Ted & Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones

Season 4, Episode 10 Transcript

October 30, 2023

GPS: Hey everyone, welcome to Ted and Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones. Gillian Pensavalle here. Just bear with me…Alright guys let’s go over the rules again. You can hit each other in the face, but not the throat. Preserve your voice boxes. You’re podcasters, after all. Nut shots are allowed but limited to 3 each. Ok? This is a battle of kicks and punches so I don’t want to see any grappling or clinching. If one of you manages to claw his way to the bucket of weapons at the end of the room you will find they are divided into two categories: sharp metal implements of varying design and cudgels of diverse weights and thickness. There will be an initial round of 7 minutes. If no winner is declared there will be a 1 minute break, very brief. During the break you will drink a combo of pickle juice, root beer, and milk. After you throw up, another 7 minute round will commence. This will continue until there is a last man standing. Ted, your hand is up. Do you have a question?

Ted: Yes, um do we have to?

 

MPS: I was gonna ask the same thing.

 

GPS: Let me answer your question with another. Did you eat the last two yogurts in the fridge?

 

Ted/MPS: Yeah.

GPS: Well there’s your answer. Now, put your blindfolds on. The gong will sound the start. Remain on your knees at all times.

 

*Gong sound

 

GPS: Enjoy sketch #1, fam.

 

—

 

“Lines Gillian Doesn’t Want 4”

 

GPS: And now we present…lines that I–Gillian Pensavalle…do not want to say.

 

—

 

GPS: I feel like picking a fist fight with that old lady over there. She’s been giving Mike do-me eyes for the past 5 minutes. And that, “The Geeps,” cannot abide.

 

—

 

GPS: I find Tucker Carlson thought-provoking. He has such kind eyes.

 

—

 

GPS: What are you waiting for, a fucking participation ribbon or something, Mike? Shake your ass outta bed and go make me a plate!

 

—

 

GPS: I LOVE to vape.

 

—

 

GPS: HEYYYYYAAAAHHHHOOOOWWWWOOOOO!!!

 

—

GPS: Ughhhhh, move over Teddy boy. Momma’s gotta spread out on the couch. Mike really shifted some things around inside last night. Really checked out the ‘ol loft space, know what I’m sayin’?

 

—

 

GPS: Mel Gibson is my godfather and I’m very proud of that fact.

 

—

 

GPS: When I first saw Mike’s tube, it was so big I thought I needed to feed it a dead mouse.

 

—

 

GPS: I’ll take a well gin, please. Up. And lukewarm. Thanks.

 

—

 

GPS: I once lost a “Maternity Ward Bet” and had to go down on this woman who had just given vaginal birth to triplets. Her sphincter was so prolapsed that it was ticklin’ my chin while I was smoochin’ bean!

 

—

GPS: This has been…lines that I–Gillian Pensavalle…did not want to say.

 

—

 

“Dealer Date”

 

VO: Life is full of ups and downs. Highs and lows. And if you’re someone who’s supplied a few highs in your lifetime you can’t go looking for love on any old dating site. You need someone who understands your lifestyle and needs. Try Dealer Date, the world’s first dating app for drug dealers. There are all sorts of people in the drug game. Maybe you’re a coke pusher looking to settle down with a mellow weed queen. Perhaps you’d like to come home from a long day of playground speed-dealing to a Meth Mrs., who knows just how you like your potatoes mashed. And what’s a day of slinging rock if it doesn’t end with a bedtime kiss from the one you love?
Dealer Date’s unique algorithm will match your personality and drug dealing profile with a likely companion. Swipe right on the app’s suggestion to start a conversation. And if that goes well, plan a meeting in a surreptitious location where you’re likely to keep away from prying eyes. We know you can do that, wink. If drugs are just a sideline you started to make your alimony payments, don’t worry; we’ve got your back. Part time drug dealers are welcome, too! There’s no amount of drugs you deal that are too small to qualify you for membership on Dealer Date. Even if you’ve dropped out of the game because the fuzz was onto you and now you have a legitimate career at a rental car company, your past experience washing heroin-filled balloons after someone pooped them, means you’re just the person we’d like to help find love! If you’re a former kingpin who simply got out while the going was good, congratulations! With our help, in no time you’ll be ready to dig up some shrink-wrapped bundles of cash from your backyard, and enjoy your well-earned retirement with your new better half. So don’t waste another minute not dating a person whose occupation could see them incarcerated for a lengthy stay, or more likely die violently at the hands of a sicario. In fact you probably shouldn’t date someone who doesn’t know what a sicario is. It’s Dealer Date. A new app from Tyburn Industries. Because you’ve muled drugs, and now it’s time to mule love.

 

—

 

“Trains”

 

Ted: And now we’d like to transport you all to a simpler time.

MPS: One of the simplest.

Ted: In more ways than one. Follow us to the Dust Bowl, Springfield Missouri. In the year of our Lord, 1935.

 

—

*Starts with a repetitive, staticey bluegrass song.

 

Ma: Emmett, turn off that radiuh, your pa’s almost home from workin at the WPA, and you know he doesn’t like any loud radiuh listenin’ before he’s taken off his boots and had his first jar of shine.

Emmett and Samuel: Sorry, Ma.

Ma: That’s better. Now keep whittlin’. This ain’t Sundee.

 

Emmett and Samuel: Yes, Ma.

*Door opens and closes.

Ma: Why hello Pa.

 

Emmett and Samuel: Hey Pa.

Pa: Ma. Sons.

 

Ma: How is it out there?

 

Pa: Of all the days I’ve lived in Springfield this is the dustiest. It…it is a dusty Springfield out there, Ma. I’ll tell ya. What are you boys doin’?

 

Samuel: We’s whittlin’ pa.

Pa: Very good. Samuel, what have you got there?

Samuel: I whittled a dog, pa.

Ma and Pa: Good, very nice, etc.

Pa: Now Emmett what are YOU whittlin’?

Emmett: I call it a breath of air.

Ma and Pa: (Groaning) What? How? Are you…? What is the matter with you, boy? Etc.

Pa: Emmett, how many times have I told you, you cannot whittle things that you cannot throw. You cannot whittle a breath of air. You can only whittle things like a dog, or dirt. Or liberty.

Emmett: But Pa I like whittlin’ my breath of air. I started it down at the schoolhouse, and…

Ma: Now how many times have I told you not to go muddlin’ round that school house??

Emmett: But Ma I like goin’ down to the schoolhouse. Miss Dawson says I’m creative.

Ma: Miss Dawson is a Cath-ol-ic.

Pa: Is that so?

Ma: I seen the tattoo!

 

Pa: Catholic! She must be, “I’ve had cheese in my life” rich!

 

Ma: That teacher been dancin’ with the devil in a dress made of dust bowl!

Pa: Well that settles it! Emmett, you got too many things to do rather than spending time with a damned Cath-ol-ic. You should be doin’ things that boys your age do!

Emmett: Like what, Pa?

Pa: Like…tyin’ a stick to a horse’s tail, and then slappin’ the horse on the keyster and watchin’ the stick go tippety tap off the horse’s keyster as it runs off. Or runnin’ after a freight train, seein’ if you can catch up to it. If you can, you jump in. Then askin’ the first hobo you see to hit you on the head, then seein’ what new place you’re in when you wake up! These are things that boys your age do.

 

Samuel: What else, Pa? What else should boys our age be doin’?

 

Pa: Well Samuel, I’ll tell ya! You should be doin’ things like fakin’ your own death and attending your body-less funeral by hiding in the attic of the meetin’ house and watchin’ everybody lookin’ all sad, and then droppin down outta the attic and makin’ a dramatic entrance, and takin’ note of all the pretty girls that have tears in their eyes. These are things that boys your age do!

 

Emmett: But…Pa…the thing is that, Pa…the school…school is…

 

Pa: Schyoowill what??!

 

Ma: Emmett you are dumber than a box of hay.

Pa: Emmett you’re about as useful as a bag of dirt, with two sticks and two sticks for a total of four sticks, one for each limb! Son, you are like a dirt snowman!

 

Emmett: When you say hurtful things, Pa…and also Ma…

 

Pa: Emmett, if you ain’t a snake then I don’t know what slithered out your mama!

 

Ma: But all this misbehavior isn’t entirely your fault. When I was pregnant with you I was kicked in the womb by a horse.

 

*Emmett and Samuel: react, shocked

Emmett: You…what? I…by a horse???

Ma: No. Not a horse. (To Pa) See, this is what I mean about this boy?

Pa: That boy is our greatest mistake. 

Ma: I was kicked in the womb by several whores. Your father was a regular at the Springfield brothel, and when I went down there to fetch him home…well suffice it to say that those women of ill-repute don’t take kindly to anyone removin’ a client from their boudoir. 

 

Pa: You boys let that be a lesson!

 

Emmett and Samuel: Yes, Pa.

Emmett: But I just wanna whittle my dreams. I have these vivid dreams. I just wanna whittle them.

 

Pa: Now Emmett, my son, your Ma and I aren’t insensitive to a young, runt-of-the-litter type such as yourself trying to find themself in the world, and maybe try a few new things. New methods of self-expression, and the like.

Emmett: Well thanks, Pa! That’s all I’ve ever…

Pa: And that is why we’re gonna send you out back to break yourself off a switch so we can beat you with it.

Emmett: What? I…? Really…?

Ma: Your Pa has to beat that indypendance right outta you, Emmett. You go out and break yourself off a switch.

Emmett: But I don’t wanna break myself off a switch.

Pa: Emmett…go on out and break yourself off a switch.

Emmett: No. I will not break off any switch for myself, Pa. Not now. Not ever. I will not.

 

*Ma and Pa gasp.

 

Emmett (Cont.): I’m a dream whittling jim-dandy and I aim to prove I can dance as well as whittle!

Pa: Well now you go on out there and break yourself off a bigger switch than you were gonna break off before!

 

Ma: And if you don’t do it this instant, we’ll light that switch on fire and then we’ll beat you with a FIREY SWITCH!

Emmett: No! The switch won’t be firey mama, because there will be no switch at all!

Pa: You know boys, this reminds me of a song my parents used to sing to me whenever I told them I was done chorin’ for the day.

Samuel: How’s it go, Pa?

Pa: Well Samuel, I’ll tell ya. 

Ma: You’re a good boy, Samuel. We like you a lot better than that worthless whore-kicked boy sittin’ next to you.

Pa: It goes like this (Sings off-key) “Break yourself off a switch…break it off…break yourself off a switch break it off…break yourself off a switch break it off…break break break break yourself off a switch!” Sure, it’s repetitive, but it sends a message!

*Ma and Pa keep nagging Emmett to go outside.

 

Emmett: (Over the nagging) Why I even gotta break myself off a new switch. We got old switches in the back!

Ma: Emmett.

 

Emmett: Yes ma…

Ma: Your father works every day most days, so that we can afford to beat you with new switches. We may not have much, but what we got we got plenty of, and as long as there is a dead tree outside, we are gonna beat you with new switches!

Samuel and Pa: It’s alright, Ma. Come on now, etc.

Ma: Thank you, Samuel. (Stops crying) And only Samuel.

Emmett: Sorry Ma. Ok…you win, I’ll go…break myself off a switch.

*Emmett exits.

 

Ma: You do that. Samuel, it’s almost dark. What happened to your other brother Freederick?

 

Samuel: Aw, Freederick’s fishin’ Ma.

Pa: Fishin’?

 

Samuel: Yes, Pa.

 

Ma: Samuel, have you looked outside lately? We are in the middle of a dustbowl. The creek has been bone dry since ‘33. What is he fishin’ for?

 

Samuel: He…he said he’s goin’ fishin’ for tumbleweeds.

Ma: And where is Freederick fishin’ for tumbleweeds?

Samuel: I promised Freederick I would not say.

Pa: Let me ask you this-did you promise him you’d be breakin’ yourself off a switch when you “would not say”?

 

Samuel: No.

Pa: Then speak up, Samuel! Last chance, boy.

 

Samuel: He’s…he’s fishin’ for tumbleweeds in Ricketsville.

Ma: In…in Ricketsville? You tell me right now, Samuel. Where is my first born son-that-lived fishin’ for tumbleweeds in Ricketsville?

Samuel: Off…the rickety bridge.

Ma and Pa: The rickety bridge! THE RICKETY BRIDGE!!!

 

Ma: NOT AGAIN!!!

 

Pa: If I have told that boy once!

 

Ma: You told him twice.

 

Pa: No, I think I only told him the one time…but…you boys are not s’posed to go fishin’ off the rickety bridge.  It’s called the rickety bridge. It’s rickety. It’s danglin’ by two damn little curly threads, it’s been set ablaze several times due to the fact that everything around here is basically kindling. IT’S FRIGGIN’ IN RICKETSVILLE!!!

 

*Emmett re-enters, panicked 

 

Emmett: Ma! Pa! I was out lookin’ for a switch out back so for you can beat with it, on account a I chose an abstrayct concept for my whittlin’ that made ya’ll uncomfortable…

Ma and Pa: (Interrupting) What is it Emmett!? For Christ’s own sake!, etc.

Emmett: I’m tellin’ you, mama! And I saw Jasper Johnson on the other side of the fence, and he told me that he’d just come back from watchin’ Freederick fish for tumbleweeds off the rickety bridge, and he FELL OFF THE RICKETY BRIDGE!!!

 

Pa: Well shit on a stick! I knew it! Let’s go! Samuel, get my gun!

 

Ma: We’re gonna shoot him out!

 

Samuel: Sure thing, Pa!

*Chaos/cross talk ensues.

 

Samuel: Sweet haystacks on a honeysuckle!

Ma: The rickety bridge took my boy!

Samuel: Pa, if Freederick is dead, can I poke him with a stick to make sure?

Pa: Of course you can, Samuel! You see now THAT’S somethin’ that boys your age do!

 

*The family exits, their voices get fainter

Emmett: Do I still gotta break myself off a switch?

 

Ma: Oh, Emmett, you know you’re gonna do somethin’ switchable before supper.

Emmett: You know, Miss Dawson lives in Ricketsville maybe she can help?

Ma and Pa: And there it is!

Pa: Now you gotta break yourself off a thorny switch!

*Emmett sighs

 

—

 

“Wicker Toilet Recall”

 

Weatherman: And with all that pressure building up, it might be a good day to grab an umbrella before you leave the house. Looks like it’s going to be a wet one. Katy, back to you.

 

Katy: Thanks Tim. In business today, multinational corporation Tyburn Industries announced a major recall on one of its more popular products. One of last year’s hottest Christmas gifts has to go back in the box and return to the north pole. And now we go to Lisa Kinsky…reporting.

 

LK: (Outside) Thanks Katy. Yes it’s finally happened, Tyburn Industries’ long streak of market dominance was dashed yesterday when the company announced it was recalling its very popular wicker toilet. On the market for more than a year, the company had a hard time keeping the pricey item in stock. Experts say the recall is due to the fact that the toilets were made of wicker, had no internal porcelain, glass, or metal components, and as such are incapable of holding water, let alone human waste. Earlier today we were out in front of Tyburn’s corporate headquarters in Yaphank, Long Island where we caught up with some angry consumers.

 

Man1: I mean, am I disappointed? Sure. I waited a long time to get my wicker toilet. I ordered it in November thinking I’d be able to surprise my wife with a new toilet for Christmas. They had to put it on back order. Long story short it didn’t end up arriving until February. But I was still fine with that, because you know, Valentine’s Day. But then I install the thing, and it would just leak everywhere. My wife used it, same issue. I even had my neighbors over to use it. Same problem each time. My son went in to use it after his sister. Kid slipped and he broke his elbow. This recall is coming a little late. You never want to have to tell your son he can’t play t-ball because he slipped in his sister’s mess that poured out of a wicker toilet. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

 

Woman 1: Do I think they’re sorry? Absolutely I do not. When I ordered they didn’t even tell me that the Minessota Wicker Worker strike would delay shipment. I had to hear about that on the news. Tyburn has really stepped in it this time. Probably because it leaked out of a wicker toilet!

UGH!

Man 2: I for one never even got to use my wicker toilet. The day we had ours installed my wife and I were headed to the Steamfitter’s Ball…while she was getting ready, she set her curling iron on the toilet to answer a text. Well that would have been fine with a porcelain toilet. But wicker? No sir! It went up like a sparkler on the fourth of July. Took out most of my second floor. So now I’m stuck burying my kid’s turtle. This isn’t right.

 

LK: Tyburn did release a statement today apologizing for the wicker toilet’s many failings and they’ve pledged to do better. CFO Paul Franklin has resigned his position and will be replaced by another white male who attended “a business school.” But for some out here the apology is too little too late.

 

Man 3: At my dad’s funeral last week this whole other family showed up. They were like, that’s our dad. Turns out he had a secret double life, three kids with a tall woman named Evelyn. And now on top of that, I’ve got to deal with this toilet recall! I mean come on. Enough is enough.

 

LK: Tyburn is looking to the future and plans to recall some of their other wicker products. 

Sources tell me the next item to be recalled is the Tyburn Wicker Intimate Companion Doll, popularly known as the “Wicker Dicker.” No word yet on when consumers can expect that announcement. From Tyburn Industries’ corporate offices, I’m Lisa Kinsky. Back to you in the studio, Katy.

 

Katy: Thank you Lisa. Up next, what to do when sky diving leads to sexual harassment. It’s catcalling while free falling–Tom Romano gives us the skinny after these messages.

 

—

 

MPS: I’d like to dedicate this episode to things you can’t realistically expect to do while producing a podcast. 

 

Ted: I get it, like I can’t walk into Gillian’s office, slam my badge on her desk and say, “Goddamn it Captain if you won’t let me work the Canarsie Strangler case my way, then you’d better take me off the force.”

 

MPS: Yup, and I can’t walk into my own living room and say, “Ted here’s the plunger. Please fix what you did.”

 

Ted: But Mike you say that almost every time we have a meeting.

 

MPS: Yes, and not having to do that is something I can’t reasonably expect while producing a podcast. With you. Here’s the plunger.

 

Ted: On it.

 

—

 

“Outtakes”

 

—Dealer Date—

 

MPS: If drugs are just a sideline you’ve started to make your alimony payments…that’s so specific.

 

Ted: I know someone who did that, who got themselves all new teeth.

 

MPS: Well if you’re paid up on the alimony…

 

Ted: Yeah. Paid up on alimony, the kids turned eighteen…he was like “lemme get rid of these teeth.” Got a whole new grille.

 

MPS: Alright.

 

—

 

—Trains—

 

OG: In my nineteen years, I’ve never had a worse mistake.

 

—

 

OG: That boy is our worst mistake. And as the Lord says, you learn from  your mistakes. But I have learned nothing from our son.

 

—

 

Ted: I ain’t got skippedy for you, you little toot rattler! I don’t know what that is.

 

—

 

—Lines Gillian Doesn’t Want 4—

 

GPS: Fiona needs to earn her fuckin’ keep around here. I’m not runnin’ a hotel!

 

—

 

GPS: I weigh Mike every morning. I never tell him what the scale says. I just tell him I’m disappointed. Then I check his prostate. No, I don’t know what I’m feeling for, but if there’s any change, I’ll catch it.

 

—

 

GPS: I once lost a “Maternity Ward Bet” and had to go down on this woman who had just given vaginal birth to triplets. Her sphincter was so prolapsed that it was ticklin’ my chin while I was smoochin’ bean!

 

—

 

“Credits”

 

“Ted and Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones” is written and directed by Michael Paul Smith and Ted O’Gorman, with some room for improv because Mike loves jazz, and he’s sad he never learned the trumpet.

 

This season of Ted and Michael Read Sketches into Microphones was recorded by Chelsey Cohen, with editing, mixing, and sound design by Tom Kelly at Clean Cut Audio. This season was also produced in association with our dear friends over at Mischief Media.

 

You can find full credits – including all of our incredible voice talent – plus episodes, transcripts, and more at tedandmichael.com. Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts, and we’d really appreciate it if you could rate and review the show on Apple Podcasts. Those reviews help a lot, and look–I know they’re two straight white guys with a podcast. But they’re two of the good ones. So do us a solid.

 

Follow the guys on Instagram @tedandmichaelpodcast. and individually @ted_ogorman and @mpsmithnyc

Mike has a TikTok! It’s @mpsmithnyc, there, too!

For feedback of all kinds, use tedandmichael@gmail.com. Thanks again for listening, and stay weird, friends!

 

—