A Sketch by Kris Kenison
Cast: James, the people he talks to
Props: Magic shirt, shoe, and mittens and glove
(We open with James pulling on his socks, basically getting dressed, with the exception of his magic shirt. Finally he goes to get his shirt which is stored in an elaborate storage container. He puts it on and a spotlight shines on him as a heavenly singing can be heard. He pulls out a remote control and shuts off the light and music. He runs out of the room.)
(Cut to James running up to a couple.)
James: Hey, you guys wanna see what my shirt can do? It's magic!
Couple: Yeah, all right we just got kicked out of the church bake-sale so we have some time.
James: All right, here I go! (He grimaces and shakes his hands. He blows on the shirt. He rubs it. Nothing happens.) Come on, you were glowing weird colors when I did this the other day.
Couple: Sure it was kid. (one to the other) poor kid, he really believed his shirt was magic. It's so sad. Just back away slowly. (They back away slowly.)
James: Hey I heard that!
(Cut to James in the middle of the street.)
James: Attention pedestrians and noble onlookers, I, James, using my magic shirt, will now stand in the middle of oncoming traffic and not be hurt at all.
Some Guy: Yay! (He jumps up and claps then stands there hands clenched watching intently)
Some other Guy: Man, what a dumbass.
Some gal with SOG: Which one?
SOG: Who cares? Come on, we gotta go, the church is having a bake sale!
James: Finally here comes a car. (A car drives around him.) Did you all see that? My shirt magically made that car swerve around me!
SG: Dude, come on, the driver just drove around you. That wasn't magic. Man, you sold out, I don't even know who you are anymore.
James: DAMN I... (A car honks. Closeup of James looking surprised. The car hits him.)
(Cut to James somewhere. James walks up to some person.)
James: Alright buddy, listen, here's the deal: my shirt is magic. And I'm gonna prove it to you. You're gonna take this gun, you're gonna point it at me and fire it at me. Using the magic of this magic shirt, I'll go all Matrix and slow-mo dodge the bullet.
SP: You're serious? But if you die, won't I go to jail?
James: Yeah, but you can also go to jail for eating dead people.
SP: That's true, and it's never stopped me before. Give me the gun.
James: Ok, count me down from three.
SP: Three...Two...One.
(SP fires the gun. James is moving around and the camera goes slow-motion very briefly. Tape speeds back up as James clutches his hand.)
James: Ow! Damn it, you shot me in the hand!
(Sirens can be heard)
SP: Oh man, I'm outta here, good luck on the crazy thing.
James: Damn it, I'm not crazy, my shirt really is magical. Damn it. (James runs off.)
(Cut to James in his room at night. He pulls off the shirt and throws it on his bed. He scratches at the bandage that is around the hand that got shot.)
James: Stupid shirt! You were supposed to be magic! That's it, I no longer believe in magic!
(Suddenly shirt starts moving around.)
Magic Shirt: Now, James, why would you ever do that?
James: Because I almost died three times today trying to show people your magic powers.
MS: James, you insolent little twirp, you know that you're not supposed to make it known that I'm magic. You know that you have to die now. You can't be trusted.
James: (scared) No I don't, I promise I won't tell anyone else. In fact, I'll give you away and I won't tell anyone. Just please let me live. I'm too young to die.
MS: That's never stopped me before. And it won't stop me now.
(The Magic Shirt flies at James and starts suffocating him. A gunshot goes off. The shirt drops to the ground. The camera cuts to a shot of a shoe with a gun in it, the laces wrapped around the trigger. James runs over to the shoe and hugs it.)
James: Thank you magic shoe. You've saved me again.
Magic Shoe: You would've done the same for me.
James: That's not true and you know it.
(They both start laughing and we freeze frame. Tape rolls again.)
James: Wait a minute Magic Shoe, do you smell gas?
Shoe: What?
(Cut sharply to shot of an apartment or house exploding. Sharp cut to a glove with a match in its hand, laughing maniacally.)
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