Scenes for my drama students, part two

Dear Readers,

My middle school drama students are currently performing scenes, and it's going pretty well. A few of them chose to do scenes that I wrote, and that I previously posted on here, and it makes me happy to see my writing come to life. So I wrote three more scenes, for fun, and maybe for next semester, if there is a next semester for me.

Enjoy.

Scene Title: Poke the Lump.
Characters: GUS and DR. FREDRICKSON.
Setting: DR. FREDRICKSON’s office.
Background: GUS is in DR. FREDRICKSON’s office for a headache. DR. FREDRICKSON is putting a stethoscope to GUS’s back as GUS breathes in and out deeply.

DR. FREDRICKSON: GUS, I need you to breathe in deeply. Breathe out deeply. Breathe in deeply. Breathe out deeply. Hmm-mm. I see.

GUS: What is it, doctor? (pause) What did you find?

DR. FREDRICKSON: (deep in thought, concentrating on his work) Hmm?

GUS: You said “I see” like you found something.

DR. FREDRICKSON. No, Gus, I didn’t find anything. I only said, “I see” to let you know that my eyeballs are working properly. (laughs) That was a joke. (he pokes around GUS’s back.) OK, give me just a minute. (pause) I see.

GUS: Now do you have any idea what’s wrong with me?

DR. FREDRICKSON: No, I’m afraid it’s much too early to diagnose your condition.

GUS: It hurts really bad. Especially in my head.

DR. FREDRICKSON: Like a headache?

GUS: Yeah, like a headache. Well, it is a headache. That’s why I came in.

DR. FREDRICKSON: I see!

GUS: Did you find something now?

DR. FREDRICKSON: Boy did I ever! I found a big lump!

GUS: A lump? Like a cancer lump?

DR. FREDRICKSON: Yeah, like a cancer lump! And woo-ee it sure is a big one!

GUS: I have cancer? (panicking)

DR. FREDRICKSON: Wait, wait, calm down. It’s much too early to jump to conclusions. (Looks closer at lump) That’s what I would say under ordinary circumstances, but now that I’m seeing this big green lump protruding from your back like a grizzly bear emerging from its winter cave of hibernation, I’m sorry, Gus, but I must inform you that… yes, it’s cancer.

GUS: (starts to cry) Cancer? What will I tell my wife? What will I tell my darling little sons and daughters?

DR. FREDRICKSON: Tell them you got cancer.

GUS: But are you sure? I mean, just from looking at my lump you can tell… that I’m… stricken?

DR. FREDRICKSON: Yep. And this cancer would definitely explain your headaches, by the way.

GUS: (sobbing more frantically) How much longer do you think I have?

DR. FREDRICKSON: Oh, it’s hard to say with things like this. You could have a long time. You could have a short time.

GUS: How short?

DR. FREDRICKSON: (looks at watch) Could be as short as… fifteen minutes.

GUS: I could be dead in fifteen minutes?! (cries uncontrollably.) Oh this is even more horrible than I ever imagined! Agony! Misery and agony! Me, Gus, good old Gus, dead!

DR. FREDRICKSON: Dead? No, I don’t think you’ll die any time soon. I was talking about the time left for your appointment. It’d be nice if we could get out of here in fifteen minutes. I’ve got a killer club sandwich waiting for me in the break room- it’s got ham on it- and I actually missed my breakfast this morning so (goes to the door) if there are no further questions-

GUS: Are you really really sure it’s cancer? I mean, don’t you doctors have to run some tests or something?

DR. FREDRICKSON: (pause. Deep in thought) Well, I could poke it if you like. Would you like that?

GUS: Yes, doctor, whatever you need to do to be certain. Please. Poke the lump.

DR. FREDRICKSON: (pokes the lump) Does this hurt?

GUS: No. No more than normal poking.

DR. FREDRICKSON: Whoa!

GUS: What?

DR. FREDRICKSON: Well would you look at that?! Your lump came off! See, look, your lump is on my finger!

GUS: Whoa, that’s crazy.

DR. FREDRICKSON: (sniffs his finger) It smells funny. Kind of… yummy. (eats it) Hey, it wasn’t cancer at all… it’s… it’s … mashed potatoes!

GUS: Mashed potatoes! That’s what I ate just before I came in!

DR. FREDRICKSON: You must be one sloppy eater.

GUS: That’s right, I am a sloppy eater. So, does this mean I don’t have cancer?

DR. FREDRICKSON. Consider yourself cancer free!

GUS: Oh, what a relief. (shakes doctor’s hand) Oh, thank you, thank you doctor. (laughs) Hard to believe my mashed potatoes got all the way back there.

DR. FREDRICKSON: Yes, yes. Wonderful! Wonderful! (patting him on the back) It’s always a joy to bring relief to my patients. How does your head feel, by the way?

GUS: Oh, my head feels great, especially now that I don’t have cancer anymore.

DR. FREDRICKSON: Great, great, well, as I said, I must be on my way. That club sandwich is calling my name. It’s got ham on it. Just make sure you pay the ladies up front on your way out, and try not to eat so sloppily next time.

Doctor exits. End of scene.


Title of Scene: Can We Talk?
Setting: A park.
Characters: Mike and Sarah, boyfriend and girlfriend. Sarah is texting on her cell phone.

Mike: Sarah, can we talk?

Sarah: Yeah.

Mike: You’re not too busy?

Sarah: No.

Mike: Good. (pause)

Sarah: What do you want to talk about?

Mike: Love.

Sarah: OK. We can talk about that.

Mike: Isn’t love great?

Sarah: Yeah.

Mike: It sure is. That’s for sure. Love is great.

Sarah: I like your shoes. Are they new?

Mike: Isn’t it great when you find a person that you love? And isn’t it even greater to
find a person who loves you back? And isn’t it greatest of all when those two people who love each other don’t let any one else getting in the way of their love?

Sarah: Yeah, like you said, love is great.

Mike: Yeah, love is great, but I mean, isn’t it greatest of all when two people, two lovers, two exclusive lovers, like, like you and me, for example, two exclusive lovers who love each other, and only each other, forever, for all time, without anybody else in the picture, anybody else at all? Isn't that great?

Sarah: What’s wrong with you?

Mike: Why’d you look at that guy?

Sarah: What guy?

Mike: Try to remember. You know what guy.

Sarah: No I don’t. There’s lots of guys in the world. How am I supposed to know which one you’re talking about? Be more specific.

Mike: Lots of guys in the world? Wait a minute. You think there are lots of guys in the world?

Sarah: Mike, there are a lot of guys in the world. See, there's one over there, walking his dog. And look, there's another one, playing basketball.

Mike: OK, it's one thing just to understand, philosophically, like, in a big picture, that there are a lot of guys in the world. But it's another thing entirely to say that there are a lot of guys in the world, like, "other fish in the sea" and the way you say guys- you say it like "guys," like they're available guys, like, out there and ready to see the world type of guys, or "guys" like, "hey I'm a guy and I'm on the prowl" type of guys.

Sarah: What are you getting at?

Mike: That guy at the mall. He was wearing the bright yellow vest. Tight jeans with a hole in the right knee. Eyebrow ring. Tell me you weren't looking at him for a good... five seconds.

Sarah: That skinny punk looking guy?

Mike: You remember him!

Sarah: Now that you describe him, yeah, I guess I-

Mike: I can't believe you remember him!

Sarah: You told me to try to remem-

Mike: Wow, he must have been pretty special to you- so special that you remember him. I knew it! Why did you look at him? And I want a clear answer.

Sarah: I look at a lot of things when I’m at the mall. I look at the clothes, I look at the floor, I look at the ceiling, I look at the candy machines, sometimes I look at the people walking by. It doesn't mean anything!

Mike: Yes it does! You liked that guy! It was only for a moment, but I saw it in your eyes- you like him, loved him! And you still love him! You love him more than you love me!

Sarah: You know what? I'm tired of this. I'm tired of you. I love you, but you're too much work. I'm leaving. (starts to leave.)

Mike: You're not really going to leave. You say that, but you don't mean it. Ha ha ha. It's really funny that you're still walking away, like you're not kidding, like you won't turn around any second and beg for my forgiveness. (pause) If you walk away it proves that you liked him!

(Mike cries and exits. End of scene.)

Scene Title: A Little Baby That Wiggles
Characters: HUSBAND and WIFE, proud new parents
Setting: Their living room. Two new parents are standing over a baby after she has just gone to sleep. This scene will work best if it's performed like a B movie.

HUSBAND: Aww… just look at her. Can you believe that we had a little baby?

WIFE: It’s incredible. It’s a miracle.

HUSBAND: Yes. A miracle. The miracle of life.

WIFE: A baby. A little little baby.

HUSBAND: Ahh… that’s right… A little baby.

WIFE: A little baby that wiggles! (They laugh. We hear a low rumble.)

HUSBAND: Honey, what’s that noise?

WIFE: What noise, darling?

HUSBAND: Don’t you hear that rumbling?

WIFE: No, I don’t hear any rumbling.

HUSBAND: There is a definite rumbling, Nancy. (looks around) It’s getting louder. (goes to the window.) It’s coming from outside. (opens the window)

WIFE: Close the window, Harold. The breeze is making the baby cold.

HUSBAND: Nancy! Quick! Come to the window! Look! (Nancy crosses to window) It’s a spaceship! It’s a spaceship, Nancy!

WIFE: Oh my bright shining stars! It’s a flying saucer!

HUSBAND: Yes, it’s a flying saucer, alright, and it’s landed in our backyard!

WIFE: A vessel from another world. It landed right on my petunias!

HUSBAND: And people! I see people!

WIFE: What kind of people?

HUSBAND: Space people!

WIFE: Ahh! Tell them, tell them that we come in peace.

HUSBAND: No, no I don’t think I’ll say anything to them. Space people don’t listen to words. But I’ll tell you one thing. Space people listen to pistols. (exits)

WIFE: Oh, honey, you’re not going to shoot them are you?

HUSBAND: (from offstage) You bet I am!

WIFE: Oh, I don’t think that’s the best thing to do. What if we offer them cake? The space people have mouths, big ones, and we have that cake leftover from your birthday.

HUSBAND: They can’t eat my cake, but soon they’ll be eating some of my hot spinning metal! Hey, Nancy, I can’t find my gun. (pause) Where’s my gun?

WIFE: Oh, this is the worst time to tell you, but, I got rid of the gun, Harold.

HUSBAND: (re-enters, angry) Got rid of it? Why?

WIFE: There’s no time to explain! The space people are getting closer!

HUSBAND: (looks out window) Hmm, you’re right. They’re getting closer and closer.
Well, go get me the frying pan.

WIFE: OK. (exits)

HUSBAND: Hmm. If I can’t shoot them, I bet I can at least smash them. I only hope my pan swinging abilities are strong enough to crack through their rock-like exoskeletons.

WIFE: (re-enters with pan and gives it to HUSBAND) Here’s the frying pan. I love you.

HUSBAND: I love you, too. (He climbs out the window and exits.)

WIFE: (WIFE looks out the window) Get ‘em Harold! Get ‘em! Get those space aliens! Ha ha ha! Yes! Smash them! Smash them to little bitty pieces! (HUSBAND re-enters)

HUSBAND: I smashed them all. I smashed all the space aliens. They're all dead.

WIFE: Oh good. Now let’s look at our baby again. Isn’t she just precious?

HUSBAND: She sure is.

End of scene