Excerpts from The Odd Couple by Neil Simon Comedy
In the middle of the weekly poker game with the boys, the phone rings
Hello, Oscar the poker player!... Who? Who did you want?... Dabby? Dabby who?
…No, there’s no Dabby here…. Oh Daddy!
(to the poker boys) For Christ sakes it’s my kid!
(on the phone) Brucey, hello, baby. Yes, it’s Daddy!
(to the poker boys) Hey come on give me a break will ya? My five-year-old kid is calling from California. It must be costing him a fortune.
(on the phone) How’ve you been, sweetheart? Yes. I finally got your letter. It took three weeks. …. Yes, but next time tell mommy to give you a stamp…. I know, but you’re not supposed to draw it on.
(proud dad to others) Do you hear?
(on the phone) Mommy wants to speak to me? Right…. Take care of yourself, soldier. I love you…. Hello, Blanche, how are you?.... Yes, I have a pretty good idea why you’re calling. I’m a week behind with the check, right? …..Four weeks? That’s not possible…. Because it’s not possible…… Blanche I keep a record of every check and I know I’m only three weeks behind! Blanche, I’m trying the best I can…Blanche, don’t threaten me with jail, because it’s not a threat, with my expenses and my alimony, a prisoner takes home more pay than I do… Very nice in front of the kids, Blanche. Goodbye, Blanche…Just say goodbye, Blanche.
Hangs up the phone.
I’m eight hundred dollars behind in alimony, so let’s up the stakes.
Excerpts from Prisoner of Second Avenue by Neil Simon Comedy
Mel is furious with the neighbor in the apartment above his and wants revenge. He is speaking to his wife.
I’m waiting for him. I’m just waiting for him. He’s up there now, but one day he’s gonna be down there, and (‘m gonna be up here, and then we’ll see. One cold, snowy day some Son-Of-A-Bitch in this building is gonna be buried under three feet of snow. They won’t find him until the Spring. (yelling up) They won’t find you until the spring, you son-of-a-bitch! I live for it. I live for the first snow of the winter. He gets home at five-fifteen, I checked with the doorman. I gave him a five dollar tip; it was worth it. (yelling up) I know what time you get home, you bastard! Try using the service entrance, I got that blocked off!
Do you have any idea, any conception of the impact of two pounds of snow falling from a height of fourteen floors? They’ll find him in the garage (yelling up). They’ll find you in the garage, you bastard! I know what you look like.
They can get your clothes, Edna. The can get your clothes, your Valium, your television, your Red Label Whisky, your job, they can get everything. But they can’t get your brains. That’s my secret weapon. That and the snow. I bought a shovel today.
And if it doesn’t snow this winter, I’ll wait till next winter, I’m in no hurry (yelling up) smart ass. I’ve got nothing but time…Nothing but time, baby!
Excerpts from Cockeyed by William Missouri Downs Comedy
I've seen the woman I shall marry, and she is without a doubt the most magnificent creature in all of New York – flawless except for one minor imperfection – she is totally unaware of my existence. There, through yonder door, 'tis the company break room and – Sophia. I've often daydreamed what our life together would be like. One day we'd accidentally meet in the break room and instantaneously click. There'd be no kiss on the first date; no, we'd both be too excited about our five-hour dialogue on Plato's allegory of the cave as it relates to the movie The Matrix. The first kiss would come on our second date – after a six-hour heart-to-heart on Hitler and existentialism, I'd take her in my arms and with total confidence – something I've never known – I'd kiss her. A soft sigh would escape from her, letting me know that she had never been kissed like that before. On our wedding night we'd make love like Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. After which, we'd lie in each other's arms and watch PBS or Book TV, or some other intellectually stimulating program.
Aristotle says at the beginning of Metaphysics, “We take delight in our senses – apart from their usefulness they are loved for their own sake and none more than the sense of sight.” I am in love with the sight of Sophia.
Excerpts from Some Assembly Required- Eugene Stickland (Canadian) Comedy
It’s Christmas day and the highly dysfunctional family of Mom, Dad and adult son Gordon are in the basement as Dad -Walter, tries to keep things from spiraling even more out of control.
OK. Good. You guys are great. Now, I’d like to move from the realm of action into the consequences of our actions. On the green side, in the Go upstairs and eat the chicken category, there are some obvious outcomes. Like satisfying our hunger. Getting warm. Salvaging some kind of Christmas from the dung heap of dysfunction. Now, on the red side, we have Stay down here and don’t eat the chicken. What are those consequences? Eventually the chicken thaws. But you, Gordon, have no way of preserving or cooking the chicken and watch in horror as your beloved bird begins to rot and decompose before our very eyes. We know what keeps down here and what doesn’t. Don’t we, Gordon? WE know that in a matter of only a few hours that chicken will have to be eaten or its flesh will start to putrefy. Christmas will be over. Mom and I will leave, and it will just be you down here, Gordon, lurching around in an eggnog-induced stupor, clutching your rancid chicken to your breast. Is that what you want?
Excerpts from Two Ships Passing by Dave Carley Drama
Jason Bregner (a conservative with an MBA) has returned home to visit his mother - a left-leaning judge who has always mocked his politics. In this case, the issue that divides them centers on how comprehensive Medicare coverage should be. Jason says there are limits to what treatments a government can afford to cover and his mother disagrees, repelled that Jason would suggest that there should be age limits for certain medical procedures. When Jason's mother doesn't take him seriously (again) he unloads on her. Jason could be any age.
You said being an adult meant making difficult choices and gradually I've come to see that, yes, it's true, if it's easy it's likely wrong. Or maybe it's right for some but wrong for others. But the minute you have to face a reality that is inconvenient or hurtful or actually involves making a hard choice, you run and hide behind whatever "principles" or "ideals" you're managed to trump up to suit the situation.
I wish you'd stop sometime and really take a look at me, really look, and while you're doing that, try thinking about what the world looks like through my eyes. All my life I've wished for that, that you'd stop for one minute and entertain the idea that the road you're travelling might have parallel lines, or ones going this way or that way and maybe they're okay, too, and maybe the girls I date aren't all sluts and maybe the job I landed after working so goddamn hard isn't just an excuse for lame jokes.
Maybe I'm scared about the job. Maybe I'm scared shitless I'm going to screw up. Maybe I'd like some support from you, Mom, not money - support - and I'm sorry the job's at a bank but it's a bank!
(Holds his hands out one above the other, indicating they've been on separate planes.)
We've spent our whole lives going like this. We've never connected unless I made the effort. God Mom, didn't you ever notice it was Gran I told everything to? Well she's dead now, Mom. And I don't have anyone who listens.
Excerpts from Joe and Stew’s Theatre of Brotherly Love and Financial Success
by Jacquelyn Reingold Comedy
Two Cockroaches discuss theatre. Stew wants to keep at it, Joe wants better.
Stew, this place was a bomb way before the one that dropped in here tonight. I may not be a genius, but I know what I know, and this is not the time and place for a theatre. All you had to do was look at or crawl over the face of the guy who ran the place. Heartbroken and bitter. He dedicated his life to this. WE survived, and he didn’t! Whatever they gave us we lived through it: poison, sterilization, DDT, you name it, we beat it; not by jerking each other off in the name of theatre. This place? On the evolutionary scale, it thrived for maybe a second. Less. But us, Stew, we’re talking survival of the fittest, not survival of the artistic. So, no theatre. No way.
Oh, geez don’t cry. Look, maybe a movie theatre, ok? We could break it into 70 or 80 smaller ones and call it a cockaplex. Or a porn theatre, all right? With beautiful young roachettes on stage shaking their antennae and showing off their egg sacs. But that’s it.