Me: Tonight's program, in keeping with People Week, is about a very common personality type, the underachiever. I've got three men backstage who were supposed to reach for the stars and ended up instead being featured on this show. The first of them is proud to call himself the chief superintendant over at Riverview High, Mister Tom Starsky!
(Applause. Enter Starsky. Greetings.)
Me: By all accounts, you were a brain in school. How did you end up in such an ordinary occupation?
Starsky: I guess there's just not many job opportunities for geniuses. And, of course, everyone thinks they're more entitled to those jobs than you are.
Me: But you still carry on your work in your own time.
Starsky: I sure do. I've learned to look at it the same way my parents did. They used to say that writing is just a hobby. I guess they were right.
Me: And what have you been able to come up with?
Starsky: Not much lately. But I did stumble on a very compelling theory a long while back.
Me: You did? Please tell us about it.
Starsky: Well it has to do with language. If it's true, it would be a huge step forward for the science of linguistics.
Me: Always room for progress in that field.
Starsky: My theory is that the building blocks of language are innate; that a child is born with a kind of language template that only needs to be filled in with the words of his culture.
Me: Wow! That's a real breakthrough.
Starsky: Yes. The potential for development is limitless.
Me: You sure it's your theory?
Starsky: Absolutely.
Me: Have you ever heard of Professor Noam Chomsky?
Starsky: No. Who's he?
Me: Let's just say he's a man who would agree with your theory. When did you come up with this?
Starsky: Oh, it was way back when I used to be the janitor over at MIT. I remember discussing it once with one of the teachers there. Nice guy.
Me: Open minded?
Starsky: Yes, very open minded.
Me: Well thank you for coming on the show. Tom Starsky, everyone! He may be less of an underachiever than we thought.
(Applause. Commercial.)
Me: Next we would like to introduce you to a man with a 200-plus IQ who works in children's entertainment, Garth Chandler!
(Applause. Enter Chandler. Greetings.)
Me: You claim to be an inventor.
Chandler: I am.
Me: But you work as a clown for children's birthday parties.
Chandler: Someone's got to do it.
Me: Why haven't you had any success with your inventions?
Chandler: I guess I'm too far ahead of my time.
Me: In what way?
Chandler: Well, for one thing, I can envision a world where mating with artificial women is a reality.
Me: I see. And how does this drive your creative process?
Chandler: A long time ago, when I was just a boy, I thought of a way of modifying little girl's dollies to make them look more sexy and grown up. I called it the Booby doll.
Me: (Pause.) Blonde?
Chandler: Oh yeah.
Me: About yay high?
Chandler: That's Booby!
Me: Are you sure you are not confusing yourself with Ruth Handler?
Chandler: Who the hell is that?
Me: She's the inventor of the Barbie doll.
Chandler: I can't imagine where she got the idea. Does that doll look like the work of a woman? And the only one I showed it to was this little girl in the schoolyard back in the 1950's. I just wanted to show her that my doll was cooler than her doll. Funny thing. It went missing shortly after.
Me: Well the important thing is that you have made countless little girls happy with your invention.
Chandler: Little girls? That doll was just a scaled down prototype for a life-sized model intended for single men! Where does this Handler person live? Maybe I need to go over there and straighten her out!
Me: Let's hear it for Garth Chandler! (Applause.) Coming soon to a birthday party near you!
Chandler: What are you doing? We've just uncovered a huge ripoff!
Me: Calm down! You're not here to talk about your success!
Chandler: But -
*********************************************
Commercial: Cart-in-a-car.
(A woman is exhausted in her search for her car in a full parking lot.)
Announcer: Why park your car? It just means you have to walk all the way back to it again. Get yourself the new cart-in-a-car.
(Her car is fitted with the product.)
Announcer: Cart-in-a-car fits around your drivers seat. It's easy to install and affordably priced for a mere eight thousand dollars.
(She parks next to a man with a limp. He gets out and walks as she whizzes past him.)
Announcer: Don't let them laugh at the goofy way you walk. Stay seated with cart-in-a-car.
(She gets to a doorway with steps, activates her jets, and flys offscreen.)
Announcer: And for an extra nine thousand dollars, we'll send you a jet engine to help you navigate those nasty stairs.
(She watches TV in her living room while still in her carseat.)
Announcer: Once you sit down in your new carseat, you'll never have to get out again.
(A shot of the product.)
Announcer: Cart-in-a-car. Driving for perfection.
*********************************************
Me: I know our last two underachievers may have disappointed you, but this one can't miss. He's an assistant plumber's assistant, all the way from his mother's basement in Cow-Pie, Wyoming, Mister Allan Mighty!
(I look over to see that Mighty is already in the guest chair.)
Me: How did you do that?
Mighty: Neat trick, eh?
Me: So, Mister Mighty -
Mighty: Please, call me Al.
Me: Thank you. Al, I really hope you aren't going to spoil my show by laying claim to some monumental achievement. You really are an assistant plumber's assistant, right?
Mighty: Right.
Me: And that's all you do, right?
Mighty: Right.
Me: So why did you settle for such an ordinary life?
Mighty: I just felt that I had nothing to prove.
Me: And why is that?
Mighty: Because I already created the universe.
Me: Now look! I'm starting to lose my patience.
Mighty: What's wrong?
Me: You're not the Almighty!
Mighty: I'm not? Then how did I get into this chair without you seeing?
Me: I'm going to need a lot more proof than that.
Mighty: I'd be careful if I were you, David. Thou shalt not put the Lord thy God to the test.
Me: Bullshit!
Mighty: Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
Me: Don't make you angry! How do you think I feel about losers like you getting on my show?
(A storm cloud gathers over our heads and erupts into a thundershower.)
Mighty: Now you've done it. You should really be careful what you say to people. You never know who you're talking to. (He disappears in a blinding flash. The raining stops.)
Me: Wait! Come back! I'm sorry, Lord! I didn't mean it! Oh, damn! (I look up with fear, covering my lips.)
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