Nothing breathes life back into a hardened conscience like death.
Barely kept alive by life support, publisher Ulysses J. Cain wept, suddenly aware of what a hmm-mm-hmm he’d been his whole life.
With the last of his strength, he clutched his butler and pled, “Horace, old boy. As the chill of death shakes me, I recall how wicked I’ve been. Selfish. Cruel. Greedy. I beg you. Please say something to encourage me before I die.”
His butler replied, “Your memory’s still intact. You’re an excellent judge of character. And soon, you won’t have to worry about any more chills.”
Here’s a short film/comedy sketch I wrote in 1998.
We had a fun day filming this and others.
(I’m the one standing in the blue robe and pajamas,
wearing glasses and a gray wig.
I enter @ 1:39.)
If I had to do it all over again,
I’d have made this much shorter.
But in my defense,
we had to fill up a lot of time!
The best part’s from about the five-minute mark on.
The listing says The Death Bed Spoof,
but the correct title is:
The Finger Twitching Sketch
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