Monday, December 27, 2010

'I Dream of Jeannie' -- what really would have happened


Shot of Jeannie's bottle. It's still, then starts rocking back and forth violently. Then it settles again.

Hold for a few seconds.

The bottle starts rocking back and forth again.

'Bewitched' - what really would have happened

DARRIN: OK, Samantha. I'm putting my foot down!

She wrinkles her nose. He bursts into flame.

Gilligans Island - what really would have happened


MARY ANNE and GINGER are both pregnant. They're surrounded by dirty screaming toddlers who all look like GILLIGAN. The kids are constantly breaking things and hurting themselves.

MARY ANNE: God, these kids are driving me crazy! They've got the IQ of rocks!

GINGER: I used to think I was stupid.

LIL GILLIGAN #2: Wahhhh! Lil' Gilligan #4 poke my eye!

LITTLE GILLIGAN #7: Wahhh! Lil' Gilligan 15 put dookie on my head!

GINGER: Slave!

MRS. HOWELL enters the scene, dressed in a burlap sack.

MRS. HOWELL: Yes, Mistress.

GINGER: Deal with these brats, bitch!

MRS. HOWELL: (suddenly defiant) Or?

MARY ANNE: Or share your husband's fate!

Brief shot of MR. HOWELL's lifeless head on a sharpened stick.

MRS. HOWELL: (brightly) I have a better idea!

She throws herself into the lagoon and drowns.

GINGER: God, now you'll have to start changing diapers.

MARY ANNE: No. That's not the way it works.

They stand up defiantly, ready for a throw down.

Suddenly, GILLIGAN enters the scene holding a cocoanut radio.

GILLIGAN: Ladies! Girls! Whatever!

MARY ANNE and GINGER: (lustfully) Gilligan.

GILLIGAN: It's the professor! He made it back to civilization!

GINGER: Oh wow.

MARY ANNE: You're really there, professor?

PROFESSOR: (speaking from the cocoanut) Yes, that's right, ladies. I'm really here. In Hawaii.

They explode with joy, laughing and applauding.

PROFESSOR: Maui is very beautiful this time of year.

GILLIGAN: I thought he said he was in Hawaii.

GINGER: Thank the Cocoanut God!

PROFESSOR: But you'll never see it.

MARY ANNE: What? Why not?

PROFESSOR: Why not? Your lack of perception never fails to astonish me. Why not? You !!@@E$ Gilligan. You !!@@E$ Gilligan. Not me. Gilligan. I'm an MIT graduate! I have three doctorates. I've got an IQ of 176!

MARY ANNE: But his penis is bigger.

GINGER: Like a lot bigger.

PROFESSOR: This fallacious argument only confirms my hypothesis. Obviously, you should not be allowed to contaminate the human gene pool. For the good of humanity, the 19 little waterheads you spawned must never leave the island. It's the scientific thing to do, you !!@## !!@##$s. Professor out.

GILLIGAN: Gee. I thought he was a nice guy. Gosh, you girls look so sad.

MARY ANNE: Yeah. We need a distraction.

GINGER: Make it better, Gilligan. Make it aw better.

GILLIGAN: Like a doctor? Oh. Oh! I get it! (he starts to take off his pants)

The SKIPPER enters the scene, holding a big knife.

GILLIGAN: Hey! These are my girls!

SKIPPER: Yeah! (shifting knife from hand to hand) And you're my little buddy!

"Lost in Space" — what really would have happened


Behind an outcropping of rocks, Major Don studies a tangle of tubing near the hydroponic garden. It's been unplugged and the plants are dying.

MAJOR WEST: Smith! What are you trying to pull -- Smith!

Smith enters the scene.

DR. SMITH: Really! Stop shouting you brash barbarian!

MAJOR WEST: What have you done with our hydroponic water supply?

DR. SMITH: What have I done? Really! It should be apparent to anyone with culture and the IQ of a baboon that I have converted it for use as my own personal bidet. Proper sanitation must be maintained, even in outer space!

MAJOR WEST: This is the limit, Smith! You've finally topped yourself. What the heck is a bidet anyway?


The family is gathered. They hear a laser shot behind the outcropping of rocks.


The family runs into the scene.

DR. ROBINSON: What’s the matter, Don? Are aliens attacking?


DR. ROBINSON: What happened?

MAJOR DON: Uh, I accidentally shot off Dr. Smith’s head with this laser?

They look down at Dr. Smith's severed head.

DR. SMITH: Oh, the pain. The pain. (dies)

ROBOT: Ha-ha-ha-ha. Dr. Smith finally got ahead in life.

DR. ROBINSON: Oh, well. Accidents happen.

MAJOR DON: Yes they do, sir. I'm sorry.

ROBOT: Ha-ha-ha-ha. Dr. Smith always wanted to get ahead.

DR. ROBINSON: Put the safety on next time.

MAJOR: DON: I'll do that, sir.

ROBOT: Ha-ha-ha-ha. Dr. Smith once asked me to ...

DR. ROBINSON removes his power pack.

DR. ROBINSON: I’m sorry son.

WILL: You kidding? Now I can sleep without locking my door.

MRS. ROBINSON: Who wants space popcorn? 

Everyone laughs with glee and runs back to the ship.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Alien Christmas

ALIEN: Merry Christmas!

REPORTER: It’s not Christmas yet.

ALIEN: Christmas came early this year. I love Christmas! It is my favorite human holiday!

REPORTER: What do you love about Christmas?

ALIEN: Everything.

REPORTER: Could you be more specific?

ALIEN: Tis the season.

REPORTER: For what?

ALIEN: Everything.

REPORTER: Some examples would be?

ALIEN: Joy. Joy. 'Tis the season of joy.

REPORTER: What brings you joy?

ALIEN: Killing humans. No. That statement is in error. Christmas. Christmas brings me joy.

REPORTER: Specifically?

ALIEN: Specifically. Joy, joy. The sources of joy. Computing. Turkey and all the trimmings. Cider. Family and friends and colleagues. Home for the holidays. The joy of giving. The joy of taking. Mistletoe. Children’s eyes, glowing with radiation. With glee. The twelve days of Christmas. The night before Christmas. A Visit from St. Nicholas. Jack Daniels. Jack Shit. Error. No. Jack Frost nipping at your nose. The white stuff! Cocaine! Error. No, not cocaine. Snow. Snow is the white stuff. Literal snow. Crystallized water in hexagonal formations. Virginia. Yes, Virginia.

REPORTER: Aren’t you forgetting something?

ALIEN: No. Yes. Santa Claus. The one you call Santa. Yes! Santa brings gifts. Santa brings joys. All other answers are contained in that single answer. Santa is the source of all Christmas joy! We love Santa!

REPORTER: Who is Santa?

ALIEN: He is known by many names. St. Nicholas. Kris Kringle. A jolly old elf. He wears a red suit and drinks Coca Cola. He lives in the North Pole. The elves are his slaves. They make toys. Santa gives them away and gets the credit. He defies the laws of space and time! We fear Santa.

REPORTER: You said you loved Santa.

ALIEN: Fear is love. Love is fear. They are the same.

REPORTER: Does Christmas have a downside?

ALIEN: Paying bills. The Grinch. Scrooge. Dragging the dead tree to the street. Taking Christ out of Christmas.

REPORTER: Do aliens believe in Christ?

ALIEN: Does Christ believe in aliens?

REPORTER: Any parting thoughts?

ALIEN: Christmas comes but once a year. Wrong! Christmas must be celebrated every day! Keep the spirit of Christmas burning in your hearts at all times or we will destroy you!

Monday, December 13, 2010

Waiting for Godot Deux

A country road. A tree. Evening. Estragon, sitting on a low mound, is trying to take off his boot. He pulls at it with both hands, panting. He gives up, exhausted, rests, tries again. As before.

Enter Vladimir.

ESTRAGON: (giving up again). Nothing to be done.

VLADIMIR: (advancing with short, stiff strides, legs wide apart). I'm beginning to come round to that opinion. All my life I've tried to put it from me, saying Vladimir, be reasonable, you …

Enter Godot.

GODOT: Well. Here I am.


GODOT: I’m Godot. I’m here. What do you want?

VLADIMIR: I … I don’t know.

GODOT: You don’t know? Well what about you? Do you know?

ESTRAGON: I … yes. No. No I don’t.

GODOT: Well, this is a fine kettle of fish. Oh, shut the bloody curtain!

Curtain down. “Three Stooges” theme.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Zombie Shakespeare


Hamlet walks.

HAMLET: All along the watchtower
I doth keep the view.
Me nuncle bangs me mummy.
I know not what to do.
Thus brood I shall ...

GHOST: (O.S.) Hamlet!

HAMLET: To be, or not to be
That is the ...

GHOST: Hamlet!

HAMLET: Bugger'd be these interruptions!

The "GHOST" appears.

GHOST: I am thy father's spirit.

HAMLET: Alas, poor ghost!

HORATIO bursts out of a door holding an axe.

HORATIO: 'Tis no ghost my Lord!

Smashes Zombie's head in with axe.

HAMLET: A corpse 'tis! But it doth walk!
What manner of monstrance be such thing?

HORATIO: A zombie such are named, good prince.
'Tis dead yet undead. It lives yet liveth not!

HAMLET: Thou doublest thy talk.

HORATIO: (wiping blood from sleeve) Thou stainst my doublet.

Hamlet looks at zombie corpse.

HAMLET: Something is rotten in the state of Denmark!
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

HORATIO: Three times horrible. Aye.

HAMLET: It stinketh!


HAMLET: It rotteth!

HORATIO: Rot and stink 'twere ever twinned.

HAMLET: I puketh.

HORATIO: Puketh thou not upon my person!
Athwart the parapet!

Hamlet pukes over the castle wall -- over the theater apron, natch. The puke is, uh, mimed. No actual puke.

HAMLET: Heugghhhhhh!

Horatio walks to edge of stage and looks down.

HORATIO: Behold! The zombie doth slip upon thine puke on steps below!

HAMLET: (looking down) More doth come!

HORATIO: Aye. And more and more.

HAMLET: Whence cometh?

HORATIO: Sweden, my'Lord.
From fens and fiords
and Svens and Bjorgs
They rise!

HAMLET: Oh most foul!
But ripeness is all.

HORATIO: (wrinkling nose) Aye. 'Tis ripe indeed.

HAMLET: Make fast the castle!
Prepare for siege!

HORATIO: Say what, my liege?

HAMLET: Prepare for siege!
The zombies come anon!

Lights off. Back on.


Zombie-Ophelia advances on Hamlet. He's standing next to something draped with a sheet.

OPHELIA: Good Hamlet!

HAMLET: Get thee to a nunnery -- in hell!

Removes sheet -- revealing canon. Fires cannon. Spatter effect.

HAMLET: (shouting) Said I not
That door should closed be?
What dicks surround me!

Walks to stage front center.

HAMLET: And yet I'll speak my mind.
Strange interlude shall I have!
'Tis soliloquy time.

Thus barfed and bitten
Puked and punk'd
I stand yet fall.
Bring on the noise, bring in the funk!
Distract me not, undead!
My purpose shall I hold.
Yet still upon the very crack
Of fortune's arse!
The cursed incest
Whacks and tacks the very frackenback
Of time!
Mine aim is true.
With mummer's art ...
I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Behold -- the play within a play!

Hamlet opens door.

There's a scene of mayhem and screaming.

HAMLET: Or 'twas.

CLAUDIUS: (O.S.) Help good Hamlet! Help!

HAMLET: I canst not, nuncle.

CLAUDIUS: 'Twas thy plan!

HAMLET: No! 'Tis improv all.

CLAUDIUS: They rip my flesh!
They eateth me!

HAMLET: Art zombies. 'Tis what they do.

CLAUDIUS: Eaggghhh!

HAMLET: Other than that good nucle
Didst thou enjoy the play?

CLAUDIUS: Eaaaaaaaggh.

QUEEN GERTRUDE: Help, O Hamlet ...

HAMLET: Sorry, mum.

Shuts door.

HAMLET: In one night this play doth close.
Tis pity.
(to servant)
Set fire to this place.
Attend thy nose.
(indicates booger)

He runs up and down the stage with commanding presence. Gestures to stupid-looking Peasants holding shovels.

HAMLET: Trenches dig, both here and here!
With shovels shove!

PEASANT: (holding shovel) I know not what thy speak, m'Lord.
Which end to hold. Which end to shove.

HAMLET: Thou dope!
(grabs shovel)
I teach thee now the shoveler's art.
Dig so!

Jumps in ditch. Starts digging.

Sound: CLINK!

PEASANT: A clink, I think.

HAMLET: 'Tis skull!

Holds up skull.

HAMLET: Alas poor Yorick
I knew him ...

The skull's jaws open.

YORICK: Eaarrghhhhh!

HAMLET: Oh fuck unholy!

Throws skull

LAERTES: Jester's jaw doth bite mine arse!
Thy joke skills not!

HAMLET: The teeth upon thine end doth bring an end to thee!
Death comes swiftly through the eye!

Stabs Laertes through eye.

LAERTES: Fucking kiddeth me thou musteth be.

HAMLET: I kidst thee not.

LAERTES: Oh death .. doth hurt a lot.


HAMLET: Oh poor Laertes.
(to Servants) Burn these bodies, hold all calls!
Dig now with passion's speed!

A Soldier runs up.


HAMLET: What now the fuck?

SOLDIER: Rosencrantz and Gildenstern
Are undead!

HAMLET: This day doth suck.

Zombies appear and converge on Hamlet from both ends of the stage.

HAMLET: The rest is silence.

Friday, October 29, 2010

The Bunga Bunga song

(to the tune of Offenbach's "Orphée aux enfers" -- aka the Can-Can song)

Oingo Boingo, yingtong lightpole

Cowabunga, bunga bunga

Ummagumma, bunga bunga

Get ‘em while they’re so much yunga


Bing bang boing Karima el-Mahroug


Muammar Kaddafi is his droog

A bunga here

A bunga there

A bunga bunga everywhere

A bunga this

A bunga that

A wife like his

Why pay for sex?

A prostitute

Just seventeen

Her 20 friends

No clothes in sight

A villa just outside Milan

The cops won’t bust

Cause he’s the man

He gives them jewels

He gives them cash

He gives himself

A heart attack

He dances naked on the rug

Gives thanks to Pfizer for their drug

The girls all think

His playlist’s trash

He wants to play

The Stones and Clash

They prefer

The Jonas Brothers

Justin Bieber

Elmo’s Birthday Bash


Now he’s clutching

At his chest!

He’s pitching forward in the pool

LOL, he’s turning blue

Hide the stuff, hide the stuff

Fish him out and hide the stuff

Go get Ruby, doo doo doo

She always knows just what to do

Doo doo doo

Doo doo doo

Cause she's a heartbreaker


Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

Oingo Boingo, yingtong lightpole

Cowabunga, bunga bunga

Ummagumma, bunga bunga

Get ‘em while they’re so much yunga


Bing bang boing Karima el-Mahroug


Muammar Kaddafi is his droog!

Monday, August 9, 2010

Mr. Large - short version

NARRATOR: (Walter Winchellesque) Crime. It’s the cancer of society, the scourge of civilization. After years of scientific study, there’s one thing we can say with absolute certitude about it. (long dramatic pause) Crime is caused by lawbreakers. Here’s a look at one of them – a man known only as “Mr. Large.”

“Mr. Large” enters. He’s actually kind of short.

NARRATOR: He started out stealing statues of the Virgin Mary from Irish churches and reselling them to Italian churches frequented by the Chicago mob. “Fighting Father Flanagan” tried to talk him out of it …

MR. LARGE and three HOODS are huddled together. He watches approvingly as the HOODS file serial numbers off statues of Jesus' Mom. The PRIEST enters and confronts LARGE.

MR. LARGE: Ya lost, Father?

PRIEST: No, son. You are.

MR. LARGE: Get him. Ya got a lotta guts, Father – good for you. Now beat it. Drafty old place like dis ain’t so good for an old guy like you. (pulling out gun) Bad for your health, know what I mean? Better go back to yer nice warm mick church.

PRIEST: I'm not leaving from this spot.

MR. LARGE: (cocking gun) Not alive, you mean.

PRIEST: You wouldn't shoot a priest, son.

He shoots him.

PRIEST: I guess I was wrong.

NARRATOR: He was equally ruthless with his henchmen.

Three mobsters huddled together, cleaning guns, etc. MR. LARGE enters room and confronts them.

MR. LARGE: Something's up.

THUG #1: It's strictly legit, boss.

MR. LARGE: Yeah? (sniffing) Well I say something stinks here. (gesturing to one of the THUGS) You. Take out the garbage.

THUG #2: Sure ting boss.

THUG #2 leaves with garbage.

MR. LARGE: Something still stinks.

MR. LARGE just pauses, studying them. They’re all terrified. Then he points to THUG #1 and walks up to him. The other THUGS back off.

MR. LARGE: I smell a rat and his name is you. What gives?

THUG #1: Nothing.

MR. LARGE: Nothing, eh?

THUG #1: Yeah, boss. N-nothing.

MR. LARGE: You think I'm paying you to sit around and do nothing?

THUG #1: No.

MR. LARGE: Oh, so you did do something?

THUG #1: Yeah.

MR. LARGE: Like what?

THUG #1: Like what I'm s’posed to.

LARGE: Yeah? You wanna know what I think you did?

THUG #1: Whaddya think I did?

MR. LARGE: You tell me.

THUG #1: I didn't do it.

MR. LARGE: Sure, sure.

THUG #1: Honest, boss. Ya gotta believe me!

MR. LARGE: Oh I believe you, I’m a real trusting guy, I’m a real sap, I believe anybody – (whipping out gun) but my pal here Roscoe don't.

THUG #1: (shaking, obviously terrified of “Roscoe”) Listen....

MR. LARGE: I’m a real easy-going Joe, but Roscoe’s a skeptic, see. Like them pre-Socratics. (cocking gun) Roscoe’s gonna need some convincing…

THUG #1: (sweating) Listen, boss …

MR. LARGE: Don't talk to me, talk to Roscoe.

THUG #1: Duh, you want I should talk to the gun?

MR. LARGE: Yeah. And you better start talking fast!

THUG #1: (bending over, talking to the gun) Listen Roscoe, I didn't do it.

MR. LARGE: Roscoe thinks yez lying.

THUG #1: I ain’t lying! I don’t even know what you think I did.

MR. LARGE: Then how do you know you didn’t do it?

THUG #1: (forgetting himself and talking to MR. LARGE, not the gun) Cause, uh …

MR. LARGE: Not me, Roscoe.

Bending over again to talk to the gun.

THUG #1: (addressing the gun) Cause I ain’t…

He can’t think of anything to say.

MR. LARGE: Roscoe’s waiting.

Abruptly, ridiculously, he starts pour his heart out to “Roscoe.”

THUG #1: (practically babbling) Uh, y-you know how loyal I am, Roscoe. Da boss means a lot to me! Most mugs wouldn’t even think about doing the boss no dirt on account of nobody screws wit de boss and gets away with it, but me I wouldn’t even do nothing if I could get away with it on account of it ain't right cause da boss done good to me and I wanna do what’s right, so … (losing train of thought, has to think for a second) …so dat's why I didn’t do nothing I ain’t supposed to do, Roscoe, honest.

He looks up hopefully but it’s no sale. MR. LARGE gets even more belligerent. Waves "Roscoe" in THUG #1's face.

MR. LARGE: Roscoe ain’t buying. Something's up!

THUG #1: No, boss!

MR. LARGE: Say ... Are you some kinda wiseguy?

THUG #1: I ain’t no wiseguy!

MR. LARGE: Sure you are! You’re a regular Einstein!

THUG #1: No boss!

MR. LARGE: A real bright boy!

THUG #1: No!

MR. LARGE: Think you’re real smart, don’t you?

THUG #1: No boss I don’t. I don’t think I’m smart. I’m real stupid. I never thought nothin’ in my whole life, boss. I sweartagod I ain’t smart!

MR. LARGE: Yeah?

THUG #1: Yeah.

MR. LARGE aims “Roscoe” and shoots him.

MR. LARGE: If there's one thing I can't stand it's a dummy.

NARRATOR: Through fear, violence and wise investment, Large’s criminal empire grew – eventually including mail-order delivery of orphans to slave labor camps by the late 1970s. In the 80s he moved into basic cable but got out again because he found it unethical. It seemed like nothing could stop him – but the long arm of the law was closing in. In 1998 it grabbed him where it hurts – in a hospital suite in Schenectady.

At this point the NARRATOR assumes the role of a cop and walks over to MR. LARGE who is lying in a hospital bed.

NARRATOR: Vincent Divanziochicanziawhatever, a.k.a. Mr. Large, you’re under arrest for the… (noticing he’s dead) …ah crap, he’s dead. (quickly closing curtains on hospital bed and addressing audience) Well, I guess in his case crime did pay, but it doesn’t happen often. Let this be a lesson to hooligans and scofflaws everywhere. (opens mouth, can’t think of anything else to say) Goodnight.

He walks off.

[Above is slightly tighter version of a sketch from 2002.]