Suicide Hot Line

I wrote this a few years ago for a sketch show and it was never used. The idea for this sketch came to me when my grandmother complained about having to press to for English. I thought what if you had to do that for a Suicide Hotline, then I trashed that idea in hopes to take it a step further.


A short sketch

Lesley:  a trouble person
Pat: a soft spoken suicide hot line counselor

Blackout.

Sounds of a phone dialing

Pat: Hello Suicide hot line.

Lights up. The stage has two chairs at opposite ends, at SL is the Lesley on a cell phone, sitting and bent over. He’s been crying. At SR is Pat sitting at a desk with a phone on top of it. Throughout the beginning of the sketch Lesley is experiencing intense remorse and sadness.

Lesley:  Umm...hello?

Pat: Hi this is the suicide hot line, are you in immediate danger?

Lesley: Umm.. What do you mean?

Pat: Are you currently in a position to hurt yourself or another person?

Lesley: Oh. No. I…Nothing like that. (beat)  I’m just not...thinking right..

Pat: Let me have your first name.

Lesley: It’s Lesley.

Pat: Good Lesley, my name is Pat. Now tell me (beat) how it is you think you screwed up?

Lesley: Ohhhh. I lost my job about three months ago. I – I told my wife I got laid off but I (pause) I got fired.

Pat: Why did you get fired?

Lesley: (ashamed) I was drinking on the job.

Pat: Have you been drinking today?

Lesley: No. That’s what made me want to call I’m not thinking right and I’m sober. I just don’t know what to do.

Pat: So you’ve been out of work for three months?

Lesley: Not completely. I got a job to pay the bills, but when I was off work, I-I (breaks into tears) I cheated on my wife.

Pat: Does she know?

Lesley: She found out three days ago and…she …took the kids.

Pat: You have kids?

Lesley: Yeah…two. (pause) I just don’t know if Michelle will forgive me or if when I’ll see them
again. (choking up) I’m just ashamed and confused and guilty and I’m not thinking right. I don’t
know what to do. I don’t know how to handle this I-

Lesley pulls a picture out of his pocket, it’s obvious he’s been looking at it a lot.

Pat: Lesley, What are your children’s’ names?

Lesley: Jenna is my oldest she is 6 and my baby boy is three. His name is Andrew.

Pat: Do you have a picture of them?

Lesley: (smiles through tears) Yeah. I’m actually looking at it right now.

Pat: Good. Good. Now why don’t you look at that picture and tell me a memory you have with your children.

Lesley: Well.... (sniffs loudly) the other day we were at the park and Jenna was pushing Drew on the swing and gave him an underdog – you know where you run under the swing?

Pat: (kindly) Oh I remember.

Lesley: Well Drew flipped over and landed on his head and before we could over to him (laughing
through his tears) he jumped up and yelled “I’m okay.” It was (beat) really cute.

Pat: That’s nice.  Are you looking at the photo right now?

Lesley: Yeah.

Pat: You need to remember that no matter what happens in your marriage, you still have those children.

Lesley: Yeah.

Pat: They need you and it’s even though it’s hard to look beyond the way you feel right now, it will pass and the dust will eventually settle. You need to be around for those kids.

Lesley: Yeah.

Pat: Do you know where they are?

Lesley: I think Michelle took them to her mom’s house.

Pat: Have you tried calling?

Lesley: No I don’t want to face talking to my mother in law.

Pat: Okay. Why don’t you make plans to call them tomorrow and check in. (beat) Mother in Law be damned.

Lesley: (smiling) Yeah Okay. Thank you so much. I’ve been here by myself for three days just wallowing in this mess and I don’t have any perspective. Thank you... I actually feel a lot better. Thank you so much

Pat: That’s why where here. Lesley, I don’t want to let you go until I’m sure that you’re okay. May I ask you a few question before we go?

Lesley: Yeah. Of course.

Pat: Okay Lesley, how would you rate the level of service you received from the Suicide Hot Line today on a scale of 1 to 5, 5 being excellent, 1 being poor?

Lesley: What?

Pat: I’m sorry Lesley I just have a few questions before I can let you go.


Lesley: Okay …ummmm which one was good?

Pat: It’s a scale from one to five, five being excellent, one being poor.

Lesley: Five.

Pat: (flattered) Oh thank you. Now how serious of a risk did you pose to yourself today on a scale of one to five, five being a serious risk, one being a very low risk.

Lesley: (hesitant) I guess a two.

Pat: Just for your information that rating is labeled as (checking a laminated piece of paper in front of her) a shallow cry for help. Does that sound about right?

Lesley: I think so. I mean I just needed to talk to someone.

Pat: Okay good, good. I just want to make sure I’m accurately recording your answer. I have one more question. How well do you feel we resolved your problem today on a scale from one to five, five being absolutely, one being not at all.

Lesley: I don’t know…A four.

Pat: A four? So we mostly resolved your issue today?

Lesley: Well my wife still may leave me.

Pat: (kindly)  Lesley, you did cheat on her, not to mention the drinking at work Lesley. I mean I’m not a miracle worker. Considering what I had to work with…well I just want to make sure I’m accurately recording your answer. (kind disdain) And that answer is (beat) four?

Lesley: If it matters that much I guess it’s a five.

Pat: (flattered) Oh thank you. Now before I let you go I must let you know we are a non-profit organization that relies on corporate sponsorships and I need to ask if you’re interested in giving me your email so I can send you Hormel Chili coupons and a chance to win 1000 dollars?

Lesley: (disgust) No. No I’m not interested. I’m going now.

Pat: Thank you for calling the Suicide Hot Line

Black Out.

Bowels of poverty

         At my house we always seem to have random canisters of flavored Metamucil which hang around for years and years and tend to multiply now and again. Last Thanksgiving a big orange cylinder of Metamucil fell from a cabinet and hit me in the head, so I wrote this piece.


              When times were tough Donna went down to the District 103 Fire Station where they handed out bricks of cheddar cheese and butter to anyone who wanted it. The firefighters were nice and handsome and passed out dairy staples with a smile and without any questions. They weren’t anything like Barry. She couldn’t say she didn’t love the mean son of bitch, but a part of her breathed a sigh of relief when the game warden showed up at her front stoop to tell her that a stray bullet meant for a deer had hit Barry behind the ear and blew most of his brains out of his eye socket in a gooey pink mist. Of course he didn’t leave much behind for her and the kids. Of course.

Getting a GED with a dead husband wasn’t easy so she got the food stamps. Every so often she’d sleep with a lonely fat man who worked doing something with computers at the community college. Of course she wasn’t a prostitute or anything. Of course. It was just...an understanding. Whenever something went wrong - the shower faucet began to leak or one fall when the heater pooped out - she gave Cal a call. He’d fix it, or hire someone to fix it, then they’d have a glass of wine after the kids went to bed and he never stayed the night. It was an understanding; and it made the tough times a little less tough.

On the first of the month it was always easy to see who was buying food on the government's dime. Disheveled women with dark, sunken and hungry eyes, ravaging the Wal-Mart like coyotes looking for the scraps left behind by bigger, stronger animals. They’d be there at midnight frothing at the mouth on the last day of the month with a bag of chips and a long deli sandwich. Never. Never will I become that, never in a million years, Donna told herself. From the beginning, she promised to always stretch out the calories and never join the packs of the permanently poor. On the third day after her plastic card would fill with food money, she’d slowly pace the aisle and spend a small portion on oatmeal, rice, and whatever cheap fruit happened to be in season.  On Sundays, Donna treated herself to a cup of coffee at the Denny’s and scavenged through left-behind newspapers for coupons.

At least once every few months she’d find a coupon for a bulk tub of some gritty orange fiber powder and pick it up for next to nothing. Toward the end of each month, as food ran low, she’d sprinkle it on the kid’s oatmeal and tell them it was a treat for behaving so well. They’d bloat up and not ask for seconds. It made Donna laugh when she thought about it: here they were - eating like paupers and crapping like kings.

TMI auctioneer

Two things I love are auctioneer-based humor and Kids in the Hall. Kids in the Hall used to have one to two minutes sketches threaded between the longer parts of the show. I guess that is what I'm going for here - just a snapshot. I got into auctioneer-based humor shortly after going to an auction held to support rural volunteer firefighters. None of them were under the age of 55. Message taken: don't get caught in a fire in Colville, WA fire district 85.

Any decent auctioneer is also a cowboy.

Clay Hiskins – Auctioneer with a western style about him and little in the way of an edit mode

Mary Plainworth  - The Master of Ceremonies at District Nine’s volunteer firefighter auction

Auctioneer Clay Hiskins, stands off to the side while MC Mary Plainworth addresses the audience. Clay is dressed in a cowboy hat, jeans which are a bit too tight, and a belt buckle large enough to double as a trash can lid. Bonus points if his belly pushes into the belt buckle just a bit to make it appear as if he has not been able to buy pants in a very long time and has outgrown them somewhat.

Mary: Okay I hope everyone has finished their food because it is time for our main event. I know a lot of you are very excited so we’ll get right to it. We have received a record number of donations for this year’s auction and we hope to exceed last year but we’ll have to raise more than $5000! And keep in mind that 100 percent goes straight to the volunteer firefighter program. Everything you see here today was donated so let’s dig deep and see how much we can raise for District Nine. What do you say?

Applause

So to help us out we’ve got - for the fifth straight year in a row - Clay Hiskins. Clay is a professional auctioneer with a degree from the Missouri Auctioneer School of Auctioneering.

Clay nods to affirm this

He tours all over the US doing livestock auctions and he’s generously donated his time today so keep in mind he does accept tips.

Clay nods again

Okay put your hands together for Mr. Clay Hiskins.

Applause

Clay: Thank you, Thank you. I appreciate that Mary. Well I’m not much of talker ‘less I’m auctioneerin’ so whadya say we get started? Mary what do we got first?

Mary reaches backstage and pulls out an embroidered pillow with a tag, hands it to Clay.

Clay: Okay we got a real nice embroidered pillow here donated from. (Twists pillow to find tag) Leanne Waverly. So let’s start at $5. What do you say to $5 for this beautiful pillow which reminds me of the pillow I use to practice my tongue kisses on? (Responds to bid) I’ve got $5 over there, how ‘bout  ten dolla’ ten dolla, ten dolla for this pretty Frenching pillow? (Responds to bid) Ten dollars over there. Do I hear 15, 15 dollars 15 dolla? Goooing once. Going twice, and SOLD for 10 dollars to the lovely young lady over there.  

 Points to an elderly woman.

What is next Miss Mary?

Mary hands him a two tickets

Okay looks like the Walkers have donated their cabin on the Oregon Coast for a weekend in August. (Checks tag for description) Looks like they’ll put you up for two nights on the lovely Oregon Coast. What do you say we start the bidding at 100 dollars? Do I – I see one hundred? (Responds to bid)  TWO  hundred dollars? Can I have two hundred? Two hundred. (Responds to bid)  TWO Hundred. Do I have two fifty?  Two fifty? Two fifty for a trip to the beautiful Oregon Coast where I lost my virginity to an older woman.  Two fifty? (Responds to a bid) We’ve got two fifty. Do I have three hundred, three hundred? (Responds to a bid) THREEE hundred, do I have three fifty for romantic weekend in the same coastline where my mom’s friend seduced me on a moonlit sandy beach. (Responds to a bid) There’s three fifty. Do I have four? Do I have Four?  Looking for four hundred dollars. (Scans audience for a bid) And going once, twice and (Pause) SOLD to the gentleman with the Denver Broncos hat.