“Stand Up For America”

By Shawn

Shawn: I have a new short film idea.
Ann: Oh, God…
Shawn: The idea is, FDR goes to complete in the 1936 Olympics so that he can get a chance to assassinate Hitler. I call it: “Stand Up for America.” Get it? It works on a lot of levels. ‘Cause FDR–
Ann: –can’t stand, yes, I got it.
Shawn: I’m thinking that when FDR wins the pole vault competition and Hitler comes over to shake his hand, FDR should spear him through the chest and yell, “Hey Hitler! Looks like there’s nothing to fear but spear itself!”
Ann: You’re really unacceptable.

Confession time. In a fit of whatever the hell it is that makes me do these things, I did draft a screenplay for this. Here’s a sample.

FDR: Members of the cabinet, I have called this meeting today because I wanted to discuss a matter that concerns all of you. Hitler’s Germany grows in power every day, and it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world suffers the consequences. I propose we stop the threat here and now before it’s too late.

SEC. WAR: Mr. President, the American people won’t support involvement in any European conflict, much less one we initiate!

FDR: I understand that, George. Which is why I’m going to take care of Hitler myself.

SEC. WAR: Mr. President . . . ?

FDR: My plan is to infiltrate the 1936 Olympics. They’re being held in Berlin in exactly one month, and Hitler will personally shake hands with all the gold medalists. That means all I have to do is win first place in the pole vault, and I’ll have a shot at taking him out.

SEC. WAR: Uhh . . . couldn’t we send someone else? Someone whose . . . um . . . legs work?

FDR: No, it has to be me. I couldn’t ask any other man to take that risk.  Which means I need to spend every second of every day between now and then training my body and mind to become the ultimate pole vaulting/killing machine. And you gentlemen are going to help me.

SEC. WAR: But Mr. President, you’ll be recognized! Hitler will see right through you!

FDR: (taking out mustache) Not if I don this clever disguise. With this gigantic mustache, Hitler is sure to take me for an Italian.

It pretty much keeps going downhill from there. This is why it’s important to listen to Ann sometimes.

“Real Boy”

Shawn: Fine, tell me it’s a bad idea, but when Real Boy goes up on Broadway and I say “I told you so . . .”

Ann: No, let’s get something straight here. Real Boy is not going up on Broadway. Because it’s your idea for a musical about a transsexual Pinocchio. No one will watch that.

Shawn: But—

Ann: Shawn. No one.

Shawn: People liked Transamerica.

Ann: Do you see how this is not the same as that?

Shawn: Did I tell you my idea for one of the musical numbers? It’s entitled, “I Don’t Want to Have a Woody.”

Ann: WHY ARE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT THIS?!

“Booth ‘n Friends”

Shawn: I know! Let’s write a children’s play about John Wilkes Booth to teach kids the importance of persistence!

Ann: No, Shawn.

Shawn: He could be all like, “Dang, missed again!” and then his friend could be like, “You’ll get him next time, Johnny!”

Ann: Absolutely not.

Shawn: The friend could be his talking gun!

Ann: WHY ARE ALL YOUR IDEAS TERRIBLE?!?!?!

No Villanelles.

For anyone who doesn’t know us, my brother and I are co-writing playwrights. And so, to unveil the mysteries of our writing process, we decided to introduce a new series of posts into our rotation: The Writing Process Revealed. This is just one such incident of what happens when siblings write together:

Shawn: The sonnet form is a little limited. Maybe we should write a villanelle!

Ann: Maybe you should shut up and die.

Mom: (overhearing) How on earth did you two ever write a play together?!

Shawn: Like this.

Ann: Yeah, exactly like this.