All posts by Jeff Laird
#002
#001
SEINFELD – THE VIOLATOR
Events in my life often seem to be lacking only a live studio audience reaction. This is a mock script of an actual sitcom, using the well known characters and set-ups to tell a story that actually happened to me.
MY LIFE, THE S*ITCOM
SEINFELD – THE VIOLATOR
AN ORIGINAL SPEC SCRIPT
COLD OPEN
INT. MEN’S ROOM OF COMEDY CLUB – NIGHT
THERE IS A WALL WITH 3 URINALS. JERRY IS STANDING AT THE RIGHT URINAL. ANOTHER MAN (PAUL) ENTERS THE MEN’S ROOM AND MOVES TO THE CENTER URINAL. WE DO NOT SEE PAUL’S FACE, JUST HIS BACK.
CLOSE UP OF JERRY’S FACE. HE TURNS SLIGHTLY TOWARD PAUL AND HIS EYES GET HUGE AND A LOOK OF SHOCK AND DISGUST ON HIS FACE. HE QUICKLY LOOKS STRAIGHT AHEAD AT THE WALL IN FRONT OF HIM.
END COLD OPEN
ACT I
INT. MONK’S DELI – DAY
IN A BOOTH, GEORGE AND KRAMER SIT NEXT TO EACH OTHER, ELAINE SITS ACROSS FROM THEM. JERRY ENTERS AND SLOWLY SITS NEXT TO ELAINE.
GEORGE
What’s with you?
JERRY
I had an…incident in the men’s room at the club last night.
ELAINE
I already don’t like where this is going.
KRAMER
What depraved thing have you done now?
JERRY
The room has three urinals.
ELAINE
Is this gonna be gross? ’Cause we’re eating.
GEORGE
We haven’t even ordered yet.
JERRY
There are three urinals. I’m standing at the one on the far right. This guy, Paul, the bartender, comes in and takes position at the center.
GEROGE
Whoa, wait a minute. Was the other urinal open, the one farther away?
JERRY
Oh, yeah.
KRAMER
Paul did that?
ELAINE
What’s the big deal?
GEORGE
That’s a violation. You don’t take up position right next to another guy!
ELAINE
Violation? Of what?
JERRY
The unwritten rules of men’s room etiquette.
ELAINE
You have rules?
GEORGE, KRAMER, AND JERRY IN UNISION
Oh, yeah.
KRAMER
Now that you mention it, I’ve noticed that Paul will often go to the middle urinal when all three are available.
GEORGE
Really?
ELAINE
What’s wrong with that?
JERRY
It’s inviting company.
ELAINE
Inviting company?
JERRY
You want a buffer between you and the next guy while you’re going.
GEORGE
When you stand in the middle, you’re inviting someone to stand right next to you. In fact, you’re denying them their personal space.
ELAINE
Why? ‘Cause if a guy pees next to you, you might become gay or something?
JERRY
Of course not. It…it impedes performance.
GEORGE
Exactly!
ELAINE
Performance?
GEORGE
The ability to—uhh—perform, you know…
JERRY
The function at hand, so to speak.
ELAINE
You’ve got to be kidding.
JERRY
You’ve heard of stage fright, right?
ELAINE
In the men’s room?
JERRY
When you got to go, especially when you really got to go, you don’t want anything to distract you from your primary goal.
ELAINE
And you find yourselves easily distracted?
GEORGE, JERRY, AND KRAMER IN UNISON
Yes.
ELAINE
So, you’re all upset just because some guy had the nerve—note my judicious word choice there—to stand next to you while you tried to relieve yourself?
GEORGE
Did he talk to you?
ELAINE
That’s against the rules, too?
KRAMER
Serious violation.
ELAINE
You can’t talk in there? Like a monastery?
JERRY
Well, you can say hello or whatever. But nothing beyond that.
GEORGE
There are safe zones for conversation.
GEORGE BUILDS a little model bathroom with the salt and pepper shakers, the sugar packet holder and the single serving jelly packets.
GEORGE (CONT”D)
The sink and the entrance by the garbage can.
ELAINE
It’s okay to talk there?
ELAINE POINTS TO the strawberry jelly packet at one end of the mock men’s room.
GEORGE
Of course. A lot of gossip and off-color humor shared there.
JERRY
Actually, quite a few serious business meetings happen at the sink in the men’s room.
GEORGE
I once got a performance review while standing at the urinal.
ELAINE
What?
KRAMER slurps the remains of his soda and motions to the waitress for a refill
GEORGE
I was standing there, just about to take care of business, when my manager’s manager sidles up next to me. There were only two urinals in this particular men’s room, so it wasn’t a violation.
JERRY
Were the stalls full? That should be the go-to before joining someone at the wall.
ELAINE
You have got to be kidding me.
JERRY
These are the rules.
The waitress shows up with Kramer’s refill. After she walks away, George continues.
GEORGE
It was my boss’s boss. What was I supposed to do? Anyway, he starts congratulating me on what a great job I’d been doing.
JERRY
You?
GEORGE
Yes. Ironically, his ill-timed praise of my recent performance was having the opposite effect on my performance at that moment. I just stood there, said thanks, and tried to relax enough to go. The more he praised me, the more difficult it became. Finally, I just gave up and left.
ELAINE
You didn’t go?
GEORGE
Are you listening to us? This is serious business!
Elaine rolls her eyes.
KRAMER
Poor performance at the urinal leads to speculation. Which leads to rumors…
ELAINE
Speculation and rumors?
GEORGE
People talk.
ELAINE
About what?
KRAMER
If someone just stands at the urinal and doesn’t do anything, the speculation is that he’s just browsing.
ELAINE
So it all comes back to basic homophobia.
JERRY
No, not at all. Gay men comply with the etiquette like everyone else.
GEORGE
It’s about performance. Browsers deter performance.
ELAINE
So the rumors that spread about browsers are that they obstruct performance, not that they’re gay?
GEORGE
Exactly.
JERRY
No one likes an audience.
ELAINE, GEROGE, AND KRAMER ALL LOOK AT JERRY LIKE HE’S GOT TO BE KIDDING.
JERRY (CONT’D)
Well, not in the men’s room.
END ACT I
ACT II
INT. JERRY’S APARTMENT – DAY
GEORGE IS ON THE COUCH READING THE PAPER. ELAINE ENTERS THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR.
ELAINE
Hey.
GEORGE
Hey.
THE BATHROOM DOOR OPENS AND JERRY COMES OUT, INTO THE LIVING ROOM.
ELAINE
How’d it go in there? Any violations?
JERRY CROSSES TO THE FRIDGE AND OPENS A SNAPPLE.
JERRY
Ha. Ha. I may never use a public restroom again.
FRONT DOOR BURSTs OPEN AND KRAMER ENTERS. HE QUICKLY LOOKS AT EVERYONE.
KRAMER
Yeah…
KRAMER HEADS STRAIGHT TO THE BATHROOM AND SLAMS THE DOOR.
ELAINE
Looks like you don’t have a choice.
JERRY CROSSES TO BATHROOM AND KNOCKS ON THE DOOR.
JERRY
Hey be courteous in there, will ya?
KRAMER V.O.
(UNITELLIGIBLE RESPONSE)
ELAINE SITS DOWN ON THE COUCH AND ADDRESSES GEORGE.
ELAINE
How’s work? Any pop performance reviews?
GEORGE
Fortunately, I don’t have that problem at my new office. I have a bigger problem.
ELAINE
I am afraid to ask…
GEORGE
There’s only a dozen people. So we only have two small restrooms, a men’s and ladies’ right next to each other situated across from the receptionist desk. It’s nice because there’s no problems like we’ve discussed here. Single room, single seat, lock on the door.
ELAINE
So the downside is…?
GEORGE
Well for starters, if someone’s waiting, there’s the awkward moment at the door as one vacates and the other enters. But the worst part is the receptionist. Cindy.
JERRY
Cindy?
GEORGE
Cindy.
GEORGE MENTALLY CONSIDERS CINDY, AN ATTRACTIVE YOUNG LADY.
GEORGE (CONT’D)
Twenty-five, sandy blonde, single, hot. Cindy. Someone I don’t have a chance in hell with. Every morning, ten AM like clockwork, it’s time for my daily constitutional.
ELAINE
T.M.I.
Elaine raises her hands.
GEORGE
Too much information? It’s simple biology. You don’t do it?
ELAINE
I don’t talk about it.
GEORGE
My point is, that the bathroom walls are thin. Well, the door is anyway. I’ll see Cindy sitting all pretty at her desk, typing away at her keyboard. She always smiles and says hello. I smile and my face burns red.
JERRY
Does that red go all the way up?
JERRY TAPS GEORGES BALD HEAD.
GEORGE
Gee, I never thought of it before. But, thanks, now there’s something else I’ll forever be self-conscious of.
JERRY
No problem.
GEORGE
It’s really bad when I get there and find it occupied. You don’t know until you try the door. There’s only five other guys in my office, so the odds are in my favor, but sometimes it happens.
ELAINE
So then what? Small talk with Cindy while you wait?
GEORGE
If I had a shred of self-confidence, maybe. No. Just awkward silence. But the worst part is once I get inside. I turn the fan on for cover, but the elapsed time spent in the room always gives away the purpose of the visit. And as I sit there, attempting any means of discretion, I can clearly hear Cindy tapping at her keyboard.
George tapS his fingers on the table for emphasis.
ELAINE
So?
GEORGE
So!? If I can hear her lovely, slender fingers gently typing invoices and e-mail, imagine what she can hear above the low roar of the fan! I never make eye contact with her as I exit. Always a bee-line back to my office.
ELAINE
Poor Cindy. She deserves combat pay.
KRAMER EMERGES FROM THE BATHROOM, NODS AT EVERYONE AS HE MAKES HIS WAY TO THE FRIDGE. HE POURS HIMSELF A GLASS OF MILK.
JERRY GLANCES INTO THE BATHROOM
JERRY
I see you opened the window.
KRAMER DOWNS MILK IN ONE GULP. WIPES TOP LIP WITH BACK OF HAND.
KRAMER
Oh yeah.
JERRY
Well, I hope you washed up.
KRAMER WIGGLES HIS FINGERS
KRAMER
Clean as a new toothbrush. Which, by the way, you should consider getting.
ELAINE
I suppose not-washing is men’s room etiquette offense, too.
JERRY, GEORGE, AND KRAMER IN UNISON
Oh, yeah.
KRAMER
The sink is where you spot the no-wash offenders.
ELAINE
How does that work?
KRAMER
You’re standing at the sink, waiting for the guy who was at the urinals to join you in the safe zone for a quick chat, but he just passes you by and zip—out the door.
JERRY
The no-wash offense.
ELAINE
They don’t wash their hands?
GEORGE
That’s why it’s an offense.
ELAINE
Boys are gross.
GEORGE
A urinal no-wash is bad. But when I witness a stall no-wash, I almost feel obligated to tell people.
ELAINE
A stall no-wash?
JERRY
They emerge from a stall and skip the sink.
ELAINE
That’s disgusting!
GEORGE
Which is why I want to warn others. I want to go back into the office, point out the offender to anyone who comes in personal contact with him and declare ‘Stall no-wash!’
ELAINE
But you don’t actually do that.
GEORGE sheepishly GOES BACK TO HIS PAPER.
GEORGE
No.
ELAINE
You don’t feel the need to fantasize about announcing urinal no-washes?
GEORGE
While disgusting, it’s a lesser violation. It is possible to urinate without getting any backsplash. Unlikely, but possible.
KRAMER
Actually, urine is sterile.
GEORGE
Any problems with Paul last night?
JERRY
Actually, yes! Worse than the proximity violation.
ELAINE
Worse?
JERRY
He had food.
ELAINE
Who eats in the bathroom?
JERRY
Exactly! He stood next to me at the urinals eating a huge bagel loaded with cream cheese.
ELAINE
Get out!
JERRY
He smiled at me as he chewed, like it was perfectly normal. Pretty gross.
KRAMER
I’ve seen you take your water bottle in there with you.
JERRY
I leave it at the sink counter.
Safe zone.
KRAMER
There’s no safe zone for food in the men’s room. I once saw this guy walk from the urinal to the sink still hangin’ out. He’d wash up, then he’d do this pelvic thrust move and zip up all in one fluid motion.
KRAMER MIMICS PELVIC THRUST MOVE.
KRAMER (CON’T)
I called him Johnny No-hands and his patented flip-n-zip move.
JERRY
He was hanging out at the sink?
KRAMER
There’s no safe zone for food in the men’s room.
ELAINE
Boys are gross.
GEORGE
In college, we used to play this little game we called Bombardier.
ELAINE
I really don’t like where this is going.
GEORGE
We used to take turns straddling the top of the stall walls, take our best aim and let fly with the ordinance.
JERRY
You’ve got to be kidding.
KRAMER nods with sick admiration.
KRAMER
Gotta admit, that’s pretty cool.
ELAINE
Are you talking number one or number two?
GEORGE JUST SHRUGS. DOES HE REALLY NEED TO SAY IT ALOUD?
ELAINE (CON’T)
Girls do not do things like that!
GEORGE
All the guys on the dorm floor would gather around and take bets on accuracy. If anyone was ever lucky enough to get a bulls-eye, there was a huge splashdown. Very impressive.
JERRY
I’m guessing alcohol was a major component of this activity.
GEORGE
Of course. And we always used the same stall. It was generally avoided otherwise. You knew that someone really had to go if they were willing to enter the Bombardier stall.
JERRY
There better not have been any bombardier action in here.
JERRY POINTS TO HIS BATHROOM, GLARES AT KRAMER.
KRAMER
No. No. Just, get a new toothbrush.
END ACT II
MODERN FAMILY – GAMBLING
Events in my life often seem to be lacking only a live studio audience reaction. This is a mock script of an actual sitcom, using the well known characters and set-ups to tell a story that actually happened to me. Not sure this is a full episode, just a few scenes tied together with a theme.
MY LIFE, THE S*ITCOM
MODERN FAMILY – GAMBLING
AN ORIGINAL SPEC SCRIPT
MODERN FAMILY – CHARACTERS
Jay Pritchett – PATRIARCH OF FAMILY
Gloria Delgado-Pritchett – JAY’S SECOND WIFE
Manny Delgado – GLORIA’S SON FROM PREVIOUS MARRIAGE
Mitchell Pritchett – JAY’S GAY SON
Cam Tucker – MITCHELL’S PARTNER/SPOUSE
Lily Tucker-Pritchett – MITCHELL AND CAM’S ADOPTED DAUGHTER
Claire Dunphy – JAY’S DAUGHTER
Phil Dunphy – CLAIRE’S HUSBAND
Haley – CLAIRE AND PHIL’S OLDEST DAUGHTER
Alex – CLAIRE AND PHIL’S YOUNGER DAUGHTER
Luke – CLAIRE AND PHIL’S SON
COLD OPEN
INT. COUCH CAM – JAY AND GLORIA – DAY
GLORIA IS VERY HAPPY AND EXCITED.
GLORIA
What are the two things Jay loves the most?
PAUSE. JAY’S EYES MOVE TOWARD GLORIA’S CHEST.
GLORIA (CON’T)
His family and his golf!
JAY ROLLS HIS EYES AS IF TO SAY, OH, YEAH, I GUESS.
GLORIA (CON’T)
So I get him something he’s never had before…a golf game with his family!
INT. COUCH CAM – MITCHELL AND CAM – DAY
MITCHELL
I played golf with my father once. Once. He yelled at me the entire round. “You’re holding the club wrong! Get closer to the ball! You’re too close to the ball! Follow through on your swing! Pick up the pace!”
I was ten.
INT. COUCH CAM – CLAIRE AND PHIL – DAY
PHIL
I admit, I am a little intimidated.
CLAIRE
You should be.
PHIL
But also so thrilled! I have wanted to golf with Jay for years but for some reason we just never got around to it.
INT. COUCH CAM – MITCHELL AND CAM – DAY
CAM
Though my passion was football, I was a fairly accomplished golfer back in high school.
MITCHELL ROLLS HIS EYES
CAM (CON’T)
Back in Iowa, we played on a former cornfield. There were no hills, no trees, no water hazards. The biggest challenge was avoiding the livestock.
INT. COUCH CAM – CLAIRE AND PHIL – DAY
CLAIRE
When we would ask dad if he had a good round, he’d always say “It’s not about hitting the ball well, it’s about getting away from it all.”
PHIL
What a Zen outlook!
CLAIRE
I’m pretty sure we were the “all” he was getting away from.
INT. COUCH CAM – JAY AND GLORIA – DAY
GLORIA
Then I find out only four people can play at a time. So, I plan a day for Jay to play the golf with his boys!
JAY
Family and golf. If I had to choose between the two, I’d pick golf.
END COLD OPEN
ACT I
INT. GOLF COURSE PROSHOP – DAY
JAY IS AT THE COUNTER PAYING FOR THE ROUND OF GOLF WHILE CAM, PHIL, AND MITCHELL ARE LOOKING AROUND THE PROSHOP. JAY TALKS TO THE PROSHOP GIRL AS HE PAYS FOR THE ROUND.
JAY
I know it looks like I’m paying for this right now, but I have a feeling I’ll be paying for it all morning.
PHIL TOUCHES A DISPLAY OF A PYRAMID OF GOLF BALLS AND THEY COLLAPSE AND ROLL ALL OVER THE FLOOR. HE CHASE AFTER THEM.PROSHOP GIRL AWKWARDLY SMILES AT JAY.
MITCHELL AND CAM GO THROUGH THE RACKS OF SHIRTS ON DISPLAY. MITCHELL AND PHIL ARE BOTH CASUALLY DRESSED, JAY AND CAM ARE WEARING NEARLY IDENTICAL LOUD PLAID PANTS, EXCEPT CAM’S ARE BRIGHT PINK.
CAM POINTS TO HIS PANTS AND JAY’S.
CAM
Look, we’re twinsees!
JAY
Mine glow in the dark slightly less than yours.
MITCHELL
Only slightly.
CAM NOTICES A MANNEQUIN WEARING A VERY SCOTTISH KILT AND MATCHING GOLF SHIRT HOLDING A DRIVER.
CAM
Well, I may need to trade up. Come on Jay, what do you say we get kilts?
JAY SHAKES HIS HEAD.
JAY
How are you supposed to swing a club when you got everything else is swinging?
MITCHELL RAISES AN EYEBROW.
PHIL HAS FINISHED GATHERING MOST OF THE BALLS. HE IS VERY EXCITED TO SPEND THE DAY WITH JAY. CLAPS HANDS TOGETHER AND ASKS…
PHIL
Okay, so who is riding with who today??
INT. COUCH CAM – PHIL – DAY
PHIL
I am really looking forward to spending some quality father-in-law / son-in-law bonding time with Jay today.
INT. – GOLF COURSE PROSHOP – DAY
WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING UP, JAY RESPONDS
JAY
Cam’s with me.
CAM
Twinsees!
MITCHELL SHRUGS “OF COURSE”
INT. COUCH CAM – PHIL – DAY
PHIL
Brother-in-law bonding time is good, too.
EXT. – GOLF COURSE – DAY
THE FOURSOME IS AT THE TEE.
JAY
So are we going to make this game interesting, gentlemen?
CAM
Oooh, a little action always makes the game more interesting.
MITCHELL
Dad, there’s no way any of us can compete with you.
JAY
Oh, I know.
PHIL TAKES A PRACTICE SWING AT THE TEE AND IT IS HORRIBLE. GRASS GOES FLYING.
JAY (CON’T)
We can play teams. And I’ll spot you two strokes per hole.
PHIL TAKES ANOTHER SWING, THIS TIME THE CLUB GOES FLYING.
JAY (CON’T)
Three strokes per hole.
INT. COUCH CAM – JAY – DAY
JAY
I like to gamble. When there’s something riding on the play, it is so much more interesting. And I need as much as I can to make this round interesting.
EXT. GOLF COURSE – DAY
PHIL
Whoa, did you see that? The club actually went farther than the ball!
EXT. GOLF COURSE – DAY
CAM IS DRIVING JAY IN GOLF CART. CAM SPOTS WATERING HOLE HUT.
CAM
What’s that little hut up ahead?
JAY
That’s the watering hole. Get a little refreshment, liquid and otherwise.
THEY PULL THE CART UP TO THE OPEN AIR HUT. A YOUNG LADY STANDS BEHIND THE BAR READY TO SERVE THEM. PHIL AND MITCHELL PULL THEIR CART UP BEHIND. ALL GET OUT AND APPROACH THE BAR.
JAY
Who’s thirsty?
CAM
Oh, what have we here? Bagels. Hot dogs. Are those oysters?
HUT GIRL
Oh, yeah. We had a wedding out here yesterday. Had a lot of left over oysters.
MITCHELL
Mmm, leftover oysters. Bon appétit.
CAM
I love oysters.
JAY
I’ll take six.
MITCHELL
You ARE a gambling man, dad.
JAY
I love these things. A bunch of hot sauce, a vodka lemonade chaser…Vodka lemonades all around!
PHIL
I guess it is almost 8:30 in the morning.
CAM (TO JAY)
How many can you eat in thirty seconds? For, say, twenty dollars?
JAY
At least a dozen.
CAM PRODUCES A $20 BILL FROM HIS HAND LIKE A MAGIC TRICK.
CAM
Let’s see it.
PHIL
The man knows how to golf!
MITCHELL
Dad, no, this is not a good idea…
JAY (OVER MITCHELL)
Oh, let’s do this.
HUT GIRL LINES UP OYSTERS, JAY PULLS ONE TO HIS LIPS.
INT. COUCH CAM – MITCHELL – DAY
MITCHELL JUST SHAKES HIS HEAD BACK AND FORTH LIKE “WHAT A BAD IDEA.”
END ACT I
ACT II
INT. GOLF CLUBHOUSE BAR – DAY
CAM AND MITCHELL ARE SEATED AT A TABLE, PHIL ENTERS CLUMSILITY BUT HAPPILY WITH FOUR DRINKS.
PHIL
Another round of vodka lemonade for a great round of golf!
CAM IS ADDING UP THE SCORECARD
MITCHELL
Is that really necessary? I think we know who won.
CAM
Shh. I’m adding. And at a dollar a stroke, you don’t want me to make any mistakes.
MITCHELL ROLLS HIS EYES AND TAKES A SIP OF LEMONADE. PHIL SITS DOWN AND LEANS INTO MITCHELL
PHIL
We were really coming on strong the last couple of holes!
MITCHELL
And you are still coming on pretty strong.
CAM FINISHES THE SCORECARD WITH A FLOURISH, LOOKS UP, AROUND AND SMILES.
CAM
Ha! Where is Jay? He is going to be happy.
PHIL
He made a pretty mad dash for the locker room when we pulled in.
MITCHELL
It’s been a while. I wonder what he is doing?
PHIL
Probably making room for more of these lemonades!
MITCHELL
Mmm. Lovely.
CAM
Should you go check on him? We do have to pick up Lily in a half hour.
MITCHELL
Should I go check on him?
CAM
Well, I just thought…
PHIL JUMPS UP
PHIL
I’ll go! I’ll see what fearless leader is up to.
PHIL WALKS AWAY.
CAM
He didn’t drive did he?
MITCHELL
Claire dropped him off.
INT. COUCH CAM – CLAIRE – DAY
CLAIRE SMILES KNOWINGLY AND TAPS HER HEAD LIKE SHE’S LIVED WITH PHIL LONG ENOUGH, SHE KNOWS BEST.
INT. MEN’S LOCKER ROOM – DAY
PHIL BURSTS THROUGH THE DOOR
PHIL
Jay??
PHIL IS HIT WITH AN ODOR THAT NEARLY KNOCKS HIM OVER. HE REACTS, COVERS HIS MOUTH, GAGS A LITTLE.
PHIL (CON’T)
Oh God…
PHIL TURNS TO ESCAPE
JAY’S VOICE FROM STALL
Phil? Is that you?
PHIL STOPS, HAND STILL OVER MOUTH, GAGGING, BREATHING SHALLOWLY.
PHIL
Jay?
JAY (VOICE ONLY)
Phil, thank God, I need your help.
PHIL
Jay what happened? It smells like a baby’s diaper exploded in here. Maybe an entire nursery of diapers.
JAY V.O.
Get the liner out of the waste can and bring it over here, quick.
PHIL
What happened?
PHIL GAGS AS HE BRINGS THE GARBAGE BAG CLOSER TO THE STALL
JAY V.O.
The lemonade, the oysters, it was a deadly combination.
JAY GRABS THE BAG AND TAKES IT INTO THE STALL OVER THE TOP OF THE DOOR
JAY V.O. (CON’T)
I rushed in here to make room for more lemonade…
PHIL SILENTLY MOUTHS
I knew it!
JAY V.O.
…and while I was standing at the urinal, I tried to, you know, crack one off.
PHIL
Crack what off, Jay?
JAY V.O.
Pass some gas! Let one go!!
PHIL
Oh, fart.
PHIL FINDS A BOTTLE OF AFTERSHAVE ON COUNTER AND STARTS LIBERALLY SQIRTING IT IN THE AIR.
JAY V.O.
Yes. Well, I gambled and lost.
JAY’S HAND WITH BAG FULL AND KNOTTED APPEARS OVER THE DOOR OF THE STALL.
PHIL
You..?
JAY V.O.
I SH*T MY PANTS.
PHIL’S EYES GROW HUGE.
JAY V.O. (CON’T)
Now take my underwear and pants in this bag and throw it in the garbage outside. Quickly.
PHIL SQUIRTS THE AFTERSHAVE BOTTLE AGAIN.
INT. GOLF CLUBHOUSE – DAY
PHIL RUSHES TO THE TABLE
PHIL
We have an emergency.
MITCHELL
Is dad okay?
CAM STANDS UP READY FOR ACTION
PHIL PUTS A HAND ON CAM TO STOP HIM
PHIL
No. Yes, no, he’s okay, he..he just…
CAM SNIFFS AIR
CAM
What is that…smell?
PHIL
It’s Jay. He gambled and lost.
MITCHELL’S EYES GROW WIDE, HE DRAWS A HAND TO HIS MOUTH.
PHIL (CON’T)
I have his soiled pants in this bag, I need to get rid of it! But Jay needs new pants. He desperately needs pants.
CAM
I’ll go check the pro-shop.
MITCHELL
I’ll come with you.
THEY ALL EXIT QUICKLY.
INT. PRO-SHOP – DAY
CAM AND MITCHELL ARE TEARING THROUGH RACK AFTER RACK OF SHIRTS WHILE A YOUNG LADY BEHIND THE COUNTER LOOKS ON.
PROSHOP GIRL
Can I help you find something, gentlemen?
CAM
Do you have any pants? Even sweatpants?
MITCHELL
Or shorts?
CAM
Anything besides shirts and jackets?
PROSHOP GIRL
Sorry, we stopped carrying pants about a year ago.
MITCHELL
Nothing??
PROSHOP GIRL
Well…
INT. LOCKER ROOM – DAY
PHIL BURSTS THROUGH DOOR
PHIL (WHISPERS)
Jay??
JAY V.O.
Phil! Thank God. Watch the door. Guys keep coming in, gagging and leaving.
PHIL
I understand why.
JAY V.O.
Did you get some pants?
PHIL
Mitchell and Cam are on that.
JAY V.O.
You told them?!?
PHIL
I had to! I had to get rid of that bag of, of, it was quite an ordeal just doing that! I needed help.
DOOR OPENS, BUT PHIL BLOCKS IT
PHIL (CON’T)
Uhh, occupied!
MITCHELL (OUTSIDE THE DOOR)
Phil, it’s us.
PHIL
Oh.
PHIL LETS THEM IN. AS THEY ENTER, THEY ARE HIT BY THE SMELL LIKE A BRICK TO THE NOSTRILS.
MITCHELL
Whoa, ground zero.
CAM
It smells like a hog farm in here.
JAY V.O.
Ha ha. Did you get me some pants?
MITCHELL
No pants, dad. The closest thing they had was this kilt.
CAM PULLS SCOTTISH KILT FROM BAG AND HANDS IT OVER THE DOOR OF THE STALL.
JAY V.O.
Oh no. No. No way.
MITCHELL
We thought you might say that. Here’s the other option.
EXT. GOLF PARKING LOT – DAY
MITCHELL AND PHIL CARRY THEIR BAGS WHILE LOOKING AT JAY WEARING CAM’S PINK PLAID PANTS.
PHIL
They are a little baggy, but you are pulling the look off well, Jay.
JAY
Let’s just get to the car.
MITCHELL
And you’re going commando in them just like Cam.
JAY
Oh, good God.
CAM COMES INTO VIEW WEARING KILT AND GOLF SHOES
CAM
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
END ACT II
EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND – DIPPING
Events in my life often seem to be lacking only a live studio audience reaction. This is a mock script of an actual sitcom, using the well known characters and set-ups to tell a story that actually happened to me. This one isn’t a full episode, just a few scenes tied together with a theme.
MY LIFE, THE S*ITCOM
EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND – “DIPPING”
AN ORIGINAL SPEC SCRIPT
COLD OPEN
INT. RAY AND DEBRA’S POWDERROOM – DAY
RAY showing Frank and Marie the powder room while Ally dances around in it.
RAYMOND
Well, here it is! The bathroom remodel is complete!
FRANK
It’s about time. I was going to have a heart attack going up those steps and back down during commercial breaks.
ALLY Still twirling around with her arms out, smilinG
ALLY
Isn’t it pretty?
RAYMOND
Yeah, new tile, new vanity, new paint…
MARIE
Oh, and look, Frank. A new toilet. They got a tall one. Now your balls won’t get wet.
Ally stops spinning and smiling. Ray stands with mouth agape.
MARIE (CONT’D)
Your old toilet was so low, his…
MARIE raises onE hand to block Ally seeing her lips while using other hand to making a cupping motion between her legs…she stage whispers
MARIE (CONT’D)
…you know, BALLS, used to dip in.
RAYMOND looks at Frank. Frank sheepishly shrugs and nods. Raymond grabs Ally by the shoulders and ushers her quickly past Marie.
RAYMOND
Go ask your mother when dinner will be ready.
MARIE
What, you don’t think she knows what balls are?
RAYMOND
Can you stop saying that word for 30 seconds until all of the innocents are out of earshot?
MARIE
She has two younger brothers and you for a father. Trust me, she knows what balls are.
RAYMOND
RAYMOND covers his own ears
I was talking about me!
RAYMOND quickly leaves BATHROOM. MARIE AND FRANK EXCHANGE GLANCES AND SHRUGS.
END COLD OPEN
ACT I
INT. RAY AND DEBRA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
RAY AND DEBRA ARE IN BED TOGETHER. DEBRA IS READING A MAGAZINE. RAY IS IN THE MIDDLE OF EXPLAINING WHAT HAPPENED EARLIER.
RAY
She says his balls used to dip into the old toilet!
DEBRA CONTINUES TO READ MAGAZINE, FLIPPING PAGES.
DEBRA
Yeah, she told me that a while ago.
RAY
What? These are the kinds of conversations you ladies have while we aren’t around?
DEBRA
Marie mentioned it. It’s not like we sit around and gossip about men’s testicles all day.
RAY
Riiight…
DEBRA DROPS MAGAZINE AND ADDRESSES RAY
DEBRA
Not like you and those boys at the office who sit around and talk about women’s breasts.
RAY feignS innocence
RAY
We do not….
DEBRA Glares AT RAY
RAY
That’s mostly Charlie.
DEBRA
Charlie? He should talk. He could easily fill a C-cup.
RAY
He has a glandular problem.
Anyway, we also talk about women’s butts. And sports.
DEBRA
Well, I guarantee, you spend significantly more time talking about girls parts than women do discussing men’s testicles.
RAY
Uh, huh.
DEBRA
We spend about as much time talking about balls as men do discussing menstruation.
RAY
Okay, well, no need to bring that up…
DEBRA
What, you and the boys at the office don’t sit around talking about heavy days vs. light days? About bloating? Whether you thought to pack enough tampons or pads?
RAY covers head with pillow and sings, turning away FROM DEBRA
RAY
LA LA LA LA!!
DEBRA smiles and goes back to reading MAGAZINE
ACT II
INT. RAY’S Living room. – NIGHT
Ray and Robert are watching TV.
RAY
So, did you hear about Dad’s um, dipping problem?
ROBERT
Yeah, Ma told me.
RAY
What are these conversations?!
ROBERT
She said you were very upset about it and wanted to forewarn me.
RAY
Well, do you think dad is…okay?
ROBERT
What do you mean?
RAY
I mean, do you think he’s forgetting to put the seat down?
ROBERT
I think he’s almost 80. Buck up bro, you’ll be there before me.
SFX toilet flushing. Frank emerges from the bathroom.
FRANK
I am so glad that is back in working order. And look, I didn’t miss any of the game.
RAY
So, uh, dad, no, uh…dipping?
FRANK
No. Not with the new throne. Thanks again.
RAY
So, uh, how come you were even sitting down on the old one?
FRANK
I learned a long time ago about the effects of gravity on bowel movements.
RAY
Wait a minute, you’re going number 2 in my bathroom?
FRANK
Yeah.
RAY
Why don’t you do that at home? You live across the street?
FRANK
Debra buys that super fluffy toilet paper. It’s so soft. Marie is cheap, she buys super thin sand paper.
ROBERT
It’s true.
RAY
What, You go number 2 in there, too?!
ROBERT
It is difficult to resist the lure of the super fluffy paper.
RAY (to Frank)
Well, how long has…has THAT been going on?
FRANK
Oh, for years.
ROBERT
Years.
RAY
No, I mean the, you know, dipping!
FRANK
Oh. I dunno. Past couple of years, I guess.
RAY
Wow.
FRANK
What’s the matter? That disturb you?
RAY
Well, I’m just thinking…that’s gonna be me some day.
FRANK
I know a sure fire way to avoid it.
RAY
What?
FRANK
Die young.
Out-n-Up
Throwing your back out is a miserable experience. And if you do it once, it is very easy to have it go out again. The first time you might be lifting a hide-a-bed sofa on a narrow staircase. The next time, you stoop to pick up socks on the floor. The results are the same. Bent over. Frozen. Miserable.
Another miserable experience? Raw sewage backing up through your drain and coating your laundry room floor.
Jess and Kev had that happen every so often over the course of a couple of years. Disgusting. They got plastic tubs to keep the dirty clothes off the floor in case of an unexpected eruption. They looked into getting the problem fixed. Apparently a drainage pipe carrying all the sewage out of the house had a crack in it. They had the rooter-dude come out with a special camera on the end of a long, stinky snake provide a sort of televised colonoscopy on their house. Sure enough, a small break in the pipe. Enough for paper and wot not to get stuck on it occasionally and dam up. Once the dam was in place, the flow of sewage would reverse and spout through the nearest drain, in the laundry room. Sometimes the pressure of the backup would break down the dam. Sometimes, Kev would have to call the rooter-dude to plow through it at one-fifty a pop.
“Now that we know what the problem is,” Kev asked the rooter-dude one day, “how much would it cost to fix it?”
The rooter-dude winced. That’s not a good sign. “See, the pipe is buried in your foundation,” the rooter-dude said, pointing at the recently bleached floor of the laundry room. “The good news is, it doesn’t run under the finished floor of your family room. The bad news is, the break is directly underneath your boiler.”
“So, you’d have to dig up our foundation?” Kev said, looking at the huge boiler that provided the efficient and clean baseboard heat in their home.
“And temporarily disconnect, move, and reconnect your boiler,” finished the rooter-dude.
“And that’s more than a hundred and fifty dollars?” Kev asked.
“I would estimate somewhere between nine and twelve thousand,” said the rooter-dude, flinching a little as though he feared Kev might actually punch him. Kev just stared at him. “And that sort of thing is not covered by insurance,” rooter-dude went on. “Cash payment.”
“Good to know,” Kev said.
“You don’t need to do it today,” rooter-dude said. “Maybe not for a year or two. But at some point, it will need to be fixed. So you should start saving now. Like for college. Or retirement.”
“But for sewage,” Kev said. The rooter-dude just shrugged and nodded.
The thing is, weeks, even months might pass between disasters and they would forget about it, as though if they never thought about it, it would never happen again. Hopeful amnesia. Naïve at best.
There was this tell-tale warning of an impending explosion. The water in the toilet and the shower drain in the bathroom just off the laundry room would suddenly gurgle away, like the tide being sucked out to sea just before the tsunami hits shore. Hearing that sound would often buy enough time to ensure any rugs or stray articles of clothing were clear before the brown ooze would pulsate from the tiny grid in the floor.
One morning, as Kev was lathering up in the shower, he heard the tell-tale gurgle. He stuck his head out of the shower in time to see the water unnaturally recede down the basin of the toilet. He shut off the shower and made a mad dash for the laundry room. As he suspected, a couple of sweaters and pants had come down from the laundry chute, but missed the plastic bins. He bent quickly, scooped the clothes to safety and…that’s when his back went out. As simple as that. Bent over. Frozen. Miserable.
And remember, Kev was just in the shower.
He had made the mad dash without so much as a towel. “Honey…” he cried out, hoping Jess would hear him and respond post haste. Their two daughters were also upstairs, getting ready for school. They did NOT need to see this. Ever. Kev called out to Jess again, using her name this time, as he wanted to ensure to all exactly for whom he was calling.
Kev tried to steady himself from falling over completely by holding on to one of the plastic laundry tubs. The act of raising his arm shot a bolt of pain from his spine down his leg, seizing muscles in a painful spasm like a giant rat-trap snapping on his lower back.
Jess arrived on the scene and found Kev hunched over in the laundry room, naked and dripping wet.
“Wh–what…?” she started.
“A towel!” Kev said, cutting her off. “Quickly! A towel!”
She ran to the bathroom and returned with the towel. Kev had not moved an inch.
“What…?” she tried again.
Kev delicately wrapped the towel about his waist and slowly pivoted, still full dripping hunch, to sort of face her. “My back went out,” he said. He could see from Jess’s reaction that that only explained a fraction of the questions going through her mind.
That’s when the floor drain erupted raw sewage.
Floss n’ Sniff
Looking forward into the searing western sky was literally painful, so I found myself peering into the rear-view mirror, watching the dude in the SUV behind me, when I noticed a disturbing knack he had.
I was stuck in rush hour traffic, the bright, fall sun painting my windshield with a wash of brilliance it made even sunglassed vision difficult. That same sun shone like a spotlight on the driver behind me who chose to multi-task in the slow moving trek west by flossing his teeth, using one of those little plastic hooks strung with a line of floss. At first I admired him. Flossing is one of those things I always think I should get around to, but usually only do when a particularly nasty popcorn hull or chunk of pork gets lodged uncomfortably twixt my teeth.
But the more I watched him, I saw this pattern that might be acceptable in the confine of one’s bathroom, but kinda gross in bumper to bumper traffic. Each extraction of the floss was followed by a quick visual examination of the floss, and then a sniff. A SNIFF! Smelling and, what, reliving that hot wing he just ate?! The three lanes of cars were like a parking lot after a concert. I had nothing to do but watch this guy meticulously floss, inspect and sniff…tooth after tooth. After the thirteenth sniff I thought, “How different was that whiff than the previous dozen?” This was really becoming less of a noble bit of multi-tasking and more of a close cousin to knuckle deep nose diving.
Anyway, be aware people. Glass works both ways.
How I Met Your Mother (or Mid-80’s Life and Love in the BU Theatre)
Becca has known for years how her mother and I met on stage while involved in theatre at college. Now that she is attending the same university and gracing the same boards in the same theatre that we did three decades ago, she is curious about specifics, to compare and contrast, perhaps.
So…
How I Met Your Mother
(or Mid-80’s Life and Love in the Bradley University Theatre)
We met on stage. We fell in love. We lived happily ever after.
That’s the abridged version. Obviously, there was much more.
When we were freshmen at Bradley, I noticed your Mother fairly soon on campus. As you know, the campus isn’t that big. And she’s cute. I was a dorky dorm boy who hung out with other dorky dorm boys. I remember noticing her right away, I’m certain it took her longer to notice me. Much longer.
One of the first vivid memories I have of your Mother was of her playing Frisbee in the quad in front of Williams Hall. It was like watching a montage scene from a romantic comedy, complete with jamming rock tunes blaring from a nearby boom box (that’s what we called iPods back in the day). There was your Mother, cute freshman, rockin’ big, permed 80’s hair, short-shorts and perfectly tanned legs. She was flinging the classic plastic disc with these shirtless, long-haired guys apparently at school on a modeling scholarship. I never played Frisbee. I always kept my shirt on. These guys looked like: what else would they be doing? The scene played out in slow motion. Wind in their hair, sun on their bare chests, pretty girls laughing. I wasn’t just intimidated, I was way out of my league.
Later in the year, ACBU hosted a talent contest for the young ladies on campus. Sort of a “Miss Bradley U.” Your Mother was a contestant. She wore pretty dresses and during the talent competition did a musical number in a sailor’s suit, ”Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair,” I think. She was good. And cute. I attended the event with my dorky dorm boy gang. It was free food and entertainment on a Friday night.
Your Mother was a theatre major, so she was involved in several shows our freshman year, including a great character role, Ms. Prism, in “The Importance of Being Earnest.” Uncle Dave had one of the leads and was dating your Mother’s roommate.
I was a computer science major, but took acting classes. I got to know the directors and they encouraged me to audition for main stage shows. We did six shows per year back then. I was cast in the fall play, “The Rainmaker.” It was a small cast, mostly speech team guys, so I didn’t get to know the theatre people.
Your Mother was cast in the ensemble of the children’s show that year, “Androcles and the Lion.” Your Mother’s roommate was Androcles and Uncle Dave was the Lion. I had to see the show and write a review as part of my theatre class assignment. I wrote that I loved Uncle Dave’s portrayal, but found the musical interlude involving a ballet of peacocks a waste of time. Your Mother was one of the dancing birds.
Our sophomore year, your Mother was in “The Music Man,” Greg Lhamon as the lead. Uncle Dave was the mayor and your Mother was his daughter. I didn’t audition because of the need to be early back to school in August. Grandpa wanted me home working, making money. That would have been a fun show to be in, the ensemble was huge.
For the fall play, “Tobacco Road,” the set designer dumped three tons of dirt on stage to create a depression era farm. Your Mother played a girl who rolled in that dirt and ate a raw turnip like she loved it. Acting!
We were both cast in the children’s show in December. It was a modern take on Aesop’s fables. Your Mother was the City Mouse. Uncle Dave was the hare bested by the tortoise. I was a mute clown, an ensemble utility player. It was a big cast, and I just hung out with the other clowns…mostly speech team guys again. Your Mother hung out with the theatre people…they were busy founding Alpha Psi Omega.
In the spring, we auditioned for “Romeo and Juliet.” At the time, your Mother was dating a talented actor named Steve. They auditioned together and were amazing. Memorized. Full of feeling. Brought Shakespeare to life in the audition! But the director went in a different…direction. Steve was cast as Benvolio, your Mother’s roommate got Juliet, and your Mother got “ensemble.” Alas, casting life in the theatre: sometimes comedy, sometimes tragedy.
I was cast as Mercutio, so Steve and I became friends, on stage and off. I officially met your Mother backstage during that show, but we didn’t interact much. Mostly because I was still intimidated by her. I had gotten to know Sheryl, one of your Mother’s good friends. She was stage manager for R & J and had been part of the clown cadre in the recent children’s show. Since my character was dead for the second half of the show, I hung out out backstage with Sheryl while she called the show.
The fall musical of our junior year was “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.” I auditioned and got the lead! I had to explain to Grandpa that it was worth going back early for, even if it meant leaving three weeks of summer job pay on the table. He didn’t agree, thought it was a waste of time, but let me go.
I was still living in the dorms, and they didn’t open early, so I needed a place to stay for the three summer weeks. Sheryl, Dave, your Mother and some other theatre folks had rented a house on Main Street. Sheryl had told me after the cast list went up in May that I could stay on their couch. In August, when Grandma and Grandpa asked if I had a place to stay, I said yes, without providing much other detail. I barely knew Sheryl and didn’t know any of the others well and didn’t know if they were okay with me sleeping on their couch for three weeks.
This was the mid-1980’s; pre-cellphones, pre-email. I just jumped in my car in August and hoped I’d have a place to stay. I walked into the theatre and stood in the house, looking at the empty stage. People were filing in and hugging and hello-ing like theatre folk do. Catching up on one another’s summer activities and adventures. I thought how much I wanted to be part of their world, part of their inner circle. I felt alone and distant…how ironic, I thought, that I was the lead in the show, yet barely an ensemble player in real life.
Then suddenly, your Mother, who had just been hugging and swung around by Greg Lhamon on stage, saw me and came running out to greet me. She gave me a big hug and said “I understand you’re staying with us!”
She was so excited and welcoming. My fear of living out of my car and status as an outsider both melted in her embrace. By the end of that week, I had bonded with people who would be my friends for the next thirty years.
The others in the house didn’t mind me crashing on the couch either. Most of them were involved in the show too, and since it was close to campus, the house became the venue for many post-rehearsal, um, gatherings and was dubbed “the theatre house.”
The set for Forum consisted of three houses, each two levels. The musical was very energetic with actors running in and out of the houses, on and off stage, even leaping from balcony to balcony. But there was no way to get backstage from inside the center house. If you went in there, you had to wait, quietly for your next entrance.
Your Mother, who was the romantic lead, and I were stranded in the center house for a scene and a song. No big deal in rehearsal, but during the run, there we were. For five minutes every show. We had to be quiet. There was no place to sit. So we danced. While the song was sung, I looked into her big blue eyes and we danced.
It was lovely.
We sorta dated on and off that year, more off than on. I was in all six main stage productions, and she was involved with most of them. The children’s show that December was about three Polish kids with a szopka (puppet theater)! Your Mother was a shoe-in as one of the kids. I played a blustery watchman with shoes that were too small and a fake moustache that was too big.
I changed my major to communications and we found ourselves in a lot of the same classes. We spent a lot of time together just as friends, hanging out, studying, dating other people, but nothing too serious.
Dave had graduated, but had a job on campus. Even after I moved off his couch, we spent many nights over that following year watching HBO and sharing a bottle. So I was still at the theatre house a lot, and often “fell asleep” on my couch. It was there, with your Mother and a few other Alpha Psi members that we came up with the Mock Anthony Awards, to celebrate the memories of the past year on stage, salute the graduating seniors, and provide a reason for everyone to gather one more time on the stage. We got all dressed up, ate Happy Meals, and presented one another penguin shaped, Styrofoam mock-awards. The presentation podium was in the center of the audience, so you had to step off stage, into the audience to accept your recognition.
The next year, Sheryl and some of the other people graduated and they and Dave moved out of the theatre house. Your Mother and the others who remained asked if I would move in. They liked having a boy around to do boy things, like kill spiders and trap mice. We were all just friends. And the idea of living with a bunch of girls was a college boy’s fantasy. So I moved in.
I did not take into account that I would be sharing one bathroom with all these women. The fantasy soured quickly.
Your Mother and Sheryl had gone in on food together, as it’s cheaper and more fun to buy and cook for two. So your Mother asked if I wanted to do that too. I did. What I found was that neither your Mother nor Sheryl could cook and both had horrible diet plans! I changed all that. I got your Mother eating good food and balanced meals.
We were both in the fall musical our senior year, but seeing other people. Living together and watching each other date other, lesser people became a challenge for us both. We were like living out a real life, sexual tension ridden rom-com like “Friends” or “New Girl.” We would both get jealous, but not want to admit it.
The October play was “The Passion of Dracula.” Your Mother was, again, the romantic lead. I was Prof. Van Helsing, Dracula’s nemesis. I played an old man, the uncle to your Mother’s character. At some point during the run of that show, we realized that we were stupid for dating other people. We were best friends, why not admit that we liked each other! But we didn’t want any of our friends to know that we finally figured out what everyone already knew. Again, living out a real life rom-com.
At one of the performances, a former girlfriend of mine from high school showed up. She met me after the show. I was surprised to see her. She said, “So, you’re dating that girl in the show” (meaning your Mother). I asked how she knew. She said, “I could tell by the way you looked into her eyes on stage, and how she looked back. I know that look.”
Apparently, we weren’t fooling anyone.
That was the last show we were in together at Bradley. We each did one more main stage show. Your Mother’s final bow was as Alice in Wonderland. Mine was in “Two by Two” as Ham. Seemed fitting. I directed your Mother as the “Felix” character in a black box production of a female version of “The Odd Couple,” the same part you played in high school forensics.
What I’m not going into are the fights. What couple doesn’t fight? We had some masterful moments, also rom-com worthy. Often in the theatre. Often in front of others. One of our directors said even at their worst moments, he’d never fought with his ex-wife with the ferocity that we fought. We are both dramatic, after all.
But in the end, happiness. Togetherness. The true friendship was born, tested, and blossomed on stage, there in the Hartmann Center.
And we have lived happily ever after.
A Bad Egg
A bad egg.
Kev never thought of those three words as anything more than an idiom. Like “the black sheep.” A miscreant. Trouble.
Kev had no idea.
Kev and Jess like to spend long weekends in western and central Michigan. But they hate the traffic between there and Chicago. Six interstate highways merge together as the wind around the southern tip of Lake Michigan. Six lanes of trucks and cars towing boats and campers all vying for space and position inevitably end up in a parking lot like standstill at best, multiple lane-blocking accident at worst.
The route was riddled with various forms of pollution, noise, air quality and profanity from Kev to other drivers. “Honey,” Jess would say, turning up the volume on the Barney or Disney video entertaining the girls in the backseat, “not in front of the girls!”
Though, to be fair, pedestrian profanity rarely broke past Kev’s lips these days. He had to be taken by surprise to elicit the classic vocabulary. He had gone out of his way to produce an all new translation of the typical verbal outbursts of frustration and anger. “You flaming grunt monkey!” he might yell instead. Or “Watch it, donkey butt!” Or the girls’ current favorite, “Winkles!!” Or some combination, like, “You winkle-faced grunt monkey!!”
Jess and Kev have found taking the highways winding through small towns in northern Indiana perhaps not a faster route, but definitely a less stressful alternative. Several Amish communities thrive there, and in them they have found wonderful little restaurants and shops. Nappanee, Indiana, with fewer than seven thousand residents, has wonderful Amish shops with homemade sweets and butter and farm fresh eggs. Those Amish, they’re always up to something fresh. Jess and Kev had gotten hooked on all three.
“This butter is so creamy and sweet,” Kev told the Amish as he presented his credit card for purchase, amazed that they were allowed to accept the plastic form of currency. But honestly, he didn’t really know too much about their simplified traditions beyond their yummy food, furniture products, and friendly demeanor. “And these eggs! What a difference between these and grocery store eggs!”
“Watch out, though,” the Amish warned, “every so often you get a fertilized egg mixed in.”
“How can you tell?” Kev asked the Amish, “Do baby chicks burst forth when you crack ‘em?”
“Well, not exactly,” the Amish replied, not unlike the ominous character in the first act of a horror film. “But you’ll know.”
Kev had no idea.
A week or so later, at the peak of the July heat wave, the temperature outside topped one hundred degrees and, to Kev, some farm-fresh egg salad sounded delicious. So he placed a few of the Amish eggs in a pan of water and set it to boil.
A few minutes later, he noticed that one of the eggs looked wrong. It had broken through its brown shell in a way not unlike the Hulk tears through his purple pants. The egg white was not white, but dark gray and something even darker—and wronger—seemed to lurk within.
“A bad egg,” he thought, shrugging it off as no biggie. It happens. Kev didn’t want to spoil the rest of the batch, so he carefully removed the abhorrent thing with a large spoon.
Warning: If you ever find yourself in this situation, carefully wrap the nastiness in a paper towel, take it to the farthest reaches of your property and bury it in the ground. Do NOT put it in the garbage disposal.
Kev had no idea.
He placed it in the sink but it was too engorged to fit down the hole. Kev gave it a slight tap with said spoon to push it through. It was like setting off a bomb. The reaction was swift. The smell…oh, the smell…scampered like an evil sprite up his nose, slithered down his throat, grabbed hold of the contents of his stomach and gave a painful tug north.
Before he fell into a full on retch, Kev managed to push it the rest of the way down the disposal, blast the water and flick the switch. The sound was thick and crunchy. Was there a faint scream escaping the drain, or was it rising from within him? He made a mad dash for the powder room off the kitchen holding his breath and desperately on to his breakfast.
Jess entered the kitchen. “What is happening!?”
Kev could barely respond, afraid that a full explanation might be punctuated with vomit. “Lemons!” he gurgled. “Shove lemons down the disposal!” He had noticed a couple of lemon wedges as he’d retracted the eggs from their farm-fresh carton in the fridge.
Jess did, gagging and opening the window. They opened all the windows, the smell was horrid. Thick. Suffocating.
Remember, it was hundred degrees outside. And no breeze.
They did not have egg salad for lunch.
Kev had no idea.
He did, however, now have a greater appreciation for the term, a bad egg.