BOYS WILL BE…YOU AND ME! A COMEDY SKETCH FEATURING SPEX & 2 TONS

(Spex and 2 Tons are sitting on a park bench, scoping out the scenery and I don’t mean foliage. Or do I?)

Spex: Dude! Dude! Dude! Dude! Dude! Dude! Dude! Check her out.

2 Tons: Yowza!

Spex: Double Yowza!

2 Tons: She just radiates sexuality.

Spex: I’d like to radiate some sexuality at her, if you know what I mean.

2 Tons: With your sex radiator?

Spex: You got it, bro!

(They high-five.)

Spex: Whoa, hold on, flip your gaze stage-left! Check this lady out.

2 Tons: Homina Homina Homina!

Spex: And a fourth Homina!

2 Tons: She is a super freak, you don’t take her home to mother.

Spex: I’d like to take her home to mother, if you get my meaning.

2 Tons: For comparison?

Spex: You got it, bro!

(They high-five.)

Spex: Sweet Joey Christmas, check him out!

2 Tons: Double take!

Spex: Triple take!

2 Tons: He’s a God, torn from the thigh of Zeus.

Spex: I’d like to thigh his Zeus, if you catch my drift.

2 Tons: With your Mount Olympus?

Spex: You got it, bro!

(They high-five.)

Spex: Holy shit, German Shepherd, five o’clock! Check it out!

2 Tons: Make me a sandwich!

Spex: A double-decker sandwich!

2 Tons: That canine has cat-burgled my heart.

Spex: I’d like to cat burgle its heart, if you follow my wavelength.

2 Tons: (Pauses, attempting to follow Ike’s wavelength.) With your love gloves?

Spex: You got it, bro!

(They high-five.)

Spex: Good Christ, check out that lamppost!

2 Tons: Shoot the Piano Player!

Spex: The Pope Must Diet!

2 Tons: That is one hot source of light.

Spex: I’d like to heat up its light source, if you comprehend my statement.

2 Tons: In your convection oven?

Spex: No.

(Pause. The lights begin to fade.)

Spex: God, I wanna titty-fuck that sunset.

(Blackout. Scene is done with!)

PROP COMIC INTERVENTION! A STAGEBOUND COMEDY SKETCH FEATURING SPEX & 2 TONS

(2 Tons is loitering as Ike enters.)

Spex: Hey, I got your text message.

2 Tons: Did you? Good, I can never tell if this thing is working or not.

(He presses buttons and his cell phone rings, which shocks him into dropping over-clumsily.)

Spex: No, I got it. It sounded urgent. Is something wrong or did you just mistakenly text with an urgent tone?

2 Tons: No, no it’s… pretty urgent. We need to talk.

Spex: Geez, it’s already sounding pretty serious.

2 Tons: Yeah. You have a problem. And it’s something I feel like I have to address before it gets out of control and something terrible happens.

Spex: Wait, wait- is this an intervention?

2 Tons: I’m afraid so. This is serious business.

Spex: But why only you? Aren’t there usually more people at an intervention?

2 Tons: It’s not that serious.

Spex: I don’t understand, I only drink on occasion and then only to get drunk, I don’t smoke, I only did drugs that one time and only because everyone else was doing it. I’m not addicted to anything. What is this about?

2 Tons: Well, I’m afraid you’re- that you’re becoming a prop comic.

Spex: You’re crazy, I’m no prop comic. Just a regular, run of the mill sketch comic.

2 Tons: I thought you might deny it, but you have to remember I am your friend. I’m not going to judge you, just mock you. It’s okay. You can be honest with me.

Spex: Well, I am, I am, I am, I am. Being honest.

2 Tons: You sure?

Spex: Scoff. Scoff. Scoff.

2 Tons: I didn’t want to have to do this, but-

(2 Tons produces a box of props.)

2 Tons: I found this in your closet.

Spex: What exactly are you doing spying within the innards of my closet?

2 Tons: I was going to borrow one of your cowboy shirts, but then I remembered I’m much taller than you. Still, I felt compelled to rummage through your closet. I’d call it divine intervention if I believed in that sort of thing.

Spex: You don’t believe in God?

2 Tons: No, I don’t believe in drag queens.

Spex: Look, you’re looking at this all wrong. There’s-there’s-there’s nothing wrong with prop comedy if you do it right, and in moderation.

2 Tons: Listen to yourself, would you?

Spex: Why, I know what I sound like. You listen- to my act!

(Spex grabs the box from 2 Tons.)

Spex: Let’s see here. (Pulls out a stapler, pretends to eat it.) A staplewich? My favorite! (Pulls out a cordless phone, holds it over his eyebrows.) Doctor says I got telebrow. (Pulls out a spatula, speaks into it.) Hello? Hello? Is thing on? Who flattened my microphone?

(2 Tons grabs the box from Ike.)

2 Tons: Stop it, stop it! You disgust me. Literally disgust me. I threw up in my mouth a little, that’s how much you disgust me. I pooted in my butt a little.

Spex: But that’s what I’m going for. I want audiences pooting in their butts with laughter, vomiting cheerfully at my antics.

2 Tons: In that sense, you’ve succeeded. But never forget, you can be too good at something. And when that happens, you push everything and everyone away from you, because you’re so good you’re too good for them. Like that Right Said Fred song.

Spex: Don’t Talk Just Kiss?

2 Tons: No.

Spex: Deeply Dippy.

2 Tons: No!

Spex: You’re My Mate.

2 Tons: You’re missing the point. You have to admit you have a problem.

Spex: But it’s-it’s not- okay, fine! I’m a prop comic! (Pause.) Oh my God. I’m a prop comic.

2 Tons: It’s okay. How do you feel?

Spex: Actually, better. Much better. It’s like a giant prop weight has been lifted off my chest, only it turned out to be a real weight and a prop chest.

2 Tons: It’s just the first step, buddy. There’s a long road ahead of you.

Spex: I’m scared.

2 Tons: Hey, don’t be scared. You won’t be alone.

Spex: Really?

2 Tons: Probably not. I don’t know. Who cares? Now, let’s go get drunk.

Spex: Sounds terrific, chum. Sounds terrific.

(Arm in arm, Spex and 2 Tons exit, leaving the box of props behind, bereft and bewildered.)

THE THINKER! A STAGEBOUND COMEDY SKETCH FEATURING SPEX & 2 TONS

(At the Radicool Pizza Temp Agency. 2 Tons enters hurriedly, desperate for temporary employment. Spex is a French job placement employee par excellence.)

Spex: Bonjour, et welcome to the Radicool Pizza Home For Temporary Job Placement and Jellybean Tastery. And how may oui be of assistance toward vous?

2 Tons: I need a job. My grandfather is about to lose his Vanagon to the repo men if I don't score some major buckage, pronto!

Spex: D'accord, let me zee what is available immediatement so you can more queeckly, how you say, score some major buckage pronto.

(He turns to his computer.)

Spex: Le tap, le tap, entrez. Ah! We do have a job available for immediate employ.

2 Tons: I'll take it! What is it?

Spex: Tis at ze downtown Casio Bar.

2 Tons: Casio Bar?

Spex: Oui, it's like your American Piano Bar, mais avec a casio keyboard for cheaper stage representation.

2 Tons: But I can't play piano! I can type 96,000 words a minute, create excel PowerPoint spreadsheet document macro mail labels and do assloads of data entry, literally. But I've never known and will never know how to play piano. Never!

Spex: Monsieur, you misundercomprenez. You do not neeeeeed to play ze how you say piano.

2 Tons: F-shew! That's a relief.

Spex: You will neeeeeed to play ze how you say keyboard.

2 Tons: But-but-but-but!

Spex: But-but-but-but nussing! You will be naturellement, I swear upon my Frenchyness.

2 Tons: Well, if you say so.

Spex: Je me dit a peut etre chaud. Now, allons y!

2 Tons: Thank you! Thank you!

Spex: But of course.

(2 Tons wanders over to the other side of the stage where the keyboard is. He plays extraordinarily poorly.)

2 Tons: I write the songs, I write the songs, I write the songs, I write the songs, I write the songs, I write the songs, I write the sooooooooooooooooo (breath) ooooooooooooooooongs!

(He runs his finger haphazardly down the keyboard. Plays sporadically, then finds the demo button and pretends to play. Spex, as a patron walks over with a drink in his hand. 2 Tons doesn't notice at first but when he does he turns off the demo and they have a bit of a staring competition.)

Spex: Penny for your thoughts.

2 Tons: I think I'm in over my head.

Spex: That's pretty impressive for such a tall drinka scotch. Well, here you go.

(He drops a penny into 2 Tons's tip jar. 2 Tons looks at the penny and gets an idea. Information Society's "What's On Your Mind" begins playing. He places a Thoughts sign on his tip jar. Ike reenters as a different patron.)

2 Tons: Penny for my thoughts?

Spex: Don't mind if you do.

(Music back up as 2 Tons elaborately mimes talking and Spex elaborately downplays listening. Music fades back.)

2 Tons: And I think about bleach, how it makes your whites whiter but smells like high heaven, and airline food, am I right? Well, that's about it.

Spex: Very intriguing. How much do I owe you?

2 Tons: Well, let's see.

(He counts on his fingers and pulls out a calculator, crunching numbers. Crunch!)

2 Tons: At a penny per thought, that's $675.

Spex: Do you take a check?

(Music back up. 2 Tons removes the keyboard and stands. Music out.)

2 Tons: And seriously, orange? That's gotta be the minority of colors. Only a freaktard would have orange as their favorite color, right ladies? Maybe as their favorite fruit. Nobody ever asks about your favorite fruit anymore. What is up with that?

(Spex, an emcee, enters.)

Spex: All right, let's give it up for The Thinker.

2 Tons: Thank you, I've really made you think by making me think. Pay it forward, all y'all!

(They retreat to the corner.)

Spex: Thinker, you really raked in the dough tonight. Sweet Joey Christmas, you are an overnight sensation!

2 Tons: Speaking of overnight, I wonder how much money is in that jar.

Spex: Now why did overnight make you think of money and of jars?

2 Tons: Give me a penny and maybe you'll find out.

Spex: Come on, how about a freebie for a friend?

2 Tons: I don't even know you. We literally just met like two minutes ago.

Spex: Man, you changed, Thinker. It used be about the art of the thinking and the people you would think around. Now it's about the Almighty Penny.

2 Tons: Are you finished?

Spex: Yes, now what do you have to say for yourself?

2 Tons: Give me a penny first.

Spex: I knew it. You're too far gone. Good-bye, Thinker.

(Spex exits.)

2 Tons: Look at me. This morning I was so desperate to save my grandfather's Vanagon I took a job as a keyboard player in a Casio Bar. And then suddenly, I was thrust into stardom, being paid untold cents to provide my slightly skewed worldview. And what do I do with it? I alienate the only other person I've ever met. All this Thinking has gone to my head, and it's turned me into a monster who ruins lives pennies at a time. Curse you, copper coin! No wonder Abraham Lincoln was assassinated in cold blood.

(Spex reenters as the Grandfather.)

Spex: Grandson! I've been looking all over for you!

2 Tons: Grandfather! Am I too late?

Spex: First I checked the bedroom, then I checked the closet, then the garage, then the kitchen, then the attic, then the living room, then the bathroom, then the half-bathroom, then the basement. Turns out you weren't in the house!

2 Tons: I heard all about your Vanagon and ran to the nearest Temp Agency and Jellybean Tastery I could find to score some major buckage pronto and save your beloved van-wagon combo. Then I was suddenly famous and blew all my money on drugs and women and the gee-gees and top hats and one-sheets and popsicles. Will you ever forgive me?

Spex: I don't know- can I think about it?

(They both laugh a whole lot.)

2 Tons: Okay, this sketch is over.

Spex: Yeah.