Sketch22 Goes Madly Off

Tonight, Dennis, Andrew and I will be performing a couple of sketches at Madly Off In All Directions at the Confederation Centre in Ch’town.  Sketch22 has done Madly Off before, and I’ve done it before with another group. Because it’s primarily a show that’s being taped for radio broadcast, it’s a different performance than usual because you really have to perform to the microphone so that means everyone is pretty much stationary and there’s not the same character interactions as usual. 
There’s a great lineup of performers scheduled and it should be a great night.  If there are tickets left, you should come out and see the show.  It’ll be the last Madly Off to come to Ch’town, as Lorne Elliot is getting sane and ending the run of the show.

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A Special Offer To UPEI Students

I haven’t talked this over with the other guys in Sketch22, but I have come up with what I think is a pretty sweet deal for students at UPEI, and I’m sure my sketch compatriots would be cool with this.
I am hereby offering this deal to any and all UPEI students:  Because some of our Sketch22 shows get over-booked during our summer run, I am going to suggest that any UPEI student who wants to say they’ve seen our show, come and pay your money for the ticket, and then not stay for the show.  I promise that, if asked, I’ll say that you enjoyed the show to a degree 70% of those who’ve seen it.
You’ll be doing Sketch22 a service, because we really don’t like to perform when there’s standing room only.   You’ll be doing a service to those audience members who really do want to see us. 
And you’ll be getting easy credit.  Isn’t that what UPEI’s all about?
I’ll also extend the offer so that it includes UPEI faculty, ex-faculty, members of the board and administration, and janitors.
Registrars shall remain exempt.

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A Sketch22 Weekend Update

We are back from the Halifax Sketch Comedy CBC Audition Weekend.  We are trying not to feel like conquering heroes.
It was a really fun weekend, hanging out with the guys.  There was the eating, and the drinking, and the ogling that one would expect a bunch of guys to do.  Rather than go on about the periphery of the weekend, this post will focus on the reason we were in Halifax – to audition for a CBC producer who is planning on producing a one-time sketch-comedy tv show featuring 6 sketch comedy groups from across Canada.  Auditions are being held in Halifax, Toronto and Vancouver.  We were part of, along with 8 other groups, the Halifax auditions.
The event was held on a Sunday night at Gingers Tavern.  The Comedy Dawgs perform there every Sunday night, apparently.  I don’t know what kind of stuff the Comedy Dawgs does, but based on the very small dimensions of the stage, I’m guessing it’s mostly stand-up comedy.
So, yeah, the small stage was a bit of an issue for some groups I’m guessing, but not really a problem for us.
Here’s my impressions of the night of sketch comedy:
The first group was god-awful, their segment containing a couple of horrid bits revolving around the election.  Yeah, it was timely, but it was not funny in the least, and really amateurishly performed.  I couldn’t possibly convey to you how bad they were.
We (Sketch22) were really interested to see how we compared to other sketch groups in the region.  We had some fear that we’d prove to be not all-that, and would be driving home the next day realising that we were nothing special.  This first group allayed all those fears and had us feeling really good about our stuff.  Their badness instilled in me many emotions.  I was ecstatic that this was potentially the level of competition we’d be facing.  I was also worried that if this was an example of the rest of the night, many of the audience (which was packed, by the way) might leave before we went on (we were slated last).  I also felt bad for the group performing.  They were giving it their all, but it just wasn’t good.  The audience was kind and laughed encouragingly for them.
To be honest, I don’t really remember the order in which the other groups performed, so I’ll just pick and choose memories as they come to me.
I found it interesting that a lot of the groups had “god” “jesus” or “philosophy” as the theme of their sketches.  The kind of comedy you’d expect to see at a university talent show.  Kind of sophomoric and text-booky.  Of the god-religion-philosophy themed sketches:
One group had an interesting sketch involving Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Buddha.  Basically the sketch was about Mary telling Joseph and Jesus the truth about Jesus’s real father.  It was interesting because it traversed some of the same themes that we did in our Christmas show.  They had some pretty funny lines, and was somewhat edgy, but overall it really missed the mark for me due to the poor performances of the actors.  The guy who played Buddha laughed at his own lines a few times, mostly when the audience would laugh at them too.
Another group, a duo, did this way-too-long sketch where they both played gods who were creating Man and Earth and kind of following the History of Man to its inevitable conclusion involving nuclear explosions.  They were good performers, and some of the material was pretty funny, but the two criticisms I had for their bit are: 1) it was way too long, in desperate need of editing, and 2) I had seen them perform the exact same bit maybe 10-15 years ago.
Yet another group had a couple of scenes that involved Jesus as a waiter.  To be honest, I didn’t pay too much attention to this group as they didn’t seem to be very good.
Also interesting was that two groups each had a very similar sketch, of the type that I’d seen performed somewhere else long ago.  I’ll call it the “wha’ ‘appened” sketch.  They both start out with a “business man”.  He gets accosted, in one group it was by a bum, in the other it was by a mugger.  There is some dialogue and in the end, the roles have reversed, so that in the first sketch, the business man is now seen as a bum, and in the other the business man ends up mugging the mugger.  Wha’ ‘appened?  Not very good, either of them.
The night wasn’t all bad, though.  There were some competent and funny performers.
One guy, physically a cross between Quentin Tarrentino, Neil Patrick Harris and David Hyde Pierce (he had a three-name name, too) was a gifted mime.  Yes.  Mime.  Fascinating to watch, but, you know, it was mime.  He also did some talky-bits.  One where he’s on the phone to god, and maybe another one that I can’t remember.  He was a pretty competent performer and my only complaint about him was his over-bearing ego got in the way of the comedy he was performing.  In fact, his comedy was kind of all about how great he was.  Kind of off-putting.  He was the kind of guy who’d insist on gathering all the groups together before the show, so that he could suggest that all the groups could make sure that they conform to some sort of thing that was important to him and his group but not really important to any other group.  In fact, that’s what he did.  He had the organizer call all the groups together.  Once called, Quentin Patrick Pierce instructed us all on how great it would be if we could all use the same convention when informing the audience that a sketch was over.  Since there was no way to “blackout” the lights to signify the end of a sketch, perhaps, chaps, we could all just say “blackout!” to indicate such.  He said it would be good to instruct the audience that anytime they heard the word “blackout” that they were to close their eyes.  Then, he suggested, when we say the word “open”, they’d open their eyes.
What nonsense.  Graham made me laugh when he said that one of our sketches had the word “blackout” in it a bunch of times and how would we handle that?  Neil Hyde Anal, taking Graham seriously when absolutely nobody else did, suggested that we could use the word “scene” instead of blackout.
That important bit of business taken care of, and his feathers properly displayed, the cock of the walk allowed us to get back to our regular programming.
He did a segment on his own, and also was in another segment with a group of 4 or 5 others.  They, apparently, were an improv group who decided recently to switch over to writing sketches.  Trouble is, they didn’t have any sketches written.  Also, apparently, they were misinformed as to the nature of the event, and they were expecting to do improv.  When they were told, days before the event, that it had to be scripted material, they feverishly began the arduous task of rehearsing some improv games and, I’m guessing, transcribing the words they said in rehearsals.  These bits became their “scripted material”.
As a group, they were all pretty talented, I thought, but their material was weak.  Basically, they performed maybe 30 “sketches”, each that consisted of a brief setup, then a punchline.  Then the “blackout!” followed by “Open!”, then into another 10 to 30 second “sketch”.   It reminded me of fast improv games you do to warm yourself and the audience up.  Only these were written down.
Good talent, really poor execution.  And not “sketch comedy”.
The best of the bunch of groups was a duo from Moncton, called, I believe “2 To Go”.  Consisted of a woman who was pretty funny and a guy who was really funny.  They did a bit where they played nuns who had a cable-access type show that focused on Entertainment News.  Basically a back-and-forth bit where the nuns say increasingly more outlandish and bawdy things.  It was pretty funny and well-performed.  Yet I couldn’t help but sense that it was a bit too rote for them.  They obviously performed this a lot, and their reactions to the lines sometimes had that “I’ve heard this a thousand times before, but I’m acting like this is the first time I’m hearing this line” fakery.  They did a second sketch which I honestly don’t remember.  Then they inexplicably went back to an encore of the two nuns, and did basically more of the same.  I was surprised that they went back to the nuns sketch and it had me wondering if this was all that was in their repetoire.  Their material was what I would call “good PopCultured” jokes, and would fit well, if perhaps a bit too racy, in an Air Farce show.  Of all the groups that performed, they are the only other group besides us that I could see the CBC going for.  Not so much from their material, but from their sense of professionalism.  To me, though, their act was a bit too polished, to the point where it was a bit robotic.   Another factor that could potentially work in their favour is the fact that they are half woman and half gay-asian and that might be a benefit in terms of the CBC feeling the need to consider demographics?
The only other performer worth talking about was a guy who did standup.  I’m not sure why he was included in an audition for sketch comedy because his routine was pure standup.  He started off dressed in Scottish garb and did a bit in Scottish brogue about Keiths beer.  I didn’t really understand the point of it, but the audience seemed to like it.  He did a couple of other non-scottish-guy routines that were pretty funny.  It was apparent that he was a pretty smart stand-up comic, but his stuff wasn’t sketch comedy.  After the show was over, he went to great lengths to try and impress the Sketch22 group.  It was during these attempts to fit in where I learned what an egotistical, desperate sadsack this guy was.  A good comedian, but something of an asshole in real life.
Anyway, he was on just before us.  The MC, who was a standup comic, and a not-very-good one but thankfully kept his between-group bits short, came up and started doing this “thanks for coming out to the show” bit.  We, as a group, began to get a bit worried because he was kind of signalling to the crowd that the show was over, and I was afraid that they’d start getting their coats on, etc.  Fortunately, he stopped that before it became trouble and introduced us.
My character in our first sketch was the first one on stage, and I noticed that the previous group had left their chairs and stool on the already-small stage.  Since our sketches didn’t require them, but required the real estate, I kind of paused the beginning of the first sketch to remove these items from the stage.  I did it in kind of a comical way, pretending to be upset at the housecleaning I had to do.  It was getting a few audience chuckles and a few more as I continued.  Then, after I cleared the stage, I did an over-the-top “blackout”, just to spite Doogie Howser.  It got a few laughs.
Anyway, we did our set, and from my perspective, it went over like gangbusters.  Huge laughs and great appreciation from the audience.  If felt fantastic.
While I personally try to maintain a critical perspective on the things I do, and we in the group try to temper our self-aggrandizing as much as we can, it was really hard not to feel like the guys who saved the day.   I felt like we were on another plain compared to the other groups.  I really think we rocked the house.
The reactions from the other groups, the members of the audience with whom I spoke, and from the event organizer all seemed to indicate that we nailed it.
The CBC producer remained pretty tight-lipped about the whole evening.

Whether or not we get to be part of this CBC show or not, it was really rewarding to see how we compare with other groups and people from around the region.  Interesting, too, that the two best groups of the night didn’t come from Halifax.

Win or Lose, I Win or Tie

Only one more game to be played in the NFL this season.  That means only one more pick left to be made in The Annekenstein Monster’s NFL pick’em pool.  Currently, I am one game ahead of reverseflash for the lead of our pool of four players.  That means that no matter what happens in the final game, I will be either tied for first or will win the pool out-right.
It was a hard-fought battle, with a few lead changes throughout the season.
Thanks to everyone for playing.  By “everyone” I mean the three guys who played.

As for the NFL season itself, I think it was a pretty good one.  The Colts prove once again that the pursuit of the perfect season can be devastating to a team’s motivation, heading into the playoffs.  With nothing of substance to play for in their final three games, the Colts had lost their edge when it came time to getting back to playing a meaningful game again.  I’d rather my team lose a game early in the season, get that “perfect season” stuff out of the way early, then have your final game of the regular season be of some import.  Preferably import such as Win and you get home-field advantage throughout the playoffs.

As for my beloved Dolphins, I can’t be upset about their season even though they didn’t make the playoffs.  New coach Nick Saban seems to have the team definitely moving in the right direction.  They were substantially improved over the season before.  The future looks good for the Dolphins, and will look especially bright if they can acquire a good young quarterback.  Nothing but care-taker qbs since Marino retired has gotten really tiring.  Time now to get a quarterback who can be a star.
I hope, too, that the Ronnie Brown-Rickie Williams running back tandem stays in place.  With last week’s  announcement that Mike Mularkey (a run-first type of coach) has signed on to be Offensive Co-ordinator,
it’s looking like it might be a good idea to keep the two RBs.  Keep them, and Chris Chambers at receiver, and add a good qb, and the Dolphins could have a pretty sweet offense next year.
In any event, a run for the playoffs should definitely be an attainable goal for the Dolphins next year.

Rock It, Man. Rocket, Man. Rocket Man

I posted a link to this before, but now that it’s so easy to embed video within posts, I’ve got to post it here again. Plus, my Sketch buds haven’t seen this, and they’ll get a real trip out of this.

Shatner. 1978 science fiction awards. Interpreting Elton John’s “Rocket Man”.

It’s one of those things where I’m not sure if it’s really really good, or really really bad. Or really really good because it’s really really bad. But, man. Do I ever love it. Shatner totally sells it, man, and I’m buying it all up.

Fantastic.

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Rock It, Man. Rocket, Man. Rocket Man

I posted a link to this before, but now that it’s so easy to embed video within posts, I’ve got to post it here again. Plus, my Sketch buds haven’t seen this, and they’ll get a real trip out of this.

Shatner. 1978 science fiction awards. Interpreting Elton John’s “Rocket Man”.

It’s one of those things where I’m not sure if it’s really really good, or really really bad. Or really really good because it’s really really bad. But, man. Do I ever love it. Shatner totally sells it, man, and I’m buying it all up.

Fantastic.

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Copper Acropolis – Chapter 10

Link to Chapter 6 (plus chapters 1-5), Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
And, finally, here is the last chapter of the story:

10

‘Goo’byee, Moffer’

             By the time Lucille and the posse
got to Copper Acropolis, the first faint light of dawn was creeping over the
eastern horizon.  When they came to the
big double doors, Lucille turned around and faced the posse.

            “You’ve got to let me go in there
alone,” she said.

            “Why,” shouted Guy Maddox, “so you
can build another one of those things?”

            “No,” said Lucille, “I’ll never
build another creature as long as I live. 
But if we all burst in there, she’ll kill some of you.  You don’t know how strong she is.  I don’t want any more dying.  I’ll go in there and end the job I started.”

            “Okay,” said Constable Maubery,
against his better judgement.  “We’ll
give you  ten minutes, then we’re coming
in there blasting at anything that moves.”

            “Agreed,” said the Doctor.

            She began to open the double doors.

            “Doctor Dewar?” It was Art
Schprengel.  On the way from the lake to
the mansion, he had been told that it would be impossible for his daughter to
live in a bucket of goop, and now was resigned to the fact that his daughter,
what was left of her, must die.  “Before
you kill them, her, would you tell my Pristle that her mother and me love her a
whole lot.”

            Lucille found she couldn’t look at
the man.  “I will,” she said, then, “I am
truly sorry about this, Mr. Schprengel.”

            “Just tell her,” came the reply.

            Lucille opened the doors and went
inside.  Once in, she shut the doors and
quickly bolted them shut with a large piece of metal that slid into its sheathe
across the doors and the door frame.

            “What’s going on in there?” yelled
Constable Maubery, trying to open the door upon hearing the sounds of metal.

            “I’ve locked the door,” yelled
Lucille, back out the door. “I must do it my own way.”

            She heard Constable Maubery order
some of the men to run down to the Afton Road General Store to get a battering
ram.  That should give her enough time,
she thought.

            Lucille walked up the three flights
of stairs to the door of the laboratory. 
It was open, and inside the domed laboratory she could hear voices.  She carefully entered the room and saw her
creation, her daughter, their daughters, pick up one of the medical machines,
and heave it across the room.  It crashed
heavily, smashing into bits.

            “What are you doing?” asked Lucille.

            Newgirl turned around quickly,
flinching as if expecting some sort of gunshots. There were none.  Once she saw that it was only her Mother,
Newgirl began to laugh.  “So, Mother has
come for her little daughter.”

            “You know you have to die.”

            “Do I?  You know, it’s always so sad when a child
dies before her parent.  I’d rather that
didn’t happen.”

            “Who am I talking to?” asked
Lucille.  “Is this Amalga– Newgirl?”

            “Yes.  Who else?”

            “Well, I thought that maybe that
vain little heart of yours would be yapping at me some.”

            “I’m here, Doctor,” said
Pristle.  “Don’t let Newgirl fool you
into thinking she’s in control.  I’m the
one with all the power.”

            “Really?” said Lucille.  “Don’t you think the orphan brain has all the
power?”

            “See,” said Orphan Brain.  “She thinks I should be in charge.”

            “No,” said Lucille, “I think you
should be dead.”

            “We’re not going to die for you,
Mother,” said Newgirl.

            “Well you can’t live like this, can
you?  Three silly girls trying to beat
the others to the controls.  Don’t you
see, none of you will ever have complete control.  Ever. 
Maybe if I hadn’t used that stupid orphan’s brain.

            “I’m not stupid,” shouted Orphan
Brain.

            “I wish you didn’t use her hair at
least,” said Pristle.

            “Why, don’t you like her red hair?”
asked Lucille.  “I like it.”

            “No, I hate it. I’m going to get it
dyed.”

            “You can’t dye red hair,” said
Lucille, dismissing the idea.  “It would
just turn green.”

            “How do you know that?” asked
Pristle.

            “Because I tried to dye your red
hair before I brought you to life, and the dye job didn’t work.  It turned your hair green.”

            “Where?” screamed Pristle, panic
coming into her voice.  “I don’t see any
green hair.  Where did you dye the hair?”

            “Well,” said Lucille, “let me just
advise you not to look at your pubic hair anytime soon.”

            Pristle screamed.  “My pubic hair is green?”

            “And red,” added Doctor Dewar.

            “Green and red?” shouted
Pristle.  “I’ll never find a man who’ll
marry me!”

            Newgirl’s heart began to beat faster
and faster, as Pristle began to contemplate her dire future with green and red
pubic hair.

            “Don’t listen to Mother, Pristle,”
said Newgirl.  “She’s only trying to
trick you.  Get you worked up.”

            “Shut up, Newgirl,” screamed
Pristle.  “Don’t you understand?  I’ll never get a man with an ugly red and
green muff!”

            “Not that you ever would have,
anyway,” said Lucille, “not with an orphan’s brain as your brain.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”
asked Orphan Brain.

            “Just that everyone knows that no
one would ever marry an orphan.  They’re
too dumb and you can’t trust them.”

            “You know I’m not dumb,” said Orphan
Brain.  “You even told me so, the night
before you killed me.  You said I was
brilliant, just like you.”

            “I lied,” said Lucille.  “Remember I’m an orphan too, and you
shouldn’t have trusted me.  I really
think you’re dumb.”

            “I am smart,” yelled Orphan
Brain.  She was beginning to get
agitated.

            “You can’t be smart,” said Pristle,
“if you like red hair.  I agree with
Mother.  You’re stupid.”

            “Yeah, well, you’re vain and
stupid,” said Orphan Brain.

            “I am not vain!” shouted Pristle.

            Pristle began to pump her heart in
such a way that the flow of blood to the head increased, putting undo pressure
on the brain, causing severe pain in Orphan Girl.

            “Cut it out, Pristle,” shouted
Newgirl to no avail.

            The only retaliation that Orphan
Girl could do was to send brain signals to the heart, telling it to beat
faster.  While Orphan Brain knew that
this course of action would probably make her brain explode, it would also
cause a massive heart failure in Pristle’s heart, and without her heart,
Pristle was nothing.

            “Stop it, the two of you,” screamed
Newgirl, as her body began to writhe in pain, ‘you’re killing us!”

            Lucille ran over to Newgirl, who was
now oblivious to her surroundings.  She
grabbed the helmet that was used to send energy pulses through Newgirl’s body
and placed it again on Newgirl’s head, strapping it on.      

            When Newgirl felt the helmet go on
her head, the internal fighting stopped, as all of her wondered what had
happened.  Both Orphan Brain and Pristle
had suffered extensive damage in the melee.

            “Whush goan awn?” asked Newgirl, her
voice now slurred from brain and heart damage.

            “What’s going on?” repeated Lucille.
“I’m about to flip the switch that will kill you.  All of you.”

            In the distance, downstairs, a
battering ram could be heard starting its work against the front double doors
of the house.

            “I doan wanna die,” said Newgirl.

            “You must die, and I must kill you,”
said Lucille.  “After all, I created
you.”  The pounding on the door
continued.

            “Ah try ta be khoot,” said Newgirl.

            “I know you tried to be good,” said
Lucille. “But it’s impossible to be good when you have an orphan for a brain,
and a vain, self-centered heart.  And for
that you have me to blame.  I am sorry.”

            Newgirl looked at Doctor Lucille
Dewar with her right eye, the left, Pristle’s being now blind.  “Goo’byee, Moffer,” she said.

            “Good bye, Newgirl,” said
Lucille.  “Oh, and tell Pristle, if you
can, that her Mother and Father love her so.”

            Newgirl farted.

            “Good,” said Lucille.  “No one will forget you, I’ll make sure of
that.”

            The banging on the double doors
finally ended, as the battering ram burst through, and the shouts of men could
be heard.  They were slowly beginning
their search of the old house.  She had
only a few minutes left.

            Lucille pulled the switch on the
Energy Conversion Unit, causing the residue energy still inside to  pulse through Newgirl’s body.  The extreme power of the pulses caused the
brain and heart, already damaged heavily, to stop altogether.  Newgirl was dead.

            “You won’t be forgotten,” said
Lucille to her dead daughter.  She walked
over to the desk where Yune Mune’s torn, shredded body lay, pulled some paper
and a pen out of the drawer, and sat down to write.

            She could hear the voices of the men
getting closer.

            She wrote, ‘The woman lived just where the Afton Road main road dipped down into a
little hollow, fringed with alders and traversed by a brook that had its
source-
’ before Constable Maubery burst into the room.  She calmly put her pen down and thought,
“I’ll finish my novel in jail.”

            Constable Maubery escorted Doctor
Lucille Dewar from Copper Acropolis and had the Mount Stewart Fire Department
burn the building, and all of its contents. The copper was salvaged, however,
and used to make a monument in memorial to the five girls from Afton Road who had
all died of pneumonia in the same year. The people who knew about and were
involved in the going’s on in and around Copper Acropolis that night had
decided to keep quiet, and let the world sleep soundly for a little while
longer.

Copper Acropolis – Chapter 9

Chapter 9 of the saga:

9

‘A Volatile
Combination’

             Through the
telling of her story, the creation of a new girl,  Lucille was able to see clearly the error of
her ways. Hindsight has perfect vision and by the end of her story, she knew
what she had done was wrong.  She said
she was sorry.

            “So, let me
get this straight,” said Art Schprengel. 
When the Doctor was telling her story, when he first realised what she
had done to his daughter, he was furious. 
It took all his willpower not to shoot her there, on the spot.  But, as she continued, and told of why she
did it; because she wasn’t loved as a girl after her parents had died; because
she never had any friends; because everyone made fun of her; because no one
cared for her, some of his rage died as he heard her sad, eloquent story.  “You took all of our daughters, spliced them
together, and got a brand new daughter?”

            “Basically.”

            “And why was
that?”

            “So future
children could be manufactured the same way as this one was, created in such a way
that they would always have the love of the various individuals within them to
keep them happy.  They would be love
self-reliant.”

            “But you
think something went wrong with your, what did you call her?” asked Constable
Maubery.

            “Amalga-Girl.  Yes,” 
said Doctor Dewar, “I realise now that the orphan brain that I used must
have been too much of an unstable entity in comparison to the relatively stable
upbringing the other girls had.  That
stability was why I came back to the Island to
conduct my experiment.  I knew that there
were hundreds of communities here that had well nurtured and loved
children.  But when I got the orphan
brain, well, she just reminded me so much of myself, and I thought that maybe I
could save her.  Give her the lack of
need for love that I never had.”

            “Did you
ever consider adoption,” came the voice from up the lake.  It was Newgirl, on her way back to the
mansion.  The speaker was Orphan
Brain.  “It would have been a lot easier
on all of us.”

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice. They
could all see that Newgirl had her arm around Dr. Yeo, who went up that way to
have a pee, using him as a shield.

“Amalga-Girl, drop that man!” screamed Lucille.

            “Don’t call
me that stupid name,” said Newgirl.  “My
name is Newgirl.  And if any of you come
any closer, I’ll kill this guy.”

“I’ll kill you dead girl,” said Guy Maddox lifting his
shotgun and shooting in the direction of the voices.

            “Don’t
shoot,” yelled Art.  “My daughter’s in
that girl.”  Hearing the absurdity of
that sentence, Art felt he needed to add a more reasonable reason as well.  “And, besides, you could hurt Dr. Yeo.”

            “Daddy?”
yelled Pristle, out of Newgirl.  “Daddy,
I have red hair!”

            “Pristle!”
shouted Art.  “Don’t you worry,
Pristle.  Daddy’s going to get his little
girl out of there.  I promise.”

            “You can’t
get me out of here, Daddy,” said Pristle. 
“I’m a part of Newgirl now.”

            “Yes we
will,” said Art.  “We’ll take out your
heart, and all the other stuff of yours that’s in that girl and we’ll put in a
bucket of goop, or something, keep you alive that way!”

            “I’d look
ugly in a bucket of goop, Daddy,” Pristle said. 
“Just get me an appointment with a hair dresser who knows how to dye red
hair.”

            “No one is
going to dye my red hair,” said Orphan Brain. 
“It’s the hair that I was born with, it’s the hair that Mother chose for
us, it’s the hair that’s going to stay.”

            “I’ll let
you pick the colour of the goop,” said Art, trying to entice his daughter’s
heart.

            “No, I’m not
going to live in a bucket,” said Pristel. “I’m going to live here, as part of
Newgirl, and we are dying our hair.”

            “You’re only
staying as part of me,” said Newgirl, “if you promise to let me have complete
control of me.”

            “I am going
to keep complete control of this body,” said Orphan Brain.  “The brain should always be in control.”

            “But I am
the soul of me,” shouted Newgirl.  “I
should be in control.”

            “Well,” said
Pristle, “what about the old saying ‘follow your heart’?  I say I should control our life.”

            “No one is
going to control your life,” said Doctor Lucille Dewar.  “Because you will have to die.”

            “Excuse me?”
said Pristle.  “But that is not an
option.”

            “You can’t
live,” said Lucille.  “none of you,
either alone or as a whole.  You’re too
volatile a combination.”

            “But if the
soul was in charge,” said Newgirl, “sort of keeping the rest of me in check—“

            “No, it
wouldn’t work,” said Lucille.  “The
orphan’s brain is to unstable.  It could
never get used living as part of such a close knit family.”

            “Oh, no,”
shouted Orphan Brain, “don’t blame all this on me.”

            “I don’t,”
said the Doctor.  “It’s my fault,
entirely.  I should have never used the
orphan brain.  I should have let her
continue to live her miserable orphan life, never allowing herself to trust
another individual enough to love them, or let them love you.  It’s my fault I made you this way, and
there’s nothing I can do to change it. 
I’m sorry, but you’ll have to die. 
For the betterment of society.”

            “Yeah?” said
Newgirl.  “Well, I don’t know about my
sisters, but I know I don’t want to die, so screw you, Mother.”

            “I’m with
her,” said Orphan Brain.

            “Let’s get
out of here,” said Pristle.  “I know
where we can get some nice black hair!” 
With that, Newgirl threw down Dr. Yeo, and took off running.

            Newgirl ran
past the posse and Doctor, into the darkness of the night, before any of them
could get a shot at her.

            “Damn,” said
Constable Maubery.  “She got away.”

            “I know
where she’s going,” said Lucille, calmly.

            “Where?”
said Constable Maubery, checking the ammunition in his revolver.

            “Copper
Acropolis.”

————————-
Next, the final chapter:  Chapter 10 – “Goo’byee Moffer”

Sketch22 DVD – Pwn One Today!!

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We in the Sketch22 universe have put out a DVD of some of our favourite sketches, videos and assorted goodies.
If I may speak honestly, and from the heart, I dare say that this DVD is perhaps the greatest thing ever.  Better, for sure, than Crispy Crunch.
It’s available at various stores around Charlottetown.  Specifically, Absolutely Fabulous, Back Alley Discs, Lightning Bolt Comics, Timothy’s, and Music World in the Ch’town Mall.
Be one of the first on your block to say “I got me a Sketch22 DVD.”

Some of the things on it:
Road Crew (live)
The Bobert Diaries
Island Eye For The From Away Guy
Cum Play On My Island
Joe Stamps
Wessie Doucette and the Tyne Valley Motivational Experience (live)
Comedy Through The Ages
The Tammys
The Straighteners and Lord Gayon
Canada Rocks Garbage (live at UPEI)
Politically Correct Workplace
Debbie Gaudet (live)
2 Moe Gorman videos

Holy crap!  And that’s not all.  Yes, there’s even more Sketch22 goodness to be found within the DVD.  Get yours today.  You really will be the coolest person on your block.
You want to be cool don’t you?  I mean, you’re SO close to being cool now.  A Sketch22 DVD would put you SO over the top.
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The Specials – A Message To You Rudy (Video)

When I was in my young, formative years, I was fortunate enough to be introduced to some great music. Mostly punk and new wave bands from the mid-to-late 70’s. They had a profound impact on me, and helped shape the person I am today.
One of those great bands was The Specials. I absolutely fell for the ska rhythm and the “black and white together” message behind the music.
For those interested in knowing more about what a Rudy is, click here.