Fooled University

I decided to write another comedy sketch for the same reason I bought Cap’n Crunch over the weekend: because I could. People want to carry on about adult life being terrible, but I’ve never felt better in that regard. I can do what I want, and it’s no one else’s business. Yeah, bills and work aren’t always roses, but being an adult’s pretty cool.

*******

INT. Guidance Counselor’s Office at Fooled Univeristy (Fooled U, also FU or the Silly Geese) – DAY

In an extravagantly decorated room with an inordinate amount of degrees sits a guidance COUNSELOR and a STUDENT. It’s the day before finals and the COUNSELOR is breaking the bad news to the well-intentioned, but dim, would-be graduate. It appears that he had not performed all the necessary steps to graduate and will need to wait to be conferred his diploma.

COUNSELOR

This is a bit hard for me to say, but you won’t be able to graduate at the end of the month, Eric.

STUDENT

Aww, what?! Did I fail finals? You know, if you just give me a chance to take them, I’ll prove myself! Honest!

COUNSELOR

Huh? Err, no Eric. You’ll be allowed to take your finals tomorrow.

STUDENT

Oh, good. That had me worried. I took my whole lunch to study for them. So, why am I not going to make it? What did I do wrong?

COUNSELOR

Well, for starters, you’ve forgotten to have a credit audit for your coursework.

STUDENT

I’m in trouble with the IRS?

COUNSELOR

Eh, no Eric. Your credit hours here at the university.

STUDENT

They’re in trouble with the IRS?!

COUNSELOR

Oh good Lord. No, we need to see if you have all of your credit hours to graduate.

STUDENT

Did I lose them?

COUNSELOR

Mmph! No, Eric, we need to see if you’ve taken all your classes.

STUDENT

Oh, well, I think I have. Uncle Auggie just told me what to take and I signed up for them. He’s cool. He’s confident that I’ll get through school.

COUNSELOR

Well, I’m glad he has confidence in you, Eric, but we’ve got standards. Not just everyone can call themselves a silly goose, you know.

STUDENT

Oh, sure. We wouldn’t want stupid people getting a diploma. If anyone could get a diploma here, then employers could care less about it.

COUNSELOR

You mean, “couldn’t care less.”

STUDENT

Who?

COUNSELOR

You.

STUDENT

Oh, no. I really want this thing!

COUNSELOR

No, Eric, I mean… you know what? Nevermind.

The COUNSELOR centers herself with a few deep breaths and opens the student file to see if there is anything else he needs to accomplish before he graduates. She find his transcript to be full of failing grades and in overall poor shape.

COUNSELOR

Eric, how did you ever get this far? You’ve failed 80% of your courses and the other 20 were barely passing. Your application was even submitted in crayon.

STUDENT

Oh, I just finished my self-portrait before I filled it out. Mom says I’ve got talent!

COUNSELOR

I… I can’t take this any longer! Your student record’s a joke. You’re as smart as a box of rocks, and I have no idea how you made it this far without anyone informing you of these glaring flaws. I can’t let this go any further. You’ll either need to take these classes over again or I will bring this up to admissions. This is appalling!

STUDENT (heartbroken)

Ohhhh, no! But I worked so hard. I only played my Xbox for 8 hours a day. That has to count for something. Oh, it’s all my fault! Uncle Auggie won’t be very happy to hear this. He was hoping to hand me my diploma this year. I can’t believe I’ve let him down. I’m so stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The STUDENT begins to smack himself in the head with his books. COUNSELOR tries to frantically to stop the STUDENT from further injury, when a light goes off in her head.

COUNSELOR

Wait, do you mean Augustus Waverby, the university president?

STUDENT

Yes. Everyone seems to know that for some reason. You really have some nice professors here, Mrs. Dachshund. I guess I took it all for granted, huh?

At this point, the COUNSELOR tosses the student file in the trash can and smiles.

COUNSELOR

If that’s the case, I’m always pleased to meet new alumni! Be sure to remember us when making your annual donations and we’ll see you at homecoming. Go Geese!

© 2013 by Corvidae in the Fields, all rights reserved

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The Ghost of Jack-in-the-Box “Tom” Joad

I’ve read a few comedy skits via National Sketch Writing Month and Susan Sassi, and it’s a lonely Friday night. What is a boy to do? If he’s in the fields, it usually involves drinking cheap beer and acting like an ass. Not the Corvidae, mind you. Oh no. The night is young and I’ve got the tequila out. Reposado, of course, because I’m a classy bird.

Comedy, in general, has always been a pet project for me. It was the way I coped through 18 years of Hell, and who knew razor-tongued kids would shape such a cynical wiseass?

I’ve never intended to do stand up. I have ungodly stage fright. My acting is worse than Vin Diesel’s, but deep down, there’s the funnyman underneath all of that. While examining the Manager’s Specials at my local grocery store, I thought, “why not write a sketch”? What’s the harm in one little, teeny, tiny write up? I feel fine, because I know I’m a hack.

*********

INT.  MCDONALDS – DAY

The scene is tense. There are several employees on strike for a living wage. News teams are on the scene to get their story. REPORTER begins his wind up. PROTESTER waits in the background, impatient to tell his story.

REPORTER

Here we have a line of fast food workers protesting for better pay. Some of these folks can claim a heritage in fast food all the way back to Dick and Mack McDonald themselves. Today, they ask more from the companies they’ve made (dare I say it?) a career of. Excuse me, sir? What’s your story?

PROTESTER

I come from a long line of fry cooks. Pops was a fry cook. My grandad was a fry cook, and my great-grandad used to peel potatoes in the army. I think that’s close enough. You could say that screwing off in school, making poor financial choices, and lacking motivation runs in our blood. Why would someone want to ruin that tradition? We need to be paid a fair wage to sustain this level of mediocrity!

REPORTER

Your spirit is commendable, sir. I wish you the best of… wait… what’s that?!

From behind the news crew comes a beat up 1926 Hudson Super Six piled high with worn, worldly possessions and 20 fry guys. It sputters, coughs, and wheezes as it comes to a concerning stop. Out steps two people JACK-IN-THE-BOX “TOM” JOAD and GASTROBOY, a four-foot 300 pound, rosacea-laden sidekick.

“TOM” JOAD

Whenever a drive-thru operator can’t say “would you like fries with that,” I’ll be there! Whenever there’s a time we can’t super size. I’ll be there! Whenever…

REPORTER

Excuse me? Who are you?!

“TOM” JOAD

Me? Oh, yes. Me. I am “Tom” Joad, crusader of fast food workers everywhere! And this… this is Gastroboy! Defender of every American’s right to an extremely unhealthy diet.

GASTROBOY (with food stains on his onesie)

*Belches*

REPORTER

Say, aren’t you Jack from Jack in the Box? You’ve got the pointy nose and everything.

“TOM” JOAD

Err… No! I am “Tom” Joad, crusader…

PROTESTER

Seriously, man. You’re Jack. I… I’ve got your head on my car antenna.

“TOM” JOAD (fighting a lot of pain)

Mmm… OK! I’M JACK! I’M JACK! ALL RIGHT?! *sobbing*

PROTESTER

So, what made you start fighting for a fair wage?

JACK

It all happened five years ago. We were in heavy competition with Carl’s Jr. over a new secret sauce. Being arrogant and careless, I added too much horseradish to the batch. I should have listened to Wendy. It exploded, taking out most of the facility and leaving my skin severely irritated.

PROTESTER

How does that tie into fair wages?

JACK (pausing)

You know, I may not have thought the whole vigilante story through all the way.

Before Jack could continue, DUCAT GOLDENBANKS shows up on the scene. He is garishly decorated with a golden three-piece suit and money bursting from every pocket.

DUCAT

(Hissing) Your plan will never work, people! I have enough money to buy your family trees. All this does is interrupt my Skype session to order more gold-plated toilets. AHAHAHAAA! What? Who’s this clown? I don’t have any Jack in the Box franchises!

JACK

The name’s “Tom.”  Would you like to try a couple quarter pounders?

A bizarre, oafish, comical fist fight breaks out between the two characters. It’s slightly reminiscent of Batman the TV series starring Adam West. JACK blinds DUCAT GOLDENBANKS with cinnamon twists and pins him down with GASTROBOY.

DUCAT

Oh my God! I can’t breath! And when I can, it smells like cheese.

JACK

It’s funny you should mention that. GASTROBOY here is lactose intolerant, and I just fed him a shamrock shake. He’s about ready to reenact the battle of the Somme.  That is unless, of course, you give these protesters the money they need to perpetuate their meaningless existence.

DUCAT

OK! OK! You win this time JACK! or “TOM”! Or whoever you are! But you’ll pay dearly for this! DEARLY!

The protesters cheer wildly and start planning on how to spend their new income which include lottery tickets, liquor, and trips to the dollar store.

JACK

Did you hear that GASTROBOY? Our job is done here. It’s lunchtime!

GASTROBOY (curls up his pudgy face into a smile)

*Farts*

And so the two heroes ride off into the distance in their ’26 Hudson with 20 fry guys. The scene cuts back to the REPORTER and PROTESTER  trying to take in all that just happened.

REPORTER

Do you think we’ll ever see him again?

PROTESTER

Maybe, if customs doesn’t arrest him at the border.

© 2013 by Corvidae in the Fields, all rights reserved