I presented this skit on 01/29/2007 at the Bug theater. I ended up going second. One of my friends that came, Sabina, ended up being the 13th Freak and ended up having to perform as well.
I was dressed in the same outfit as last time; a red baseball cap worn backwards, a thick gold chain, a red basketball tanktop
that said "Calvary Baptist" on it, a baggy pair of blue jeans tucked into unlaced work boots. I 5 minutes to do my thing.....
Hey Everybody
Well, it's been a while since I came up here last.
Last time, GerRee made a pretty good joke about Calvary Baptists riding in on horses with swords and comparing them to Pirate Baptists. That was pretty funny stuff. Of course you'll burn in hell for that.
And Dave, you've been doing a great job as the new host. You're both lovely and talented. Folks, is he a good looking guy? (the crowd cheers wildly, just like I asked them to) Just one word of advice Dave, don't ever commit a felony, those good looks will betray you in prison....just take my word for it.
So anyway, last time you guys saw me up here I was quite drunk and angry and I wanted to STOMP everybody's ASS! Well, since then thanks to you guys, the Colorado tax payers, the Colorado Department of Corrections, and a drug called antabuse, I'm quite sober.
Things changed quite a bit since I sobered up. Susie moved in with me, and life couldn't have been better. Then one day I came home from work and she along with all of her stuff was gone. From that point on everything seemed to go downhill.
The dog stopped eating. I couldn’t even get him to eat his favorite treats. I brought him into the vets and I must have had a headlights look and started babbling something about HEART WORM TEST, HEART WORM TESTS, and they wisked him away. Later he started eating treats from the ladies there. One day and 300 dollars later I realize his problem wasn't physical, it was mental. He missed Susie. Then it all started to make sense. Everything in the apartment was depressed. The dishes refused to wash themselves and put themselves away, my clothes just laid there on the floor all depressed, exhibiting roughly the behavior as the dishes.
I thought about getting out the Boulder Yellow pages and calling a clothing psychiatrist, but remembered the 300 bucks the vets took me for and decided to ask advice from the guys at work.
We laughed long and hard about my problem. The last time we laughed that hard was when I told them about the first time I tried to cook a romantic dinner for Susie. I put in my best Color Me Bad CD into the stereo, lit a couple candles, and put 2 lobsters in the pot and turned on the heat. A few minutes later both lobsters came shooting out of there like diarea; right onto the floor! I ended up having to hold the lid down on those guys until they were cooked. Anyway after we had our good laugh, they explained to me that I was going to have to clean that stuff myself.
So, I went home and tried to wash the dishes. I filled that little soap box full of liquid soap and a bit later the whole kitchen was full of suds. I ended up having to carry the suds out to the parking lot by the armful. The other tenants were laughing at me. Washing the cloths didn’t go much better. The washing machine had all these calibrations and settings. I think it wanted to know the element number of cotton. I just wanted a button that said wash. I was a bit nervous about all this as the hot chick from the apartment from downstairs was in the wash room as well and I didn’t want to fill the room with suds. For some reason this didn’t happen. The dryer was confusing as well. It had a more dry and less dry switch on it. I couldn't figure that out, I mean, why I'd want my jeans less dry? My scodum is already wrinkly. Of course the whitescame out pink.
I guess I finally came to the realization that I can't take care of myself and need a woman in my life. I called Mom and asked her if I could me move back in with her. She said no. She cited something incomprehensible about urine on the toilet seat? Whatever.
Then an idea struck me. I could go on Freak Train and play the dating game. So! If I could get all the available women in the audience over the age of 14 to stand up and I'll ask a series of question which will determine if you should remain standing or not….. (this is where I asked the host and hostess to stop my skit on the grounds that I would be breaking the 3rd rule of Freak Train where a presenter is not allowed to hurt the audience.)
