Late Night Talk Show

Here’s another brilliant idea that could make me rich. And I have to give credit for the idea to That Guy.

As the title suggests, I would host my own late night talk show. Not sure what exactly I would discuss. (Probably something random, probably sometimes intellectual in nature.) But since when do talk show hosts know their topics long beforehand anyway?

It would have to be a filmed talk show (think Leno or Letterman), rather than a radio one, because we came up with a bunch of random visual effects/gags to use during the show. I’m not even sure how much discussion would really take place during the show.

We’d start with me, the host, lying down on a couch the whole time, talking to the guest from on my back. The guest would probably have a nice leather armchair or something. Heck, maybe they’d have a couch too. So we’d be there chatting, and rather than use pronouns like ‘he’, ‘she’, or ‘you’, I’d just say their full name each time I address them. (Think a Chuck Norris joke. [Hey that gives me an idea for who’d be my first guest!]) And each time I mention their name out loud, some guy (whose whole purpose on the show is to stand behind the set with a clicker) would press the clicker. Then at the end of the show he’d show the tally.

We’d save money on lighting by just having Bryan build a fire the whole time. Bryan would literally build a bonfire before every show, and sit there keeping it roaring until after we were done. (Which I’m pretty sure is Bryan’s dream job.) Sitting in a chair to the guest’s right (I’d be on the guest’s left) would sit That Guy. And he’d be there all show just doing what he does. Which in this case is either sharpening a machete or cleaning a handgun (it would alternate each show). He’d do that the whole show, just to make the guest nervous. He’d also be wearing Das Büt on his kicking foot. This Büt would be a huge honking steel-toed mother of a shoe, and would have spikes coming out the sides. On his other foot would probably just be his own sock, or whatever footwear he normally wears.

And whenever the guest would say anything stupid, That Guy would jump up, scream “Das Büt!!!” and whomp the guest in the face. If somehow the guest dodged the blow, and tried to get away, then bars would come up around the stage and they’d be trapped until they got whomped. Heck, Bryan and I would even help pin him down so as not to waste any more time. After being whomped, the bars would drop down and we’d return to the conversation we were having. If the guest should be so foolish as to say something stupid again, we’d repeat the whole process over.

And now you know why I don’t have my own talk show. But just think of the possibilities!

-Bernier