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A Skit Encapsulating The Chilling Nature of The Mafia. |
Noted!
"Hello! Actually, I'm not supposed to speak...damn. Can we do another take?"
~Quantum Leap~
2003-06-21
IT'S A BLATANT CLUE, INNIT?
~
2003-06-03
I GIVE MY PERMISSION to turn the Excel Saga anime into a campy remake of The Wizard of Oz!
~
2003-05-26
I SENSE YOU...SPACE BUTLAAAAAAAR!
~
2003-05-14
Whoa, I forgot about Diaryland.
~
2003-04-15
Excel!
~
I can write skits. This will probably get me on some hit list, or it would if anyone read this. XD
SCENE: Interior Office. Everything is quite dark and wooden, giving a general impression of Godfather. A well-dressed MAN WITH AN INCREDIBLY GREASY COMBOVER is sitting behind the desk, steepling his fingers and looking tortured.
The camera shows him for a brief moment, perhaps while the theme from The Godfather plays over in the background.
Suddenly, two suited HIRED RUFFIANS barge in, dragging WEEDY PEON TWERP, the latter objecting and struggling most vocally. This upsets MWAIGC. He shrieks in an gratingly camp manner, and speaks in the same way.
COMBOVER: Oh, you frightened the living daylights out of me! Why didn't you knock first? Didn't you see my collection of prize knockers?
The Ruffians regard each other, then look toward the door. Camera pans to show about twenty-seven different door-knockers absolutely covering the door.
RUFFIAN 1: Sorry sir, forgot.
RUFFIAN 2: You know how it is, get in a rush, totally slips your mind.
COMBOVER: Fine, fine. Neglect my knockers again. You big men are all the same. All you want to do is barge right in.
TWERP looks at all of this in disbelief.
TWERP: Hey, I forgot to knock too, can I go and give it another try?
TWERP makes a start for the door, but RUFFIANS stop him. He whimpers and speaks in a single stream of unpunctuated shrieks.
TWERP: IMSOSORRYDONMESSINABOUTITWONTHAPPENAGAINPLEASEMERCYILLDOANYTHINGYOUASKPLEASEJUSTLETMEGOOOOOO!
COMBOVER: Hmm, howabout, no.
TWERP: Oh, please?
COMBOVER: No, you know damn well what you did, and I can't let that pass.
TWERP: I don't know what I did.
COMBOVER shrieks.
COMBOVER: Oh, you liar! You lying piece of untruthful matter that is by it's very nature invented to mislead!
TWERP: Am not.
COMBOVER: Ooo, right! That's done it. Tell him what he done, boys.
RUFFIAN 1: Don Messinabout is upset with your slander of his full head of naturally manageable hair.
RUFFIAN 2: Don Messinabout objects most strongly to your proclaiming that he wears an excessively greasy combover.
COMBOVER's hair drips a large dollop of grease on the table and part of the combover springs up slightly. He scoops the grease back up and, in a practiced, nonchalant fashion, smooths the hair back into a combover.
RUFFIAN 1: Don Messinabout is further aggrivated by your implications that the Don has poor fashion sense and an obsession with knockers.
COMBOVER: You see! That is SO unfair! I like a couple of knockers once in a while, but I'm NOT obsessed. I'd be just as happy with a doorbell or just a plain knob.
RUFFIAN 2: Don Messinabout is even further aggrivated by your insinuations regarding his interest in knobs, as well.
Both RUFFIANs cough and avert their gaze.
COMBOVER: That's right! I'm Don Messinabout here, I'm not going to take this from you anymore!
COMBOVER minces from behind the desk and kisses TWERP rather more than in friendship. TWERP freezes in horror.
TWERP: You're going to tie me to a bridge and throw rotting tomatoes at me?!
COMBOVER pauses, and looks at the RUFFIANS for support.
COMBOVER: No, that was...the Kiss of Death By Hitting Over The Head With Stale Bread And Then Sticking Sharp Coconut Shards Up the Nose Until The Victim Complains And Then A Finishing-Off With A Crowbar Up The Rude Bits, wasn't it?
RUFFIAN 1: I would have placed it more as a Kiss of Death By Sharp Peach Pits Placed In The Underpants And Then Being Made To Jog Nintey Miles With A Rabid Flock Of Mice In Close Pursuit.
RUFFIAN 2: I would have put it to a Kiss of Kicking Repeatedly Up The Bottom Until Victim Apologizes. It didn't have that mortal finish at the end.
COMBOVER: Well, you do it, then, if you're so GOOD at it.
RUFFIAN 1 kisses TWERP. There is a moment of appraisal, then all submit their disapproval. ALL: Nah.
COMBOVER: That was more a Death By Armadillo Barrage
kiss.
RUFFIAN 2: I'd have said Death By Nasally Inserted Grapes.
TWERP: Death By Chocolate.
RUFFIAN 2: All right, so let me have a try.
RUFFIAN 2 kisses TWERP.
COMBOVER: No, that wasn't right at all, I wouldn't want to do THAT.
RUFFIAN 1: Ugh. I never knew you were like that.
RUFFIAN 2: What? That was a Kiss of Sharp Things Being Stuck In Unpleasant Places...oh, I can see why you might have misinterpreted it, now.
RUFFIANS and COMBOVER begin to argue simultaneously.
COMBOVER: It should have had more of a flourish on it. That little sucky bit at the end.
RUFFIAN 1: I think there should be one of those little breaks in it.
RUFFIAN 2: Are we talking tongue, or no tongue?
TWERP tires of this.
TWERP: LOOK! You're done messingabout!
RUFFIAN 1: Don.
TWERP: Don, sorry. You're Don Messingabout! You should have some idea of what to do.
COMBOVER: Right. Well, you complained about it in the first place, so why don't YOU show US how it's supposed to go, Mister Smarty-Pants?
TWERP: All right. Anything to get this over with.
Camera pans away from TWERP. RUFFIANS and COMBOVER are in shot. There is a gruesome sucking/kissing noise, followed by a general slurping noise and then a wet shlorp.
Reaction shot of the RUFFIANS and COMBOVER.
ALL: UGH!
RUFFIAN 1: That's definitely the kiss of death.
RUFFIAN 2: That's disgusting, that is.
COMBOVER: Oh, I see, I see, I understand.
ALL generally reach a consensus. COMBOVER walks over to the edge of the screen and kicks something that sounds like a body.
COMBOVER: Now don't do it again!
Ahem.
Notes:
1. DEVO does ELVIS. Don't Be Cruel by Devo is...a different experience.
2. So is SOS by Men Without Hats. I really like the cover.
3. I generally like covers in general, generally speaking. I don't know why.
~Ayrn Ninety-nine little red balloons...
