I Wrote it Down

I am certain that many many inebriated people, in many pubs across the land, during some sparkling, tangential, bibulously stoned conversation that haphazardly sketched out some compelling (at the time) IDEA, were wont to cry out "Write it down! . . . we need to write this down!" and while many of these propositions should NOT be written down-- for reasons of political correctness, job security, and just a general lack of quality, last night might be an exception-- on pub night, Alec and I always end up spitballing what we think are genius comedy sketch routines, but then we never write them down-- and it's probably better that way-- case in point, I am not writing down two of our  discussions: The Polish Triathlete and Tourette Tits, for obvious reasons, but I will do my best to save one scintillating dialogue for posterity, the exception that might prove the rule, anyway last night we were discussing the constitutional right to get a little drunk or stoned, put some headphones on (I just got som earbuds that actually fit my ears) and walk to the bar listening to the music you choose-- nothing is more American-- but then we wondered how this might go down in colonial times, when they were actually writing the constitution but did NOT possess headphones and we hashed out exactly how the skit would go . . . so I am offering it up to SNL or whoever wants to film it;

INT. MODERN SUBURBAN BEDROOM. NIGHT

A teenage kid is listening to loud rock music.

Unseen Parent: Lower that!

The kid turns off the music, pulls open a drawer, opens a little box (you put your weed in there) and grabs a one-hitter and puts it in his pocket. He then puts on his headphones and exits his room.

Kid: I'm going for a walk.

Mom: Okay great. Take out the garbage.

Kid: Fine.

EXT. SUBURBAN STREET. NIGHT

The kid walks down the street, bopping to his music, and meets up with a few friends.

One of his friends says something about the new girl down the way and what a great rack she has.

Teen: WHAT? WHO?

Friend: Your music is too loud! You're talking really loud.

He removes his headphones and they proceed to smoke some pot.

BLACK SCREEN. 

SUPER: 250 Years Ago

INT. COLONIAL TEEN BEDROOM. DUSK

A colonial teenage kid (wearing a mohawk wig?) is listening to a three-piece BAND in his room. Drummer, mandolin, fife. They are playing raucously.

Unseen Parent: Tell your band to play softer! Mezzo piano!

The teenage kid waves at the band to stop playing. He gets up, opens a drawer, grabs a flask, and motions to the band.

Kid: Come on.

The kid walks into a colonial family room.

Kid: I'm going for a walk.

Mom: Great. Make sure the sheep are in the pen.

Kid: Fine.

EXT. COLONIAL FARM ROAD. DUSK

The teenage kid walks down the road. His band follows behind, playing some fast-paced music. He meets up with a couple of other teens. They drink from the flask. They chat about the new girl that moved in down the road and her slender ankles. The band gets too close. They can't hear each other.

Other Teen: What?

The main teen motions the band to back up, so they can hear each other.

The teens walk down the road, the band following. The teens bop to the music.

INT. MODERN SUBURBAN DINING ROOM

The teen and his parents are eating dinner.

Mom: And even though I had the receipt, they sent me to wait in a DIFFERENT line . . . it took forever. That's the last time I'm going to that Target.

Dad: Customer service is a lost art.

The teen rolls his eyes at this boring conversation and puts on his headphones.

Dad: No headphones at the table!

BLACK SCREEN. 

SUPER: 250 Years Ago

INT. COLONIAL DINING ROOM

The teen and his parents are eating dinner. The three-piece band is in the corner, silent.

Mom: And then he shears Margaret's sheep . . . even though I had clearly gotten into the barn before her!

Dad: I wonder if he had lust in his heart for Margaret. She does have slender ankles.

The teen rolls his eyes and motions to his band. They launch into some raucous music.

Dad: Shut those guys off!

The teen motions to his band to stop.

Then we imagined one final scene, which I don't feel like writing out-- where the suburban parents are watching TV and the music is too loud and they ask the kid to turn it down but he can't hear them and then it cuts to the colonial parents watching a couple of actors perform in their living room-- a parallel for TV-- and the teen's band is playing too loudly for them to hear the actors and they all yell for him to turn it down and that's that.