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Old Guy.....Colin Firth Interviewee.....Will Forte INT. SMALL, OLD OFFICE OLD GUY (Firth) is behind a rough, wooden desk interviewing the INTERVIEWEE (Forte), who looks blue-collar and sits on an old stool in front of the desk. Old Guy: (salty, gruff) So, you wanna be a fisherman, eh? Interviewee: Yes I do, sir. Old Guy: Fishing on the high seas is tough, son. It’s dangerous…lotta folks die. Interviewee: I know, sir. Old Guy: (excitedly, hand sweeping across as if to mimic a wave) Men get gobbled up by the waves every week! Interviewee: (confidently) Yes sir, I know…but I think I can take it. Old Guy: Alright…(looks down) I gotta ask ya a few questions before I can bring ya on. Interviewee: Fire away, sir. I’ll answer anything. Old Guy: Good. First off, are ya a strong boy? Interviewee: Sure, I guess… Old Guy: Guess??? Ya better know! Those nets and traps ain’t bringin’ in feathers! Interviewee: Feathers, sir? Old Guy: I’m sayin’ if we was haulin’ in feathers with the nets, they’d be lighter, ya see? But we ain’t bringin’ in feathers! (slams fist down, causing the desk to rattle) We bringin’ in fish...big fish! That’s why they call ya a fisherman, not a featherman! Interviewee: (confused) Yeah…yes sir. Old Guy: Are ya a religious man? Interviewee: Yes sir. I attend church regularly. Old Guy: Good. What church? Interviewee: First Methodist…the big one in town. Old Guy: (suddenly angry) What? Are you kidding me??? Interviewee: (nervous) Uh, no… Old Guy: The last Methodist to come through here crashed one of my boats, killing ten of my best men! Interviewee: Oh, I’m sorry, sir…but I…I won’t do that, I swear Old Guy: Well, alright, I guess. Couldn’t happen twice, I figure. Interviewee: (deferential) Oh, surely sir, thank you, sir. Old Guy: You got a wife and kids? Interviewee: Uh, yeah…I’m married with two daughters. Old Guy: No sons? Interviewee: No, sir…just my wife and two little girls. Why? Old Guy: I’ll need to know who can identify what’s left of your shredded body when ya get caught in the nets and the fish eat ya up! Interviewee: What??? Old Guy: Last guy to come through here without a male child fell off the boat! The fish, in some ironic, twisted inversion of the food chain got payback and chomped him to bits! Interviewee: Oh, god! Old Guy: Nope, God couldn’t pull him from the nets, no matter how hard we prayed, the cruel bastard! Interviewee: Oh, I’m sorry sir, I… Old Guy: (interrupting) Have you ever been to Disneyworld? Interviewee: (ambivalent, confused) Disneyworld? Which is that, the one in California? Old Guy: (disheartened) Dammit… Interviewee: What? Old Guy: The last man I interviewed who confused Disneyworld with Disneyland was a great, great fisherman who went on to live a long life. Interviewee: Well…that’s good, ain’t it? Old Guy: No! When he left here he became a serial killer! Murdered thirteen pregnant women in Lamaze classes across the Pacific Northwest! They called him the Marauding Midwife! Interviewee: That’s…that’s terrible, sir, but… Old Guy: (interrupting) It was terrible! Scott Baio was a terrible, terrible man. Interviewee: Scott Baio? It wasn’t, uh, the… Old Guy: (interrupting, annoyed) No, it wasn’t the real Scott Baio! We called him that because he strutted around here humming the tune to Charles in Charge all damn day! Interviewee: Oh, uh…I hate that show, sir! Old Guy: I hate it too, and I contracted syphilis from a prostitute fifteen years ago! It’s eating at my brain right now! Interviewee: Huh? Old Guy: I can’t hire you. You’re too big a risk! Interviewee: What? I…those were, those were just coincidences! Old Guy: (standing up) I ain’t havin’ no STD-stricken, boat crashin’, future serial killer become fish food on my docks! Now get out! Interviewee: That’s stupid! This is…this is discrimination! Old Guy: (takes a large hook from the wall) If you don’t get out now I’ll gut you like a pregnant woman! (swipes at him) [The interviewee runs out quickly. The old man hangs the hook on the wall and sits back down. He suddenly looks upset again.] Old Guy: Come to think of it, the last person I threatened with a big, rusty hook broke into my house in the middle of the night! I better tell the police about that guy! [The old man picks up his phone and begins dialing as the screen fades to black.] Rate or review this sketch | Prior comments |
