The Sun is a Creeper (Rough Draft)

The Sun is a Creeper

brian rhoads

(Scene begins in a backyard where people are having a barbecue. There are hella people in the background, but only 6 people at this party are talking in this sketch.)

TODD: Thanks again for inviting us, Gary.

MELISSA: Yeah, this is great!

GREG: Thank you all for coming. It's been so long since we all got together.

(As they talk, the Sun is slowly rotating to show his face. The Sun is making a rather awkward smile.) 

CALVIN: Was the last time we all hung out Melissa's wedding?

ERIN: I think so! Wow!

GREG: Well, cheers! To good friends!

(At this point, the Sun is now facing them completely.)

SUN: I'll drink to that!

(The group is baffled and looking around to see who spoke.)

SUN: Nu-uh, you guys.

(Still confused, the group has trouble figuring it out. Erin notices.)

ERIN: Oh my god, you guys. (Pointing to the Sun) Look!

(The group shares a quick scream.)

SUN: Yeah. Sup?

GREG: What... is this?

SUN: I'm the Sun, you guys. You know me.

TODD: Is this really happening?

SUN: Yeah, we are just enjoying a barbecue like normal people... and a giant star that is the center of your entire universe.

MELISSA: I don't know what to even say.

SUN: Oh, is it because all of us stars look alike? Sure, there are 200 billion of us in the Milky Way, but we all have names and feelings.

CALVIN: No, it's not like that. I just think that we never would have expected you to talk?

SUN: Wow, you guys are dicks. You don't think I'm educated? Huh? Well, I'll have you know that I am currently enrolled in the University of Phoenix. So, excuse me.

GREG: So out of the entire universe, you knew we were having a barbecue? I mean, we've never formally met?

SUN: I see you guys all the time! Seriously, I see you all the time. Especially Todd.

(Todd is slightly creeped out.)

ERIN: I don't know if I will be staying long...

MELISSA: Yeah, I'm ready to go if you are.

SUN: No, no, no. I see what's going on. You guys cant handle "one of us" here.

GREG: We are not racist, the Sun.

SUN: Nah, fuck you guys. I'm leaving. This party sucks anyways. Hey, just a little advice: You want people to have fun at your party, don't play Maroon 5. It just shows that you're trying too hard. Alright, I'm out fags.

(Everyone at barbecue is staring to the sky as the sun begins setting. There is a pause, given everyone is still in disbelief. Before it goes dark, Todd speaks.)

TODD: How much do you think he has seen?

(End.)

5 Hour Energy

5 Hour Energy Shot Commercial (Working Title)

brian rhoads

Int. Living Room

Kids run out of the frame as MAN turns towards camera with a slight chuckle. The room is set up like any type of living room you could imagine. An upbeat song is playing in the background.

MAN

Being a stay-at-home dad is pretty tough.

You've got errands to run, chores to do,

kids to chase, and everything in between.

Quick cuts of him doing different activities, like: sweeping, going through mail, bringing in groceries, checking his watch and being slightly frustrated, etc.

MAN

But things need to get done... now. Or else

the big boss lady will find out and I'll be in 

the dog house with this guy!

Shot of a dog with a sound of a whimper.

MAN

Luckily for me, I have "5 Hour Quick Energy 

Shot" to help me get through the day. Whether 

I need to be the maid, the chauffeur, the cook,

or whatever else my step daughters want me 

to be so that they wont tell their mom, I have

"5 Hour Quick Energy" to help me out.

Quick cut to the man sitting at a table (with no music). He has been crying and is staring deeply downward. He goes to take the energy shot and hesitates at first, but then finishes it. Cut back to him in the living room with the music back on. He looks as if nothing is wrong at all.

MAN

Thanks, "5 Hour Quick Energy Shot!"

Shot of logo with fine print with man in background doing something strenuous (like playing "pony" for one of his step daughters while dressed up like a princess).

ANNOUNCER (v/o)

5 Hour Quick Energy Shot, for when

you need energy for rock bottom. Now 

available in stores everywhere.

<<END>>

Dallas Diaries: Post 2

Looking back on my trip, it proved to be far less interesting than I had guessed. Sorry, Texas, but you were only "kinda" interesting to me. Yeah, we can blame it on my business trip and how that daunted my attitude towards venturing out and "giving Texas a chance," but I will stick with my original judgments. With that said, I will try to hurry up the story where need be and just hit the good points:

Picking up from the check-in counter, I realized that my flight was delayed for 40 minutes. Obviously, I went to the bar close to my terminal and began drinking instantly. 

Here is a picture of my gate:

Notice the creepy carpet and the "slide." It looks more like a horizontal, plastic walkway more than a slide. I only felt like a creep when I noticed people notice me taking multiple pictures. No children were present. I do not know if my presence had anything to do with it.

Proof that I had alcohol during the Waste Management Phoenix Open (or whatever dumb name it has now). After Phil Mickelson sank his last putt, I, like the rest of the patrons of the bar, picked up my things and sat next to my gate. My flight was pretty full. As the Super Bowl warm ups began, I noticed how many people were traveling to Dallas and only thought: These people are probably being forced to go to Dallas as well. No one wants to go to Texas.

As I took my seat, I was placed near a man 80 years old named Roy. Roy was a very outgoing gentleman and struck conversation with me. I learned that he was had drove to Tucson from Michigan in a Ford Mustang convertible (only because the Mustang could fit his golf clubs in the trunk), who was flying back to Flynt to be with his wife. Apparently, he was cutting his vacation short because his wife suffers from Alzheimer's and wasn't doing too well. Initially, this broke my heart and he had my full attention. I felt terrible if I were to turn my head for just a second, until I realized that he was going to talk to me the entire trip, regardless of whether or not whatever he was saying was relevant or not. Not exaggerating, he would only stop talking to take a breath. Granted, I felt that this guy just wanted someone to talk to, which I lent him my shoulder to spill his heart upon, but once he began saying things like "You know what? (Pointing at lights at ground level) I wonder what that would look like if Thomas Edison never existed." There was even a point in time where I pretended to be asleep, thinking that it would get me out of any sort of awkward conversation. It didn't. He continued to nudge me to tell me some crazy thought that just entered his mind. The flight lasted two hours, and once it was done, I turned to Roy and said, "Make it home safely, sir, and never let go of your wife. You're a good man, Roy." I then proceeded to walk the fastest I have ever walked. Ever.

Once at the baggage claim, I located the driver assigned to pick me up (which felt baller as fuck). He had my name on an Ipad. For some reason, the fact that his job was to transfer me to my hotel gave me inspiration to creep him the fuck out. I kept asking him questions trying to discover the boundaries of comfort. While we were waiting for the conveyor belt to shit out my luggage, I kept trying to get a feel for the area and the laws that regulated the land. I have been to Burbank, California, which does not permit smoking ANYWHERE in the city. As a baller on a budget, I cannot afford any unnecessary tickets. Questions I asked him:

- "How much beer do you think I can intake before it is considered "illegal"?

- "Where can a guy get the 'good stuff'?"

- "In your opinion, where should I stay away from? I'm kind of a noticeable person."

- "Is it safe here?"

- "I can trust you, right?"

I waited until we got into the car to ask him this:

"You're not going to kill me, are you?"

The rest of the car ride was silent, beside my random observations. I am pretty sure it is safe to say I either bugged the shit out of him or legitimately creeped him out.

More to come later. Bed time.

Dallas Diaries: Entry One

As I sit in my hotel room in Dallas, Texas, on the first night of my 12 night business trip, it is hard to wrap my around what is going on. Being this is my first business-related trip, I must admit that this is completely out of my comfort zone. To most people, this may seem exciting and come off as an opportunity for a new adventure, but I am still in limbo to how I feel about it. I guess that I will have a more accurate depiction of it when it is all said and done, but right now, I feel like I am in midst of a giant car crash, slowly living out the flipping of a car, buckled in only to observe every excruciating detail as they come along praying for it to hastily pass by. I am trapped in a single moment. The most frustrating thing about it is that I don't know how to make it happen faster.

Some would take advantage of said opportunity to explore a city they have never been in before, but the only thing that interests me is going home. Several of my coworkers have, by day two, gone out and supported another coworker as he performed jazz at a low-key club. Instead, I stayed inside of my hotel room studying. I came here for a reason: to take this training course and pass the test that proceeded it. This trip is about one thing for me: Dollar, dollar bills, y'all. (Dear god, I feel that Texas has begun rubbing off on me!) I am not here to make friends, nor am I here to live out some wild fantasy. I am here on account of my company, which I pledged to represent in the utmost honor. I am here for the bigger picture and the dream of getting where I want to be. I am not the 21 year former version of myself anymore; I take pride in bettering myself and supporting the livelihood of myself and my girlfriend and eventually making our dreams come true. At the end of the day, that is what is most important to me. I want to do comedy, and although these experiences fuel the writing machine, they are minor steps for me to get where I want to be: Los Angeles, California.

Hours prior to my departure, I spent the morning with Audrey and decided not to smoke. I felt proud. I felt mature. As we were enjoying each other's company, we were delaying the inevitable. I was going to leave for 12 days (this is the longest [by far] that I have spent away from her in our 3 years together). We watched several episodes of "The New Normal" on Hulu Plus and laughed our hollow laughter, as we both could tell that we were dreading what was to come. Ironically, I felt (at the time) that the hardest thing was to be the stick in mud who had to ruin the party to say, "Well, I think we should get going." After a silent car ride, we came to a stop at the departure curb at Sky Harbor International Airport, Terminal 3. That, I was to find, was the most difficult part of this entire experience. We both sat facing forward, fighting the reality of the situation, hoping that if no one said anything it didn't have to happen. Being the asshole who got us in this situation, I fought the tears and could only force out a single word before tearing up.

As we said our resilient goodbyes, I turned towards the check-in counter a mess. Fortunately for me, a wonderful representative from American Airlines guided me towards an automatic teller. With my mind still a whirlwind, she was able to look past my reddened eyes and help me towards my ultimate destination. My words, uncomprehending, but that was no challenge for this war-hardened employee who may have thought I was just a little bitch (pronounced: Little Beeeeeyitch). I think our conversation went as so:

Her: "Hello, sir! How may I help you today?"
Me: "I, uhh, have a business thing, that I... uhh, (my company name), I have to go to Dallas for this thing."
Her: "Okay, not a problem, sir. Do you have a credit or debit card with your name on it?"
Me: "25 years old."
Her: (staring at me, understandably bewildered) "I didn't ask you how old you were."
Me: "Oh! What?! I thought you asked me how old I was./Haha!"
Her: "No, sir. I did not. Now, do you have a credit/debit card that I can find your ticket with?"

As I handed her my card, she took care of the rest, including my bag that I needed to have checked in. I proceeded towards my gate after that, but the following details are for another post. I need to sleep so that I can make my training class tomorrow.

Until then...

Two

Blog 2 of 365:

Living in your parent's basement isn't the most desirable place to spend your post-college, two-year hangover, but being it be the safety net most people do not get the opportunity to have, I appreciate the shit out of it. If you have never shared a house with seven other people (four being blood-related, two step-relatives, and Audrey [my flame, my muse]), it is like being on a conveyor belt, stuck underneath a stamping mechanism, repeatedly being minced into a pulp with "love". I do not wish to be misunderstood as ungrateful,  but once you live with seven people who know exactly how to get under your skin and have their own expectations of how you should act, it gets old.

All of this is  relevant because Audrey and I (after much bantering) have finally signed a lease to our own apartment back in Tempe, Arizona.

I feel one single blog post could not possibly encompass all of the feelings and thoughts one could purely endure in said given circumstances, so I must wrap this up before it even begins and have faith that I will elaborate later upon specifics.

I am excited for the new adventure, the new opportunities to fulfill my comedic endeavors, and the next step in my relationship with Audrey. It was always weird, when explaining to a stranger about my relationship status with her, when I would say "Yeah, I live with my girlfriend, but we live in my parent's basement." It almost seems like that doesn't count as "living together" status given the Full House-esque scenario formally presented. But now, we can actual live out the adult life we so desperately desire. As previously noted in blog 1 of 365, a simple four year-old basically summarized how I feel about my family's perspective of me:

"You're not a big boy, yet."

Obviously, I want to prove them wrong and am biting at the opportunity to do so.

I feel this is a great point to stop and to be picked up at a later date. Remind me to tell you how Audrey and I blew our nieces' minds about Full House. It's worth 45 seconds of your time.

Good night.

Succotash

My goal is to write something everyday of this year to force myself back into a daily ritual. Here is entry 1/365:

Having last night been New Years Eve, I spent the night with family at my parent's house with Audrey and some of my sister and brother-in-law's friends, which included a four year-old boy named Brody. Brody found enjoyment in exclaiming that I "was not a big boy yet" and nearly died laughing as a result of his constant putting me down. I felt no embarrassment or malice towards the young child, given that my family has been saying the same things to me for as long as I can remember. As we continues to converse about simple small talk, we naturally arose on the topic of resolutions for the new year. Everyone in attendance agreed that resolutions are pointless because they are always something the individual wishes to change about themselves, but do not have the audacity to follow through with in the end. I have chosen two simple resolutions that I feel will be a challenge, but not out of reach in completion.

1) Do not pocket someone else's lighter.

2) Stop watching Goodfellas every single time it is on TV.

Ironically, I feel the second will be much more difficult than first. They seriously air that movie on every single channel at least 72 times a year. I fully expect to hear outlandish resolutions throughout the week when I return to work and society in its entirety. Audrey and I will be moving back to Tempe this weekend and finally will be able to participate in regular people things! More to come on that later. I would like to end this post with something I have learned:

Today, I learned what "succotash" was [a medley of vegetables (traditionally corn, carrots, and lima beans)], and it made me rethink several things...

1) I always thought succotash was its own vegetable/potpourri thing. I first felt dumb upon learning what it truly was, but then felt satisfied in the justification that I simply did not give two shits.

2) Why the fuck did Sylvester the cat (of Looney Toons fame) always say "sufferin' succotash"? When he grew frustrated, he would curse vegetables. Is that what people thought was funny/children found rebellious during the 50's?

3) Why did anyone say "succotash" to begin with? I, again, blame the 50's.

4) Why did I watch Looney Toons as much as I did?

5) No wonder I wasn't good at any/all high school sports outside of Physical Education, where I could dominate over wimpy boys and dumpy girls. I had spent too much of my time watching a cat chase around a bird with a lisp, to no avail, mind you, instead of practicing practical skills that could be used to better myself/career.

In conclusion, this year is already on its way to being quite similar to every other year. Here's to making yourself a better person *drinks rum*.

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