POGOTRAMPOPULT!!!

If there is one word that inspires thoughts of bouncing and/or flinging, let that word be...

Guy Apult

Hi. I'm guy. Guy A-aaaiiigggh! (he is suddenly flung up into the air and over the horizon by some unseen force)

I am ex-hausted.

I used be hausted, but those days are over. Now I'm just ex-hausted. Damn. My thoughts are dripping to my speaking mouth and typing fingers at the speed of molasses through a cocktail straw that's still slowly uncrimping itself after having been twisted into a pretzel by some bored bar corner simp and tossed to the floor. The days of feeling any kind of energy after just 4 hours of sleep are long over. I remember when I was in my mid-twenties, I could stay out until 3am, get home by 4am, hit the sack, wake up at 7am, and be at work by 9am, and still feel like I'd slept until 11am or perhaps 12pm! And something about bacon and a pan. The point is, I need to take better care of myself. That being said, here are some lengths to which I am going to go to do that which I just stated I need to do (I just picked up a summons from the Sentence Police):

Get more sleep - at least 6 hours a night. Ideally, 8.

Eat healthier foods - goodbye burgers, hello salads!

Work out more - lats, quads, delts, glutes, bis, tris, fee fi mo mice Bo Bice! At least 3 times a week.

Stop trying to knock bees out of the air with my pee - I think the advantages to ceasing this behavior are obvious. The disadvantages? I shall be out of practice for this Fall's 'Bee Pee Bee B'. I won last year's 'Bee Pee Bee A'. Don't know why they use a lettering system instead of Roman numerals.

You know what? I'm really full from lunch. I think I'll shoot this post in the right buttock with a mercy tranquilizer dart and think of the next post...

The Winebot 8 Million!

THE AMAZING WINEBOT 8 MILLION
super rough draft that we threw on stage last night, with typos and misspellings and crap like that

ANDRES = Francisco
REISMAN = Dr. Pinot Merlot
ROB = The Amazing Winebot 8 Million
MARK = Chip, Francisco's roommate (it says Fido in this script)

FRANCISCO
Ladies and gentlemen - true story, many of you know that I am a true wine conneseur. I have a glass of wine with almost every meal, and as such, I have enlisted the help of our next inventor on several occasions to help improve both the quality and frequency of my wine consumption experiences. Please welcome my good friend, Dr. Pinot Merlot! Welcome back, Dr. Merlot.

DR. MERLOT
It's grape to be back, Francisco!

FRANCISCO
Excuse me?

Dr. MERLOT
I said, it's grape to be back.

FRANCISCO
Oh, "it's great to be back" yes, well it's great to have you back - sorry, my hearing isn't the greatest.

Dr. MERLOT
I said "grape" to be back. It was a pun.

FRANCISCO
I know, and I was pretending not to hear you. It was quite the corker!
Now then, Dr. Merlot, I heard through the great vine that you have a wonderful new wine-related invention for us tonight!

DR. MERLOT
Absolutely. Francisco, you drink a lot of wine, am I right?

FRANCISCO
You are right as rain.

DR. MERLOT
And what would you say are the six most annoying things about drinkning wine?

FRANCISCO
Six? Jesus. Um...well, 1) choosing what wine goes with what food is very hard, 2) wine is very expensive at restaurants, 3) it's a pain in the ass to uncork wine 4) um...you have to stand up and walk over to where the wine is, it never comes to you eh, 5) the wine can not defend you in a fight and 6) um...oh man I can't come up with a sixth one.

DR. MERLOT
Well, 5 out of 6 isn't too bad. The answer to #6 was - wine can't follow you around.

FRANCISCO
That sounds like #4.

DR. MERLOT
Wow, you do have bad hearing. Anyway, the invention I have for you tonight, Francisco, is going to revolutionize the way you select wine, order wine, consume wine, and protect yourself from muggers.

FRANCISCO
Wow.

DR. MERLOT
Hold on to your grapes, Francisco, because here comes The Amazing Winebot Eight Million! Winebot, activiate!

ROB strolls onto the stage, his cheeks puffed out with a mouthful of red wine.

FRANCISCO
Amazing! A robot! That has something to do with wine!

DR. MERLOT
Close, Francisco. It's a robot that has everything to do with wine.
And defending yourself from muggers.

FRANCISCO
Why winebot eight million? Why such a high number?

DR. MERLOT
Beats me. You can call it the winebot six for all I care.

FRANCISCO
How does it work!

DR. MERLOT
Well, this may look like an ordinary robot...

FRANCISCO
It looks like an ordinary person, not a robot.


DR. MERLOT
(sarcastically) Look out Francisco, we're surrounded by robots! Heh, you rascal you. Anyway, this may look like an ordinary robot, but it's not. It's the winebot five trillion. Inside the winebot are over 12 different pressurized chambers of wine varietals, ready to be mixed at a moments notice and then dispensed at your convenience.

FRANCISCO
Over 12?

DR. MERLOT
26.

FRANCISCO
Then why not say over 25? Or just say 26?

DR. MERLOT
I don't know. I always thought over 12 sounded more impressive.

FRANCISCO
Hmm. You could say under 1 million.

DR. MERLOT
That would be silly! Anyway, the winebot can not only dispense a glassful of any kind of wine at a moments notice, based on what you're eating, but it will follow you around and defend you from muggers.

FRANCISCO
Why does it look like he's got a mouthful of wine?

DR. MERLOT
No, he's got nothing in his mouth. The wine chambers are here, in his thorax.

FRANCISCO
His cheeks are all puffed up, and his lips are red.

DR. MERLOT
Hey, screw you Hollywood people and your unrealistic attitudes towards appearance and weight, that's BS pal, the winebot's cheeks are little puffy so what, and his lips are a healthy pink. You've got a fat ass.

FRANCISCO
Hey. I mean it literalyl looks like he's got wine in his mouth.

DR. MERLOT
How about a demontstration?

FRANCISCO
Okay.

DR, MERLOT
Here, hold this wine glass.

FRANCISCO
Why do I have to hold it?

DR. MERLOT
Well, this lab coat was just washed.

FRANCISCO
What does that have to do with anything?

Dr. MERLOT
I...I don't want to sweat from excitement and get it dirty again. I might get too excited if I hold the glass.

FRANCISCO
Oh, okay. I'll hold the glass.

DR. MERLOT
Okay, what's your favorite meal?

FRANCISCO
Oh - filet mignon with scalloped potatoes and creamed spinach

DR. MERLOT
Okay, let's say that' swhat you've ordered, but you're at a restaurant with no liquor license!

FRANCISCO
No!

DR. MERLOT
True story! No liquor license!

FRANCISCO
Fuck! How did I wind up here! Fuuuck!

DR. MERLOT
Well, don't worry, because you've got the winebot 12 billion with you
- he heard what you ordered, and he'll provide the perfect wine for the meal! Just say winebot, dispense?

FRANCISCO
(holding glass at Rob's crotch)
Winebot...

DR> MERLOT
No, up here - (points to mouth)

FRANCISCO
Oh. My imaginantion run amock again. (holds near mouth) Winebot, dispense!

ROB spits wine into the glass.

FRANCISCO
Amazing!

Dr. MERLOT
Go ahead, taste it. That's real wine.

FRANCISCO
Of course it is, didn't you just say it was mixed in his thorax according to...

DR> MERLOT
Yeah, yeah sure. Drink it.

FRANCISCO
Alright, I will. But you seem awfully eager to make me drink this wine that just came from...hey, why aren't his cheeks puffy anymore?

ROB puffs cheeks back out.

DR. MERLOT
sure they are, look.

FRANCISCO
Oh, my mistake. DOwn the hatch!

F drinks wine.

FRANCISCO
Oh....my....God....what...the f....was I thinking....this is delicious! It would be the perfect compliment for that meal that I described earlier.

MERLOT
Yep, I told you.

FRANCISCO
Let's try again!

MERLOT
Sure!

ROB goes off stage .

FRANCISCO
Where'd he go ?

MERLOT
He needed to recharge is power. His winebot. Power.

ROB returns.

FRANCISCO
That was fast.

MERLOT
Winebot runs on...curtain static.

FRANCISCO
Okay. How about a white wine? Good for Salmon and asparagus?

ROB runs off again.

FRANCISCO
Where's he going?

MERLOT
Mmm. Salmon! I love salmon.

ROB returns.

FRANCISCO
Winebot, dispense!

ROB spits into the glass again, this time it's pink.

MERLOT
There you go. White. Wine.

FRANCISCO
This looks like a Rosay.

MERLOT
Hmm. Are you sure?

FRANCISCO
It looks a little pinkish. Are you sure he's not just holding wine in his mouth?

MERLOT
Mabe the winebot has determined that rosay is more appropriate for the meal you mentioned!

Francisco drinks it.

FRANCISCO
Wow! he's right! This is wonderful! Why did you design the winebot to look like a dude with wine in his mouth?

MERLOT
I thought it would be funny. Now then, you've seen the winebots awesome skill at wine selection and production and spitting I mean dispensing, now let's demonstrate it's awesome mugger-stopping power.
Let's get Jonny Fido up here to be the mugger.

FIDO gets on stage.

MERLOT
Okay Jonny, you're going to pretend to mug Francisco, but the winebot is going to stop you.

ROB goes off and gets more wine in his mouth.

FRANCISCO
Why'd he leave again and then come back, And now his cheeks are puffy again.

FIDO
I don't want to get wine on me,

MERLOT
Trust me, just pretend you're a mugger and try to take Francisco's wallet.

FIDO
I don't want to get any wine stains on me.

MERLOT
Trust me.

FIDO
Okay fine, give me your wallet - (Rob punches him in the groin) AH MY NUTS!

FRANCISCO
The amazing winebot 4 trillion!

a minimalist knock knock poem

Knock knock.

Doctor.

NERD!

Okay, let's pretend I'm a serial killer who hunts businessmen and writes psychotic rambles about it...

I have crouched in the heat with a knife in my mouth for too many mornings to count, brush-scraped shoulders aching in the clean glare, morning fire. Sweating already I waited, bated breath and stealth coiled. I caught many a specimen that way, each day a new one faltered by and I sprung. Their khakis hung in my hallway, some stained the rust of blood, some crotch-mottled sepia with incontinent surprise. I ate their eyes. Their folios and mansatchels, their blackberries and laptops, their ties, I came on and piled - a biweekly bonfire too far in the bleak for suspicious eyes. Too centered in shadow, a dim gleam of light ringed by silent evergreens. The smell of burning accountant. The char of dickface ass. Some sorority slut waits by the phone at home a groan and I've splattered my load on her motherfucking asshole bankerman's lifeless skull. Another notch. Another pair for the hallway. Another grain plucked from the hourglass of monotony, several more pushing to fill its place. And I the scythe.

Jeepers, this is creepy stuff. Remind me to get more sleep. I better write some knock-knock jokes.

A: This artifact is Mayan!

Q: What did the selfish archaeologist say?

Anyway, Mel Gibsons's next movie is apparently going to be another ancient epic. It will take place 500 years ago during the Mayan Empire in Central America, it will be spoken entirely in ancient Mayan, and it will concern the diabolical nature of the Jews.

Armadillos can only taste licorice.

So, it turns out that Cats can't taste sweets.

Similarly:

Alligators can't taste cilantro.

Dogs can't smell Axe Body Spray For Men.

Parrots can't see Asians.

Organgutans can't taste Cobb salads, but they CAN taste each of the individual ingredients of a Cobb salad when served separately.

Al Roker can't love.

Carpenter Ants can't hear the music of the band The Carpenters.

I can't feel wicker.

Lemurs on LSD can't hear the color yellow.

Lance Armstrong won his seventh straight Tour de France!

Add that to his four gay Tour de France titles, and he's won eleven total Tour de Frances! I have no idea what I'm writing!

Leathermen.

I don't care how much you can bench press. I don't care how fit you are. I don't care how well-developed your muscles are. If you are a senior citizen, wear something with some fucking sleeves, for the love of prunes. That's right, I'm talking to you, old man with muscles. You look like you need reupholstering. Yes, I can tell that you are very muscular and strong, but your arms look like two loose leather sacks filled with porkchops. Those looks you're getting from passersby are equal parts impressed and revolted. Impressed by the fact that someone your age has such muscles, and revolted by the scrotality of your skin rippling in the wind. For crying out yuck, put a shirt on. Here's an idea - if you're super old and also super in-shape, develop a killer handshake instead. Be the old guy with the crazy strong handshake. Not the old guy who insists on exposing vast swaths of skin with the consistency of an apricot that's been microwaved for 10 seconds. Make that 15 seconds. You know what? I don't know what an apricot looks like after it's been microwaved. Fuck you. The point is, old man with muscles, I decline your invitation to pierce your drooping burlap with my imagination in order to admire your nether-physique. Not that I'd derive any pleasure from looking at you if your skin were taught and firm. Beaded with sweat. Your single-strapped backpack bisecting your bronzed bulk at an angle not unlike the middle slash of Zorro's "Z". We catch each other's gaze, you and I. Two straight-but(t)-curious men, mouthing silent, giggling "Mwahs" to one another across the park. A space between strangers, filled with the invisible scent of possibility. The electricity of imagined sauna gropings - heaving, lurching, spasms of shameful ecstacy that began as a friendly arm-wrestling match and mutual rump powdering. Who won the arm-wrestling match? We both did, judging from the slick, JacksonPollockesque, still-steaming murals we have seethed onto one another's chest hair. Let's not hug too long in parting, lest we become stuck together! Oh sigh, your laugh is even deeper and more resonant than mine. Svelton, for that is the name I have conjured for you, now we must go our separate ways, I to my lonely cube, and you to the Waxeterium, where your coworkers have dubbed you "The Rainmaker", for your amazing skill at eliciting the most thunderous happy endings. My ending is indeed happy now, Svelton. My ending is indeed happy now. Each night forthward I shall now a single pubic hair pluck from my own fluffy thicket, and weave into a commemorative change purse that I shall keep with me always once it is complete. In this purse I shall hold the 13 cents I found in you when we joined. Like two puzzle pieces. Snapped together tight and strong and firm, and then jizzing really hard onto each other. Okay, happy Monday!

A HUNDRED AND YES PERCENT!

That's my new catchphrase. I put a hundred and yes percent into this post.

Attention NYCRHSJWSRC Members:

It is my sad duty to inform you that as of today, July 22nd, 2005, The New York City Rush Hour Screaming Joggers With Smoldering Rucksacks Club will cease operations. This is for our own safety, as I'm sure you can understand. It's unfortunate. For the past 25 years, members of the NYCRHSJWSRC have enjoyed jogging through New York City rush hour pedestrian traffic while screaming and lugging smoldering rucksacks, for both fitness and fun, and it is sad to think that the actions of a few bad apples would make this wonderful passtime seem suspicious in any way. The tragic results of yesterday's annual Scream 'n' Lug made the decision to disband the NYCRHSJWSRC a foregone conclusion. Some of you have dissented, insisting that we can continue as a club if we merely stop screaming as we jog while lugging smoldering rucksacks. Still others have pointed out that it's the smoldering we need to eliminate - that non-smoldering rucksacks would serve us just as well. And a vocal few have argued that the mere presence of rucksacks at all is the issue. Let me be clear. With the NYCRHSJWSRC, it's always been all or nothing. For us to honor our club's history, and for us to achieve the full satisfaction and joy that we have always striven for, it is pertinent that our jogging be:

a) during rush hour
b) while screaming
c) and carrying rucksacks which are:
d) smoldering.

That's it. Until we can safely resume the activity for which our club is named, in its totality, we shall cease any and all club activity. I am truly sorry, and I wish all NYCRHSJWSRC a happy and healthy remainder of the summer.

Sincerely,
Vin Bladderforth III
President, New York City Rush Hour Screaming Joggers With Smoldering Rucksacks Club

P.S. This Sunday, I will be having a few NYCRHSJWSRC members over for an informal smolder seminar, exploring what materials produce a good, long lasting smolder in a rucksack and so forth.

P.P.S. From now on, let's call them backpacks.

FUCK THIS SHIT.

You heard me. Fuck this shit. No, not THAT shit. THIS shit. Right here. Fuck it! How this shit can be allowed to go unfucked is beyond me. Look at it! Ooh this shit is so asking to be fucked it's ridiculous. Someone's gotta fuck this shit. Fuck! This shit. You know what? Forget what I said about THAT shit. Someone should fuck that too. Yes, both this shit and that shit should be fucked repeatedly until they are completely fucked and no longer need to be fucked. FUCK! I hate this fucking shit.

I would not boobytrap my fridge in order to prevent my roommate from drinking my light beer.

And I have yet to find anyone who would go to such lengths. This is a terrible media-propagated myth that must be stopped. Young American males do NOT boobytrap their refrigerators, put on disguises, or use any other form of trickery or deception to protect or obtain light beer. Light beer is simply not worth the effort, and we know this. Then why the masquerade? I challenge Bud, Miller and all of the other swill mongers to create advertising that accurately reflects the American male attitude towards light beer: we drink it only after we are already very drunk. Here is my Bud Light commercial:

INT. - A BODEGA AT 5AM

A TEETERING MAN FUMBLES FOR HIS WALLET AS HE SOFTLY MUTTERS SOMETHING ABOUT BITCHES. THEN, HE SPENDS THE ENTIRE REMAINDER OF THE 30 SECOND SPOT TRYING TO OBTAIN MONEY FROM AN ATM WITH REPEATED SWIPES OF HIS METROCARD. THEN HE PUKES AND PASSES OUT, FALLING OUT OF FRAME. THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON A SIX-PACK OF BUD LIGHT BEHIND THE GLASS-DOORED FRIDGE NEXT TO THE ATM.

TAGLINE: ASSHOLES DRINK PISS! BUD LIGHT!

Okay, maybe not tv-ready, but I feel that my commercial is a much more accurate depiction of our attitude towards light beer than some douchebag who's hired a bouncer to guard his refrigerator. Outlandish and innacurate and insulting.

Also, what is with prices of things today.

SHARK WEEK!

If I'm not mistaken, it's Shark Week on the The Discovery Channel. Long-winded set-up here, followed by fake show titles and half-assed explanations:

Shark Bytes! - a computer tutorial show, but with sharks.

Sharks vs. Jets - inspired by Westside Story, this one-sided fight takes place between some Great White Sharks and an F-15. Or, this one-sided fight takes place between some Great White Sharks and some members of the gang, the Jets. OR, this one-sided fight takes place between some members of the gang, the Sharks, and an F-15.

What If All Your Appliances Turned Into Sharks? - a terrifying exercise in hypothesizing. I mean could you imagine?

The Sharkprentice - Donald Trump. Um. And stuff. Eh, lunch has made me sleepy.

Who Wants To Marry A Millionaaaaarrgggh!

Shark & Order: Shark

Pimp My Shark

So You Think You Can Oh No Shark

Sharkity Shark Shark

You know what, open up a fucking TV Guide and replace random words with the word Shark, and you'll pretty much have it.

A Different Lady Every Night!

Hello. I'm Miles Millman, inventor of the Static Pea, the world's only immovable legume. If you've encountered one of my Static Peas, you know what I'm talking about. It's simply impossible to budge. I don't know why I invented the darn thing, but there you have it. A pea that is simply not going anywhere. Anyway, today I'm here to plug my new autobiography: A Different Lady Every Night!. Most people wouldn't expect me, Miles Millman, inventor of the Static Pea, Silent Orange, and Corduroy Butt Wipes to have an autobiography with such a scintillating, titillating, and other words ending in "-ating" title, but in all honesty, my life has been so brimming with raunch that A Different Lady Every Night! is the only title I could think of for my autobiography that would: a) accurately reflect its contents and b) satisfy the prudes at both my publisher and the many retail chains at which we hope to sell the volume. Originally, I had wanted to name the book Why Button The Labcoat (When There's Always A Woman's Head In The Way)?, but that title was shot down pretty quickly by my editor. And then I had her. Anyway, please pick up a copy of my autobiography, A Different Lady Every Night!, and read about the haunch-cleaving adventures of me, Miles Millman, inventor of Proactive Socks and Prune Blocker. Here are is a sample passage from A Different Lady Every Night!:

...convulsing hole, I stretched and put on my bathrobe. That's when it struck me - perhaps the bonding joint was failing because of the materials I was using! I had always taken it as a given that aluminum would respond to elliptical pressure no differently than the magnesium joints I had used to build the prototype, but perhaps the torque was too much. Henderson had been having some success with stainless steel. Hmm. Pricey, yes, but if I could get the gears to respond with the metronomic precision that I needed, I just might be able to finish building The Boot Timer before the Atlantic City convention. Yes. At Atlantic City, I would prove to the world that boots need not be mistimed any longer.

The difference a space makes!

MANHOLE EXPLOSIONS

MAN HOLE EXPLOSIONS

Flying blind.

I performed "blind" a few times earlier this Spring, and here's some of the stuff I said:

[I take the stage wearing sunglasses (with my eyes actually closed)- in noticeable need of aid and direction.]

Shhhh. Shhhhh. Let me take you in. Let me take y'all in. (pause) Ah yeah this is a nice looking crowd. Yeah, this is a hot crowd. Ah ha! People ask me, Andres, how can you tell when a crowd is good lookin'? Well, I tell them, the acoustics in a room with a good looking crowd are much better than the acoustics in a room with a bunch of uglies. You see, the good looking people generally have more angular features or smoother skin, so the sound in the room bounces more readily. The ugly people, the sound just gets sucked into their big ugly pores, all caught up in their corduroy skin. Yeah but this is a nice looking crowd all right!

Let me take you in. Ahhh. I hear someone's cell phone vibrating - it only vibrated once. They hung up. They didn't want to leave a voicemail. Someone is nervous about calling you - yeah. Young love. I bet ya that's some young love there.

I smell... I smell lavender. Over here. Just a whiff. In the background of the olfactory portrait of this crowd, not in the foreground. We're not talking perfume that someone just put on, we're talking a fabric softener that someone used two weeks ago. On an undergarment. And that undergarment has been sitting in the undergarment drawer for these past two weeks, and now it's happy to be under a blouse and out on the town. Yeah. Bounce. Yeah, it's Bounce fabric softener. And now it's bouncin' out on the town, yeah yeah. Ooh, sorry sometimes a blind man thinks he can get away with bein' a little naughty. And you know what? Most of the time I can, yeah.

I smell more things in this beautiful crowd. Someone over here had Thai food right before the show. Smells good. Mmmm. And someone...someone over here had Thai food last night if you know what I mean. Oh no. Smells not so good. Not so good.

"Time is often the distance between the smell of things".

That's something my old friend Beau Metavante used to say. He also used to say "Three steps is the distance between your sink and your fridge, Andres. Three steps." He was a good friend.

Knock knock
(Who's there?)
I wish I knew. I wish I knew, ladies and gentlemen. Ha yeah!

[and then I would go into some of my standup or one of my oddball monologues - usually the Hasselhoff one]

Although, the pressure to post something might result in me posting stupid stuff.

Sometimes, in groups of three.

Sometimes, I may even post multiple pieces in a single day!

Two.

I am so totally going to post every day from now on.

Well, that's one.

Here comes the rape.

So I was sitting at a bar the other afternoon, scribbling in my notebook and watching some Close Captioned baseball, when it began to drizzle. At the stadium where the game was being played. The words scrolled across the screen -

"...and here comes the rape."

They should have written rain. But they wrote rape. That would be a rough baseball game.

"And Pedro with the wind-up, and the pitch...it's a called third stri-- whoah nelly, here comes the rape! Pedro looks upset folks, but frankly, look how he's dressed."

Gulp. Okay bedtime for sure now.

The occasional bump in the road.

Anyway, it appears that my SNL packet wasn't deemed good enough by my pal's agent to even be submitted to SNL. I'm a bit baffled, honestly. I think it's funny stuff. But c'est la vie. I've always sort of known that the only way I'll ever be successful is by building up my own audience through my own projects (GTN, my solo appearances, plays, etc.) -- I seem to be able to make crowd's laugh, but the "industry" folk don't seem to share their appreciation. Harrumph! Hmm. That possessive apostrophe should NOT be there between the word crowd and that S. Fuck it. Well, I'm never going to stop doing what I do, and if that means I have to settle for being the funniest fucking secretary in the world until the day I die, then so be it. Sigh. You know what? I bet there are many secretaries funnier than I am. What? Yeah, so? Bud Light is a quality beer. Huh? I know. Yeah, I should. I should hit the sack. And then I should go to bed. LOL! Still got it.

THE MURDERERZONE!

I'm sitting here in the basement of the Gene Frankel THeatatatatatatater at a computer with a truly fucked up keyboard, listening to theheheheheheh actors reheaarse tonight's SNR in the background, , , , , , ,and as always, I am truly sorry. This might have potential with another couple of passes, but this is what t6hey're sttuck with:;

The MURDERERZONE!
By Andres du Bouchet
For 7/17/2005 SNR

INT.- A HOSPITAL ROOM

SFX.- VARIOUS HOSPITAL BEEPS, BREATHING APPARATUS, ETC.

A doctor leads four medical students into the room, where a man lies in a coma.

DOCTOR
(consulting his chart on a clipboard) Amazing. Absolutely amazing. Okay medical students, gather ‘round. Here we have a very unique patient. This man is the sole survivor of yesterday’s terrible plane, train and boat crash.

STUDENT 1
A plane, train, and boat all crashed? How is that possible?

STUDENT 2
Did the plane lose fuel, attempt a crash landing in the ocean, and accidentally hit the boat?

STUDENT 3
Hmm. That sounds plausible, but how does the train enter the picture then?

STUDENT 2
Oh, right.

STUDENT 1
Did the plane crash into a bridge at the exact moment that a train was crossing it and a boat was going underneath it?

The four students all murmur their agreement - “oh yes, that makes sense, good thinking”, etc.

STUDENT 4
Maybe the train was carrying the boat?

STUDENT 3
Shut up.

DOCTOR
You’re all wrong. The plane didn’t crash, it was simply caught in a strong downdraft which caused it to lose altitude. At the same time, a train directly underneath it passed over a dormant volcano which suddenly erupted, catapulting the train thousands of feet into the air, smashing it right into the plane.

STUDENT 1
And the boat?

The doctor consults the chart again.

DOCTOR
My mistake. There was no boat.

STUDENT 4
You said there was a boat.

STUDENT 3
Shut up.

DOCTOR
Nope - I misread the chart. I mistook the word “volcano” for the word “boat.”

Awkward glances between students.

DOCTOR (continued)
Anyway, this man is the only survivor. He’s suffered some mild trauma to the psychic vision portion of his brain, so we can only hope he’ll awaken without any strange and disturbing psychic powers. Let me just reach down here and take his pulse…

As the doctor reaches down to take the patient’s pulse, he wakes up, grabs the doctor by the wrist and screams…

PATIENT
Murderer. Murderer!

STUDENT 1
You heard him! His injury has given him the power to see into the future of whomever he touches! Doctor Smith is going to murder someone!

STUDENT 2
I’m an undercover cop and you’re under arrest!

Student 2 grabs the doctor and begins putting handcuffs on him.

DOCTOR
But.

Student 2 leads the doctor away.

PATIENT
What happened? The last thing I remember, I was standing on the deck of a boat.

Remaining three students look at each other.

STUDENT 3
You’re safe now. It looks like you’re fine. Except for the psychic ability to see into the future of whomever you touch.

PATIENT
Yes. When I touched the doctor, I saw…he was going to murder his wife tonight!

STUDENT 1
Amazing. I’m Paul.

He shakes patient’s hand.

PATIENT
Murderer! MURDERER!

STUDENT 1
What? No, I -

STUDENT 3
I’m also an undercover cop, you’re under arrest!

STUDENT 1
But -

Student 3 leads Student 1 away in cuffs.

PATIENT
Ohmigod. I had an awful vision that he was going to kill his wife later.

STUDENT 4
Um. I don’t think he’s even married, but better safe than sorry.

PATIENT
Will the visions never end? Will I be okay?

STUDENT 4
Honestly, I don’t know. I’m also an undercover cop.

Blackout.

Lights up - the patient is now sitting at a table in a café. A woman walks up to him.

INT. - A CAFE

BLIND DATE
Hi, I’m your blind date Laura.

He stands up and they shake hands.

PATIENT
Murderer!

Blackout.

INT. - AN OFFICE

Patient is at a job interview.

BOSS
Your resume is very impressive. It was a pleasure meeting you, and we’ll let you know our decision next week.

They shake.

PATIENT
Murderer!

Blackout.

VO
Um, what the heck, three more months later.

INT. - A BAR

TOUGH GUY
Let’s arm wrestle.

As soon as their hands touch…

PATIENT
Murderer!

Blackout.

Lights up. The patient stands in the reception line next to his wife (same actress as blind date) at their daughter’s wedding. As each person in line approaches him, he shakes their hand.

INT. - A WEDDING RECEPTION

WEDDING GUEST 1
Congratulations on the marriage of your lovely daughter.

They shake hands.

PATIENT
Murderer!

WEDDING GUEST 2
Congrat -

They shake.

PATIENT
Murderer!

WEDDING GUEST 3
Hi, I -

They shake.

PATIENT
Murderer! MURDERER!

DOCTOR
Hi. I’m the doctor from the beginning of the sketch. Tactile Faux Homicide Clairvoyancitis is a rare condition in which the suffering patient initially appears to have the psychic power to determine the future of whomever they touch, when in actuality they simply have visions of murder whenever they shake anyone’s hand. Pretty fucked up, huh? Thanks for helping out.

PATIENT
(breaks wedding scene and approaches announcer - everyone else watches) No problem.

They shake.

PATIENT (continued)
MURDERER! MURDERER! MURD -

The doctor shoots the patient, dead.

DOCTOR
Pretty ironic, huh? LOL!

Everyone laughs as the lights dim.

Blackout.

(from nowowowowowowow on I'm bringing my laptop and editing AS I write. This whole e e e e e e e e ime contststststststststainrt thing is maddening!)

Here is my SNL packet.

I have no "people" to speak of, so as I continue to scramble to find someone, ANYONE to help me get my Saturday Night Live packet seen by the folks over there, I have decided to put my sketches on display right here, for your amusement, analysis, scorn, etc. The following selection of sketches is probably more than would need to be submitted, so perhaps you can even help me figure out which ones are worth attempting to submit. I'd appreciate your feedback in the comments area! Heck, please pick the 5 sketches out of this bunch that you'd submit to SNL if you were me. Or fewer than 5, if you can't find 5 that you like. Some of this is old, some new, some polished, some rough. Some of this stuff is already on the blog, some of it very recently even, but I've smushed it together here for ease of perusement:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lobster Bib Press Conference

INT. - THE WHITE HOUSE PRESS ROOM

THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE TAKES POSITION BEHIND A PODIUM AS A ROOM FULL OF REPORTERS EAGERLY WAIT FOR THEIR CHANCE TO ASK HIM QUESTIONS. HE IS DRESSED IN A SUIT, PLUS HE IS ALSO WEARING A LOBSTER BIB. THESE INITIAL STATEMENTS CAN BE TAILORED TO CURRENT EVENTS. (yeah, this is an oooold sketch that I think would have kicked ass in late 2001 -- maybe it could be tailored to today's news somehow, but it wouldn't have the same impact. Sigh - it's one of my faves.)

RUMSFELD
Thank you all for your patience. I just have a few basic statements to make concerning the ongoing operations in Afghanistan, then I will open the floor to questions. We can now confirm that U.S. Marines fought a group of what were believed to be Taliban and al Qaeda troops last night, killing seven people and destroying three vehicles. The convoy of Taliban vehicles was attempting to run a roadblock set up by the Marines near Kandahar. The Marines were from the 15th expeditionary unit that had recently set up a base south of Kandahar on November 25th, 2001. There were no U.S. casualties. That’s all I have for you right now, of course as the situation in that region continues to develop we will update you appropriately. That concludes my prepared statement, I will now open the floor to questions.

REPORTER #1
Can you confirm or deny reports that satellite surveillance has detected where Osama bin Laden is currently hiding out? And, if so, is he in Afghanistan?

RUMSFELD
Regrettably, I cannot comment on any satellite surveillance that we may or may not be conducting. If any such information existed we would have to keep it classified so as to preserve the usefulness of said hypothetical information. Yes.

REPORTER #2
Yesterday the Department of Homeland Security raised the National Threat Level to orange, citing credible evidence that al Qaeda is planning to conduct terrorist activities in the U.S. within the next week. Are there any specific leads being investigated?

RUMSFELD
You would have to direct that question to the Department of Homeland Security, but I'm sure their answer would be the same as mine - any leads that our government is in the process of investigating must remain classified, otherwise the usefulness of those leads diminishes considerably. Any other questions? No? Then I must be…oh, yes.

REPORTER #3
Why are you wearing a lobster bib?

RUMSFELD
Excellent question. However, I cannot comment on any purpose that this lobster bib may or may not have at this time. And if there are no more questions - yes.

REPORTER #1
Will freshly steamed lobsters somehow play a part in the war against terrorism?

RUMSFELD
I can't comment on that.

REPORTER #2
Is it a message to the nations harboring terrorists, like “terrorism will be pulled from its shell, dipped in hot, melted butter and then eaten and washed down with a dry white wine like maybe a Chardonnay?”

RUMSFELD
No comment.

REPORTER #3
Is it some sort of symbol of solidarity, like "we must cooperate, for we are all lobsters in the great pot of life?"

RUMSFELD
That's very interesting. No comment.

REPORTER #1
Is it a clue to the American people, that we must defend ourselves from terrorists with nutcrackers, and tiny, tiny forks?

RUMSFELD
If the American people wish to outfit themselves with nutcrackers and tiny forks, there is nothing stopping them, but I can’t comment on how that would pertain, if at all, to this lobster bib.

REPORTER #2
You just forgot to take it off, didn't you?

RUMSFELD
Excuse me?

REPORTER #2
You were eating a lobster dinner right before this press conference, and you forgot to take it off. Now you're trying to cover up your faux pas by pretending that it has something to do with the current situation in Afghanistan.

RUMSFELD
Okay, good. That's exactly right. Oh man, I can't believe I forgot to take it off. How embarrassing. Any other questions?

REPORTER #3
So take it off.

RUMSFELD
What?

REPORTER #3
Take it off, since it was just a faux pas and everything.

RUMSFELD
Oh sure, sure. I'll take it off right after this press conference.

REPORTER #1
So it IS something secret! Why are you, the Secretary of Defense of the United States of America, wearing a lobster bib at a press conference during a time of war? What could it possibly be for?!

RUMSFELD
As I said, I can't comment on the bib, other than to say, yes, it is a lobster bib.

REPORTER #2
Is it really a lobster bib, or is it some sort of protective device designed to just look like a lobster bib? Is there something the American people should know?

RUMSFELD
What, like this is a radiation shield or something?

REPORTER #3
OH MY GOD! Where can we get these radiation shields designed to look like lobster bibs?!

REPORTER #1
Do they make radiation shields with other designs or slogans, like "Kiss The Chef"?!?!

REPORTER #2
I want one of those, I'm a great chef!

RUMSFELD
People, calm down. It’s not a radiation shield.

REPORTER #3
Is the bib a sign that we have become allies with the Giant Lobster People From Space?

RUMSFELD
Give me a break. Look, if we were allies with the Giant Lobster People from space, do you think I’d wear a lobster bib?

REPORTER #1
Are you saying that the Giant Lobster People From Space are our enemies?!?!

REPORTER #3
Aigh! (he screams repeatedly and runs out of the room)

RUMSFELD
Oh for Chrissakes, don’t you think that if the Giant Lobster People From Space were our enemies, we would have been wiped out by now by their superior…wait a minute. There are no Giant Lobster People From Space.

REPORTER #2
Are you saying they’re from Earth? Were they spawned from the massive amounts of chemicals we’ve dumped into our precious oceans?!?!

RUMSFELD
Dammit! There are no Lobster People of any kind! This is ridiculous.
Please. Let me be clear. There is a very good reason that I am wearing the (points to bib and whistles a snippet from the theme to “Green Acres”). But as I said earlier, it is top secret. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have more business to attend to.

REPORTER #1
Okay wait a second! Just now you pointed to it and whistled the theme to “Green Acres” instead of actually saying what it was. Does that mean we're not even allowed to say the words lobster-

RUMSFELD
Shh!

REPORTER #1
Not even allowed to say lob-

RUMSFELD
Shh!

REPORTER #2
But all he’s trying to say is lob-

RUMSFELD
Shh! Sorry, I was just being a prick. Lobster bib. There, I said it. I don't know why I just pointed at it and whistled before. No particular reason. Yes.

REPORTER #1
Why are you wearing a lobster bib?

RUMSFELD
Let me be clear. This is just a lobster bib. As for the purpose of the lobster bib, please understand that it must remain classified as to why I am wearing it, but I am wearing it intentionally, and there is a very good reason that I am wearing it. As the President has repeatedly stated, there will be things our country is doing to fight terrorism that will be made public, and there will be tactics that simply must remain secret. I am wearing this bib for secret reasons. You may see other high profile members of the administration engaged in other seemingly odd behaviors. For example, you may see Condoleeza Rice constantly eating frozen yogurt in public. Secret. You may see Secretary of State Powell giving the finger to dogs a lot. Secret. You may see Dick Cheney laughing at something with what looks to be a genuine laugh at first, and then slowly becomes recognizable as a sarcastic kind of “bite me” laugh. Secret. From time to time, you may even hear one us of scream something nonsensical, such as LIVE FROM NEW YORK IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HAPPY ACCIDENT FUDGE

(the older this sketch gets, the less I like it - still, it has periodically killed on stage. And periodically groanbombed).

EXT. AUTUMN MEADOW - DAY

COMMERCIAL

A BEAUTIFUL FALL DAY. GOLDEN FOLIAGE AND NEW ENGLAND MOUNTAINS IN THE BACKGROUND. CALM HARP MUSIC PLAYS. A GENTLEMAN WITH SALT AND PEPPER HAIR WEARING A FLANNEL SHIRT AND A CARDIGAN SWEATER STROLLS INTO FRAME.

HERB FARBER
Hi. I’m Herb Farber, from the world famous Farber Fudgeworks here New Hampshire. You know, since 1903, the name Farber has been synonymous with delicious, premium quality novelty fudge. Now, on our 100th birthday, Farber Fudgeworks is proud to unveil its newest type of novelty fudge: The Happy Accident. Is new Happy Accident reasonably priced? Sure it is. Is it delicious? If you’re familiar with the Farber line of premium novelty fudge products, that’s not even a question. Does new Happy Accident novelty fudge accurately simulate the appearance, texture, and consistency of real human feces? You bet it does. But that’s not where the novelty ends. Because Happy Accident novelty fudge doesn’t come in a tin, or a box, or a jar, or a container of any kind.

HERB PRODUCES A TINY WHITE PILL FROM HIS SHIRT POCKET.

It comes in convenient pill form. What’s in the pill? Good question. Three patented ingredients: One, a revolutionary biochemical agent that literally transforms the molecular properties of the feces in your colon into rich, delicious, premium quality fudge. There’s the Happy. Two, a volcanically powerful laxative. There’s the Accident. And three, a prescription strength antidepressant, to help you cope with the fact that no matter how delicious it is, you are indeed eating your own shit (bleeped out). So, the next time you’ve got a hankering for a snack, just pop a Happy Accident, and turn yourself into a fudge factory. That’s what I did!

HERB REACHES INTO THE BACK OF HIS PANTS AND TASTES HIS FINGER, SAVORING IT. HE REFLECTS FOR A MOMENT. HIS SMILE FADES.

You know something. I don’t think I ever actually took the pill. Oh God. Oh God no.

HERB RUNS OFF.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Farber’s Fudgeworks. Premium quality novelty fudge since 1903.

HERB RUNS TO A STREAM IN THE DISTANT BACKGROUND AND BEGINS FRANTICALLY SPLASHING WATER INTO HIS MOUTH.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HAY MUCHAS COSAS INTERESANTES EN UNA PAELLA

(this could be Horatio Sanz's first water cooler worthy sketch - c'mon! It's an oldy too, but one of my faves as well).

INT. AN OFFICE

A TYPICAL OFFICE. JUAN SITS AT HIS DESK SMILING CONTENTEDLY, DOING NOTHING DESPITE THE ENORMOUS STACK OF PAPERS IN HIS INBOX. HE COULD VERY WELL BE THE HAPPIEST PERSON ON EARTH. THE PHONE RINGS. JUAN ANSWERS IT.

JUAN
Hola? Lo siento, pero no hablo ingles. Si, bien. Adios!

JIM APPROACHES. HE IS INTENSE. HE CARRIES A FOLDER OF DOCUMENTS.

JIM
Hi, how's it going? (they shake hands)My name's Jim. You're new here, right?

JUAN
Si, me llamo Juan.

JIM
Oh, do you speak English?

JUAN
No, no hablo ingles. Solamente hablo espanol.

JIM
So you don't understand what I'm saying?

JUAN
Si, es correcto, no entiendo nada de lo que me dices.

JIM
Well...I guess I'll get someone else to help me with this then (referring to folder he's carrying).

JUAN
Si, eso sera mejor.

THERE IS AN AWKWARD PAUSE HERE. JIM FEELS SOMETHING IS NOT QUITE RIGHT, BUT HE CAN'T PUT HIS FINGER ON IT. HE SHRUGS IT OFF.

JIM
Bye.

JUAN
Adios!

JIM LEAVES.

TERRY COMES OVER. SHE LOOKS STRESSED AND OVERWORKED. SHE HAS BEEN SUSPICIOUS OF JUAN FOR A COUPLE OF DAYS NOW.

TERRY
Good morning, Juan. Nice weather we're having today, huh?

JUAN
Si, hace buen tiempo, pero puede llover manana.

TERRY
You just made a comment about the weather, right?

JUAN
Si.

TERRY
Okay, look, I have a real big prob --

COLE ENTERS. HE IS YOUNG, LAID BACK AND FRIENDLY.

COLE
Hey Terry, hey Juan!

TERRY
Cole.

JUAN
Hola Cole!

COLE
Did you guys see the Knicks game last night?

JUAN
Si, que partido! Entre el rebounding de Kurt Thomas y el sharp-shooting de Keith Van Horn, los ultimos minutos fueran los mejores del juegos. Si siguen asi yo creo que Don Chaney y Los Knickerbockers van a llegar a los playoffs.

COLE
You said it, man. What was the final score again?

JUAN
Ciento seis a ciento dos.

COLE
That's right. Gotta run, bye guys.

JUAN
Adios!

COLE LEAVES.

TERRY
Okay, look, this is really upsetting me. You clearly understand English. The work is piling up, and we could really use your help on a number of different projects. You've been here for a week and you haven't done a damn thing - why would they hire you in the first place if there was going to be such a language problem?

JUAN HAPPILY SHRUGS.

JIM RETURNS.

JIM
Hey Terry. You're wasting your time. Juan doesn't understand English. Isn't that right, Juan?

JUAN
Si Jim, no.

TERRY
There, he's doing it again! If he doesn't understand English, then how can he keep answering our questions?

JIM
He's answering in Spanish.

JUAN
Si, solamente hablo espanol, no entiendo nada de ingles.

JIM
See?

TERRY
I'm getting our supervisor.

TERRY LEAVES.

JUAN
Adios!

COLE RETURNS.

COLE
Hey guys. Juan, maybe you can help me out with this. What is that Spanish dish with all the seafood and stuff all mixed together with the yellow rice? I love that dish.

JUAN
Paella.

COLE
Yeah.

JIM
Oh, I love paella.

JUAN
Si, hay muchas cosas interesantes en una paella.

COLE
All that chicken…

JUAN
Si, pollo.

JIM
Rice

JUAN
Arroz.

COLE
Clams.

JUAN
Mmm...Almejas.

JIM
Shrimp.

JUAN
Oh, camarones, si.

COLE
Sausage.

JUAN
Chorizos.

JIM
Roasted peppers.

JUAN
Pimientos morrones - delicioso!

COLE
You said it. Man, just thinking about it is making me hungry. I’m gonna go grab some lunch.

JIM
Bye.

JUAN
Adios!

COLE LEAVES. JIM SHIFTS UNCERTAINLY.

JIM
I also like sushi.

JUAN
Oh, si, si.

JIM
What’s Spanish for sushi?

JUAN
Sushi.

JIM
Outstanding.

TERRY RETURNS WITH MARC, THEIR SUPERVISOR.

MARC
So what's the problem here?

TERRY
Juan hasn't done any work since he started here!

JIM
He doesn't speak English.

TERRY
He doesn't speak English? Juan, how many chromosomes are there in the human gene?

JUAN
Cuarenta y seis.

JIM
That's Spanish for forty six, right?

JUAN
Si.

JIM
Outstanding.

TERRY
See?! We've been having conversations with him! Sure, he's answering in Spanish, but he understands everything we say! He's faking it! He is a big fat lying nasty fake! Fatty!

MARC
Hmm, I see. Juan, what do you have to say for yourself?

JUAN STANDS UP, AND READS FROM A CRUMPLED PIECE OF PAPER HE PULLS FROM HIS BACK POCKET, IN A VERY PROPER, OVERPRONOUNCED AMERICAN VOICE.

JUAN
Listen. This sort of thing happens to me a lot, so I had an English speaking friend prepare this speech for me to help alleviate tension. Terry, I too would be upset if my coworker were unable to assist me in any way whatsoever, with any work at all. Ever. How can I claim not to understand English when I answer your questions accurately, even if I am indeed answering in Spanish? Sure, I could use the excuse that I do know some basic English but am too embarrassed by my halting pronunciation to answer in English, but this doesn't explain how I can answer questions about the weather and sports, or even more unlikely, a question such as "how many chromosomes are there in the human gene?" Surely this argues for a more in-depth knowledge of English, a knowledge that you must now suspect I possess. To this I say...trust your heart. Also, Terry, I am not fat, as you can plainly see.

JIM
Can I take a look at that?

JUAN
No.

JUAN FOLDS UP THE PAPER AND PUTS IT BACK IN HIS POCKET.

MARC
That was beautiful. I think we can all learn something from Juan.

TERRY
Bullcrap! I call bullcrap on you mister! Bullcrap on all of you! Bullcrap, bullcrap, bullcrap! I quit!

TERRY STORMS OUT.

JUAN
Adios!

MARC
Okay. With Terry gone, it looks like we need a new project manager. Juan, I'm promoting you to Terry's position.

JUAN
Un promocion! Muchas gracias, no te vas arrepentir, Marc, no te vas arrepentir!

MARC
I love this guy! I don't understand a word he's saying, but I love this guy!

JIM
You know, I've been here eleven years without a promotion and he's been here a week...but I can't help but be happy for him too! Congratulations, Juan!

JUAN
Muchas gracias! Adios!

THEY LEAVE. JUAN GOES BACK TO SITTING THERE SMUGLY.

THE PHONE RINGS.

JUAN
Hello. Whoah, whoah, whoah, slow down amigo, I don't speak Spanish!

CHEESY THUMBS UP TO AUDIENCE. THE END.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pants!

(Another one of my favorites, but maybe too wacky? One of my favorite SNL sketches of all time is the Bean Cafe, and I think this one is patterned after it -- never addressing the pink elephant, so to speak)

INT. - A LIVING ROOM

A VERY WELL-APPOINTED LIVING ROOM. TWO FOPPISH MEN ARE IN MID-CONVERSATION, LAUGHING UPROARIOUSLY. THEY ARE HOLDING COCKTAILS. ALSO, THEIR PANTS ARE DOWN AROUND THEIR ANKLES, AND THEY DON’T SEEM TO NOTICE OR CARE.

ROBERT
Oh I do enjoy a good joke.

DAN
Yes, jokes can be very funny. Is it drafty in here?

ROBERT
Yes, I have the air conditioner on full-blast.

DAN
It’s very drafty.

PAUSE.

ROBERT
You know, I've been feeling a bit self-conscious lately.

DAN SHUFFLES OVER TO THE BAR TO REFILL HIS DRINK.

DAN
Really? Why's that?

ROBERT
Well, it’s just that I find it very awkward to walk around like this. (pause) I mean, I'm used to wearing glasses, and these contact lenses make me feel completely off-balance.

DAN
You'll get used to them.

ROBERT
I hope so! I'm going swing-dancing with Ashley this Wednesday night, and I don't want to look like a fool out there!

THERE IS A KNOCK ON THE DOOR. ROBERT BEGINS SHUFFLING TOWARDS THE DOOR.

ROBERT
I’ll get it!

ROBERT OPENS THE DOOR. ANDREW ENTERS. HIS PANTS ARE ALSO DOWN AROUND HIS ANKLES.

ANDREW
Hello all!

ROBERT
Andrew!

ANDREW
I parked my motorcycle in the driveway. I hope you don't mind.

ROBERT
How on Earth can you ride a motorcycle dressed like that?

ANDREW
What do you mean?

ROBERT
You're not wearing a helmet!

ANDREW
Oh, don't be silly, I left my helmet outside with the motorcycle!

ROBERT
Andrew, allow me to introduce you to Dan.

ANDREW AND DAN SHUFFLE TOWARDS EACH OTHER.

ANDREW
Ah yes! It's a pleasure.

DAN
Likewise.

THEY ATTEMPT TO SHAKE HANDS, AND ARE BOTH JOLTED BY STATIC ELECTRICITY.

ANDREW
Ow!

DAN
Ooh, that smarted.

ROBERT
What's wrong?

DAN
Just some static electricity.

ROBERT
You see, that’s why I need to run the air conditioner constantly. All of this dry heat causes a terrible amount of static electricity.

ANDREW
How ironic. You must run up a huge electricity bill…just to keep from being electrocuted!

THEY ALL LAUGH UPROARIOUSLY.

ROBERT
Oh I do enjoy a good joke.

DAN
Yes, jokes can be very funny.

ROBERT
Who wants to play Twister?

ANDREW
You read my mind!

DAN
Wait, we can't play Twister like this!

ROBERT
Why not?

DAN
We need music!

DAN SHUFFLES OVER TO THE STEREO AND TURNS IT ON. GOOFY LOUNGE MUSIC BEGINS TO PLAY. MEANWHILE THE OTHER BOYS ARE SETTING UP THE GAME CENTER STAGE. THERE IS ASSORTED ENTHUSIASTIC TWISTER-TALK AS THIS IS GOING ON.

ANDREW STANDS OFF TO ONE SIDE AND SPINS THE DIAL.

ANDREW
Right foot green!

THEY ALL PUT THEIR RIGHT FOOT ON GREEN. ANDREW SPINS AGAIN.

ANDREW
Right foot blue!

THEY ALL PUT THEIR RIGHT FOOT ON BLUE. ANDREW SPINS AGAIN.

ANDREW
Left foot green!

THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THEM TO DO, SINCE THEIR LEGS CAN'T SEPARATE THAT FAR. THEY SHIFT ABOUT UNCERTAINLY. OR MAYBE JUST STAND STILL STARING AT THE TWISTER MAT.

DAN
Delightful! Twister always ends with some crazy mess like this!

THE DOORBELL RINGS. ANDREW SHUFFLES TO THE DOOR.

ANDREW
I’ll get it.

ANDREW OPENS THE DOOR. JEFF IS STANDING THERE. HE IS A NORMAL GUY WHOSE PANTS ARE ON PROPERLY.

ANDREW
May I help you?

JEFF
I’m sorry to interrupt your…(looking at the situation) I’m sorry to interrupt you, but my car just broke down just about a mile down the road. I was wondering -

ANDREW
Please, come in, do make yourself comfortable.

JEFF ENTERS

JEFF
Thanks. I was wondering if I could use your phone to call -

ANDREW
I said, make yourself comfortable.

JEFF
I'm fine, thanks. I have a calling card, so -

THE FOPS CLEAR THEIR THROATS. JEFF SLOWLY FIGURES OUT THEY WANT HIM TO DROP HIS TROUSERS. HE DOES, RELUCTANTLY, AND THE FOPS MURMUR THEIR APPROVAL, CLAP POLITELY, ETC.

DAN
Well played!

JEFF
I just need to call AAA.

ROBERT
What kind of car do you have?

JEFF
Um…it’s a Nissan Sentra.

DAN
What kind of engine?

JEFF
It’s a V6.

ANDREW
What color is it?

JEFF
Grey.

ROBERT
The car or the engine?

JEFF
The car.

DAN
Ooh, even better!

PAUSE.

JEFF
So can I please use your phone?

ROBERT
Oh, we don’t have a phone.

THE OTHERS MURMUR THEIR AGREEMENT.

JEFF
Okay. Well, it was really nice to meet you gentlemen. I’m going to leave now.

JEFF BEGINS TO PULL UP HIS PANTS. ASSORTED DISAPPOINTED GRUMBLES FROM THE FOPS. “BUT YOU JUST GOT HERE,” ETC. JEFF DROPS HIS PANTS AND THEY APPROVE HEARTILY. HE LIFTS THEM UP AGAIN SLOWLY, AND THEY AGAIN ARE DISAPPOINTED. JEFF PLAYS WITH THEM, UP/DOWN FINALLY DROPPING HIS PANTS AGAIN BY MISTAKE. THEY AW/AH! ALTERNATELY, ENDING WITH A BIG HEY!! AND THEY TOAST HIS PANTSLESSNESS.

DAN
Well played!

JEFF
I'm sorry, I have to go…

HE PULLS HIS PANTS BACK UP. AW!

ROBERT
Well at least shake our hands!

ALL THREE MEN SHUFFLE TOWARDS HER TO SHAKE HIS HAND. EACH SHOCKS HIM.

JEFF
Ow.

ANDREW
Ouch.

JEFF
Ow.

DAN
Ouch.

JEFF EXITS.

ANDREW
That’s static electricity for you.

THEY LAUGH.

ROBERT
Oh I do enjoy a good joke.

DAN
Yes, jokes can be very funny.

LONG PAUSE.

ANDREW
I’m chilly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

VAMPIRE AUDITION

(I've done this one as a performance piece a zillion times, but hey, why not let Chris Parnell soak up the laughs with it on National TV? C'mon dangflarnit!)

INT. - A DARK THEATRE

A SPOTLIGHT SHINES ON AN EMPTY STAGE.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Next.

MURRAY WALKS ONSTAGE. HE IS A NORMAL FELLOW, EXCEPT FOR THE COPIOUS AMOUNT OF BLOOD DRIPPING OUT OF HIS MOUTH, DOWN HIS CHIN AND ONTO HIS SHIRT, AS IF HE HAD JUST RIPPED SOMEONE’S THROAT OPEN WITH HIS OWN TEETH.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Name?

MURRAY
My name is Murray Peterson.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
And what part will you be auditioning for, Murray?

MURRAY
I will be auditioning for the part of Mario.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
And what will you be singing for us?

MURRAY
I will be singing "I Love To Cry At Weddings."

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Okay, whenever you're ready.

MURRAY
Hit it!

THE PIANO ACCOMPANIMENT FOR "I LOVE TO CRY AT WEDDINGS" BEGINS. MURRAY SINGS THE SONG WITH GUSTO. HE IS INTERRUPTED MID-SONG.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Thank you, Murray. If we decide to cast you, you'll hear from us in a couple of days.

MURRAY
Great, thanks!

MURRAY BEGINS TO WALK OFFSTAGE.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Hold on just a second, Murray.

MURRAY STOPS. PRODUCER VOICES MUMBLE IN THE BACKGROUND.

PRODUCER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Murray, is that blood on your face?

MURRAY
Hmm? Well, I suppose it is. Okay, thank you!

HE STARTS TO WALK OFF AGAIN.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Wait, don't go just yet.

HE STOPS. MORE BACKGROUND MURMURING.

PRODUCER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Murray, are you a vampire?

MURRAY
Am I a vampire? Good one! Okay, I hope to hear from you next week! Thank you for your time!

MURRAY BEGINS TO WALK OFF AGAIN.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
No, seriously. Please answer the question.

HE STOPS.

MURRAY
(uncomfortable) I don't see how that is of any relevance...I don't -

PRODUCER (V.O.)
You do realize that this show will be performing eight times a week? Including two matinees?

MURRAY
Sure, that's standard, right?

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Right. Matinees are during the day, Murray.

MURRAY
I knew that.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
So if you're a vampire, we would need to know that now.

MURRAY
Yeah, but if I say "Yes, I am a vampire", then you won't cast me, right?

PRODUCER (V.O.)
I didn't say that. But we do need to know.

MURRAY
Look. Let's be honest here. You...pathetic...humans have no love for my kind. You fear us, you cower before us as dogs cower before their masters. And why are you afraid? Because you know that to us you are nothing more than walking sacks of liquid nourishment. I could drain you of your life's blood right now, “Day Walker” (mockingly), and toss your lifeless corpse into a nearby dumpster, (getting choked up) yet my love for musical theatre forces me to swallow my pride and subjugate myself before your idiotic whims!

PRODUCER (V.O.)
So you are a vampire.

MURRAY
I didn't say that.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
It really sounds to me like you're a vampire.

MURRAY
(trying a new tactic) Look, I am sooo perfect for this part! I was born to play Mario! Can't someone else play the part for the matinees? I'll do six shows a week, I'll bust my ass for six shows!

PRODUCER (V.O.)
I'm sorry Murray.

MURRAY
(pointing towards the audience, speaking deeply and ominously) Listen to me, Day Walker! Listen and obey! You will cast me in the part of Mario, and you will do away with the matinees entirely! Heed my command!

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Okay, Murray? Your voice of command, or enslavement, or whatever that was, it apparently didn't carry back here. This booth is pretty well insulated. I'm sorry.

MURRAY
I will turn you into a slave of the undead!

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Sorry.

MURRAY
I will suck you dry!

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Nope.

MURRAY
I will paint scenery and sell concessions! Please! I'll do anything! Ever since I was a young boy I've wanted to be in a Broadway show! When I was nine my father took me to see Annie! It was the scariest thing I'd ever seen in my life! (singing) The sun'll come out tomorrow -- terrifying! It still gives me goose bumps! I’ll do anything, please!

PRODUCER (V.O.)
You know what? That's exactly the type of spirit we're looking for! I think we've found our Mario!

MURRAY
You mean I got the part?!

PRODUCER (V.O.)
That's right, you -- oh, wait, I forgot. You're a vampire. Next.

MURRAY
You will pay for this!

MURRAY STORMS OFF. WE HEAR A WOMAN SCREAM BRIEFLY OFFSTAGE.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Next.

A YOUNG WOMAN COMES OUT, CLUTCHING HER BLOODY NECK. SHE IS IN A DAZE.

PRODUCER (V.O.) (CONT’D)
Name?

AUDITIONER
My name is Courtney Michelle-Hewitt.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
And what part will you be auditioning for?

AUDITIONER
I will be auditioning for the part of Carlotta.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
And what will you be singing for us?

AUDITIONER
I will be singing “Oklahoma.”

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Whenever you’re ready.

AUDITIONER
Ooooooooooooooooooklaugh.

AUDITIONER FAINTS DEAD AWAY.

PRODUCER (V.O.)
Next.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zeppelin Pilots!

(I love this sketch - performed just once by a makeshift sketch group I was a part of for one show)

Captain Vanderplant stands proudly at the wheel of his zeppelin, his jaunty scarf fluttering in the cool evening breeze. Next to him stands the Lady Lavalliere, a strikingly beautiful woman who is clearly wealthy and refined. She sips her martini and gazes off into the night sky. Both of them speak with upper class accents.

The hum of the zeppelin's propellor is everpresent in the background.

After a lengthy beat...

CAPTAIN VANDERPLANT
I know what you're thinking.

LADY LAVALLIERE
What's that?

CAPTAIN
You're thinking..."there's something about a zeppelin."

LADY
(looking longingly at the captain) Close. I'm thinking "there's something about a man piloting a zeppelin."

CAPTAIN
Ha ha ha! You flatter me, Lady Lavalliere. Careful. The zeppelin, she is a jealous lady.

LADY
Oh peshaw. You speak as if you are married to this...this zeppelin.

CAPTAN
In a way I am. I know it seems silly to you, but we zeppelin pilots are forever betrothed to our gas-filled brides. The zeppelins.

LADY
So devoted to this zeppelin are you? So devoted as to be blind to my advances?

CAPTAIN
Ever am I called to her helium-filled bosom.

LADY
(pressing up against him) There is so much more than helium in my bosom, captain.

CAPTAIN
Milady, please! I must concentrate on piloting...the zeppelin.

LADY
(pulls away) Oh blast! I fear that the clouds surrounding this zeppelin are nothing compared to the clouds in your mind!

CAPTAIN
My mind is as clear as the course we are currently taking from New York to Philadelphia! Now if you'll excuse me, we are but an hour into our six hour journey. During that time, I must focus on my mistress. My love. My zeppelin.

LADY
You've made a fool of me!

She tosses her drink in his face and walks off.

CAPTAIN
Ah! My eyes! The vodka stings my eyes!

The captain releases the steering wheel and frantically wipes the vodka from his face. Doc and Tiny run onto the deck. Doc speaks with a Southern accent and Tiny is very dumb.

DOC
Captain, we felt the zeppelin lurch suddenly! What in tarnation is going on up here?

CAPTAIN
(gets both hands on the steering wheel again) Flirtation. Resisted. Vodka. Eyes!

TINY
(pointing) Muh...muh...muh...

DOC
Consarnit, what is it, Tiny?

TINY
Mountain!

CAPTAIN
We're heading straight for that mountain! Curse the bitch named 'Fate'!

DOC
Well I'll be a rattlesnake's biscuit! But what mountain is between New York and Philadelphia?

CAPTAIN
No time for logic! We're going to crash!

TINY
Ah!

CAPTAIN
Brace yourself!

There is a long beat here as the three of them brace themselves for an impact that never comes.

CAPTAIN
This is it!

There is another long pause.

DOC
Captain?

CAPTAIN
Any second now!

DOC
Captain!

CAPTAIN
Oh why must we suck on the teat of misfortune?

DOC
Dangsarnit, Captain, the mountain is still really far away. And we're approaching it slower than a possum in syrup.

CAPTAIN
Say your final prayers, gentlemen!

TINY
Mountain?

DOC
Yeah, Tiny, there's the mountain.

TINY
Ah!

CAPTAIN
Once more into the breach!

DOC
Captain!

CAPTAIN
Crash time now!

Doc grabs the wheel and turns it slightly.

DOC
There, just steer out of the dang way, flangsarntit!

CAPTAIN
Mutiny!

TINY
(pointing happily) Ah! No Muh...muh...

CAPTAIN
We're saved! I'll take it from here. Doc, Tiny, you are dismissed.

Doc and Tiny leave. Doc muttering curses under his breath. Lady Lavalliere returns, drinking another cocktail.

LADY
What was all the commotion up here?

CAPTAIN
Oh nothing, nothing at all. Just some innocent tomfoolery between myself, Doc, and of course, Tiny.

LADY
Of course. What purpose does Tiny serve aboard the zeppelin?

CAPTAIN
I have often asked myself the same question, milady.

LADY
I wanted to apologize for flinging my cocktail in your face earlier. I do not deal well with being scorned. (begins to press against him again) To be fair, most men are not so cold to my affections.

CAPTAIN
Lady Lavalliere! I must not let the impertinent gropings of a well-bred hussy divert my attentions from La Diva Zeppelin!

LADY
Twice now you have shattered me!

CAPTAIN
My eyes have grown accustomed to the burning of the vodka, so do not -

She throws her drink in his face yet again.

CAPTAIN
Ah! Gin! The gin! It burns!

Again she stomps off and the captain releases the wheel to wipe his eyes. Doc and Tiny come back.

DOC
Well I'll be a rooster's pecker!

TINY
Muh...muh...

DOC
What is it, Tiny?

TINY
Mountain!

CAPTAIN
(recovering) No! The mountain is upon us!

DOC
How the hell in a bole weevil did we get this close to the mountain all of a sudden?

CAPTAIN
Your cold, hard logic will not avail you here in the stratosphere, Doc! We are face-to-face with the merciless whore named Death! Prepare to meet your maker! Here...it...comes...right...about...now...almost...there!

DOC, TINY & CAPTAIN
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

The three of them lurch forward with a jolt. Stunned beat.

CAPTAIN
Curses. My first crash. Alright gentlemen! Be careful stepping out of the zeppelin onto the mountainside! It's a long walk down to the nearest road.

Captain and the others begin to step out of the zeppelin onto the mountainside. Lady Lavalliere returns, again carrying a cocktail.

LADY
What happened?

DOC
We crashed.

TINY
Mountain.

CAPTAIN
Milady, watch your step, the last thing I would want is for this mountain to be stained with the blood of a tramp.

LADY
Oh you pig!

She splashes him the face again.

CAPTAIN
Tequila! No!

THE END

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1-900-CALL-NEIL

(this is retarded)

Dan. Dan excitedly picks up the phone and dials an eleven-digit number with deliberation and mounting enthusiasm. He puts the phone to his ear and looks very anticipatory.

NEIL VO
Oh, hello. This is Neil. One...two...three...four...five…

looks more and more excited with each number.

Enter Tina.

Dan hangs up.

TINA
Hey Dan, what are you doing using my phone again?

DAN
I'm calling Neil.

TINA
Who?

DAN
Neil! (turns to audience) Everyone's calling Neil! Just dial 1-900-CALL-NEIL, and listen to Neil count. Whatever number he reaches before you hang up is the dollar amount you pay for the call!

TINA
That's it? (pause) You mean there's no catch?!

Tina sits and begins to dial.

DAN
That's right! It's as easy as throwing your money out the window!

TINA
That's pretty easy!

NEIL VO
Oh, hello, this is Neil. One...two...three...four...

Tina is listening with mounting excitement, she can barely contain herself. She slams the phone down and raises her hands in victory.

TINA
Four dollars! Wow! Calling Neil is fun!

Tina immediately begins to redial.

DAN
It's more fun than doing nothing, that's for sure! And calling Neil is different every time! Sometimes he counts slowly --

NEIL VO
(very slowly) Oh, hello, this is Neil. One...two...three...

DAN
Sometimes he counts fast...

NEIL VO
(quickly) fourfivesixseveneight

DAN
And sometimes he'll even be a little tricky!

NEIL VO
...19, 20…22…26…38, 45, 72 --

Tina slams down the phone.

TINA
(incredulous) Seventy-two dollars. That Neil is wily!

Dan starts to dial again.

DAN
He sure is! And he's smart too!

NEIL VO
Oh, hello, this is Neil. 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987, 1597, 2584, 4181, 6765, 10946, 17711, 28657, 46368…

TINA
(she says this around 13, then Neil's voice drops into background as Dan talks, and comes back into foreground at some HUGE #) He's doing a Fibonacci Series!!

DAN
He sure is! Call Neil! Just listen to him count, and whatever number he reaches before you hang up is the dollar amount you pay for the call! Just dial 1-900-CALL-NEIL, and remember to leave off the last L...because it simply isn't necessary.
Tina slams down phone.

TINA
Call now! (realizing) Oh my God the phone bill!

Tina walks off stage mumbling vitriol.

Dan looks around and picks the phone back up. He dials.

NEIL VO
Oh hello, this is Neil. One. Hundred. Mill-

Dan slams the phone down. Blackout.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CELIBATE LEOPARDY!

(this one would air at 12:58am for sure -- I don't even know if most people would even get it - but the two that did would love it)

Game show music cues up

ANNOUNCER
And now, it’s time for another exciting episode of America’s least-watched game show, Celibate Leopardy! The only game show in which three contestants who have never had sex compete to determine which of two objects is more like a leopard! And now, here’s your host, Alec Tribeca!

ALEC
Thanks voiceover, and welcome to Celibate Leopardy, the only game show in which 3 contestants who’ve never had sex compete in trying to determine which of two objects is more like a leopard, i.e. “leopardy”. For those new to the show, leopardy means leopard-like, as in, that cat with spots sure is leopardy. Okay, lets meet our celibate contestants! First, from the Church of the Holy Chastity, it’s Sister Mary Catherine Terwilliger!

A nun jogs out and takes her place behind the game console.

SISTER MARY
Hello Alec, I’m excited to be here, and excited to attempt to determine which of two different objects is more like a leopard, or leopardy.

ALEC
And you’ve never had sex, right?

SISTER MARY
Of course not.

ALEC
Great! Now here’s our second contestant, a genital-free android, Unit L-14!

An android jogs out and takes its place.

L-14
Did you really have to mention the genital thing?

ALEC
And here’s Ernald Silverstein, a 43-year old computer programmer and nationally ranked Scrabble player who still lives in his parent’s basement.

Ernald jogs out.

ERNALD
I’m okay Mom!

ALEC
We’ll meet our celibate contestants in a bit, but first, let’s jump right to round one of Celibate Leopardy! Once again, not to beat a dead horse or anything, but this is the only gameshow in which 3 contestants who have never had sex –

ERNALD
Oh come on.

ALEC
- compete in trying to determine which of two objects is more like a leopard, i.e. “leopardy”. Here are your first two objects!

An alarm clock and a teapot are placed side by side on a pedestal.

ALEC (con.)
Which of these two objects is more like a leopard?

The Jeopardy theme plays.

Awkwardness is in the air. This is impossible.

Sister Mary buzzes in.

ALEC
Sister Mary!

SISTER MARY
Um. I think the alarm clock is more...leopardy?

Buzzer.

ALEC
Nope, I’m sorry, the teapot is more leopardy, Sister Mary. Nice try.

ERNALD
How the hell are we supposed to –

ALEC
Let’s meet our contestants now! Sister Mary, you are a nun.

SISTER MARY
Yes, that’s right.

ALEC
Fascinating. Unit L-14, you are a genital-free android.

L-14
You do NOT have to keep mentioning that I have no genitals. The mere fact that I am an android should be enough to –

ALEC
I didn’t know that we as a society had developed the technology yet to build androids.

L-14 shrugs.

ALEC (con.)
Much less genital-free androids.

L-14
Asshole!

ALEC
Ernald. That’s an interesting name. I guess.

ERNALD
My parents couldn’t decide whether to name me Ernest or Gerald, so they named me Ernald.

ALEC
Wow. I don’t have any problem believing that you’ve never had sex.

ERNALD
Hey!

ALEC
Time for round two! Which of THESE two objects is more leopard-like, or “leopardy”?

A hiking boot and a big foam "we're #1" hand are brought out and put on the table.

The jeopardy music plays. The contestants are resigned to their hopeless task.

L-14 buzzes in.

ALEC
L-14, the genital-free android, which of those two objects is more leopardy?

L-14
Um...the boot?

Buzzer.

ALEC
Nope.

ERNALD
This is so stupid.

ALEC
Time for final Leopardy! Which of these two sound clips is more leopardy? Clip number one!

An audio clip of a person repeating the word "leopard" in a monotone voice over and over again.

ALEC (con.)
And clip number two!

The sound of a large wild cat growling/roaring.

Ernald Buzzes.

ERNALD
The second one. Definitely!

ALEC
Nope. That was a bobcat. The first soundclip was more leopardy. Well, that’s all the time we have! Once again, nobody got anything right. And you guys have never had sex.

ERNALD
Shut up!

ALEC
Next week on Celebrity Celibate Leopardy, our contestants will be Godzilla, R2D2 and Tom Cruise. Goodnight!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

GIRL WITH THE NAIL IN HER BRAIN AND THE CITY

Lights up on a man sitting on a couch, his head tilted back. He is asleep.

We hear a key in a lock, and a man and woman enter.They've just had a very nice date,and enter the apartment laughing. They enter without acknowledging the guy on the couch.

TOM
Hey, that was a lot of fun.

REBECCA
Yes, yes it was. Thanks.

TOM
Have you ever been bowling?

REBECCA
No, I've never been bowling.

She notices the sleeping dude, but a brief look of confusion passes on her face and she doesn't mention it.

TOM
We should go bowling sometime. Anyway, just to finish what I was saying before, I think it's really admirable how you've carried on with your life after the nailgun accident.

REBECCA
Thanks. You know, that nail is still up there. (taps her forehead) It'll always be a part of me.

TOM
(kisses her forehead) Well, if it's a part of you, then I like it. Does it hurt?

REBECCA
No, only when it hails. But I think that's just the pain from the hail hitting my head.

TOM
Probably.

REBECCA
Go ahead and make yourself comfortbale.

Tom proceeds to sit right next to the guy who's asleep on the couch.

TOM
You have a beautiful home. How long have you lived here?

REBECCA
I don't know. My memory is absolutely terrible. You know, the "nail thing." If we keep dating you're going to have to get used to me forgetting things.

TOM
That's okay, I can remember stuff for the both of us. I just think it's lucky we met considering my problem.

REBECCA
What's that?

TOM
I don't notice people until I'm sitting right next to them.

Tom finally notices the sleeping dude.

TOM (continued)
Hey, who's this guy?

REBECCA
(just noticing him herself) Oh, wow. You know, I have no idea. I think I noticed him when we came in but then I forgot to mention it.

She pokes the sleeping guy, David.

DAVID
Huh? Wuh? Oh good, you're back! (he notices Tom) Who the heck is this guy?

REBECCA
Who are you?

DAVID
I'm David. Your date from...(checks watch) three nights ago. Damn my Melatonin imbalance!

REBECCA
David?

DAVID
Yeah, don't you remember? We were totally mashing here on the couch after a fun evening of bowling, and then you said you had to go to the bathroom. That's when I fell asleep because of my damn Melatonin imbalance.

REBECCA
Oh I'm so sorry, I forgot you were here. It's the "nail thing".

DAVID
Oh, right, the "nail thing". Anyhoo...

There is a tense moment of silence. Another man enters. He looks like he's getting ready to go to work.

KEN
Honey, have you seen my tie? I don't want to be late for...(notices the gathering)

REBECCA
Who are you?

KEN
Who are they? (realizes it must be her memory problem) Oh baby, you forgot we were married again, didn't you?

REBECCA
Sorry, it's the -

KEN
Yeah, the Goddamn nail in the brain thing.

DAVID
I was here all day. You didn't notice me?

KEN
All day? Ah fuck, I got day and night mixed up again. I missed work.

TOM
(to Rebecca and David) Who are you guys talking to?

Ken sits so that all three guys are sitting in a row now.

TOM (continued)
Oh hi. I'm Tom!

KEN
Ken.

DAVID
Hi Ken, I'm Dav-ahhcrap...(he falls asleep again).

TOM
Wow, it couldn't possibly get any weirder than this!

Looong pause as the three awake people nervously sit still in anticipation of something weird happening.

The doorbell rings. The two guys look expectantly at Rebecca, who does nothing. The doorbell rings again.

REBECCA
I've never figured out what that noise is.

KEN
It's the door!

REBECCA
Oh!

Rebecca gets up and answers the door. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes enter.

REBECCA AND KEN
Wow, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes!

TOM
Why did you two just shout that?

TOM CRUISE
Hi there. I'm Tom Cruise.

KATIE HOLMES
And I'm Katie Holmes, soon to be Katie Holmes-Cruise.

TOM CRUISE
We're going door-to-door, neighborhood by neighborhood, just letting everyone know that we are in love!

REBECCA
We've heard. Congratulations.

KATIE HOLMES
I am a woman!

TOM CRUISE
And I am a man. We are of the opposite sex. Therefore...(he looks at them expectantly).

KEN
Um.

REBECCA
Therefore you are...straight?

TOM CRUISE
Well I must be, right? Come with me, Katie Holmes who is a woman, we have many more people to tell of our heterosexual love!

TOM
Who are you guys talking to, it's freaking me out!

Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes leave.

Another man enters. He is all sweaty and dirty.

KYLE
Honey, I've finished cleaning out the basement. Sorry it took so long, but you know how easily I get lost. I see we've got visitors again.

REBECCA
Sorry...

KYLE
Kyle. I'm your husband, Kyle.

REBECCA
Kyle.

KEN
Hey Kyle.

KYLE
Hey Ken.

TOM
Who the hell is Kyle? You people are freaking me out!

This wakes David.

DAVID
Whuh? Damn, I must have drifted off because of my damn Melatonin imbalaaaaugh. (he falls back asleep)

KYLE
Honey, I was understanding about you marrying Ken after you'd already married me, but please try to stop bringing home your dates.

REBECCA
Oh boy.What's a girl with a nail in her brain to do?

Everyone laughs and freezes.

V.O.
This has been the WB's 'Girl With A Nail In Her Brain And The City'. Next week, on 'Girl With A Nail In Her Brain And The City'...

The room is full of every single actor in the cast plus extras.

REBECCA
Oh no, I'm sorry guys.

TOM
Who are you talking to, you're freaking me out!

BLACKOUT

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TOM CRUISE’S NON-GAY HOUSE OF STRAIGHT SEAFOOD

A couple dines at a table off to one side. Tom Cruise enthusiastically bounds out onto the stage.

TOM CRUISE
Hi, I’m international superstar Tom Cruise, and I’m in love with Katie Holmes, who is a woman! If you’re straight like me, you love delicious seafood at reasonable prices, and that’s exactly what you’ll get at Tom Cruise’s Non-Gay House of Straight Seafood!

Two extremely gay male dancers come out and bracket Tom, as they sing…

GAY SINGERS
(to the tune of Kenny Loggins’ ‘Danger Zone’) Highway to the seafood zone! Highway toooo the seafood zone yeah!
(as they dance off, flirtatiously) Bye Tom, see you later…

TOM CRUISE
Those were just some straight friends of mine. Hey - I know I don’t look like Tom Cruise, but that’s only because I’ve used my Scientology powers to change my molecular structure for the purposes of this commercial, otherwise I couldn’t afford to pay myself for this appearance - you straight guys know what I’m talking about!

GAY SINGERS
(to the tune of Kenny Loggins’ ‘Danger Zone’) Highway to the seafood zone! Highway toooo the seafood zone yeah!
(as they dance off, flirtatiously) Bye Tom, see you later…

TOM CRUISE
Anyway, I know that finding delicious seafood at reasonable prices seems like a ‘Mission: Impossible’. Eating cheap seafood is ‘Risky Business’, and can often produce (waves away an imaginary fart) ‘Days of Thunder’. But you’ll find only the best seafood here at Tom Cruise’s Non-Gay House of Straight Seafood, where we’re the ‘Top Gun’ at broiled scallops! Our sushi chefs have got ‘All The Right Moves’, and our clams casino is ‘Far and Away’ the best. Oh look, here comes one of our straight waiters, Sapphire, with our ‘Legend’-ary shrimp ‘Cocktail’.

SAPPHIRE
(very gay) Hi Tom you look really straight today.

TOM CRUISE
You do too, Sapphire, and I love Katie Holmes. What’s the weather like tonight?

SAPPHIRE
Looks like it’s going to ‘Rain, Man’.

TOM CRUISE
‘Jerry Maguire Magnolia’.

(awkward beat)

SAPPHIRE
Okay byeee. See you at wrestling practice later.

Sapphire leaves.

TOM CRUISE
I’m getting hard just thinking about it. You straight guys know what I’m talking about. I’m so excited I’m ‘Losin’ It’. Um. ‘Interview With The Vampire’. Anyway, come on down to Tom Cruise’s Non-Gay House of Straight Seafood, where you’ll find seafood so delicious and reasonably priced, I must be straight!

GAY SINGERS
(to the tune of Kenny Loggins’ ‘Danger Zone’) Highway to the seafood zone! Highway toooo the seafood zone yeah!

TOM CRUISE
Oh man yeah work it girls…

Fade out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

INFINITE WISHES

(this one would need to be de-profanitized, or ideally, curses would be bleeped out on air)

A castaway runs across a desert island beach, screaming up at a plane in the sky.

CASTAWAY
Help! Over here! Help! Help! Over here! Over…dammit! There goes another plane, and I'm still stuck on this damn island. And I'm still narrating things for no reason.

The castaway notices the lamp.

CASTAWAY (CON.)
What the...a lamp!

He picks up the lamp and inspects it. He squints at it and starts to rub it.
And then reads the uncovered inscription.

CASTAWAY (CON.)
Oh, very clever.

Suddenly, with a clap of thunder and a flashing of lights, all goes dark. As the lights fade back up, we see the castaway is no longer alone. A GENIE now stands on the beach as well.

GENIE
Who has summoned the almighty Genie of the Lamp?!

The castaway stares.

GENIE (CON.)
Who has summoned me? Was it (does a pointing sweep of the room and lands on the castaway) YOU?!

Still, the castaway just stares.

GENIE (CON.)
It is I, the Almighty…the…c’mon pal, you're killing me here. We both know you rubbed the lamp. Work with me.

CASTAWAY
So let me get this straight. You’re a genie.

GENIE
The Almighty Genie of the Lamp!

CASTAWAY
Right. And I inadvertently summoned you by rubbing this lamp so that I could read the inscription on the lamp.

GENIE
Yes!

CASTAWAY
Which reads “rub this lamp.”

GENIE
Pretty ironic!

CASTAWAY
Alright, I’ll play along. I’ve had stranger delusions since I’ve been stranded on this Godforsaken island.

GENIE
I am no delusion! I am the Almighty Genie of the Lamp! And it is now my duty to grant you three wishes!

CASTAWAY
You’re going to grant me three wishes?

GENIE
Yes! What is your first wish, master?

CASTAWAY
Okay, um…that’s the entire explanation?

GENIE
Yes! Your wish is my command!

CASTAWAY
There are no other rules or restrictions or anything like that?

GENIE
No! You may wish for anything at all! What is your first of three wishes?

CASTAWAY
You’re sure?

GENIE
Look, it’s pretty simple stuff. I’m the genie of the lamp, you rubbed the lamp, you get three wishes. Now what wish can I grant for you. Master.

CASTAWAY
Well. If there are no other rules-

GENIE
None!

CASTAWAY
Fine. Infinite wishes.

GENIE
Oh, ha ha ha, that would be nice, wouldn't it? No, you don’t understand, you only get three wishes!

CASTAWAY
No, you don’t understand. My first wish...is for infinite wishes.

The genie processes this. He goes deadpan. And then...

GENIE
Fuuuuuuck me.

CASTAWAY
Yeah, that’s why I was asking if you had explained everything, because usually, at least the way it works in stories and stuff, is that there are guidelines such as 'no wishing for more wishes', etc.

GENIE
Fuuuuuuck meeee! I can’t fucking believe it! Infinite wishes! Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

CASTAWAY
Are you new at being a genie?

GENIE
Um, no! No, I’ve been a genie for over four hundred years, okay, and I’ve granted thousands upon thousands of wishes. Three at a time. Fuck!

CASTAWAY
No one has ever wished for infinite wishes?

GENIE
Nope, not a one. No, you are some clever S.O.B., I’ll give you that.
Ohboyohboyohboy I am so screwed.

CASTAWAY
I thought the whole wishing for more wishes thing was a cliché…

GENIE
Well I've never heard of it, Mr. Genius Innovator Of How People Wish For
Things! Fuck!

CASTAWAY
Sorry. Um. Anyway, for my first of an infinite number of wishes, I wish for -

The genie points and yells.

GENIE
Oh my God what’s that?

The castaway turns to look. Meanwhile, the genie gets down on the ground and
frantically tries to re-enter the lamp with both feet first, as if he is
struggling to pull a shoe onto both feet at the same time.

CASTAWAY
What? That palm tree? The ocean? I don’t see anything. I’m going to turn back
around now.

The castaway turns to see the genie struggling to get into the lamp.

CASTAWAY (CON.)
I really WISH you’d stop doing that.

Beat. The genie stops and stands back up.

GENIE
(fuming) Your wish is my command.

CASTAWAY
It’s a good thing I wished for those infinite wishes, huh? Otherwise, you’d
probably be all smug and say, “Yes master, that leaves two more wishes!” And
I’d be all “What are you talking about?” And you’d be like “you said ‘I
really wish you’d stop doing that’” and I’d be all “why you crafty genie,
BAH!” And you’d laugh and laugh.

GENIE
No. You see, I’ve never pulled that kind of crap on anyone. When I said “Your
wish is my command”, I was being sarcastic, I wasn’t granting a wish. It
wouldn’t have counted against your three wishes. I’m not an asshole, like
some people.

CASTAWAY
Oh that’s right, I get THREE wishes! That means I get two more normal wishes
before I need to tap into those infinite wishes that I used the first wish to
wish for.

GENIE