A little light distraction

Dear All, To inaugurate my blog - and possibly conclude it - I'm going to share a bit of my non-professional, humor writing that I've only ever published on Facebook. Below is a skit I wrote in 2010 (yes - I know), which imagines a Mad Men/Battlestar Galactica mash-up. It has no didactic or commercial value whatever. SCENE

 DISUSED CARGO BAY

 BATTLESTAR  GALACTICA

 STERLING COOPER'S FINEST ARE GATHERED AROUND A BATTERED WOODEN TABLE. LARGE METAL CRATES OBSCURE MOST OF THE WALLS. A BIT OF CLEAR SPACE ON THE PORT BULKHEAD BEARS THE GRAFFITI "I WANT WHAT ROSLIN'S SMOKING"

JOAN: All right, I call this traffic meeting to order. We'll start with Mr. Cosgrove.

KENNY: Well, we're trapped aboard a spaceship deep among the stars fleeing killer robots.

HARRY: And some of them look like us. Well, not like us - more like Playboy models. But lethal.

PEGGY: And there's a woman president! And women soldiers! And they wear pants! I've always wanted to wear pants, but my mother said it would make me infertile. Oh, and they're pagans. My mother wouldn't approve of that either.

KINSEY: And they don't have any booze.

HARRY: Yes, they do. A lot, actually, given that they're in space and don't have any crops or anything. (Pulls out several bottles of whisky and ambrosia from a satchel under his chair, as well as several octagonal glasses.) Anyone want to try some of this green stuff?

DON: All right, folks, let's get down to business. We're advertisers. We need to sell things to survive - especially since I don't think any of us has much experience fighting killer robots.

KENNY: Roger couldn't even fight off that blond pilot he was flirting with.

JOAN: The mannish one? If she keeps smoking cigars and socking people in the head, she'll never get that Captain Apollo.

PETE: Sell what? They're refugees, Don, fleeing killer Communist robots!

PEGGY: I don't think anyone said they were Communists, actually.

PETE: They must be Communists! But my point is, they're refugees, so they're poor. They don't have any income, so how can they buy anything? If they can't buy anything, what can we advertise?

KENNY: Why are all their glasses octagonal? And the books? Everything with the corners cut off.

PEGGY: We could advertise round glasses. "Isn't it good to get a firm hold on something?" Or, "Curves. How human."

DON: Folks, these people are desperate. They're hopeless. What do we do? We sell hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. The hope of a safer, more secure tomorrow. The hope of ....

SALLY: Daddy, what's a motherfrakker? Captain Kara keeps calling Mommy that.

DON: What are you doing here?

BETTY: Don, it's a refugee ship. We all have to sleep in this cargo bay too.

PAN TO LINE OF COTS AT OTHER END OF ROOM, ALONG WITH A SMALL ASSEMBLAGE OF CONTAINERS AND PIPES.

BETTY: They keep the backup still here. Trudy Campbell and I are going to try to make cocktails for Captain Helo tonight.

TRUDY: And I found some lovely gunmetal-gray fabric. We could make a partition or some tablecloths....

ROGER COMES IN, WITH TWO ATTRACTIVE BLONDES

ROGER: Good news! I've found secretaries.

JOAN: Are they ... twins?

DON: Roger, those are the Cylons! They all look alike!

OTHERS COWER AT FAR END OF THE TABLE

PEGGY: Didn't you go to the orientation session?

ROGER: No. There's a bar on the hangar deck. There's the sweetest little radio operator ...

FIRST SIX: This is all very interesting, but ... hello. MOVES TOWARD DON

DON: Hello. I'm Don Draper.

SECOND SIX: Are you alive?

DON: Most days.

FIRST SIX: I think God's plan involves us taking Don out for a drink. The final destruction of humanity can wait another evening. After all, we've been dicking around following the Fleet for four years without managing to finish it off.

SECOND SIX: Come along Mr. Draper. We'll explain God's plan for you. Here's a hint - it doesn't involve Betty over there.

SIXES LEAD DON OUT. SCENE