Dan And Eric Read online



  Dan & Eric

  By Carl Polgar

  Copyright 2014 Carl Polgar

  1

  It was Thursday night, which meant Eric was at Dan’s apartment for their weekly brainstorming session. They were bouncing ideas off each other for various comedy sketches. The dumb ideas would illicit a groan or a slight chuckle, then be tossed aside. The good ideas were developed in a fashion they had both become accustomed to: Eric would swivel away from Dan and start typing out a quick outline of the sketch as Dan – sitting on the couch and absolved of typing duty due to a typing speed that barely made it over single digits per minute – would spill out any further ideas that came to mind. Eric would add his own as he typed. The hope was that they’d end up with a decent, funny sketch they could add to a growing pile of decent, funny sketches they had completed over the past four months of Thursday night meetings.

  At the tail-end of their meeting – after coming up with one quality idea and a couple others that they’d agree to flesh out during the course of the week – Dan was wrapping up a pitch that had popped up in his head a couple days earlier.

  “And then,” he said, “we CGI the dog saying, ‘That makes two of us.’”

  Eric was silent – absorbing the idea – before producing a noncommittal, “Hmm.”

  “No good?” Dan asked.

  “No, no – I like it. But . . . how do we do the CGI thing?”

  “With the dog? I don’t know – I figured it can’t be too hard if everyone else does it nowadays. Heck, there’s probably a ‘CGI Talking Animal’ effect on our editing program.”

  They had no budget and only-recently purchased a camera after Eric had finally gathered enough Best Buy gift cards from two years of Christmases and birthdays. As such, their sketch idea had to be achievable – if they couldn’t afford to film it, there was no point to keep talking about it. Those ideas would be set aside until the day when hopefully their videos would start catching on and they could get enough attention to warrant an increase in their budget.

  Eric nodded quietly, still not displaying anything that would indicate to Dan that Eric genuinely liked his idea. From years of friendship, Dan knew this meant that Eric – always reticent to criticize anything harshly – wasn’t into the idea. It seemed like the night would end without any major breakthroughs.

  “You know,” Eric started, finally breaking his silence and confirming his disinterest in the CGI dog by changing the subject, “I was thinking of a sketch the other day . . .”

  “Was it the sitcom one?” Dan asked while shifting his position so that he was now spread across the small couch, his legs dangling over one side. “I think I remember liking that one.”

  “No, that’s not it. This is actually one that I came up with a couple years ago but totally forgot about it until I was at Ron and Becky’s wedding last week. I think we can pull this one off pretty cheaply, too – no CGI necessary.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Takes place at a wedding. We see the vows being exchanged, they get their rings, say ‘I do’ and whatnot. They’re pronounced man and wife, and start their walk down the aisle, with the rest of the wedding party following behind. As they get to the entrance of the church, the ushers open the doors . . . and everyone stops. They can’t exit the church because – blocking their way – is Slash from Guns N Roses ripping through a guitar solo. You know, like in the ‘November Rain’ video. I can’t think of anything beyond that, so we just cut right there after a few shots of the confused congregation and move on to the next sketch.”

  Once they’d get around to start filming, their idea was to accumulate a dozen or so sketches, then start posting them online – either through a YouTube channel or through a dedicated website if they could find someone to build it for them cheaply. The plan was to post a couple per week – once momentum got going, they’d do specials comprised of several sketches. Any further expansion beyond that point would depend on the reception those first batch of sketches would receive, if they received any sort of reception at all. They knew the odds of failure were high, but at least they’d be giving it a shot. They weren’t getting any younger, and – especially for the married Eric - had a future they could not afford to keep putting off for much longer. This was their attempt to fulfill a shared dream that had been percolating since their days together in high school – to become comedy writers, and actually make a living out of it.

  Dan seemed interested in the idea, not taking anywhere near as much time as Eric to contemplate it. “Do we need a wind machine for Slash’s hair?”

  “I’m sure we can improvise something. That’s going to have to wait, though, because I’ve got to get going.”

  Eric swiveled over to the laptop, typed “Slash – next week” into the shared document both used to add any new suggestions between meetings, and stood up.

  “Alright, man,” Dan said as he, too, got on his feet. “Same time next week?”

  “Definitely. I’ll try to have that idea fleshed out by then.”

  “Cool.”

  They exchanged goodbyes while walking over to the front door. Eric headed out – buoyed by the possibility of his idea bearing fruit – and started the drive home.

  2

  Debbie was standing by the dishwasher when Eric arrived.

  “Hey honey,” she said as he entered.

  “Hey,” he said. They embraced and exchanged a quick kiss.

  “How was brainstorming?”

  “It went well. We’re definitely making good progress now.”

  “That’s great. I’m going to put up the dishes, then head over to the bedroom, okay?”

  “Okay, dear. I’ve got a little research to do, but I’ll meet you over there shortly.”

  Eric walked over to his office. A couple days every week, he used the office to write copy for a friend’s ad agency on a freelance basis. The rest of the time, the office was used for goofing around on the internet, and lots of staring at blank Word documents while trying to come up with ideas that could save him from having to write any more ad copy.

  While he wrote, or goofed around, or stared, Debbie was working as an accountant. That was where the majority of the income in the Eric and Debbie Boyle household was coming from. Debbie didn’t mind this – she had faith in her husband’s ability to succeed – but Eric knew that faith could start wavering if another year would come with no creative success to show for it. Time was running short. Eventually, they would start a family, and that meant the focus on comedy writing would have to be abandoned – his friend’s longstanding offer to join the ad agency full-time would reluctantly be accepted.

  Eric took a seat in front of his computer and pulled up the shared document to make sure everything was saved correctly and to see if Dan had added anything since Eric left the apartment. Along with the document on the computer, Dan also kept a yellow pad nearby to jot down ideas – something about seeing them handwritten on a page seemed to help Eric’s creative process a bit more than words on a screen. He scribbled, “wedding sketch!”, “Slash”, and “watch video for refresher”.

  After writing out his idea on the shared document in as much detail as possible, Eric switched over to his browser and pulled up YouTube, typing “November Rain” into the search box. The top result was what he was looking for: “Guns N Roses – November Rain”, the official video with over 150 million views. As Eric moved his mouse over the title to click on it, he noticed another search result beneath the official video, the lyric video, and the live version with Elton John.

  The title of the video was, “FunnyDan Presents FunnyDan’s November Rain”. It had been uploaded by a user named FunnyDan a couple minutes earlier. The description next to the video
said, “Watch what happens when a wedding gets an uninvited guest.”

  Eric was thoroughly confused. He clicked on the video.

  There it was: the vows being exchanged, the bride and groom getting their rings and saying “I do”, the walk down the aisle, the wedding party following, the ushers opening the door, and Slash standing in the way, lost in his guitar solo. It wasn’t Slash, of course – through the scraggly black wig obscuring most of the guitarist’s face, Eric could see a cleft chin that looked a lot like Dan’s.

  The video ended after a reaction shot of the crowd and one more shot of Slash ripping away. A completely stunned Eric didn’t know what to do or say. Mouth agape, he replayed the video. As the events he had described to Dan in brief earlier and had added details to just a couple minutes ago played on the video pane, he glanced down at the comments. “TOO FUNNY”, “LOL!!”, “Oh my God, that was GReat!”, and so on. All of it was universal praise.

  Eric looked at the total number of views – 7,483.

  When the video ended for the second time, Eric clicked on the username to see FunnyDan’s profile. The picture on the profile was Dan, smiling widely and giving a thumbs up.

  “Son of a bitch” – it was all Eric could say.

  He clicked on the video – the only one attached to FunnyDan’s profile – again. Once more, a wedding reception. Once more, praise and thumbs ups in the comments. The main difference upon third viewing was the total number of views – it now stood at 24,351.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  3

  As the weekend began, the number of views for “FunnyDan Presents FunnyDan’s November Rain” went from the tens of thousands, to the hundreds of thousands, to the millions, and to the tens of millions. Eric knew this because he kept refreshing the video, over and over again, no less stunned each time. He went through the motions of the weekend – visiting a newly-opened vineyard outside of town with Debbie, having dinner with her parents, mowing the lawn – but couldn’t shake the thought of the wedding reception, of Slash, of Dan smiling with his thumbs up, the entire time. By Monday, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go see Dan – it couldn’t wait until Thursday.

  Dan was home, of course. He was nearing a full decade of stretching out the inheritance given to him by his late Uncle, which was accomplished by never straying very far from his conveniently-located apartment in the middle of the city, which was also inherited. If he went out, he’d go to the bar down the street where he and Eric had hung out regularly until marriage and home ownership took Eric out towards the suburbs. Dan would still hit the bar a couple times a week – the rest of the time was spent lazing about at home. He never seemed to be in a hurry to do much else.

  Eric couldn’t wait for Dan to open the door the entire way – he stormed in, carrying days and days of pent up anger and confusion with him.

  “What the hell, man!?”

  “What?” Dan asked nonchalantly as he closed the door.

  “You know exactly what. That was my idea, Dan – you stole my idea!”

  “Oh, the ‘November Rain’ thing?”

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, okay. I can explain that.”

  “What’s there to explain? You ripped me off!”

  “No – no. Dude – it’s all good. Just . . . just calm down, man.” Dan started moving towards the living room. He sat down on the couch and motioned Eric to take his usual seat by the laptop, but Eric declined.

  “How?” Eric asked. “How did you manage—”

  “Look – it was late. I know you had a long day and wanted to have a bit of wifey time, and . . . well, the idea was too good. It couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to bug you about it, so I did it myself.”

  That in no way helped to assuage Eric’s anger or confusion.

  “But listen, man,” Dan continued, “you gotta believe me when I say it’s all good.”

  “Yeah, it’s all good for you.”

  “No, no, no – this is good for both of us. Yeah, it was a bit skeevy on my part – I admit that – but this is exactly the stepping stone we were looking for. Have you seen the number of views?”

  Eric thought about feigning naivety, but decided to continue with contemptuousness instead. “I’ve seen it, FunnyDan.”

  “I couldn’t think of a name – you know I’m bad with that. Eric, millions of people have seen the sketch. Millions! And they love it! Your idea – which I merely helped flesh out for you – this idea has given us exposure. And, because it’s gotten so many views on YouTube, we got invited into their affiliate marketing program. The sketch is making us money, Eric – money we can use to get better equipment so that we can make future sketches without having to worry so much about whether-or-not we can pull off some of our more over-the-top ideas, which you and I both know are our best ones. CGI dogs, Eric – saying whatever we want them to say – we can do that now.”

  Eric was finally starting to calm a bit. He no longer seemed angry or confused, but it was still possible he could snap at any moment. Once again, Dan extended his hand towards the office chair by the laptop. Eric looked over at the chair, took a deep breath, and acquiesced.

  “This is an opportunity,” Dan continued, “we need to take advantage of. We can’t waste this time by fighting. The ‘November Rain’ thing was a one-time incident – I don’t regret doing it, but I know it wasn’t right of me. We need to work together, Eric – me and you. If we do so, we’re going to blow some minds.”

  It was hard to deny the opportunity this represented. For the first time, a chance had arrived to make the dream achievable.

  Eric took another deep breath, and acquiesced once more. “You’re right,” he told his childhood friend who had never wronged him before, “we need to get some more stuff up as soon as possible.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” Dan said, smiling as widely as in his profile picture.

  “But FunnyDan has got to go.”

  “Oooh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s a ton of people subscribed to the FunnyDan YouTube channel – it might cause too much confusion if we change it. But . . . but we’ll start every video with a title card showing whatever bitchin’ name we come up with, followed by both our names listed as creators. Dan and Eric – or Eric and Dan – comedy writers.”

  “Alright.”

  “Great! Um, I’ve got nothing going on tonight – did you want to go ahead and try to work some ideas out right now?”

  Eric stood up slowly. “Wish I could, man, but I’m drained, and I still have some errands I need to run. Plus, I told Debbie I’d be home in time so we can catch the new How I Met Your Mother together.”

  “Right on. No problem, man – why don’t we just shoot for Thursday night, as usual?”

  “Yeah, Thursday works for me.”

  “Great,” Dan said as they walked to the front door together. “Hey, speaking of sitcoms, did you ever flesh out that sitcom sketch idea you had a couple weeks back?”

  “Which one?”

  “The one about the breast reduction surgery center.”

  “That’s The Tits!?”

  “Yes! That was it.”

  “Nah, I just haven’t had time to work on it lately. Maybe I’ll try to get it ready for Thursday.”

  “That would be awesome. I’ll hopefully whip up a couple ideas between now and then as well.”

  “Cool.” Eric opened the door. “I’ll see you Thursday, then,” he said without looking back at Dan.

  “Alright, Eric. Thursday.”

  Eric stood outside the steps leading up to Dan’s apartment. A beer – a lot of them, really - from the bar down the street sounded good at the moment. But he had errands to run, and a promised night of calmly watching television with his wife ahead of him.

  4

  He got to the house just before 8 o’clock. When he arrived, Debbie was already on the couch, with the credits for Entertainment Tonight scrolling
in front of her.

  “You got here right on time, babe,” she said as he made his way over to the couch.

  “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss as he sat down.

  “Did you talk to Dan?”

  “Yeah. We’re . . . we’re putting all the crap behind us. The opportunity’s too good to have all that get in the way right now.”

  “If you think it’s best, then I’m happy for you.”

  He put his hand over her shoulder, smiled, and squeezed her closer. “I think it’s best – I really do.”

  After one more commercial, the familiar music announcing the start of CBS’s prime-time schedule began. The eye that made up their logo flashed on the screen, then swiped over to a shot of the cast of How I Met Your Mother.

  “You’re watching CBS’s Comedy Monday,” the announcer said. “How I Met Your Mother will not be seen this week, so that we can bring you a very special presentation: the season premiere of our highly-anticipated new comedy, That’s The Tits!”

  The color faded from Eric’s face. The smile disappeared, too, replaced by a look of absolute horror. Debbie didn’t notice at first – she was mainly confused over the name of the new show.

  A spectacularly-cheesy opening sequence – accompanied by equally-cheesy music – began to play on the TV. There was Dan, front-and-center, wearing a doctor’s outfit and mimicking various antics with other doctors, nurses, and excessively-large-breasted women. At the end of the montage, the phrase That’s The Tits! splashed across the screen, followed by four words that completely shattered Eric: “Created By Dan Louis”.

  Eric took his arm from Debbie’s shoulder and put both hands over his face. He stood up, sat back down, and yelled into his hands, “SON OF A BITCH!”

  5

  “Doop doop da-doo, ba-da-la bap-bap da.”

  It was a coping mechanism. Whenever his nerves would act up, Eric would start singing. There were never any words – just various combinations of scat-like syllables turned into a simple, repeatable melody. Most would come and go, but this combination and melody tended to pop back into his brain from time to time.