Some time ago, I participated in something called "Sketchwar". Every Saturday, we'd pick a topic. Then we'd all write a sketch that had to do with that topic, and post it the following Friday. The next day, we'd have a new topic to work on, and so on.
I figured, now that I have time for such things, I'd start doing this again. This week, I set myself the topic of "Naked!" If anybody wants to join in the Sketchwar fray (looks like Andrew Pish is participating -- yay!), next week's topic is "conspiracy".
(Nicole had suggested "conspiracy theories", and I was surprised to discover we'd never done that topic. So I figured I'd use it, and broaden it a bit.)
FADE IN: INT. OFFICE DOOR - DAY A sign on a door reads, "Stan Wellnitz, TSA Administrator." CONNOR (V.O.) I just can't do it, boss. INT. OFFICE - DAY WELLNITZ (50s) sits at his desk in a shabby little office. CONNOR (20s, haunted) sits across from him. WELLNITZ Connor, this is silly. You're the best backscatter analyst this airport has. CONNOR Too much nakedness. Too much. WELLNITZ Yes, when somebody steps into the airport scanning machine, you're the guy that sees them more-or-less naked. So? You're a big boy, Connor. It's fine. CONNOR Maybe if I lived in France, or I dunno, Sweden, it would be fine. But we're in America. Off of Wellnitz's puzzled look -- CONNOR There are three million morbidly-obese people in this country, boss. (haunted whisper) I think I've seen all of them. WELLNITZ Your problem is... the nudity? CONNOR (to himself) So many skin diseases. WELLNITZ Well, just suck it up for eight hours a day, and -- CONNOR This has ruined nudity for me, forever. I see naked people everywhere. Wellnitz gets up from his desk. WELLNITZ What, so you can tell what I'm carrying now? CONNOR Keys, wallet, and fifty-seven cents in loose change. This stuns Wellnitz for a moment, then -- WELLNITZ You're seeing *me* naked? Connor stares somewhere far away. CONNOR Right now, I'm seeing a naked, four-hundred pound man with a colostomy bag and a raging erection. WELLNITZ But I'm not four hundred pounds -- CONNOR I saw that image three months ago. (haunted whisper) It never leaves. WELLNITZ Connor, we started using software to distort the passengers' faces and... intimate areas. So I think -- CONNOR (shudders) I know. They're distorted freaks! They're showing up in my nightmares. WELLNITZ Alright, fine, Connor. CONNOR It's like David Cronenberg is directing my dreams. Offscreen, the door opens. RIKU Hi guys! Connor turns to see -- A HORRIBLE VISION A short, squat man, but black and white, naked, folds of fat everywhere, patchy skin, the face stretched out into a horrid rictus, the crotch eerily smoothed out. BACK ON CONNOR Connor yelps, cowers in his seat, rubs his eyes, and now we cut back to a... NORMAL SHOT OF THE OFFICE We see that it's RIKU (20s), the same short, squat guy, but fully clothed. He's still incredibly creepy, but he no longer looks like something out of Ringu. RIKU What? WELLNITZ Riku here can take on your responsibilities, Connor. RIKU Sweet! Riku gets uncomfortably close to Connor's ear. RIKU (whispers) I want to see the naked people. WELLNITZ That's good for you, right, Connor? CONNOR Yes. But -- Riku interrupts with a creepy noise. CONNOR -- but maybe not the best for passengers. Y'know what? I'll... I'll stick this out a while longer. WELLNITZ Really? CONNOR Yeah, you don't need to transfer Riku. Connor exits the office like a man walking up to the gallows. Beat. RIKU You wouldn't really put me on backscatter duty, would you? WELLNITZ Hell no. You're just here to scare Connor back into line. INT. OFFICE DOOR - DAY Same as before. RIKU (V.O.) Whew. Thank god. I'm creepy, but even I've got limits. FADE OUT.
Mood: amused · Music: none