We're two playwrights, Ben Ferber and Donald McEwan. Together, we comprise the company Fop! Productions! We realized that we had a lot of ideas that were very dumb and one of us would immediately veto. These are their stories.
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(Lights up on a house full of prostitutes. There is heavy traffic outside. Enter Ellen.)
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Ellen:
WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF?
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(A madam, Madam Bottoms, walks up to Ellen.)
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Madam Bottoms:
Karma.
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Ellen:
That’s not…I signed up for all of this willingly.
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Madam Bottoms:
Well, may I offer you this expensive prostitute? But you can only have her for forty-five minutes and no permanent teeth marks.
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Ellen:
Well, if you can’t leave permanent teeth marks what’s the fun?
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Madam Bottoms:
You can make permanent teeth marks for an extra five fifty.
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Ellen:
I don’t have that kind of money. It’s why I rented my house out to a brothel. And my driveway out to the Department of Transportation.
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Madam Bottoms:
I’m still a little unclear as to what’s happening in that driveway.
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Ellen:
Driver’s tests.
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Madam Bottoms:
At eight hundred and fifty miles per hour?
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Ellen:
Well, you have to get a license to drive a rocket car some way.
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Madam Bottoms:
Your driveway’s only, like…thirty feet long.
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Ellen:
Well, you don’t have to drive it FAR.
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(A rocket car smashes through the wall. The driver flies through the windshield and out a window. The instructor unbuckles his seatbelt, exits the flaming wreckage, and walks up to Ellen.)
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Instructor:
Sorry. We’ll compensate you for that.
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Ellen:
OH MY GOD.
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Instructor:
May I offer you this expensive prostitute?
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(Blackout.)
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secretly they were all four inches tall and the rocket car was a hot wheels
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