The Coffeehouse Routine

Originally written/spoken on November 22, 2010.

A few weeks ago, I showed one of my closest friends the stand-up routine I performed in high school. He told me that it teleported him back to those days when we would spend minutes or hours talking about pop culture figures, relationship issues, and nostalgic withdrawal. It had the same effect on me. Other than the muttering, the stuttering, the joke premises that didn't work, the only other thing I thought about was the laughter made by people I haven't seen in a year. If I was a more sensible man, I would make the effort to communicate with each and every one of the members of the audience again. The following is a stand-up routine I wrote for the 2nd coffeehouse event we had at our school, technically a charity event, and I was the only "comedian" performing. I was originally going to talk about love in excruciating detail comparing it to a bike chain and a sledgehammer; I worked on the premise for two months until I reconsidered the whole routine, a week before the performance. As I was on stage, I remembered how I once kicked a chair when the audience wasn't laughing. I made sure not to make that mistake again. The overall theme was how I was confessing to everyone how I was no longer funny, treating it like a medical condition with symptoms such as not being able to hear the punchline, and laughing at unfunny things. I kinda wished I took advantage of trying not to be funny and saying ironic statements regarding my "epiphany". It was very painful to listen to this again, understanding that the idea of becoming a comedian was an elusive fantasy that I had the chance to try, at least once. (Words in parenthesis are actions.) [Words in brackets are from the original routine/edited for clarity.]

(walk up to mic, grunt exasperatedly) Hello, everybody. It's nice to see you all. You look very nice and pretty, I guess. I have, um, a tale to tell you all. It's [like] a tapeworm: stringy, flexible, and possibly life-threatening. It’s, um, not really the easiest thing I have ever admitted to anybody. It’s probably less simple than when my brother told me that he was going to be a baseball star, a [testosterone-fueled] baseball star and I told him I was going to be a writer, and then he told me the reality of a writer is basically ten years of making sure that you can, you know, get something published in a magazine of some sort; and my hopes and dreams were crushed that day.

I’m no longer funny. (audience will disagree or agree; expect both) I know what you're saying. It’s not possible. It, it’s not even conceivable. And yet it is. Oh, yes it is. I saw the signs, they were as clear and present as a teacher’s pet, you know who usually sits at the front row holding a polished red apple or a building on fire. Only I didn’t tell the student to swallow his apple or get a fire extinguisher. I just let them be. See, senior year hasn't been one of the worst years; It's actually been one of the most relaxing, enjoyable of all the [academic] years I've yet experienced and nothing like the holy grail of all years that surpasses all other years. I don't even know where that, okay, there's the whole "We're leaving. We'll never see you guys again." Isn't that a little depressing, though? I mean, "I'm never going to see you again. I'm going to have a different life. I'm gonna go have some kids. I don't feel like ever talking to you ever again. I'm going go associate myself with people, who are more impressive than you." Okay, fine, in that case, senior year is a wonderful year. But actually, I've been having a lot of interesting conversations with a lot of people, mostly about falling. We really like to talk about the drop. We enjoy talking about people who suffer from the drop. People in general, people in the quad, me falling, Kramer from Seinfeld falling, have you seen this guy? This guy has the most amazing falling I've ever seen. It's almost as if he's on a frictionless floor that just defies all reality. It's amazing, a masterpiece of falling. So, if you want a good example of falling that isn't embarrassing, that's more of a [performance art piece], go, go see Kramer. He's pretty good at that.

It's actually been one of the more easier years. Times have been much easier, believe it or not. All those nightmares of seniors (older students) ripping their hairs out over all the stress were greatly exaggerated. We lost most of it during junior year. And the rest [working] on college aps. Recently, someone asked me if I was working on my applications this weekend and I stared at her for a few more seconds. A, applications? Applications? Does anyone say applications? Does anyone have enough patience TO SAY applications? The process [itself] is long, hard, you know, almost completely stressful and that's for the little bittest of hair. You know how hair is all over the place, it's on certain parts of the body that can't really be exposed at this moment? That would be the time period where you RIP those hairs OUT because there's no other kind of pleasure than getting those hairs, the invisible hairs, ripped-out! I mean, why [would] we ever need an elongated term like applications to remind us of the long, hard work that we just slave over only to receive a letter, only to wait patiently for a letter written by someone we don’t even know. It makes no sense to me. It makes no sense to me how paper can make someone's life-Like this! (takes out routine from your pocket) This (slap the sheet) piece of paper! It's made me suffer for the past two months! Paper. It's deadly. That's why there's paper cuts. That's why people complain about paper cuts because paper cuts-are deadly! We have to watch out for those.

Well anyway, senior year's been wonderful; I've had a chance to analyze a lot of things: movies, paintings, mental states, it’s all been very relaxing and easygoing. And I've actually had the opportunity to listen to many jokes, a lot of, a lot of really great jokes. Some very little knock-knock jokes, very little, 'orange you glad I said banana' kind of jokes. They've been very great, consistent jokes that are really masterful, even though the humor itself is more spontaneous than anything else. It's not exactly like a [registered] joke that someone's planned a long time for. It's more like one of those jokes that come out of nowhere, it's like popcorn popping. The joke is this little, tiny ball of kernel that just (POPS). It's almost amazing. However, there has been one crucial element to the joke that's omitted. The punch line. The thing is that I can see the punchline every time someone makes a joke, I can see [it] very clearly; it's out there in the distance. It waves to me and I wave back. (wave to the crowd) It has that moment like in those movies where there's an expectant smile, that really long face that's just full of emotions. "(in a high pitched voice, somewhat breath-taken) OH! Where have you been all my life?! I've been waiting for you for such a long time." And all I can say is, "Me too!" And I'm not the only one, I mean of course I'm not the only one who's listening to the joke; there's a lot of other people behind me in the crowd who are also waving. They're holding signs and back-up jokes to keep the joke alive. However, suddenly as someone tells the joke, "Knock knock. Who's there? Orange. Orange who? O-" (mouth out the rest of the joke). (sarcastically monotone) HAHAHAHAHAHA! Their mouths become mute. I hear nothing. I hear no vocal chords. There's nothing going on there, and I can't help but tell them, "Wait, say that again? Can you say that again? I couldn't hear that one. Could you say it again?" But, you know, people get so caught up in that one little moment. They don't even care about what you're thinking, about you missing the joke. You know, it's the strangest thing. Don't you wish you had a pen near you and you made sure that if someone could write down the joke, you could laugh at it; but it's a depressing thing, it's not even the same person telling the joke. It's basically someone's writing the joke on a piece of paper and you go back to your bed and you read it and you're crying and laughing at the same time. "(blubbering miserably) This is so-funny!" It's really depressing. But it's happened so many times since that I [don't really care.] "Oh, there goes another one of those jokes. Words spoken by sophisticates. (I made that word up, by the way.) Those people who think there's so much more comical than me. You know, another one just comes and goes."

However, and we always go back to the 'however', don't we? The 'however' changes the meaning of life because suddenly you hear someone talking about Luke Skywalker being Darth Vader's son. [Then,] they say, "However…" "However what? Tha, that's it." "However, it's also possible that he's a transvestite." However, recently, I was on the bus. It's a good bus, very good bus seats, comfortable. It's enjoyable looking out the window and seeing the road [shift] into different forms. No one's ever really looked at the road before and I don't see why. It's amazing, it's a part of our history. We see the flatness of the road and then the cracks, and then we see the more damaged cracks and then the flatness. It's amazing. There's yellow, there's white, and there's green. Sometimes, there's red. When there's red, I actually get kind of concerned; I don't think I want to look at the road anymore if I see red. In any case, I'm on the bus and there's some sophomores telling a joke and I listened attentively because there's nothing else to listen to; my MP3 player's broken. It was one of the most disturbing, horrific, ghastly, [most disgusting] jokes I’ve ever heard in my life. And it was funny. Immediately, I decided to receive medical attention. I was kicked out of the hospital the [following] day. Apparently, they thought it was all in my head. Like all of THIS (draw an imaginary circle around your face) isn't already in my head.

Well, it has been a loss,  no longer being funny. [Life happens. I’ve decided to accept the inevitable with my head up high, see the advantages of no longer being the life of the party, family, etc. I make comments, after all being funny doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t talk, it’s just that instead of laughing, people look at me with concern. This is not funny. This whole thing is not funny. See how far it’s gone? In any case, I’ve decided that it’s too much pressure trying to be funny, too many obstacles to cross. If you’re a funny guy like I used to be, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You know? (point to eyes) These things? The eyes are the funny person’s most dangerous obstacle. In a venue like this, eyes can double an audience. When the funny person makes a joke, it’s not the face he looks at, it’s the eyes, those blank, obtuse, globby, rounded things that observe your every move.] It seems that I'm out of time. Well, if you want to hear more about it, just talk to me and I'll tell you all about not being funny. Thank you very much, everybody. (walk offstage. Frown.)

P305-A Trip to Route 666 (The Death Valley Story)

Harold, in a Dante's Inferno-like journey, has his atheism challenged by none other than the devil himself who enjoys elaborate dance sequences.
 
The history of this episode is as long as the series itself. Unofficially the very first episode of the Presenters I ever came up with, (it's also the only episode that has an entire plot rather than just a vague description of what it could be about.) As I mentioned in the Season 3 description, it's also the only episode that I "performed" in front of my 10th grade geology class as a campfire story, only that my campfire was the bus lights. To a few, it was the highlight of the trip, and for me, it was one of the many highlights of my high school career. It's particularly remarkable that I still remember the entire plot even today as I attempt to piece it together in this blog post. I do remember that this episode was very similar both in timing and absurdity to The Simpsons/South Park/hell, even American Dad and seems to be the most unusual episode in comparison to the rest of the series. I consider it to be one of my favorite episodes and I'm proud to finally "present" it to you all for the first time. Every joke made is only for the sake of comedy so please, don't take it very seriously. Enjoy the show!
This post was edited by my brother, Gary Rodriguez.

THE OPENING: The screen turns on and the HBO logo is buzzing with TV snow. A slow hum plays as "Original Programming" appears under HBO. The screen goes black. The Presenters' logo lights up all of a sudden, cued by the theme song, the big band theme from Woody Allen's Sleeper. Some of the letters turn off/flicker on and off as the theme song plays for a few seconds. The logo is made up of carnival lights, similar to the logo for Boardwalk Empire. 
We cut to an empty road where a car suddenly appears in the focal point of the horizon. The car zooms by, revealing Harold singing along to AC/DC's Highway to Hell. He bangs his head to the beat shortly after "…The Promised Land," and accidentally hits the car horn. In the same moment, a flyer flies by the car and attaches to the left side view mirrors. Harold grabs the flyer. "Prepare yourselves for The Rapture. Don't be left behind! October 28th." Harold lets the flyer slip away from his hands: "That's a shame." The camera follows the flyer as it flies towards the sun. We cut to the Flowers United building. A few of the guys are in a circle sitting with their rollable chairs. Harold sits across from Tom telling his story.
Tom: It was late, about 9 o'clock when I left work. I was walking to my car, turning left and right for carjackers when suddenly, a woman showed up. She was dressed only in lingerie and asked me what I was doing tonight. I panicked and ran into the car, dropping my keys near the door. The woman called me a pussy and pulled out a crowbar, smashing the windows of the car saying, 'FUCK ME!!' I remembered how people can hot-wire the car and dove towards the pedals and pulled out the wires, begging to Christ that the car would start. She smashed the front door window and started reaching for my hair. I got the wires together and the car drove forward a few feet, dropping my would-be rapist to the ground. I thank God everyday that he gave me the strength to-
Harold: Hahahahahah!!!
Tom: What's so funny, Harold?
Harold: It's just kinda funny that you thanked God even though He'll never respond back.
Worker #1: What do you mean?
Harold: That He'll never respond because He doesn't exist.
The whole office gasps in horror and starts leaving in droves.
Tom: Of course, God exists. Who created the universe?
Harold: I don't know.
Tom: Exactly.
Harold: What kind of answer is that? No one knows.
Tom: Except the Lord Himself. It's no wonder you're such a troubled soul.
Harold: What the fuck are you talking about?
Tom: Language like that, my friend. Plus those blasphemous ideas you keep trying to pass off to The Editor. You have a lot to learn, my friend.
Tom stands up from his chair and walk towards the exit, leaving Harold fuming in his chair.
Harold: You guys are actually leaving. (dropping his arms in frustration) Jesus Christ. I can't- Ugh, you guys, you fucking bunch of-
The lights turn off, leaving Harold in the dark.
Harold: Goddamn it.
Harold works alone in his office, the weak glow from his computer being the only indicator of his impatience and disappointment to his whole staff. A tornado appears in the middle of the floor, catching a few invoices and scripts in a spiral. Harold stops typing, and turns back to look. The tornado suddenly starts striking bolts of lightning, one which hits Harold's chair. The tornado slows down, only to reveal a shrouded figure at the center.
Shrouded Figure: HELLO, HAROLD.
Harold: Hu,hello.
Shrouded Figure: Oh, you don't know who I am?
Harold: Uh, I think I do. I've seen plenty of movies.
Shrouded Figure: I am the DEVIL.
Harold: You don't look like the devil.
The Devil: OH, REALLY?! HA!
The Devil raises his arms and clenches his fists. The lights turn on.
Harold: That could've been an electrical issue.
The Devil: Oh, WELL, HOW ABOUT THIS?!
The Devil snaps with his right arm and shatters half of the lights.
Harold: (crossing his arms) Same thing.
The Devil: CLEVER BOY, AREN'T YOU?!
The Devil points towards the window and prompts Harold to walk towards it. Harold looks at the parking lot and watches as his car suddenly explodes.
Harold: I knew there was something wrong with the fuselage.
The Devil: OH, STOP IT NOW! I-AM-THE-DEVIL!!
The Devil stomps on the ground like a 5-year old and accidentally creating two holes from where he stands.
Harold: I'm sure you are. So, Mr. Devil, what are you doing here?
The Devil: I heard that you don't believe in GOD, am I right?
Harold: That's correct. I'm a devoted atheist.
The Devil: Well, don't you think it's very unusual how I'm standing here in front of you if supposedly God doesn't exist?
Harold: Not at all. For all I know, you could be a mentally damaged person suffering from hallucinations.
The Devil: Wha? Well, I guess there's only ONE way I can convince you I'm the real deal. We're-, (swoops towards Harold, and grabs his shoulders) going to HELL!!
The announcement cues another lighting bolt that destroys a light.
Harold: Well, it is kinda cold around here, and I'm sure Hell's very lovely this time of the year.
The Devil: (enthusiastically) I'm GLAD you think so! Better that you get acquainted now as it'll be your FINAL resting place.
Harold: (sarcastically) I'm sure it will be.
The Devil: Then it's agreed. Do you want to bring anything with you? Maybe a bottle of water?
Harold: No, I'm good.
The Devil: ALL RIGHT, THEN!!
The Devil moves back towards the center of the floor and grows to twice his size, still not tipping off Harold who looks at his untied shoes.
The Devil: (camera closes up on The Devil's face) LET'S GO TO HELL!!!
We cut to the Devil and Harold standing in the toilet as the Devil keeps pressing the toilet handle and making it flush.
The Devil: It takes a few tries. Hold on.
He presses it again.
We get to see the layers of the earth as The Devil and Harold drill themselves all the way down. A red dot on the earth marks their progress. We close up on The Devil and Harold, only to notice while The Devil is transparent, Harold isn't, and his entire body is being driven right into the layers of the earth, although he isn't being ripped to shreds.
Harold: You BASTARD! Why would you do this to me?!
The Devil: This isn't the Stairway to Heaven. I have to be consistent on appearances, you know?
Harold: YOU-
We cut back to the Earth map, as the red dot stops once it reaches the very core of the Earth. We cut to Hell, a flaming, boiling hellhole. The Devil passes through the ceiling and lands on the floor. Harold reaches the opening, and is pushed through the ceiling forcefully, circling around several times, and drops all the way to the floor. Harold shakes his head as he gets up, just as a water bottle drops on his head.
The Devil: Welcome to HELL!! AHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Two huge spirals of flames burst from the floor. Harold looks around and sees all the archetypes of Hell, a sign pointing someone to the elevator that takes you to the 2nd circle of Hell, the River Styx with a sign saying (Polluted. We're "taking care" of it.), some tortured people being whipped by The Devil's minions, and large condominiums.
Harold: What the-
A big band starts playing. The flame spires turn into lines for musical notes. The Devil slides into view while holding a top hat.
Harold: Uh-
The Devil plops on his top hat. He flips around backwards and pushes his arm forward just as a cane appears in its hand. The Devil pulls the cane back and spins and jumps on a platform emerging from the ground. Harold walks closer and wipes his brow, just noticing how unbearably warm it's become. The Devil starts singing, very similar to the Robot Devil's performance in Futurama; the camera cuts to his melodic chorus made up of people who have been stripped of their skin and as soon as they stop singing, they get whipped by small goblins. The Devil jumps from his perch and sings again, just as rock monsters emerge from the ground, only to pull out their own top hats and canes. The rock monsters start tap dancing in tune to The Devil's dance and are incredibly nimble in their performance. Harold sits with crossed legs as he moves his head in tune to the beat. The Devil raises his arms triumphant ally, cueing the end of the song. The rock monsters put on their hats, bow and fall apart, rolling on the ground as pebbles. The skinned chorus are whipped as they climb down from their platform. The Devil burns his top hat and cane while also teleporting back to Harold.   
The Devil: WEREN'T EXPECTING THAT, WERE YOU?
Harold: …no.
The Devil: Well, what are you waiting for? THE TOUR'S ABOUT TO BEGIN!
A stage light from the performance drops just out of view. Harold stands up, and walks with The Devil.
Harold: Do you have many visitors?
The Devil: Not really. We have been trying to improve the look of Hell to encourage tourists. We don't really get visitors though, only permanent residents.
Harold: I see. So is it like Dante Inferno's or- 
The Devil: Oh, no, no, no. It's nothing like that. I gave Dante a lot of creative freedom when he wrote his magnum opus. It's much, much worse.
Harold: Oh.
The Devil: Yeah. (pulling its cape like Dracula) LET ME SHOW YOU!
Harold and The Devil walk down a suburban area of Hell, made up entirely of cul-de-sacs and McMansions.
The Devil: We have a very nice assortment of rotten food except fish, that's always fresh. We only have one bathroom.
Harold: Oh, that must be-
The Devil: The cleanest place in Hell? Yes, it is.
Harold: Hmm.
The Devil takes Harold to a vibrantly clean white door compared to the red, chrome feel that surrounds all of Hell.
The Devil: The residents also have only one laundromat. People chuck their dirty clothes right into Purgatory and all of their stains are wiped clean.
Harold: How do people reclaim their clothes?
The Devil: With long hooks.
Harold: But how do they know if it's their- 
The Devil: Onto the next stop!
Harold: But-
The Devil takes Harold to the local park, where the only playground equipment is the fireman pole, and the roundabout. There's no conceivable way of climbing to the pole.
The Devil: Well, what do you think?
Harold: It's absolutely terrible! What do you want me to think?!
The Devil: Oh, goody! You hate this place, don't you?
Harold: Yes, yes, I hate this fucking place! I hate it! You've proved your point so when am I getting out of here?
The Devil: OUT OF HERE? YOU'RE NEVER GETTING OUT OF HERE!
Harold: What?!
The Devil: That's right! So I guess I'll see you on Friday for orientation. TA-TA!
Harold: Hey, where do you think you're going?!
The Devil turns into a dark cloud and floats away while laughing maniacally. Harold tries to grab him but only gets ahold of air, and drops on the bench. He jumps back noticing that he sat on a large spike.
Harold: That was unnecessary.
Harold walks around Hell, asking people to help him but nobody gives him the time of the day. Harold then asks someone for the time of the day to which someone punches his head with his wrist.
Male Hell Extra: It's 4 o'clock.
Harold: Thanks.
The guy walks away, leaving Harold sitting on the ground. He stands up in a hurry when he notices fire termites running on the ground. He looks up and sees a movie theatre showing Psycho in 5D. He walks towards the ticket booth.
Ticket Booth Man: 5 dollars.
Harold: Uh, my money burned up as soon as I made it here.
Ticket Booth Man: Oh, MR. HOWARDSON! I didn't know it was you! Come in, come in!
Harold: Uh, thanks.
Ticket Booth Man: (leaving the booth) Wait, wait, I have to give you your glasses!
The Ticket Booth Man pulls out the 5D cyan/magenta-colored glasses. He slaps the glasses on Harold, then pulls out a staple gun. He presses the staple gun against Harold's forehead and staples the glasses on.
Harold: AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!
Ticket Booth Man: Enjoy the movie!
Harold grabs his glasses and tries to pull it out. He begins tearing up and goes to the confectionary stand.
Harold: Hi. Can I have some popcorn?
Snack Booth Woman: Sure. What size?
Harold: Um, what's your smallest size?
Snack Booth Woman: Obese.
Harold: I'll take that.
Snack Booth Woman pulls out the popcorn and sprays on The Devil's brand of hot sauce.
Harold: Uh, I didn't want-
Snack Booth Woman: Enjoy the movie!
Harold: But-
The Snack Booth Woman pushes Harold out of the room, and causes Harold to spill some of his popcorn. The  popcorn burns a hole right through the floor. Harold walks to the front row, just when the iconic shower scene begins. Harold sits on the front row looking at the screen, only to notice that Janet Leigh is right next to him being stabbed.
Janet Leigh: AAH! AAH!
Harold: (holding the popcorn bucket) Neat.
Janet Leigh: (looking at Harold) You bastard! Why aren't you doing anything to stop this?!
Harold: I remember this scene being much scarier.
Janet Leigh: Asshole! 
Harold: Mmm. (looks down and sees there's no popcorn) AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! What is this?!
The popcorn bucket leaves Harold's arms and sucks him in. Harold drops into a realm dripping in psychedelic colors.
Harold: Wha, wh, what's happening?!
A large, severed hand grabs Harold's legs and pulls it off from his body. We can see Harold's stomach and intestines as the hand stretches it out. It touches the stomach and makes it glow. Harold closes his eyes and shifts his head back. The hand smushes Harold's intestines back into his body and drops him. Harold falls and stares at a giant reflection of himself. He breaks right through his reflected eye and continues to fall. The camera pulls back all the way to show Harold as a rotating speck surrounded by absolutely nothing.
Unknown Voice #1: When was the last time you saw something like this?
Unknown Voice #2: I don't know. A while, I'd imagine.
Unknown Voice #1: Sir, are you all right?
Harold: (looking in all directions, hurriedly trying to find the voice) WHAT?!
Unknown Voice #1: I don't think he heard me.
Harold: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Harold finally lands painfully on the white floor. He lies face-down on the ground. An unusual chorus of people start chanting his name in unison. Harold sits up and clenches his teeth. He looks in all directions.
Harold: God, is that you? Listen, I'm a very stupid man. I believe in many things, such as aliens and goodwill. I'm just as foolish as anyone else!! Please, I'm a young man. I have many years to repent my many, many sins. I can start right away! Please, please forgive me! I'll do anything!!
The white space disappears as we notice the devil holding a really bright flashlight away from Harold.
The Devil: ANYTHING?
Harold: AH! What the fuck are you doing here?! Where's God? I thought I was in Purgatory?
The Devil: Naw, you've been here the whole time. So…do you repent your SINS?!
Harold: Yes, yes, anything you want, please!
The Devil: Excellent! Looks like someone owes me 10 dollars.
Harold: What are you talking about?
The Devil: I snuck into one of God's parties in Heaven, (whispers in Harold's ears) wild stuff, (moves back) I saw the great white bearded one dancing to Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries, and before he kicked me out, we agreed on a bet that if I could convert someone, I'd get 10 dollars.
Harold: I guess, ultimately, that's what everybody's life is worth.
The Devil: (nods) Well, you can't have Christianity without The Devil. You're free to go!
The Devil pulls out a toilet handle and pushes it down. Harold gets sucked up and taken back to the surface. The Devil waves him goodbye. He begins to frown.
The Devil: (speaking to one of his minions) Holy crud, that guy was a jerk!
Back on the surface, Harold walks into the office where he sees his co-workers talking in a circle again.
Harold: Hey guys! How are you doing?
Tom: Oh, uh, Harold, we're kinda having a religious conversation here and we know how insensitive you can be about that.
Harold: Well, hold on, I actually-
Worker #1: Seeing as you're a product of the devil and all.
Harold stands at the entrance and grabs one of his pencils. He thinks for a moment before reconsidering his unnecessary tirade.
Harold: Right. The devil. I'm gonna go see what the writers are up to real quick. Excuse me.
Harold walks back and heads to the elevator. The elevator doors open and Harold walks in.
Harold: Someone just lost ten dollars.
The episode ends as soon as the elevator doors close.

"Mental" Notes: The Presenters Napkin Notes

With the end of the series, there were many unused ideas that weren't quite right for the series or were just terrible ideas that weren't worth developing, or were ideas that made perfect sense to me but little to anyone else. Ideas highlighted in bold are previously intended episodes that were dropped in the last minute. Consider this as an unaired forth season.

The Animated Soap Opera(Intended Season Arc for Season 2) Harold wants to prove his chops by doing something nobody(for many reasonable reasons) has ever attempted. The project nearly destroys Harold. 

The Intervention(Season 1) Harold admits to everyone that he has never tried a single drug in his life. Everyone tries to convince to do so. Meanwhile, Harold argues with a girl in the street who tells him that a viral video of his "high" voice was the funniest thing she's ever seen.

The Presentation(Season 3) Harold, on the eve of a large presentation, begins hyperventilating upon the sight of hundreds of heads and bodies assembling in the same room. he's been drinking a bottle of water, which sloshes back and forth on the walls. As more people greet him and wish him luck, Harold ignores them and instinctively taps his bottle. Reni, normally obnoxious, approaches Harold and wishes him luck. Harold mentions to her how uncomfortable he feels. 'Is it me?' "Not this time. There's too many people here; I'm getting claustrophobic." 'I think you can just leave now, I'm sure no one will mind.' "You think so?" 'Yeah.' "Hmm." Instead, he sticks around and has, arguably, his most enjoyable conversation all day. "Yeah, I think I'll slip out." 'Alright, well...Nice talking to you,then.' "Same." Harold leaves, giving a small wave to Reni and swaggering the last drops of water.

Friends with Stupid Faces(Season 2) Harold gets invited to his friend’s house for a get-together, but once he realizes what the occasion is, he bails(He doesn’t want to see a reality TV show like Keeping Up with the Kardashians.) Upon walking to the nearest bus stop, he decides his behavior was childish and walks back, just when the bus stops next to him. Harold signals for the bus to move on, but the bus driver insist Harold comes, going so far as to offer a free bus ride. Turns out that nobody has been on the bus for the past weeks and the driver desperately wants to have a conversation with anyone, even a loner. Harold leaves, despite, and walks back, wondering why the driveway has one car instead of two. Harold knocks on the door and in the same instant, it opens. Harold learns that they left, since they began wondering why they were watching the show. “It’s just bitches slapping each other. It’s Bitchslap: The Show!” Harold apologizes and insists in calling the guys back just as one of his friends makes the signal to get the bucket.

The Substitute Teacher(Season 2) Harold temporarily gets a job as a teacher(gets the chance to try teaching an art class, but being despised by everyone for being a product of the media[despite Harold being an avant-guarde animator]). Meanwhile, he tries to buy an expensive marble for his wife's marble collection and ends up buying it three times(montage musically surrounded with Mozart's Piano Concerto), angers a student who mentions she has a boyfriend casually during class("Don't you think that's a hoity-toity comment?"-Harold), and begins questioning the ethics of holding the door open for people.

The Note(Season 1) One friday afternoon, Harold receives a note from an unknown source. Perplexed by the complexity of the short 5-word note, Harold embarks on a short journey, trying to discover the note's origin. Harold sees Tom and asks him, "hey. Tom" 'what's up?' "can you read this?" 'hmm...is this a treasure map...description?' "no, i found it right by my folder. It's the weirdest thing i've ever found." 'Huuuuuuuh. well, whatever it is, i wish you good luck on your unnecessary journey.' "ya, thanks, asshole." Tom leaves and Harold goes off to the nearest wall, taking some charcoal with him and inscribes the message on his notebook. For some reason, the note paralyzes Harold's thinking process and he ever does for the rest of the week is attempt to figure out what the note means, if anything.

Centripetal Force(Season 3) Harold tries to help a homosexual friend enter the dating scene. His co-workers, friends, bosses, and loved ones believe Harold might be a closeted homosexual. They test Harold's masculinity by telling Harold to sit in a chair for an hour and stare at "Michealangelo's David", while she, Tom, and the Editor count the amount of times when Harold looks at the testicles.

"Face" Value(Season 3) Harold has a conversation with a good friend of his, only realizing later that he had mistaken her for someone else. The incident confuses Harold and makes him act like he's been violated.  His friend Tom, unaware of the underlying seriousness, tries to convince Harold otherwise.

Are You Wearing Blue Lipstick?(Season 3) Tom watches the Dark Knight again and becomes inexplicably obsessed with the Joker's personality. Meanwhile, Harold meets up with a sensitive, old friend and accidently brings up the "blue waffle".

The Night Out(Season 3) Tom, Marcy, and Harold's wife go out to a new club opening in the city while grumpy, unhip Harold stays at home, lamenting on a night lost.
Harold is asked by his best friend Tom to go with him and his girlfriend, Marcy, to a club. Harold hesitates but decides to go. At the club, Harold is stimulated by the multitude of colors and sensual behavior and decides to sit down where he is harassed by a group of beautiful women. After five minutes, he sneaks out and finds his car. He pulls off his traffic ticket and starts his car. Moving the stick to drive, the car shoots off incredibly fast and causes uncontrollable mayhem in the city. The car pulls out a portal gun and creates 2 portals that cause the car to drop into the river. In a panic, Harold hastily tries to break the windows but can't and sinks into the river.
"That would never happen."
"Says who?"
"The laws of physics."
We're back in Harold's house, where he is sitting across his wife, arguing about why he shouldn't go to the club.
"Let's not forget about the beautiful women. I could cheat on you!"
"Harold."
Ultimately, Harold decides to switch places with his wife who goes to the club instead while Harold stays home and reads a book. The camera closes in on Harold as he pops open a book.
"Chapter 1..."
A quick cut and we're back at the club, one of the trendiest places in the city.

The Job Interview(Season 3) Harold considers leaving Flowers United after getting an offer to join Pixar. On the day of the interview, Harold, after realizing what a horrible candidate he is for Pixar, convinces Tom to go to the interview and impersonate Harold.

Patty, Just Patty(Season 2) Tom Flounderman goes through a brutal divorce, and looks upon Harold for necessary guidance that Harold doesn't provide. In an achingly long week filled with burden and court disputes, Tom finds hope when he meets a 15 year old girl named Patty and begins a romantic relationship with her.

-Harold talks w/ one of his friends though it’s in the guise of an argument.
“I hope you fall down the stairs!”
‘I hope you get in a wheelchair!’
While he speaks, Mary from writing has been listening and is horrified.
“What’s wrong with you?”
‘Oh, Mary, hi!’
“Wha-What the hell was that about?!”
‘Oh, that? That was nothing. We were just having fun.’
“You think belittling others is fun?”
‘Only when you get creative. Like, um…I hope you get in a car accident and survive! Stuff like that.’
“You’re sick!”
Mary runs away, leaving Harold confused and observant_“Heello. Welcome to my…lo-cation.”

-Harold is taken hostage by a group of babies.

-Episode called You're Jealous! which satirizes the most overused emotion in sitcoms

-A unorthodox christmas special where everything goes wrong with Harold and his family during the two days before Christmas, call it the "Death" of Christmas.

-an episode that similarly to Seinfeld's The Chinese Restraurant, only takes place in the movie theater during the sneak previews

-Harold behaves unusually dickish one day, bringing confusion and death threats to the studio.

-An idea for a prank goes horribly wrong when Harold upsets a writer who quits in a huff. The prank involves a recording of a normally-level headed writer swearing like an Italian gangster.

The Presenters (Season 3)

After years of negotiating the many lawsuits made last season, HBO has approved one more season of The Presenters. Prepare yourselves for the most confusing, existential, and ridiculous season yet. Fridays at 9 only on HBO.

P301-The Secret to Human Interaction Harold discovers his wife has been drinking to alleviate her stress of being married to him. When he notices how much easier it becomes to talk with her, he applies this knowledge to become more sociable and irritable.

P302-When Harold "Somethinged" Marcy Harold tries to become more open with the writers at Flowers United and befriends one of the main writers, Marcy. After Harold inadvertently damages Marcy's reputation, Harold tries to apologize by pretending to be Bruce, her "secret" admirer.

P303-Cannibal Kittycat Killers Harold's parents drop by much to the dismay of The Howardsons. Harold unpacks his parents' luggage and finds a stolen Francis Bacon of kittens being mutilated. Harold rushes to his car to return the painting while his parents chase after him.

P304-The Contradiction Hal gets accused of being a slacktavist at his high school. In a moment of desperation, he decides to live like a homeless person for 1 whole week.

P305-A Trip to Route 666 Harold, in a Dante's Inferno-like journey, has his atheism challenged by none other than the devil himself who enjoys elaborate dance sequences.

P306-Academic Viewing Harold goes to the Sundance Film Festival and drags his son Hal along with him. While Harold "researches" the animated films on display, he discovers Hal's obsession with exploitation films.

P307-Acceptance With the holidays quickly approaching, Harold wishes to brighten up his cowokers' spirits by inviting them to a "Coexist" dinner. His curiosity gets the better of him when he accidentally riles up everybody's stance on their respective religions.

P308-Harold Meets a Time Paradox Renowned performance artist Daniel Plainview visits his newest exhibit at the local art museum. Harold anxiously meets Daniel and as a sign of good faith, criticizes Daniel's work fairly although Daniel takes the criticism very personally.

P309-The Council Harold learns of a supposedly good animated film called The Council which has been banned for nearly 50 years for its approval of bisexual polygamy. Harold and Tom plan a public screening of The Council while his wife and his son, Hal, unbeknownst to him, try to sabotage the screening.

P310-The Motivational Speech News of Flowers United getting into a financial crisis depresses everybody. A well-intended motivational presentation has the opposite effect on everyone, including The Editor who decides to pursue his life's dream of becoming a controversial issue.

P311-Harold Howardson's Wife After two and a half seasons, Harold's wife embarks on a journey to find out what her actual name is or at least to beat up the censor who's been bleeping out her name.

P312-Presenting This Man and His Comedy Harold performs at a comedy club and debuts his 20-minute routine.

P313-Nazi Sensibilities In a desperate attempt to save Flowers United from bankruptcy, The Editor begrudgingly approves the production of Nazi Sensibilities (NS), Harold's ambitious short film. Notice of the studio's closure creates a lot of tension during NS's production and everyone but Harold, Tom, Marcy, Reni, and The Editor decide to abandon the project. Meanwhile, Hal is transferred to a private boarding school for his academic excellence. Harold and his recently named wife, Elizabeth, prepare Hal's luggage and drop him off at the airport. As Harold and Elizabeth return to their home, now lacking of their son and his possessions, Harold gets a phone call from The Editor. The phone call prompts Harold and Elizabeth to have one more conversation together.

This is the last season of The Presenters. It's been a wonderful 4 years developing these characters and creating these outrageous scenarios that no sane network producer would ever approve for broadcast. Even though I posted the 1st season a year ago and technically being the only exposure anyone's ever had of this "series", this has been one of my most persistent ideas that has always popped up in my head every once in a while these past 4 years. It was something I looked forward to every Monday evening shortly after school when I could let the ideas flow out in a nervous gabble that somehow made sense every time. It would be the first time I swear out loud if only to capture the rapid-fire feeling of the characters' delivery. As I've said before, the first time I came up with a Presenters episode was around the same time I started watching Curb Your Enthusiasm so it made sense how most of the episodes in the first season are very Curbish although rather than being a blatant ripoff or a spiritual tribute, they were meant to go beyond the limits of a live-action program.  In short, the first season was a very desperate attempt of being bizarre but there were a few examples that tried to be tastefully experimental. Season 2 was when the series started finding its voice and became much more personal in trying to understand who exactly these characters were trying to be such as Harold becoming more of a desperate entertainer than a neurotic narcissist. A few of these episodes were meant to deal with issues I still haven't completely forgotten about such as Harold reuniting with his high school friend Sarah, dealing with his childhood traumas and getting infatuated with an actor's voice. I did notice that this season rarely dealt with Harold's family, an issue I addressed with in the third season. I personally consider the 2nd season to be the best of the entire "series" with each episode perfectly detailing the characters without having to resort to previous templates and was where the series was right where it had to be. Season 2 was a difficult thing to try to surpass when I started considering episodes for the 3rd season. Strangely enough, the first episode I ever came up with was Season 3's A Trip to Route 666; In the first version, none of the characters were fully established and Harold was working at a dead end job where he is suddenly visited by the devil. To this day, it's the only episode that I "performed" live for a group of people, specifically, it was my horror/comedy story I told to my Geology class when we went on a trip to Death Valley in 10th grade. The trip is still one of the highlights of my high school career. It was very well-recieved even though it was very unusual. I've been working on Season 3 three months after I posted Season 2, and it would be the first time I would have an entire episode concept completely thrown out in the last minute due to being nearly impossible to describe in just a few words. Season 3 went through several revisions and many rearrangements and I still think more could be done to improve it, but as with my many other unfinished projects, it's one less burden to worry about. I would like to thank my brother, Gary Rodriguez, for encouraging me throughout the thinking process and for contributing his input in revising Season 3's descriptions and for providing the idea for "Cannibal Kittycat Killers". I would like to thank Justin Bretter, Jackson Foster, Adrian Lindo, Lorenz Kim, and Gil Young for being curious enough to listen to my recorded story descriptions back when the show was in its infancy. I'd also like to thank the people who visit my blog and take the time to read insane ideas/concepts like this one as it spurs me to improve my writing every step of the way. Comments/constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you and good luck.

The Fortisixth One

The following is a stream-of-consciousness post. Apologies.

A person can make only so many promises to someone. People are incredibly harsh when it comes to mistakes, depending on how severe they are. And yet, some of us, the foolish ones, remain faithful to the liars who continue to break those promises.

My father the drunken fucking bastard.

The clock has run out.

It's been rewound many, many times before and even replaced after it breaks, but finally it's run out. After 19 years, the clock has stopped running, and I've had the nerve to throw it in the trash.

When you accept that life is a roller-coaster that peaks in its insanity and drops in interest constantly, what is the point of riding the same coaster over and over again when every ride ends in a violent, fiery crash?

The brute, the barbarian, spewing out his bits of language in different settings like a sprinkler. Only swear words can escape his lips, putrid words that falter in flight as soon as they're spoken, dragging themselves onto the ground much like pouring salt in the gardens.

He stands proudly on his territory, a broken household filled with cockroaches and rats, his closest companions. A tiled-up porch broken to bits, a gaping hole beggin' for someone's leg to get caught up in it and snap right off. A house that has a clear view onto the neighborhood, full of fools, bastards, drunks, liars, adulterers, idiots, believers, nonbelievers.

I sympathized with the beast many times. It was his birthday the following Thursday, and we did very little to recognize it besides sending a birthday text. How lonely can someone be when his own sons abandon him like this? He has a very difficult job. He's a construction worker and a damn fine one.  I wouldn't be surprised if that was the reason that sets him off.

The beast is capable of camouflage, disguising reality with trickery, able to produce tears that even the saltiest oceans couldn't. He stuck to his story for almost a year now and we kept pulling ourselves back into it but we couldn't help but listen.

It's morning time now but my body is still in action mode. I don't think I fell asleep to tell you the truth. If I did, I'd probably feel more in tune, refreshed but instead I can only remember the position of the room, the yellow light marking its way in the room as the beast stumbled from his cave to cast us out. The brave warriors holding their weapons but forced to drop them as they knew they would only be repelled by the beast's scales.

If none of this makes any sense, how could it ever? How does it feel to have irrefutable proof that someone you once loved can't be saved.

In 11th grade, I was the only one who defended Blanche Dubois of not being crazy, but at the very end of Streetcar Named Desire, I found out she was. And so I've made it to the end of my own play, with all the ducks in a row ready for fire.

Life sucks. That might be the most blunt way to say that but sometimes, that's the only way you can say the obvious. Life fucking sucks.

End scene.