The Foogle Foggle Stage Show

[Do-Do]

(This doesn't really have anything to do with cartoons...I hope that's OK)
PART ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[SETTING: Well, it's an office, and there's a real big desk in the middle. Behind the desk is a bald, 62-year-old, portly Broadway producer guy. Kinda looks like a 1930's movie mogul type of feller. Anyway, on with the thingy...]
{An eager young office boy runs in with a script}
OFFICE BOY: Hey Mr. Wealthy, get a load o' this!

MR. WEALTHY: Huh? Hm? What is it, boy?

OB: It's a brand new all-American fat free script for a play written by and eccentric butler named James Foogle!

MW: Er, I'm not really interested. Now let me get back to having a heart attack!

OB: You'll always have time for that! The important thing right now is this script!

MW: What's so important about it?

OB: Well, it's printed on RED PAPER!

MW: Ooh! Let me at it!
{Mr. Wealthy yanks the script out of Office Boy's hands. The script is about, oh, 2000 pages long}

MW: Jeez, this thing is long!

OB: Yeah, well about half of it are pictures of camels.

MW: What's the point of putting pictures of camels in a script?

OB: What, do you gotta have a reason for EVERYTHING?

MW: Hmm, good point.

OB: No it's not!

MW: True, true....now lemme read!!!

OB: I'm not stopping you!

MW: Um, actually, you kinda are. Would ya mind, um, gettin' the helk out of here?

OB: Ohhh, why didn't ya say so!

MW: I just did!

OB: Well, seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ya later!
{leaves}

MW: Hey secretary!
{Secretary enters. It's not a typical secretary...in fact, it's a big ol' bunch of blueberries with a handlebar mustache and a top hat}

SECRETARY: Yus sir?

MW: Remind me to fire Eager Young Office Boy?

SE: Okay, fire Eager Young Office Boy!

MW: Thank you very much....YOU'RE FIRED!

SE: Awwwww...
{leaves}

MW: And watch out for poachers! They're just crazy about handlebar mustaches!

SE: {from a distance} I thought that was ivory!!

MW: Hey! Who's the..um..guy behind a desk here!? Now leave already and let me read the razzin' frazzin' script!

NARRATOR: It was then that Mr. Wealthy remembered that he can't read!

MW: Hey! I can't read, can I? Who am I talking to? I better get somebody to read this here to me. But who?

NA: Who indeed....

MW: Hey! How about you reading it to me?

NA: Sorry, I'm just a disembodied voice who comes along every now and then to explain things that really should be perfectly clear to the audience. In other words....

MW: ...a pineapple?

NA: No, a narrator!! Gotta go.

MW: (sigh) Well WHO is gonna read this thing to me??!

Find out in PART SECOND!!!

Well, whaddya think?

[Do-Do]

and now, the moment nobody's been waiting for...
PART TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[SETTING: Still in the office]
MR. WEALTHY: Now, where was I again?

NARRATOR: You had to find somebody to read the script to you, remember?

MW: Oh yeah. Now where can I find somebody to read this thing to me?
{He looks around and notices a piegon on the outside of his window}

MW: Hey, I bet he could read this to me!
{Opens window}

MW: Hey birdy, could ya read this to me?

PIEGON: I'd be delighted. Hand it to me.

MW: Okay.
{Hands the piegon the 2,000-page script}
There ya go.

PIEGON: (struggling to hold it up) It's...a...little...heav....AAAHHH!!
{Plunges to the ground. Luckily, Mr. Wealthy grabbed the script before that too fell down}

MW: (yelling out the window) Thanks for nothing!! (talking to himself again) Hey, I bet my dentist would read this to me!

NA: Well, what makes you say that?

MW: I dunno, he seems like a helpful kind o' guy.

So Mr. Wealthy goes to see his dentist.

[SETTING: In a dentist's office (that's right, another office!). The dentist doesn't look like the kind of guy you'd want messing around in your mouth. He's busy yanking teeth from a patient who doesn't seem to be very comfortable]
DENTIST: Now hold still, I've only got one more.

PATIENT: (garbled because the dentist is holding his mouth open) No! No! Stop!

DE: Come on, I've got to do this or else you won't be able to wear dentures!

PA: (garbled) But I don't want dentures!

DE: What'd ya say?

PA: (garbled) BUT I DON'T WANT DENTURES!

DE: Flegm chairs? What are you talking about? Now let me pull this laaast tooth.
{yanks the tooth out}

DE: There! Now you're toothless!

PA: (not garbled anymore) BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO BE TOOTHLESS!!!
{angerily marches out and slams the door}

DE: Some people can be such joiks.

{Mr. Wealthy enters}

DE: Ah, Mr. Wealthy. What are you doing here?

MW: Could you read me this script?

DE: Okay, just sit down in my intimidating dentist's chair and I'll read it.
{Mr. Wealthy lies down in the chair. The Dentist reads the entire script to Mr. Wealthy. It really doesn't make any sense at all and has no plot or settings or anything you'd expect in a play}

DE: There!

MW: That's it???

DE: I guess so.

MW: That's terrible!

DE: Oh, I don't think it's that bad!

MW: I do! I'm never letting this thing on Broadway.

DE: That's not a very wise choice.

MW: What do you mean?

DE: Well, just because you didn't like it doesn't mean that other people won't!

MW: Really?

DE: Really. I think lots of people will like this even if it...well...doesn't make sense.

MW: Maybe you're right. But how can I be sure you're right?

DE: Look, if it's not successful, I'll give you $6,000,000.

MW: Do you even have that much?

DE: No! But you do. I figure that this is an easy way for me to make $6,000,000!

MW: But you're wro-ong!

DE: Am no-ot!

MW: Are too-oo!

DE: Knock it off!

MW: Sorry.

DE: Now get busy and turn this into a hit Broadway show! Oh, and uh, you might want to learn how to read.

MW: I might. I might.
{leaves}

And that's the end of PART 2!!!