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  • Peter’s Commentary on the ‘Horrible Family Holidays’ Edition

    [Catching up on blogposts, now that I’ve recovered from the Dance Weekend That Ate My Life.]

    Just thought I’d put up some thoughts on the most recent Sketch War.

    Ken Robertson’s entry: laughed aloud at “No ‘Christians and Heathens’, okay?” / “Awwww.”. I liked the payoff at the end — possibly could have trimmed the number of awkward moments leading up to it, though Priscilla’s drunken pass at Massotihan was a great über-embarrassing exchange.

    R. A. Porter’s entry: Ow! Ow ow ow ow! These aren’t my memories, but it’s like they are my memories! My painful, painful memories! Ow!

    With regards to my own entry, I’m mostly just proud that I managed to pound *something* out on time. I spent Tuesday fishing for a topic, scribbled out some ideas on Wednesday, and carved out an hour or two from Friday night — in the thick of ALX — to lock myself in a little room until the pages were finished. Things I liked: simple sketch concept, wrote with clear characters in mind, invented a puppet troupe. Things I didn’t like: random ending (why would Katie flee the scene?), should have pushed the jokes to be more surreal and out-there, and I put an emotional tilt into a comedy sketch, which is kind of wrong. (Sketch comedy isn’t about emotional arcs — the structure is more like “funny. Funny. FUNNY! done.”)

    Oh, and I screwed up on the topic: I mis-read it as “horrible family gatherings”, came up with my sketch, and then realized it was “horrible family holidays”. Then I shoehorned some Christmas decorations into the stage directions. (That’s the magic of screenwriting, kids! Change the time of year just by typing a few extra words!)

    Lord knows how I’ll come up with a sketch on the topic of “Oprah”.

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Horrible Holidays Edition

    The battle continues apace; tonight we’re joined by a new warrior. Fresh-faced and unscathed from previous battles, will Peter Rogers kill or cower, fight or flee?

    This week’s theme is brought to us by one of our legion of fans: horrible family holidays.

    Next week, in honor of the orgy of food and retail shopping, the theme will be…Oprah!!!

    If you want to play along, write a sketch and send a link to it to sketchwar at dreamloom.com. And be sure to come back on Friday for fun, fun, fun!

  • FSW: Horrible Family Holidays Edition (Peter’s Entry)

    Friday Sketch War
    Horrible Family Holidays Edition
    “Ted’s Wake”

    FADE IN:

    INT. ELEVATOR LOBBY – NIGHT

    KATIE (27, black formalwear) paces in a posh elevator lobby, going over a handwritten speech.

    CROWD NOISES emanate from a closed door. Beside the door hangs a poster with a black-and-white photo of a scowling old man reads, “In Memoriam: Ted Reynaldo”. Beside the poster sits a chair.

    Christmas decorations adorn the walls.

    HOMER (23, black suit) breezes in through the door.

    HOMER

    Katie! ‘sup!

    No repsonse.

    HOMER

    Dad says it’s time to do the thing —

    The elevator BINGS. The door opens.

    KATIE

    Dad can wait. I —

    And in the elevator, is —

    HOMER

    Sandra!

    — SANDRA (23), pretty and cheerful. She and Homer kiss. Homer points her at the room.

    HOMER

    I’ll be there in a second.

    Sandra heads in.

    Off of Katie’s look —

    HOMER

    I met her last week. She’s, like, this really cool —

    KATIE

    And you invited her to Uncle Ted’s wake?

    Homer just grins.

    KATIE

    (to herself)

    Do I do the prayer —

    The elevator BINGS.

    KATIE

    — or just go straight to the speech?

    A small crowd of people pile out of the elevator, carrying what look like Muppets.

    HOMER

    ‘sup, guys!

    PUPPETEERS

    ‘sup, Homer!

    They go into the room. Off of Katie’s look —

    HOMER

    Sandra’s, like, part of this puppeteering troupe.

    KATIE

    What?

    HOMER

    They do puppet shows.

    KATIE

    No. Why are they here?

    HOMER

    I guess Sandra invited them.

    The NOISE from the room gets louder, more festive.

    KATIE

    Did you actually tell any of these people this was a wake?

    Elevator BINGS.

    HOMER

    I — hmm. I said it was catered. I definitely said it was a Christmas party.

    KATIE

    Oh god.

    HOMER

    Well technically, it’s a party, and it’s Christmastime, right?

    A couple of DELIVERYMEN show up, pushing kegs on dollies.

    DELIVERYMAN

    Um — the Puppet Place Players?

    HOMER

    In there.

    DELIVERYMAN

    Cool.

    They join the wake.

    The NOISE from the wake gets louder. MARIACHI MUSIC starts up.

    HOMER

    I guess I sort of told Sandra she could invite people, and they invited people —

    The elevator BINGS. A MOTLEY ASSORTMENT OF PARTYGOERS spill out.

    HOMER

    ‘sup guys — it’s in there.

    The partygoers cheer, join the wake.

    KATIE

    Who are they?

    Homer shrugs. Off of that —

    KATIE

    I can’t believe you did this to me! I —

    Stops. Goes to the door. Looks in the room. Returns to Homer.

    KATIE

    Mariachis? How did they even get in?

    HOMER

    Oh, there’s this freight elevator, and it’s awesome, like this moving cavern, and —

    Katie collapses in the chair, distraught.

    HOMER

    What?

    KATIE

    I know I didn’t exactly like the guy, and I know I’d rather cram things under my fingernails than give this big speech about how great he was, but I got stuck with putting this together and I just want to do one thing right for this family! Is that so much to ask?! And then you go and —

    The elevator BINGS yet again, the doors open —

    KATIE

    OH GOOD GOD WHAT NOW?!

    — and Katie finds herself face to face with a POLICE OFFICER standing in the elevator doorway.

    Awkward pause.

    HOMER

    ‘sup, officer? My sister’s kind of off her meds.

    KATIE

    Meds?!

    POLICE OFFICER

    We’ve had a noise complaint.

    KATIE

    Oh. Oh! Yeah, they’re right in there.

    POLICE OFFICER

    Thanks.

    The officer crosses to the door, opens it.

    Meanwhile, Katie darts into the elevator. She drags Homer in after her. The elevator closes.

    POLICE OFFICER

    Puppets!

    The officer joins the wake.

    FADE OUT.

  • FSW: Horrible Family Holiday edition

    Happy almost-Thanksgiving everyone!
    This weeks theme was:
    horrible family holidays
    It was graciously provided by @tjonsek, who suggested it on Richard’s blog. Speaking of Richard, he took us out for a lovely Holiday dinner in New York for his salvo.
    I decided to examine the origins of Holiday drama in America.
    And…if you’d like to suggest a theme for next week, , leave it in comments here, or on one of the other blogs.
    Meanwhile, in the early 1600’s……
    ___________________________________________________________________
    INT. RUSTIC PILGRIM LODGE – DAY
    We’re inside a cabin in Plymouth in the days of the pilgrims. The furniture is all rough hewn wood, and various herbs are hanging from the ceiling drying. There’s a knock on the front door and MILES enters, dressed in full traditional pilgrim garb.

    MILES
    The pie looks fine. Just scrape the charred part off the top and no one will know the difference.

    MILES answers the door. Two American Indians in traditional garb, MASSOTIHAN and his wife POWANIQUA stand in the doorway carrying a few baskets. The sounds of squealing children can be heard outside behind them.

    MILES
    Heeeeeyyyy!!! Masso! What’s up, my savage?

    MILES and MASSOTIHAN go through and elaborate macho handshake \ chest bump \ grunting ritual

    MILES (CONT)
    Happy Second Thanksgiving Buddy!
    (to PRISCILLA offstage)
    Hey Babycakes, shake a leg…the Moonwolves are here!

    PRISCILLA (O.S.)
    Coming.

    MILES
    Come on in…make yourselves at home.
    (shouting out the front door)
    Hey Tobias, Dorothy…play nice with the Moonwolf kids, okay? No “Christians and heathens”, okay?

    CHILDREN
    (from off)
    Awwwwwww

    MILES
    (closes the door)
    Wow….it’s getting cold out there. Fucking Plymouth huh? Love the foliage, hate the cold.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Try living in a tent in this crap. Why you white guys wanted to have the first Thanksgiving outside last year is a mystery to me.

    MILES
    Hey….we’re European, we never spent any time outside before coming here. We were all hopped up on the “we escaped religious persecution AND survived our first year in the new world” thing, know what I mean? Any problems getting here?

    POWANIQUA
    We would have been here 30 minutes ago if someone wasn’t absolutely positive it was a left at the burned out oak.

    POWANIQUA shoots a glare at MASSOTIHAN

    MASSOTIHAN
    I’ve only rode over here once before, and that was in spring.

    MILES
    (to POWANIQUA)
    You must be Mrs. Moonwolf. I’m Miles Dogood. It’s nice to finally meet you. Masso talks about you whenever we’re in a hunting party together.

    MILES shakes POWANIQUA’s hand

    POWANIQUA
    Just call me ‘Pow’. We’ll be here all day if you always use my full name.

    MILES
    Nice furs…can I take those for you?

    MASSOTIHAN and POWANIQUA take off their fur wraps and hand them to MILES, who takes them offstage. MASSOTIHAN and POWANIQUAN set their parcels of food on the table.

    MASSOTIHAN
    I tell ya’, you white guys sure don’t know shit about wilderness living, but you got that the naming thing right. Short first name, long last name, call everyone by their first name – if that’s too long you just call someone by an even shorter version of their name…so much easier than these long-ass indian names. Just role call for tribal council meetings takes 4 hours.

    MILES re-enters and walks over to see what’s on the table.

    MILES
    Mmmmm…smells good. Corn?

    POWANIQUA
    Maize.

    MILES
    Oh right…sorry….forgot.

    MASSOTIHAN
    There’s maize bread, creamed maize, and maize on the cob. She’s been cooking all week.

    MILES
    That’s very nice of you Pow. You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.

    PRISCILLA enters, carrying a mug. She appears to be a little tipsy.

    PRISCILLA
    (to MILES)
    I’ve been cooking all week too…don’t remember hearing you say I shouldn’t go to all that trouble.

    MILES
    Hey honey…you remember Massotihan Moonwolf, from the hunting parties?

    PRISCILLA
    Oh yeah…you ride horses with your shirt off, right?

    MASSOTIHAN
    Sometimes, in summer. It can get hot on those hunts.

    PRISCILLA
    Oh I bet it does…you get pretty sweaty too. Do you workout, or are you just naturally muscular?
    MASSOTIHAN
    I play a lot of lacrosse.

    PRISCILLA
    So you’re good with a long stick huh?

    MILES
    (ushering PRISCILLA away from MASSOTIHAN)
    And this is his wife Powaniqua – ‘Pow’ for short.

    PRISCILLA
    Well aren’t you a cute young thing…Pow, WOW! HAHAHA

    MILES
    Let’s have a seat while dinner finishes cooking.

    PRISCILLA
    “Pow Wow”…get it? God that’s funny.

    MILES
    (to PRISCILLA)
    I think you’ve had eno
    ugh ale, turtledove.

    MILES tries to take PRISCILLA’s mug away

    PRISCILLA
    Just try it.

    MILES backs off and sits down. An uneasy quiet settles over the room. Priscilla makes a few subtle flirty gestures towards MASSOTIHAN, who looks uncomfortable. When MILES sees her she looks indignant, and just sips more ale. POWANIQUA shoots a few looks at MASSOTIHAN who gives her an “it’s not my fault” gesture right back.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Something smells good. Wild turkey?

    MILES
    Oh yeah….big bastard too. Shot it myself…just me and the old blunderbus, snuck up on that big bird and BLAMMO!!! One roaster.

    PRISCILLA
    (to herself)
    Only retarded turkey in Massachusetts.

    MILES
    What’s happening in the Wampanoag camp these days?

    MASSOTIHAN
    My father-in-law is running for chief again.

    POWANIQUA
    It’d be Daddy’s third term.

    MILES
    Nice.

    MASSOTIHAN
    He keeps saying he can get me on the tribal council, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for politics.

    MILES
    I’m with you there….I’m more a man of action myself.

    PRISCILLA
    Action my ass.

    MILES
    The church…that’s where the big money is, if you’re a self starter. Go out, convert people, build a congregation, develop your own zealots. Great franchise opportunities.

    PRISCILLA
    Miles could have been a town elder by now, but SOMEONE didn’t want to burn that witch last May.

    MILES
    They never proved she was a witch.

    PRISCILLA
    They threw her in a river and she floated! Helllloooooo!!!

    MILES
    It was a stream…it was six inches deep!

    PRISCILLA
    Pussy.

    POWANIQUA
    Europeans have really mixed feelings about magic, don’t they? We’ve always been supportive of magic people like our medicine man…

    PRISCILLA
    Just butt of out this, Missy Pow-Now-Brown-Cow, okay?

    POWANIQUA
    I was just saying…

    PRISCILLA
    Zip-it, you skinny buckskin-wearing bitch.

    POWANIQUA
    Well…I never….I…..

    POWANIQUA runs out the front door crying.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Honey, wait….

    MASSOTIHAN runs after her

    PRISCILLA
    Forget the whiny squaw, Squanto. Mama’s got your spirit quest right here!

    MILES
    Priscilla!

    PRISCILLA
    (running over to the door shouting after MASSOTIHAN)
    Once you go white, you never go back!!!

    MILES
    PRISCILLA!!!

    PRISCILLA
    I’ll give you something to be thankful for…lets’ lose that nobility, noble savage!
    (clapping hand over her mouth like an indian war whoop)
    Whoo whoo whoo whoo whoo whoo
    MILES
    Priscilla close that door and get over here right now or I will get the god damned village exorcist, I shit you not!!
    PRISCILLA shuts the door and walks back into the room, and sits.

    MILES (CONT)
    Every time…EVERY time you get a little too much ale in you, you get mean and completely out of control.

    PRISCILLA
    I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. It’s just the holidays…I start missing my family, civilized cities, currency, not having bears in the front yard….

    MILES
    I know honey.

    PRISCILLA
    And we haven’t been…fruitful…in so long.

    MILES
    We live in a one bedroom cabin with 2 kids and no doors Priscilla.

    PRISCILLA
    I know. It just gets to me sometimes.

    MILES hugs her.

    MILES
    Look….why don’t you go make some tea, and let the ale wear off a bit, okay? I’ll go find Masso and Pow and make peace, and then we’ll all have a great Thanksgiving dinner, okay? And after, we’ll figure out how soon we can build a second bedroom.

    PRISCILLA
    Alright honey. I’m sorry. Really.

    MILES hugs PRISCILLA again, then she goes off into the kitchen. The front door opens and MASSOTIHAN re-enters, the sounds of screaming kids playing behind him. MILES runs to the door and shouts out.

    MILES
    (to the kids outside)
    HEY!!! KEEP IT DOWN OUT THERE!!! YOU SOUND LIKE A BUNCH OF WILD INDIANS!!!!

    MASSOTIHAN gives MILES a pissed off look

    MILES
    It’s just an expression.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Sure….no problem. I tell my kids all the time to stop acting like anal-retentive puritans.

    MILES
    Okay…sorry. I’ll never say that again, okay? Truce?

    MASSOTIHAN nods

    MILES (CONT)
    How’s Pow?

    MASSOTIHAN
    She’s pissed but she’ll be fine…she’ll be back, she just needs a few minutes.

    MILES
    Good…Priscilla’s sobering up in the kitchen. Look, I’m sorry about all this.

    MILES closes the door. MILES and MASSOTIHAN sit down exhausted in the room.

    MILES
    I thought we’d squeezed all the drama out of this holiday last year, at the first one.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Nope. Trust me – we’ve had feasts for thousands of years. There’s always been drama at these damn things. The elders tell tales of holiday drama passed down from the last ice age.

    MILES
    Does it ever get better?

    MASSOTIHAN
    Nope. People keep trying though. Year after year…”maybe this year will be different”….”maybe next year will be different”. But it never will be.

    MILES
    So how do you guys get through these things without going nuts?

    MASSOTIHAN looks around to see if anyone’s looking, then pulls a peace pipe out of his tunic.

    MASSOTIHAN
    Let’s just celebrate the harvest brother….know what I mean?

    MILES
    Harvest?

    MASSOTIHAN
    Hell yeah….had a bumper crop of Cape Cod Wowee, you feel me?

    MILES
    Now you’re talkin’ my red skinned brother. Let’s sneak out back and make some peace.

    MASSOTIHA
    N and MILES get up, do a fist bump and head out the front door

    MILES (CONT)
    Oh Lord, we thank thee DEEPLY for this bounty we are about to receive….

    FADE OUT.

  • FSW: Chinatown Christmas

    Blogging buddy @tjonsek suggested this week’s theme in comments: horrible family holidays. I didn’t have to reach too deep into my bag of painful, poorly suppressed memories to pull this sketch out. Still rubs me raw.

    You know of course that comedy often requires painting in broad strokes and exaggerating. Comedy in real life is much more subtle because people aren’t caricatures. That’s good, right? I mean, it would *suck* if there were actually people like these in the real world. Can you imagine actually having a mother like Miriam? Can you imagine the psychic damage that would do? Can you imagine how twisted that would make someone?

    Come back later for a recap with links to the other sketches and information on submitting for next week. And if you’ve got a theme you’d like to see us try out for next week, leave it in comments here, or on one of the other blogs when their sketches are up.

    Chinatown Christmas

    INT. CAR – DAY

    The rain is pouring from the leaden sky in buckets on an unseasonably warm Christmas day. NOAH, late 20s, attentively pilots a sturdy SUV through heavy New York traffic. His father GERRY, 50s and balding, rides shotgun offering “helpful” tips. In the back sit MIRIAM, the matriarch of the ROSEN clan, looking older and feebler than her mid-50s warrant, HANNAH, Noah’s college-age sister, and in the middle, BECKY. With her perky nose, blond hair, and blue eyes, Noah’s fiancee looks as out of place as a slice of ham between two pieces of marble rye.

    MIRIAM

    Hop Kee is good. You liked Hop Kee last time, right Gerry?

    GERRY

    That’s the one with the Hot and Sour I like–

    MIRIAM

    –No. That’s Congee. Hop Kee’s the one where the hostess always gives you the extra shrimp roll, like I’m not supposed to know she’s flirting?

    NOAH

    Ma, we’re going to Wo Hop, right?

    MIRIAM

    Yeah, yeah. I was just saying, Hop Kee’s good too. You should ever decide to come back and visit, we could go there, nu? It’s just down the street.

    NOAH

    Ma, we’re visiting right now.

    Miriam pats Becky on the knee.

    MIRIAM

    And we’re so glad the two of you are here. Aren’t we glad, Gerry?

    GERRY

    Yeah, sure.

    (on traffic)

    You want the right lane. It’s clearer. You can get around two, maybe three of these

    (yelling, as though the other drivers can hear)

    slowpokes!

    Noah moves aggressively to the right and accelerates. He is his father’s son.

    BECKY

    Hannah. What are you taking next semester?

    HANNAH

    Sight and Sound Studio and Documentary, the Femme Fatale in the films of Roman Polanski, and Spanish.

    GERRY

    My little baby’s going to be a big filmmaker someday.

    HANNAH

    Dad…

    GERRY

    Going to walk down that red carpet.

    HANNAH

    Dad…

    MIRIAM

    Muriel Goldstein’s boy wanted to be in pictures. But he’s still waiting tables, waiting to be a star. Breaks poor Muriel’s heart. He could have gone to Columbia Medical School, but that wasn’t good enough for him.

    NOAH

    Barry Goldstein failed high school biology. Three times.

    MIRIAM

    I’m just saying–

    HANNAH

    –You’re just saying I’m going to fail, aren’t you ma?

    MIRIAM

    Of course not, dear. I just think you could get a law degree first, and then try with your moviemaking. Is it too much to ask that one of my babies doesn’t go hungry?

    NOAH

    Ma! I’m not going hungry. I’m doing just fine.

    GERRY

    (on traffic)

    You’re taking the Cross Island?

    NOAH

    Yeah, that’s the way I always go.

    GERRY

    Well, that’s a fine way, I guess, but the Van Wyck’s faster. But you’re driving. Don’t mind me.

    (beat)

    The middle lane’s open.

    MIRIAM

    Becky!

    Becky jumps. Her attempt to become invisible failed.

    BECKY

    Yes, ma’am?

    MIRIAM

    Don’t call me ma’am, dear. Just call me Miriam. Or mom. Is it too soon for that?

    BECKY

    No, ma’am. I mean Miriam. I mean…

    GERRY

    You’re spooking the poor girl, Miriam.

    MIRIAM

    What? I just told her to call me ‘mom’. I’m welcoming. Who’s spooking?

    HANNAH

    You are. I don’t even want to call you ‘mom’ most of the time.

    GERRY

    The turn for the Van Wyck is coming up if you change your mind.

    BECKY

    How much longer?

    EXT. STREET – DAY

    The buckets of rain have turned to barrelfuls. Gerry, Miriam, and Hannah stand under Gerry’s huge umbrella, trying to stay dry, as they talk to Noah through the window.

    GERRY

    You know where the garage is, right? Two blocks down and one over. You sure you don’t want me to park it?

    NOAH

    No, that’s alright. You three go in and get us a table. Becky and I will be back in a few.

    GERRY

    You want the umbrella, at least?

    NOAH

    Uh, it looks like it’s clearing up.

    Lightning splits the sky.

    INT. CAR – DAY

    Noah rolls up the window and pulls from the curb.

    NOAH

    I figured you could use a few minutes to catch your breath before dinner.

    BECKY

    Thanks. How do you do it?

    NOAH

    What?

    BECKY

    Not be crazy?

    INT. RESTAURANT LOBBY – DAY

    There’s a small crowd at the front desk. Miriam pushes her way to the front.

    MIRIAM

    Excuse me? Excuse me?! Can we get some help, please?

    HOSTESS

    How many?

    MIRIAM

    Excuse me?

    HOSTESS

    How many in your party?

    MIRIAM

    Five.

    HOSTESS

    20 minutes.

    Miriam ponders for a second and then…

    MIRIAM

    Come on. Let’s go to Hop Kee.

    HANNAH

    But Noah and Becky are expecting us to be here.

    MIRIAM

    We talked about both. He’s a smart boy. He’ll figure it out.

    INT. RESTAURANT – DAY

    Hop Kee. Noah and Becky are soaked through. Miriam, Gerry, and Hannah sit in front of many plat
    es of demolished food.

    NOAH

    I thought we were meeting at Wo Hop?

    MIRIAM

    We talked about both, nu?

    BLACKOUT:

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Autumn Edition

    A two-man grapple in Sketch Stadium this week, as Coyote challenges Ken. Last week’s secret ingredient was autumn. In Battle Autumn, whose cuisine sketch reigns supreme?!

    Next week’s theme, provided in comments by @tjonsek, is horrible family holidays.

    If you want to play along, write a sketch and send a link to it to sketchwar at dreamloom.com. And be sure to come back on Friday for fun, fun fun. 

  • FSW: Autumn Edition

    Nothing like coming in under the wire! This week got unexpectedly crazy, but neither corporate machinations, travel plans, unexpected improv workouts nor the cranky elderly can keep me from my appointed sketch!!!

    Richard gave us “Autumn” as our theme for the week – and Autumn years was what jumped to mind. So below is my ode to “raging against the dying of the light”. Richard gave us a lovely trip through the Autumn foliage. No word from other combtants yet.

    Theme duties will probably fall to me…unless you’ve got a theme you’d like to see us try out for next week, leave it in comments here, or on one of the other blogs when their sketches are up (no pressure :).

    ________________________________________________________________

    INT. RETIREMENT HOME COMMON ROOM – DAY
    JESSIE sits in a comfy chair next to her grandfather, WILBUR, well into his 80’s. A walker is also nearby.

    JESSSIE
    (showing WILBUR a photo)
    And this was when we went to that petting zoo out near Sturbridge, Grandpa. Danny just loved those goats.

    WILBUR
    You know, ke looks so much like your dad at that age. He’s 3 now?

    JESSSIE
    Three and a half…and he makes sure everyone knows about the half.

    WILBUR
    He’s adorable. I want to see him more soon, when my hip is better and I…

    2 elderly men and one woman, (ED, LES, and FANNY) all wearing red bandanas, roll by slowly in pimped-out wheelchairs (glow lights, spinners on the wheels, bass-thumping Sinatra songs, etc). Each has a can of Ensure in their wheelchair cupholder, and they sip it from time to time like taking a hit off a forty. They stare at WILBUR and JESSIE as slowly roll by. WILBUR takes notice as Jessie pulls out another photo.

    JESSSIE
    (pulling out another photo)
    Oh…and here he is pulling the goat’s tail.

    WILBUR starts to get up

    WILBUR
    Listen honey, you need to go….now.

    JESSSIE
    I just got here Grandpa Wilbur.

    WILBUR
    I know, I’m sorry…I’ll look at those pictures another time, but right now you’ve got to go.

    JESSSIE
    Is something wrong Grandpa?

    WILBUR
    Shut up and leave…now…please!!!

    JESSSIE
    Oh…okay. I’ll email you the rest of those photos Grandpa Wilbur.

    WILBUR
    Fine…whatever…

    JESSIE starts to leave through a side door, looking back at WILBUR as she goes. Just as she gets to the door, LES wheels in and blocks her way.

    LES
    Going somewhere, missy??

    LES wheels in slowly herding JESSIE back into the room. JESSIE goes for another aide door, where FANNY pulls in blocking her way.

    FANNY
    No hurry, child….sit a spell….

    FANNY wheels forward herding Jessie into the middle of the room as well. So JESSIE tries to exit through the upstage door. ED wheels in to block her.

    ED
    Well, well, well….looks like Wilbur has himself a visitor.

    ED herds JESSIE back into the room. LES and FANNY join him, and the three starting wheeling in a circle around JESSIE.

    WILBUR
    That’s my granddaughter E-Dog. She’s just leaving.

    ED
    Nonsense…pretty little thing like that. I bet she has all kinds of stories to share about your great grandkids. Have a seat my dear.

    JESSSIE
    I think I really should be going.

    ED pulls out an automatic handgun.

    ED
    Respect your elders bitch, or I will pop a cap in your ass, you feel me?

    JESSIE sees the gun and slowly sits back down in the comfy chair. LES and FANNY laugh, in phlegmy elderly way.

    ED
    There now, isn’t that better.

    WILBUR
    Look E-Dog, I was going to find you right after Jessie left.

    ED
    Here that posse….Wilbur was just gonna come see us. Ain’t that convenient.

    FANNY
    Sounds like he’s fibbing to me E-Dog.

    JESSSIE
    Exuse me, but who are you people.

    LES
    Watch your tone, missy. You don’t know who you’re messing with.

    ED
    We’re the E-Wing Incontinentals.

    FANNY
    The toughest gang in Shady Oaks.

    LES
    Tougher than the Cripples or the Bleeders.

    ED
    We run this place. And your Grandpa here is behind on his tributes to us.

    JESSSIE
    Look if it’s money you want…

    ED
    What we gonna do with money in here, huh? We can’t buy nothin’, cause there ain’t no place to buy nothin’.

    LES
    We need something better than money…something with some real purchasing power, something we can trade inside.

    FANNY
    Butterscotches.

    ED
    Butterscotch is the really currency in hear…you want afghans, slippers, extra pudding, knitted slippers….butterscotch is gold baby.

    LES
    Word

    WILBUR
    Look E-Dog, I was going to get some…my hip is just taking longer to heal than I thought, that’s all.

    ED
    You got a visitor right there Wilbur….you couldn’t phone and have her bring some?

    FANNY
    Like a big bag…Walgreen’s has them on sale.

    LES
    $3.99 for 3.

    ED
    Yeah Wilbur…how come you didn’t ask her to bring some?

    JESSSIE
    He’s diabetic. I would never bring him candy unless it was that sugar free kind.

    LES
    Sugar free tastes like shit.

    FANNY
    Gives me the toots.

    JESSSIE
    Are you seriously waving a gun at people demanding butterscotches? Are you insane.

    LES
    Watch yourself missy!

    FANNY
    Respect your elders, girly girl!

    JESSSIE
    How about earning my respect. You should know better than to point a gun at someone. You pull that on the wrong person and you could get killed.

    ED
    So what. We ain’t got no future in here.

    LES
    Damn straihgt E-dog.

    ED
    We got what, 10, 20 years left to live? Live fast…

    FANNY
    As fast as you can without hurting yourself

    ED
    Die young.

    LES
    Younger

    ED
    Leave a beautiful corpse

    FANNY
    Leave A corpse.

    JESSSIE
    Now wait…you three have lived long lives and someone who cares very deeply about you put you here where you’d have the best care possible…

    ED
    Bullshit….the whole world has dissed us. Once you’re our age, you don’t got respect, and you don’t got a future….so you gots to live in the now…

    FANNY
    And in the butterscotch….

    ED
    Cause there may be no tomorrow.

    LES
    Word

    ED draws the gun and points it at JESSIE again.

    ED
    And with the gun, I get your undivided attention and respect. People say respect your elders, but ain’t nobody respectin’ elders.

    FANNY takes her can of Ensure and dumps a little on the floor

    FANNY
    For my homey John McCain.

    LES
    For Christ’s sake Fanny, he’s still alive

    ED
    But I’m gettin your respect right now, ain’t I?

    FANNY
    Now get us some butterscotch, bitch!

    LES
    Werther’s….make Her get Werthers.

    ED
    The Incontinentals have spoken young lady-blood…if you want to live I think you best be steppin’ down to Walgreen’s.

    LES
    Word

    JESSSIE
    I’m not doing anything for you – elder or not. You’re just a rude bitter old man.

    ED
    I’m a rude bitter old man with a gun bitch!

    JESSSIE
    Oh yeah? Well how about using it!

    JESSIE gets up and moves behind ED. ED holds the gun up in one hand and tries pushing the wheels with the other as LES and FANNY shout “get her Ed, pop a cap” etc. Using just one hand though, ED just ends up turning left or right and losing his aim….Jessie keeps dodging him, and ED gets more and more frustrated trying to keep up. DERREK, the orderly, walks in.

    DERREK
    Hey! What the hell is going on in here?

    LES
    (forced whisper to FANNY)
    Shit! Five-o!

    DERREK walks right up to ED and takes the gun out of his hands.

    DERREK
    I thought I took that away from you.

    JESSSIE
    That was gutsy…he could have shot you.

    DERREK
    He can’t load any bullets…arthritis. But that doesn’t stop him from stealing this every time we have an ice cream social with the VFW, does it Ed?

    ED
    Call me E-Dog.

    FANNY
    The man…always smacking us down.

    DERREK
    Look…it’s tapicoa night, and Showboat is screening after in the rec room. Why don’t you three get a nap and stop hassling this woman, okay?

    JESSSIE
    Thank you.

    DERREK nods his head and walks out. WILBUR gets up and grabs his walker.

    ED
    (to JESSIE)
    He may have taken my piece, but we ain’t lettin you and your grandpa leave ‘til we get us a butterscotch deal.

    ED, FANNY and LES roll up menacingly on WILBUR and JESSIE. JESSIE pulls the pile of photos out of her purse and throws them at the three geriatric gang bangers.

    JESSSIE
    C’mon Grandpa – let’s get out of here!

    WILBUR starta moving as fast as his walker will allow. ED, FANNY and LES all start looking at the photos.

    FANNY
    Awwwww…look how cute!

    LES
    He sure loves that goat.

    ED
    Oh look…he’s even holding his toy gun properly!

    ED, FANNY and LES look up to see WILBUR and JESSIE leaving. They pause for a moment thinking about pursuit, then go back to the photos.

    ED
    Look at this – he’s got pudding all over his face!

    FANNY
    So cute.

    LES
    Word

    BLACK OUT

  • FSW: Leafer’s Paradise

    Autumn. A wide open theme. Could have gone so many ways, that I expect we’ll get some nice variation this week. Let’s hope so! Come back later for a recap with links to the other sketches and information on submitting for next week.

    And if you’ve got a theme you’d like to see us try out for next week, leave it in comments here, or on one of the other blogs when their sketches are up.

    Leafer’s Paradise

    EXT. RURAL ROAD – DUSK

    A lone luxury sedan drives over rolling hills in the golden sunset, the millions of brightly colored autumn leaves glowing in shades of red and orange. Perfect foliage.

    VANESSA (V.O.)

    Oh, Marcus! It’s beautiful. You were right, this was the perfect weekend to drive up. Sorry I doubted you.

    MARCUS (V.O.)

    No worries, babe. I checked the almanac, the National Weather Service, and had the boys in accounting run some numbers based on the last 20 years, factoring in warming trends. I knew this would be the peak weekend.

    VANESSA (V.O.)

    I just wish we could have skipped work and had an extra day. But anyway, this place I booked should be perfect. The Double-A Guide gave it three coffee cups.

    MARCUS (V.O.)

    You mean the Triple-A Guide.

    VANESSA (V.O.)

    Uh-oh.

    INT. HOTEL LOBBY – NIGHT

    RUPERT and MAGGIE stand behind the desk. He’s in his 50s, balding, and looking rumpled-casual in a button-down shirt. She’s in her 30s and crisply turned out. The door opens and MARCUS and VANESSA stroll in with too many bags for a weekend trip. He and she are both in their 30s, decked out in the flannel, cashmere, and special boots they bought just for this weekend.

    MAGGIE

    Good evening, and welcome to Hearth House. Are we the Pithbottoms?

    VANESSA

    Yes, we are. I’m Vanessa and this is Marcus. Your inn is beautiful, really.

    Maggie taps at her computer.

    MAGGIE

    Thank you. Let’s see, we have you for three nights, checking out Sunday morning, and you wanted to do two of our foliage tours, one tomorrow and then the special Leaves & Lakes Tour on Saturday. How fun!

    RUPERT

    Will you be dining in the restaurant this evening?

    MARCUS

    Honey?

    VANESSA

    Sure. Sounds good.

    (to Marcus)

    Doesn’t he look like Bob Newhart? You think he’s like him?

    (to Rupert)

    Aren’t you chilly? Maybe you should put on a cardigan?

    Rupert gets this a LOT. He rolls his eyes and gives the couple a withering look.

    MARCUS

    Yes, yes! Now I see it.

    RUPERT

    Maybe later, ma’am. Right now, let’s just get you two finished with check-in.

    Maggie taps a bit more, Rupert shuffles some papers.

    MARCUS

    (to Vanessa)

    Doesn’t she remind you of that Gilman Girl?

    VANESSA

    (to Marcus)

    Who’s that?

    MARCUS

    You know, Laura Gilman, from that show you like?

    VANESSA

    Oh you mean–

    MAGGIE

    –Okay, we’re almost done. Will you be keeping this on your American Express?

    MARCUS

    Actually, I’d like to put it on this Visa, instead.

    Vanessa looks at Marcus questioningly while he hands his card to Maggie.

    MARCUS (CONT’D)

    (to Vanessa)

    Double miles.

    The wind outside kicks up. Rupert and Maggie look at each other and hurry up the process. She drops the card in her haste and both get looks of abject terror at the delay. The wind picks up more. Just as Maggie runs the card through the reader, the front door FLIES open and a mass of dead leaves blow into the lobby, propelled by a whipping wind.

    MAGGIE

    If I could just get you to sign here?

    Maggie and Rupert look at each other with a mixture of relief and amused resignation.

    VANESSA

    Wow, that was some wind. Hope it doesn’t effect the leaves too much.

    EXT. RURAL ROAD – DAY

    A van drives through a vast wasteland. I mean, like Tunguska AFTER the event. Dead, gnarly trees as far as the eye can see beneath a leaden sky. Swirling piles of leaves gather in little eddies.

    TOUR GUIDE (V.O.)

    On the right, you’ll see a stand of Vermont maples, renown for their beautiful, deep red leaves in autumn.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Reconciliation Edition

    In the battle of the sketches, he who comes first gets trampled by those who follow. But those who follow trip on the landmines of the first. Don’t you ever forget that.

    Next week’s theme, picked by me again ’cause I wasn’t smart enough to ask anyone else to do it, will be autumn. For the boys in Chicago, it might seem a bit late, but for those of us who do NOT live on the shores of the coldest lake in the universe, it seems about right.

    If you want to play along, write a sketch and send a link to it to sketchwar at dreamloom.com. And be sure to come back on Friday for fun, fun fun.

  • Reconciliation

    (LUCAS and JOSH, mid-thirties, enter the Brant Street Café. They sit side-by-side at the counter.)

    LUCAS
    Wait till you try the chicken noodle soup here. It’s the best I have ever tasted.

    JOSH
    I think I’m going to have a grilled cheese.

    LUCAS
    I’ll tell you what, man: you go your way, I’ll go mine.

    (pause)

    JOSH
    You seem agitated.

    LUCAS
    I’m not judging you. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they decide what kind of person they are. I don’t claim to understand your choice, nor will I judge you for it.

    (pause)

    JOSH
    Thank you.

    LUCAS
    I don’t know what series of events led to your choice of a grilled cheese. I haven’t walked that road. All I know is what’s right for me, and it is the chicken noodle soup.

    (pause)

    JOSH
    Should I get the chicken noodle soup?

    LUCAS
    Don’t patronize me.

    JOSH
    Listen, what is your problem?

    LUCAS
    I’m thirty-five years old. I was in the shower this morning, staring at the tiles, and it hit me: I am never going to publish that novel. I am never going to present my parents with a grandchild. I am never going to make partner. Every day that goes by is another staple stamped into my life, and it’s becoming clearer and clearer the shape of who I really am.

    JOSH (mildly alarmed)
    Whoa. Whoa. What the hell?

    LUCAS
    No, listen. I’ve reconciled myself to it. I’m not the guy who’s going to live passionately about any of those things I thought I’d live passionately about. But I’ll tell you what’s still in my power: the chicken noodle soup at the Brant Street Café. I’ve had it everywhere in the city, and I am prepared to state unequivocally that it is best here. I am an expert on nothing else. But I have this.

    JOSH
    Okay. Okay. Take it easy.

    (A WAITRESS enters.)

    WAITRESS
    What can I get for you guys?

    JOSH
    I’ll have a grilled cheese.

    WAITRESS
    All righty. And you?

    LUCAS (looking clearly and directly into her eyes)
    The chicken noodle soup.

    WAITRESS
    I’m sorry, guy – we’re just out. I can get you a cream of mushroom?

    (pause)

    LUCAS (bravely)
    Yes. Okay.

    WAITRESS
    It’ll be right out.

    (WAITRESS exits.)

    (pause)

    JOSH
    I thought you hated mushrooms.

    LUCAS
    Don’t try to pen me in, man!

    JOSH
    All right.

    LUCAS
    I am going to eat the hell out of that cream of mushroom soup. Try to stop me!

    JOSH
    I won’t.

    LUCAS
    I’ll tear your arm off.

    (pause)

    (The WAITRESS crosses again, and JOSH flags her down.)

    JOSH
    Miss? I think I’d also like a bowl of cream of mushroom, if that’s all right.

    WAITRESS
    Sure thing!

    (The WAITRESS exits. LUCAS and JOSH sit in silence.)