Poetry at Droplabs

sketch.txt

 
The sketch:
 
A [poop] enters a pet shop.
 
Mr. Praline: 'Ello, I wish to [throw] a [today].
(The owner does not [fart].)
 
Mr. Praline: 'Ello, [it]?
Owner: What do you [gentle] "miss"?
 
Mr. Praline: (pause)I'm [smelly], I have a [water]. I wish to make a [fish]!
Owner: We're [eat]in' for lunch.
 
Mr. Praline: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?
 
Mr. Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!
Owner: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.
 
Mr. Praline: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Owner: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!
 
Mr. Praline: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.