Judge me please! Like I need to invite you...
It's a radio sketch at the moment, and this is my first critiquing, so be as harsh as you want, I won't mind.
Oh, beware. I have little to know idea how to structure this, so things in ** are sounds.
*ENGINE SOUND, AS IF A VAN IS BEING DRIVEN.*
MIKE:
*SNORING*
JOHN:
Wake up!
MIKE:
Oh, come on! It's been a long day, and I'm tired.
JOHN:
But... you're driving!
MIKE:
I'm still in control.
JOHN:
Your feet are on the dash board!
MIKE:
Yes, and the brick is on the accelarator, I can't see the problem here!
KERIAN:
OWWWW. My head!
JOHN:
It's your fault! Just keep lying down in the back on the van and rest.
KERIAN:
You're right. It's my fault. I've got to stop drinking. No - wait. I've got to KEEP drinking.
*DRINKING SOUNDS*
JOHN:
No! That's oil!
KERIAN:
Oh. Still, it has a kind of, minty taste...
*THUMP*
MIKE:
Great! Now he's fainted.
JOHN:
(Sarcastically) And you seem so concerned.
MIKE:
Well, yeah. I'm going to be the one up all night with him.
JOHN:
No, I will. I've been through all the toxic substances with him. The hairspray. The embalming fluid. The swarfega incident of '05.
MIKE:
How is he anyway?
JOHN:
Being sick. Well, not really being sick. It's like he's leaking from the mouth.
MIKE:
I'm pulling over.
JOHN:
You suddenly care?
MIKE:
No, I'm hungry. There's a burger bar up there.
JOHN:
I wouldn't if I were you, this road is famous for being the only place with burgers that can give you clamidia.
MIKE:
I like danger.
*SQUEEKING OF TIRES. ENGINE STOPS*
MIKE:
Okay. I'll get the burgers. You tend to the moron back there.
JOHN:
He's not a 'moron'. He's just... special.
MIKE:
A special kinda crazy. What is with him and drinking stuff bound to get him unconcious?
JOHN:
I think it's depression.
MIKE:
He lives in England. If he can't deal with depression, he shouldn't be here.
*SOUND OF DOOR OPENING, THEN SLAMMING SHUT*
JOHN:
Okay, let's just climb into the back...
*SQUEEKING OF LEATHER*
JOHN:
Kerian? You alright? Yes of course he's alright, that's why he's foaming the mouth.
KERIAN:
*MOANS*
JOHN:
Now I'm covered in digested oil. Great. If only Mum could see me now. Knowing that cow it might very well turn her on.
KERIAN:
What?
JOHN:
(Shock)AH! Oh, you're awake.
KERIAN:
I think so. Or I'm dead. Either way, I'm hungry.
JOHN:
Mike's gone to get us some burgers. With extra STDs.
KERIAN:
Yuck. I hate all that posh crap.
Good so far?