DUSTMITE IN A COMA ( 2 )
After being struck in the head by a ceiling fan blade, Sherm, the dustmite, fell and landed on a futon. And thanks to the miracle of modern micro-medicine, Sherm is alive and well… not well, but not dead. He’s in a coma.
Sherm: ( thinking ) Oh my God, I’ve got the worst headache of all time. It feels worse than that time I did ten shots of Tanqueray and shrimp veins!! Oh my God, did I just use two exclamation points in my previous sentence? Even the fucking exclamation points hurt. Oh my God, did I just use an F- bomb in my previous sentence? Even F- bombs hurt. Come to think of it… using the Lord’s name in vain is like the Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse stampeding through my cerebral cortex! Oh my – stop with the exclamation points already.
We PULL BACK and can see MW and BENTO observing Sherm.
BENTO: What’s up with the little bug?
MW: It’s a dust mite and it’s in a coma.
BENTO: Okay, that explains that stupid look on his face.
SHERM: Stupid? Your mom’s stupid. Your mom’s soooo stupid, she thought a Pap smear was when somebody said something bad about her dad. Your mom’s sooo stupid she thought D- Day was when report cards came out. Hey, I could go all day with this…
MW: So, they did a brain scan and the results were quite interesting.
BENTO: Like what?
MW: Well, there was the expected impairment of the reticular activation system… but, the scan also revealed four horsemen galloping across his cerebral cortex.
BENTO: Yes, interesting. We should try some type of smelling salt to revive the patient.
MW: Well, they’ve already tried smelling salt with no reaction.
BENTO: What about using a pair of your socks?
MW: ( chuckles ) Tried that, didn’t help. So we ran a pair of your grandmother’s bloomers across his nose, but that seemed to put the patient into an even deeper coma!
SHERM: ( thinking ) That would undoubtedly kill me. And hey, easy with the exclamation points, buddy.
BENTO: What’s going on with his antennae? He appears to be suffering from some form of antennae atrophy.
SHERM: ( thinking ) What’s with all the antennae atrophy talk? Do something about it. My antennae used to be the talk of the fucking town. Oh, there I go with the F- bomb again. Yikes.
MW: Yeah, the lack of stimuli has caused his antennae to atrophy about twenty percent.
BENTO: Maybe if we can put some aluminium foil on his antennae he will have better reception to the outside world.
MW: Tried that yesterday, but reruns of Family Matters started playing through the microwave.
BENTO: That’s not good.
MW: Yeah, imagine having to hear Urkel’s voice every time you want to heat up a frozen pizza.
SHERM: ( thinking ). Imagine having to hear your voice every time you wanted to jump off a fucking cliff. Oh, boy, the F- bomb again? Oh, the pain, please make it stop.
BENTO: Right. Well… his vitals seem stable. What’s in the IV?
MW: I’ve been giving him a steady diet of dead skin cells, pet dander, blended with two shots of expresso, and some crushed up jelly beans.
