Saturday Night Live Transcripts
Season 2: Episode 7
Least-Loved Bedtime Tales: The Blind Chicken
Mr. Mike … Michael O’Donoghue
[ Music: gentle solo piano, in background throughout sketch. The evil Mr. Mike — a thin, bearded man in dark suit and glasses — sits facing the camera in front of a gray wall. Weird, shadowy lighting. A superimposed text reads: “Mr. Mike’s Least-Loved Bedtime Tales.” Text fades out and camera slowly moves forward to a close-up as Mr. Mike addresses the audience. ]
Mr. Mike: Good evening, I’m Michael O’Donoghue — or “Mr. Mike,” as my friends like to call me — and tonight’s Least-Loved Bedtime Tale is entitled “The Blind Chicken.”
[ as if reading a story to children ] There once lived, on the edge of an alligator-infested lagoon, a blind chicken. He was very happy. Or about as happy as you can be if you’re a blind chicken.
One day there is a knock on the door of his coop. Knock-knock-knock. “Who is it?” asked the chicken. [ insincere voice ] “I’m a, uh, uh– Oh, what do you call those things? They’re yellow and they have the, uh, webbed feet, um– [ snaps his fingers, trying to remember ] You know what I’m talkin’ about. They’re always splashin’ around in the water and they go ‘quack’ or somethin’?”
“A duck?” suggested the chicken.
[ insincere voice ] “Uh, yeah, that’s it,” the voice answered. “I’m a duck.”
“Oh, come right in, Mr. Duck,” said the chicken, unlocking the door. “You know, for a second there, I was afraid you might be one of those alligators that infest the– GLOCK! EEARGH! URK! URK!” [ head shakes violently, as if being torn off by alligator ]
[ calmly, after a slight pause ] And the alligator ate the chicken.
Ahhhh, that’s about it, except, uh, three, four months later, the alligator was sunning himself on the highway and he was run over by a bus. A, um, big Greyhound Scenicruiser®. No, wait, I’m sorry. I was just kidding. What actually happened was the alligator was in the forest, sunning himself on a log, when he was run over by a hovercraft.
In any case, he was, uh, just mashed. The end.
In closing, I would like to leave you with this thought about love:
“Love is a death camp in a costume.” Good night.
[Applause. Camera pulls back, image and music fade out.]