MIDNIGHT AT THE OASIS: A screenplay by fearlessflyonthewall with famous stars and lots of good action scenes:
Someone at the bottom of the basement staircase, and another person at the very top.
DH: Honey, could I please come up now? I’ve been down here for weeks, living on sour milk and those rolled oats that I was saving for the apocalypse.
DW: Why?
DH: Well, my pants are getting loose and you never gave me a belt and I have to hold them up around my chest with my hands or put my arms in the belt loops to hold them up while I’m eating my rolled oats and drinking my milk and my ankles are getting cold and and the bed is getting smelly and my . . . .
DW: Shut uP!
DH: Yes, Dear.
DW: Do you have anything else to say?
DH: I could go to the grocery store and buy food and make you a spinach pizza.
DW: Try again.
DH: I could get steaks, chocolate ice cream and wine and . . . .
DW: Not a chance in hell.
DH: Well, you could forgive me! It’s kinda like President George W. Bush: he keeps doing goofy stuff that’s bad for the country and after a certain point it’s just wrong to hate him so much. He can’t help it.
Michael Jackson (from under DH’s bed): That’s ignorant, Greg, just ignorant.
DW: What did you call me?
DH: Nothing. That was just my imaginary friend. He doesn’t mean any harm.
DW: OK, you can come up for a couple of days if you promise to be a better person, refill the fridge, and cook and clean---AND shut up.
DH: Thanks sweetie. Here I come.
Mr. Spock (from under the bed): I fail to see the logic in any of this crapola.
Guy Noir (from under the bed): Keep your mouth shut Spock; we don’t want him down here anymore than she wants him up there.
The End
--fearlessfly
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