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KTC
04-17-2010, 04:29 AM
The Judges are now reading the ten entries. They have until April 25th to make their decisions. Winners will be announced April 26th.

Here's what they will be looking at.

Each of the five elements below will be scored on a 1-5 point scale.

1. PLOT DEVELOPMENT
2. CHARACTER (This will be done on an average...as each character will be given a rating.)
3. THEATRICALITY
4. CONFLICT/RESOLUTION (If it is a slice of life play, without conflict/resolution, it will be rated on clearly defined beginning/middle/end)
5. OVERALL RATING OF THE PLAY

MAXIMUM POINTS: 25


As for the general AW population...please feel free to give your opinions on your favourites...and discuss the plays. Dialogue is encouraged.

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:30 AM
TITLE: THE SEX ADDICTS
GENRE: COMEDY
CHARACTERS: Baseball Hall of Famer Wade Boggs, Pro Golfer Tiger Woods, and TV personality/motorcycle lover Jesse James.
DESCRIPTION: Tiger Woods and Jesse James, two well-known, self-acclaimed sex addicts attend their first meeting of Sex Addicts Anonymous.
SETTING: Florida. A room in the house of Wade Boggs.

BOGGS: [Stands behind podium in front of room; addresses audience of two.] Good evening. Welcome to Sex Addicts Anonymous. I'm Wade Boggs and I'm a former sex addict. [Pauses.] Well, technically I suppose I'm a recovering sex addict. [Pauses again while scratching his head.] Man, I don't know if that's even what it is either. Anyway, I've got some experience with this kind of stuff, so I'll be your instructor for the next couple of weeks. Or months. Or years. [Looks down at roster then up at the mostly empty seats in front of him.] I see that a number of people haven't shown up for our first meeting. Okay, whatever. When I call your name, just raise your hand.

TIGER: [Raises his hand.] Um, hold on a minute.

BOGGS: [Looks at Tiger.] Yeah?

TIGER: I think you must know who we are. [Looks at the guy seated next to him.]

BOGGS: [Rolls his eyes.] O----kay. Let's go in alphabetical order. Jesse James?

JESSE: [Laughs.] Here.

BOGGS: Tiger Woods?

TIGER: [Rolls his eyes.] Here. Obviously. Even though I don't want to be.

JESSE: Tell me about it. What a freakin' waste of time.

BOGGS: [Bangs gavel.] Quiet, you two. You've been ordered to attend these meetings as part of your therapy. Now I think we'll start with you, Tiger. Come on up here and tell us all about your addiction.

TIGER: Why?

BOGGS: Because I said so.

TIGER: I think YOU should go first. Show us how it's done.

JESSE: [Leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head.] Yeah, he's right. Spill it, Boggs.

BOGGS: [Glares at Jesse, then shrugs it off.] All right. Why not. As I said I'm a recovering sex addict. I cheated on my wife for 4 years with a chick named Margo Adams. She went on road trips with me. Then she made up shit about me in Penthouse Magazine. Big media circus. But hey, at least it was only one chick. Now it's your turn, Tiger.

JESSE: [Whistles.] Wow, we're gonna be here all night.

TIGER: [Shoots Jesse a look.] What's that supposed to mean?

JESSE: How many is it up to now, Tiger? Fourteen? I think maybe I've lost count. [Laughs.]

TIGER: You shut your mouth. Last I heard you've been doing plenty of screwing around yourself.

JESSE: [Sits up straight, looks Tiger in the eyes.] You gonna make something of it?

BOGGS: [Bangs gavel again.] Guys, guys! Knock it off. We're supposed to be here to support each other, not to fight.

TIGER: HE started it.

JESSE: Wuss.

TIGER: Excuse me? You think you're so tough just because you're covered with tattoos? I might not be as menacing as you are, but at least I'm a better lover.

JESSE: The hell you are!

TIGER: Believe me, I've had no complaints. [Smiles devilishly.]

JESSE: Oh yeah? Well maybe you're just practicing on all those women until you can get it right.

TIGER: I've got it perfect! You're the fool who needs to practice. You've got a fine woman like Sandra Bullock and you're running around with that tattoed bimbo Bombshell who looks like she belongs in a freak show.

JESSE: Don't you talk about her like that! [Pushes Tiger off his chair.]

BOGGS: [Starts to bang gavel, then tosses it over his shoulder.] Guys! Please!

TIGER: [Grabs a driver out of the golf bag beside his chair, stands up and prepares to hit Jesse.] I'm gonna lay some wood on you!

JESSE: [Has already jumped out of his chair and is dodging to avoid being clobbered with the golf club.] Did ya learn that move from your wife?

BOGGS: Hey, come on, you two! You're acting like children.

TIGER AND JESSE: [Look at Boggs.] STAY OUT OF THIS!

JESSE: [Sneaks around behind Tiger and grabs and holds him by the throat with one arm.] Put down that club and fight like a man.

TIGER: [Struggles to free himself with one hand and lift his club with the other.]

BOGGS: Come on, guys. Hey look! I've got beer. [Points to little fridge over in corner.] And chicken. Mmmm. Beer-battered chicken, my favorite. Let's take a little break, okay?

[TIGER lands a blow to JESSE in the groin, gets free, but trips over his golf bag and falls on the floor. JESSE holds his groin, bent over, turns to look at Tiger who is starting to stand up still holding the driver. JESSE decides to back away and runs out of the room.]

TIGER: [Chases after Jesse.] You want to see me fight like a man? [Offstage yelling.] I've got your back, Jesse! I've got your back!

BOGGS: [Stands there shaking his head. Then he walks over to the TV set/DVD player at the front of the room next to the podium, turns on TV and inserts a DVD into the player. He presses play and watches the naked couple on the screen. Moaning sounds are heard.] Ah, Debbie Does Dallas, my favorite. Those guys are missing the best part. Oh well. More porn for me.


THE END

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:32 AM
Title: Enlightenment
Genre: Expressionistic dramedy?
Characters: Gabriel (blasť, weird and a tad angry man), Melody (perky, curious and a bit pushy woman) and the light (incorporeal, mute and yet pivotal follow spot)
Description: Though he wished he didnít have to listen to it, Gabriel accepts the lightís request to help Melody.
Setting: The scene takes place at a street corner of an unnamed city. In the down-stage house right corner, there are a few tables and chairs representing a coffee shop terrace. The background can showcase buildings to strengthen the location but it is not obligatory for the scene to work.

[In total darkness]

GABRIEL : Crap. Itís on again. I thought I was clear when I said I didnít want any of it anymore.

[Bright light shines on Gabriel. The rest of the set remains in the dark.]

GABRIEL: [shielding his eyes] Oh yeah! Real mature! A warning would have been nice.

[The light turns red and a little dimmer. From this point on, Gabriel pauses when the light changes, as if he was listening. He looks slightly upward, in the general direction of the lightís origin.]

GABRIEL: Youíre the one who nearly blinded me. Why the hell are you pissed?

[The red light intensifies.]

GABRIEL: Yeah right! And what about your attitude? Iím sick of this. And Iím busy! Busting my chops ainít changing my mind.

[The red light turns blue.]

GABRIEL: [sighs] I know that jazz. Iím unique, Iím special, some dude has a plan for me, blablabla. Save me the broken record.

[The blue light turns a softer blue.]

GABRIEL: Well, itís not like I can get out of this any other way. [sighs] Apologies accepted! [smiles a fake grin] What can I do for you today?

[The light flickers and changes color every time it lights up. Warm colors only.]

GABRIEL: Wait a minute! Slow down! Youíre giving me a headache. What about the girl with a musical name?

[The light turns a violent and dancing orange.]

GABRIEL: Why does that matter?

[The light shuts off. Back to total darkness.]

GABRIEL: OhÖ I see.

[Small spots of white light dance around Gabriel.]

GABRIEL: Got it. Iíll do what I can.

[The light shines pink.]

GABRIEL: Donít thank me just yet. I still donít know how Iíll find her.

MELODY: [invisible and distant] Sir?

[The light shines a brighter pink.]

GABRIEL: Follow my heart? Well, it happens to guide me to the restaurant where a very beautiful girl awaits. Do you happen to remember my fiancťe?

[The light turns a redder shade of pink.]

GABRIEL: She feels the same way about you. Sheís going to be pissed you made me late again.

MELODY: [invisible and closer] Sir? Are you okay?

[The pink light flickers than dies.]

GABRIEL: [hurt] Youíre kidding, right?

[Stage lighting turns on revealing the stage and Melody.]

MELODY: [grabs Gabrielís arm] Sir? Is every thing okay?

GABRIEL: [stunned] My fiancťe invited me at a perfectly neutral public place to break up with me. Iím reddish gray.

MELODY: Reddish gray?

GABRIEL: [snaps out of it] Oh, sorry! Iím a synesthete. I have aÖ

MELODY: [cuts him off]Ö a neurological condition that mixes sensitive and cognitive pathways.

GABRIEL: [drops his jaw] I think itís the first time I donít have to explain for hours.

MELODY: [fakes a salute] Neurosurgeon grad to the rescue. [smiles] Let me guess: your perception of colors triggers the perception of feelings and vice versa?

GABRIEL: [adds wide-eyes to the dropped jaw] Yes. Thatís golden!

MELODY: That sure explains the whole ďtalking to the TV screenĒ. [laughs] Is golden good or bad?

GABRIEL: Good, good. I meanÖ Thatís excitement, happiness, cherish the moment!

MELODY: All rolled into one?

GABRIEL: Yes!

MELODY: [barely pauses] Can I buy you a cup of coffee?

GABRIEL: [ill at ease] ActuallyÖ

MELODY: [cuts him off] Iíve never met someone like you andÖ just call it professional curiosity!

GABRIEL: ButÖ

MELODY: [cuts him off] Oh right, we donít know each other! [extends her hand] Iím Melody!

[Gabriel looks at the hand, looks at Melody, and then looks upward as when he was talking to the light. Melody starts to fidget.]

GABRIEL: [shaking Melodyís hand] Melody? [sets his eyes on her] How purple with orange polka dots, I mean, appropriate!

MELODY: [raises an eyebrow] ďPurple with orange polka dotsĒ hardly sounds ďappropriateĒÖ

GABRIEL: To a color blind, it could be. [fake laugh] Iím Gabriel. [releases Melodyís hand] I have time for coffee.

MELODY: All righty then!

[They cross the street to the coffee place.]

MELODY: Just sit. Iíll get the hot goodness.

[Melody exits.]

GABRIEL: [to himself] Purple with orange polka dots. What was I thinking? Adjectives, Gabriel, feelings are better expressed with adjectives, not colors. Predictable and dangerous. No, I shouldnít have said that either.

[All lights close abruptly.]

GABRIEL: [annoyed] What now? Iíve got the girl. Iíll keep her safe. Shoo!

[The light turns a dark pink.]

GABRIEL: I canít believe you, of all people, are asking that.

[The light turns blue.]

GABRIEL: I donít care if itís what a gentleman would do. She invited me to the restaurant to dump me. Iím beating her to the punch. She doesnít deserve a call. Period.

[The light returns to the stage as Melody enters with two foam cups.]

MELODY: Talking to the billboard again!

GABRIEL: Yeah! Advertisements are a chatty bunch.

MELODY: [laughs] Is this place too distracting for you? Or too public to talk about your condition? [pointing up-stage house left] My place is just around the cornerÖ

GABRIEL: [worried] No! No! Here is fine.

MELODY: [sits and gives Gabriel his coffee] Who is she?

GABRIEL: Sorry?

MELODY: [mimicking Gabriel] ďShe doesnít deserve a call. Period.Ē

GABRIEL: My fiancťe.

MELODY: The one who dumped you?

GABRIEL: Intends to dump me. Pretty much the same. [sips]

MELODY: She doesnít understand?

GABRIEL: Nope. I used to wish I was a mild case of synaesthesiaÖ

MELODY: [cutting him off] Like associating colors and letters?

GABRIEL: Yeah! Iíd rather read rainbow booksÖ

MELODY: [cutting him off] Than talk to giant digital billboards?

GABRIEL: Itís a habit of yours to cut people off, isnít it?

[Melody sips coffee.]

GABRIEL: Thatís what I thought.

MELODY: SorryÖCuriosityís side-effect. [shrugs]

GABRIEL: And loonyís is losing fiancťes. Gives me the blues.

MELODY: Whatís that color meaning?

GABRIEL: I meant it as the usual idiom. [sips]

MELODY: Oh! [sips]

GABRIEL: Itís ok. I know Iím confusing.

MELODY: HuhÖ Has synaesthesia caused you lots of break-ups?

GABRIEL: [laughs] You could say that. I just drown today in a few drinks, crash at a motel and deal tomorrow.

MELODY: You can handle clubs?

GABRIEL: Oh hell no! Strobe lights kill me. [sips]

MELODY: So a pub kind of guy. [sips] I meant to askÖ

[A huge explosion sound and screams cut off Melody. An orange flickering light at up-stage house left accompanies the sound.]

MELODY: [screams and jumps from her chair] What the hell was that?

GABRIEL: [completely calm] Gas leak. Your apartment. [sips]

MELODY: What?

GABRIEL: [rising from his chair] Youíre alive. Youíll save lives. My jobís done. Thanks for the coffee. Iíll get something stronger now.

MELODY: Wait! Are you serious? How did you know?

[Gabriel points in the general direction of the light/billboard while finishing his coffee.]

MELODY: So youíre some kind of messenger of God?

GABRIEL: [setting his cup down] Not unless publicity created the world in seven days.

[Melody looks around, distressed, and finally collapses on her chair. Meanwhile, Gabriel begins to head off stage. Before he exits, he glances back at Melody. Then, he turns around, goes back to her and offers up his arm. She stands up and grabs it. They both head off stage. As they exit, Melody gives the finger to the billboard.]
[Lights out]
[The End]

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:32 AM
CUTTER

Genre: Drama

Characters: Jasmine: 20's. Wearing shorts and ďTĒ shirt, no shoes. Her arms and legs are covered with scars. The colors range from pale white scars to bright red. There is one open cut on her thigh that is bleeding.

Brief Description: A young woman talks to a deceased friend about life.

SET: A simple straight backed chair and a small table with a large knife, a razor blade and a cordless telephone on it. There is a cardboard box five or six feet from the chair. The box is open but we canít see into it. Jasmine holds a ďTĒ shirt with a bladder inside that will continue to ooze blood during the monolog.

AT RISE: Jasmine is sitting on the chair holding the wadded up ďTĒ shirt against the cut on her thigh.

JASMINE: [As if she is in a group therapy session.] Hi, Iím Jasmine and Iím a cutter. [To George:] Remember that from group therapy? I remember that deep voice of yours when you used to say ďIím George and I cut myself.Ē We all miss you at therapy. No one sat in your chair. Like we were waiting for you to arrive. But we all knew you wouldnít. Therapy isnít the same without you there. Most of the people are just assholes with a lot of scars.

I should know better by now, but Iím still surprised that people think we cut ourselves because we want to die. I know you didnít want to die. None of us wants to die. Iím really afraid of dying. Afraid the pain might go on forever. I want the same thing you wanted: for the pain to go away. I tell them that I cut myself Ďcause it helps ease the pain. You know: when the pain on the outsideís the same as the pain on the inside, they cancel each other out for a few minutes.

My mother always worries that Iíll cut a major vein or deep artery and bleed to death. We know where to cut, donít we? They said you committed suicide but I know better. It was an accident, wasnít it?

[She examines the cut on her thigh.]

This oneís still bleeding a lot.

[Pause. She reminisces.]

I never told you about my scars, did I? Remember the time I got in trouble? Thatís this scar here. It bled a lot and by the time I realized that I needed help, I was almost too weak to get to the telephone. I fainted before the ambulance got here. I was so afraid I might die and the pain would never stop. Now I keep the telephone right next to me.

[Points to a large scar.] This is from when my daddy died. He understood me and didnít hassle me. [Pause.] He was the one who named me Jasmine. When momma was pregnant, they were very poor and it was a big dinner when they could afford a few extra pennies for jasmine rice. My momma loved how it smelled while it was cooking. [Pause] My daddy called me Jazz. Heís the only one I ever let call me Jazz. No one else. Not even Nancy or my mother.

[Points to a smaller scar.] This one is from when Nancy and I had a fight. You remember Nancy, donít you? Sheís my best friend. She told me that the guy I was seeing was only after sex and really didnít care for me. We made up and sheís my best friend again but I canít undo the scar. I wish I could. Itís the only one I wish I didnít have. Weird, isnít it?

[Points to an even smaller scar.] I cut myself here when he dumped me. It wasnít a big deal because I was ready to dump him but he dumped me first. Asshole.

[Long pause as she looks at her cut then decides to tell the rest of the story.]

My little dog Bo died today. When I put him out to do his doggy stuff, I put him on a long rope tied to a stake in the front yard. Itís funny. When he was a little puppy, he didnít understand the rope and would run at top speed like he was making a jail break. Until he ran out of rope. It would jerk him to a stop. I thought heíd break his neck. He learned to stop just a foot before the rope ran out. I never figured out how he knew when he didnít have any rope left.

Until today. Today, he ran and ran and when the rope got tight, his collar broke. All of a sudden he was free. He ran around the yard at top speed like he was crazy. When I went out to get him, he ran away from me. Right into the street and . . . he was hit by a car . . . the vet said he was killed instantly. Heís over there in the box. I need to bury him.

Think how exciting it must have been for him. To be totally free. Free to do whatever he wanted. Free to go wherever he wanted. I wouldnít mind dying if I could be free . . . free from all the pain inside . . . free from all the pain outside.

George, does the pain stop when you die?

[Jasmine starts to droop as if she was very tired.]

I donít know what Iím going to do without Bo. He was always there for me . . . Heíd sit with me for hours at a time . . . He loved me . . . He never wanted me to be something Iím not. Unconditional love, they call it. My dad loved me that way but Iím not sure about my mom. She always wanted me to be something I couldnít be. I donít know why.

Iím not feeling so good. I think Iíll call Nancy. Sheíll take care of me.

[She reaches for the phone and knocks the table over. The phone falls on the stage, several feet from her and shatters. Jasmine moves from the chair to the phone and picks it up. It is clear that the phone will never work. Jasmine looks at the audience as the realization dawns.]

The lights fade rapidly.

END.

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:33 AM
Title: A change of perspective
Genre: Drama
Characters: Jacob and Sophie, married
Brief description: Jacob arrives home with bills to pay and a letter regarding money he expected to receive. When his wife tells him sheís pregnant, his attitude changes from stress about their financial situation to happiness.
Setting: The shabby living room of the apartment where Jacob and Sophie live.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[JACOB enters the living room through the front door at center stage left, a stack of letters on his hand, a worried expression. Throws overcoat on the couch, leaves keys on the table. Stops in front of the couch, opens the first letters.]

JACOB: Phone bill, electricity bill, water bill. [Sighs and opens another letter.]

SOPHIE [from offstage]: Jacob? Is that you?

JACOB: In here, sweetheart.

[SOPHIE walks in from kitchen at center stage right, cleaning her hands on an apron. Moves to JACOB and gives him a quick kiss.]

JACOB: Dinner ready yet?

SOPHIE: Yes. [Takes a small step back.] You look so worried. Whatís wrong?

JACOB [Sits down on the couch and stares at the last letter in his hand.]: Nothingís wrong darling. Iím just Ö

[SOPHIE sits down next to him, takes the letter from his hand and reads it.]

SOPHIE: Weíll get through this. I know how much we needed this money, but weíll manage without it.

[JACOB buries face in hands. SOPHIE wraps arm around his shoulder.]

SOPHIE: Sweetheart Ö

JACOB [Looks up at SOPHIE.]: Iím so sorry, Sophie. I should be a better husband to you. I should take care of you better. I promised you I would.

SOPHIE: You love me, thatís more than he ever did. You donít beat me, you donít abuse me, you donít make me cry. Love is all I asked of you and it is all I need.

JACOB: I canít even make enough money to support us.

SOPHIE: Iíve told you thatís not important.
[JACOB stands up and takes a few steps forward.]

JACOB [without looking at Sophie]: I donít know what Iíll do if anything unexpected comes up.

[SOPHIE grimaces and caresses her belly.]

JACOB: I might have no choice but to leave and look for a better job.

SOPHIE: [Stands up and embraces JACOB from the side.]: Iíll go with you. Iíll follow you wherever you go.

JACOB: You know you canít leave your job. [Turns around slightly to place arms around SOPHIEís waist.] I just hope nothing new comes up, no surprises, no added expenses.

[JACOB caresses SOPHIEís face as they stare at each other for a few seconds.]

JACOB: You look so tired. Did you have a rough day?

[SOPHIE places both her hands on her belly and looks at JACOB in silence. He alternates looking at her hands and her face as a smile forms slowly.]

JACOB: I said I didnít want any surprises, my beautiful darling.

[SOPHIE smiles.]

JACOB [Grabs SOPHIE and swings her around once.]: I love you.

SOPHIE: Iím sorry.

JACOB: For what?

SOPHIE: The surprise. The added expense.

JACOB: Youíve given me something much more important along with that baby in there.

SOPHIE: What?

JACOB: A new perspective.

[The couple embrace with wide smiles as the lighting fades to black. End scene.]

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:34 AM
TITLE: The Abduction of Homer Winslow

GENRE: Comedy

CHARACTERS:

HOMER WINSLOW, an old farmer

TYKOL, the leader of the aliens (male or female)

ZERK, second alien (male or female)

DESCRIPTION: Aliens from a distance planet abduct an old farmer named Homer Winslow in order to study the primitive earth people. After hearing Homer's homespun philosophy, the aliens begin to question just which is the more advanced civilization.

SETTING: A room onboard an alien spacecraft.

RUNTIME: Approximately 9 - 10 minutes.

NOTES: It is anticipated that the play will be staged with simple costumes and makeup. The aliens can be costumed in long robes. Their makeup can consist chiefly of face paint of an unnatural tone. The old farmer is dressed in bib overalls and a cap commonly worn by farmers. The set can be stark and furnished with one or two pieces of modernistic furniture.

[Homer is standing frozen in an area marked with a circle. A blue spotlight shines down on him.]

[Tykol and Zerk enter and approach Homer. Zerk quickly scans Homer with a small handheld device]

ZERK: [speaking in his native language] Natu ack yoto.

TYKOL: Eck. Baala er twock.

ZERK: Urto. [pushing a button on his device, the light above Homer fades] Natu eero.

[Homer awakens slowly, then suddenly regains his awareness.]

HOMER: What? Oh, Lordy! I been hit by lightning! Done been hit [quickly glancing at the strange surroundings] and gone to heaven.

TYKOL: [speaking in a precise but monotone voice] Do not be alarmed. You have not ceased to be existent. [to Zerk] Ba quato.

[Zerk bows slightly and goes to a nearby table which holds a carafe and glasses. Homer steps forward a bit unsteadily.]

HOMER: Whoa. I don't think I've felt this woozy since I got kicked in the head by Uncle Jasper's mule.

[Zerk returns with a tall glass tube filled with a pinkish liquid and gives it to Homer.]

ZERK: Drink this fluid. It will help you to regain your cognitive skills.

HOMER: [after drinking] Tastes like pink lemonade. [handing the glass back to Zerk] Could use a tad more sugar.

TYKOL: You will regain all mental and physiological functions momentarily.

HOMER: I donít believe I know you fellas. You two must be strangers round here.

TYKOL: We are from another world, many light-years distant from your own.

HOMER: That's a right far piece, I reckon. I thought you must be foreigners from the way you talk.

TYKOL: We have learned your language from monitoring your electromagnetic transmissions. We come as emissaries to your planet.

HOMER: Well, howdy, I'm Homer Winslow. Glad to meet you.

TYKOL: Our own names cannot be translated into your language. You may call me Tykol. This is my second in command, Zerk.

HOMER: [to Zerk] Howdy.

ZERK: [mimicking Homer] How-dy.

HOMER: How'd I get here anyhow? Last thing I remember I was going out to the barn. Then, all of a sudden like, it was as bright as daylight.

TYKOL: We used an immobilization beam, then brought you aboard our transport craft.

HOMER: You ain't gonna probe me, are you? I've heard of you aliens doing that to folks.

TYKOL: You will not be harmed. We seek your help. You were chosen because of your experience with other life forms not of your type.

HOMER: Other what?

ZERK: The large ravenous creatures with limited vocal skills you supply food to.

HOMER: Oh, you mean the pigs. Yes, sir, I try to fatten 'em up real good. Well, now, We try to be neighborly round here. What can I do for you fellas?

TYKOL: There are things about earth people we do not comprehend. We believe direct communications with a human is the best way to complete our knowledge base.

HOMER: [hooking his thumbs in the bib of his overalls and taking the stance of a man who can tell you just about anything] You've come to the right man then. Ain't much I don't know about what goes on around here.

TYKOL: [to Zerk] Begin data record.

ZERK: [pressing a button on his handheld device] Et natur om yocto. [distinctly] Hom-er Wins-low.

HOMER: Now, what is it you fellas want to know?

ZERK: From the transmissions we have monitored, earth seems to be in constant state of chaos. Daily, there are reports of crime and violence committed by one human against another.

TYKOL: We do not understand why there is so much discord amongst earth people. No other species in the galaxy is as violent towards their own kind as are earth people.

HOMER: I know what you mean, know exactly. It's a shame when folks can't get along. I declare, sometimes people don't act much better than a bunch of chickens after a junebug.

TYKOL: [glancing at Zerk and back to Homer] Urt? We do not understand.

HOMER: It's like this. One old hen will catch her a junebug. Then all the other hens decide they want the junebug too. Pretty soon they're all chasing after each other over that one junebug, trying to take it away from whichever one has it. Sometimes they get so busy chasing each other that the junebug gets plumb away.

TYKOL: Humans are like this as well?

HOMER: They are when you get right down to it. Some folks can't stand for someone to have something they don't have, or to have more 'an they do. If everyone would take care of his own business and let the other fella alone, well, everybody would be a sight better off, you see.

TYKOL: Yes, we understand.

ZERK: What of the wars on your planet? What is the cause of such conflicts?

HOMER: [warming to his role as guest lecturer] That's kind of hard to explain now. Sometimes it's just like them hens I was telling you about, but sometimes wars are caused by disagreement over nothing. It's just like Clyde and Roy down at the barber shop. Roy will say something like "My dog Beauregard is the best coon dog in the state." Then Clyde Hawkins will fire back that he reckons his Rex is the better dog. Then they start arguing back and forth, getting madder and madder until they're ready to fight about it. The worst thing is there ain't a hair's worth of difference between them two dogs if truth be told.

TYKOL: Ah, this explains the thing called human nature we have heard of.

HOMER: You see, it ain't so much what the argument is about. A man has a natural tendency to think his side is better 'an the other--whether it's his country, or his religion, or who's coon dog is better.

TYKOL: Can such irrational thought processes be corrected?

HOMER: Now, I can't say about that for sure. See, you can't teach some people nothing. It's just like what President Roosevelt said, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink.

TYKOL: Yes, we now understand.

ZERK: While earth remains primitive, we have noticed humans have made many technological advances in the past few years.

HOMER: We done got too advanced if you ask me. Everything's got too darn complicated.

TYKOL: But technology has made life on your planet better, has it not?

HOMER: I ain't so sure. Now I ain't saying all these new gadgets are bad, but sometimes I wish they would stop fiddling around with things. It's like the new television set we got for Christmas. You have to have a college education to work the thing. Then, when you finally figure out how to turn it on and change the channel, you find ain't nothing on worth watching anyway these days.

ZERK: It is the same on our planet. The top-rated entertainment transmission is about a group of people trying to survive on the desert moon of Urktor.

HOMER: People don't even talk to one another anymore. They all want to send them e-mails and argue about stuff on that Internet. I never seen much use for it myself. You got to look a man in the eye to tell whether he's telling the truth or not.

TYKOL: I something think our own people rely too much on their androids.

HOMER: I can't even talk to the grandkids anymore. When they come over they've all got those pod things stuck in their ear. Else they're talking on their cell phone or playing on their computer.

TYKOL: Yes, it is the same with the clones of our planet.

HOMER: You need to take 'em fishing. Best way in the world to teach a youngster about things.

TYKOL: Eck. I had not thought of that.

HOMER: Yes, sir. Fishing is about the best thing there is. A man can do a lot of thinking when he's fishing.

TYKOL: Relaxation. I must do more of that.

Homer: A fellow needs to slow down sometimes, sit on the porch, maybe have a glass of that lemonade and just enjoy life.

TYKOL: [wistfully] How easy is it to overlook the simple things.

ZERK: [to Tykol] We have misunderstood the earth people. They are more sophisticated than our initial reports indicated. We can learn much from those such as Homer.

TYKOL: I agree. We must return and report to the Supreme Council.

ZERK: They will be much interested in our findings.

TYKOL: [to Homer] We will return you to your home now. We must depart for our own planet. Thank you, Homer. You have given us [sounding like an alien Homer] a right smart to think about.

HOMER: Shucks, it weren't nothing. Y'all come back some time. Next time you come through, I'll take you down to the barber shop and introduce you around. They'd be tickled to meet a couple of you extra-terrestrial. We might even go fishing.

[Tykol and Zerk bow deeply to Homer as the lights dim.]

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:35 AM
TITLE: The Tree.
GENRE: Not Specified
CHARACTERS: The traveler, the farmer.
BRIEF DESCRIPTION: A traveler and a farmer argue about life, dogma and which fruits are better.
SETTING: An open field, with nothing withstanding except a tree.

[A humble-looking farmer works the field under the shadow of a tree, enter a well-dressed man carrying a suitcase looking idly around, the former is THE FARMER and the later is THE TRAVELER.]

TRAVELER: Good morning, sir.

FARMER: [Not paying much attention to him] How do you do?

TRAVELER: [Between cocky and amicable] Doing fine, doing fineÖ but seems that I got lost. Could you tell me how can I get to the main road?

FARMER: [Pointing out OFF STAGE while paying attention to his work.] Sure, just keep walking that direction for a mile or two. Hard to miss.

TRAVELER: [Swiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, looking up.] My, my. What a scorching summer we have, donít we? Say, old man, would you mind if I stay here a minute or two?

FARMER: [Still distracted] Suit yourself.

[The TRAVELER sits under the tree, putting his suitcase aside.]

TRAVELER: SayÖ this is a lovely tree, isnít? Itís amazing there arenít any other trees in this field.

FARMER: [Stopping working and looking at the TRAVELER in the eyes] Thatís because no other trees are needed, young man.

TRAVELER: [Confused.] Well, that doesnít sound, you know, productive, but what do you mean by that?

FARMER: [Leaning his tool against the tree, deadpan serious.] I mean, we donít need no other tree around here, since this is the best tree there is. You just have to taste the fruits that provide to see that.

TRAVELER: [Skeptical] SureÖ So, how can you be so sure about thatÖ I mean, in the last town they sold me some peaches and I must say they were pretty good.

FARMER: [A bit irritated] Bah, they canít compare to the apples of this tree.

TRAVELER: [Curious] How do you know that these fruits are the best, again?

FARMER: My father told me.

TRAVELER: And how did he know that?

FARMER: [blankly] His father told him.

TRAVELER: And his father told his?

FARMER: [Nodding.] Yes, sir. Thatís what I think.

[The TRAVELER stands up]

TRAVELER: [Exasperated] ButÖ you know, back in the city. You can find fruits of any type from around the world. Mangoes, papayas, kiwis and who knows what else. And in the Tropics and the farewell coasts at the edge of the world, unimaginable fruits! Have you tasted them? Have you compared them? Can a pearl be compared to a grape? Or a grape be compared to date?

FARMER: [A bit annoyed but mostly indifferent] I really canít say, young man. I have never tasted any of your fancy fruits from exotic lands, in matter of fact. I have never left this valley. But I do know that for me, this tree is the best tree in the world and its fruits are the best and one in a kind.

TRAVELER: [Looking at his watch] Well, I better be going. They are waiting me for an important meeting tomorrow morning.

[The TRAVELER walks to the other side of the stage.]

FARMER: [Picking up his tool and working on the land again] Take care, sir. Hope you find the way.

TRAVELER: [To the audience]: Look at him, heís wrong. Not only wrong, he talks nonsense! But yetÖ thereís something, something in his humbleness I find irresistible. I knowÖ [chuckles] that this little tree canít be the best tree in the world, seriouslyÖ but the unshakable faith this old man protects his tree. The assurance he defends it, itís something so simple, yet, so enviable.

[The TRAVELER sighs and exits the stage. We see the FARMER stopping his choir and looking thoughtful toward the audience.]

FARMER [Thoughtful with his hand on his chin]: What ifÖ my tree is not the best tree after all?

THE END.

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:36 AM
TITLE: LOUNGE ACT

GENRE: Drama

CHARACTERS:
DAN DELUCA, a handsome, successful forty-something actor at the peak of his career, nicely dressed, his Yankees cap an incongruous accessory
ELI, a too-pretty actor in his mid-twenties, wearing a long-sleeved shirt
SHANNON, a beautiful bartender

BRIEF DESCRIPTION:
A young actor whose absence has disrupted a movieís filming schedule buys its star a drink. His apology and the explanation stun the older man--whose theatrical skills hide what he knows.

SETTING:
The lounge of an elegant hotel, featuring both a bar and tables occupied by people unseen by the audience. Throughout the play, Shannon provides service and silent chitchat to the invisible patrons at both tables and the bar.
* * *

[Curtain rises as DAN and ELI enter and seat themselves at the bar, Eli at the far end. Dan removes his baseball cap and sets it on the empty barstool next to him.]

DAN: Good evening, Shannon. The usual. And a beer for my friend? [Looks to Eli for confirmation. Eli nods.]

SHANNON: Right away, Mr. DeLuca.

DAN: Itís ĎDan,í sweetheart. I keep telling you that.

SHANNON: Iíll try harder to remember, Mr. DeLuca. You know I canít think straight around hunky movie stars.

DAN: Do you believe the lip on this woman? If she wasnít such a gorgeous broad, Iíd never take it.

SHANNON: If I wasnít such a gorgeous broad, Iíd never have the nerve. [To Eli.] Sir? Iíll need to see some ID, please.

[Eli takes out his wallet and offers a driverís license. Shannon studies it briefly, then returns it. Eli leaves the wallet on the bar.]

SHANNON: Thank you, sir. On tap, we have Sam Adams, Sam Adams Cherry Wheat, Bass, Boddingtons, Blue Moon, Brooklyn Post Road Pumpkin Ale, Coors Light, Dos Equis, Guinness, Harp, Kirin--

ELI: [Holds up one hand, palm out, stopping her recitation.] What do you have in the bottle?

SHANNON: Labatt Blue, Killianís, Anchor Steam, Sam Adams Double Bock, Beckís, Heineken, Corona, Michelob Ultralight, Coors Light, and Victory Prima Pilsner. Oh, and Bud.

ELI: Too many choices. What do you recommend?

SHANNON: Canít go wrong with a Sam Adams.

ELI: Done. Leave the cap on, please.

[Shannon busies herself with the drinks.]

DAN: [Observing the back of Shannon.] Thatís my kind of woman. Hips you can grab and hold on to. So, did you see how I did that?

ELI: Did what?

DAN: Got us to the right seats. You go very far in this business, you either learn or become a hermit. Or travel with a posse, which is okay for a young guy but not after a certain age. Anyway, first you scope the place out, pick the seat where itís hardest for people to bother you. Pull down your handy Yankees cap--

ELI: You mean my faithful Red Sox cap.

DAN: Donít make me hurt you. You pull down your cap and lower your head a little, so you only see people from the shoulders down. You wonít bump into anybody, and they canít see your face. You sit so your companionís against the wall, and put your cap on the empty seat next to you. Turn to talk to your buddy, and youíve got yourself a little island of privacy. People see your back, so you could be anybody. A man can get a drink in peace.

ELI: What a hassle, though. I donít get recognized often enough for it to be a problem.

DAN: Not in bars, anyway. Your fans are, what, fifteen, sixteen?

ELI: About that. I get free fries instead.

DAN: Which isnít so bad. Youíre still young enough to eat that crap and not balloon up. You work out?

ELI: Three-four times a week is all, unless a role wants me all buff, or bulked up.

[Shannon brings a bottled beer, a frosted mug, and a martini.]

DAN: Thanks, gorgeous.

SHANNON: Youíre welcome, Mr. DeLuca. Run you a tab tonight?

ELI: [Removing his beerís cap.] On me. What do I owe you?

DAN: I got it.

ELI: I asked you if I could buy you a beer, talk to you about something.

DAN: I can afford it. You read in Variety what theyíre paying me for this role? What are you getting, scale?

ELI: A little better. Not much. Itís more about the transition to adult roles than the money.

DAN: Shannon, honey, charge it to the production company. Put my name next to it and theyíll just pay up. Give yourself a good tip.

SHANNON: Yes, sir, Mr. DeLuca.

DAN: Please, itís ĎDan.í

SHANNON: Iíll remember it this time for sure, Mr. DeLuca.

[Dan and Eli raise martini glass and bottle in salute to one another, then drink.]

DAN: Two parts gin, one part vermouth--thatís the way to end a hard day.

[Eli pours the remaining beer into his frosted glass.]

ELI: Man, you made it look so easy, like you were just as happy doing twenty perfect takes as one.

DAN: Twenty-seven. That Michelle, huh? Wow. Drop-dead gorgeous isnít enough. I swear she didnít know what half her lines meant.

ELI: Maybe she was having an off day or something.

DAN: Could be malnutrition. I am not looking forward to the love scene, tell you that. Great legs, but any higher, sheís all bones and implants. Hips like a lizard. I prefer Shannon, here.

SHANNON: Oh, am I on the menu?

DAN: You should be, sweetheart. Saucy and spicy both.

ELI: [Drinks deeply, covers a burp with one hand.] Good beer. Thanks for the recommendation, Shannon. [To Dan.] Itís probably even harder than working out all the damned time, starving yourself so you look good on camera. I bet Michelle never has a beer.

DAN: Considering the way I put on weight these days, itís just as well I never developed the taste for it. [Pats his own midsection.]

ELI: You look great. Not just great for your age. Great, period.

DAN: You think? Iíve done enough curl-ups that I sure hope so, but the years show.

ELI: Bullshit. You know, besides working with you and Umberto, one reason I was so glad to get this part is by the time theyíre done with makeup, I look pretty bad. Itís liberating, not to have to be all about looks. I want to act, not model.

DAN: Thatís good to hear. To tell you the truth, when they told me who they cast and I looked you up, I wasnít exactly thrilled. Your workís been all about that face. Youíre cute, youíre vulnerable, youíre angst-y--itís always about how you look. Not a thing about transforming yourself into somebody who isnít you. Not that itís not a good face.

ELI: Thanks. I think.

DAN: Even though your fans are little girls, thereís some big girls whoíll give you whatever you want, because of that face, huh? Bet you get plenty.

ELI: Enough. When my agent told me I got the role, I swore to myself that I was going to work my butt off. Everybody who thought I was cast because of the way I look was going to be surprised.

DAN: And how. That scene with the gun? Real closed, everything going on behind those eyes, and then they just go flat. Perfect, take after take. I donít know how the hell you even do that. And the little twitch of the lip? I might have played it just the same way, twenty years ago.

ELI: Coming from you, thatís a huge compliment. Huge. Thank you.

DAN: Just calling them as I see them. So, you wanted to talk to me about something? I donít have a thing to do with casting. My timeís spoken for, the next two-three years, pretty much, and nobodyís asked me who I see in the other roles.

ELI: Nothing like that. I wanted to apologize, explain where Iíve been, since me being gone screwed up your shooting schedule.

DAN: And Umbertoís. He was pretty pissy about having to swap things around on short notice, took it out on everybody.

ELI: My agent told him I had gastroenteritis, from a sushi place. I donít even like sushi.

DAN: The rest of us thought that story was fishy. We had some other theories.

ELI: I figured. Let me guess. Rehab?

DAN: That was Michelleís favorite. Go with what you know, huh?

ELI: The gossipís true?

DAN: Whatever drug makes her happy and not hungry at the same time. People were guessing all kinds of stuff. Nobody knows you, so youíre a blank canvas for their own temptations.

ELI: Interesting. Like what?

DAN: A fight, maybe a black eye or a split lip we had to wait on, until makeup could cover it. Possibly over an underage kid, her dad giving the beat-down.

ELI: Ugh. No. Never.

DAN: A drug binge, that was a popular speculation. I didnít buy it, though. Me, I put five bucks on you holing up with some pretty girl whoíd do anything, and had cocaine in the house, but it wasnít about the coke alone. Or maybe some pretty boy, eh?

ELI: Neither. Iím straight, not that it matters.

DAN: Shannon, you gorgeous thing, another martini. And another beer for my friend here. Eli. [To Eli.] So, where were you?

ELI: The Mandarin.

DAN: Nice. You have a suite? [Eats the olive in his drink.]

ELI: Just a room.

DAN: So you hid out at the Mandarin because...

[Eli doesnít answer immediately. He finishes his beer and burps politely behind one hand. Shannon brings the martini and a bottle of beer. Its cap is gone.]

ELI: No. With the cap on. I donít mean to be a pain in the ass. You can charge me for this one.

DAN: Charge the studio, Shannon.

[Eli opens his wallet and sets a bill on the bar. Shannon takes it and the opened beer bottle.]

DAN: First-rate bartender would have had that down pat. Wouldnít have looked like Shannon, though.

[Shannon sets a capped beer in front of Eli.]

ELI: Thank you.

SHANNON: Youíre very welcome. I should have remembered.

[Eli opens the beer and pours it into his glass. He drinks, pauses for a breath, then drinks again. He burps politely, and stares at the glass.]

DAN: Not something easy to tell, then. You spend last week in jail?

ELI: [Speaks low, almost mumbling] I was assaulted. Raped.

DAN: What? I canít hear with background noise. Welcome to my forties, huh?

ELI: [Louder.] I was raped.

DAN: Raped, some woman forcing herself on--

ELI: By a man. Or men. [Eli gulps his beer.]

DAN: Holy shit. Are you all right?

ELI: I will be.

DAN: Sweet Jesus, raped. You call the cops?

ELI: Want to know how serious I am about acting? First person I called was my agent. It wasn't even five yet in L.A. Woke her up, told her what happened, and asked her what to do. She said not to call the police.

DAN: Why the hell not? Listen, you should talk to my agent, heíll--

ELI: [Interrupting.] It could ruin my career. You know how the rumors would spin it.

DAN: Pretty boyís gay, got himself a little rough trade.

ELI: Exactly. A career like yours could survive that kind of gossip, but mine canít.

DAN: It helps that Iím married, and have been with hundreds of women. Thousands.

ELI: Thousands?

DAN: Well, I donít know about the Ďs,í but at least a thousand, easy. No man alive would turn down some of the offers I get. Pretty women, smart women, rich women, exotic women, kinky women, women with girlfriends. My wife starts giving me attitude, I get out the pre-nup, point out what she can take when she moves into a two-bedroom apartment.

ELI: Why get married? Sorry, that was tactless. None of my business.

DAN: I like having somebody whoís glad to see me when I get home, enough for five marriages. Iím up-front about how itís going to be, these women throwing themselves at me, but thatís always what ends it. Whoíd say no every single time?

ELI: Not me. Some of these girls are outrageous, but some are--okay. Better than okay.

DAN: So we like the ladies. Howíd you hook up with the guy who raped you?

ELI: [Studies his beer, sips before answering.] I donít know.

DAN: You know who it was, right? I mean, you saw him and all.

ELI: No. I woke up-- No, I donít know who did it. [Drinks deep, sets the empty glass on the bar.]

[Dan signals Shannon to bring another beer. She brings it quickly, the cap on, along with a fresh frosted glass.]

SHANNON: Can I open that for you?

ELI: Okay.

SHANNON: [Uncaps the beer bottle and pours down the side of the glass.] There you are, sir. Enjoy. Another martini, Mr. DeLuca?

DAN: ĎDan.í No, thanks. These pack quite a wallop, and Iím working early. [To ELI] Drink. Sometimes a little numb is a good thing.

[Eli chugs about half his beer.]

DAN: Attaboy. So you woke up raped, at the Mandarin, and you donít even know who it was?

ELI: No idea. I donít remember anything after dinner at the hotel.

DAN: This was when, Tuesday? Right, because Wednesdayís when Umberto imploded. You remember me coming up to your table, talking a few minutes while you ate, right?

ELI: Not really.

DAN: It wasnít any big deal. Itís always half dinner, half schmooze. I just said something about what good work you did, in that gun scene. Offered to buy you a drink after dinner. You donít remember any of this?

ELI: No, sorry. Did we have a drink?

DAN: You took a rain check. Last I saw, you were waiting for the elevator.

ELI: I donít even know if I made it to the room. Completely blank.

DAN: Date-rape drugs. Did you watch your drink at dinner?

ELI: I thought so, but now I guess not. By the time I saw the doctor, too much time had passed for them to test my blood for what it was.

DAN: You didnít go to the ER?

ELI: My agent caught a red-eye and had a doctor who can keep his mouth shut lined up before her cab even reached the Mandarin.

DAN: Bet that was a fun exam.

ELI: Total blast. Stitches and everything.

DAN: Ow. How many?

ELI: Eight. Got them out this morning. That was fun, too.

DAN: Youíre young, still heal pretty fast.

ELI: I guess.

DAN: I donít get how this happened. These drugs, they donít knock you out. Look at you. Youíre young, youíre in shape. Youíd have fought back.

ELI: [Shows his wrists.] Rope marks.

DAN: My sweet Lord. And nobody heard?

ELI: I had a sore throat, like from yelling? My agentís good, went with me to the front desk the next night, so the same people would be working. Made it sound like Iíd had a party and was there to apologize about noise, but there wasnít a single complaint. Somebody should have heard.

DAN: Youíd think.

ELI: I think I was gagged. My underwear was gone, so thatís probably what he used. Took it with him when he left. A souvenir. [Drinks beer.] We saw my registration information. It was my signature, for sure. The clerk remembered me, said I was alone, didnít act stoned or drunk or anything, just tired.

DAN: Bastardís a smooth operator. At least youíre okay now.

ELI: Physically, yeah. Ready to work.

DAN: Maybe you should get some, you know, counseling. They have rape support groups.

ELI: And tell the world about it? [Shakes his head, rejecting the idea.] The doctor told me I could expect to have trust issues. Iím not supposed to withdraw my trust from people whoíd already earned it.

DAN: You trust me, then.

ELI: Youíre Dan fuckiní DeLuca. Studio trusts you to carry a two hundred million dollar movie, I guess I can trust you with how I spent Tuesday night.

[They laugh.]

DAN: You really can trust me. I wonít be telling anybody.

ELI: Thanks. [Sips beer.] I was kind of scared to ask you to come. Not just scared to say it out loud, but to you. Why would you even go out for a drink with a guy like me, whoís just getting started?

DAN: I used to be a guy like you. Itís good to be reminded of that by spending time with my former self. [Eats the olive from his martini.] Except my former self never went through anything like that, thank God.

ELI: Anyway, I want to apologize for the huge inconvenience. I hope to work with you again. You needed to know Iím serious, a professional, with a work ethic.

DAN: Iím just glad youíre all right.

ELI: Yeah, me too. Do you know where the Menís is? Beer. I love it, but...

[Dan turns in his seat, scanning the loungeís corners, then spots it and gestures stage left. Eli exits stage left. Dan raises his glass to Shannon, at the far end of the bar. A white light illuminates Danís face.]

SHANNON: [To stage right.] No pictures. Did you see the sign?

[The white light flashes again, twice, in rapid succession.]

SHANNON: [Picks up a phone behind the bar, talks into it.] Security to the lounge. [To Dan.] Sorry, Mr. DeLuca. Iíll get rid of him. [Shannon strides to exit stage right.]

DAN: Go get him, tiger. [Dan turns on the bar stool, facing away from the other patrons. He pours something into Eliís beer, swirling it to mix.]

ELI: [Returns, unconsciously patting his fly, checking that itís zipped. Stops to peer toward stage right.] Whatís all that about? [Sits.]

DAN: About over. You missed all the excitement. Paparazzi. Shannonís throwing him out. A beautiful thing to see, a woman strong like that. Bet sheís an animal in the sack. [Sips his drink.] It got me thinking how a distraction might be one way somebody could slip something into a manís drink. I donít remember anything at dinner Tuesday, but the nights kind of run together. I guarded your beer. And your wallet. [Slides wallet to Eli.]

ELI: Thanks.

DAN: Youíre welcome. [Raises his glass in a silent toast. Both men drink.] I donít know about you, but Iíve got to head up, get myself some wind-down time and some sleep.

ELI: I should, too. Iím a little buzzed. Three lousy beers.

DAN: Cheap date, huh? Letís drink up, then.

[They drain their glasses. Dan puts his arm around Eliís shoulder as they leave the bar and exit stage right.]

[Curtain down.]

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:37 AM
TITLE: Service
GENRE: Tragicomedy
CHARACTERS: Man on Table 6, Man on Table 5, Waiter.
BRIEF DESCRIPTION: Man on Table 6 is eating out with his wife whilst wishing his life wasn't so dull.
SETTING: A cheap restaurant, modern day. 8pm. Only Table 5 and 6 are occupied by characters- the audience are sat on tables around. The waiter treats them as if they are customers.


Waiter: That enough sir?

Man on Table 5: (holds up hand to indicate he doesn't want any more poured) Yes, thank you.

Waiter: Enjoy your drink (waiter leaves to clean the other tables)

Man on Table 6: (looks at his watch) What the hell is she doing in there? Reconstructing her face?

(waiter comes over and man on table 1 smiles)

Man on Table 6: I'll have the spaghetti Bolognese and my wife (points to the empty chair) wants a green salad.

Waiter: Shouldn't you wait for your wife to return?

Man on Table 6: I know what my wife wants, thank you very much.(waiter takes order and leaves)

Man on Table 6: (to audience) A green salad. She always orders that; what colour salad does she expect will turn up. Purple?
(sighs) And I always order the bolognese. That's what it's been like for 18 years- we've been married 18 years, can you believe it? Neither can I.
I've wasted my life- look at me. 45 looking 75 and nothing to show for those 45 years except two bratty children.
Having children ruined her looks- she's had 16 years to get rid of that pregnancy fat and she still hasn't. (his mobile beeps. He reads the text) 'Did you know Mrs Jones is having it off with *missing text*' Why does she send me these stupid texts about stupid gossip from her stupid friends? Ah well, at least someone's getting some. Mrs Jones, I envy you.



Waiter: (to the man) Where is your beautiful wife?

Man on Table 6: She'll be back! It's not like her food's going to get cold.
(waiter leaves to go to Table 5)

Man on Table 6: Everybody's looking at me as if I've been stood up. The pathetic husband waiting for his wife to come back and apologise for being late so loudly that everyone sniggers.(looks at man on Table 5) What's he looking at?...a photograph. Of a woman, a very nice one from what I can see. Or at least one who isn't a baby machine. I'm not sure Barbara ever used to look like that.

(Man on Table 5 signals to waiter)

Man on Table 5: Another coffee, please. Black, with sugar.
(waiter takes order and leaves)

Man on Table 6: He's waiting for her I bet. Look at the way he looks at her, she's not his wife. She's his lover and...she's going to meet him. Here. And he doesn't drink alcohol because people would assume things.
She's a bit younger than him, I'll say- he must be my age. Maybe I should... no, that would be crazy...so what? Maybe I should have an affair- these days no one stays faithful for 2 minutes, let alone 18 years.
But how? How does one find a lover?

Waiter: Phone the local *****house

Man on Table 6: What?!

Waiter: 'Would you like dessert now?'

Man on Table 6: Oh...
(to audience) Fine, I'm crazy. What women half my age do I know that might fancy me? What women my age fancy me? Barring the boss's daughter, who I'm pretty sure is a prostitute, I can't think of anyone willing to devote more than 5 minutes to me. (pause) What about Polly in Accounting? She's always had a thing for me, bringing me my coffee...what 21st century woman would bring a man coffee?! And she seemed up for it at the office party...well, she was drunk but it's a victory of sorts.
(rings his wife. Call connected) Barbara, I'm leaving. I'm leaving the restaurant and I'm leaving YOU. (triumphantly hangs up. to waiter) Waiter, the bill!

Waiter: Yes, sir. (he goes off to bring the bill)

Man on Table 6: I've never done something like that before! Maybe if I had the guts I wouldn't have to wait half an hour to even get the bloody attention of one!
(Waiter returns with bill. Man triumphantly slams down a couple of notes and exits) Mrs Jones won't be the only one who's getting some now.

(The waiter picks up the money)

Waiter: Can't anybody control themselves these days? You get all sorts in here. (he sees that Man on Table 5 has finished. He goes over and picks up the coffee) Caffeine fiend, are you?

Man on Table 5: Yeah, something like that.

Waiter: (points to photograph) Who's the woman?

Man on Table 5: I have no idea. I found it in a car park. (tosses it on the table) Anyway, I'm off to find some real beautiful women. I don't want to masturbate my life away, waiting.

Waiter: The way I see it, life's like one big restaurant. You wait hours to get served and finally someone turns up with your food. And you're telling your partner it's delicious...then you see the bill. You got ripped off- you could complain to the staff but then you're just another customer.

THE END

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:37 AM
TITLE: We Play, Therefore We Are
GENRE: Comedy
CHARACTERS: LUCY, a housewife in her early 30's and her husband FRANK, also in his early 30's.
BRIEF DESCRIPTION: The characters in the play become aware that they're characters in a play.
SETTING: A small dining room, morning. A round dining table sits center stage, with four chairs arranged around it. A stove sits stage right, with a pot and frying pan on top. When lights come up, LUCY stands at the stove, dishing breakfast from the frying pan onto a plate. FRANK sits at the table, reading a newspaper.

LUCY: [Carries the plate from the stove and sets it on the table in front of FRANK.] I'm telling you, it's true!

FRANK: [Picks up a fork but doesn't eat.] What, that we're characters in some play?

LUCY: Yes!

FRANK: No we aren't.

LUCY: All right, fine. If we're not characters in a play, then where did all these people come from? [Waves a hand, indicating the audience.]

FRANK: What people?

LUCY: All those people. Out there. In the dark.

FRANK: [Peers out at the audience.] Oh, yeah. [Sets newspaper down on the table.]

LUCY: You see them?

FRANK: Yeah. Hey! You people get off my lawn!

LUCY: We don't have a lawn!

FRANK: What?

LUCY: I said, we don't have a lawn.

FRANK: Of course we do. I mow it every day, don't I?

LUCY: No, you don't. Because it isn't there.

FRANK: Oh, well, I suppose this food isn't here either.

LUCY: It's here.

FRANK: [Points his fork at her.] Aha!

LUCY: But it's fake.

FRANK: [Slaps fork down on the table and throws his hands up.] Oh, for cryin' out loud.

LUCY: It is. Try a bite.

FRANK: Look, this is all in your head, Luce. We're not characters, we're people. That weird friend of yours put this idea in your head.

LUCY: Dr. Descartes is not weird!

FRANK: What's that thing he said last week?

LUCY: 'And so something which I thought I was seeing with my eyes is in fact grasped solely by the faculty of judgment which is in my mind.'

FRANK: Like I said, weird.

LUCY: He is not weird! He also said 'I think, therefore I am,' which got me thinking --

FRANK: Always a dangerous exercise...

LUCY: -- got me thinking, and that's when I realized we have no control over our lives. We're just characters in someone else's play.

FRANK: Oh, this again.

LUCY: It's true!

FRANK: Look -

DIRECTOR (offstage): "Cut! Great scene, but we need to go back to the Descartes bit. It needs a little something. Take five and I'll get you new pages."

[While DIRECTOR speaks, FRANK looks up at the ceiling, then glances all around the stage and under the table.]

LUCY: [Crosses her arms.] Well?

FRANK: Okay, we're characters in a play. But we do have a lawn! [There is a pause. LUCY crosses her arms and stares at him.] I'll just...go mow it now.

[Lights dim as FRANK exits right.]

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:38 AM
Title: April Fresh

Genre: A comedy

CHARACTERS:
PAOLO (loser)
SUZANNE (his paramour)
ROLANDO (PAOLO's brother, a mailman)

A couple shares some light banter. Mail is delivered.

EXT. Mid-morning; Springtime. A backyard flagstone patio. Downstage is a flower bed filled with, let's say, phlox. Stage right and stage left backdrop is a red brick wall topped with white-painted concrete. Crepe myrtle, etc., whatever necessary to suggest a garden. Centerstage is square flagstone patio extending downstage from sliding glass door. Round table/umbrella combo, with white-painted wrought iron chairs.

Seated at the table stage left is PAOLO, a salty-haired man of indeterminate middle age. His Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirt belie the gargantuan weight of sadness and self-doubt he carries around like a mailbag full of undelivered letters to Santa from dying children. He's methodically scanning a newspaper, sipping from a coffee mug.

The sliding glass door opens and SUZANNE enters, carrying her own mug and a coffee airpot. Early middle aged, pleasant features, not overly concerned about hair and makeup. Wearing men's pajamas, a bathrobe and large sunglasses.

SUZANNE: More coffee, Hon?

PAOLO [Looks up with an expression of harried bafflement]: You call me a fucking German?

SUZANNE [Sits down and tops his mug off]: Why do I even talk to you in the morning? Why do I keep trying?

PAOLO: Daddy issues. [Sips coffee.] Good coffee.

SUZANNE: It's half Jameson's.

PAOLO: Nice job. [Abruptly crumples up newspaper section and hurls it away.] Christ! I shoulda been a mailman like my brother Rolando. At least that prick gets steady work. [Sound of a cellphone; ringtone is Siegfried's Funeral March. He hurriedly pulls it out of his pocket.] What? No, thank you. No. No. Stop it. I know they tell you to keep talking even after I say no, but I swear to Christ if you don't shut up right now I'll find out where you live and burn your house to the fucking ground. Fine, you too. [Hangs up.]

SUZANNE [Reading the Home & Garden section]: Was that Luis?

PAOLO: Who?

SUZANNE: Your cousin Luis?

PAOLO: My cousin, yes, my mother's sister's kid, why not my cousin Louis? I need him to help me haul something. I mean, no, it wasn't him, obviously, it was a telemarketer, but I'm waiting for a call back from my half-wit cousin Louis. Did you say Luis?

SUZANNE: Isn't that his name?

PAOLO: No, Luis is not his name, it's Louis. My mother is the one who gave her whole brood Latino names because she's nuts. My cousins are Lou and Al and Benjamin, like that. [Puts his head in his hands, rubbing his temples.]

SUZANNE: But isn't your aunt Latino too? Like your mother?

PAOLO [Raises his head]: What? Why are you torturing me? Nobody's Latino. My dad was German-Irish, my mother is a Jew from Connecticut. I've told you all this before, for Christ's sake.

SUZANNE: Take it easy, Honey.

PAOLO: I don't have to take it easy. That was our deal, we always can say what we want, just let it out, blow off steam and shout and yell and spout gibberish if we feel like it. You can be a bitch to your heart's content, I can rant and rave and that's why we're so good together. Fuck, don't take that away from me, Baby please, I've lost so much, I've got nothing left, I pissed it all away, don't just impulsively shitcan a beautiful relationship that's worked so well for so long, for -- what, how long now?

SUZANNE: Two weeks today! Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. [She beams at him.]

PAOLO: Feels like goddamn years. I mean, yes! Two weeks! Have you any idea what a record that is for me, how amazing it is that you're still talking to me? I know it's partly the medication keeping you on an even keel, but I'll take what I can get.

SUZANNE: Feel better!

PAOLO [considers it, then scowls]: Rolando's a prick! [Drinks coffee.] No, I'm a prick.

SUZANNE: Nature "prick'd thee out for women's pleasure."

PAOLO: Really?

SUZANNE: Sure. Why not?

PAOLO: Thanks. Okay, you take your turn, go ahead and go off on me about my cousin.

SUZANNE: I thought you didn't like him, that's all.

PAOLO: Doesn't matter, I'm in a goddamn corner and he's the devil I know. [Puts his head down on the table. Muffled.] The only member of my insane fucking family who won't hang up on me. I'm scraping bottom. I'm at the fucking bottom of a fucking barrel full of fucking bad apples.

SUZANNE: Okay. Bottom of the barrel.

PAOLO: I'm through the bottom. I'm in a stinking black underworld inhabited by verminous, drug-addled cretins the likes of my cousin Luis.

SUZANNE: Louis.

PAOLO: My last hope, God help me. And he's got a van.

SUZANNE: Like your friend from college?

PAOLO [Baffled again]: What, you mean Van? No, that's just a guy called Van. Where are your pills?

SUZANNE [Laughing]: No, Sweetie, that girl who made a sculpture out of you.

PAOLO [Stares at her wordlessly for a few beats, breathing a little heavily]: You mean Monica? Baby, if I hadn't sold my gun long ago my brains would be decorating the wall right now. I can't take this today. What the hell are you talking about? She opens her mouth, but he explodes -- Jesus Christ, I told you she was avant-garde? Is that it, I told you about her found art installations and you just pulled out the word van? Louis has a van. What is wrong with you?

SUZANNE [Takes off her sunglasses]: Sweetie, what about your first sexual experience? You spent three hours talking about it.

PAOLO: I did?

SUZANNE: A strange thing to talk about on our first date, I thought, but I forgave you, which set up the pattern for our entire two-week romance. Fourteen days I'll never get back.

PAOLO: You're not saying it's over, are you?

SUZANNE: So your first time was with Monica, and it was on the patchouli-reeking shag carpet of Monica's van, which half the boys on campus referred to as the Vaginamobile. Monica's van.

PAOLO: Technically it was a Microbus.

SUZANNE: Artists who really are avant-garde probably don't call themselves that.

PAOLO: That's the one time you actually listened to me.

SUZANNE: Did you know you're the first man who made me feel like a complete woman? I can't be whole without being a vessel for your manseed.

PAOLO: Really?

SUZANNE: No. Hey -- what's my middle name? You don't know, do you?

PAOLO: Huh.

SUZANNE: Do you?

PAOLO: No.

SUZANNE: I've listened ad nauseum to more details than anybody should ever have to know about your entire twisted life, and you've never asked me a single question about myself because you don't care. Because I'm not your favorite subject, which is you.

PAOLO: Huh. Guess so.

SUZANNE: The next guy I'm involved with -- let's call him Samuel -- Samuel's going to be interested in all aspects of my life because he'll find me fascinating -- that's what I'm holding out for from now on. But I'll edit out these last two weeks from my bio, because Samuel will think so highly of me, I won't want him to know that I spent almost three hundred hours in your company.

PAOLO: That much?

SUZANNE: With luck I'll block out the whole period. That's right, asshole, I was just pretending not to know all about your congenitally defective family. Just to torture you.

[By now they're both standing, the table-cum-umbrella between them, PAOLO open-mouthed.]

SUZANNE [After a few beats]: Say something! [He meekly sits back down, and SUZANNE tromps back into the house, leaving the sliding door open.]

PAOLO [Distractedly]: One afternoon it was warm and I slept on a rubber air mattress floating on a lake, and it was like being in the womb but knowing you're in the womb. Self-awareness unburdened by identity. Rocking on the edge of warm oblivion. PureÖ [From beyond the brick wall, suddenly we hear ROLANDO.]

ROLANDO: Hey Paolo! Here's your mail, bitch! [A box marked "FRAGILE" comes hurling over the wall, falling crumpled on the flagstones with the sound of something rare and lovely and brittle being abruptly transformed into trash, to hold company with cigarette butts and fish heads. You know the sound.]

PAOLO [Mechanically]: Thanks. [Turns to call into the house.] Packing, Babe?

SUZANNE [From within]: Just a sec! [She emerges, dressed, with an overnight case.] Been packed for a week.

PAOLO: So, where are you off to?

SUZANNE: Anywhere else. I hear it's nice this time of year. Bye! [Vanishes back into the house. Momentarily we hear the front door opening and slamming.]

[PAOLO gets up, finally, goes over to crumpled box of broken pretty things. Stares at it.]

PAOLO: Prick.

END

KTC
04-17-2010, 04:50 AM
Okay. That's all 10 entries. And I posted them randomly, mixed them up a bit from the order in which they were received.

Enjoy.

And thank you to all the playwrights for taking the chance and hitting send!

alleycat
04-17-2010, 04:52 AM
Thank you, KTC. It takes a bit of work to organize and make something like this work. Take a bow.

*clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap . . . *

Angie
04-17-2010, 08:40 AM
Yes, a round of applause for Kevin for organizing this. Well done, Kev. ;)

Maryn
04-17-2010, 08:51 PM
I'm twelve hours late for the clap-fest. Uh-oh. Me clapping alone for Kevin will sound silly, but he deserves it.

Interesting plays, too!

Maryn, grateful

Lady Ice
04-17-2010, 09:18 PM
I'll clap a bit late too :D

alleycat
04-17-2010, 09:52 PM
I haven't read through all the entries fully, but from the ones I did read, and looking over the rest, I think everyone who entered spend some time working on their play and tried to write one worth seeing. Offhand, I didn't see anything like looked like a slapdash effort. I think that says something about the people who entered, whether or not the judges see some problem with their plays or not (and I'm sure they will; I see problems with my own).

I'll refrain from commenting further on the individual entries in order to preserve anonymity. I can't comment on nine plays and leave one out; it would be obvious which was my own.

KTC
04-18-2010, 02:54 AM
Thanks, all...but really, I just had an idea. Everybody rushed to support...including the judges. I merely did some administration work. It was fun...and also fun bringing some interest into the playwriting forum. I hope that other members here are reading and enjoying your works! This is a great community...you just have to have a kernel of an idea...and the whole community gathers around it and suddenly it's aflame. You should be clapping for AW and voluntary judges and people brave enough to step into the scary waters of competition. Cheers all!

Maryn
04-18-2010, 02:58 AM
Yes, the success is not only KTC's but shared by the playwrights, judges, and the site which supports all of our writing efforts.

Gee, do you think judges like caramel corn? Judges, if you do, please contact KTC with your mailing addresses. You earned it.

Maryn, who believes in letting people know they're appreciated

AheÔla
04-18-2010, 03:05 AM
I'm halfway through reading the entries! There is amazing stuff in there!

I join the applause for KTC, my fellow contestants, the judges and this newfound home that the Water Cooler proves to be.

Alleycat, you have good point about limiting the comments. What I will personally do is pick my favorite one and comment on it. Would others be interested to do that? Since our entry can me any one of the 9 others, it's still anonymous enough, isn't it?

I'll read them all twice before I make my choice though. It's going to be a tough call. They are each interesting in very different ways.
Good job everyone!

SaraP
04-18-2010, 05:23 AM
Oh yay, the entries are up!

Kevin, said so before and I say it again, thanks for putting this up.

I will read and comment on each entry - including my own. I know I enjoy reading other people's comments on mine so I assume others will enjoy reading my comments on theirs. Of course I now nothing about plays and playwrights, but if that didn't stop me from entering, it certainly won't stop me from commenting.

Lady Ice
04-18-2010, 06:41 PM
There's definitely some ones I'd like to praise :D

KTC
04-20-2010, 03:51 PM
Oh, the fun of it all!

This just in from one of the judges:

I invited a couple of my actor buddies over for wine and cheese and we read these aloud so I could get a good sense of the run time and how the dialogue worked with a little color to it.

Your plays have been performed! What an evening that must have been. Gives me a thrill just thinking about it!

I agree...this is a fabulous way to get a leg up in theatre. And you have to get the leg up if you have any hope of breaking it on opening night! When I'm writing, I'm constantly walking back and forth around the room talking out my lines. Don't forget this asset you have whenever you sit down and write a play...to constantly perform it out loud. Your ear is your friend when you're writing your play (truth be told, it's your friend no matter what you write...but particularly in playwriting).

I wonder...how many of you read your lines out loud while writing?

(Doesn't it just give you a thrill to know your work was performed...what a fun evening exercise. Don't be afraid to organize one yourself, with your own friends, while playwriting.)

maxmordon
04-20-2010, 05:12 PM
It gives me the chill they have been perfomed, KTC.

By the way, I love play Number 9, but again, I have a soft spot for metafiction.

SaraP
04-20-2010, 07:21 PM
How weird is it that one of my favorites seriously disturbed me?

*reminds herself she still needs to do the comments on each play as promised*

AheÔla
04-20-2010, 07:21 PM
Wow! Sounds like these judges are taking their job very seriously! It's great to hear.

And to answer your question KTC, yes, I read mine aloud. I acted for several years so playing my stories is an important chunk of my process. I actually loved read-throughs as an actor. It's the first connection with the words; the first time you test how you'll say them and how your fellow actors will react.

When I enter rewrite for my stories, I read them aloud from cover to cover, sometimes with an audience. It allows me to pin point imperfections I would have missed just reading it.

I still haven't picked my favorite entry yet.

SaraP
04-20-2010, 08:55 PM
Ok, so here are my comments. Do bear in mind that, like I said before, I know nothing about plays or writing for plays. I have no idea if the stage directions are done correctly, so I don't comment on those. The usual grain of salt is also implied.

That said:

Play #1 - The Sex Addicts

Being european, the only character of the three I'm familiar with is Tiger Woods, and I have no idea what the gossip about him is (does he really have all those women?). I found this entry somewhat boring and the fight scene seemed a bit far-fetched. Then the play ends with Boggs watching porn. Uh. What was the point of it all then?

Play #2 - Enlightenment

I liked this play a lot. I enjoyed the idea of Gabriel and the light talking, though I think the dialogue (?) could have flowed better. Being a synesthete myself, I enjoyed the reference. I don't quite get why Melody gives the light the finger at the end.

Play #3 - Cutter

This play depressed me, which I suppose could be its intention. If I were to watch this in real life I would have left the theater very upset, which is not something I would like to experience. It's an interesting concept though and I liked the monologue.

Play #4 - A change of Perspective

I liked this one too, nice change from the stronger contents of the previous entry, but also a bit bland. The dialogue flowed nicely.

Play #5 - The abduction of Homer Winslow

This play felt a bit forced. If I had been abducted by aliens, I would be freaking out, not telling them how fishing is so wonderful. I did like how Homer describes the TV and his grandkids, very realistic. Also, I'm surprised the aliens lucked out on such a wholesome character. I would bee seeking more proof of what Homer says. All in all, not bad.

Play #6 - The tree

I liked this one too. Having the farmer doubt his tree at the very end could be seen as something hopeful - that's my view of it.

Play #7 - Lounge Act

I loved and hated this entry. I had to stop reading for a few minutes when I finished this one, because it upset me, but I was very surprised by the the fact that it elicited such a strong emotional response from me. I really liked the dialogue, how it flowed, how we are led into understanding what really happened and then have it confirmed. I hated that it was going to happen again (and probably again and again and again).

Play #8 - Service

I found this one a bit boring too, although the twist at the end about the photograph was surprising.

Play #9 - We Play, Therefore We Are

Interesting idea and nicely done. I liked how he goes off to mow his (nonexistent) lawn.

Play #10 - April Fresh

I found this one a bit boring and confusing too. From the description of "A couple shares some light banter" I was expecting something entirely different. The name thing was strange. I don't understand why his brother treats him the way he does. I finished reading it thinking I had no idea what this play was about.

If I were to vote, I would say:

Play #7 - 1 point
Play #6 - 2 points
Play #2 - 3 points

Great job everyone!

alleycat
04-21-2010, 01:15 AM
Ok, so here are my comments.
Thanks for taking the time to read the plays and comment.

SaraP
04-21-2010, 01:29 AM
Just hope I'm not the only one. <-------*very subtle hint*

KTC
04-21-2010, 01:54 AM
Just hope I'm not the only one. <-------*very subtle hint*


haha. I read them too. I will comment eventually. I'm backlogged with the writing conference stuff at the moment. (-:

Lady Ice
04-21-2010, 02:25 AM
The ones that grabbed me were Enlightenment and Lounge Act.

The Sex Addicts- A bit boring and obvious. Might've made an okay TV sketch but not particularly theatrical.


Enlightenment- Sort of kooky. I found it quite refreshing and it was certainly theatrical.

Cutter- Self harm is a bit overdone. Not a bad monologue but just nothing new.

A Change of Perspective- Really didn't like this one. It was predictable and the dialogue was bland. Sorry to the person who wrote it.

The Abduction of Homer Winslow- didn't find it funny.

The Tree- Quite simple and sweet...arcadian maybe.

Lounge Act- I really liked the dialogue and the relationship between the two characters. Cool title too.

Service- Could've been more comitragic.

We Play, Therefore We Are- Metatheatre has been done far better than that (Six Characters in Search of An Author is a great example). The bit about the lawn was droll though.

April Fresh- It has a Shakespearan allusion- I'm sold! No, I did enjoy the relationship between the characters. I really liked this.

I'd go for April Fresh, then Lounge Act, then Enlightenment.

CACTUSWENDY
04-21-2010, 03:51 AM
Just finished reading all these today. My hat is off to each of you for your talent.

There were three that I really enjoyed. You guys have done some clever things with a very short amount of time and space. Thanks for much for sharing these.

I have a question. If a school or small group of folks wanted to preform any of these....how do we contact the 'owner' for permission? I could see a young acting group doing a series of this type of play all in one night.

Again, thanks for the share. Thanks to KTC for his work in pulling this together.

Stew21
04-21-2010, 05:29 AM
I'm so proud of everyone who entered. Many of you have never written a play before and it's impressive (at least to me) that you tried it.

Fantastic.

I'm anxious to see the feedback from the judges.

regarding the other comments, please keep in mind the good nature of the competition.

I look forward to seeing the results. :)

Maryn
04-21-2010, 05:38 AM
I've read them all now, but all I can see is the mistakes in mind. What a doofus, huh?

Maryn, doofus emeritus

Angie
04-21-2010, 06:01 AM
Not at all a doofus, Maryn. I've been cringing since I submitted mine. ;)

regarding the other comments, please keep in mind the good nature of the competition.

And that more than one (not sure of the exact number) contestant mentioned this was their very first attempt at a play. Me included. ;)

alleycat
04-21-2010, 06:20 AM
I've read them all now, but all I can see is the mistakes in mine. What a doofus, huh?

Maryn, doofus emeritus
We are probably all in that boat to one degree or another. I don't know how anyone else wrote theirs, but I played around with ideas for a couple of weeks, then wrote mine over about five days. I would normally have then wanted to let my work set for a while (at least a week or two), then go back and looked at it with fresh eyes. Now that a few days has lapsed, I see some things I wish I had done differently, including one fairly major one.

It's going to happen in a play contest like this. We shouldn't beat ourselves up too much about things we wish we had done (we'll let the judges do that ;-).

SaraP
04-21-2010, 01:35 PM
regarding the other comments, please keep in mind the good nature of the competition.

And that more than one (not sure of the exact number) contestant mentioned this was their very first attempt at a play. Me included. ;)

I apologize if any of my less-than-pretty comments came off as too harsh/negative/"critiquey" (as if I knew what I was talking about anyway).

Lady Ice
04-22-2010, 12:48 AM
I could have submitted a better one. But whatever my criticisms, good on everyone for submitting :)

alleycat
04-22-2010, 07:32 PM
Just bumping a little in case someone missed this thread and wanted to read the plays and comment.

AheÔla
04-25-2010, 03:12 AM
I've finally picked my favorite one: The Tree.
It's simple and sweet and nicely done. A glance at an encounter that left me thinking.

I will wait for the reveal of who wrote what before I comment on each entry. I don't feel at ease commenting on myself (I do critic myself but I'm afraid the tone and pickiness would give me away.)

Judges comments coming Monday! Yea!

alleycat
04-25-2010, 11:39 PM
I'm assuming KTC will be posting the results tomorrow. No matter who wins, or what the judges comments are, we need to give them a round of applause as well for being willing to read all the plays and pick a winner.

SaraP
04-25-2010, 11:59 PM
Oh wow, it's tomorrow!

*stands by ready to applaud*

Angie
04-26-2010, 12:05 AM
I'm assuming KTC will be posting the results tomorrow. No matter who wins, or what the judges comments are, we need to give them a round of applause as well for being willing to read all the plays and pick a winner.

Agreed, wholeheartedly. *applauds judges*

Manuel Royal
04-26-2010, 12:21 AM
Absolutely. Thank you, judges.

maxmordon
04-26-2010, 12:27 AM
Thank you, judges!

I am so scared!!!

AheÔla
04-26-2010, 01:04 AM
They most definitely deserve a thank you!
*joins the AW Playwright Choir*
Thank you judges!

SaraP
04-26-2010, 07:08 PM
This time-difference thing is killing me.

*bites on fingernails - what's left of them by now, anyway*

Maryn
04-26-2010, 08:07 PM
Any word on when the results might be announced, linking that time to a zone I can comprehend?

Maryn, not terribly bright

KTC
04-26-2010, 09:45 PM
I am posting them in a couple of minutes. I will post the results then...and, sorry, but won't be able to get the feedback to you until later this afternoon.

The results? Those I have! (actually, I have the rest too...just not the time to send them out yet.) Look for it soon.

Maryn
04-26-2010, 09:54 PM
Thanks, KTC, for letting us know.

Maryn, with a hearty pat on the back