34Two Minute Comedy

"Give us Two Minutes... We'll Give You Too"

A Series of Two Minute Comedy Sketches for short attention span theatre

The Last Harblingaha…
A Two Minute Comedy

Treacher - 40, a nervous functionary
Doc Saubon - 50, an attractive woman

Emergency Room examination area.   Treacher sits on the examination table.  He clutches a large package wrapped in a plastic bag.  He looks around nervously.  Doc Saubon enters and glances at his chart.

Saubon: Good morning.  I’m Doctor Saubon.  What seems to have happened to your… hand?

Treacher: Ah… It… It’s causing me a lot of pain.

Saubon: And what kind of pain do you have?

Treacher: It’s hand pain.  I have this… Dull aching pain in… my hand. 

Doc Saubon pauses, looks at the package Treacher is holding.

Saubon: What’s in the package?

Treacher: Ah… That’s what I need you to look at Doc.

Saubon: (reading) Says here you had an accident.  What kind of accident?

Treacher: That’s the problem doctor… You see I was working late last night.  I work late sometimes because the office is quiet and I can get more… work done, y’know?

Saubon: Okay.

Treacher: So, I was working late and I got a little hungry, so I went into the break room for a coffee.

Saubon: (reading) Where is it you work Mr. Treacher?

Treacher: The Department of Federated Affairs… Division C, Financial Authority.  I’m Division Vice President.

Saubon: And what happened to your hand?

Treacher:  Well, it’s really… really hard to explain. 

Saubon: I am due in surgery in forty minutes Mr. Treacher.  You told Intake this was an “emergency.” 

Treacher:  Oh it is.  It really is.  It’s just that… Well, maybe I should just let you take a look for yourself. 

Saubon: Fine. 

Treacher starts to unwrap the plastic package.  It’s awkward  because he uses only one hand.

Treacher: I don’t know how this happened.   It’s some kind of freak thing that… I tried all night to fix it… But, everything I tried didn’t …

Saubon: (impatient) Can I help you with that?  How ‘bout we take a scissors…

Treacher: Ah, yeah, sure that would… make it a little easier.

Saubon produces a scissors and begins to cut the plastic bag away.

Treacher: Doc I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here.  It’s a silly thing really and I just couldn’t think of another way to fix the… situation.  Which is why I’m here.

Saubon: I’m sure we can do something to help once I get a look…

She throws away the plastic and stares at Treacher’s left hand.  It  is jammed into a shiny metal jar.  Saubon pauses.  She delicately raises it for a closer look.

Saubon: Your hand seems to be stuck in this… metallic container. 

Treacher: Right.

Saubon: This is the source of your pain?

Treacher: Yeah.

Saubon: How, exactly did this happen?

Treacher: (mumbles) I was trying to get the last harbligaha…

Saubon: I’m sorry.  You were trying to get the…?

Treacher: (mumbles) Las harblingaha - hee…

Saubon: I’m sorry Mr. Treacher but I can’t understand you.  You were trying to get the last…?

Treacher: (mumble, cough) Ahhooky…!

Saubon: A hookey??  What’s a hookey?

Treacher: (humiliated) Not hookey… Cookie!  I was trying to get the last cookie!

Saubon stares.  Treacher suddenly grabs the jar and furiously tries to wrestle it off.

Treacher: (angry) I swear to God it is a MF plot to make me look like a fool!!

He gyrates wildly.  He falls off the table to the floor and struggles.   Saubon stares.

Saubon: Why in the world would anyone want to do that?

Treacher: (raging) Because there are creeping… little moles in the world that can’t stand… anyone who wants to live the good life!! 

He clamps the jar between his feet and tries to pull it off.  His face contorts in pain.

Saubon: Mr. Treacher you’re only making it worse.  Why don’t you get back up on the table and let me take a closer look.

Treacher: (in agony) Ahhh!!!  Okay, I will… it’s just that… You understand this is doctor patient privilege here…right?

Saubon: Of course Mr. Treacher.  I would never reveal that (reads chart) a Division Vice President for The Department of Federated Affairs,  Division C, Financial Authority had somehow gotten his hand caught in a… A hookey jar.

Treacher looks at her suspiciously.  She smiles, and starts pulling on a latex glove.

Saubon: (brightly) Let’s start with a little Vaseline…
They stare at each other.