Peter’s Commentary on the “Borders” Edition
22 February 2009
by Peter Rogers
Posts Tagged ‘borders’
Friday Night Sketch War: Borders Edition
24 January 2009
by R.A. Porter
Forgive me the lateness of this recap, but I’m still recovering from the bloody melee in the arena yesterday. *Five* warriors did battle yesterday; the floor slick with cream pies and banana peels.
Whoa. Passed out from the blood loss. On to the sketches on the theme: borders.
- Making his debut in the arena of mirth and death, David didn’t waste any time bringing out the guns…
- Coyote went smaller, telling the tale of a war pitting sister against sister…
- In his return to the funny killing fields, Michael looked at the toll on the brave caregivers…
- Ken dug deep into the economic pressures underpinning immigration issues…
- Peter fired the final shot from deep in the middle of nowhere.
Wow. Just, wow. Five warriors, and rumors of another battler considering joining the fray next week. We’ve got guns, rednecks, zombies, Minutemen, Ivans, and fat kids. Check them out and be sure to leave comments.
Next week’s topic: advertising.
If you think you’ve got the comedy chops to do battle with our scarred
and bitter warriors, if you dare step into the hailstorm of seltzer and
cream pies, if you think you’re MAN ENOUGH to make us laugh, write a
sketch and contact us at sketchwar(nospam)@dreamloom.com.
FSW: Borders Edition (Peter’s entry)
23 January 2009
by Peter Rogers
Friday Sketch War
Borders Edition
“52.3°N, 119.9°E”
FADE IN:
EXT. BORDER CROSSING – DAY
A little hut occupies a desolate, rocky landscape. Truly the middle of nowhere.
A worn sign reads “Border Crossing” in Russian, Mandarin, and English.
LUBOV
(Russian, subtitled)
I spy with my little eye –
INT. BORDER PATROL STATION – CONTINUOUS
LUBOV (20s) and BOROVICH (30s), military men, play chess in the shabby little hut. The hut contains the bare necessities — an old communications radio, some tin pots and pans, and (oddly) a taser.
Both men speak subtitled Russian throughout.
LUBOV
– something beginning with the letter ‘S’.
BOROVICH
(immediately)
Sky. Go.
Lubov makes a move; Borovich makes him take it back.
BOROVICH
Not that, Lubov. You do that, I get your queen.
LUBOV
Oh! I spy something beginning with ‘R’.
BOROVICH
(immediately)
Rocks.
Lubov picks up the taser.
LUBOV
You’re great at ‘I Spy’!
BOROVICH
That’s not a toy.
Lubov shoots the taser’s little electrical clips into the huts ceiling. It makes a BZZT sound.
Lubov notices something out the window.
LUBOV
Huh. Now I spy something that starts with ‘M’.
BOROVICH
‘M’? What, outside?
LUBOV
There’s a man out there.
EXT. BORDER CROSSING – DAY
Lubov (taser in hand) and Borovich stand outside the little hut.
XIAO is running full-tilt towards the border station.
Lubov nervously raises the taser.
Borovich pushes Lubov’s hand down.
BOROVICH
Stop! This is a protected border!
Xiao doesn’t stop; Borovich grabs Xiao.
Xiao only speaks in subtitled Mandarin.
XIAO
I’m being chased by a man with an axe!
Lubov picks a little book out of his pocket, thumbs through it quickly.
BOROVICH
What’s he saying?
LUBOV
It’s “I am…” — here it is — “I am enjoying my morning run.”
BOROVICH
He can’t — you can’t run here! It’s the border!
XIAO
I don’t speak Russian! There’s a guy with an axe!
Xiao mimes appropriately.
LUBOV
He really wants to cross.
BOROVICH
Hmm.
EXT. BORDER CROSSING – DAY
Now all three men occupy the little hut.
Borovich places the last chess piece into the starting position.
BOROVICH
Simple. You win a game of chess, and you can cross.
LUBOV
Is that legal?
BOROVICH
Who cares? I haven’t played decent chess in seven months.
LUBOV
Hey!
XIAO
What?
BOROVICH
Your turn.
Xiao and Borovich start playing, blindingly-fast.
In the background, Lubov tries to juggle the taser, a pot, and his hat.
LUBOV
It’s lucky you showed up. Things were getting a little dull here at crossing #5201/B.
XIAO
What?
Lubov digs out his little book as Xiao and Borovich continue their game.
LUBOV
(Chinese, subtitled)
We are happy for your dog because we have spoons here.
XIAO
I’m so confused.
BOROVICH
Huh! I lost! Already!
Borovich shakes Xiao’s hand.
BOROVICH
Well-done.
LUBOV
Wait! He also has to — uh — juggle these things!
BOROVICH
Lubov, a deal’s a deal.
LUBOV
But it would be fun. Right? Sir?
EXT. BORDER CROSSING – DAY
Xiao stands in front of the building with the taser, the hat, and the pot in his hands.
Xiao looks confused.
Lubov mimes juggling.
Xiao juggles –
LUBOV
He’s really good.
BOROVICH
He gets to cross into Russia, no question.
Meanwhile, a crazed BRUTE WITH AN AXE appears behind the two men and raises his weapon to strike Lubov.
Xiao notices this, stops juggling, and shoots the madman (with the taser). The brute drops, unconscious.
Borovich, of course, only sees Xiao shooting at them — he jumps towards Xiao and punches Xiao out cold.
BOROVICH
Lubov. You gave him the taser?!
LUBOV
Uh, sir?
They both look at the felled brute.
BOROVICH
Are you sure the visitor said ‘morning run’?
LUBOV
Not 100%.
BOROVICH
Hmm.
Borovich points to the brute.
BOROVICH
Tie him up with something.
Lubov produces a length of rope from his pocket and starts tying the brute’s hands.
LUBOV
What’ll we tell command?
Borovich ponders a moment, then points to the brute.
BOROVICH
We’ll say he’s an evil spy –
Lubov props the axe against the hut.
Borovich checks Xiao’s pulse, props him up against the hut.
BOROVICH
– and this guy is a valuable informant — someone we need to detain for further questioning.
LUBOV
That’s an excellent plan, sir!
Borovich opens the hut’s door, drags Xiao in.
BOROVICH
It’ll be good to have this guy around.
Lubov follows Borovich in and closes the door.
FADE OUT.
FSW: Borders Edition (Michael’s Entry)
EXT. PARKING LOT – DAY
A large, olive green tent is set up in a desolated parking lot. The remnants of burned out cars sit around it. The urban landscape is near ruin. There is a Red Cross painted on top of the tent. A long line of disheveled, sickly looking refugee-types are waiting their turn. A helicopter flies over, low enough that people duck their heads in worry, and is gone. In the distance, the sound of barking dogs. Or maybe gunfire.
At the back of the tent stands KARRIE MOORE, 30s, British, tired but still lovely to look at. She takes a long drag off of a cigarette. She wears a yellow, plastic apron that is smeared with blood. A moment later, HENRI FALCONE, 40s, French, rakishly handsome, exits the tent, wiping his hands on a bloody rag.
HENRI
Those things will kill you, no?
KARRIE
(taking another drag)
I’m trying to build up an immunity.
HENRI
Busy day today.
KARRIE
It’s been like this since we arrived.
HENRI
I’ve been working with Médecins Sans Frontières for over a ten years now. This is one of the worst places I’ve ever been sent.
KARRIE
They ever sent you to any good places?
HENRI
Just when they send me home. How about you?
KARRIE
This is my first assignment.
HENRI
And?
KARRIE
I can handle the blood. Gunshot wounds. Stabbings.
HENRI
That’s good considering this is practically a war zone.
KARRIE
It’s the children that get to me.
HENRI
Oui.
KARRIE
Their watery eyes filled with fear. We don’t have an immunization for that.
(Beat)
Makes me feel helpless. Like I’m doing nothing.
Henri puts a hand on her shoulder.
HENRI
You’re doing more for them then their own people are. That’s not nothing.
KARRIE
You think they’ll ever come a time when we won’t be needed?
HENRI
We can hope, no?
A shiny, black Cadillac Escalade pulls up and the tinted window slides down. The sound of children trying to talk over one another spills out. An overweight man leans out the window. He has a severe Texan twang.
TEXAN
Pardon me, Miss. Y’all wouldn’t be able to help us, would ya?
KARRIE
Is someone in need of medical attention?
Henri sticks his head into the tent.
HENRI
Stretcher!
TEXAN
Oh no, no. It’s nothing like that. We’re all as fit as fiddles.
The back window rolls down to reveal two very plump children sitting in the back seat, both sucking on super-sized sodas. They wave their pudgy hands at Karrie and Henri.
TEXAN
But we are lost.
KARRIE
Lost?
TEXAN
We’re trying to find the Henry Ford Museum, but this here map’s got us turned every which way. Who knew Detroit would be so confusing to drive around?
HENRI (Under his breath)
Merde.
KARRIE
I’m sorry, I don’t know where that is. But some of the locals might be able to help you.
She points to the people waiting in line. Texan takes a look at them and cocks an eyebrow.
TEXAN
Uh, thanks. But I think we’ll just keep drivin’ around. We’re bound to come across it sooner or later, right. Thanks.
He rolls up his window and begins to drive off. Two large McDonald’s bags are tossed out of the rear window before it slides back up. The stretcher bearers arrive.
HENRI
Sorry, false alarm.
They go back into the tent.
KARRIE
You know what’s ironic? I always wanted to visit the states when I was a kid.
HENRI
At least they still have running water.
KARRIE
Yeah, but don’t drink it.
They share a laugh. Karrie flicks her cigarette to the ground and steps on it, grinding it into the dirt. They head back into the tent.
FADE OUT
FSW: Borders Edition (Coyote’s Entry)
23 January 2009
by R.A. Porter
INT. BEDROOM – DAY
Matching pairs of twin beds, nightstands, and dressers mirror left and right. A line of duct tape neatly divides the room down the center, right up the back wall, splitting a JONAS BROTHERS POSTER right between Nick’s eyes. EMILY, 7 and sassy, enters the left and notices a shirt edging over her side of the line.
EMILY
Mom! Maddy’s stuff’s on my side again!
Mom’s heard this before and she’s tired of it.
MOM (O.S.)
So move it, Emily.
EMILY
She’s always over the line! It’s not fair.
MOM comes into the room from the right and picks up the shirt. She folds and lays it on the right side bed. She crosses the line and sits next to Emily.
MOM
Em, you know she tries, but she’s not a big girl like you. Try to be understanding?
EMILY
Okay.
CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM – DAY
MADDY, a precocious 4-year old with a mouth as big as her sister’s, enters the empty room from the right. She spies a pink sneaker on her side of the divide.
MADDY
(whiny)
MOM!!! Em’ly’s shoe’s on my side!
MOM (O.S.)
Maddy, what did we say about whining?
MADDY
(whinier)
But, mom!
Mom enters from the left, picks up the sneaker and puts it next to its mate at the foot of Emily’s bed.
MOM
Maddy!
(beat)
Never mind.
CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM – DAY
Emily enters from the left and sees one of Maddy’s dolls on her side of the room.
EMILY
Mom!
VIRGIL, a mid-50s rancher in boots, jeans, and 10-gallon hat, enters from the right with a folding chair, sets it up on the center line, and sets hisself down.
EMILY (CONT’D)
Who’re you?
Virgil tips his hat so-slightly.
VIRGIL
Name’s Virgil. You must be Emily. Your mom’s told me all about you.
EMILY
She has?
VIRGIL
Yep.
EMILY
Why are you here?
VIRGIL
Keepin’ the peace.
Maddy enters from the right and stops dead in her tracks when she sees Virgil.
MADDY
MOM!!!
VIRGIL
Whoa now, little lady. No call for hollerin’. Name’s Virgil.
MADDY
You smell funny.
Virgil plucks a flask from his pocket and takes a sip.
VIRGIL
Wouldn’t know about that. Been minding the border down Mexico way with the Minutemen. Then they finally up and finished that dadburned fence.
Emily slides one of her pink sneakers across the floor to the line. Just as it breaks the plane, Virgil pulls a six-shooter from a hidden shoulder holster and trains it on her head.
VIRGIL (CONT’D)
Might want to rethink that.
Virgil opens his flask again and offers it to Emily and Maddy before taking a swallow.
BLACKOUT:
