Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Another Dead Baby

Don’t let the word “baby” imply that I hold any affection for this piece of crap. It’s much too long, the game is weak and scattered, and you can pretty much tell I got bored and distracted about halfway through. In other words? Perfect blog-fodder.

This was the first sketch I brought in several months ago when we kick-started the BOOM writing. So basically, it’s the result of me “priming my own pump.” Interpret that however you’d like.

It was read once to the group, given comments, and has been appropriately rotting away on my hard drive ever since. Also, prime ministers and mayors are basically the same thing, so shut the fuck up. “Enjoy.”

Harry is sitting, reading a book. Two men are dressed in all black, sleeping upstage.

Nightblade: Thanks so much for letting us crash on your couch, Harry (yawns). Shadow and I both really appreciate it.

Harry: No sweat, Nightblade. (Ding Dong) Oh, that must be Joel. Come on in!

Shadow: I’m so exhausted.

Harry: I know, Shadow. I know. Just go back to bed.

Shadow: Ok…

Joel (enters): Harry!

Harry: Joel!

Joel: Everything’s cool?

Harry: Joel, relax.

Joel: Great, great. So…?

Harry: So…whose friend just scored him two of the city’s most deadly assassins?

Joel: This guy! (pointing at Harry)

Harry: Well, actually, Joel, no, I meant you but, anyway yeah. With these guys, there’s no way you’re not assassinating the prime minister tomorrow.

Joel: Excellent. I knew I could count on you. Where are they?

Harry: Right there. That’s Nightblade on the couch, and Shadow in the sleeping bag.

Shadow: I’m so exhausted.

Joel: Harry.

Harry: The prime minister will be dead by—

Joel: Harry!

Harry: What? Lower your voice, they’re trying to sleep.

Joel: This isn’t what I asked for.

Harry: Yeah it is.

Joel: I said, get me HIRED assassins.

Harry: Uh huh.

Joel: Not Tired Assassins.

Harry: Yeah, I know.

Joel: Then why did you get me tired assassins?!

Harry: Um.

Joel: Why did you get me tired assassins?!

Harry: You gotta stop freakin’ out man.

Joel: Harry! I can’t account for every stupid situation that may come about just because you mishear something.

Harry: Joel. They’re assassins.

Joel: Tired assassins.

Shadow: I’m exhausted.

Joel: See?

Harry: Well yeah, you’re right, they are tired.

Joel: Thank you.

Harry: Because they’re human beings.

Joel: Oh blah blah.

Harry: Human beings who are out all night assassinating people!

Nightblade: Could you please keep it down?

Harry: Sorry, Nightblade. (whispering) They’re human beings, Joel, not simple, two-dimensional stereotypes from some action movie.

Shadow (to Nightblade): Who are they talking about?

Joel: This happens all the time, Harry. Like that time I asked you to buy me grape—

Harry: Like that time you asked for grapefruits, and I gave you grapefruits instead of those little clusters of grapes you were expecting when you asked me to buy you grapefruits?

Joel: YES. Am I the only sane one here? I pay you thousands of dollars for hired assassins and you get me tired assassins. Sleeping ninjas.

Harry: You’re really making way too big of a deal over this.

Joel: How are they gonna assassinate the mayor? While their sleepwalking?

Harry: We’re going in circles, Joel. (One of the assassins has gotten up) Nightblade, sorry about this.

Joel: Oh look who’s got enough energy to get up. It’s a miracle.

Nightblade: Don’t worry, this behavior will probably only last two, three minutes tops.

Joel: Oh yeah, and then what’s gonna happen?

Harry: You’ll probably run out of the room screaming or get killed by one of my tired assassin friends.

Shadow: That’d be ironic.

Joel: What are you talking about?! You’re all crazy.

Nightblade: Here we go.

Shadow (to Nightblade): Somebody’s having trouble understanding a very simple concept.

Joel: What?!

Nightblade: You asked your friend, Harry, to find two men to—

Joel: I asked Harry for hired—

Nightblade: Slow down, Joel. We’ll get there. Harry brought me, Nightblade, and my colleague, Shadow…

Shadow: Whatsup.

Nightblade: …to murder the prime minister for you. But we were up late last night, murdering three different…

Shadow: Four.

Nightblade: Sorry. Four different heirs to a foreign throne.

Shadow: England.

Nightblade: I wasn’t gonna say, but fine, yeah, England. Point is, we’ve been up all night, and we need some rest.

Joel: See, they’re TIRED!

Nightblade: BUT! In addition to being pretty exhausted, Harry has ALSO paid us for our services which we’ll provide upon waking.

Harry: See, they’re also HIRED.

Joel: So you’re telling me...they can’t be both hired and tired.

Nightblade: Ya see, we can Joel. We really can. Harry. The problem with this situation here isn’t a misunderstanding or mishearing. Your friend Joel is suffering from an inability to understand that some one or something can have two dissimilar attributes simultaneously.

Shadow: The other one’s funnier.

Nightblade: They’re both pretty weak actually. Joel. You’re gonna have to get over this to be a productive member of society.

Harry: But what about the whole grapefruit thing?

Nightblade: Oh, he’s stupid too.

Joel: What?

Nightblade: Nothing. Shh. Shh…

Joel: What? No. If they were REAL assassins, they’d be speaking stealthily enough for me not to hear them.

Shadow: Hya! (Shadow blow darts him)

Harry: Woah! Shadow! Blowdart!

Joel: Ha you missed, jerk!

Nightblade: No he didn’t. Joel. I know that right now, it must feel like you’re really the only sane person in this crazy crazy apartment, but you’ve gotta listen to me, and to Harry—your friend, when I tell you you’re behaving irrationally.


Shadow: Hya (Karate chops his back, goes back to bed).

Joel: Ow. That’s it, this whole thing’s off. I’m not paying for these.

Harry: www.gotohell.com. Now’s the time that you run off screaming.

Joel: Fine. AHHHHHHHHHHHH. (exits)

Nightblade: Well, that settles that.

Shadow: He’ll be dead in two minutes. Four words boys: POISON MICROSCOPIC BLOWDART AND I’M COUNTING “BLOWDART” AS TWO WORDS.

Harry: Hey, let’s all laugh at that now.




Anonymous said...

Another dead baby! YUM!!

Anonymous said...

The joke died so early in this pathetic sketch that I'd suggest renaming the post "Another Abortion."