Scary Ayumi part 1This was a little RP thing doen between Ayesha And metaknightlover12 Hope you guys like it.
Looking at Scary face Ayumi:
Malcolm: AW! SHE'S SO CUTE WHEN SHE'S ANGRY!
Ayumi: R-really? *blushes*
Sally: Huh. So love really makes you that delussional.
Ayumi: DID YA SAY SOMETHING PUNK!?
Sally: N-no! Not really!
Malcolm: Don't you DARE talk to Ayumi like that!
Raquel: ....no comment.
Meta Knight: Woah seriously? Wouldn't you normally make fun of your brother and then mock Ayumi AND Sally?
Sally: Crap! A double gang up. *sits in the corner eating potato chips* Dang it! I don't need u guys! I don't need you! *continues to munch on chips*
Ayumi: Crap, now the life of the party is depressed. Thanks so much malcolm.
Raquel: *tries not to laugh*
Ayumi:Umm.... malcolm...? Are you going to be alright? Afterall, I was just joking.
Sally: To late.... the damage is done.... I'm gonna go slit my wrists. *actually does*
Ayumi: Oh god Sally! No!
Malcolm: I'm ok...I was just thin
FateFate12 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God. Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No. But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
Tuesday AfternoonGOD:Tuesday Afternoon8 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Yes, hello again.
I'm sorry, my memory fails me. Which one are you?
Well, I was Martin Fry.
I'm sorry, those records are terminated. What's your number?
No, no, not your queue number. Your executive number, the eight-digits.
You expect me to remember that?
Well, it is within the seven plus-minus two limit, which you should achieve if you've reached up to level one. Or, are you the reincarnation?
Yeah, that's right. That's what I wanted to discuss with you.
Did you miss your stop?
I only sent you off a few hours ago.
Yes, my point exactly. What's the deal with turning me into a sea turtle?
You said you liked swimming, and that you'd like a long life.
Yeah, but their life expectancy from hatching is only about four seconds, innit? I was eaten by a gull after two. You do realise that the odds of me becoming an old sea turtle are about one
Fate Rewrite P. 1Fate Rewrite P. 111 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, white socks and a white shirt. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Nice weather today, eh?
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. What, like Godfrey?
GOD. No. Like God.
PETER. As in… [pointing skywards]
PETER. Your parents had high expectations or something?
GOD. I have no p
Doll Monologue[A girl is sitting on a chair. The light slowly appears upon her.]Doll Monologue9 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
[She raises her head]
Hello…You must be wondering what I am doing here…on this dusty shelf…
[Looks around her]
Well my "Real-Person" put me here…You're one of them too, aren't you? [She squints at the audience] Yes…you're real! [She looks excited.] Will you take me home? I am so lonely… and the dust isn't very good for my curls. [She pats her curly hair] I used to be brushed every day… [Sigh] Samantha was my Real-Person. She would tell me she loved me everyday and dress me up…that was [Frown] until that other Real-Person, called Father, left. Samantha was so sad that day we went to that party…
A [she fumbles over the foreign word] fun-e-ral…I think she called it. She put me in this ugly black thing. [Fingers her black dress] and water would leak from her eyes…She said that was crying. [She cocks her head] I wanted to cry too…because maybe that would have helped her not be so sad. [Bows head slightly] But I couldn't…I tr
AfterlifeAfterlife11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A desert road.
A body lies on the road. SAM is sitting on it. It is his corpse. He gets up. Looks at the body, and looks at himself. He feels himself for fat. He goes stage LEFT. As he reaches the end, he stops. He then goes stage RIGHT. He stops. He looks out toward the audience. He goes upstage. He goes downstage. Finally, he glumly takes a seat on his body again and sighs heavily with his chin in both hands, elbows on his knees. He stares at the ground and takes no notice of his surroundings.
Enter CHARON, stage RIGHT. He is wearing simple brown robes and a walking staff. Middle-aged and balding. He drags his feet, hunched over and head down, like someone who has been on his feet for a long time. Noticing SAM, he straightens himself. He takes a scrol
Nothing v1.5NothingNothing v1.59 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A short play by David Couture
A bare stage. GUY 1 is standing CENTRE stage.
GUY 2 [entering]. Hey.
GUY 1. Hello.
GUY 2. What are you doing?
GUY 1. I'm watching the burning house.
GUY 2. What burning house?
GUY 1. The one that's offstage.
GUY 2. It's offstage?
GUY 1. What do you see onstage?
GUY 2. Nothing.
GUY 1. That's because it's offstage.
GUY 2. Then what's the point?
GUY 1. It's a plot device.
GUY 2. A what?
GUY 1. A plot device. Something introduced to the narrative in order to advance it. In this case, a burning house.
GUY 2. Is it working?
GUY 1. You're here now.
GUY 2. Is it a symbol?
GUY 1. Everything is a symbol.
GUY 2. I don't get it.
I don't think I like this plot device.
GUY 1. Give it time. Have
Past Our Dancing DaysA kitchen. MAN and WOMAN stand centre stage, in front of a counter with drawers. They are arguing as lights fade on.Past Our Dancing Days7 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
WOMAN. Look. Its called a double suicide pact for a reason. I kill myself, and then you kill yourself.
MAN. Why are we doing this again? Do I have to kill myself?
MAN. I dont like the smell of blood.
WOMAN. So what?
MAN. I dont like iron either. Probably because iron smells like blood.
WOMAN. Shut up.
MAN. Dont tell me to shut up.
WOMAN. When you shut up, Ill stop telling you to shut up.
MAN. You shut up.
WOMAN. Youre stalling.
MAN. Am not.
WOMAN. Are too.
MAN. Am not!
WOMAN. Then do it.
MAN. You were going first.
WOMAN. It doesnt matter who goes first. Well both be dead.
MAN. Im hungry.
WOMAN. We just ate.
A Rebuilt LifeA Rebuilt Life12 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A bus stop with shelter. The weather is overcast. ANGEL is sitting inside the shelter, CENTRE stage. Enter MAN stage RIGHT. He sits down with a sigh.
ANGEL [after a brief pause]: Your life sucks.
MAN: Thank you for the input.
ANGEL: I can help you.
MAN: You could also mind your own business.
ANGEL: I don't think you realize who I am.
MAN: Who are you?
ANGEL: I'm an angel.
ANGEL: I'm an angel, and I can help you, Darren.
[MAN just looks at him.]
ANGEL: It's… not Darren, is it? Ugh, I always do this… Darryl? David? Something with 'd', right?
MAN: What is the matter with you?
ANGEL: Donald? Dan?
ANGEL: Can I call you Dan?
ANGEL: Hear me out, Dan.
MAN: Leave me alone.
ANGEL: Ever s
Monologue"I could tell you that I do this because I'm insane, because God is in my head, because I go about my business with a thousand avenging angels conducting a symphony of holy amorality, directing my every move. Because organized crime killed my father, raped my mother, and tortured my sister, and that they had all this coming to them. That I do this because I like it; because I like to kill, and that I'm no more alive than when I stand there looking down on them, willing the light to go out of their life, staring down at their eyes so that I can watch--so that I can feel them die. Because I revel in it. Because I'm lost. Because I wasn't breast-fed or because society wouldn't have me or that I was abused, scorned and hated. That life was cruel and God disowned me.Monologue10 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
That I never watched a violent movie in my life and that my parents protected me and nurtured me too much, and when I saw
Bambi's mom get murdered in cold blood, it unhinged my mind. That Disney walked away with my soul and tha
Of Clowns And PoetsOf Clowns And Poets11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A park bench in a quiet spot. Sunny day. A CLOWN, dressed in a full outfit with pom-pom buttons, giant shoes, enormous ruff, red nose and make-up, sits having a cigarette. He looks unhappy. A POET, dressed in black, approaches him
CLOWN: Oh. It's you.
POET: I've got something to say.
CLOWN: Oh no. Please don't.
POET: Why not?
CLOWN: Because I don't want to hear it.
POET: But it might be important.
CLOWN: All right, if it's important.
POET: Ahem. 'I lie beneath the storm, on a bed of rolling sea—'
CLOWN: Whoa! Shut up! Shut UP!
POET: But you said I could –
CLOWN: If it's important!
POET: But it was important!
CLOWN: No, it wasn't.
POET: How do you know? You didn't listen.
CLOWN: If it was that important, you could just say it.
POET: Well I would if you would let me—
CLOWN: No, you didn't say anything. You were reciting.
CLOWN: If it was that important, you would need to say it quickly, right?
CLOWN: You would want to be sure I understood, righ
Phone Play 1Hey.Phone Play 19 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Janie? Is that… where the hell are you?
I don't know.
What do you mean, you don't know?
It's white. There's a lot of sand.
Can you see the ocean?
It might be Utah. Or Colorado. Maybe South Dakota.
You said you were going to class!
No, you weren't. You were going to god-knows-where bumblefuck in some flyover state!
That wasn't where I was going.
That's where you are.
What's a flyover state?
Forget it. Just bring my car back, okay? I missed work three times.
What if I can't find it?
The car has a GPS locator. Just turn it on and-
It doesn't have that anymore.
I needed gas.
It doesn't have a radio either.
Look, just ask for directions at the next gas station. Ask a cop.
What if there isn't one?
A gas station.
You're on a road. There's a gas station somewhere.
I don't see one.
What do you see?
The Night Before ChristmasThe Night Before Christmas12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
Cookies and milk were laid out on the table,
With carrots for Rudolph and the rest of the stable;
The children were tweaked out and couldn't get sleep,
While they waited for gifts, toys and goodies to reap;
They had just snorted Ritalin to stay well aware
Of the sounds of the night and if St. Nick was there.
Then there was a crash and a bang and a swear,
And the sound of somebody kicking a chair.
The children sprang up and out of their beds,
While visions of awesome toys danced in their heads.
Into the living room they jostled and ran
To find, instead of St. Nick, a quite different man.
He had flowing white robes and wore his hair long,
There was something amiss; something had to be wrong.
This was not Santa as they had fervently hoped;
They began to back off before they got groped.
"Who are you?" asked the brother," And why are you here?"
The man fixed his halo and wiped soot of