Monday, March 24, 2014

 

Summerscape Skit: Seymour and Roscoe

I remember those summers when I worked at Summerscape on the campus of Drury University. One year we had a talent show, and a fellow camp counselor and I wrote a skit modeled after the Liar which was popular on Saturday Night Live at the time. Here it is:

Seymour and Roscoe
"Hello Seymour. How's the wife?" asked Roscoe Bransetter, a 20-year veteran of the janitorial staff at Forty Acres College, as he approached his best friend.
"You mean Moran Fairchild?" said Seymour Corn with a Cheshire grin and a touch of sarcasm. "Oh, she is as sexy as ever. How are you doing Roscoe? What about your family?"
"Oh, carried off by wild dogs," said Roscoe, demonstrating his ability to be a compulsive liar. "Other than that, not bad, except for last night."
"What happened last night?" asked Seymour.
"Well, I was at my house over on. . . . "
"Sunsleive and Cornita, third house from the light?" said Seymour, finishing the sentence for Roscoe.
"Yeah. I was painting my house with some of that . . ." Roscoe waved his hand in the air trying to remember the brand name.
"Pratt and Lambert All-Season Latex Paint?" said Seymour, demonstrating his uncanny ability to read Roscoe's mind.
"Yeah. And I was painting the overhangs on my house, when all of a sudden, out of the clear blue sky, completely by surprise, I painted, I mean accidentally painted, my eyelids shut," said Roscoe demonstrating how it happened. "How painful. So I had to take some of those. . ."
"B and D pharmaceutical rubbing alcohol pads?" asked Seymour with sadistic excitement.
"Yeah, that got the paint off, but I couldn't see all day," said Roscoe with a hint of glee.
"You know, that reminds me of the time I was at my house in the bathroom, on the toilet," began Seymour as he picked up his cleaning supplies and headed across campus with Roscoe.
"Ah, yes, quality time is what I like to call it," laughed Roscoe.
"I was reading a copy of the. . . "
"Pulitzer-prize winning novel "To Kill a Mockingbird" written by Harper Lee and published by Doubleday press?" said Roscoe, finishing Seymour's sentence with an uncanny exactness.
"Yeah. And I was bored, so I took one of those. . . "
"Six inch replicas of the Empire State Building?" said Roscoe.
"Yeah. And I shoved it up my nose. I could only get it to the 97th floor," said Seymour, adding to his lie. "So, I got. . ."
"One of things where you shake it up and it snows inside? The ones with felt bottoms?" asked an excited Roscoe.
"Yeah," said Seymour continuing on with his exaggerated tale. "And I gave it a couple of good whacks. Pretty soon the needle came out the top of my head and I looked like one of those. . ."
"Unicorns from the Ringling Brothers-Barnum and Bailey Circus?" laughed Roscoe.
"Yeah, that's it. Oh that was painful, I hate it when I do that."
Roscoe and Seymour were halfway across campus, headed to Wallis Hall for their first assignment of the day. All over campus the limbs of the mature trees rhymaticly banged together in the brisk fall breeze. The campus's crisscrossing sidewalks were hidden from view under a carpet of orange and red leaves. Students walked to and from class but most of them stayed clear of Seymour and Roscoe. Their sadistic humor had earned them an unwanted (but deserved) campus reputation.
"Now that you bring up that unicorn episode, I am reminded of that summer when we did some special projects for Ron Martin and the kids at Summerscape," said Roscoe. "Do you remember Martin?"
"Sure. The man ran full tilt into the side of the Breech School of Business Administration and Economics," recalled Seymour.
"Boy did that hurt, but he killed that pesky..."
"Northern African Tsetse Rain Forest Mosquito?" filled in Seymour.
"Yeah, flat as your head he was," laughed Roscoe.
"I have a good reason for having this flat head," said Seymour taking off his hat and patting his flattop.
"Oh, what could that be?"
"Well, the other day when I was down at. . ." began Seymour.
"Sam's Twenty-four hour bowling alley and game room emporium," said Roscoe.
"Yes. You know that little machine where those. . ."
"Bowling balls come up the feeder and rest until you pick them up," finished Roscoe.
"Yeah. Well, I set my head down there and just let those fifteen-pound bowling balls slam into my head over and over again," said Seymour demonstrating the way his head was hit.
"Oh, that is painful," agreed Roscoe. "I hate that almost as much as what I did the other day, I stripped down to my underwear and …"
"Got some of the Wal-Mart supreme extra long push thumbtacks first didn't you?
"Yes, that is right Seymour," said Roscoe. "I laid them all out on the floor. . . ."
"Points up?" asked Seymour.
"Absolutely," said Roscoe, looking astonished that another way was even possible. "Then I just rolled back and forth across the points embedding them into my body, but that was only half the fun. The best part was when I. . ."
"Soaked in the hot Campophenic, alcohol and salt mixture?" asked Seymour.
"Oh boy did that ever burn. I hate it when I do that," said Roscoe opening the door to Wallis Hall for Seymour. The wind flung the door open wide and the two stepped inside the dormitory with their supplies. It had been a long walk across campus.
"Time for some morning coffee wouldn't you say," said Roscoe as he poured from his Thermos a steaming hot cup of Java.
"That hot coffee reminds me of something I did yesterday," said Seymour. "I burned my nose."
"Yeah, I noticed that nasty scar and Curad bandage," said Roscoe with some curiosity.
"I got a little carried away," laughed Seymour nervously. "I took some of that..."
"Four-inch triple point, five strand American Eagle steel barbed wire?"
"Yeah. . ."
"I used some of that once for a pair of woven underwear," said Roscoe matter-of-factly.
"What? You're lying," said Seymour, using a word the two of them seldom repeated.
"I never lie, now finish our story," said Roscoe.
"Well, I strung that barbed wire through my nose -- very carefully mind you -- and then handed the four-foot strand to the Forty Acre College Monster."
"Wait, don't you mean that you gave the barbed wire to one of those African bread Brazilian Gorillas with five foot arms and a potbelly?" asked Roscoe.
"Yeah, that's it," said Seymour. "Boy, but the mistake was when I fired that 22 caliber, ah 80, I mean 94-caliber pistol off right behind his head. Boy, he took off like a shot and literally tore the front half of my nose off."
"That sounds more painful than my barbed wire trick," said Roscoe.
"Same type of barbed wire?" asked Seymour.
"Absolutely. I took of that and stapled it to the nipple of by breast."
"Ouch," said Seymour rubbing his chest.
"That's only the start. I then twisted it in a counter clockwise motion until it was tight and then let it go."
"I bet it looked like the propeller on one of those World War II fighting tiger planes," said Seymour, nearly spitting out his coffee amid a laugh.
"Sure did, and it tore half of my face and breast off to boot," bragged Roscoe. "Want to see the scars?"
Seymour ignored the question and kept talking. "Speaking of getting things tore off, I don't think I will ever forget the time I was using some of that. . .
"Elmer's amazing super crazy glue?" guessed Roscoe.
"Yeah, I guess I forgot. Anyway, I was using to repair my...."
"Broken teacup?" asked Roscoe.
"No."
"Broken picture frame?" guessed Roscoe again.
"No."
"Broken bike?"
"No," said Seymour scratching his head.
"I don't know then. Broken stainless steel Dolerena racecar?" asked Roscoe.
"Yeah. I was fixing my rear view mirror and trying to get that glue to come out. So, I tilted it up and poked a needle in the bottle, but when I pulled it out it squirted in my eyes and when I used my hands to wipe the glue out my hands stuck," said Seymour demonstrating the accident.
"Wow. What did they do to fix that, I have no idea," said Roscoe with a tone of awe.
"Had to pull all of my eyelashes out," said Seymour.
"That must of hurt. That reminds me, I'll never forget two years, months, weeks, days ago when I took one of those. . ."
"Stainless steel six-inch carrot scrapers?" asked Seymour.
"Yeah. Boy, I took that and pushed it up my nose while turning it and really scrapped out all of those mucus membranes," said Roscoe demonstrating the motion. "Then I got one of those..."
"Twelve-hour decongestant nasal sprays?"
"Yeah, did that ever burn when I snorted it, but it didn't leave a scar like. . ."
"You mean like the small suction cupped elephant head that Ron Martin put on his forehead to entertain his children with?" asked Seymour.
"Absolutely, you know the camp director still has a scar from that."
"Yeah, and he will scar our butts if we don't get to cleaning up his office," said Seymour as he unlooked the door to Martin's head-resident's office in Wallis Hall.
"Yeah, okay Seymour, I'll get all of the M&M's off the floor," said Roscoe.
"That's fine with me Roscoe. I'll take out the trash and then it's off to have lunch with my . . . my senator, ah. . . I mean the President of the United States."



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