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Sheryl Crow...Amy Poehler ...Lance Armstrong Maitre' D...Bill Hader Randy...Horatio Sanz Mandy...Rachel Dratch Andy...Fred Armisen Billy...Kenan Thompson Waiter...Chris Parnell [SCENE: A fancy Italian restaurant.] [Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow are standing at the entrance waiting to be seated. They are both wearing disguises so they will not be recognized.] Sheryl Crow: [whispering] You know, Lance, I bet we wouldn't have had to wait over seventy-five minutes for a table if we weren't wearing these silly disguises. Lance Armstrong: [whispering] Yeah, you're probably right, Sheryl. But then dinner would take over three hours since both of us would have to sign autographs every five minutes. Sheryl Crow: Yeah, that's true, but still... [The Maitre' D arrives at this point and looks at the waiting list] Maitre' D: Okay, I'm looking for the NottaCelebrity party. Is the NottaCelebrity party of two here? Where are you guys? [Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow step forward] Lance Armstrong: We're right here. Maitre' D: Splendid. Right this way, Mr. NottaCelebrity. [The Maitre' D leads them to a table. He hands them menus as they sit down. The Waiter then pours complimentary glasses of wine for the two of them.] Maitre' D: Your waiter will be right with you. Enjoy your meal here at "Mario's Luigi's Italian Restaurant." Lance Armstrong: Thanks. We will. [The Maitre' D leaves] Lance Armstrong: [pleased] Now, see, this isn't too bad. Sheryl Crow: Yeah, if you don't mind the smells coming from the bathroom. Lance Armstrong: [confused] What? [Sheryl Crow points off-camera and the camera cuts to reveal that they are seated next to the male and female restrooms.] Lance Armstrong: [understanding] Oh... Sheryl Crow: [muttering] Bet we could have gotten better seats if we had told them who we really are... Lance Armstrong: [annoyed] Oh, don't start with me. [Suddenly, a group of friends (consisting of Randy, Mandy, Andy, and Billy) at a next-door table start talking loud enough for Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow to overhear. They listen in as the people speak.] Randy: [boasting] Well, I heard that Lance Armstrong has obsessive compulsive disorder. That's why he had to win the Tour de France seven times in a row. Took him seven tries to finally be satisfied with the result. Like how those guy who'll wash their hands for hours until they think they're clean? Same thing. Mandy: [amazed] Wow, really? That's incredible. It makes perfect sense! Randy: It does, doesn't it? Makes me feel almost sorry for the guy... [Lance Armstrong is shocked by the piece of gossip and leans in close to Sheryl Crow and begins complaining at a whisper.] Lance Armstrong: Are you listening to that? What crap! I'm gonna go over there and... Sheryl Crow: Oh, Lance, stop it. They're just gossiping. It comes with being a celebrity. [muttering] That and getting better tables at restaurants... Lance Armstrong: But... [Lance Armstrong is interrupted by the loud talking of Andy, another member of the group.] Andy: That's an interesting rumor, Randy, but I know the real truth. I heard that Armstrong's legs aren't real. Randy: [confused] Aren't real? How are they not real? Andy: He had them replaced with bionic limbs, you know, like a robot. That's why he cycles so fast. He just needs to set the speed that he wants his legs to pedal, and they do it. Mandy: Oh, come on. You're just making that up. Andy: [defensively] No, I'm not! I have proof...sort of. I saw him at a public appearance a few weeks ago, so I decided to put it to the test. I snuck up behind him while he was being mobbed and I jabbed his leg with a pencil. Armstrong didn't even flinch! Randy: [impressed] Wow. Lance Armstrong is part-robot. Who would have guessed? [The camera returns to an increasingly irritated Lance Armstrong complaining to Sheryl Crow] Lance Armstrong: [whispering] I remember that! The only reason why I didn't flinch was because it was a public appearance and I didn't want to freak out the little kids. I mean, I had to go to the doctor afterwards so I could get three stitches! I'm gonna get that guy! [Lance Armstrong starts to stand up but Sheryl Crow stops him] Sheryl Crow: Lance, don't you dare! He's just a fan! Some celebrities get their clothes torn off them, you have people stab you in the leg. It comes with the job. [muttering] That and not having to wait an hour for a dinner table... Lance Armstrong: Fine, fine. But, you know... [Lance Armstrong is interrupted yet again by the loud voices at the neighboring table, this time from Billy.] Billy: Well, you're probably right about the bionic legs, Andy, but I know something that none of you do. I heard that he's been cheating on his girlfriend Sheryl Crow. Andy: [shocked] What?! Mandy: [distraught] No! He can't be! Those two have to make it! They just have to! Billy: Yeah, I know it's bad, but it's true. My friend saw him last weekend making out with some girl at a club here in L.A. They were going at it like two dogs on a Sunday afternoon. [We return to Lance Armstrong's table to find an incensed Sheryl Crow quietly tearing into Lance Armstrong] Sheryl Crow: [horrified] Is THAT where you were last Saturday?! Cheating on me with some cheap floozy?! After all the things I've done for you? [pause] I shaved your back hair! Twice! Lance Armstrong: [pleading] No, it's not true! I was helping a friend move into his new house! I swear! [Suddenly, the Waiter arrives, forcing Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow to instantly put their argument on hold] Waiter: Hi, folks. Sorry about the delay. We've just been really busy tonight and I've been running around everywhere. A bunch of celebrities showed up and we had to juggle everything so they could be seated immediately and at our best tables. [Sheryl Crow kicks Lance Armstrong under the table, prompting him to holler in pain] Waiter: [confused] Everything okay? Lance Armstrong: [wincing] Yeah, never better. You were saying? Waiter: Oh, well, I'm your waiter for this evening and I'm ready to take your order. Our specials tonight are Toad's Tortellini, Princess Peach's Pepperoni Pizza, and Wario's Wonderific Wine. So, what can I get you folks tonight? Lance Armstrong: Oh, we actually haven't had a chance to look at the menu yet. We've been a little distracted by those people gossiping about Lance Armstrong. Waiter: Lance Armstrong? Oh, isn't he the guy who's going out with Sheryl Crow? She's got a great rack and an amazing singing voice, although I think they're both fake, if you know what I mean. [The Waiter laughs, prompting Sheryl Crow to almost jump out of her seat to attack him, but Lance Armstrong restrains her.] Waiter: [confused] Is something wrong? Lance Armstrong: Oh, no, she's just really hungry. Could you bring us some of Bowser's Breadsticks while we look over the menu? Waiter: Sure, no problem. [The Waiter leaves as Lance Armstrong releases Sheryl Crow from his grip] Lance Armstrong: Look, honey, I swear that I'm not cheating on you. And that waiter was a jerk for saying that about you, so we'll be sure not to leave him a tip. So, how about now you go freshen up and then we'll just start this evening over? Sheryl Crow: [calming down] Yeah, I'd like that. I'll be right back. [Sheryl Crow leaves for the restroom] [Lance Armstrong watches Sheryl Crow leave. When he sees that she's gone, he takes his cellphone out of his pocket and dials a number. He waits for a few moments and then begins to speak.] Lance Armstrong: Dr. Rogers? It's Lance. [pause] Yeah, it's going well. Thanks for asking. [pause] Look, Erika, I don't want this to sound abrupt, but I think we're going to have to end things. Sheryl is on to our relationship. [pause] What? No, I didn't tell her! We were spotted last weekend! I told you it was getting too dangerous! [pause] Oh come on, you KNOW that I'm extremely grateful that you gave me the bionic legs, but...[pause] Yeah, I know that you also helped cure my OCD, but I just can't risk it anymore. If this gets out, the press will turn on me like they did with Jude Law. [pause] Great, thanks for your understanding. Bye. [Lance Armstrong hangs up and puts his cellphone away. He then takes a deep breath.] Lance Armstrong: [muttering to himself] That was a close one... [Lance Armstrong drinks from his wine glass as we FADE OUT] Rate or review this sketch | Prior comments |
