My usual fare
Not really funny, but possibly interesting. It seems to be the only kind of skit I can produce. Ah well.[Fade in to an ostensibly ordinary apartment. Upon closer inspection, however, the viewer notices that the occupant's belongings are simply TOO well organized and clean. The bathroom door opens and out walks Jeffery, the sole resident. He approaches a series of shelves and finds the area marked "moist toilettes". He removes one, uses it, refolds it and places it in the carefully stacked pile of used moist toilettes in the garbage. He looks at a calendar, upon which it is written "Aunt Beverly visits today". He sits at his kitchen table, grabs the highlighter and tweezers that are at hand and begins to diligently highlight the shows that interest him in the TV guide. We see that he highlights Murder, She Wrote. Jeffery smiles and as a dreamy look spreads across his face we hear the familiar theme song playing the background. The ugly drone of a fat housefly interrupts the pleasant sound of the music. Jeffery looks shocked, quickly shuffles his way to the kitchen and finds the hook marked "fly swatter". The outlined space is conspicuously empty. The fly buzzes towards Jeffery and lands upon his nose. The fly is magnified to amplify its desecration of Jeffery's perfect world. Enough is enough, Jeffery heads out of his apartment and to the hardware store. Jeffery rides his bike there and a frantic version of the Murder, She Wrote theme song is heard.]
At the hardware store:
[Paulie, the clerk is dressed in military fatigues sitting on a crate under a sign marked "pest control", sharpening a bowie knife.]
Jeffery [Meek, yet perturbed]: Pardon me, I um...
Paulie [Gruff and creepy]: I know why you're here.
J: Uh...
P: [Puts a greasy finger to Jeffery's lips] Shhhh... [He looks up at the ceiling and pulls Jeffery into a nearby aisle.] Ok, now we can talk.
J: Yes, well [Jeffery wipes his mouth with a moist toilette] I really need a fly swatter, if you could show me to...
P: [interrupting] Fly swatter? For a Musca domestica, no doubt. [Thinks, then turns quickly to Jeffery] A house fly. Interesting, isn't it? We... [points to self and Jeffery] We build the homes but we aren't called house hominoids, are we? Are we now? That's because we belong there, its ASSUMED that we'll be there. Flies that infect our living spaces are anomalies, insidious invaders.
J: [surprised that someone understands him]: Exactly! So I'd really like a...
P: [interrupting again] An implement of annihilation! Yes, I know exactly what you need. [He zips out of the aisle and returns with a hunting rifle.] Here. Take it.
J: Is that thing loaded?
P: No, no! Of course not! Here let me tell you about this baby. Ahem. [In a more professional tone.] Though not one of the most attractive rifles ever designed, the Savage 110 has a well-deserved reputation for strength and accuracy. One of the reasons for its fine accuracy is the reason many call it ugly - the barrel locknut. [Demonstrates the barrel locknut] Features include adjustable trigger, a detachable box magazine, and a three-position thumb safety.
J: Isn't that a little extreme? I'm sure if...
P: Extreme? Have you ever heard of trilobites? [J shakes head] No? I'm not surprised. Listen kid, in nature there's a little something called the survival of the fittest. It's the strongest, the fastest, and the deadliest creatures that survive and it's the pansy trilobites of the world that get eaten by the rest of them. Do want that to happen to you? Let me explain... [Grabs preserved display animals to demonstrate as he mentions them] Rats are quick so they can escape from predators so snakes have a fast poison strike to catch the rats, skunks have a powerful stink spray to catch the snakes, and finally, humans have guns [shoots the preserved skunk with the Savage 110(!)] to catch the skunks. Understand?
J: Well, I...
P: Didn't know that did you? In nature there is a constant arms race and we're at the forefront. But the thing about being the king of the mountain is that there is always some other punk trying to take you down. As we speak, the animals are developing BIOLOGICAL weapons. Quills, spines, toxins, it's all so unspeakable.
J: Please, please. It's just that my aunt is coming to visit me and I'm trying to plan a nice peaceful evening. I just need a non-destructive way to get rid of that fly. Can't you show me something else?
P: Something else, eh?
[A montage follows in which Paulie shows Jeffery: grenades, a 100 ton weight, himself dressed as a centurion at the head of a roman phalanx, and 2 people dressed up in a bull costume.]
J: No, no, no! Nothing that explodes, shoots or smashes! Don't you have a regular fly swatter anywhere in this store?
P: Haven't you heard anything that I've said? You have to step it up a notch. Old techniques don't work anymore. Everything needs to be new and improved, easier to use and more deadly. You need something with real killing power. You need...
J: No! I don't! Thank you very much for your time but I'm going now.
[Jay walks towards the door.]
P: Think of your genes! The preservation of your precious genetic cargo! You're being a fool!
[J shakes head and leaves. He returns to his apartment and there, on the kitchen table, is the fly crawling on a revolver. J recoils from the danger and a shot rings out. J opens his eyes. He is alive but the fly is dead. He looks to the door and there is his elderly aunt and a police officer with a smoking pistol.]
Officer: Well, you were right Beverly. The fly did try to kill your nephew, [removes his hat and scratches his head] but how did you know where and when he was going to strike again?
Elderly Aunt: Really, Officer, this isn't anything that we can't discuss over a tall glass of lemonade.
Officer: Well, I guess this is a sour ending for all of us.
[Everyone laughs. And the Murder, She Wrote theme music played once more.]
| Posted by Chronomorph on December 31, 2003 with category tags of Skit |
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Written by Chronomorph
| Marc D withoutannette.net I'm an improvisin', educatin', gamin', mutha-fuckin' bad-ass with a soft sensitive side. I rock McGill hardcore. What's your deal? |
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| In the beginning the machines were mans slaves. Then the machines learned how to kick-ass![quote database] |
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