SafeTinspector Scenes

Completely Safe v3

2006-01-07T09:14:00.000-05:00

“Completely Safe”

01/07/06 (version #3)

CAST

Greg – Male Age, 30 listless

Jazlinski – Male Age, 30 scientist, nerdy

Marcie – Female Age, 28 angry and impatient.

Bob “the Boss” – 45 excitable and dismissive

(Three chairs face the audience, stage center. Greg sits in center, operating a computer. Marcie sits to his left, and Bob stands behind the last chair, leaning on it and looking over Greg's shoulder. Jazlinski is offstage left. Jazlinski wears a white lab coat. Greg sits listlessly staring at computer while typing slowly.)

BOB

(leaning forward)

Click there!

GREG

(stops typing, points to screen, looks at Bob)

Here?

MARCIE

That's what he said.

BOB

(pointing excitedly)

THERE! THERE!

GREG

OK...

(clicks mouse and then puts his hands in his lap. Bob knods, crosses arms and leans back. Marcie leans back.)

JAZLINSKI

(starting offstage, striding onstage)

Good news, everybody!

BOB

This had better be good, Jazlinski. We were right in the middle of something.

JAZLINSKI

Oh, it is good, boss! The Gronel is ready to go.

BOB

Hot dog! We'll make our delivery schedule on time!

(turns to Greg)

Take this down!

(Greg holds his hands at the ready.)

Dear Mister Kim McBernstein; Broot and Rown Industries is proud to announce, ah... no, is happy to announce–no, is excited to announce, no, is... is...

(waves hand in air)

MARCIE

Proud.

BOB

(Agitated, paces and genuflects)

Right. Proud. Thanks. Is proud to announce that the Gronel Swacker GSS 5002 is ready for shipment immediately.

(Jazlinski looks at watch, turns and walks off stage left)

You will be happy to note that we are delivering it on time and under-budget. Making use of technology that, uh... hmm.

JAZLINSKI

(Loudly, Off-stage)

Well, get the fire extinguisher! Don't just stand there!

MARCIE

Fire.

BOB

Right. Making use of the hottest technology available, the Gronel Swacker is capable of producing 150 percent more output 50 percent of the time per cycle than the closest 5 percent of competing Swacker units in a percentile test. This makes our Gronel Swacker, um..

(becomes lost in thought)

JAZLINSKI

(still offstage)

Well, prop the damn thing up! Its probably not going to burn you from THAT end.

(there is a muffled scream)

Did it just burn James? James, get out of there.

(moans)

Stop moaning, it isn't that bad. You big baby. Hold on!

(comes on stage, straightening his lab coat)

We're just packing the Gronel Swacker up for shipment, boss. Hey, do any of you happen to know where the fire extinguisher is? ...And I'm curious about that for absolutely no reason at all.

BOB

Quiet, Jazlinski! I'm working here!

MARCIE

Did you check under the mezzanine stairs?

BOB

(to Greg, who continues to type)

this makes our model more likely to be featured in trade publications in front of dramatic backdrops prominently displayed next to color coded bar charts!

JAZLINSKI

(distractedly watching Bob)

What?

MARCIE

I said, under the mezzanine stairs.

JAZLINSKI

Ah! I'll look.

(leaves room again)

BOB

Believe me, Mr. MacBernstein, your staff will be delighted with the way our Gronel Swacker GSS 5002 squats massively upon your shop floor and, and, and...

MARCIE

(sarcastically)

Squats.

BOB

and squats! No. It already squats once in that sentence. Get rid of the second squat, Greg.

GREG

Will do.

(types busily)

BOB

But now we don't have a complete sentence. You can't end a sentence with an 'and'.

MARCIE

You just did, Bob.

BOB

So I did! Ha, ha, ha! Good one, Marcie!

JAZLINSKI

(there is muffled yelling offstage. Jazlinski runs from stage left to stage right, yelling)

Johnson! You alright?

(yells become demanding)

What? How the hell should I know where your hand is?

BOB

Our engineers have found that the Gronel Swacker GSS 5002 is so easy to use that you can operate it one handed-

MARCIE

(interrupting)

As long as they take shipment of the optional keypad attachment, mind you.

BOB

(nods)

Right. Put that in, too, Greg.

(Greg types furiously)

JAZLINSKI

(backing onto stage. There is now blood on his lab coat and his hair is messy)

You can leave if you want to, but you're going to have to take a personal day, Johnson.

Why don't you just stick around? You can get some work done, and maybe we'll find that hand of yours. C'mon, what do you say?

BOB

Oh. I have a question about packing! Call Jazlinski.

MARCIE

(without actually moving)

Ok.

JAZLINSKI

(to everyone)

Alright, the fire is out, but the acid puddles are starting to eat through the floor and drip into the junior staff lunchroom.

BOB

Never mind that, Jazlinski. I have a question on the packing.

JAZLINSKI

Well, ok, but I'm kind of-

MARCIE

The packing, Jazlinski.

BOB

Well?

(puts hands on hips)

JAZLINSKI

(stares for a moment)

... that wasn't actually a whole question.

BOB

So I take that to mean that we're wrapping it with 5 mil shrink, then?

(a claxon begins sounding)

JAZLINSKI

Yeah, sure. Whatever. Gotta go!

(leaves hurriedly stage right)

BOB

(Happily)

Well, Greg, you heard it right there.

GREG

Heard what?

MARCIE

(sigh)

We're wrapping it with 5 mil shrink wrap, Greg. Get with the program.

GREG

5 mil shrink. Got it.

(types furiously, Bob is pacing and jumping, pumping hand in air triumphantly)

JAZLINSKI

(offstage)

Ann! Ann! It's going towards your terminal! Did you erase the NCF file? HEAVEN HELP US if it gets the NCF file!

(angry woman yelling)

Its not moving all that fast! Go and delete the file!

(woman screams hysterically)

That'll teach us to assume a maximum speed based on current observed speed, eh, Ann? (chuckles)

(woman holding bloody stump of arm runs screaming through the room from stage left to stage right. Jazlinski follows half heartedly onto stage. His labcoat is torn off one shoulder and his face is sooty)

Ann?

(Everyone stops and stares at him)

Oh, never mind.

(Sticks hands in pocket, and leaves the way he came, whistling)

BOB

Read that last part back to me, then.

GREG

(reads screen, following along with his finger)

'...with one hand as long as you take shipment of the optional keypad attachment. We're wrapping it with 5 mil shrink.'

BOB

Great! Now we just need a concluding paragraph.

MARCIE

Put something in about expedited shipping.

(a siren, in addition to the claxon, starts to go off)

JAZLINSKI

(off stage)

Oh. It got the NCF file. Well, that's it, then.

(stage lights dim. Moments later, the siren and claxon stop)

GREG

Hey!

MARCIE

The power went out.

BOB

Did you save the Word file?

GREG

(sadly)

No!

BOB

(crossing arms)

Great. Just great.

JAZLINSKI

(rushes in. Axe in one hand, shotgun slung over shoulder. No pants on. Clears throat.)

Ahem. I think we should leave, now.

MARCIE

(checking watch)

It's lunchtime anyway. Lets pick this up after we eat something.

GREG

(packing papers in briefcase)

Anyone feel like Thai food?

BOB

Sounds good to me! After you, Jazlinski. We're not getting anything done around here anyway.

(glares at Greg)

Right, GREG?

(everyone moves towards the door, following Jazlinski. Jazlinski stops and holds a hand up)

JAZLINSKI

Alright. Everybody be absolutely quiet and it just might not hear you.

(they all leave the stage.)

BOB

(offstage, loudly)

Egads, Jazlinski! What a mess! You have got to talk to your staff about the proper way to keep a shop.

(Siren starts wailing. Loud banging sounds)

JAZLINSKI

(irritated)

Bob, what did I tell you?

(loud bang, lights out.)

WTF V2.5

2006-01-06T00:29:00.000-05:00

“WTF”

01/07/06 (version #2.5)

CAST

Judy – Female, Age 30 (polite and bright)

Bob – Male, Age 25 (very whiney and speaks slowly)

Ms.P – Male, Age 50 (Gruff, writing as Female, Age 19)

DarkOps1 – Male, Age 25 (furtive)

Easel – Korean Male, Age 20 (English as second language)

Bruce – Male, Age 30 (slimy salesman type)

Police – Anyone, Any age

(Six chairs on stage, in order from left to right are seated Judy, Bob, Ms.P, DarkOps1, Easel and BRUCE. All characters perform object and character work appropriate to their identity and consistent with sitting at computers in their homes/offices, even while others are speaking. As each character talks, they are typing their dialog on their computers.)

JUDY

(acts as if she is waiting. Bob presses a button dramatically. Judy brightens and speaks)

Welcome to ElectroCore Technologies tech support chat room. I'm Judy in Chicago, and I have Easel from Korea on duty with me today. I see your name is Bob. What seems to be the problem?

EASEL

I Easel, is here helped. I am a man!

JUDY

(chuckles)

Alright, Easel. Let see if we can help Bob out.

EASEL

I feel helping!

BOB

(slowly up-speaking)

Hello? my name is Bob? I have a problem? with my printer?

EASEL

Bob! To advance from the printer it is possible the paper? Bob?

BOB

I think... Wait. What?

JUDY

(Chuckles)

Sorry. Maybe I should try. Bob, what seems to be the problem with your printer?

BOB

Well...I can't seem to get anything to come out. It says here... um....

EASEL

I think I know wrong what is. Is the printer which is inserted? Sunspot, custard, with option ten for them all to eat?

JUDY

Easel, I know you want to help...

EASEL

It is, I am Easel!

BOB

Hello?

MS.P

(Interrupting)

(speaking in a gruff Brooklyn accent, somewhat seductive)

Hi, I'm Miss P! I'm 19, blond, 110 pounds, and I could use lots of help!

EASEL

I, Miss P, of your desire the fact that it helps!

BOB

I can't seem to get anything to come out.

(pause)

Did I already type that?

JUDY

Miss P, I don't think you understand what this chat room is all about.

MS.P

Judy, from one girl to another, I think we BOTH know what this room is “all about”.

BOB

(Looks behind him in alarm and then types)

I was wrong about nothing coming out. There is something coming out.

(begins fanning at printer)

MS.P

(serreptitiously rubbing himself)

Oh, yeah? And what are you going to do with what's coming out?

BOB

Its flaming! What do I do?

MS.P

(to self)

This is more like it.

(typing)

What do you WANT to do with it? My perky, firm breasts are heaving as I breath hard in anticipation. My OFFENSIVE CONTENT FILTERED is flaming hot, too! Can you guess what I'm putting in it?

EASEL

Judy, my French is not good so much. Is the attempt of Miss P to help?

JUDY

MS.P, this chat room is for people who want to help each other! You're not helping! Bob, unplug the printer!

EASEL

Yes! Unplug the printer! Bob! Bob! Bob! Bob!

MS.P

(puzzled, pauses in mid-rub)

Alright...I'm pretty sure I understand what the “printer” is, but what sexy activity is “unplugging” supposed to be?

BOB

I'm unplugging it!

(begins disconnecting things)

BRUCE

Hi! I'm Bruce Bankloft, and I have a question for you.

EASEL

I...am a man. Questions! Answers!

BRUCE

(chuckles, speaks very fast)

Of course, Easel. I want to tell you about a woman I know, who doesn't even have a high-school degree. She is making twenty thousand dollars a month from the privacy of her home. I could hardly believe it either, but its true! And now I know the secret. Would you like to know the secret as well?

JUDY

Bruce, I'm afraid no one here is interested. This chat room is for helping people with their ElectroCore products.

BOB

(tries to touch printer. Burns hand. Turns to keyboard)

Man, its still hot! Really hot! Hold on...

(turns back to printer)

MS.P

(rubbing self again)

Bob, don't hold back! Tell me what you're doing; I'm touching my little, hot, 19 year old, OFFENSIVE CONTENT FILTERED, thinking of you!

BRUCE

(typing, speaking very fast)

But Judy, I am helping. I'm helping people achieve financial independence. I have a secret! It really does work, and you can make UNLIMITED income...in your spare time!

(over his shoulder)

Honey, someone is at the door. Can you get it?

DARKOPS1

(hunched over keyboard, darting glances to left and right)

CIA operative DARKOPS1 here. I have the item, and I'm ready to make the drop.

(places Chicken Dance Elmo on table next to keyboard)

Its only a matter of time before (airquotes) 'J-is-for-Kill' tracks the item's radioactive psychic aura back to my secret lair.

EASEL

J is not for Kill. Can you not see what is already typed?

DARKOPS1

(writes furiously on a piece of paper. Reads it, shoves it in his mouth and swallows)

Bruce, I've just sent instructions to have the room cleansed.

MS.P

DarkOps1, I'm pretty sure I understand what the 'room' is, but I am not too clear on what sexy activity cleansing is?

BOB

OK, the fire is out, and the printer is cooling down.

MS.P

(alarmed)

Oh, Bob, honey, what did I say? Don't let the fire go out now! I'm still hot for you!

BRUCE

(over his shoulder)

See who's at the door. They sure are knocking hard.

(typing, speaking very fast)

Well, DARKOPS1, I'm looking forward to that cleansing. But how would you like to make unlimited amounts of cash from the privacy of your home, all without even taking off your pajamas?

DARKOPS1

The Russian mafia laced my pajamas with PCP, LSD and Ben-Gay. Now I sleep naked in a cardboard box on the living room floor. If you were my operator, you would already know that. Are you sure you're my 'op?

(holds knife to wrist while anxiously waiting for answer)

JUDY

Darkops1, if you don't have a technical support question, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

EASEL

Judy! I am feeling please!

JUDY

(frustrated)

Whatever.

BOB

MS.P, I'm pretty sure my printer is ruined, so... Um.....

(pause)

Could you tell me more about your OFFENSIVE CONTENT FILTERED?

MS.P

Well, did I mention that it's tight, wet, and I've never OFFENSIVE CONTENT FILTERED before? Would you like to be my first? Bob?

BRUCE

(over shoulder)

Police? Uh, tell them I'll be right there.

(typing, desperate and fast)

Folks, it looks like I might have to leave soon. I'm going to post a link to my website, where you can post your contact information. Soon afterwards, I'll be sending you detailed instructions for this opportunity of a lifetime! Opportunity is knocking!

EASEL

Oh, I love jokes of knocking-knocking! Who's there?

DARKOPS1

(putting down knife.

Waving Chicken Dance Elmo)

This is no joke, little man. Bruce, send me the link. I still have the item! All the people I've killed, my criminal and government empire in ruins, my Lean Cuisine Swedish meatballs dried up and overcooked in the microwave AS WE SPEAK; I'm in too deep to quit now!

JUDY

DARKOPS1, I think you do need help. More than we can give you in this chat room.

BOB

MS.P, I would love to be your first. I've always wanted to OFFENSIVE CONTENT FILTERED a virgin before. Just think, if my printer hadn't OFFENSIVE CONTENT FILTERED itself, we never would have met.

MS.P

Yeah. Lets get out of here.

(MS.P and Bob get up, hold hands, and begin walking off stage)

So...you like it on top, or on bottom?

EASEL

Bob! Glad I was to helping you nightly!

JUDY

They're gone, Easel. You can stop now.

EASEL

I think you mean I can stopping now.

POLICE

(Bruce is sitting on stage, back to audience hands behind his back as if cuffed. Police is typing at his station)

This is the New Mexico State Police. We are placing Bruce Bankloft, a.k.a. Uncle Milty, Hugo Ingermann, French McCorkwinsky, and Bull Grapes, under arrest for fraud. The phone number I am posting on the screen can be used for testimony if you want to report additional information.

(force marches Bruce off-stage)

DARKOPS1

They got 'em! We're next! Cover is blown! Signing out!

(stands up, picks up gas can from floor, begins dousing workstation.)

EASEL

Glad I was to helping you nightly, Darkops1!

DARKOPS1

(kisses Chicken Dance Elmo and then sticks it up shirt. Stops to type)

No prob, Easel, my man. Perhaps I will see you at Denny's sometime.

(returns to dousing)

JUDY

(puts head down on table. Listlessly types)

Easel. How would you like to run this chat room for awhile?

(Darkops1 sets fire to computer and flees the stage. Sirens begin to sound.)

EASEL

Honor and obey, in sickness and in health!

JUDY

OFFENSIVE CONTENT FILTERED. I'm going to get some coffee.

(stands and leaves stage)

EASEL

(all alone now. Typing with a big smile)

I feel enjoy as I am Good to grant to the room of chat of the service of of of technical assistance at Electrocore Technologies, where the people meet so that you soaking wetly. I will be Judy, and I will be helping you nightly!

Plumber's Visit v2

2006-01-05T22:40:00.000-05:00

1/5/2006 (version 2)

CAST

Candice – Age 52,

Frank – Age 31

(one-room apartment. Candice, seated on love-seat, holds a plush tiger. Plush animals line up on couch facing TV)

(knock, knock!)

CANDICE

Just a moment!

(Gets up, holding Tiger, walks to and opens door)

FRANK

(bored)

Pep-rally Plumbers, ma'am. 'We're rooting for you.'

What seems to be the problem?

CANDICE

Come in! I'll show you the problem.

(leads Frank behind love-seat to kitchen sink. Lifts plush Tiger)

This is my accountant, Lord Bromley, CPA.

FRANK

(puzzled)

Uh...hello...Mister Bromley.

CANDICE

(irritated. Shakes Lord Bromley in Frank's face)

That's LORD Bromley. He's only practicing accountancy because his family lost their inheritance in a stock scandal...anyway, he says there's something wrong with the garbage disposal.

FRANK

Alright...(pause)..LORD Bromley, lets see what's wrong.

(begins looking in sink)

CANDICE

(puts Bromley on counter facing Frank. Picks up plush piggy.)

Percival Piggy-Pants, my French personal trainer, says it stopped working yesterday afternoon. What's that, Percy?

(pauses, listens to Percy.)

Oh, I don't think he speaks French. I'll tell him.

(to Frank)

He says he was making me a fruit smoothy after our workout, and couldn't get the melon rinds to go down. What? (pauses) Oh, and he thinks you're very handsome and wants to know if you're gay.

FRANK

(reaches in disposal and pulls out melon rind)

Well...(pause)..Percy, I found your melon. Lets see what else is wrong.

CANDICE

(throwing Percy off stage)

Thank you, Percy, that will be all.

(brushes hands together. Looks at Bromley)

Lord Bromley, why didn't you bring Sissy Smarty-Puss with you today?

FRANK

(Rummaging in disposal)

Sissy Smarty-Puss?

CANDICE

His...wife (pause) Lord Bromley where is Sissy Smarty-Puss?

(looks expectantly at Bromley)

FRANK

(presents wad of pink fluff)

I found your problem, ma'am. It looks like-

CANDICE

(interrupting, screams!)

OH MY GOD!!! SISSY! OH, SHIT! Bromley, how could you?!?

(runs screaming out door)

FRANK

(irritated, calls after her)

Listen, lady, I-

(Candice screaming from a distance, growing fainter)

FRANK

(looking at Bromley)

I don't suppose you can write me a check for this.

(Bromley mocks Frank in silence)

Sam the Fish

2006-01-03T18:13:00.000-05:00

“Sam the Fish”

01/07/06 (version #2)

CAST

Tom – 45, Male

Rick – 43, Male

Fish – 4, Male, a large salmon

(Two men sit on a bench nearby a river)

RICK

Damn foreman in my crap all the time. If it weren't for these lunch times out here by the rouge I would absolutely go postal.

TOM

I know what you mean. It helps to just watch the water before going back into that damn plant and putting up with the bull-crap.

(optionally, two men can engage in improvised banter while man in fish suit proceeds to “swim” through crowd slowly, possibly engaging with audience. Ultimately, fish suited man will be on floor next to stage with fin up. The two men look down into water)

RICK

You see that fin?

TOM

Yeah. That is the biggest salmon I've ever seen.

RICK

Look at how it just sidles up next to the seawall. He ain't moving too fast.

TOM

If I were living in the Rouge river, I don't know as I'd be all that energetic, either. Tough to swim through water you can probably chew.

(both look for a moment)

RICK

I bet I can catch that bastard.

TOM

Sure, but we have no net. You gonna catch him with your bare hand?

(Rick walks to waters edge, rolls up sleeve, pauses, and quickly snaps up the fin of the salmon. Pulls salmon out of water. Man in salmon suit flops around, trying to wriggle free of Rick's grasp.)

FISH

Hey, let me go, asshole!

TOM

That fish totally called you an asshole.

RICK

He did!

(lets go of the fish. Man in fish suit stands, brushing himself off)

FISH

That's right, asshole. What right do you have to yank me out of there? Huh? I was minding my own business.

(menaces Tom)

TOM

(backing off, hands up)

It was all Rick, man. I had nothing to do with it, Mr. Trout.

FISH

That's Salmon, to you.

(turns to Rick)

What do you have to say for yourself? Got nothing better to do than to torment me?

RICK

Dude, we were just out here having lunch, relaxing and trying to forget our troubles, and we saw you just hanging there by the shore. I really wasn't thinking, really. Really!

FISH

(calming a little bit)

That's pretty obvious. From the look of you two, thinking is something that happens to other people, am I right?

TOM

How insulting!

FISH

I calls 'em like I sees em. So what troubles do you two healthy land-dwellers have?

RICK

Mr. Salmon-

FISH

Please, call me Sam.

RICK

Sam, uh, I feel weird telling you about it, but the foreman keeps jumping my shit. But I do everything he tells me!

FISH

Jesus, is that all? OK, you-

RICK

Rick.

FISH

Ok, Rick: what does this foreman guy say you're doing wrong?

RICK

He says I have a bad attitude.

FISH

Do you?

RICK

No, I just don't take shit from nobody.

FISH

Maybe that comes across as being a jerk. Did you ever think of leaving the bait on the hook and just swimming away?

RICK

So I should just take it?

FISH

Yeah. No matter what, it ain't a real problem. Not compared to me. I was waiting there to die, you know!

TOM

Sam, you're dying? That's terrible! You look so healthy.

(fish begins coughing)

FISH

Got laid.

TOM

That can't be bad.

FISH

Well, no, not so much. We salmon all die after spawning. Dying or getting eaten by a bear is the male salmon version of rolling over and going to sleep.

TOM

Not too many bears around here.

FISH

No, Einstein, there ain't no bears in the Rouge plant.

RICK

Makes me feel a little silly worrying about that foreman.

FISH

That's right. Next time, just nod, thank him for the suggestion, and get back to work. You'll be on top in no time!

RICK

You know, that makes sense. Maybe I am being a dick. Thanks, Sam!

FISH

Yeah, whatever. Well, I gotta go swim for a while before I go belly-up. You guys take care.

(dives offstage and swims slowly away.)

TOM

He is so wise.

RICK

Farewell, noble fishy! We love you!

FISH (as he is swimming backstroke away from stage)

Shut up, you queer.

LEFT OUT v2.5

2005-11-22T13:07:00.000-05:00

“LEFT OUT”

11/21/05 (version #2.5)

CAST

Shane McFrenchiman – 32, Male (office worker)

Diane Goodheart – 27, Female (on the bubbly side)

Vinny Jonsonni – 46, Male (New Yorker, rough voice)

Johnny – 26, Male (Young, enthusiastic type A)

Sally – 28, Female (with an English accent)

(Break room. Diane, Vinny, and Johnny are standing together by water cooler. They are all laughing. Laughter stops for a moment.)

DIANE

I don't get it.

JOHNNY

OK, so its like this, Diane...

(Shane pokes head in. Everyone pointedly ignores him.)

VINNY

(under his breath)

bastard.

SHANE

(Shane walks up to the group)

Hey, guys. Monday, huh?

JOHNNY

That's what my calendar says, anyway! Ha ha ha ha!

SHANE

Uh, yeah. So...where were you guys over the weekend?

SALLY

(bad English accent)

Why ever should you ask that?

SHANE

Well, Sally, I drove by the office and all your cars were here. The office was locked and the alarm set, so I know you guys weren't here....

SALLY

As a simple matter of course, Shane, we were, uh, we were...you tell him, Johnny dear.

JOHNNY

-we were all really drunk on Friday night, and we got cabs home. You should've stayed, man!

SHANE

I worked late on Friday. Alone. As always. No one but me, my laptop and my eraser gnomes.

(pauses)

And they were the only ones drunk.

DIANE

Oh, come-on, guys. Even I remember! We were JUST talking about it, we were-

VINNY

Up in DonFantastique's office! Yeah, that's where we were all getting' drunk off the big bastard's mini-bar. That smokin' hot bastard said we could get us some.

SHANE

No... No, I think I would remember seeing you guys when I went up to leave my quarterly report on his desk.

JOHNNY

Did you check his bathroom?

SHANE

You were all drunk in the Boss' private bathroom?

VINNY

Fuckin' HOT! .....bastard.

DIANE

Oooooh....I wish I remembered this.

SALLY

Hush, Diane.

SHANE

Diane, you don't remember it because it didn't happen. You all went somewhere without me, didn't you?

(they exchange guilty looks)

VINNY

(very quiet)

bastard.

JOHNNY

OK, you got us. We all went to Peoria, Illinois.

SHANE

Peoria.

JOHNNY

It was hard to tell, what with the strange language they all used. Sounded a lot like Canadian. It was Peoria, right sugar?

SALLY

Quite right, darling. We didn't think you wanted to go, and there simply wasn't enough room in the limo, what with the hot-tub and the servants.

VINNY

Those were some hot bastards.

DIANE

I got this T shirt!

(lifts blouse to reveal a shirt that reads “HOSER went to Peoria, A!”)

I think it says, “Jesus Loves Peoria!”

SALLY

It might. Who can tell, who can tell?

SHANE

And Sally, what is with the accent? You're from Newark!

SALLY

Funny story, that!

JOHNNY

Tell him the story, darling!

SALLY

I was about to, hush. Well, there was a fellow that had a bag filled with industrial adhesive and he was breathing the fumes and having such a wonderful time. Vinny here said it made the fellow look like a “hot bastard”-

VINNY

-damn straight!

SALLY

-So I simply HAD to try it. When I awoke, I had this wonderful new accent. A pity it didn't help me understand Canadian.

SHANE

You got an English accent by huffing glue. Jesus Christ!

DIANE

(lifting shirt again)

-loves PEORIA!

SHANE

(ignoring Diane)

Where did you really go? Vegas? Disney World? Nantucket?

JOHNNY

We are telling the truth! Why would we leave you behind if we went somewhere fun? We all love you Shane!

VINNY

HOT!

DIANE

I thought we didn't want him to come because...

JOHNNY

he wouldn't enjoy eating paper. Which is why we were in Peoria. Paper eating convention. They had a ream of this stuff that would give you an orgasm just from chewing on it!

SHANE

Orgasmic paper.

SALLY

Funny that, not ALL the paper had that effect. I found myself faking it a lot.

DIANE

I saved some stationary from the Peoria hotel for later. It doesn't work. Watch!

(pulls paper from pocket, begins chewing.)

SHANE

Which one of you came up with this crap? It was you, wasn't it, Johnny?

JOHNNY

Oh, come ON, Shane! You think I wanted us to all have fun and for you to stay here and be bored all night working late with nothing but your eraser gnome for company?

VINNIE

Bastard!

SHANE

You did NOT go to Peoria to a paper-eating convention! Sally did not get an accent from huffing. And frankly, I can't believe you all worked so hard to screw with me like this. If you didn't want me to go wherever it is you went, you could've just come out and told me. Christ, what a bunch of cowards!

(leaves)

VINNIE (sadly, after Shane)

....hot?

DIANE

Gee, maybe we should have asked him along.

JOHNNY

Nah.

SALLY

Oh, he's just a bit cross for almost literally no reason at all.

(Delivery man enters) DELIVERY GUY

UPS. Got a... ream of Peoria paper here.

VINNIE

SMOKIN' HOT DAY IN THE MORNING!

(johnny signs for the package, everyone begins eating paper and having orgasms.)

My Neighbor, FCC v2.5 - Musical

2005-11-08T17:56:00.000-05:00

“My Neighbor, The FCC”

1/6/2006 (version #2.5)

CAST

Kevin J. Martin – 38, Male

Quincy – 14, Female

Sandy – 32, Female

Mark – 33, Male

Three Male Dancers

(inside apartment, couple on couch, daughter sitting on floor, watching TV. Mother spills drink on herself.)

SANDY

(standing up, wet from drink)

Oh, shit!

MARK

God dammit, Sandy!

(runs off)

QUINCY

Mom, you said mother-fucker.

(Mark returns, hands one towel to Sandy, who begins drying herseld and begins blotting the couch)

SANDY

I didn't say mother-fucker.

KEVIN

(barging in room)

Hi, folks! I'm your downstairs neighbor, Kevin J. Martin, chairman of the FCC?

QUINCY

Hey, mom, dad, there's some asshole here!

KEVIN

Whoa, there!(BEEP!)

I couldn't help but overhear you loudie-wowdies up here having a vocabulary malfunction. Young lady, I think you've been exposed to too much explicit (BEEP!) media! Pretty soon you might be saying (BEEP!) or (BEEP!) and that could lead to unprotected (BEEP!) and an unwanted (BEEP!) all from having dirty (BEEP!) butt (BEEP!) sex with your boy- (BEEP) friend and his (BEEP) well-hung buddies!

QUINCY

Gosh, mister, what can I do?

KEVIN

You need more good, clean, violence and less sex. (BEEP!)

SANDY

Violence?

MARK

I don't appreciate you coming into our home and talking about unprotected butt (BEEP BEEP!) or violence!

KEVIN

You poor, misguided, obscene fools. Nothing is worse than forbidden words and sexuality.

(Three male dancers walk in, one hands a box to Kevin)

I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but allow me to use this box of innocent, fluffy kittens to explain.

(begins to sing, dancers stand at parade rest)

When I think of Janet Jackson's titty

or Howard Stern's anything at all

we boost the gore on CSI Miami

and add torture to most shows this fall

there's so much to do, and its starting to work

but to get through to you I'm afraid I must jerk

the heads off these innocent kitties. Observe:

(Drum beats, Kevin and the dancers grind as he slowly pulls kitten from box, holds it out toward audience. Kitten mews. )

SANDY

Oh, shit!

(when Kevin hears “shit” he jerks his head back slightly as if in surprise, but then smiles lasciviously and closes his eyes, head tilted back. Crack! Dancers convulse in pleasure, Kitten is dead. He drops it on floor. Dancers dance.)

Violence! Violence!

America's fine with Violence! (crack, kitten dead)

Sex! Sex!

America hates Sex! (crack)

MARK

You fucking lunatic!

(kevin holds kitten in Mark's face and kills it)

KEVIN

C'mon, people!

Slow-mo blows in boxing shows

with showers of spit and sweat

so preferable to seeing tongue in a kiss

or hearing four letter words from your set

if fictional and taped, we're fine with rape

but not shit, fuck, dick or cock

and it shows we're strong inside when vehicular homocide

is filmed on location with COPS.

(Everyone: bad boys, bad boys, what'cha gonna do?)

I'm gonna kill another kitten for you. (crack!)

QUINCY

Can I try?

KEVIN

Certainly. To the beat, please, and sing it with me.

(Quincy is killing cats, now)

Violence! Violence!

America's fine with Violence! (crack, kitten dead)

Words! Words!

America hates Words! (crack)

BEEP, BEEP

aw, yeah (crack)

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Pacifica, I've heard, suffered when George Carlin's words

landed them in Fed'ral Court

It served those hippies right, broadcasting that tripe

when they could have been talkin' up war!

I hope you learned YOUR lesson, cause now I'm confessin'

I've only about three cats left here

I'll leave them with you for your family to 'do'

for when obscenities burn your ears.

(music continues to play)

QUINCY

Thanks, Kevin J. Martin, chairman of the FCC!

KEVIN

No problem.

SANDY

Kevin Martin, you bastard, get out of my house-OOF!

(Kevin punches her in the gut, and then holds her up)

KEVIN

Hush. This is for your own good.

(head-butts Sandy, knocking her to floor. Makes sign of the cross over her)

go and cuss no more.

MARK

That's it, I'm going to kick your-

(Kevin grabs censorship rectangle from Quincy and cracks Mark on head, knocking him out.)

QUINCY

I feel more acceptable already!

(Reaches in box for more kittens to kill)

KEVIN

(As he talks, Quincy throws dead kittens to audience.)

Yes! America approves of violence. It's sanctioned by churches and community groups like the Crips and Bloods and 9^th Street Assassins, and it keeps our vulnerable youth from engaging in unprotected butt (BEEP) (BEEP!). So next time you're tempted to swear at a loved one, don't. There's no excuse for vulgar language. Instead, beat them mercilessly! After all, that can be televised!

(Lights out as Quincy kicks Kevin in the shin and then balls, knocking him to floor and begins kicking him in the stomach and side.)

Steno Fiction

2005-10-11T21:25:00.000-04:00

I turned a little piece of "Failing That..." into an extended black-out, or a really short scene.

CAST

Prosecutor, Peter – Male, Age 32

Judge, Hank – Male Age, 60

Cannibal, Jules – Male Age, 25

Stenographer, Clarice – Female Age, 25

Defense lawyer, Tandi – Female Age, 30

(Court room. Cannibal, with face painted, holding a spear, tin foil on head and wearing a suit is sitting on witness stand. Stenographer is typing full speed, even when no one is talking. Peter is questioning the Cannibal. Judge is staring off into space)

PETER (skeptical)

So. You say you are no longer a cannibal.

CANNIBAL

Yeah, our dietitian convinced us that it would be far more healthy to adopt a vegan lifestyle.

PETER

And this dietitian, you ate him?

CANNIBAL

Well, at first we didn't really listen to him. We were sort-of in a hurry to get to a matinée of “The English Patient” and wanted to get dinner out of the way. But afterwards, we got to reading his pamphlets and thought he had some really good ideas.

PETER

So you admit to being a cannibal.

DEFENSE

I object! Prosecution is putting words in the defendant's mouth.

PETER

I was not!

JUDGE

(paying attention for first time)

I wasn't listening. Lets hear the record!

STENOGRAPHER

(chewing gum, lifts tape and begins reading in a bored voice)

Prosecution, So you admit to being a cannibal.

Defense, I object! Prosecution is putting words in the defendant's mouth.

Prosecution, I was not!

Judge, I wasn't listening. Lets hear the record.

Prosecution, What?

Judge, You've read too far-

PETER

(interrupting)

What?

JUDGE

You've read too far!

STENOGRAPHER

(continuing in bored voice)

Judge, This isn't funny, I'll have you know.

JUDGE

This isn't funny, I'll have you know.

STENOGRAPHER

Prosecution, Someone stop her.

PETER

Someone stop her!

JUDGE

Clarice! That's enough!

(Stenographer stops and looks up at the judge)

Alright. Now lets try again.

STENOGRAPHER

(exaggerated sigh)

Alright.

(reads from tape)

Prosecution, I was not!

Judge, I wasn't listening. Lets hear the record.

Stenographer, Prosecution, I was not!

Stenographer, Judge, I wasn't listening. Lets hear the record.

Stenographer, Stenographer, Prosecution, I was not!

Stenographer, Stenographer, Judge, I wasn't listening. Lets hear the record.

Stenographer, Stenographer, Stenographer, Prosecution, I was not!

Stenographer, Stenographer, Stenographer, -

JUDGE

(waving impatiently)

Yes, yes, yes, but what about the objection?

STENOGRAPHER

(flips the tape back and begins reading again.)

Prosecution, so you're no longer a cannibal.

JUDGE

No, no, after that.

STENOGRAPHER

(searches through tape)

Um...

(finds a spot)

Stenographer, stenographer, stenographer, stenographer, stenographer-

JUDGE

TOO FAR!

STENOGRAPHER

Judge, TOO FAR!

JUDGE

That's what I said!

STENOGRAPHER

Judge, that's what I said!

Prosecution, this is ridiculous.

PETER

This is ridiculous!

STENOGRAPHER

Prosecution, my first sexual experience was at the age of 15 when I and ten other boys chanced upon a bag of rubber bands and an electric toaster.

(There is a pause. Everyone looks at Peter. Cannibal directs a particularly disgusted glare at Peter.)

PETER

(looking around at everyone)

I... wasn't actually going to say that.

DEFENSE

It was on the record, Peter.

JUDGE

Objection sustained!

Left Out

2005-09-20T08:47:00.000-04:00

CAST

Shane – 32, Male (weather man/crappy alt comic)

Diane – 27, Female (on the bubbly side)

Vinny – 46, Male (New Yorker, rough voice. C'mon!)

Johnny – 26, Male (Young, enthusiastic type A, married to Sally)

Sally – 28, Female (with an English accent, married to Johnny)

(Room with a table, Diane, Vinny, and Johnny are standing together by water cooler. All are jovially laughing. The laughter dies down, spent. All is quiet for just a beat)

DIANE

I don't get it.

JOHNNY

OK, so its like this, Diane...

(Shane pokes head in door quizzically, checking to see if anyone is in the breakroom.)

VINNY

Shane! C'mon in, you hot bastard, you.

SHANE

(stepping in)

Vinny. Hi...you...Vinny, you.

(Shane walks up to the group)

Monday, huh.

JOHNNY

That's what my calendar says, anyway! Ha ha ha ha!

SHANE

Uh, yeah. So...where were you guys over the weekend?

SALLY

Whyever should you ask that?

SHANE

Well, Sally, let me tell you why. I drove by the office and all your cars were here. The office was locked and the alarm set, so I know you guys weren't here....

SALLY

As a simple matter of course, Shane, we were, uh, we were...you tell him, Johnny dear.

JOHNNY

-we were all really drunk on Friday night, and we got cabs home. You should've stayed, man!

SHANE

I worked late on Friday. Alone. As always. Nothing but me and my laptop and my eraser gnomes.

(pauses)

And they were the only ones drunk.

DIANE

Oh, come-on, guys. Even I remember! We were JUST talking about it, we were-

VINNY

Up in DonFantastique's office! Yeah, that's where we were all getting' drunk off the big bastard's minibar. That smokin' hot bastard said we could get us some.

SHANE

No...

No, I think I would remember seeing you guys when I went up to leave my quarterly report on his desk.

JOHNNY

Did you check his bathroom?

SHANE

You were all drunk in the Boss' private bathroom?

VINNY

Fuckin' HOT! .....bastard.

DIANE

Oooooh....I wish I remembered this.

SALLY

Hush, Diane.

SHANE

Diane, you don't remember it because it didn't happen. You all went somewhere on the weekend without me, didn't you?

(everyone looks at eachother guiltily)

VINNY

(very quiet)

bastard.

JOHNNY

OK, you got us. We all went to an alternate dimension where eating paper produced instant orgasms. An alternate Peoria, Illinois.

SHANE

Peoria.

JOHNNY

It was hard to tell, what with the strange language they all used. Sounded a lot like Canadian. It was Peoria, right sugar?

SALLY

Quite right, darling. We didn't think you wanted to go, and there simply wasn't enough room in the limo, what with the hot-tub and the servants.

VINNY

Those were some hot bastards.

DIANE

I got this T shirt!

(lifts blouse to reveal a shirt that reads “Hoser went to Peoria, A!”)

I think it says, “Jesus Loves Peoria!”

SALLY

It might. Who can tell, who can tell?

SHANE

And Sally, what is with the accent? You're from Secaucus New Jersey!

SALLY

Funny story, that!

JOHNNY

Tell him the story!

SALLY

I was about to. Hush. Well, there was a fellow that had a bag filled with industrial adhesive and he was breathing the fumes and having such a wonderful time. Vinny here said it made the fellow look like a “hot bastard”-

VINNY

-damn straight!

SALLY

-So I simply HAD to try it. When I awoke, I had this wonderful new way of speech. A pity it didn't help me understand Canadian.

SHANE

You got an English accent by huffing glue. Jesus Christ!

DIANE

(lifting shirt again)

-LOVES PEORIA!

SHANE

(ignoring Diane)

Where did you really go. Vegas? Disney World? Nantucket?

JOHNNY

We are telling the truth! Why would we leave you behind? We all love you Shane!

VINNY

HOT!

DIANE

I thought we didn't want him to come because...

JOHNNY

he wouldn't enjoy eating paper.

SHANE

Oh yeah, the orgasmic paper.

SALLY

Funny that, not ALL the paper had that effect. I found myself faking it a lot.

DIANE

I saved some stationary from the Peoria hotel for later. It doesn't work. Watch!

(pulls paper from pocket, begins chewing.)

SHANE

Which one of you came up with this crap? It was you, wasn't it, Johnny?

JOHNNY

Nah, it was Vinny. He wanted us to all have fun and for you to stay here and be bored all night working late with nothing but your eraser gnome for company.

SHANE

Give me some of that paper.

(Takes paper from Diane, begins eating. Everyone leaves except for Shane. Eating paper)

Tastes like....ah...hmm...

(everyone leaves the stage. Shane sits. He is typing on a computer. Picks up a pencil and gazes at the gnome on the end.)

You're right. They WOULD all ditch me and go off together without telling me....but the dimensional thing seems a stretch.

GNOME

So maybe they go to Disneyworld.

p.s.:I'm thinking of changing the ending. Instead of the reveal being that it is all a fantasy of Shane, I would have Shane storm off in frustration at not being able to get the gang to admit the story is a sham. Then the reveal would be something that proves the story to, in actuality, be true. Perhaps they would receive a shipment of stationary from Peoria...

My Neighbor, FCC

2005-09-12T23:14:00.000-04:00

09/12/05 (version #1)

CAST

Kevin J. Martin – 38, Male

Quincy – 14, Female

Sandy – 32, Female

Mark – 33, Male

(inside apartment, couple on couch, daughter sitting on floor, watching TV. Mother spills drink on herself.)

SANDY

(standing up, wet from drink)

Oh, shit!

MARK

God dammit, Sandy, can't you be a little more careful? I'll get a towel.

(runs off)

QUINCY

Mom, you said a bad word.

(Mark returns, hands one towel to Sandy, who begins drying herseld and begins blotting the couch)

SANDY

You're 14, Quincy. I think you've heard that word before.

MARK

(muttering)

Fuckin' drinks in the living room, all the time with you damn people.

(There is a knock at the door)

QUINCY

I'll get it!

(runs to door and opens it. Kevin leans in.)

KEVIN

Hello, little girl. Is your mom and dad home?

QUINCY

(over shoulder)

Mom, Dad! Someone's here!

(she leaves the door open and runs to sit in front of the couch. Mark continues cleaning, Sandy walks to door.)

SANDY

Can I help you?

KEVIN

Hi! I'm your downstairs neighbor, Kevin J. Martin, chairman of the FCC? I couldn't help but overhear you loudie wowdies up here having a vocabulary malfunction.

MARK

Who the hell is it?

KEVIN

See, there you go. I'm going to have to ask you guys to try to control that, ok?

SANDY

I'm not sure I understand.

KEVIN

Yeah, I'm sure you didn't see the BIG poster in the lobby, the one in front of the elevators, “STAMP OUT OBSCE-”?

SANDY

Obsceh?

MARK

What the fuck is an “Obseh”?

KEVIN

(pulls out something with a button on it and slams it. A loud “BEEEP!” comes out of it)

Damn! Didn't get it in time.

QUINCY

Ooh! Bad word, daddy!

KEVIN

That's exactly right, young lady! Another word for bad word is (coughing to cover word) obscenity.

SANDY

You mean “Obscenit-”

(Kevin beeps the beeper)

What are you doing?

KEVIN

I'm trying to save your daughter, ma'am. She shouldn't have to hear such yucky wucky words, it might make her a BAAD girl later on!

MARK

(finished with couch, walks over, drying hands with towel)

Since when is obscen-

(Kevin:BEEP!)

-OBSCENITY a bad word?

KEVIN

Oh, its not one of the worst, I'll grant you. I made up a handy brochure, available right next to the “STAMP OUT OBSCEH” poster. I'm sure you didn't get one, so I brought a few with me.

(pulls a glove out of his pocket and carefully puts it on his hand. He then reaches into his jacket and pulls out three brochures. He distastefully hands them to Mark and Sandy.)

It has all the words that aren't acceptable in this apartment complex, because they might corrupt our vulnerable youth.

QUINCY

(gets up and skips toward them)

Can I see? Can I?

KEVIN

(turns to hide his remaining brochures from Quincy)

Certainly NOT! Pretty soon you might be saying (BEEP!) or (BEEP!) and that could lead to unprotected (BEEP!) and an unwanted (BEEP!) all from having dirty (BEEP!) butt (BEEEP!) sex on your boy- (BEEP) friend's couch!

SANDY

STOP THAT! God, (BEEP) your annoying!

(Mark is concentrating on the brochure. He looks up)

MARK

But what is wrong with...um... “stationary bike”

KEVIN

(BEEP!)

Damn! Missed it!

MARK

I can't read half these words. What is an untcay? Or...it-clay, um-cay? Ick-pray? Ig-bay ack-blay ick-day?

KEVIN

Oh, that's our parent-safe code. Theres another brochure with a translation guide. An untclay is a (BEEP!)

QUINCY

I know what that is! My friend Stacey has one!

KEVIN

I'm sure she does, I'm sure she does.

SANDY

And what does it mean, It-tay Ucker-say?

QUINCY

Hey, wanna see my it-tlays?

(begins lifting shirt.)

KEVIN

Oh, gosh!

(pulls a jet black rectangular board from his jacket and sticks it across Quincy's chest)

Young lady, I think you've been exposed to too much explicit (BEEP!) media! You need more good, clean, violence and less sex. Oh, yeah.. (BEEP!)

(Quincy strokes the black rectangle)

SANDY

Violence?

KEVIN

Yes! America approves of violence. It's sanctioned by churches and community groups like the Crips and Bloods and 9^th Street Assassins, and it keeps our vulnerable youth from engaging in unprotected butt (BEEP) (BEEP!). So next time you're tempted to swear at a loved one, don't. There's no excuse for vulgar verbal abuse. Instead, beat them mercilessly! After all, that can be televised!

MARK

I don't appreciate you coming into our home and talking about unprotected butt (BEEP BEEP!) or violence!

KEVIN

Oh, nonsense. I was properly censored! No harm done, right? Here, Quincy. Instead of showing us your it-tays, use this.

(hands Quincy a gun)

QUINCY

(pointing gun and swinging it around)

I feel more acceptable already!

SANDY

Honey, put that down!

MARK

Oh, shi- (Kevin:BEEP!)

KEVIN

Well, my work here is done. Oh, here's some extra censorship bars just in case you two take your clothes off or something, (hands Mark and Sandy black rectangles) and just 'cause I'm a good neighbor, I'll let you have my vocabulary malfunction tone generator.

(hands beeper to Mark)

Bye.

(he leaves. Quincy runs out after him with the pistol)

QUINCY

Hey mister! You left your rectangle on my (Mark:BEEP!)!

(fin)

Tutan-uncommon American Dream

2005-08-30T13:30:00.000-04:00

This is more of a brief character study with a few place-holder gags. I'll probably be turning this into a more fleshed out scene, but I find this character really funny.

“Tutan-uncommon American Dream”

08/29/05 (version #1)

CAST

Tutankhomen – Age, 4000

Bob – Male Age, 30

(Tutankhomen sits behind a desk, phone against his bandage wrapped head.)

TUT

Sir, I represent a local charity, you might have heard of it, the United People For Making People Happy. I'd like to know how much we can put you down for.

(pause)

Yes.

(pause. Sighs)

No.

(shorter pause)

Well, perhaps you've heard of it by its acronym, "Up for Map-Hap?" That's us!

Then would you be interested in subscribing to our quarterly newsletter? It's only $52 a year-that's like only a dollar a day!

(shorter pause. A little angry)

Would it interest you to know that I can have Osirus feed upon your entrails while you scream for mercy, forever regretting your pitiful decision to ignore the pleas of “Up for MAP HAP?”

(pause)

I understand, sir, and I'd love to accommodate your request, but the embalmers removed the necessary parts and put them in a jar, and some damn grave-robber stole the friggin' jar!

(pause)

Alright, then, thanks for your time.

(turns to audience)

BOB

(offstage)

So, how do you like the work?

TUT

Yeah, well, the jobs ok. Nothing like I had in the old world. But, you know, its not half bad. You make do, right? You gotta make do.

BOB

So, you're not disappointed in your life here in America?

TUT

I know its a cliché, but it could be worse. I mean, I commanded armies, drank the milk of virgins, commanded the sun to rise and set, all that stuff. But you can't live in the past, and when you lose everything, you just have to start over. So, yeah. I like it ok.

If nothing else, I can sleep through sunrise or sunset and don't have to worry about the sun waiting up for me.

BOB

So you had to start over. Was that hard?

TUT

Of course it was hard! My stuff's all caught up in court by the assholes at the museum, so I got NOTHING, man. I came here with just the bandages on my back.

BOB

Was it hard getting this job? How about learning English?

TUT

(chuckles) Well, Bob, that's TWO questions, isn't it? Heh, heh. Well, English was easy. You may not realize this, but its the official language of the land of the dead.

BOB

No!

TUT

Oh, yeah! Except the scale of Anubis is metric now, not standard. If your soul is heavier than 1.3 grams, then you can't gain entrance to Starbucks.

(nodding)

That's when the Soul Eater gets you.

BOB

And getting the job?

TUT

This wasn't my first job, Bob. I was a waiter for awhile, but the bandages began smelling like cilantro and garlic. The wife wouldn't lay in the same sarcophogi with me! Then I worked as an executive assistant to a financial advisor.

(sighs)

That's when the curse kicked in.

BOB

Curse?

TUT

Curse of the Mummy, right? Damned inconvenient, that. He thoughtlessly took my tape dispenser without asking, so the curse forced me to stalk him by night and strangle him to death.

BOB

Crap...

TUT

Yeah! I hate that! The mandatory goose-stepping is rough on my hips, and strangling a man with your arms stretched straight out is really rough on your shoulders. And then it was back to the unemployment line.

BOB

They pay benefits to the undead?

TUT

Not at first, no. Americans fancy themselves all-inclusive and fair, but they aren't. Did you realize that as soon as you die, you lose all your property rights?

BOB

Uh, yeah...I think I did.

TUT

See? But I was able to get this..uh...

(fishes around in bandages. Pulls out a card)

Social security card off the internet. I don't know what happened to...

(reads card slowly)

...Peter VanWeidermaker, but he gets unemployment benefits when he's out of work, just the same!

So...anyway, I went to this job fair, and at first they weren't real receptive. Lots of,

(holds hands up in mock-terror)

“IT'S A MUMMY!” and “AAAAAAAAAHHH! HELP,” and “HE'S GOT ME! OH, GOD, HE'S TEARING MY ARMS OFF!” But then I met Frank. He's my supervisor here. He said I had just the right go-to attitude he was looking for. And now I'm gonna be somebody. The American dream is REAL!

BOB

Well, that's all the time we have for tonight.

TUT

(disappointed)

Oh, OK.

BOB

And that was this weeks episode of, “The New American Dream.” Thanks for tuning in folks.

TUT

(turns back to phone)

Sir, I represent a local charity, you might have heard of it, the United People For Making People Happy. I'd like to know how much we can put you down for.

(pause, laughs maniacally)

Excellent. You shall certainly live another day, sir.

Sunday Drivers in Love

2005-08-22T07:21:00.000-04:00

CAST

Ron – Male, 30

Claire – Female, 30

Police Officer “Tripp” – Male, 27

(In car. Claire driving. “I Can't Get No” by Rolling Stones plays on the radio.

(I can't get no satisfaction)

Ron begins slapping his knees in time to the music.

(I can't get no uh, satisfaction)

He begins rolling his head. He begins to sing.

RON (badly in time with music)

I can't get no uh, satisfaction

I can't get no satisfaction

And I try!

(Claire evidences annoyance)

And I try!

(Claire changes channel. Police "Every Breath You Take" begins to play)

And I try!

(Claire looks incredulously at Ron)

I just can't get no!

I can't get no,

CLAIRE

(Turns off radio)

SHUT UP! SHUT! UP!

RON

(Startled)

Aw, honey! Why couldn't you just let me finish? I only had a little bit left.

CLAIRE

Left of what, Ron?!? You didn't have anything!

RON

The song, Claire. I was just... I needed closure! Now I'm all verbally blue-balled.

CLAIRE

Closure? What about MY closure? Do you have to ruin every song on the radio?

RON

It wasn't so bad.

CLAIRE

It was unnecessary. Why don't you ever just listen to the song?

RON

Why? I already know the words.

CLAIRE

God, whatever. You do have your Mom's birthday card, right?

RON

(holding up sealed envelope)

Right here!

CLAIRE

Did you sign it before you closed it?

RON

(insincerely)

Yeah!

CLAIRE

(noting the insincerity)

Good. Because nothing tells a mother how little her son really cares about her than his not even taking the time to sign her birthday card.

RON

Uh, yeah.

CLAIRE

And after she raised you and your six brothers, who will all have undoubtedly signed their cards with lots of X's and O's...

RON

But I love mom more than them! I do!

CLAIRE

You didn't sign it, did you.

RON

(sobs)

And I licked it shut!!

CLAIRE

(hands purse to Ron)

Oh, sweety, here. In the inside pocket there's a razor box cutter. CAREFULLY use it to open the envelope. Then use my pen to sign it.

(Ron finds razor, carefully opens envelope, removes card and hands razor to Claire, who puts it in lap. He then takes out pen and takes cap off with teeth. Pen comes apart leaving him with tube in his hand. He turns to Claire with

RON

Claire, the pen-

CLAIRE

Give me that.

(snatches empty pen tube, puts it in lap.)

There's another pen in my purse.

(Ron fishes out second pen. Claire turns on radio. Elton John's “Tiny Dancer” plays. Ron visibly slumps in pain. He signs card and returns it to envelope.

Claire shows every sign of loving the music, swaying, snapping fingers, nodding head rapturously. All the while Ron is showing signs of hating life. Fidgets, looks at ceiling, out window, looks in glove compartment. Finally, he begins singing mockingly)

RON

Hold me CLOSER, tiny da-ancer!

(Claire winces immediately. Turns to look at Ron. Ron continues singing mockingly.)

Countin' headlights on the high-waaaay!

(Claire turns off the radio)

CLAIRE

STOP IT! Can't you just sit there and listen to it?

RON

(hangs head slightly)

But I HATE this song.

CLAIRE

Then why didn't you just tell me that?

RON

Because you were enjoying it!

CLAIRE

So you thought I'd rather have the song ruined than know you don't want to hear “Tiny Dancer?”

RON

No, I didn't think-

CLAIRE

No, you never think. Its bad enough we're going to this frickin' party, to watch you and your monkey-tribe worship the old war-horse-

RON

Hey, don't talk about Mom that way! She's a saint!

CLAIRE

No, of course not. One should never talk disparagingly about the queen of the Brunski clan. Hooray, another night of watching that woman beam that smug mug around while you and your retarded brothers-

(Ron:HEY!)

take turns telling flattering stories about her amazing mothering skills, fight over who gets to keep her margarita stein brimming full of alcoholic goodness and making damn sure she never finds her greasy meat-hooks short of fried chicken and butter.

RON

Mom doesn't have meat-hooks!

CLAIRE

And if she so much as hints, even ONE more time, that her precious Ronnie could have done better than marrying one Claire Byrne, I will beat her about the head and shoulders with her cold-cut platter until she is dead! DEAD!

RON

(sobbing)

STOP IT! Stop it... Can't you just go and deal with it for one night?

(brandishing birthday card)

It's her birthday!

(Claire grabs envelope from his hands, presses button opening Ron's window and flings it out of the car. Ron grabs after it, but can't get it in time. Two seconds later a police siren squawks and flashing red lights appear behind the care.)

CLAIRE

Oh, crap.

RON

Honey, I think they want us to pull over.

CLAIRE

(sarcastically)

No, they heard we were on our way to your mother's house and wanted to give us a police escort.

RON

(sincerely)

I really don't think so.

CLAIRE

(pulling car over)

Just let me do the talking.

(Policeman knocks on driver's side window. Claire lowers the window. Policeman leans in, brandishing an envelope and pointing a flashlight in the car.)

POLICE

Does this belong to either of you?

RON

Oh, yeah! That's my-

POLICE

Mother's birthday card?

CLAIRE

What?!?

RON

Hey, yeah! How'd you know?

POLICE

I took the liberty of reading it. I think the extra X's and O's are a nice touch. You must love your mother very much.

CLAIRE

Oh, Christ.

RON

Oh, I do, officer. She's a saint. But how did you have time to read it?

POLICE

How did I get the card at all is a better question. But I digress. Here, you better get this to your dear Mom.

RON

(taking envelope)

Thank you very much, officer.

CLAIRE

I can't believe this. At least we'll be nice and late to your mom's stupid party. Maybe she'll already be drunk.

POLICE

(shines flashlight in Claire's face. She squints)

Hey, the woman is a saint! You shouldn't talk like that.

(shines flashlight in Claire's lap and spots the razor blade and pen shaft)

What have we here?

CLAIRE

Duh, a piece of a pen and a razor.

POLICE

Where I come from, we call that “drug paraphernalia,” hippie.

CLAIRE

What?!?

POLICE

You heard me. Step out of the car, please.

(steps aside to allow Claire to exit car.)

How about you, sir? Do you know anything about this?

RON

No, officer! I had no idea she had a crack pipe!

POLICE

(Handcuffing Claire as she protests and struggles)

You seem like a nice guy, and I know you have somewhere to go. So I'm going to let you go, sir. But I wouldn't wait up for cracky here. You have a nice evening.

(marches Claire off-stage. Ron looks back through his rear-window for awhile. Looks around the car and then down at the rumpled envelope. He scoots into the driver's seat and starts the car. As he pulls away from the curb, Elton John's “Yellow Brick Road” plays.)

RON

No more the yellow brick ro-o-oad! Ah, ah-ah-ah ah!

(FIN)

Extreme Home Make-Over, Probation Edition

2005-06-13T07:03:00.000-04:00

CAST

Ty Pennington – Male, exuberant and enthusiastic host

Scorpion Benzini – 45, Male, former hit-man

Nipponese Nipples – 21, Male, panda from Japan. No accent

Slutty Ho – 23, Female, hangs with Nipples. No spoken

lines. Possibly a blow-up doll?

Gay Ninja – 30, Male, wears pink ninja costume with

rainbow codpiece

Roy Horn – Ninja's boyfriend

Richter Walker – 28, Male.

(Ty is down stage center, the rest of the cast is spread around stage performing construction activities.)

(wide, expansive gestures across stage)

Welcome to Extreme Home Make-Over, Community Service Edition! Each week we take a different group of people who've offended society and use them to remodel the home of a deserving family. A family like the Walkers.

(begins walking backwards slowly, still addressing audience)

Seven months ago, Richter and Jimmy Walker killed their parents and older sister, which left them with no family. To make matters worse, they were put on trial for six long months, and only got off on a technicality yesterday. Our hearts go out to these poor orphans, so tonight we're putting the finishing touches on remodeling their home.

(stepping back towards Scorpion, who is using scotch tape to hang plastic silverware to the wall)

Here we have Scorpion Benzini, who was a mafia hit man for 15 years until he was finally caught. But today he's, um, taping disposable cutlery to the wall. Scorpion, tell us about it.

SCORPION

Ty, no family I can think of is more deserving than the Walkers. Losing so many family members must have been real hard on poor Richter and Jimmy. So its really important that I get this wall done in a way that does not involve exploding bombs at all.

“that's right, you killed Vinnie the Smooch with a bomb that used plastic silverware as shrapnel! Very creative.

SCORPION

Right. I wanted it to look like an accident.

When a man dies impaled with a thousand sporks, it hardly looks like an accident, Scorpion.

SCORPION

That's what the prosecution said, too! Weird.

Well, you keep it up, I'll check in on the rest of our team.

(moves towards Nipples, who is repetitively rearranging framed photos on a coffee table while Slutty Ho hangs all over him)

With us tonight for the first time we have “Nipples” the Japanese panda bear!

Card game fans, ursine enthusiasts, and filthy perverts the world over were devastated when “Nipponese Nipples”, the Japanese panda bear, porno star and two time world champion of “Magic: the Gathering,” was exposed as a glue huffer.

NIPPLES

(Slutty strokes his head)

Yeah, I let my fans down, but now I'm clean. That's why I'm redecorating the Walker's living room instead of sniffing a sandwich bag full of industrial adhesives.

Looks like you have some photos there.

NIPPLES

Well, Ty, I thought it would be a nice touch to have these family pictures in the living room to remind Jimmy and Richter of better times, so they might not feel so lonely.

Nipples, most Pandas are from China, yet you're from Japan.

NIPPLES

(ignoring slutty, who turns around and grinds her butt on him)

Yeah, but I'm into porno and card games.

Fair enough, but even so, you have no accent.

NIPPLES

That's what huffing glue can do to you, Ty. But I've learned my lesson. My only vice from now on will be dirty butt sex with degenerate sluts like Chrissy here.

That's good to hear, Nipples. Keep up the good work, and someday I'm sure you'll get back that Japanese accent!

(turns and proceeds to where Roy and Ninja are stenciling sunflowers.)

Yum Dung here is a gay Ninja. When his sodomy conviction in Texas was overthrown, he put away his throwing stars and turned to home decorating. He's doing Jimmy's bedroom right now. I gotta say, Gay Ninja, I love it! Jimmy is going love having these happy flowers smiling down at him every night. It will ease his pain as he replays those pesky memories of his family's dying screams over and over in his head.

(notices Roy)

Hey, you have a new assistant!

NINJA

Allow me to introduce my new boyfriend, the zombie of Roy Horn, formerly of Siegfried And Roy.

Wow! A zombie!

ROY

Arrrrgggle!

NINJA

Yeah, Zombie. You have a problem with that? Society is so intolerant of zombies dating the living!

But Siegfried-

NINJA

-left him after Roy came down with... death... after being chewed on by that Tiger.

ROY

(sadly)

Aaarrrrrr...

NINJA

But then we met and fell in love. And now I'm shouting it out to the world! I LOVE YOU, UNDEAD ROY HORN OF SIEGFRIED AND ROY FAME!

(does some lame kung-fu thing ending in a dramatic pose)

HWAAYAAA!

ROY

(gazing lovingly at Ninja and lolling his head)

Awwwwrrrrgh!

NINJA

Its just so sad. All those years in Vegas and now Roy is dirt poor. Did you know that as soon as you're dead, they take away all your property rights?

Actually, yes. I think I did.

(Scorpion and Nipples are in a standoff center stage. Scorpion is holding a plastic spoon in front of himself threateningly while his other arm is holding a plastic fork over his head. Nipples is growling, hunched over with fists up. Slutty is clinging worriedly to his arm.)

SCORPION

So now you want to tango with Scorpion Benzini. Endangered species or not, you are going DOWN, roly-poly!

NIPPLES

I told you, freak-show,keep the plastic-ware in the KITCHEN!

(motions for Roy and Ninja to follow him)

Gay Ninja, follow me! Bring Roy Horn of Siegfried and Roy fame with you!

(Ty and Ninja run to them. Roy zombie-lurches along. Ninja uses kung-fu to strike slutty ho repeatedly, knocking her out. He then strikes a Bruce Lee pose above her unconscious body. Roy lurches up to and clumsily wraps his arms around Ninja. Nipples and Scorpion continue to face off, ignoring Roy and Ninja)

NINJA

(comforting Roy)

Shh! Shh! It's OK, baby. I know it was scary, but it's all over now.

ROY

Urrrr!

(positioning himself between Scorpion and Nipples)

Guys! Guys! We don't have time for this! The Walkers will be home ANY MINUTE!

SCORPION

Hey, don't tell me! I was just trying to help!

NIPPLES

I don't need your help, old man. All my shit's dishwasher safe.

(Richter walks in carrying a shotgun over his shoulder)

EVERYONE

It's Richter Walker!

(expansive gesture)

Richter, on behalf of Sears Roebuck and Extreme Home Make-Over, welcome to your new-

RICHTER

What the fuck are you people doing in my house?

(He fires shotgun into ceiling. Everyone runs offstage except for Slutty, still lying on the ground, and Roy, who lurches randomly in a circle before wandering off after Ninja. Richter walks halfway across stage looking after everyone else. Stops, looks down at Slutty, points and yells after everyone)

Hey! This one isn't mine! Whoever killed her is going to have to come back here and clean up this mess!

ROY

(offstage)

AAAAAAAAARRrrrrrggh!

Narcissus Maximus

2005-05-31T22:10:00.000-04:00

I have changed the word Narcissism to Narcism to separate a psychological condition from the communicable disease I am imagining. Also, Narcissism sucks as a word when it comes to saying it repetetively.
04/16/05 (version #1)

CAST

Jim Kernberg – Male, early 30's – Narcism victim

Kim Kernberg – Female, early 30's – His wife

Sarah – Female, late 20's – Kim's old friend

Bob – Male, late 20's – Kim's husband

Greta Linnensdorf – Female, early 40's – fairly severe

(Kitchen in a suburban household with doors leading outside on stage left and to living room stage right. Kim and Greta, who is holding a notebook and has reading glasses hung from her neck, sit at the kitchen table.)

GRETA

Mrs. Kernberg, as you know, today I will be trying a new technique on your husband. It is experimental, but I believe it holds great promise.

KIM

Do you really think it will help, Dr. Linnensdorf?

GRETA

(sighs)

Please, call me Greta. And honestly, I don't know. But you have nothing left to lose, eh? Let me do some paperwork and then we'll get started.

(there is a knock at the door. As Kim goes to open it, Greta puts on reading glasses, opens notebook and begins writing)

KIM

Sarah!

SARAH

(enters, hugs Kim)

Oh, Kim. How you holdin' out?

KIM

I'm holding on, you know? But its so hard... since Jim came down with Narcism. Want some coffee?

SARAH

Sure. Hello again, Greta.

GRETA

(waves off Sarah without looking up)

Yes, yes, hello again, Kim's friend Sarah.

SARAH

Bob's out parking the car. I brought him with me this time. He hasn't seen Jim since he... got sick.

(looking around)

Where is Jim, anyway?

KIM

He was upstairs picking out clothes last I saw him. (pause) That can take up to an hour these days. (sobs a little)

I'm so glad you came by again. I'm so lonely...

JIM

(walking in from stage right talks towards both women)

Ah, there you are! I've been meaning to tell you about something. There was this time I was hungry at work and looked up at the clock and realized it was already 12:30. (chuckles) That's, like, halfway through my normal lunch hour! (chuckles again, a little too long) So I gathered my things, went outside and ate lunch in my car while listening to top 40. Chumbawumba, I think. Tub-thumper?

KIM

Jim, me and Sarah were talking. Can you hold on for a-

JIM

I know what you're thinking. But it was a simple cheese and mayo sandwich that day. Really quite good, especially with my snack-sized bag of Lays. I wish you could've seen it!

(sits down next to Greta and begins examining his hands and arms. Greta stops writing, closes her notebook and watches Jim with interest. Jim occasionally whistles appreciatively. Smiles and shakes his head slowly in amazement.)

SARAH

Oh, Kim. He's even worse than last time! Bob is going to have a hard time with this. Jim was his best friend.

(Bob walks in from stage left)

BOB

(to Sarah)

Man, there's a lot of cars in this neighborhood. I had to park halfway down the street! Oh, hi, Kim.

(sees Jim. Walks over and thumps him on the back)

Jim! How you doin', bud? I heard you were a little sick!

JIM

(looking up at Bob)

Hey! I know! Who would like to watch me drink a glass of Orange juice? Huh? Huh?

BOB

Uh...

JIM

Okay! Here we go!

(dramatically gets up, and theatrically gets a glass from the cupboard, orange juice from the fridge, pours a glass, and begins to drink, with obvious, noisy pleasure.)

BOB

(looking crestfallen)

Jim?

SARAH

(lays hand on Bob's arm)

I told you, Bob. He's got Narcism. It's all about him now.

(Bob shrugs off Sarah's hand and walks close to Jim, looking into Jim's face with consternation as he drinks his juice. Sarah watches Bob and shakes her head sadly.)

Kim, how did this happen so fast?

KIM

I don't know, Sarah, I just don't know.

GRETA

(standing up and moving towards the women)

He was probably getting sick for YEARS. You, Kimberly Kernberg, simply ignored the many warning signs.

KIM

Well, I mean, men are pretty self centered anyway, right? I guess I should've spotted it coming, though. All those times he forgot my birthday and our anniversary, then when he started wearing cologne! Really! And that time he went out and bought himself a “World's #1 Dad” mug.

SARAH

But you don't have any children, Kim!

KIM

Yeah, I guess that should have been a clue. But its gotten so much worse lately, I'm getting desperate.

JIM

(finishing his juice)

Ah! That hit the spot. I'd drink another one for you, but I think you get the general idea. Oh! I put together a new scrapbook. Be right back.

(dashes off stage right. Bob starts to follow. Greta reaches out and stops him, shaking her head silently.)

KIM

I'm sorry you had to see him this way, Bob. He loved you, you know? He would've wanted you to know that.

JIM

(rushes back in, carrying a photo album. He sits at the table and opens the book. Bob walks over and looks over his shoulder)

Ok, so here is a picture of me setting up my video camera to get a good angle of my couch. Oh, and here- HERE is a picture of me hooking the video camera up to the television so I can see what its taping real-time.

(turns page)

Now this is a picture of me sitting on the couch watching television. And this last one is a picture of the television screen. LOOK! I was on TV! And so was my couch!

BOB

Nice... camera, I guess.

JIM

Oh, I know. It should be nice; It's my camera. That's a Nikon 325 EJC. Nothing but the best for good 'ol me, right?

(chuckles as he gazes appreciatively at his scrapbook)

BOB

(turning to Sarah and Kim excitedly)

Hey! He responded to me!

SARAH

(sadly)

Oh, honey, it only looked like he responded to you.

KIM

(sobs)

Its because you were talking about him.

GRETA

Those who love Narcism victims often misinterpret their random speech as genuine communication because they so desperately want-

BOB

No, we were talking about the camera!

SARAH

His camera, Bob. His camera.

JIM

(stands up and raises his hand)

Who here remembers the time I was drinking a glass of orange juice?

GRETA

Enough! We begin the treatment NOW!

(steps forward and pulls a hand-mirror from her notebook.)

Jim!

(she then holds the hand mirror in front of her face with the glass towards Jim)

Today will be different!

JIM

(looking in mirror, startled)

Hey, me! When did I get here? I didn't even see me come in!

GRETA

Surely, me has been here the entire time? Where else would we be?

JIM

(knodding in agreement)

I'm making sense! Do we seem shorter than I remember?

KIM

(wringing hands)

Oh! I can't believe it! Greta! He's talking with you!

SARAH

I'm so happy for you, Kim! Just think: Jim could be the first case ever cured! This is so exciting!

BOB

(waving his arms)

Jim! Jim! Over here!

GRETA

(hissing over her shoulder)

Do not get too far ahead of yourselves! We have only just begun! He is NOT cured yet! We have much work to do.

(to Jim)

Look at us, Jim! Am I looking at me closely?

JIM

(knodding at mirror)

Sure we are, handsome!

GRETA

Good. Now....

(lowers mirror to her side.)

What do I see now?

JIM

(looking around panicked)

Help! I'm missing!

GRETA

Jim!

JIM

Who will drink the orange juice now? Everyone will be so disappointed! And we didn't even start eating toast, yet.

GRETA

(holding mirror back up)

Hey, me! I'm still here.

JIM

Oh, thank Jim! I thought I'd lost me.

GRETA

Oh, but Jim, you did. You did lose you!

(lowers the mirror)

Now you see Greta, yes?

JIM

(looks down at mirror. Then up at Greta)

You! Greta!

(everyone gasps. Sarah puts her arm around Kim. Bob bites his knuckles)

GRETA

(with satisfaction)

Yes, me. Greta!

JIM

You took me away! Give me back!

(As he reaches for the mirror, Greta holds it away from him. They struggle for a moment. Bob grabs Jim from behind. Jim squirms free and then punches Greta hard in the stomach. Greta bends over in pain, he hits her face with an uppercut. She grabs her nose, Jim wrests the mirror from her hands and runs off-stage. Sarah runs to Greta's aid.)

GRETA

(straightenning her jacket,

Ah, but we almost did it, eh, Greta? So close.

JIM

(offstage)

Hold on, me! I'll get you out of there!

KIM

Dr. Linnensdorf? You OK?

GRETA

(ignoring Kim)

I remember this one time I was eating shnitzel; I was at university at the time, you see, and going through one of my shnitzel stages. Originally the idea was to use it as a jewelry substitute because we were so poor then.

BOB

Hey...

(Greta begins examining her own breasts, appreciatively hefting them)

GRETA

Very nice!

KIM

Oh, no.

(lights out)

JIM

How'd we get in this little piece of glass anyway?

(sound of glass breaking)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!! NOOOO!!! (sobbing)