The Gang Finds Themselves In...
The Sixties
Am: Stupid bitch.
S: Damn it!
A: Oh shit.
M: Here we go again.
D: I want my Aly.
A: Dhani, I'm right here!!
D: Yay! (Grabs on)
QB: I'll kill BZ.
C: Where are we, Queen Beth?
QB: Dunno, but it looks like we're in the sixties, by the styles.
(Someone walks by in a tube catsuit)
M: What am I wearing?!
(She's in a corseted tube top and tight skirt with high top boots and
wild makeup)
Am: Hot, hot, hot, HOT DAMN, Marie!
M: Amit!!!
A: Look at this dress! (Wearing a flower print tightsuit dress)
D: Hot cha CHA!
S: You think THAT'S BAD? Look at me!! (Wearing a ruffled shortsleeve
blouse and purple bellbottom pants and moccasins)
C: Me wearing weird pants!
QB: Who thought of these tight leather jackets, jeans, and jiggelos?
(Jiggelos are high topped sandals)
S: (bursts into laughter) Look at the guys! Flower print Hawaiian
shirt and flare jeans on Amit and Elvis-ish jacket and pants on Dhani!
And their HAIR! (laughing)
Am: Hey, hey, don't badmouth the hair!
(Hair slicked out like Elvis)
(The girls can't stop laughing)
C: Weirdo weirdo weir-do!! (Points at D)
D: Uh! Me no talk to you no more you meanie poo butt in weird jeanies!
A: Dhani, talk in a voice a sensible almost-19-year-old would use.
D: Oopsie, meeza in trouble.
A: (sigh heavily) Suit yourself.
M: Well?
QB: Well what?
M: WHAT NOW?
QB: Chill.
S: No, she's right. I want to be back where I don't have to wear
clothes like this!
QB: We'll figure something out.
D: (In a very small voice) I need new underwear.
S: Ew, sick, DHANIIIII!!!!
A: He can't help it, he's scared.
C: Ooooo, he scared, he scared!! Hahaha!
A: C'mere, Hani-Boy.
D: Thanks Aly.
S: Well? Are we thinking about how to get our ot here?
QB: When do I ever?
S: (pause) Good point.
Am: I want to shimmy and a half turn, stay alive, an' dance dance dance
till half-past five!
(silence)
M: Sweetie, are you okay? Has all that hair gel gone to your brain?
S: Yes, I would be worried about him if I were you.
M: Hush up, Sara!
QB: Hey, let's all of us just calm down.
D: Calm down?? Me?? Are you NUTS?? When do I ever calm down, huh?
Tell me that!!
(Silence)
C: Chill out, blonde boy with soiled boxers.
M&A: Chibi!!
Am: Point me to the nearest disco!! (Dancing)
A: Disco? This is the sixties. Disco is seventies.
Am: (Disappointed, starts drooping) Awww.
S: Yes, I know, it's disappointing, isn't it?
D: Ehhh...
C: Hey, look, wormhole!!!
All: Huhhh?? (Looks up.)
C: Gotchaaa!!! Hehehehehehehe.
All: Chibiiii!
D: Stopyaaa, me a scaredy ass munch!!
C: Ohhoho, we all know that, blondie baby boy.
A: Diieeeeeeeeeee!!!!
M: Chill.
A: Oops.
Am: Almost a catfight, there.
C: Disco is dead, cabbage-head.
Am: I want to kill someone who helped kill disco.
M: Amit, SHUT YOUR TRAP ABOUT IT!!!
Am: Eep, noo, yipies.
M: (sigh) Urrrghhh.
S: La di diddly bla da.
D: This doesn't make any sense.
QB: Do our misadventures EVER make any sense?
D: Oh, um, no, you're right, yeah, uh-huh.
QB: Hey, I'm always right!
S: Yeah, you of all people should KNOW that by now.
D: Up-shutzies.
S: Hiiii-ya!
D: Owwwwiiies! Me in painy-wainy.
A: Sara! Don't you ever hurt my sweet little naïve... pooper scooper
like that again.
S: (snort) Pooper scooper?
A: Shut up.
M: (giggling) Pooper scooper. That's a new one.
A: (Blushing red) I was at a loss for words, so sue me.
D: I will tonight, my little pooper-scooper-dooper.
A: Oh my Lord and Lady.
Am: Ew, ew, bad image in brain, bad image in brain!!!
QB: Okay, let's see... How to get out of this?
M: Mortally maim BZ.
S: No, kill BZ. Chop her apart with a meat cleaver.
M: No no no no no no (in French) non non non non non...
S: Fermez le bouche, Marie. (Trans.-shut up.)
(M and S start babbling in French)
A: (aside to Dhani) Miss' on keska... (Trans.-That's it, then)
QB: Quit it with the foreign languages!!! I can't take it anymore!
(All silent)
QB: Thank you.
C: I not kid you this time, machine-over there.
QB: By George and Georgina, you're right!!
C: Machine there-get in, we go back home!
A: THEN we find BZ and mortally wound her.
M: Good call, chiquitita.
A: Yerps.
M: Say what?
A: Never mind.
(All pile into the machine and take themselves back to the present)
S: Ahh, that's better. (Looking down at her tank top and jeans)
QB: Now, to find BZ. (Punches fist into palm three times)
BZ: (From behind pillar) Noo.
D: There she is! Pound her!
BZ: Eyaaaah!!! Don't kill me please I beg of you!!!!
QB: You don't understand Bzethio.
S: Yeah. The fun is just beginning.
BZ: Eep.
END SKIT.
The Sixties
Am: Stupid bitch.
S: Damn it!
A: Oh shit.
M: Here we go again.
D: I want my Aly.
A: Dhani, I'm right here!!
D: Yay! (Grabs on)
QB: I'll kill BZ.
C: Where are we, Queen Beth?
QB: Dunno, but it looks like we're in the sixties, by the styles.
(Someone walks by in a tube catsuit)
M: What am I wearing?!
(She's in a corseted tube top and tight skirt with high top boots and
wild makeup)
Am: Hot, hot, hot, HOT DAMN, Marie!
M: Amit!!!
A: Look at this dress! (Wearing a flower print tightsuit dress)
D: Hot cha CHA!
S: You think THAT'S BAD? Look at me!! (Wearing a ruffled shortsleeve
blouse and purple bellbottom pants and moccasins)
C: Me wearing weird pants!
QB: Who thought of these tight leather jackets, jeans, and jiggelos?
(Jiggelos are high topped sandals)
S: (bursts into laughter) Look at the guys! Flower print Hawaiian
shirt and flare jeans on Amit and Elvis-ish jacket and pants on Dhani!
And their HAIR! (laughing)
Am: Hey, hey, don't badmouth the hair!
(Hair slicked out like Elvis)
(The girls can't stop laughing)
C: Weirdo weirdo weir-do!! (Points at D)
D: Uh! Me no talk to you no more you meanie poo butt in weird jeanies!
A: Dhani, talk in a voice a sensible almost-19-year-old would use.
D: Oopsie, meeza in trouble.
A: (sigh heavily) Suit yourself.
M: Well?
QB: Well what?
M: WHAT NOW?
QB: Chill.
S: No, she's right. I want to be back where I don't have to wear
clothes like this!
QB: We'll figure something out.
D: (In a very small voice) I need new underwear.
S: Ew, sick, DHANIIIII!!!!
A: He can't help it, he's scared.
C: Ooooo, he scared, he scared!! Hahaha!
A: C'mere, Hani-Boy.
D: Thanks Aly.
S: Well? Are we thinking about how to get our ot here?
QB: When do I ever?
S: (pause) Good point.
Am: I want to shimmy and a half turn, stay alive, an' dance dance dance
till half-past five!
(silence)
M: Sweetie, are you okay? Has all that hair gel gone to your brain?
S: Yes, I would be worried about him if I were you.
M: Hush up, Sara!
QB: Hey, let's all of us just calm down.
D: Calm down?? Me?? Are you NUTS?? When do I ever calm down, huh?
Tell me that!!
(Silence)
C: Chill out, blonde boy with soiled boxers.
M&A: Chibi!!
Am: Point me to the nearest disco!! (Dancing)
A: Disco? This is the sixties. Disco is seventies.
Am: (Disappointed, starts drooping) Awww.
S: Yes, I know, it's disappointing, isn't it?
D: Ehhh...
C: Hey, look, wormhole!!!
All: Huhhh?? (Looks up.)
C: Gotchaaa!!! Hehehehehehehe.
All: Chibiiii!
D: Stopyaaa, me a scaredy ass munch!!
C: Ohhoho, we all know that, blondie baby boy.
A: Diieeeeeeeeeee!!!!
M: Chill.
A: Oops.
Am: Almost a catfight, there.
C: Disco is dead, cabbage-head.
Am: I want to kill someone who helped kill disco.
M: Amit, SHUT YOUR TRAP ABOUT IT!!!
Am: Eep, noo, yipies.
M: (sigh) Urrrghhh.
S: La di diddly bla da.
D: This doesn't make any sense.
QB: Do our misadventures EVER make any sense?
D: Oh, um, no, you're right, yeah, uh-huh.
QB: Hey, I'm always right!
S: Yeah, you of all people should KNOW that by now.
D: Up-shutzies.
S: Hiiii-ya!
D: Owwwwiiies! Me in painy-wainy.
A: Sara! Don't you ever hurt my sweet little naïve... pooper scooper
like that again.
S: (snort) Pooper scooper?
A: Shut up.
M: (giggling) Pooper scooper. That's a new one.
A: (Blushing red) I was at a loss for words, so sue me.
D: I will tonight, my little pooper-scooper-dooper.
A: Oh my Lord and Lady.
Am: Ew, ew, bad image in brain, bad image in brain!!!
QB: Okay, let's see... How to get out of this?
M: Mortally maim BZ.
S: No, kill BZ. Chop her apart with a meat cleaver.
M: No no no no no no (in French) non non non non non...
S: Fermez le bouche, Marie. (Trans.-shut up.)
(M and S start babbling in French)
A: (aside to Dhani) Miss' on keska... (Trans.-That's it, then)
QB: Quit it with the foreign languages!!! I can't take it anymore!
(All silent)
QB: Thank you.
C: I not kid you this time, machine-over there.
QB: By George and Georgina, you're right!!
C: Machine there-get in, we go back home!
A: THEN we find BZ and mortally wound her.
M: Good call, chiquitita.
A: Yerps.
M: Say what?
A: Never mind.
(All pile into the machine and take themselves back to the present)
S: Ahh, that's better. (Looking down at her tank top and jeans)
QB: Now, to find BZ. (Punches fist into palm three times)
BZ: (From behind pillar) Noo.
D: There she is! Pound her!
BZ: Eyaaaah!!! Don't kill me please I beg of you!!!!
QB: You don't understand Bzethio.
S: Yeah. The fun is just beginning.
BZ: Eep.
END SKIT.