Transcript for a Clip Show for a Sitcom that Doesn’t Exist, by Joshua Bohnsack
Flashlights clicking.
“I can’t believe the power went out, right before the big game.”
“Who would have thought?”
“Well, what are we going to do now?”
“We could look at this photo album.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Way under the couch. I dropped my nachos, and found a stack of them.”
“Why’s it all sticky?”
“I never found the nachos.”
Audience laughing.
Pages flipping.
“Oh hey, remember the time we had to stay in that mansion?”
“How could I forget?”
“I can’t believe we can only get your great-great-uncle’s house if we stayed the entire night.”
“Yeah, what an odd stipulation to put into a will.”
…
An airplane landing close by.
“It’s just close to the airport?!”
“It’s not haunted?”
“It’s not haunted!”
“Do you hear that?”
“The rats are back!”
“Why are there so many?”
“Tuck your pants into your socks!”
“I can’t even see the floor!”
“I think one crawled into my pocket”
Spitting sound, “One just crawled in my mouth.”
…
“We sure had a lot of great times in that mansion.”
“Oh yeah, I can practically see it now.”
…
Lawnmower sounds.
A horse whinnying.
A doorbell rings.
A man saying “Whoa whoa whooooooooa,” followed by a crash.
A child’s laugh.
A child’s scream.
“Danny Boy” playing on a pipe organ.
A different child’s laugh.
Somber music and a man saying, “I’ll never forget you, Kazoo.”
An alien voice saying, “I’ll be with you always. In your heart.”
“Did Kazoo say fart?”
Alien voice: “Heart, heart.”
“Kazoo, you’re gonna be in our farts?”
Disgruntled sound.
A door slamming.
A child’s cry.
…
“That was the best spring break ever.”
“Even better than the time we went to Panama City Beach?”
“Oh, how could I forget?”
…
“Who Let the Dogs Out” blares from a sound system.
“We’ve got to bury the body!”
“What? The music’s too loud!”
“The body!”
“What?!”
Silence.
“We’ve got to bury the body!” screamed into the void.
Crowd murmurs.
“Get them!”
Crowd outrage.
…
“I totally forgot about that!”
“Every day I wake up praying to forget.”
Silence.
Door crashing open.
“Hey is your po—”
Audience wild cheering.
Clearing throat. “Hey is your power out, too?”
“Obviously.”
“You mind if I just grab a few things from your fridge?”
“Uh, help yourself, I guess.”
Audience laughs.
“You guys looking through photo albums?”
Pages turning.
“Wow! You met Owen Wilson.”
“Sure did. In fact, we’ve met our fair share of celebrities.”
…
Owen Wilson saying, “Wow!”
“Come on, Mr. Knievel, just let me take it for a test ride.”
“No.”
Harlem Globetrotters theme song.
“Carmen Electra? Why are you at our grocery store?”
“This place has the best rotisserie chicken.”
“Oh.”
Owen Wilson saying, “Wow!”
“And that’s why they call me Pope Francis.”
A bear roaring.
Owen Wilson saying, “Wow!”
“Thanks, Naomi Klein. I’ll never litter again.”
“Thanks, Mavis Staples. Now I know the true meaning of Christmas.”
“Thanks, Prince. Now I know the true meaning of Minnesota.”
“That’s not my name anymore.”
“Sandra Bullock? In my house?”
“That hurts, Chris Rock. That really hurts.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you look just like Dr. Kevorkian?”
“I get that a lot.”
“Thanks for saving our grocery store, Hoda Kotb.”
“No problem, now get off my lawn.”
…
“What are the odds they would have all come through Riverside?”
“I have a feeling somebody pulled some strings.”
Moist sound of a single eye winking.
Silence.
“You know, I think some of my favorite memories were made right here, in our backyard.”
…
“I’m doing it. I’m doing it! No training wheels!”
A crash.
A garbage can lid rolling.
“You can’t run away from home. That won’t bring your mother back.”
Sniffling.
“But if we remember her, she’s never really gone.”
Audience awwws.
A bad Popeye impression.
“It’s okay that we didn’t win the soapbox derby. My favorite part was building the car with you.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, a million times, yes!”
Slobbering sounds.
“Cut the blue wire!”
“Are you sure it’s blue?”
“Yes, absolutely. Definitely. Unless it’s green.”
“Which is it? We’re running out of time.”
“Blue. Blue. I’m positive it’s blue.”
“Here goes nothing.”
Explosion.
“Wing-ding-dang-doodle.”
“That’s what happens when you enter the Love Shack, Baby.”
“That’s what I like to hear in my ear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hole in one!”
“Can I take your order?”
“You call that a taco? This is a taco.”
“Buy a t-shirt or get out.”
“Over YOUR dead body.”
Cast laughing.
…
“Hey, the power’s back on!”
“We can finally watch the big game.”
“Ya know, I was enjoying looking through the photo album with you guys?”
“You really mean that? It’s not just a low-budget way for it to seem like new content by stitching together old clips?”
“No, no way.”
“That’s what I like to hear in my ear.”
Cast laughing.
“We can catch the last few seconds of the game!”
“And just like that, Riverside loses the big game. I couldn’t believe it with my own eyes, folks. That was the greatest feat of athleticism in the history of sports. Not since the ancient Greeks wrestled in the nude has any feat of man been so utterly impressive. You had to be here or see it live from your working television set in order to grasp just how perfect a game this is. There will never be anything like it again.”
“That’s what happens when you enter the Love Shack, Baby.”
Audience laughs.
Audience laughter intensifies.
Audience laughter distorts into a rush of white noise followed by a piercing silence.
Joshua Bohnsack's work has appeared in The Rumpus, AGNI, Salt Hill, and others. He is managing editor for TriQuarterly and publisher at Long Day Press. He grew up on a farm and moved to Chicago. More at joshuabohnsack.com.