THE SPOT by Melissa Gordon

(Scene opens on BILL, seated behind desk in a reclined position, filing his nails.)

BILL: (V.O.) It was Friday Night. I was in my office as usual after just having lost big at Bingo down at First Presbyterian. Boy, those biddies could be ruthless. I was ready for anything, anything at all to come through that door.

(Knock at door.)

BILL: (Without looking up) Yeah? (In walks BOB, a mysterious man in a hat. BILL looks up dramatically.) Look what the cat dragged in. How are you, Bob?

BOB: Bill, I have sort of a "personal problem," and I knew you’d be just the man for the job.

(BILL voice over: Bob Roberts had been my right hand man for many a case, and he’d even saved my life when we met up with the Human Cannonball at that scary circus…but that was so long ago…)

BILL: Anything for you, Bob. What is it? (Pours a glass of water for himself and BOB.)

BOB: Alright. (Takes a deep breath.) Ever since my wife left I have had this…problem…

BILL: (In a sympathetic, confidential tone.) Having a hard time getting the "little Soldier" to stand at attention?

BOB: NO, no, damn it Bill it’s not THAT! It’s just…well, I’ve got this weird spot here and I don’t have anyone who can look at these things anymore…you know…could you take a look at it for me? It would ease my mind.

BILL: (Stares blankly at BOB for a beat, blinks slowly, then answers.) Uh, sure Bob, anything you say, I guess…where is it?

BOB: (Takes off jacket and lifts the back of his shirt toward BILL) It’s right here on my back. (BILL leans forward to take a look.)

BILL: I’m not seeing anything Bob. (BILL continues to look. Voice over: "Poor fella coulda had a carbuncle the size of the Washington Monument on his back and I wouldn’t have seen it. My vision was blurred from heavy-hitting the bottle since eight o’ clock that morning, not to mention all those pills I’d been downing, and the twelve hits of windowpane I’d taken just minutes before... all I could think of was Betty, my beautiful Betty, and how she always used to laugh when I…

BOB: (Interrupts V.O.) You sure there’s nothing there?

BILL: (Leaning back a little.) Pretty sure, Bob.

BOB: (Dramatically) Could you…squeeze it?

BILL: Excuse me? (BILL V.O.: "I wasn’t sure what he was asking me."

BOB: Could you just squeeze the spot a little there, Bill? Right there?

BILL: Bob, I don’t think…

BOB: JUST SQUEEZE THE DAMN SPOT BILL! THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH HERE! (Dramatic pause w/music.)

BILL: Uh…okay Bob. (Tension builds as BILL squeezes the spot with a disgusted grimace. At that moment, the knockout secretary walks through the door. She sees the two men in a compromising position, and her eyes go wide, she exits quickly.) Nothing here, Bob.

BOB: You’re sure?

BILL: Pretty sure, Bob.

BOB: Well, okay. Thanks Bill.

BILL: Anytime, Bob. (Goes back to lounging at the desk, smoking a cigarette. There is another knock at the door.) Come in. (BOB enters the room quickly.)

BOB: Bill, I think there’s something there.

BILL: There was no spot, Bob.

BOB: But I can feel it, dammit! Do you have any tweezers?

BILL: Uh, no Bob, maybe you should see a doctor…

BOB: Oh, naw, it’s isn’t that bad I just…well, it kinda itches and tingles, and…

BILL: Bob, I really don’t think I’m the man to help you. Maybe Veronica can take a look at it for you or something.

BOB: (Kind of hangdog.) Naw, I don’t mean to disturb you, Bill. Thanks for your help.

BILL: Anytime, Bob. (BOB is itching under his shirt as he turns to leave, revealing a huge, black, cancerous-looking blob under his lifted shirt on his back. Shot cuts to close up of the spot, then back to wide shot as BOB turns back to say something.)

BOB: You’re absolutly sure there’s nothing?

BILL: Positive, Bob. (Grins wolfishly.)

BOB: (Waves with the hand not scratching.) Thanks again, Bill, You’re the best. (BILL winks and clicks back, making a pointing motion with his hands. BOB exits. From behind the closed door we hear screams, then BOB yelling "What! What is it!" as BILL laughs to himself. V.O. "Yeah, you never can tell what secrets await in the night. But, then that was this business." Pan out and fade.)

END.

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Novel Ideas      by Matlock Zumsteg and Melissa Gordon

(A man, GREG, sits in his den, reading a book. His wife PAM enters.)

PAM: Honey? Are you coming to bed?

GREG: I sure am, sweetie. Just let me write a novel first.

PAM: All right, Greg, but make it a short one.

(GREG gets up and holds PAM.)

GREG: It won’t take long. (Kisses her.) I’ll be in bed in a couple of weeks. Go up and wait for me.

PAM: I’ll try not to fall asleep.

(They rub noses cutely and PAM exits. The man sits down at his desk and picks up a pen. Time passes. It is daytime. At the bottom of the screen, text displays: LATER… [for stage performance someone could stage whisper "LATER" after the lighting effects move from night to day.])

PAM: (Offstage) Greg, where’s the number for the gardener?

GREG: It’s by the telephone, dear, next to your Valium.

(More time passes. Papers pile up on the mans’ desk. In the background, a tanned, well oiled, shirtless Hispanic man bursts through the door with a weed whacker and stomps upstairs. GREG does not notice. A few seconds later we heard the weed whacker whacking and PAM and the gardener giggling from upstairs. Time passes. It is night. A man walks up behind GREG wearing a bathrobe carrying a pool skimmer slung over one shoulder. He stops behind the husband.)

POOL MAN: What’cha writin’?

GREG: (Without looking) Shhhh!

POOL MAN: By the way, your filtration system was all clogged up so I went ahead and…(GREG waves him away exasperatedly without looking up from his work. The POOL MAN shrugs and jogs upstairs.)

POOL MAN: (Offscreen) Whoopie!

(Time passes. Daytime. GREG is slumped over his work nearly motionless save for his pen. After a moment a low buzzing is heard offscreen.)

GREG: (Looking up) Pam, are you shaving AGAIN?

PAM: (After a beat.) Yeah…

GREG: That’s the fourth time today. You’re gonna get razor burn.

PAM: I know.

GREG: (Looking back down to work) It sounded like you were using that Herbal Shampoo again, also.

PAM: (Pause) I have.

(Cut to shot of the bedroom. There is a skeleton with a wig lying on the bed dressed like PAM. She is holding a vibrator in one hand. GREG sits on the edge of the bed and plops a stack of papers on the skeletons’ chest.)

GREG: Well, here’s the first draft. Tell me what you think of it. (Pause.) I’m meeting Steve for lunch today. You remember him, the harelip? (GREG has his arms crossed and is swinging his foot, looking around.) Well, I’ll give you a chance to look it over. Bye, sweetie. (GREG kisses the skeletons’ cheekbone and walks off.)

END

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We Make Great Pets By Melissa Gordon and Matlock Zumsteg

 (Shot outside apartment door. A couple in business attire walk up and the man, SID begins unlocking the door. They are talking animatedly as they walk up.)

BARBARA: Wow Sid! This is a great neighborhood. You really lucked out!

SID: (Entering apartment) Yeah, it was a cushy deal. I couldn’t be happier with it. Wait’ll you see the view.

(Shot from inside, the two enter)

BARBARA: (Walking through door and shuts it behind him.) Thanks again for the invite. I’m glad we could get together after work. I’d been meaning to get a social life. Insurance salespeople rarely have nice conversations with normal people, wouldn’t you agree? (They laugh. BARBARA looks around admiringly) Say, I heard you couldn’t get a place up here for less than 400 grand.

SID: What can I say? I know the right people. (They chuckle, again.)

(Suddenly a man appears from the hall and SID casually hands his coat to him, who in return helps SID into a luxurious robe. BARBARA looks at the man and frowns, slightly confused.)

SID: Well, after beating last months’ sale record, I think I’ll be able to afford the place, too. (They chuckle obligingly. Both seat themselves in separate chairs that are side by side, separated by a small end table or the like.) Would you like a drink? (Suddenly another person in casual dress enters carrying a tray of fancy drinks with umbrellas. She is smiling warmly as she hands one to SID and offers one to BARBARA. BARBARA takes it hesitantly, staring at the woman. She simply smiles back, never changing her friendly, stewardess expression, and then exits.)

BARBARA: (To SID, as woman exits) Was that…your girlfriend?

SID: No, of course not, I told you I wasn’t seeing anyone. Shes’, uh…hired help, so to speak.

BARBARA: Oh. Did the, uh, hired help come with the place? (Looks at, then sips her drink carefully, looking back at SID.)

SID: Well, uh…(Chuckles nervously) Not exactly. (Another casually dressed servant enters and removes SIDS’ shoes, replacing them with slippers, and then exits. SID waits for him to leave, looks to make sure no one is around, and takes a very dramatic, lowered tone, leaning forward toward BARBARA.) Well, you know, Barbara, I’m not just an ordinary insurance salesman. (Leans back in his chair somewhat proudly) I’m also a professional hypnotist.

BARBARA: (Looks shocked. Sets the drink down and turns in her chair to face SID.) No, you don’t say?

SID: Well, I dabble in it at least. It’s still just sort of a hobby. And I must say, I’m excellent at putting people under, one of the best. I practiced on ordinary house pets for a year before I felt I was ready for a real person, and it was very successful, for the most part. (Sips his drink.)

BARBARA: What do you mean, "for the most part?" Was there a problem?

SID: Just that I couldn’t get him to snap out of it. (Shakes his head sadly.) And, I couldn’t just let him go back out into the real world thinking he was a barstool, (Shot of man crouching in a corner motionless holding a seat cushion over his head and smiling warmly.) so I kept him. He also thinks he has no ears, so he’s a lost cause anyway. But I did put him to good use. I tried it again some time after and although I was more careful with how I proceeded with my suggestions, I accidentally made a woman think she was my lapdog. As time progressed, I learned to love and respect her. (A woman crawls up on all fours and licks his right hand. He pats her lovingly on the head and she trots away.) Well, I got so attached to them both I just had to find them some companions. And they seem very happy, wouldn’t you agree? Why, I’d even go as far as to say I’ve given my pets a new purpose in life. And, they sure are helpful, as you can see. Better than any stinky cat or dog! (Another walks in and begins dusting.)

BARBARA: Wow. So, why don’t you just learn how to wake them up? You can’t just keep them here as your ‘pets’ forever.

SID: Well, I’ve tried, but you see, I just can’t make it work. Something with my methods is still wrong. Maybe it was the secret mixture…(Trails off, thinking.)

BARBARA: I see. (Pauses.) It seems to have worked out nicely for you. Quite the fiendish plot indeed Sid… Or should I say (Dramatically) Dr. Hypno!

Sid: (Stands up slowly)Yes, let’s drop the charade, Barbara, or should I refer to you as my arch-nemesis, Wonder-Barbara, for the remainder of the evening? (SID reaches up and peels off a piece of fake skin from his forehead, revealing a black and white spinny-disc. BARBARA rips off her coat to reveal a leotard and long, flowing cape, which is caught by the wind dramatically. [Fan blows as she reveals her identity.].)

BARBARA: (Face-off shot with BARBARA on one side of the screen staring at SID on the other. Action music plays.) You gave yourself away far too early at the office with your suspiciously high sales record. Not to mention the fact that you got that cute girl in Human Resources to go out on a date with you.

SID: What was so suspicious about that?

BARBARA: She’s a lesbian!

SID: Well, just because you’ve uncovered my dark secret doesn’t mean you’ll ever stop me! (Cackles evilly as all his ‘pets’ gather behind him.) Just try and catch me, Wonder-Barbara! Get her, my pets! (He points at her. When he gives the signal they all start clucking and pecking around like chickens. BARBARA runs out the front door as SID looks back at his pets, yells "Damn my inadequacy!" to the heavens, and runs after BARBARA himself.)

They can run through the set of the next sketch as a lead in, pausing to kick each other’s asses before running off.)

Fin.

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