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."
