Wet Hot American Summer
written by Michael Showalter & David Wain
(Every "joke" (that is, non-joke) he tells is received with ridiculously exaggerated laughter from the campers and staff.)
Alan Sheperd: Thank you very much. Hello Camp Firewood, hello. Thank you for having me. You know I went to sleepaway camp so long ago that it was the Stone Age. No, but seriously, it wasn't the Stone Age, it was the Ice Age. No, really it was the Stone Age. But folks actually I went to Camp Makluden in the Pine Hills of Westchester New York, and that was so long ago that for breakfast we had to eat scrambled pterodactyl eggs and raptor bacon. Back then we didn't have cots we had slabs. Instead of sleeping bags we had pelts. When I was at camp, my favorite activity was arts and crafts. Or as we used to call it, arts and farts and crafts. We used to make drawings: cave drawings...which is my way of saying that we were cavemen. I went to camp so long ago that I can remember saying sticks and stones may break my bones and meaning it. I went to camp so long ago that fucking Jesus Christ was my counselor and my best friend had polyeboslia. His name was Ug...and he walked on all fours. There were two epidemics when I went to camp: head lice and the Plague, the Bubonic Plague.
Kudos and much thanks go to ToucanBob for this monologue, it is very much appreciated.
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