Old yellerLooks like Old Yeller's gone bad.
Oh well, guess we'll have to put him down.
The Old Yeller Sketch.
Narrator: The story so far: little Timmy has grown very attached to his new dog, Old Yeller. One might say they were like a mango and his umbrella: one just ain't any good without the otha. But now, due to a freak biological experiment, Old Yeller has rabies.
[the hobo is lying down in a corn field on the side of the stage]
[enter Timmy and his mother to the center of the stage]
TIMMY: Mom, what's wrong with Old Yeller? What's that white stuff around his mouth?
[Old Yeller runs around in his pen with whipped cream all over his mouth, the cream gets knocked off, and he puts more on himself]
MOTHER: He's sick Timmy.
HOBO: [to himself, but highly audible] Not as sick as you are, ya old hag!
TIMMY: Is Old Yeller gonna be okay?
HOBO: [to himself] Quit worrying about your stupid little dog, you little snot!
TIMMY: Who's that man over there mother?
[hobo takes a swig from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, and hacks phlegm on the stage]
MOTHER: Oh that's just a poor old vagabond son.
HOBO: Not half as old as you are, you motley cow!
MOTHER: Timmy, there's only one thing for us to do. We have to kill Old Yeller.
HOBO: It's about time you offed that scraggly mutt.
[mother pulls out a shotgun from her apron]
TIMMY: Wait ma, let me do it, he's more my dog than anybody's.
HOBO: Finally doing something for yourself, eh, you lazy free-loading porker.
[Timmy approaches Old Yeller and raises the gun, then he begins to cry]
TIMMY: It's just so hard mom.
HOBO: Oh shut up! Nobody likes a whiner.
[Timmy shoots Old Yeller repeatedly, blood spurts everywhere]
[Mom leaves crying]
[Hobo drags Old Yeller's corpse to the side of the stage and eats a part of it]
Hobo: Hey Timmy, want a bite?
Timmy: [shocked] Are you eating Old Yeller?
Hobo: Damn straight kid!
Timmy: That's horrible
Hobo: It is a little raw I'll admit, but if I got a little mayo it would be snazztastic
[Jazz guys say Yeeeeah]
Timmy: Really? OK, gimme a bite
Hobo: I don't know, I think I'll keep it all for myself.
Timmy: Come on, pleeeeeease?
Hobo: I don't think you're ready kid.
Timmy: I'll give you a nickle.
Hobo: Hmm... Well come back here and we'll make a little trade...
[Timmy and Hobo exit]
Narrator: And that's when Timmy joined the world of the Hobos and from then on the two bums never parted.
|Not bad. I think the hobo should convince Timmy to kill his mom too. Who doesn't like a little senseless brutality? That's right. No one.|
|killing dogs is not funny.|
|i don't like the last sentance|
|Thats really dumb and disturbed.|
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