Day 4: The Johnny_7482 Program

I had a lot of trouble starting tonight. Maybe it's not a good sign that I'm already feeling tired of writing sketches, or that I'm already cranky about not drinking for three whole days. So it's probably not surprising that after jotting down a few ideas, the only thing that tickled my fancy was a short little sketch that is more than a little cynical about the process of creating comedy.

The Johnny_7482 Program

The set of a late-night talk show. Everyone in this sketch talks in an inhuman parody of the cadences of a typical late-night talk show.

ANNOUNCER (VO)
End mandatory product specifications download! Scheduled viewing of program = JOHNNY_7482 PROGRAM!

KRAFTWERK MUSIC plays. Sound of clattering metal and old modem noises.

ANNOUNCER (VO)
Where program = JOHNNY_7482 PROGRAM; host = Johnny_7482!

JOHNNY_7482 enters. He just might look like Andy Kaufman in Heartbeeps.

JOHNNY
Reactions as follows: Gratitude! Acknowledgment plus gratitude! Gratitude! Gratitude! Plea for silence. REQUESTING COMPLIANCE.

Audience settles down.

JOHNNY
Mood scan commencing: mood = content. Introduction module commencing: Generator of sequential tone strings plus reflexive acknowledgments = Mr. Microsoft Utah 7!

Mr. Microsoft Utah 7 is in the corner smiling creepily and standing upright.

MMU7
Acknowledgment! (Opens mouth, music comes out, closes mouth.)

JOHNNY
Where status open parenthesis Mr. Microsoft Utah 7 close parenthesis = x;
x+1;
test humor content;
if humorous end;
otherwise, repeat!

MMU7
Acknowledgment.

JOHNNY
Has current event 08B72Z9 been previously downloaded? If false, request download.
Comic timing pause...
Current event 08B72Z9 substitute location non-current event X96L12!

"Applause."

JOHNNY (cont'd)
Acknowledgment.

MMU7
Assessment of non-logical substitution -> does not compute = HUMOROUS

JOHNNY
Has current event 6F272RQ been previously downloaded? If false, request download.
Comic timing pause...
Current event 6F272RQ compares to non-current event LY864T: Semantic similarity = 38.6%

MMU7
Acknowledgment of similarity. Search for meaning -> results negative.
Does not compute = HUMOROUS

JOHNNY
Gratitude! Plea for silence. REQUESTING COMPLIANCE.
Has current event HG387O been previously downloaded? If false, request download.
Comic timing pause...
Current event HG387O concatenated with string...FART

MMU7
Fart = "Expulsion of gaseous by-product from anterior section of animal digestion system" (opens mouth, music)

JOHNNY
Gratitude. Show quality scan -> 6.74 out of 10. Listing of models and programs scheduled for future attendance! Preparation for mandatory product specification download period, followed by resumption of current program. Request for non-termination of observation. DEMAND COMPLIANCE.

FIN

Copyright © 2008 Jeff S.

I'm sure those of you who are coders are going to have a problem with this sketch.

Day 3: The Only Erotic Baker in Town, or Painting Myself Into a Corner

One of my first experiences being in a good improv group was taking Billy Merritt's class in "The Documentary" at the UCB. This eventually culminated in a group called The Locals, and we had a run at the UCB for several months. One of our better shows, which I have on tape, was a documentary about an erotic bakery. Federico and I played the owners of the bakery: he striving to be ever more transgressive, by making things like "Holocaust cakes," and I bemoaning the fact that as a chef who had studied in France, I had sunk to these depths.

That may have been in the back of mind during my brainstorm on Monday, when I thought of the simple idea of a woman ordering an erotic cake from her ex-husband. The sketch is interesting, but the woman became sort of an villain, and a very efficient one at that, and by the time she walks out of the scene, the humiliation of the baker seemed both inescapable and unsatisfying. I couldn't for the life of me think of an ending.

I should mention that I've been writing everything out by hand in a notebook, because I cant be trusted at a computer anymore. So I have to type up the sketches if I want to show them to you, the imaginary reader.

And, uh... I think I'll skip this one.

POSTSCRIPT: I did think of an end the next day. It involves a customer recognizing the picture of the woman's boyfriend's penis from a hookup in the gym locker room. Waka waka!

Day 2: The Incredibly Silly Raised By Eagles Sketch

Secret Hospital had a meeting last week in a charming little bistro called Subway in the neighborhood just south of Port Authority. (The Vicious Circle had the Algonquin; we have chain restaurants in close proximity to porn stores.) We were trying to figure out our next steps after a busy summer in which we basically put up three different shows: Live from Budapest (two different versions, thanks to some cast shuffling), This One's for the Gays, and our most ambitious work yet, The Dinner Table. We may not have another full show of new material* this year, with our schedules such as they are, but Michael and I both agreed to do this National Sketch Writing Month thing, to generate as much material as we possibly can.

Anyway, our meeting, as usual, was punctuated with us making faces at each other, often to punctuate borderline bad jokes or bits. Michael is one of those people who can heighten a face to crazy extremes. (Which you know if you've ever seen Skeeger's Sneezing Retard Sketch.) He made some hilarious face and screeched loudly, thus hatching the idea for today's sketch: an infant snatched out of his mother's arms and raised by eagles.

I planned on making the sketch about someone from "the government" letting this older couple know that after 27 years, their son had been found. I spent too much time thinking of their names, and had the ridiculous idea to call the government guy Mr. Mailman (pronounced mail-mun). Breaking every rule about getting right to the game of the sketch, I ended up meandering along, exploring all sorts of silly games and almost treating the main theme of the sketch as an afterthought. I'm not sure if it works, and it will no doubt have to be edited, but it made me laugh, and breaking the rules is fun.

For the hell of it, I'll post this whole sketch.

Raised By Eagles

MR. and MRS. CONROY show MR. MAILMAN into their living room. Mr. Mailman is dressed like an official for the government, which, in fact, he is. Mr. and Mrs. Conroy are polite but wary.

MRS. C
Please... have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?

MR. M
A glass of water would be lovely, Mrs. Conroy.

MRS. C
OK. I'll be right back.

She leaves, humming "Genie in a Bottle." Mr. Mailman and Mr. Conroy look at each other awkwardly.

MR. C
So, Mr. ... Merman is it?

MR. M
Um, Mailman.

MR. C
Mayomun?

MR. M
Mailman. Like mail man. The guy... who brings your mail.

MR. C
Oh! Mailman! Huh! That's unusual.

MR. M
It's...really not. There are people named Baker, and Chaplin–

MR. C
Well, there really wasn't mail–

MR. M
–um, Carpenter, Smith, Bootblack–

MR. C
–back when people made those names, most of them weren't literate–

MR. M
IT'S A TOTALLY NORMAL NAME.

All this time there gas been an increasingly louder cacophony of appliances in the kitchen.

MR. C
(coldly)
Well. Mr. MAILMUN. Perhaps you can tell me why you're here.

MR. M
I'd rather wait for your wife. What exactly is she–

Mrs. Conroy enters suddenly.

MRS. C
Here we are!

She gives everyone plain glasses of water, still humming "Genie in a Bottle." Mr. Mailman takes a sip.

MR. M
Wow.

MR. C
Right?

MR. M
That's...wow.

MR. M
My wife makes a mean water.

MRS. C
Oh, stop.

MR. M
So. Anyway. I came here because... I'm sorry! I can't get over how good that water is. And it's not from a mix?

MRS. C
Made it from scratch.

MR. M
Huh! So. I'm from the government.

MR. AND MRS. C
Oh!

MR. M
The U.S. government.

MR. AND MRS. C
Ah!

MR. M
Yes. And, well... do you remember, back in 1981, when you were leaving the hospital with your newborn son Michael (for some reason, he is miming everything in an exaggerated fashion) and an eagle swooped out of the sky and carried him away?

Mr. and Mrs. Conroy don't seem to remember. They make a series of more exaggerated "searching their memories" faces.

MR. M (cont'd)
No? Doesn't ring a bell? Big eagle? Swooped out of the sky? Took your only child? Flew off into the distance? There was a big documentary about it? Won the Oscar? Rock and roll fundraiser? TV movie starring Lindsay Wagner? You started the Michael We Will Never Forget You Fund for Infants Who Have Been Snatched Away by Eagles?

Still nothing. Their faces are ridiculous now.

MR. M (cont'd)
You were wearing a sort of powder blue bathrobe?

MRS. C
Oh, yes! Michael!

MR. C
I remember him.

MR. M
Well...we found him.

MRS. C
What?

MR. C
Great Scott!

MR. M
Or rather, a professional eagle hunter found him. Man by the name of Abner Policeman. Turns out the eagles didn't eat your baby. They raised him as one of their own.

MRS. C
Oh, my Lord!

MR. C
Jeepers Crum!

MR. M
And. AND. We have him right outside. I'll go get him.

He exits, but within earshot.

MRS. C
He's here? Oh my!

MR. C
Unbelievable!

MRS. C
How do I look?

MR. C
How should I know how you look?

MR. M (offstage)
Uh-oh! Looks like someone didn't want to wait for his lunch. You don't own a dog, do you?

MR. C
Why, yes we do! Our prize-winning Pomeranian Prizzi's Honor!

Mr. Mailman enters with Michael "on his arm." He's walking, but he's pretending to perch on Mr. M's forearm with one hand-claw and tearing into a bloody half dog with the other. He lifts his chin up, bolting down chunks of meat.

MR. C
(horrified)
Prizzi!

MRS. C
(joyous)
My baby!

She runs to hug her boy and Michael screeches, flapping his arm-wings before settling down and letting his hands be claws again.

MR. M
Whoah, whoah! Easy there.

MRS. C
(distraught)
What's wrong with him?

MR. M
He was raised by eagles, ma'am. Reacting to a perceived attack is about the only "etiquette" this beast knows.

MR. C
He ate my dog!

MR. M
Look at it this way. He'll keep all the rats out of your barn.

MR. C
We don't own a barn!

Mrs. M keeps trying to pet Michael, who nips at her hand.

MR. M
Well, you'll have to keep him busy somehow. Otherwise he's going to make a mess of your furniture.

MR. C
We? We can't keep him!

MRS. C
George! He's our son!

MR. C
He's a retard!

MRS. C
He's majestic! He's the symbol of our country!

MR. M
He seems to really like Pomeranians. You might want to stock up on those bad boys. Look...I know this comes as a shock. And normally, I'd love to take him off your hands, perform some military experiments on him. But this is a bad time for the U.S. Government. We decided to take a year off, backpack around Southeast Asia...maybe work on that novel we always meant to write. The road's a-callin', my man. And we're going to answer before the road hangs up. Because the road doesn't bother leaving messages on your voicemail. Know what I'm sayin'?

Mr. Mailman gives them both frat-boy handshake hugs. Then he ruffles the back of Michael's neck.

MR. M (cont'd)
I'm going to miss you most of all, retarded eagle man. Peace out, bitches.

Mr. Mailman leaves. He pokes his head back in.

MR. M (cont'd)
Oh! And always remember. Never turn off the lights. He's afraid of the dark. He will freak. the fuck. out. if you turn off the lights.

He leaves. The flabbergasted couple and the eagle boy, now perched on the back of a chair, sit on stage for an uncomfortable period of time. Michael shifts back and forth on his perch, squawking gently.

BLACK OUT. SQUAWKS, SCREAMS AND CRASHES.

Copyright © 2008 by Jeff S.

So weird. I call dibs on playing Mr. Mailman.

*We will, however, have an industry showcase at Comix next Friday, September 12, which we would love for you to attend! Seriously, it's a bringer show. I know. But you would like us to go to Montreal, non?

Day 1: Brainstorm and The Genie Sketch

We went to Cold Spring yesterday for a hike and a bed & breakfast stay, and on the way home this afternoon, I didn't quite get to writing a sketch. I did however brainstorm some ideas. These ranged from a column of specific sketch ideas to a column I called "non-ideas." The non-ideas were mostly free form thoughts of settings or characters, and nothing more. Here's the list...you have my permission to sip freely from this well of genius and inspiration.

NON-IDEAS
Front porch
Hunting, around campfire
Death row
Musclemen
Train (Old West? Robbery?)
Doorman
Magician
Amputee

Can't wait for that amputee sketch, right?

After getting home and watching the pilot episode of Twin Peaks and the end of the first Charlie's Angels movie, I made myself go into the bedroom and write a sketch.

My seedling of an idea from the train was a man and his genie. The genie is annoyed because the man refuses to make his third wish, instead just keeping the genie around to have someone to talk to. It morphed a little from the original conception, as they usually do. This excerpt contains a fun little thing I stumbled on which cracked me up.

Excerpt of The Genie Sketch

GENIE
Four and a half years you've kept me trapped in this crappy little bottle in your crappy little apartment, waiting for you to make your third wish so I can finally be free!

MAN
It's an important decision!

GENIE
Just wish for a billion dollars or something!

MAN
What about taxes?

GENIE
A billion dollars after taxes, then!

MAN
Oh sure! Don't you think the government will want to know where the money came from?

GENIE
It's cash. Untraceable.

MAN
How's that? Are you going to invent a billion new serial numbers?

GENIE
They're not going to be a billion one-dollar bills, you idiot!

MAN
I'm the idiot? Look, by definition, this magical cash you give me is either going to be stolen or counterfeit. I don't want to go to jail and be candy for freaks!

GENIE
Look. I promise I'm not going to trick you. I just want out of this.

MAN
Why would I trust you? My second wish was that my high school crush were here with me. You teleported here and she wouldn't stop screaming! I had to beat the love of my life to death with a toaster before the neighbors called the cops!

I kind of like that originally, it was going to just be about the man being a lonely loser, but in the end I spent enough effort seeing his side that you almost don't mind seeing the genie suffer.

I can't decide if I want Dan to play the genie or the dude. Sometimes it's a shame there's only one Dan. One constantly busy Dan.

National Sketch Writing Month. Proceed at your own caution.

So... I, along with a handful of New York comedians, have decided to sign up for National Sketch Writing Month. We will attempt to write one sketch a day for the month of September.

You may recognize this as a blatant rip-off of/homage to National Novel Writing Month, an admirable if quixotic endeavor I have failed to complete on several occasions. I hope to have a little more luck with this. Sketch writing is much easier for me than writing prose, and besides, who has time to do anything in November?

I'm in a New York-based sketch group called Secret Hospital. I'm proud of the work we do, though I'm not nearly as prolific a writer as I wish I were. Michael and I have decided to take on this challenge. Maybe out of 60 sketches between the two of us, two or three will be usable. I kind of feel as if I need some added incentive, though, so I'm going to suggest to Michael that we each lose a finger for every day we don't write a sketch.

I'm thinking of quitting drinking for September, too. Michael was a little too anxious to voice his approval that I do so. Hmm.

So, there you have it! Starting Monday, check this site daily for bad sketches and tons of complaining!