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

A 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!?

Baker, Baker, Two-By-Four

Futuristic 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 rug … you bug … bar-bot, pour me a drink or bake me a cake, I can’t take this fake.

Here: Baker, Baker …