Thursday, June 16, 2005
A Semi-Funny Sketch I Wrote in Forty-Five Minutes Last Week
It's called "Parental Guidance Necessary." And I'm not just posting it because I'm too lazy to write anything else. It's also because I have total contempt for my readers.
(Tim is in his room, typing at his computer. There’s a knock at the door.)
Tim: Come in!
(Dad and Mom enter.)
Dad: Hey, son, can your mom and I come in and talk to you for a minute?
Tim: Sure, dad. This isn’t about me taking out the trash, is it? Because I’m planning to do it right after I finish this report on sedimentary rocks.
Dad: No, son, it’s not about that. It’s about, well, teenage stuff.
Mom: Your father and I realize that you’re going through a lot of changes right now, and that some of them are probably pretty confusing. You may have noticed that your cousin Tammy developed breasts over the summer, or that your sheets aren’t necessarily as dry as they could be in the morning.
Dad: Maybe you’ve heard that other kids are "doing it," and thought, "hey, maybe I should do it, too," if only I knew what "it" is!
Tim: Are you guys talking about sex?
Mom: Oh, good! They have gotten to that unit in your health class. Did Mr. McMillan give you the ins and outs?
Tim: Yeah, but, I mean, you guys really don’t have to worry. I’m not having sex. I don’t even have a girlfriend.
Dad: Yeah, well, that’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about, Timmy. Your mother and I really think it’s time that you started getting some action. I mean, what are you now, fourteen?
Tim: What?
Mom: We don’t want to sound harsh here, Timmy, and you know we love you no matter what, but frankly we’re a little disappointed by your track record, here. I mean, have you ever even gotten past first base?
Tim: You’re not seriously asking me this. I can’t...
Dad: Have you touched a boob, son? It’s time you touched a boob. What about that Christy Sanders? She’s got a nice set.
Mom: Oh, they’re lovely. I’d like to touch those myself. I bet they’re soft as butter.
Dad: And she’s on the cheerleading squad.
Tim: I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Guys, you are seriously embarrassing me right now.
Dad: Well, see, son, that’s the whole problem. You shouldn’t be embarrassed to talk about sex! It’s a natural and beautiful thing. Why, your mother and I have sex all the time.
Mom: It’s almost constant!
Dad: And we don’t just stick to the vanilla stuff, nosiree. We like it hot and heavy.
Mom: Did they teach you about bondage and discipline in your health class, honey?
Tim: Oh, God, I think I’m going to throw up.
Mom: Oh, that’s nonsense, sweetheart! We’re just expressing our love. Your father and I are never closer than when I’ve got him tied up, shaved from head to toe, and covered in mayonnaise.
Dad: Yeah, you’ve got to get yourself a girl, son. And a jar of Miracle Whip.
Mom: Get the lite stuff. Her waistline will thank you.
Tim: Um, okay, well, I appreciate all this, I guess, but I really don’t think I’m ready for... well, certainly not anything you’ve described.
Dad: Okay. Okay. Well, let’s talk about this, son. Do you think you might be gay? Because that’s okay. God knows I tasted my share of man meat when I was in the service.
Mom: Your father’s had more cock in him than Campbell’s Chicken Noodle!
Dad: And your mother lived with Martina Navratilova for a year.
Mom: She was very gentle.
Dad: So you wanna head down to the Manhole, son? You can borrow my leather chaps!
Tim: Uh, no. No. I’m really not gay, guys. All right?
Dad: Okay. Well, do you mind if your mother and I go without you, then?
Mom: George, our son needs us here now, okay?
Dad: Right, right. No, you’re right.
Tim: Oh God.
Mom: So what’s the problem, Timbo? Seriously.
Dad: Now I know a lot of people are probably telling you that sex is a big responsibility, that it ought to wait until marriage, or at the very least a committed relationship between people in love.
Mom: Those people are full of crap.
Dad: Get out there and fuck up a storm, son!
Mom: I’ve lived a very full life with herpes.
Tim: Guys, I’m sorry, I just can’t listen to any more of this, okay? I’ve got to... I’ve got to get some air or something, all right?
(He starts to exit.)
And when I come back, can we please not talk about your privates?
(He exits.)
Dad: Huh. I wonder what got into him?
Mom: Who knows? Kids these days, huh? You try to raise them right, but how can you compete with all that pressure from the media?
Dad: I caught him watching PAX the other day.
Mom: Oh God. Well, shoot, we’re all alone, do you want to fuck?
Dad: What the hell. Just let me go get my baboon suit.
(Blackout.)
It's called "Parental Guidance Necessary." And I'm not just posting it because I'm too lazy to write anything else. It's also because I have total contempt for my readers.
(Tim is in his room, typing at his computer. There’s a knock at the door.)
Tim: Come in!
(Dad and Mom enter.)
Dad: Hey, son, can your mom and I come in and talk to you for a minute?
Tim: Sure, dad. This isn’t about me taking out the trash, is it? Because I’m planning to do it right after I finish this report on sedimentary rocks.
Dad: No, son, it’s not about that. It’s about, well, teenage stuff.
Mom: Your father and I realize that you’re going through a lot of changes right now, and that some of them are probably pretty confusing. You may have noticed that your cousin Tammy developed breasts over the summer, or that your sheets aren’t necessarily as dry as they could be in the morning.
Dad: Maybe you’ve heard that other kids are "doing it," and thought, "hey, maybe I should do it, too," if only I knew what "it" is!
Tim: Are you guys talking about sex?
Mom: Oh, good! They have gotten to that unit in your health class. Did Mr. McMillan give you the ins and outs?
Tim: Yeah, but, I mean, you guys really don’t have to worry. I’m not having sex. I don’t even have a girlfriend.
Dad: Yeah, well, that’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about, Timmy. Your mother and I really think it’s time that you started getting some action. I mean, what are you now, fourteen?
Tim: What?
Mom: We don’t want to sound harsh here, Timmy, and you know we love you no matter what, but frankly we’re a little disappointed by your track record, here. I mean, have you ever even gotten past first base?
Tim: You’re not seriously asking me this. I can’t...
Dad: Have you touched a boob, son? It’s time you touched a boob. What about that Christy Sanders? She’s got a nice set.
Mom: Oh, they’re lovely. I’d like to touch those myself. I bet they’re soft as butter.
Dad: And she’s on the cheerleading squad.
Tim: I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Guys, you are seriously embarrassing me right now.
Dad: Well, see, son, that’s the whole problem. You shouldn’t be embarrassed to talk about sex! It’s a natural and beautiful thing. Why, your mother and I have sex all the time.
Mom: It’s almost constant!
Dad: And we don’t just stick to the vanilla stuff, nosiree. We like it hot and heavy.
Mom: Did they teach you about bondage and discipline in your health class, honey?
Tim: Oh, God, I think I’m going to throw up.
Mom: Oh, that’s nonsense, sweetheart! We’re just expressing our love. Your father and I are never closer than when I’ve got him tied up, shaved from head to toe, and covered in mayonnaise.
Dad: Yeah, you’ve got to get yourself a girl, son. And a jar of Miracle Whip.
Mom: Get the lite stuff. Her waistline will thank you.
Tim: Um, okay, well, I appreciate all this, I guess, but I really don’t think I’m ready for... well, certainly not anything you’ve described.
Dad: Okay. Okay. Well, let’s talk about this, son. Do you think you might be gay? Because that’s okay. God knows I tasted my share of man meat when I was in the service.
Mom: Your father’s had more cock in him than Campbell’s Chicken Noodle!
Dad: And your mother lived with Martina Navratilova for a year.
Mom: She was very gentle.
Dad: So you wanna head down to the Manhole, son? You can borrow my leather chaps!
Tim: Uh, no. No. I’m really not gay, guys. All right?
Dad: Okay. Well, do you mind if your mother and I go without you, then?
Mom: George, our son needs us here now, okay?
Dad: Right, right. No, you’re right.
Tim: Oh God.
Mom: So what’s the problem, Timbo? Seriously.
Dad: Now I know a lot of people are probably telling you that sex is a big responsibility, that it ought to wait until marriage, or at the very least a committed relationship between people in love.
Mom: Those people are full of crap.
Dad: Get out there and fuck up a storm, son!
Mom: I’ve lived a very full life with herpes.
Tim: Guys, I’m sorry, I just can’t listen to any more of this, okay? I’ve got to... I’ve got to get some air or something, all right?
(He starts to exit.)
And when I come back, can we please not talk about your privates?
(He exits.)
Dad: Huh. I wonder what got into him?
Mom: Who knows? Kids these days, huh? You try to raise them right, but how can you compete with all that pressure from the media?
Dad: I caught him watching PAX the other day.
Mom: Oh God. Well, shoot, we’re all alone, do you want to fuck?
Dad: What the hell. Just let me go get my baboon suit.
(Blackout.)
