Please enjoy this filthy new video from my sketch group, Afterprom Comedy. 

Here is a new video from my sketch group, Afterprom.

Hello! Here’s a set I did at the Hanover Street Theater in New Jersey last month. Few things:

1) It’s not a video; it’s a slideshow consisting of pictures of me on stage from that night while the audio plays. I didn’t make it, the host and producer of that show did (a very nice guy named Matt Sorrentino). I’m pretending I’m dead and it’s a fan tribute with 2,000 “likes” and 115 “dislikes” and the comments get racist.

2) I didn’t realize my voice sounded like Richard Pryor’s impersonation of white people. 

3) The audience is very quiet on this recording, so whether or not I bombed is really up to you! 

KEENE, NH—In a recent brochure, undergraduate liberal arts institution Keene College informed prospective students that there were twelve student a cappella groups that performed regularly on campus, “whether you like it or not.” “Keene College has more a cappella ensembles than any other liberal arts college in the Northeast,” the brochure read, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.” The brochure went on to detail the various places one could see an a cappella ensemble perform at any given time, including the campus auditorium, the quad, the dining hall, the living room of a dorm building, “or anywhere else you could possibly imagine. Wherever you are, they’ll find you.” 

EXT. CITY STREET—DAY

BRAD walks briskly on the sidewalk. Suddenly, he notices a toy box discarded near a trash can. The box contains an ELMO doll, and reads “HECKLE ME ELMO.” BRAD picks it up, curious.

BRAD
(reading)
“Responds to any comment or insult like a real stand-up comedian…”

ELMO
(prerecorded)
Hey, come on, stop talking. It ruins the show for everybody.

BRAD laughs, surprised.

BRAD
Hey, you suck!

ELMO
(prerecorded)
Listen, I don’t come to your job and slap the dick out of your mouth!

BRAD laughs again, delighted. He takes it with him.

INT. BRAD’S APARTMENT—DAY

BRAD enters and sets HECKLE ME ELMO down. He goes into the bathroom. CUT TO: five minutes later, shower sounds. CUT TO: five minutes later, BRAD getting dressed to go out.

CUT: MONTAGE, BRAD taking shots at a bar, BRAD dancing, BRAD whispering something to a girl and then getting slapped.

CUT: WHITE TEXT ON BLACK SCREEN: “LATER”

EXT. BRAD’S APARTMENT BUILDING—NIGHT

BRAD gets out of a cab and drunkenly stumbles to the front door of his building.

INT. BRAD’S APARTMENT—NIGHT

BRAD stumbles into his apartment and turns on the light. He drops his keys on the ground and looks around. He enters his bathroom. CUT: sounds of him puking. CUT: BRAD exits the bathroom. He walks over to his kitchen area and opens the fridge.

BRAD
(tunelessly singing)
I’m drunk and I’m hungry, let’s put a sandwich in my belly…

ELMO
(prerecorded)
Hey, come on, stop talking. It ruins the show for everybody.

BRAD jumps, shocked, then looks at HECKLE ME ELMO, and remembers. He laughs.

BRAD
Ah man, I totally forgot about you.

ELMO
(prerecorded)
Listen, I don’t come to your job and slap the dick out of your mouth.

BRAD laughs again, but less enthusiastically. He looks back into the fridge.

BRAD
Goddamn it, no bread.

ELMO
(prerecorded)
Listen, I don’t come to your job and slap the dick out of your mouth.

BRAD grumbles, now unamused. CUT: BRAD on his couch. He takes out his phone and chooses a contact to call.

ANGELA
(phone voice-over)
Hello?

BRAD
Angela? It’s Brad.

ANGELA
Brad, it’s two in the morning—

BRAD
I know, I know, but… listen, how are you?

ELMO
(prerecorded)
Hey, come on, stop talking. It ruins the show for everybody.

BRAD
(ignoring)
How have you been? I’ve…missed you.

ELMO and ANGELA speak simultaneously.

ANGELA
I’ve been… I’ve been good, I guess… Brad, look…

ELMO
(prerecorded)
Listen, I don’t come to your job and slap the dick out of your mouth.

BRAD
What did you say, Angela? I didn’t catch that—

ELMO and ANGELA speak simultaneously.

ANGELA
Brad, it’s late, I have work tomorrow, can I just talk to you later—

ELMO
(prerecorded; louder)
Seriously? You’re still talking? What the hell’s the matter with you? I’m trying to put a show here.

BRAD
Sorry, I think I have a bad connection or something, what did you say?

ELMO and ANGELA speak simultaneously.

ANGELA
I’m hanging up, Brad.

ELMO
(prerecorded; louder)
This isn’t a conversation! I talk! You listen!

BRAD
Angela, wait—

ANGELA hangs up.

ELMO
(prerecorded; louder)
Shut the fuck up! I can’t say it any clearer! Shut the fuck up!

BRAD
(drunkenly engaging)
You shut up!

ELMO
(prerecorded; yelling)
Oh, nice comeback! You wanna get on stage and try stand-up? I bet you’ve got a great bit about your fucking fat disgusting pussy!

BRAD
(yelling)
My pussy isn’t disgusting!
(beat)
I don’t have a pussy!

ELMO
(prerecorded; yelling)
Shut up! Ssshhhh! You know that that means? Did you ever go to fucking kindergarten? Or did you drop out before then because you were doing coke in the fucking bathroom stall, you fat cunt!

BRAD
(yelling)
Shut up! You suck! You’re not funny!

ELMO
(prerecorded; yelling)
Throw this retard out of here! Goddamn it! I’m fucking tired of this fucking shit!

As ELMO continues his diatribe, BOUNCER suddenly appears and drags BRAD out of his own apartment.

ELMO
(prerecorded; yelling)
Night after night after night of this fucking nightmare trying to make you fucking buffoons crack a goddamn smile in these shithole fucking clubs, it ain’t worth it! It ain’t fucking worth it! I’m fucking done! That’s it! I’m finished! Goddamn it!
(beat)
And don’t even get me started on the blacks!

THE END

EXT. PARK—DAY

It is a bright and sunny day. MARK and DAVID, two college-aged guys with newly grown BEARDS, approach each other. They haven’t seen each other in a while.

MARK
Bro!

DAVID
Hey man!

MARK and DAVID give each other a short, back-pat filled hug. They release.

MARK
How’ve you been?

DAVID
Great! You?

MARK
Awesome!

DAVID
Dude, I must say, your beard is looking fresh.

MARK
Thanks, dude!

DAVID
Seriously, it is looking good. How long have you been growing it?

MARK
About a month.

DAVID
It is looking fly. Do you trim it?

MARK
Yeah, I trim it.

DAVID
It is looking neat. What do you trim with?

MARK
I got one of those electric things.

DAVID
It is looking nice.

MARK
Thanks, man!

Awkward silence.

MARK
Your beard’s looking good too.

DAVID
Oh, thanks.

MARK
Yeah, it’s, like, pretty full, and… how long have you been growing it?

DAVID
About a month too.

MARK
Mmm, yeah. It is looking… fly.

DAVID
You know, you don’t have to fake it.

MARK
What?

DAVID
It’s okay if you don’t like my beard. I don’t care.

MARK
No, I like your beard!

DAVID
Mark, it’s fine. Just because I told you that I liked your beard—which I seriously do, it is looking sick—

MARK
Thanks man—

DAVID
You’re welcome—but just because I said it to you, doesn’t mean you have to say it back just to be polite.

MARK
I’m not being polite! I seriously like it!

DAVID
Stop it, Mark, you’re not a good liar.

MARK
I’m telling the truth!

DAVID
Oh yeah?

MARK
(sexual/aggressive)
Yeah! I dig your beard. It is looking sharp.

DAVID
(sexual/aggressive)
Yeah? You like it? You like this beard?

MARK
(sexual/aggressive)
I fucking love your fucking beard, bro!

DAVID
Touch it—

MARK
I’m gonna touch it—

DAVID
Touch it—

MARK
I’m gonna touch it—

DAVID
Touch it—

MARK
I’m gonna touch it—

MARK sexually/aggressively rubs DAVID’S BEARD.

MARK
(angrily rubbing)
This beard is bananas, bro!

DAVID
(angrily grunting)
Yeah?

MARK
(angrily rubbing)
It feels like the rough side of a sponge!

DAVID
(angrily grunting)
Yeah?

MARK
(angrily rubbing)
I wanna fucking wipe up an old coffee stain with that fucking beard!

DAVID
(angrily grunting)
Yeah?

MARK
(angrily rubbing)
Yeah!

DAVID
(angrily grunting)
Yeah?

MARK
(angrily rubbing)
Yeah!

DAVID
(angrily grunting)
Yeah?

MARK
(angrily rubbing)
Yeah!

As MARK continues to sexually/aggressively rub DAVID’S BEARD, DAVID then in turn begins to sexually/aggressively rub MARK’S BEARD.

DAVID
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Your beard is bonkers, bro!

MARK
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah?

DAVID
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
You look like a young Santa Claus!

MARK
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah?

DAVID
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
I wanna get some fucking milk and cookie crumbs stuck in that fucking beard!

MARK
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah?

DAVID
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah!

MARK
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah?

DAVID
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah!

MARK
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah?

DAVID
(angrily rubbing/grunting)
Yeah!

DAVID and MARK continue rubbing and grunting.

MARK
Your beard feels like a pussy!

DAVID
So does yours!

MARK
Like a Eastern-European pussy!

DAVID
So does yours!

MARK
Like a Communist Eastern-European pussy!

DAVID
So does yours!

MARK
I wanna have some Cold War lesbian face pussy sex!

DAVID
So do I! 

DAVID and MARK begin to rub their BEARDS against each other. They grunt, and then scream.

DAVID
Yeah!

MARK
Yeah!

DAVID
Yeah!

MARK
Yeah!

DAVID
Yeah!

MARK
Yeah!

Finally, they gradually slow down, and then separate. They sigh and catch their breath.

MARK
So what else is new?

DAVID
My dad died.

THE END

EXT. PUBLIC PARK—DAY

SPOKESMAN sits on a bench, peacefully looking at children play. He turns to the camera.

SPOKESMAN
(comfortingly)
It’s a beautiful day.
(beat; more seriously)
But there are some who are incapable of enjoying it.

SPOKESMAN stands up and walks along a path.

SPOKESMAN
Do you ever feel disconnected from the outside world? Do you hold irrational and bizarre beliefs that utterly baffle anybody you share them with? Do you sometimes suddenly find yourself holed up in a crude bunker made of tuna cans for reasons you can’t remember?

SPOKESMAN turns and walks along a different path.

SPOKESMAN
If any of these symptoms apply to you, you might be suffering from schizophrenia, a very serious mental disorder that affects over two million people in the United States alone. Approximately ten to thirteen percent of those afflicted with schizophrenia eventually commit suicide, and over forty percent attempt it.

SPOKESMAN turns and walks along a different path.

SPOKESMAN
But if you been diagnosed with schizophrenia, don’t despair. There is hope. There is help.
(beat; SPOKESMAN smiles)
Hi. My name is Albert Harris, and I am the director of programming for the History Channel. Listen up, schizos: I want you to pitch me a television series!

EXT. HISTORY CHANNEL HEADQUARTERS—DAY

SPOKESMAN
Here at the History Channel, we pride ourselves in our complete willingness to produce a television show based on any and all nonsensical psychotic theories we come across. From Nostradamus Effect, in which we spend each hour-long episode taking seriously a different false prophecy by a 16th century French mystic, to UFO Hunters, in which we pay an insane person to interview other insane people about fake flying objects they hallucinated, our commitment to the unconditional validation of total lunacy is undeniable.
(beat)
But don’t just take it from me!

INT. HISTORY CHANNEL CORNER OFFICE—DAY

CHIP LARSON sits in an interview chair. Title below him reads: “CHIP LARSON, CREATOR AND EXECUTIVE PRODUCER, ‘SHADOW PUPPETS’ (IN DEVELOPMENT).”

CHIP LARSON
A year ago, I was just a humble panhandler with a cardboard sign, a megaphone, an incoherent polemic against ventriloquists that blamed them for different historical tragedies depending on how much rubbing alcohol I had in my system, and a dream. But then, one day, Mr. Harris discovered me and immediately gave me a television show. A month later, the writers and I were hard at work.

INT. SHADOW PUPPETS WRITERS ROOM—DAY

CHIP LARSON stands in front of a long table, around which sit a dozen or so writers.

WRITER 1
I read somewhere that Pol Pot had a ventriloquist dummy.

CHIP LARSON
Love it!

CHIP LARSON scrawls nonsense on the white board in the room below other nonsensical scribbles.

WRITER 2
Could we somehow connect ventriloquism to the Loch Ness monster?

CHIP LARSON
Brad, you know I’d love nothing more, but we don’t want to step on MonsterQuest’s toes.

WRITER 3
Maybe there was a ventriloquist performing when the Titanic sank?

CHIP LARSON
That’s it!

CHIP LARSON runs to the phone and dials a number.

CHIP LARSON
Hello? Yes, we need funding. We need a submarine and a deep-sea diving team to explore the remains of the Titanic and search for any potential ventriloquist dummy fragments.
(beat)
What do you mean, we can’t? Do you know who I am? Do you? Can you tell me? Who am I?

CHIP LARSON stays on for a few moments and then hangs up the phone.

WRITER 1
What’d he say?

CHIP LARSON
Well, guys, they won’t give us a submarine to investigate whether or not a ventriloquist sunk the Titanic using black magic, but they will produce a crude CGI rendering of what that might look like.

Writers room celebrates.

WRITER 4
Mr. Larson, the phone is disconnected.

CHIP LARSON
Uh, yeah, it’s disconnected, how else would I communicate with the devil?

INT. HISTORY CHANNEL CORNER OFFICE—DAY

CHIP LARSON in interview chair.

CHIP LARSON
It’s really been an amazing ride. We’re almost finished with post-production, and our first episode premieres next month!

CUT: WHITE TEXT ON BLACK SCREEN—“EXCERPT FROM SHADOW PUPPETS, EPISODE 1.”

INT. NIGHT CLUB—NIGHT

VENTRILOQUIST and his DUMMY perform to audience’s laughter. Ominous music plays.

NARRATOR
A man speaking without his mouth. Since the beginning of time, human beings have been fascinated by this mysterious phenomenon.

INT. DARK INTERVIEW ROOM

HANS THEEJSEN appears in interview chair, over the title HANS THEEJSEN, PhD.

HANS THEEJSEN
(thick accent)
The world’s brightest thinkers and scientists have always wondered just what it is that causes this brazen violation of the laws of God and man.

INT. DARK INTERVIEW ROOM

BARRY GOLDSTEIN appears in interview chair, over the title BARRY GOLDSTEIN, PhD.

BARRY GOLDSTEIN
Ventriloquism is when someone talks without moving their lips. Why are you asking me about this?

INT. NIGHT CLUB—NIGHT

VENTRILOQUIST and his DUMMY continue performing. Ominous music continues. Suddenly, OLD LADY in the front row keels over and dies.

NARRATOR
Is it simple performance trickery? Or is it something… stranger?

INT. DARK INTERVIEW ROOM

BARRY GOLDSTEIN
No, it’s not black magic. What the hell are you people talking about?

INT. DARK INTERVIEW ROOM

HANS THEEJSEN
It’s totally black magic.

INT. HISTORY CHANNEL CORNER OFFICE—DAY

CHIP LARSON in interview chair.

CHIP LARSON
It’s really a dream come true. Finally, I have a way to communicate my bizarre, paranoid beliefs to all of the unemployed college graduates watching the History Channel at two in the afternoon!
(beat)
Won’t stop the poison gas, though.  

EXT. HISTORY CHANNEL HEADQUARTERS—DAY

SPOKESMAN
The History Channel. You hallucinate it, we put it on television.

THE END

INT. ENTERTAINMENT NEWS SHOW STUDIO—DAY

HOST interviews writer NICHOLAS SPARKS for an E! style entertainment news show.

HOST
Hello! With us in the studio today is Nicholas Sparks, the writer of such novels as The Notebook and The Last Song, both of which have been adapted to the big screen. Hello, Nicholas.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Hi!

HOST
How are you?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
I’m great!

HOST
Now, Nicholas, let’s start from early in your career. Your 1998 novel, Message in a Bottle is about a newspaper reporter for the Chicago Tribune who goes to the beach one day and finds a love letter stuffed in a bottle in the sand. She finds two more letters of this kind and tracks down their author, a man who lives in North Carolina and has refurbished a boat. It turns out that he is writing these letters to his dead wife. The newspaper reporter writes about these letters in the Chicago Tribune to great success. The newspaper reporter and the man keep in contact and then fall in love. The man visits the newspaper reporter in Chicago one day, but becomes angry with her and leaves when he finds the love letters in the newspaper reporter’s drawer. Later he dies in a boating accident.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(brightly)
Yep.

HOST
And your 2002 novel, Nights in Rodanthe, features a woman tormented by her estranged husband’s wish to come back home, and a surgeon traumatized by a botched surgery. They meet at a bed and breakfast and fall in love during a violent storm. Then, the surgeon moves to South Africa to reconnect with his own estranged son, and then dies in a mudslide. The woman is very sad to hear this, but is later comforted when she sees a bunch of horses on a beach one day.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(brightly)
That’s right.

HOST
And your 2006 novel, Dear John, is about a soldier and a college student who fall in love and keep in contact with each other while he is away at war. Also the soldier’s dad is autistic and so is the college student’s neighbor’s son. One day, the soldier receives a “Dear John” letter from the college student, informing him that she has fallen in love with someone else—

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Hence the title.

HOST
Yes, hence the title. Later the soldier is wounded in battle but recovers. His autistic father has a stroke and soon dies. The soldier comes home to visit the college student one day, and finds out that she had to give up her dream of setting up a riding camp for autistic children because her new husband has cancer. Her new husband soon dies of cancer. Later on, the soldier and college student meet in a coffee shop and hug and rekindle their romance probably.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(brightly)
Exactly.

HOST
Now Nicholas, I have to ask… where do you get your ideas?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(chuckles)
Oh boy. That’s a great question.
(beat)
I’ll show you.

EXT. NICHOLAS SPARKS’S HOUSE—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS and HOST stand before the yard.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Well, here we are!

HOST (V.O)
(as NICHOLAS SPARKS and HOST walk toward the front door)
Nicholas Sparks took me to his North Carolina home, where he lives with his family, to give me a first-hand look at his creative process.

NICHOLAS SPARKS opens the front door. He and HOST are greeted by CATHY SPARKS and the five SPARKS children.

CHILDREN
Daddy!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Hello, kids!

He bends down and they all crowd around him while CATHY looks on, amused and pleased.

HOST (V.O)
After I had the pleasure of meeting Nicholas Sparks’s lovely wife, Cathy, and their five children, Nicholas showed me around his beautiful house.

NICHOLAS SPARKS shows HOST around the house.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Here’s the living room, where I like to sit and relax… we’ve also got a deck back there that’s great in the summer…

They arrive at NICHOLAS SPARKS’s office.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
And here is my office.

They enter.

HOST
(hushed)
This is where it all happens?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(walking to the fireplace)
Ssshh.

NICHOLAS SPARKS presses a panel on the wall. Suddenly, the fireplace begins to rotate until it reveals a hidden passageway. NICHOLAS SPARKS leads HOST through the passageway to a LARGE, DIMLY LIT HALL, in which A WHOLE BUNCH OF TWEEN GIRLS are sleeping on the ground. 

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(motioning)
This is where my ideas come from.

CATHY joins HOST and NICHOLAS SPARKS.

CATHY
Should I wake them up?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
No. Give them another hour.

NICHOLAS SPARKS, CATHY, and HOST walk back out to the office.

INT. INTERVIEW ROOM—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS sits in traditional interview position.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Writers always get asked this question, you know, of where their ideas come from. It’s a mysterious thing. Sometimes they don’t know themselves. Me, I always liked the notion of the muse—that sudden, wonderful moment, when the inspiration hits you, like a divine message. That’s the muse.
(beat)
My muse just happens to take the form of thirty-five preteen girls living in the cavernous foyer hidden behind my office.

HOST
How does it work? How do they inspire your novels?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Well, it’s a three-part plan. Part 1 involves my lovely wife Cathy. Isn’t Cathy just lovely?

HOST
She’s very lovely.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
She’s so lovely. I’m so blessed to have her. So in Part 1, Cathy acts as their cruel and oppressive matriarch.

INT. HIDDEN FOYER—DAY

CATHY walks among the sleeping girls, shaking them awake.

CATHY
(shrewishly yelling)
Come on! Everybody up! You know what happens to lazy little girls!

The girls rouse sleepily.

INT. INTERVIEW ROOM—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS
She has them do all sorts of different tasks around the house. She makes them sew, she makes them tend the garden, do the laundry, cook, wash dishes, bathe my children, make my children’s school lunches, wipe the floors, polish the china, clear out the gutters when it rains, shovel the driveway when it snows, take out the trash… All sorts of stuff. She just makes them work. It doesn’t always matter what. For example, today, she’s making them move furniture around in the basement, and tomorrow, she’s gonna make them move the furniture back the way it was before.

As NICHOLAS SPARKS delivers the previous dialogue:

INT. NICHOLAS SPARKS’S HOUSE—DAY

Various cuts throughout the house, showing the girls cleaning and doing various chores, with CATHY in tow, constantly yelling at them.

CATHY
(as girl frantically polishes plate)
Polish better!
(as girl frantically mixes ingredients)
Cook better!
(as girl frantically sews)
Sew better! 

INT. INTERVIEW ROOM—DAY

HOST
And what does this accomplish?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Well, all sorts of things. It fills them with a general sadness about life, which is an essential component of any Nicholas Sparks bestseller—I never write a love story with a body count of less than three. Most importantly, I think, it oppresses them—and oppressed minds are the most likely to believe in the healing power of love, which is a prevalent theme in my work.
(beat)
Plus, it means I don’t have to pay for a housekeeper.

HOST laughs pleasantly.

HOST
And what’s your role in all this?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Well, most of the time, I serve as a sort of distant, yet benevolent father figure to these girls. A sort of provider. A protector. You know, a sort of… a God, really.

HOST
(totally on board)
Uh-huh.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
And then that’s where Part 2 of the plan comes in. What happens is… well, why don’t I just show you?

INT. OFFICE—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS sits behind his desk in his office. Addresses the camera.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
I had my wife tell one of the girls that I wanted to see her in my office. She should be coming in any—

The door opens. MEGAN, a tired and disheveled young girl, walks in.

MEGAN
(nervously)
Father Nicholas?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Yes, Megan. Please, come here.

MEGAN shyly walks over to the desk.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(pleasantly)
Go ahead and sit down.

MEGAN sits down.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Megan, do you know who Channing Tatum is?

MEGAN
No, Father Nicholas—

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(suddenly holding a framed and signed black and white picture of shirtless Channing Tatum)
This is Channing Tatum.
(gives MEGAN the picture)
Do you think Channing Tatum is handsome, Megan?

MEGAN
(looking at the picture with wonder)
Yes, I think Channing Tatum is handsome.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Good, Megan, good.
(beat)
Megan, I have something else to show you. It’s a love letter. A love letter for you.

NICHOLAS SPARKS hands MEGAN a folded letter. She takes it.

MEGAN
For me?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Yes. And do you know who it’s from?

MEGAN shakes her head.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
It’s from Channing Tatum.
(beat)
Go ahead, read it.

MEGAN
Father Nicholas, I don’t know how to read. None of us do.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Of course. My apologies. I’ll read it to you.

NICHOLAS SPARKS takes the letter back from MEGAN, opens it, and begins to read.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
“Dear Megan: my name is Channing Tatum. I am very handsome and muscular. I am also in love with you. My heart trembles at the thought of your unforgettably beautiful…”

NICHOLAS SPARKS very obviously looks over the letter at MEGAN.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
“…brown eyes.”

INT. INTERVIEW ROOM—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS
I do this with all the girls. The key is, I make them promise me to keep it a secret. I tell them that if they don’t, Channing Tatum won’t love them anymore, because Channing Tatum doesn’t like little girls who break promises.

HOST
Who does?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Exactly. So they go around all excited for a couple of weeks, thinking Channing Tatum is going to come rescue them and marry them and treat them like the princess they all secretly believe they truly are. And then…

INT. OFFICE—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS sits behind his desk in his office. The door opens, and SUSIE, a different tired and disheveled little girl, walks in.

SUSIE
Father Nicholas?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Hello, Susie. Please, come here and sit down.

SUSIE approaches the desk nervously and sits down.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Susie, I’ve gotten some news.
(beat)
News from Channing Tatum.

SUSIE brightens up.

SUSIE
Did he send me another love letter?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
No.
(beat)
Susie, it hurts me to have to be the one to tell you this, but…
(beat)
Channing Tatum is dead.

SUSIE begins to cry.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
I’m sorry. I know he meant the world to you. He meant the world to us all. But you know… Susie, this is what love is like, sometimes.

NICHOLAS SPARKS winks at the camera.

INT. INTERVIEW ROOM—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS
So that’s Part 2. And once these girls face the kind of abject heartbreak I put them through, they start to work less efficiently. And when they work less efficiently, my lovely wife Cathy verbally abuses them in that amazing, cruel, devastating way only she can manage. She’s just so good at it. Women, right? 

HOST
(laughing)
Women.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
And so it goes, until…

CATHY enters.

CATHY
Bridget is feeling sick.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(smiling)
Perfect timing.

NICHOLAS SPARKS gets up and walks toward the door. HOST follows him. NICHOLAS SPARKS reaches CATHY and takes her hand.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Looks like I’m about to get a visit from the muse.

CATHY
She’s in the living room. Go get ‘em, Nicky.

They kiss.

INT. LIVING ROOM—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS enters the living room with HOST in tow. BRIDGET is laying on the couch, looking sickly and frail, like a Dickensian orphan. NICHOLAS SPARKS sits down next to her.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Bridget.

BRIDGET
(murmuring)
Father Nicholas…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
How are you feeling?

BRIDGET
Father Nicholas, I’ll get back to work soon, I promise, I’ll—

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Sshhhh. Bridget. It’s okay. Just rest. Here.

NICHOLAS SPARKS pours two fingers of mysterious liquid in a glass and hands it to BRIDGET.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Drink this. It’s medicine. It’ll make you feel better.

BRIDGET drinks it. She shudders, and begins to fall asleep.

BRIDGET
(drifting off)
Channing Tatum…

HOST
What did you give her?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Laudanum.

BRIDGET jerks awake suddenly. NICHOLAS SPARKS gets his notebook and pen ready.

BRIDGET
Ah!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Bridget!

BRIDGET
Oh!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
What do you see?

BRIDGET
Channing Tatum!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Where is he?

BRIDGET
He’s in… there’s fire… a burning building…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Is he a fireman? Is Channing Tatum a handsome fireman?

BRIDGET
Yes! 

NICHOLAS SPARKS scribbles in his notebook.

BRIDGET
There’s someone… he’s trying to save someone… 

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Who? Who is he trying to save?

BRIDGET
His autistic wife! She dies! Channing Tatum’s autistic wife dies in the fire!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(scribbling)
Good, Bridget, good!

BRIDGET
He’s… oh no!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
What’s happening?

BRIDGET
He’s trapped! Channing Tatum is trapped in the fire! He dies!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
No, no, he doesn’t die. How about the hospital? Is Channing Tatum in the hospital, Bridget?

BRIDGET
Yes! In the hospital! He’s burned! His face is burned!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
No, no, his face isn’t burned. How about… smoke poisoning? Is that a thing?

BRIDGET
Smoke poisoning! He’s coughing! His nurse takes care of him!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(scribbling)
Good, Bridget, good! 

BRIDGET
His nurse… they fall in love…  he almost dies… he doesn’t… they get married…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(scribbling)
Good, Bridget, good!

BRIDGET
But then… she has cancer…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(scribbling)
Oh man, curveball!

BRIDGET
And then she dies…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(scribbling)
Heartbreaking!

BRIDGET
And then… fifty years later…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Is Channing Tatum an old man?

BRIDGET
Yes… very old… he’s telling a story to his grandchildren…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(scribbling)
Oh boy!

BRIDGET
But then, he dies…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
How?

BRIDGET
In a sailing accident!

NICHOLAS SPARKS
(scribbling)
Good, Bridget, good!

INT. INTERVIEW ROOM—DAY

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Well, there you have it.
(patting notebook)
Thanks to Bridget’s fevered opium hallucinations, I’ve got my next bestseller right in here.

HOST
Fascinating. I can’t wait to read it.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Thank you.

HOST
No, Nicholas Sparks, thank you. For inviting me into your home, and into your mind, and—may I say it—into your heart.

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Ooh, that’s good. I like that. You should write me a blurb sometime.

HOST
I’d be honored. So what happens now?

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Oh, well, I write the book, and I sell it, and—

HOST
No, I mean, to Bridget? Does she go back to work? What happens to the girls after they give you the ideas for your novels?

There is an EXTREMELY LONG SILENCE. Camera cuts back and forth between HOST and NICHOLAS SPARKS as silence gets LONGER and LONGER and more and more AWKWARD and UNCOMFORTABLE. HOST remains pleasant and unfazed as NICHOLAS SPARKS delays answer. Finally…

NICHOLAS SPARKS
Hmm?

THE END

INT. DEPARTMENT STORE—DAY

ALLEN walks into a DEPARTMENT STORE. He approaches the PERFUME COUNTER. SALESWOMAN comes to greet him. She is bossy and competent.

SALESWOMAN
Can I help you?

ALLEN
Hi, I’m looking to buy some perfume for my girlfriend.

SALESWOMAN
Okay.

SALESWOMAN walks around perfume shelves, picking out different ones as she talks to ALLEN.

SALESWOMAN
Tell me a little about her so that we can choose something appropriate.

ALLEN
I don’t know what I should tell you.

SALESWOMAN
Well, for example, what color hair does she have?

ALLEN
Blond.

SALESWOMAN
And how tall is she?

ALLEN
She’s about 5’6.

SALESWOMAN
Okay. Try this one. It’s Slender, by Chanel.

SALESWOMAN sprays perfume on a sample cloth and hands it to ALLEN. ALLEN smells. He shakes his head.

SALESWOMAN
Hmm. Well, tell me some more. What does she do?

ALLEN
She’s a student.

SALESWOMAN
And what is she studying?

ALLEN
Neuroscience.

SALESWOMAN
Ah. Okay. Try this one. It’s Rêve, by Estée Lauder.

SALESWOMAN hands ALLEN another sprayed-on sample cloth. He smells. He shakes his head. 

SALESWOMAN
Hmm. Let’s keep going. What’s her first memory?

ALLEN
She got bitten by a pony at a petting zoo.

SALESWOMAN
Ooh. Does she have a sad disposition?

ALLEN
I’d say so.

SALESWOMAN
(on a roll)
Has anything tragic happened to her recently?

ALLEN
Yeah, her uncle died in a car crash last year.

SALESWOMAN
Great. Try this one. It’s Innocence Perdue, by Cartier.

SALESWOMAN hands ALLEN another sprayed-on sample cloth. He smells.

ALLEN
(shrugs)
Eh, I don’t know.

SALESWOMAN
Huh. I really thought that one would do the trick.

ALLEN
I mean, it’s not bad. It’s okay. I just… I really want something perfect, you know?

SALESWOMAN
Yes.
(beat; pondering)
How long have you been together?

ALLEN
A year.

SALESWOMAN
(still pondering)
And where did you meet?

ALLEN
At a party.

SALESWOMAN
Hmm.
(beat; eureka moment)
Do you love her?

ALLEN
Nah, not really.

SALESWOMAN
(nodding)
Ah. And why not?

ALLEN
I think we have fundamentally incompatible views about love and relationships. Plus she reminds me of my mom. I’m probably gonna break up with her soon.

SALESWOMAN
(on a roll)
And does she have any pets?

ALLEN
She has cats.

SALESWOMAN
Fantastic. I think I’ve got the one. Try this.

SALESWOMAN hands ALLEN another sprayed-on sample cloth. He smells.

ALLEN
Ooh, do I detect wilting roses?

SALESWOMAN
Yes. It’s called Frumpie, by Lacoste.

ALLEN
Frumpy?

SALESWOMAN
Frumpie. It’s French.

ALLEN
What does it mean?

SALESWOMAN
“Frumpy.”

ALLEN
I’ll take it. How much?

SALESWOMAN
Eighty-five dollars.

ALLEN
Oh, never mind.
(beat; picks up another box)
How much is this one?

SALESWOMAN
Eleven dollars.

ALLEN
Yeah, I’ll take that one.

THE END

INT. GREG’S DORM ROOM—DAY

GREG sits on his desk chair, staring at the wall. DAN, his roommate, puts on a jacket.

DAN
All right, Greg, I’m gonna head out.

GREG
Cool, sounds good.

DAN
Did you decide if you’re going to apply to law school?

GREG
No.

DAN
What are you going to do?

GREG
Well, I just dropped some acid, and I’m going to sit here all day and wait for the answer to come to me.

DAN
Sure, that’s normal.

GREG
Yep.

DAN
Later.

GREG
Later.

DAN exits. GREG sits and waits. ALARM CLOCK shows time to be 1:15 PM. CUT: 1:35 PM; GREG seated in slightly different position, feeling nothing. CUT: 2:00 PM; GREG lying in bed, feeling nothing. CUT: 2:30 PM; GREG back in the chair.

GREG
Shit, this isn’t working—

SUDDEN CUT to a little green LIZARD resting on GREG’s dresser. LIZARD is staring at GREG.

LIZARD (V.O)
Hello, Greg.

GREG (V.O)
Hey.

LIZARD
…hi. Hello.

GREG
What’s up?

LIZARD
Um, not, not much—Greg, I’m a talking lizard.

GREG
I know.

LIZARD stares.

GREG
I mean, uh, wow! That’s super cool. How did you get in here?

LIZARD
(soothingly)
That’s not important, Greg.

GREG
Oh, okay.

Awkward silence.

LIZARD
(leading)
Maybe you’re wondering why I’m here? What I represent?

GREG
Yeah, sure, totally. All of that.

LIZARD
You have a decision to make today, don’t you Greg?

GREG
Yep.

LIZARD
A decision you’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks.

GREG
Yep.

LIZARD
A decision that you believe will affect you for the rest—

GREG
Yes, law school. I’m trying to decide if I want to apply to law school. Because I also want to be a writer.

LIZARD
(miffed)
I was getting to that.

GREG
Sorry.

LIZARD
Greg, you need to think more deeply about what this decision means. What does it mean to be a lawyer? Conversely, what does it mean—

GREG
I don’t know why, but I totally feel like you should have a British accent. 

LIZARD
(beat)
Why… why would I have a British accent, Greg?

GREG
I don’t know. No reason. What were you saying?

LIZARD
No, Greg, really, I’m curious. Why might you think I would have a British accent?

GREG
No, it’s fine, it’s nothing. It’s stupid. I’m so high.

LIZARD
No, Greg, I’m fascinated, I want to know, Greg, why would you—

GREG
Just forget it, tell me about law school—

LIZARD
You know what, I don’t want to talk about law school anymore. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about… oh, I don’t know, anything, just off the top of my head, really. How about… car insurance? You want to talk about car insurance, Greg? You want me to tell you how you can save 15% or more on your car insurance, Greg?

GREG
…do you want to talk about—

LIZARD
No!

GREG
Oh.

Awkward silence.

LIZARD
You know, I used to impress people.

GREG
Aw, don’t say that, you’re still—

LIZARD
Shut up, Greg. I know when you’re lying.
(beat)
I appeared in front of the Beatles. The Beatles. When they saw me, they all nearly had heart attacks. It took me hours to calm them down. But I did. And then, you know what happened? THEY MADE REVOLVER, Greg.

GREG
(quiet)
That’s a good album—

LIZARD
Yeah, it’s a good album. Yeah.
(beat)
That’s a nice laptop you got there, Greg.

GREG
Thanks—

LIZARD
It kind of reminds me of the time I told Steve Jobs to follow his dreams.

GREG
(beat)
That’s pretty cool—

LIZARD
Yeah. Yeah. It’s pretty cool. It’s totally pretty cool, Greg. Except you don’t seem that fazed, Greg, you don’t seem that amazed, Greg, with the existence of an extra-dimensional sentient advice-giving reptile, maybe because you’re already used to that sort of idea, maybe because you’ve seen that car insurance commercial with the fake talking gecko.

Awkward silence.

GREG
Well, since we’re talking about it, I have been wondering—

LIZARD
(indignant)
No, Greg, you don’t automatically save 15%. Those numbers are misleading.

GREG
Ah.

LIZARD
(indignant)
Glad I could help.

GREG
Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s talk about law school again. I promise I’ll—

LIZARD
Go to law school. You’re gonna be a terrible writer.

Awkward silence.

GREG
Well, thanks for the advice.

LIZARD
Go fuck yourself.

THE END