Episode 51

I guess the point I'm trying to make this Saturday evening is about how I draw upon my life experiences for my writing. I work in a warehouse. I enjoy old britcoms like 'On the Buses'. I had trouble applying for credit last year. And I bought a blinding rear light for my bike - though I could have noticed it on another bike earlier. All the same, I merely take creative direction from these experiences to help me write a good comedy script, and the final result, after all the necessary exaggeration and so forth, is in no way an accurate depiction of my life. These characters and events are totally fictitious and any similarities they have with real persons and events is utterly coincidental - so help me God.

Call this a current tribute to two lengthy past posts whose commercials were ravaged by shows like Saturday Night Live when I originally shared them in 2007:

The Don't Steal Show - Episodes 1-30 (show-dave.blogspot.ca) 'The Show Must Continue'.

The New Don't Steal Show - Episodes 30-50 (newshowdave.blogspot.ca) 'Come Out to Show Them' wherein I invented my young sidekick Janie Smuthers.

However, this instalment will remain here and will simply be entitled:

Episode 51

I enter the set to find it radically altered. A pretty, smartly dressed co-ed appears from a backstage room.

I: (Turning to leave.) Sorry! This used to be the set for my show, but they must have evicted us...

Smuthers: Wait! It's still your set. I've just reorganized it a bit for you. I'm Janie Smuthers' sister, Jodie. She asked me to fill in for her tonight. Goodness, what happened to you?

I: Nothing, just a little work accident. I was reaching to pull down a crate of cabbages from over my head and a few fell onto my face.

Smuthers: Oh no! And they poked you in the eye?

I: (Rubbing my brow.) No, I'd say it was more like a punch - like from a boxing glove.

Smuthers: It's all bruised. You poor thing! (I show surprise at her sympathy.)

I: You're not going to laugh at me?

Smuthers: Certainly not! That's an awful thing to happen. Does it hurt?

I: Uh- it'll heal. Wow. You're not at all like your sister, are you? Except you're both good looking. (She smiles and blushes.) Why couldn't Janie make it, by the way?

Smuthers: Still recovering from her vacation.

I: Oh, right. How long was she lost at sea for again?

Smuthers: Three days and two nights.

I: No kidding. That must have been one rugged little air mattress she was floating on to last all that time out there. (Looking around with approval.) So you fixed up the set! I'm impressed by your initiative. But where's my desk?

Smuthers: (Pointing to a highly ornate trunk in front of a spacious new sofa.) Right there. (I go over and sit behind it.)

I: Hey, this is all right! Where did you find that guitar stand? It's perfect!

Smuthers: You approve of the new set?

I: (Bouncing on cushions.) Yes! Very much.

Smuthers: (Beaming.) I'm so glad. And you'll find tonight's schedule in your desk drawer.

I: In my what? Oh, it's down here. (I pull out a clipboard with a sheet on it and look it over.) Mm-hm, yes, this is very thorough. Wait. Everyday occupations? Don't tell me a freak show like this is going to start sucking up to those types. Oh no, this one's a produce buyer. If I'm not mistaken, they're the ones who fax the orders to my warehouse. We must not let her know. She'd lose all respect for me.

Smuthers: Don't worry, Mr Sk-.

I: Just 'Dave,' please.

Smuthers: Don't worry, Dave. I'll let you do the talking.

I: Right, good. This should work out fine. Makeup!

COMMERCIAL

(The curtain opens before a crowd of plastic dummies in masks.)

I: Now, I didn't choose the theme of 'everyday occupations' for tonight's show, but I can't think of a more apt choice for its first guest, a buyer for a national grocery chain, Miss Brenda Garnet! (Applause. Enter Garnet, an attractive, fashionable young woman. As I rise to my feet, Jodie astonishes me by getting up to greet the guest and escort her to her seat.) Thanks, Jodie! And thank you for being here, Miss Garnet. You're a worker like my own sweet mom.

Garnet: Did she work for a grocery chain, too?

I: Yes, but just as a cashier.

Garnet: Oh, well I started as a cashier...

I: There, you see? How can I not trust you? But you've advanced to a better position now, I understand.

Garnet: I suppose so. It's very busy though. We're always running out of supplies.

I: You must be the one who makes up the grocery list.

Garnet: That's right. And we like to keep those guys in the warehouse on their feet.

I: I bet you do! Are the crates heavy?

Garnet: (Giggling.) Some of them are on the high side of fifty pounds, and big as millstones! I can just picture those guys struggling with them.

I: Do you mean like, say, trying to pull down the ones on top?

Garnet: (Through laughter.) Yes! And on the crates of cabbage, they occasionally stack the top layer upside down! We like to order that one a crate at a time. Actually, we try to order as many different sized products as will fit onto one pallet if possible.

I: You really let them have it, eh?

Garnet: (Still laughing.) Yes! And it gets even funner when we order the frozen products. They're awkward and hard to mix with the others. And the ice melts into slippery pools that can paralyze their power jacks!

I: Great! Those stupid guys... (I look aside and wince. Jodie briefly takes my hand and I recover.)

Garnet: Let 'em walk, I say! They get so fat and spoiled on those things.

I: (Abject) Yeah. So, what else do you do?

Garnet: Well, after they think they're finished, I add one or two things to every load and force them to take them all apart and build them all over again.

I: Whoa! That'll teach them. Miss Garnet, there's no question about it, you are one busy buyer.

Garnet: I told you.

I: The industrious Brenda Garnet, folks. Woe to he who short-ships her watermelons.

COMMERCIAL: The Razzle-Dazzle Reflector

A highway at night. A lone cyclist peddles down the side of the road when a tractor-trailer overtakes him from behind and bumps him off his mount.

Announcer: Heavy vehicles have blind spots, and your bicycle's rear reflector might not be bright enough. That's why we came up with the Razzle-Dazzle Reflector.

Arms wrapped in bandages, the victim fastens the product to his bicycle and tests the different blinking options.

Announcer: It's easy to install and can pull over 10,000-candlepower out of a nine-volt battery!

An overpass at night. The cyclist makes a sharp turn to exit with his rear RDR lit and blazing. A tractor-trailer is right behind him when its driver is blinded by the powerful reflector, forcing him to hit his brakes and skid spectacularly off the side of the overpass.

Announcer: Cyclists, don't be afraid again. Get the Razzle-Dazzle Reflector!

I: Carrying on with tonight's tribute to everyday occupations, please welcome a real live 'clippie' straight from the Luxton district, Miss Molly Bobbins! (Enter Bobbins in uniform circa 1970. She is led to her seat.) Well, look at you! You look just as I imagined.

Bobbins: Ooo, that's right, you down't 'ave clippies owva heeya, do ya?

I: Sadly, no. And our buses have no upstairs either.

Bobbins: Ow well, folks ain't so keen on buses these days.

I: (Glancing at her legs) What a charming accent you have.

Bobbins: Thank you!

Smuthers: (With tray) Care for a hot beverage?

Bobbins: Bless you! (She accepts a cup, but rejects its contents with a bitter expression.) Blimey, that's tea!

I: You don't like tea?

Bobbins: No.

I: Not even with a biscuit?

Bobbins: No.

I: (Confused) My mistake, I do apologize. Anyway, I was thinking of you gals on the front lines, dealing with the public. They must train you in self defence.

Bobbins: Actually, you pick that up on the job.

I: Oh, so you've had a few encounters already.

Bobbins: Yes, unfortunately.

I: Tell us about one.

Bobbins: Well, there was this bloke 'oo tried to put 'is hand on me thigh.

I: The monster! What did you do?

Bobbins: It's kind of hard to put into words. I suppose I could show you.

I: Sure, that sounds fun. Okay, let's do it. (We rise.) I'll be him and where was he standing? And you get into position. Now where was your thigh? Right there. Ah, yes. Right within range of my quivering grasp. Why, I could just reach out and- (She kicks me in the shin and I start hopping on one leg, uttering between groans, 'I wasn't going to do it.')

Bobbins: Sorry, love. Reflex.

COMMERCIAL

Jodie has put a chair in front of me to elevate my bruised leg.

I: What's that for?

Jodie: It'll slow down the swelling until we're finished the show.

I: Good idea. Jodie, thanks for coming in and doing such a great job filling in for your sister tonight. Hey, everyone, isn't she great? (Cheers. Jodie blushes with pleasure.) You must get excellent grades at that college of yours. What are you studying?

Smuthers: Business administration.

I: Well, I like you anyway. And you may have a few things in common with our next guest. He's an accounts manager for a major financial institution, Mr Sheldon Milch! (Applause. Jodie gracefully shows Milch to his seat.) Mr Milch, let me get right down to business. In your line of work, do you have the authority to approve credit card applications?

Milch: As a matter of fact, I do.

I: You do. I thought so. And for a person who works full-time and has a reasonably good balance in his savings account, a man with a clean record, but just no credit history, what might prevent him from obtaining a credit card?

Milch: Are you referring to yourself?

I: Possibly.

Milch: (Raising his eyebrows.) Well, I don't know. How long have you been employed?

I: All my life, I suppose.

Milch: With your current employer?

I: No, that's only been for a year.

Milch: That's probably it then. We can't help the chronically unemployed, I'm afraid.

I: Now just hold on! I'm an artist, and I needed a lot of time for my music and stuff!

Milch: Sorry, but you're going to have to fit that in around your paying job if you want any help from us. Unless...

I: Unless what?

Milch: Allow me to explain briefly, if I may. You see, we administrative types have an acute need for marketing research. We just can't get enough of it.

I: What, you mean like survey information?

Milch: Right. Only we need to make sure our feedback is accurate. That's why we've invented a scanning device that can penetrate a subject's brain and read his thoughts. Now, if you would agree to help us test it, I might look favourably upon your credit card application.

I: Test it? Why does it need testing? Jodie, have you heard anything about this?

Smuthers: Oh sure. One of my classmates signed up for it. They gave her a gold card.

I: Really? What does she say about it?

Smuthers: I don't know. She committed suicide. (Silence.)

I: Thank you, Jodie. You're a real life saver. Time for a tune when we return.

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