Hope for all Human Beings


 Good people of the world. I’ve got fantastic news for all of you. I have just signed an executive order which decreases the price of a global lottery ticket to 99 cents! When is the last time you paid under a dollar for anything!? Let alone your fair shot at immeasurable happiness!!? Huh!? 

Wait! Wait! I have also …

Thank you. Thank you. Hold on … there’s more!

You are gracious. Thank you! People! Wait!

I know, I know … but listen

Listen: I have also … I would suggest that you all sit down for this if we were not packed in this auditorium like sardines. So … people … make sure you use your fellow human beings to keep your balance … as, what I’m about to tell you may flood your brains with so much joy … you won’t, you won’t — I mean, who knows … Scientists? Scientists? Are there any scientists? In the room? Is there some way to predict how much joy they might feel, so that we might take the appropriate precautions?

Well, I apologize that I cannot bare to withhold this news any longer … but, you have all been warned … and are officially listening at your own risk

Ok … The ODDS of the global lottery are being reduced from 1 in 975 million … to 1 in FIVE HUNDRED MILLION!


Of course … this will no doubt reduce the prize money a bit … but, come on –what was the last payout?? What was it … like something ridiculous, wasn’t it? Like 1.2 Billion dollars or something??

Oh, boy, DON’T I feel SORRY FOR YOU NOW!!? Look at me! Look at me! Smiling from ear to ear with this sarcasm! Oh dear, my face is hurting!

No … of course … I will not feel sorry for anyone who wins, say, 700 MILLION dollars instead of 1.2 BILLION. Nope … sorry.

Well … hey, we can bring the price back up to a buck if we all like!??

I’m kidding, of course. Please everyone. On your way out … please be sure to grab a free one ounce trial of “Budweiser with a B” … our gracious sponsors for the evening … “Budweiser with a B. Same great taste with all the B vitamins you need to keep your piss yellow no matter how much you drink.” 


Here I am, Bob (later)


The club is packed. A sort of ritualistic sounding jazz is playing.

Bob’s-In-Law: Of course, it’s from the actual Vatican. Smell it.

Customer: Smells like Nag Champa.

You, good sir … do not know your incense. That is Vatican Frankincense.

I don’t know. Maybe if you had two. One for me and my wife. We’re going to Rome this summer. That would be kinda fun. If you had two. So we could both wear them, but …

Bob’s-In-Law pulls out the second Cardinal hat from his jacket.

Woah! Ok, cool.

I bet you didn’t know you were gonna get lucky tonight, did ya?

Over to the bar: Lady, now we know her name, Gale, is inebriated and talking to Bob.

Gale: You were an idiot. An idiot!

Bob: I’m still an idiot.

See … that’s what I’m talking about. Old Bob never would’ve admitted that! But … now … you’ve got … this place … it’s really nice … it’s really … really … sophisticated … yet, obnoxious, too … special. Very special.

“Very”? You used to chastise me for using that word.

I did! I should’ve! I should! You deserve it! “Damn” is much better … and my editor … my editor will …

Ok, Ms. Twain … I think it’s time to let you try the Sober Mask

What!? No … I don’t wanna use it … I like my GABA levels right where they are, thanks … makes everything you say … sound … important.

I’d love to take that as a compliment, but I don’t think our brains are mixing the same cocktail right now … come on … it’s a new model … you’ll be calling me like I am in five minutes.


Exactly. Hold that thought and my arm. Let’s go.

No … but, you’re not an asshole. You’re nice, now. Smarter.

We’ll see …

Here I am, Bob. Just take me.

Here I Am, Bob


(This one would probably make a little more sense if performed.)

Futuristic looking nightclub.

PIANO PLAYER is warming up on an antique piano (the only antique in the club).

BOB is behind the bar, talking on a futuristic looking phone.

Bob: Two Cardinals hats?? The Cardinals suck this year — why would I wanna let you sell those in my club?

I’m not sure how I feel about letting you harass my customers with this bullshit, anyway.

Official business venture, huh? Well, how come you don’t do business somewhere else?

Do you have a fictitious name cert — wait, what!? From The Vatican!? How … I thought you meant St. Louis — I know you knew I meant the St. Louis Cardinals, and, no, I don’t think you’re an idiot … well, perhaps, I do … how do you know they’re real?

So, you don’t have any documentation …? You think people can tell the difference between frankincense from The Vatican and frankincense from your basement?

I don’t know where you’d get frankincense from … it’s not that hard to find — where the hell did you get two Vatican Cardinal hats with frankincense on them!??

You can get frankincense from … plenty of shops.

Shops. I’ve seen it around.

LADY walks in and asks piano player: Excuse me, sir, do you know “Here I am, Lord”?

You’re not going to believe who just walked in here.

I don’t know what she wants. Hold on — hey! Hey! What did I tell you about playing those types of songs!

Piano Player: People like them.

I know people like them, but that’s ridiculous. Everything gets more popular after a death, but I’m not having it in this club!! I’m not helping turn dead, Catholic Church hymns turn into pop songs! I’m not doing it! I don’t care how much people like them, now! Tell the lady to pick another song!

I’m sorry, mam, you’re just going to have to pick something else.

Do you know “Die Wacht am Rhein” …?

We don’t play Nazi fight songs, either!

Impressive. I didn’t think you’d catch that.

I’m not as stupid as you thought I was.

Yes. You were. But, it seems I may have gotten to you. Upgraded your brain since then?

We’re not open yet. Get the hell out of here!

I’m thirsty, and I wan’t to enjoy a drink at that bar while this nice man plays me a song.

Back into the phone: Screw it. I don’t care what you do. I … no, I do care … I just mean go ahead and bring the damn hats!!

The Greatest Gift


800px-It's_A_Wonderful_LifeA futuristic living room. Ricky, boy, 7, busts through the front door …

Ricky  Dad, dad …

Ned  Woah, hey little one, what are you so excited about?

Ricky  Something I learned today!

Martha  Well, come on, Ricky, sit down and tell us about it. I’m interested, too.

Ricky  Sorry, I saw dad in the window from outside; I would have been just as eager to yell “mom” had I seen you first.

Martha  I know you would’ve, Ricky. Go on, now — before you lose your enthusiasm!

Ricky  I learned about this guy Guantanamo Buddhist

Ned Guatama Buddha. A Buddhist is someone who follows his teachings.

Martha  Yes, darling, Guantanamo is where the prison for bad children is.

Ned  Sweetheart

Martha  It’s where Santa tortures them until they tattle on their friends.

Ned  Darling!!

Ricky  Don’t worry, dad, I know she’s just busting my balls.

Ned  That’s a good little man.

Martha  Yes, but don’t say “balls” … call them: testicles.

Ned  Ricky, hold that thought will you. Martha? May I speak to you in a private for a moment?

Martha  Ricky, plug your ears for a second, baby.

Ned  First of all, I thought we agreed that we not call him “baby”.

Martha  I know. I’m sorry. I do enjoy Southern American charm

Ned  I know. But, we agreed … don’t call him “baby” until after he’s 14.

Martha  I know. I know. So what is it? The boy is going to give himself an ear infection with those dirty fingers.

Ned  I thought we agreed that he was allowed to refer to his own balls as “balls” … as long as he’s using it figuratively.

Martha  Oh, that’s right … sorry … unplug your ears, Ricky!

Ned  Ok, go on, buddy.

Martha  Wait, let me see your fingers … ooh, sorry, about that, darling. Be sure to use your drops as soon as you’re done telling us what you learned today. Ok?

Ricky  Yes, but, dad, I asked you not to call me “buddy“. We agreed that it’s condescending in any context.

Ned  Shit, sorry, ok, quickly, quickly, tell us what you have learned my good, little man!

Ricky  Martha … Ned … I want you both to promise that you’ll take what I’m about to suggest seriously.

Ned  Of course, son.

Martha  Certainly, dear.

Ricky  I think you should both run away from home.

Martha  What!?

Ned  Why!?

Ricky  Because, I … all of this shit in this house, me, parenting … it holds you back from attaining enlightenment. I don’t want to be your ball and chain … I want more for you.

Martha  That’s very thoughtful of you, dear.

Ned  Honey, honey … is this a tear coming from my eye?

Martha Let me see.

Ned Quickly! Before it dries!

Martha  Yes, I believe it is!

Ned  Glory be! I haven’t had one of those in years! Good man!

Martha  Yes, that was so considerate of you dear, now, go put your drops in.

Ricky  Ok, but, I don’t want either of you to be here when I get back.

Martha Very, well then, dear … run along.

Ned  That boy is really special to me, darling.

Martha  He really is a gift. It’s going to be so much easier to care for him, now, that he’s given us: the option to abandon him.

Ned  A true gift.

Martha  Oh, darling … I believe you’ve got a tear coming from your mouth, now.

Ned  No … nope, that’s drool. What’s for dinner!?

A Hidden Agenda


Futuristic looking bedroom.

Barb   So, I suppose now you expect we’re going to do something, do you?

Steve   I’m not expecting anything, Barb. I just want to learn about you. I’m interested in how you process information.

Barb   Yeah, and what would make me so much more interesting than anyone else — regardless of how I filter the world?

Steve  I don’t know. That’s what I’m eager to find out.

Barb   Eager, yes, you are an eager beaver. But, tell me, Steve — what types of data are you interested in hearing how I process? You want to know about how I organize my shoes, my important paperwork …

Steve  Yes, okay … what type of paperwork do you hold onto?

Barb   I don’t hold onto any paperwork, you fool, anyone who is still sending paperwork deserves a shoe up the ass … there, now you know how I organize my shoes.

Steve  You’re funny.

Barb  Oh, you’re a nice guy, are you? Paying me a compliment, eh? Nice and insulting. What … is … this on your neck?

Steve   What?

Barb   Are you a Catholic?

Steve   Well, hold on, now …

Barb   I didn’t think you Catholics came into the city anymore. How dare you. Button your shirt back up and get the hell out of here! You’ve wasted enough of my time, already. What kind of depraved human being would mislead another human being … and conceal something like that. If you’re so certain about your cult then you should tattoo it on your forehead, you lunaticWhat was your plan …? Get me all worked up and then apologize for not being able to get an erection?? Huh? Wanna feel better than a whore you picked up at a bar?? Get the hell out of here! If I ever see you talking to another woman at a bar again, I’ll pin you down and brand that crucifix on your head myself, you freak — GET OUT!!!

No Guarantees


240px-Katharine_Hepburn_promo_picFuturistic looking kitchen.

EDNA, a fast-talking dame, leans back up against the futuristic looking refrigerator … biting her nails in-between lines. DARYL is sitting on the futuristic looking island.

Edna    I tell you what, Daryl, I don’t know … you’re almost sounding like … like you believe in something.

Daryl   What the hell did you just say to me?

Edna    I think you’re getting soft. You’re not the man I married. The man I married promised me no guarantees.

Daryl   Edna, I …

Edna   You said, “I … Daryl Swashbuckler take ye Edna Tippingale …

Daryl   I didn’t say “ye” … you’re over-commiting to the moment …

Edna   Oh, screw you, Daryl, so, you said “you“! You said … “I … Daryl Swashbuckler take you Edna Tippingale … and, I promise you no guarantees.”

Daryl   Well …

Edna   You promised me no guarantees.

Daryl   I’m not really breaking that promise.

Edna   You promised me no guarantees, Daryl. It’s not about the semantics of the fucking language — you know that. You son of a bitch.

Daryl   I still promise you no guarantees, Edna.

Edna    Bullshit, Daryl. You know as well as I do — the words were meaningless in themselves … what was significant was that you knew damn well how they made me feel.

Daryl   How did they make you feel?

Edna   Screw you, Daryl! Screw you!

Daryl   I’m just making sure nothing has changed … that you still think that they made you feel how you thought they made you feel back then.

Edna   The same … you son of a bitch. The same.

Daryl   Edna … you know … what happens to memories when we recall them. Are you sure that you want to stick with that?

Edna   I …

Daryl decides to hop down off the island and approach his wife.

Daryl   Edna … stop crying … look at me directly, directly in the eyes, Edna. Edna, you don’t know shit. Nothing in life is certain. It wasn’t then. It isn’t now. And, it never shall be.

Edna    Oh, Daryl … that’s the man I married. You even busted out the “shall” on me.

They kiss, of course.

Baker, Baker, Two-By-Four


220px-Annex_-_Stanwyck,_Barbara_(Stella_Dallas)_01Futuristic looking bar. LAVERNE, a fast-talking dame, leans up against the bar next to PATRICK. 

Laverne   What’s baking there, pansy?

Patrick   Excuse you?

Laverne   Did I stutter? I said, you look like a pansy, baking up some little lie to tell yourself.

Patrick  Was just enjoying my drink.

Laverne   Bullshit, pansy. I’m here to call bullshit.

Patrick  That so?

Laverne  Yes, I’m sick of little girls like you.

Patrick  You don’t know anything about me.

Laverne  I know all I need to know. Pansy cakes, pansy cakes — with your shirt all pressed. Mommy buy a bot girl to press it for ya?

Patrick   I don’t own a bot girl.

Laverne  Sure you don’t. Ya probably lease one, eh? That’s a nice head of hair ya got, too, eh baker?

Patrick   I’m not a baker, but my name is Baker.

Laverne   Sure you are — you bake pansy cakes — a real man would let his hair fall out … but you, what did you drop on that mop, half a year’s pay??

Patrick  This … this is my real hair.

Laverne  Clever. Real clever, pansy cake baker, I’ve heard that line before, where was it — yes, I seem to recall an actor, quite a bit more attractive than you, delivering that line in half the time with twice the authority. You fake, little, shit-a-dumpling-in-your-slacks, pansy-baker-slacker, you.

Patrick  Now listen here …

Laverne   Now listen here?? What, are you ready to stand up for yourself now? Baker, baker, two-by-four, can’t walk through the banker’s door … so he sold himself as a rugyou bug … bar-bot, pour me a drink or bake me a cake, I can’t take this fake.

Here: Baker, Baker …