Happy New Year!

My neighbor wanted to say Happy New Year to me and I recorded it. 

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The Barbershop

THE BARBERSHOP

BILL, 35, is standing outside of the barbershop with his son BILLY, 6. This is one of those small old time looking barber shops with the pole in front. Inside two old men, TERRY and ELROD, who are both in their 70’s are sitting. They’re the type of old men who just hang out in the barbershop. The barber is also an old man, KIDD.

BILL

Son, today is going to be a special day, you know why?

BILLY

Because it’s Christmas?

BILL

No, it’s June for fucks sake. Christmas is in December. No, today is going to be special because today you get to go to the barbershop. No more getting haircuts from mommy. This is where men go to get thier hair cut.

Billy glances inside though the window.

BILLY

I don’t want to. I’m scared.

BILL

There’s nothing to be scared of. You see that gentleman right there? That’s Kidd. He cut my hair when I was your age. And now it’s your turn. Whatdaya say pal?

BILLY

Okay. I feel safe with you Dad. 

BILL

That’s my boy. Now c’mon inside.

Before they enter a MAN walks out of the barber shop with his SON who is roughly the same age as Billy. The kid gives Billy the stink eye.

SON

What are you looking at pussy?

MAN

Son, take it easy. (to Bill) Sorry about that.

Bill gives him a nod as if to say “no problem”.

Bill and his son walk inside. Kidd is “cutting” someone’s hair while the other old men continue their conversations. No one pays Bill and his son any attention.

KIDD

I said hold still! When I say hold still, you hold still!

Kidd begins stabbing his customer with the scissors. Billy screams bloody murder. Kidd stops stabbing and pauses for a beat before him and the other old men burst out laughing. The “customer” Kidd was stabbing was an old scarecrow. This was obviously an elaborate prank set up by Kidd.

BILL

I remember you pulling that same shit on me when I was a boy.

KIDD

Yeah, and it scared the shit right out of you just like I see it did your boy there.

We see Billy still standing there in shock. He’s terrified.

TERRY

What’s his name?

BILL

Oh hey Terry, good to see you. His name is Billy. Say hi to everyone Billy.

Billy is still frozen with fear.

ELROD

What’s the matter with him?

BILL

Nothings the matter with him Elrod. Good to see you too by the way. Kidd just got him good, that’s all.

KIDD

(to Billy)

What’s the matter, boy? You act like you never seen a scarecrow get stabbed by a barber with scissors before.

BILLY

No, sir, I haven’t.

KIDD

Well, son, when I’m through with you, you’ll have witnessed all kinds of horrors you’d never imagined. Ain’t that right, Bill?

BILL

Oh, yeah. I seen some shit thanks to you, old man.

KIDD

Old man?! You tryin’ to fuck my in the ass or what, Bill? You see that, Billy, your daddy is tryin’ to fuck ol’ Kidd in the ass!

BILLY

Dad, can we go home? Please?

BILL

No, son, not till we get your hair cut. It’s getting so long, you’re starting to look like a girl.

ELROD

Hey, Kidd, give the boy some pretty pigtails, will ya!

TERRY

(laughing)

Yeah! Put some little pink bows in those pigtails, and I’ll go get that child size pink dress I have out of my trunk. Little Billy here will be the belle of the ball! How would you like that, Billy?

BILLY

No, sir, I wouldn’t like that at all.

KIDD

Alright, princess, have a seat. Let’s get that Rapunzel hair of yours cut.

ELROD

Hey, Rapunzel, let down your hair so I can climb up and rescue you!

Everyone, except Billy, enjoy a good laugh.

BILLY

I don’t like what’s happening here.

BILL

Quiet, son. This is what men do at the barbershop. Now get in that seat if you know what’s good for ya.

Billy climbs into the barber chair and Kidd puts the cloth around him-a little too tight.

BILLY

(choking)

It’s...too...tight…

KIDD

What’s that? Tighter?

Billy continues to struggle and the men all get another good laugh out of watching the boy almost strangle to death. Kidd eventually loosens the strap.

KIDD

(cont)

Alright, alright down to business. How much of his nose should I cut off.

Kidd says this real menacing like, getting real in Billy face and holding the scissors like a mad-man. Billy begins to struggle. He want’s out of this chair-NOW!.

KIDD

(cont)

We got ourselves a fighter boys. Give me a hand will ya.

Terry, Elrod, and Bill all grab a piece of Billy and restrain him.

BILL

Won’t do you any good to fight son. We all have to do it. It’s part of being a man.

BILLY

I don’t want to me a man then! I don’t want to be a man!

KIDD

Elrod, go get “The Hat”. It’s time we teach little Billy here what being a man is all about.

Elrod gets a big smile on his face and lets go of Billy and walks into the back room.

BILL

The Hat! Kidd, do you really think that’s necessary? I mean, c’mon, The Hat? He’s just a boy for Gods sake!

Elrod emerges from the back room and he’s carrying a hellish looking torture device. It’s about the size of watermelon and fits over Elrod’s arm up to his elbow. It’s got blades and needles and syringes filled with green liquid and cork screws and all other sorts of sharp dangerous looking attachments. Elrods squeezes a trigger and everyone of the attachments begin spinning. He’s walking slowly toward Billy who, when he finally get’s a look at the thing, screams and then faints.

FADE TO BLACK

FADE IN

We see Billy sitting in the barber chair with a perfect haircut. No harm has come to him whatsoever. Kidd is brushing him off while Bill stands there chatting with Kidd. Terry and Elrod are sitting there like nothing has happened. Billy comes to.

BILLY

(groggy)

What...Where...am I?

KIDD

You just got your first man haircut. And you did just fine.

Billy suddenly remembers what was going on and starts to struggle again.

BILL

Calm down son. It’s all over. See, that wasn’t so bad was it.

Kidd turns the chair towards the mirror and Billy gets a look at his new haircut. He likes it. And he’s starting to calm down.

BILLY

So does this mean I’m a man now?

The men all exchange glances.

BILL

Not quite yet son. First, you have to fight Terry.

We see Terry glaring at Billy and pounding his fist. He’s ready to rumble.

BILLY

WHAT!?

KIDD

Yep.

Kidd shoves Billy out of the chair and Billy lands flat on his face. Terry wastes no time. He’s on him like stink on shit. Terry is bigger and stronger and easily takes the upper hand, but then Billy get’s pissed and bites the shit out of Terry’s arm, ripping a huge chunk off. Terry screams and let’s go of Billy who tries to run out the door but Elrod blocking it and he’s holding a gun! Billy turns back to the fight and Terry is on his feet coming at him. Billy grabs the gun from Elrod, turns and shoots Terry right in the face! Terry’s head explodes.

All the men cheer.

Billy is standing there, covered in blood, trying to catch his breath. Bill comes over and puts his arm around him.

BILL

(with a tear in his eye)

Now you’re a man.

Kidd gives Billy a wink and a nod, Elrod too, and Terry’s body, still lying headless on the floor, slowly raises his arm and gives Billy a thumbs up.

Everything immediately turns from “movie ending slow motion” to normal.

KIDD

That’ll be $9.50.

BILL

Okay.

After he finishes paying he walks out the door with his son. As they’re exciting another man is walking in with his son. Billy grabs the boy by the throat.

BILLY

You wanna start something mother fucker!

END

And here is the rest of it.

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CONVENIENCE STORE BLACKMAIL

CONVENIENCE STORE

RICK, 35, is stuck working another midnight shift at the local Pump-N-Chug. He’s bored to tears. Nothing interesting ever happens here.

We see Rick sitting behind the register staring off into space. He glances down at the scratch off lottery tickets and picks one up and holds it to the light as if he could see through it to see if it were a winner. Of course he cannot and slumps back in his chair still holding the end roll of tickets. Rick looks around the store to make sure it’s empty then barely scratches a little tiny bit of the ticket with his thumb nail. He realizes he shouldn’t be fucking with the lottery tickets and puts them down just as DAN, 48, walks into the store startling Rick. Rick is nervous as fuck. He’s not sure if the guy saw him fucking with the tickets or not.

RICK

(nervously)

Welcome to the Chug-N-Dump...I mean Dump and Slump...Plug-N-Muffin…

DAN

Everything alright back there?

RICK

Yeah, Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. Couldn’t be better. Unless I had some pussy to fuck, hahaha…

Dan is looking at Rick disapprovingly.

RICK

(cont)

I mean, yes.

DAN

Alright. I need $20 on pump 2.

RICK

A $20 ticket for two. You got it. Did you want any tampering with that scratch off?

DAN

What?

RICK

I’m sorry. It’s late. $20 on pump two. Is that all?

DAN

No, you can also let me make a bunch of long distance phone calls on that phone over there.

Dan points to a pay phone hanging on the wall.

DAN

(cont)

I saw you messing with the lottery ticket there.

RICK

Ah man! You did?

DAN

Hell yes I did. Now I want to make a bunch of long distance phone calls or I’m calling the state lottery commissioner.

RICK

Look, take it easy. I don’t want any trouble. You can make your long distance phone calls-Hey, wait a minute! How are you going to call the lottery commissioner if you don’t have a phone?

DAN

I have a phone. I just can’t dial long distance.

RICK

Oh, alright then. You can-Hey, what if the state lottery commissioner’s number is long distance. How were you going to call them then?

DAN

I know a guy locally that I could call and then have him call the commissioner’s number and then have the commissioner call me back.

RICK

Fuck. Seems like you got it all figured out don’t you.

DAN

Damn right. They don’t call me Dan “The Liar” for nothing.

RICK

Well, the phone is-Hold on, Dan “The Liar”? What gives?

DAN

It’s just a nickname they gave me when I was in the NAVY. I was a Ship Pilot during the second Korean War.

RICK

Whoa! I didn’t even know that ships had pilots.

DAN

Sure they do. What’d you think, they fly themselves? Moron. Alright, about my phone calls.

RICK

Oh that, I suppose if there isn’t any way I can talk you out of it. Those phone calls will come out of my paycheck.

DAN

Sure but it’s a tax write off. You just write it off at the end of the year.

RICK

I’m not allowed to write anything else off of my taxes. Last year the IRS got all pissed off at me because I wrote off a bunch of my Mom’s kitchen clothes.

DAN

Yikes! You don’t want be on the IRS’s bad side, that’s for sure. Here’s what I’m gonna do for ya. You seem like a nice enough guy. Why don’t you go ahead and scratch off that lottery ticket and we’ll split the winnings? Whadaya say?

RICK

I’m not suppose to scratch the tickets while on the clock.

DAN

Well, give it to me. I’ll scratch the damn thing.

While Rick is considering this Dan helps himself to a handful of candy bars.

RICK

It’s a deal!

Rick tears off the ticket he had tampered with and hands it to Dan who places it on the counter and begins to scratch it off.

DAN

I got an apple!

RICK

Oh yeah baby!

DAN

I got another apple!

RICK

C’mon, C’mon, C’mon be there apple.

DAN

My hearts beating so fast...this is too much...light headed…

Dan falls over dead.

RICK

Shit.

Rick hops behind the counter to check Dan’s pulse. Sure enough he is dead. Another customer, TOM, enters. Panicking, Rick knocks over a potato chip display on top of Dan. It’s a very half-assed attempt to cover up the dead body as most of it is still visible.

RICK

Welcome to Pufnstuf...I mean double stuff...I mean…

TOM

Everything all right?

RICK

Oh yeah. Everyone’s alive and couldn’t be better.

TOM

Alright then. I’d like fifty bucks on pump three.

RICK

Uh, alright. Fifty on three. Let’s just see here….

Rick desperately pokes at buttons on the cash register. Tom watches suspiciously.

TOM

Am I good to go?

RICK

Uh, yep. That’ll be fifty dollars please.

TOM

Ha! I got you, you fucker! I was watching you from my car outside. I know the guy under those potato chips had a heart attack and you caused it!

RICK

Oh man. Please, don’t call the cops. I’ll do anything you want, anything!

TOM

Anything, huh?

(looks at Rick’s wedding ring)

I see you’re a married man. Got a picture of the misses?

RICK

Uh, yeah sure.

Rick pulls out his wallet and shows Tom a picture of his wife

TOM

Oh, nice. I’ll tell ya what, I won’t call the cops if you let me nail your wife.

RICK

Oh, gee, I dunno.

TOM

Okay…

Tom pulls out his cellphone.

RICK

No! Look, I’d let you bang my wife, but she’ll never go for it.

TOM

Look, you and I are about the same age, roughly the same build. How about you let me sneak in in the middle of the night. You get out of bed, and I’ll slip into bed and so my thing, she’ll never know the difference.

RICK

Well, she is a heavy sleeper, especially when she’s had a few, and I don’t want to go to prison. I guess I have no choice.

TOM

Wise decision, my friend.

INT. RICKS BEDROOM-NIGHT

It’s the middle of the night. Rick sneaks Tom into the bedroom. Rick exits as Tom slips into bed and starts gettin’ it on with Rick’s wife. Rick’s 14 year old daughter, ANN, walks in and catches Tom humping her unconscious mother. Ann recognises Tom.

ANN

(to Tom)

Mr. Miller?

TOM

Oh, fuck.

ANN

Oh my god, my mom is having an affair with my principal?!

TOM

Shh! No, you don’t understand.

ANN

Oh no? Well maybe your wife and the school board will understand a little better.

TOM

No, please! I’ll do anything you want!

ANN

Anything, eh?

TOM

Yes anything…

Tom notices “a look” Ann has in her eye. She’s thinking of something terrible and Tom knows what she’s thinking too.

TOM

(cont)

(pleading)

No, not that. Anything but that.

Ann just nods her head in a “oh yeah, it got you now motherfucker” way.

CUT TO: GYMNASIUM STILL NIGHT

Tom is in the middle of the basketball court. He’s wearing a undersized cheerleading outfit and has make-up caked on all over his face. He’s begin performing a shitty cheerleading routine.

We PAN OVER to the bleachers and see Ann sitting in the front row and she’s dressed in an ill-fitted men’s suit. She has a fake mustache on and she’s smoking a cigar. She’s leaned forward in a “oh yeah, you’re gonna give daddy what he likes” sort of way.

As the “cheerleading” routine continues JAKE, Ann’s boyfriend, burst in from the side door wear the exact same outfit as TOM.

JAKE

(crying)

Ann, no! How could you!

Jake runs out of the building.

ANN

Jake!

Ann runs after Jake leaving Tom all by himself. He stops his routine and just stands there looking around and notices the janitor MR PORTER is standing there holding a mop and bucket.

MR PORTER

Please keep dancing.

TOM

Or what? You gonna blackmail me too?

MR PORTER

Blackmail? Oh no, I’m much too old to be blackmailing folk. I just thought a little company while I mopped the floor would be nice.

Tom starts dancing again and MR PORTER takes off his overalls and reveals he has a cowboy outfit on underneath. He starts “riding” his mop around the gym like it’s a horse while Tom continues to dance.

PAN TO underneath the bleachers. We see a GUY under there who’s had the gym under surveillance this whole time. It looks just like the inside of one of those surveillance vans you’re always seeing in movies where cops are surveilling someplace. There’s a microphone with the satellite dish thing on the from to pick up far off noises, there’s several TV screens, there’s candy wrappers littering the floor. Who ever this guy is, hes been there awhile. He puts his finger in his ear and begins whispering to someone (obviously some sort of two-way radio)

GUY

Boss, are you getting this. Boss, Boss come in! This is great stuff. Come in! The eagle has landed! I repeat..

CUT BACK TO the convenience store. Dan is still lying under the potato chips and we can hear Guy’s voice faintly. It’s obvious that Dan is the Boss that Guy is talking to.

We PAN UP and see Rick just sitting behind the counter looking bored as he was when this thing first began. We hear ...the eagle has landed!” clearly from Dan as GRANT, Rick’s store manager walks in. He’s in a bit of a shock. The stores a mess and there’s clearly a dead body on the floor. Grant looks around the store then back at Rick.

GRANT

You’ve been fucking with the lottery tickets again haven’t you?

THE END

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The Fish Tank Story

This is a true story. Only some of the names have been changed because I couldn't remember them. This happened almost 20 years ago.

“Zane, I've been teaching for over thirty years and I’ve never came across anything like this,” Mr. Moudy the school principle said as he glared at me from across his desk. Sitting on his desk was a thin glass test tube covered in a fine white powder. “I thought this sort of shit only happens in the movies.” But this wasn’t a movie. It was the abrupt end to my junior year of high school.

The second half of the school year had just begun which meant new classes. I, for God knows what reason, was placed in Mr. Hardirode’s third period Chemistry class. This combination of an impish youth prone to shenanigans and a classroom full of dangerous chemicals was a receipt for disaster and I did my best to oblige.  

        On day one Mr. Hardirode introduced us all to the awesome power of sulfuric acid. By adding just a few ounces of this magic water to ordinary sugar you get a most unexpected surprise. The sugar begins to darken as the acid works its way through the sugar, eating it alive. Smoke begins to billow from the top and the sugar actually turns black then expands upward like a mad snake demon who has just been released from hell!  This was exciting stuff. I hadn’t been this excited at school since the time I “accidentally” walked into the girl’s locker room. I knew I had to get my hands on some of that chemical.

        “What for?” you may be asking yourself. This is a great question and one asked of me several times throughout the investigation and one I still do not have an answer to. I just knew I wanted some. It was powerful stuff and I wanted that power. I was like Lex Luther meeting Superman for the first time. Maybe somewhere buried deep inside my twisted adolescent mind there was an actual scientist, locked tight in a dungeon, screaming for me to learn about science. All I know is that after Mr. Hardirode finished with the experiment and was putting the chemical away, all under the watchful eye of Zane Hughes, he forgot to lock the cabinet and I saw that as a sign. “You were meant to have that stuff Zane. Go get it,” my tiny misunderstood scientist told me. And that’s what I did.

        We were given study time after the demonstration was complete so while the rest of the class was chatting amongst themselves and Mr. Hardirode graded papers, I slipped undetected to the back of the classroom where the unlocked cabinet filled with magic bottles was located. I choose a small glass test tube as my container to hold the sulfuric acid.

        The bell rang and I was out the door faster than you can say “chemical burn”. I headed straight for my locker to deposit the dangerous goods and get on with the rest of my day.

        I reached my locker safe enough and haphazardly dug into my pocket for my test tube of sulfuric acid. I reached for this about as carefully as a two year old digs through a pile of toys attempting to reach their favorite one located at the bottom. When I pulled the contents out of my pocket I notice the rubber stopper on top had started to melt. Holy Boloney! It hit me right then what an idiot I was and how dangerously close I was to having this shit spilled down my leg; I couldn’t keep this. I needed to get rid of it pronto! The school library was right down the hall. I’d have plenty of time to walk in, empty the contents into the fish tank, and then calmly walk on to my next class, I thought to myself. So that’s exactly what I did.

Little did I know, when sulfuric acid and water combine, a violent chemical reaction takes place. My inner scientist is slapping his forehead and shaking his head in disgust. Not only did the water start to boil, one of the fish actually leapt out of the tank! It was the equivalent of setting a house full of cats on fire and watching one them jump out of the window! It was horrible and I wasn’t the only one witnessing this either. The school librarian, Ms. Burt saw the whole thing. As soon as I realized what a scene I had created I bolted for the door depositing piece of critical evidence in the wastebasket; the now empty test tube. Instead to continuing on with the rest of the day I simply walked home. I’d deal with the consequence tomorrow.

        The next morning Mr. Moudy with the vice principle, Mr. Hardirode, Ms. Burt and even Mr. Stanley who was head of the science department were all waiting for me. I pretended like they weren’t standing there for me, even though it was obvious that they were as I tried to walk past.

“I don’t think so Zane,” said Mr. Moudy the Vice Principle. “Go to my office.”  I gave him my best “Okay, but I have no idea what for” look as I walked toward his office. They had me red handed. It was a slam dunk for the prosecution. Sitting on Mr. Moudy’s desk was the empty test tube and it was covered in a fine white powder. They had the thing fingerprinted! That’s when I noticed another member of the prosecution, Officer Mike Raber of the Peru Police Department.

        “Zane, you have two choices,” Officer Raber said. “You can tell us exactly what you did or I’m taking you to the station.” Even in my delusional teenage mind I knew they had me. I told them I didn’t take the stuff with the intention of putting it in the fish tank, I just didn’t know what else to do with it. Ms. Burt, whose fish I had murdered and fish tank I had ruined, began to cry. I felt terrible.

That’s when I was told that I was going to be suspended indefinitely until my hearing in front of the school board. They can’t just kick you out of school for the rest of the school year without some form of due process.

        It didn’t take the school board long to unanimously agree that it was in the best interest of all parties if I sat out the rest of the school year. Mr. Stanley, the head of the science department was a voting member on the school board. I didn’t stand a chance.  

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Twas the Night Before Christmas

My family and I reading Twas the Night Before Christmas. 

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Mall Santa 101

INT. Classroom-Day

It’s the first day of class at Mall Santa Training Academy. A classroom full of potential Santas sit at their desks waiting for their instructor, MR. KRINKLE.

Mr. Krinkle enters.

MR. KRINKLE

Alright, settle down people. This is Mall Santa 101, and I am your instructor, Mr. Krinkle. I know, I know, my last name sounds like Kringle. Ha, ha, it’s hilarious, I’ve heard it before, so let’s just move on, shall we?

The class sits in silence.

MR. KRINKLE

(cont)

Well, look at all of you. So eager and full of hope. Perhaps some of you are looking to make some extra cash for the holidays. Maybe some of you wish to bring joy to children's’ imaginations. Some of you are probably just fat and old and need a job where you can sit on your lard asses all day. Or, perhaps, some of you are just perverts who like having kids sit on your laps. Well, whatever your reason, it’s my job to make you chubby slobs into mall Santas, and so help me God, I’m gonna turn you sorry losers into the best damn mall Santas you can be.

The door knob starts to rattle. Someone is trying to get in but is obviously having a hard time opening the door. It’s FRANK HUGGINS, 45, he finally gets the door open and almost falls through.

FRANK

Whew! That door is a doosey! How you all doing? Sorry I’m late. Had some gum stuck in my hair. I take it you guys have already finished with the introductions?

Frank walks up to one of the guys sitting in the first row and starts shaking his hand.

FRANK

(cont)

Frank Huggins here, nice to meet cha’. I’m just a big ol’ kid and I looove Christmas. Have you ever wondered why so many…

MR. KRINKLE

(sarcastically)

Uh, excuse me for interrupting there Frank but would you mind taking a seat.

FRANK

Sorry about that. It’s just that I’m sooo darn excited to finally get to be Santa Claus. I got to be the Easter Bunny once but I had diarrhea and with all the hopping and skipping and being stuck in that hot suit...I just couldn’t do it. I crapped buckets in that suit.

MR. KRINKLE

Lovely, just lovely. Make sure and tell some of the parents that story while their pride and joy is sitting on your lap, would you? Could you do that for me?

FRANK

(confused but gets the idea. it’s time to find a seat)

Doesn’t seem like an appropriate story to me.

MR. KRINKLE

(to himself)

Jesus Fucking Christ.

(to class)

Alright, does anyone else have any stories about shitting all over themselves before we continue.

(holds for a beat)

No? No one? That’s great. Let’s get started. First thing we will learn are the RULES OF BEING SANTA. Rule number one: Always stay in character. Even if a child rips off your beard, or says you molested him. Rule number two: Don’t molest the kids. This really should probably be rule number one, but anywho. Rule number three: If a kid shits or pisses on you, just go with it. It’s all part of the job. Okay, any questions?

Frank hand enthusiastically shoots up in the air.

FRANK

Is this gonna be on the final exam?

MR. KRINKLE

There is no final exam. Your final exam is getting through the end of December without getting fired or taking your own life.

Having received that grim answer, Frank slowly lowers his hand.

MR. KRINKLE

(cont)

Anyone else? No? Okay then, let’s move on. The next Rule we need to tackle is what I like to refer to as “The Santa Fever Rule”. Believe it or not there will be women out there who will want to sleep with you simply because you’re wearing a Santa suit.

Franks hand shoots up in the air again.

FRANK

(he’s saying this as more of a statement than question)

But we ain't suppose to do it are we?

MR. KRINKLE

Not you Frank. Everyone else in here, please do me a favor and fuck the living dogshit out of every piece of pussy that comes your way, but not you Frank. And do you know why Frank? Huh, do you?

Frank just shakes his head “no”.

MR. KRINKLE

(cont)

Because the thought of one of your fucked up little swimmers making all the way to an egg scares the living shit out of me. Just the idea of another one of you walking around someday, on the same planet as my beautiful children haunts me to my core. Hell, I’m thinking of reaching into your pants and just pulling your dick off right now and saving myself the nightmares. Whatdaya think about that Frank?

FRANK

(confused as hell)

You mean, like a baby?

MR. KRINKLE

(laughs)

Yes goddammit! Like a baby. Like making a baby to be precise. You do know how babies are made don’t you Frank?

FRANK

(blushing and embarrassed)

Yesssssss. With... boobs.

MR. KRINKLE

Did you just say “with boobs”? Fuck it, you’re almost there. I’ll accept your answer Frank. Congratulations, I’ll let you continue on in this course.

FRANK

(happy again)

YES!

MR. KRINKLE

(shakes head in disbelief)

You know, there was a time when being a mall Santa meant something. When a mother and father brought their child to get his picture taken on Santa’s lap, it was a magical holiday memory. Nowadays, mall Santas are thought of as “creepy”, or “pervs”, or “creepy pervs”.

CUT TO: Frank frantically writing down every word Krinkle says into his notebook.

MR. KRINKLE

Frank! That’s not gonna be on a damn test!

(sighs as he composes himself)

Look, Frank, I appreciate your apparent dedication to this, I really do. I mean, most of the others aren’t even paying attention. A couple of them are asleep, and I’m pretty sure one guy in the back is masturbating.

CUT TO: A middle aged guy in the back corner of the classroom with his hand down his pants.

MR. KRINKLE

Alright, let’s just move on. How about we try a couple of runthrough lap-sittings. Who wants to go first, I ask already knowing the answer...

Franks hand shoots up in the air

MR. KRINKLE

(immediately cont)

...yep. There it is. Alright Frank. Get your big ass up here and let’s see what you got.

FRANK

(as he’s bouncing to the front of the classroom)

I won’t let you down Mr. Krinkle. I promise on a pickle I won’t let you down.

Mr. Krinkle let’s Frank’s moronic “promise on pickle” remark go with a slight shake of his head.

MR. KRINKLE

Just relax and get your ass in that chair. You’re Santa and I’m going to be the kid. We’re going to start out easy and work our way up to the problem children.

FRANK

(interrupting)

Oh, there are no problem children Mr. Krinkle. Nuh-uh, not even one. My mommy always said that babies are the sparkle in God’s eye and all are special and beautiful and it’s not till the sex demon comes along to turn people into Satan loving milk drinkers that evil sinks into their brain. Through their weiners of course.

MR. KRINKLE

That’s explains a lot Frank. It really does. But I’m going to tell you something that your mommy didn’t. Children can be little motherfuckers! Little cock-sucking motherfuckers who are too goddamn stupid to even realize what it is they’re doing. They’ll ruin your life if they think there’s goddamn lolli pop in it for them and they won’t even blink a fucking eye!

Frank is shocked by Mr. Krinkles rant. Mr. Krinkle realizes he might have went a little too far.

MR. KRINKLE

(cont)

Or they’re God’s sparkly eyes or whatever the fuck it was your mommy told you. I don’t know. Just sit the fuck down would you Santa.

FRANK

Wow, no ones ever called me Santa before.

MR. KRINKLE

Have you ever been Santa before?

FRANK

No, never.

MR. KRINKLE

Then why the fuck would anyone…?! Forget it. Just sit the fuck down. Now let’s go over the routine. You’re sitting there, the “elf” will walk the little kid over to you and help them on your lap. Okay? Now what are you going to say to this kid?

FRANK

Hello, little boy. Santa needs to know your address and what time you go to bed so he can come down your chimney

MR. KRINKLE

Good God no! Jolly, not creepy. Now let’s try it again. Elf brings kid to you, and you say--

FRANK

(breaks down and starts crying)

I don’t know! I don’t know how to not be creepy! It’s all I know. Everytime I try to approach a woman or a child all I receive are .looks of fear sometimes accompanied by mase.

MR. KRINKLE

Good Lord, look at you man. Why are you even here?

FRANK

Because I’ve got nowhere else to go! Please, Mr. Krinkle, help me!

MR. KRINKLE

Alright, son. I’ll help you. But you have to do exactly what I say, no questions asked. Can you promise me that?

FRANK

Yes, anything!

MR. KRINKLE

Alright then, let’s begin.

We cut away to a training montage. The montage is brief but it’s clear that not only have Frank and Mr. Krinkle accomplished quite a bit but they’ve also become closer. Friends might be still a bit of a stretch but Mr. Krinkle doesn’t cringe at the sight of him anymore.

Some scenes for the montage might include:

1) Frank and Krinkle practicing “lap sittings”. Frank has a dummy child sitting on his lap while Mr. Krinkle barks orders. It’s not going well at first (as in all montages). 

We see Frank crying, 

We see Mr. Krinkle run up to him grab the baby and shake it in his face (he’s saying “This mother fucker will be your death! Is that what you want Frank!” ((we don’t hear him say that because it’s a montage)), 

We see Frank sitting there with the dummy child and he’s doing pretty well until Mr. Krinkle comes saundering in wearing a sexy “mom” outfit. He’s trying to distract Frank to which he succeeds. Frank stands up dumping the child onto the floor and Mr. Krinkle immediately breaks out of hot mom character and chastises Frank,

We see Mr. Krinkle handing Frank a toddler who has obviously shit all over himself. Frank smiles excitedly-He’s shit all over himself too! He and the toddler have something in common! Mr. Krinkle smacks his forehead, 

We see Mr. Krinkle trying to get Frank to break character. Frank is doing his lap sittings and Mr. Krinkle walks by with some pizza and offers Frank a slice, Franks happily accepts to which Mr. Krinkle angrily knocks the slice out of his hand letting Frank know “Santa doesn’t eat pizza!”. Frank nods in a “This shit is hard but I’m going to do it by God” way. 

In one of the middle or end parts of this montage we see Mr. Krinkle bringing Frank a child and it appears that Frank has a boner! Mr. Krinkle jerks the kid back and is about to rip into Frank until Frank reaches into his pants and pulls out a candy cane. He was just fucking with Mr. Krinkle.

2) Frank and Mr. Krinkle doing some one-on-one classroom activities (it’s not in the same classroom they were in before. this is a makeshift classroom set up in the boiler room). 

We see Frank sitting alone and Mr. Krinkle in front of the board with the words “Ho, Ho, Ho” written on in. Mr. Krinkle is pointing to each word and having Frank repeat it back like it’s some complicated saying. 

We also see Mr. Krinkle doing the same thing except with the names of the reindeer on the board. At one point Mr. Krinkle has a couple of the names missing with only a line in their place. Frank is supposed to fill in the blank. He writes “Maud” and “Dr. Flashbang”. Mr. Krinkle angrily crosses them out.

3) We see Frank practicing “posing” for pictures. 

We see Mr. Krinkle acting as photographer and Frank sitting with the dummies. All the pictures start out terrible and get progressively better. They’re ridiculously bad in the beginning. Frank is making stupid faces, Frank isn’t looking at the camera, Frank is drinking from a two-liter bottle of Sprite, Frank has his beard pulled down or up too far covering his entire face, Frank is upside down for some reason, Frank is holding the child like a football and is doing the “Heisman” pose, Frank is wearing an old West style outfit like the ones you get your picture taken with at amusement parks and the dummy child is dressed up too.

The montage ends. All of above scenes resolve themselves and at the end of the montage we see Frank execute a perfect lap sitting (even ignoring “sexy mom” and the pizza slice), he correctly fills in the name’s of the reindeer, when Mr. Krinkle brings him the child with shit all over him he smiles politely and smartly covers his lap with plastic, and the final shot is of the perfect picture with Santa.

DISSOLVE TO: Mr. Krinkle and Frank walking back into their original classroom. They’re both smiling and talking like two friends. After walking in they soon realize that all the other Santas in training are still sitting there. They all look close to death, thinner, and with long stubble. They’ve never left the classroom since the beginning. It’s been at least two weeks.

MR. KRINKLE

What the hell are you guys still doing here?

TRAINEE 1

(weakly)

You never said “dismissed”.

MR. KRINKLE

This room has been locked tight. What were you doing? What did you eat?

 (suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation)

Where did you use the bathroom?

Another one of the trainees points to off camera. We pan over to see one of the other trainees with a couple of fresh bites taken out of him and huge pile of human feces in the corner. Frank and Mr. Krinkle both gag.

MR. KRINKLE

(cont)

(still gagging)

Class dismissed.

The other trainees slowly get up and file out of the room. The one guy who was masterbateing in the back is still back there masterbating.

MR. KRINKLE

(cont)

You too! Go on, shoo!

Mr. Krinkle and Frank are finally alone in the class room. Mr. Krinkle is proud of his new friend and Frank has a new sense of confidence.

MR. KRINKLE

Frank, I’m proud of you buddy. You did it.

FRANK

I couldn’t have done it without you Mr. Krinkle.

MR. KRINKLE

Here, I want to show you something.

Mr. Krinkle reaches into the desk and pulls out an old beat up Santa hat. He’s looking at it like someone looks at old pictures of happier days.

MR. KRINKLE

(still looking at the hat)

This hat belong to my great-grandfather. He wore this on Christmas day 1917 while fighting in WWI. He was only 16 years old.

FRANK

Wowwee, Mr. Krinkle. But I can’t accept that. It means too much to you.

MR. KRINKLE

Accept it? I’m not giving it to you, you idiot. I’m just showing it to you.

FRANK

If it means so much to you, why do you keep it in that unlocked desk drawer?

MR. KRINKLE

I’m gonna be honest with you, Frank. This isn’t just a classroom, it’s where I live. You see, training mall Santas doesn’t pay shit, and it’s only a job for a couple weeks a year. Seeing as I have no other marketable skills, I’m forced to live here. I used to tell myself it couldn’t get any worse. Of course, now that the room is filled with piles of shit and partially eaten people.

FRANK

You know what I think sir? Your life isn’t so bad, it’s just lonely. What you really need, if I may be so bold, is a friend. And , sir, I’d like to be that friend, if you’ll have me.

MR. KRINKLE

Frank, when I first met you, I was pretty sure you were severely retarded.

FRANK

I get that a lot, sir.

MR. KRINKLE

But now I see, you may just be the best damn mall Santa around. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I wasn't just teaching the class to train mall Santas, I was also looking for someone to replace me. Frank, I’d like that someone to be you.

FRANK

Sir, it would be my great honor.

MR. KRINKLE

Well then, my work here is done.

Krinkle pulls out a revolver and blows his brains out. Frank looks around his new classroom/home at the piles of shit, the chewed up bodies, and the fresh corpse of his mentor.

FRANK

(to camera)

Merry Christmas, everyone!

THE END

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Me talking to my neighbor

My neighbor is a real dick face and I thingk that comes across nicely here. 

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You Have to Have a Receipt

This is a scene my pal Jimmy and I wrote for fun. It's silly and I decided to record it because I wanted to practice mixing some audio together. That's my son in the background ad libbing some dialouge. He thought it sounded cool. He's nine. 

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Reflections of a Government Plumber

I'm trying to take life more serious. I just "celebrated" my 34th birthday a few weeks ago and I realize I'm right dab smack in the middle of this shit stain that's panning out to be my life and I don't have a whole helluva lot to show for it. I'm at that age where I should have accomplished or mastered something by now. I should at least be good at something by now. I'm sitting here thinking about what I'm good at and how I've made that work for me over my adult life.

Drinking alcohol. I've have so many drunken stories and I've been piss faced drunk so many times that if it were something to be proud of then I'd be proud as fuck right now. I'd be prouder than a new father, prouder than a little leaguer hitting his first home-run, prouder than that moron who can barely read but tried really hard and studied every night for a month and he got a C on his report card. I'd be so happy, I'd be shitting and puking all over myself which is exactly how some of my drunken stories end.

Plumbing. Let me be more specific, government plumbing. There's a big difference. A real plumber knows his craft inside and out, he's not only knowledgeable but efficient. He has to be efficient or he doesn't make any money and if you don't make money then you’re not a plumber, you're a dick with a wrench. A government plumber (a good one like me) will eventually figure out the problem and be able to fix it half-assed. Half-assed means that it's fixed but either looks like shit (compared to the real plumber) or the correct materials were not used. I've fixed stretches of leaking galvanized steel water piping with pieces of fucking PVC pipe. That sentence alone would make any real plumber's heart stop.

Making people think I'm crazy. I'm on a streak of about 2000 days where I haven't been able to go out in public without at least one person thinking I'm a fucking crazy person. It never fails. Just yesterday I was standing in line at the grocery store. It was busy and there were only two cashiers working. The store manager was "directing traffic" telling which customers which line to go stand in. I was told to go to line three even though I could clearly see that the people in line eight were going to be done before the people in line three. I do what I'm told and go stand in line three. Not one second later the cashier in line eight yells "Next". I'm already standing in line three like an idiot with his dick in his hand and the person behind me in line looks at me and I sort of give them the "go ahead" nod. Then a new line opens up and the traffic director tells the person behind me to go to the new line! That person, god bless their soul, looks at me and give the same "go ahead" head nob but I’m clearly irritated and I keep glaring at the oblivious manager to let her know that I know that she fucked up. Now, here's where I go crazy. Another "Next" gets yelled and that stupid fucking traffic director is nowhere to be seen. The lady who was next sees me in a huff and says "Go ahead, you should be next." Goddamn right I'm next but ohhhh noooo I was told to stand right fucking here so I tell the lady really shitty like "Go ahead. I'll just stand here like an idiot because that lady can't do her job." Yikes, that was a bit harsh. The lady insists, "No you go ahead." She had this look on her face like "you sad sorry man" and off she goes to check out heaven. The guy right behind her pulls his cart up and I say "I bet you'll be going next. I've been standing for about an hour!" He just sort of smiles. It's the kind of smile you give a homeless man when you toss a quarter into his cup. I know he and everyone else in line thought I was crazy. Well, maybe not bat-shit crazy but defiantly a cock sucking jerk. A cock sucking jerk who gets pissed off for having to stand in line an extra 30 seconds. Who gives a fuck? I wasn’t even in a hurry. It was just the principle of the matter.

It’s the principle of the matter that's always getting me worked up about one thing or another. I won't stand for even the slightest social injustice such as giving someone my "Next". I've come to the conclusion I'm fucked either way and I'm ending this post not because I've ran out of things to say but because no one reads the fucking thing so who gives a shit. And if someone does happen to stumble upon this dear God I wouldn't want them to see too many words and scare them away. Reading something might distract them from their game of Words with Friends or jacking off to some sick porno where the guy spits in the girls face (or her mouth. Gross!) or fingering their butt holes or whatever it is sick perverted assholes to their bodies. I'm all for it. Stick the entire room up your ass for all I care. That's what everyone should mean when they say "Go fuck yourself". It should mean, go put the entire contents of one room of your house up and inside of your butt cavity.





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