Sketch: Murray 2

Murray sits at his desk, puffing on a cigar. He stares intently at a man sitting across from him. The man looks uncomfortable. Murray stares at him for a few moments.)

Murray: Okay, this is the thing.

Mark: Okay…

Murray: To get this to the next level. We need to go here.

(Murray puts his hand in the air)

Murray: Are you following me? No? Look, right now you’re here. (He puts his hand just above the desk) We need to go here. (He raises his hand high). Here. (moves hand) Here. (moves hand) I think I’m gonna have to call in some favours.

Mark: I didn’t think it would be this complicated.

Murray: Kiddo, that’s why you’re here – not to think. That’s my job. If I had a secretary, and one of those little boxes on my desk, you know, one of those like on Charlie’s Angels, I would press a button and tell my secretary – her name would be Agnes or something – I would say: Agnes, I need a new nameplate on my door. Take this down: Murray Mungden – Thinker.

Mark: Uh- okay.

Murray: But I ain’t got a secretary named Agnes, nor do I have a nameplate on the door…

Mark: Yeah, it was a little hard to find – I didn’t know I had to go in the alley, behind the…

Murray: What I do have is the answer to your needs.

Mark: You can get me Platinum Blonde for my wedding?

Murray: What?

Mark: Platinum Blonde, you know (singing) “Standing in the Dark, this could be your last mistake…”

(Murray stares at him)

Mark: I thought you were a booking agent.

Murray: I do indeed involve myself in the entertainment world – in all aspects I might add –

Mark: But your ad in the Yellow Pages said…

Murray: Do not believe everything you read my friend. (fake whispering) I spread my business out through the pages, so I get more coverage.

Mark: Yeah, I think I saw your ads under Lawyers and Hotels.

Murray: (excited) You need a place to stay?

Mark: Uh, no – just the band – you can get me Platinum Blonde right, my fiancée would just love it.

Murray: My good friend, pal, buddy –

Mark: Mark

Murray: Yes! Mark. Again, I think you’ve set your sights a little low.

Mark: Really? You can get Honeymoon Suite?

Murray: No, no, no. By low, I mean, you would have just made this beautiful sacred compact, an incredible once-in-a-lifetime (I would hope) covenant with someone you love with (I would hope) all your heart – and the opening song, the music that would herald the start of your wonderful life together – is coming from some…Plutonium Bomb or some crap?

Mark: I think I clearly said Platinum Blonde.

Murray: Mark! Zip it! Sit there and zip it! I have the answer to all your needs if you’re willing to listen. Mark, I need to know, do you want the answer. (Holds finger up to stall him.) I like you Mark – you look like a good kid – I am willing to pass on the keys to a bright future for you and your lady love – Would you like them?

Mark: I guess...

Murray: The keys Mark! (He reaches into his pocket for a set of keys) I am now holding up a set of actual keys to drive home my metaphor Mark. Would you like these keys?

Mark: Yes.

Murray: That is the correct answer Mark. You may now have the keys – the metaphorical ones – I’m housesitting for my mother and she’d kill me if I lost her only set.

Mark: So…

Murray: Patience Mark, I gotta make a phone call. (He picks up phone and dials) Yeah Ira? Ira? IRA? It’s Murray. MURRAY! Yeah, can you get over here – your skills are needed. (He hangs up phone. Then stares at Mark)

Mark: Umm…

Murray: Ah! Just wait my friend.

(Enter, half-stumbling, half-wobbling, Ira Schmetz - a very skinny old man – wearing a hat, very thick glasses, an undershirt and suspenders holding up his baggy pants)

Murray: Ira!

(Murray gets up and vigorously shakes his hand)

Ira: Murray – is the kid here?

Murray: I want you meet someone…

Ira: What?

Murray: His name’s Mark.

Ira: Mark, Moe, Messerschmitz – Who cares? (He looks at Mark) Look kid, I told you I don’t know how many times – my pastrami better be moist. Moist! Do you hear me, the last sandwich you brought me - it was like chewing through Elizabeth Taylor’s placenta – I’m an old man, I can’t chew as good as I used to – when Shlomo was running things down there – Oh my God – I could get a sandwich to die for! – You would have killed your mother for one of his sandwiches –

Murray: Ira –

Ira: For just one bite of his smoked meat bagels, you’d let a rhinoceros screw you in the ass…

Murray: IRA!

Ira: What?

Murray: This isn’t the sandwich kid.

Ira: What do you mean, this isn’t the sandwich kid? I’m hungry, it’s lunch. Why did you call me then?

Murray: This fine gentleman is getting married in a week.

Ira: Big deal! Give me his address so I know where to send the goddamn flowers.

Murray: He needs our – he needs your help.

Ira: For what?

Murray: Picture this: You got a beautiful young couple, they’re about to embark on an incredible journey together –

Ira: Are they getting married or going to the goddamn moon?

Murray: Ira – please – The hallmark for this grand occasion will be the reception. At this reception our newly married couple –

Ira: (to Mark) My wife left me for an actor – the whore took everything –

Murray: IRA! Our newly married couple will take to the dance floor to not just any music, but –

Ira: But –

Murray: (waving his hands for emphasis) Not just any music –

Ira: Ooohh! I got it!

Murray: (to Mark) See, what did I tell you.

Ira: (to Mark) I didn’t order Pastrami today, I wanted Egg Salad – even though it gives me gas like a sonafabitch – World War one style!

Murray: For Christ’s sake, he isn’t the goddamn sandwich kid.

Ira: He isn’t?

Murray: No!

Ira: Well, where’s my damn sandwich?

Murray: The kid needs music for his wedding!

Ira: Oh, well, just come out and say it next time. Okay (he slaps his hands together) give me the goods.

Mark: (looking very out of his depth) Uh – well my fiancée was big fan of Platinum Blonde –

Ira: Kid, I wasn’t talking to you. You see this foot? (he gingerly holds up his foot) This is the foot that kicked Jolsen in the balls. Twice. If you don’t want the same foot shoved up your ass, you’ll sit there and only speak when spoken to.

(Pause. Ira looks to Murray)

Ira: Murray, could you give me a hand…my foot…

(Murray helps Ira get his foot down)

Mark: (to Murray) Who is this guy?

Murray: (trying to simultaneously placate Ira) Mark, this is THE Ira Schmetz.

Mark: Who?

Murray: Schmetz! Ira Schmetz!

(Mark shrugs)

Murray: (to Ira) Kids these days eh?

Ira: And no sandwich.

Murray: Enough with the freaking sandwich!

(Ira braces himself and starts to raise his foot)

Murray: Alright, alright…Mark. Ira Schmetz is the greatest musical talent the modern world has ever known.

Mark: By modern you mean…1920’s?

Ira: My foot – your ass!

Murray: Settle down. This man has created more hits for the stage and screen than you can imagine. You remember “My Girl Maisie?”

Mark: Huh?

Murray: C’mon! “My Girl Maisie”! Ah geez…(singing)
“My Girl Maisie, she wore the daisies –
In her bright blonde hair,
She would make do,
With her heart oh so blue,
That’s my Maisie!”

Mark: Uh…

Murray: How about: (he gets up and grooves) “The Blue Comet, you know yer on it – when yer gal is gone from yer side!”

(Mark looks at his watch)

Murray: What about “The Steeltown shuffle?”

(Mark shakes his head)

Murray: “Make Mine Murgatroyd”?

Mark: No

Murray: “Choo-choo the Dancing Chinese Boy”?

Mark: Definitely not.

Murray: What about his ad work? Ira was the ultimate go-to guy in advertising. If you wanted your product’s name on the lips of the people, you called Ira.

Ira: When the bitch left, she took my good phone – I had to get one those push button things. I mean, what the hell? Does she have to notify the Times every time she gave that fag a blowjob?

Murray: Ira…

Ira: (to Mark) Though I gotta give her credit, she could suck the matzo out of a Kishke! April was a good month in the Schmetz household! Ha!

Murray: Ira, tell the kid about your ad work.

Ira: Who is this kid that I need to impress him all of sudden? Look, you little nobody, when you can say you’ve had your head buried in between Lana Turner’s tits –

Murray: Ira, this is a client! My client. A client who needs your help. A client who will hopefully give me some money – which I can then pass some on to you. You still have late fees on that movie…

Ira: (to Mark) Naughty Suffragettes 4, a classic!

Mark: Uhh, his ads?

Murray: Right, Ira had this one, I tell you – no word of a lie, everyone was humming this one! If commercials could chart this woulda been number 1 for years!

Mark: Really?

Murray: You bet, give him a sample Ira.

Ira: (bracing himself for a little soft shoe) Okie-doke!
“When the moon does shine,
And the winds do blow…
And things just need to be right..
There’s no need to fret,
Cause your very best bet –
Is Murphy’s Anthracite!
Oh yeah - Its Murphy’s An-thra-cite!”

Mark: Wait a second, isn’t anthracite coal? Are you telling me his hit was for a coal commercial?

Ira: Hey, that kept Murphy’s kids fed for years. Boy, was his wife fat. Weird thing though, you could bounce a quarter off her ass. You’d lose a few dollars, but what a way to spend an afternoon…

(Mark gets up to leave)

Murray: Mark, pal, where are you going? Our incredible journey has yet to begin.

Mark: No offence, but your friend is a little past his time.

Ira: You sonofabitch! (he puts up his fists) You know how many Irish I punched out?

Murray: Ira! Down! Mark! Sit!

(Ira backs off and Mark sits down)

Murray: And for the record Ira, the only picked fights with people who were already unconscious.

Ira: And they all deserved it.

(Murray makes “zip it” motion)

Murray: Look, I feel like I need to see this young man walk out of this office satisfied. There is nothing more truly touching, than two young people willing to make that wonderful decision to spend the rest of their lives together.

(Murray forestalls whatever Ira was about to say)

Murray: As they walk towards each other in their wedded bliss. He, dressed to the nines in his tux – she, a gorgeous wonder in extravagance – they look deeply in each other eyes. The crowd can feel palpable waves of joy, exuberance and indeed love, pour from the newly married couple. Our Mark takes his wife’s hand – porcelain delicate – plants his feet into position and waves a gloved –

(Mark grimaces and shakes his head)

Murray: Okay no gloves. Mark makes a strong, noble and precise gesture to the band – and they begin playing – softly at first – then the room is filled with this musical – what – energy! – you could power a city block with this shit – everyone is one edge – something is tugging at their very souls as they watch the couple gracefully – like goddamn swans – glide around the room. Then – when it feels like it can’t get any more beautiful – a man walks up to the mic – He looks like Paul Anka, before he went all old and crazy, and then he sings…

(Ira who has been caught up in the image, gets up and sings)

Ira: “I'm walking on air
But love isn't fair
There's no rules
If this is the case
That look on your face
Let me feel your sweet embrace…”

Mark: Wait! Wait a second…those lyrics are familiar.

Ira: Yeah, I wrote it for Merman, but she was usually too blitzed to sing it. I tell ya, she could pound ‘em back…This one time she was under the table…

Mark: No, that’s Platinum Blonde! Connect Me! It’s from their ’87 album Contact!

Ira: Meh, goddamn hacks, like I remember where my songs went. Nobody’s original anymore. I wrote that one in five minutes on the shitter.

Mark: You wrote that? Really? Oh my God, my wife would just die!

Ira: Kid, you’d be better off.

Murray: So, gentlemen, is this the start of something wonderful or what.

Ira: (after a pause) I still want my sandwich.