Dan and David
Photographed at Loud Village Comedy Night
Best Fish Taco
Los Feliz, Los Angeles, California
Dan and David
Photographed at Loud Village Comedy Night
Best Fish Taco
Los Feliz, Los Angeles, California
By Evan Mays
Guest Submission #27!
This weeks guest submission comes to us from outstanding comedian and man amongst not quite men, Dan Gill! And it incorporates two of my favorite things. Try to guess which two!
(If you’d like to submit an Untitled Screenplay of your own, just email it to firstname.lastname@example.org)
I was moving my stroll sticks down the cement walk path. Feet comforters slamming cement. Lookers fixed on big blue.
Hearers caught the sound of my identifiable Proper Noun projected from the noise hole of a son of Adam.
I shifted my lookers from big blue to cement walk path.
Noisemaker recognized and confirmed as Tenbrook, a person who I feel comfort with and warmth towards.
Tenbrook fluttered his shaker. I fluttered my shaker and also opened my kiss slit to show my meat munchers.
We waddled till saggy skin sacks nearly bumped. Pressed shakers. I put left shaker to Tenbrook’s left arm rotator. Tenbrook put his left shaker on my left arm rotator.
It had been creator of all things to enteral flames too many rotations of the 3rd rock since near body bumps.
Well ain’t you an image for weary lookers, I projected from my noise hole.
Tenbrook’s kiss slit now showed his meat munchers as he revved up the old noise hole to audibly project, So you’re still doing that thing where you talk weird?
I still refrain from using my noise hole to project sheep speak, I projected.
The boundaries of Tenbrook’s kiss slit shifted towards the crust of the 3rd rock from the fireball. Tenbrook with quiet projection projected, Well, I only really had time to say hi. Take care, Coleman.
Tenbrook 180ed and started moving his stroll sticks down the cement walk path away from my saggy skin sack.
Take care, I said realizing that maybe people didn’t like me that much. I turned around and walked down the sidewalk towards my home. Inside, I poured myself a glass of ice tea. Right now, I’m sipping from the glass and looking out a window. A bird just landed on a roof. It is moving around, but not that much. Has life always been this boring?
The motel is nowhere, hard to tell if it’s in the middle or on the edge, but it’s nowhere.
The only reason it exists is to give the sad souls that pass through parts such as this a place to hide. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? To hide from my sins, to hide from those I’ve hurt, to hide from those who have hurt me?
They’ll all be staying with me here tonight, their memories floating around me like the illuminated dust made visible by the faint light of the sun creeping through the blinds.
The bottle before me will be cracked and I’ll drink to all their memories, may the be damned…may I be damned.
The air in this place is stale and it smells like cigarettes lit from loneliness and not the satisfaction of being loved.
Where will I be tomorrow? Here or some place like it, I suppose. No matter where I’m at, I’m in the same place, mired in the mud of regret.
Why do we go on taking up air, water, and food when no one desires us to be alive?
I persist, but I know not why. I have no hope that things will get better. No, all I have is a curiosity for how bad things can get.
Pile it on life, bury me until I can’t breath. I’ll be here tomorrow, away from my friends, family, and my goldfish, Bertram. All because I screwed things up. My life now is loneliness, sorrow and HBO! Wow, this dump has HBO? Sweet! I’m going to take my pants off and enjoy this! What a cool, unexpected treat!
In the Summer of 2007 the Schmidt family traveled from a small town in Wisconsin to The Twin Cities to see their daughter, Jessica, who was attending the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul. Jessica wanted her parents to have a fun time, so she asked her roommate Bridgette if she had any suggestions. Bridgette,a Twin City native, informed Jessica that there was a piano bar near the Target Center. She said that it was fun, so Jessica took her parents there. When the Schmidts arrived they found out that the piano bar they were going to wasn’t just a piano bar, it was a dueling piano bar. Two pianists going at it. The whole night they marveled at how the pianists could play almost note for note any song that was requested of them. Jessica’s parents were impressed. On the way back Bonnie Schmidt called her sister, Tabitha Halverson, who lived in Watertown, SD and said, “It was so good, Tabitha.”
In the Fall of 2007 Tabitha Halverson and her husband Mark went to the Twin Cities for a Vikings game. They were talking about what they should do Saturday night before the game and Tabitha remembered Bonnie’s glowing review of the Piano Bar, so they went. They loved it. They could play anything, “just amazing,” said Mark Halverson.
During a Fourth of July party in 2008 in Watertown, SD, Mark told his brother-in-law Dennis who lived in Mitchell, South Dakota about the experience. Dennis told Mark that his daughter who lived in Denver had told him about one of those dueling piano bars before.
In the Spring of 2009 Dennis and his wife Melissa went to the Twin Cities. They went to the Walker Art museum. Dennis was unimpressed and didn’t think what he saw was art. Melissa didn’t like it either but tried to have fun. During lunch at the Museum Cafe, Mark remembered that his brother-in-law, Melissa’s brother, had told him about a Piano Bar there that was fun, so he floated the idea of going. Melissa didn’t like drinking, she didn’t like the idea of going to the bar. Mark said, “Have a Diet Coke then, I’ll drink for both of us.” Melissa didn’t like that her husband drank, but she didn’t want to be a wet blanket and agreed to go. Boy, was she glad she did. “I’ve never seen such talent,” she said forgetting that she had seen Dr. Hook at a street dance in Mitchell in 1999. The next day Dennis called his daughter in Denver and told her she was right about Piano Bars. He then called his brother Randy who lived in Armour, SD. He said, “If you ever go to the Twin Cities, don’t go to the Walker art Museum, it’s a bunch of crap, but you should check out this Piano Bar.”
In the Fall of 2009 Randy went to the Cities with his wife to visit their son who was attending the University of Minnesota. The stated purpose of the trip was to see a Vikings game. Randy’s real purpose was to talk his son into pursuing a law degree, because he felt a political science degree is worthless on its own. Randy’s wife didn’t want Randy to bother her son too much with it and told him to wait for after the game on Sunday, Randy reluctantly agreed. They spent Saturday at the Mall of America. Randy’s son had suggested they go to the Walker Art Museum, but Randy had been warned and was not interested. After a day of shopping and a good meal at the Rainforest Cafe (Randy had jokingly suggested Hooters, which embarrassed his son and wife) Randy’s son left them to attend a party. Randy and his wife decided to go to the Piano Bar, they loved it. “If you would’ve but a blindfold on me I would have swore it was Billy Joel singing those songs,” Randy’s wife said that night. They went to the Vikings game Sunday and the Vikings lost. Randy talked to his son about law school. His son told him he was planning on going to law school and had applied several to places, so the trip was a complete success.
The week after the Randy and his wife went to the twin cities they went to church. People asked them about their trip. They said their son was doing well. Randy said that his wife had really wanted to go to Hooters, a statement that really embarrassed his wife. “He’s the one who wanted to go,” she said. She didn’t want people getting the wrong idea about her moral fiber. But after all the joking they told people about the Piano Bar, among those people were my parents.
In the Spring of 2010 I was in Minnesota for a wedding. My parents hadn’t seen me for a while so they drove to the Twin Cities to see me. My wedding was on a Saturday so they came up Friday morning. On Friday after I landed, my parents took me to the Walker Art Museum. My Dad thought that he could recreate every exhibit in his garage. We ate dinner at Famous Dave’s. We ordered a big platter that we all agreed was way too much food. It was during that dinner my Mom and Dad suggested going to a piano bar, a suggestion that I was not keen on, I had been to one in Omaha before and did not enjoy it, so I said, “eh.” They asked me if I had a better idea of what to do and I could not present one, so we went. I did not enjoy myself. My parents loved it.
The next day at the wedding, I was talking to the groom’s parents. I told them I had flown in the day before and told them I went to a Piano Bar with my parents. They said that they’d heard about the Piano Bar and really wanted to go and for some reason I lied and said, “you should, you really should.”
In the Winter of 2010 I got a text from the groom that read, “My parents wanted to say thank you for suggesting the Piano Bar…said it was the best time they had in years.” I replied, “No problem.”
I know some successful people and being a keen observer of the world I have noticed that they have habits, ten habits to be exact. So here are the habits that successful people follow.
Ten Habits of Highly Successful People
10. Wake Up Early- That’s right the early bird does get the worm, it’s really true!
9. Exercise- Sorry chunkbutts and butterballs, if you aren’t healthy and trim your body just doesn’t have what it takes to climb to the top of success mountain.
8. Surround Yourself With Successful People- Guess what? Warren Buffett doesn’t hang out with people who are constantly wanting him to go bowling or get drunk on Tuesday night. So cut the losers out.
7. Make a To Do List- You need goals everyday, period. If you wake up with no goals, you wake up with no reason to live, which will make you listless and drives you to being a loser who thinks watching every episode of Cheers is an accomplishment.
6. Put Family First, Figuratively, Not Literally- Let’s face it, families only bog us down and keep us from reaching our true potential, but investors don’t trust people without families, so find a dull partner, have some kids, put a picture on your desk, and when the investor asks you about them gush about how much they mean to you. Yes, you will have to use valuable brain space to learn their names, but you can cut down on how much room the names will take up by keeping them monosyllabic. Names like Sam, Cliff, and Norm are ideal. Also, no daughters.
5. Do Something That Scares You- No, not something like talking to impoverished disease riddled minorities, something like skydiving, lion hunting, or taking on Gary’s Olde Town Tavern during Bar Wars.
4. Live In The Moment- Successful people don’t live in the past, they live in the moment with an eye to the future. We all have blood on our hands and the people who aren’t crying over spilled blood are the ones making big bucks, baby. The dead are dead and you can not bring them back unless you are highly successful and have the bread to make that sort of thing happen.
3. Have A Person You Can Shout At And Call Names- Putting people down and treating them like stupid mutts makes you feel better and when you feel great about yourself, you’ll believe you can achieve.
2. Don’t Give Advice- Why would you give advice? Do you want people taking what is yours? Hell No! Keep your success secrets to yourself, you stupid moron, you want some prole to take your spot?
1. Don’t Read Internet Lists- They are not only a waste of time, they are most times written by losers who think success is getting a meal that actually wasn’t that gross from Panda Express.
But! I like to have fun.
Guest Submission #18!
This week’s guest submission comes to us from comedian and friend David Venhuizen! If you like racial harmony, you’re gonna love this Untitled Screenplay.
(If you’d like to submit an Untitled Screenplay of your own just email it to email@example.com)
Hey, I wrote this.
I was in the park minding my own business eating artificially flavored sugar clouds. I wasn’t wearing a sign. I wasn’t shouting at the skies. I was shoving stuff that would rot my teeth in my mouth and the last thing I was looking for was trouble.
There was a family in the park sharing a large pepperoni pizza. They were running in circles holding hot slices. The cheese was slowly sliding off and they didn’t seem to mind. They were laughing as if they were in some sort of commercial for cotton. I could have shoved them all over and taken their pizza. I thought about it, but I didn’t do it. Dad was sort of big, but it looked like mostly mush. Wife and the girls easily could’ve have been defeated, probably with just a mighty roar, leaving Dad. I’d punch him in the neck, he’d fall to his knees, I’d take their pizza, and eat it like Genghis Khan. I didn’t do any of that, I let them have their day of fun. I let them bond as a family, because strong families make a strong nation and strong nations have shovel ready jobs and that’s what I dream of when I put my head on a pillow.
There was a guy with a bald head in the park doing yoga. I could’ve called him a square, a sissy, or asked him if he knew any good places to get kale in a sarcastic way. I let him be, let him find his center or whatever being in weird positions makes you find. I won’t stand in the way of someone’s mental health. Do what you gotta do to get yourself right, I’ve said that in hundreds of public places.
There was an old man walking through the park in loafers. I could have flaunted my youth, but the guy doing yoga was already sort of doing that, so I didn’t. I could have shoved him over, if I wanted to I could shove anybody I mention over. I let him enjoy what little time he had left. Nations that respect their elderly benefit from the wealth of their wisdom, that should be written on every chalkboard in every classroom in this nation.
There was an eccentric woman painting what looked like rainbow vomit onto a canvas that probably thought it would have a better life than the one it was receiving. I didn’t throw hot coffee on her art and shout, It’s drivel, It’s horrible, It’s a crime against art, I didn’t have any coffee. I didn’t take her painting off the easel and throw it at the feet of yoga boy who probably would think that crap art was neat. I didn’t pull her hair, I didn’t punch her in the neck, all I did is look at her painting and think, That’s not for me. I believe that freedom of speech is our most important freedom, I told my friend’s uncle that last week. He agreed.
There was a rumpled man wearing thick glasses sitting at a chair staring at the little girls who were running around enjoying pizza. He was slobbering and shaking his head muttering, Wow. I didn’t take off his glasses and call him a four-eyed pervert who should get the heck out of the park. I didn’t say, Hey, this park is for people that can keep spit in their mouth. No, I too let him be. Innocent unless proven guilty, could someone tell the media that?
There was a janitor on lunch break enjoying a sandwich, some chips, and a Coke. He was watching the birds and the trees and it looked like he was appreciative of every facet of life. I didn’t google pictures of the rotting hides of wombats, shove them in his face and say, Do you appreciate living in a world where wombats are being ravaged by a horrible mange that threatens their very extinction? People have a right to happiness and that’s in the Constitution, at least I’ve been told it is.
Point is, I let them all be. I was letting the world operate the way it sought fit, being a team player and not a diva, so why then did I, Mr. Nice Guy, Mr. Laissez-Faire, Mr. Chill, get slimed?