CLAY AND KIMMEL: RIP VAN WINKLE

A Skit by Pink Armchair

(Kimmel, in dress shirt and tie, is in a makeup chair in his dressing room, with paper towels stuck in his shirt collar. He’s puffing on a cigar and engrossed in Variety when his cell phone rings.) 

Kimmel (answering): Yo! 

Clay (brightly): Happy birthday, Jimmy! 

Kimmel (after a quick glance at the display, sardonically): Setting aside for the moment that my birthday actually isn’t until tomorrow…who the hell IS this? Wait! don’t tell me – a telemarketer, right? That’s gotta be it. What’re you selling – aluminum siding? Life insurance? Subscriptions to The Watchtower? 

Clay (forced laugh): Aren’t you funny. Sooo…got any big plans fer the big day? Mebbe yore goin’ ta Disneyland? Or mebbe, like last year, just a date with a six-pack of Michelob? 

Kimmel (facetiously): I’m still not clear on who this is. I used to know some incredibly inconsiderate person from The Land of Dixie – a guy who used to call me at the crack of dawn pretending he didn’t know he rousing me from a drunken stupor, a guy I vaguely remembering having on my show about six times…but that guy hasn’t been in touch for months. 

Clay (contrite): Okay, Ah’ve bin bad, I know it…Ah don’t blame ya fer bein’ ticked o--- 

Kimmel: For your information, Rip Van Winkle, I’m NOT ticked off. If anything, I’m entirely indifferent. (He isn’t.) Friends don’t forget to call friends for FIVE months. Especially when one friend has been leaving another friend messages that are completely IGNORED. 

Clay: Jimmy, Ah’m sorry – Ah was rilly busy, what with mah tour, an’ Parker – he’s a rill handful now – an’ all the travelin’ Ah bin-- 

Kimmel: Yeah, I heard about you, hopscotching around the country doing the PBS thing, rubbing elbows with the likes of Elmo, Yanni and those Celtic Windstorm guys. Have a nice collection of cheesy totebags now, do ya? 

Clay: Oh yeah…an’ more Sesame Street toys than Parker could ever play with even if he keeps ‘em till he’s shavin’ an’ askin’ fer the car keys. (pointedly) ‘Course, right now it sounds like Ah’m talkin’ ta Oscar the Grouch. 

Kimmel: Well, can you blame me? Since you didn’t see fit to fill me in on some of your other major “activities.” 

Clay: Huh? 

Kimmel: Since when have you – Mister “Yes, I’m Gay” on the cover of People-frickin-Magazine -- taken up with girls? 

Clay (blankly): Jimmy, Ah have no ahdea what yore talkin’ about. 

Kimmel: I saw some pictures online…you and some hottie nose-to-nose, flirting. You sly dog. Admit it, Clay – the whole “coming out” thing was just a clever ruse to get women, right? 

Clay (laughing): Oh, fer cryin’ out loud! How d’ya figger that? 

Kimmel: Please…it’s as old as Three’s Company. No, more like Aristophanes. Straight guy pretends to be gay to get close to hot chicks. 

Clay: “Hot chicks?” Jimmy, Ah know it’s bin a while, but when did you join the Rat Pack? 

Kimmel: About the time you started channeling Sinatra, kimosabe, in your sharkskin suit with your schmaltzy orchestra backing. What are you covering next – “It Was a Very Good Year?” 

Clay: Nah, Ah’ll leave that one ta William Shatner. Ah could never compete. 

Kimmel: Smart move. So, as far as chicks go…I’m kind of surprised you aren’t aiming a little, y’know, younger. 

Clay: Younger? Casey – an’ she’s jest a friend – git yore mind outta the gutter but Ah guess that’s impossible since it’s YOU we’re talkin’ about – well, she’s younger’n me! Unless yore talkin’ about high schoolers, Ah don— 

Kimmel: Please. Those pictures I saw – well, that lady had to be 75 if she was a day. 

Clay (baffled): What—oh, wait! Yore talkin’ about Chicago. That cra—um…lady Arlene. 

Kimmel: Oh, so that’s her name! 

Clay: Yeah, she was…well…a little enthusiastic. 

Kimmel: Uh huh. Just like every one of your fans. 

Clay: Um…not exactly. 

Kimmel: By the way, were your ears burning? I mentioned your Claymates on the show the other night. 

Clay: Ah heard. Ah was rilly tetched that ya remembered. 

Kimmel: it’s pretty hard to forget a bunch of overzealous whatevers out in front of the El Capitan taking turns licking a clay bust. Or a “Clay bust,” as the case may be. Anyhow, to get back to the topic at hand – or hands! – what the heck was going on there? 

Clay (rueful laugh): Ah thought Ah was meetin’ a sweet lil’ ole grandma, givin’ her a nice memory in her old age. But she morphed inta a giant octopus as soon as Ah got two feet away. Lordy…every time Ah pried loose one hand, another hand was roamin’ somewhayre else. An’ the stuff she was sayin’ in mah ear…well, you better believe Ah gave Jerome what-fer afterward! Finally Ah managed ta git loose, no thanks ta him. 

Kimmel: So…no long-term relationship there, huh? 

Clay (flirtatiously): Now, Jimmy -- you know the only long-term relationship Ah have is with YOU. 

Kimmel: Isn’t that sweet. All I can say is – you better not miss another Valentine’s Day on my show, or we’re DONE. 

Clay: Ah’ll be thayre, Jimmy. (slyly) Ah hafta promote mah next tour, after all. 

Kimmel (melodramatically): I feel so CHEAP.
 
 

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©copyright 2010 Pink Armchair