SPACE PIRATES!!

Sock puppet play example for the children's workshop I'm teaching with friends this month. Fun times. The next post is the example I used for the first workshop last July. Read carefully, because A and I, and everyone else who's read this, are pretty sure it's like the next big thing in theater... Tony Awards, WATCH OUT!!!

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SPACE PIRATES!!:
This is Ground Control to Major Tango
by Me and my friend, A.

April 14, 2009


FRED
Hey, Tango. I’m bored-ah! What do you want to do today?

TANGO
We could play video games…

FRED
We did that yesterday.

TANGO
…We could have a competition to see who can burp the loudest and longest.

FRED
Okay! On three…

TANGO
1 2

TANGO & FRED
3 – BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!!

TANGO
Wow. That was definitely a tie.

FRED
Y’know, Tango, burping competitions are fun and all, but they don’t help us with our dreams of becoming astronauts.

TANGO
Yeah, that’s true. Let’s check the classifieds.

FRED
Ooh! Here’s one that’s just perfect; NASA needs two volunteers for their latest space reconnaissance mission.

TANGO
Awesome! I’ll call them right now… Hi! I’m calling about your classified ad… Yes… Yes… Okay!… Mmhmm. You betcha! [click] They’re sending our spaceship right over! We leave today!

FRED
Hey! There it is right now.
[spaceship sequence – overheard “Ooh”s and “Ahh”s and “Whoa/Wow”s]
So, uh, what exactly is the mission?

TANGO
Well, they said it was a recon mission and that there’d be a note with further instructions.

FRED
Here it is! Let’s read it together.

TANGO & FRED
Dear Fred and Tango, Thank you for accepting our highly skilled mission. Instructions are as follows: we need the two of you to recover our missing agents, Wiscowski and Leon, who disappeared on a mission much like your own and never returned -

FRANK
-Uh oh!

TANGO
Attached are their pictures. Please return immediately after you recover the agents. Please put this letter in the trash shoot as it will destruct in 43 seconds! That is all.

[TANGO shoots letter into space; small explosion can be heard OS]

FRED
How are we ever going to find them?
[ship starts to shake]
Oh no! What’s that?

TANGO
I think we’re being attacked! Look out the window. I t looks like a pirate ship.

FRED
In space?!

TANGO & FRED
SPACE PIRATES!!!!!!!!

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
Avast me mateys! You are now prisoners of the Darkest Star.

FRED
Oh no! Their laser beam is pulling our ship into their ship!

TANGO
Oh no, Fred! We’re going to end up lost just like those two NASA guys we’re trying to save!

FRED
We’re doomed! I want my Mommy.
[on the pirate ship]

PEGLEG PETE
Welcome ye space intruders. You was trespassing – who arrrgh you’s anyways?

TANGO
I’m Tango and this is Fred. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble.

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
Quiet, Tangy. Pegleg Pete, tie these two up to the mast.

PEGLEG PETE
Yessir, Edvard.

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
That’s Cap’n Swashbuckles to ye!

PEGLEG PETE
Sorry, sir. Swashbuckles, sir.

FRED
No, no, please don’t tie us up.

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
Well, you’s have two options: you can join our crew or walk the space plank.

TANGO
I don’t like the sound of that space plank.

PEGLEG PETE
Then I guess you have to join the crew.

FRED
You guys look familiar. Don’t you think, Tango?

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
Well, that’s probably because we are space famous for pillaging and plundering.

TANGO
No, it’s something else.

PEGLEG PETE
Maybe it’s from when Cap’n and I won the three-legged race at the Space Olympics last year.

FRED
No, that’s not it either…

TANGO
I’ve got it! They look just like Wiscowski and Leon – the guys NASA sent us to save!

FRED
You’re right; they are!

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
Wha – I thought NASA had forgotten all about us.

PEGLEG PETE
I can’t believe they sent a search party after all these years.

FRED
We’re the twelfth.

TANGO
I thought your names were Cap’n Swashbuckles and Pegleg Pete, though?

PEGLEG PETE
We’d been lost in space so long and we were so bored that we just decided to become pirates one day.

FRED
That’s how we became astronauts.

PEGLEG PETE
Us too.

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
I miss being an astronaut.

TANGO
But being a Space(!) pirate sounds like so much fun!

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
Not really… you have to be mean all the time.

PEGLEG PETE
And we’re actually pretty nice guys.

FRED
Well, here’s your chance. Do you want to come back to Earth with us so we can complete our mission?

CAP'N SWASHBUCKLES
What do you say, Pegleg Pete?

PEGLEG PETE
It’s Leon now, Wiscowski. It’s Leon.

CAPT SWASHBUCKLES
Sounds good to me, Leon.

TANGO
Alright, climb into our spaceship and we’ll go.

ALL
YAY!

[“Ooh”s and “Aah”s and “Whoa/WOW”s hear on voyage back]

Back on Earth… in their apartment.


FRED
Look! It’s a letter from NASA.

LEON
What does it say?

FRED
Congratulations! You have successfully completed your mission. Attached are your instructions for the next mission you four will attempt: You are to intercept a Martian shipment en route to Jupiter. You have two days before the spaceship comes.

TANGO
Two days!?

WISCOWSKI
What are we going to do while we wait?

TANGO & FRED
Burping contest!!

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!

The Incorrigible HR Sockston

First session's example play for the children.

THE INCORRIGIBLE MR. HR SOCKSTON
a short play
by Me

July 9, 2008



CHARACTERS
CAMILLA, 11. She prizes the frilliest, most girlie things in life.
PORTER, 47. A very stern man when it comes to business, but a daughter’s father at heart.
MR. HR SOCKSTON, a monkey. Sock monkey from Timbuktu, with a terrible flatulence.


TIME
Turn of the 20th Century


PLACE
The Cavendish country home. A grand white cottage with acres of land.

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NARRATOR
Here is Camilla Cavendish. She is a young girl of 11 years, on the eve of her twelfth birthday. Right now she is dreaming of nothing more than owning her own unicorn.

.

CAMILLA

My unicorn will be the prettiest unicorn with a long rainbow mane and a horn made out of sparkles. Her name will be Princess Petal and I will ride her to school instead of having Mr. Jeffrey drive me. All the girls will be incredibly jealous because only I will have a unicorn, and I won’t let anyone ride her because –

.

PORTER
Camilla! Camilla, darling.

CAMILLA
Yes, Father?

PORTER
Good morning, little one. How are you feeling?

CAMILLA
Very wonderful. And how are you dear Daddy?

PORTER

Very well indeed. I am feeling refreshed. This time in the country has been well spent. Are you ready to go back to the city for your big party tomorrow?

CAMILLA
Almost. Ms. Geraldine said she would help me pack my things after tea time.

PORTER
We’re leaving at dusk.
[Turns to leave]

CAMILLA
Father. When shall I receive my gift from you?

PORTER
Why on your birthday, of course. We don’t want to ruin any surprises for your guests now do we?

CAMILLA
Well, I just thought it might be nice to practice riding Petal before everyone saw me with her.

PORTER
Who’s Petal?

CAMILLA
Princess Petal. She’s my unicorn. The one you got me. I saw her shadow outside last night, and I smelled her in the barn.

PORTER
Camilla. Camilla. That imagination of yours.

CAMILLA
Father, I ought to practice so I don’t make a fool of myself in front of my friends.

PORTER
I cannot permit that.

CAMILLA
So you did get me a unicorn?!

PORTER
I did not.

CAMILLA
You’re just saying that. I know it’s in the barn. You must bathe her first. She is dreadfully smelly.

PORTER
Camilla. I must ask you to stop this monkey business.

CAMILLA
I promise I’ll still act surprised. I promise! Just let me see her.

PORTER
No.

.

CAMILLA
So it is a unicorn! I knew it, I knew it! You brought her back with you from Africa!
[Hugs PORTER]
Oh thank you, thank you, Father!

PORTER
Camilla, dear. Do not get your hopes up for that which you cannot see and know for certain.

CAMILLA
But all I’ve asked for is a unicorn, and nothing else!

PORTER
You will see tomorrow.

CAMILLA

I want to know now!

PORTER
Tomorrow, Camilla. Now that’s enough! [Beat] Breakfast is ready. Will you please join me?

CAMILLA
Humph!

PORTER
Please, Camilla. I would very much enjoy your company – without the talk of unicorns.

CAMILLA

Fine. I won’t speak at all.

[CLICK, CLICK, CLANK: In the kitchen]

CAMILLA
What’s that awful smell? Has the caviar gone bad?

PORTER
Oh no, no. I don’t smell anything. It must be your imagination again.

CAMILLA
No, Father. It smells rotten. Like rotten garbage sitting in the sun on the city sidewalk before the trash trolley comes around.

PORTER

Eat your breakfast. Pay no mind. I’m sure Ms. Geraldine is just cleaning out the icebox.

[Monkey squawk. MS. GERALDINE screams]

CAMILLA

Father!

PORTER
No. There’s nothing.

MS. GERALDINE
[Off-stage] It got out, Mr. Cavendish! The smelly, smart beast got out, and ‘e bit me!

PORTER
Oh no!

CAMILLA

Father! Father! What is it? What’s in there?

MS. GERALDINE
[Off-stage] ‘ere ‘e comes!

[Enter HR SOCKSTON]

CAMILLA

A monkey?!
.

PORTER
For you. [Beat] Happy birthday.

[Pause. Every character inspects one another]

CAMILLA

But I don’t want a monkey! I want a unicorn!

PORTER
Camilla, dear. Please.

CAMILLA
Unless this is a magic monkey that can turn into a unicorn I’ll have nothing to do with him.

[HR SOCKSTON farts]

CAMILLA
What a ghastly creature!

PORTER
He’ll take some getting used to, but they make wonderful pets.

MS. GERALDINE
[Off-stage] I’m bleeding, sir! ‘E ‘as sharp as razor teeth. Mr. Jeffrey is taking me to the ‘ospital.

CAMILLA
He is dangerous! I won’t have him.

PORTER
I had a monkey when I was a boy your age, Phinneus Jack, he was the best -

CAMILLA
You were a boy! I’m a girl! I don’t want a mean, dirty monkey!

[HR SOCKSTON climbs up to PORTER]

PORTER
Look. He’s a good monkey. Ms. Geraldine frightened him is all.

CAMILLA
No! I will not have him.

[HR SOCKSTON farts again]

PORTER
He does smell a bit.

CAMILLA
A bit?! A pig would be better behaved.

[HR SOCKSTON moves halfway to CAMILLA]

CAMILLA
Get him, Father! Keep him away from me.

PORTER
The best pet –

CAMILLA
Would be a unicorn! I hate him and I hate you for bringing him here.

PORTER
You don’t mean that.

[HR SOCKSTON farts once more]

CAMILLA
I do! I do! [Crying] I don’t want a smelly monkey! Emilie got an iguana for her birthday and now no one plays with her. What do you think will happen to me when I receive this filthy monkey in front of everyone?

PORTER
I think you should give him a chance.

CAMILLA
Lily got a pony, and she knows I want a unicorn. I’ll never hear the end of it.

[HR SOCKSTON moves closer to CAMILLA and farts again]

PORTER
Monkeys are far more exotic than iguanas. He’s from the African jungle, whereas I assume the iguana came from a pet shop.

CAMILLA

Will he ever stop passing gas?!

PORTER
Eventually, but first he needs to get used to his new diet.

CAMILLA
He is a tad cute. I do like his hat.

PORTER
There you are.

[HR SOCKSTON moves closer and eats a fly]

CAMILLA
Ewwww!

PORTER
Now that fly won’t bother you.

CAMILLA
That’s true.

PORTER
I think he already likes you.

CAMILLA
I don’t want him to bite me. I’m scared.

PORTER
It’s okay.

[CAMILLA holds HR SOCKSTON, he wipes a tear from her eye]

CAMILLA
Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

PORTER
There you do. What are you going to call him?

CAMILLA
Hugo Randolph Sockston. Mr. HR Sockston for short.

PORTER
Very good. Very good. Happy birthday, Camilla dear.

What're They Washing?

SO, I'm pretty positive my neighbors are washing tools or tooling equipment pieces... like bolts and nuts and such in the downstairs community laundry unit ($2 each machine, needless to say I use the laundromat down the street). It's on spin cycle right now. No way those're tennis shoes. Seriously. Also, more fun things about the apartment! It's springtime now, y'know? Yeah. So, we have ants? I've seen three in 24-hours. Does that count as an infestation? Do I call my lackadaisical landlord? (Keep the receipt for the traps, yes?) And having the ability to view the basement through various places in the apartment. That's fun, too! I'm scared about the spiders coming back, so I've been keeping my room real clean, oooh, but in my shoes, my shoes! I always hated that stupid Arachnophobia movie (not even gonna search the IMDb site for you that's how much I don't like it, though I'd probably watch it if I flipped upon it on TNT one day, if I even get that channel anymore, if that channel even exists) for furthering my fears on the species. Terrible! Terrible! At least I don't cry when I see Silverfish anymore, so we're making steps.

HONESTLY! What is in the washing machine?! I don't even want to know. I bet I don't want to know. I haven't heard the neighbors' dog in a while. Maybe they're washing his bones? I really want to watch Tom Hanks in "The Burbs" right now - that bones comment just made me think of it, and the neighbors' basement, and the creepy wolf kid. Wow. Okay, so throughout these ramblings I recalled a memory from fourth grade, Ms. Beck's class, when these HSers or collegians came in and taught us all about writing whatever came to our minds, or stream of consciousness, and I remember thinking how fun it was and how I loved it a lot. And that's all she wrote about that. But then, thinking about that made me think about the first time I felt like I was flying when I ran the mile... I think I was in third grade or something, and I remember towards the end I was just soaring, and that was pretty great, too. I probably sang a song about it on the walk home from school. And climbed a tree. And touched everything. And probably talked to strangers. Man, not a whole lot's changed. I like complimenting strangers. And smiling at homeless, or completely ignoring them and then feeling terrible pity for their situation and thanking goodness that it's not me. Oooh. Uhhhh. Hey, did you see that "Happy Go Lucky" movie? Okay, so the part where she's walking somewhere at night, underneath the railroad tracks and she follows that crazy homeless man for a while... what was that about? Completely gratuitous? Yes.

They must'a just put the tools in before I came home...

EARTH HOUR (Schmearth Schmour!)

Really world, really?! Our planet is in serious crisis - it ain't no joke, and all we can give back is one hour of no lights one day a year?! This fact makes me sad. And, I talked to a lot of people who didn't even participate - for shame, for shame!!

I was at my friend, Ashley's house. We were celebrating her awesomeness because she's packing up and moving to St. Louis this weekend :( - but it's exciting, too; she has big plans and she's going down to live with her man - she's all growed up! So, yeah, there were about 20 of us there around the hour of the Earth, and we got out candles and turned off all the lights, and laughed, and talked, and played games, and then we realized we still had 45 minutes left... oy vey! But we made it (even 10 minutes over!), and it wasn't so bad, and it started snowing - oh so pretty, but oh so "no thanks!" at the same time - and it made me wonder why we only do this one day a year... for one hour. We are wasteful!! WASTEFUL!

My current (soon to be former) work place is located on the 68th floor of the Aon Center, and it's ridiculous but they leave the lights on 24/7 - NOT NECESSARY!! And the building claims to be going green and giving incentive to companies who comply with being a good citizen and active in conserving energy, but I don't buy it, I haven't seen any proof. Chicago has one of the highest light pollution levels in the country, hence its being one of the flagship cities for March 28th's Earth Hour... here's what it looks like darkened:Okay, it's a good idea in theory (dude agrees), but the practice is lacking, and really, will most people remember to reduce, reuse and recycle? I feel sad in saying it, but no, I don't think so. I feel like we need a big slap in the face before we get the picture, which is unfortunate. I think our government should give more incentives to people using car pools (maybe a discounted gas card for every extra pair of people you tote in your car?), bicycles, energy efficient household products... I'd really like to continue living on land with my current daily pleasures and not in some Kevin Costner-Ed Harris freak ocean world, though I do love the idea of pirates I don't think I want to be one anytime soon.

I'm so thankful we have some educated, good-intentioned people in the White House (FINALLY!); Michelle Obama and your garden - you rock! And I know that people are doing things, but I feel like we could do so much more - we need to do so much more. Education is essential, and acting on our knowledge is pivotal. And you know how I know people are doing things? I shared a train car with a-one Mr. Ed Begley, Jr. on Monday, March 23rd. I didn't realize he was an environmental activist until after the ride, but I appreciated seeing him on the train nonetheless (so much so that I creepily stared and smiled at him, while whispering about him with the lady in front of me, then a new guy got on and recognized him and I excitedly fisted the air; I realized how creepy my behavior was and buried my nose in a book for the duration of the ride, I didn't even look up when I got off at my stop - A) because I would've been creepy again, and B) because I was at a really exciting part.) because seeing him made me happy/I got another celebrity sighting AND a story to tell friends/family.

So, let's make a conscious effort to be better about our 3R's... turn off lights when you leave a room, or open the blinds if it's during the daytime (PS -candles are sexy, too); don't leave the water running/take faster showers; carpool or take public transportation, or ride your bike or WALK (get a little fresh air in your lungs, child!); plant a garden in your yard (and start/continue a COMPOST pile!), or if you don't have a yard, go to the neighborhood garden and lend a hand... there are things we can do, we just need to do them. I like seasons, and animals, and at the rate we are going, we're losing some of these things very fast.

And to close with the words of Jerry Springer, "take care of yourself, and each other." Okay? DO IT!!! Do it. What are you waiting for!?!?!

Everybody Love Everybody!

Randy Newman's "Short People" is used for a scene in Will Ferrell's "Semi Pro" (one of my favorite movies) and it makes me laugh, so here I share so you can laugh too!

Here's where he wrestles a bear... it makes me laugh a lot.

I would put more clips up, but then I had visions of me being a computer creep who blogs all day/night/life long... no! Only occasionally. Tomorrow.

PS - "Dewie" later mauled his trainer... to death. Real life. Spumoni didn't work then either. Oooh, too soon? Yyeeeh.

Resilient and Resourceful

Taken from my journal, entry January 2, 2009. After much debate - and some editing - I've decided why not on posting this... it's how I feel, why not expose this blog for the vessel that it is, a throwing of my thoughts into your face. POW! Coming at you....

Wow. I'm seeming desperate for a relationship. I am. It's time? Well, this entry/blurb isn't going to dissipate my desperation anymore. From the end of "2 Days in Paris" I've quoted before and I'm sure I will again:

"When I feel someone is going to leave me, I have a tendency to break up first before I hear the whole thing. Here it is; one more, one less. Another wasted love story... then we'll slowly begin to think of each other less and less until we forget each other completely, almost. Always the same with me: break up, break down, drink up, fool around, meet one guy, then another, fuck around to forget the one and only - then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love. Desperately look everywhere. After two years of loneliness meet a new love and swear it is the one - until that one is gone as well..."

Love is sad,
Love is blind-ing.
Love is stupid,
Love is whining:
Nagging at my door, telling me to look in places I never have before.
One impossibility after another.
Fail, fail again and again -
I say I don't care,
Don't need the affection or truth, but it's only armour.
Be kind.

Apparently unrequited "love" calls on me to be a sloppy poet.

It's a bad idea to write at night (I transcribe this as the clock nears eleven in the... evening), getting the mind working and the creative juices flowing before bed - a good night's sleep comes roughly. Too many thoughts fill one's head with dread as the pen in hand doesn't scribble fast enough before they all become dead never to be though of again the reality shatters the illusion of brilliance and the truth stored in one's soul. --What is this crap that I'm writing [and typing]? And I think I can make my living at this. Yes, think. That seems to be all. But, alas. A writer must write; must read; must practice the craft loved and hone it to digestibility.

What is life? (Yeah, I went there!) Day after day. The scenery, faces and words may change, but it's always the same. No matter how many times I vow it will be different, this time, it never is. I don't mean to be depressing, I'm just noting an observation. Life is good! I'm happy in mine, although sometimes overwhelmed at the helm. It's also scary - and exciting. It depends on how you interpret it. Does it? Are we wired to feel and experience one way or another our entire life? Can we ever change? Will we ever change? We may not do/say something any more, but do the thoughts and feelings ever leave our minds? We store it all; every word exchanged, every glance stolen, every thought unspoken - they fall some place within us to remind, for what's sake?

I take it back: There are certain degrees of evolution - things and people and places can change us (nouns are wonderful). In the moment we are stuck and it isn't until the future that we see how foolish we were; hindsight is 20/20. Everything is easier to change after you realize the mistake made. But most of it happens too late; no clock turns back. Shake your head, promise not to do it again, and walk on. Forward. Always going forward. As machines that's what we do; advance. Into the future. The light seems brighter. At first there is hope, but it's only tunnel vision and in the end we become blinded by reality, and before you know it - POOF! - Hope's gone. Over. But each day we get up - it's new, there's another possibility for hope; for change; for life to awe and inspire. I don't want to lose hope, and if I have already, I hope I can continue fooling myself that I have [hope] and how everything is good and okay, because really, that's all there is. Hope is all we have. There is no promise of tomorrow, that cannot be ensured by anyone, no matter how hard they, or you, try to convince. Can I be happy all the time? Is it possible? Aren't a range of emotions healthy for the heart, mind, body and soul? Don't they help us grow? Do individuals stop evolving at a point - is it under our control? Again, back to the programming/rewiring of the mind. Everything is moving so fast... [end]

Ah, to be a twenty-something in search of the map she thought she had in her dash to tell her where the heck she's going down this dusty road. I thought things were going to be different; not better, not worse, just different... well, maybe a little better.

Y'know, I was talking with some friends about adulthood, and we were saying that it's okay to not know what we're doing right now because we're so young, and I said, "I don't think anyone knows what they're doing, they just make it look easier the longer they do it."

I'm going to be unemployed as of this Friday. I have a part-time serving job right now, but that's it. I'm scared, but at least I don't have a pet, child or mortgage... just student loans and utility bills. It'll be okay. I'm resilient and resourceful - so I've been told. That's another thing, I've been told I'm going to make it, that people just know... it's coming. How come they feel it and I don't? Oy vey! I wish I had some answers for myself, but all I keep coming up with are more questions. Am I doing the right things? Am I looking in all the wrong places? I wish I could just be pointed in the right direction... I thought that's why I came to Chicago, but it's been a year and I think I'm back to square one. CHIN UP, CHARLIE!!! Are you saying that? I am too, as I type. Tomorrow's a new day, full of promise. And so we smile and step outside into the bright sunshine eager to see what's just around the corner... blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Like how I ruined that?

All the Clouds Have Silver Linings

Listening to Cut Copy this morning made me decide that if I ever become verrrrry wealthy, whether through writing or prostitution (kidding about the writing, Ma!), I am going to install a dance room in my home. This room will consist of the danciest of things: a lit up block floor, strobe lights/lasers, disco ball(s), and duh - smoke machine. SHEBANG! And I'll throw parties where my guests will come in sparkly dresses/tuxedos, and we'll dance, dance, dance all night long - it'll be the best. And we won't have to worry about the neighbors because I'll live on an estate, or we'll make the dance room sound-proof if I don't.

I had a nightmare about the end of the world last night; I only took one Tylenol PM. Maybe it's because I heard something in the news about an asteroid the size of a pick-up truck flying through our atmosphere. What damage would that do, I wonder. Also, what's the difference between an asteroid and a meteoroid? Size (asteroids are bigger) apparently, and if a meteor hits the earth's surface, it then becomes a meteorite. Neat.

I don't like blogging anymore.

"Yellow Submarine" woke me up this morning, and I knew it was going to be a good day.