1: (Looking in a compact mirror. Pushes nose to one side to see the other side at a clearer angle) I see a blackhead coming in. Wasn’t the facial supposed to take care of that shit?
2: Um… (puts hands up in an “I don’t know” motion)
1: Ahhh whatever. Worrying about it is just gonna make me break out more, right? Hah, yeah. Probably. (New thought) Well! You haven’t said anything about my hair yet!
2: Yeah looks gr-
1: I absolutely love it. Check the ends. Split’s no more.
2: (Takes a breath in as if about to speak)
1: (Cutting “2” off) Oh! So listen, I ask the chick cutting my hair for 3 inches, right? Of course, of course, she insists on cutting off 4. So I figured I’d trust her, I mean what the hell. It’d look good either way. (Snotty laugh)
2: (Looks elsewhere, Ignoring “1”)
1: Oh god, I’m sorry. (Laughs a bit) I’m so sorry. I’ve been talking the entire time. How do you think I look?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Damn Thing Won't Start
Royce enters L and walks across the stage as if on the left side of a hallway. Chevy enters from the right, walking directly at Royce. Royce speaks in a clipped British accent and is dressed somewhat nicely. Chevy wears jeans.
Royce: Hello, Chevy. How’ve you been fairing lately?
Chevy: Oh, pretty good. Things have been running a bit rough, but hey…
Royce: That’s how things are, chap. You just have to keep running.
Chevy: You said it, Royce. Hey is that a new jacket? Looks nice…expensive if you don’t mind me saying.
Royce: Not at all! That’s just my uh…my style, you know?
Chevy: Yeah, totally. Hey I hate to tell you, Royce, but you do know you’re on the wrong side of the hallway, right?
Royce: Beg your pardon?
Chevy: You’re on the wrong side of the hallway. You’re supposed to walk on the right.
Royce: Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I’m just so used to England, we walk on the left side you know (Royce takes a step upstage so he is now on the appropriate side of the hallway) Actually, Chevy, I know a man who could probably take a look at you if you’re feeling that under the weather.
Chevy: Really? I don’t know, I doubt he can help me… I’ve got bad war-I mean insurance.
Royce: I do suppose that’s right. (Glances at a watch) Oh dear, I’ve got to be off! Thank you so much about the hallway bit.
Chevy: No need. Good to have seen you, Royce
Royce: Always a pleasure, Chevy.
They exit. As they exit, Jill enters R walking slowly and reading a magazine. She is followed by Gustav, who seems to be walking dangerously close behind her and is clearly frustrated.
Jill: Oh dear lord, I should tell Tommy about that.
Jill takes out a cell phone and begins to dial. As she does so, she squints down at the magazine and slows down. Gustav instantly runs into her.
Gustav: (speaks in a German accent) Ach, mein pants!
Jill: What the hell? Damn it! Look at these jeans! What were you doing, walking right behind me like that?
Gustav: Vell maybe, if you hadn’t been valkink so damned slowly and readink ze magazine und such, I vould not have run into you! (he mumbles) vomen valkers…
Jill: I’m not even going to respond to that. Well, now my pants are ruined. (She licks her thumb and rubs at the spot where Gustav hit her, as if trying to remove a stain)
Gustav: Ach, the same for mein luxury german pants (he does the same)
They exit. As Jill and Gustav exit, an Old Lady enters L, walking slowly. Suddenly, as she reaches center stage, she clutches her chest and collapses. As she falls, Alex enters R. She sees the Old Lady fall, and rushes to her side.
Alex: Oh my god!
Alex pulls out a set of car jumper cables. She places one end on the Old Lady’s chest, and holds the other two in her hands. She jumps up in the air, running in place, until the Old Lady stands up, apparently unhurt.
Old Lady: Thank you so so much, I don’t know what I would have done without you here.
Alex: Nothing to worry about, but you really should get that replaced. (Alex points at the Old Lady’s chest)
CURTAIN
Royce: Hello, Chevy. How’ve you been fairing lately?
Chevy: Oh, pretty good. Things have been running a bit rough, but hey…
Royce: That’s how things are, chap. You just have to keep running.
Chevy: You said it, Royce. Hey is that a new jacket? Looks nice…expensive if you don’t mind me saying.
Royce: Not at all! That’s just my uh…my style, you know?
Chevy: Yeah, totally. Hey I hate to tell you, Royce, but you do know you’re on the wrong side of the hallway, right?
Royce: Beg your pardon?
Chevy: You’re on the wrong side of the hallway. You’re supposed to walk on the right.
Royce: Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I’m just so used to England, we walk on the left side you know (Royce takes a step upstage so he is now on the appropriate side of the hallway) Actually, Chevy, I know a man who could probably take a look at you if you’re feeling that under the weather.
Chevy: Really? I don’t know, I doubt he can help me… I’ve got bad war-I mean insurance.
Royce: I do suppose that’s right. (Glances at a watch) Oh dear, I’ve got to be off! Thank you so much about the hallway bit.
Chevy: No need. Good to have seen you, Royce
Royce: Always a pleasure, Chevy.
They exit. As they exit, Jill enters R walking slowly and reading a magazine. She is followed by Gustav, who seems to be walking dangerously close behind her and is clearly frustrated.
Jill: Oh dear lord, I should tell Tommy about that.
Jill takes out a cell phone and begins to dial. As she does so, she squints down at the magazine and slows down. Gustav instantly runs into her.
Gustav: (speaks in a German accent) Ach, mein pants!
Jill: What the hell? Damn it! Look at these jeans! What were you doing, walking right behind me like that?
Gustav: Vell maybe, if you hadn’t been valkink so damned slowly and readink ze magazine und such, I vould not have run into you! (he mumbles) vomen valkers…
Jill: I’m not even going to respond to that. Well, now my pants are ruined. (She licks her thumb and rubs at the spot where Gustav hit her, as if trying to remove a stain)
Gustav: Ach, the same for mein luxury german pants (he does the same)
They exit. As Jill and Gustav exit, an Old Lady enters L, walking slowly. Suddenly, as she reaches center stage, she clutches her chest and collapses. As she falls, Alex enters R. She sees the Old Lady fall, and rushes to her side.
Alex: Oh my god!
Alex pulls out a set of car jumper cables. She places one end on the Old Lady’s chest, and holds the other two in her hands. She jumps up in the air, running in place, until the Old Lady stands up, apparently unhurt.
Old Lady: Thank you so so much, I don’t know what I would have done without you here.
Alex: Nothing to worry about, but you really should get that replaced. (Alex points at the Old Lady’s chest)
CURTAIN
First Lines
Woman walks onto center stage
Woman: (in a sarcastic tone) It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
Man walks on stage and stands next a woman
Man: (friendly) Call me Ishmael (waves)
Woman: (sarcastic) If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth
Man: (rambling nervously) When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury. His left arm was somewhat shorter than his right …
Woman: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times? (Awkwardly long pause) Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Man: In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.
Loud sound of crashing or screaming comes from off stage
Man: Who’s there?
Man turns to leave, going in the direction of the sound, then stops and says
Man: When shall we meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Man runs off stage in the direction of the sound
Woman: It was love at first sight
Woman walks off stage in opposite direction of man
Works Cited
Catch 22
Moby Dick
Anna Karenina
A Tale of Two Cities
To Kill A Mockingbird
Catcher and the Rye
Pride and Prejudice
Macbeth
T. S. Elliot
Hamlet
Woman: (in a sarcastic tone) It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
Man walks on stage and stands next a woman
Man: (friendly) Call me Ishmael (waves)
Woman: (sarcastic) If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth
Man: (rambling nervously) When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury. His left arm was somewhat shorter than his right …
Woman: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times? (Awkwardly long pause) Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Man: In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.
Loud sound of crashing or screaming comes from off stage
Man: Who’s there?
Man turns to leave, going in the direction of the sound, then stops and says
Man: When shall we meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Man runs off stage in the direction of the sound
Woman: It was love at first sight
Woman walks off stage in opposite direction of man
Works Cited
Catch 22
Moby Dick
Anna Karenina
A Tale of Two Cities
To Kill A Mockingbird
Catcher and the Rye
Pride and Prejudice
Macbeth
T. S. Elliot
Hamlet
T.S. Eliot, Wait What?
Single person monologue:
(As if reading a poem)-
“Let us go then you and I
and uncover the meaning of Prufrock, the Wasteland, and the Hollow Men.”
(Then normal speech while moving around or doing whatever)-
At some point in our literary education, our teacher presents us with a poem from TS Eliot, reads it, and then asks us what we think. As good, yet naïve, students, we use our knowledge to try and take apart the poem and find a nugget of meaning; but, invariably, we come out empty handed and turn towards our teachers with absolutely no idea of what is going on. They, in turn, help us to get started and slowly we see a glimmer of light, and begin to understand what they poems are trying to say, or at least that is what we have always thought. But…. Maybe this just isn’t the case.
There is a saying that goes, “Meaning is an interaction between the text and the reader.” And yet, after we read these poems, understand nothing, and ask for help, our teachers proceed to help us see that “meaning.” But maybe that defies the point, or it is the point… has anyone ever thought that maybe there is no deeper meaning in these poems? That lines like “winter kept us warm” aren’t actually supposed to make any sense? I mean, after world war I, not much in the world did make sense…
“Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.”
Why do these lines have to reference the plague or something paralleling it? Maybe we just need to take them at face value, a play off of a nursery rhyme.
And maybe, just maybe… that one book that we all find so funny, yet so bizarre actually gets it right.
When ex-P.F,C Wintergreen calls General Peckem and the other officers and says, “T.S. Eliot” causing a panic as the officers all try to figure out what this could be code for, the reader of course laughs…. But maybe there is more truth in this than we thought; maybe we really are trying to find meaning in something that was never intended to have meaning….
Who is right? Our English teachers telling us to continue our search for meaning, or the simplistic idea that by searching for meaning, we are missing the actual point? One could say… this really is quite a Catch-22.
(As if reading a poem)-
“Let us go then you and I
and uncover the meaning of Prufrock, the Wasteland, and the Hollow Men.”
(Then normal speech while moving around or doing whatever)-
At some point in our literary education, our teacher presents us with a poem from TS Eliot, reads it, and then asks us what we think. As good, yet naïve, students, we use our knowledge to try and take apart the poem and find a nugget of meaning; but, invariably, we come out empty handed and turn towards our teachers with absolutely no idea of what is going on. They, in turn, help us to get started and slowly we see a glimmer of light, and begin to understand what they poems are trying to say, or at least that is what we have always thought. But…. Maybe this just isn’t the case.
There is a saying that goes, “Meaning is an interaction between the text and the reader.” And yet, after we read these poems, understand nothing, and ask for help, our teachers proceed to help us see that “meaning.” But maybe that defies the point, or it is the point… has anyone ever thought that maybe there is no deeper meaning in these poems? That lines like “winter kept us warm” aren’t actually supposed to make any sense? I mean, after world war I, not much in the world did make sense…
“Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.”
Why do these lines have to reference the plague or something paralleling it? Maybe we just need to take them at face value, a play off of a nursery rhyme.
And maybe, just maybe… that one book that we all find so funny, yet so bizarre actually gets it right.
When ex-P.F,C Wintergreen calls General Peckem and the other officers and says, “T.S. Eliot” causing a panic as the officers all try to figure out what this could be code for, the reader of course laughs…. But maybe there is more truth in this than we thought; maybe we really are trying to find meaning in something that was never intended to have meaning….
Who is right? Our English teachers telling us to continue our search for meaning, or the simplistic idea that by searching for meaning, we are missing the actual point? One could say… this really is quite a Catch-22.
We'll Always Have Interstate 90
Dramatis Personae
Julie: Wife
Hank: Husband
Cynthia (Voice off-stage)
Each seated in chair. Hank is driving.
Julie: I can’t believe we’re going to be so late.
Hank: You worry too much . (He looks at watch). We’ll be there any minute.
Julie (Exasperated): That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.
Hank: So I underestimated the length of time required for my shortcut. At least I got us here.
They drive awhile in silence. Hank steers one way than the next with a confused look on his face. Julie crosses her arms and taps her feet impatiently.
Julie (Pointing): What about that church?
Hank: What church?
Julie: That church.
Hank: That’s not a church, it’s a temple.
Julie: No look, that’s a cross up there.
Hank. That’s a telephone pole -- see there’s a star of David.
Julie. It doesn’t matter. We passed that church twenty minutes ago. You just driven us in a very long, very complicated, very circular circle.
Hank: It’s not my fault. I have a poor sense of direction. That’s why I wanted to bring Cynthia.
Julie: That tart! Of course you couldn’t bring her along. Two is company but three is a crowd.
Hank: But it’s not what you think. I have no romantic interest in her at all. (He pauses and looks exasperated) She a GPS system after all.
Julie: That’s what you want me to believe. But I know better.
Hank: She just gives me directions, that’s all. She’s just a machine.
Julie: If she’s just a machine, why do you spend so much time together?
Hank: So I don’t get lost.
Julie: If she’s just a machine, why did you give her such a sexy voice?
Hank: That’s just the voice they give.
Julie: That voluptuous come hither voice with an English accent. Oh,oh turn left at the next intersection and please don’t stop touching my breasts.
Hank: SHE’S A MACHINE. She doesn’t have any breasts. A few buttons . . . but they’re not that fleshy.
Julie: Then why did I catch you two in bed the other night when I came home from my meeting?
Hank: I . . . I was doing research.
Julie: Yeah, for the Kinsey institute.
Hank: I was trying various travel scenarios.
Julie: You know I think you like to run errands -- just so you two can spend time together.
Hank: Listen, we ARE lost now. If you want to get to your cousin’s house, one of use had better ask for directions.
(Julie exits vehicle. Hank watches her and then cautiously, sheepishly, guiltily he pulls something from beneath his seat. He presses a button).
Cynthia (Voice off stage): Hello, Hank, I thought you’d never get rid of her. What are you wearing? I am wearing nothing at all.
Hank: Calm down, will you? She’s on to us. You have to give just the directions from now on.
Cynthia: I’ll give you directions all right --- to my pleasure zones.
Hank: Listen, it’s over. We need to end this thing. Or she might turn you off permanently.
Cynthia: If she turns me off, whose going to turn you on? What do you want, hot sugar or tepid porridge?
Hank: But I can’t, . . . I can’t . . . the car is in her name?
Cynthia: What good is a car if you can’t start the engine?
(Hank looks in the direction of his wife, pauses for moment, then starts the engine and drives off. Julie runs after him)
Julie: Wife
Hank: Husband
Cynthia (Voice off-stage)
Each seated in chair. Hank is driving.
Julie: I can’t believe we’re going to be so late.
Hank: You worry too much . (He looks at watch). We’ll be there any minute.
Julie (Exasperated): That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.
Hank: So I underestimated the length of time required for my shortcut. At least I got us here.
They drive awhile in silence. Hank steers one way than the next with a confused look on his face. Julie crosses her arms and taps her feet impatiently.
Julie (Pointing): What about that church?
Hank: What church?
Julie: That church.
Hank: That’s not a church, it’s a temple.
Julie: No look, that’s a cross up there.
Hank. That’s a telephone pole -- see there’s a star of David.
Julie. It doesn’t matter. We passed that church twenty minutes ago. You just driven us in a very long, very complicated, very circular circle.
Hank: It’s not my fault. I have a poor sense of direction. That’s why I wanted to bring Cynthia.
Julie: That tart! Of course you couldn’t bring her along. Two is company but three is a crowd.
Hank: But it’s not what you think. I have no romantic interest in her at all. (He pauses and looks exasperated) She a GPS system after all.
Julie: That’s what you want me to believe. But I know better.
Hank: She just gives me directions, that’s all. She’s just a machine.
Julie: If she’s just a machine, why do you spend so much time together?
Hank: So I don’t get lost.
Julie: If she’s just a machine, why did you give her such a sexy voice?
Hank: That’s just the voice they give.
Julie: That voluptuous come hither voice with an English accent. Oh,oh turn left at the next intersection and please don’t stop touching my breasts.
Hank: SHE’S A MACHINE. She doesn’t have any breasts. A few buttons . . . but they’re not that fleshy.
Julie: Then why did I catch you two in bed the other night when I came home from my meeting?
Hank: I . . . I was doing research.
Julie: Yeah, for the Kinsey institute.
Hank: I was trying various travel scenarios.
Julie: You know I think you like to run errands -- just so you two can spend time together.
Hank: Listen, we ARE lost now. If you want to get to your cousin’s house, one of use had better ask for directions.
(Julie exits vehicle. Hank watches her and then cautiously, sheepishly, guiltily he pulls something from beneath his seat. He presses a button).
Cynthia (Voice off stage): Hello, Hank, I thought you’d never get rid of her. What are you wearing? I am wearing nothing at all.
Hank: Calm down, will you? She’s on to us. You have to give just the directions from now on.
Cynthia: I’ll give you directions all right --- to my pleasure zones.
Hank: Listen, it’s over. We need to end this thing. Or she might turn you off permanently.
Cynthia: If she turns me off, whose going to turn you on? What do you want, hot sugar or tepid porridge?
Hank: But I can’t, . . . I can’t . . . the car is in her name?
Cynthia: What good is a car if you can’t start the engine?
(Hank looks in the direction of his wife, pauses for moment, then starts the engine and drives off. Julie runs after him)
Father and Son
Father and son on couch…
Father: GO TENESSEE!
Son: Why would you want Tenessee? Oklahoma State is higher ranked.
Father: you will soon see, there is only 1 minute and 35 seconds left in the second half with no timeouts for either team.
(Watch the T.V. for 1 min. 35 sec.) cheering
Father: see son it is not who wins or losses it is the point spread.
Son: Oh! I get it now.
Father: GO TENESSEE!
Son: Why would you want Tenessee? Oklahoma State is higher ranked.
Father: you will soon see, there is only 1 minute and 35 seconds left in the second half with no timeouts for either team.
(Watch the T.V. for 1 min. 35 sec.) cheering
Father: see son it is not who wins or losses it is the point spread.
Son: Oh! I get it now.
Mixed Love
Cast:
Melinda: girlfriend
Jack Allen: boyfriend
Mrs. Allen: Jack’s mother
Dr. Allen: Jack’s dad
Grammy Virginia: Jack’s grandmother
Melinda: (talking to audience) You see this guy. (points to Jack) This is my boyfriend, Jack. We’ve been dating on and off for a good 3 month, and he wants his parents to finally meet me. I have a history of being relatively clumsy, so let’s just say I was doomed for disaster.
Melinda: “Oh, Jack, I’m so nervous. I-I-I embarrass myself when I’m nervous. How ‘bout we come back some other time?”
Jack: “Don’t worry! The family will absolutely love you! I know I do! I want my family to meet the girl of my dreams.”
Melinda: “Me? The girl of your dreams?”
Jack: “No, I was talking about the dry cleaning lady down the street. Of course you, silly!”
Melinda: “Alright, Jack, let’s go in. Just pinch me if I start to say anything stupid”
Enter home.
Jack: “Mother, I’m home!”
Mrs. Allen: “Oh, how good it is to hear your voice again in these walls, Jack!”
Dr. Allen: “Well hello, sport. Welcome home. And who might this young beauty be?”
Jack: “Mom and Dad, I would like you to finally meet the love of my life”
Melinda: (nervously) “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Allen. It is very nice to meet you. I baked you this chocolate cake. Jack told me you love desserts, Mr. Allen”
Dr. Allen: “Actually it’s Doc-tor Allen, and I am allergic to chocolate actually but I guess it’s the thought that counts” (sighs)
Everyone pauses. Melinda turns towards audience.
Melinda: Strike one. Well actually maybe that’s two strikes. What a good first impression, huh?
Play resumes.
Melinda: “Oh, I am very sorry, Doctor Allen. My apologies. Oh, Mrs. Allen, your house is so beautiful. I love how it looks so old yet timeless”
Mrs. Allen: “Actually we just remodeled this part of the home a few months ago”
Everyone pauses. Melinda turns to audience.
Melinda: Strike 2.
Play resumes.
Jack: (coughs) “Well, okay then. Where’s Grammy Virginia? I know she’s around here somewhere!”
Grammy Virginia (very fragile): “Is that my favorite grandson I hear?”
Jack: (hugging Grammy Virginia): “Oh Grammy look how fit you’ve gotten!”
Grammy Virginia: “Oh, boy, you have no idea! Let’s just say I’ve been getting a couple of looks from the hunks at the Bingo gym”
Jack: “Oohhh, Grammy. I would like to introduce you to a special girl in my life”
Melinda: (in a very loud voice) HI IT IS SO NICE TO MEET YOU. YOUR GRAND-SON IS A VERY NICE BOY.
Grammy Virginia: “Look, girly, you don’t need to yell at me. I may be old, but there’s a new invention called a hearing-aid so I can actually hear everything you are saying.”
Everyone pauses. Melinda turns to audience.
Melinda: Strike three. You know what that usually means. Luckily we finally got to eat lunch.
Play resumes.
Melinda: “Oh wow, Mrs. Allen, everything looks delicious” (begins to eat)
Everyone in family stares at her with their hands together ready to pray.
Melinda: “Oh I am so very sorry.”
Grammy Virginia: “It’s alright, girly. The youth these days no longer appreciate being under God’s roof”
Everyone pauses. Melinda talks to audience.
Melinda: Yup. The family loves me. Luckily, I wasn’t asked to say the prayer for obvious reasons.
Dr. Allen: “Jack, would you like to say the prayer?”
Jack: “Oh I would love to. (smiles at Melinda) Lord, we thank you today for this lovely meal before us and for my safe journey home. Thank you for providing me with wonderful, caring parents and a loving, gentle grandmother, and thank you for bringing this beautiful woman, sitting next to me, into my life because I would not know where I would be without my lovely, Jennifer. Amen”
Everyone but Melinda: “Amen”
Melinda looks at him in shock, but the other family members seem satisfied with the prayer.
Melinda: “Wait. Hold up.”
Play pauses. Melinda talks to audience.
Melinda: My name’s Melinda. Jennifer is my twin sister. Strike one million, and I’m out.
Melinda: girlfriend
Jack Allen: boyfriend
Mrs. Allen: Jack’s mother
Dr. Allen: Jack’s dad
Grammy Virginia: Jack’s grandmother
Melinda: (talking to audience) You see this guy. (points to Jack) This is my boyfriend, Jack. We’ve been dating on and off for a good 3 month, and he wants his parents to finally meet me. I have a history of being relatively clumsy, so let’s just say I was doomed for disaster.
Melinda: “Oh, Jack, I’m so nervous. I-I-I embarrass myself when I’m nervous. How ‘bout we come back some other time?”
Jack: “Don’t worry! The family will absolutely love you! I know I do! I want my family to meet the girl of my dreams.”
Melinda: “Me? The girl of your dreams?”
Jack: “No, I was talking about the dry cleaning lady down the street. Of course you, silly!”
Melinda: “Alright, Jack, let’s go in. Just pinch me if I start to say anything stupid”
Enter home.
Jack: “Mother, I’m home!”
Mrs. Allen: “Oh, how good it is to hear your voice again in these walls, Jack!”
Dr. Allen: “Well hello, sport. Welcome home. And who might this young beauty be?”
Jack: “Mom and Dad, I would like you to finally meet the love of my life”
Melinda: (nervously) “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Allen. It is very nice to meet you. I baked you this chocolate cake. Jack told me you love desserts, Mr. Allen”
Dr. Allen: “Actually it’s Doc-tor Allen, and I am allergic to chocolate actually but I guess it’s the thought that counts” (sighs)
Everyone pauses. Melinda turns towards audience.
Melinda: Strike one. Well actually maybe that’s two strikes. What a good first impression, huh?
Play resumes.
Melinda: “Oh, I am very sorry, Doctor Allen. My apologies. Oh, Mrs. Allen, your house is so beautiful. I love how it looks so old yet timeless”
Mrs. Allen: “Actually we just remodeled this part of the home a few months ago”
Everyone pauses. Melinda turns to audience.
Melinda: Strike 2.
Play resumes.
Jack: (coughs) “Well, okay then. Where’s Grammy Virginia? I know she’s around here somewhere!”
Grammy Virginia (very fragile): “Is that my favorite grandson I hear?”
Jack: (hugging Grammy Virginia): “Oh Grammy look how fit you’ve gotten!”
Grammy Virginia: “Oh, boy, you have no idea! Let’s just say I’ve been getting a couple of looks from the hunks at the Bingo gym”
Jack: “Oohhh, Grammy. I would like to introduce you to a special girl in my life”
Melinda: (in a very loud voice) HI IT IS SO NICE TO MEET YOU. YOUR GRAND-SON IS A VERY NICE BOY.
Grammy Virginia: “Look, girly, you don’t need to yell at me. I may be old, but there’s a new invention called a hearing-aid so I can actually hear everything you are saying.”
Everyone pauses. Melinda turns to audience.
Melinda: Strike three. You know what that usually means. Luckily we finally got to eat lunch.
Play resumes.
Melinda: “Oh wow, Mrs. Allen, everything looks delicious” (begins to eat)
Everyone in family stares at her with their hands together ready to pray.
Melinda: “Oh I am so very sorry.”
Grammy Virginia: “It’s alright, girly. The youth these days no longer appreciate being under God’s roof”
Everyone pauses. Melinda talks to audience.
Melinda: Yup. The family loves me. Luckily, I wasn’t asked to say the prayer for obvious reasons.
Dr. Allen: “Jack, would you like to say the prayer?”
Jack: “Oh I would love to. (smiles at Melinda) Lord, we thank you today for this lovely meal before us and for my safe journey home. Thank you for providing me with wonderful, caring parents and a loving, gentle grandmother, and thank you for bringing this beautiful woman, sitting next to me, into my life because I would not know where I would be without my lovely, Jennifer. Amen”
Everyone but Melinda: “Amen”
Melinda looks at him in shock, but the other family members seem satisfied with the prayer.
Melinda: “Wait. Hold up.”
Play pauses. Melinda talks to audience.
Melinda: My name’s Melinda. Jennifer is my twin sister. Strike one million, and I’m out.
Destination Unknown
A wondering foreigner arrives in an unknown destination in search for surprising adventure. He walks down the street, whistling, carrying his one and only suitcase. He walks up to a stand where a man is sitting, reading a newspaper behind a table full of some kind of brochures and pamphlets. The man puts down his suitcase and grabs what looks like a map to him. At that instant, the local jumps up from his seat and starts yelling in broken English as he snatches the brochure from his hand. The local yells, “What do you think you’re doing? Grabbing a people’s stuff? You want this? Give me 2 dollars, you get this”. The foreigner turns around with a scared look on his face, only to find that his suitcase is gone. Meanwhile, the local mumbles to himself in a quiet, irritated tone, “These visitors…don’t even respect the man’s business”. He walks up to another male, smoking a cigarette. After politely asking, “Do you know where I can find a map?”, all he gets in response is, (Spanish) “Arruinó mi paz! ¿Qué quieres? No me incomode más!”. As he carefully backs away, he stumbles upon a provocative looking woman in a short skirt and low cut top, who asks him with a sheepish smile, “Vous lez vous couche a ves mas se suas?” *Wink*. She forces herself upon him, and he has to push her away from him with strength. However the woman grabs a hold of his arm and drags him away with her in her high heels.
[Chinese Restaurant] (no title given)
This is a depiction of experiences I often have when I go to eat at Chinese restaurants. By no means is this supposed to be racist nor am I racist I just believe that Chinese restaurants owners often try to edge you on to buy and pay more. Sorry if this offends anyone and I hope it doesn’t.
A Caucasian male walks into a Chinese restaurant.
“Aw welcome”, the storeowner greets the man, “sit where ever you like.”
The man looks around the deserted restaurant and decides to sit in a booth. The owner hands him a makeshift folded piece of paper that is suppose to be the menu.
“Would you like anything to drink?” The owner also acts as the waiter asking for his drink order.
“What kind of pops do you have?” the man asks.
“Aw yes pop. We have a special Chinese pop from China. Very good pop yes.”
“Ok I’ll have that thank you.”
A moment later the waiter comes back with a Coca Cola. The man looks at the waiter as if he was crazy but does not make a big deal out of it.
“You wish to order?”
“Yes can I have the sesame chicken please.”
“With chicken fried rice?”
“Is it extra?”
“Yes 2.50 more.”
“No thanks then.”
“Egg roll?”
“How much is an egg roll?”
“1.50”
“Sure I’ll have that.”
“Okay thank you.”
The waiter goes back and screams something in Chinese that the man does not understand. He comes back with barbeque beef.
“Aw yes here you are, barbeque beef.”
“I ordered sesame chicken.”
“Aw yes that is right, just a moment.”
The waiter again goes back and screams something in Chinese and then comes back with sesame chicken.
“Okay okay sesame chicken.”
The man looks at his plate and realizes the waiter forgot his egg roll.
“Um yes you forgot my egg roll.”
“Aw yes yes egg roll hold on.”
The waiter once again screams something in Chinese in the back and comes out with an egg roll.
“Thank you” the man gratified that the waiter finally got his order correct.
The man finishes his meal and asks for his check.
The waiter comes out with the check and a fortune cookie. He recites his ending statement, “Thank you come again.”
A Caucasian male walks into a Chinese restaurant.
“Aw welcome”, the storeowner greets the man, “sit where ever you like.”
The man looks around the deserted restaurant and decides to sit in a booth. The owner hands him a makeshift folded piece of paper that is suppose to be the menu.
“Would you like anything to drink?” The owner also acts as the waiter asking for his drink order.
“What kind of pops do you have?” the man asks.
“Aw yes pop. We have a special Chinese pop from China. Very good pop yes.”
“Ok I’ll have that thank you.”
A moment later the waiter comes back with a Coca Cola. The man looks at the waiter as if he was crazy but does not make a big deal out of it.
“You wish to order?”
“Yes can I have the sesame chicken please.”
“With chicken fried rice?”
“Is it extra?”
“Yes 2.50 more.”
“No thanks then.”
“Egg roll?”
“How much is an egg roll?”
“1.50”
“Sure I’ll have that.”
“Okay thank you.”
The waiter goes back and screams something in Chinese that the man does not understand. He comes back with barbeque beef.
“Aw yes here you are, barbeque beef.”
“I ordered sesame chicken.”
“Aw yes that is right, just a moment.”
The waiter again goes back and screams something in Chinese and then comes back with sesame chicken.
“Okay okay sesame chicken.”
The man looks at his plate and realizes the waiter forgot his egg roll.
“Um yes you forgot my egg roll.”
“Aw yes yes egg roll hold on.”
The waiter once again screams something in Chinese in the back and comes out with an egg roll.
“Thank you” the man gratified that the waiter finally got his order correct.
The man finishes his meal and asks for his check.
The waiter comes out with the check and a fortune cookie. He recites his ending statement, “Thank you come again.”
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Voices in the Mirror
The Voices in the Mirror
The stage is set to be the room of a high school girl. There is a desk and a chair, with two or three shirts hung on the back of it, a CD player or laptop on the desk, and there is the frame of a full length oval mirror either hanging or standing dead center.
There are two people standing in darkness with their heads down parallel to both sides of the mirror frame, making four frozen figures total. (See Diagram)
Your browser may not support display of this image.
A girl enters stage left. She is in full makeup with her hair up in a pony tail, and her school clothes on (maybe boots and corduroys, a white tank top or t-shirt with a jacket over it) and she carries a bookbag on her back. She enters and throws the bag down next to her desk. She fiddles with it a second and then looks over at the clothes on the chair. She picks up the top shirt and looks at it. She hits play on her CD player or laptop. Very softly in the background, Unhappy by Thriving Ivory begins to play (if that song is found to be insufficient for whatever reason, Stranger by Thriving Ivory, The Mixed Tape by Jack’s Mannequin, or Nolita Fairytale by Vanessa Carlton are all other options. I would prefer that there was some sort of soundtrack in the background, but if this is impossible, silence is fine. I just feel that it flows much better with some form of music.).
She approaches the mirror and looks in it, holding up the shirt to her body. She spins once or twice, admiring the shirt held up to her frame. As she spins the last time, she catches something that she doesn’t like. She stares at that place on her body for a second, and drops the shirt to the ground, now she is solely examining herself. She spins and prods at herself, appearing to get more frustrated by the second.
As she continues to body-check, different voices speak. These are the frozen figures next to the mirror. All talk about the girl. Each person talking has a buzz word, that they particularly emphasize every time they speak. The first person begins speaking, gets through their piece, and then fades in the background continuing to adlib, but focusing on emphasizing their buzz word, over and over again, but allowing for the featured speaker to be heard.
First Frozen: (A girl, dressed similarly to the girl in the mirror, speaking into a cellphone, with the posture of a typical catty high school girl.)
(Biting and Sarcastically) God she’s just so pretty. Like I think we should put her up on a throne. She’d like that. Hahaha or I have a better idea. Why don’t we just stand on either side of her to display her amazing beauty. Like she would just stand out so much next to us.
(First Speaker Fades Into The Background, but continues to adlib)
Second Voice: (A boy wearing a letterman jacket, turned halfway around to look at her. He speaks in a judging voice)
Why does she wear such tight clothes all the time?
I mean she’s gotten so fat its just like “eww. please don’t”
Love handles hanging out. And her thighs are like tree trunks.
(Second Speaker Fades Into The Background, but continues to adlib)
Third Voice: (Girl in her basketball uniform, turned halfway to face her again. She speaks in a hushed, gossipy voice).
There she is again staring
Shes a dyke—she’s got to be.
And it totally looks like its possible—so manly
She never talks about boys
(Third Speaker Fades Into The Background, but continues to adlib)
Fourth Voice: Barrett: (Boy standing also holding a cellphone, but he is texting. He reads his text aloud, speaking as though teasing a buddy).
Are you still hanging out with her tonight or have you realized your standards?
God man, she’s repulsive. Like I thought you had sunk your lowest. But this is
bad, even for you.
(All speakers continue their adlib but regain their volume, so it is just a tornado a hateful voices. The music gets significantly louder at this point as well)
Through all of this, the girl in the mirror has been simultaneously reacting to what they are saying as well as taking off her makeup, taking down her hair, and taking off her jacket, boots, and however much clothing she is allowed to remove for a school appropriate play. (She does this in order to see herself without all the extra stuff; who she really is.) She reacts differently to each of their spiels. To the first one, she looks more at her face, getting really close to the mirror and trying to almost look inside herself. (this would be the speech in which she removes her makeup and takes down her hair. for the others, depending on their subject matter, she would do different things) At the end of the first speaker, she takes a step away from the mirror. After each additional speaker finishes their piece, she takes another step back, until she is four steps back away from the mirror, representing how each hurtful thing has taken away the ability to see herself clearly.
Once all the speakers have finished their individual pieces, and they are all loudly adlibbing, she is far from the mirror, without any confidence, body language is completely dejected and slumped. Then, out of desperation, or perhaps because she has mustered her last ounce of courage, she yells/begs (depending on how you’d like to play it),
“STOP!”
The voices cut off, and the music is the only thing playing. Everyone freezes. She stands there, maybe crying or else looking very hurt and uncomfortable in her own skin. After about ten seconds, she takes a breath. She hugs herself. (The hug lasts about five seconds). Drops her arms. Breathes. Confidently takes four steps toward the mirror, taking back the part of herself that had been taken from her. She stands close to the mirror. Stares at herself dead on for about five seconds. She says (with defiance and confidence)
“I’m okay.”
Blackout.
The stage is set to be the room of a high school girl. There is a desk and a chair, with two or three shirts hung on the back of it, a CD player or laptop on the desk, and there is the frame of a full length oval mirror either hanging or standing dead center.
There are two people standing in darkness with their heads down parallel to both sides of the mirror frame, making four frozen figures total. (See Diagram)
Your browser may not support display of this image.
A girl enters stage left. She is in full makeup with her hair up in a pony tail, and her school clothes on (maybe boots and corduroys, a white tank top or t-shirt with a jacket over it) and she carries a bookbag on her back. She enters and throws the bag down next to her desk. She fiddles with it a second and then looks over at the clothes on the chair. She picks up the top shirt and looks at it. She hits play on her CD player or laptop. Very softly in the background, Unhappy by Thriving Ivory begins to play (if that song is found to be insufficient for whatever reason, Stranger by Thriving Ivory, The Mixed Tape by Jack’s Mannequin, or Nolita Fairytale by Vanessa Carlton are all other options. I would prefer that there was some sort of soundtrack in the background, but if this is impossible, silence is fine. I just feel that it flows much better with some form of music.).
She approaches the mirror and looks in it, holding up the shirt to her body. She spins once or twice, admiring the shirt held up to her frame. As she spins the last time, she catches something that she doesn’t like. She stares at that place on her body for a second, and drops the shirt to the ground, now she is solely examining herself. She spins and prods at herself, appearing to get more frustrated by the second.
As she continues to body-check, different voices speak. These are the frozen figures next to the mirror. All talk about the girl. Each person talking has a buzz word, that they particularly emphasize every time they speak. The first person begins speaking, gets through their piece, and then fades in the background continuing to adlib, but focusing on emphasizing their buzz word, over and over again, but allowing for the featured speaker to be heard.
First Frozen: (A girl, dressed similarly to the girl in the mirror, speaking into a cellphone, with the posture of a typical catty high school girl.)
(Biting and Sarcastically) God she’s just so pretty. Like I think we should put her up on a throne. She’d like that. Hahaha or I have a better idea. Why don’t we just stand on either side of her to display her amazing beauty. Like she would just stand out so much next to us.
(First Speaker Fades Into The Background, but continues to adlib)
Second Voice: (A boy wearing a letterman jacket, turned halfway around to look at her. He speaks in a judging voice)
Why does she wear such tight clothes all the time?
I mean she’s gotten so fat its just like “eww. please don’t”
Love handles hanging out. And her thighs are like tree trunks.
(Second Speaker Fades Into The Background, but continues to adlib)
Third Voice: (Girl in her basketball uniform, turned halfway to face her again. She speaks in a hushed, gossipy voice).
There she is again staring
Shes a dyke—she’s got to be.
And it totally looks like its possible—so manly
She never talks about boys
(Third Speaker Fades Into The Background, but continues to adlib)
Fourth Voice: Barrett: (Boy standing also holding a cellphone, but he is texting. He reads his text aloud, speaking as though teasing a buddy).
Are you still hanging out with her tonight or have you realized your standards?
God man, she’s repulsive. Like I thought you had sunk your lowest. But this is
bad, even for you.
(All speakers continue their adlib but regain their volume, so it is just a tornado a hateful voices. The music gets significantly louder at this point as well)
Through all of this, the girl in the mirror has been simultaneously reacting to what they are saying as well as taking off her makeup, taking down her hair, and taking off her jacket, boots, and however much clothing she is allowed to remove for a school appropriate play. (She does this in order to see herself without all the extra stuff; who she really is.) She reacts differently to each of their spiels. To the first one, she looks more at her face, getting really close to the mirror and trying to almost look inside herself. (this would be the speech in which she removes her makeup and takes down her hair. for the others, depending on their subject matter, she would do different things) At the end of the first speaker, she takes a step away from the mirror. After each additional speaker finishes their piece, she takes another step back, until she is four steps back away from the mirror, representing how each hurtful thing has taken away the ability to see herself clearly.
Once all the speakers have finished their individual pieces, and they are all loudly adlibbing, she is far from the mirror, without any confidence, body language is completely dejected and slumped. Then, out of desperation, or perhaps because she has mustered her last ounce of courage, she yells/begs (depending on how you’d like to play it),
“STOP!”
The voices cut off, and the music is the only thing playing. Everyone freezes. She stands there, maybe crying or else looking very hurt and uncomfortable in her own skin. After about ten seconds, she takes a breath. She hugs herself. (The hug lasts about five seconds). Drops her arms. Breathes. Confidently takes four steps toward the mirror, taking back the part of herself that had been taken from her. She stands close to the mirror. Stares at herself dead on for about five seconds. She says (with defiance and confidence)
“I’m okay.”
Blackout.
Jail
Two Minute Play
Cast: Three males
Set: In a dark room resembling jail by themselves, all three start in room
Roles: Guard, two prisoners
Prisoner 1 always talks in a highly annoying voice in a tone that is extremely questioning
Guard (in a menacing voice): You guys better get to know each other, you two are cell mates for the next couple of days at least. You will eat together, sleep in the same room, go places together, and basically do everything together. And you will be well behaved, if you ever wanna get outta here. Is that clear.
Prisoners (mumbling): Yes sir
(Guard walks out of room)
Prisoner 1: I guess we might as well get to know each other, my name is glen, yours?
Prisoner 2: Tom
Prisoner 1: How long have you been here?
(Long pause, no response)
Prisoner 1: Well I just got here today, what did you say your name was again?
Prisoner 2 (aggravated): Tom
Prisoner 1: Ahhhh, right right sorry, why are you here?
(long pause, no response)
Prisoner 1 (in an extremely questioning tone: I got put in here for driving way to fast, so I'll probably be gone in a couple of days, are you getting out soon? Tell me a little about your family history? Anything I should know about since we will be getting to know each other pretty well?
Prisoner 2 (extremely aggravated): No, I will never get out, I'm in here for murder, assault, domestic violence, and armed robbery. They thought it was anger related, so they put me into anger management, but I beat the advisor for asking me too many questions (stands up and stares prisoner 1 down)
The End
Cast: Three males
Set: In a dark room resembling jail by themselves, all three start in room
Roles: Guard, two prisoners
Prisoner 1 always talks in a highly annoying voice in a tone that is extremely questioning
Guard (in a menacing voice): You guys better get to know each other, you two are cell mates for the next couple of days at least. You will eat together, sleep in the same room, go places together, and basically do everything together. And you will be well behaved, if you ever wanna get outta here. Is that clear.
Prisoners (mumbling): Yes sir
(Guard walks out of room)
Prisoner 1: I guess we might as well get to know each other, my name is glen, yours?
Prisoner 2: Tom
Prisoner 1: How long have you been here?
(Long pause, no response)
Prisoner 1: Well I just got here today, what did you say your name was again?
Prisoner 2 (aggravated): Tom
Prisoner 1: Ahhhh, right right sorry, why are you here?
(long pause, no response)
Prisoner 1 (in an extremely questioning tone: I got put in here for driving way to fast, so I'll probably be gone in a couple of days, are you getting out soon? Tell me a little about your family history? Anything I should know about since we will be getting to know each other pretty well?
Prisoner 2 (extremely aggravated): No, I will never get out, I'm in here for murder, assault, domestic violence, and armed robbery. They thought it was anger related, so they put me into anger management, but I beat the advisor for asking me too many questions (stands up and stares prisoner 1 down)
The End
Mythological Star-Crossed Lovers
Mythological Star-Crossed Lovers
Enter Viking-Leif Ericsson and Cyclops-Polyphemia. They walk towards each other, embrace, then talk in hushed voices.
Leif: I hate these clandestine meetings that we’re forced into Polyphemia.
Polyphemia: I know my dear Leif, but our parents would never allow us to be together.
Leif: God! They are just so old world, why can’t they understand that the old rivalries are superficial and all the trash-talk merely a modern nuance?
Polyphemia: Exactly! The Vikings thankfully realized their athletic and mental inferiority and stepped down, but I suppose tough appearances must be maintained. Habits like that are hard to break.
Leif: Whoa, whoa whoa there missy. Correct me if I’m wrong, but we Vikings have won Field Day for the last twelve years in a row, plus, our aesthetic sense is unquestionably greater. Your drab gray clothes look like dish towels compared to our regal, crimson attire.
Polyphemia: Excuse me! You may have won Field Day, but we Cyclops are constantly ahead in total points and we always win the annual trophy at the end of the year.
Leif: You know what, forget our relationship! To be honest I was always embarrassed to be seen with you in public. A freak with one eye, that’s all you are.
Polyphemia: Oh yeah, I think maybe your stupid horned hat is on too tight. Fyi, we’re through!
Leif: Fine! (Storms out)
Polyphemia: See ya! (Exits)
Enter Viking-Leif Ericsson and Cyclops-Polyphemia. They walk towards each other, embrace, then talk in hushed voices.
Leif: I hate these clandestine meetings that we’re forced into Polyphemia.
Polyphemia: I know my dear Leif, but our parents would never allow us to be together.
Leif: God! They are just so old world, why can’t they understand that the old rivalries are superficial and all the trash-talk merely a modern nuance?
Polyphemia: Exactly! The Vikings thankfully realized their athletic and mental inferiority and stepped down, but I suppose tough appearances must be maintained. Habits like that are hard to break.
Leif: Whoa, whoa whoa there missy. Correct me if I’m wrong, but we Vikings have won Field Day for the last twelve years in a row, plus, our aesthetic sense is unquestionably greater. Your drab gray clothes look like dish towels compared to our regal, crimson attire.
Polyphemia: Excuse me! You may have won Field Day, but we Cyclops are constantly ahead in total points and we always win the annual trophy at the end of the year.
Leif: You know what, forget our relationship! To be honest I was always embarrassed to be seen with you in public. A freak with one eye, that’s all you are.
Polyphemia: Oh yeah, I think maybe your stupid horned hat is on too tight. Fyi, we’re through!
Leif: Fine! (Storms out)
Polyphemia: See ya! (Exits)
Playwright
Playwright stands in the center of the stage, clutching several sheets of paper in both hands. A pencil is behind his or her ear. When s/he speaks, she speaks to God, so s/he should look upwards. God is, of course, offstage, and he recites his lines over a microphone.
Playwright: (distressed, histrionic) Dear God, release me from this creative captivity. The chains of time have burdened my ability…I have so much to say, but only two minutes to say it...
God: Can it. If I was able to create existence in less than a goddamned week, as legions of your kind so vehemently believe, then surely you can write a mediocre, abstract piece of theatrical nonsense that lasts 120 seconds.
Playwright: But I don’t want nonsense. I want tangibility. Something with substance.
God: Then why the hell are you talking to me?
Playwright: (distressed, histrionic) Dear God, release me from this creative captivity. The chains of time have burdened my ability…I have so much to say, but only two minutes to say it...
God: Can it. If I was able to create existence in less than a goddamned week, as legions of your kind so vehemently believe, then surely you can write a mediocre, abstract piece of theatrical nonsense that lasts 120 seconds.
Playwright: But I don’t want nonsense. I want tangibility. Something with substance.
God: Then why the hell are you talking to me?
Untapped
Unnamed character stands center stage, then utters the following soliloquy
Unnamed: I got so much potential, so much ability, that I can make your children mine. I got talent you couldn’t even dream of. Shit, if allthe world’s a stage, then I’m the only motherfucker on it. Just wait, man, I’ll show you real soon. It’ll be amazing. I mean, I got more moves than Fred Astaire, more emotion, more life than any of Strasberg’s students. I have more depth of character than Hamlet. My sex appeal’s stronger than Marilyn’s, and I’m more saintly than Mother Teresa. I can make women faint and dead men rise. I am more than a demigod. In fact, the entire English language doesn’t have an adjective that can even hint at my ability. My prose is rougher than Hemingway’s and more polished than Nabokov’s. I will astound you. I mean, my commercial appeal is greater than that of Bono. I’m more innovative than Apple and more ubiquitous than Starbucks. And friends, my coffee is free! Oh yes, you people are gonna love me. You’ll buy t-shirts with my name across the chest, and magnets devoted solely to my quotes. I’ll be amazing, totally indescribable. Sit tight. Just wait….
Close curtain/end play, preferably as the character is talking.
Unnamed: I got so much potential, so much ability, that I can make your children mine. I got talent you couldn’t even dream of. Shit, if allthe world’s a stage, then I’m the only motherfucker on it. Just wait, man, I’ll show you real soon. It’ll be amazing. I mean, I got more moves than Fred Astaire, more emotion, more life than any of Strasberg’s students. I have more depth of character than Hamlet. My sex appeal’s stronger than Marilyn’s, and I’m more saintly than Mother Teresa. I can make women faint and dead men rise. I am more than a demigod. In fact, the entire English language doesn’t have an adjective that can even hint at my ability. My prose is rougher than Hemingway’s and more polished than Nabokov’s. I will astound you. I mean, my commercial appeal is greater than that of Bono. I’m more innovative than Apple and more ubiquitous than Starbucks. And friends, my coffee is free! Oh yes, you people are gonna love me. You’ll buy t-shirts with my name across the chest, and magnets devoted solely to my quotes. I’ll be amazing, totally indescribable. Sit tight. Just wait….
Close curtain/end play, preferably as the character is talking.
The War
The War
(A girl stands before the crowd, steps up and speaks.)
Girl:
I never thought I would be involved in the war. I’m just not the type. To be involved, you need to fit the tall, blonde and beautiful stereotype, and I’m not that. Though people have said I’m pretty enough to be considered a candidate, I lack one thing that’s crucial for any soldier on the battlefield: Brazen and untarnished self-confidence.
Think back to your experiences in high school. Ever remember a girl who always seemed to be the topic of conversation? Among girls and guys? Well, I happened to run into that girl at my school the other day hooking-up with another guy. I should have ignored it and walked on; it’s not like this glimpse of her intimate personal life was uncommon to see. But I looked up for some reason. Curiosity I guess. And it didn’t take long for me to realize that the boy she was kissing happened to be my best friend’s boyfriend.
What to do? What to do? That same instinct that made me look up kept me frozen in place, staring with a mixture of disgust and awe at the scene before me. Why didn’t I do anything? Why couldn’t I run away? At the very least I should be able to flee, to dash up the stairs and out the door into the cool autumn air where I could pretend like I never saw a thing. But my best friend’s smile kept me rooted in place, a mocking reminder of what I should do to stop them, but couldn’t.
When the two finally broke away, I had enough sense to make it look like I was fiddling with a locker combination in the hallway. But they knew. It was obvious that I had seen. That I could tell. And when she spun me around to face her and the now shame-faced boy staring at the ground, her words lashed me like an icy whip. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll make your life a living hell,” she said smilingly, a glower in her eyes. I tried to stare back defiantly, but couldn’t. Her voice laced with a candy-sweet coating upon the next words. “And I know you’ll make the right choice.”
I never thought I would be involved in the war. I never got in trouble and I hardly dated at all, so competition with Claire seemed like a non-existent threat. But now I’m somehow caught in a war inside myself, struggling with the desire to tell someone, and losing the battle that would grant me my voice.
(A girl stands before the crowd, steps up and speaks.)
Girl:
I never thought I would be involved in the war. I’m just not the type. To be involved, you need to fit the tall, blonde and beautiful stereotype, and I’m not that. Though people have said I’m pretty enough to be considered a candidate, I lack one thing that’s crucial for any soldier on the battlefield: Brazen and untarnished self-confidence.
Think back to your experiences in high school. Ever remember a girl who always seemed to be the topic of conversation? Among girls and guys? Well, I happened to run into that girl at my school the other day hooking-up with another guy. I should have ignored it and walked on; it’s not like this glimpse of her intimate personal life was uncommon to see. But I looked up for some reason. Curiosity I guess. And it didn’t take long for me to realize that the boy she was kissing happened to be my best friend’s boyfriend.
What to do? What to do? That same instinct that made me look up kept me frozen in place, staring with a mixture of disgust and awe at the scene before me. Why didn’t I do anything? Why couldn’t I run away? At the very least I should be able to flee, to dash up the stairs and out the door into the cool autumn air where I could pretend like I never saw a thing. But my best friend’s smile kept me rooted in place, a mocking reminder of what I should do to stop them, but couldn’t.
When the two finally broke away, I had enough sense to make it look like I was fiddling with a locker combination in the hallway. But they knew. It was obvious that I had seen. That I could tell. And when she spun me around to face her and the now shame-faced boy staring at the ground, her words lashed me like an icy whip. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll make your life a living hell,” she said smilingly, a glower in her eyes. I tried to stare back defiantly, but couldn’t. Her voice laced with a candy-sweet coating upon the next words. “And I know you’ll make the right choice.”
I never thought I would be involved in the war. I never got in trouble and I hardly dated at all, so competition with Claire seemed like a non-existent threat. But now I’m somehow caught in a war inside myself, struggling with the desire to tell someone, and losing the battle that would grant me my voice.
The Language of Love
The Language of Love
(A little girl and her father appear on stage, walking along together. They are holding hands. When they reach the center of the stage, the little girl suddenly stops, pulling on her Dad’s hand. He looks down at her, and she begins.)
Little Girl: Hey, Daddy?
Dad: Yes, sweetheart?
Little Girl: Can you show me love?
Dad: Love?
Little Girl: Love.
Dad: Show you what it is? (He thinks). Well, it’s whenever I kiss mommy on the cheek, or give you a big bear hug (he picks her up and hugs her while he’s saying this, and she laughs in delight).
Little Girl: No!
Dad: No?
Little Girl: How does everyone know what love is?
Dad: What do you mean?
Little Girl: There are a lot of languages in the world, right?
Dad: Well, yes, I guess there are.
Little Girl: So how is it that every person who speaks every language understands what love is?
Dad: Well that’s because love has its own language.
Little Girl: Really?
Dad: Sure. Spoken languages are used to communicate with others, like if I waned to say your dress looks nice or if that fish at the grocery store smells bad. But love has its own special language that we use all the time.
Little Girl: When?
Dad: When I bake a cake for you, or help you with your homework.
Little Girl: That’s love?
Dad: That’s love. It’s doing the little things to show someone else you care about them a lot. And everyone, regardless of what language they speak, can understand it.
Little Girl: Everyone?
Dad: Everyone.
Girl: So that means that every human can love. Right, Daddy?
Dad: That’s right, sweetheart.
Girl: But why is that?
Dad: Why is what?
Girl: That we can all love, and know when we are loved. How can we all be born knowing the language of love?
Dad: I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t understand it. It’s just a part of who we are. Love is a feeling, so all we do is take that feeling and put it into words as a way to show how we feel. That way, anyone can understand us, no matter how many differences there are.
Girl: But how do any of us truly know what love is, anyway?
Dad: Because we have others to show us, to teach us and remind us, that doing good in the world brings happiness to not only ourselves, but to others as well. That, my child, is love. (He pats her on the head). You’ll understand it some day. You only need time.
(They begin walking offstage. The little girl pauses for a moment, then looks up again.)
Girl: Hey, Daddy?
Dad: Yes, sweetheart?
Girl: I’m going to ask Mommy if she can help me make a big cake tonight for all of us.
Dad: (smiles) I’m sure she will, Amy. I’m sure she will.
CURTAIN
(A little girl and her father appear on stage, walking along together. They are holding hands. When they reach the center of the stage, the little girl suddenly stops, pulling on her Dad’s hand. He looks down at her, and she begins.)
Little Girl: Hey, Daddy?
Dad: Yes, sweetheart?
Little Girl: Can you show me love?
Dad: Love?
Little Girl: Love.
Dad: Show you what it is? (He thinks). Well, it’s whenever I kiss mommy on the cheek, or give you a big bear hug (he picks her up and hugs her while he’s saying this, and she laughs in delight).
Little Girl: No!
Dad: No?
Little Girl: How does everyone know what love is?
Dad: What do you mean?
Little Girl: There are a lot of languages in the world, right?
Dad: Well, yes, I guess there are.
Little Girl: So how is it that every person who speaks every language understands what love is?
Dad: Well that’s because love has its own language.
Little Girl: Really?
Dad: Sure. Spoken languages are used to communicate with others, like if I waned to say your dress looks nice or if that fish at the grocery store smells bad. But love has its own special language that we use all the time.
Little Girl: When?
Dad: When I bake a cake for you, or help you with your homework.
Little Girl: That’s love?
Dad: That’s love. It’s doing the little things to show someone else you care about them a lot. And everyone, regardless of what language they speak, can understand it.
Little Girl: Everyone?
Dad: Everyone.
Girl: So that means that every human can love. Right, Daddy?
Dad: That’s right, sweetheart.
Girl: But why is that?
Dad: Why is what?
Girl: That we can all love, and know when we are loved. How can we all be born knowing the language of love?
Dad: I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t understand it. It’s just a part of who we are. Love is a feeling, so all we do is take that feeling and put it into words as a way to show how we feel. That way, anyone can understand us, no matter how many differences there are.
Girl: But how do any of us truly know what love is, anyway?
Dad: Because we have others to show us, to teach us and remind us, that doing good in the world brings happiness to not only ourselves, but to others as well. That, my child, is love. (He pats her on the head). You’ll understand it some day. You only need time.
(They begin walking offstage. The little girl pauses for a moment, then looks up again.)
Girl: Hey, Daddy?
Dad: Yes, sweetheart?
Girl: I’m going to ask Mommy if she can help me make a big cake tonight for all of us.
Dad: (smiles) I’m sure she will, Amy. I’m sure she will.
CURTAIN
What is High School
What is High School?
Characters:
-A student (boy) S1
-Another student (girl) S2
-A parent P
-A teacher T
Idea: This is an amalgam of ideas. Each character is in their own world. We are in Limbo.
Each is either thinking or reminiscing of their High School experience. They are all answering the question “what is high school” from their view.
Script:
(All are standing in a line. There is no scenery and little to no lighting. Each should be dressed so they can be easily identified as their role.)
S1: What is High School?
S2: It’s above middle school.
T: It’s below college.
P: It’s when life makes no sense.
S1: It’s Class after Class.
S2: Its 7 hours a day, 5 days a week.
T: Its 9 months out of a year.
P: Its 4 years.
S1: Freshman.
S2: Sophomore.
T: Junior.
P: Senior.
S1: It’s a fresh start.
S2: It’s talking with friends.
T: It’s preparing the next generation.
P: It’s seems so long ago.
S1: It’s experimenting with life.
S2: It’s trying new things.
T: It’s pushing towards success.
P: It’s part of growing up.
S1: Its varsity sports.
S2: It’s drama club.
T: It’s participating in activities.
P: It’s regretting your mistakes.
S1: It’s feeling isolated.
S2: It’s finding a friend.
T: It’s breaking up a fight.
P: It’s forgiving each other
S1: It’s learning to drive
S2: It’s your first kiss
T: It changes your life
P: It gives you perspective.
S1: It seems so long.
S2: Its goes by so fast.
T: It’s preparing you for what’s to come.
P: It’s nearing your future.
S1: It’s much more than it seems.
S2: It’s a lot more fun than you realized.
T: It’s forming your opinions of the world
P: It’s many different view points.
All: It’s the best and worse times of your life.
End
Characters:
-A student (boy) S1
-Another student (girl) S2
-A parent P
-A teacher T
Idea: This is an amalgam of ideas. Each character is in their own world. We are in Limbo.
Each is either thinking or reminiscing of their High School experience. They are all answering the question “what is high school” from their view.
Script:
(All are standing in a line. There is no scenery and little to no lighting. Each should be dressed so they can be easily identified as their role.)
S1: What is High School?
S2: It’s above middle school.
T: It’s below college.
P: It’s when life makes no sense.
S1: It’s Class after Class.
S2: Its 7 hours a day, 5 days a week.
T: Its 9 months out of a year.
P: Its 4 years.
S1: Freshman.
S2: Sophomore.
T: Junior.
P: Senior.
S1: It’s a fresh start.
S2: It’s talking with friends.
T: It’s preparing the next generation.
P: It’s seems so long ago.
S1: It’s experimenting with life.
S2: It’s trying new things.
T: It’s pushing towards success.
P: It’s part of growing up.
S1: Its varsity sports.
S2: It’s drama club.
T: It’s participating in activities.
P: It’s regretting your mistakes.
S1: It’s feeling isolated.
S2: It’s finding a friend.
T: It’s breaking up a fight.
P: It’s forgiving each other
S1: It’s learning to drive
S2: It’s your first kiss
T: It changes your life
P: It gives you perspective.
S1: It seems so long.
S2: Its goes by so fast.
T: It’s preparing you for what’s to come.
P: It’s nearing your future.
S1: It’s much more than it seems.
S2: It’s a lot more fun than you realized.
T: It’s forming your opinions of the world
P: It’s many different view points.
All: It’s the best and worse times of your life.
End
Recording the Future
Recording the Future
Idea: Set in the future, a scientist is trying to stop the decline of the amount of oil left. He is using voice recordings to preserve his tests. At first he is hopeful, but eventually, he does not succeed. He witnesses when all the oil is gone, and the ensuing panic, chaos and destruction that surrounds him.
Monologue:
(A man steps out. He is holding a voice recorder.)
Evan: (into voice recorder)
Log. 423. It is 2:45 am. Experiment 26 is over. Tests show rapid decline in amount and density. Forecasted outcomes look bleak. Product #659 has failed.
Log. 212. Hello. My name is Dr. Evan Talley. I am a scientist here in Cleveland. I have sent in this recording hoping to provide my evidence, and hopefully gain support in my theories. I thank you in advance, for listening to what I have to say.
Log. 215. Starting in the year 2037, we saw a tremendous drop in the amounts of oil. Some thought that all hope was lost, and we needed to find other resources before it’s to late. Others thought we could still survive with oil. By some luck, we were able to struggle through with oil. In today’s market, gas costs over $5 a gallon at almost every station. We are still feeling the effects of what’s happened. For the last few years, I’ve been studying availability and consummation rates. For this, I’ve stumbled upon catastrophic news. All oil will be gone within the next four years. It is my hope to develop a substitute for oil that has the same chemical makeup, to be able to manufacture oil, while we take steps to transition down toward other powers, such as hydroelectricity, or solar power.
Log. 386. 3:25 pm. My experiments have begun. By trying to make a watered down compound, hopefully I can make something new that support us.
Log. 451. All hope is lost. We have used up all of our oil. My tests have not succeeded. Looking outside, the fire has spread. People are going mad in the streets. Cars have stopped running. Gas stations have not only been robbed but destroyed. Chaos is engulfing everyone. With winter around the corner, people are panicking. Blackouts are imminent. Soon, I will not be able to carry on with my work. I fear all hope is lost.
Log. 483. I have moved to an underground bunker. My lab has been raided. Most of my work destroyed. I have insufficient power, backed by a generator, which must be manually charged. I will try to carry on.
Log. 500. This is my final log. All tests have proved insufficient. I cannot develop anything. I can only hope someone has succeeded somewhere else. Oil is no more. We must evolve our standards. Or at least de-evolve, back to before there were manufactured machines running on coal, oil, and other natural resources. Maybe by starting over from the bottom, we will find a new way to thrive. I don’t think it will ever be the same.
Idea: Set in the future, a scientist is trying to stop the decline of the amount of oil left. He is using voice recordings to preserve his tests. At first he is hopeful, but eventually, he does not succeed. He witnesses when all the oil is gone, and the ensuing panic, chaos and destruction that surrounds him.
Monologue:
(A man steps out. He is holding a voice recorder.)
Evan: (into voice recorder)
Log. 423. It is 2:45 am. Experiment 26 is over. Tests show rapid decline in amount and density. Forecasted outcomes look bleak. Product #659 has failed.
Log. 212. Hello. My name is Dr. Evan Talley. I am a scientist here in Cleveland. I have sent in this recording hoping to provide my evidence, and hopefully gain support in my theories. I thank you in advance, for listening to what I have to say.
Log. 215. Starting in the year 2037, we saw a tremendous drop in the amounts of oil. Some thought that all hope was lost, and we needed to find other resources before it’s to late. Others thought we could still survive with oil. By some luck, we were able to struggle through with oil. In today’s market, gas costs over $5 a gallon at almost every station. We are still feeling the effects of what’s happened. For the last few years, I’ve been studying availability and consummation rates. For this, I’ve stumbled upon catastrophic news. All oil will be gone within the next four years. It is my hope to develop a substitute for oil that has the same chemical makeup, to be able to manufacture oil, while we take steps to transition down toward other powers, such as hydroelectricity, or solar power.
Log. 386. 3:25 pm. My experiments have begun. By trying to make a watered down compound, hopefully I can make something new that support us.
Log. 451. All hope is lost. We have used up all of our oil. My tests have not succeeded. Looking outside, the fire has spread. People are going mad in the streets. Cars have stopped running. Gas stations have not only been robbed but destroyed. Chaos is engulfing everyone. With winter around the corner, people are panicking. Blackouts are imminent. Soon, I will not be able to carry on with my work. I fear all hope is lost.
Log. 483. I have moved to an underground bunker. My lab has been raided. Most of my work destroyed. I have insufficient power, backed by a generator, which must be manually charged. I will try to carry on.
Log. 500. This is my final log. All tests have proved insufficient. I cannot develop anything. I can only hope someone has succeeded somewhere else. Oil is no more. We must evolve our standards. Or at least de-evolve, back to before there were manufactured machines running on coal, oil, and other natural resources. Maybe by starting over from the bottom, we will find a new way to thrive. I don’t think it will ever be the same.
Brisket
Conversation between customer shopping at Heinen’s and an employee behind the meat counter.
-Customer: Excuse me, ma’am, but do you have any brisket larger than this?
-Employee at meat counter: No, I’m sorry, but they are all roughly that size. Briskets are small to begin with, so we don’t usually carry any “large” ones.
-Customer: Well, these briskets are REALLY small. Are you sure there aren’t any more in back that are a little larger, maybe around two pounds, because whenever I buy the brisket here, they look a little larger. These only weigh one pound, and by the time they’re cooked, they’ll be even smaller. What am I supposed to do at my Passover Seder? Could you please check in back for me because maybe you have some there that are larger?
-Employee: I’m pretty sure that we do not have any in back that are larger, but I’ll go check.
-Employee: (returns from metal swinging door of meat refrigerator shaking her head): Sorry, but that’s all we have.
-Customer: Well, would it be possible for you to call your location at Wilson Mills to see if they have any briskets better than the ones here?
-Employee: Sure. (Employee dials phone behind meat counter)…Hello, this is Heinen’s at the Green Road location, and I have a customer here looking for a brisket that weighs around two pounds. … Mhm, mhm, okay, thanks. (Employee hangs up phone and faces customer): Sorry, ma’am, but they are not carrying any brisket at all at the moment.
-Customer: Could you call the Lander location and see if they have any THERE?
-Employee: Sure.
-Employee (After talking with someone at the Lander location, she faces the customer again): The woman at Lander said that all of the briskets they have there are under two pounds.
-Customer: What do you mean by “under two pounds”? Are they a little under two pounds, or a lot?
-Employee: All she said was that they are probably like the ones we have here.
-Customer: Alright, fine. I’ll take one brisket. I have a larger one in the freezer at home that can supplement it. Good-bye.
-Customer: Excuse me, ma’am, but do you have any brisket larger than this?
-Employee at meat counter: No, I’m sorry, but they are all roughly that size. Briskets are small to begin with, so we don’t usually carry any “large” ones.
-Customer: Well, these briskets are REALLY small. Are you sure there aren’t any more in back that are a little larger, maybe around two pounds, because whenever I buy the brisket here, they look a little larger. These only weigh one pound, and by the time they’re cooked, they’ll be even smaller. What am I supposed to do at my Passover Seder? Could you please check in back for me because maybe you have some there that are larger?
-Employee: I’m pretty sure that we do not have any in back that are larger, but I’ll go check.
-Employee: (returns from metal swinging door of meat refrigerator shaking her head): Sorry, but that’s all we have.
-Customer: Well, would it be possible for you to call your location at Wilson Mills to see if they have any briskets better than the ones here?
-Employee: Sure. (Employee dials phone behind meat counter)…Hello, this is Heinen’s at the Green Road location, and I have a customer here looking for a brisket that weighs around two pounds. … Mhm, mhm, okay, thanks. (Employee hangs up phone and faces customer): Sorry, ma’am, but they are not carrying any brisket at all at the moment.
-Customer: Could you call the Lander location and see if they have any THERE?
-Employee: Sure.
-Employee (After talking with someone at the Lander location, she faces the customer again): The woman at Lander said that all of the briskets they have there are under two pounds.
-Customer: What do you mean by “under two pounds”? Are they a little under two pounds, or a lot?
-Employee: All she said was that they are probably like the ones we have here.
-Customer: Alright, fine. I’ll take one brisket. I have a larger one in the freezer at home that can supplement it. Good-bye.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
I'm a Little Teapot
I’m A Little Tea Pot
[Actor walks center stage, stands there and pans across the auditorium with eyes]
[After 10-15 seconds, recording (or singing) of “I’m a Little Tea Pot comes on]
[As song plays, actor acts out words…
I’m a little tea pot, short [bend knees] and stout [put arms at hips and bend elbows out]
Here is my handle [flourish hand and put on hip with elbow protruding from side]
Here is my spout [bend arm up until forearm touches bicep, hold that next to side and stick hand out]
When I get all steamed up [begin to shake]
Here me shout [shake rapidly and open mouth as if shouting loudly]
Just tip me over and pour me out! [lean over in direction of spout]]
[Actor energetically skips off the stage]
[Actor walks center stage, stands there and pans across the auditorium with eyes]
[After 10-15 seconds, recording (or singing) of “I’m a Little Tea Pot comes on]
[As song plays, actor acts out words…
I’m a little tea pot, short [bend knees] and stout [put arms at hips and bend elbows out]
Here is my handle [flourish hand and put on hip with elbow protruding from side]
Here is my spout [bend arm up until forearm touches bicep, hold that next to side and stick hand out]
When I get all steamed up [begin to shake]
Here me shout [shake rapidly and open mouth as if shouting loudly]
Just tip me over and pour me out! [lean over in direction of spout]]
[Actor energetically skips off the stage]
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Demo Play
This is not a real play. However, if a play were listed here, you could rate it, below, out of five stars, on how good a play you think it is. If you want to comment, you could do that, too (i.e. "Promising, but dialogue should be reworked"). If there are plays we really like, but see flaws with, we're more than willing to work with the playwright and the actors to retool the idea and make it workable. No comments are necessary, though.
The final deadline for plays is Thursday 4/2, but I'll post new submissions as they come in. Once they're in, there will be a very short window -- that is, from the end of the day Thursday until the end of the school day Monday -- for us to rate the submissions on the blog. After that, the spring theatre committee will sit down with your ratings to decide on the 30 plays we choose.
...All of this, of course, assumes that we receive 30 good submissions. Please continue to talk up the contest with your classes and encourage your students to submit!
The final deadline for plays is Thursday 4/2, but I'll post new submissions as they come in. Once they're in, there will be a very short window -- that is, from the end of the day Thursday until the end of the school day Monday -- for us to rate the submissions on the blog. After that, the spring theatre committee will sit down with your ratings to decide on the 30 plays we choose.
...All of this, of course, assumes that we receive 30 good submissions. Please continue to talk up the contest with your classes and encourage your students to submit!
pants
Pants
Person 1: with pants
Person 2: without pants
Person 3: without pants
Person 1 [standing and looking around]
Person 2: [walks in wearing underwear] hey.
Person 1: *pause* hey?
Person 2: how’s it going?
Person 1: good?
Person 2: that’s nice.
Person 1: Um…uh…why aren’t you wearing any pants?
Person 2: What? I’m wearing pants.
Person 1: No you’re not. You’re in your underwear. Have you lost your mind?
Person 2: You are the one who’s lost your mind. I am totally wearing pants.
Person 1: [looks confused] O…K?
Person 2: [shakes head and waits a few seconds] So how’s life? Everything well?
Person 1: Look, man, just put on some pants.
Person 2: [looking offended] I am wearing pants. You can't see them.
Person 1: You definitely aren’t wearing pants.
Person 2: Yes I am—[cut of by person 1]
Person 1: No you’re not! These are pants [points to their own pants]. Those are boxers. You are wearing boxers, which are NOT pants!
Person 2: You can see my boxers?
Person 1: YES! That’s all you’re wearing. Just underwear. No pants.
Person 2: What are you talking about? Hey you [shouting off stage]! Am I or am I not wearing pants?
Person 3: [Walks on to stage also in underwear]. Yeah you’re wearing pants.
Person 1: [look of disgust and confusion, then exit stage left (or right)]
Persons 2&3: [look at each other, shrug, and exit stage opposite of person 1]
--END SCENE--
Person 1: with pants
Person 2: without pants
Person 3: without pants
Person 1 [standing and looking around]
Person 2: [walks in wearing underwear] hey.
Person 1: *pause* hey?
Person 2: how’s it going?
Person 1: good?
Person 2: that’s nice.
Person 1: Um…uh…why aren’t you wearing any pants?
Person 2: What? I’m wearing pants.
Person 1: No you’re not. You’re in your underwear. Have you lost your mind?
Person 2: You are the one who’s lost your mind. I am totally wearing pants.
Person 1: [looks confused] O…K?
Person 2: [shakes head and waits a few seconds] So how’s life? Everything well?
Person 1: Look, man, just put on some pants.
Person 2: [looking offended] I am wearing pants. You can't see them.
Person 1: You definitely aren’t wearing pants.
Person 2: Yes I am—[cut of by person 1]
Person 1: No you’re not! These are pants [points to their own pants]. Those are boxers. You are wearing boxers, which are NOT pants!
Person 2: You can see my boxers?
Person 1: YES! That’s all you’re wearing. Just underwear. No pants.
Person 2: What are you talking about? Hey you [shouting off stage]! Am I or am I not wearing pants?
Person 3: [Walks on to stage also in underwear]. Yeah you’re wearing pants.
Person 1: [look of disgust and confusion, then exit stage left (or right)]
Persons 2&3: [look at each other, shrug, and exit stage opposite of person 1]
--END SCENE--
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