Transcribed from: Comedy CentralKevin: I've noticed a lot of these crudely made signs [holding up a cardboard sign that reads "Please no junk mail"] on the porches of people's houses. Well, I say "People should be more careful about what they ask for." 'Cos I'm here tonight, ladies and gentleman, to tell you junk mail saved my life. Yes. Junk mail saved my life. Junk mail saved my life. Oh, sorry. I only meant to say that twice. Forget the third time. Where was I? Junk mail saved my life. If I had one of these signs up in the window of my house I wouldn't be alive today to talk about it.
Transcribed by: Tlyco@aol.com
See, it happened two nights ago. I was alone at home. I'm no good with relationships; women say I'm difficult and that I have *emotional problems*--but that's a different monologue onto itself. Anyway, I'm at home drying the dish--who needs more than one dish when you live alone? You know, just me and my *emotional problems*.
So, I finish drying the dish and I open the cupboard door to put the dish away. I also lean over to empty the sink. I straigtned up too quickly and hit my head on the edge of the door.
Well, blinded by pain, I stumble backward into the glass cabinet of porcelin dolls. So I collect porcelin dolls!! Isn't a guy allowed to have a hobby!?
Okay, I try to stumble my way towards the bathroom; only I trip over the blue box, which is really strange 'cos I don't have a blue box!
So, I land on a large pile of junk mail that'd been laying near the front door. Then I passed out. And the doctors tell me if there wasn't junk mail there to stop the bleeding, I would have bled to death!
So, I come to after thirty minutes. No one stopped by or even called--you know--why should they? I have *emotional problems.*
So, I lift myself up to my elbows and I crawl to the telephone and I dial for help. Now, due to my head injury, I can't remember that easy to remember emergency number. So I pull a large piece of bloody junk mail off the back of my head and I dial that number. Lucky for me, it was a number I had called several times before and they had my name and address in the computer. Unlucky for me, they thought I was ordering a pizza and came forty-five minutes later. I got the pizza for free--but that's a different monologue onto itself.
So, the pizza guy made a couple more deliveries, then drove me straight to the hospital. And that's how junk mail saved my life! So, I suggest to you that you think twice before putting one of these signs [holding up the cardboard sign that reads "Please no junk mail"] in the window of your house. You just might regret it.
Oh, and I want all you ladies out there to know, I'm seeing a therapist about my *emotional problems*.
[Kevin turns around and walks to the back of the stage and stumbles into the door]