By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned at a New Years Eve party
Ned: Ain't it great to see a nuther day end, Pons?
Pons: You mean a year, Ned. It's almost January.
Ned: Oh, then it's the end of the month.
Pons: Well, yes, but also the entire year.
Ned: No kiddin'? So I can end a day, a month, and a year at the same time?
Pons: Sure, Ned. It wasn't long ago that we ended a day, month, year, decade, century, and millennium all on the same day.
Ned: And on the same mell-M and M?
Pons: No. It would have been the next mell - um - millenium.
Ned: Then we're talkin' about the NEXT day, not the same day.
Pons: It's the same thing.
Ned: Like a Next Sex marriage is the same as a Same-Sex one?
Pons: What?
Ned: If I'm next in line at the store, it's like being same in line, but there's some lady with a ton a groc'ries who thinks she's next when, in the re-al-eddy of time, we's really the same.
Pons: That is... I don't know what that is, Ned. It is not right.
Ned: So I ought to be ahead a her by a day or week -- Right?
Pons: Ah -- Hey! Look, Ned! The clock is about to strike midnight!
Ned: Then it will be a next mell-M&M?
Pons: Not quite, Ned.
Ned: Same mell-M&M?
Pons: Well, yes.
Ned: Same year?
Pons: No, Ned.
Ned: Next year?
Pons: Right! Right, right, right!
Ned: So where am I in that groc'ry line?
By Bill Schott
| Author Notes |
All the misspellings are intentional.
MENSA is an international group who get together and discuss important topics outside the spheres of politics, religion, race, or other dividing factors. Mensa is Latin for table, and is based on the idea of a 'round table' forum of equality. Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a Mc Donald's fast-food restaurant.
Pons: Good morning, Ned. Good to see you up and about today.
Ned: Yeah! Nothin' like startin' a day out with a mighty heapin' plate a country ham, fried taters, and grits.
Pons: I'm not sure they serve any of those items here, Ned.
Ned: We too late fer breakfast?
Pons: No. It's still pretty early. Besides, they serve breakfast all day now.
Ned: So they jes' doin' eggs and such all day?
Pons: No. They are giving people what they want.
Ned: So I cain't get no breakfast in the morning, but I can slip in here at noon and get a plate a fatback and skillet fried okra then.
Pons: They won't serve that to you ever.
Ned: Take outs only?
Pons: No, Ned.
Ned: They deliver?
Pons: No, Ned.
Ned: What's this line fer if I ain't gettin' no food?
Pons: Tell you what; the foods on me. What do you want that's on the menu?
Ned: Guess I'll get a Mc Samich a some kind.
Pons: How about a McMuffin?
Ned: Ain't that a kid food?
Pons: It's an English muffin.
Ned: That must be why I can't get no decent breakfast? We's in Angaland.
| Author Notes | Iâ??m working out Nedâ??s dialect. I have him sounding Tennessean to Mississippian to Texan. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a sculpture exhibit
Pons: Hey, Ned. I didn't expect to see you at a sculpture showing.
Ned: You probably never will, Cuz. I just come over to check out this plane crash site.
Pons: This isn't a plane accident, Ned. These are pieces of art.
Ned: I didn't see no pieces a nobody. But looky here at this debris.
Pons: No, Ned. An artist carved these huge designs as proof of his ability.
Ned: This is the proof?
Pons: Oh, yes. Look at this one. It's called --.
Ned: Wait, wait. Let me guess. It's called Body Block.
Pons: What?
Ned: Sure. This feller on the left is gettin' knocked on his keyster by this chick on the right.
Pons:That's not -- wait, what makes you think this is a guy and that a girl?
Ned: Well, looks like they's both nek-ked, like them arteests like to do 'em.
Pons: I think that --
Ned: This one on the right ain't sportin' no package. Now them scoopters would'n fergit to chisel them in iffen they was some.
Pons: Gee, Ned. The plaque says --
Ned: 'Course, he may not be a finished wit' 'em yet.
Pons: Finished?
Ned: Yeah. He still needs ta put some dern hands and feet on these folks. What about heads?
Pons: I'm not sure that's going to happen, Ned.
Ned: Not a hands and feet guy, huh?
Pons: Actually the plaque --
Ned: 'Spose it's jest as well. Them gall dang vandals woulda had them heads knocked off right after they spray painted them crotches.
Pons: I don't know what to say, Ned. Is there any work out here that you like?
Ned: There is that green'n over there by the woods. Seems ta be gatherin' a line.
Pons: That's a portable toilet, Ned.
Ned: Wonner if it fell outta that plane?
| Author Notes | Thanks to seshadri_sreenivasan for use of the photo of the sculpture |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at FanStory.
Ned: Hey, Pons! What site you scopin' out. Ain't lookin' at that parn are ya?
Pons: No way, Jose. I stay far away from that stuff.
Ned: It's me, Pons. Ned. You lookin' at them Mex'can ladies?
Pons: Not at all, Ned. I am entering a poem on this writing site.
Ned: Is it a lim'rick? Does a feller from Nantucket drop trou?
Pons: For Pete's sake, Ned! It's not like that. People from all over submit writing samples and similar people review and critique it.
Ned: Do tell. Well I'd be pleased as punch to submit a poetical contrivance of my own.
Pons: Okay. Here's a contest for a haiku?
Ned: Well I can coo high as the best of em, Pons, but I don't think that'll translate good to writin'.
Pons: A haiku is --
Ned: COOOOO! COOOOO!
Pons: Ned!
Ned: That there's a cuckoo. Get it?
Pons: You're a cuckoo. Got it. A haiku though is an Asian form of poetry. It has --
Ned: Your slurrin' your words, Pons. You mean a ancient ferm of poetry.
Pons: Well, it is that too. It's Asian, like from China or Japan.
Ned: How is it you can tell it's Ayjun? Is it short?
Pons: Why yes it is, Ned, but that --
Ned: Is it unscrewable?
Pons: You mean inscrutable? Actually they are supposed to be the opposite of that. They should reveal universal truth in the leopard's lick or the ripple of a raindrop.
Ned: So you get wet?
Pons: It has three lines.
Ned: Salutation, body, and closing --Right?
Pons: That's a letter.
Ned: So's it three lines or three letters?
Pons: What? It's rows of words. There's a satori and --
Ned: That a ancient word fer roses?
Pons: No. There are - there are ---
Ned: Soundin' a bit scary there, Pons?
Pons: COOOOO! COOOOO! COOOOO! COOOOO!
Ned: Pons! Jeez, man, that parn's done rotted yer mind!
| Author Notes | This was put up about three years ago. I was wondering how it holds up. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a Home Depot.
Ned: Hey, Pons! What brings you into the DIY headquarters?
Pons: I'm doing some landscaping and need to get a hoe.
Ned: Maybe you oughta try one thing at a time, Pons.
Pons: I'm cleaning out a patch by the front and hauling in gravel.
Ned: Gettin' yer ashes hauled in the process?
Pons: Huh?
Ned: Nothin' like a little manual labor to get the labor-ee-toe goin'.
Pons: Know where they keep the tools?
Ned: They got this know-it-all over in lumber, but the numb-nuts in the paint department thinks he's God's gift to home approvement.
Pons: I need new shovels, and a couple of those -- I don't know...
Ned: Contractor babes with the hungry eyes?
Pons: Pick axes.
Ned: Yeh! --and muscle melons to match. Pons you're a wild man!
Pons: What are you doing here, Ned?
Ned: I'm lookin' to get a job here sellin' lumber and such.
Pons: What do you know about lumber?
Ned: I'm a 'stud'. Women 'pine' fer me. And, whatever they want me to do, I 'wood'.
Pons: What if they don't want wood?
Ned: I'm willin' to watch some motor-vated fillies go at it.
Pons: You seem to have a one-track mind, Ned.
Ned: All aboard, Ladies!
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a Ski Lodge.
Ned: That's one steep hill there, Pons.
Pons: The diamond slope is not for the faint of heart.
Ned: What's that other one over there? Looks like that feller's goin' surfin'
Pons: The snowboarders are fun to watch too.
Ned: Looks like somebody's been buildin' a snow fort downhill there.
Pons: Yes, that snowboarder will take on that halfpipe.
Ned: He may want a full bowl afore headin' into that.
Pons: He's goofy-footed.
Ned: He may be stoked then.
Pons: Goofy means he's got his feet inverted.
Ned: Geez! What surgeon would do that just so's a guy could surf better.
Pons: I mean his right foot is forward, which is backward.
Ned: Sounds like you've had a toke yerself
Pons: He's pulling a fakie now.
Ned: This snowboardin' seems pretty sexually or-i-en-tated
Pons: What?
Ned: What was THAT!
Pons: Wow! He did a flying sitzmark.
Ned: I'd leave a stain in my drawers, fer certain.
Pons: Hey look, Ned! They're having a Huckfest on the hill?
Ned: Lord, this cold air must make these people hornier than three-peckered billy goats!
Pons: Let's check out the diamond slope.
Ned: Wonder what kind a canoodlin' is transpirin' here.
Pons: The slope is practically empty. Looks like people have gone to see the biathalon.
Ned: I imagine that's for the BI-ath-o-letes.
Pons: Yeh, I guess. They have rifles.
Ned: Come around me they'll need 'em.
Pons: Look, Ned. It's getting late. Let's go to the lodge and listen to the speaker.
Ned: Who is this guy?
Pons: His name escapes me, but he's a four-way.
Ned: Sounds like the cold air is getting' to you too, Pons.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google
Halfpipe. A vertical U-shaped structure sculpted from snow. Snowboarders and skiers use the opposing walls of the halfpipe to get air and perform tricks Huckfest is a big-air contest, formal or informal. Fakie. to ride backwards without facing the direction of travel Biathlon. A competition among rifle-bearing skiers which rewards skill in skiing cross-country and marksmanship. Flying Sitzmark. In deep snow, the skier launched forward and vertical, landed with his rear end first in the deep stuff, leaving a giant sitzmark in the snow. Goofy, Goofy-Footed. In snowboarding, riding with the right foot in front instead of the left foot, Four-way Skier. One who competed in downhill, slalom, cross-country and jumping. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a
voting booth.
Ned: Who you votin’ for, Pons?
Pons: I’ll vote for the best candidate.
Ned: You have to vote for an American, Pons.
Pons: What?
Ned: Yeah, Candidatians can’t be the president.
Pons: You mean Canadians.
Ned: Them neither. You have to pick one of our own.
Pons: All of the contenders are American citizens.
Ned: No more Hattians like Osama.
Pons: You mean Obama.
Ned: No, he wasn’t from the South.
Pons: Wait. Osama Bin Laden and Barrack Obama are not the same people. He isn’t
from Haiti; he’s from the U.S. state of Hawaii.
Ned: What are you goin’ on about it for, Pons? SEALs took ‘im out long ago.
Pons: Osama, not Obama.
Ned: Sounds like a campaign slogan. You know Osama can’t run ‘cause he’s not an
American, he’s dead, and he’s about as popular as Jeb.
Pons: Okay, alright. Who are you voting for, Ned?
Ned: I’ll tell you, straight up, I’m votin’ for Bill Clinton.
Pons: He’s not running.
Ned: No need. His wife can do the runnin’. Bill can stay inside and run America.
Pons: In what capacity? What position?
Ned: Missionary?
| Author Notes | Image from Google. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a
singles' bar.
Ned: Jeez ow, Pons. Some of these heifers are oogly.
Pons: Everyone seems cheerful and pleasant.
Ned: There's one who'd gag a maggot on a gut wagon.
Pons: Nice lighting. The smell of perfume is intoxicating?
Ned: That one there'd make a train take a dirt road.
Pons: There's a group of ladies standing by the bar.
Ned: They're likely talkin' 'bout the smartest thing one of 'em ever said.
Pons: There is a nice looking red head.
Ned: 'A man once told me...' That's what she said. N'yuk, N'yuk.
Pons: She's looking at me, Ned.
Ned: She's prob'ly tryin' to read your mind, Pons.
Pons: I'm nervous, Ned. What should I do?
Ned: Just step right up and break the ice with a snappy line.
Pons: I don't know any, Ned.
Ned: I can just go and warm her up for you, cuz.
Pons: Thanks, Ned.
Redhead: Hello.
Ned: Why yer red on the head like the dick on a dog.
Redhead: W-w-what?!
Ned: Yer cuter than a speckled pig under a little blue wagon.
Redhead: Please go away!
Pons: What did she say, Ned?
Ned: I guess she musta read yer mind -- you devil.
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a
coffee shop.
Ned: This is crazy, standin' in line for coffee, Pons.
Pons: Yes, but they've so many kinds of beans.
Ned: We eatin' here too?
Pons: No? Oh, I mean coffee beans.
Ned: You eat coffee beans?
Pons: No- well, yes, I HAVE eaten them as part of--
Ned: I only eat reg'lar beans. I like them liver beans.
Pons: Kidney beans.
Ned: Sailor beans.
Pons: Navy beans.
Ned: 'Leemer beans'.
Pons: 'Lyyyye-----ma'.
Ned: Oh, you like 'em too? Let's get them.
Pons: They won't have those, Ned.
Ned: I thought they had all kinds?
Pons: Coffee beans, Ned. They have lots of those.
Ned: How 'bout garbonzo beans?
Pons: No , Ned. They --
Ned: BEDTIME FER GARBONZO!
Pons: Bedtime for Bonzo, Ned; Not garbonzo.
Ned: Oh? OK.
Coffee Monger: What might I prepare for you, Sir?
Ned: Gimme a Bonzo Elk Randy and my cuz is
crazy fer them lymer beans.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google
"Bedtime for Bonzo" a Ronald Reagan movie with a chimp. garbanzo bean= chick pea Elk Randy= el grande |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at an
auto auction.
Ned: I can't believe the price on these cars.
Pons: Yes, the dealers have been getting great buys.
Ned: If you call bidding $800 for a Jaguar and getting it a great deal.
Pons: I sure would.
Ned: You'd bid on a Jaguar, Pons.
Pons: What?
Ned: How can we ever hope to beat them 'fer-a-ners' if we keep buying their cars?
Pons: I'm not buying a foreign car.
Ned: You think a Jaguar's a big cat?
Pons: Well, yes and no.
Ned: That seems to cover all the possible answers.
Pons: I'm not buying a foreign car.
Ned: You already have one.
Pons: I have a 1966 Datsun, sure. It's more of a curiosity than a car.
Ned: It's curious, for sure. It looks like you're in a soap box derby.
Pons: It's small, but seems to last forever.
Ned: Them Jap'neze keepin' you from buyin' American, Pons.
Pons: It was my dad's. It reminds me of him.
Ned: Your dad was Jap'nese? I figured him for a Kraut like us.
Pons: Your dad and my dad are brothers.
Ned: Wow! You mean we're all Jap’nesers?
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at checkout line
Ned: This line's not too long, Pons.
Pons: Yeah, but it's six items or less.
Ned: Well that don't make a lot of sense.
Pons: It's for folks in a hurry.
Ned: You'd think the store would want folks
to buy more, not less. These short lines are
only encouragin' me to put things back to
get out faster and spend fewer bucks.
Pons: What if I just wanted a pack of smokes
and a soda pop, Ned?
Ned: Is this a hyper-pathethic question?
Pons: You mean -- yes, it is.
Ned: Well, if you got a pack of smokes I'd
have to school you on the dangers
of tobacco.
Pons: I don't smoke, Ned.
Ned: So who are the cigarettes for?
Pons: They were Hypothetical.
Ned: That one of them hookah brands?
Pons: No, Ned, just regular cigarettes.
Ned: Like drinkin' regular and not
fat-free Drano?
Pons: What?
Ned: Them coffin nails are bad news, Pons.
Pons: Okay, Ned. I quit.
Ned: Good. Now let's talk about them
sugary drinks?
| Author Notes | Photo from Google |
By Bill Schott
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a
church-sponsored spaghetti dinner.
Ned: Mama mia, Pons. I hear they serve
up some great s'ketti here.
Pons: Yes. Their pasta is a big hit.
Ned: What? Their pastor's a bigot!?!
Pons: Huh?
Ned: What's he got against 'Eye-talians?'
Pons: What!? Nothing!
Ned: I guess not - - eatin' their food and all.
Pons: The pastor is not a bigot.
Ned: But you said he...
Pons: Not he - - she.
Ned: Oh Lord! The pastor's a he/she?!
Pons: What!?
Ned: This church is lib'ral as hell, ain't it?
Pons: What!?
Ned: This is what's drivin' folks to be Catlick.
Pons: Ned! Calm down. Here... have a plate of spaghetti.
My treat. Eat up.
Ned: Hey, this reminds me of my mom.
Pons: Sauce and meatballs?
Ned: No, I didn't see the amoebas. Her amoebic dysentery
looked a lot like this though.
Pons: Holy shit!
Ned: Gee, Pons. You sure know how to turn a phrase.
| Author Notes | Pic from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a
theater to watch Star Wars.
Ned: I can hardly wait to see this flick, Pons.
Pons: Yes, it's been a long time coming.
Ned: Right? It was back in the sixties that
Capt. Kirk and Dr. Spock first got
them star wars going.
Pons: That's Star Trek.
Ned: No, Shrek didn't star in it back then.
Pons: He's not in it now.
Ned: How could they leave Shrek out. Pons?
I suppose we won't be seeing Dr. Spock
either.
Pons: You will not -- and it's mister.
Ned: Well, MISTER Pons, how could they
make this movie without, basically, the
main character?
Pons: Spock was never the main character.
Ned: Sure. I heard that Capt. Kirk stole the
spotlight and got all the women.
Pons: Look, Ned, just to be clear. We're not
going to watch Star Trek.
Ned: Then why are we here?
Pons: We're here to watch Star Wars.
Ned: Is that one of those Hollywood
reality things?
Pons: No, Ned. It's the movie we've come
to see about the Force, the Empire,
and a lot of characters you will
recognize.
Ned: Like Klingons? Hey, Pons, remember
that toilet paper joke about Klingons?.
Pons: There are no Klingons.
Ned: No Klingons -- around Ur-ay-nus. Right?
Pons: This isn't Star Trek, Ned. This is a
totally different story.
Ned: Like Star Trek: Voyager?
Pons: Voyager wasn't Star Wars, Ned.
Ned: It sure wasn't Star Trek either.
Pons: I hope you like this movie, Ned.
It's the third trilogy.
Ned: I thought it was Star Wars?
| Author Notes | Pic from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a library.
Ned: It's been a while since I've been in a
'lie berry'.
Pons: LI B-R-A-R-E RY.
Ned: Yeh? You feeling okay, Pons? You
got rapture of the lie berry or
somethin'?
Pons: No. I was just pronouncing the
word correctly..
Ned: Sure, it's a fun word. LIE BERRY.
Pons: No, that's wrong. It's like prairie,
not berry.
Ned: The lie berry is like a prairie?
Pons: No, Ned. It isn't like a prairie.
It's pronounced that way.
Ned: LIE PRARIE? I don't think so,
Pons.
Pons: Let's just get a book.
Ned: How about Stephen King?
Pons: I haven't read a Stephen King
novel since Carrie.
Ned: Old girl friend?
Pons: Who?
Ned: Sherry.
Pons: No, it's Carrie.
Ned: Like in CARRY OUT.
Pons: Right.
Ned: So, Carrie's out. What
happened with you two?
Pons: There is no Carrie.
Ned: Right. So did you dump her or
did she boot you.
Pons: Carrie is a novel by Stephen King.
Ned: Gee, Pons. You gotta get yourself
a real girl.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and his cousin Ned meet at a yard sale.
Ned: Wait! Is that what I think it is?
Pons: What do you think it is?
Ned: Is that a 1938 Ford?
Pons: No. It's an Avon bottle that looks like a car.
Ned: Yeah! It looks like a 1942 Ford.
Pons: I thought you said it looked like a...
Ned: C'mon! I realized that during WWII they probably made cars out of other things than steel, which was needed in the war effort.
Pons: So, you think they made them -- out of glass?
Ned: It's not out of the realm of possibility.
Pons: It's not?
Ned: What's that you got in your hands?
Pons: An Avon bottle.
Ned: It couldn't be a compact 1942 Ford?
Pons: Who would drive it?
Ned: People who were shrunk to fit it.
Pons: People who were -- what?
Ned: Didn't you ever read Fantastic Voyage where the people got shrunk to fit in
a hypodermic?
Pons: That's fiction.
Ned: There was a war on. That information
was secret.
Pons: You read it though.
Ned: It's obviously been declassified.
Pons: How would someone drive a bottle?
There's no engine. The tires are glass.
The interior is empty.
Ned: I'll bet it smells good though.
| Author Notes |
Pic from Google
I'm putting these Pons and Ned scripts back through to get an idea of how they compare to each other. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at a Used Car Lot
Ned: So whatcha in the market fer, Pons?
Pons: Just want to replace my "Beats Walkin'" with a better ride.
Ned: Yeh, fer sure. Looks like they got a 'Histry a da OttaMObile' shindig goin' on tahday.
Pons: No, Ned. I think these are the used cars they have available.
Ned: No kiddin'? I think I seen a cuppla them cars up on blocks in Pappy's back yard.
Pons: They have one here up on blocks as well.
Ned: Probly sos nobody'll steal it.
Pons: If I owned that car I'd be tempted to insure it to the hilt and park it on an out of the way section of the train track.
Ned: Yer losin' it, Pons. That ain't no place to park a car. What if a train come along?
Pons: I'd use the insurance money to buy a better car.
Ned: Gotcha. Then you'd take er to a piece a track uptown and let her git hit agin.
Pons: Well -- no.
Ned: May be by a better train, too.
Pons: What?
Ned: Avenchly, by un by, ya git yersef a train wit yer assurance money and ram it inta cars olliver town.
Pons: Or -- I might want to buy this car.
Ned: This here car's got lemon writ olliver it.
Pons: That's LeMans, Ned. It's a Pontiac.
Ned: That one says it gots a 389 cubic inch injun, four-on-the floor, six-pack carb, high-rise manifold, dual exhaust, L50s, air shocks, spring lifters, and a one-owner title.
Pons: It also has a state-of-the-art, eight-track tape player with owner-installed, quadraphonic speakers in the trunk. There's even purple shag carpet and a twelve-inch steering wheel.
Ned: She's a prize fer certain.
Pons: I think I'll look elsewhere.
Ned: Let's go check the train tracks uptown.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Ned: Let's throw us some horse shoes, Pons.
Pons: I'm not much good at that game, Ned.
Ned: Well it's changed since I first played it as a kid.
Pons: Oh? How's that?
Ned: Well first, ya ain't gotta take the shoes offa the dang horse. They's already yanked 'em.
Pons: You had to take the horseshoes off an actual horse?
Ned: Where else would ya git'em?
Pons: How about BEFORE they were put on?
Ned: Well gosh, Pons. They gotta be shaped like a horse's huff, else dey won't hook on that pole yonder.
Pons: What?
Ned: And dey got's ta be flat.
Pons: Flat?
Ned: Yeah. The horse flattens 'em out so's dey fly like a sickle in a "So's yer old man" fight.
Pons: So's your old man?
Ned: Dat's the spirit, Pons.
Pons: Wait! The shoes are iron; they don't need flattening.
Ned: That's a dern nice pleat in dem pants a yers, Pons. Someone IRON doze?
Pons: You mean -- because they're flat? Like a horseshoe? Iron -- flat -- like that?
Ned: Now yer learnin', Pons. A fore long yall be a exbert.
Pons: Okay. So I throw it at the pole and ring it; right?
Ned: Yep. OR ya can jes' git close. Like in hand grenades.
Pons: Right. I heard that joke that close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.
Ned: Nukes too I wager.
Pons: Hey! I have a ringer!
Ned: Dat's great, Pons. I prob'ly cain't do no better'n dat.
Pons: So I win?
Ned: Well, mebbee. Let's see what I kin do wit this here hand grenade.
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at a Laboratory
Ned: Hey, Cuz! Whatcha doin here at the la-ba-dab-ory?
Pons: I came to get a DNA test done.
Ned: I thank dey do dem dare in dat closet.
Pons: Really?
Ned: There were a couple young science folk in there earlier. Said they'd be swappin' DNA.
Pons: Ye- ahhh. I don't think that's what I want.
Ned: The head needle feller is in that office yonder.
Pons: Why are you here, Ned?
Ned: Heard dey was givin' out free shots.
Pons: Flu?
Ned: Well, I walked purdy quick.
Pons: Okay. Well --
Ned: Why's ya gettin' yer DNA looked at?
Pons:I was going to search out some of our ancestors.
Ned: They owe you money?
Pons: No. I was just--
Ned: My pap done one of them DNA searches too.
Pons:Uncle Noodle? What did he discover?
Ned: Best I can figure from his stammering was that he weren't my daddy.
Pons: Oh no!. Ned! What did Aunt Lilith say about that?
Ned: I ain't talked to her yet. I just hope she ain't got herself one a dem tests already.
Pons:Why?
Ned: I'd hate findin' out she ain't my maw .
By Bill Schott
Pons: This gym seems to have all the right equipment, Ned.
Ned: Which one is Jim?
Pons: Gym is for gymnasium, Ned.
Ned: He a relation to them Crazy Nasiums we met in high school?
Pons: You mean the Nacien brothers? No, Ned. You misunderstand.
Ned: They was a pair fer sure.
Pons: Right. No, Ned. This place is called a gym because people come here to exercise.
Ned: So if I were one of dem Exorcists I'd be trying to get the --
Pons: No, Ned. We are here to work on our bodies. Like these people.
Ned: That feller's pushin' that big bar a metal offa 'im while that other dude just stands a
watches 'im strugglin'.
Pons: He's a spotter.
Ned: He a relation to them Spotter kids back in high school?
Pons: The Spodder family? No, Ned. A spotter --
Ned: What's dat guy doin'?
Pons: He is rowing.
Ned: Ain't he missin' a couple thangs?
Pons: Ah -- I --
Ned: He ain't makin' a lot a progress and I'm a certain dat boat ain't even D worthy.
Pons: D worthy?
Ned: Ain't C worthy.
Pons: He doesn't expect to get anywhere.
Ned: So he ain't dat crazy anyway.
Pons: How about the treadmill?
Ned: Dat guy dare runnin' and not getting' nowhere?
Pons: He's running and that's what's important.
Ned: I'd say da 'portant part a runnin' is getting away from whatever is a chasin' ya.
Pons: No one is chasing him.
Ned: That's purdy clear. I 'spose he ain't crazy neither?
Pons: He is not, Ned. He is trying to get healthy, stay healthy, or improve his current status.
Ned: We talkin' mental healthy?
Pons: Ah -- no, Ned. Ah -- physical.
Ned: Fizzy what?
Pons: Maybe we should just run.
Ned: From this here nut house? Now yer talkin. Wanna git some pie?
By Bill Schott
Pons finds Ned at a pancake house banquet room.
Pons: Hi, Ned! Thanks for the invitation to brunch.
Ned: Yeh, yeh, Pons. Nothin' like some flap jacks to git yer day started. 'spec'ly taday!
Pons: What's going on?
Ned: This here's a pest control seminar about becomin' a bug killer.
Pons: At a pancake house?
Ned: Sure! What better place, huh? This is like learnin' ya ta fish by goin' to a lake. Right?!
Pons: Huh?
Ned: Looky thar! Dase a couple a roaches right by the speakers feet. Wonner iffin' he brung 'em with?
Pons: This guy is going to be talking about killing roaches?
Ned: Sure! Dem and aw dem utter buggers.
Pons: So we have to listen to a pest control presentation while we eat?
Ned: I wouldn't wait on his talk, Pons. It gits mighty graphicky. If I're you, I'd shove dem cakes down now. Some parts a dis show could hit ya wrong.
Pons: So you've seen this before?
Ned: Oh yehhh! I musta bin ta nine a dese babes.
Pons: So they show us how to kill insects?
Ned: Fer a livin', Cuz.
Pons: I don't want to work for a pest control company.
Ned: 'Course not, Pons. The big money is in doin' it independent like.
Pons: What do you mean?
Ned: I mean ya go to peopa's houses and kill what bugs they got.
Pons: With what?
Ned: Dat's my gimmick, Pons. No chemercals!
Pons: What then?
Ned: Look a ma feet, Pons.
Pons: Are those cowboy boots?
Ned: Note dem pointy toes, Dude. Dems fer dem corners in da house.
Pons: What if the bugs can't be seen?
Ned: Ya wait em out, Pons. Patience is da key ta bein' a successfuller 'Roachinator'.
Pons: Roachinator?
Ned: Dat'll be my handle, Pons. Yall kin be my sidekick.
Pons: Roach Boy?
Ned: Nah! Dats dumb. You'd be -- Buggaboo!
Pons: That should strike fear into the hearts of those million or so cockroaches.
Ned: My thinkin' exact.
Pons: Well, thanks for the free meal, Ned. I think I'll pass on the bug class, and the career.
Ned: I gitcha, Cuz. Some mountains is too high.
Pons: Maybe we can get a pizza later this week?
Ned: You bet, Pons. It'll be yer turn ta buy.
| Author Notes |
Thanks to VMarguarite for use of the artwork
Cockroach World 4 |
By Bill Schott
Periplaneta
Oh my God! It’s a cockroach!
Americana
Standing together at the center of the store.
Ned: This 'sposed ta be the happiest place on earth?
Pons: No, Ned. You're thinking of Disneyland. This is a store.
Ned: Some kinda importers?
Pons: Importers?
Ned: Sure. They ship stuff to Ameriker from Dizzyland. Hear they got us by the berries with a trade def-a-shit.
Pons: Deficit?
Ned: Heck yeh, Pons! Don't wanna poop standin' up.
Pons: What?
Ned: Wonner if they’re that there Mouse What Roared country I read about in school.
Pons: Why, Ned? Is it because of Mickey Mouse?
Ned: That there's a big clue, ain't it?
Pons: Ned -- Disneyland isn't a country. Neither is DisneyWorld
Ned: Well, natch, Dizzyworld ain't no country. It's a dang planet.
Pons: It's not a planet, Ned.
Ned: Got downsized like Pluto, huh. Hey! Wonner if DizzyWorld and Pluto are the same place. That'd 'splain that dog what's wit Mickey Mouse all the time.
Pons: This is a store, Ned.
Ned: Goofy! That's the dog I was talkin' 'bout.
Pons: I came to get a toy for my sister's friend's daughter.
Ned: She like furren toys? You really ought ta be buy 'merican, Pons.
Pons: She likes Princesses.
Ned: Wasn't we talkin' 'bout Goofy?
Pons: Y'know, maybe I'll just go to the store across the street for a toy.
Ned: Now yer talkin', Cuz. Git yer toys at the Toys-R- U.S. of A.
Pons: Okay, Ned. Toys R USA.
Ned: We're gonna make 'merica great again.
Pons: One unhappy girl at a time.
By Bill Schott
Standing in line at the front of the store.
Ned: Hey, Cuz!
Pons: Oh, Hi, Ned.
Ned: Funny meetin' you here. I figured you more for a Target or Walmart consumpter.
Pons: You mean consumer.
Ned: Yeh, we don't use them fancy names fer us elves here at Kmart, Pons.
Pons: Us selves?
Ned: No, no-- ha ha -- we ain't no elves, Pons.
Pons: What?
Ned: We're just reg'lar folk, Pons. You do know what the big K stands fer doncha?
Pons: The parent company, Kresge.
Ned: Nah. It stands fer kin. We're a big ol' brotherhood here at Kin mart, Pons.
Pons: Okay, Ned.
Ned: What brings ya to Kin mart today, Pons?
Pons: Well, this is funny. I received a Kmart gift card in a birthday card from you, Ned.
Ned: Well, I'll be! I remember that. I re-gifted that card.
Pons: That's okay, Ned. Do you remember how much is on it?
Ned: That there's a poser, Pons. Let's see, it had a hundert on it when I got it from yer maw.
Pons: Huh?
Ned: I first off got a kurt a oil fer my hog.
Pons: You own a Harley?
Ned: His name is Proffezzer Porkenbeans, Pons. And ya cain't own a pig anymore en ya can a cat.
Pons: Okay, Ned. So you bought oil with my - er - the card?
Ned: Yep! The Proffezzer likes gettin' slicked up fer the ladies.
Pons: Yeh, okay - yeh. You purchased oil and --.
Ned: I'm recollectin' buyin' some cabbages.
Pons: Cabbages?
Ned: Oh yeh, Pons. I make and jar up my own cole slaw, sauerkraut, and cabbage soup. I buy them suckers right off the truck in the back a this here store.
Pons: You paid for those with this card?
Ned: Nah, 'course not. Them fellers just deal in casherino.
Pons: What about the card, Ned?
Ned: Well, as I remember, I zipped through that card all in one visit. Bought some raw water, a bunch a Green Lannert t-shirts and under pants, a case of Big K imitation wine, and deodorant fer them days atween dips in the bath tub.
Pons: You emptied the card? What the hell is raw water?
Ned: It's the IN thin' ta do now, Pons. You get a bunch a empty water bottles and fill ’em back up from a rain barrel or mud puddle. Then folks pay big bucks ta drink this natural stuff.
Pons: You pay for-- never mind, So what's on the card now?
Ned: She's cleared, Pons. You can put how ever much you want on 'er.
Pons: Thanks, Ned.
Ned: Welcome to Kin mart, Pons.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet up with a local publisher, Scorsese, Inc., to discuss a book about their recorded meetings.
Sookie: Morning, Gentlemen! Welcome to Scorsese Publications. I'm Sookie.
Pons: Thanks, Sookie. Nice to be here.
Ned: Yep! Couldn't be happier if I were gittin' hung with a new rope. Publishin' wit Scurvy will be a coolio dealio, fer sure.
Sookie: That's Scorsese.
Ned: Thank ya.
Sookie: No, I mean the company name is Scorsese.
Ned: Not tall. I'm sure it's fine.
Pons: Maybe we should get started?
Ned: Right on, Amigas. Like dem Frenchies say, Le speedo we suck seedo.
Sookie: Huh?
Pons: I think he meant , With speed we succeed, in French.
Ned: Oui !
Sookie: Okaaaay -- let's get started then.
Pons: We have twenty-five editions of Pons and Ned. Is that enough for publication?
Sookie: It really depends on how long they are, what format you want to go with, and the audience you are looking to entertain.
Pons: You've seen them already, right? Isn't that why we're here?
Ned: I thunk we was ready ta launch dis puppy.
Sookie: Oh, no no, we need to feel each other out first.
Ned: C'mon, Pons. What sort of pree-verts you got us dealin' wit here?
Sookie: I don't understand?
Pons: He misinterpreted your remark just now. He heard FEEL, and got the wrong idea.
Ned: I ain't sure how ya typ'licky negotiate, Sucky, but Pons and me got stan'ards a conduct we ain't 'bout ta compromise.
Sookie: My name is Sookie.
Ned: Yeh, but ya could git it changed ta sumpin' else. Legal an' all.
Sookie: I am totally confused here.
Pons: Listen, Sookie. We can proceed. I will do the paperwork with you. Ned can look it over when we sign it.
Ned: Suits me, Pons.
Sookie: Let's see. You have a birthday party, a gift shop. new year's day, a MENSA meeting, a fast food store --
Pons: Oh yes! Those are so very funny. Ned is a hoot.
Ned: My roguish demaynor is yer lesson in greatnessness.
Sookie: Your modesty is humbling.
Pons: Now there's also the art show, writing online, Home Depot, the ski slopes, and the voting polls.
Ned: The polls. 'Member dem, Pons. Dat were back win ya thunk Hillary were gonna win.
Sookie: There's a cafe, an auction, a grocery store, spaghetti at a church social, and the movies.
Pons: We had some terrific conversations at those places.
Ned: Think I 'member that spygitty one. Oddball church dough.
Sookie: You meet at a library, a yard sale, a used car lot, play horseshoes, and visit a science lab.
Pons: We went to a gym, too. Also there was the pest control seminar, the Disney store, Kmart, and the singles bar.
Ned: Won't be long 'til Sucky an' hees Scurvy publishin' comp'ny has'em put up in a big' ol' book.
Sookie: My name is Sookie.
Ned: Yeh, we ain't goin' wit dat title. Ya oughta save dat dere one fer y'own book, Sucky.
Sookie: Perhaps. Yes. Perhaps I will.
Pons: We're ready to sign, Sookie.
Ned: Should I use ma real name er ma numdi plum?
Pons: You have a pen name?
Ned: Well, my name for the pen was Convict, but I use da name Ned when I'ma writin'.
Sookie: Ned will be fine. An 'X' will suffice, really.
Ned: I try an' save dem fer playin' dic-dac-doe.
Sookie: Oh?
Ned: Same wit dem.
| Author Notes |
This scene will begin the book which contains twenty-five more scenes. My current plan is to run these through to reviewers one more time before putting them in a book. I will try to promote them quickly to keep you interested in following the boys' progress. Thanks.
Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Ned meets Pons at a Bee Farm. The scene opens with Ned completely covered in honey bees to the point of total opacity.
Pons: Ned!? Is that you?!
Ned: Hmmff-bzzzzzzz-mmm
Pons: So you let a couple of bees land on you?
Ned: Hmmphfff-bzzz-bzzzz-mmmtff
Pons: And they kept landing more and more?
Ned: Hmm-hmm mmmff-bzzzzzzz-mmm
Pons: How long did it take to cover you like this?
Ned rakes his fingers across his mouth to speak more freely
Ned: Them flitters was on me faster'n a Mahatma on a meat pie. Ouch!
Pons: What happened!?
Ned: Dang flitta 'tung ma tongue!
Pons: So, I gather you call the bees flitters?
Ned: Suh. Cwittahs ut fwy.
Pons: Critters that fly? Right. Your tongue most be ballooning. We'll need to get you to see a doctor.
Ned: Hmmphfff-bzzz-bzzzz-mmmtff
Pons: You might want to talk with bees all over you all the time. It's easier to understand you. To answer your question, they can take the bees off with steam.
Ned: Hmmff-bzzzzzzz-mmm?
Pons: No, not a team. Steam. Hot vapor.
Ned: Hmff-mmm-bzzzz
Pons: No, we won't be going to a spa; they have a steamer here.
Ned: Hmmff-Hmmff-bzzz zzzz-mmm bzzz.
Pons: Yes, they ought to put a spa in here at the bee farm.
Ned: Hmmff-bzzzzzzz-mmm
Pons: Right. A bear petting zoo and a honey-covered pillow fight competition would likely double their sales.
Ned: Hmmff-bzzzzzzz-mmm?
Pons: Why did we come here? Well, Ned, I said to meet me at that yard sale NEXT to the Bee Farm. We were going to go garage 'saleing'.
Ned: Hmmff-hmmff mmmm mmmm bzzzzzzz?
Pons: No, Ned. You won't need a life vest.
| Author Notes |
opacity= totally obscured
Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
The scene opens with Ned wandering in what appears to be the cavernous insides of a whale. He is eventually approached by Pons and others.
Ned: Land o' Goshin! Dis here's da innards of a whale! I been swallered by Maybe Dick!
Pons: Hey, Ned. Funny meeting you here.
Ned: Jumpin' Gehosophat, Pons! You got yerself ate by Maybe Dick too?
Pons: You must be dreaming, Ned.
Ned: I ain't never seen no whale's insides, Pons. How'd I know what ta dream?
Pons: Some kind of cartoon idea of what it might be like.
Ned: Oh? Ya mean like Pin-o-chee-oh? Dat wood kid what got drunk in by a big ol' whale?
Pons: Monstro.
Ned: So we're in Monsteroh's belly, huh? Ain't dat somethin' ?
Pons: More likely, Ned, you're only dreaming you're here.
Ned: But I got dis fishin' pole. Why would I a brung dis if I were just dreamin' ?
Pons: Dreams are random, Ned. Things just show up out of your subconscious so your brain can discharge pent up thoughts. That way you won't go crazy.
Ned: Now wait a gall dang minute dere, Pons. I got no ideer what da heck you just said. How could I be dreamin dat?
Pons: It could be nonsense words that only seem to have meaning in your dream state.
Ned: Well dat dang near resemblifies how it is when I'm waked.
Jonah: Either of you boys know how to get to Albuquerque?
Ned: Lordy, Pons! Dis here's dat ol' boy what got swallered by da whale in the Bible.
Pons: You mean Jonah?
Ned: No. Dat other dude what built da big boat den filled it full a all da animals aseptn dinosaurs an' unicorns.
Pons: That was Noah, Ned, not Jonah.
Ned: Ain't dat what I said?
Pons: But Noah wasn't eaten by a big fish.
Noah: Yes I was.
Pons: What happened to Jonah.
Moses: Who?
Pons: Oh wow, Ned. Your dream is getting a bit weird.
Ned: Weirderer dan being in the belly of a gia-gantic whale?
Geppetto: Have you boys seen my son?
Pons: Pinocchio?
Geppetto: We pronounce his name - Pin-o-chee-oh.
Pons: Well, of course. In Ned's dream you would.
Ned: Don't it smell fishy in here, Pons?
Pons: It does. Did you eat fish before you went to sleep?
Ned: I 'member eatin' some leftover tuner fish.
Pons: How LEFT over was it?
Ned: Well I put it on some bread fer a sammich on Tuesdee; left it on da counter fer a day; put 'er in the frigatater on Thursdee; pulled it out an' left it on da windersill 'til Saturdee.
Pons: A week!?
Ned: Well, I meant the Saturdee afore dis lassun.
Pons: It's a wonder it didn't kill you.
Ned: Gee willickers, Pons! Ya think I might be in one of dem co-mers?
Pons: Let's just say that rancid tuna is causing this odd dream.
Ned: Glad I didn't pick one a dem cent'ry eggs ta eat.
Pons: You have hundred year old eggs?
Ned: Naw. Dey about a year dough.
Pons: Right. Good thing you didn't eat one of those.
Ned: We mighta ended up inside a dang chicken.
| Author Notes |
Whale World 9
Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons meet at a Shakespearean play.
Pons: Glad you could make it, Ned.
Ned: Yeah, Pons. I ain't never seen no gobbler show afore.
Pons: Gobbler?
Ned: Da pogram says it's da tannin' a da shoe.
Pons: That's an em, Ned, not two ens.
Ned: So it's a TAMin a da shoe? S'pose we'll get learned what a gobbler does?
Pons: Wait, wait, wait, Ned. Gee, where do I start. It's Ka cobbler, not Ga gobbler.
Ned: (making and flapping bent-arm wings and using a shrill voice) Cobble, cobble, cobble!
Pons: Holy cow, Ned!
Ned: Don't sound right, do it. (again with motions and voice) Cobble, cobble, cobble!
Pons: Ned! Stop!
Ned: I KNOW! Oughta be (motion and sound) Gobble, gobble, gobble!
Pons: Ned, listen. This is a play. It's called The Taming of the SHREW -- not shoe.
Ned: Oh. So what's a sha-ROO?
Pons: A shrew is a rodent.
Ned: So, instead a learnin' shoe apair we git ta train some kinda mouse?
Pons: This is not a DIY program, Ned. It's a play.
Ned: No need fer no bad langedge dere, Pons.
Pons: You mean DIY?
Ned: Your ma muss go through soap fast awashin' yer mout, Pons
Pons: Do It Yourself, Ned.
Ned: Ain't gonna, Pons. Get thee ahind me, Satan.
Pons: Look, Ned. Let's just watch this play. It has actors dressed up in old time clothes.
Ned: Dere’s a sale at the Kmart. Dey oughta update dere duds.
Pons: Right. Okay. Well, the curtains going up.
Ned: I dunno 'bout da curtains, but da clothes er fer def’nit on sale.
To be continued..
| Author Notes |
All misspelled words are intentional.
Yes, Ned is THAT dumb. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned have come to a stage rendition of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. The curtain has gone up and the first act is in play.
Pons: They have a lot of people in this scene, Ned.
Ned: Yeh, a peck fer sure. Couldn't they git no 'mericans ta act in this?
Pons: This is an American troupe, Ned.
Ned: In what army?
Pons: No, Ned. Not that kind of troop.
Ned: I thunk Shikspeer spoke Anglish.
Pons: This is English, Ned.
Ned: Ain't no Anglish I ever heard. Caint make out but one er two words outta a bunch a
talkin'.
Pons: I'm sorry, Ned. I can try to let you know what's going on. It's a really funny play.
Ned: Kin we turn the volume down on 'em. Don't much matter what they're sayin' anyway.
Pons: This is live theater, Ned. They're real people. We can't just turn them down.
Ned: This is almost as bad as not being able to turn 'em up. I was watchin' some old movie
on the telervision last night and I musta had that volloom up ta maximization. Not a dang word. Just crazy static.
Pons: What were you watching?
Ned: Sumpin wit Buster Keaton in it.
Pons: That's a silent movie, Ned.
Ned: Sure was. 'Cept dat static. Man! It was rough watchin' dat fer twenty minutes.
Pons: You watched it for twenty minutes?
Ned: Yeh. Den da blamed commercial come on an' near blowed me true da wall.
Pons: Oh, look. The stage is full of cast members.
Ned: I actual been watchin' it as I was talkin', an' I got a handle on what's a goin' on.
Pons: Great.
Ned: Yeh. So dis preacher got a daughter what's possessed an' he done called all his Eye-talian friends ta exorcise her.
Pons: What?
Ned: Yeh. She's crazier dan a badger wit a bowie knife.
Pons: A what?
Ned: So alla hees friends, like Gremio, Tranio, Cocomo an' Patookio, come ta hep 'im git 'er right.
Pons: Wait, wait. Preacher?
Ned: Baptista. He's 'er daddy.
Pons: But that--
Ned: This is goin' right along, Pons. Ya gotta pay attention dough, er yall miss what's hap'nin'. Already tough enough, dem talkin' gibberish an' all.
Pons: Yeh, okay. We can just discuss it at the intermission.
Ned: Somebody oughta give Shikspeer a call an' see iffin he caint do sumpin 'bout dis lingo.
Pons: You would have to call 1588 if you want to talk to William Shakespeare.
Ned: Sure. What's da area code.
To be continued...
| Author Notes |
The image is from Google.
Knowledge of the play would help a lot here. If you're lost, let me know and I'll describe the scene in the stage play. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at someone's niece's graduation party.
Ned: Fancy meetin' you here, Pons. This yer niecees gladyeration?
Pons: Gladyeration?
Ned: Oops, sorry, Cuz. I thunk she gladyerated.
Pons: Well, she may have GRAD-uated.
Ned: Dat's close enough, I reckon.
Bill: Hey, Pons -- Ned, let me get a shot of you two.
Ned: Okay, but I ain't the gladyerit.
Pons: Graduate.
Ned: Not even dat.
Bill: Say cheese!
Ned: (With hands cupped around his mouth, shouting) CHEEEESE!
Pons: What in the world was that for?
Ned: Use ta have a hound dog aname a Cheese. Dat's how I called him. (Yelling again) CHEESE!
Bill: Well, that's different. You'd think you yelled fire the way people beat feet out of here.
Ned: Cheese is a perahful draw, Willy.
Bill: It's Bill.
Ned: Oh, sorry, Bull. I thunk yer real name were Willum.
Pons: Bill is short for William, Ned.
Ned: I'd say he were as tall as any dude named Willy I ever seed.
Bill: (miffed) Not much separates you from a fool.
Ned: (Realizing he's been insulted) Jist air an' opportunity, Willy. (then sucking in air) Dere goes da air.
Pons: Wait, fellas. I am amazed this is happening. This is a graduation party, not a bar somewhere.
Bill: Sorry, Pons. I'm a bit sensitive about my name.
Ned: (still irritated) Makes me a bit ill my own self.
Pons: Okay, that's it. Bill, just get the shot, okay.
Bill: Sure. Say --uh -- just smile.
Ned: (screaming) JUST SMILE!
Pons: Yeah. That's great. Did you get a picture, Bill?
Bill: Yeah. I'll need to photoshop it though.
Pons: Why's that?
Bill: See if I can air brush some of the neanderthal out of Ned's face.
Ned: I knowd I oughta had ate dat stew wit a spoon astead a slurpin' it up.
Pons: Right. Thanks, Bill.
Ned: Rod-jo, Phil.
Bill: Phil is short for Phillip.
Ned: Well, now it's short fer Willy.
Pons: Let's go talk to the gladyerate, Ned.
Ned: Hey, ya gotter right. Grad I cud learn ya sumptin.
| Author Notes |
Photo is of two candidates to represent Pons and Ned when we go to print.
What do you think? You'll have to pick which is which. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet outside a kung fu classroom.
Pons: (Trying to hide his astonishment that Ned has shown up dressed in a full-size, green, insect costume). Hey, Ned. Or should I call you grasshopper?
Ned: The sissy told us ta git suits ta match our dis’plins, so I fetched a prayin’ mantis gitup.
Pons: You mean the sensei; and I’m pretty sure he meant a gi with the appropriate colors.
Ned: Well this here is wad a prayin’ mantis looks like, ‘cept a tad smaller.
Pons: I’m surprised you found one in your size.
Ned: Yeah —nah, they didn’t have none in growed up sizes. I had a lady in the store sew dissun tagetter fer me.
Pons: That’s a lot to do for someone who has not even been to a class yet.
Ned: Like they say, Pons — In fer a penny, in fer a poundin’.
Pons: This should be an interesting session. I think after we learn some terms we will get to practice moves.
Ned: I ‘magine I’ll be saying grace and eatin’ flies. (Ned imitates prayer and then his hands at his mouth eating)
Pons: (smiling) That’s intimidating, Ned.
Ned: Wads yer style agin? Grape ape?
Pons: Drunken monkey.
Ned: No need for dat, Pons. I jus’ assta question.
Pons: Drunken monkey is the style, Ned.
Ned: Daddy had dat style too. Er wazzit Drunken skunk?
Pons: I didn’t know Uncle Zed drank.
Ned: He says he quit drinkin’ once they invented the funnel.
Pons: Right. Well, are you ready to work on a belt in Kung Fu?
Ned: Yessiree! Better’n a belt fer bein’ a dang foo’. Ma handelt dat dis’plin.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at a dentist's office waiting room.
Pons: Hey, Ned. Glad you called me about going to the dentist. So you want me to hold your hand while this --- Dr. Dennis -- gives you the once over?
Ned: I s'pose. Got a card in the mail said I, or da current resident, ought to stop in fer a freebie check up.
Pons: When were you here last?
Ned: Last time I was HERE, this weren't a tooth-guy buildin', but Mrs. Dapoppalo's rasberrah patch.
Pons: Holy cow, Ned! This fellow Dr. Dennis has been here twelve years. Where did you go before then?
Ned: Ma used ta do my teethes at home.
Pons: Aunt Nelly was a dentist?
Ned: She was more a wad I'd call a pullist.
Pons: Gee, Ned. Have you ever been to a dentist?
Ned: Oh yeah. Granddaddy used ta brush my teethes after he done the shitlin pony and Barksalot.
Pons: I remember your folks had a Shetland pony. I don't recall a dog.
Ned: Barksalot had his own room upstairs. He were a bit ova rackloose.
Pons: When I came over you came from upstairs, were there two rooms up there?
Ned: Naw. I slept in the attic.
Pons: The dog slept in a room and you slept in the attic?
Ned: I thunk I gist said that, Pons. You got some ah dat laughin' gas a'ready.
Pons: No, I haven't been in yet. So your Grandfather would brush the horse's teeth, the dog's, and THEN yours.
Ned: Now wouldn't dat be dumb, Pons?
Pons: It sure would, accepting the whole concept anyway.
Ned: Barksalot was first, cuz he were older'n me. Then Me and THEN Black Beauty.
Pons: The pony's name was Black Beauty? Wasn't it beige and white?
Ned: I dun folla?
Pons: Never mind, Ned. How was Barksalot older than you?
Ned: Gosh, Ned. The critter aged seven years to my one. He coulda got a driver's license afore I coulda crossed da street on my own.
Pons: So you've never been to a dentist's office, like today?
Ned: Nope. Dis'll be ma first proofashional cleanin'.
Pons: I hope you don't have any cavities.
Ned: Shouldn't. I took a shurer and doused my sweaty places wit rubbin' alkeyhall.
| Author Notes |
I am suggesting ...cavities... sounds like ...scabies... to Ned.
Scabies (skay bees) Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned at a dental exam. Ned is in the chair as Pons sits nearby against the wall.
Dr. Dennis (DD): So, Pons, are you here for moral support?
Pons: Yes. This is Ned's first visit, ever, and he was a bit nervous.
Ned: Ain't had my teethes checked by a ackachull dentite, 'cept my mah.
DD: Well this ought to be exciting! The last time I worked on an unmined mouth was in the Great War.
Pons: The Great War? Wasn't that World War I?
DD: Yes indeed, Pons. It was over a hundred years ago.
Ned: Got any stamps from then, Doc? My cousin Peck is one a them there phallusies.
Pons: I think, and hope, you mean a philatelist, Ned. That's someone who collects stamps.
Ned: He's got a peck avem. Hey! I made a joke there!
DD: Maybe a couple of them, Ned.
Pons: Dr. Dennis, if you don't mind, how old are you?
DD: Oh, I stopped counting birthdays at one hundred.
Ned: That's a far as I get too.
Pons: That's amazing!
Ned: Thank ya.
Pons: No, I mean -- Holy Cow! You might be a hundred and twenty years old!
Ned: They have stamps back then?
Pons: It's amazing, frankly, that you're still alive.
DD: You're as young as you feel. Pons.
Pons: Yes, of course, but, you don't look like you're 120.
Ned: Yeah, Doc. You could likely pass fer a hundurd
Pons: You are like, immortal, Dr. Dennis. What's your secret.
Ned: Ya gotta listen up, Pons. He said he stopped countin'.
DD: Let me explain as I inspect Ned's teeth.
Ned: I would depreciate that, Doc. Pons here is moppolizin' all my teethes time.
The dentist gestures for Ned to open his mouth wide and begins looking into it at his teeth.
DD: This is quite unusual, Ned.
Ned: Uh aht, ock? (Uttering with the dentist's fingers in his mouth)
DD: You have a full set of teeth, not a cavity to be seen, and a bright and irredescent smile.
Pons: Dr. Dennis, I know I'm not qualified, but from here I can see brown teeth, the haze from his breath is frightening, and there are three teeth gone from this side.
DD: Perhaps I should get my spectacles.
Pons: You wear glasses, Doctor?
DD: They're called bifocals. They were invented by my friend Ben.
Ned: Uffayos? (Ned asks, trying to say 'buffaloes') Ih en awated a ill? (asking if Ben was related to Bill...y'know Buffalo Bill)
The dentist reaches in a drawer and pulls out some a wire-rimmed set of glasses from a bygone era, and snaps another, smaller set onto them, making two layers of lenses.
Pons: My god, Dr. Dennis! Those have got to be two hundred years old!
DD: I purchased them used.
Pons: Please don't tell me your friend was Benjamin Franklin.
DD: A patient, actually.
Pons takes Ned's hand and slowly pulls him up out of the dentist's chair.
Pons: Wow! Sorry, Doctor. Gee, look at the clock. It's time to go fetch water. C'mon, Ned.
Ned: Oh, alright. Could a sworn I fetched water dis mornin'.
DD: See you boys. Remember the Maine and brush twice a year.
After leaving the office, Pons, stops and nervously talks to Ned.
Pons: Ned, Dr. Dennis is either lying, crazy, or both.
Ned: Do I need ta guess which a one? What'll I win if I gets it right?
Pons: Nothing, Ned. I'm saying that that Dr. Dennis can't be 120 years old. He can't have known Ben Franklin. He may not be sane.
Ned: S'pose he ain't got no stamps nither.
| Author Notes |
Phallusies = mistaking unrelated objects for a penis.
All misspellings are intentional. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned go to a costume party dressed as the cartoon characters Roadrunner and Coyote.
Ned: How ya doin', fella? You dressed up like Woody Woodpecker?
Pons: It's me Ned. No, I'm the roadrunner.
Ned: You look more like a bird dan a lady wit a check book, Pons.
Pons: Well, aren't you dressed like the coyote?
Ned: Sure am. I'm looking 'round fer dat sheepdog so's I kin steal me one a dem sheeps he got.
Pons: But, the roadrunner and coyote are one of the most famous nemeses in cartoon history.
Ned: Namma-who?
Pons: Enemies. The coyote was always trying to catch and eat the roadrunner.
Ned: I member them cartoons. I thunk dat ki-oat wah jist exercisin' a masochistic bent that was witnessed by a joggin' flamingo passerby.
Pons: Huh? Masochist? Flamingo?
Ned: Dats a word I leart jist today. I asked some filly iffin she'd like ta dance, and she said I mus' be exercisin' a messa-whatsit bent. Cain't say it twice in a row.
Pons: What about the flamingo?
Ned: Don't flamingos run?
Pons: Flamingos don't live in the desert, Ned. They're tall and pink.
Ned: Dey need some sun block maybe.
Pons: Anyway, Ned, most everyone here came as a Warner Brothers cartoon character.
Ned: Oh yeah. Which one a da three pigs is dattun?
Pons: He's not one of the three pigs, Ned. He's Porky.
Ned: Porky who?
Pons: Porky - uh - Pig.
Ned: So he ain't Pokey da snub-nosed eleefant den.
Pons: Look, Ned, there's Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd.
Ned: Sure dat ain't a roadrunner dressed up like a Black Pantzer and Mr. Magoo widdout his cheaters?
Pons: No, Ned.
Ned: Wad 'bout dem two dere?
Pons: They are Foghorn Leghorn and Sylvester.
Ned: Not a chicken an' a cat?
Pons: No - ah - yes. They are a rooster and a black cat.
Ned: So, the cat is dressed up like the Black Pantzer and --
Pons: No, Ned. There is no one dressed up like Black Panther. He's a Marvel character.
Ned: Marble? Dat reminds me a playin' marbles wit cherry bombs. Ever do dat, Pons?
Pons: No, Ned. Oh, were they Acme cherry bombs? (snickering).
Ned: Don't remember.
Pons: Yeah. Okay, Ned. I'm going over to talk to Bugs Bunny.
Ned: I already tried ta talk ta dat guy, Pons. He only says one thing.
Pons: What's up, Doc?
Ned: (Taking off his costume head piece) Hey, Pons. It's me -- Ned.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google
Roadrunner World 10 |
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons have watched the play, The Taming of the Shrew, and are conversing as the theater patrons leave.
Pons: Ned, I am beside myself with curiosity about what you thought about the play.
Ned: Whew! Dat's a relief, Cuz. I thunk I was a seein' double.
Pons: That was just an expression.
Ned: Wondered what dat smell was. Hoo eee! Ya cud write yer name in dat'n. Ain't no wonner it'd gimme dat double bision.
Pons: Anyway, Ned. Did you like the play? You were pretty quiet.
Ned: Purdy sure I was sleepin', dude.
Pons: So you missed the play?
Ned: I cud hear okay, but I de-magined dat da shrew were a jellerfish.
Pons: A -- a jellyfish?
Ned: So I seen that Patookio got hitched ta dis ji-normous jello gal and took her back ta his place.
Pons: Jellyfish?
Ned: Then, ol' Patookio trains her ta be a proper spa-mouse.
Pons : You mean -- spouse?
Ned: If dat's wad yer call a jellerfish turned inta a mouse?
Pons: A mouse?
Ned: Eventual, he hauls da big ol' jellermouse back to her daddy's whin her sister, Bi-ainker, gits hitched.
Pons: Amazing!
Ned: Dat ain't all neider.
Pons: The final scene?
Ned: Don't know iffin it was vinyl, wad I seen, but it were sure the end.
Pons: My god! What happened?
Ned: My ticker was a beatin' hard too, Pons.
Pons: A huge jellyfish-mouse thing in Shakespeare. What did she - ah- it say?
Ned: She said sumptin like, all men er yer bosses an' you, bein' dose utter jellerfish witches -
Pons: Wenches.
Ned: Benches.
Pons: Wenches
Ned: Wadeffer! Dem benitches owed dare hubsends big time an' oughta be heppy ta be dare second class jellermouse servatints.
Pons: I guess that's about right, Ned; though recent productions make that scene less chivalrous and more satirical.
Ned: Hard ta be shiverless tinkin' 'bout a honeymoon wit a big ol' jellerfish what's part gi-ANT-like mouse.
Pons: To be sure.
Ned: Wen I call Willum Shikspeer later, I'll suggest he change da possessed chick inta a jellerfish.
Pons: While you have him on the line, heh, heh, ask him to let Romeo and Juliet live.
Ned: So Shikspeer is a writer AND a dang kidnapper.
Pons: Ned — Shakespeare is dead.
Ned: Well, that’s wad ya git, I reckon. Did dey save dem kids?
| Author Notes |
Jellyfish World 8
Taming of the Jellyfish |
By Bill Schott
Four different types of rodents meet each other near a bag of corn meal.
Gerbil: (addressing an approaching hamster) Howdy! Haven't seen you here before.
Hamster: I am new here. Name's Ham.
Vole: (a second newcomer comes out from behind a can of beans) Vas ist los? Meine namen ist Yah — Yah Vole. (What's going on? My name is Yah Vole.)
Shrew: (dropping in from a shelf above, a fourth rodent joins the group, a look of annoyance on his face) Great! -- Voymin!
Gerbil: Hi, fellas. Funny we should all meet here. I'm Jubil -- Jubil Gerbil.
Hamster: My name is Ham.
Vole: Du bist der schwein? (You are a pig?) Der guinea pig?
Shrew: Puny for a pig. Yous must be da runt ah da littah.
Gerbil: Aren't you a hamster, Ham?
Hamster: Yes, but I am oft' confused for either a gerbil or a guinea pig. Humans do not seem to know the difference. I feel forgotten in a world of rodents better represented by their promotional personnel.
Vole: Du bist nicht der schwein? (You are NOT a pig?)
Shrew: Cry me a river, Hambone. People kill my kind 'cause I got a bad rep from dat spear shaker and some wench what had social issues. Humans stomp my kind as a bad review for some human dame.
Gerbil: So you're a shrew. I thought you'd be taller.
Hamster: May I address the elephant in the room?
Vole: Guinea pig?
Shrew: I'm sure he's takkin' about dis big bag of whatever it is.
Gerbil: The corn meal?
Hamster: Is that what it is? I typically only eat green pellets.
Vole: Was ist en der grune pellets? (What's in the green pellets?)
Shrew: Green pellets are -- PEOPLE!
Gerbil: Quite humorous, Shrew. Do you have a name?
Hamster: It's Ham.
Shrew: He meant me, Cheeks.
Hamster: Oh? Okay, Cheeks.
Shrew: Name’s Cash Shrew.
Vole: Du bist krank auf dem kopf. (You are sick in the head.)
Gerbil: Hold on! I hear someone coming!
Hamster: Homosapians to be sure.
Shrew: Humans more likely.
Vole: Schweinehund! (A-hole)
(The pantry door opens and a man stands staring in at the bag of cornmeal and the rodents frozen in fear in front of it.)
Ned: Hey, Pons. I didn't know you had yerself some salt and pepper shakers what looked like cartoon characters.
Gerbil: (Whispering) Don't move. This one is an idiot.
Pons: I don't have any shakers like that, Ned.
Ned: How 'bout Hot Wheels cars what are in a wheely position and covered wit charmin' 'aminal' caracatures what are all fuzzy an' lifelike?
Hamster: (Whispering) He thinks we are charming.
Pons: I think you're looking at mice, Ned.
Shrew: (Rolling his eyes and whispering) I should be so lucky ta be a mouse. Yous got your Micky Mouse, Pixie and Dixie, Speedy Gonzales, and stinkin' Stuart Little.
Ned: Don't think so, Pons. Let me show ya one.
(All of the creatures scatter and disappear behind the bag of cornmeal)
Pons: Don't touch them, Ned. They may have rabies.
Ned: What's that -- rabbit babies? Garsh, I never thunk ah dat. Wonner how they got up here inta da pant tree? Always wonnered why they call it a pant tree.
Vole: (Listening from behind the cornmeal bag) Was eine dummkopf! (What a dummy!)
Gerbil: I'm taking off. Cornmeal is nice, but life is nicer. (exit)
Hamster: I too will depart. Adieu. (exit)
Vole: Auf weidersehen. (exit)
Shrew: Well I'm stayin'. I'm gonna eat my fill ah dis coyn meal, den I'm gonna step out and knock dat dimbulb inta next week.
Ned: Hey, Pons. All dem rabbit babies is gone. Dey was cute dough.
(The shrew begins gnawing through the back of the bag and eating the cornmeal. It pours out rapidly and buries the small rodent, sufficating it)
C'mon! It's not like he was a lovable mouse.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google
Gerbil World 8 "Soylent Green is people!" famous final cry from Charleston Heston's character in the 1973 science fiction classic, Soylent Green. |
By Bill Schott
Two men and a woman meet in line at a busy, crowded post office on a Saturday morning.
Norman: This is ridiculous that we have this kind of line at a post office.
Umpty: Yeah. What happened to e-mail?
Mazie: Everyone seems to have a portfolio to mail.
Norman: Is everyone getting published?
Umpty: Can't they e-mail those?
Mazie: I would send mine in, but nobody will even read it.
Norman: Is it THAT long or THAT wrong?
Mazie: It's about true love and --
Umpty: So it's fiction.
Mazie: No. Why would you say that?
Norman: He probably means that true love is more an ideal than a reality.
Umpty: True love is a myth. No one buys stories about just love. Where's the blood and sex.
Mazie: Real readers don't buy books for that stuff. They go to the movies or the internet.
Norman: I think you're right, Mazie.
Umpty: She's engaged, Norman. No need to butter her up.
Mazie: You're a pig, Umpty. Besides, I'm not engaged; we have an understanding.
Norman: (Eyes widening and a smile appearing) You look VERY nice today.
Umpty: Get a room people.
Mazie: What?
Norman: Forget him. So your story is about true love?
Umpty: Tell her what yours is about, Norm.
Mazie: You have a story to publish?
Norman: No one will read MINE because it isn't about love.
Umpty: He likes to kill people. In his stories, of course.
Mazie: There is certainly a market for that.
Norman: I don't know. I enter writing contests on a writing site and I always seem to lose to some sappy love story.
Umpty: Nowadays if you kill someone there's something wrong with you.
Mazie: I'm pretty sure that's always been the case.
Norman: I just think the judges are tottering old ladies who want the world to smell like lilacs with kissing noises and floating hearts everywhere.
Umpty: Tell her about ‘roses are red’.
Mazie: Roses are red?
Norman: Roses are red, like the bloody dead
Violets are blue, like their breathless hue
Sugar is sweet, like this poisonous treat
So what are you?
Umpty: Classic Norman!
Mazie: That seems aimless and pointless.
Norman: I guess that's what judges think. It's better to hug and kiss.
Mazie: Well, isn't it?
Norman: What's your understanding?
Mazie: Of what?
Norman: You and your boyfriend's understanding.
Umpty: He probably wants her to not go out with other guys.
Mazie: That's probably it.
Norman: So is that your understanding?
Umpty: Did I mention her boyfriend is Darth Victor the BMOC?
Mazie: He's a tad possessive.
Norman: Want to get some pizza and go to the park?
Umpty: (In a Yoda voice, grinning) Victor destroy you he will!
Mazie: Let's go to your place.
Norman: I live with my mother.
Mazie: I'd like to meet her.
Umpty: I guess I'll just drop dead.
Mazie: See you then, Umpty.
Umpty: Hey, people. What about the post office?
Mazie: Maybe Monday. I think I may spend the weekend with Norman.
Umpty; At his mom's motel?
Maize: I'll never tell.
| Author Notes |
Image from Google (and the post office).
Mother! What have you done! The blood! |
By Bill Schott
The teachers and administrators gather for my retirement party.
Mrs. P: You must feel like a million bucks today, Bill.
Me: Do I look green and wrinkled?
Mr. S: I wish I were you, Bill.
Me: Old and unemployed?
Mr. M: What a long strange trip it's been, Bill.
Me: Party on, my cracker.
Mrs. A: Ensure your room is cleaned out and all personal possessions have been removed.
Me: Jawohl!
Mrs. S: I've pinned a note for your wife to your sleeve and here's a bag of Cheerios for the ride home.
Me: Thank you, Mrs. S.
Mr. D: Any parting words, Mr. Schott?
Me: Yes. I'd like to thank Mrs. Chapel, God rest her soul, for the advice she gave me on my first day. She said to just love them, Bill. That will make everything you do worthwhile
for both you and them. She also said -- HHHAAAAANNNNKKKK
Mr. M: Lunch break is over, people. Everyone back on your heads.***
Me: Thanks, everyone, for the party. See you ---
Everyone is gone.
| Author Notes |
*** A guy died and went to hell. A devil came to him and said there were three choices as to where he would spend eternity. Looking through the first door he saw people on spits screaming as they were roasted. Looking through a second door he watched as others were shrieking while being slowly vivisected and then reassembled to be cut up again. Looking through a third door he saw a thousand people, or so, standing up to their knees in sewerage drinking coffee.
"This is an option?" he asked. "Yes," said the devil. "I'll take this one." Once he was in the knee-high river of crap, he was given a cup of coffee. Just before he could drink it a devil came in and yelled, "Your bi-millennial, ten-minute coffee break is over! Everybody -- back on your heads!" |
By Bill Schott
Scene opens center stage in a living room. Marcia and John enter from stage right and left.
John: I can't believe you're still here.
Marcia: Why? Did you think that blackmail scheme with the mayor and that spy from an unheard of, secret, government agency could keep me from my sister's baby?
John: No. After surviving cancer, a plane crash, falling off a cliff, and an explosion in a boat as it went over the falls, I should have figured you'd turn up again.
Marcia: You seem different.
John: After being kidnapped by that crazy scientist from that unknown Slavic country, I was given a new face, voice, made taller, put on twenty pounds of lean muscle, and discovered that I am actually not a hardened criminal who grew up in the streets of this average town, but the son of a tycoon from yet another unknown country no one has ever heard of.
Marcia: Well, this gun should end any chance that you'll be spending that money. Especially since that tycoon is my father and that makes you my brother.
John: Oh no! That means our son is --
Marcia: Not yours, but your third cousin's, whom I met while recovering from amnesia on that uncharted tropical island for over three years.
John: But we made love. I recall several times having PG-13 sex with you.
Marcia: Those were all images placed in your memory through an hypnotic suggestion made by that evil doctor who used to be a lawyer before going back to school and becoming the best medical student that an ivy league secret university had ever seen.
John: If you shoot me you'll go to prison for the rest of your life.
Marcia: One thing I've learned as an ex-CIA operative who became a computer hacker turned police detective and eventually the mayor, senator, and governor of this unknown state, and CEO of a billion dollar company that no one has ever heard of, is that prison is only a place to learn an important moral lesson before being granted a pardon for doing some amazing heroic act which counteracts any murders, kidnappings, embezzlements, or sexual indiscretions I may have been, thought I have been, or was tricked into believing I had been involved in.
John: Go ahead -- shoot.
(Gun shot. John grabs his head and falls facing upstage. Marcia walks past the body and exits stage right.)
(Within seconds, John sits up and faces downstage. He has blood on the side of his head. He rises and moves downstage center and speaks.)
Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!
(Alternate line ... Who am I?)
| Author Notes | Photo from Google |
By Bill Schott
Jip walks into the small office and sits in a folding chair. It's the only furniture in the room aside from the card table that Mutt sits behind, in his folding chair. There are no windows. Nothing hangs on the walls. The room is beige with an ancient green tile floor. A trouble light is suspended from a hook in the ceiling. The cord runs across to the wall and down to an outlet.
JIP: Poesy said I was the link he has been looking for.
MUTT: You Jip? You're the link? You are as dumb as Einkenstein.
JIP: That's what he said, Mutt.
MUTT: I thought Neppy was the link? Though I heard that boy ain't right. He ain't no less dumb than you for sure.
JIP: Isn't Neppy his brother?
MUTT: Yeah, I suppose. I hear they had the same father. Get this though. They had the same mother too.
JIP: Who was they?
MUTT: I don't know. Shut up.
JIP: Maybe Neppy's a link too.
Mutt picks up the phone and presses speed dial.
POESY: Who is it?
MUTT: Poesy! It's me Mutt.
POESY: What.
MUTT: Who is your link?
POESY: Well --- Jip is a weak link. Neppy is a missing link. You'll be like Linc--coln after watching the play, Our American Cousin, if you call me with this nonsense again.
MUTT: Thank you, Boss.
Mutt hangs the phone up and stares at Jip.
MUTT: Got a job for you. Check out a play called Our American Cousin and find out what happens to a dude named Link Con.
By Bill Schott
DAD. Son? Can you give me a hand.
LAD. How about just the finger (gesturing with a middle digit)
DAD. C'mon. I need help with this math assignment.
LAD. The deal was --- you do my homework and I don't tell your new wife about your new girlfriend.
DAD. I've already written two APA research papers, created a Jeopardy game on PowerPoint as a science peer quiz, bought ten packages of frozen cookie dough for your drama club fund raiser, and called a bomb threat into your school on test day.
LAD. Your work ethic is impressive. Too bad you're such a failure as a role model.
DAD. Is there a cheat sheet for these math problems.
LAD. No, but there's a math sheet about your cheating problem.
DAD. What does that mean?
LAD. It means I've added up all your indiscretions.
DAD. Oh?
LAD. Yep. Let's see. You plus your first wife equals two. Plus my mom equals three, minus first wife equals two. Plus me, your stepson, equals three, plus your ex-wife equals four, minus my mom equals three plus new girlfriend equals four minus one, your ex-wife, which leaves three minus girlfriend who stole your car equals two plus new wife equals three.
DAD. All that math equals nada because the answer is old news. My wife knows I'm no saint.
LAD. Maybe, but you know and I know that if she adds two and two together, which would make her a genius compared to your other women, she will cut you off and cut your wealth in half.
DAD. Okay. I'll do the math. ((Aside)) (...and the math says add one hit man minus one stepson equals happy couple -- plus one girlfriend)
EPILOGUE: DAD gets run over by a bus; LAD receives half of inheritance and insurance from generous stepmother who also ends up doing LAD's homework.
| Author Notes | Thanks to Bertodi for art |
By Bill Schott
The scene opens in the dingy office of detectives Downer Duck and Gunder Cover. The pay phone on the wall rings, and a cloaked figure reaches a boney hand out to answer it.
Duck: Duck and Cova.
The speaker on the other end of the line can be heard falling over furniture and screaming.
Duck: (Over his shoulder) We gotta answer da phone diff'rent. People's hoitin' demsefs.
Cover: Why are you wearing that bath robe?
Duck: Ain't no bathrobe, dude. Dat monk we hepped got it to me.
Cover: You need to get off that diet; you look like Death. You only need a sickle to complete the image.
Duck: Deaf on a bicycle?
Cover: Sickle. Not -- never mind. Hang the phone up so whoever that was can call back.
Duck: We need a new phone. Nobody's got no phone like dis one.
Cover: Those phones cost money just to possess. This one requires us to insert money, like a piggy bank.
Duck: I always call collect.
Cover: That's probably why we have so few clients.
The phone rings again. Gunder answers.
Cover: You have reached Cover and Duck private investigations. How may we help you?
Duck: Dat's Duck an' Cova, dude. I won da toss to get foist billin'.
Ignoring his partner, Gunder continues on the phone.
Cover: Yes, yes, I understand. It's good that you called us. We can help eliminate a part of your problem. Good day.
Duck: New client?
Cover: Wrong number. By calling, he has eliminated us as a possible correct dialing. This is our day's pinnacle of success.
Duck: So, I got time to go get a bicycle.
Cover: Yes, of course. Perhaps a tricycle would be more appropriate.
Duck: Dat's why yer da brains and I'm da utter thin'.
Cover: Brawn?
Duck: No, Dude. It's me, Downa. Dun let dis robe fool ya.
Gunder stares at his partner for a few seconds, then slowly turns back to the phone. He inserts some coins into the slots. The phone is answered. Gunder begins sobbing while slowly sliding down the wall.
Duck: Say 'Hi' to ya ma fa me.
| Author Notes | Duck World 6 |
By Bill Schott
The pool hall is smoky and most of the patrons are at the bar (on stage right) or watching a silent soccer game on the video monitor (stage left). Center stage is a poker table with five players. All players can be seen either profile or facing down stage, towards the audience.
Raccoon is on the left side of the table (stage right for the players). Next player, facing left center stage, is Bobcat. Center is Duck. Next, is Opossum and last, on the right, is Rooster.
Raccoon: Antes in, fellas.
He tosses a coin in the center of the table and begins shuffling a deck of cards.
Bobcat: What's the minimum?
Raccoon: A nickel.
Bobcat gives the raccoon a dirty look and tosses a coin in.
Duck: A kanickle?
Raccoon: Yeh. Heh heh. A nickel.
Duck: Quatz zo vunny?
O'possum: Aye, hares me antee, mate
Rooster: I, too, am, as they say, in, as it were.
Raccoon: Game's five card stud.
The dealer begins tossing cards, face up, one each to the players, while calling out what they are.
Raccoon: Queen ah hearts, six, ten, bullet, and dealer gets a deuce. Sheesh!
Bobcat: Lady checks to the power.
Raccoon: What about it, Duck?
Duck: Kacheck to da aith.
Raccoon: It's ta yous, O'pee
O'possum: Aye, a shiney nickel fa the ace a spades.
Rooster: We are seeing that.
All the others match the bid. Raccoon tosses more cards.
Raccoon: Second card, deuce toda queen, no help; fife toda six, possible; pair of tens; trey a spades toda bullet, possible flush, possible straight, and dealer gets a PIECE A SHI -- CAGO! A seven.
Bobcat: Check.
Duck: Queck.
O'possum: Aye, the tens say, bring a dime o' dun waste me time.
Rooster: The ace acknowledges the dime.
All the others match the bid. Raccoon deals again.
Raccoon: Nix cod, eight toda Gaween-two, gobbage; trey toda fife-six, gittin' moah possible; Rooster's ace toda tens, da man ta beat; jack a spades makes tree spades fa da cock-a doodle-doo-doo, possible flush, possible straight; and dealer gets a KNIFE TA CUT MY FRIGGIN' TROAT. Dealer folds.
Bobcat: Fold.
Duck: Quarter.
O'possum: Scut an' hoor that! A quarter! Ya tryin' ta buy the pot, aw ya? Hares yar two bits and anutter one fah yar stinkin' eyelids.
Raccoon: Fiffy cent ta yous, Roosta-reeno.
Rooster: I elect, at this time, the better part of valor. I fold.
Raccoon: Fort cod, Duck gotta faw toda tree-fife-six, needs a two aw seven ta win; O'pee gots a nine toda pair ah tens, still boss; da man ta beat.
Bobcat: If I'd of had Raccoon's and my cards, I still couldn't have won this hand.
Duck: Quarter. Wah wah wah wah wah.
O'possum: Yer bloody insane ya blasted down-bearin', dither-edded, spoon-beaked, foul-smellin', ass-floatin' fowl.
Raccoon: So, watcha doin'?
O'possum: I'll see it.
Raccoon: Last cod, face down.
Duck and O'possum get a card.
Raccoon: Watcha biddin', Duck?
Bobcat: Go all in, Duck.
O'possum: Kap yer hole shut, ya cat dandy.
Rooster: How thrilling. Yes, Duck, indeed. Take it to the proverbial maximum.
O'possum: I'll be bangin' yar hens tamarrah, Roostah. Dey already scream out,
ANY-COK-KELL-DOO!!
Raccoon: Waddaboutit, Duck?
Duck: Quall in!
Everyone cheers, except O'possum, as he and Duck push all their money into the center of the table.
O'possum: I call, ya sick bustard.
Suddenly, police race in from from stage ends and raid the game. Cards and money fly into the air, the crowds on the stage run from side to side creating total chaos. When the crowd clears there is just Duck, still seated in the center chair.
Officer: What do you have to say for yourself, Duck?
Duck: (Reviewer, please insert a final line for our story. Something punchliney. Thanks.)
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Bad Poet: Here's my haiku... The flower's powers...
Reviewer: Why go on? You've used personification.
Bad Poet: The flower has our...
Reviewer: When you include people, you violate the haiku.
Bad Poet: A pretty flower...
Reviewer: If I read another flower poem --I'll die.
Bad Poet: FLOWER FLOWER FLOW
FLOWER FLOWER FLOWER FLOW
......
By Bill Schott
The curtain opens and two men are standing over what looks like a body. There is minimal scenery, but the sense of a remote forest area is implied. The men are dressed in wildly unmatched clothes suggesting a random selection and unskilled wardrobe knowledge.
Hama: What looking me?
Anvo: Inanimate. Non-functional.
Hama: Do?
Anvo: Ocular accessible. Remove.
Turning the body over, Hama kneels down and places his mouth over the corpse's downstage eye and makes a sucking noise. Blood streaks down the downstage side of the body's face. He lifts and turns his head to Anvo.
Hama: Other you?
Anvo: Negative. Take. Remove comp-u-tor.
Hama returns to the corpse's face and repeats the sucking sound on the other eye socket. After a bit of closed mouth chewing, he raises the body up to a sitting position. Using a small tool he makes an incision at the base of the corpse's skull. In one quick motion he then yanks the flesh covering the skull off the back and top of the head and lets it hang down in front. The gory flesh covers the face and extends to the collar.
Anvo steps over. Removing a long string from his pocket, he wraps it around the top of the skull. Making a jerking motion he pulls the string away. Hama then taps the skull and the top pops off like a lid.
Hama: Comp-u-tor?
Anvo: Affirmative. Extract. Divide. Store.
Hama removes the brain matter and shoves several parts in his shirt and pockets. As he stands the corpse falls back to the ground.
A sound like a telephone is heard and Hama reaches into Anvo's breast pocket.
Hama: To Speak (He says into the phone.)
Voice: Home. To eating. Bring new toy.
Hama: Not. To play.
Voice: Home. To eating. Home. To eating. Home. To eating.
Hama places the phone back in Anvo's pocket.
Hama: Anvo? Not to eating. To Eating oculars. To trouble.
Anvo touches Hama on the temple. Ham vomits all over the corpse, Anvo, and himself.
Hama: Home. To eating.
Anvo steps behind Hama and wraps his arms around him. The two levitate and move off stage right.
| Author Notes | Thanks to OLIVER23 for the drawing |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet for dinner at a new Red Lobster restaurant.
Ned: Hey, Pons. Glad yer schedya had room fer a supper wit yer fav'right cousin.
Pons: Yeah yeah, Ned. This new Red Lobster is a needed addition to the sparse dinner spots around our town.
Ned: Sure nuff, Pons. I couldn't stomach anutter stack ah dem throw-cushion waffles at da Pancake Barn.
Pons: Don't think I've been there.
Ned: It's right dere next ta da All-Ya-Kin Stand beanery.
Pons: You've been to these places?
Ned: Haunt 'em like a ghost, Pons.
Pons: I thought you didn't like the food?
Ned: Once ya git a moutfulla grubs an' roaches down yer gullet, ya kin stand jist 'bout anythin'.
Pons: You went through survival training somewhere?
Ned: Naw, jist house cleanin'.
Excusing himself, Pons pushes by the greeter and heads for the restroom to vomit. The greeter, who has a name tag reading Gunter, addresses Ned.
Greeter: There will be two of you then?
Ned: Yup. My cousins prob'bly jist makin' room fer yer good-tastin' crawdads an' such.
Greeter: We don't serve crayfish here, sir.
Ned: Thunk you was a sea-da-food place?
Greeter: They may serve crayfish at the Got-Yer-Chum fish fry down on Fifth Street.
Ned: No kiddin'? I ain't never aheard ah dat place.
Greeter: I AM kidding, sir. I was merely being funny -- and slightly condescending.
Ned: Well, yeah. Ya wouldn't want folks scramblin' outta here ta yer competition.
Pons returns from the restroom and joins the conversation.
Pons: So, where are we sitting?
Ned: Gunt ain't said yet.
Greeter: That's Gunter, sir.
Pons: Great, Gunter. Where are we sitting?
Ned: Ain't nobody never called ya Gunt?
Greeter: No one. Wait. Yes. I had an uncle begin calling my name from the middle of a busy thoroughfare. He was run over by a passing school bus before completing the full pronunciation.
Pons: Did I miss something here?
Ned: Gunt were jist condescendin' how he ain't never been called dat exceptin' by me and his dead uncle. What was yer uncle's name, Gunt?
Greeter: Asshole!
Ned smiled with the thought that the greeter's uncle had such a funny name.
Pons: Maybe we should go somewhere else?
Ned: Gunt was jist sayin' dere's a place servin' crawdads down on Fifth Street.
| Author Notes | Image from redlobster.com |
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons meet at a Humane Society shelter.
Ned: Thanks for comin' down here, Pons.
Pons: You said you were thinking of getting a kitten, so I thought I could help you pick one out.
Ned: Well they got a passel of 'em we can eyeball right through this here winnder.
Pons: Wow! There seems to be about a dozen of them.
Ned: I'd say half was boys and half was ain't boys.
Pons: You mean girls?
Ned: Well, Pons, girls is people, not kitty cats.
Pons: But you just said half were boys. Aren't boys people?
Ned: You think there’s cat people, Pons?
Pons: Cat people?
Ned: You askin' me, or tellin' me?
Pons: What?
Ned: I'm just gonna say I don't believe there’s no cat people, Pons. You can think what you want.
Pons: I don't think there are --
Ned: Hey! That there one's acallin' my name.
Pons: Sounds like it’s saying 'mew'.
Ned: Maybe that’s my cat name.
Pons: Your cat name?
Ned: Sure. Cats got their own langage, Pons.
Pons: So, what you're saying is that all these kittens are saying, 'Ned -- Ned -- Ned'.
Ned: 'Course not, Pons. That'd be pretty hard to swaller.
Pons: Aren't they all saying the same thing?
Ned: Dang, Pons! You musta woked up a bit dumb this mornin'.
Pons: Is that it? Well, I'm here. You might have something.
Ned: I think I'll get the one what's talkin' to me.
Pons: Which one was that again?
Ned: The boy'n, Pons. Sheesh!
Pons: Aren't there six boy kittens?
Ned: Sure, but there’s only one what's sayin' 'Ned'.
Pons: Which one was that again?
Ned looks at Pons and shakes his head, as if pitying him.
Ned: Let me ask you a question, Cuz. If one a these kittens were sayin', 'Pons! Pons!', wouldn't you think that were somethin' to consider?
Pons: I would be flabbergasted and would likely call Ripley's Believe It or Not.
Ned: Oh, I believe it, Pons. By the way, Ms. Ripley passed a few years back. She were hard a hearin' too. Might be that one a her cats might be interested.
Pons: Huh?
Ned: Just kiddin' you, Pons. Them cats prob'ly don't care none.
Pons can only stare at Ned for a moment then nod slightly to the affirmative.
Pons: I'm sure you're right, Ned.
Ned: Spec’ly if you used that word 'flavvercasted'.
By Bill Schott
Ned meets Pons' friend, Camp, at the taxidermist.
Camp: Hey, Ned! Funny meeting you here.
Ned: Hope meetin' me here IS funny. Wink, wink.
Camp: Wink, wink?
Nodding towards the fourth wall, Ned grins and widens his stare at Camp.
Ned: Seems somebody's been recordin' me and Ponsezez git tagetters.
Camp: You're being stalked?
Ned: Nobody's bin atalkin', but ev'ry once in a while one a our meetin's finds its way onto the winnernet.
Camp: (Speaking slowly) You mean the in-ter-net.
Ned: You windin' down, Camp?
Camp: No, Ned. So why are you here?
Pulling a huge ball of fur out of his jacket pocket, he shows it to Camp.
Camp: (Startled) What the hell is that!?
Ned: It's my guinea pig, Rosco.
Camp: You're getting a guinea pig stuffed?!
Ned: Heck, no. Thad be purdy dumb, Camp.
Camp: Well, Ned, to be truthful, you really do seem to be quite stupid.
Ned: Well, Camp. I wouldn't never think ta stuff a guinea pig what weren't dead.
Camp: That thing is alive?
Ned: Well, yeah. If I were carryin' around a dead, little furball, I would be as stupid as you think I am. Hey! Why do you think I'm so stupid?
Camp: Before I answer that, tell me -- is that creature alive or dead?
Ned: He's alive, 'course. Been sleepin' a spell though.
Camp: How long has it been sleeping?
Ned: Since last Tuesday.
Camp: (raising his voice in frustration and anger) Jeez oh Pete, Ned! You are the dumbest person I have ever met! I have no idea why Pons even hangs around with you.
Ned: Think I should wake Rosco up?
Camp: Wake him up!? Wake him up!?
Ned: Okeedoke. Hey, Rosco. Wake on up.
While both men stare at the still animal in Ned's hands, the proprietor steps up.
Prop: Hey, Gents. How can I help you?
Camp: I have come to see if my marlin is finished.
Prop: I'll check. (Then turning to Ned) How about you, fella?
Ned: I come to see iffin my raccoon were done.
Prop: Oh, is that yours? Ha ha. That was a fun project. Yes, it is indeed done. (Looking at the guinea pig in Ned's hand) This another critter you want mounted?
Ned: Naw. He's jes' sleepin'.
Camp: Who are you kidding, Ned? That puffed up rat is dead as a door knob. You are either morbid, stupid, or plain crazy.
Ned: I ain't crazy ner as dumb as you think I am. So I prob'ly ain't morp-ped neither.
Suddenly the guinea pig moves in Ned's hand.
Camp: (Shocked) Hell's bells, Ned! I can't believe that thing is alive!
Ned: Oh yeah. He gits movin' 'round later in the day, like now. Then he turns into a bat and flies out the winder at night.
Both the store proprietor and Camp stare at Ned, then at each other.
Camp: I'll -- uh, I'll come back for that marlin. (Camp moves to the exit and dashes out.)
The proprietor leaves and returns with Ned's mounted animal. It is a raccoon, standing and seeming to roar, like an attacking bear, at a smaller, male action figure.
Prop: This was hilarious to make. Thanks for the idea.
Ned: It looks great. Thanks. Oh yeah, can you stuff my guinea pig?
Prop: I thought he was alive and turned into a bat at night?
Ned: No, he don't do that. I did put a transistor battery under'm wit a wire so's I could make him move once in a while. He started gettin' ripe though, so I thunk you could make him look okay.
Prop: It's too late for your friend, Ned. It would be best to bury him and get another. You sure put a scare into your friend though.
Smiling, Ned headed out with his mounted raccoon . Just outside the taxidermy, he set the raccoon down on a bench and pulled his guinea pig out.
Ned: (Turning the rodent’s head to face him, Ned whispers.)
Hey, Ned. Jes' drop me in that there trash can, and later, I'll turn into a fampyra bat and fly away.
(Then tossing it into the can)
See ya, Rosco. Happy Hallerween.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Master Gunnery Sergeant Panter was the 10th Marines Regimental Operations Chief. He enjoyed being the authority on all artillery-related topics. He would often come to the meteorological section to quiz marines on information he felt they should know about their military operational specialty. Most enlisted men of his rank were referred to as Top. Sergeant Schott was the meteorological operations chief.
Top: Morning, Sgt Schott.
SS: Morning, Top.
Top: Now, Sergeant Schott, I need you to know that I am not to be referred to as Top. I find that term to be demeaning and too familiar. I am a master gunnery sergeant in the United States Marines and have worked hard to achieve this rank.
SS: Sorry, Top. I mean Master Gunnery Sergeant.
Top: I'm glad you corrected yourself.
SS: I assumed you would want me to.
Top: You assumed?
SS: Well, yeah. You had just said that --
Top: Do you know, Sgt. Schott, what happens when you assume things?
SS: Well, I, ah --
Top: You make an ASS of U and ME.
SS: Okay, Top.
Top: Okay what?
SS: Master Gunnery Sergeant
Top: Let me ask you some questions, sarge.
SS: Now, Master Gunnery Sergeant Panter, I need you to know that I am a sergeant in the United States Marines and have worked hard to achieve this rank.
Top: Are you mocking me, serGENT?
SS: No, Top.
Top: Okay, marine. You want to play this morning?
SS: I do not.
Top: How does the temperature of the air change aloft?
SS: It generally decreases by six point five degrees Celsius every thousand meters.
Top: How long should you wait before using a barometer reading from an instrument that has been airlifted?
SS: Approximately twenty-four hours from the time the plane landed.
Top: Why do we convert Celsius tempertures in a meteorological message to Kelvin?
SS: It's a hold over from the first field computers which couldn't distinguish decimal points. Two hundred and seventy-three degrees were added and the decimal removed for calculation.
Top: Why do you think I'm asking you all these questions, Sarge -- ENT?
SS: I assume you want me to --
Top: You assume!? You know what happens when you assume things? You make an ASS of U and ME.
SS: Sorry, Top.
Top: I think you and me need some time to discuss your career, sarge. Be in the operations office right after formation tomorrow and bring your notebook.
SS: Okay, Master Gunnery Sergeant.
The senior marine departs and Sergeant Schott's wind plotter, Corporal Chan, steps up.
CC: Wonder what you and he will be discussing tomorrow?
SS: I assume it will be my attitude.
CC: You know what happens when you assume things? You make an ass of you and Top Panter.
By Bill Schott
Pallas and his older brother Pez sat in the back pew at the funeral of their aunt.
In the front pew, to the right of the coffin, were five girls.
Pez: I haven't seen our cousins in awhile.
Pallas: I heard rumors that Aunty got around and it's possible that some of them aren't Unca Dunk's.
Pez: Where did you hear that?
Pallas: I don't know. Maybe one of our parents' fights. Dad would bring up Mom's family when he got going.
Pez: Huh. I guess I heard Granny making accusations too.
Pallas: Well, Beatrice, the oldest, was born in France while they were deployed there.
Pez: Bonny was born in South Carolina at what-cha-call-it army base.
Pallas: Bailey and Blaze were both born here, before the family was finally sent to Hawaii.
Pez: They were here for a couple years.
The first row, including five girls, stood up and filed in front of the casket.
Pallas: Bea and Bonny look a lot like Unca Dunk.
Pez: Bailey is the spitting image of Granny and Blaze looks like her mom.
Pallas: Blythe is the youngest. She was born in Hawaii; right?
Pez: Yeah -- right.
Pallas: Who do you think she favors?
Pez: I don't know. Do you think she looks like me?
The two sat quietly through the rest of the service.
| Author Notes | Thanks to meg119 for use of the artwork. |
By Bill Schott
Pez and his younger brother Pallas stand on the empty street of their home town. The village tavern is their backdrop.
Pez: I remember they had a carnival set up out here for the 225th anniversary of the town. Pounded huge tent stakes right through the tarvy.
Pallas: That must have been 2001; right?
Pez: Yeah. It was the summer before nine-eleven.
Pallas: I was twelve then. You must have just graduated.
Pez: I was dating Yvonne and didn't have any money for the rides.
Pallas: Was she the tall, skinny one that Ma didn't like?
Pez: No. Yvonne was the Catholic girl I dated before Cookie.
Pallas: Oh, yeah. She didn't think the Catholic girl was right for you until the other one came along.
Pez: Yeah! Then she seemed desperate to get me to look Yvonne up again.
Pallas: Ma gave you all those brochures on VD.
Pez: How'd you know about that?
Pallas: She gave them to me too.
Pez: Funny times.
Pallas: Ma kept accusing Dad of stealing her old coins. I remember because the carnival was here and the tavern had set up an outside barroom. They were serving kegs and set ups all day. Dad was here a lot. Guess Ma thought he was funding his drinking with her coin collection.
Pez: No kidding? I hadn't heard that.
Pallas: Yeah. I didn't even know she had any old coins.
Pez: That was the year they had that big fight and he moved up north to the cabin for a week.
Pallas: I thought they were getting a divorce.
Pez: I took Yvonne on all the rides. Won her a bear on the midway. Expensive bear.
Pallas: Ma even accused me of taking her coins. I didn't even know she had any. Must have been worth something.
Pez: She kept them in the closet of the back room. Old Franklin coins. Dozens of them. They were way down on the dark end.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pallas and his older brother Pez sit together on the steps of a porch of an old house.
Pez: This house must be held up by the mouse turds in the walls.
Pallas: It is pretty rickety. Wonder why they don't tear it down.
Pez: The Bosasos.
Pallas: Yeah. The bozos.
Pez: No, dummy. The last owners were the Bosasos.
Pallas: So?
Pez: The Bosasos all died inside on the same night.
Pallas: What!?
Pez: Yeah. Bozona Bosaso --
Pallas: Bullpucky! There's no one named Bozona Bosaso.
Pez: You're right; she's dead.
Pallas: Why would anyone name their kid Bozona?
Pez: Why would anyone call a kid Pallas? For laughs, of course.
Pallas: How did she d-- she was a she, right?
Pez: She was a she. Her brother's name was Boffo, and the parents were Milky and Bilky.
Pallas: The Bosasos.
Pez: Right. They were all killed on a Friday night twenty years ago.
Pallas: Inside there? Turns to look at the screenless storm door behind him.
Pez: Sheriff Shawn said that they were all shot by a lunatic with a pistol.
Pallas: Who is Sheriff Shawn? Sounds like a friend of Barney the Dinosaur.
Pez: He was our local lawman, before the county took over.
Pallas: Where is he now?
Pez: He disappeared a few days after the bodies were found.
Pallas: That sounds pretty suspicious. Did they figure out who shot the Bosasos? I bet it was Ranger Ron with his forty-four.
Pez: It was actually a snub-nose thirty-eight. He showed it to me once or twice.
Pallas: So, did you know Bozona?
Pez: We necked in the park once.
Pallas: What!? You kissed a dead girl!?
Pez: She wasn't dead then.
Pallas: I can't believe you're so cool about it.
Pez: It was twenty years ago.
Pallas: Holy Moley! This is insane. I have never even heard of any of this and here you are making out with the deceased.
Pez: She wasn't dead yet.
Pallas: Did they ever solve the murder?
Pez: They pretty much figure Sheriff Shawn shot them all for no good reason.
Pallas: Did someone suspect him? Is that why he ran off?
Pez: I'm sure someone did.
Pallas: Wow! Maybe somebody shot HIM! He might still be here, buried somewhere.
Pez: Maybe under this rotting old porch.
Pallas: Hoo hoo! Begins to sing the words to 'I Shot the Sheriff'.
Pez: Let's go see what's going on in the park.
Pallas: Okay. Let me call that song up on my smart phone.
The two leave the porch and walk across the street listening to the song play.
Pez: Whispering ...but I did not shoot the de-pu-ty.
By Bill Schott
Pallas and his older brother Pez stand on an old dock next to a half-sunken, wooden, fishing boat. The peeled and faded BOAT RENTAL sign is behind them.
Pez: This one should rent cheap. Points to the swamped boat in the water.
Pallas: I wonder why that one is still here.
Pez: The rest might be at the bottom of the lake.
Pallas: I barely recall going out in one of these boats. Dad was duck hunting.
Pez: Oh yeah! That was the only time he hunted on a boat out in the lake.
Pallas: I think he fell in.
Pez: Yeah! He told us that he spooked some mallards from a sand bar. He stood up and shot, but the blast made him lose his balance.
Pallas: Then he did fall in the water. I barely remember. Gosh, I must have only been a toddler.
Pez: I guess you were three or four. Not in school yet.
Pallas: Why would I be in a boat in the middle of the lake.
Pez: I think Dad was working third shift. He was babysitting you while Ma was working.
Pallas: I remember it a little better. He was swearing and smacking the water.
Pez: He lost his shotgun in the lake. Oh god! Pez's eyes snap wide open.
Pallas: What is it ?! Pallas looks around and sees nothing.
Pez: That's when he found the body.
Pallas: What?
Pez: Yeah. He fell in the water, lost his shot gun, then tried diving down for it.
Pallas: You said he found a body?
Pez: Oh yeah! It was some guy who was murdered.
Pallas: Murdered!? How?! What?!
Pez: The guy was only under the water a dozen feet, but a rope was around his legs and his hands had been tied. Somebody dumped him with a couple cement blocks to hold him down.
Pallas: And I was there?!
Pez: Yeah, but I'm sure he wouldn't have told you; a dumb kid.
Pallas: I was there?!
Pez: He never did get his shot gun back.
Pallas: What about the dead guy?
Pez: I don't remember.
Pallas: Was he someone anyone knew?
Pez: Sheriff Shawn knew him.
Pallas: Sheriff Shawn. That guy shows up when people die.
Pez: Yeah. Somehow we weren't surprised that law enforcement was interested in a killing.
Pallas: Who was the dead guy?
Pez: I never found out, really. It was all handled on the QT.
Pallas: So we never knew who this guy was?
Pez: Maybe, but who remembers? It was a lifetime ago.
Pallas: Where was I when I was a kid? I feel like I must have had blinders and earmuffs on.
Pez: People protected kids back then. They didn't have to know all the crap in the world.
Pallas: I must have lived in a bubble.
Pez: Bubbles are good. They mean life. It’s when the bubbles stop you’re done. Then it’s just time to take the boat into the shore.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons meet outside a church in a small town.
Ned: Howdy, Pons. Ya come ta see the critter they got here?
Pons: Critter? I came because I heard they had a live nativity.
Ned: That's it. I ain't never seen one a them buggers.
Pons: Nativity isn't an animal, Ned.
Ned: Says here on the leaflet that it's alive.
Pons: The people are alive.
Ned: Well natch'ly people are alive, Pons. It ain't no fun'ral.
Pons: The people in the nativity are alive.
Ned: Holy hannah, Pons! Ya mean this critter swallered a passel a folks alive?!
Pons: No, Ned. Calm down. Let me explain. The Nativity is a scene of the manger where Jesus was born.
Ned: Weren't he born in Bathleeham?
Pons: Bethlehem.
Ned: Oh, I thunk it was a place. So his ma's name was Beth Leigh Hemm
Pons: Not at all, Ned. Don't you know the story of the birth of Jesus?
Ned: I just now heard about this nativity. I ain't up on the latest birthin's.
Pons: This was two thousand years ago, Ned.
Ned: Man! Glad we got Twitter now. Baby's born- BAM -we know all about it.
Pons: C'mon, Ned. You know about Christianity.
Ned: 'Course, Pons. I bin ta church and heard all about it.
Pons: Well, the nativity is the birth of Jesus.
Ned: So Christianity is all about Jesus being born.
Pons: Well, it's really more about his death.
Ned: So we all celebrate Jesus being dead?
Pons: He's not really dead, Ned.
Ned: Oh boy! I get it now. That dang nativity done swallered him alive too!
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons meet at Times Square on December 31st.
Ned: Wow! I caint believe we've bin here since noon.
Pons: We had to be here early, Ned, or we couldn't have gotten this far into the crowd.
Ned: I swear, this day has bin near as long as the utter three hundert sixty-nine days put tagetter.
Pons: There are only 365 days in a year, Ned.
Ned: I reckon them month a Sundays pushes it to nine, Pons.
Pons: A month of Sundays is just an expression, Ned.
Ned: What about that there leapin' year?
Pons: Leap year? Ned that happens every four years and we actually have 366 days.
Ned: So my calcalatins say that ev'ry four years we add a day, so sooner er later we get to 369. That's where we got to.
Pons: Okay, Ned. So here we are at the end of the year. The ball will drop in just a few minutes.
Ned: It looks mighty big, Pons. A lot a folks is gonna get hurt bad iffin' that puppy drops down here.
Pons: That's just another expression, Ned. The ball will simply lower at midnight.
Ned: That's why this crowd's all here; right?
Pons: Yes, Ned.
Ned: Well, we're here; the ball is right there; why don't they jist lower it now so's we can go home?
Pons: Because they lower it when it's the next year.
Ned: Wait a minute! We gotta wait here anutter year?
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons meet up with Pez and Pallas at a bus stop.
Pons: The bus is late today, Ned. I hope we can get to Uncle Anzo's place on time.
Ned: This bus goes to his house?
Pons: No, Ned. It goes to the bus station in his town. Then we'll need to catch a taxicab to his place.
Pez: Hey, buddy. Does this bus go to Lapp City?
Pallas: It was supposed to have been here by now.
Pons: It must be running late.
Ned: It usually goes to my Uncle Anzo's place, but we hafta catch a toxic cab first.
Pez: Huh?
Pallas: Did you say a toxic cab? What's that?
Pons: He misunderstood me from before. We're catching a cab.
Ned: Ya'd think someone woulda rounded 'em up ahead a time.
Pez: Huh?
Pallas: Is there some kind of hazardous spill or something in Lapp City?
Pons: No. Ned just didn't get what I told him earlier.
Ned: Our uncle lives there.
Pez: You say his name is Anzo?
Pallas: We have an old friend of our dad's who lived in Lapp City; his name was Anzo.
Pons: Well, that's a coincidence. I would think he's the same person. How many Anzos could there be in Lapp City?
Ned: That would be a pozer fer sure, Pons. If we got to Lapp City and only knowd 'is first name, we'd have to check out ev'ry feller named Anzo in the whole town.
Pez: Looking at Pons. Is this guy an idiot?
Pallas: Looking at Pez. Is that a real question? Because I can pretty much tell you right now he is definitely an idiot.
Pons: Looking at both brothers with a stern face. You two are pretty common. How about keeping your mouths shut.
Ned: We playin' a game, Pons. I tried keepin' my mouth shut once, but the bug kep' ticklin' my tongue and I hadta spit 'im out.
Pez: Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought an idiot, than to open it and remove all doubt.
Pallas: That's Twain.
Pons: You are about to get hurt.
Ned: There a train comin', fellers? I thunk this here was a bus stop.
Pez: Okay, dude. I was out of line. Your friend here just caught me by surprise.
Pallas: We didn't know he was, y'know, whatever.
Pons: He's not.
Ned: I wonner if we was sposed ta ketch the toxic cab ta Lapp City and then git on the bus.
Pez: Chuckling and looking at Pallas. Oh, yeah. That's probably it.
Pallas: Yup, should have called a cab. Smiling and looking at Pons.
Pons: Looking to Ned. C'mon, Ned. We WILL catch a cab and go straight to Uncle Anzo's. Forget the bus.
Ned: Okeedoke. Fergettin' things is what I do bestest. The two walk off.
Pez: I'm glad we didn't have to beat that guy up.
Pallas: Yeah. Plus his goofy friend might have killed us.
Pez: We probably should have told them that Anzo died a month ago.
Pallas: Well, Anzo Morella died. They might be looking for Anzo Jones or Smith.
Pez: Looking at his younger brother and smiling. Maybe so -- Ned.
| Author Notes | Image from Google. |
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons meet at a laundromat.
Ned: Hey, Pons. Fancy meetin' you here.
Pons: Hi, Ned. Yeah, I usually never use this place, but my washing machine is on the fritz.
Ned: That's a laugher, Pons. One a my brudders' name is Fritz.
Pons: Brother!? Ned, I didn't know you had any brothers.
Ned: Oh yeah! Well, Ma used to bring me here wit her once a week ta do the washin'. She said it was the laundromat and I was Laundro Ned.
Pons: That's funny.
Ned points to the first washing machine in the center row of three rows of machines.
Ned: That there's Matt. He'd give me rides when we come here.
Pons: So he was Laun --
Ned: LaundroMAT. Right!
Pons: You said you had brothers?
Ned: Yeah, Pons. I'm sprized ya never met 'em.
Pons: So this is Matt? Pons begins loading the machine with his dirty underwear.
Ned: Yeah. Ma usu'ly gives him the shirts. I 'magine them skivvies will be a bit of a shock.
Pons: Oh! Sorry, Matt. Pons looks at the machine and looks to Ned for possible directions.
Ned: Doan sweat it, Pons. Matt likely has to warsh a few unmentionables from time ta time.
Pons: Right. Thanks, Ned Then turning back to the machine. Thanks, Matt.
Ned: It's funny yer warsher at home's called Fritz. That's my brother's name right o'er there.
Pons: The one with the three 'O's on it.
Ned: Yeah. He sits o'er there when he doan wanna work. Then they call 'im Ooooo.
Pons: I think that sign means Out of Order.
Ned: Oooo means outta order? That Franch? Like when 'us' means yeah?
Pons: It's Oui that means yes in French, Ned.
Ned: Well that's news namatter what. I had no ideer Fritz were Franch. He's always broke down. That a Franch thing?
Pons: I don't know what to say. Ned.
Ned: Anywho, these utter guys are Tide, Cheers, Downey, Clorox, Pepsi Coler --
Pons: Pepsi Cola?
Ned: That's 'er name, Pons. Blame it on 'er parents.
Pons: Wouldn't that be your mom?
Ned leans over to whisper in Pons' ear, while also looking at the machine.
Ned: She's adopted.
| Author Notes | Image from Bing Images |
By Bill Schott
Ned and Pons meet at a Post Office.
Ned: Howdy, Pons. What brings ya to the after office.
Pons: I've got to mail these -- Wait. After office?
Ned: Yeah, Pons. I was readin' a crossword puzzle answer sheet and it said that the meanin' a the word POST was AFTER.
Pons: Well, sure, Ned, but --
Ned: Y'know they print them answers upside down.
Pons: Okay, Ned, but the meaning --
Ned: It was hard ta read and my neck hurts now.
Pons: Huh?
Ned: So they prob'ly call this buildin' the POST office 'cause it comes after the doctor's office right dere. Ned points to the chiropractic clinic next to the post office.
Pons: Sighing Okay, Ned. You're probably right.
Ned: I was goin' ta check it out witta guy what runs the after office here ta fairyfi I'm right.
Pons: Wincing Well, Ned. You could, I suppose, but that might be a government secret. He or she might lose their job if you were to find that out.
Ned: Well I'll be cool 'bout it. Pons. I ain't no newbie at keepin' gov'ment secrets.
Pons: How's that?
Ned: I came to the after office when I was eighteen and got that there electric service form and filled 'er out.
Pons: Selective service?
Ned: No, I thunk he treated me fair as the next guy.
Pons: What does that have to do with keeping secrets, Ned?
Ned: Well I tolta guy I was a high school gratchit. He said that I keep that a pretty good secret. I ain't never tolt nobody since.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Ned practices with Pons for a job interview .
Ned: Mighty square a you ta hep me wit my job innerfew, Pons.
Pons: My pleasure, Ned. In today's job market it always pays to be prepared for an interview.
Ned: Go ahead and shoot me some questions and I'll answer the heck outta 'em.
Pons: Right. Okay. Hey, Ned, let's do this from the beginning. Go out of the room and knock on the door.
Ned: Which door do I knock on, Pons?
Pons: This one. Pointing at the room door.
Ned: What fer assackly?
Pons: So you can enter the room to be interviewed.
Ned: This sounds like deys-ya-foo ta me. Pons.
Pons: The reasoning, Ned, is to simulate your first arriving for an interview.
Ned: I thunk we was doin' that right here?
Pons: Okay, Ned. Look. I'll go outside and knock. You be the interviewer and tell me to come in.
Ned: Okeedokee.
Pons walks out of the room and knocks on the door.
Ned: That you, Pons?
Pons: May I come in?
Ned: Do ya know the password?
Pons opens the door and enters the room smiling.
Pons: Hello, sir. My name is Pons. We have a noon appointment.
Ned: It ain't even ten a'clock yet, Mr. Pons. Your a tad early. See ya in a coupla hours.
Pons: Let's just say it's noon now, Ned.
Ned: Well, Mr. Pons, ya got any identerfercation?
Pons: Uh, well, yes, but it's in my car.
Ned: What kinda car ya got?
Pons: Sighing. Look, Ned. Let's switch roles so I can ask the questions.
Ned: Ya sensitive 'bout yer car, Pons.
Pons: No. I would just like to get to the important stuff.
Ned: Well, Pons, ya need a decent car to get ta them places.
Pons: Let's begin. Hi, Ned. Welcome to Pons Enterprises.
Ned: I'm happier than a tape worm in a buddah belly.
Pons: Right. Well I've read your résumé.
Ned: Ya did? What'd it say?
Pons: Okay, Ned. You don't actually have a résumé yet.
Ned: How'd ya read it then?
Pons: Getting a little upset with Ned's lack of cooperation. I'm clarivoiant, Ned. Okay?
Ned: That's why ya left yer identerfercation in the car; ain't it? Yain't Pons; yer Clara Voyant.
Pons: What?
Ned: Ya must a took Pons hostich when he left the room. Where's Pons at Clara? If that's yer real name.
Pons: Staring off into the corner. Pons is in the bathroom, Ned. All a big joke. I'll go get him.
Leaves the room and quickly re-enters.
Ned: Hey, Pons.
Pons: Hey, Ned. Look, let's do this tomorrow. I need to print out some résumé formats so we can build your work history.
Ned: Don't I need a job afore I get a history a jobbin'?
Pons: Haven't you ever worked anywhere, Ned?
Ned: I raked the lawn; chopped up wood fer the fire; and I used ta babysit fer Ma's bingo pardner's neighbor's nanny's mother's sister's daughters' friend's baby.
Pons: Did they pay you?
Ned: Just the one.
Pons: That's a job then, Ned.
Ned: Wow. This innerfewin's somethin' else, fer sure. It ain't even noon yet and I gotta a job.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Two men meet at a suspected crime scene. It is an unauthorized dumping site filled with various, large pieces of furniture, appliances, and trash bags. It is early morning, slightly foggy, and the two are the only persons there.
Man 1: Pleasant morning to you, sir. My name is Herculuckle Peromes.
Man 2: No kidding. That is one weird name.
Man 1: That's quite rude. Might I inquire what you're called?
Man 2: That depends on who's calling it at me and why.
Man 1: I see by the mud on your left shoe and trouser cuff that you stepped into a puddle on First Street. It is dried, so you did it yesterday and are wearing the same clothing. The puddle is by a narrow stretch of the sidewalk where, if two people were passing, one would have to step off the concrete. Since it is your left shoe, you were going south and stepped off with that foot.
Man 2: So far, so wrong, Sherlock.
Man 1 : Herculuckle. To continue, you have raspberry jam on your left lapel, spaghetti sauce on the right breast pocket, and a milk moutache. You were recently in a food fight.
Man 2: You're dumber than a dumdum in the winner's circle at a 'How Dumb are You?' game show.
Man 1 : You are here, in the early morning, at the suspected location of a murder. You are either an ace detective, appearing here by sheer instinct, or, perhaps, returning to the scene of your heinous crime.
Man 2: Maybe I'm here to see if there's a place to dump an old rug from my house.
Man 1 : Is there a body rolled up in it?
Man 2: Not yet.
Man 1 : You have a wedding ring on your right hand. Custom demands that it be worn on the left. Your fingernails are bitten down, not manicured, and there is an attendance stamp on the back of your left hand indicating a recent outing at the nearby amusement park and beer tent.
Man 2: It's a birthmark.
Man 1 : Do you have an alibi for last evening at ten p.m.?
Man 2: I was in a food fight at the beer tent. I lost my wedding ring after taking it off to chat up the ball toss lady. Then I got into a fist fight with her boyfriend, Rock'em Sock'em Sid. I broke my ring finger smashing my glass hand against his chin of reinforced concrete. He threw me through the Jelly World display, smacked me with a plate of lasagna from the Pasta Palace display, and then force fed me a gallon bottle of 2% milk from the Cookie Nook display. After all of that, he flattened me with a left hook.
Man 1 : Were you left unconscious?
Man 2: That would have been preferable to the continued beating I received.
Man 1 : No one would stop Sid from punishing you?
Man 2: Naw. He left, but my wife showed up and kicked me around for an hour.
Man 1 : I see you found your ring.
Man 2: It was down on First Street. I had to step off the sidewalk to pick it up and stuck my foot in that stinking hole.
Man 1 : That's quite a ways for your ring to have traveled from where you were.
Man 2: That's what I thought, but there it was. I had to put it on my right hand because my left is busted.
Man 1 : Now you are here.
Man 2: I was walking all night looking for that ring. Once I found it I kept walking all night trying to come up with a way to save my marriage.
Man 1 : So that brought you here, to this illegal dumping site?
Man 2: Well, yeah. Didn't I mention I had a P-Oed wife and a rug to dump?
Man 1 : So you are planning to kill your wife and dump her here in an old rug?
Man 2: That was the plan, until I met you.
Man 1 : Of course. I will be informing the police that you intend to murder your wife and dump her rug-rolled corpse in this make-shift landfill.
Man 2: Something like that. I will be informing the police that I caught you dumping your dead wife in this dead-wife-dumping pile.
Man 1 : Why would they believe that incredible story?
Man 2: Elementary, Dr. Whatson. You've spent ten minutes here describing your own appearence as though it were me. I have been recreating the events of last evening as related to me by the several witnesses at the amusement park. The ring is on your hand. You are quite insane, and -- I -- am Herculuckle Peromes.
| Author Notes | Image from Pixaby |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at a carnival.
Ned: Hey, Pons. Good ta see ya here at the circus.
Pons: Well, it's not exactly a circus, Ned.
Ned: What don't this place got that a circus does?
Pons: Gee, Ned, lots of things. There aren't any clowns.
Ned: I think there is , Pons. Some dudes said earlier, "Look there at that clown!" I didn't see 'im though.
Pons: There aren't any elephants.
Ned: Not a one. That could be anutter elerphant joke. "Where do they keep all the elerphants?"
Waits for Pons' reply.
Pons: Ah, I don't know. Where do they kee--
Ned: Not at the dern carnival! Whatta think? Funny?
Pons: Like most elephant jokes.
Ned: Y'know I just made that one up.
Pons: They don't have any high wire acts here either.
Ned: Ya mean like them trap-tease artistes?
Pons: Right. Tight rope walkers and suspended acrobats. Circus acts.
Ned: What's an elerphant got that no utter aminal's got?
Pons: Baby elephants?
Ned: Well, any kind, big er small.
Pons: Oh, okay. I don't know, Ned. What do --
Ned: They got a trunk, Pons. That's as plain as the nose on yer face.
Pons: That's funny, Ned. Nose on your face.
Ned: My nose funny, Pons?
Pons: No, Ned. I was just saying --
Ned: What's worst than a elerphant wit a nose bleed?
Pons: A giraffe with a sore throat.
Ned: We're talkin' elerphants, Pons.
Pons: I don't know, Ned.
Ned: An elerphant wit diarhea. Man, Pons! That's gotta be ten times worser than a nose bleed.
Pons: Maybe ten TONS worse, as well.
Ned: I s'pose, Pons. Making no expression at all.
Pons: So, Ned, you want to go to the midway and win a stuffed elephant?
Ned: Sure, Pons. First though, I'm a gonna go alookin' fer that clown.
By Bill Schott
Pons arrives at a mechanic's garage to check on his car repairs. Ned is sitting in a waiting room.
Pons: Hi, Ned. What brings you here today? I didn't know you had a car.
Ned: Howdy, Cuz. Nah, I ain't got no car. Most places I kin get to on by bike-a-cel.
Pons: Bicycle?
Ned: That the way them Franch folk say it? We call it a bike-a-cel here in the U.S. of A.
Pons: I wasn't speaking French, Ned.
Ned: Are ya talkin' it now? 'Cause I kin unnerstan it clear as a bell.
Pons: Changing the subject. Great, Ned. Well, my car's in getting the wheels rotated and front end aligned.
Ned: I thunk the wheels rotated when ya roll down the road?
Pons: Of course, Ned. I mean they take them off the car and put them in another place.
Ned: Seems ta me they work purdy good where they are.
Pons: Well, sure, Ned. They'll still be on the car, just the rear tires will be on the front and the front tires in the back.
Ned: Then I guess ya hafta drive 'round backerds?
Pons: No -- ah, yeah, Ned.
Ned: That'd git a bit tiresome, I reckon. Hey! TIRE-some! I made a joke, Pons.
Pons: Yes, Ned. It was WHEEL funny.
Ned: With a blank stare. I thunk so too.
Pons: Looks like they're almost done, Ned.
Ned: Looking across the garage. Oh, yeah, I see it there now. Nobody could tell them er on backerds. Wasn't you sposed ta git a ell-linement?
Pons: An alignment? Yeah, Ned. They did that after they rotated the tires.
Ned: Where's them lines then? Ya might wanna check an' make sure them boys done it.
Pons: I know these folks, Ned. I trust them.
Ned: Nodding his head and scratching the top. Okay then, Pons. Ya got yer tires ropotated, but they look the same, and some unvisible lines put on. I guess ya got yer money's worth.
Pons: Right, Ned. So, where are you off to now?
Ned: I'm gonna disconnect the brake on my bike-a-cel and try ridin' it backerds fer awhile.
Pons: That sounds a little dangerous, Ned. Don't throw caution to the wind.
Ned: I'll be okay, Pons. I always throw that caution downwind.
By Bill Schott
Ned enters the door of the local pharmacy and discovers that Pons is browsing in the over-the-counter medications aisle.
Ned: Hey, Pons! How ya bin?
Pons: Hi, Ned. Well, to tell you the truth, I'm a bit constipated.
Ned: I bin compspotated afore. It got better once I dropped a duece.
Pons: That's the problem, Ned. I can't.
Ned: Don't amember how? That happent ta me once too. Couldn't fer the life a me amember how ta poop. Yud think a thin' like that'd stay wit ya.
Pons: Oh, I remember, Ned.
Ned: Eyes snapped wide open thinking Pons was about to have an accident.
Land-o'-Goshin, Pons! Dun crap in yer jeans right here!
Several people stare at the two as Pons looks around in embarrassment.
Pons: No, Ned. That's not what I meant. I mean that I need something to help me go.
Ned: Ohhh. Well, that's diff'ent. Maw used ta gimme a eminaw.
Pons: Enima?
Ned: No, Pons. Inna me.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet on the escalator at the local mall. There are only a few shoppers in the enire building.
Pons: Hi, Ned!
Ned: Hey, Pons! Fancy meetin' you here.
Pons: This place looks like a ghost town. There aren't more than a few dozen people here.
Ned: I heerd folks was shoppin' at the new Amazone place. Don't know where they built it, but I guess they're in a line there all day and night.
Pons: You mean, on line.
Ned: Sure, Pons. Or they might be sittin' down.
Pons: Sitting at home, you mean.
Ned: People're livin' there now?!
Pons: No, Ned. Amazon is a warehouse.
Ned: Right. So where's the house?
Pons: What I'm saying is that people are doing more purchasing at home and not the mall.
Ned: Oh yeh, sure. Ma used ta have me buyin' stuff at home too. She'd buy a bag a bubble gum and sell it to me fer a penny a piece.
Pons: Really?
Ned: Great deal, huh?
Pons: Anyway, Ned, the era of people flocking to brick and mortar stores is over.
Ned: I ain't never seen a brick store here anyway. That's sounds like it woulda bin a fun place ta buy a brick er two. Can't say I'd depreciate bein' the mailman what had ta deliver a passel a bricks ta somebody.
Pons: Well -- I --
Ned: Great grandpappy used ta shoot them mortars in the World War 'eye'.
Pons: That's one, Ned.
Ned: Sure they won. He said it was a great war.
Pons: THE Great War. The war to end all wars.
Ned: I s'pose it entertained folks back then. I think that's when they invented mustard.
Pons: Mustard gas, Ned.
Ned: Thanks fer the warnin', Pons.
| Author Notes | Image from Google. |
By Bill Schott
Pons walks into the tax preparer's office. Inside he sees that Ned is behind a desk, and wearing a tight-fitting suit with a Scooby-doo tie.
Ned: Hey, Pons! How the heck are ya?
Pons: Wow, Ned. You are doing peoples' taxes?
Ned: You bet, Cuz. I bin at it all day. It's easier than any gazintas I done in a long time.
Pons: Gazintas?
Ned: Sure. Like, two gazinta four two times, and two gazinta six four times.
Pons: Uh, okay, Ned. I have to tell you that two goes into six only three times.
Ned: Maybe so, Pons, but I git that right more'n I git it wrong.
Pons: Terrific. So they hired you as an accountant.
Ned: Yep. Asked me iffin I had a C.P.A.
Pons: So, what did you tell them?
Ned: Well, I didn't keerect their spellin', but nodded yeh acause I got a C.A.P. at home. Guess folks need a thinkin' cap 'round here.
Pons: So you have been filing returns all day?
Ned: This ain't no manuenel labor job, Pons. No sirree. I'm what's called a countant. I jist type numbers inta this here 'puter. I think the name oughta be counTIST, but I'm jist a massamagician, not a dang lingwishist.
Pons: (Pons' mouth remains agape) Have you completed anyone's taxes yet?
Ned: Well, sorta. I start'm, but when it asks iffin I want the erz ta do 'em, I type yeh. So now I get them utter guys ta do the taxes and I get paid. Sweet, right?
Pons: The erz would be the I.R.S.?
Ned: I guess we're all spellin' out words taday, huh?
Pons: Internal Revenue Service?
Ned: No, buddy, I hit the terlet when I got here.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons walks into a local Irish-owned bar. There are four-leaf clover and leprechaun images all about, with green streamers hanging everywhere. He sees a few friends standing around a tall drinking table. He approaches them as one of the three greets him.
Doe: Top a the mornin' to ya, Pons boy.
Pons: Hi, Waldo. Isn't it a bit late to be morning?
Doe: In our case we're arly foe tamarra.
Pons: You fellas been partying all day?
Doe: Not if it ain't midnight.
Another friend leans over to speak.
Ray: Hey, Pons. Where's your moron cousin Ned?
Pons: I'll let that go, Ramona, since I know you have a thing for Ned.
Ray: Take that back, Pons.
Meeme: I didn't know you had the hots for Ned, Ray. He is quite a catch.
Ray: Shut your hole, Meeme!
Doe: Hold up there, ladies. No need to get all hot'n bothered o'er Ned.
Pons: I wish Ned was here to see you two fighting over him.
Ray: Or to see you get your eye bloused.
Doe: You got these girlies all in a bunch now, Pons. That's gonna send this party down a dark road.
Through the door comes Ned. On his head is a green derby, his hair is tinted green, he is wearing a tee-shirt with KISS ME, I'M IRISH printed on it.
Ned: Hey, fellars and gellars.
Doe: Top a the mornin' to ya, Neddy.
Ray: Hey, moron.
Meeme: Oh , Ned! You're Irish! I had better kiss you, honey.
Ned: I ain't really an Irisher, Meeme. I jist got these thin's on account of it bein' warsh day.
Pon: So why do you have on a green derby, Ned.
Ned: My ball cap is in the warsh too.
Doe: Why's ya har green?
Ned: Guess I had a runny nose.
A collective "EEEWWWWW" comes from the crowd.
Meeme: Never mind the kiss.
Ned: So it's Saint Patty's Day, huh? They servin' up that green beer here?
Pons: Sure, Ned. Let me get you one.
Ned: That's akay, Pons. I quit a drinkin' when my daddy passed.
Pons: Uncle Newbie died!?
Ned: Nah! He passed gas once at a beer pardy an put us all off our feed fer awhile. I ne'er got the thirst fer beer since.
Doe: Let's salute the great man by givin' a proper toast.
Pons: May you be in heaven for an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
Ray: May you never be a moron -- oops! --too late, Ned.
Meeme grabs Ramona by the hair and the two begin swinging at each other until they drop to the floor wrestling.
Ned: May yer butt-kickin' always hurt yer foot, and not yer butt.
As the women roll about the floor cussing, the crowd raises their many glasses of green beer and drink.
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet Phyllis Stewart at an amusement park.
Pons: Gee, Ned. This Six Flags amusement park is huge.
Ned: It oughta be, Pons. They says that Gurnee, Illernoi is the home a Backwards Batman.
Pons: I think you're right, Ned. I guess I don't see how that would make it the biggest amusement park.
Ned: Well, ya caint know ever'thin'; right?
Pons: Right, Ned. Hey, look! It's Phyllis Stewart!
Ned: Ain't she the lady what says, "It's a good thing"?
Pons: No, Ned.
Ned: Oh, okay.
Pons steps over to the woman and extends his hand.
Pons: Hi, Phyllis!
Ned: Was you on Star Wars?
Pons whispers loudly to Ned
Pons: That was Patrick Stewart, Ned. It was Star Trek. He was a man. A bald man.
Ned: Don't you mean SHE was a bald man, Pons?
Pons: No, Ned, I really don't.
Phyllis: Hello, young man. Do we know one another?
Pons: No, not really. I have read your books though. Repentance was one. What's the right thing to do besides going to jail?
Ned: I figure this here trip to the 'musmint park is a righter thin' then that.
Phyllis: He's funny, I think.
Pons: Detour! The one about losing your memory.
Ned: That when folks git that chest operation. Pons?
Pons: No, Ned. It definitely is not.
Phyllis: Maybe I should be on my way?
Ned: Wernt you married ta Dr. Z on that supra heera movie?
Pons: That's 'X', Pons. She was not --
Ned: Sorry. Dint know yall split up.
Pons: I'm sorry, Ms Stewart. Uh, I remember your novel Speechless, with the blocked memories.
Ned: When babies gotta go to the bottle?
Pons: No, Ned.
Phyllis: He's charming.
Ned: I dint mean ta charm nobody. Sorry, Mrs. Z.
Pons: She's not Mrs. Z, Ned.
Leaning over to Pons
Ned: Oh, right -- DEEvorst.
Pons: Snapshots! I remember that one with the magic camera.
Ned: I had one a them when I was a kid.
Pons: A magic camera, Ned?
Ned holds his arms out and shapes his hands as if holding a camera.
Ned: Sure. I jist goes up ta folks and says 'Click'. They gets posed and says 'Cheese', kinda like they dunt 'spec'ly like cheese.
Pons: I remember the time travel one.
Phyllis: Island. I'm sorry, fellas, But I have to find someone here.
Pons: Maybe we could help. Who is it?
Phyllis: His name is Bowling. Do you know him too?
Ned: Does he roll around and run inta thin's? Spends time in the gutter?
Phyllis: That's him.
Pons: Here's someone rushing over.
Ned: He might be a superverted villain.
Phyllis: Right again.
Thomas: What the hell, Phyllis?
Phyllis: Thomas Bowling, this is Pons, I gather, from our conversation. And this is Ned.
Ned: Where's yer ball?
Thomas: Where's my ball? It's right here, turd, Dropping his trousers. next to his brother."
Ned: Holding out his arms. Click! Got ya wit yer pants down, Tum-ass.
Pons: So sorry, folks. We'll be going now.
Ned: We're goin' to the Backward Batman.
Thomas: You may want to start on the kiddie ride, Rear end Robin.
Phyllis: Pull your pants up -- Tum-ass
Pons: Do you have a new book coming out? I'd love to get a copy.
Phyllis: The Power, Pons. Mind reading.
Ned: Guess he don't mind it, Phylillis; he's got all them books, don't he?
| Author Notes |
Image used by permission from Phyllis Stewart.
http://www.pbase.com/image/168692557 |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at an automobile service station.
Ned: Toppa the mornin' to ya, Pons.
Pons: Hi, Ned. What brings you down here to the gas station?
Ned: I was count-ten-platin' cuttin' the grass this weekend, so I come down to git some go juice fer the MOWrauder.
Pons: That's a fun name for your lawnmower.
Ned: Oh, that ain't my lawnmower. Her name's Becky. MOWrauder is my hog.
Pons: You have a Harley?
Ned: No, Pons. I got a pig. His name's MOWrauder.
Pons: But you said you need gas.
Ned: No, I believe I said 'go juice' , Pons. You know -- orange soda pop. He loves the stuff.
Pons: Right. Of course. A pig. I didn't know you had built a pen and all for a pig.
Ned: Whatcha mean? Mow lives inside wit me.
Pons: Oh. He's a potbellied pig.
Ned: He's big boned.
Pons stares at Ned for a moment then looks back at the station.
Pons: Well, I have to schedule a tune up for my car.
Ned: You still drivin' that Dodge Dart?
Pons: Three seventy-three slant six, Ned. Most durable engine in the world.
Ned: I got a three fifty-one Windsor back at the place.
Pons: No kidding? You have a Gran Torino?
Ned: No. Just the engine. Well -- the block. It's by the boxelder tree. Got a couple saplin's grow'd through the piston shafts.
Pons stares at Ned again.
Pons: Well, alright.
Ned: Wonder if they need some hep here at the station? I might be good at servicin' cars.
Pons: Can you work on brakes?
Ned: No, Pons. You have to rest sometimes. It's best to relax on them breaks.
Pons: Right. Have you replaced exhaust systems? Shocks? Changed tires?
Ned: I ain't certain 'bout them exhausted systems, but I been shocked plenty.
Pons: Maybe you could pump gas.
Ned: I don't think they pay noboby to do that, Pons. That there's somethin' you pay them to do -- fer yerself.
Pons: Well, Ned, I'm not sure what kind of job you would be qualified to do here.
Ned: I could make change at the till.
Pons: Maybe. Let's test you on that. Let's say I pumped forty dollars of gas in my car--
Ned: The Dodge?
Pons: Right.
Ned: That tank hold forty dollars a gas?
Pons: Yes. So, I pump the gas, give you a fifty dollar bill; what do I get?
Ned: That's easy. Pons. You get forty bucks a gas.
Pons: And?
Ned: I get fifty bucks. Gee, Pons. Thanks. Now I don't need this job.
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet in an Igloo.
The scene opens with Ned sitting with a medium-sized pig. Pons crawls in from the left and sits by Ned.
Ned: Hey, Pons.
Pons: Hi, Ned. I just had to investigate this igloo in your yard.
Ned: Yep. I skulpterd it outta all this here free snow we been gettin'.
Pons: It must have taken you all night. I didn't see it here yesterday.
Ned: Well it woulda took longer, but Mowrauder here hepped.
Pons: Your pig?
Ned: He's good wittis hoovers.
Pons: Did you use a shovel?
Ned: Sure, Pons. Mow would find us a likely block what needed ax-tractin' and I would dig 'er out.
Pons: You must have been very cold.
Ned: I was at first, but Mow had a litt'r keg a rum under his chinny-chin chin.
Pons: He's a regular Saint Bernard.
Ned: Saint Mowrauder
Pons: Sounds like an oxymoron.
Ned: No, he's pretty smart and we may be a bit rummy, but we don't do no drugs.
Pons: I'm so glad you finished it and got out of the cold.
Ned: Yeh. It was a bit on the chilly side. I think I saw Mow tryin' to start a fire.
Pons: Your pig can build a fire?
Ned: Got a burn permit from the county. They thunk it was purdy funny.
Pons: They probably thought you were having a pig roast in the dead of winter.
Ned: I wouldn't do that to Mow, Pons.
Pons: Well, of course not --
Ned: His feelin's git hurt easy. Caint have no folks makin' him the butt a no mean jokes.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at a Wishing Well
The scene opens with Ned standing next to an old stacked-rock well with a Mason jar full of coins. He throws a coin in just as Pons approaches from behind.
Pons: Hey, Ned.
Ned: Land o'Goshin, Pons! This here wishin' well don't kid aroun'.
Pons: How's that?
Ned: I jist now wished my cuz and bestest buddy was here wit me and no sooner did I toss a penny in the well but you popped right up ahind me.
Pons: Well, I didn't just appear though. I walked from --
Ned: That's the magic of it, Pons. We think we know what's a goin' on, but in truallity it's the well what makes thin's happen.
Pons: I don't think the world revolves around this well, Ned.
Ned: I'm 'bout ta infest in some hist'ry makin' here, Pons. I have a jug a pennies an' I figure it can hep ta make the world what it oughtta be.
Pons: Okay, Ned. I hope this works.
Ned pulls a penny from the jar and tosses it into the well.
Ned: I wish I had enough money ta buy Pons n’ me a ice cream sundae.
Pons’ cell phone begins ringing.
Pons: Hello?
Radio Announcer: Congratulations! You are the thirteenth caller so you are awarded today’s W.E.L.L. radio prize!
Pons: But, I never —
Radio Announcer: You have won (drum roll) a month of sundaes from Bresler’s ice cream store.
Pons: But I —
Radio Announcer: Today’s promoted flavors are Vanilla Vortex and Lemon Lactose. You’ll have them in ten minutes, as we are tracking your phone's GPS signal. Who’s your favorite radio station?
Pons: What?
Radio Announcer: Close enough.
Suddenly, approaching from the left, a bicycle ice cream cart.
Ice Cream Guy: Vanilla Vortex and Lemon Lactose sundaes for Pons and Ned.
Ned: That's fantastical, Pons.
Pons: It really is, Ned.
Ned: I'll take the Lemon Lactose on account I don't thin' I would like no ice cream toes.
Ice Cream Guy: Great decision. Then leaning in to Ned. Toes are the worst.
Ned: I'm pretty dog gone excited 'bout this here wishing well, Pons.
Pons: I'm totally discombobulated.
Ned: That like brain freeze, Pons?
Pons: I can't believe this is happening.
Ned: Jist put yer thumb on the roof a yer mouth.
Pons: I don't have brain freeze, Ned. I can't explain this ice cream delivery.
Ned: They was freaky fast fer sure.
Pons: Can I toss in a penny?
Ned: 'Course, Pons. Go on an' pitch one in there.
Pons pulls a penny out of Ned's jar and flings it into the well.
Pons: I want world peace.
Pons' phone rings again.
Pons: Hello?
Radio Announcer: Congratulations! You are the thirteenth caller and have won monthly shipments from Eden Brothers' Peas of the World.
Ned: What's goin' on, Pons?
Pons hands the phone to Ned and walks off. Ned listens.
Radio Announcer: .... Tom Thumb peas, white sugar peas, green arrow peas, black-eyed peas, dwarf gray peas, Alaska peas, Lincoln peas, sugar daddy peas, mammoth peas...
Ned: Guess I'll be needin' to wish up some ham and taters.
| Author Notes | Image from Google Pinterest.com |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet at a Fender Bender
The scene opens with Pons standing next to his car, which has been rear-ended by another car. That car's driver is on his cell phone facing away from Pons. Ned wanders up out of nowhere.
Ned: Hey, Pons!
Pons: Ned? What are you doing out here on the highway?
Ned: I was jist hitchhikin' over to my Ma's house. Looks like you got a sitchiation here.
Pons: Right. I was pulling over to take the off ramp when this guy tried to zoom past me on the right. He rammed the back end so now we're here waiting for the highway patrol.
Ned: Are ya okay? This is the kinda accident what causes folks ta get that whipped splash. Are ya feelin' wet all over?
Pons: I don't think I have whiplash, Ned.
Ned: What about whipped splash?
Pons: I feel fine, Ned. Thanks. How can you hitchhike out here? I'm pretty sure it's illegal.
Ned: That must be why nobody's pickin' me up. I was beginnin' ta think I was infizzible. Hey, Pons. Ya don't reckon I'm infizzible do ya?
Pons: I can see you, Ned.
Ned: Sure. Maybe yer like that feller on the old movie what sees the ghost couple that was kilt in a car wreck.
Pons: Cosmo Topper?
Ned: You ain't cussin' in Franch or that are ya?
Pons: No, Ned. Nevermind.
The other driver walks over to where Pons and Ned are talking.
Driver: I've notified the police, my insurance company, and my lawyer.
Ned: Bess git yerself a good amblince chaser what can explain yer bad drivin'.
Driver: Who are you?
Pons: He's my cousin. What's this about a lawyer?
Ned: A lawwer is a fella what makes up stuff in court to git guilty folks off on a tectiphallacy.
Pons: Technicality.
Ned: Are we rhymin' now, Pons?
Pons turns back to the other driver.
Pons: I'm not suing you, dude. The insurance companies will figure it out.
Driver: I'm suing you. Reckless endangerment, road rage, attempted vehicular homicide, and that's just for starters.
Ned: Think we'll be on the People's Court, Pons?
Pons: No one's going to court. You are clearly at fault here. The police will see that when they arrive.
Ned: They may not see me though. I might be infizzible.
A highway patrol cruiser pulls up ahead of Pons' car. Exits the vehicle and walks up to the three men.
HwyPat: Good afternoon, gentlemen. Looks like you have been playing bumper cars out here on the express way.
Pons: This guy ran into the back of my car trying to pass me on the right as we exited onto the ramp.
Driver: Nonsense. This man swerved in front of me as I was exiting the main road.
The patrolman turns to Ned.
HwyPat: Did you witness this accident, sir?
Ned: No, sheriff. But I saw a doozy last week on a TV cop show what made this here collision look like two ladies bumpin' shoppin' carts tagetter at the Walmart.
The patrolman looks a few seconds at Ned, turns to Pons with raised eyebrows, while his eyes move surreptitiously back to Ned then to Pons again.
Pons: He wasn't here at the time, officer.
Ned: I was being infizzible on the freeway.
HwyPat: It's pretty clear to me that you were rear ended by this gentleman. Your insurance policies will cover you both. I'm not assigning fault here though.
Pons: Very well, officer. Thank you.
Driver: My insurance company will cancel my policy. I may as well start hitchhiking.
Ned: If I was you I'd take yer car home first.
Pons: Let's take off, Ned. I have to get this car into the shop as soon as possible.
Ned: While yer there have 'em take a look at that smashed up part.
Pons: Smiling. Good idea, Ned.
By Bill Schott
Characters:
MM = Michelle Moose = a moose
MFG = May Bell, Fay Bell, Gay Bell = The Three Cowses
Ned Knuckeledd = Who knows?
Pallas Pitch = Son of Peril and Pom Pon Pitch = The Pitches
Bill = as Himself
Bill sits before his computer screen preparing to draft, what will probably be, the final scene for the year. His muses are gathered around for this important scribbling.
Ned: Whatcha doin', Billum?
Bill: You know, Ned; Billiam is not my name.
Ned: I thunk Bill was short fer Billum.
Bill: It's not; it's short for William. Look, Ned, instead of us getting into this debate, why don't you get some snacks for the others.
Ned: Sure, ba - uh- Willum. Whatcha want girls? (addressing the three cows)
MFG: Mooooooooo!
Pallas: I'll take a walnut and a fig newton.
Ned: I dun thin' ba - uh- Wil-biam's got no fig newtons. He might haf some a them cashew nuts in a jar.
Pallas: Dig up some prunes or raisins, bring the jar of nuts, and see if he's got any sauerkraut or pickled herring.
Ned: Kin I git sumptin fer you, Mitch-ell? (addressing the moose)
MM: My name is pronounced 'Meesh-ell', Mister Ned.
Ned: Okeedokee, Meeshell. My names pernounced Ned. The mister is silent. What can I git ya?
MM : Leaves, bark, or pine cones would be fine. Thank you.
Ned: Okay. I'll jis git my coat and a rake and I'll be back in a jiffy. (leaves stage left)
Bill: I need to open this scene, guys. Any ideas?
MFG: Mooooooooo!
MM: Perhaps something about a flying moose and her quaint squirrel friend?
Bill: That sounds a bit derivative.
MM: Oh no! There is no sex between them, Bill!
Bill: I meant that it sounds like a take on Rocky and Bullwinkle.
MM: There is no boxing or flowers in my story idea.
Bill: Right. No Rocky Balboa or periwinkles. Just a moose that flies and a rodent sidekick.
MM: Gee, Bill. That's a swell idea.
Pallas: Yeah. A moose with flies buzzing around it and a rat dandy. That'll grab a reader by the eyeballs.
MFG: Mooooooooo!
MM: What about a circus scene with a baby moose that flies?
MFG: Mooooooooo!
Ned: (enters from stage left with a serving tray filled with items) Come'n git yer vittles!
Pallas: Find any pickled herring, Nedster?
Ned: What I found in the frigadator was a jar a pickles wit one cuke in it and some left over fish sticks. I slipped the pickle inta a baggie wit a haffa onion and dropped the fish sticks inta the jar.
Bill: Dumbo.
MM: No need for name calling, Bill.
MFG: Mooooooooo!
Ned: Gotcha a peck a pine cones, Mitch-ell
MM: You are a prince among men, Mister Ned, and my name is pronounced Meesh-ell.
Pallas: This pickled fish stick concoction sounds like a winner, Neddy. We may need to open a stand out front.
Bill: I mean the idea sounds like Dumbo.
MM: Dummo is a flying baby moose?
MFG: Mooooooooo!
Ned: Ya think people'd pay fer pickled fish sticks, Pallas?
Pallas: Let's see. (pulls a fish stick out of the jar and eats it; makes a face and spews it down stage six feet) It's an acquired taste. If we can a hundred we might sell half before they shut us down.
Bill: No, but the concept is quite similar.
MM: Well, I'm out of ideas. I think I'll take a break and try some of your pine cones.
MFG: (the three cows speak in succession) While you're milking ideas. We need milking tooooo!
Ned: Maybe Billum could write us up a advercizement so's people'd know we got pickled fish sticks they could 'quire a taste fer.
Pallas: Yeah! Something like how it tastes great going in and better getting spit out. That's truth in advertising for certain.
Bill: (moves his chair over to a cow and begins milking) I think I'll start writing about real things that happen on a daily basis.
MM: (crunching on a pine cone) Isn't that why we have the evening news?
MFG: Mooo! Mooo! Mooooo la la!
Ned: Hey, Billum! Win ya git done milkin' them cowes, hows about jottin' down a ad fer our new bizniz?
Pallas: It'll be the biggest thing to eat since chocolate ants.
Bill: I'm going to dedicate my writing to an ongoing memoir of my life.
MM: Will there be a moose in your life, Bill?
MFG: Mooo! Mooo! I'm spent.
Ned: Gee, Pallas. I ain't so sure we're a part a Billum's memwire.
Pallas: Yeah. We might have to get this thing up and runnin' on our own.
Ned: Maybe Pons'd like ta be inbolved in it.
Pallas: He gets paid out of your half then.
Bill: (moves to the second cow) No moose, Michelle.
MM: (spitting onto the floor) Ugh! A dog turd! Ned you idiot!
MFG: Mooo! Well Helllllo, BILL! Zzzzzz!
Ned: Gosh! Them dern doggy logs looks purdy sim'lar to them pine cones.
Pallas: Looks like there might be a signifigant taste difference, Neddo.
Bill: I should wrap this up soon.
MM: I need a tooth brush or something.
MFG: Mooo! I'm on E, Bill. Zzzzz!
Ned: Guess I'll check out and get some shut eye. (leaves stage left)
Pallas: Start dreaming about what you'll do with all that money we make sellin' -- Wait for it --- Fickle Stick Picks! (leaves stage left)
Bill: (hooks the last cow up to a milking machine) Going high tech with you, Gay Bell. (leaves stage left)
MM: (directed down stage) Could I get a mint?
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned meet up at an end-of-year party at a ball room. Pons is in street clothes and Ned in a zoot suit.
Ned: Hey, Pons! Fancy meetin' you here.
Pons: Fancy is right, Ned. I didn't know this was a costume party.
Ned: I didn't neither. I hope I ain't too dressed up fer the accasion.
Pons: Ned -- you're in a zoot suit. No one's worn one of those for real in sixty years.
Ned: Ain't it cool? Great Uncle Seizure had it in his closet. It don't fit 'em no more so he said I could have it.
Pons: Uncle Caesar might have worn that when he was eighteen or something. Certainly not since then.
Ned: It was a hangin' nexta a World War I soldier uniform.
Pons: Well I don't think he's quite that old, so it was likely his father's uniform.
Ned: It wasa rapped around a skelerton. Guess that was his pap.
Pons: That would be ghastly. I imagine, since he was a country doctor, it was a laboratory skeleton.
Ned: Maybe so, but it looked a lot like Great Uncle Seizure.
Pons: (smiling) At this point he probably does. So, has anyone commented on your attire?
Ned: A feller said my right rear one looked like it wasa settin' a bit low, but since I walked here I figured he was either liquored up or was mistakin' somebody else's car fer mine.
Pons: Attire, Ned. Attire.
Ned: (thinking for a second) Walked here, Pons. Walked.
Pons: Right. So, did anyone say anything about your suit?
Ned: Some feller said I was a li'l late fer Hallerween.
Pons: Some people, huh?
Ned: Yeah. I amember bein' early ta that Hallereen party we got to. Didn't see that dude there though.
Pons: Well, I'm hoping to meet a girl tonight and start the new year off with a little romance.
Ned: I tried talkin' to that girl o'er there, (pointing to a woman) but she just shook her head a lot and kept sayin' Ick and callin' fer Nick.
Pons: (looking at the woman) She's a visiting professor at the college, Ned. She's German I think. I'll bet she was saying "Ich verstehe nicht".
Ned: That's it.
Pons: That means she doesn't understand English, which is unusual. Want to go talk to her again?
Ned: Sure, but is she a Ger-woman er a Ger-MAN? 'Cause I'm lookin' fer a gal, not a pretend gal.
Pons: She's definitely a woman, Ned.
Ned: If you say so, Pons. It's jis germ and man are two a them wrongs that ain't makin' a right fer me. Ya know what a mean?
Pons: (chuckling to himself) Yeah, Ned. I really do.
The two walk over to the woman who is standing alone.
Pons: Hi, my name is Pons Maninoff and this is my cousin Ned Knuckeledd.
Luna: Allo. I am Doc-toor Luna Teufel. I am sehr pleased to meet you.
Ned: Wow! You sounded purty close ta Engalish.
Luna: As did you.
Pons: (giggling) Your English, I'm certain, is far superior to my German.
Luna: (smiling) Sprichst du Deutsch? (Do you speak German?)
Pons: Ein bisschen (A little.)
Luna: Dein Freund ist komisch. (Your friend is weird.)
Pons: (half smiling) Er hat ein gutes Herz und einen offenen Geist. (He has a good heart and an open mind.)
Luna: (laughing) Ja. Einer sollte zum Studium entnommen und der andere zur Verwendung bei einem besseren Menschen geerntet werden. ( Yes. One should be removed for study and the other harvested for use in a better human.)
Pons: Seems like you could use more of both, Doctor Teufel.
Ned: Hey! I unnerstood that part. Guess my German's gettin' good jis lis'nin.
Pons: Yeah, Ned. Some things are easy to understand. People like Ms. Teufel here for instance.
Luna: Tat is Doctoor Teufel.
Pons: That is Doctor Dummkopf!
Ned: Jeez, Pons. Now yer teachin' Germans German.
Pons: I guess we all learned a lot here, Ned.
Ned: Dun think I learnt too much.
Pons: There's always next year, Ned. Let's get one of those glasses of champagne and get ready to toast. It's almost midnight.
Pons gets two drinks and gives one to Ned. The clock strikes twelve.
| Author Notes | Image from Google. |
By Bill Schott
Cast
Shawn Nono Manatee (SNM)
Pucker Mofo Snarelson (PMS)
Scene opens in the news room of a conservative broadcasting company preparing for an opinion piece on great historic events. Two of the network's top personalities will be working in tandem to review and comment on major events of the last twenty years.
SNM: Hello, Americans. We are here today to tell the truth about our history so far this new century. Almost twenty years has passed so we can take a look at how well the nation has progressed.
PMS: We've succeeded despite the deep state attacks on our way of life by the Demoncrats.
SNM: We're going to be fair and unbiased as usual as we examine our country's struggles since the new millennium began.
PMS: Right out the gate in 2001, a huge tax cut has allowed the middle class to reduce a bit and help that lower middle class to expand. Those in the higher tax brackets were able to escape the tedious tax paying and reinvest their money in offshore accounts.
SNM: The events of September 11th, however, put the kibosh on progress until we could figure out how best to invade the Middle East and establish a business platform.
PMS: Then we had some anthrax floating around, and not the good kind either.
SNM: Our buddies at ENRON did some bad math calculations and got shut down. Regulators interfering with the free market were to blame.
PMS: Then we started 2002 with an invasion of Iraq to get those WMDs.
SNM: Detractors say they were Weapons which Mostly Didn't exist, but we know better.
PMS: United Airlines bit the dust that year along with my frequent flyer miles.
SNM: In 2004 some panty-wastes didn't like the way we treated the potential killers in Abu Gharib Prison and made a stink about it.
PMS: Through all that, Doublya got re-elected. Thank God the nation was saved for another four years.
SNM: Hurricane Katrina showed up in 2005 and eliminated a lot of old housing areas in the Gulf. Good thing FEMA got in there and saved the day.
PMS: Guess it was business as usual until 2007 when me and Apple invented the iPhone. You're welcome.
SNM: In 2008 Barrack Obama somehow gets into office, and Lehman Brothers and General Motors file for bankruptcy. Coincidence? I think not.
PMS: When 2010 rolled around, Obama Care took your doctor away from you and made you a criminal if you didn't want to be covered. Poor people had to find out they were sick and rich Americans had to actually pay for health care.
SNM: In 2011 Barrack Obama - I mean- Osama Bin Laden is killed by SEALs.
PMS: Obama re-elected since Mitt Romney wasn't Donald Trump.
SNM: That 2013 Boston Marathon bombing put a damper on my jogging.
PMS: A 2015 Supreme Court ruling made it legal for me to marry another dude if I wanted to.
SNM: Do you?
PMS: No! Get away from me!
SNM: In 2016 the nation is saved as Donald J. Trump is elected to czar- I mean - king - no - president of the United States of America.
PMS: Since then, our great president has booted an FBI director; left the Iran Nuclear Accord; told the G7 to invite the Russians back in or the U.S was pulling out; met with the Head Fred of Korea; met with the great and wonderful Vladimir Putin in Helsinki and gave him due praise for being so smart and powerful; got the head of the Trump Fan Club, Brett Kavanaugh, confirmed to the Supreme Court, in 2018; helped the Demoncrats get work for some slouch Representatives in the House; shut the government down for a month so we could all get some sleep; gave Americans the biggest tax cut since the last Republican president, and now has to sit through the impeachment inquiry before the Republican Senate can wish him a happy Russian New Year in January 14th of 2020 when they vote to not impeach him.
SNM: Another great day will be had in the United States, Comrad.
PMS: Da. Do Svidaniya.
| Author Notes | Certainly skewed to be hard on the opinionated Fox anchors. No other judgement than they are certainly wearing blinders when it comes to the president. |
By Bill Schott
Pons and Ned show up at a friend's house to help close the above-ground pool for the season. They arrive from separate ends of the pool frame and meet in the center.
Ned: Hey, Cuz. Ain't it a great day ta be alive?
Pons: Hi, Ned. Yes, it's a good day to be alive. Most days are that.
Ned: Sure. Iffin we wasn't closin' Ape-Allo's pool, we might be off hank-glidin' in Beer- Mooter.
Pons: Hang-gliding in Bermuda? Really?
Ned: Sure! Or we might could ride them rapid waters in Collar-aida.
Pons: Wow! I have never even considered that, Ned. You are quite the adventurer lately.
Ned: (Looking over the wall of the pool) Looks like Ape-Allo's got the water drained down proper.
Pons: You do know his name is pronounced - Apollo; right?
Ned: Well, yeah, I did, but my friend from Mexico told me once that pollo means chicken.
Pons: So you thought calling him Apollo would be--
Ned: Callin' him a chicken. Now I ain't got no call ta do that.
Pons: Okay, Ned. It sounds like that, but he and you and everyone else knows that he's not being called a chicken.
Ned: In Mexican.
Pons: Right. In Mex -- well, Spanish.
Ned: So it's just them Mexicans what'd be callin' him a chicken.
Pons: Sure, Ned.
Ned: (Looking at the pool covering tarp) This tarp ain't got no grommets, Dude.
Pons: Grommets?
Ned: Yeah. Them holes what we're gonna need ta thread rope through ta tie the top down. Ain't none.
Pons: What now?
Ned: Need a peck a grommets and a tool.
Pons: So, grommets are the ringlets that we tie it down with. Funny the tarp didn't already have them installed.
Ned: He prob'bly got this here tarp on sale and ne'er thunk that it maybe wouldn't be as good as them what's sold on TV by them big bucks stores.
Pons: Big Box?
Ned: Naw. Them grommets are likely in a small box the size of a grommet box.
Pons: That seems likely.
Ned: Even wit havin' ta punch all these here grommet holes, this is still a mighty fine day ta be alive.
Pons: Here's the cable for cinching the cover.
Ned: Yup. Still ain't got no grommets though. We might need ta just punch holes in the edges and put the wire in without them thin's.
Pons: Would that be as good?
Ned: This here's a pool-coverin' emergency, Pons. We gotta meatball this puppy afore we lose the patient.
Pons: That's a bit of an overstatement, Ned. Covering a pool is hardly a life or death situation.
Ned: Let me ask you, Dude. Iffn you was in the hopstipal and you was on a opratin' table and them surchins was ready to sew you up after fixin' yer broken liverwurst and they looked around and couldn't find no grommets what to stitch you up wit -- what would ya want'm ta do.
Pons: (Looking at Ned with a smile) Sew me up without grommets, Ned.
Ned: Zactly. Arrest my case.
Pons: We'll need to punch some holes to thread the wire through.
Ned: I got a .22 pistol in my truck.
Pons: What!
Ned: I kin pop them holes in there right quick. Ya think twenny rounds'd do it?
Pons: You're joking, of course.
Ned: I think I only got twenny bullets, Pons.
Pons: Look, Ned. This isn't going too smoothly and I don't think Apollo wants us to shoot holes in his tarp. Let's take a break, and I'll call Apollo about the grommets.
Ned: Okay, Dude. Meanwhile I'm goin' ta take a quick dip in the pool.
Pons: What? Why? There's only three feet of water in there, Ned.
Ned: Cool yer jets, Pons. I ain't leapin' off a high divin' board.
Pons: Yeah, but you're dressed, the water is stagnant, and it's not summer anymore.
Ned: Well I'll just drop trou now, git in there fer a skinny dip, and not stay too long ta git no stagnant on me.
Pons: On second thought, get your gun. We have a pool cover to shoot.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
SCENE ONE
Alley in a rundown part of a city.
Scene: Four men stand around an old oil drum used as a burn barrel for heat.
Cast:
Lester = former court jester
Mississippi = gambler
Plan 9 = alien
Crunchy = old sailor
===================================
Lester: You guys know why the new naval ships from Carthage had glass-bottom boats?
Mississippi: I'll bet I do know. What are the odds?
Plan 9: The umbilicus, or navel, would likely not have such installations. The question is farcical and supplies additional evidence that this world SHOULD BE DISINTEGRATED!
Crunchy: Sounds like a maritime question, matey. You've entered the right port.
Plan 9: Right port is known as an oxymoron, as right would be starboard and port would be left, furthering the argument for punitive PLANETARY DESTRUCTION!
Lester: The new Carthage navy had glass-bottom boats so they could see the old Cartage navy.
Mississippi: Huh?
Plan 9: Glass was invented by Mesopotamians in the 35th century BCE, but glass for windows was not developed until 100 CE, a century after Carthage would have launched a new fleet of ships to replace the old Carthage naval vessels sunk during the Punic Wars with the Roman Empire in 25 BCE. This renders the question moot and shortens the time left before this sphere IS REDUCED TO ASH!
Crunchy: I think I served with a feller from the Punic War.
Lester: Well sure. You, Popeye, Sinbad, and Jolly Roger probably all served together -- in the Captain's mess.
Mississippi: What?
Plan 9: The possibility of participating in meaningful service with a 1930s cartoon character, an 18th century Arabian adventurer, or the 17th century red-coated pirate Le Joli Rouge is not plausible. NONE WILL BE SPARED!
Crunchy: I served on board the Titanic.
Lester: Boy, Crunchy. You're a genu-wine Ain't-Chit-Mariner. Closest I came to a Titanic experience was being hit by a head of lettuce on stage. It was ICEberg lettuce, of course.
Mississippi: Wonder what the odds were that that boat'd get across the ocean in one piece?
Plan 9: . Eliza Gladys Dean, the last survivor of the Titanic sinking died May 31st, 2009. She was two months old at the time of the disaster. The likelihood of Crunchy being on board that vessel ranges from impossible to some even more improbable degree. However, floating in freezing sea water make seem comforting when faced with fiery thermal rays which will reduce civilization TO A SMOKING BALL OF CHARCOAL!
Crunchy: (In a trance-like state.) There was a ship.
Lester: Uh oh. Crunchy's going into his storytellin' zone.
Mississippi: The odds were good for that.
Plan 9: Oh no; this story again. The oceans will be VAPORIZED!.
Crunchy: (Blankly) Water, water everywhere, nor not a drop to drink.
Lester: No joke, Gents. I'm looking for another barrel. (Walks off)
Mississippi: All bets are off. (Walks off)
Plan 9: Well, Crunchy. I suppose you are a sadder and a wiser man.
Crunchy: (Eyes wide open, staring at no one)
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
Plan 9:
(Walking away shaking his head.)
Incineration cannot come soon enough.
| Author Notes |
All information on Punic Wars, Titanic, and Rime of the Ancient Mariner, along with the image came from Google sources.
|
By Bill Schott
SCENE ONE
POKER GAME
Scene: Four friends sit at a round table playing cards:
Cast:
Link = Neanderthal
Meow Meow (MM) = Female Impersonator
Nine Ways to Sundown (Nine) = Cowboy
Odin = Norse dog walker
===================================
Link
Mexican Sweat. Twos are wild and fours are the death card.
MM
I am NOT playing that riDICules game again.
Nine
I'd as soon play five card stud, Bubba.
Odin
Ooh, Stud.
Link
You turds never want to play my games.
MM
We always lose to you. It takes all our money just to get through one hand and then -- we lose.
Nine
That is truth told. We're all anted in and raised 'til that death card wipes us out. Then you haul in the dough and we're thumbin' home.
Odin
So, it's stud then.
Link
Fine. Five card draw. Jacks or better to open. Suicide king is wild.
MM
What's a suicide king?
Nine
King of Hearts, Meow Meow. He has a sword through his gourd.
Odin
Oh yes. He's the only king without a beard.
Link
Yeah. He shaved with that pig sticker before he lanced his grape.
MM
Do we have to ante every time no one can open?
Link
Yeah, and it's a nickel progressive until somebody bets.
Nine
I'm going to end up broke again before I lay a card down.
Odin
I'll lend you money, Cowboy.
Everyone tosses in a nickel.
Link
Okay. Pot good? Cards all around.
Deals counter clockwise until all players have five cards. Each player looks at the cards dealt to them.
MM
I bet a quarter.
Nine
Fold
MM
You're folding at a quarter.
Odin
More for me. I see your quarter and raise it another one.
Link
That's the spirit, Odin. I see that fifty cents. Meow Meow you're light a quarter.
MM
I fold too.
Link
Didn't you open? You haven't even got any more cards yet.
Odin
Yeah. A pair of jacks is a good hand in this game. You might get trips and win.
Link
Cards, Odin?
Odin
Shows the dealer an ace. I'll take four cards.
Link tosses four more cards to Odin face down.
Link
Check to the power.
Odin
Two bucks.
Link
I'll bite. Call.
Odin
Four threes.
Link
Geez! Who dealt this crap. How about shuffling them next time Nine.
Everyone gets up and leaves while Odin fills his change purse.
END OF SCENE
By Bill Schott
SCENE ONE
INT. A CLOSET
Scene one: Bill Schott, sitting on a stool, facing a drawing on the wall of two eggs holding hands. There' s dim bulb hanging overhead.
| Author Notes |
Nod to MCLII1987 |
By Bill Schott
The scene opens on a rural road at the driveway entrance of an old farmhouse. One man stands next to a mailbox which has the red flag turned up. He is wearing a suit and tie, sunglasses, and is holding a brief case. A mail carrier rides up on a bicycle with the mail pouch straddling a rack over the rear fender.
Mail Carrier (MC) Howdy, sir. Beautiful day we're having.
Man in Suit (MS) (Emotionless) Where's the mail?
MC: It's right here in this pouch -- uh -- and you are?
MS: Here for the mail.
MC: Right. Well, sir, I have to put this mail in that mailbox right there.
MS: Just hand it to me.
MC: No can do, sir. By the way, who are you?
MS: Current resident.
MC: Oh? The Applebees don't live here?
MS: My name is Applebee.
MC: Well, gee, I thought I knew all the Applebees.
MS: The mail?
MC: Yes, well, like I said, I need to put it in the mailbox.
MS: Why not just hand it to me?
MC: The law says I have to place it in a federally approved mailbox.
MS: This mailbox?
MC: Right.
MS: After you do that -- place the mail in this federally approved mailbox; what do you imagine I will do next?
MC: You will probably pull the mail out of the box.
MS: Exactly. So why not skip the box and simply hand the mail to me?
MC: Since I don't really know you, sir. I can't knowingly misdirect the mail.
MS: My name is Applebee.
MC: Do you have I.D., Mister Applebee?
MS: I do, but let me ask you something. Once you put the mail in this box and ride off; what do you think I am going to do next?
MC: As I said before, you will most likely pull the mail out of the box.
MS: Me -- or anyone, right?
MC: Hopefully one of the Applebees.
MS: Hopefully?
MC: Well, I can't insure they would be the ones who get the mail. That is the intention though.
MS: What if I am not an Applebee as I've claimed?
MC: Then you will be in violation of federal law.
MS: Will you arrest me?
MC: No. I will alert the local sheriff and he will arrest you.
MS: That must be some important mail you have there.
MC: It's important that I do my job right. That means placing the mail in an approved recepticle.
MS: What if I were to tell you that I am not an Applebee? What if I plan to steal the Applebee's mail? What then?
MC: I wouldn't put it in the box.
MS: Then it would be you misdirecting the mail.
MC: No, sir. I am in charge of the mail and I can decide if it is mete and right to leave articles where I suspect there may be a problem.
MS: Mete and right?
MC: Too dramatic?
MS: Maybe. Anyway, you done good, Davey.
MC: Thanks, Mr. Hamsterdam.
MS: There'll likely be postal inspectors showing up from time to time to keep you on your toes.
MC: Right, sir. I will be vigilant.
MS: Okay. Just hand me that mail and be on your way.
Davey hands Mr. Hamsterdam the letters addressed to the Applebees. Both men freeze for an entire minute.
MS: So close, Davey. So close.
| Author Notes | Image from Google |
By Bill Schott
Cast:
Pons as Anchor Hocking
Ned as The Man Called Horse
Pez as A Boy Named Sue
Pallas as Character #4
Matt as Sam the Sham
Jiffy as the One Who Got Away
Six story characters assemble to audition for the part of Leopard Boy.
BILL: Okay, Pons, you're first. Read the line while looking at this teddy bear.
Pons: (Clears his throat) Yo yo yo. Teddy Bear, you are my fav-o-rite bruin in a bow tie.
BILL: Great. Okay, Ned. Let's hear you.
Ned: Yer a yoyo Smokey. Yer my fav-o-rite blue one in a bullseye.
BILL: Amazing, Ned. Thanks. Okay, Pallas, give it a shot.
Pallas: Yo to the Tee, Teddy. You are my fave flave, bruin. Is that a bow tie or are you just glad to see me?
BILL: Different. Interesting. Weird. Okay, Pez.
Pez: Just here for the beer.
BILL: Jiffy? You're up.
Jiffy: Yoo hoo, Ted the Head. You are down with me my bear. Does that bow tie squirt water?
BILL: You guys really like improv I see. Matt?
Matt: Yo yo yo. Teddy Bear, you are my fav-o-rite bruin in a bow tie.
BILL: Hey, fellas. You all did great and I am loving this audition. Some notes for you.
Jiffy: Is there a love scene?
Pez: Beer?
Ned: Is Smokey Bear gonna be in this show? Wow!
BILL: Okay. Notes later. Let's get a beer.
|
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