The Talk Show Host

His first night on the job could not go more wrong. Comedy ensues.

It was his first night as a talk show host and it couldn’t have gone worse. It wasn’t for lack of preparation. He’d practiced and practiced his opening monologue. Knew it by heart. He’d gone through it with anyone who’d listen: friends, family, pets, the wall, the hot space alien from the Andromeda Galaxy (okay, so that was a dream but it could still qualify as a practice and to be fair, that monologue did save her and her people from almost certain doom).

He thought he was ready. He thought it would go well. He thought “no problem.”

Apparently, for his first show the phrase “no problem” had temporarily ceased to exist. There were lots of problems, and they started right about the time the show went on air. It began with a tiny little nail. Right behind the curtain on the stage, there was a nail (just a small nail, barely visible) that was sticking out of the stage floor just long enough to catch the cuff of his pants as he walked up to the curtain starting to tear his pants. At the same time, a bee happened to fly into his jacket. He tore that off immediately (while still walking toward the curtain). Then, as soon as he tore off the jacket (while the pants still hung on the nail, and still tearing away from his legs), he started having an allergic reaction from the starch in his shirt. It was burning hot as fire, so he began tearing at his shirt. Still moving toward the stage (all of this happened in about the span of 30 seconds), his jacket lost to the bee, shirt torn to shreds and lying on the floor, his pants finally tear off, clinging to the tiny little nail. Right about this time, he actually stumbles onto the stage and the elastic band on his underwear picks that precise moment to break.

Did I mention that the network, in order to shake things up, decided that the first show would be broadcast live?

Wardrobe rushed to the scene, trying to help the poor naked man, though unfortunately they had nothing in his size but an old lime green leisure suit, complete with a white wide-collared shirt. It was then that he realized how closely the lucky charm that he wore around his neck resembled a gold medallion.

Wearing his “new” clothes, he was ready to continue. He wasn’t really sure what to do at this point. His monologue, long forgotten, would not do. He tried to remember any jokes from the 70’s to try to ease the tension, but he couldn’t think of any. He was a kid in the 70’s, and most of the jokes he told during this time generally followed the question: What’s grosser than gross? And he just couldn’t think of any way to incorporate that with Watergate or disco. So instead he just sucked it up and let people laugh at him, not with him. Because they’d just seen him naked, and now he looked like a refugee from 1977.

It was then that he realized that this was only the beginning. Now he had to interview guests.

The zoo lady was the first guest, there to show off a few things from their collection. Cute animals? Bunnies and lemurs? Not quite. Try coral snake (you remember hearing “red touching yellow can kill a fellow”? this is the one). She also brought a few arachnids – a scorpion and a black widow to be precise. She also brought a duckbilled platypus for good measure.

As she walked onto the stage, the duckbilled platypus took off running, broke the leash, and kept on running until he found the host—and promptly bit him. The zookeeper apologized profusely as she tried and tried to pry the bill from off his ankle. Eventually, either due to the zoo lady’s persistence, strength, or just that the duckbilled platypus was bored and tired by this point, he let go. The host tried once again to continue the show, and wrapped a handkerchief around the bleeding ankle.

The zoo lady came back onstage with the other, less cuddly animals. The first was a snake which, just for kicks I guess, moved with lightning speed out of the zookeeper’s hands knocking the spider’s and scorpion’s cages open before slithering up the host’s arm and biting him on the hand. While the zookeeper was busy trying to get the snake, the spider and scorpion (not wishing to be outdone) bit (or stung as the case may be) him too, each taking a leg for himself.

To complicate matters more, all the first-aid/anti-venom were just lost minutes ago when a disgruntled employee stormed out of his office, stole the nearest car (which happened to be the zookeeper’s car—where all the first-aid kits were) hit the accelerator, lost control at the top speed of 80 mph, and ran it off the road and into a building where it subsequently caught on fire and exploded (the zookeeper owned a Pinto).

By this time the talk show host was laying on the ground full of poisons hallucinating that he was some sort of rock star, air guitaring his way through an entire set consisting of heavy metal favorites by Motorhead, Iron Maiden, and even a few by Dokken.

Around the time hit his encore and yelled “thank you Atlanta!” (which was not a city in the state he was in, or of any nearby states for that matter) the paramedics arrived. They were slower than usual given the fact that the only road into the studio was still full of fire and smoke.....and the strained sounds of the Pinto’s badly singed 8-track player still struggling to finish that song by Jim Croce.

After a few awkward moments due to the fact that the host mistook the paramedics for rock star groupies (there was a lot of groping and lewd comments that would definitely not meet FCC standards), the fast work of the paramedics saved the host’s life. One of the paramedics would later sue the television station for harassment......the other, after years of questioning himself, finally was able to realize and admit that he was indeed a gay man. However, from this day on he found that he was only attracted to men who were talk show hosts and went on to pursue many others. He is not allowed within 1500 feet of Conan O’Brien.

Full of anti-venom, anti-inflammatories, painkillers, and.....well, whatever you give to someone who has been bitten by a duckbilled platypus, the host needed to lie down for a bit. Plus the last air guitar solo had been quite tiring.

The cameras were still rolling.

The prop department brought out a little cot for the host, so he could still continue the show. He had a another guest to interview. An actress who was there to promote her new movie. A movie about a woman who overcomes her own personal demons and finds a way to make it in this harsh world. She learns a lot about life, and a lot about herself along the way. In other words, she was going for the Oscar.

The actress was called to the stage, and sat in a chair next to the host’s cot. It looked less like an interview and more like a therapy session. But it was the best the host could do in his condition. He started her interview—he wasn’t totally interested in what she was saying. It was all he could do to stay conscious. He was tired, he was bored, he was messed up on painkillers, which could also explain some of the bizarre questions he asked her like “what kind of tree do you think could give an oak tree a fair fight” or “what character from the ‘Facts of Life’ do you most identify with?” He followed by asking her if she knew how to do The Hustle and started singing the song (his version actually had lyrics involving the theft of a bicycle).

Sometime around the time the host started directing his questions to the ant he saw crawling across the floor, the actress snapped and started demanding he show her movie clip (since he never once acknowleged that she was an actress, much less the fact that she had a movie coming out soon). He somehow managed to introduce the clip, but afterwards proceeded to discuss instead his favorite scene from the movie “Fletch.”

The actress by this time was completely beside herself, which was funny since at that same moment the host began to see double. He started telling her (them) that they needed to not dress alike or he’d never be able to tell them apart. He apparently invented an entire movie history for the “sister” and began discussing her more racy films, in too descriptive of terms. The crew had to immediately cut to the other side of the stage where the cameraman was improvising a soft shoe routine to music loud enough to drown out the commotion. They kept the camera on him long enough for security to quiet the host and pull the actress off him. She had become furious and was trying to smother him with the cot’s pillow. She was carried off stage still screaming.

The last to appear on the show was a new up and coming band. They had been watching the entire show backstage and were ready for anything to happen……almost. The host introduced them as “those guys with the one song” and then fell down. The crew helped him back to his cot as the band started up “the one song.” The audience was briefly treated to a bit of normalcy as the band played a song. It was almost like a real talk show. That is, until the host managed somehow to stagger over to the other stage where the band was, scream “free bird” and then attempt to stage dive. Unfortunately, the stage was on level with the floor and all he managed to do was to jump in the air and then land on the ground. More of a stage hop really.

The band finished the last bars of the song. Then the camera closed in on the host, as he said (his face still on the floor) “Night. Go sleep” and then passed out.

Epilogue:

The cameraman realized that softshoe dancing was his true calling and joined a traveling softshoe dancing troupe and toured the world.

The actress did indeed win the Academy Award for her movie despite or because of the publicity she received from the show. Unfortunately, due to her violent ways being made public, only directors that were heavily armed with weapons and sedatives would hire her.

The pinto was sadly beyond repair, and the driver was never able to get the sound of Jim Croce playing slower and slower out of his head.

The talk show host was immediately sacked after the infamous episode. However, upon seeing the wonderful air guitar and stage “diving” incident, Don Dokken immediately approached him to join Dokken. Their new album “Night. Go Sleep” is due out this fall.

Reviews

[Shawn Drake]

You never fail to impress. This, like everything else of yours that I've read, absolutely drips with your particular brand of tongue-in-cheek humor. Brilliant, absolutely BRILLIANT! Keep it coming.