Follow by Email

Monday, February 3, 2014

Death to Pop Culture


This skit is meant to be my own comical take on pop culture. If you are easily offended, this is NOT for you. I hope you enjoy it.

Once upon a time there were 7 celebrities, locked in a Jersey mall.

Enter: Kim Kardashian, Chris Jenner, Gabrial Iglesias, Lisa Lampanelli, Jimmy Big Balls (Lisa’s Husband), Howard Stern, Greg T (from Z100 morning show).

One by one, the pseudo celebrities file out of the stores of a once popular Jersey mall that is set to close its doors for the final time tonight. They get to the main entrance to find they have all been locked inside. Although they pull and tug at the doors, they won’t budge.

Lisa: Stop yankin’ at the door Jimmy. The first ten times should have indicated it was locked.

Jimmy: Yes, Lisa.

Kim: Oh my god. Who would do this?

As Kim begins to cry and pace, Lisa and Chris pull out their cell phones to call for help. They walk up and down the corridor only to find that the cell service has been blocked. Or jammed?

Gabriel: Who would lock up a mall without checking to see if there are people in it first?

Greg: Right! Who does that? I miss Elvis.

Howard: Everyone just chill out and sit down. We can’t all be missing long, without someone noticing.

Chris: I am going to sue. Once I get out of here, I am going to call TMZ and E-news and drop anonymous hints of our location so they can capture what these people have done to us.

Lisa: Calm down, Jenner, you’ll blow a lip injection. You’ll get your movie of the week. Let’s just focus on getting out of this hellhole first. JIMMY!

Jimmy: Yes, Lisa.

Lisa: You, fatty, and the bigheaded kid in the corner, look around for a way out of this joint.

Jimmy: Yes Lisa.

Chris: Who put you in charge?

Lisa: I’m sorry, do you want to take the reins. I just figured you would want to focus on how this experience will traumatize princess over there into a mental break that you can exploit.

Chris: Oh, well…yes. Thank you.

Lisa rolls her eyes at Chris and watches as her husband, Gabriel, and Greg go off to find a way out. Howard takes a seat on a leather sofa nearby and stares at the ceiling above, dreaming of naked Playboy bunnies. As he closes his eyes, he tries to make the best of it by finding his happy place.

Somewhere in the mall, Greg, Jimmy, and Gabriel search door after door, only to find them all locked and chained from the outside. Someone has taken a lot of time to lock this place up tighter than Ben Stein’s ass.

But who? Who would hate all these people so much that they would do this?

Greg: Damn, this one is locked, too. There’s no way out guys. What the hell do we do now?

Gabriel: We double back to the food court.

Jimmy: Why? Did you see something there?

Gabriel: Yeah! A Panda Express, a Chipotle, and a Dunkin Donuts.

Greg: How can you think of food at a time like this? We are locked in here and have no idea when we are getting out. I miss Elvis.

Gabriel: (he pouts) I have low blood sugar. If I don’t eat every few minutes, I get cranky.

Jimmy: We’ve been gone too long. Lisa will be worried. When she worries, she hits.

Gabriel: That woman sure has you running scared. Grow a set of balls and man up.

Jimmy: (he says sheepishly) I have a set of balls. She just keeps them in her purse.

Back at the main entrance, Kim is ugly crying in the corner. Howard is taking a nap. Chris is looking around for a landline to call the local media. Lisa is impatiently waiting for, as she states it, the retards of this group, to get back from their mission. When she spots them down the hall, Jimmy walks toward her with his hands in his pockets. Gabriel walks a step behind, shaking and sweating while babbling something about donuts.

Lisa: ‘Bout fucking time. I am to assume you geniuses didn’t find a way out.

Jimmy: No, Lisa.

Greg: I miss Elvis.

Kim: OOOWWW! What are you doing? Why are you biting my ass?

Gabriel: Your ass looks like a donut; all round and fluffy. I just wanted a nibble. I bet if we crack you open you’re chock full of chocolate cream.

(bah dum bum)

Kim: Awwww, you’re sweet. Carlos Mencia, right? So super cute.

Gabriel: Yeah and you’re the pretty sister, right? Kourtney?

Kim: Huhhh! MOM! This, this, person called me Kourtney!

Chris: Don’t worry honey, when we get out of here I will have him pay you both royalties for speaking your names out loud. We can even stop by BET so you can have a little down time after this mess.

Kim: Oh, yay! New baby daddy day!

Lisa: If you bitches are done, can we please figure out how to get out of here?

Gabriel: I don’t feel so good.

Lisa: Jesus! Hey, bigheaded kid. What’s your name?

Greg: Greg.

Lisa: Yeah, I don’t like that. Anyway, go find tons of fun over here some food before he melts away to a normal size human. Take Jimmy with ya’.

Greg: Fine. Let’s go.

Greg and Jimmy rummage through vending machines and the food court for whatever is left after all the owners closed up shop for good. They find some random shopping bags and fill them with as many supplies as they can find.

Meanwhile, Howard, who appears to be napping, has another plan. A plan he is not willing to let the others in on just yet.

After finding a metal pole near the deserted bank around the corner from the lobby Lisa beats on the glass with no luck. The glass is so thick it won’t even crack.

Gabriel, who is watching, now babbling incoherently, suddenly sits up straight as Jimmy and Greg approach.

Gabriel: I smell Twinkies!

Gabriel runs and wrestles Greg to the ground in search of the creamy, cakey goodness. Jimmy walks over to Lisa and helps her try to smash the glass. He makes no more headway than she had.

Kim: Help! Look there are people out there.

Chris: She’s right. It looks like…like the whorehouse just let out. But help is help.

Howard: And that would be my contribution to this little cluster fuck. You see while you idiots were running around like fools, I used my power of boob telepathy to summon every skank in a five mile radius. Since we are in Jersey, it was like hitting the bimbo lottery. Those skanks are going to get our asses out of here.

Lisa: Howard, I have never wanted to kiss a Jew as much as I want to kiss you, right this second.

Howard: No thanks. I have seen where your mouth has been.

The buxom beauties sprint toward the door and Howard gives them their instructions to go get help. After many failed attempts and blank stares, Lisa takes out a pen to write instructions for them on one of the paper bags. Slipping it under the door to the brunette who appears to have the most brains in the bunch, she says a silent prayer that this biotch will grab a brain cell and work it.

Lisa: Go find an adult sweetheart and give them that note. They will come and help us. Go on. Scurry off.

Howard rolls his eyes at Lisa’s stupidity and uses his own approach.

Howard: Find man. Give letter. Come back.

The gaggle of groupies dart off in the direct they came from and everyone takes a sigh of relief. It isn’t the best plan; to leave their fate up to Howard’s bimbos, but it is the only option.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a dark cloud appears. Thunder bolts crack and lightening flashes. A lone black Escalade with tinted windows appears. Help. Help is here and the celebrities are all finally going to get out of this place.

Just when the group thought this day couldn’t get any worse, Bruce Jenner, Charlie Sheen-Estevez, and a man in an expensive black suit climbs out of the car. The group sighs with relief, but all think to themselves that it is a strange combination of people to come looking for them.

Chris: Bruce! Oh, thank god. Help us get out of here.

Bruce: I don’t think so, darling. Mr. Estevez and I are not here to help you. We are here to burn this place to the ground with you in it.

ALL: WHAT!

Charlie: You see, Lisa and Howard, you think you’re so funny with your jokes about me. You have both single handidly hurt my feelings, and for that, you must die.

Bruce: Chris. Kim. You are mean, nasty, rude, self-centered bitches who the world could do without. I ran it past Kanye, and he agrees that with you out of the picture he can make millions off of his sob story; how he lost his baby mama.

Greg: Why the rest of us? What did we do to you?

Man in suit: I am glad you asked, Gregory. I am an executive at Hostess. When Gabriel and Lisa went on a diet and cut out sweets, they single handily pushed us into bankruptcy. The nation is pissed. If it weren’t for Kirstie Alley falling off the wagon again, we would all be out of jobs. As for you, Greg, we decided to give something back to the people of America and just do you in.

Jimmy: Why me?

Charlie: Jimmy, you are the only one we are saving. We feel that you have been tortured enough having to sleep with that woman, so if you head out to the other side of the mall you will find those bimbos Howard sent away waiting for you with open legs. I mean arms.

Chris: You’ll never get away with this.

Bruce: You see, we will. The world will not miss a single one of you. In fact, I am told a tinker tape parade is in order and maybe an accommodation, from the President himself, for liberating the world of celebrity terrorists.

With no more words spoken, Charlie strikes a match and watches the building burn to the ground. Never again will the world hear the ramblings of Fluffy the Comedian, The Queen of Mean, the King of Raunch, the make believe Celebrity Princess, her mother the pimp, or The Round Headed Frat boy.


Written by S.L. Gonzalez

No comments:

Post a Comment