===================================================================== A CHILD'S GARDEN OF ONE-ACT PLAYS ===================================================================== a satirical revue by Joe Blevins (joeblev@concentric.net) ===================================================================== based on the video "MST3K: The Shorts, Vol. I" ===================================================================== What you will find here are one-act plays based on the short films included in the compilation "MST3K: The Shorts, Vol. I." The overall approach, however, remains the same as it has been in my previous one- act plays based on MST3K movies. One difference is that these short plays are to be performed one right after the other in a revue format. Before each play, the audience is shown condensed versions of the original unMiSTed short films on two large video screens on either side of the stage. These screens can also be used for displaying the titles of each of the individual short plays within the revue. The revue is hosted by a GREASY COMPERE, whose stage patter is partly scripted and partly improvised. He is an unctuous, insincere British fellow who alternately berates the audience and ingratiates himself to them. "A grinning monster" is an apt description. The Compere's speeches should be written by the actor playing that role, tailoring them to meet the needs of the particular production or performance. The Compere serves several functions. He explains the premise of the show, introduces each play, and provides a sarcastic running commentary on the proceedings a la Statler and Waldorf of "The Muppet Show." More importantly, he is there to eat up time while sets and costumes are being changed backstage. The staging and costumes should be modest but functional. The actors should do their best to mimic the mannerisms of the actors in the original films (such as the flat Kansas drawls of the characters in the Centron films). For the two musical numbers, the vocals are live while the instrumental backing is prerecorded. MIDI versions of the songs are more than appropriate. The revue should have the look and feel of an endearingly amateurish school play, but the actors should know their characters well. A small, versatile repertory company will be playing all the parts. Each actor and actress will assume several roles, with the exception of the Compere. Enjoy. ===================================================================== BODY CARE & GROOMING & TED & ALICE ===================================================================== based on the short "Body Care & Grooming" ===================================================================== [Curtain rises. Lights up on a typical bedroom from a 1950s sitcom. That is to say, the husband and wife sleep in separate twin beds, and the room is supernaturally tidy.] [At present, the wife, ALICE, is sitting up in bed reading a Betty Crocker cookbook by the light of the lamp on her nightstand. We recognize Alice as the college girl who learned the error of her sloppy ways in the original "Body Care & Grooming."] [Her clean-cut husband, TED, enters, wearing a neat pajama suit. He is the hero from the "Body Care" movie, only a few years older.] TED: [yawning] Good night, Alice. Don't stay up too late reading that cookbook of yours. ALICE: I'll try not to, Ted, but you know how I get when I start reading meringue recipes. [Ted chuckles and climbs into his twin bed.] [Suddenly, they hear the friendly yet goading disembodied voice of a NARRATOR. It's the same guy from "BC&G."] NARRATOR: Hold on there, folks! You're not going to bed looking like THAT, are you? [Ted and Alice react the way you would if you thought you heard the voice of God talking directly to you.] COUPLE: Huh? TED: Who said that? NARRATOR: Don't you remember me? Your old friend, Narrator? I was the one who introduced you two in college. ALICE: [remembering] Oh, yeah! You were the one who shamed me into prettying myself up. NARRATOR: Yeah, that was me! TED: Say, how have you been, you old bodiless son-of-a-gun? NARRATOR: Oh, pretty good. The work's been pretty steady. I divide my time between Centron and Coronet now, and I'm in talks with Encyclopedia Britannica. TED: Hey, that's swell. [Pause.] So... what brings you into our bedroom this evening? NARRATOR: Well, I just stopped by to give you a few pointers on body care and grooming. ALICE: But we already know all there is to know about body care and grooming. TED: I did my master's thesis on body care and grooming. NARRATOR: [gently scolding] Tsk-tsk-tsk. It looks like you two still haven't quite gotten the message. TED: But I just took my seventh scalding-hot shower of the day. ALICE: And I soaked myself in ammonia for hours! TED: I promise you, we're clean. ALICE: Squeaky. NARRATOR: You call yourselves clean? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear? It looks like I'm going to have to bring in some friends of mine. COUPLE: Friends? [Two high-energy performers enter, doing cartwheels and backflips. One is a man, the other a woman. They wear black bodysuits. The man's suit says "BODY CARE" in big white letters on his chest. The woman's suit says "GROOMING." They are BOD E. CARE and GROO MING.] BOD E. CARE: Hi, folks! My name's Bod E. Care! GROO MING: And I'm Groo Ming. TED: What are you people doing in my house? BOD E. CARE: We're here to teach you about the importance of keeping your body nice and sparkling clean. GROO MING: And to warn you about the horrible, unspeakable consequences of personal sloppiness. BOD E. CARE: That's right, Groo. Body care and grooming start with taking good care of your skin. To help illustrate this point, let's bring out another friend... ALICE: Another friend? BOD E. CARE: ...Our old pal, Mr. Eppy Dermis! [MR. EPPY DERMIS enters. He is an actor wearing a large boxy costume designed to look like a cross section of human skin, complete with hair, pores, glands, etc. This is NOT an attractive look, as you can well imagine. Ted and Alice are not pleased.] DERMIS: Hello, everybody! It's me, Eppy Dermis! I provide a valuable early warning system by showing the first visible signs of disease. Rashes and discolorations are my way of telling you that something is deeply, deeply wrong inside your body. [to Ted and Alice] You wanna see a demonstration? TED: Er, no, that's okay. ALICE: Yes. I think we get the idea. No need to go to all that trouble. DERMIS: Nonsense! It's no trouble at all. GROO MING: That's what we're here for. NARRATOR: One can never overlook the value of a good lecture on epidermal cleanliness. You'd better get started, Eppy. We've got five more hours of instruction for Ted and Alice tonight. ALICE: [groaning] Five more hours? TED: [peeved] That's it! I want you people out of my house. Now! You, too, Narrator! NARRATOR: You can't kick us out, Ted. We're your friends. BOD E. CARE: Yes, Ted. We're here to lead you on the path to true happiness through cleanliness. TED: But we're ALREADY the cleanest people on the block. ALICE: Yes! You can smell my hair if you don't believe me. [Groo Ming leans over to smell Alice's hair.] GROO MING: Mmmmmm! Prell! Very nice! [to Bod] I've got to admit, she sure does smell clean. TED: You see? No lectures necessary! NARRATOR: But we came all this way. Please, Ted, let us do our presentation. BOD, GROO, & EPPY: Please, Ted? [They give Ted the "sad puppy dog" look and bat their eyelashes.] TED: [to Narrator] Look, are you trying to get us to leave so you can use our bedroom for some perverted sex romp? [Silence. Ted waits impatiently for an answer.] TED: Well? Are you? NARRATOR: [reluctantly] Uh, yes. [Ted fumes. There's a pause.] TED: Oh, all right! [to Alice] C'mon, honey, let's get out of here. We can sleep on the fold-out couch. ALICE: [scandalized] You mean... together? TED: Oh, it was bound to happen sooner or later. [They exit. Ted takes his pillow with him.] GROO MING: [yelling] Okay, they're gone. You can come in now! [A variety of actors dressed as BODY PARTS and CLEANING IMPLEMENTS enter. Red lights flash on and off. Sleazy stag film music starts to play, and the costumed characters rub up against each other in a lewd fashion.] NARRATOR: Oh, yeah, baby! You know how I like it! [Lights dim. Curtain falls.] [THE END] ===================================================================== CHEAT, DRINK, MAN, WOMAN ===================================================================== based on the short "Cheating" ===================================================================== [Lights up. Curtain rises to reveal high school gymnasium decorated with streamers. A banner reads: "CENTRON HIGH CLASS OF '52 - TWENTY YEAR REUNION." A depressing high school reunion is underway. Various middle-aged ATTENDEES are dancing to Neil Diamond's "Song Sung Blue." Others are helping themselves to punch or stale Ginger Snaps at the buffet table. Still others are engaged in conversation.] [One of the reunion attendees seems familiar -- a tall, thin MAN with no apparent ribcage. He wears his hair in a flattop and speaks with a drawl. He converses with a dowdy WOMAN. They are dressed in typical, ugly early 1970s clothes.] FLATTOP MAN: And that's how I got into the stationery business. WOMAN: My goodness. It sounds fascinating. FLATTOP MAN: It really is. There's a lot more to selling personalized writing paper than most people ever imagine. WOMAN: Isn't it strange seeing all of our old classmates together again. FLATTOP MAN: Yep. [A beat.] 'Course, most of us never did manage to escape this town. WOMAN: Yeah. I wonder if John Taylor will show up for this. [This remark causes nearly everyone in the room to turn and look, like in the old E.F. Hutton commercials.] VARIOUS ATTENDEES: [all abuzz] John Taylor? Did she say John Taylor? I think someone mentioned John Taylor! [etc.] [The man and woman resume their conversation.] WOMAN: You know, he and Mary Matthews got married right after graduation. The poor thing. John's cheated on her so many times over the years, you can't blame her for hitting the bottle. FLATTOP MAN: Yep. It sure is sad. John never should have cheated on that algebra test. WOMAN: It was the beginning of all his troubles. I hear he and Jim never spoke again after Jim took his place on the student council. FLATTOP MAN: Well, I don't think he'd want to attend this reunion. [Suddenly, their conversation is interrupted by a MAN'S VOICE coming from offstage.] MAN'S VOICE: That's where you're wrong! [JOHN TAYLOR enters, looking like hell. He is paunchy and balding and has a pencil-thin, waxy mustache. His suit is rumpled and stained. He is accompanied by MARY MATTHEWS, to whom time has been particularly unkind. She wears way too much make-up in a vain attempt to cover the deep wrinkles on her shopworn face. A ridiculous maroon wig is perched on her head. She wears a dress designed for a much younger woman and staggers a bit when she walks.] [The reunion comes to a dead halt. We hear the needle scratching across the Neil Diamond record. The reunion attendees all stare at Jack and Mary, but no one approaches them.] JOHN: What's going on? I thought this was supposed to be a party! Where's the damned music? [No one answers. Mary walks over to the no-ribcage guy and tries to flirt with him. The man is anything but interested. Mary's speech is slurred.] MARY: Say, you're still looking as cute as ever. Wanna dance? JOHN: Stop it, Mary! You're embarrassing yourself! [John angrily pulls Mary away.] MARY: Come on, John. We were just talking. Weren't we? [John confronts Mr. No Ribcage.] JOHN: Were you putting the moves on my old lady? Huh? FLATTOP MAN: [softly, avoiding eye contact] No, John. JOHN: Well, you'd better not try anything. [One of the more daring attendees decides to speak out.] ATTENDEE #1: You've got a lot of nerve showing your face, Taylor. ATTENDEE #2: Yeah! Cheater! [The crowd starts to rumble with discontent.] JOHN: Are you still sore about me cheating on that algebra test? That was twenty years ago! Let it go! ATTENDEE #3: He's right! I think we should give him another chance! [Attendee #3 is quickly shouted down by the crowd.] ATTENDEE #4: I don't think anyone who cheats should be allowed to attend the reunion! CROWD: Yeah! MARY: Let's go, Johnny. I don't think we're wanted here. And I'm missing Happy Hour. JOHN: I swear, you people are worse than Miss Granby! Whatever happened to that old cow, anyway? [We hear the sound of a small motor. MISS GRANBY rolls onstage. Yes, rolls. She is now just a head attached to a large silver box on wheels; she is presumably being kept alive by computers.] MISS GRANBY: [stern] Did you REALLY earn that 92, John? [John breaks down and cries.] JOHN: No! I didn't! For the millionth time, I cheated! I admit it! Can't you people let it go? [He sobs pathetically. Suddenly, we hear ANOTHER VOICE.] ANOTHER VOICE: How dare you? How dare you judge this man? You're no better than he is... hypocrites! [The crowd is in total shock. A mysterious MASKED MAN swings in on a rope, dressed vaguely like Zorro and carrying a sword. He drops to the floor.] ATTENDEE #1: Is it? Can it be? FLATTOP MAN: No! It's impossible! MASKED MAN: Yes! It is I! [dramatic pause] JACK MARTIN! [Everyone gasps.] ALL: Jack Martin? FLATTOP MAN: B-but... we ran you out of town twenty years ago! ATTENDEE #2: We thought you were dead. MASKED MAN: That's where you were wrong! Now, I have come back to claim my revenge! [Everyone gasps. Again.] MASKED MAN: But first, I'd like to catch up on old times. [to the flattop man] You're looking very well. Been working out? FLATTOP MAN: Well, I do have a Nautilus machine at home. MASKED MAN: Really? How interesting. [They continue their conversation as "Song Sung Blue" starts playing again. The other attendees go back to eating, chatting, and dancing. Even Miss Granby rolls back and forth to the beat.] [Lights dim. Curtain falls.] [THE END] ===================================================================== INDUSTRIAL ARS LONGA, VITA BREVIS ===================================================================== based on the short "Why Study Industrial Arts?" ===================================================================== [Lights up. Curtain rises to reveal the small, cramped basement office of MR. BARNES, a high school shop teacher in 1950s Kansas. There are various blueprints and designs tacked up on the wall, as well as shelves filled with tools. Barnes sits behind his desk, reading "Woodworking Today" magazine. He is a small, meek-looking man with glasses. There is clearly an air of melancholy to him. He wears an apron over his white dress shirt and bowtie. He reminds the author of Les Nessman from "WKRP in Cincinnati," only more depressed. A clock on the wall indicates 7:00, presumably in the morning. A schoolbell rings.] [At stage left is a door. We hear a knock.] BARNES: Come in. [The door opens. High school student JOE enters. With his short brown hair and glasses, Joe kind of looks like Clark Kent. He's the squarest square you've ever seen. He talks slowly in a monotone. Mr. Barnes seems to be glad just to have any visitor, even Joe.] JOE: Hello, Mr. Barnes. BARNES: Oh, hello, Joe! Come in! Have a seat. JOE: Thank you. [Joe sits in a chair next to Mr. Barnes' desk.] BARNES: So, what brings you to my office this morning, Joe? JOE: Well, Mr. Barnes, I was wondering what good I'd get out of an industrial arts course? BARNES: I'm glad you asked that, Joe. With the large amount of construction work that's taking place in our country's expansion, we need many more young men who are trained to design our future. JOE: Oh, okay. [Joe starts to stand up. Mr. Barnes keeps talking. Joe sits back down.] BARNES: We'll need architects, designers, and draftsmen. And Joe, we'll need scores of men who can translate and build those ideas on paper into the actual homes, churches, schools, and factories of the future. JOE: I see. [Again, Joe gets up to leave. Mr. Barnes keeps talking. Joe settles in, accepting his fate.] BARNES: We'll need engineers, carpenters, steel workers, and plumbers. We'll need men who can design the machines of the future, and men who can build, operate, and repair these machines. We'll need electrical engineers, pattern makers, foundry men, tool operators, and mechanics. [He pauses. A hopeful look crosses Joe's face. Maybe he's finally done talking.] BARNES: And, Joe, these are just a few of the operations I could name. [Joe sighs. The torture never stops.] BARNES: All these jobs pay well and afford challenges and chances of advancement to the individual. JOE: But, Mr. Barnes, the courses I take here won't actually prepare me for one of these jobs when I graduate, will they? BARNES: No, you'll probably need more training by either going on to college or by apprenticing yourself into one of the skilled trades. {Joe is cursing himself for asking Barnes a question. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!] BARNES: But believe me, Joe, the basic training you get in these courses now will give you an edge over the fellow who hasn't had such experiences. [A schoolbell rings. Joe looks enormously relieved.] JOE: Well, thank you, Mr. Barnes. You answered my question. But it's time for me to move on to my next class. BARNES: Wait, Joe. Don't go. JOE: I'd love to stay, Mr. Barnes, but I really have to go to geography right now. BARNES: Aw, don't worry. I can write a note to get you out of it. Please, won't you stay a few minutes? JOE: Uh... I guess so. BARNES: Great! [Mr. Barnes reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieves a bottle of Old Granddad and two wax paper cups.] BARNES: Care to have a drink with me, Joe? JOE: Um, no thanks, Mr. Barnes. I don't drink. BARNES: Well, more for me then. You don't mind if I help myself, do you? JOE: Uh, no, sir. You go right ahead. BARNES: I think I will. [Barnes fills a cup with liquor and takes a drink.] BARNES: AHHHH! That hit the spot! Nothing like an eye opener before a day of working with power tools and sharp instruments. JOE: [very uncomfortable] Uh-huh. I think I'll be moving along if you don't mind, Mr. Barnes. [Barnes grabs Joe's arm to hold him in place.] BARNES: Joe, you probably think it's pretty glamorous being a high school shop teacher. Right? JOE: Uh, sure, Mr. Barnes. BARNES: Well, it's not all it's cracked up to be, Joe. Sure, a course in industrial arts can train you to design and build America's future, but it can't teach you how to deal with the crushing realities and angst of modern life. JOE: No. I guess not. BARNES: Take my life, for example. I've always felt "different," you know? Like I never quite "fit in." You know what I mean? JOE: I think so, Mr. Barnes. BARNES: I felt that way even as a kid. Did I ever tell you about my experience in Cub Scouts, Joe? JOE: I don't think so, Mr. Barnes. BARNES: Well, I couldn't have been more than eight or nine at the time... [Mr. Barnes drones on and on. A look of dread comes over Joe, as if he's worried he might never escape from this office.] [The lights dim to black and stay that way for several seconds. When they come back up again, the clock reads 7:40. The first bottle of Old Granddad is empty, and Mr. Barnes is working on his second. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone.] BARNES: And that's why you should never trust the government, Joe. They're just out to screw you. JOE: [not listening] Uh-huh. [Lights dim to black. When they come back up again, the clock indicates 9:05. There are several empty bottles on Mr. Barnes' desk. His bowtie and apron are gone, and his shirt is completely unbuttoned and untucked, revealing a white undershirt underneath. Mr. Barnes has become belligerent. Joe props his head up with both hands, resting his elbows on the desk.] BARNES: [bitterly] She said she loved me! HA! She doesn't know what love is! [Lights dim to black. When they come back up again, it is noon. Joe has fallen asleep. Barnes is sobbing. His dress shirt is gone now, but he's still wearing the white undershirt.] BARNES: [blubbering] Oh, God, she was beautiful, Joe. She looked like an angel! [Lights dim to black. When they come up again, it is now 3:30. Joe is half-awake. Barnes has gone completely mental. His desk is now completely covered with empty bottles.] BARNES: We never go dancing anymore. Dance with me, Rita! JOE: [somewhat conscious] Huh? [Barnes breaks an empty bottle on the desk and waves it menacingly at Joe.] BARNES: I said let's dance! STUDENT: Okay, Mr. Barnes! Take it easy! [Mr. Burns turns on a small transistor radio and turns the dial until he finds a suitable station. He stops on a station that is playing "Sentimental Journey."] BARNES: May I have this dance? [He extends his hand and pulls the weary Joe out of the chair. They dance, somewhat clumsily, in the middle of Barnes' office.] [Lights dim. Curtain falls.] [THE END] ===================================================================== THE HOME ECONOMICS STORY OF O ===================================================================== based on the short "The Home Economics Story" ===================================================================== [The following quote appears on the video monitors.] "There are hepcats in bib overalls getting down while the players blow bebop and modal jazz. Keep in mind this is Iowa; 1965 Iowa. Must have been Oskaloosa or Creston." - MICHAEL J. NELSON [Lights up. Curtain rises to reveal a room in a girls' dormitory at Iowa State College. It is ridiculously pink and frilly, with stuffed animals and throw pillows simply everywhere. At stage right is a lamp with a homemade lampshade decorated with the letters KAY in large, blood-red letters. It is 1951.] [Four unappealing co-eds -- KAY, HELEN, JEAN, and LOUISE -- are having a slumber party. Whiter than white, they wear shapeless nightgowns as they lounge around, gabbing well into the night. Their dialogue is curiously formal and contrived.] KAY: Majoring in home economics at Iowa State College has been everything I dreamed it would be. HELEN: Oh, yes, Kay. There's so much to learn about food buymanship. LOUISE: And children's clothing needs. JEAN: And the physics of household appliances. KAY: Yes, home economics is all of this and more, too. HELEN: Very well said, Kay. KAY: Thank you, Helen. LOUISE: What did you do today in class, Jean? JEAN: I dissected a toaster. How about you, Louise? LOUISE: I took my midterm in Shopping and Boys. [proudly] I aced the Shopping section. JEAN: It sounds like someone's got a career in mind. LOUISE: You never know. The Iowa of 1951 has a world of opportunities for the weaker sex. HELEN: That reminds me! My term paper on laundry is due next week. I'd better go to the laundromat tomorrow and study. Would you like to come with me, Louise? LOUISE: Sorry. I'm attending the seminar on Landing a Husband. HELEN: Maybe some other time then. LOUISE: Great. And next week, we can attend Crinoline Expo '51. JEAN: Isn't campus life the best? HELEN: It sure is. There's so much to do -- dances, promenades, costume balls, formals, you name it. JEAN: I didn't see you at last night's formal, Kay. KAY: Oh, I decided to visit one of the music clubs near the campus last night instead. LOUISE: How interesting that must have been. KAY: Oh, it was. There were genuine Negroes playing authentic "jazz" music. JEAN: My stars! KAY: You can learn so much about other cultures just by observing them. The whole world is a classroom when you stop to think about it. It's all one big home economics course. As a matter of fact, one of the patrons gave me a fascinating educational brochure. LOUISE: A brochure? Did it mention how to separate egg whites from egg yolks? KAY: Or 101 things to do with empty egg cartons? JEAN: Or how to prepare perfectly square eggs? KAY: No, actually, it didn't have anything to do with eggs. It was about how women should rise up and overthrow the patriarchy. According to the brochure, a woman's place isn't in the kitchen. It's in the White House. JEAN: Wow! The White House? LOUISE: You mean as a maid? HELEN: Or as First Lady? JEAN: I really admire Bess Truman's sensible hairdo. KAY: As the President. JEAN: The President? Of the United States? A woman? HELEN: Is that even legal? LOUISE: I don't know. It's never come up in our home economics courses. We'll have to ask our advisor. JEAN: Good idea, Louise. So, Kay, what else happened at this "jazz" club of yours last night? KAY: Well, this nice lady wearing all black clothing gave me this funny-looking cigarette. LOUISE: Cigarette? KAY: Yes. It seemed to be homemade. LOUISE: Homemade? HELEN: Was this lady studying home economics at Iowa State, too? KAY: She might have been. I don't know. It never came up. JEAN: What did you do with this cigarette, Kay? KAY: Nothing. I saved it as a memento of my college days, along with all my dance cards from the bi-weekly proms. It's on my desk. LOUISE: Could you get it? I'd like to see it. JEAN: Me, too. I always like to see the handicrafts of others. It give me inspiration for my own home economics projects. KAY: Okay. I'll go get it. [She crosses to a desk and returns with what is clearly a joint. She holds it up for the other girls to see.] LOUISE: You're right, Kay. It IS funny-looking. KAY: The lady called it a "reefer." JEAN: "Reefer" must be an Iowa State College name for homemade cigarettes. KAY: That's what I guessed, too, Jean. HELEN: Can we light it? KAY: What would we do that for? HELEN: Well, my Housework Drudgery 101 professor told us that blowing cigarette smoke on houseplants can keep aphids away. And you've got a fern on your dresser. KAY: Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. [Kay walks over to the dresser, removes a matchbook from an upper drawer, lights the doobie, inhales, coughs, and then blows smoke on the fern.] JEAN: What's it like, Kay? KAY: It's... interesting. I can't really explain it. HELEN: Can I try? KAY: Sure. Why not? [Helen passes the joint to Helen, who inhales mightily and coughs.] HELEN: [between coughs] How unusual! JEAN: Let me be next. HELEN: Okay. Try and hold the smoke in your lungs for a while. JEAN: Why? HELEN: Trust me. LOUISE: I want a turn after Jean. HELEN: [less formal than usual] Mellow out, Louise. You'll get your turn. [The four ladies sit Indian-style on the floor of the room, passing the joint to one another, talking and occasionally coughing.] KAY: Ohhhhh, wowwww. I _am_ home economics. JEAN: It's like looking at fabrics of every possible color combination. HELEN: For some reason, I've got the "munchies" all of a sudden. I sure could go for some boiled turnips. LOUISE: Or creamed corn. GIRLS: Hmmmmmm! KAY: I'm going to go put on some music. HELEN: Good idea, Kay. [Kay walks back over to her dresser, where there is a record player and some LPs. She selects a Patti Page album and puts it on.] JEAN: Neat! I can _see_ the music. HELEN: Me, too! [On her way back to rejoin her friends, Kay suddenly stops and looks at the lamp on her nightstand. A key light suddenly hits the decorated lampshade. Kay walks over to the lampshade.] KAY: [to the lampshade] What's that you say, Lampshade? [pause] I should kill Helen, Jean, and Louise? [pause] With a pair of pinking shears? [pause] And then use club soda to get the blood stains out of the carpet? [pause] Well, uh, I guess so. After all, you ARE the lampshade. [Kay exits, disoriented.] HELEN: I wonder where she went. JEAN: I hope she went back to the jazz club to get more of these cigarettes. LOUISE: Or some creamed corn. GIRLS: Mmmmmmmm! [The novelty classic "I Owe a Lot to Iowa Pot" is heard as the lights dim and the curtain falls.] [THE END] ===================================================================== RODEO AND JULIET ===================================================================== based on the short "Junior Rodeo Daredevils" ===================================================================== [Lights up. Curtain rises. We hear a few bars of a fiddle-driven version of "Arkansas Traveler," better known as "I'm Bringing Home a Baby Bumble Bee." The staging is very minimal. There's just a crude wooden fence, and a painted backdrop depicting a farm. There are a few handmade posters on the fence advertising a Junior Rodeo.] [Loveable OLD TIMER BILLY SLATER is leaning against the fence, chewing on a piece of straw and looking benevolent. He is dressed in sturdy denim clothes and has a walrus-like mustache. We hear the sounds of a violent struggle somewhere offstage. Old Timer Billy Slater just nods his head gently and smiles.] [A thin, gawky teen, JIMMY, enters. His eyes are downcast, and he kicks the dirt on the ground as he walks along, clearly depressed.] SLATER: Why, Jimmy Skuggins! I declare, you look lower than a mealworm's underbelly. JIMMY: [gloomy] Oh, hi, Old Timer Billy Slater. SLATER: Now what in tarnation is wrong, boy? JIMMY: Oh... it's nothing. SLATER: Out with it, Jimmy. Old Timer Billy Slater can see directly into your soul. JIMMY: Well, Mr. Slater, none of the girls will talk to me. [Old Timer Billy Slater laughs warmly and knowingly. He's just so great.] SLATER: Well, son, it looks like you need a lesson in the Tao of Slater. JIMMY: The Tao of Slater? SLATER: It's my no-fail method of impressing the womenfolk. Step one is to be excellent in their presence. JIMMY: And how do I do that, Old Timer Billy Slater? SLATER: Two words, Jimmy -- junior rodeo. JIMMY: Aw, Mr. Slater, I don't know anything about riding and roping. SLATER: Tut tut, boy. Don't you want the girls to like you? You can learn as you go along. The junior rodeo's right this way. [He points offstage right.] Now if you hurry, you can still join the bronco busting competition. JIMMY: Well... all right... if you think it'll work. SLATER: I'm sure it'll work! Now, go on, boy. Time's a wastin'. [Jimmy exits, stage right. Slater calls after him.] SLATER: That's right, Jimmy. Now you just get on ol' Widowmaker there. JIMMY'S VOICE: I'm not sure about this, Mr. Slater! [We hear the sound of furious galloping and screaming. Old Timer Billy Slater chuckles delightfully.] [Another thin, gawky, depressed teen boy enters. This is RANDY.] SLATER: And what seems to be YOUR problem, Randy Dillard? RANDY: Um... it's not something I'm comfortable talking about, sir. SLATER: Come now, boy. You can trust Old Timer Billy Slater. RANDY: Well, sir. [He looks both ways before continuing.] Last night I had a dream about that new ranchhand, Steve. You know, the one with the green eyes and the jet black hair? Well, uh, in this dream, Steve came floating into my bedroom like an angel, and, um... he was, uh... you know, nude. [Old Timer Billy Slater chuckles warmly.] SLATER: I see. And now you're worried you might be a little light in the loafers, eh? RANDY: [panicked] Shhh! Mr. Slater, someone might hear you! SLATER: [continuing] Queer? A fruit? A queen? Is that what's bothering you, Randy? RANDY: Well... yes! Is there anything I can do. SLATER: Of course there is. What you need is a good old-fashioned junior rodeo. RANDY: Junior... rodeo...? SLATER: Yep. Once you've had a big, sweaty animal between your legs, you'll be as straight as a Lutheran minister. RANDY: If you say so, Mr. Slater. SLATER: I know so, Randy. The junior rodeo is right this way. RANDY: Thanks, Old Timer Billy Slater. SLATER: Any time, Randy. Glad to be of assistance. Now hurry on along. [Randy exits, stage right. We hear more horrible sounds of pain and mutilation coming from offstage. Old Timer Billy Slater laughs in that oh-so-infectious way of his.] [Yet another child, a BOY of six, enters.] BOY: Hey, Mister, where's the petting zoo? SLATER: Right over there, sonny. [Slater points toward the junior rodeo.] BOY: Oh, boy! I'm gonna see the baby ducks! [The boy runs heedlessly offstage. After a few seconds, we hear the sound of crying. Wouldn't you know it? Old Timer Billy Slater chuckles contentedly and nods his head.] [JULIET CAPULET, 14, enters. She is dressed in frilly, constricting Elizabethan garb. She looks distressed.] JULIET: Old Timer Billy Slater, prithee hear The tragedy that fills my heart with woe. My lover Romeo's a Montague, The bane of Capulets many a year. Without him, I can never be complete. But how can I defy my family so? I come to you for counsel and advice. I beg you, sir, please try and be discreet. BILLY: It sounds like what you need is a junior rodeo to lift your spirits. A pretty little gal like you shouldn't be moping. You should be ROPING. JULIET: The junior rodeo? BILLY: Yep. It's right this way. [He points in the usual direction. Juliet exits. Again, we hear the sounds of violence, agony, and mutilation.] BILLY: [to the audience] Ain't I a stinker? [We hear more fiddle music. This time, it's "Blue Tail Fly," better known as "Jimmy Crack Corn (And I Don't Care)." The lights slowly dim to black and the curtain falls.] [THE END] ===================================================================== THE CHICKEN OF TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS ===================================================================== based on the short "The Chicken of Tomorrow" ===================================================================== [The setting is a barnyard. We see green pastures and a sunny blue sky. The only prop onstage is a long trough filled with chicken feed. Two actors dressed as chickens enter.] CHICKEN #1: What a gorgeous day it is today, Ron. CHICKEN #2: You said it, Gary. Range life is good for chickens. Free food, shelter, sex with multiple partners, not to mention the free cable in our rooms. CHICKEN #1: Hey, that reminds me. HBO is showing "Chicken Run" again. CHICKEN #2: Oh great. I love that movie. Maybe I'll tape it this time. CHICKEN #1: Say, Ron, did you know that chickens are raised in every single county in the United States? CHICKEN #2: Fascinating! From what I hear, poultry farming is only behind beef cattle and dairy farming in popularity. CHICKEN #1: Really? Where'd you hear that? CHICKEN #2: "Charlie Rose," I think. CHICKEN #1: It makes you proud to be part of such a fast-growing and dynamic industry, Ron. CHICKEN #2: Of course, none of this would be possible without the motor industry and its fast-moving trucks, Gary. CHICKEN #1: And let's not forget the good work of the fossil fuel companies who make motor transportation possible. CHICKEN #2: They do good work. [Pause.] CHICKEN #2: Say, Gary, does it ever worry you that one day we'll be slaughtered and wind up as part of a Swanson Hungry Man dinner? CHICKEN #1: Oh, no, Ron. Not in the least. CHICKEN #2: Why not? CHICKEN #1: Well, Ron, the way I see it, we all have a part to play in this world -- the hens, the roosters, the poultrymen, the truck drivers, the chicken sexers, the auctioneers, the fine men and women of the motor industry. We're all part of the circle of life. CHICKEN #2: That's beautiful, Gary. CHICKEN #1: Thank you, Ron. CHICKEN #2: So you're not scared of your impending death? CHICKEN #1: Nah. Why should I be? What the point? [Guitar intro begins.] CHICKEN #1: Some things in life plain suck. They can really make you cluck. Other things can put you off your feed. [sings] When you're swallowing life's gravel, Don't let yourself unravel! Just have a little pluck and you'll succeed! And... [Other instruments join in.] CHICKEN #1: Always look on the bright side of life! (BAWK, BAWK!) (BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK!) Always look on the light side of life! (BAWK, BAWK!) (BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK!) If range life's not fulfilling, Because it ends with killing, Remember how much worse your life could be! At least you've get free food. Be grateful! Don't be rude! Plus, don't forget the sex and free TV. And... [Several OTHER CHICKENS enter and start singing the chorus.] CHICKENS: Always look on the bright side of life! (BAWK, BAWK!) (BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK!) Always look on the light side of life! (BAWK, BAWK!) (BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK, BAWK!) [The chickens continue singing this chorus over and over again. Chicken #1 puts his wing over Chicken #2's shoulder and gives him a pep talk as they walk offstage.] CHICKEN #1: Cheer up, you old bugger. Things could be worse! CHICKEN #2: Really? CHICKEN #1: Sure! Helen told me she's laid 210 eggs... and not ONE comes to visit her! [They exit. The chickens continue to sing the chorus. The music gradually fades as the lights dim and the curtain falls.] [THE END] ===================================================================== A STRANGE INTERLUDE WITH YOUR FAMILY ===================================================================== based on the short "A Date With Your Family" ===================================================================== [Lights up. Curtain rises. The setting is a dining room of a suburban home. All we see is the dining room table and a chandelier overhead.] [A family is seated at the table -- MOTHER, FATHER, BROTHER, SISTER, and young JUNIOR. They are given no other names. Each of these people holds a mask in front of his or her face. The masks are pictures of their smiling faces mounted on posterboard and attached to the end of wooden sticks. The family members hold the masks in front of their faces at all time with their left hands, while using their right hands to eat.] [Father is seated at the left, the three children in the middle, and Mother at the right. The family members converse in a pleasant and unemotional manner, but they make frequent asides to the audience. During these asides, the other actors simply freeze in place while the person speaking peeks out from behind the mask.] FATHER: After a challenging day at work, it certainly is nice to come home to a delicious, home-cooked meal with my loving family. [aside] This stifling existence is draining all the life out of me. I'm a white collar slave for eight hours a day, then it's a forty-minute commute to this suburban dungeon. I'm suffocating here. God, what is my purpose in life? Give me a sign! [Action resumes.] MOTHER: Why, thank you, dear. It's always nice to cook for people who appreciate it. [aside] I feel more like a cook and maid than a partner in this marriage. We haven't made love in years. It seems like I never leave the house, except to run errands. I don't know. I guess I love my family, but somehow, I don't feel what you're SUPPOSED to feel. What's wrong with me? [Action resumes.] BROTHER: Great meal, Mom! I love your broiled chicken. And these mashed potatoes came out perfectly. [aside] "Just two more years," I tell myself. "Just two more years, and I'm out of here." By then, I'll have enough money for a car of my own, and I'll hit the road. Maybe I'll even write a book about it. Who knows? The name "Jack Kerouac" might just become famous someday. [Action resumes.] SISTER: I had a great day at school today. I got a 95 on my history test. It looks like I'll be on the Honor Roll this semester. [aside] As if that meant anything. All that's expected of me is to look pretty and be polite. No one cares about my mind. I feel like I'm living inside a cage. [Action resumes.] MOTHER: That's wonderful, honey. Your father and I are so proud of your achievements. [aside] It breaks my heart to think that she'll probably wind up like me, an indentured servant to her husband and children with no free will of her own. Oh well. She's still got a few years left before her soul is crushed. [Action resumes.] JUNIOR: And I hit a home run at my little league game today and won the game in the last inning. [aside] That's not really what happened, but neither of them were there, so how would they know? I have to do SOMETHING to get their attention. I think sometimes that they called me Junior just so they wouldn't have to think up a new name. [Action resumes.] FATHER: Why, that's wonderful, Junior. It looks like you could be the next Sultan of Swat. [aside] I'm not even sure the little bastard is mine. [Action resumes.] MOTHER: What a talented young man you are. The Brooklyn Dodgers sure could use you. [aside] I think my husband suspects that Junior isn't really his son. And just between you and me, he's right. But that's what he gets for leaving me alone in this house all day. [Action resumes.] FATHER: Son, could you pass the salt please? [aside] I can't take this! I'm going crazy! [Action resumes.] BROTHER: Certainly, Father. I'd be glad to. [aside] God, do I hate this boo-jwah family! [Action resumes.] SISTER: Mother, could you pass the squash? [aside] I can't keep up this charade! It's killing me! [Action resumes.] MOTHER: Of course, dear. [aside] I'm barely choking back my rage! [Action resumes.] JUNIOR: And please pass me the squash when you're finished, Sis. [aside] I'm tired of behaving all the time. [The family members start slapping each other with their masks. All the while, they continue conversing politely and unemotionally.] BROTHER: I sure do love our meals together. JUNIOR: Me, too. FATHER: It's my favorite time of the day. SISTER: I agree, Father. MOTHER: It's too bad every family doesn't do this! [They continue slapping each other and chatting cordially as the lights slowly dim. Curtain falls.] [THE END] ===================================================================== NIGHTMARE FINALE ===================================================================== [Lights up. Curtain rises. The backdrop is designed to look like the stunning Alpine landscape. Music begins. (You didn't think we were going to get through this without another song, did you?) A chorus line of singers dances out onto the stage. The chorus consists of representatives from each of tonight's seven films. There is JOHN TAYLOR from "Cheating," KAY from "The Home Economics Story," FATHER from "A Date With Your Family," OLD TIMER BILLY SLATER from "Junior Rodeo Daredevils," the COUPLE from "Body Care and Grooming," a CHICKEN from "Chicken of Tomorrow," and MR. BARNES, the teacher from "Why Study Industrial Arts?"] [They sing to the tune of "So Long, Farewell" from "The Sound of Music." They wear garish play clothes unless otherwise noted.] CHORUS: So long, farewell! Good night! We'll see you later! [Old Time Billy Slater steps forward, clad in an orange prison jumpsuit.] SLATER: Remember me? Old Timer Billy Slater? [He dances off.] CHORUS: So long, farewell! It's time to leave the theater! [John Taylor steps forward. There are tell-tale lipstick stains on his face and shirt collar.] JOHN: I learned it doesn't Pay to be a cheater! [He dances off.] CHORUS: So long, farewell! That old clock keeps on tickin'. [The chicken steps forward. It has a halo and carries a harp.] CHICKEN: Don't weep for me. I'm just a humble chicken. [The chicken dances off.] CHORUS: So long, farewell! Let's skip the histrionics! [Kay steps forward, splattered with blood and carrying her "talking" lampshade.] KAY: I'm glad I chose To learn home economics. [She dances off.] CHORUS: So long, farewell! This evening's been a winner! [Father steps forward. He has some minor bumps and bruises, and there is a Band-Aid on his forehead.] FATHER: Somehow, I lived Through one more stinking dinner! [He dances off.] CHORUS: So long, farewell! The witching hour is looming. [The couple step forward, dressed in S&M bondage gear.] TED: And don't neglect ALICE: Your body care and grooming! [They dance off. The music slows down and takes on the feel of a lullaby as shop teacher Mr. Barnes steps forward. A spotlight hits him as he sits down on the edge of stage, dangling his feet over the side. He is now alone.] MR. BARNES: So long, farewell. My energy is waning. At least, I got To use my shop class training. Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye! [All the OTHER ACTORS from the production walk onto the stage, except for MISS GRANBY. who rolls.] ENTIRE CAST: Goodbye! [They wave goodbye to the audience as the lights slowly dim and the curtain falls.] [THE END] CAST IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE --------------------------- As you can see, the performers in "A Child's Garden of One-Act Plays" are required to portray a variety of roles in quick succession. The repertory company consists of 15 players -- 11 men and 4 women. The following fictitious cast list gives you an idea of how the roles in an actual production might be distributed. Greasy Compere........................DAN WEIRICK Alice.................................CHARLAINE WOODWARD Ted...................................KEN SINACORI Narrator..............................JOEL THURM Bod E. Care...........................CARMINE BURROWS Groo Ming.............................LINDA EISNER Mr. Eppy Dermis.......................ARNOLD DUNCAN Body Parts............................CHARLES HIRSCH, HECTOR CLAY, LAURA TASHLIN, BEN WILLIS Cleaning Implements...................PAM McKENZIE, BILLY ROBERTS, GRANT BATES Flattop Man...........................CARMINE BURROWS Woman at Reunion......................PAM McKENZIE John Taylor...........................ARNOLD DUNCAN Mary Matthews.........................CHARLAINE WOODWARD Attendee #1...........................KEN SINACORI Attendee #2...........................BEN WILLIS Attendee #3...........................HECTOR CLAY Attendee #4...........................JOEL THURM Miss Granby...........................LAURA TASHLIN Jack Martin...........................CHARLES HIRSCH Centron Reunion Guests................GRANT BATES, ARNOLD DUNCAN, BILLY ROBERTS, LINDA EISNER Joe...................................GRANT BATES Mr. Barnes............................ARNOLD DUNCAN Kay...................................LINDA EISNER Helen.................................PAM McKENZIE Louise................................LAURA TASHLIN Jean..................................CHARLAINE WOODWARD Old Timer Billy Slater................BILLY ROBERTS Jimmy Skuggins........................ARNOLD DUNCAN Randy Dillard.........................BEN WILLIS Boy Looking for Zoo...................KEN ROBERTS Juliet Capulet........................LINDA EISNER Chicken #1............................KEN SINACORI Chicken #2............................GRANT BATES Other Chickens........................ARNOLD DUNCAN, GRANT BATES, HECTOR CLAY, BEN WILLIS Father................................JOEL THURM Mother................................LINDA EISNER Brother...............................ARNOLD DUNCAN Sister................................LAURA TASHLIN Junior................................KEN ROBERTS Singing Chorus........................ENTIRE CAST ===================================================================== DISCLAIMER ===================================================================== This play is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons alive or dead without satiric purpose is unintentional. All rights reserved. Copyright 2002 by Joe Blevins