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Monthly Archives: June 2016

Satire Sketch

BREXIT – Cameron thank you dinner for Obama

Published by:

Blog by Richard Heagy

The UK Prime Minister and the US President sit at a table in the far corner of a small upscale restaurant in Mayfair on a quiet street in London; nearby, but out of sight are several secret service agents and security guards. The WAITER approaches the table and asks what they would like to drink.

CAMERON: Whiskey.

OBAMA: Beer.

WAITER: I am sorry sir, but we no longer serve beer. Perhaps you would like something from the bar or maybe a glass of wine.

OBAMA: Wine will be fine.

CAMERON: I will have wine also; cancel the whiskey.

WAITER: Very good, sir, I will send over the sommelier.

(OBAMA and CAMERON listen to the sommelier’s suggestions and finally agree on one)

OBAMA: I brought you a present.

CAMERON: How nice. I hope it did not cost too much.

OBAMA: Not at all, but it is one of your favourites; at least that is what I saw on TV.

(OBAMA hands a nicely wrapped box to CAMERON, who holds up the box and shakes it. Something inside makes a noise and the contents shift a bit)

OBAMA: You will never guess what it is; might as well just open it.

CAMERON: You are right.

OBAMA: I am always right. It comes with being a Harvard law professor; no one questions you until you go into politics.

(CAMERON carefully tears off the wrapping and opens the box; then pulls out the gift—a tube of Pringles)

OBAMA (smiling): They are Paprika Pringles.

CAMERON: How did you know I liked these?

OBAMA: There was a video of you on the internet; you were on a budget flight eating Paprika Pringles.

CAMERON: How thoughtful.

OBAMA: Oh, I really cannot take all the credit, maybe most of it. You know how so many gifts are not what somebody wants at all. I had a White House intern do an internet search to find out what you really like—and here it is.

CAMERON: I do not know what to say, except thanks.

(He opens the tube, inhales, takes one out and tastes it)

CAMERON (to OBAMA): Would you like to try one?

(Before OBAMA can respond, a WAITER walks over to the table)

WAITER: Excuse me sir, I mean Prime Minister, but you may not bring food into the restaurant.

(The WAITER reaches out and takes the tube of Pringles from CAMERON, but unnoticed by either of them a SECRET SERVICE AGENT appears from nowhere, turns the WAITER round and butts him in the head. The tube falls on the table and the Pringles scatter on the floor)

OBAMA: I brought those all the way from Washington.



(The SECRET SERVICE AGENT squats, picks up the Pringles one by one, and blows the dirt off them before putting them back in the tube)

OBAMA: It is hard to get good help these days, even if you are the President of the United States.

(Blood drips from the forehead of the WAITER to his crisply starched white shirt as he holds his head in pain. The MAÎTRE D’ rushes over and helps the WAITER walk away)

CAMERON: Tell me about it.

(ANOTHER WAITER arrives to serve the drinks, followed by the MAÎTRE D’, who serves the starters in enclosed silver covers)

MAÎTRE D’: Compliments of the chef, in honour of the American President.

(He uncovers the dishes to reveal a surprise)

CAMERON: Looks like a tiny square hamburger to me.

OBAMA: It is a White Castle.

(He takes a bite and smiles at the MAÎTRE D’)

OBAMA (continuing): Please give my thanks to the chef.

(Dinner continues with a salad, bread with a plate of olive oil, followed by the main entre, all of which takes a few hours)

CAMERON: Had enough to eat?

OBAMA: It is probably enough to last all week. I should walk it off in Hyde Park in the morning, but my secret service agents will complain.

(As CAMERON and OBAMA are enjoying after dinner drinks, the WAITER returns to the table with several bandages on his forehead)

OBAMA: I am sorry about what happened. I was beginning to get worried—it took you so long.

WAITER: First, I called the nearest hospital emergency room and asked for an ambulance. When I described my injuries, they said it was not serious enough for an ambulance, and suggested that I take a taxi.

OBAMA: Looks like they fixed you up. Your socialised medicine is excellent, so I hear.

WAITER: Where did you hear that?


WAITER: I waited in a large room full of tired and angry people, some coughing and sneezing, for four hours; no it was 3 hours and 48 minutes, as they must release you in 4 hours.

OBAMA: Well, anyway the exam must have been thorough.

WAITER: What exam? They dabbed my forehead with some stinging substance, slapped on three small bandages, and gave be two paracetamol—what you would call aspirin.

OBAMA: Again, I am very sorry about what happened. You should go home and get some rest.

(The WAITER nods and leaves)

CAMERON: I invited you here to express my appreciation for your support with the EU referendum, especially your recommendation that the United Kingdom stay in the European Union.

OBAMA: Remaining in the EU gives the UK more influence and is important for economic prosperity and security. It is most unfortunate that the Leave vote prevailed.

CAMERON: I should have never authorised the referendum. The Leave vote has been a shock to everyone, even the Leave supporters. The financial markets are in disarray and the pound is in the toilet.

(A tall stocky man with unruly blonde hair, much like a miniature haystack, approaches the table and pulls out a chair. He is BORIS JOHNSON, former Mayor of London and now a Member of Parliament)

BORIS (as he sits down): May I join you?

CAMERON: You already have.

OBAMA: I thought that the referendum was primarily about the economy and security, but it seems that immigration became a more significant factor as the vote neared.

BORIS: Maybe so, but substantial support for the Leave vote already existed for other important reasons. This is also about representative democracy. Unelected faceless EU civil servants impose endless rules, regulations and financial obligations on the UK. The press and the elite have neglected the obstacles the EU has created for business, especially small shopkeepers, as well as unduly interfering with the daily private lives of ordinary people with petty overregulation. The European Court of Justice overrules English laws and judges, something the US would never stand for, as evidenced by their refusing to recognise the jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice.

CAMERON: I did negotiate with the EU and got them to agree to some changes in our favour.

BORIS (to CAMERON): I know you tried your best, but you really did not get much. The bloated EU bureaucracy is extremely inflexible from top to bottom, starting with European Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker. He is so rigid that I would not be surprised if he could not even bend over to tie his shoelaces. The man has this ever-closer phobia and keeps pushing the EU down a one-way road to failure. What started as an economic union—with the European Economic Community in 1975—morphed into the European Union in 1993, a political union with an insatiable hunger for fiscal, diplomatic and unchecked legislative powers.

(Although OBAMA finished his dinner some time ago, a small piece of bread remains on the table. He picks it up and dips it in a small plate of olive oil)

BORIS (to OBAMA): It is much healthier to dip bread in olive oil than to smoother it with butter, do you not agree?

OBAMA: I believe everyone knows that.

BORIS: Dip away while you can. In 2014, the EU tried to ban the use of refillable bottles and dipping bowls of olive oil at restaurant tables. There was an unusual groundswell against the proposal across Europe by consumers and restaurant owners.  It was one of the very few times that the EU backed down and reversed one of its rules, never admitting it was wrong, but excusing itself by saying that the ban was not formulated so as to achieve wide support from the public, as if the EU has ever given a rat’s ass about public opinion. They always know better and want to impose their way of thinking by re-educating the public, a common trait of those in unelected positions. I would not be surprised if they tried something like this again; the UK will still be subject to EU regulations until they negotiate the terms of withdrawal from the EU.

ANOTHER WAITER (arrives out of nowhere, pushing a cart): Gentlemen, I have the pleasure of preparing Bananas Foster at your table.

(The cart contains a large skillet on an alcohol burner, brown sugar, butter, rum, banana liquor, and several bananas)

OBAMA: I have not eaten Bananas Foster for quite some time.

(An elderly man—the MINDER—with white hair, a face with more wrinkles than his tired ill-fitting soviet era brown suit, and a short military style haircut suddenly appears and pulls out a small tool—a digital angle finder, picks up a banana and measures its curvature or bend. He speaks with an East German accent)

MINDER (to ANOTHER WAITER): You will take these bananas back; their bend violates EU regulations.

(The MINDER puts the banana back on the cart and ANOTHER WAITER pushes the cart away)

CAMERON: I thought that the bend rules applied to cucumbers.

BORIS: Yes, but it is more complicated for cucumbers than bananas because there are two cucumber categories. Class I and Extra Class cucumbers allow a bend of 10mm per 10cm of length, whereas Class II cumbers can bend twice as much.

CAMERON: Wait a minute. I think the rule on bananas was modified in the UK a few years back.

MINDER: Nobody told me. I will have to fill out a report concerning this violation.

(He takes out a pad of forms and makes notations on the top one)

MINDER: Your names.

CAMERON: I am the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

MINDER: And I am the King of Bavaria.

BORIS: He really is the Prime Minister.

BORIS and OBAMA (to themselves): Not for long.

MINDER: And, I suppose you are the Mayor of London


MINDER (continuing): For the pittance they pay me, I am not going to verify your names. I just need to write something in each blank on this form so none of the highly paid comrades in Brussels sends it back.

(He starts filling out the form and turns to OBAMA)

MINDER (to OBAMA): Don’t think I have forgotten about you. You look like a university professor. I’ll just write “professor”, since you gentlemen are playing games with me over your real names. They don’t matter because the guilty party subject to a fine is the restaurant.

OBAMA: That’s OK; I can get some Bananas Foster next time I am in New Orleans.

(OBAMA picks up a thin briefcase and pulls out a group of articles that mention Cameron and the EU referendum. He holds them out to CAMERON, but the MINDER grabs them and pulls off the large paperclip holding them together)

MINDER: What have we here?

BORIS: This does not look good.

OBAMA: The articles are not all negative.

BORIS: That is not the problem; it is the petty EU bureaucracy.

(The MINDER pulls out a small ruler and measures the length of the paper clip)

MINDER: Just as I suspected; this clip exceeds the allowable size under EU regulations.

(He bends the paperclip and it snaps in two)

MINDER: Oh, my, look at this. This clip appears to be made of materials that violate EU safety regulations. I’ll have to confiscate it and write another report.

(The Minder places the unclipped papers on the table, fills out another form and departs. Before he leaves, he clicks his heels together and raises his right arm in a Nazi salute)

MINDER: Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.

OBAMA: First it’s bananas; now it’s paper clips.

(He straightens the articles and hands them to CAMERON)

CAMERON: Thank you. I am sure I will find them interesting.

OBAMA: Who was that fellow?

BORIS: A minder.

OBAMA: Did you say a miner?

BORIS: No, a minder—one of those low-level officials assigned to follow you around if you visited Soviet controlled countries in the old days. They would stick to you like glue.

OBAMA: I thought that all went out with the end of the Cold War.

CAMERON: It is just something the EU is trying on a temporary basis.

BORIS: There is no such thing as temporary where the EU is concerned. They will make this so-called experiment permanent and expand it.

OBAMA: Why was that fellow measuring the bananas?

CAMERON: The EU wants to ensure that its rules and regulations are being followed. They have placed staff members in a few restaurants on a test basis to oversee compliance in the food service industry.

BORIS: Staff members, bloody hell. These are former minders from East Germany here to spy on us for the EU; a relic from the Cold War, straight out of Alexanderplatz central casting in Berlin. They are state employees who cannot be retrained for other jobs. An invasive program our Prime Minister has allowed into the UK.

CAMERON: I saw his resume—he comes with a recommendation, somewhat dated, from Erich Honecker.

BORIS: Wonderful fellow as far as apparatchiks go, especially known for organising the building of the Berlin Wall.

OBAMA (to himself): I wonder if Donald Trump has heard of him?

CAMERON: Don’t blame me; the UK has to follow the EU directives or they raise a big stink or take legal action.

BORIS (to OBAMA):  You probably thought the EU referendum was just about security and the economy.

OBAMA: Well yes. That is what first comes to mind.

BORIS: The problem that mostly affects the daily lives of UK citizens is the constant generation of new regulations, most of them quite petty.  Job security is sacred at the European Commission. It is almost impossible to be fired, but people still like to give the appearance of being busy.  I would not be surprised to find that they have classes to teach civil servants how to look busy when they have nothing to do.  More than 10,000 EU officials make more than our Prime Minister does.  The latest proposal, so I hear, is to offer an incentive system for lower-paid employees who submit three ideas each week for new things to regulate.

OBAMA: There is nothing wrong with big government, but I don’t know about that kind of incentive system.

OBAMA (to BORIS): You were a major supporter of the Leave campaign. What are their plans for carrying out the Brexit?

BORIS (ignoring the question): Do you own a dog?


BORIS: Well, you probably have the same rules as in the UK; you must carry a plastic bag and pick up after your dog makes a deposit.

OBAMA: Yes, but it is not a big inconvenience.

BORIS: You might have a problem with your dogs if you move to London after you leave the White House, at least until we are out of the EU.

OBAMA: I wasn’t planning to, but why is that?

BORIS: The EU regulators in their concern for the environment are going all out after plastic.

OBAMA: I see nothing wrong with that.

BORIS: They are considering banning the use of plastic bags for dog walkers.

OBAMA: Then, how are you going to clean up the dog deposits?

BORIS: Dog owners will have to train their dogs to sit on the pot to take a crap before they go for a walk. Quite an inconvenience for dog owners, but it will be good for business.

OBAMA: How is that?

BORIS: They already make special potty seats for small children and disabled persons. Now they will need to design special ones for dogs, and one size will not fit all. Even so, the solicitors will be concerned about liability if an owner uses the wrong size and a dog falls in and drowns, so more work for them. Potty manufacturers and the owners of pet stores will also benefit from increased sales.

(ANOTHER WAITER appears with the dessert menu and asks to take their orders)

OBAMA: I am not hungry anymore.

CAMERON: Me neither.

BORIS (to ANOTHER WAITER): Bring those bananas back. I’ll take them home and make my own Bananas Foster.

ANOTHER WAITER: I am sorry but the MINDER confiscated them.

BORIS: What is he going to do—send them with his report to Brussels?

ANOTHER WAITER: No. I saw him through the window, standing at the bus stop. He was eating the bananas.


Small banana X

Satire Sketch

Zombie Tech Award – for the iPhone

Published by:

Blog by Richard Heagy

It is a sunny day, and a line of people of all shapes and sizes wait on the steps of an endless stairway that winds its way upward; all ages and ethnic groups are included. At the top of the stairs is a man (CONCIERGE) about forty years old with a short white beard standing behind a pedestal. He is wearing a black tuxedo and sandals with no socks.


(Down the line, a man wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck, blue jeans and sneakers counts the number of people in front of him, about twenty or so; then looks back at the hundreds behind him. He stands in line impatiently and looks at his watch but he is not wearing a watch. His name is JOBS, or at least it used to be when he was alive. In front of him is a young person wearing a pizza delivery hat (PIZZA GUY) and an “I Love New York” T-shirt; he carries a small black umbrella, but he is wet)

USHER (to PIZZA GUY): Here you are, sir. Just fill it out and I will pick it up when you are ready.

(Up and down the line are ushers, all dressed in white togas, handing out questionnaires mounted on clipboards with ballpoint pens. The PIZZA GUY puts his umbrella on the step ahead of him to be hands free. The USHER next hands a clipboard and a pen to JOBS)

JOBS: What’s this for?

USHER: All applicants have to fill them out.

JOBS: Applicants?

USHER: You don’t think just anyone can walk through the Pearly Gates, do you?

(JOBS takes the clipboard and glances over the questions, then tries to return it to the USHER)

JOBS: Why should I fill this out? You already know everything about me.

USHER: Yes, but we like to see if people are lying.

JOBS: It’s a waste of time.

USHER: Time is something we have an endless supply of here.

(Some clouds come drifting over, then a few raindrops)

PIZZA GUY (to JOBS): Hey, buddy, you want to buy my umbrella?

JOBS (to the USHER): I didn’t know you had rain up here.

USHER: On occasion, a cloud finds its way up here, but you will not need an umbrella. Even if some rain falls on you, you will remain dry.

JOBS (pointing to the step above him): What about him?

USHER: Oh, he was wet when he arrived, so he will stay wet for the duration of his stay.

JOBS: He might get sick.

USHER: No, his condition will remain the same as when he arrived.

(The PIZZA GUY takes out a cigarette and places it between his lips, searches unsuccessfully in his pockets for a match, then motions to the USHER)

PIZZA GUY: Hey, buddy, you got a light?

USHER: Smoking is not allowed here.

PIZZA GUY: Where’s the sign says so?

USHER: There is no place to put a sign.

(The PIZZA GUY tosses his cigarette away, and it lands nearby, suspended in the air)

USHER: No littering.

(The USHER retrieves the cigarette and hands it to the PIZZA GUY, who puts it in his pocket. The PIZZA GUY starts to say something, but the USHER cuts him off)

USHER: I know, there’s no sign.

(JOBS starts to fill out the questionnaire, but the pen will not work. He shakes it, tries again, then hands it back to the USHER)

USHER: I will be right back as soon as I find another pen.

(The USHER leaves and someone suddenly appears out of nowhere)

DEVIL: Psst—would you mind stepping over here for a minute?

JOBS: How am I going to do that? There’s nothing to stand on if I get off the stairs.

DEVIL: Not at all, sir, you will be standing on air.

JOBS: Why should I believe you?

DEVIL: Look at me; there’s nothing underneath my feet.

JOBS: So I see, but I don’t want to lose my place in line.

(The line is slowly moving forward as all this takes place)

DEVIL: I’ll see to it that you don’t.

JOBS: Who are you anyway?

DEVIL: An usher, but not just any usher.

JOBS: You are not dressed the same; well, maybe you are, except that you clothes are off white, even kind of soiled looking.

DEVIL: Step over here. I want to have a little chat with you.

(They move away from the stairs, far enough for the others not to overhear. JOBS looks down nervously as he walks on the air)

JOBS: Are you trying to solicit a bribe to ease my way through the Pearly Gates?

DEVIL: Nothing of the kind. Getting you through the Pearly Gates is last thing I would ever do.

JOBS: By the way, who is that young man behind the pedestal? I thought that St. Peter was supposed to admit people.

DEVIL: He’s the CONCIERGE. They are trying to upgrade the place to improve their ratings.

(JOBS looks at his watch, forgetting again that it is not there)

JOBS: How long have I been in line?

DEVIL: Three days.

JOBS: Three days? That’s impossible.

DEVIL: You will never experience time again, only eternity.

JOBS: Who are you?

DEVIL: I have been known by many names—Lucifer, Beelzebub, Satan, or more commonly the Devil. I prefer Prince of Darkness myself.

JOBS: I have been called many names myself.

DEVIL: Yes—tyrant, genius and jerk, to name a few.

JOBS: How do I know that you are the devil?

DEVIL: What if I perform a miracle before your very eyes?

JOBS: OK, try me.

(The DEVIL waves his hand in the air and instantly he is holding a deck of cards, which he fans)

DEVIL: Pick a card, any card.

JOBS: That is a cheap card trick, not a miracle.

DEVIL: I don’t want to draw attention to myself this close to the Pearly Gates; I can’t do anything splashy. Go on; pick a card.

(JOBS takes a card)

JOBS: Now what?

DEVIL: Put it back in the deck.

(The devil shuffles the deck and holds it in the palm of his hand)

DEVIL: Turn over the top card.

(JOBS turns over the top card and holds it up, showing a three of clubs)

DEVIL: What did I tell you?

JOBS: It’s not my card.

DEVIL: Are you sure?

JOBS: It is not my card; I had a seven of diamonds.

DEVIL: I must be out of practice.

JOBS: Assuming that you are the devil, why are here—to tempt me?


JOBS: What do you want?

DEVIL: I want to thank you.

JOBS: For what? I have led an exemplary life, no bad habits of any significance that come to mind.

DEVIL: It’s results that count, not the intention to do bad things.

JOBS: I have no idea what you are talking about.

DEVIL: Let’s take the iPhone, for example.

JOBS: What about it?

DEVIL: First, let’s clear up something. Who invented the iPhone?

JOBS: I did. Everyone knows that.

DEVIL: Not everyone. Some Congresswoman said the government invented the iPhone, not you or Apple.

JOBS: Sour grapes.

DEVIL: Sour grapes invented the iPhone instead of Apple, or you.

JOBS: That’s not what I meant.

DEVIL: Then you take credit for its invention.

JOBS: Absolutely. Just because engineers were working under my direction does not make me any less the inventor.

DEVIL: Thank God—oops—I shouldn’t use that expression. Then I didn’t come all this way for nothing. I suppose you consider the iPhone to be the greatest benefit to humanity in modern times.

JOBS: It’s the best thing since sliced bread.

DEVIL: Not a good example; bread contains gluten and other unhealthy ingredients.

JOBS: It’s just an expression, not a comparison. The iPhone has brought people closer together all around the world, made communications easier and improved their lives.

DEVIL: What about the negatives?

JOBS: I can’t think of any, although some people complain about the price.

DEVIL: First, you have not made communication and interaction between people better, aside from a technical standpoint. Communication online is faceless; many hours are wasted each day by exchanging meaningless twaddle. For example, what is the importance of letting all of the people you are deluded into thinking are your friends know that you are spending the weekend cleaning out your closet.

JOBS: Not everyone spends the weekend cleaning closets.

DEVIL: They spend the rest of the weekend telling their friends, and I use the term loosely, all about it.

JOBS: Why are we talking about this?

DEVIL: Look what you are doing to education.

JOBS: Increasing educational levels by making more information available.

DEVIL: Hogwash. Everyone is texting; no one knows how to write a complete sentence anymore, not even a short one.

JOBS: Everyone is too busy these days.

DEVIL: Busy doing what? Nothing of any great importance that I can see.

JOBS: One of the biggest benefits to people is mobility, the ability to communicate with friends and business associates, shop and do other things from anywhere, twenty-four hours a day.

DEVIL: Your award may be posthumous, but it is never too late to give recognition to one deserving it.

JOBS: Are you giving me an award?

DEVIL: Almost everyone with an iPhone uses it while walking, wherever he or she is, crossing the street through traffic, riding a bicycle, skate boarding or even texting while driving.

JOBS: It is convenient.

DEVIL: You idiot. People walk into each other and cause automobile accidents while texting. Just look at how many people in line behind you are talking on their mobile phones or trying to send text messages.

JOBS (looking pleased): I am surprised it works up here.

DEVIL: I doesn’t. They were on their mobile phones when they died. They continue as if nothing has happened and don’t realise that their conversations and text messages are not going anywhere. You have created an entire world of self-centred zombies, something I could never do. That is why you have earned the Devil’s Award for Outstanding Achievement—for disservice to humanity. This year we are naming it the Zombie Tech Award in your honour.

JOBS: What if I don’t want it.

DEVIL: It’s too late. The award is all over the internet and available on every iPhone as we speak.

JOBS: Take it down.

DEVIL: Impossible. You have made your technology so secure that even I cannot break into it.

(The line has steadily moved up as JOBS and the DEVIL talk. JOBS goes back to the line and tries to squeeze back in between the PIZZA GUY with the umbrella, now number one in the line, and the woman who was previously behind JOBS)

WOMAN: What do you think you are doing?

JOBS: Reclaiming my place in line.

WOMAN: Buzz off, bozo. The back of the line is that way, at the bottom of the stairs

DEVIL: Madam, this gentleman …

WOMAN: Who is this, your brother? You both have the same eyebrows and piercing eyes.

JOBS: You don’t want to know who he is.

WOMAN (pondering): I recognise you now. You are the big cheese who fired me on the spot in front of my co-workers.

JOBS: I don’t recall, but you are not the only one that I fired in person.

(JOBS has worked his way in front of the woman and is now first in line)


(The USHER takes the questionnaire from JOBS and looks at it)

USHER (to the CONCIERGE): He didn’t fill it out completely.

CONCIERGE: Send him back to the end of the line.

(The USHER hands the questionnaire back to JOBS and points down the stairs)



Satire Sketch

Hitler’s Erasure – EU Article 17

Published by:

Blog by Richard Heagy

Someone long thought to be dead recently filed a complaint with the European Commission for violation of his human rights, in particular, the right to be forgotten and erasure of personal data no longer relevant pursuant to Article 17. They wondered if perhaps a relative or descendant filed the complaint. The European Commission, not burdened with budget restraints, dispatched one of its highly paid bureaucrats to the far ends of the globe to investigate the complaint, and in particular verify the identity of the complainant. After a flight from Brussels to Buenos Aires, followed by a lengthy train ride, and change of buses, the highly paid bureaucrat (unaccustomed to such uncomfortable travel accommodations) arrived at his fact-finding destination in Argentina.

BUS DRIVER: End of the line.

(The bus stops at the corner of a side street that abuts the town plaza and all depart, including a few chickens. The EU OFFICIAL is the last one off the bus. He holds a briefcase in one hand and with the other dusts off his jacket; then looks round as everyone seems to disappear. Small shops and cafés line the plaza, accompanied by a few kiosks or food stands here and there. Suddenly, what appears to be a taxi approaches, belching exhaust, and comes to a sudden halt)

DRIVER: Señor, at your service.

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Humour Play

Team Player

Published by:

Blog by Richard Heagy


(The scene opens in the interior of a modest office of a long-time partner in a professional firm in the Northeast. The firm has recently merged with another firm, and there have been several changes, as is usually the case. SUPER BOSS, much younger than anyone else in the firm, pulls open the door to LONG-TIME PARTNER’s office and stands in the doorway)

SUPER BOSS: I want to see you in my office now.

LONG-TIME PARTNER: I’ll be right there.

(Super Boss takes a few steps inside, places hands on hips and glares at LONG-TIME PARTNER)

SUPER BOSS: I mean now.

LONG-TIME PARTNER: I just need to…

SUPER BOSS: Right … now. Drop everything.

(He stands with his cup of coffee in hand; then walks to the waste paper basket, drops it inside, but instead it hits the rim and spills on the floor)


(He picks up the cup and carefully places it in the waste basket)

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