Sunday, September 30, 2012

Mad Tiger

Mal: I'm mad! Mad like a tiger!

Brin: Well, I'm pensive. pensive like a sparrow.

M: Well, I'm introspective like a WORM!

B: I'm plain like a pigeon.

M: That's not a state of mind!

B: It could be.

M: Are you trying to make me thnk again? You're trying to make me think again!

B: I can think about it for you.

M: Aw, babe. What would I ever do without you?

B: I guess you'd have to think.

[M and B hug and/or M hits B. The End.]


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 


Don: When I grow up, I'm gonna be a donkey.

Aunt Silver [always very serious]: So you are. Good child.

D: I'm gonna be a FAST donkey![[

A: Well, now, we'll have to wait and see about that. We do come from a long line of donkeys, but not all of them have won the blue ribbon.


A: I know. You children are always in such a hurry to grow up and become lightning-fast donkeys. But these things take a while.

D: Noooo... [drops to the floor and rolls around]

A: Now. How about you bake your Auntie Silver some nice apple pie?

[D suddenly perks up.]

D: Pie! [rushes out]

A [calling to D]: And save me some nice crumbs, too! Can you do that, little Don-don?

[D reenters with a donut on a plate, and hands both to A.]

A: Thank you, Don. [then aside, to the camera or audience] I get so much stuff for free this way!

[And this part is now like an END.]


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Game of Crying

Leem [sing-song]: I got three more clocks, three more clocks! I got three more clocks, 3moreclocks!

Glif: You're... so... lucky!

L: 3 more clocks, 3 more clocks!

G: Can I have some?! Can I have some?!

L: No... and... no.

G [groaning angrily]: Unnhhhnnn! You're so much better than me!

L: Don't feel bad. I'm just better than you. It's not YOUR fault.

G: It's not my fault!

[G starts fake crying, though it may not be apparent to the audience that it's fake. L takes G's arm.]

L: Let's go cry together... BABY.

[L makes a face as if trying very hard to cry.]

G: I'm a baby. It's my fault I'm bad.

[L suddenly stops trying to "cry."]

L: OK. That was fun. I'm gonna bring my Wishing Pone tomorrow.

G [now happy]: Bye!

L: Bye!

G: Bye! Bye!

L: Bye!


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]


[Luce wears a headset like someone might wear when teaching an exercise class. She talks loud and acts like the boss.]

Luce: OK, everyone, listen up. Nobody apologize to anyone for the rest of your lives.

[There's a murmur and some muttering among Everyone Else.]

Mannet: Do we have to take responsibility for our actions?

L: No. I don't want anyone taking responsibility for anything. Not your own actions, not anything else. And I don't want anyone apologizing. Do I make myself clear?

Noofy: What do we do now?

L: Just go about your business, do your jobs, and take long breaks to play cards and some games with marbles. And I don't want to hear any apologizing.

M: Hey! This guy just stepped on my toe!

L: So? What do you want me to do about it?

M [pouting]: Nothing.

L: If anyone even thinks about apologizing, I'm gonna use your head for a yo-yo. All of you. I'm gonna take all your heads and put them on strings from your necks and hold 'em all together like a bouquet of yo-yos. And play with 'em.

N: You said BOUQUET!

[Everyone But Luce gasps.]

L: You guys all suck. You don't deserve a playtime leader like me. I'm leaving. [Luce just stands there with arms folded across chest. Some of the others stare; others take out little toys such as marbles and yo-yos and start playing quietly.]

--THE END!--


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Happy Everyone

[Mila and Fundis are in a kitchen. Both appear to be grown women. Fundis could also be male or of indeterminate gender.]

Mila [on phone]: Thanks, Mom. Can't wait to get your check. [Pause.] Yeah, you, too. Bye. [hangs up] I got the dolly dolly dollars!

Fundis [in a breathy, baby talkish voice with an English accent that might not sound authentic]: Hahppy, hahppy girl! Oh, hahppy, hahppy!

M: Yeah. I'm happy, alright. Fundis, what've we got for lunch?

F [pointing at M in a stupid way with both hands]: Hahppy, hahppy! Dolly girl Milly Mila doll hahppy happy dolly girl!

M: I guess we could have tuna sandwiches. We still have some bread left, right?

[M starts looking around the kitchen, opening the fridge, cupboards, and so on.]

F: Bready bready hahppy hahppy! Good girl! Hahppy girl for everyone!

M: Good. We've still got some canned tomatos [pulls can from cupboard, puts it on table] and potato skins.

[M gets stuff out from various places, putting things on the table. F picks up 2 plates and hands them directly to M with a bog, expectant smile, and then just stands there looking triumphant.]

M: Thanks, Fundis. [M starts putting things on plates, prepping sandwiches.] I'm sure lucky to have my mom and dad as parents. So are you. WE'RE lucky my mom and dad are my parents.

F: Lucky lucky hahhpy hahppy girly girly Mila Mila Milly moo!

M: Yeah, I'll get a real job one of these days.

F: Hahppy Milly Mila Fundy Fundis hahppy hahppy?

M: I know. This IS my job. You're more important than any job. And you know what, Fundis? Whatever you say goes, and that's the way I like it. [Pause. Then they hug.] You're the best life coach ever!

F: Hahppy dolly everybody! Wheeeee!

[Da End, for now...]


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Just Act Natural, Actor

Divro: We're going to shoot this video, and we're going to show it before and in between the other parts of the show, ok?

Tamale: Ok.

D: So just get out there, and I'll already be shooting, and I want you to just do whatever. Just be yourself.

T: Just be myself?

D: Just be yourself.

T: Like how do you want me to be myself? What do you want me to do exactly?

D: You know... Just do what you always do. Just... Do what you'd normally do.

T: What I'd normally do?

D: Yeah. You know... Just... mess around.

T: Just mess around?

D: Yeah, just mess around. Goof around.

T: Goof around?

D: Yeah, you know. Just mess around. Goof around. Do what you like.

T: Just do what I like?

D: Yeah. Just do that.

T: Oh. Ok. I'll try to do that.

D: Ok. That's what I want.

T: So, like here... Here I am, in front of this fruit stand.

D: Yeah, yeah! That's great! It's, like, totally natural!

T: Yeah. So here I am. I'm just standing here. But if I get really natural, I might just... fall down.

[T sinks down on his or her feet.]

D: Ok, ok... or alternately, you could... wave at the camera. Yeah. How about you wave at the camera?

T: From down here on the ground?

D: Sure... Yeah, OK. I guess that could work... [T waves insincerely.] OK, OK, that's great... You're just... down there on the ground. Yeah, that's cool. Yeah.

T: Now what if I pull you down here with me? [pulls D's leg; D crumples down.]

D: Whoa! I mean... I guess that's cool. I mean, this is what you'd naturally do, right?

T: Naturally. [D keeps trying to videotape T.] I mean, I'm just being natural.

D: Of course. Right?

T: I don't know how else do be natural. I mean, this is just... me being me.

D: Exactly. That's exactly what I want.

[T slaps D over and over several times, first one cheek then the other, with a number or small, quick slaps. D looks confused.]

D: Brilliant! Just brilliant.

[T suddenly stands up.]

T: That's a wrap!

D [pleasantly surprised]: Wow! If you say so.


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Annie & Janny & The Nature of The Universe

[A jubilant Janny enters dancing and semi-chanting, semi-yelling.]

Janny: Auntie Ann-ee, I'm in FOUR DEE, and I'm SO nice! I'm in FOOOOOUURR DEEEEEE! Auntie Ann-EE!

Auntie Annie: Congratulations, Janny! We're so proud of you!

J [in a sing-song way]: I KNOW, I KNOW, Aunt-ee, it's all, it's all because of me, 'cause I'm in FOOOOOUUR DEE!

A: I'm pleased that that spell we cast worked so well.

J: A spell?! You didn't have shit-snack to do with this. It's all me! I made myself 4D!

A: And the spell helped a great deal, young lady.

J: You are trying to mess me up! You want to take this away from me, saying it was all 'cause of you and your big, smelly "SPELL" powers. You don't have powers on me!

A: You just go right on ahead and keep believing that, Janny.

[Janny stops jiggling around, crestfallen. Her face falls, and she sits down to mope.]

J: Daaaaamn, Auntie!

A: That's alright, child. It doesn't mean you're any less four-dimensional than you were. It just means you can't take all the credit for it.

J: But DAMN! DAMN! I wanted it to be me!

A: Of course. I know all about it. Back when I was about your age and I first realized I might be three-dimensional, there was no stopping me.

J: SO?!

A: And then I discovered, with time, that I can't just take credit for things that are not my own doing.

J: What? I'm 4D and it IS because of me.

A: No, honey, you only think it is. It's like being proud of yourself for being tall or for having pretty eyes. You didn't work for your four-dimensionality, so you have no right to go around saying it's all because of you. And besides, you have me to thank for casting that spell.

J [groans]: Unnhhh. That's boring. Now what do I do?

A: I'll teach you to cast spells yourself, and then you can cast them on other people.

J: For reals?

A: Sure! And then we can turn all the people in the world into invisible ants, and make them fear death, AND make them wonder if there's a God and what is the meaning of life!

J: OK!

[Then there's a sudden POOF of fog and we see no more. You know, like a black out. And it goes on, and on...]

The End!


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this (up to a point).]

Saturday, September 29, 2012

The Holy Microwave, Maybe

Bria: Laura? Hi, Laura. You look a little peaked.

Laura: Bria! Bria! Oh, am I glad to see you. I've been going through a terrible time. My microwave doesn't speak to me like it used to. And my left hand has turned on me again.

B: It's because you don't believe in God.

L: And now my left hand is attacking my right hand!

B: Uh huh. It's a textbook case, my dear. Nogoddiosis of the liver and brain.

L: Oh, Bria! You've got to help me! I use to have such good conversations with Mr. KitchenWave! He'd sit there in my kitchen, and I'd watch him, and he'd tell me numbers, and sometimes he'd beep at me. Oh, it was tops. And now-- nothing! Just like I never existed! I woke last night in absolute hysterics!

B: If it's that bad, you might have to see a specialist.

L: Oohh, that sounds good. That might be just the ticket. I've always wanted to see a specialist. Any kind of specialist. For SOMETHING, you know!

B: Now, take a deep breath, Laura. [Laura takes big, loud breaths.] Good. Good. And now... when's the last time you had a drink?

L: I had a water with Benefiber this morning.

B: Yes, but what about... you know... MAGIC POTIONS?

L [lowering her voice conspiratorially]: You mean... drinky drinks?!

B: Yes, Laura. Cough syrup, wine coolers-- you know, any of the good stuff.

L: Why, that hadn't occurred to me. Will it work?

B: Oh, Laura honey, it's just the thing. You go to the store and get yourself a lot of something-- some gin, some malt liquor, whatever you can afford-- and you go drink it right up and see if you don't get to believing again.

L: Bria, you're marvelous. Marvo, that's what I should call you.

B: Yes, dear. You go on now. And call me later and tell me how it goes.

L: [kisses Bria on the cheek] You are just the earth and sky, Bria! I don't know how I can ever repay you.

B: Don't think of it, honey. Just whatever comes out of you later tonight, put some in an old jar and keep it for me in your fridge for the next time we see each other, OK?

L: Well, of course! Like always.

B: Yes. Just like when we were girls.

[They do some kind of "secret handshake" where they end up twirling each other in a circle, then they walk off in separate directions.]

Narrator: If you or someone you know if having a hard time relating to inanimate objects, don't wait any longer. Call Anti-AA today.

[Laura pokes her head back onstage.]

L: You'll be tickled you did!

The End!


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

"Is Andy There Yet?" "Where?" "The Monkey Store."

Kid: Do you spend a lot of money at the monkey store, Mr. Monkey?

Mr. Monkey: I used to, I used to. But times are tough.

Kid: That's so true. So very true.

MM: I like things that are true.

K: Yeah.

MM: Because, you know? They just fit reality so well.

K: Yeah. I like that, too.

MM: Yes. And then I don't have to lie as much.

K: No, not as much. Not quite, anyway.

MM: Well, I think you're going to love your new job at the monkey store. You'll bring some... personal spice into the environment.

K: Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I will.

MM: You're so... personally spicy.

K: Thanks. I mean, I hope to be.

M: Good kid.

Do not look for deep meanings in the title.

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Tuesday, September 25, 2012


A: I don't WANT to give the ferret a treat. I'll be damned if that ferret's going to get a treat from me. No thank you, Donkey!

P: He won't get a treat FROM you. He'll get a treat BECAUSE of you.

A: Don't I have a say in the matter? What if I don't want him to get any treats at all?

P: It's not for you to decide. Whatever direction the ferret points, that is the way we go.

A: Crap. I knew I should have voted in the last election.

P: Well, we're going to make more ferrets soon. I'll sign you up on the list if you're interested.

A: I don't think that would be in the ferret's best interest. Seeing as I'm interested in not giving them treats and all. I mean, if you just want someone to not reward one of your ferrets, I can do that.

P: You can? That's great! I'll just need your email for the waiting list...

A: As long as I don't have to touch the thing. Or bring it into my house.

P: What about a yard? Do you have a yard?

A: There's a little area of the driveway where we keep the trash cans.

P: OK, that works.

A: As long as it doesn't need me to clear a space for it. It can just hang out in one of the garbage cans, right?

P: Uh... I'd have to check on that for you.

A: That's alright. No need to bother. I know, why don't you put me at the very end of your waiting list? And if other people sign up, put their names above mine on the list, so I'm always dead last.

P: Oh... OK.

A: Yes. I pretty much just want a guarantee that I'll never have to encounter a ferret.

P: Well... we might have a special program for that. Noncarers Noncaring For Ferrets Who Don't Care.

A: And what would I have to do?

P: Just feed it. And try not to throw it too hard.

A: Oh. Would I have to get close?

P: Well...

A: How about if I have someone else feed it with a little basket at the end of a long stick?

P: OK. Sure. A pole might work, too.

A: Great. You'll go ahead and take care of that for me, then. I'll be in touch. I'm always looking for more stuff to not do for the cause.

P: You're in a long line, then.

A: Yes, at the very end, of course. See to it. Ciao. [A exits.]

P: A long, beautiful line...

---The End--

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Mek and Vomma Up a Hill

[2 women, Mek and Vomma, have been hiking or running together. They stop to take a little break, wipe off sweat, drink water, etc.]

Mek [sniffing her shirt]: Whew, I smell bad.

Vomma: Yeah, you do.

M: Hey, you don't smell.

V: That's correct. I never "smell," as you put it. No one can be offended by my smell. It's been agreed on my the experts in the field. I make my own natural sugar. Here, taste. [holds out her arm]

[M gingerly touches her tongue to V's arm.]

M: Huh. How did I not know about this all these years?

V: You've never complimented me on or awarded me for my inoffensiveness before.

M: Wow... Sorry. I had no idea.

V: WELL, MOST people take the time to sample me at least once.

M: Really. How can you withstand all those tongues?

V: I've made my peace with it. You'd have to, in my position.

M: Wow. I almost envy you. I mean, never having to put on deodorant.

V: Or shower. Don't forget that.

M: Oh. No showering... Isn't that bad for your health? After a while, I mean.

V: Health problems are nothing. They don't happen to me. I'm just too strong. You really should envy me, you know.

M: Uh... I mean, I see how some people would. It's just that... you're kind of a miserable cow who's stuck in seventh grade emotionally, in that you need to feel superior to someone at all times. Which means that you're probably not all that happy.

V: Oh. I'm HAPPY all right. You wouldn't understand. I'm happy in a way you can't understand.

M: Oh, yeah. In a miserable asshole way.

[V pulls out her phone and makes a call.]

V [on the phone]: Hi! [Pause.]
Oh, nothing.
Yeah, let's do that!
Ok, see you soon.
Ok, bye. [puts her phone away] You're not going hiking with me anymore. I think you should exercise with people who are less in demand than me. I have a lot of friends who have asked to go hiking with me. And do other things, too. Why don't you walk yourself down the hill? Do you need to call someone who can help you? [not pausing for to respond] Ok, I'm gonna go now. Bye.

[V continues to stand where she is, looking away, actively ignoring M.]

M: Well, good for you for not smelling.

V: Yes. I know.

M: I'm gonna go hang out with all my less popular loser friends who smell now.

[Pause. suddenly, Mek smiles brightly, as if some great thought has just dawned on her. Then she exits.]

   The End!

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Sunday, September 23, 2012


[An ORACLE in robes and maybe a beard sits lotus-style on a rock or maybe just on the floor of a cave. The SEEKER stands and looks on, wearing outdoor gear, or at least hiking boots.]

Oracle: A polite man should yield the sidewalk to you.

Seeker: And will I be seeing any of these polite men while I'm awake?

O: These men are alive, I'm telling you. And they'll be yielding sidewalks to you left and right.

S: So, these polite men, are they existent in this universe?

O: They are existent in this universe.

S: Have any been recorded? I mean, are any still in circulation?

O: It has been recorded. The activity, within our lifetimes, of polite men. It has been verified.

S: And these polite men you speak of, what are they like? Will I recognize one if I see it?

O: Wait until the sidewalks part and then you will know the answer.

S: And if the sidewalk ends?

O: Look for the Polite Man's Trail.

S: Will this be easy to find, or should I make other arrangements?

O: Things have been known to take place. It happened to me once.

S: What? A polite man? Are you serious? Where was this?

O: At God's pool party; verily, it was free.

S: Did he get caught?

O: The polite man is ever elusive.

S: And that's OK in your book?

O: In The Great Book, all things go by.

S: I'm sorry, but that just doesn't help.

[ORACLE shrugs.]

O: Bring me your puzzles, you riddles... I am not a good oracle for advice.

S: Well, Jeez, I wish you'd told me that before. Where can I get a second opinion around here?

O: Second soothsayer on the left.

S: Yeah. Thanks for nothing. [Exit SEEKER.]

O: I wonder if I should have pulled out my magic frog.

---The End--

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Yu and Your Imaginary Friends

[Yulia eats lunch, sitting by herself at a table in a cafeteria or on a bench in a yard (like at a school or place of business) where people would sit to eat lunch. She looks down most of the time. Her peers sit in a clump as far from her as possible. Two Yulia "clones" enter near where she sits. They are dressed identical to her, except they also wear funny matching hats or helmets. These are two of the VOICES IN YULIA'S HEAD. Maybe they all wear the same bright color or colors to stand out from the "regular people", i.e., anyone who's not Yulia or one of her Voices. Maybe they can also all have the same vocal quirk, like a distinctive tone or rhythm.]

Voice 1: I'm so bored and depressed. I'll never have any friends. No one understands me. I'm cursed to be alone forever.

Voice 2: I've heard alcohol is fun. Maybe I can get into that later on when things get really bad for me.

V1: Will that really work?

V2: Sure, it'll work. Just look at all the successful alcoholic writers there have been.

V1: I don't know if I want to write anything. I just wanna not be bored all the time.

V2: Well, a lot of people swear by it. And the alcohol companies are never poor. All those drinkers can't be wrong. Also, they say that once you start, you don't ever want to stop.

V1: Yeah, I should start drinking already. What have I been waiting for all this time?

V2: I think I was waiting for someone to offer it to me. You know-- a pusher.

V1: Then I want to start right away. I've already wasted too much time not drinking. I wonder if I could get something to drink around here somewhere.

V2: Maybe someone would have some in a desk drawer in their office or something.

V1: I don't want to be caught, though. I guess I'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way.

[Yulia looks over at the clump of her peers, who are having a lively conversation replete with laughter.]

V2: OK... here goes.

[The Voices walk backwards until they're almost offstage. They don't exit entirely-- we can still see their heads as they watch Yulia from a safe distance. At the same time, Yulia gets up and walks over to where her peers are sitting.]

Yulia [clears her throat loudly]: A-hem. You good people wouldn't happen to have any beers with you that I could have, would you?

[The Peers are stunned. At first, none respond. Then Peer 1 gets the gumption up to speak.]

Peer 1: Excuse me? You're asking us to give you beer?

[Yulia suddenly looks panicked, as if only just now realizing that she has actually come over and spoken out loud to these people.]

Y: Did I say that?! I'm sorry. This was a mistake.

[She rushes back to where she was sitting before and sits down again and tries not to look at the Peers. Voices 1 and 2 come back out.]

V1: Oh my god, what was I thinking?

V2: Well, I want beer. And I need beer. And those people might have had beer. How was I supposed to know they didn't have beer?

V1: Yeah, and how do I know they still don't have beer? They might have beer.

V2: They might have beer.

V1: They just didn't want to share.

V2: No. They're just not used to people like me talking to them.

V1: But I still need beer.

V2: Yeah, I have to drink beer.

V1: Yeah, I need to drink beer right away. And then I need to keep drinking beer forever.

Y [bursting out]: What are all these imaginary people talking about? I don't have to drink beer constantly.

[Peer 2, a nice lady or girl, has noticed Yulia's outburst and comes over and sits by her.]

P2: Hi. Can I sit with you? [She's already sitting there.]

Y: Uhh...

P2: I couldn't help but overhear... Do you have a not-drinking problem?

Y: I...

[P2 puts a hand on Y's shoulder.]

P2: It's no shame. And there are people who can help you. [P2 gets up.] If you're ready, come with me.

Scene 2: P2 leads Y into what appears to be a 12-step meeting. The Voices follow close behind, holding hands, looking scared.]

VO Narrator: At Anti-AA, we can help. If you're ready to help yourself.

P2 [to the audience or into camera]: And the voices in your head are always welcome.

--The End.

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Friday, September 21, 2012

Try To Enjoy The Smell

[CAPTAIN walks into room. TEAM PLAYER sees CAPTAIN and makes a somewhat grossed-out face.]

CAPTAIN: Why do you look at me like that whenever you see me?

TEAM PLAYER [hesitant]: Mmm... you want the honest truth?

C: Well, whatever.

TP: It's your smell.

C: Well, try to enjoy it more so you can more easily pretend to be pleased when you see me.

TP: OK. I'm very pleased to see you. [tries to smile, looks very strained and uncomfortable]

C: Good. That's better. I love you a little bit, too.

[They try to force a hug.]

  The End.

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]  

The InvestiGators

[A and F, two whatevers, walk into a room. There's a phone lying on the floor.]

A: What's this?

F: It looks like a phone!

A: [picks up phone] Perhaps... Perhaps you're on to something there. It has a... rather phonelike quality that I just can't quite place.

[A gives the phone to F.]

F: This phone has definitely been used recently. It's still warm. [handing it back to A]

A: You're right. And it smells like fresh spit-ELL. [trying to sound French on this last word]

F: I prefer Fresh brand Spit-ELL to all the others.

A: You have good taste. For a former freedom fighter used to hanging out in caves.

F: We use Spit-ELL in caves, too. You'd be surprised.

A: There's nothing that would surprise me now. Not since... The Great Event.

F: Oh, yes. It was great.

A: And it was an event. Especially for me, and for those around me.

F: Shall we go for some Spit-ELL?

A: Always. Your cave or mine?

F: Once a freedom fighter...

A: ...Always up for some Fresh Spit-ELL.

F: You know, at the end of the day, I think I must have really BAD taste. Because Spit-ELL is made from spit.

A: Well, if that's bad taste, then so do I. Have. It. Bad taste.

F: Your taste is bad.

A: I have bad taste. Yes. And you know what? I like it. 'Cause if I had "good" taste, I wouldn't enjoy Spit-ELL.

F: And then there'd be no point in living.

A: Amen.

[Both smile warmly at each other as they walk off together.]

NARRATOR'S VOICE: And so there wasn't.


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

The Cynics

A: I hear the government's hiring young college grads to go onto farms and teach the crops. You know, instead of teaching kids. They've given that up for good.

B: Hey, cut out the middleman.

A: I guess you're right. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

B: That's the way everything is headed these days. Straight to the farm.

A: Yeah. So much for urban redevelopment.

B: Yeah, redevelop WHAT? You know what I'm saying?

A: Sure do. Plants before people.

B: And people before pesticides.

A: But pesticides before herbicides.

B: Yeah. And carnivores to clean it all up. Herbivores goin' underground.

A: No herbivores at all.

B: I can see it now.

A: Yeah, and you called it way back when.

B: I call 'em like I see 'em.

A: Things aren't the way they used to be.

B: Yes. They ARE. Things are the way they've always been. Nothing ever changes. It all comes down to cheddar.

A: Ahh, yes. You mean money.

B: No. It all comes down to a common orange or white semisoft cheese of American or Irish origin.

A: So what do you want to eat for lunch?

B: Money.

A: That's it?

B: And bread.

A: All I've got is cookies.

B: Cookies are cheddar, too.

A: We'll have the money, then.

B: We've had this very same conversation before. I feel like I'm living the same day over and over again.

A: Well then, let's get it over with.

B: Again.

A: So same time tomorrow?

B: See you then.

A: Money! [said like "See you later"]

B: Money.

[Exit all, going opposite directions.]


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Thursday, September 20, 2012

People Scream and Then There's Beaver (& That's All There Is)

A: I don't know why people scream when I talk to them.

B: Maybe it's because you're always informing them of their loved one's demise.

A: Huh. I never thought of it that way. You're smart. You should be a psychologist.

B: I know. Unfortunately, I've done all this training to be a beaver analyst.

A: Oh, yeah. That's a lot of schooling you've got to go through for that.

B: Seriously. I'll still be paying off my beaver school loans for years to come.

A: For real. And I bet you had to go to work in the beaver game right away to start paying that down. No time for psychology there.

B: Naw. Every day, all day, 9 to 5, it's just beaver beaver beaver nonstop. My phone does not stop ringing. And all day long, I've gotta deal with a stack of beaver THIS high on my desk. It's pure madness.

A: I feel you there, friend.

B: Yeah, it's tough. [gazes off into the distance, looking thoughtful]

A: But at least you've got a job. Times are tough.

B: True, true.

A: Maybe I should be a psychologist.

B: Yeah. I hear people find it really uplifting.

A: Well, that's me all over. And I love the outdoors.

B: You're an inspiration.

A: I don't know if I am now. But I will be. In 2 weeks.


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

A Cool Gift

G: This is for you! [hands J a blobby, smushy, indeterminate thing, maybe like some scrap cloth partly coated in paint]

[Pause. J looks intently at the thing.]

J: What is it?

G: Dude! It's a face!

J: Hmm.

G: Don't you like it?

J: Sure. I just never would have guessed that that's what it was. I mean, I didn't know you could get... one of these as a... gift.

G: So it's awesome, am I right?!

J: Yeeeeah... [turns the thing over and over, trying to understand it.  finally seems to sort of recognize it for what it's supposed to be and stops turning it.] Oh, I see. Hmm. Yeah. Ok. Is that how it's supposed to go?

G: Yeah!

J: It looks kind of sad.

G: Yah, it's a DEPRESSED face! Pretty cool, right?

J: Yeah...  actually. Yeah, you're right. It IS cool. I think I'm beginning to understand now.

G: Yeah, alright!  I knew you'd be into it 'cause you're cool.

J: You think I'm cool?

G:  Dude!

J: Wow. Ok. I'll accept that. I am Cool.

G: You are cool.

J: Thank you. It means a lot.

G: Sure, babe. Dude.

J: So should I put it on?

G: The face? Dude, yeah!

[J puts the thing on his/her face. It looks nothing like a face. It looks like a dirty rag or other piece of limp garbage.]

J: So-- what do you think?

G: That is... SO cool.

J: Right on. [They high five. Then both turn serious.]

G: Now let's go do something else for the rest of our lives.

J: Ok.


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Wednesday, September 19, 2012


DOLAN: Come here, I'm eating a marshmallow.

SBEN: One marshmallow?

D: Yes, it's family size. Now come here and sit and watch me eat it while I comment on you.

S: OK. Sounds fair.

D: You really don't have anything else to do, do you.

S: You're right about that there. Yep.

D: So if I told you to go do something else, you probably wouldn't know what to do, would you.

S: No, you're right again there.

D: Well, I'm going to keep commenting on you.

S: That's what I get! You got to give a little to get a little! You get in what you put out. It takes a--

D: Stop.

S: OK.

D: You are empty. I talk about you, therefore you ARE. If YOU try talking, it's a waste of the universe.

S: Right again!

D: Shut it. Now, you will be sitting here as long as I tell you to.

S: Sure thing!

D: You are not a good friend to anyone because you could hardly even be considered a person. Am I right? [S looks as if s/he's about to respond.] Of course I am. If anything, you might make a good doorstop. IF you could keep still.

S: Keeping still, alright!

D: Yes, you like my ideas. You are not a person, but somehow you do contain the seeds for conflict. The you that you are is at war with all ideas of what a person should be. No ego, no personality. No opinions, not even any preferences for one thing over another. You probably don't even have a favorite color.

S: No, no color.

D: You are little more than a talking vegetable.

S: OK! Sounds good.

D: No. It is neither good nor bad. You are agreeable to the point of oblivion. Not of value in any way. A human paperweight.

S: Ohhhhh. [S sounds like s/he has just had something explained to her and it finally all makes sense.]

D: Quiet. Anyway, in spite of all that, I'm going to keep you around. If anything, you make me look taller.

S: Yes, I'm quite small.

D: Yes, you're nothing at all.

S: A-ha!

D: There you go again. Just sit there. I just want you to keep sitting there, don't move, and don't do anything else from here on out. OK?

S: Huh.

[S floats up and away like a balloon, without any emotion and without seeming to try.]

D: Useless. [yelling to someone unseen, offstage:] Bill, fetch me another one of those people things from the fridge.

BILL [from offstage]: Coming!

D: I am weary.

[And it could just go on and on and on and even turn into something else and/or be part of a longer piece.]

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Jack & Mary & The Men's Room

[The setting: the hallway in the back part of a restaurant, where we see one door marked "Ladies" and one marked "Men". Two women walk out of the men's room, smiling and generally acting like they just got off a roller coaster.]

Woman 1: That was awesome! How was it for you?

[Woman 2 doesn't speak, but laughs in a doofy way as they both exit down the hall. Next, a serious woman, MARY, enters from Ladies room, followed immediately by a serious man, Jack. Neither is smiling.]

JACK: I'm sorry, honey! I'm sorry! How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?

MARY: Let's never talk about this to anyone.

JACK: Mary, you can't be serious! I'm sorry!

MARY: I don't care how sorry you say you are, Jack. This just isn't working anymore.

JACK: It's not true! There are other things we can try! Weren't you just saying the other day you were going to try--

[MARY flashes JACK a deadly glower.]

MARY: You just don't get it, Jack.

JACK [quieter, more contrite now]: I'm so sorry. I love you. I don't want to give up. There has to be something else we can try.

[Just then, another couple, MAN 2 and WOMAN 4, come out of the men's room, giggling and with their arms around each other, looking very affectionate and happy. This does not escape the notice of JACK and MARY, who watch the gigglers walk off down the hall. JACK and MARY look at each other again.]

JACK: Well?



[They start to go into the men's room. MARY starts to go in first. JACK starts to follow her. She pushes him back gently with her hand.]

MARY: Wait. There's something I need to do first. Alone.

[She goes in. JACK waits outside.]


[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Monday, September 17, 2012

Home Makeover skit

[Reality Real Estate Lady is leading Formerly Feral Man through a house.]

RREL: ...So as you can see, everything we have done to your building adds tremendous value and curb appeal. And the other kind of appeal, too, that happens when people see the inside.

FFM: And how many floors does it have?

R: Excuse us, sir?

F: How many floors are there now?

R: Well... there are two, if you count the crawlspace under the house.

F: I know! It's my house, I know that! But I mean the regular floor. The thing I'm standing on. How many is there?

R: I don't understand. How many?

F: There's a floor here. Where I'm standing on. How many are there?

R: Well, there's... just a floor, as you can see. I'm still not sure what you mean.

F: So you admit it! There's one floor. One house, one building, one floor, buncha rooms, one big floor.

R: Sir, were you expecting something... else?

F: There's only one floor here. I had one floor before and there's still only one floor. I want one more. One more floor. One floor is not enough. This floor needs more floors.

R: So you wanted us to build onto the house? Another story? We really didn't have the budget for it. The network gave us ten thousand dollars and they wanted us to stretch it as far as we could. And that's what we did. Honestly, I don't know what you were expecting. Here you are, a lazy man who can't get out of bed most days, and you want other people to do everything for you. Well, we came and we made over your house and a lot of people gave their time to give you a nice new house and you don't even appreciate it. [takes out phone, starts texting] I'm going to tell Barney that they have to start giving the Appreciation and Gratefulness test to prospective subjects in the future.

F: No, a floor! I want 2 floors! This floor should have another floor on top of it.

R: So... you wanted a floor... just on top of the floor you already had. Is that it?

F: Yes! One more floor! 2 floors for me! More floors than you have on your floor!

R: Christ in a tuna can! Are you some kind of giant human mistake? Why on earth would anyone want one floor on top of another floor? Why would you want another floor if people can't even see it? The floor you have now has been waxed and everything.

F: Wax? NOOOOO! Floor, please! I want a floor and a floor and a floor! Floors NOW for ME!

R: And, I might add, we got the peepee stains off it. I had to call in a few favors to get that taken care of.

F [suddenly seeming excited and interested]: Flavors?

R: Look... sir. You signed a contract saying you were going to come on this show and act grateful when we shot the big reveal of your fresh home environment. Are we going to have to call in the lawyers?

F: Bill Moyers?

R: Trust me, you don't want that.

F: I want flavors. Flavors, please. [Puts out his hand as if he expects her to hand him something.]

R: Well, hun, if flavors is what you want, why don't you lick this fresh floor we're standing on? The wax they used was... quite lemony, I understand.

F: Lemony flavors?!

R: Yes, and it's a fresh floor. Much fresher than you're used to.

F: I love you, flavor lady! [He leans in with his arms out to give her a hug.]

R: Well, uh... OK.

[She lets him hug her. He takes a chunk of her hair and makes like he's going to stuff it in his mouth, then BLACK OUT.]

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Said something deep today (eep!)

A few days ago, I posted some "how Mitt Romney is bad" video on my Facebook page, along with a "Let's defeat him" proclamation, and a friend commented, "American politics is a total fraud."

So I responded, "Yes, and yet the powerful people WANT us to be apathetic and not vote. They count on it, in fact. But go ahead and do nothing. I've noticed this sentiment is more popular among men than women; who's in office very directly affects women's lives, whereas I can see how men wouldn't get it."

And my friend responded with a link to a video about some 9/11 conspiracy.

So THEN I wrote:
If I just say, "All politicians are bad, so what's the point?" I might as well stay in bed all day for the rest of my life (and don't think the thought hasn't occurred to me). No action is morally pure or perfect. We have to make imperfect choices or we can't act at all.

Perty good, I think. I won't count on my friend to get it, but maybe someone will.

Ye Olde Skittes

I wroteded these back in April, so if they seem irrelevant, dated, or just hopeless now, you know why. For some of my fresher skits, see Inventing or Sylvia and Daniel or Dude Bros and The Noodle of God.

Committee to "Elect" Mitt Romney

Seated around a table: GEORGE DUBYA, MCCAIN, one or more ROMNEY ADVISERS, ROMNEY himself, SANTORUM, NEWT GINGRICH, MICHELE BACHMANN, and DICK CHENEY. There could be a big banner or sign: "COMMITTEE TO 'ELECT' MITT ROMNEY," with "ELECT" in quotes. Also, we might want to put name placards in front of each “name” character so it’s clearer to the audience who’s who. MITT’S ADVISER(S) should hold a notepad and appear to be taking notes.

SANTORUM is wearing an outfit a douchey celeb might wear-- à la The Situation and Ed Hardy-- but with his usual hyper-Christian minister's hairdo... and possibly dark sunglasses. And definitely a massive gold crucifix. And he still acts like a super-dorky goody-two-shoes, though he tries to be cool in this scene.

NEWT GINGRICH might growl a little and scratch himself like a grumpy dog once in a while during the scene.

DUBYA spends most of the meeting playing games on his mobile device.

MICHELE BACHMANN smiles a huge insane smile and looks insane the whole time. She might be holding a corndog. She never addresses her lines to anyone in particular; she just proclaims things out loud.

MITT ROMNEY: First of all, I'd like to thank my good friends Newt--

NEWT (angry, snarling, maybe batting the air in front of him, like an animal attacking nothing): Nahhr! (Then, muttering under his breath): Mitt Romney, Mitt Romney...

MITT: --and good old Michele--

MICHELE BACHMANN:  Vaccine will make you retarded!
[Yes, she says "vaccine," singular, not "vaccines," plural.]

MITT: --and who could ever forget Mr. Frothy Mix of Lube and Fecal Matter himself, Rick "The Saintuation" Santorum!

(They all clap and cheer, including SANTORUM. NEWT claps and cheers angrily, snarlingly.)

SANTORUM (slouching low and relaxed in his chair, feet up on the table, and chomping a cigar): Thanks, yo.

MITT: Yes, Rick, without you out there stumping against me these last few months, and  you, too, Michele, I could never be made to seem like such a sort-of normal guy!

SANTORUM (acting Jersey Shore-ish): They gonna put me in the movies now! I’m-a be a DJ! M-V-PEEEE!
(does a fist-pump)

MITT (pauses as if considering, then): Yesss... So down to business, gentlemen-- and ladies--

MICHELE (interrupting/talking over MITT): I'm SUBMISSIVE!

MITT: --how are we going to fix this election?

DUBYA: Election??
(giggling, chortling, guffawing) I'n't that somethin' dirty??

(CHENEY leans over and whispers something into his ear.)

DUBYA: Oh! THAT kind of election!
(and he yucks it up some more. CHENEY pats him on the head gently, like a hopelessly slow child.)

CHENEY (brooding, like a super-villain): I'll tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna build a race of super-Americans, completely programmable from the comfort of our home caves. And we replace the Americans we can't control with these super-Americans. So on election day, nothing is left to chance. Then... it'll all be over. And THEN... it'll all be MINE.
(rubs his hands together in villain fashion)

MITT: I like the way you think, Dick! American needs more men like you!

CHENEY: But am I a mere "man?" AM I?!

MITT: But the thing is, building our own race of super-Americans with all the bells and whistles--

ADVISER 1: And all the apps! Don't forget the apps!

MITT: Well, it's kinda expensive-sounding, don't ya think?

CHENEY: "Expensive?" What do you know about "expensive?!" What do any of you know about anything? Leave everything to me. I have it all worked out, every little--
[Suddenly he freezes. Everyone else freezes for a moment, too, staring at CHENEY, except for DUBYA, who keeps playing video games.]

MCCAIN: Daggnabbit, Dubya, ya forgot to plug him in again, didn't ya?

DUBYA: Gawd, "Dad!" Whatever! Get OFF my CASE!

(DUBYA storms off like an upset teen. MCCAIN gets up and looks around for a power cord and an outlet for CHENEY, and finds neither, but keeps looking, slowly and creakily, 'cause he's old.)

MITT: OK, I guess that about does it for today... Anyone up for steak? Prime rib?

(They all get up and get ready to leave, start moving towards exit. MCCAIN, still hunting, waves his hand dismissively.)

MCCAIN: Cindy's got me on a damn diet. That trollop won't let me eat anything!

SANTORUM: Gotta go. My posse’s waiting. Later, G's!


MITT (to Michele): How about it, Bach-woman?

MICHELE: Meat!! Americans love MEAT!!

MITT: Well, then!

(MITT and MICHELE exit together. Finally, only MCCAIN and CHENEY, who's still a lifeless robot, are left in the room. MCCAIN sits down again, weary.)

MCCAIN: Dick, Dick, Dick. You don't know how good you've got it. These young folks give me the chilblains.

(Pause. MCCAIN stares off, pensive.)

Aw, Dick. Remember the good old days? Man, we had some times...

(He stares at the CHENEY robot some more, then sighs.)

I guess we better get you back to the lab.

(He gets up, goes over and tries to pick up CHENEY, in a way that looks like he's hugging him/it. MCCAIN has a genuine moment of sad love for all the things that were and the things that might have been. Hold for a moment.)

Aw, heck. What the Hell am I doing? Just let the help deal with it.

(Exit MCCAIN, hobbling off in his old man way.)



GEORGE ZIMMERMAN sits on a curb, wrapped in a blanket, looking crazed. A police detective in a suit, pen and notebook in hand, is questioning him. There is a gun on the ground, and what looks like a dead body covered by sheet or something similar. Blue & red lights flash on & off in the background. (Police in this scene can be male or female, it doesn't matter; their names can be changed.)

VO ANNOUNCER/NARRATOR (from offstage): Somewhere in Sanford, Florida...

DETECTIVE JOSÉ: Can you tell us what happened, Mr. Zimmerman, in your own words?

ZIMMERMAN: I saw this real suspicious girl walking around. It was raining and she was just walking around. I knew she must be up to no good.
[The whole time ZIMMERMAN is talking, he is deathly serious and visibly shaken.]

JOSÉ: And what exactly was it about the girl that made you suspicious?

ZIMMERMAN: She was a cute girl. I mean, she was a grown woman. But she had these bangs. And they came to right above her eyes. Big, blue eyes with real long eyelashes. And she was smiling. Like, for no reason. She had this cute little vintage dress on. Very hip. And she acted just like a little girl. [ZIMMERMAN is so serious, you get the feeling he has stared into the face of the devil.]

JOSÉ: Mr. Zimmerman, Was she carrying a ukelele?

ZIMMERMAN: Uhhh... I don't know. I couldn't tell. I didn't see one. But she was very, very cute!

JOSÉ: OK. Stay calm, sir.

ZIMMERMAN: And she was singing... I mean, I think she was singing. I'm not sure. I just started shooting. [ZIMMERMAN starts falling apart, crying.]

JOSÉ: Sir? Sir? What was she singing, sir?

ZIMMERMAN: Something about... cotton. "The fabric of our lives?" Something like that. I just started shooting! I was so scared!
[ZIMMERMAN is now crying uncontrollably, freaking out.]

JOSÉ: It's alright. I understand. [pats ZIMMERMAN on the back] You did the right thing, sir. Do you have anyone not cute who you can stay with tonight?

ZIMMERMAN: I-- I think so.

[A cop in uniform, COP 2,  starts to take him away by the arm.]

COP 2: Come on. Let's go get you some ice cream, buddy.

ZIMMERMAN (confused): Huh? Oh... OK.

[COP 2 exits with ZIMMERMAN. Enter DETECTIVE TED, in a suit like DETECTIVE JOSÉ. TED brings 2 paper coffee cups over, hands one to JOSÉ.]

JOSÉ: The Zooey Deschanel wannabe community isn't going to like this, Ted. They won't like it at all.

TED: Another day in paradise, José.

JOSÉ: It sure is, Ted. It sure is.


Iran Away

A sitcom-esque family living room, with couch in center.
BARACK OBAMA and HILARY CLINTON (dressed as 50s suburban sitcom parents, Obama with glasses and with a sweater tied around his shoulders, and maybe holding a pipe), are seated on the couch along with IRAN PRESIDENT MAHMOUD AHMADINEJAD, who’s dressed like a rebellious teenager-- maybe baggy pants, backwards baseball cap (but maybe with a beard, too, because he’s still AHMADINEJAD). OBAMA and HILARY are having a serious talk with “IRAN.”
AHMADINEJAD/“IRAN” should be or at least seem like a small person, compared to OBAMA and HILARY. And he should have bad posture, scrunched low on the couch.
ISRAELI PRIME MINISTER BENJAMIN NETANYAHU stands just behind or off to the side by OBAMA, glowering at IRAN and either punching one baseball-mitted hand over and over with a ball in the other, or practicing his karate moves. NETANYAHU/“ISRAEL” is also like a teen or young adult, though instead of “rebel” clothes he wears military-inspired casual: “Army” T-shirt, camouflage pants, stuff like that.

HILARY (sounding wounded): ...and you used to give us so much more oil. Whatever happened to that?

OBAMA: You know, Ahmadinejad, those nice old Shah people used to get along with us just fine. Why can't you be more like them?

(KIM JONG UN comes skipping in, dressed as a little boy, carrying toy planes and/or rockets in each hand. He is a very bouncy and energetic boy. He plops down on the floor, off to one side, and spends most of the scene playing loudly with his plane or rocket toys, often making annoying sound effects. The others generally pay no attention to him, except for occasionally telling him to pipe down.)

HILARY (to KIM JONG UN): Keep it down, Kim Jong Un. We’re trying to have a serious discussion with your brother.(now flustered, to IRAN): What was I saying? Oh, yeah-- why can't you be more like the Shahs of Sunset Boulevard? Come home, have a talk, and give us some nice jewels every once in a while?

IRAN (whining): But Mom, the shahs were a bunch of corrupt infidels! Why can’t I just do what I want?

OBAMA: Now, now. You know you can’t always do what you want. [Pause.] You can do what we want.

IRAN: But Israel gets to do whatever they wanna do! They’re always bullying me! I don’t even wanna go to school anymore. They take all my lunch money!

OBAMA: I’ve never seen Netanyahu do a thing like that. Why would he want to do such a thing? He’s a good kid, he gets good grades, and he always does his intelligence homework. (pats ISRAEL on the shoulder)

IRAN: That’s what you think. You should see what he does when you guys aren’t around. He grabs my arm and makes me hit myself!

HILARY: Well, Mahmoud, maybe you were asking for it. Could it have been something you did to provoke them?

ISRAEL: I'll kick his ass in front of you if you want. Right here and now. Just lemmy at 'im!

HILARY: That’s enough, Benjamin. Why don’t you go play with those new weapons we bought you?

ISRAEL: OK! [ISRAEL runs out excitedly.]

KIM JONG UN (still playing with toys): I got my rock-ets, I got my rock-ets!

OBAMA: Kim Jong Un, don’t make me use the squirt bottle on you!

IRAN: Mom, Dad, all I wanna do is to enrich uranium to create fuel for my nuclear reactor!

OBAMA: Now, young man, you know what the UN resolutions said about THAT.

IRAN: But the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty said--

HILARY: Yes, we know. Who do you think wrote it? We were thinking of Russia, dear. We never thought our little shahs would let themselves be deposed in a fundamentalist coup!

(HILARY starts sobbing here. OBAMA pats her on the back and gives her a tissue. She blows her nose loudly.)

IRAN (seeming contrite): Oh, Mama Clinton, I would never use my enrichment program to make the fissile core for a nuclear warhead!

OBAMA: Oh, come on now. Our friends at the Security Council told us you've been expanding your program and now you're enriching uranium to weapons grade.

IRAN (sassy): Who told them that? I don't even hang out with those guys! They don't know ME!

OBAMA: Well, they have their ways. More people have been watching you than you think.

(IRAN gets huffy, crosses his arms, scrunches himself even lower into couch.)

KIM JONG UN: Look at my rocket, you guys, look at my rocket!

IRAN: It's just not fair!

KIM JONG UN (bouncing around, waving his arms, and much louder now): Come see my rocket ship! Come! See! My! ROCKET SHIP! You guuuuuuys!!

(HILARY quickly swats KIM JONG UN’s butt with a rolled-up newspaper. We hear a big EXPLOSION and simultaneously all the lights BLACK OUT.)


Setting is a laboratory. A number of people look busy there, and smart, like with glasses, and playing with sciencey-looking objects and writing things down on clipboards or tablet computers. Engineer/Scientist 1 runs in.

Engineer/Scientist 1: I've got it!

[Everyone is clearly very excited-- freezing in place, mouths gaping open, dropping things they'd been holding, and so on.]

Others [talking and muttering over each other]: What is it? What is it?

ES1: This will change EVERYTHING! Oh, boy, you guys, you're not going to believe this!

Engineer/Scientist 2: Oh, tell us what it is!

Engineer/Scientist 3: Oh, please, please, tell us! [ES2 + 3 may also talk over each other.]

ES1: Well, you know when a vessel is at sea--

ES3: A boat!

ES1: Yes, that's what I'm thinking of! A boat! Well, you know when one of these BOATS is out at sea, but then it wants to come back to land--

ES2 [clasping his or her hands together]: Yes, yes?

ES1: Well, what does it do?

[Pause. Everyone looks stumped. Some look like they are about to give an answer, but they stop themselves, dumbfounded.]

ES1: That's right. Until now, no one knew what to do. A boat would just have to stay at sea forever and never come back to land, because no one knew what to do about this. Even if someone onboard saw land, even if they got within a few feet of the shoreline, there was no hope, because no one actually knew how to interface with the land. Until now. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

[ES1 goes and pulls some kind of large board from offstage.]
...the LandinHandin!
[ES1 flips the board to reveal a (silly) (hand-drawn) picture of a pair of giant hands grabbing a small boat from a "sea". The others all make sounds of astonishment and wonder.]

Yes, my friends, behold-- my latest invention acts to take a vessel-- or "BOAT", as my esteemed colleague would say-- from a body of water and bring it back to land, safely and with as few casualties as possible.

[The others all clap and cheer heartily.]

ES3: Marvelous, just marvelous! You have outdone yourself again. And tell us, how much might this device cost the public to implement?

ES1: The cost is TERRIBLY slight. A bargain. Only a billion billion dollars.

[The others make sounds of being impressed and pleased. Many of them nod; some pat each other on the backs.]

ES3: Good show, doctor!

ES1: Yes, thank you. May you all continue to bask in my reflected glow for a great long time.

Others: Yes, yes.

[Suddenly another Engineer/Scientist, #4, comes in with a wicked scowl on his or her face. ES4 seems distinctly evil. Everyone looks quietly stunned at ES4.]

ES4: You thimbleheads! Don't you know??!

[ES3 hides behind another engineer/scientist and peeks out from behind his or her shoulder.]

ES2 [stammering, terrified]: Kn-know what?

ES4: There's already a way for a vessel-- or BOAT-- to interface with the land. It's called... a DOCK!

[Everyone else trembles and winces and lets out little scared whimpers.]

ES1: Th-there... is?

ES4: Yes, yes! And it has been used around the world for years, centuries, perhaps even... longer than centuries!

ES1: No! No! It-- it can't be! But all my research, all my calculations... Are you telling me that... all this has been...

ES4: Yes, yes, you ninglebot! It's all been a big, stinky waste of time and effort!

ES2 [puts his or her hand over his or her mouth in shock]: No!

ES4: And you know what else?

ES1 [possibly about to cry]: What?

ES4: You're a stinky person! Aaaaaa! [laughs demonically and storms out]

[The others gather around ES1 and try to offer consolation.]

ES1: Well... this is... it's not what I had hoped for. But I'm not giving up. I... I still have other inventions. Inventions that will change the world. That's right. I'm not defeated. I'm going to come back stronger than ever. In fact, the LandinHandin wasn't the really great thing I was going to show you. I had something else even better.

[The others perk up and look hopeful and make little hopeful noises.]

It's called... [ES1 hauls another board from offstage.]... the QWEEL!

[The picture on this board is a simple drawing of a wheel. The others all look pleasantly surprised.]

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Otro Sketcho for NaSkeWriMo

 Sylvia and Daniel

Sylvia: You owe me, Daniel. Your leaves are on fire because of me.

Daniel: I know, Sylvia. I owe everything to you.

S: Well, next time you look at that burnt-down tree in your yard, you can thank me.

D: I know. You didn't have to set fire to it and the rest of my yard for me, but you did it anyway, and I can't tell you how grateful I am.

S: Well, try.

D: I... I... Actually, I just wanted you to burn down my house, not the yard, but it's the thought that counts.

S: You vile little scumtard! I do the finest yard burnings in the tri-county area. People wait for years for me to burn their landscapes. And you're complaining? You've got the stupidest balls I've ever seen.

D: [ashamed] Yeah, for a human. But really, Sylvia, the burnt yard is starting to grow on me. I've never seen a yard burnt so completely and so... so...

S: Skillfully? Masterfully?

D: Mindeatingly. And with such... jiggly feet.

S: They are extremely jiggly, aren't they? My father always told me they would make the other girls jealous. And how right he was. He'll never know. [Pause, reflective.] I love you, Daddy. [gazing off in the distance]

D: I know. I loved him, too. He and I shared a passion, you know. For a woman's naked, jiggling... feet.

[Pause. Sylvia stares at Daniel with an unreadable expression.]

S: Let's go take a reggae cruise together.

D: Sylvia! [They embrace.]

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.] 

Friday, September 14, 2012

A day late, involving no dollars whatsoever: A sketch for NaSkeWriMo

[See the site of National Sketch Writing Month for the meaning of all this.]

Dude Bros and the Noodle of God

Jack: ...And after all this time, she's still interested in the cold noodle she found next to her office building in the noon-day sun.

BetaDude: It's a miracle.

J: It's a sign from God. I think we should be truly thankful. Let us pray.

B: Wait, I need a hot dog. [goes and gets hot dog, quickly reappears holding it.] OK. Now... go on.

J: As I was saying, dear God who art in Heaven, thank you for all your blessings you have bestowed on us. And thank you for the good friends you have given us in Amy and Weinman. And thank you for leaving that beautiful cold noodle on the ground for dear Amy to pick up and treasure.

Voice of God: I didn't do that.

J: God! Is that really you, God??

VOG: I didn't do the noodle.

J: It's a sign! It's really a sign! Oh, praise God!

B: But what about the noodle?

J: Screw the noodle! That was God speaking! To us! That was GOD!

B: Oh. I was pretty excited about the noodle, though. Can't we just pretend that that was still a miracle?

J: Dude. God. Just. Spoke. To US.

B: Mm, I think he was just talking to you that time.

J: Really? Didn't you hear him?

B: I don't know, Jack. No one really wants to talk to me. I'm not a social butterfly like you are.

J: Aww, that's sad. I am a social butterfly, though. You got that right. [Makes as if to high five BetaDude]

B: Yeah! I was right! I guess. Sometimes. Just that once. Thanks, dude.

J: Hey, don't thank me-- thank the Big Dude Upstairs!

B: Are you sure? I don't think he even knows I exist.

J: Dude! Like... [Has to think for a moment.] Do you want me to talk to him for you?

B: Yeah. [hides his face in his hands like a little girl]