Written for the Bosco's Sketch Comedy Troupe/Laff Stop
(see Scott White - Franco Tijero - Eric Rougier)

FRANCO paces the floor, wearing a suit and tie and pinched glasses. ERIC enters, with soccer ball, uniform, and cleats, "mildly" ticked off. ERIC: Awww Morpheus. Why did you bring me here? And right in the middle of the Zion seminationals! And why bring me to Houston, Texas? This place stinks! (sniffs air) Literally! FRANCO: We have very important work to do, Neo. We must save Houston. Corporate Development has taken over the city. ERIC: But our team was winning! The Plug-Ins vs. the Natural-Borns. 12-3! Actually it was 6-3 but since YOU decided to pull the top soccer goalie out of the game, I had to electronically alter the score to stay ahead. I have to go back, Morpheus. The team will lose without me! (looks at his watch) FRANCO: Not so fast, Neo. (points to the dentist chair) Sit down, I have something to show you. ERIC obeys: Oh, not this again! Do I have to take off my shoes for this? FRANCO: Do you think those are REAL American shoes you're wearing? ERIC: Aren't these shoes made in California from recycled tires, disposable diapers, and marijuana leaves? That's what the label said! (ERIC lays his head in the headrest, straps himself in) FRANCO: No, that's a lie! Those shoes are made from CHILD LABOR! From INDIA! ERIC shakes violently: NO! NO! Say it isn't so! (ERIC revulsed by images he sees in his head) FRANCO: Yes, Neo. You've been living in a dream world. This is the real world. Little 5 and 6 year old children giving up their childhood to make your smelly athletic shoes. Locked in factories all day without any recess. While you're out playing ball on the soccer field. How fun. ERIC convulses in his chair. FRANCO throws the ball hard and smacks ERIC in the stomach. His hands are strapped in. FRANCO: Here catch! What? Can't move your hands? Well, think of the tiny little hands of 3-year olds in Pakistan that sewed this soccer ball. Their dreams of a happy childhood shattered while you live in a dream world built on corporate greed! ERIC: No, no! It can't be! Oh, it makes me wanna tear my clothes off my body and protest naked! (ERIC tries to tear at his jersey, writhing in guilt and despair) FRANCO: What? Do you think that shirt is REALLY made in the USA? Wrong! It's made using sweatshop labor from SAIPAN. Imagine poor Asian women, working as slaves for the same company that's killing redwoods in Mendocino, California. That's reality, Neo. Welcome to the real world. (ERIC thrashes) FRANCO: And what, may I ask, did you eat for lunch today, Mr. Anderson? ERIC: I-I . . . I broke down, and ate. . . . I ate a chicken sandwich. I couldn't help it. It was on sale for 99 cents, and I'm just a poor starving environmentalist. I'm on a tight budget. I couldn't resist. FRANCO: Let me show you what went into that chicken sandwich you just ate. ERIC's eyes fill with horror: No, not rainforest land! Not hormones! Those chickens aren't real? ERIC screams: TRINITY! Where's TRINITY? Help, I can't breathe! I need CPR and she does it the best. Man, is she good! (ERIC coughs, gasps) FRANCO: Do you think that's REAL AIR you're breathing? (ERIC chokes) It's BENZENE! And car exhaust! And the rest is (sniffs, cringing) the rest is vaporized human sweat from people jogging up and down Memorial. I can't stand the stench. I don't see how Houstonians can live like this! (FRANCO starts to cough) ERIC coughs: HELP! I need help! I need TRINITY! I need CPR. Help, I can't breathe! Someone call 9-1-1. SCOTT enters in HPD uniform, talking slowly like an agent: No need to call. I'm... already... here. (SCOTT slaps FRANCO on the back, coughing, knocks the wind out of him.) ERIC: No, not you! You're not real! You're not really the law! There is no Constitution. It doesn't exist in Houston, I have no rights! I need TRINITY! She can make everything better. I can't live in this horrible corrupt world without her! Where is she? Quick! I need, I-I (chokes) I need a H-U-U-U-G! (he weeps) FRANCO: You really like Trinity don't you. Those lips, those eyes, those . . . long luscious legs. ERIC immediately relaxes, sighs: Oh, yeah, those legs! MMmmmm. And those, those breasts. FRANCO: What? Do you believe those breasts are REAL? ERIC in shock: No! No! Don't say it! FRANCO: They're a patented combination of plastic surgery and computerized graphics! And those long, multiple . . . (whispers in his ear) . . . . . . that you always have together. . . . ERIC: No! Don't tell me those were fake, too! FRANCO: I can't tell you. You just have to (winks at audience) figure it out for yourself. ERIC: No, no, no! Don't tell me Trinity's a fake! I can't live without her! I'll die! I'll die! I'm losing, I've lost my will . . . to . . . live! (ERIC passes out, flatlines) SCOTT checks him: He's gone, Agent Jones. FRANCO (putting on agent glasses): Very good, Agent Smith. That was a close one. That's two down, and two to go. SCOTT: Poor guy. (removing ERIC from chair and carrying him off) Just wait till we tell Trinity that her precious Neo . . . FRANCO: Was nothing but a stand-up comic on steroids! SCOTT: Won't she get unplugged! Silly Environmentalists! FRANCO/SCOTT: Corporate Pigs Keeping The Planet Safe . . . from little green people

Special thanks to Elizabeth Stein, Glenn Thrower, and Rapture Savant. -- etn

(e) 2000. Houston Progressive Webzine.
All rights reserved. All wrongs reversed.

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