Complaint Sketch
Knocks on door.
ARTHUR: Er, is this the office for complaints?
MR. RIGGLY: Why yes. Please sit down. How may I help you?
ARTHUR: Sits down. Well, I have a complaint.
MR. RIGGLY: Terrible stuff, that. Do go on.
ARTHUR: It was in the china department.
MR. RIGGLY: Really? Looks more interested. What happened?
ARTHUR: Erm, okay. I was asking the saleslady to help me find a good set of plates for my aunties birthday, and she threw a vase at me. I hope this isn't infected…Rubs head where there is a noticeable red smear.
MR. RIGGLY: Dear old Emily, that's the third one this week.
ARTHUR: A bit nervous at that remark. So…anyway, that's my complaint.
MR. RIGGLY: Suddenly confused. That's it?
ARTHUR: Uh, yes.
MR. RIGGLY: That's all?
ARTHUR: Why yes, then I turned around and came up here to complain.
MR. RIGGLY: No slipping on a patch of grease?
ARTHUR: Ah, no…
MR. RIGGLY: No…being whacked upside the head with a steel pipe?
ARTHUR: Not really.
MR. RIGGLY: No tasteful stabbing in the back with one of the samurai swords up there in the back of the department?
ARTHUR: What?
MR. RIGGLY: Takes out a paper and a red pen, and ticks off something. You're slipping, Emily. I shall have to take marks off.
ARTHUR: What's going on here?
MR. RIGGLY: Sorry about that, I'm so glad you complained. I'd be angry too, if I wasn't led to the trapdoor elevator, or set on fire by the lovely scented candles. Good job, man! Now, if you'll just go to the office on the left, you'll be treated to a lovely French subtitled movie while being chopped up into tiny bits, but not after you've been served some wonderful red wine, topped off with an elegant poison finish. Hits intercom. Mr. Livingston, Mr. Wentworth, you've got another one!
Two burly, hairy men tramp into the room, wearing medieval executioner-style clothes, and drag off a shocked ARTHUR away from the office.
MR. RIGGLY: Yells after him. I hope you enjoyed your stay here at our store, do come again!