The Lowbrow Reader Reader: Addenda and Annotations—Project Achhh
In Lowbrow Reader #6, I wrote about my experience, years prior, recording a spectacularly botched comedy album that was to have starred the voices of a comedian friend, his girlfriend, and his psychiatrist. The article, “The Making and Uncoiling of Project Achhh,” now appears in our book, The Lowbrow Reader Reader, accompanied by the typically sharp illustrations of Carl Cassel. The essay mainly concerns a rocky friendship, as well as the profanity-riddled debate that broke out between my friend and his psychiatrist during recording. Not included in the article, however, is the full text of the sketch that this motley crew had gathered to perform. Ominously titled “Suicidal Aspirations,” it was written around 1997—I must have been 21 or 22. As such, it does not live up to the sterling literary standards and indisputable hilarity that readers have come to expect from The Lowbrow Reader. Yet its dubious quality, borderline offensiveness, and all-around puerility seem very much at home on lowbrowreader.com. And so, without further ado, let me present “Suicidal Aspirations.”
Setting: A suburban bedroom. A genteel couple sit in bed reading John Updike books. Their teenage son knocks on the door.
SCOTT: Mom, Dad, can I come in? There’s something I want to talk to you about.
DAD: Sure, come in Scotty. The door’s open any time! Any time!
MOM: Is something wrong, Scottrick?
DAD: Is it the tennis team? Oh God, it’s your backhand, isn’t it? Scotty, I’m telling you, you just have to lean into the ball. Into the ball! Just like Coach keeps saying. You’ll be fine, then. You’ll be a player!
SCOTT: No, no, it’s not that. It’s sort of something more important—
MOM: Scottrick, a B+ isn’t that bad. I know it’s not Ivy League material, but we’ll work with the math tutor. You know, I think you should start going twice a week to see her.
DAD: That’s a damn good idea. Do you think the tutor’s still awake, because I can call right now. Right now!
SCOTT: No, no, it’s not that. You see, actually, I’ve been thinking about committing suicide.
MOM: Well we support you, dear. Just remember we’re behind you 100%!
DAD: How ya thinkin’ of doing it, Sport? Slicing up the wrists? A gun-shot to the ol’ temple, is that it? I can line up some shooting lessons at the club if you want.
MOM: You know, the Rosenberg child hung himself and left an absolutely charming note behind. I was just talking to his mother yesterday—why, she said that it was better than his college essays! “If he had sent that note to Yale,” she said, “he would have been accepted in a heartbeat!” So if you want to go over your suicide note with the English tutor first, just let us know. Or if you want, I can help you with it. How far along are you?
DAD: You know something, Champ, a guy I work with happens to know Doctor Kevorkian’s attorney. Now I’m not promising anything, but maybe I could get you a slot with the doctor. Tomorrow at work I could schmooze around a little, make a couple calls. I mean, it probably won’t be right away, but I wouldn’t be too surprised if he squeezes you in. And he is the best, son. The best! Isn’t he, Suzie?
MOM: Oh Michael. Just imagine. Our boy, a patient of Doctor Kevorkian. That would get in the newspaper, wouldn’t it? And that’s not just buried in the sports page!
DAD: But Scotty, let’s really try to push this off until the tennis season is over. Coach said once you iron out that backhand he’ll bump you up in the line-up. And that could be in time for the Deerfield match—that’s only two and a half weeks away.
MOM: Scottrick, why don’t we push this off to give you time to bump that math grade up a bit. That way, if we decide to go through with this, you’ll finish school on the High Honor Roll.
DAD: I’ll tell ya what, Chief. I’m gonna call the math tutor tomorrow morning and schedule two sessions for this week. If you can bump that grade up to an A-minus, I’ll see what I can do about that Doctor Kevorkian appointment. Huh? Do we have a deal?
SCOTT: Yeah, that sounds fair enough! [He leaves room]
MOM: We’ve raised quite a son, Michael.
DAD: We certainly have, Suzie.