his parka and snow boots before heading to the stadium. It's like March here today.

Here's my sketch for what it's worth. After seeing Campaign Supernova the other night, I really wanted to blast one out of the park. But I'll settle for a single. As long as I don't strand the runner on base.

(A small, country grocery store. JIM stands behind the counter as JERRY finishes unloading his basket. Jim is ringing up items on the cash register, no barcode scanner here, through their conversation.)

JIM: You are going to love these strawberries. Meredith just picked them yesterday.

JERRY: Your produce is always so good.

JIM: Well, it helps when our orchard is only ten miles away. We can pick it and sell it the same day.

JERRY: It certainly makes a difference.

JIM: You can almost taste the love.

JERRY: Is that where that extra sweetness comes from?

(They laugh. Jim has finished tallying up the order.)

JIM: All righty. That’s going to be $27.50.

(He reaches under the counter and pulls out a plastic bag.)

JERRY: Don’t worry about the bag, Jim, I brought my own.

JIM: Well, look at you. Janet’s finally got you paying attention to the environment.

JERRY: She told me that if I brought home another plastic bag from the store she’d smother me with it.

(They laugh.)

JIM: Well, I’m glad to see you’re doing your part. Here, let me bag it up for you.

JERRY: You don’t have to-

JIM: No, no. Come on.

(Jim takes the bag and freezes. His mood shifts.)

JIM: What the hell is this?

JERRY: What?

JIM: This?

(Jim points to the logo on the bag.)

JERRY: It’s a reusable bag, Jim.

JIM: From Wal-Mart, Jerry. Why do you have a bag from Wal-Mart?

JERRY: I…I…I don’t know. I just have one.

JIM: All these years, Jerry. All these years you’ve been buying your groceries here. I thought we had something special.

JERRY: We do, Jim. You know I love your store.

JIM: Yet here you stand with a Wal-Mart bag. In my store, Jerry! In my store!

JERRY: Calm down.

JIM: How many times?

JERRY: What?

JIM: How many times have you shopped…(chocking back tears) at Wal-Mart?

JERRY: Oh, come on. Don’t do this. It didn’t mean anything. I swear.

JIM: It means something to me, Jerry.

JERRY: Jim, listen, would you rather I shopped in your store with this bag or shop there with…well you don’t even sell reusable bags.

JIM: I am aware of my shortcomings, Jerry! You don’t have to slap me in the face with it. (beat) Did you like it?

JERRY: I don’t know…

JIM: Come on, tell me, what was it like?

JERRY: Jim, please, don’t do this to yourself.

JIM: I have to know, Jerry! Were their honeydew as juicy as mine? Did they have 97 varieties of apples?

JERRY: No. God no. I didn’t even look at his melons. I swear. You know your produce is the tops.

JIM: Then what? Why did you do it?

JERRY: I was weak…

JIM: Just tell me.

JERRY: I don’t-

JIM: Tell me!

JERRY: There are just so many more options! All right? Is that what you wanted to hear? And they sell giant, family size boxes of cereal.

(Jim gasps and nearly faints.)

JERRY: You only sell the smaller ones.

JIM: I don’t have the shelf space and you know it.

JERRY: I know. I’m sorry. But, sometimes it’s just easier to buy the bigger box.

JIM: You could always buy two smaller boxes.

JERRY: But the bigger box costs less. Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I’ll just get my things and go.

(Jerry begins bagging his groceries. He finishes and heads for the door.)

JIM: Wait.

(Jerry stops and turns. Jim takes a small container of raspberries over to Jerry and puts them in his bag.)

JIM: Just a little something to remember me by.

JERRY: Thank you.

JIM: Do you think you’ll ever come back?

JERRY: Would you have me?

JIM: I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.

JERRY: Yeah. (beat) Yeah.

(Jerry exits. Jim watches him go, the grief washing back over him, he begins to sob and slowly slides down the door to the floor.)

BLACKOUT

FSW: Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk
(Mark and Vanessa lie side by side in bed with the sheets pulled up to strategically cover their nudity. Hair is mussed. They've clearly just finished an energetic session of lovemaking.)

MARK
That your thong?

VANESSA
Where?

MARK
Ceiling fan.

VANESSA
Um, no I think that one's yours.

That was...where did you learn that new trick?

MARK
The one with the rolling pin?

VANESSA
No, the other one.

MARK
"The New Yankee Workshop." Norm's a stickler for shop safety, so I figured--

VANESSA
--measure twice

MARK & VANESSA
cut once!

(Vanessa leans across Mark and grabs a bottle of Gatorade from a side table.)

VANESSA
Frost?

(Mark leans across Vanessa and grabs his own bottle of Gatorade from her side table.)

MARK
(Indicating bottle) Orange. I'm old-school.

So...um, that thing you said?

VANESSA
Which thing? About the mold in the basement? Because that wasn't dirty talk. I just think we need to have that looked at.

MARK
No, not the mold. The other thing.

VANESSA
Oh. That. I just...I thought you'd like that. Guys like to hear stuff like that, don't they?

MARK
Um, in the abstract, sure. You were just so...specific. It was unnerving.

VANESSA
How do you mean?

MARK
I mean, saying "you're the best" or "no one's ever made me feel this way" is a hell of an ego boost. I'm not going to lie. But usually - and it's not like I've been with a lot of other women, and I'm not trying to compare - usually it doesn't come with such a detailed list of people and places and...positions.

VANESSA
I don't follow.

MARK
Well...alright. For example, when I was doing that thing with the watering can and toilet brush you said (in a monotone) "ooh baby, the way you move your hips is better than Joe Piscopo doing me reverse cowgirl in the back of that Hoboken cab with the bad shocks, summer of '98, baby, baby, baby."

VANESSA
No. I didn't say that. I mean, maybe I said something like--

MARK
--word for word.

VANESSA
Really? You were going pretty fast then, how can you be sure?

MARK
I'll never forget. Those words - and that look in your eyes, like a starving hyena - are etched in my memory.

VANESSA
I'm sorry if I freaked you out. I was...it was just so good. Like you'd taken it to another level. I guess I just lost my head. But what about you? I mean, I wasn't the only one talking. What was that you were trying to say before I took the Saran Wrap off your head?

MARK
Help me, please. I can't breathe?

VANESSA
Oh.

(They sit in a moment of awkward silence.)

MARK
Mold?

BLACKOUT

Friday Night Sketch War: Round Thirteen

Whoo doggy! Lucky round 13. Let's get right into the action.

• Coyote threw a million little pieces of shrapnel at his foes...
• Michael trained a firehose of Evian into the fray...
• David gave us all hemlock and consumption.

Three warriors entered. None survived. They're dead. All of them dead.

FSW: Blind Date

Please forgive me ahead of time for a boring sketch. I've had a rough week and didn't get to this until an hour ago. It's not good. Seriously. Sorry.

Blind Date
(Meredith sits at a small table in a stylish bistro with a glass of wine. She is fashionably dressed. She frequently raises her eyes from a copy of "All the Pretty Horses" to glance about. Liam enters, carrying a copy of "No Country for Old Men" under his arm. He wears dirty jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair and beard are long and unkempt. He looks around, spots Meredith, and crosses to her table.)

LIAM
Meredith?

MEREDITH
(Looking up) Yes?

(Liam indicates his book and then points to Meredith's. She invites him to sit down.)

It's nice to meet you finally, Liam. Would you like a drink?

LIAM
A beer would be great.

(Meredith waves at a waiter who comes over.)

MEREDITH
A beer for my friend, and another glass of chablis for me, please.

(The waiter goes off to fill the order.)

Did you find the place okay?

LIAM
Yeah, once I realized it was near The Y, I knew I'd been here before.

MEREDITH
Oh? Do you workout at the Y?

LIAM
I live there.

MEREDITH
Oh. What do you do?

LIAM
Odd jobs. I used sweep out the back alley at this place for their day-old bread. But the new manager is a prick. He'd rather throw it out than give it away.

MEREDITH
I didn't realize. Well...

(The waiter appears with their drinks. Meredith finishes hers off in one swallow, points to the glass, and holds up two fingers to the waiter.)

LIAM
I loved what you said about "The Road" on the forum. That was the best analysis I've ever seen of McCarthy's lyrical descriptions of the wasteland.

MEREDITH
Thank you. That's very sweet. Especially considering what you had to say about "All the Pretty Horses". I'm re-reading it now, and it's not the same book to me at all after what you said.

LIAM
Thanks.

(There's an uncomfortably long pause in conversation. Liam finishes his beer. Both try to say something and stop themselves. The waiter arrives with another beer and two glasses of wine. He sets them down and Meredith and Liam both take long drinks.)

MEREDITH
Keep them coming, would you?

So, you have a computer at The Y?

LIAM
No. I use the one at the public library. I like it there, especially during the summer. They don't like us in The Y during the day, so I've gotta find someplace cool.

So what's a woman like you doing looking for men online? You must be beating them back with a stick.

MEREDITH
Hardly! I've tried everything. Match.com, eHarmony, JDate --

LIAM
-- Oh, you're Jewish?

MEREDITH
No. But all the dates I went on were terrible. All the men were idiots. One of them thought the Coens had written "No Country for Old Men"!

LIAM
You're kidding!

MEREDITH
I'm serious.

(The waiter returns with yet more alcohol and takes away the empties.)

BLACKOUT

LIGHTS UP

(Meredith and Liam have been at the table a while and are clearly well lubricated. She's moved to the seat next to Liam and is cozying up to him.)

MEREDITH
You want to get out of here?

LIAM
Sure. Your place or mine?

MEREDITH
Mine.

(As Meredith picks up her bag, its contents spill onto the floor. Amidst the brush, mascara, compact, and wallet is a copy of "A Million Little Pieces". Liam picks it up and turns it over in his hands. He hands it back to Meredith who looks ashamed.)

LIAM
Actually, I'm feeling a little tired. I think I'm just going to head back to The Y. Thanks for the drinks.

MEREDITH
No, Liam, wait. I can explain!

LIAM
No. I don't think you can.

BLACKOUT

Friday Night Sketch War: Round Twelve

After last week's light battle, the warriors return with vengeance on their minds and blood on their hands. Three great armies amassed to vie for contested land. Who would prevail? Would any survive? Would any live to sing songs of the clash?

• Coyote led the charge atop a mighty warhorse, leading a terrible horde of hideous, slavering beasts hungry for flesh...
• Michael and his battalion of silent assassins crept behind their enemies and swung heavy iron implements...
• David used guile and deception to enter the field, then used explosives to finish the job.

A mindless eating machine, a wordless display, and architectural genius are on display this week.