A Cautionary Tale

The following is a screen adaptation of true events....kinda.

 

EXT. COMEDY CLUB - NIGHT

 

Two SHIT PICKLES stand outside a popular Los Angeles comedy club smoking cigarettes.  They are amongst a swelling sea of aspiring comedians gathered around the front entrance, anxiously waiting to see if they will make the open mic’s set list.  The Shit Pickles eye the passing comedians with a façade of confidence, like fresh fish prison inmates trying to mask the crippling anticipation of gang rape. Unbeknownst to them, a devastatingly handsome and dangerously brilliant COMIC sits near by with his back turned to them, watching the traffic ZOOM by.

 

Shit Pickle #1

So how long have you been doing comedy?

 

Shit Pickle #2 takes a long, overly dramatic drag on his cigarette contemplating his time in the comedic trenches. Smoke billows out of his nostrils.  A FART squeaks out of his trousers.

 

Shit Pickle #2

About three months now.  I know it’s not a long time but I’m

a little bit ahead of the curve.  You see, I’m an actor.

 

Shit Pickle #1

That’s so funny, so am I.  I find that performing stand-up

really helps me flesh out the characters I draw inspiration from. 

It’s really empowering.

 

Shit Pickle #2 suddenly erupts with a huge YAWN, blinks his eyes three times and has to lean back against the wall.

 

Shit Pickle #2

Wow, I didn’t realize how tired I was.  Must be the auditions

I had this week.  You know how taxing they can be.

 

Shit Pickle #1

I know, right?

 

The Shit Pickles burst into laughter in unison.  Another FART pierces their chuckles.

The Comic sitting near by suspiciously turns to observe the Shit Pickles.  He takes a drag of his cigarette and flicks it onto the sidewalk.

 

   The Comic

(mumbling to himself)

Actors.  Shit.

 

As the Comic begins to get up out of his chair to confront the Shit Pickles, the front doors of the comedy club open and a FAT MAN carrying the set list emerges.  He posts the list on the wall and then disappears into the darkness of the club.

The sea of comics lurches toward the list.  The Shit Pickles push their way through the crowd.  Shit Pickle #2 makes it to the front and runs his finger down the list of names.

 

Shit Pickle #2

Outstanding!  My karma is flowing out of me! 

Fifth spot, best spot.

 

Shit Pickle #2 blasts another FART.  His pants RIPPLE in the shockwave and the crowd around him recoils.  He walks through the newly cut path in the crowd like Moses through the Red Sea.  Shit Pickle #1, caught in the human riptide, reels.

 

Shit Pickle #1

Did I make the list?

 

Shit Pickle #2

Can’t talk now.  I must get ready for my set!

 

Shit Pickle #1 regroups and surges towards the list.  He methodically scans through the names.

 

Shit Pickle #1

Oh, thank Heaven!  It would have been such a waste to have

rehearsed all day and not get up.  One time I was at the

Ha Ha Café and...

 

Shit Pickle #1 realizes that the only person in the crowd listening to him is a homeless person sitting on the ground, nodding off like a junkie watching a Nicholas Cage movie.  He looks around for a beat then makes his way inside the club.  Shit Pickle #2 stands on the sidewalk, talking to himself and flailing his arms about.

Next to the front entrance, The Comic props himself against the wall, one leg up and smoking another cigarette, reeking all kinds of bad assness. He shakes his head in disapproval as he observes Shit Pickle #2’s epileptic rehearsal. 

Three swimsuit models begin to enter the club and catch The Comic’s gaze.  He winks at them and all three fall down in an orgasmic loss of motor function.  The Comic grins at the girls then heads into the club.

 

INT. COMEDY CLUB - LATER

 

Dozens of patrons fill the audience of the dark and smoky club.  Waitresses make their way through the maze of tables to bring drinks and The Fat Man who posted the list is onstage talking to an audience member.  The Shit Pickles stand in the back next to each other but do not talk.  Each one lost in his own world of narcissistic actor preparation.  The Comic sits in the back corner, calmly receiving fellatio from one of the swimsuit models as he watches the show.

 

The Fat Man

Make some noise for our next comedian, Shit Pickle #2! 

(Because fuck his name)

 

Shit Pickle #2 bounces up to the stage amidst the luke warm clapping of the audience.  His energy is nauseating.  He walks right past the outstretched handshake of The Fat Man and grabs the microphone out of its stand.

 

Shit Pickle #2

What’s up guys!?  How is everybody doing?

 

The audience gives an apathetic applause as if they’ve been asked how they were doing for the tenth time, which they have.

 

Shit Pickle #2

You guys ever wonder what it would be like if

Samuel L. Jackson worked as a kindergarten teacher?

 

Shit Pickle #2 closes his eyes to get into character then he opens them wide.

 

Shit Pickle #2

Your fingers motherfucka!  I said paint with your

motherfuckin’ fingers, motherfucka!

 

Shit Pickle #2 pauses for laughter that never comes.  The silence is deafening until it is broken with a thundering FART from Shit Pickle #2’s quivering ass.  The crowd explodes with LAUGHTER.

The Comic, still watching from the back of the room, pushes away the swimsuit model as she attempts to hand him a $100 dollar bill. He sits up in his chair with concern.

 

Shit Pickle #2

Speaking of painting, ever wonder what it would look

like if Helen Keller took an art class?

 

Shit Pickle #2 closes his eyes and stumbles about on stage knocking the microphone stand over while waiving his arm around as if he was painting the air.

 

Shit Pickle #2

Unnnghh!  Unnngh!  Mmmmphfff!  Unnngh...

 

Suddenly he stops and opens his eyes with horror.  Another FART rips through the silence only this time it is not dry.  Shit Pickle #2 looks down to see a wet spot on the inner thigh of his jeans grow larger and larger.  BBRRTHHLLPP!  He lifts his head to look into audience who are gazing back in disgusted wonder.

 

Shit Pickle#2

I’m sorry, I think I’ve had an...

 

PPPLLLRRRPPTTHHHSSS! A MAN in the front row stands up.

 

Man

Jesus Christ man!  You are shitting yourself! 

Get off the stage!

 

The rest of the audience joins in and begins to SHOUT at Shit Pickle #2.  He begins to hiccup cry and jumps off the stage.  As his feet hit the floor, a shit tsunami erupts from the back of his pants and lands on the front of the stage.  The audience GASPS.  He runs off into the bathroom in the back of the room.  The Fat Man takes the stage and tries to calm the mini riot that is now the audience.

 

The Fat Man

Okay, well that was interesting, let’s bring up our next

comedian, shall we?  Please welcome Shit Pickle #1!

 

Shit Pickle #1, still shocked from what he just witnessed, takes a moment to close his eyes and do some kind of faggy little actor exercise to get into character.  Then he skips up to the stage.  The audiences’ horror anger turns into obligatory clapping.

 

Shit Pickle #1

What’s up, party people?!  How are you guys

doing tonight?

 

Audience Member

Fuck you!

 

Shit Pickle #1

Okay!  So I was on the bus today.  Have you ever been on

the bus in this city?  I swear to God if there is such thing

as purgatory I think I found it on the metro. So I was taking the

bus to an audition. I’ve been in some commercials, maybe

you recognize me...

 

The Comic in the back of the room stands up from his chair and in a Jerry Bruckheimer-movie-like fashion, slow motion walks towards the stage.  He looks around to see people in the audience passing out.  One after the other they suddenly fall asleep.  People left and right fall out of their chairs unconscious, their heads hitting the tables; their drinks spilling on their lifeless faces.  The Fat Man host sits with his head cocked back in perfect slumber.  SNORES rip through his bulbous neck.  Shit Pickle #1 doesn’t seem to notice that the entire audience has fallen asleep as he launches into a bit about ice cream.

 

Shit Pickle #1

...I was at Baskin Robins yesterday. 

Have you been to this place?

 

The Comic turns to see Shit Pickle #2 emerging from the bathroom, sobbing.  Shit flows out of his pants like some kind of fecal fire hose.  It shoots up the back of his pants and hits the ceiling spraying everything in a 50 foot radius.  He turns to see Shit Pickle #1 still on stage, talking about ice cream.

 

Shit Pickle #1

...so my crazy mother insisted that she get a

double scoop and of course she doesn’t realize that

soft serve doesn’t come in scoops and...

 

Shit Pickle #2 stops sobbing and suddenly begins to YAWN.  The shit erupting from his ass and ricocheting off the ceiling falls into his gaping mouth.  He can’t help it.  His eyelids begin to fall.  The Comic’s eyes WIDEN in panic as he sees Shit Pickle #1 collapse face down, ass up.  His ass geyser ripping his pants off his body like they were made of paper.

The Comic turns back towards the stage and Shit Pickle #1.  He tries to take a step but he is overrun with sleepiness.  With every inch of his strength, he fights sleep and lumbers forward.  The shit on the floor is getting deeper.  The unconscious audience members begin to disappear in the rising rectal river.  The Comic finally reaches the stage where Shit Pickle #1 is still doing his bit about his mother.

 

Shit Pickle #1

...my mother likes to make me go shopping

with her and I tell her that I’m so over it...

 

The Comic rolls up onto the stage.  With one arm he reaches down into the sea of sewage below and scoops up a handful.  He struggles to his feet.

 

Shit Pickle #1

(looking towards The Comic)

Uh oh, it looks like I’m getting a

hecklmmmmpphhhh!

 

The Comic swings his shit hand as hard as he can into the mouth of Shit Pickle #1.  The poop splashes on the face of Shit Pickle #1 and he falls to the ground. 

The Comic stands over Shit Pickle #1 and grabs him by the shirt.

 

The Comic

Look at me!!  Look at me!!  You two did this!  Understand?!! 

Stories have to have punch lines, get it?!!  So do act outs. 

If you just do act outs and there aren’t any jokes you produce

nothing but SHIT!  And if you just tell personal stories that do

not have jokes, you end up putting everybody to sleep! 

YOU HAVE TO HAVE PUNCH LINES!! Now help me save

these peoples’ lives!  Stand up!

 

The Comic lifts Shit Pickle #1 to his feet and shoves him in front of the microphone.

 

The Comic

Now say something funny goddammit!

 

Shit Pickle #1 freezes in front of the microphone, staring into the darkness. 

 

The Comic

Say it!  Say a joke goddammit or we all drown

in shit!  Now say it!

 

Shit Pickle #1

Um, So what’s the difference between jelly and jam? 

You know my mother always liked to make jam...

 

WHACK! The Comic slaps Shit Pickle #1’s head so hard he falls off the stage and into the shit pool.  The Comic staggers up to the microphone.

 

The Comic

What’s the difference between jelly and jam? 

You can’t jelly your dick up somebody’s ass.

 

Suddenly, heads begin to pop up out of the poo poo pond.  CHUCKLING is heard through the darkness.

 

The Comic

Wow, this was like a horror movie.  I like watching horror

movies. To me they are a lot like the Special Olympics. 

Sure yougo into it with lowered expectations and the

charactersaren’t too bright but you gotta admit it sure

is fun to seeretards run around with their limbs

chopped off.

 

LAUGHTER erupts throughout the room.  Audience members begin to rise to their feet.  Shit Pickle #2 regains consciousness and bowel control.  Shit Pickle #1 is wading waist deep in waste going through his notes.

 

The Comic

Thank you guys for coming out.  Remember

to tip your waitress.

 

The Comic starts to walk off stage but looks down into the shit pool.  He pauses long enough to observe a window off to the side of the stage.  He looks into the shit covered audience and then back to the window.  With power and grace never before seen with human eyes, he jumps through the window.  The Fat Man, now conscious, covered in shit looks out the window.  He turns to the crowd.

 

The Fat Man

He disappeared.

 

Shit Pickle #1

Who was that guy?

 

The Fat Man

I don’t know.  Some kind of angel I guess.

 

Swimsuit Model

I don’t know if he was an angel or some kind of devil. 

All I know is that I will never be the same again.  He

was really hot and funny and smart and cool and...

 

A single tear rolls down the cheek of the Swimsuit model as she stares out the broken window.

 

Swimsuit Model

...gone.

 

Shit Pickle #2 sees the teary eyed Swimsuit Model and tries to comfort her with a shit covered hug.  She pushes him away in disgust.

 

Swimsuit Model

Oooh, gross!  Get away from me, Shit Pickle! 

I heard your set!!

 

Everybody in the comedy club LAUGHS at the Shit Pickles.

 

                                                                                                                                     FADE OUT