Sketch War

Tag: writing

  • FSW: Office Edition

    Richard’s playing doctor this week.

    Dave is quiet at the moment. Perhaps his still dreaming about his dream job.

    Your sketch is probably really funny. But since you won’t let us read it we’ll never know.

    I really wanted to have a Memorial Day themed sketch today. But that just seemed like too much work. So here’s my entry this week.

    Enjoy.

    The Day Job

    (An office cubicle. Jarred sits at his desk entering data. He is having a hard time staying awake. Colleen enters and stands behind his chair, watching him work.)

    COLLEEN: Man, I love the way you tear into a spreadsheet.

    JARRED: (Not taking his eyes off the screen.) Hey, Colleen.

    COLLEEN: Seriously, it’s like watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel or something.

    JARRED: M-hm.

    COLLEEN: If I didn’t have my own work to do, I could just stand here, watching you do this all day long.

    JARRED: Thanks.

    (She pats him on the back.)

    COLLEEN: Well keep up the awesome, awe-inspiring work.

    JARRED: Will do.

    (Colleen exits. Barry pops his head over Jarred’s cube wall.)

    BARRY: Man, Colleen’s going a little overboard with this new positive reinforcement initiative, don’t you think?

    JARRED: Seriously. Does she really think going around to everyone and comparing their data entry to master painters is going to make us work harder?

    BARRY: She compared you to a painter?

    JARRED: Michelangelo.

    BARRY: She didn’t say anything like that to me.

    JARRED: No?

    BARRY: All I got was a blowjob.

    (Jarred stops typing.)

    BARRY: Well, better get back to it.

    (Barry disappears back to his cube. Jarred sighs and starts typing again.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: On the Couch

    (Trevor lies on a couch, while behind him Mary sits in a chair taking notes. She is wearing a suit and glasses. Her hair is in a bun held together with a pencil.)

    MARY
    How are you feeling today, Trevor?

    TREVOR
    I’m okay. A little sluggish. Didn’t get a good night’s sleep.

    MARY
    Yes?

    TREVOR
    Restless. My dreams were too vivid, I think. Probably shouldn’t have had that burrito before bed.

    MARY
    Tell me about the burrito.

    TREVOR
    You don’t want to hear about the dreams?

    MARY
    I haven’t had breakfast yet. (BEAT) And sometimes a burrito is just a burrito.

    (They both chuckle at her bad joke.)

    Alright. Tell me about your dreams.

    TREVOR
    They started out like they always do. I was thirteen and mowing the lawn. It’s July and I’m working up quite a sweat. Now, our yard was pretty small, maybe a quarter-acre of grass to mow, but in my dream it’s this huge expanse. It’s at least three, four acres. And it feels like I’m pushing uphill in both directions.

    MARY
    (Furiously scribbling notes) Mmmhmm…

    TREVOR
    I keep thinking I’m going to run out of gas and need to fill up the tank, but it keeps going. Engine sputters a few times, but it just keeps running. The sun’s beating down and I’m sweating a ton.

    MARY
    What are you wearing?

    TREVOR
    Wearing? I guess I’m in shorts. I’ve never thought about…no, wait…I’m wearing my uniform from my first job.

    MARY
    What job is that?

    TREVOR
    I was the guy in the El Pollo Loco costume who held the sign down by the road. Terrible job. I lasted a month. I think that was a record. That costume smelled like cigarettes and puke.

    MARY
    So you’re mowing the lawn in the costume. Do you have on the chicken head?

    TREVOR
    No. Just the rest of it. The feet are huge, too.

    MARY
    (More energetic notetaking) Mmmm…

    TREVOR
    And then suddenly, I find myself lying by a pool.

    MARY
    Are you alone?

    TREVOR
    My mother’s there, feeding me grapes. It’s kind of weird.

    MARY
    Are you still in your costume?

    TREVOR
    No. I’m in swim trunks. And you’re there, too, painting my toenails.

    MARY
    (Notes) I’m there? Hmm. What are your mother and I wearing?

    TREVOR
    She’s in one of those old-timey swimsuits. You’re dressed like you are now. Suit, hair up, glasses.

    MARY
    Very interesting —

    TREVOR
    — I love you, Mary.

    MARY
    No, no, no. You’re just projecting your feelings onto me.

    TREVOR
    No, Mary, really I do.

    MARY
    (More notes) Mmmhmm. (BEAT) Tell me more about your mother. How does it make you feel when she feeds you these grapes.

    TREVOR
    I guess it makes me feel good. I was hot and thirsty, and the grapes are cool and moist in my mouth.

    MARY
    And what do you think the grapes represent?

    TREVOR
    Represent? I don’t know.

    MARY
    Okay, we’ll get back to that. Let’s move on to something else. Last time you said you were having some performance issues. How is that going?

    TREVOR
    I, I just can’t get excited anymore.

    MARY
    Does anything excite you? Any fantasies?

    TREVOR
    Um, this is kind of hard to say…

    MARY
    This is a safe place, Trevor. You can say anything in here.

    TREVOR
    When I woke up from the dream I was pretty excited.

    (Mary flips pages, she’s taking so many notes now. Her pencil breaks and she pulls the one out of her hair to continue unabated. Her hair falls around her shoulders.)

    MARY
    I think we’re about to have a breakthrough–

    (The door opens and Sally, a teenage girl, comes in.)

    SALLY
    Mom? There’s a call for you from the hospital. Something about seizures, or something? One of your patients.

    MARY
    (Getting up) Thanks, Sally.

    SALLY
    Dad? Can I borrow the car tonight?

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Fifteen

    If you thought last week’s drunken scuffle was an embarrassment, wait until you see this week’s slap fight. There’s a rumor we might be joined by some fresh blood soon, so this lull in the war might merely be a short-lived ceasefire. Let’s hope.

    • Coyote wants to make an omelet, so he breaks a few eggs…
    • Michael has a date, but someone is ovulating.

    Clearly, we need more sketch writers to join in the festivities. Post your best and send an email to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

  • FSW: Cop Out Edition

    So I’ve been a little busy lately. And more than a little unfocused. So the sketch I was working on for today didn’t really come together. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you empty handed. I have this play I’ve been working on forever. A comedy, of course. About a poor fellow who goes out on a date with a woman who may or may not be murdering the men she goes out with. At the moment it’s titled The Blind Date Black Widow. This is a scene from early in the first act. Our hero, Mitch, has just had a little verbal confrontation with a nosy neighborlady and now his best friend, Stew, has come over. It’s set in Mitch’s tiny, one bedroom apartment. Please feel free to leave any feedback you may have.

    For those playing by the rules this week, Richard’s flown the coop and Dave has too.

    The Blind Date Bandit

    (The door begins to open but the chain catches it. There is a thud.)

    STEW: (Off) Ouch! Mitch, open up!

    MITCH: Hang on Stew.
    (He opens the door)
    Sorry about that.

    (Stewart, 30’s and husky, enters. He is wearing his police uniform.)

    STEW: Why are you using the chain?

    MITCH: Why don’t you knock like a normal person?

    STEW: Because you gave me a key.

    MITCH: I gave you that in case I lock myself out. Not so you could let yourself in here whenever you want. What if I was with someone?

    (Stewart makes himself at home. Getting a beer from the fridge, eating whatever food might be lying around.)

    STEW: Like who?

    MITCH: What if I had a date?

    STEW: I think I know you better than that.

    MITCH: What do you want, Stew?

    STEW: What do you mean?

    MITCH: What brings you by?

    STEW: Nothing. My shift ended early today so I thought I’d stop by and shoot the shit with you.
    (Beat) That’s an odd turn of phrase, isn’t it? Do you suppose people in olden times used to sit around and actually shoot shit?

    (Mitch just looks at him)

    STEW: What? The entomology of words and phrases has always fascinated me.

    MITCH: Don’t you mean etymology?

    STEW: Isn’t that the study of birds or something?

    MITCH: No, that’s ornithology.

    STEW: I thought that was teeth.

    MITCH: Maybe you should look into another hobby.

    STEW: Eh. So what are you cooking? It smells good.

    MITCH: Dinner for my date. Tonight. I hate to rush you out of here, but I still have to get ready.

    STEW: Is this one of the girls Alison set you up with?

    MITCH: No, Stewart, your wife had nothing to do with this date. Thank God.

    STEW: What’s that supposed to mean?

    MITCH: Alison’s a terrible matchmaker.

    STEW: Mitch, she runs her own dating service. I think she knows what she’s doing.

    MITCH: She’s set me up three times and every one was a complete disaster.

    STEW: You ever think that maybe that has more to do with the matchee than the matcher? I mean, they don’t just throw people together willy-nilly. There’s a science to it, Mitch.

    MITCH: Like physics and biology?

    STEW: Did you lie on your form? I bet you lied on your form. Trying to make yourself look better so you could rate a better class of woman.

    MITCH: I didn’t lie on my form.

    STEW: What did you put down as your occupation?

    MITCH: I don’t remember.

    STEW: Did you put down temp?

    MITCH: I told you, I don’t remember.

    STEW: No, you put down writer.

    MITCH: Just because I’ve never had anything published doesn’t mean I’m not a…hey, how did you know I put down writer? Does Alison let you look at the forms?

    STEW: Sometimes.

    MITCH: What about the confidentiality agreement?

    STEW: Mitch, I’m your best friend. I know more about you than what you put on a stupid dating service form. (Beat) And if you’re only 160 pounds, I’m Liza Minelli.

    MITCH: I had just gotten over the flu when I filled out that form. And the women she set me up with were all nuts.

    STEW: She screens her clients very well.

    MITCH: Stew, the last one was covered in tattoos.

    STEW: Tattoos are very sexy.

    MITCH: She had over a dozen Elvises on her ass.

    STEW: You got to see her ass? That sounds like a pretty good date to me.

    MITCH: Some of them had real hair for sideburns.

    (Alison bursts through the door. She is worked up. She heads straight for Stew.)

    ALISON: I thought I’d find you here.

    STEW: Honey, I was just on my way home. What’s up?

    ALISON: I’m ovulating.

    STEW: Now?

    ALISON: No, whenever it’s convenient for you, yes now!

    STEW: Okay, take it easy. Let’s go.

    (Alison begins undressing.)

    ALISON: There’s not enough time.

    MITCH: What’s going on here?

    STEW: We’re trying to have a baby.

    ALISON: Less talking, more undressing.
    (To Mitch)
    Stew’s sperm is a little sluggish.

    STEW: The doctor gave her these hormone pills that make her a little agitated sometimes.

    ALISON: Stewart, I swear to Christ, if we aren’t having sex in the next 38 seconds I will cut off Mr. Tinkle and feed him to the dog. Move!

    (She begins to drag Stew towards the bedroom. Mitch blocks them.)

    MITCH: Wait, I have a date tonight. You guys can’t do this here.

    ALISON: Mitch, once we get started it’s going to take all of seven minutes. Four if Speedy here would take off his pants already!

    (She reaches for Stew’s belt and begins taking off his pants.)

    STEW: We don’t want to mess up his sheets honey.

    ALISON: Fine!

    (She pulls Stew down behind the couch.)

    MITCH: Oh…I…uh…I think…wow…I’m going to check on my dinner.

    (Mitch exits into the kitchen. Stew and Alison are concealed behind the couch.)

    ALISON: You have to tilt it more!

    STEW: I’m tilting it as far as it’ll go.

    (The phone rings. Mitch enters and sees them and exits back into the kitchen.)

    ALISON: Farther!

    STEW: Ow! It doesn’t bend like that.

    (The phone rings.)

    ALISON: Answer the damn phone, Mitch!

    STEW: Honey, getting stressed like this isn’t helping.

    ALISON: PUT A BABY IN ME!

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Fourteen

    This week we just had a drunken scuffle between two irate generals.

    • Coyote spies on post-coital pillow talk…
    • Michael chooses neither paper nor plastic…
    • David fired a late shot, too drunk on absinthe to make it out earlier.

    Let’s get some more battlers next week. Post your best and send a link to sketchwar_at_dreamloom.com.

  • FSW: Small Store Edition

    Richard is the early bird this week with a hilarious sketch about a little pillow talk.

    I know Dave was headed to a Cubs game today, so he could be busy putting on his parka and snow boots before heading to the stadium. It’s like March here today.

    Here’s my sketch for what it’s worth. After seeing Campaign Supernova the other night, I really wanted to blast one out of the park. But I’ll settle for a single. As long as I don’t strand the runner on base.

    (A small, country grocery store. JIM stands behind the counter as JERRY finishes unloading his basket. Jim is ringing up items on the cash register, no barcode scanner here, through their conversation.)

    JIM: You are going to love these strawberries. Meredith just picked them yesterday.

    JERRY: Your produce is always so good.

    JIM: Well, it helps when our orchard is only ten miles away. We can pick it and sell it the same day.

    JERRY: It certainly makes a difference.

    JIM: You can almost taste the love.

    JERRY: Is that where that extra sweetness comes from?

    (They laugh. Jim has finished tallying up the order.)

    JIM: All righty. That’s going to be $27.50.

    (He reaches under the counter and pulls out a plastic bag.)

    JERRY: Don’t worry about the bag, Jim, I brought my own.

    JIM: Well, look at you. Janet’s finally got you paying attention to the environment.

    JERRY: She told me that if I brought home another plastic bag from the store she’d smother me with it.

    (They laugh.)

    JIM: Well, I’m glad to see you’re doing your part. Here, let me bag it up for you.

    JERRY: You don’t have to-

    JIM: No, no. Come on.

    (Jim takes the bag and freezes. His mood shifts.)

    JIM: What the hell is this?

    JERRY: What?

    JIM: This?

    (Jim points to the logo on the bag.)

    JERRY: It’s a reusable bag, Jim.

    JIM: From Wal-Mart, Jerry. Why do you have a bag from Wal-Mart?

    JERRY: I…I…I don’t know. I just have one.

    JIM: All these years, Jerry. All these years you’ve been buying your groceries here. I thought we had something special.

    JERRY: We do, Jim. You know I love your store.

    JIM: Yet here you stand with a Wal-Mart bag. In my store, Jerry! In my store!

    JERRY: Calm down.

    JIM: How many times?

    JERRY: What?

    JIM: How many times have you shopped…(chocking back tears) at Wal-Mart?

    JERRY: Oh, come on. Don’t do this. It didn’t mean anything. I swear.

    JIM: It means something to me, Jerry.

    JERRY: Jim, listen, would you rather I shopped in your store with this bag or shop there with…well you don’t even sell reusable bags.

    JIM: I am aware of my shortcomings, Jerry! You don’t have to slap me in the face with it. (beat) Did you like it?

    JERRY: I don’t know…

    JIM: Come on, tell me, what was it like?

    JERRY: Jim, please, don’t do this to yourself.

    JIM: I have to know, Jerry! Were their honeydew as juicy as mine? Did they have 97 varieties of apples?

    JERRY: No. God no. I didn’t even look at his melons. I swear. You know your produce is the tops.

    JIM: Then what? Why did you do it?

    JERRY: I was weak…

    JIM: Just tell me.

    JERRY: I don’t-

    JIM: Tell me!

    JERRY: There are just so many more options! All right? Is that what you wanted to hear? And they sell giant, family size boxes of cereal.

    (Jim gasps and nearly faints.)

    JERRY: You only sell the smaller ones.

    JIM: I don’t have the shelf space and you know it.

    JERRY: I know. I’m sorry. But, sometimes it’s just easier to buy the bigger box.

    JIM: You could always buy two smaller boxes.

    JERRY: But the bigger box costs less. Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I’ll just get my things and go.

    (Jerry begins bagging his groceries. He finishes and heads for the door.)

    JIM: Wait.

    (Jerry stops and turns. Jim takes a small container of raspberries over to Jerry and puts them in his bag.)

    JIM: Just a little something to remember me by.

    JERRY: Thank you.

    JIM: Do you think you’ll ever come back?

    JERRY: Would you have me?

    JIM: I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.

    JERRY: Yeah. (beat) Yeah.

    (Jerry exits. Jim watches him go, the grief washing back over him, he begins to sob and slowly slides down the door to the floor.)

    BLACKOUT

  • FSW: Pillow Talk

    Pillow Talk
    (Mark and Vanessa lie side by side in bed with the sheets pulled up to strategically cover their nudity. Hair is mussed. They’ve clearly just finished an energetic session of lovemaking.)

    MARK
    That your thong?

    VANESSA
    Where?

    MARK
    Ceiling fan.

    VANESSA
    Um, no I think that one’s yours.

    That was…where did you learn that new trick?

    MARK
    The one with the rolling pin?

    VANESSA
    No, the other one.

    MARK
    “The New Yankee Workshop.” Norm’s a stickler for shop safety, so I figured–

    VANESSA
    –measure twice

    MARK & VANESSA
    cut once!

    (Vanessa leans across Mark and grabs a bottle of Gatorade from a side table.)

    VANESSA
    Frost?

    (Mark leans across Vanessa and grabs his own bottle of Gatorade from her side table.)

    MARK
    (Indicating bottle) Orange. I’m old-school.

    So…um, that thing you said?

    VANESSA
    Which thing? About the mold in the basement? Because that wasn’t dirty talk. I just think we need to have that looked at.

    MARK
    No, not the mold. The other thing.

    VANESSA
    Oh. That. I just…I thought you’d like that. Guys like to hear stuff like that, don’t they?

    MARK
    Um, in the abstract, sure. You were just so…specific. It was unnerving.

    VANESSA
    How do you mean?

    MARK
    I mean, saying “you’re the best” or “no one’s ever made me feel this way” is a hell of an ego boost. I’m not going to lie. But usually – and it’s not like I’ve been with a lot of other women, and I’m not trying to compare – usually it doesn’t come with such a detailed list of people and places and…positions.

    VANESSA
    I don’t follow.

    MARK
    Well…alright. For example, when I was doing that thing with the watering can and toilet brush you said (in a monotone) “ooh baby, the way you move your hips is better than Joe Piscopo doing me reverse cowgirl in the back of that Hoboken cab with the bad shocks, summer of ’98, baby, baby, baby.”

    VANESSA
    No. I didn’t say that. I mean, maybe I said something like–

    MARK
    –word for word.

    VANESSA
    Really? You were going pretty fast then, how can you be sure?

    MARK
    I’ll never forget. Those words – and that look in your eyes, like a starving hyena – are etched in my memory.

    VANESSA
    I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I was…it was just so good. Like you’d taken it to another level. I guess I just lost my head. But what about you? I mean, I wasn’t the only one talking. What was that you were trying to say before I took the Saran Wrap off your head?

    MARK
    Help me, please. I can’t breathe?

    VANESSA
    Oh.

    (They sit in a moment of awkward silence.)

    MARK
    Mold?

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Thirteen

    Whoo doggy! Lucky round 13. Let’s get right into the action.

    • Coyote threw a million little pieces of shrapnel at his foes…
    • Michael trained a firehose of Evian into the fray…
    • David gave us all hemlock and consumption.

    Three warriors entered. None survived. They’re dead. All of them dead.

  • FSW: Blind Date

    Please forgive me ahead of time for a boring sketch. I’ve had a rough week and didn’t get to this until an hour ago. It’s not good. Seriously. Sorry.

    Blind Date
    (Meredith sits at a small table in a stylish bistro with a glass of wine. She is fashionably dressed. She frequently raises her eyes from a copy of “All the Pretty Horses” to glance about. Liam enters, carrying a copy of “No Country for Old Men” under his arm. He wears dirty jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair and beard are long and unkempt. He looks around, spots Meredith, and crosses to her table.)

    LIAM
    Meredith?

    MEREDITH
    (Looking up) Yes?

    (Liam indicates his book and then points to Meredith’s. She invites him to sit down.)

    It’s nice to meet you finally, Liam. Would you like a drink?

    LIAM
    A beer would be great.

    (Meredith waves at a waiter who comes over.)

    MEREDITH
    A beer for my friend, and another glass of chablis for me, please.

    (The waiter goes off to fill the order.)

    Did you find the place okay?

    LIAM
    Yeah, once I realized it was near The Y, I knew I’d been here before.

    MEREDITH
    Oh? Do you workout at the Y?

    LIAM
    I live there.

    MEREDITH
    Oh. What do you do?

    LIAM
    Odd jobs. I used sweep out the back alley at this place for their day-old bread. But the new manager is a prick. He’d rather throw it out than give it away.

    MEREDITH
    I didn’t realize. Well…

    (The waiter appears with their drinks. Meredith finishes hers off in one swallow, points to the glass, and holds up two fingers to the waiter.)

    LIAM
    I loved what you said about “The Road” on the forum. That was the best analysis I’ve ever seen of McCarthy’s lyrical descriptions of the wasteland.

    MEREDITH
    Thank you. That’s very sweet. Especially considering what you had to say about “All the Pretty Horses”. I’m re-reading it now, and it’s not the same book to me at all after what you said.

    LIAM
    Thanks.

    (There’s an uncomfortably long pause in conversation. Liam finishes his beer. Both try to say something and stop themselves. The waiter arrives with another beer and two glasses of wine. He sets them down and Meredith and Liam both take long drinks.)

    MEREDITH
    Keep them coming, would you?

    So, you have a computer at The Y?

    LIAM
    No. I use the one at the public library. I like it there, especially during the summer. They don’t like us in The Y during the day, so I’ve gotta find someplace cool.

    So what’s a woman like you doing looking for men online? You must be beating them back with a stick.

    MEREDITH
    Hardly! I’ve tried everything. Match.com, eHarmony, JDate —

    LIAM
    — Oh, you’re Jewish?

    MEREDITH
    No. But all the dates I went on were terrible. All the men were idiots. One of them thought the Coens had written “No Country for Old Men”!

    LIAM
    You’re kidding!

    MEREDITH
    I’m serious.

    (The waiter returns with yet more alcohol and takes away the empties.)

    BLACKOUT

    LIGHTS UP

    (Meredith and Liam have been at the table a while and are clearly well lubricated. She’s moved to the seat next to Liam and is cozying up to him.)

    MEREDITH
    You want to get out of here?

    LIAM
    Sure. Your place or mine?

    MEREDITH
    Mine.

    (As Meredith picks up her bag, its contents spill onto the floor. Amidst the brush, mascara, compact, and wallet is a copy of “A Million Little Pieces”. Liam picks it up and turns it over in his hands. He hands it back to Meredith who looks ashamed.)

    LIAM
    Actually, I’m feeling a little tired. I think I’m just going to head back to The Y. Thanks for the drinks.

    MEREDITH
    No, Liam, wait. I can explain!

    LIAM
    No. I don’t think you can.

    BLACKOUT

  • Friday Night Sketch War: Round Twelve

    After last week’s light battle, the warriors return with vengeance on their minds and blood on their hands. Three great armies amassed to vie for contested land. Who would prevail? Would any survive? Would any live to sing songs of the clash?

    • Coyote led the charge atop a mighty warhorse, leading a terrible horde of hideous, slavering beasts hungry for flesh…
    • Michael and his battalion of silent assassins crept behind their enemies and swung heavy iron implements…
    • David used guile and deception to enter the field, then used explosives to finish the job.

    A mindless eating machine, a wordless display, and architectural genius are on display this week.