gestalt swirls

it's easier to be impressive when you don't have to be

sketch idea:
guy crashes at co-worker's place for the weekend--shows up at his house unexpectedly. he only speaks in three phrases: hi, jim/yeah, jim/yeah (variations of those three phrases), think papa lazarou. the co-worker, who is a bit of a p u s h ov er, takes him in, because he can't say no. the whole time, he's uncomfortable. makes multiple attempts at reducing the awkwardness. tries to start conversation. goes nowhere. it's hard to talk to someone who only says three things. he puts in a movie. the guy stares at him, maniacally, through the opening credits. he thinks better of it and turns it off. at night, he sleeps on the floor, next to the co-worker's bed. but he doesn't sleep. he just hovers over co-worker's bed. co-worker asks him if he's ok. if there's anything he can do, to which he responds with yeah or hi, jim. endless cycle. co-worker wakes up to crazy guy still staring at him, in the same exact pose as the night before. end.

then there's the poo guy idea. which, i'll get around to later. basically, guy sells pet turds--his own--setting up stands at local flea markets and street fairs. charges astronomical and absurd prices for his feces (ex. one jillion dollars) and gives each one a name, something high-flown, like a fancy-pants french or latin designation. people walk past his stand and they're caught off guard. it takes a while to register, but eventually they get it. and they can't believe their eyes. each turd has been staked with a cardboard sign attached to a mint-flavored toothpick, crudely marked with the price and "official" name of each specimen. after a few h i l a r i o u s encounters, someone decides to make an offer, just as an offer. yeah, he says, i'd like that one--the one for a million gazillion dollars. the guy hesitates, mutters something incomprehensible under his breath. it's not for sale, he says. and why not? the man asks. it has a price and everything. i mean, that's why you're here, right? to sell? the guy can't bear the thought of parting ways with any of his merchandise--he's become too attached, in the way one might with a child, the separation would be too painful. he makes up some excuse and the man walks away, laughing at having outwitted this oddly eccentric stranger. the thing that really makes it funny, though, is that the guy selling the turds lives in his own world--a world in which it's conceivably plausible and accepted that people would pay outrageous and made-up prices for turds, which he's developed an abnormal reverence for. kind of juvenile, but still kind of funny.

i guess i won't get to that later.

that was easy.