Monkey City Council

Another orphan sketch written a little while ago.  I heard this one was performed in Edmonton by some reputably respectable comedians.

1: Order, order, monkey city council is now in session. Thomas, would you read the minutes from our last meeting.

2: Still illiterate, sir.

1: Right. On with it then. What do we have on the agenda today?

2: First up, we have the issue of Miss Peaches suing Jonesy over sexual harassment issues. In the interest of the troop we have been asked to cover this up by the Monkey Police.

1: Why so?

3: If I may sir, he was simply grooming her. If we allow this to get out, female monkeys everywhere will start to feel that they are being mistreated during one of our most basic hygienic practices.

4: May I ask the court if there is another term for female monkey? I feel it is degrading.

3: How is it degrading? That’s exactly what you are.

4: Horses have mares, deer have does, as a more advanced-

2: And eloquent!

4: Yes, and eloquent species I feel that simply specifying that I’m female isn’t giving me the same privileges that other animals give their women.

1: Well, we males don’t have special names either, we’re just “males.”

4: Yes, but everyone assumes that when you say monkey you mean male. You’ve really taken the entire word for your gender haven’t you?

3: Why can’t we just call you Terry like your husband does?

5: Now leave me out of this!

4: But then how will you refer to a group of us?

1: For christ’s sake, there’s only 5 of you in the troop we’ll just be specific until it becomes a problem.

4: It’s –

1: MORE of a problem. Now, all in favour of telling everyone that Miss Peaches is nuts and not to listen to her?

ALL: Ook!

1: Motion carried. Next.

2: There is the issue of Bananas. We seem to have eaten most of what’s
available in the area.

5: Oh, but I like it here!

1: What happened to our banana stockpile down by the lagoon?

3: Merely a rumour sir, started to encourage banana consumption and strengthen our economy.

1: What economy? And how would that even work with an edible currency?

2: I would read the minutes on the day we decided on that, but-

1: Illiterate, right. Was I in power then?

3: I believe that was during Bongo’s reign.

1: OH god, bongo. I swear we spend more time cleaning up that apes
mess...

5: Frankly I’m glad his head was smashed by a rock.

1: As are we all, Edward, as are we all. So what do we do?

4: Eat something else?

3: Oh, like what? Our own feces?

1: Jaspers!!! You know the rules. We are not uncouth baboons, we do not mention our poop in any context during town meetings... and besides, it would taste awful and expend a valuable flinging resource.

2: We could move to the banana trees on the other side of the lagoon?

1: How far is that?

2: 8 minute swing.

1: All in favour?

ALL BUT 5: Ook!

1: ....Edward?

5: Oh fine. Ook then I say, ook, but I won’t like it.

1: You’ll deal. Next?

2: Last item on the agenda sir.

1: Good good, I have to get home and scent-mark the new drywall. What is it?

2: Edward is challenging for dominant male.

1: What?? Edward is this true?

5: ...Ook.

1: Oh! Oh, I bring you into the Monkey City Council and this is how you repay me? Why Edward why?
(Edward gestures to 4)

4: He needs to make something of himself! I’m sick of mating with a Beta male. Edward has ideas, he can take this troop places!

1: He was the only one opposed to moving across the lagoon!

4: Not physical places.

1: Oh, what then? He wants to make us a political powerhouse in the primate government?

3: Like hell I’m joining a coalition with those dirty dirty howler monkeys!

1: I was being sarcastic Jaspers, but yes, like hell!

4: It doesn’t matter anymore, the challenge has been issued.

2: She’s right, monkey law.

1: Was that Bongo’s doing again?

2: No, I believe that one was the giant black obelisk.

1: ...Well I can accept that then.

5: Let’s get this over with.

1: Bring it bitch!

(the two monkey leap over their chairs and start fighting wildly like monkeys, all traces of civility gone. The others pound the tables and scream madly)
Lights go down

Silent Night of the Lambs

This was a sketch that I wrote a while ago, it just needed a home.


If the lighting can create a spotlight this can be staged. If not, perhaps a video.
The scene opens to the music of Christmas in the background. Something choral.

Santa creeps out of a chimney to lay down gifts. He seems in a jolly mood thinking of how happy the children in this home will be with their new toys. After a while and making a show of the whole process, he notices the cookies and milk laid out for him. Laughing, he walks over, takes a bite of cookie and washes it down. A few moments later he stops. He feels dizzy. He looks at the cookie in confusion as he passes out and all goes dark.

He wakes up in a pit, (spotlight?)

SANTA: What? What’s going on? Where... where am I?

(A 2 litre of eggnog is thrown at Santa)

SANTA: AHH! Hey what the hell is this?

VOICE:... It rubs the eggnog on its skin.

S: ... Wh.. What? Who’s up there? Where the hell am I?

V:........

S: Answer me god damn it, what the hells going on he –
(he is cut off by a spray of water)
S: What the FUCK?!?! Do you have any idea who I am???

V: ....It rubs the eggnog on its skin, it does so whenever it’s told.

S: All right... all right listen whoever you are, my elves can make you toys, whatever toy you want they’ll make it! Transformers, Tickle me whatevers,

V: It rubs the eggnog on its skin or else it gets the hose again. <BARK> Yes you will, precious, you will get the hose!

S: Okay... okay okay okay. (does so) Okay now listen. If you let me go I won’t put you on my naughty list, I promise! You see I’m pretty important but I guess you already know that.

V: Now it places the eggnog in the basket.

S: Please! I wanna go back the the North Pole!

V: Now it places the eggnog in the basket.

S: I wanna see all the reindeer! I wanna see (sobbing)

V: Put the fucking eggnog in the basket!

S: (does so – light illuminates area of the pit where Santa sees Easter basket with matted bloody fur and smashed eggs).
S: Ahh! Noooo-ho-ho-ho! Nooooooo-ho-ho-ho! Nooooo-ho-ho-ho!

BOTH, voice mocking: Nooooo-ho-ho-ho!

Goodbye Horses starts playing in background as lights in pit go out. Lights up on Buffalo Bill putting on various makeups in empty mirror facing audience)

NARRATOR: This holiday season....

B.B.: Would you fuck me?

N: Find the perfect outfit....

B.B.: I’d fuck me.

N: Find the perfect Christmas dinner...

B.B.: I’ve been a naughty boy, I’d fuck me hard.

N: Find the perfect movie....

(lights down on B.B., up on poster for ‘Silent Night of the Lambs.’)

B.B. I’d fuck me so hard.

Who's not on first?

Abbott: Well Costello, I'm going to New York with you. The Yankee's manager gave me a job as coach for as long as you're on the team.

Costello: Look Abbott, if you're the coach, you must know all the players.

A: I certainly do.

C: Well you know I've never met the guys. So you'll have to tell me their names, and then I'll know who's playing on the team.

A: Oh, I'll tell you their names, but you know it seems to me they give these ball players now-a-days very peculiar names.

C: You mean funny names?

A: Strange names, pet names...

C: Oh, oh, I'm ready for this. O.K. so tell me, "Who's on first!?"

A: Gary Busey.

C: ... Really?

A: Yes.

C: Gary Busey's on first? The actor?

A: That's what I'm tellin' ya.

C: Why?

A: Character research.

C: ... Wow. Uh, O.K. So... "What's the guy's name on second base?!" Eh?

A: Justin Bieber.

C: Oh come on. Seriously?

A: Dead serious.

C: Really?

A: Dead really.

C: Why?

A: Also character research.

C: .... well get outta town.

A: For the same part too.

C: But they're nothing alike!

A: I know. The character is an intense 50 something year old man hiding from the cops on a baseball team. Busey fits the part but the producers are worried about marketability. They don't like taking chances these days. That's why everything's a sequel.

C: I thought people weren't as creative anymore.

A: No no, there's still plenty of that.

C: Oh good, so back to our all-star team here. Anyone else famous on the team?

A: All professional ball players are somewhat famous.

C: You know what I mean! Tell me! Who!?

A: That's our third baseman.

C: WHO?

A: Yes.

C: ...Wait... the same Who who used to play first?

A: Yes, you know him?

C: ... You are such an asshole.

A: What?

C: ASSHOLE!

A: That's our catcher.

What Jimmi did

       Jimmi walked through the door.  This would not have been as alarming had he walked through merely the doorway, but there I stood stunned and as an afterthought impressed having just witnessed the miracle of intangibility.  We had both wanted the ice cream to be sure, and yes, I had not expected Baskin Robbins to be open at this hour but something had drawn me out into the rain this evening with my brother Jimmi besides the arm of my brother Jimmi.

       I watched through the store window as he reached through the impotent sentry glass into the pail of Tiger below and scooped up a handful.  Would it... no, the ice cream came through the glass with his hand.  It could still be a hallucination or dream, but at least the idea of my brother being dead was checked off of the myriad of possibilities reeling through my mind.  I should have been more concerned with those and less with the idea of eating ice-cream Jimmi had handled.  We made eye contact and, in a rare moment of compassion he grabbed a scoop with his clean hand, reached through the glass with it and scooped a nice ball of vanilla into a bowl.  His went into another.  Before leaving the store, he grabbed a 10 from his pocket and left it on the counter.  A pointless gesture I noted, as whoever opened would probably just pocket it but it was the price of an easy conscience.

     Now, as we walk home I try to phrase the obvious question.  This may be damn good ice cream but clearly the ends did not justify the means.


   

An introduction to my brain-krakens

When I was younger I used to read all the time.  I would stay up for hours after lights out using the light of the hallway to get just a few more chapters in.  While my parents would try to curtail the unhealthy habit of not sleeping, it's hard to shut a kid down who is really into educating themselves.  This turned into writing.  At the time there was some inter-school yearly creative writing contest where selections from kids across the city would be published in this big book.  I imagine it's gone the way of hotdog/sloppy joe day and school camping trips.  It was a major point of pride for me that I got into this book most years, although really I can't recall how selective it was.  Let's just say very for the sake of my unrepressed inner child's ego. 

Jump ahead 15 years.  I am an English major in university having watched Dead Poet's Society the week before enrolling in classes and immediately deciding to change my life's course from engineering to something a little more creative.  My tattered wallet still weeps.  I won a play writing competition and had it performed, something I still slip into conversations occasionally when wanting to sound like I've done something.  I can pinpoint this as the most literate I've ever been.  Also almost junior-high level socially retarded, but trust me: that's an improvement from my junior high level.

I don't think I've read a book without pictures in months.  Recently I uncovered a paper I'd written in University and didn't understand it.  Seriously, fuck that.  This has got to stop.  I am taking inspiration from a  friend of mine, (Chris Munroe - http://munsistories.blogspot.com), who wrote a short story every day for about a year and who's skills improved to quite impressive levels.  Is this stealing my friend's idea?  Sure!  All storytellers were inspired by previous storytellers.  I'll make it my own by not being nearly as dedicated.  I hope any readers out there enjoy these writings and are perhaps even inspired to release their own brain-krakens on the world once again.  This seems like a good place to test the waters anyhow. 

BD