Blackouts

Continuing my transition from absentee would-be contributor to sustaining lifeblood of the blog, I am now posting a little exercise I was assigned for my class. These are just a few very short scenes that typically have one joke, and are referred to in the biz as 'blackouts'. The first blackout in this collection, has quickly assumed the title of "Piece I am Most Proud of Writing in My Entire Fucking Life."

(Scientists, observing a large group of people sleeping for a study)

Scientist #1: To think, when they wake up, they’ll all be cats

(two farmers watching their livestock graze)

Farmer #1: Do you think the animals can…you know…understand us sometimes? How we’re feeling?

(beat)

Farmer #2: That would explain the restraining order

(two men, and a woman in business attire)

Woman: You were right

Man #1: No, you were right

Man #2: No, no you were right

Woman: Hey now! In a way, we were all right, but what we really need to focus on is making sure that Jim be the last client we eat.

(two men, and a woman in business attire. Woman is very stern, clearly angry with the men)

Woman: I was very clear…was I not?

Man #1: You were.

Man #2: Very clear, yes.

(beat while Woman exhales angrily)

Man #1: On a positive note, we didn’t eat him nearly as fast

(two men, one brings out dinner to the other)

Man #1: Oh my God! Look at that! It’s fabulous! What a delicious looking meal! Just from smelling it I can immediately discern that is was cooked slowly with the most extreme amount of care in the most delicate and succulent spices! A man would pay 400, no! 500 dollars for such a meal! Yet here I have it presented before me in the most ornate manner! A king I tell you! This is a meal fit for a king!

(pause as they look at each other)

Man #1: How was that?

Man #2: It was pretty good

Man #1: Did I sell the dish? Because I’m making a lot of noise, but I want the focus to be on the dish, I’m selling the dish. I don’t want the gaze on me, I want it on the dish

Man #2: You sold the dish

Man #1: So that’s good, right?

(beat)

Man #1: Right?

Man #2: Yeah, but I still think Cheryl is going to notice that we lost her kid.

(Man breathing hard and clutching bloody hand in obvious pain, other man watches him expressionlessly while holding bloody scissors)

Man #1: (slowing his frantic breathing so that he can speak) Why?

Man #2: (Slowly shrugs)

(Wife and husband eating dinner, wife is obviously displeased as she eats, husband watches her pensively)

Husband: Did I burn the fish? I worried that I might have

Wife: No, you didn’t

(continue eating)

Husband: Did you find a bone? I know you hate bones, and I thought I had picked them all out—

Wife: There aren’t any bones

(continue eating)

Husband: What about salt? Did I use too much?

Wife: No, it’s not burnt, there are no bones, it’s not salt, or anything obvious like that. The way in which you’ve completely fucked up this fish is more subtle than I could ever hope to articulate. So, drop it.

(continue eating)

Husband: Oh.

(continue eating in silence)

Husband: (trying to be cheerful) Well, what about the potatoes?

Wife: They’re burnt.

(Two people observe a painting on the wall)

Person #1: It’s beautiful

Person #2: Hopeful, uplifting, a wondrous tapestry

(pause as they gaze)

Person #1: Almost makes me forget we’re trapped in here