Phil and Rosco At Play

Credit must be paid to my friend Time For More Cake, as the core idea came from him.  A few years ago he explained a rough idea of the sketch and in the process performed the entire game for me.  It was astounding and incredible.  You should check out his blog, A Man Chasin’ His Hat, where he waxes poetic about metaphysics, psychology, technology and craziness.

Lights up.

Rosco and Phil sit in booth in a diner.  They are each having coffee and Bosco is smoking a cigarette.

ROSCO: How can you not remember that game?  It was essential in the American Childhood Experience for that day and age.

PHIL: I don’t remember the game.

ROSCO: Come on!  You don’t remember –

Rosco brings his hand up like he’s holding a video game cartridge and blows.  Then he mimes putting the cartridge into a video game system and turning it on.

ROSCO: Beep.

Rosco holds his hand up as if he is holding a gun and makes the noises of the game as he pretends to play it.

ROSCO: Dadaladaduhdah. Doodooloodoodoodoodoodoo doodooloodoodoodoodoodoo doodooloodoodoodoodoodoo doodooloodoodoodoodoodoo.  Ruff ruff ruff.  Ttt ttt ttt ttt.  Pchkchk!  (whistle down)  Boom.  Daladadadada.  Ttt ttt ttt pchkchk ttt quack ttt ttt pchkchk!  (whistle down) Boom.  Daladadadada. Ttt ttt ttt ttt quack ttt pchkchk pchkchk ttt pchkchk!  (whistle down) Boom.  Daladadadada.  Ttt ttt ttt ttt quack pchkchk ttt ttt pchkchk ttt ttt quack ttt ttt pchkchk ttt ttt ttt ttt.  Heee heee heee heee heee heee.

The entire time Rosco gets more and more into the game he is miming.  Phil starts to get worried as others in the diner start to look around.

PHIL: Bos, maybe you should –

ROSCO: Kill the dog?  Oh believe me, I’ve tried.  Many many times!  But no, he just sits in that grass, mocking you.  Making you feel worthless.  Little rot-gut bastard, fucking shit pile stack of asshole and donkeyspunk.

PHIL:  It doesn’t matter –

ROSCO:  Fuck it doesn’t!  The prick is supposed to be on my side!  There’s a world full of what I can only imagine to be flesh-eating ducks that can only be disposed of with some strange three-shot rifle, and he’s just fucking laughing at me.  We’ll see who’ll be laughing when we get home with no demon ducks for dinner.  I know I’ll still be hungry and, oh look, a sniveling, cowardly, lazy ass betrayal of a dog.  Looks yummy to me!

PHIL:  Ros, you’re scarying everyone in the diner –

ROSCO: Now shut up and let me concentrate!  I want to finish this game and then do skeet shooting.

Rosco begins to play again.

ROSCO:  Daladadadada.  Ttt ttt ttt ttt quack pchkchk pchkchk pchkchk (whistle down) boom.  Daladadadada  (laughs)  Take that, fuckstick!

PHIL: Check please!

Lights out.

There's a special place in hell for the creator, designer and voice behind that dog. A place of unending pain and torment. I really do hate that fucking dog.

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