Prose is my first love. If there were plenty of drawbacks to the standard form of written language, the Neanderthals who first scrawled onto cave walls prose such as, “Ways to Woo Your Cavewoman without even Clubbing Her” would have referred to their innovation as “Cons.”
Sketches, in contrast to prose, are high-maintenance mistresses. They flaunt a sensory indulgence that prose doesn’t provide, and the allure of applause, to boot. Mistress Sketch is without fidelity; she is passed around and shared like a Big Mama among a gang of Hell’s Angels. The writer’s input is diluted by the inclusion of actors, a director, producers, and the worst of the bunch, BEST BOYS, who all insist their shit smells the best. My knack for human error is prodigious, and so sometimes it feels absurd to seek out collaborators to add bits of their human error to compliment mine.
That’s a pessimistic assessment, naturally, and too resentful for comfort. Ultimately, anyone preoccupied with compounding human error should consider the life of an agoraphobic as an alternative.
Today I signed up for a comedy writing class at the Second City. To ensure that it’s a decent investment, I will have sketches rather than prose on the brain for awhile. Featured below is a sketch about pharmaceudical relief from pizza-burn. It's called “Zatrax,” from “Tim Invents the Triangle of Death,” a show that serves as a grim reminder of how far removed from college the contributors have become. The crew deserves thanks for contributing a minimum amount of human error to this one. As for my part, judge for yourself.
EXT. BACK YARD - DAY
Four exuberant men play a game of hackey-sack. A giddy woman with a puffed-up stomach presents a pizza and sets it down a table among paper plates and a bottle of whiskey.
JULIE: Who wants pizza?
The hackey-sack flops to the ground, forgotten. The men salivate and cheer. NICK, the most impatient of the bunch, snatches a slice and is about to inhale it.
JULIE: Wait for it to cool down, buddy. If you eat it too fast, you’ll get a nasty tongue-burn.
NICK: But it looks so delicious…and I’m hungry NOW, darn it.
JULIE: (briefly considers) You make an interesting point.
She grabs a slice and gobbles half of it. The others follow suit. Tongue-burn hits them like Instant Karma.
ERIC: Ouch! Something’s wrong with my tongue; I don’t understand.
STEVE: It feels like invisible demons are scraping tridents against my popsicle-licker!
NICK: Is there no relief?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: There is now, thanks to Zatrax.
Julie slops a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth.
JULIE: (to camera) Zatrax?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: That’s right: Zatrax. The brand new, once-a-day tablet that suppresses nagging tongue-burns!
ERIC: Sounds too good to be true. Am I high right now?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: I wouldn’t doubt it. But regardless, Zatrax really works. Here, try a free sample.
A vial of pills materializes on the picnic table. Everyone swallows a capsule except for Julie, who inspects her pill uncertainly. The men experience instant relief.
MIKE: Hallelujah, it works!
NICK: The disembodied voice was right. Zatrax kicks ass.
The revitalized men high-five each other and act out a series of antics. Nick piggybacks onto Mike and catches a football thrown to him.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Side-effects of Zatrax include dry mouth, fatigue, headache, sinus congestion, slight nausea, and irritability.
Hearing this, the men react indifferently. Mike and Eric happily declare a thumb-war on each other. Nick places his palms on the ground and kicks his legs up. Steve grabs hold of his ankles and the two perform the human wheelbarrow trick.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Other side-effects include diarrhea, muscle spasms, acne, blood-clotting, excessive dandruff, dimple loss, and erectile dysfunction.
At the mention of these last two words, Steve reels and releases hold of his friend’s ankles.
STEVE: Wait--what was that last side-effect?
Steve is rattled. He reaches for the bottle of whiskey.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Do not mix Zatrax with alcohol, as it may lead to brain hemorrhaging.
Defeated and chagrined, he sets the bottle back down. Julie seizes his lost opportunity and guzzles the booze.
The men gather in a half-circle. Someone flips the hackey-sack half-heartedly but no one bothers to kick it.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: In addition to epilepsy and rickets, Zatrax may cause full-body warts, aortal explosion, clitoral numbness, persistent nipple chafing, nasal ringworms, irrepressible yodeling, Korean War flashbacks, and rabid sperm.
MIKE: Rabid sperm?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Only in 40% of the cases. Don’t puss out on me. (beat) Pregnant women should not take Zatrax.
Whiskey bottle still clenched, Julie lets her pill fall to the ground.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: (desperately) Unless, of course, you don’t mind birthing a flipper baby.
JULIE: (stomping pill) I’d rather not.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: You heartless harlot. I’ll bet you don’t even know who the father is.
Julie is outraged at first, but soon shrugs and nods as if to say, “You got me.”
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Where was I? Did I mention rectal bleeding and testicular erosion?
NICK: Good God…
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Well, they’re side-effects, too. Ask your doctor about Zatrax today, and say goodbye to tongue-burn forever!
Various side-effects flare up. Mike reaches underneath his shirt and scratches his persistently chafing nipples. Steve yodels in uncontrollable fits. Eric becomes vigilant and paranoid. He cups his crotch with two hands, and before darting out of the scene, he says…
ERIC: I’ve got to inspect my testicles before those damn Koreans cross the 38th parallel.
NICK: (looking around in relief) Hey…I think I got off easy. Other than a touch of dry-mouth, I feel fine. No clitoral numbness to speak of…
(convulsing) Arrrggghhh! My aorta!
An explosion booms as Nick clutches his heart and keels over.
FADE OUT.
Sketches, in contrast to prose, are high-maintenance mistresses. They flaunt a sensory indulgence that prose doesn’t provide, and the allure of applause, to boot. Mistress Sketch is without fidelity; she is passed around and shared like a Big Mama among a gang of Hell’s Angels. The writer’s input is diluted by the inclusion of actors, a director, producers, and the worst of the bunch, BEST BOYS, who all insist their shit smells the best. My knack for human error is prodigious, and so sometimes it feels absurd to seek out collaborators to add bits of their human error to compliment mine.
That’s a pessimistic assessment, naturally, and too resentful for comfort. Ultimately, anyone preoccupied with compounding human error should consider the life of an agoraphobic as an alternative.
Today I signed up for a comedy writing class at the Second City. To ensure that it’s a decent investment, I will have sketches rather than prose on the brain for awhile. Featured below is a sketch about pharmaceudical relief from pizza-burn. It's called “Zatrax,” from “Tim Invents the Triangle of Death,” a show that serves as a grim reminder of how far removed from college the contributors have become. The crew deserves thanks for contributing a minimum amount of human error to this one. As for my part, judge for yourself.
EXT. BACK YARD - DAY
Four exuberant men play a game of hackey-sack. A giddy woman with a puffed-up stomach presents a pizza and sets it down a table among paper plates and a bottle of whiskey.
JULIE: Who wants pizza?
The hackey-sack flops to the ground, forgotten. The men salivate and cheer. NICK, the most impatient of the bunch, snatches a slice and is about to inhale it.
JULIE: Wait for it to cool down, buddy. If you eat it too fast, you’ll get a nasty tongue-burn.
NICK: But it looks so delicious…and I’m hungry NOW, darn it.
JULIE: (briefly considers) You make an interesting point.
She grabs a slice and gobbles half of it. The others follow suit. Tongue-burn hits them like Instant Karma.
ERIC: Ouch! Something’s wrong with my tongue; I don’t understand.
STEVE: It feels like invisible demons are scraping tridents against my popsicle-licker!
NICK: Is there no relief?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: There is now, thanks to Zatrax.
Julie slops a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth.
JULIE: (to camera) Zatrax?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: That’s right: Zatrax. The brand new, once-a-day tablet that suppresses nagging tongue-burns!
ERIC: Sounds too good to be true. Am I high right now?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: I wouldn’t doubt it. But regardless, Zatrax really works. Here, try a free sample.
A vial of pills materializes on the picnic table. Everyone swallows a capsule except for Julie, who inspects her pill uncertainly. The men experience instant relief.
MIKE: Hallelujah, it works!
NICK: The disembodied voice was right. Zatrax kicks ass.
The revitalized men high-five each other and act out a series of antics. Nick piggybacks onto Mike and catches a football thrown to him.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Side-effects of Zatrax include dry mouth, fatigue, headache, sinus congestion, slight nausea, and irritability.
Hearing this, the men react indifferently. Mike and Eric happily declare a thumb-war on each other. Nick places his palms on the ground and kicks his legs up. Steve grabs hold of his ankles and the two perform the human wheelbarrow trick.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Other side-effects include diarrhea, muscle spasms, acne, blood-clotting, excessive dandruff, dimple loss, and erectile dysfunction.
At the mention of these last two words, Steve reels and releases hold of his friend’s ankles.
STEVE: Wait--what was that last side-effect?
Steve is rattled. He reaches for the bottle of whiskey.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Do not mix Zatrax with alcohol, as it may lead to brain hemorrhaging.
Defeated and chagrined, he sets the bottle back down. Julie seizes his lost opportunity and guzzles the booze.
The men gather in a half-circle. Someone flips the hackey-sack half-heartedly but no one bothers to kick it.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: In addition to epilepsy and rickets, Zatrax may cause full-body warts, aortal explosion, clitoral numbness, persistent nipple chafing, nasal ringworms, irrepressible yodeling, Korean War flashbacks, and rabid sperm.
MIKE: Rabid sperm?
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Only in 40% of the cases. Don’t puss out on me. (beat) Pregnant women should not take Zatrax.
Whiskey bottle still clenched, Julie lets her pill fall to the ground.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: (desperately) Unless, of course, you don’t mind birthing a flipper baby.
JULIE: (stomping pill) I’d rather not.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: You heartless harlot. I’ll bet you don’t even know who the father is.
Julie is outraged at first, but soon shrugs and nods as if to say, “You got me.”
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Where was I? Did I mention rectal bleeding and testicular erosion?
NICK: Good God…
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Well, they’re side-effects, too. Ask your doctor about Zatrax today, and say goodbye to tongue-burn forever!
Various side-effects flare up. Mike reaches underneath his shirt and scratches his persistently chafing nipples. Steve yodels in uncontrollable fits. Eric becomes vigilant and paranoid. He cups his crotch with two hands, and before darting out of the scene, he says…
ERIC: I’ve got to inspect my testicles before those damn Koreans cross the 38th parallel.
NICK: (looking around in relief) Hey…I think I got off easy. Other than a touch of dry-mouth, I feel fine. No clitoral numbness to speak of…
(convulsing) Arrrggghhh! My aorta!
An explosion booms as Nick clutches his heart and keels over.
FADE OUT.
1 comment:
very funny and descriptive. i can picture that smart ass disembodied voice sneering and jabbing you all with his effective effects.
congrats on the Second City class. let us know how its going, and make sure to tell us next time your in Wisconsin.
~eric
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