Lulumay (satirical sketch)

Reads: 328  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

In this send-up of Mitch McConnell, his terrible politics, and his obstructive behavior, Kentucky sweetheart Lulumay has a mad crush on Mitch, invites him to dinner with daddy, and they wind up in a passionate clinch. (Originally intended as a Saturday Night Live sketch.)

LULUMAY, a ripe young Southern gal in her 20s
MITCH McCONNELL, Senate Majority Leader from Kentucky 
A Kentucky chicken farm.  An afternoon of the present. 
A Kentucky chicken farm, and a ripe young woman in her 20s, LULUMAY, in skimpy shorts and blouse, a kind of cross between Daisy Mae Scragg and Baby Doll, is sprinkling chicken feed 'round the lot, with those chickens just cluckin' to their hearts' content.
LULUMAY: Here, little chickee chickees, here little chickees.  Lulumay coming 'round and it's feedin' time.  My, my, you're hungry little babies.  Don't you be spoiled now.
(Enter DADDY)
DADDY: Now Lulumay honey, what you doing out here in the yard?  Y'all know you've got chores in the house to attend to.
LULUMAY: I was just thinking, Daddy, that's all.  Thinkin' and dreamin', 'bout that man ah met.  They say he is a big senator up thar in Washington.  Ah declare, I believe he has cast a spell on me.
DADDY: You talkin' about that McConnell person?
LULUMAY: Yes I declare I am, Daddy.
DADDY: Our senator?
LULUMAY: The very same.  And ah'm as smitten as your little baby can be.  Don't he just have the cutest eyes, and that funny chin of his that's just so droopy, it sends thrills down mah spine.  When he opens his mouth, I could swear he's cluckin' just like one of them thar chickens.  Ah got a crush on him, Daddy, ah cain't help it.  Ah got a crush and ah got it bad.  That Mr. McConnell -- oh, I know they call him names up thar yonder in Washington, like the grim reaper and such, but to me he's simply divine.  Can we have him to dinner, Daddy?
DADDY: Honey, that man is spoken for, 'sides which his people were said to own slaves.
LULUMAY: Oh, but his dimples -- they're so cute.  They can call him a dirty obstructionist or whatever they like, but to me, he's heaven.  Daddy, let's have him to dinner. Let's see if he takes a liking to me.  Maybe he could git me a job up there, in that big Washington place.
DADDY: Your mama, if she were alive, would certainly not approve.  I suppose you'll be wanting him to come alone if he comes at all.  Well, I could put in a phone call.
LULUMAY: Oh do, Daddy, do.
DADDY: You go back to feedin' them chickens.  I'll see what I can do.  I can't help myself, you're all ah have in the world, and ah simply have to spoil you.
(DADDY exits to house)
LULUMAY: Here, chickee, chickee, chickees.  Lulumay gonna spoil you.  And ah'm gonna spoil that Mr. McConnell when he gits a look at the skintight outfit ah'm a fixin' to be wearing.
(LIGHTS DOWN, THEN BACK UP on LULUMAY, DADDY and MITCH McCONNELL seated around the dinner table finishing off a tub of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Lulumay is dressed provocatively)
MITCH: Well now, that was a delicious meal.  My compliments to the Colonel.That's one repast I surely wouldn't veto in chambers.  And there's another sitting right here at this table.
LULUMAY: Why Mr. McConnell, you wouldn't be talkin' 'bout -
MITCH: That's right, Lulumay, little ole you.  Daddy, forgive me.  Your daughter is more charming than a conference call with a passel of my favorite rednecks. Would you care to take the air, Lulumay?
LULUMAY: Why yes, ah'd love to.  Daddy?
DADDY: You be on your good behavior, the both of you.  I'll just sit around and lick the grease off mah fingers.
(LULUMAY and MITCH exit to porch)
LULUMAY: Sure is a purdy night, isn't it, Mr. McConnell.
MITCH: Mitch, Lulumay, Mitch.  I think we need to be on a first-name basis.
LULUMAY: Oh, I'll bet you say that to all your constituents.
MITCH: My constituents are a bunch of redneck idiots, Lulumay, elsewise they would never have voted for me.  There's one thing and only one thing that God put me on this earth to do, and that's to obstruct.  Some of my Democratic colleagues have accused me of being an over-the-hill, turkey-necked, tongue-clucking obstructionist fool.  If they knew how truly idiotic I am, they would consider that a compliment.  I'm afraid I'm what you might call the Great Constipator, Lulumay, and you can prod me and pump me full of laxatives and stool looseners, but push and strain though you might, that legislation ain't never going to get through.  I take it as a matter of pride.  And speaking of taking, I'd like to take you in my arms right now, with your kind permission.
LULUMAY: Omigod, Mr. McConnell, you don't know how I've dreamed of this moment. I've had the most terrible crush on you ever since you vetoed laws pertaining to the environment, healthcare, and infrastructure.  Every decent and humane legislative impulse that you've shot down only excites me and makes me want you more.
MITCH: And I want you, Lulumay, right this very minute.
(They embrace)
LULUMAY: Oh God, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, you toad-throated devil.
(They kiss)
LULUMAY: For a withered old lizard, Mr. McConnell, you fill this little ole Southern gal with a sense of fire.  Tell me, what is it about your job that most inspires you, that sustains you, if you could sum it up in just a few words.
(McCONNELL turns to us)
MITCH: To quote Rhett Butler, Lulumay, I'd have to sum it up like this -- with regard to my legislative obligations  -- (turns face forward) -- Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.
(They kiss)

Submitted: April 30, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Ron Micci. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

Other Content by Ron Micci