Category Archives: script

What’s Cooking? I Smell A Rat!

So, if you’re on Facebook, you might be seeing a story going around about an abandoned cruise ship that’s drifting around the Atlantic. Only it’s not completely abandoned…it’s allegedly filled with diseased, cannibal rats.

Now, killjoys are responding to this with some Smithsonian article pooh-poohing the existence of the cannibal rats. Some of us don’t care. In fact, some of us are TOTALLY THRILLED about the very idea that such a pleasure ship might exist. To that end, a Facebook Fan Page has been created for what we are calling the Rat Boat. And at least one of us thinks that Disney/Pixar should GET ON THIS and make a musical animated extravaganza. I am offering my services to write the lyrics for this. Here is what I’m thinking for the BIG OPENING NUMBER:

RAT 1:
We live upon this ghostly ship
Adrift on the high seas.
No pesky human beings on board –
We do what we please!

RAT 2:
The problem with no people, though,
Is that we’re short on grub.
We’re scroungers with nothing to scrounge:
Therein lies the rub.

RAT 3:
No bread, no cheese, no bits of fruit.
We’d eat that if we could.
And so our ratty shipmates
Start looking pretty good.

CHORUS:
What’s cooking? I smell a rat!
So have a seat! Let’s chew the fat!
Just don’t wonder: “Who was that?”
What’s in this dish? I smell a rat!

You can thank me later, Bob Iger.

The Call

THREE FRIENDS (”B,” “C,” and “D”) stand in a circle, laughing and drinking and generally enjoying themselves, as friends are wont to do.

“A” stands downstage from the group, talking on a cellphone

A
Uh, yeah no, um…thanks. For calling. Yeah, no,
I know. Yeah. I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later I guess.

“A” hangs up the phone, rejoins the group.

B
What’s up?

A
Nothing. Kerry, um…. Kerry died.

C
Oh. Oh my God.

B
Wow, um. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

A
I…Yeah. I guess. Uh… (beat) Yeah.

“A” downs his/her drink.

BLACKOUT

Stumped

SHE stands in the light, her hair pulled up in a casual sleepover ponytail. She looks into a(n invisible) mirror in front of her.

SHE
So — um — okay so — I think I’m confused.

Lights go up suddenly to reveal that HE is lying behind her, naked, in a bathtub full of ice. He has one hand missing, and a wound on his back where a kidney might have been.

SHE
I drank three Bloody Marys, right? So — in the bathroom, and first, that’s disgusting, I don’t know who drinks that V8 crap, it’s so like — ugh — the texture — and but so anyway — and so like I turn around the first time and then — he was there.

He starts to whistle “Twisted Nerve.”

SHE
I don’t know, the girls I babysit for, they were talking about it before they went to bed, and I had the house to myself now, and I wasn’t sure — because I thought it was turn around 3 times? But maybe it was drink one Bloody Mary, and I don’t know, I tried Wikipedeing it but they have like the most worst service out at this house and so I couldn’t use my phone and then stupid Mr. Bailey has their internet all password protected so I said you know screw it you know I’ll just try it out. So I did.

She looks back at the man in the tub.

SHE
And anyway isn’t Bloody Mary supposed to be a woman? Right? Her name’s “Mary” — which — I know there’s guys named Stacey or whatever but that’s stupid — but so clearly I did something wrong — obviously because I don’t remember there being a naked man.

He slowly stands up from the bathrub. He moves towards her.

SHE
And like I don’t know is that something I’m supposed to be taking care of? I mean twelve bucks an hour to watch the Disney Channel with these brats, that’s fine but the Baileys never mentioned anything about some gross naked guy and like it’d be one thing if he was cute but he’s got all like the hand thingie and — ugh — gross —

He towers over her from behind and lifts his stumped arm, extending it over her shoulder as if pointing at the (invisible) mirror in front of her, dripping blood onto her clothes.

SHE
So I don’t know if I’m supposed to clean it up or if it’s just some weird like whatever and then hello would you please stop bleeding on me? Ugh. Like see this, now I have to get my shirt drycleaned and like you’re not paying me enough to deal with this like creepo —

She gags, coughing up blood, as He jabs a knife into her lower back. He continues carving into her, cutting something out. Finally he drops the knife on the ground and thrusts his hand into her back, pulling out her kidney. He pushes her deadweight off of him, dropping her limp corpse into the bathtub behind them.

He takes her kidney, feels around his back, and places it inside his own gaping wound. Once he has it in the right place, he reaches back down and picks the knife up off the floor.

He looks at the bloody stump of his own hand, then looks back to the girl in the bathtub, then back at his own hand. He turns around and reaches for her arm.

BLACKOUT.

An Official Message From the Boston Police Department: If You Got Arrested at this year’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade – You Probably Did Something to Deserve It

“Congratulations. You’re our first customers today who haven’t come straight to the bar to order Irish car bombs.”

“But…it’s only 12:02.”

“…”

“And you guys don’t open til noon.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ve only been open for 2 minutes.”

“…”

“And there’s no one else here.”

Yeah.

“…”

“…”

“…Oh.

“Yeah.”

Re: Your Cover Letter

Dear To Whom It May Concern About This Position,

Hello. I am me, applying for this position that I am applying for, which is conveniently the same position as that which is listed in the subject line.

New paragraph.

Here is everything that I listed on my resume, turned into more well-constructed sentences but basically saying the same thing. Desperate attempt to insert some semblance of charm into my prose in order to demonstrate my sparkling personality but without going so far as to make myself seem completely unprofessional thereby causing the reader to doubt my sincerity and thus potential as a future (hopeful) colleague (maybe).

New paragraph.

Totally passive-aggressive ‘call-to-action’ of sorts because that’s what they say you should do on these things but isn’t it rude and/or cocky and therefore off-putting to just straight-up tell you to give me this job? so i don’t know like maybe you should interview me or something yeah that’d be cool kthxbye.

New paragraph.

Love, The Same Guy Who Introduced Himself In The First Sentence Of The First Paragraph Anyway But In Case You Forget After Sorting Through My Nervous Ranting and Rehashing It’s Thom

The Cyborg Head of Stan Lee

An outtake from my new play, True Believers.


The Cyborg Head of Stan Lee is the ultimate weapon of the future, the final outpost for the salvaged prophecies of the greatest human mind, enhanced by futuretech created as a part of PROJECT: A.L.P.H.A.MECH for the technological improvement of mankind. The head retains a shred of Stan Lee’s consciousness — specifically that portion of his brain governing strategic extrapolations. While much of Stan’s face was destroyed in battle with the cancerous rays of the Los Angeles sun, his flesh was virtually reconstructed with an adamantium alloy to replace the pulverized skin. The scientists were also able to establish a basis for the integration of miniaturized relay-circuits, protected by a steel plate implanted in the skull. This plate is further equipped with a pneumatic lens for enhanced 4D vision, as well as an audio receiver and a voice box electronically amplified to approximate human speech. Pope Sylvester II was known to confer with a similar artifact during the 10th century, one that spoke to him of God’s Will. The Cyborg Head of Stan Lee was sent back as a beacon from the end of time, imbued with the Voice of Stane Lee, the new God, according to the gospel of Jack Kirby. It is my mission as its guardian to right the future and change the timeline for the sake of mankind, beginning with Alan Moore’s coming magical war.