Surprise:We're writing a play, plot to be announced as it thickens.
Your job: create a character and give a brief but clear description. Then write 3-5 lines of dialogue for your character, with stage directions as appropriate.
1 week left to get your January challenges in!
5 comments:
Introducing Fanny; an argumentative bath lover who's husband, Fred, argues with every day. Fanny's love for all things "hot bath" has created an abusive, hostile home environment in which Fred can often be heard screaming, "Fanny! Get out of the bathtub!" only to hear Fanny's meek reply, "Fred, I won't," leaving the audience wondering, scene after scene, whether Fred will EVER get his Fanny out of the bathtub...
Jana Svoboda, LCSW said...
Fanny's mother, 67, stout, as lout as Fanny is meek. Lives in the mother-in-law apartment over the garage, which she refers to as "that attic you put me in." Wears that type of support hose that is always trying to escape around her ankles. She has two small yippy dogs whose bite as every bit as worse as their barks, and she pushes them around the neighborhood in a toy baby carriage, dressed for seasonal events. She eft Fanny's father to find herself and thus far finds herself broke, unemployable, and vaguely irritating to beings of the human form.
Line 1: Offstage right from above. "No wonder there's never any hot water in this hovel you call good enough for the woman that nearly died in 14 hours of pushing you out into the world so you could crawl right back in to your Kohler. I could have fed all five of you kids through your child hood on what that thing cost. And what it the point of this toilet tissue, or should i say lens tissue you are eke-in out to attend my delicate matters? Might as well use stand near a fan for 10 seconds for all the absorbing I'm getting. It's very admirable you are supporting those indigenous weavers, but my ample fortitude requives a high high degree os strucural integrity to achieve maximum dry and clean, so I'm takin the liberty to bring in some 4 ply cottenelle super-tensile quilted for the "FROG" as you keep insisting my attic be called.
by the way, what is that stench? Fred, are you trying to cook again? We've been over this before. I.Don't. Eat.Tempeh.
Leona, 47, next door neighbor; she never has committed adultery in 27 years of marriage and she loathes the sound of argument streaming form her neighbor's bathtub; she has one sweet dog, Rover.
Rover: Woof.
Leona: Rover, I love you. Here is your new kibble.
Rover: Woof.
Leona: Let's go play with the yippy dogs, shall we?
Rover: Woof.
Leona: Fanny! Bringing bath salts! Ready to join you!
Rover: Woof.
Fanny: I want to be alone.
Rover: Woof.
Lonnie, age 51, married Leona 27 years ago after a wine-soaked evening created a procreative scare (which turned out, after the marriage, not only to be a false alarm but the closest L &L ever came to having children). Loyal to a fault, Lonnie stands by his marriage vows despite his growing realization that his true desires have led to years of unspoken, unrequited passion for Fred.
Scene, across the hedge separating the two back yards:
Lonnie: She's still in there, huh?
Fred: Turnin' into a blasted raisin, I tell ya.
Lonnie: Bet you must have real smooth skin, though.
Fred: What the hell d'you mean by that, neighbor?
Lonnie: errr, nothing. Just that you probably never get a drop of hot water for yourself...
Fred: Are you implying I don't bathe? You think I stink or something? Look here, buddy...
Lonnie: No, no! Not at all, just...just....aww, nothin'. C'mon, Rover, you done doing your doo? Let's get back inside to Mommy.
Rover (63 in dog years, of indeterminant bloodlines) mutters cur-rage-geously: "Herrrrrrrrrrrrrr. She ain't nobody's mommy."
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