Seinfeld with Dogs

CAST:

JERRY: A shrewd-eyed brown beagle. 

GEORGE: A skittish, homely pug.

KRAMER: A scruffy, energetic German shepherd.

ELAINE: A frizzy, dazzling terrier.

NEWMAN: A wobbly, heavy bulldog.

INT. JERRY DOG'S APARTMENT - DAY

JERRY sits on the couch and paws at a blanket draped over the middle, nudging at a side to get the angles just right. 

GEORGE exits the bathroom down the hall and steps into the living room. Jerry detects a hint of shame on his friend’s face. George gets nervous, defensive.

GEORGE: What?

JERRY: Were you just drinking out of the toilet?

GEORGE: (snorts) Ha. I mean, what are you… Of course not.

JERRY: I see a trail of water drops on the hallway floor. Where did they come from?

GEORGE: I drool. Don't we all?

Jerry hops off the couch and approaches George.

JERRY: Let me smell your breath.

George flinches, turns away.

GEORGE: Oh, all right! I drank out of the toilet. But so what? It was a clean toilet.

JERRY: So what? My master doesn’t poop in the dog bowl. Why not drink out of that?

GEORGE: It’s the portions, Jerry. There’s so much water in there. I was thirsty.

JERRY: Well, I’d have to be dying to even think about sipping out of that cesspool.

GEORGE: Our mouths are cleaner than theirs. You know that, don’t you?

JERRY: And my mouth is cleaner than your mouth ‘cause I don’t lick their poop germs.

KRAMER bursts through the doggie door, scrambling and panting. He plops on the floor, exhausted, then pops up and bounds to Jerry’s dog bowl. He chomps at the mound of Purina.

KRAMER: (munching) Hey, Jerry. George.

JERRY: Hey. Easy on the chow, Scooby Doo. That’s two mouthfuls already.

KRAMER: Sorry, buddy. I just really gotta… (panting) Recharge the old battery.

JERRY: OK, I get it.

Kramer switches to the water bowl, thirsty too.

GEORGE: Get what?

JERRY: Kramer, you’ve got to stop chasing cars. Look at you; you’re a mess. You’ve got a problem.

KRAMER: Oh, I got a problem, Jerry. I got a problem chasing cars and I LOVE IT!

JERRY: What do you think is gonna happen, what miracle, if and when you ever catch up to a moving car?

KRAMER: I have no idea. And that’s why I gotta keep chasing. Jerry, the car is where the action is.

GEORGE: Ugh, not for me. When I have to ride in back, it’s nausea, it’s anxiety, it’s terrible. One minute I’m calm, the next the horns are blaring in heavy traffic. Then boom-- I’m barfing, I’m peeing. It’s the worst.

JERRY: OK, so a car ride makes you sick, but drinking toilet water is bliss. Got’cha.

KRAMER: What, you don’t like toilet water? C’mon Jerry, think about the portions.

GEORGE: See?

ELAINE steps through the doggie door. She poses and sighs theatrically.

ELAINE: I just had… thee worst date at the dog park.

JERRY: The worst?

Elaine bumps Kramer aside and nibbles at the Purina.

ELAINE: Yeah. In the bottom three, anyway.

JERRY: Well, what happened?

ELAINE: He was a tongue creeper.

JERRY: A tongue creeper?

ELAINE: Yep. So, we’re running around and fetching balls for our masters--it’s nice. They trust him without a leash, so it seems like he’s got it together. It’s a good-enough time, so we start to sniff each other a little bit. Just sniffin’ it out, ya know?

GEORGE: I haven’t had a date that good in 14 dog years…

ELAINE:  Just wait. So, there’s a little sniffin’, fine, and then out of nowhere… he starts to lick his own butthole.

JERRY: On the first date?

ELAINE: Like nonstop, Jerry. Ugh. Ten seconds go by. I bark in his face. What does he do? He tried to lick my snout. I run away, I look back. He’s at it again. Deep dive. Journey to the center of his own colon.

JERRY: So he was a tongue creeper.

KRAMER: You know, I used to be a tongue creeper. But I learned. The trick is, when you’re sniffing it out, you gotta think of something neutral. Like catching a frisbee in your mouth.

ELAINE: Well, you can tell that to Sammy. I’m done with him.

GEORGE: So I guess this means you’re single…

NEWMAN clumsily wiggles his way through the doggie door, panting with effort. He composes himself as he notices Jerry’s glare.

NEWMAN: (cold) Woof, woof… Jerry.

JERRY: (cold) Woof, woof… Newman. Stay away from my dog bowl, and how are you?

NEWMAN: Wonderful. More wonderful than you will ever know. (Turns to Kramer) Kramer! I hear you like chasing cars.

KRAMER: Oh, yeah. That’s where the action is.

JERRY: I think you’ve got action confused with roadkill.

NEWMAN: Well, if you like chasing cars, I’ve got two words for you: Mail trucks.

KRAMER: Ooh. Mail trucks, you say?

NEWMAN: Mail trucks. They’re slow, they make constant stops, they’re driven by a lonely soul who could use the companionship…

JERRY: (looks around) Well, companionship is overrated.

KRAMER: But he had me at “slow.” I’m chasing down the action! Mush, mush, baby!

                   END OF ACT I

*Cue that quirky bass line that is played on a keyboard. 

** I also wrote Acts II and III, but then a dog ate it.