Friday, July 23, 2004

Skit: "The Story of Dusty"

Like “Begot’s Ice Cream Shop” and “The Bill Collector,” “The Story of Dusty” was performed as part of “Out Da Box.” However, it was performed the following year, my Senior year. In fact, it was the only skit I submitted that ended up being performed. Another skit, “Kidz Jamz,” was cut for time.

Now, in order for you to truly understand this skit, I have to explain a couple of things. The main character, Dusty, shares his name with a term for a certain type of African-American. The term “dusty” basically describes an African-American person who is completely out of touch with the black community. Not only is the person out of touch with the community, but he/she doesn’t even attempt to be a part of it. He/she won’t have any black friends or associates. This person won’t go to any black events and basically acts like a white person (one who isn't open-minded). That’s my personal definition of the term. The term was circulated heavily among the black community at my college, Northwestern University, which is predominantly white. The term originated with a black student (who I knew) and ended up becoming part of the vernacular at the school.

My skit basically tells the story of a dusty named...Dusty. It has thinly veiled references to aspects of life as a black student at Northwestern. The Office of Minority Affairs in the skit is code for the Office of African-American Student Affairs (a.k.a. “The Black House”). In writing the skit, I kind of drew from both what I thought a dusty was as well as my own experiences. Although I stayed active in the black community at the school, most of the closest friends I made there are white. Also, like Dusty, I too had a white roommate when I first arrived at college.

Ultimately, the skit isn’t meant to be disrespectful towards African-Americans who don’t act “black.” The skit is meant to make those African-Americans who shun the black community think twice before doing so. You can’t help how you’re raised, but you can do your best to expand your horizons. African-Americans are not a monolithic group. Many of us may share common beliefs, but we are a diverse group of people. I am proud to be an African-American and I think every other African-American should be too.

One last footnote: “SA-dub” refers to S.A.W., the Summer Academic Workshop. It’s held at NU every summer for black and Latino students and helps them adjust to college life with classes and other activities.

Now, here’s “The Story of Dusty.”


The Story of Dusty

Characters
Narrator: M/F
Dusty: M
Tom: M
David: M
James: M
Shatisha: F


Narrator: Now boys and girls, it’s time for a story...The Story of Dusty. Dusty, a young African-American male, eagerly awaits his first year at a prominent predominantly white university.

Dusty (to audience): College is going to be great! Lots of new people to meet! Lots of clubs to join! I can’t wait!

Narrator: Yep, he sure couldn’t. The days passed and it was finally time for Dusty to go to college. His parents drove him to his dorm and after a few days, Dusty got settled in with his white roommate, Tom.

Dusty: Hey Tom, is it cool if we hang out?

Tom: Sure Dusty, no problem. We’re heading to a frat party, want to come?

Dusty: Yep, let’s go!

(Dusty and Tom head offstage)

Narrator: For the first few weeks of school, Dusty was content. His classes were tough, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He and Tom and Tom’s friends hung out every weekend, and he found tons of attractive white girls to date. However, whenever he passed by other African-Americans they did strange things.

(Dusty and David are walking towards each other from opposite sides of the stage)

David: Hey, what’s up brotha?

(Dusty looks away and slowly ducks as he passes by David. David turns around and looks at Dusty funny as he leaves the stage.)

Dusty: What the hell was his problem? He doesn’t know me!

Narrator: The next day, Dusty received a letter about a get together for African-American students at the Office of Minority Affairs. He decided to go and see what was going on.

(Opens up with Dusty on stage and other black people around him talking)

Narrator: Dusty came to the social and saw there were many more African-American students at the school than he realized. He didn’t recognize most of them. He decided to mingle and listen to the conversations the other students were having. Dusty walked over to one group and decided to watch and listen.

David: How’d you do on your paper?

James: Man, I got beasted on it.

David: What you get?

James: A “C.”

David: Damn, that is some sussness right there. That prof must hate you, dog.

(Girl walks over)

Shatisha: Hey!

David: Hey girl, how you doin? (hugs Shatisha)

Shatisha: I’m alright.

(Shatisha hugs James)

James: How your classes goin?

Shatisha: They’re a beast! After S.A.-dub, I didn’t think the classes would be this hard!

David: So, you gonna pledge?

Shatisha: I don’t know...I was thinking of becoming a sweetheart, but a lot of my friends are Deltas.

Narrator: Dusty stood listening to the conversation and was very confused.

Dusty (voice-over): Beast? Sussness? SA-dub? What do those words mean? I’ve never heard of them before. Is SA-dub some type of audio project?

James: Hey! (taps Dusty) Hey Dog, what’s up? I ain’t seen you before. What’s your name?

Dusty: Dusty?

James: Dusty, aww ok. Nice to meet you.

David: Hey, uh, Dusty...that’s yo name right? What’s with your clothes?

Dusty: What? What’s wrong with them?

David: You look like you stepped out of The Catcher in The Rye, man.

Shatisha: Leave him alone! Dusty, where are you from?

Dusty: New Hampshire.

David: See? He a blueblood and shit!

James: Man, shut up. Seriously, we gonna go get some food, but it was nice talking to you.

Shatisha: See you around, Dusty.

Narrator: Dusty was so embarrassed by the comments from the one guy that he left the social without talking to another soul. (pause as Dusty leaves) Dusty went home and cried, as people like Dusty do, and made a surprising decision.

Dusty: I’m not dealing with black people on this campus anymore! They expect me to be just like them, but I’m not! They didn’t even give me a chance! Well, they won’t embarrass Dusty Jenkins again! I’m never going back to the Office of Minority Affairs! I have my white and Indian friends and they do just fine!

Narrator: Hence, Dusty avoided contact with all black students. He never took an African-American Studies course. He never took a US History course that covered slavery or the Civil Rights Movement. He never said hello to any black person, even if he knew them.

(Dusty and James are walking from opposite directions)

James: Hey, what’s up Dusty?

(Dusty walks by quickly and ducks down a bit)

James: Hey, yo, Dusty! Dusty! What’s up, man! Hey, forget you then! (walks offstage)

Narrator: Dusty went through the rest of his college career only associating with his family and not with black people on the campus. However, word spread among the African-American community about Dusty.

Shatisha: Yeah, I know about Dusty. He walked right past me without even smiling or saying hello even though I was in the same class as him. But when I turned around, I saw him looking at my booty. What a bastard!

David: I’ve seen Dusty around campus. He’s the only dark face in whatever group of friends he’s with. No one’s ever seen him with a black person at all. What, he don’t realize he black or somethin?

Narrator: After four years, Dusty graduated from the predominantly white university. He went to grad school somewhere in the Northeast, and quietly faded into the real world. No one knows what happened to Dusty, or if Dusty was in fact his real name. He could be anywhere from the President’s cabinet to the Supreme Court. Him and people just like him are everywhere, disavowing their heritage and being puppets for various groups. They have lost all connection to the African-American community while supposedly representing them. So, boys and girls, as we conclude our story, there is one valuable lesson to be learned. When you go to your prestigious universities and top-flight jobs, don’t forget who you are and remember...don’t be a Dusty.

(END SKETCH)



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Monday, July 19, 2004

Fiction Press: More from "Out Da Box"

I said in an earlier post that I wouldn’t repost anything that I put onto my Fiction Press site. However, I will link to the things on that site. First up, it’s three skits from “Out Da Box.” The three skits, “The New DJ Mixtape,” “The Bill Collector,” and “The WB’s New Lineup” all were performed the same year as the very first skit I wrote, “Begot’s Ice Cream Shop.” Here’s the background on these skits:

“The Bill Collector”
: In my household, getting phone calls from bill collectors was a common occurrence. We always screened our calls whether by letting the answering machine get the phone before we answered or by looking at the caller ID once we got it. So, I thought that those various experiences we’ve had (combined with some funny new ones) would make a good skit. This is probably one of the best skits I’ve written, and it’s one of my personal favorites. When this was performed, the bill collector was played by a man instead of the woman I originally wrote it as. It still worked out well.

“The New DJ Mixtape”: This came about simply because of downloading. You see, back in the glory days of file sharing before file sharers and companies were sued, I would look for hip-hop songs to download. It seemed like whenever I would download a song, it would be a version that came from a mixtape. If you’ve ever listened to a mixtape, then you know the drill. A song plays and the DJ shouts over the track the name of the song and the artist. Also, the DJ would scream his name and occasionally yell during the song (like when it would get good) to keep other DJs from stealing the song. This type of thing annoyed the crap out of me. So, naturally I took that rage and created a skit where the DJ on a mixtape says weird things and interacts with the listeners. Oh, and the DJ’s name in the skit is a combination of DJ Clue and Funkmaster Flex.


“The WB’s New Lineup”: I don’t really know how I came up with this skit (which is outdated as of now), but there are some things I noticed upon finishing it. I guess you could say it’s a response to the tactic that “new” networks use to gather ratings. When they were in their infancy, both FOX and WB courted black viewers. Statistically, black people watch more TV than any other racial group. In addition, after The Cosby Show ended, there really weren’t any black-themed shows on the big networks. Courting black viewers let the networks build their viewership. However, back in 1995 (I don’t remember for certain), FOX “whitewashed” their lineup, canceling several black shows including In Living Color, Roc, and The Sinbad Show (which only lasted one season). The WB did the same thing gradually, as they canceled Sister, Sister, The Parent Hood, The Wayans Brothers (which didn’t get a final episode), The Steve Harvey Show, and For Your Love. Today, both networks have sparse black offerings as UPN picks up where they left off. My skit is basically the reverse of what happened at FOX and The WB. All the white shows are canceled and replaced with black shows instead.

Here are the links for these skits:

"The Bill Collector": http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=1477839
"The New DJ Mixtape": http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=1477839&chapter=2
"The WB's New Lineup": http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=1477839&chapter=3

You can leave any comments at that site or on this post.

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Friday, July 16, 2004

Unfinished/Abandoned: “The Biggest Hit”

This poor idea. Okay, where do I begin?

A long time ago, I had an idea to do a series of short stories. They would be sort of inspired by Pulp Fiction, but different. Each of them was going to focus on various funny and unusual situations. By the end, you’d realize how connected they all were, kind of like the movie Magnolia but I thought of this before I saw that movie.

One of those stories was one I ended up calling “The Biggest Hit.” Basically, it involved two friends who were stoners. They come across an extremely large amount of weed in some convoluted way. Then, one of their friends (or in an alternate version, one of them) smokes up the entire truck full of weed and overdoses. The humor in this was supposed to come from the fact that he overdosed on weed. In fact, it’s supposedly physically impossible to overdose on pure weed. The chemical makeup of the plant prevents this (and becoming physically addicted) from happening.

For some reason, I just cannot get this idea down in a good way. I tried it first as a short story, which is what I am going to post here. As the title of this post says, it’s unfinished. After a couple of tries, I abandoned the short story in favor of writing a comedy skit. I personally think the skit version sucks, but I will post it at a later date. After writing the skit version, I just abandoned the idea entirely. Maybe I will revisit it someday. After all, with Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle set to come out soon, I could get inspired. We’ll have to see.

Now, here’s my unfinished short story version of “The Biggest Hit.” (Contains some mild language)


The Biggest Hit
A Short Story by Sterling Fisher


“I can’t believe we got it!” yelled Tim as he walked down the street.
“Shh...calm down, man! We don’t want anyone to suspect anything,” replied Daniel, Tim’s best friend who was walking right beside him.
“Right, right. It’s cool. But boy, I cannot wait to get back to your place!” Tim had a big smile on his spectacled face and his eyes were as wide as frisbees. Daniel gave him a look not unlike a mother gives to a hyperactive little boy. Tim instantly calmed down and gave his best bud a little smirk.
“You really need to relax, man. Besides we’re almost there.” The two turned down a residential street and past a few houses before reaching Daniel’s residence. They walked towards the backyard and there sat, right behind the house, a small cargo truck.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes! This is it, baby! In that truck is more than 600 pounds of quality weed! We never need to buy another dimebag again!” Tim jumped for joy. Daniel walked over to the hatch and got ready to open it.
“Let’s take another look then get some,” Daniel said. He opened the hatch and a look of utter bewilderment came across him. Tim tapped him on the shoulder.
“What’s wrong Danny? Why did you stop....oh hell no!!!! Hell no!!” Tim yelled as he saw why Daniel looked so weird. Instead of the bundles upon bundles of plastic wrapped marijuana they expected to see, they saw mounds upon mounds of ashes. A man was lying unconscious next to the ashes with a bong, an empty wax paper package, and an unusually happy look on his face.
“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! That’s George!”
“George? The always willing to mooch off somebody George? The George who pawned my $300 watch to buy a PlayStation 2? This George just smoked 600 pounds of weed in the three hours we were gone?! I’m gonna kill him!” Tim climbed inside the truck and lunged at George. Daniel climbed inside the truck and lunched at him. They both fell down into a pile of ashes which spread into clouds and made them cough and gag.
“Tim! Relax man! You’re going to kill him!” Tim continued going for the unconscious George, desperately trying to grab his leg. Daniel pulled at Tim, keeping him from grabbing George.
“Let me at ‘em, dammit! He smoked up enough weed to last the two of us for years! That’s it, man! I’m gonna kill him!”
“Don’t do it, man! It’s bad enough all the weed’s gone, killing George won’t help anything.”
“It’ll help me relieve my stress!”
“Or go to jail.”
“Like stealing a police cargo truck with 600 pounds of weed won’t do the same thing!” They tussled for a while before Tim just plain gave up and flopped down in the ashes. Daniel got up and walked over towards George. He was barely breathing. Daniel opened George’s eyes—they were rolled back into his head.
“Aww crap!”
“What now?”
“I think George OD’ed.”
“What? Come on Danny! Even I know you can’t OD on weed!”
“Think about it. George just smoked 600 pounds in 3 hours. That’s 200 pounds an hour. What’s the most you’ve smoked at one time?”
“I smoked an eight ounce blunt once. It took a long time to finish.”

.

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The Archive: “Begot’s Ice Cream Shop”

For the first official post on this new creative writing blog, I decided to go back into my "archive." I originally wrote this skit way back when I was in high school, along with my first full-length short story "Friends Under Fire." This is the first skit I can remember writing. A program on PBS called The Ice Cream Show inspired it. The show went across the country to ice cream shops and detailed their histories, menus, and their quirks. One ice cream shop on the East Coast had a tradition of using ice cream lingo. For example, among the male employees, whenever they would say "vanilla" it meant that a beautiful woman had walked in. I took this idea, expanded it, and turned it into a hilarious and offensive skit.

Years later, this skit ended up being performed as part of "Out Da Box," a yearly sketch comedy revue at Northwestern University produced by the African-American Theater Ensemble. It was just one of a few skits that I wrote that made it into that year’s show. The other skits from that year are posted at my Fiction Press site. I won’t be reposting things from my Fiction Press site on this blog. However, i will link to the things on there from this blog in the future.

So, I hope you enjoy this bit of sketch comedy in its original, choppy form. And be warned...if you are sensitive to edgy humor, don’t read any further.


Sketch # 1

Setting: Ice Cream Shop
Time: Daytime

(Opens with shot of an average-looking ice cream shop. Three workers are behind the counter serving customers. The customers leave and Man #1 approaches counter.)

Female Worker: Hi and welcome to Begot's Ice Cream Shop. What would you like today?

Man #1: Umm, I would like a double scoop ice cream cone, please.

Female Worker: What kind of ice cream would you like on the cone?

Man #1: Vanilla.

Female Worker: Coming right up. (To other two workers) Hey! This man wants two crackers' heads on a stick!

Man #1: (Surprised) Excuse me, I didn't order that!

Female Worker: You ordered a double scoop cone of vanilla didn't you?

Man #1: Yes I did.

Female Worker: Well, there shouldn't be a problem. Do you want your ice cream on a cone cone or on a cup cone?

Man #1: A cup cone, please.

Female Worker: Okay, sir. (To other workers) Hey! Get the two crackers' heads on sticks in a pit!

Man #1: Why do you keep saying I want "crackers heads"?

Female Worker: I'm sorry. When we take orders, we use a special lingo to communicate them so that it would be easy for our workers to understand.

(Male Worker #1 comes to the side of the counter where FW and M#1 are with an ice cream cone)

Male Worker #1: Here is your double scoop cup cone of vanilla ice cream. Anything else?

Man #1: No, thank you.

Female Worker: That'll be $1.75.

(Man pays for cone and hurriedly leaves. Woman #1 enters.)

Male Worker #1: Welcome to Begot's Ice Cream Shop, can I help you?

Woman #1: I heard you sell rose flavored ice cream, is that true?

Male Worker #1: Yes it is. It has real rose petals in it.

Woman #1: I'll take two scoops of it in a cup, please.

Male Worker #1: Coming right up. (To Male Worker #2) Hey! This woman wants two lesbians in a bed together.

Woman #1 (Nervously): No, no, no, no! I ordered rose ice cream in a cup. I didn't say anything about two lesbians!!!

Male Worker #1: Your sexual orientation does not discriminate you here at Begot's ice cream shop. We serve everyone equally regardless of race, color,...

(Woman #1 gets disgusted and leaves. Man #2 and Woman #2 enter. Man #2 must be African-American and Woman #2 must be White)

Male Worker #2: Uh-oh! Here comes a chocolate sundae with vanilla ice cream!

Man #2: What did you just say?

Male Worker #2: Welcome to Begot's Ice Cream, can I help you?

(Man #2 relaxes and walks over to counter)

Man #2: You know you must have read my mind, because I came in here to get a chocolate sundae with vanilla ice cream. Give us two please.

Male Worker #2: (Shouts to other worker) Give me two OJ Simpsons! (To Man #2) Do you want toppings on your sundaes?

Man #2 (to Woman #2): What do you want on your sundae, dear?

Woman #2: Nuts, that's it.

Male Worker #2: Put some BIG NUTS on one of those OJ's!

Man #2 (to Male Worker #2, angry): What the hell is your problem?

Male Worker #2: Is there a problem, sir?

Man #2 (angry): Hell yeah! The language you are using is shameful.

Male Worker #2: What language, sir?

Man #2: You know, the (quietly) big nuts comment.

Male Worker #2: Sir, I’m not gay.

Man #2 (furious): Why you son of a...(to Woman #2) come on dear, we’re leaving!!!

(Man #2 & Woman #2 leave out hurriedly)

Male Worker #2: What a soft serve.

(Father and son enter the store)

Father: Hey Jimmy, why don’t we get some ice cream?

Son: OK, Daddy! I want some rainbow sherbert!

Father: OK, OK. (to Female Worker) Hi, can I get a cup of rainbow sherbert and a cup of rocky road please.

Female Worker: Of course, sir. (To Back) Gimme one gay pride parade and one midlife crisis.

Father: No, no. I said a cup of rainow sherbert and a cup of rocky road ice cream. Maybe you got it confused.

Female Worker: That’s what I said sir, a cup of rainbow sherbert and a cup of rocky road ice cream.

Voice from Back: Say the first one again!!

Female Worker (to back, slowly): One gay pride parade! Sheesh, that’s what I get for working with caramels.

Father: Jimmy, we’re just going to have to get ice cream from somewhere else. (They exit)

Male Worker #2: What a slow week, I guess business won’t pick up until the vanilla ice cream with whipped creams comes.

Female Worker: Or when the Republican National Convention comes to town.

END



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Thursday, July 15, 2004

What This Blog Is All About

Hi! Welcome to Everyday Author, my creative writing blog. In it you will find skits, scripts and original fiction in addition to unfinished works, works-in-progress, and even story ideas.

I created this blog to motivate myself to do more creative writing. I hope that this blog will do for my creative writing what my personal blog did for personal writing. Before I started my personal blog, I rarely ever wrote down my thoughts. Now, I post my thoughts frequently and have fun doing so...plus I get to share them with the world.

I encourage everyone who comes here to give me feedback on my writing. Tell me if you like it or if you hate it. Give me suggestions on how to make my writing better. I’m open-minded and can handle the criticism.

So, I hope that you enjoy the various creative things to pop from my head and keep checking back for more great stuff.

Everyday Author opened on July 15, 2004.

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