Ma’am, are you the wife of Sergeant Richard Thamson? I’m Lieutenant Salio. It is my sad duty to inform you that Richard was awesomely killed on Tuesday during a patrol mission outside of Khandahar.

I am so very sorry for your loss. Richard and I were very close, and even now it’s still hard for me to accept that he’s gone. One minute I’m joking with Richard in our jeep, the next I’m watching a hidden roadside bomb launch him two hundred feet into the air, doing flips and somersaults like some magnificent Kevlar-suited Olympic gymnast.

I suppose there are some questions that there are just no answers to. Like, how could this have happened to such a good man? Why couldn’t it have been me? What are the odds that he would land feet-first right onto the terrorist who planted the bomb? Or that the terrorist would himself be sitting on a box of grenades, the explosion of which would propel Richard right back into the air, riding the terrorist’s body like a snowboard?

What I do know is that before he died, Richard made all the arrangements with the Army to make sure you will live comfortably. That was Richard, of course, always planning ahead, always prepared. That’s how I want to remember him, even though all I can think of right now is him grabbing that automatic rifle off the snowboard-terrorist’s body and opening fire as he spun, creating a whirlwind of bullets that mowed down thirteen Taliban fighters.

If it is any consolation, his final words to me were about how much he loved you. That’s not counting the primal scream he emitted as he landed through the secret entrance of a nearby terrorist safehouse, a scream that held some combination of hate and righteousness that caused the immediate surrender of eighty Taliban trainees and converted many of them instantly to supporters of parliamentary democracy.

I present to you the American flag that Richard somehow managed to clench in his teeth throughout the entire incident. It’s partially stained with the blood of a bald eagle that happened to collide with Richard during his ascent. The collision shot the eagle straight up into the air, where it stretched its wings and briefly re-created its pose on the U.S. seal while it was surrounded by the multi-colored fireball that vaporized Richard’s body.

God keep you during this difficult time. Richard’s heroism will never be forgotten in Afghanistan. Literally — the explosion permanently scorched an epic poem detailing his heroism into the earth. The rhyming scheme is a little simple, but let’s not speak ill of the dead. 

Hello, Inmate Number 42554. Please, don’t get up. Haha, a little joke there. I’m well aware that the assortment of chains and locks makes standing impossible. But allow me to give you a little breathing room. Guards.

Would you like a cigarette, Inmate 42554. Or should I say Mr. Jeffrey Rogers? No, I shouldn’t, because it’s Inmate 42554 now. And forever. That is the very first thing you must understand, 42554. Your past life is gone. Wiped out. Already your wife is forgetting you. Already your children are calling her new boyfriend “daddy.” This room – these walls – are now your new home. 

Please, 42554, get a hold of yourself. Crying does not become a man. Guards, a tissue.

You see, Inmate 42554, we here at International Cybernetallic Industries have worked very hard at increasing the length and intensity of winter throughout the planet. For almost three centuries now, it has been our only goal, our passion, even mania, if you will. Although you’ve never heard of us, virtually every world leader and top thinker in the past three hundred years has been utterly devoted to our project. Abraham Lincoln, for example. Mao Zedong, another. King Edward of York, although to be honest he mostly a hanger-on. Leon Trotsky. But now I’m just name-dropping. 

The point is, we’ve invested an enormous amount of energy and time to securing a future in which the planetary temperature never rises over thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit, and frankly we get a little upset when we see some rebellious halfwit turn to a pretty co-ed in the Starbucks line and say something like, “Cold enough for ya?” The answer is NO, Inmate 42554. NO.

I know what you’re thinking: that’s all I’m in here for? Just a stupid joke? Well, it’s not that simple, 42554. Sure, it starts out as a joke. Everything starts out as a joke, a little thought. But once it slips out it starts to build, and eventually you start to wonder why it’s so cold out all the time, and why it seems to be so much colder than it used to be, and soon you’re in the library doing research, out in the field investigating, and before you know it you’re here, pounding on the entrance of our secret headquarters, demanding to know why the ICI has been redirecting jet streams, increasing carbon levels in the Arctic, and building huge rockets to push the Earth a few more miles away from the sun. 

Of course you understand, we can’t have that, 42554. So our agents are everywhere, eternally vigilant for comments about the cold, ready to move in to squelch a thought, to nip the faint stirring of concern in the bud. Sometimes this means appearing on Fox News and deriding climate change as a hoax. Sometimes it means following a comedian after a set and shooting her in the back of the head in an alleyway. And sometimes it means chloroforming an entire Starbucks and whisking them all away to a small island off the coast of Manitoba. 

It’s an enormous task, and a wearying, never-ending hassle, 42554. But it’s worth it. Oh, I promise you, it’s all worth it. Because you see, it’s the only way to ensure that all of humanity, each man, woman, and child, will be dressed year-round in the season’s most stylish winter coats and jackets.  Coats and jackets that they can purchase at reasonable prices at many of the ICI’s fine retail and outlet stores across the world. And when we walk out into the snow-lined city streets and see a young man and woman striding down the block, him in a sporty fleece under a black single-button overcoat and her in a modern-cut sweater-vest combo under a snappy ruffle-front wool blend, we realize that it’s worth the destruction of the planet’s crops and livestock. 

I hope you understand, 42554. And something in the resigned look in your eyes tells me you do. Guards, give this man a sassy peacoat, royal blue. It will match your eyes, 42554. It will match your eyes most well.

Writing an original sitcom is an exhilarating but challenging endeavor, one that will test your skills in character creation, plot development, and comedic vision. So let’s start by tackling the most important part: writing the scene where your sexy female lead is caught naked.

It is no accident that this scene is ubiquitous in sitcoms. Television reflects life, and being trapped nude in public is a near-daily occurrence for a sexy female, whether she is waving to a cute boy on the beach just as a wave rips off her bikini top, or undressing at home just as all her friends leap into the room for a surprise party. Your sexy female lead must have similar experiences, or else the character will be dismissed as an unrelatable caricature.

How exactly your female lead will end up unintentionally naked is up to you, but bear in mind that the situation will reveal a great deal about the kind of sexy young woman she is:

[INT. Fancy Party]

FEMALE LEAD: I hope I make a good impression!

[FEMALE LEAD trips on her high heels, ripping off her gown in front of the entire room.]

FEMALE LEAD: Eeek!

MALE PARTY GOER: Good impression made!

See how this scene reveals the female lead as socially ambitious but also a goofball, while the witty quip at the end informs us that she is attractive when naked. This information would be virtually impossible to deliver in any other way.

The specific setting of your scene will be up to you, of course, but be aware that for your pilot to stand out, the scene must be fresh and smart. Time was you could just type out a tired “male roommate catches her in the shower” and head to the bar, but today’s sophisticated audiences demand more social commentary in their television. For example, most sexy young women today are in the workforce, and they find it difficult to balance the demands of professional careers and personal lives. Your scene can highlight this dilemma:

[INT. FEMALE LEAD’s Office]

FEMALE LEAD: No time for lunch, gotta change into my gym clothes for a quick workout!

[FEMALE LEAD takes off her shirt just as BOSS enters, seeing her in a sexy bra.]

FEMALE LEAD: Eeek!

BOSS: I’ve heard of Casual Friday, but this is ridiculous!

Or perhaps your female lead, like many sexy young women today, is delaying marriage, a situation that has dramatic social and economic implications:

[INT. Bridal Store Dressing Room]

FEMALE LEAD: Of course I love Bobby, but is it really time for me to commit—

[The curtain collapses, exposing the undressed FEMALE LEAD to the entire store.]

FEMALE LEAD: Eeek!

MALE CUSTOMER: I’ve heard of strapless gowns, but this is ridiculous!

Right now you may be wondering, “What if my female lead is not a sexy young woman?” Well, now she is. The most common mistake new writers make is “working backwards,” where they first come up with the female lead’s character and history, and then write her scenes to fit that. This is like building a house without a foundation, and you can avoid it by writing the “caught” scene first and developing the character from there. For example, let’s say you envision your female lead as a middle-aged mother of three:

[EXT. Suburban Front Yard]

FEMALE LEAD: Boy, weeding is hard work!

[A dog runs up and rips off FEMALE LEAD’s shirt, exposing her sagging waist and sensible bra.]

FEMALE LEAD: Eeek!

MALE NEIGHBOR: Jesus Christ. Cover up.

Note how flat and contrived the scene feels, and how boring the characters are. But try again, this time with the mother’s college-aged daughter:

FEMALE LEAD: Boy, weeding is hard work!

[A dog runs up and rips off FEMALE LEAD’s shirt, exposing her sexy torso in a sexy bra.]

FEMALE LEAD: Eeek!

MALE NEIGHBOR: I’ve heard of man’s best friend, but this is ridiculous!

See how the characters suddenly sparkle, and feel more “true” to the reader? Thanks to this technique, you can see that your sitcom about the travails of middle-aged motherhood should be refocused as a sitcom about the travails of college girls, and the mother should be relegated to a supporting character, or ideally eliminated altogether.

In fact, you may be surprised what you discover about your female characters once you put them through the furnace of the caught-topless scene. I knew a writer who had his female lead intentionally take her shirt off in public, to distract some bank robbers. I urged him not to follow through with that scene, that America simply wasn’t ready for a willfully nude female lead. Ultimately the dispute destroyed our friendship, but he wrote the scene anyway and went on to win several Emmys. The point is: follow the scene whenever it takes you!

A final tip. In the early 1980s, my writing partner and I were struggling to find a reason for our lead female to be caught without her shirt on. We had written her as a sexy young woman, but try as we might we couldn’t find a situation in which her shirt fell off that felt real to us. We were on the verge of abandoning the pilot altogether, when I asked famous screenwriter Robert Towne for advice. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Who says she ever needed to be wearing a shirt in the first place?” The lesson: don’t be afraid to think outside the box!

Originally Published on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, January 5, 2011

It’s difficult to fix the economy when you can’t find a stapler. Zhubin Parang reviews some recently declassified White House audio tapes as President Obama works through his first 100 days.

January 21, 2009, 9:08 A.M.

PRESIDENT OBAMA: Does this chair seem high to you?

SENIOR ADVISOR DAVID AXELROD: High?

OBAMA: Yeah, do I look like I’m sitting too high at the desk?

AXELROD: A little. Can you—can you lower it?

OBAMA: No, it’s one of those old ones. Do you think I can get a new one? Or did Teddy Roosevelt use this or something?

AXELROD: No idea. It’s probably best just to get used to it.

OBAMA: I’m afraid to touch anything in here.

January 25, 2009, 11:50 A.M.

SENATOR ARLEN SPECTER (on speakerphone): Well, I’m sorry, Mr. President, but with the stimulus bill the way it is now I simply can’t give you my support.

OBAMA: Well, you’re going to regret this, Arlen. I’ve already got enough Republicans on board, so I don’t need you. So you think long and hard about whether you want to piss me off for a vote that won’t make any difference!

(button being pushed)

OBAMA: I tell you what, Rahm, I hope he doesn’t see through that bluff. I really need him on this.

SPECTER: Uh, I’m still on.

OBAMA: Oh, you gotta be kidding me.

(button being pushed)

OBAMA: Hello?

SPECTER: Still here.

OBAMA: How does this stupid phone hang up?!

(multiple buttons being pushed)

SPECTER: Still on.

VICE-PRESIDENT BIDEN (on speakerphone): Hello? Did someone conference me in?

January 31, 2009, 7:55 A.M.

(door opening)

PRESS SECRETARY ROBERT GIBBS: Mr. President? Sir?

OBAMA: (snoring) …wha? What?

GIBBS: Mr. President, did you sleep here overnight?

OBAMA: I … I forgot how to get upstairs. I’ve been too embarrassed to ask for directions.

GIBBS: Something smells bad.

OBAMA: I haven’t seen my family in three days.

February 5, 2009, 2:40 P.M

CHIEF OF STAFF RAHM EMANUEL: Did the President say when he’s coming back?

ATTORNEY GENERAL ERIC HOLDER: He should be here by now. I guess he’s running late.

EMANUEL: Is this the switch for the lights? It’s dark as hell in—

ELECTRONIC VOICE: GREETINGS, MR. PRESIDENT. ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODES FOR NUCLEAR FORCES MOBILIZATION.

EMANUEL: Oh, shit!

HOLDER: Let’s get out of here!

(doors opening and slamming)

February 8, 2009, 3:30 PM

OBAMA: How about here?

FIRST LADY MICHELLE OBAMA: Next to Washington? It makes it look cheap.

OBAMA: OK, how about over here, next to the door?

FIRST LADY: Barack, you have a bust of Thomas Jefferson right below it. It’ll look cluttered.

OBAMA: OK. How about right on the door itself?

FIRST LADY: That’s just tacky.

OBAMA: Look, if I can’t keep the Mad Men poster, just tell me, OK?

February 12, 2009, 6:43 P.M.

GENERAL GEORGE W. CASEY, JR: What we’re looking at here is a scaling-up of forces in Afghanistan, and I don’t think we—

(porcelain breaking)

BIDEN: Is that coffee? Please tell me that’s not coffee!

CASEY: I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t even see the table!

OBAMA: Just—just someone find some paper towels! It’s spreading, it’s spreading!

ADMIRAL GARY ROUGHEAD: We need baking soda!

DEFENSE SECRETARY ROBERT GATES: Everyone fan out! Find the kitchen!

(doors opening and closing)

(long pause)

BIDEN: Jesus, it’s right on the eagle, too.

OBAMA: Man. (sighs) The Republicans are gonna have a field day with this.

February 18, 2009, 1:15 P.M

IRANIAN PRESIDENT MAHMOUD AHMADINEJAD: We want to take the opportunity of your historic election to re-establish a mutually beneficial relationship.

OBAMA: That’s good to hear, Mr. President. And we’re equally—

(door opening)

CABLE REPAIR MAN: Hey, this the room?

OBAMA: Yeah, right over there on the far wall.

AHMADINEJAD: What the hell?

OBAMA: Sorry, this was the only window I could get for this week. Let’s just ignore it.

CABLE REPAIR MAN: I gotta put a line through here.

OBAMA: That’s fine. What were we saying, Mr. President?

AHMADINEJAD: Well, the importance of—(masonry drill whirring)

OBAMA: I’m sorry, what?

AHMADINEJAD: I said, you cannot underestimate the danger of—(masonry drill whirring)

OBAMA: I’m sorry, the drill, just a little louder?

AHMADINEJAD: I SAID, MUTUAL RESPECT IS THE—(masonry drill whirring)

OBAMA: One more time.

AHMADINEJAD: You know what, we’re just going to keep funding Hezbollah.

OBAMA: You gotta be kid—(masonry drill whirring)

February 20, 2009, 10:25 P.M

FIRST LADY: Oh, Barack … (giggling) … no, not here! Are you crazy?

OBAMA: Come on, baby … right here … it’ll be so hot …

FIRST LADY: Oh, you’re so naughty …

OBAMA: Mmmm … let’s get you on the desk …

FIRST LADY: Oh, yes … yes …OW! I hit something—

ELECTRONIC VOICE: GREETINGS, MR. PRESIDENT. ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODES FOR NUCLEAR FORCES MOBILIZATION.

FIRST LADY: Oh, shit!

OBAMA: Let’s get out of here!

(doors opening and slamming)

Originally published on The Morning News, March 6, 2009

You know that intersection on Campbell Station Road and Kingston Pike? On top of that hill? Well, I was driving last night, and it was raining pretty bad, and when I stopped for the red light the car behind me didn’t notice that I was slowing down … so, long story short, you and I have to report for basic training tomorrow morning.

- - - -

I had to substitute-teach a class yesterday, but I had no idea where the kids were on the lesson plan, so I thought I’d just make it easy and have a “discussion day.” But it became really obvious right away that the kids hadn’t done any of the reading, because none of them were talking. And I knew they hadn’t done the reading, but I hadn’t done it, either, so I couldn’t make a big deal out of it … so, long story short, I have 13 tons of smoked ham in my car and not a clue what to do with it.

- - - -

Bill and I went to a bar last night, right? And while we’re there, this really drunk guy walks up and starts getting in Bill’s face. And I’m pretty tipsy by this point, too, way more than Bill, so I tell the guy to back off. Bill’s all quiet and telling me not make a big deal about it, but I’m like, No, that’s not cool. Then the bouncer comes over, and it turns out he’s the guy’s frat brother … so, long story short, Condoleezza Rice is now the leading scorer on my fantasy football team.

- - - -

So, earlier today, I went to get some lunch at Quizno’s, but on the way I ran into Emily, who was going to Burger King instead, so we thought we might as well go to lunch together … so, long story short, two plus two doesn’t equal four anymore.

- - - -

I had to take off work yesterday because I was feeling kind of sick. But halfway through the day I felt a lot better, so I thought I’d go catch a movie, since I hadn’t been to one in a while. So I get over to the theater down on Morrell Road, and guess who I see at the ticket counter? My boss. So I try to sneak away, but I accidentally bump into a little kid, and he starts crying real loud … so, long story short, we have to pay the state income tax in euros this year.

- - - -

You remember Allison Hale? From med school? I had coffee with her the other day. Did you know she quit her residency? Yeah, she just decided that she’d rather work for Doctors Without Borders. We got together and just chatted for a while, and then tried to call you and see if you wanted to come hang out. But your cell phone wasn’t working, and it was getting kinda late … so, long story short, your girlfriend is now my girlfriend, and vice versa.

- - - -

I was at the mall yesterday trying to find a birthday gift for my mom, but she’s really tough to shop for. I was thinking she might like some perfume, but I’m not really knowledgeable about that stuff, so I didn’t trust myself to get a good kind. So I thought I’d just get a gift certificate for her, but the line was really long at the customer-service desk, and I was in a hurry … so, long story short, Don Cheadle is waiting for you out in the parking lot, and he looks really pissed.

- - - -

I was up late last night working on a paper for class, but around midnight I dozed off for an hour or two in my chair. When I woke up, my neck hurt really bad, so I went down the hall to see if Sarah had any painkillers. She didn’t, so I went to the 7-Eleven down the street, but they weren’t open that late at night … so, long story short, RUN!

Originally Published on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, December 21, 2005

1.

I am the head of an organized-crime family. Many years ago, I had to order the murder of my best friend for business purposes, and I have been racked with guilt ever since. Unbeknownst to me, he had a son, who spent the next 30 years building a rival family and dreaming of revenge. He invites me to a sit-down, at which he reveals his identity and shoots me in the chest. My guilt now relieved by this poetic justice, I smile and whisper, “I’m glad it was you,” as a single tear rolls down his cheek.

2.

I am stricken with an illness that is painless but terminal. I spend the remaining two years of my life imparting my wisdom to an old friend, who then writes a best-selling book about it. Critics agree that the book is much better than Tuesdays With Morrie, with all the poignancy but none of the insufferably schmaltzy prose.

3.

I am an evil villain whose plan for world conquest has been foiled by my longtime arch-nemesis, a handsome and resourceful government agent who is currently chasing me up a steep mountain. When we reach the top, I raise my hands and offer my surrender. As he approaches, I remind him that, in his obsessive quest to stop me, he has caused the deaths of hundreds of innocents. He was willing to do anything and hurt anyone to get what he wanted, I tell him, and, in that way, had he not become the same as me? As if to prove the point, we simultaneously reach for hidden knives and stab each other in the chest. As we both sink to our knees, I can see in his eyes that he appreciates the irony.

4.

The same as above, except I am the government agent. I appreciate the irony.

5.

Mary-Louise Parker offers to sleep with me, on the admittedly strange condition that she gets to kill me afterward. I immediately accept, and it is totally worth it.

6.

I have been unjustly accused of murder by a corrupt prosecutor. Everyone knows that the trial is rigged and that I am not guilty, but no one speaks up, and I am sentenced to death. At my execution, which for some reason is nationally broadcast, I am asked if I have any last words. With quiet dignity, I give a powerful speech about how the real murderer is Society, for allowing an innocent man to die. I am executed anyway, but everyone agrees that they’ve learned an important lesson, and my birthday becomes a national holiday.

7.

I am a soldier stationed in Iraq, on a special mission to protect the president during one of his surprise visits to Baghdad. As I walk alongside him, I notice an IED a few feet away, and immediately realize it’s about to detonate. I hurl my body in front of the president, just in time to absorb the brunt of the explosion. As I lie on the ground, my blood draining out of numerous wounds, the president, with tears in his eyes, asks me if there’s anything he can do to repay me for my sacrifice. I softly whisper, “Tell the world what a terrible mistake this war was,” and then I die, leaving him with an uncomfortable PR dilemma.

Originally published on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, December 1, 2006

Q: What can we generally expect to see this season?

A: This 2010 college football season promises to be an exciting return to power football. With more underclassman in starting positions than in previous years, many of the top teams are simplifying their offensive game plans and focusing on the basics. This is an ideal situation for teams with strong run defenses, such as the Tennessee Volunteers.

Q: Can we expect traditionally weak teams such as North Carolina and Cincinnati to fulfill their recent promise?

A: It’s definitely possible. The great thing about college football is that heart plays a big part in the game, and a team with momentum and determination can always beat a team with better talent. A good example of this is the Tennessee Volunteers, who displayed an energy and enthusiasm in spring practices that just screams “undefeated season.”

Q: What conferences are going to be dominant this year?

A: With USC banned from post-season play, the Pac-10 conference is unlikely to present much inter-conference competition. Look for the Big Twelve and Big Ten to fight it out for second place. The top conference will of course be the SEC, led by the Tennessee Volunteers, who are and ever will be the brightest star in the firmament of American sport.

Q: Can we expect the -

A: Did you see the Vols blow Georgia away last year?

Q: What?

A: It was like forty to nineten in the third quarter. Un-fucking-believable. So awesome.

Q: As the season starts, what are the top ten teams?

A: Number one is the Vols, no doubt about it. Big Orange is going to rock it this year. After that, I guess Alabama, then Texas. Maybe Michigan, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.

Q: The Vols? That really doesn’t sound right. ESPN doesn’t even have them ranked.

A: That’s bullshit. ESPN has had it out for the Vols for like twenty years now. That’s documented, you can look it up.

Q: Well, alright, but the AP poll says the same thing.

A: Who cares?! Jesus, what’s your deal with polls? We were ranked tenth in the preseason in 1998 and we won the national championship!

Q: Calm down, I’m just saying! I mean, the Vols haven’t had any offensive talent for a while now, right? And their recruiting has been subpar for years.

A: That doesn’t matter. How does that even matter? The coaches are going to compensate for all that. That’s their job. Are you a coach?

Q: No, but -

A: Then don’t act like you know how to coach. If you knew how to coach, you’d be a coach. You wouldn’t be parroting lies the mainstream sports media tells you about teams that they hate.

Q: Look, this isn’t productive. Maybe we should switch to the pros. What can we expect after the preseason?

A: You can count on the Tennessee Titans to -

Q: You know what, forget it.

“Hold everything!” Dr. Hiller shouted as he burst into the room. “[PROTAGONIST’S NAME], my studies conclusively prove that you’ve been dead this entire time!”

- - - -

As [MALE PROTAGONIST] and [FEMALE PROTAGONIST] shared their first kiss, [MALE PROTAGONIST] slowly lowered his hand from her face and gently cupped her breast, then her other breast, then, to his astonishment, yet another breast.

- - - -

Suddenly, [PROTAGONIST] noticed darting shadows in the corner of the ballroom. Ninjas!

- - - -

“Wait a minute,” said [PROTAGONIST]. “So, as I understand it, [RECAP MAJOR PLOT POINTS OF NOVEL SO FAR]?”

“Yes,” replied [MINOR CHARACTER].

Note: This is not necessarily thrilling, but writers usually underestimate the importance of frequent plot recaps. No one likes coming back to a book after setting it down for a month and having to re-read the whole thing.

- - - -

“By the way,” [PROTAGONIST] said with a knowing smile, “did I happen to mention that I’m black?”

Note: This ending exploits the white bias of the reader’s imagination, and works best if you do not give away the surprise early. Be sure not to give the protagonist any stereotypical “black” characteristics, which you really should be trying to avoid anyway.

- - - -

[PROTAGONIST] grimly shook his head, knowing that his plan was not working, and also that the person reading this book has no idea that right now there is a Mad About You marathon on TV.

Note: This is a long shot, but if it works, the reader will be totally freaked out.

- - - -

“Does this mean we’re breaking up?” [MALE PROTAGONIST] asked, struggling to keep his voice from breaking.

“I think so,” [FEMALE PROTAGONIST] whispered, as tears rolled down her cheek. “I just think we’ve grown apart … I’m so sorry.”

[MALE PROTAGONIST] slowly nodded, and his thoughts briefly flitted to the day they first met, that summer after freshman year, when the world seemed to BOO!

Note: Ideally, this ending should be used in conjunction with some sort of timed firecracker device hidden in the book’s binding. Talk to your publisher.

- - - -

The crowd suddenly hushed. There, in the doorway, stood the evil Colonel Maldefore.

Note: Colonel Maldefore does not need to be a major character in your novel for this ending to work. In fact, the thrilling effect may be greater if he just randomly shows up every now and then.

- - - -

[PROTAGONIST] walked down the shore. The wind was howling, and the first drops of rain had begun to splatter into the sand.

Note: On the opposite page is a notice from the government stating that the act of purchasing your novel has bound the reader to a two-year term of service in the U.S. Army. The reader is ordered to appear at the nearest recruiting office within 24 hours.

Originally published on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, March 12, 2007.

All right, guys, gather around and listen up. We’re going to make some major adjustments for the second half and I want everyone to pay attention.

First off, let me just say that I take full responsibility for the first half. I was unaware of last season’s rule change that allowed robots to play Division I-A college football, and by the time I found out it was too late to do any robot recruiting. That’s a total coaching failure, and if there’s any one reason why we’re behind 83 to zero, that would be it.

That being said, let’s regroup and focus on what we can do in the second half.

First off, defense. Linemen, what the hell’s going on out there? What happened to our great pass rush? No, no, I don’t want to hear anything about saw blades. It doesn’t matter what the opposing linemen have protruding from their torsos spinning at 50,000 rpm, you guys have to get to the quarterback. I mean, it’s not like the blades cover every inch of their bodies. Just avoid grabbing the places Johnson did—who, by the way, is fine, although obviously he’ll never play again—and find a grip.

Cornerbacks. You guys haven’t knocked down a single pass! What? No, of course I don’t expect you to jump 20 feet into the air. But you’ve faced talented receivers before. Remember Texas A&M? Those guys had, like, four inches on you, and we still held them to 50 passing yards. It doesn’t matter whether the advantage is height or speed or hydrogen-fueled jetpacks welded onto a steel frame, you’ve got to use your brain to get around it. In this case, I would recommend jumping on their backs right before the jetpacks ignite. Maybe get up in the air with them and knock the ball down. If we get called for pass interference, well, we’ll just get called.

Special teams. The best I can figure it, they’re flinging you across the field with something involving hyper-targeted magnetic fields, so take off all the metal on your bodies and we’ll see if that works. If it doesn’t, I want to see a lot of laterals on the kickoff returns.

All right, offense. O-line, I don’t know what to tell you. I know you’re trying, and to be honest, I can’t think of any adjustment for hydraulic pistons pushing you out of the way with 7,000 pounds per square inch. This is something we’ll just have to work on in the weight room afterward, maybe get ready for them next year. In the meantime, we’ll call a lot of screen passes, maybe try to take advantage of it, throw the ball to Richards in the slot.

Richards, quit crying. Honestly, you’ve been acting like a baby all game. I can understand being a bit rattled after the first epileptic seizure, but you’d think that after the sixth you’d be used to it. Just don’t look into their flashing eyes when you line up behind the quarterback, all right? Simple as that.

Speaking of quarterbacks—Sullivan. Now that we know the lasers aren’t lethal, there’s no need to hit the ground as soon as the linebackers start aiming their arm cannons, OK? Buck up and take it.

Guys, I still think there’s a chance we can win this one. We just need to get our focus back and not let the score or the pre-snap trash talking get in our heads. Heck, if you ask me, I don’t think “OBJECTIVE: ADVANCE BALL AT ALL COSTS” is really anything to get freaked out about, even if it’s being constantly repeated by a chorus of synchronized soulless mechanical voices.

All right, I’m going to give the next 15 minutes to the coordinators and the team doctors. Now get out there and make your school proud!

Originally published at McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, December 12, 2004