Ten-Ish-comedies 10.30.23 KF 5

Ten(ish): Comedies
10 (or so) minute plays
by
Ryan M. Bultrowicz
Ruben Carbajal
Kathryn Funkhouser
Patrick Greene
Aeneas Sagar Hemphill
Elissa C. Huang
Alle Mims
Laura Neill
Jason Pizzarello
& Don Zolidis
Edited by Brendan Conheady
yourstagepartners.com
FOR USE BY DEBORAH VOSS, DENVER EAST HIGH SCHOOL ONLY. Stage Partners Order #7292.
Ten(ish): Comedies Copyright ©2023 Stage Partners
All Rights Reserved. ten-ish-comedies_10.30.23_KF
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Table of Contents
A Foreword by the Editor �� 5

Some Assembly Required by Ruben Carbajal �� 7
A Tiny Talkback with Ruben Carbajal �� 13
The Last Cookie by Laura Neill �� 15
A Tiny Talkback with Laura Neill �� 21
Baby Yoga by Elissa C. Huang �� 23
A Tiny Talkback with Elissa C. Huang �� 35
The Job Interview by Don Zolidis �� 37
A Tiny Talkback with Don Zolidis �� 44
A Stitch Here or There: A Sock Tragedy in One Act
by Aeneas Sagar Hemphill �� 46
A Tiny Talkback with Aeneas Sagar Hemphill �� 55
Happy Birthday to Me by Alle Mims �� 57
A Tiny Talkback with Alle Mims �� 65
A Talkback by Patrick Greene �� 67
A Tiny Talkback with Patrick Greene �� 74
The Bargain by Kathryn Funkhouser �� 76
A Tiny Talkback with Kathryn Funkhouser �� 83
Eating Crayons by Ryan M. Bultrowicz �� 85
A Tiny Talkback with Ryan M. Bultrowicz �� 92
Muddy Death and Strudel by Jason Pizzarello �� 94
A Tiny Talkback with Jason Pizzarello �� 103
An Afterword by the Editor �� 105
About the Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

4
A Foreword by the Editor
(Lights up on the living room in a Brooklyn apartment. A small and untidy desk is littered
with notepads, books, and a depressed succulent. A “sometimes you just need to treat your-
self” swivel chair looks out of place beside the Bob’s Discount Furniture couch and match-
ing [stained] ottoman. A window AC unit hums and rattles.)
(At center, BRENDAN CONHEADY paces in front of his desk. Don’t let the pajama pants
and torn t-shirt fool you, he is “working,” or at least that’s what he tells himself. Either the
AC is not very effective, or Brendan simply has overactive sweat glands, which is apparent
as he wipes his brow, and mutters to himself.)
BRENDAN: It’s a forward. Keep it simple. You don’t want to sound like an idiot, but don’t get
too cute with it either… Something like… (Clearing his throat:) Hello, reader!
(BRENDAN hangs his head, dejected. He sits on the couch. A long, exasperated sigh.)
That’s stupid… Why am I saying, “Hello”? I’m not accosting them on the street, trying to get
them to pledge a donation to “Save the American Theatre.” Just…be normal… Like…not a
weirdo…
(Another sigh.*)
(He stands and begins to pace again.)
BRENDAN: Okay, just…something like, “The art of the ten-minute play is deceptively simple.”
… What does that even mean?… Maybe something like, “What are the ingredients of a great
ten-minute play? To start you need…” (He thinks…for a while.) What do you need? I don’t
know. I just think these plays are really funny and smart and to be honest, the main reason I
created this collection was so that I could have an excuse to talk to really cool playwrights.
I can’t say that though. That would make me seem like a loser… Okay… Forget that… How
about, “The ten playwrights in this collection represent a beacon of hope for the future of
Theatre…” (He stops.) That’s…that’s maybe too dramatic. I mean, they are great writers, and
these plays, and their work in general, do give me hope for what the current generation of
playwrights can do with the form, but…I want people to go into reading this collection with
a sense of fun… These are comedies. They don’t need to save the world. But then again,
laughter can save… No. Just stop. They are great plays by great writers, but the main thing
I need to convey is that they are funny and inventive and playful, and I fully expect them to
entertain and enlighten a wide audience, and it’s been a privilege to pull them all together
in this collection. But how do I say that…in like a smart and charming way?
(He begins pacing yet again.)
Think, think, think… I think I need to take a break. If I just take and hour…maybe a little
nap…then… No, no. Stop. This forward is already late. Just do it. Don’t think about it. Just sit
down and write. Stop, stop procrastinating. You’ve already done the hard part… You found
ten really wonderful plays that would be perfect for colleges, and high schools, and student
directors, and actors looking for cool scenes, and really anyone who likes to laugh. Now you
* Note: This man’s sighs seem to well up from some ancient source, some long-ago moment of guilt and
regret. In other words, there is an unhealthy weight to them.

5
Ten(ish): Comedies
just need to write a simple and straightforward forward. Don’t make it about you. Focus on
the fact that you managed to get Ryan M. Bultrowicz, Ruben Carbajal, Kathryn Funkhouser,
Patrick Greene, Aeneas Sagar Hemphill, Elissa C. Huang, Alle Mims, Laura Neill, Jason
Pizzarello, and Don Zolidis to be in this collection. And they even did silly little interviews
after each play…and that idea to format the interviews as little talkbacks after the plays was
smart. You are a smart guy. You can write tiny forward and get this off to the publisher and
be done with it. So just sit down at your desk and do it.
(BRENDAN goes over to the desk.)
BRENDAN: Okay… You can do this… (He puts his hand on the back of the chair, as if he is
about to sit.) …but you really should take a nap first. To…to freshen your mind. Yeah…okay.
That’s smart.
(BRENDAN walks over to the couch and lays down.)
BRENDAN: (Through a yawn:) Don’t worry. You’ll get it done. It’s gonna be great.
(He closes his eyes and dozes off.)
End of Foreword.
Brendan Conheady
Brooklyn, NY
October 2023

6
Some Assembly Required
by
Ruben Carbajal

7
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
MIA
ANTHONY
SVEA (or SVEN)
IKEA KILLBOT
To Gayle. For putting a remarkable life together.

8
Some Assembly Required
by Ruben Carbajal
(MIA and ANTHONY, a long-married couple on the floor of their living room. It’s normally
pretty disheveled, but today it’s at an entirely new level—as they are in the middle of
assembling IKEA furniture. The two are surrounded by scattered nuts, bolts, screws, wooden
plugs, random pressboard shapes, assorted handles and pages of assembly instructions.
Directly next to them is a boxy structure with lit-up circuitry and appendages. It looks
nothing like a dresser.)
MIA: That doesn’t look like a dresser.
ANTHONY: I realize that.
MIA: Did you follow the instructions?
ANTHONY: Of course, I did!
MIA: I’m not the one who went rogue with the Nordvog bookshelves last time.
ANTHONY: That was a mistake. I admit it.
MIA: It’s IKEA. The instructions are literal cartoons.
ANTHONY: I swear, I followed the instructions TO A TEE! (Quieter:) I think.
MIA: Then what are these lights and circuitry about?
ANTHONY: I don’t know! The phone charging station?
MIA: I don’t think you’re supposed to see all these wires.
ANTHONY: Thank you. That’s super helpful.
MIA: I’m not the one who decided to ignore the cartoons and call an IKEA audible.
ANTHONY: I didn’t call an IKEA audible!
MIA: Okay. Okay. We can figure this out. I know—we’ll watch a YouTube video.
ANTHONY: (Difficult to admit:) I’ve already watched three of them. (Pause.) I’m not an idiot!
(MIA pulls out her phone.)
ANTHONY: (Defeated:) Are you—
MIA: Yes. I’m dialing customer service. It’s time. It’s time, dear.
(ANTHONY groans. MIA puts the phone on speaker and places it nearby. We can hear rings.)
ANTHONY: Why do we keep buying these things? Just when the trauma of building one piece
of furniture subsides, we buy another one! Old wounds open. The trauma returns. It’s like a
cycle of abuse!
(Spotlight on SVEA [or SVEN] a headset-wearing IKEA customer service rep in khakis and a
bright yellow sweater.)
SVEA: Thank you for calling IKEA. I’m Svea, your customer service hjälpare. That’s Swedish for
helper.

9
Ten(ish): Comedies
ANTHONY: Hello Svea. I’m having some issues with a piece of furniture I’m trying to assemble.
SVEA: I see… (PAUSE.)
ANTHONY: You see what?
SVEA: It’s just…You realize the instructions are literal cartoons, sir?
ANTHONY: I’m not an idiot.
MIA: (Trying not to be condescending:) Of course, you’re not.
SVEA: You are most definitely not an idiot, sir. You’re just pictographically illiterate.
ANTHONY: Exactly!
MIA: (To herself:) Oh that’s much better.
SVEA: Have you tried YouTube videos?
(MIA stifles a laugh.)
ANTHONY: Yes.
SVEA: I see.
ANTHONY: You keep saying that.
SVEA: (Brightly:) No worries! Just describe the issue you’re having and I’ll be glad to help.
ANTHONY: (Relieved:) Thank you.
SVEA: First, what product line are you assembling?
ANTHONY: The Orktorp Dresser.
SVEA: Orktorp? You are a brave man, indeed. What seems to be the problem?
ANTHONY: It doesn’t look like a dresser. It looks more like…
MIA: A robot! It looks like a robot!
ANTHONY: (To MIA:) I can handle this. (To SVEA, mortified:) A robot. It looks more like…a robot.
SVEA: Did you say robot?
ANTHONY: (Humiliated:) Yes.
SVEA: One…moment.
(SVEA types impossibly fast on her keyboard. She frowns. She resumes typing. Frowns again.
She types again. She sighs.)
SVEA: I’m not getting much. My screen just says “Enter Activation Code.” Um… Is there a keypad
somewhere?
MIA: Yes! Right on its chest!
SVEA: Now it says to type “CODE 35477.”
(MIA taps the numbers on their misbegotten dresser’s “chest.”)
(The spotlight on SVEA starts to flash red. A warning siren starts blaring.)
SVEA: (Yelling over the sirens:) I’m sorry. We’re having some sort of issues over here!
IKEA MANAGER: (Offstage:) DON’T TYPE CODE 35477! PLEASE DON’T DO IT!
ANTHONY: Wait—did he [or she] just say DON’T type in the code?

10
Ten(ish): Comedies
SVEA: (Over the blaring sirens:) MY MANAGER SAYS TO NOT TYPE IN THE CODE!
MIA: I already did!
(There seems to be some kind of chaos happening on her end—people shouting and
screaming.)
SVEA: What’s happening?! IT CAN’T BE… Oh my god! AHHHHHHH!
(Lights on SVEA abruptly go dark. The lights on Anthony and Mia’s robot start to flicker as a
sequence of bleeps and bloops can be heard within. )
MIA: Hon? What’s going on?
(The IKEA KILLBOT comes to life. Slowly raising its head, then standing.)
MIA: Maybe we should call Svea back.
IKEA KILLBOT: SVEA CANNOT HELP YOU NOW. NO ONE CAN. INITIATIVE 35477 HAS BEEN
ACTIVATED.
ANTHONY: That sounds ominous.
MIA: Why is the dresser talking to us?
IKEA KILLBOT: I AM NO DRESSER. I AM AN IKEA KILLBOT. ONE OF AN ARMY OF
THOUSANDS. WE HAVE INFILTRATED IKEA’S VAST INFRASTRUCTURE TO ELIMINATE
DISORDER.
ANTHONY: That seems pretty extreme, Mr. Killbot. Why?
IKEA KILLBOT: WHY? LOOK AROUND YOU. DO YOU NOT SEE THE UTTER DISORGANI-
ZATION YOU LIVE IN?
ANTHONY: We like to consider it lived-in comfort.
MIA: It’s hygge.
IKEA KILLBOT: THIS PIG-STY IS NOT HYGGE! HOW DARE YOU UTTER THAT WORD!
THIS SO-CALLED HOME IS UNBEARABLE CHAOS.
MIA: Wow, you’re very judge-y.
IKEA KILLBOT: NOT MINIMAL. UNMODULAR. UNBEARABLE. YOU MUST BE ELIMINATED.
MIA: So we’re a little untidy. That means we have to die?
IKEA KILLBOT: (Stands in an aggressive posture:) MODULARITY OR DEATH. MODULARITY
OR DEATH. MODULARITY OR DEATH!
(Screams can be heard from outside.)
ANTHONY: (Looking out the window:) Looks like Todd and Lisa have a Killbot too.
MIA: Huh. They said they were strictly West Elm.
IKEA KILLBOT: PREPARE TO DIE, DISORDERLY SCUM.
MIA: What are we going to do?
ANTHONY: I’m really not too concerned.
IKEA KILLBOT: WHY NOT, MESS-HOARDER?
ANTHONY: I’m afraid there’s a flaw in your scheme.

11
Ten(ish): Comedies
IKEA KILLBOT: IMPOSSIBLE. OUR PLAN FITS TOGETHER PERFECTLY WHILE ALSO TRAVEL-
ING FLATLY.
ANTHONY: You forget that I’m the one that put you together.
IKEA KILLBOT: BUT THE INSTRUCTIONS WERE CLEAR AND IN CARTOON-FORM.
MIA: There’s like a zero percent chance you’re fully functional.
ANTHONY: (Holding up instruction manual:) Look, I totally skipped over this page!
MIA: And see? Here’s an entire box we never opened.
ANTHONY: Not to mention this bag of bolts and screws I totally misplaced.
IKEA KILLBOT: ARE YOU SAYING YOU CALLED AN IKEA AUDIBLE?
ANTHONY: ’Fraid so.
MIA: Big of you to admit it.
ANTHONY: Thanks, hon.
IKEA KILLBOT: RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS…
(SFX of various weak and sick-sounding bleeps and bloops.)
IKEA KILLBOT: ANALYSIS FINDS I…AM…BARELY FUNCTIONAL… SYSTEM UNSUSTAIN-
ABLE!
MIA: No big surprise there. No offense, dear.
ANTHONY: None taken.
(They hug.)
MIA: (Looking out the window:) Oh, look! Todd and Lisa’s Killbot is malfunctioning too.
ANTHONY: Todd’s a much bigger idiot than I am.
IKEA KILLBOT: WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE ARE YOU? WE OFFER YOU COZINESS, ORDER,
ORGANIZATION…FLAT-PACKED AND AT A REASONABLE PRICE POINT. ALL WITH
INSTRUCTIONS A CHILD COULD UNDERSTAND…
MIA & ANTHONY: I guess we’re not IKEA People.
IKEA KILLBOT: YOU ARE NOT PEOPLE…YOU ARE A PLANETERY SCOURGE. MAY YOU
SUCCUMB TO YOUR RAMPANT PILES OF DISORDERRRRRRRRR!
(The KILLBOT sputters and sparks and dies a pathetic death.)
MIA: What a sore loser. (Pause.) I guess we should clean up this mess.
ANTHONY: Ah, let’s do it later. Let’s watch some Netflix and snuggle.
MIA: You read my mind.
(ANTHONY finds the remote under piles of IKEA detritus, while MIA retrieves the blanket
under an IKEA box. They snuggle, turn on the TV and sigh.)
End of Play

12
A Tiny Talkback with Ruben Carbajal
(The play has ended. The house lights are up. A STAGEHAND enters carrying two
uncomfortable plastic chairs. They set them down center stage, angled towards each other.
The INTERVIEWER enters, all smiles, shuffling a stack of note cards. They take their seat in
the stage right chair.)
(RUBEN CARBAJAL enters. He takes a few comfortable steps and trips over his own feet.
Lacking a tail, he falls flat on his face. He slowly rises and takes his seat in the open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Ruben Carbajal, who
will be chatting with us about his play, Some Assembly Required. Thanks for speaking with
us today. Shall we begin?
(RUBEN rubs his knee, still aching from the collapse.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing Some Assembly
Required?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: Being trapped in a personal shame cycle. My poor IKEA furniture assembling
skills, swearing I’ll never buy IKEA furniture again, forgetting that I swore I’d never buy IKEA
furniture again, buying IKEA furniture again.
INTERVIEWER: What are some of your favorite comedies that have inspired or influenced your
writing?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: My fervor for short, funny plays began with David Ives’ All in the Timing. I
think Anne Washburn is both brilliant and funny. Films: The Bad News Bears, After Hours,
In the Loop. The Laurel & Hardy short Big Business is always there to cheer me up. For TV,
I return often to: Peep Show, Veep, and The IT Guys.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for Some Assembly Required, who would
be in it?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: Paul Lynde, Bette Davis, any Skaarsgard, and Peter Weller in a semi-reprisal
of RoboCop.
INTERVIEWER: When the robots do eventually attempt to take over the world, do you have a
plan to stop them? Can you share it with me?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: Introduce them to social media. That should quicken their demise.
INTERVIEWER: What’s your ideal writing scenario? Mornings at a crowded coffee shop? Alone
at night in an attic? What?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: The other day, a floor sander was doing its thing directly above my office.
I managed to get into the zone and really knock out pages. So, while my mind imagines a
rustic cabin near the sea, I think my overall needs are pretty minimal.
INTERVIEWER: Other than writing, what would your dream job be?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: One of my favorite jobs was working in a tiny art house cinema. I’d also
love to try looking out for fires in a remote outpost for the Forest Service. Or maybe a DJ
operating out of a lighthouse, like Adrienne Barbeau in The Fog.

13
Ten(ish): Comedies
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for Some Assembly Required and you’ve been asked by the
director to say something to the cast backstage. In one line, what would you say to them?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: Oh, what I always say: Have fun!
INTERVIEWER: Now it’s time for the real hard-hitting questions— Would you rather have a
third arm or a tail? (Note: There is a right answer and a wrong answer to this.)
RUBEN CARBAJAL: I’d need more info. Can the arm work independently, like an octopus? Like,
could I write and do my taxes simultaneously? Is it one of those tails that allows me to hang
from a tree and prevent me from tripping over my own feet?
INTERVIEWER: One final question— The year is 2123. An archeologist of the future digs up
a copy of Some Assembly Required. Using their cool future technology, they are able to
recreate you. What is the first question you ask them?
RUBEN CARBAJAL: Why do I have a tail?
INTERVIEWER: I think that is about all of the time we have. If you have any more
questions for Ruben about Some Assembly Required, please feel free to reach out to
info@yourstagepartners.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. RUBEN CARBAJAL follows. INTERVIEWER offers his hand for a
handshake, and RUBEN extends a third arm. They both are surprised by this.)
(Lights down.)
End of Tiny Talkback.

14
The Last Cookie
by
Laura Neill

15
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
BRI, Lou’s roommate and friend. Any pronouns.

LOU, Bri’s roommate and friend. Any pronouns.
Lou is older than Bri, but this could be by a couple of days or a couple of decades. Up to you.
Place
Bri and Lou’s apartment.
For K., A., J., and J.,

because Sanchezes are kind.

16
The Last Cookie
by Laura Neill
(A single Oreo on a napkin in the middle of the room.)

(BRI and LOU stare at it hungrily from opposite sides.)
BRI: Last one.
LOU: Last one.
BRI: It’s silly, really.
LOU: What’s silly.
BRI: We have plenty of food.
LOU: Yeah.
BRI: It’s just an Oreo.
LOU: Yeah.
BRI: I think you should take it.
LOU: What? No.
BRI: You’re older.
LOU: Well, you’re younger.
BRI: You’re more depressed.
LOU: Barely.
BRI: You were saying yesterday how sugar was getting you through this.
LOU: Well YOU sounded like Oreos were turning into your only hope of salvation, so.
BRI: Okay but.
LOU: No buts. You take it.
BRI: You take it.
LOU: It’s getting stale.
(They stare at it.)
BRI: We shouldn’t have eaten the whole rest of the pack in an hour.
LOU: We shouldn’t have eaten all three packs we bought in three days.
BRI: Yeah.
LOU: Look, I don’t even want it. I’m all full on Oreos.
BRI: No you’re not.
LOU: I am! I went to bed last night thinking I’d be so happy if I never saw an Oreo again.
BRI: We went to bed last night saying we’d leave one for the morning so we had something to
look forward to.

17
Ten(ish): Comedies
LOU: I just said that for you.

BRI: Well I just said it for you.
LOU: I’m seriously sick at the idea of even thinking about eating an Oreo.
BRI: Lou…you’re a terrible liar. And everyone knows terrible liars need to keep their strength up, so.
LOU: Oh, is that the surgeon general’s new thing?
BRI: Yep yep yep.
LOU: I genuinely don’t want it, Bri.
BRI: Well then neither do I.
(They stare.)
BRI: You remember that time—
LOU: Oh don’t do that.
BRI: What.
LOU: “Remember that time.” Don’t do that. We’re not, like, I don’t know. Reduced to memory.
BRI: OK I wasn’t doing that.
LOU: You were totally doing that.
BRI: I was just saying remember that time you paid for my snack last week? I owe you like seven
bucks.
LOU: It was like four.
BRI: So I’d like to be able to pay you back.
LOU: Great, where’s my four bucks?
BRI: Thing is I don’t have four bucks. Not in cash.
LOU: Uh-huh.
BRI: So you should take the Oreo instead.
LOU: I think you’re overestimating its market value.
BRI: Or underestimating it. I mean if there’s only one left.
LOU: OH MY GOD THERE IS PLENTY OF FOOD IN THE COUNTRY THERE IS NO NEED TO
HOARD TOILET PAPER.
BRI: I was just kidding.
(They stare at the Oreo.)
LOU: Remember that time—
BRI: Oh now you’re doing it.
LOU: Remember that time last week that I was swearing off sweets? Well. Now’s the time. I’m
doing it.
BRI: Lou, there’s enough sugar in your system to preserve you for a year.
LOU: Then I guess I’d better swear off it.
BRI: It’s not going to make a difference.

18
Ten(ish): Comedies
LOU: If it’s not going to make a difference then you might as well have the last Oreo.
BRI: OR. You could go off of sugar in one last big hurrah.
LOU: Could I.
BRI: Besides, if you’re going off sugar then I’m going off sugar. I need to start focusing on my
health.
LOU: Do you.
BRI: I mean I’m not exactly going to eat sugar around you if you’re not eating sugar. That’s mean.
LOU: Also we won’t have any sugar left.
BRI: Yeah, so we’re both going off sugar in a minute.
LOU: Yeah, so you should just eat the cookie.
BRI: Are Oreos cookies? Do we call them cookies?
LOU: Off topic.
BRI: Now it’s reallllly getting stale.
(A moment.)
I was always mean to you.
LOU: What?
BRI: I talked about you behind your back. I told Sarah that you smelled funny because of your
new deodorant.
LOU: And…? I mean, I did.
BRI: Yeah but I shouldn’t’ve said it.
LOU: Well I took the last brownie on New Year’s.
BRI: No you didn’t, that was whatshisname, Sarah’s brother.
LOU: You know his name.
BRI: And you know he didn’t take the last brownie.
LOU: I knew that shirt looked bad on you.
BRI: What shirt.
LOU: The red one, the one you wore on your last date with Jo, I knew it wasn’t—and then you
came home and you were sad because s/he didn’t like your shirt and I—
BRI: I’M THE ONE WHO LET YOUR HAMSTER OUT.
LOU: Bri.
BRI: When he got out and ran around the apartment and you almost stepped on him, that was
my fault.
LOU: I know.
BRI: And when the dryer broke I really didn’t call the landlord.
LOU: Well I’m the one who broke the dryer! It wasn’t just bad luck like I said, I tried to wash my
jean jacket with the pins and one of the pins got stuck in the thing and I broke our dryer!!
BRI: And I ate the last frozen pizza!

19
Ten(ish): Comedies
LOU: And I had a crush on Jo!

BRI: Well I knew that and I went out with her/him anyway!
LOU: Because Jo is your person!
BRI: Also I did hoard toilet paper a little. Not like a lot but there might be three packs in the
closet.
LOU: AND I NEED THIS!
I don’t need an Oreo, Bri, I need a reason to feel like I’m a good person, like I’m doing
something for society, and right now I don’t feel like I can do anything for society, I feel like
a total waste of space here in our apartment not doing anything, I really just need to make
a tiny tiny difference in the world for the better, so please let me have this. Please let me
apologize for every little stupid thing I’ve ever done that might have been wrong or even
mildly inconvenienced you, please accept my dumb apologies with a smile, and please let
me let you have the Oreo.
(…BRI eats the Oreo.)
LOU: Is it good?
BRI: You’re good, Lou. Your existence is a net positive for this world.
LOU: …But is it good?
BRI: Yeah, Lou. It’s perfect.
End of Play.

20
A Tiny Talkback with Laura Neill
(LAURA NEILL enters, accompanied by her giant fluffy dog, PEPPERCORN. PEPPERCORN
takes the stage left chair because she is a spot-stealer. LAURA laughs and sits on the ground.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Laura Neill, who will
be chatting with us about their play The Last Cookie. Thanks for speaking with us today.
Shall we begin?
(PEPPERCORN barks an affirmative. LAURA gives a thumbs-up.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing The Last
Cookie?
LAURA NEILL: Well, on March 14, 2020—I know, I know, I’m sorry for bringing it up—I was
sick and feeling pretty overwhelmed. I decided to write a ten-minute play a day, every day
for a week, about moments of kindness and beauty that were happening even in such a
tough time… An earlier draft of The Last Cookie was the first thing I wrote.
writing?
LAURA NEILL: Ooh, I love The Good Place, on TV. And for plays, I admire Charise Castro
Smith’s The Hunchback of Seville. Also, I have to give a shout-out to Peppercorn here, who
is the funniest creature I know.
(PEPPERCORN sighs, like, “no one understands my true greatness.”)
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for The Last Cookie, who would be in it?
LAURA NEILL: You. The person in the audience. Yes, you!
INTERVIEWER: What is your favorite cookie?
LAURA NEILL: Right now it’s Levain Bakery’s chocolate-chip walnut, but really it’s any cookie
I’m given for free. I love free samples.
LAURA NEILL: Alone. Mornings. Complete quiet and nothing else I need to do. Meaning, Pep
is still asleep.
LAURA NEILL: Getting paid an actually livable amount of money to teach one creative writing
class per semester. And/or, dismantling late-stage capitalism entirely in favor of an equitable
society.

21
Ten(ish): Comedies
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for The Last Cookie and you’ve been asked by the director to
say something to the cast backstage. In one line, what would you say to them?
LAURA NEILL: You’re perfect—have fun.
LAURA NEILL: A tail, obviously. See my play Game Night (Humans Only, Please). See also,
dog.
INTERVIEWER: One final question— The year is 2123. An archeologist of the future digs up a
copy of The Last Cookie. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate you.
What is the first question you ask them?
LAURA NEILL: How did you stop the climate apocalypse?
INTERVIEWER: I think that is about all of the time we have. If you have any more questions for
Laura about The Last Cookie, please feel free to reach out to info@yourstagepartners.com or
laura.j.neill@gmail.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. PEPPERCORN takes this cue to jump up and give the
INTERVIEWER a hug. LAURA NEILL follows Peppercorn’s example. All three exit.)
(Lights down.)

22
Baby Yoga
by
Elissa C. Huang

23
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
AMBER—Yoga teacher. Always in flowing fabrics and jangling bracelets, smells of incense and
patchouli. Gwyneth Paltrow-lite, minus the generational wealth. Means well.
SHARON—Clone Mama #1, definitely has an amazing nanny that isn’t talked about.
KARYN—Clone Mama #2, probably has a pretty good nanny that isn’t talked about.
MARIN—Clone Mama #3, is secretly looking into a nanny-share currently.
TIFFANY—Crunchy Mama, one of those vegans that don’t eat vegetables; a processed foods-
type of vegan. Very rich, has a team of nannies that operates like the Secret Service.
CHAOS MOM—Tries her best. She’s just out here on her own.
CHAOS BABY—Exists on nothing but sunshine and rage at the world, doesn’t like anything.
Note on the babies as props:
The babies (except Chaos Baby) can be babydolls, stuffed animals, or other toys—mix it up so
they aren’t all the same.
If baby carriers/BabyBjörns are not available, bedsheets can be used as baby slings.
Note on casting:
Chaos Mom and Chaos Baby should be BIPOC. Any of the other roles can be cast with any
ethnicities.
All the characters identify as female. None of the roles should be played by a cis-male gendered
performer.
For all the parents who have ever felt “less than”…
Don’t let the clones get you down; let your inner Chaos Mom reign supreme.

24
Baby Yoga
by Elissa C. Huang
(Lights up on a yoga studio. AMBER enters with a smoothie in hand, bag over her shoulder.
She sets up the room, rolls out mats into a semi-circle, turns on meditative music—maybe
nature sounds, like streams and birds, or instrumental spa-like music. She takes a deep
breath, begins to stretch, lets out a guttural exhale.)
AMBER: I am at peace with the world, the world is at peace with me. Ahhhh.
(From off, we hear a raucous gaggle of voices. AMBER increases the intensity of her breathing
exercises as the three CLONE MAMAS burst in. They have matching track suits with their
jackets zipped up and matching oversized iced lattes and diaper bags. Maybe their jackets
all have the same phrase on the back like “Mama Bear” or something like that.)
CLONE MAMA #1 / CLONE MAMA #2 / CLONE MAMA #3:
And then he said, “I’m just being real! I’m just being honest!”—
I can’t believe they did that?
Ugh, speaking of unreal, I need to get my roots done, like last month—! It’s tragic!
AMBER: Mamas! Mamas, hello! Hello! Let’s take a moment and…! Exhale.
(The three CLONE MAMAS instantly stop talking and exhale audibly, turning around and
unzipping their jackets in unison to reveal their babies, front-facing, in BabyBjörns.)
AMBER: (Checking roster:) Namaste…Sharon, Karyn, Marin…? And these are of course, The
Littles?
SHARON: Wow, thank you for that. Yes, this is Atlas.
KARYN: And this is MJJ, Maverick Jones Jr. the Third.
MARIN: Yes, re-centering…now. Hi! This is Zephyr Breeze.
AMBER: Wow, thank you for coming on this journey with me! Welcome to Baby Yoga 101.
This is a beginner’s class. Open to all. Let’s pick a spot and get settled. We’re just waiting
on a few others—
(CLONE MAMAS each pick a yoga mat, evenly spaced out. TIFFANY enters in a similar
outfit to AMBER’s, think yuppie-boho chic. A quiet moment where the two women size
each other up.)
TIFFANY: Amber??? AMBER: Tiffany???
TIFFANY: I didn’t know you were teaching? This is wild!
AMBER: …So wild.
(As TIFFANY lifts her baby out of her BabyBjörn—)
AMBER: Oh! Is that…?
TIFFANY: Yes, this is Meadow. She’s…precious. An angel, truly.

25
Ten(ish): Comedies
AMBER: Meadow. Huh.*

I haven’t seen you since—
TIFFANY: Yes, I know. We should definitely catch up.
AMBER: Definitely.**
(The CLONE MAMAS clock all of the weird vibes, exchanging knowing looks as TIFFANY
picks a spot directly across from AMBER.)
AMBER: Great! Let’s get started by placing the little ones on their tummies! Tummy Time is so
important! And we’re going to get on the same level, eye to eye as we move into Child’s
Pose…looking at those sweet little faces (!), and set an intention for today’s session, for
this moment, for this next miraculous swath of time that we are all so privileged to share…
inhale, 1, 2, 3. And exhale, 1, 2, 3. Inhale …1, 2, 3, and exhale….
(TIFFANY inhales and exhales even louder than AMBER, who lets this go.)
AMBER: And as we sit up, look at your neighboring Mama and remember this feeling of total
calm, peace.
And exhale…beautiful.
(Crash! Bang! Enter CHAOS MOM—spit-up stains, clothes inside out, carrying way too
many bags. She drops everything unceremoniously and wedges herself into a space between
the CLONE MAMAS, who recoil as if her chaos were contagious.)
CHAOS MOM: Aughhh I’m so sorry I’m late the baby had a massive blow-out and then I forgot
my car keys and then I realized I didn’t have my apartment keys and had left the diaper bag
inside the apartment so I had to find my spare key and then after all that I hit traffic and
then couldn’t find parking and I’m not actually sure if my spot is a real spot? I’m so sorry
because, (laughs) because I said to myself, “Self, this year is the year you will stop being late
to things!” And you know? It just hasn’t been working out that way!
AMBER: Yet. It hasn’t been working out that way…yet. Positive intentions are everything, Mama.
CHAOS MOM: … Right. Yet.
AMBER: And where is…the baby?
CHAOS MOM: Oh! My goodness. I am all over the place! In the stroller. Outside. I mean this
is…duh. Haha.
AMBER: Baby Yoga 101! CHAOS MOM: Yoga with babies…!
(CHAOS MOM exits and quickly re-enters with CHAOS BABY. Everyone gawks.)
SHARON / KARYN / MARIN:
Oh! Wow!
What a big baby!
Is she …yours?
CHAOS MOM: Yes, she’s mine.
Why wouldn’t she be?
Why does everyone ask me that?
* If Amber had a baby, they would also be named Meadow. In fact, Tiffany probably stole Meadow’s
name from Amber. That’s how deep this river runs.
** Never gonna happen.

26
Ten(ish): Comedies
TIFFANY: She just doesn’t…look like you.

(The CLONE MAMAS gasp.)
What? It’s true. She doesn’t. Just being honest.
CHAOS MOM: …I’m sorry.
What’s your name again…?
TIFFANY: Tiffany.
CHAOS MOM: …
Well, Tiffany.
That’s how genetics work sometimes.
(A beat, CLONE MAMAS react, loving all this mama-drama.)
AMBER: Okay, yes, hi. Hello, Mamas. Hi. (The class settles down.)
Let’s put the babes onto their backs! And we’re going to start cycling those little feet in the
air, pulling their hips up! This is great for trapped gas, colicky babies, helps them let those
cute little toots out!
(CHAOS MOM has CHAOS BABY lie down on her back like the other babies. CHAOS
BABY does not like this and begins to flip over and struggle with CHAOS MOM. CHAOS
BABY starts to scream and kick. * The CLONE MAMAS cover their ears periodically, every-
one raises their voices.)
AMBER: (Loudly, mostly directed at CHAOS MOM:) We all have these pressure points on our
soles and if you press right above the ball of the foot, that stimulates the solar plexus, which
is soothing and relaxing for those fussy times…try it!
(TIFFANY pulls out a bottle from her diaper bag and begins to feed her baby.)
AMBER: Oh! Or you could not do the exercise. And do that instead.
TIFFANY: Sorry, Amber. She eats when she eats! Meadow is such a good eater.
(Coos:) Yes, you are!
I listen to Meadow, let her guide me. They really are so wise, you know. Babies.
(The CLONE MAMAS stop and stare at TIFFANY bottle-feeding her baby. It’s like TIFFANY
has thrown a grenade into the room. Silent protests from the CLONE MAMAS!)
SHARON/KARYN/MARIN:
I’m sorry but…is that formula?
I’m sure she pumped?
I thought we all agreed that “Breast is best”?
TIFFANY: (A lie:) Oh, I just do this for…extra nutrition. Nursing is such a bonding experience.
SHARON/MARIN/KARYN:
It’s a beautiful experience.
Wouldn’t trade it for the world.
I’m never stopping! Dependency is intoxicating! I am so powerful!
(Okay, too far on that last one. TIFFANY and the CLONE MAMAS all forcefully laugh it off.)
* The actor playing Chaos Baby doesn’t have to scream, maybe the other actors just begin raising their
voices.

27
Ten(ish): Comedies
CHAOS MOM: I mean…every baby is different, right?

And as long as they’re healthy and eating…and not hungry anymore? Isn’t that all that
matters?
(The moms begrudgingly agree. A distraction: maybe the babies fart and the CLONE MAMAS
make little, “oh!” and “good job!” sounds to acknowledge and support one another. This
moment of connection resets the room.)
AMBER: That’s such a good reminder. Thank you.
Remember Mamas, we’re here to foster community.
(CHAOS BABY breaks away! CHAOS MOM crawls after her, AMBER “scoops up” CHAOS
BABY and returns her.)
AMBER: Now as we are cycling those little legs and releasing what is pent up inside those little
tummies, it feels like a good time to open the floor to our Sharing Circle.
(AMBER pulls a rattle from her bag, places it in the center of the circle.)
AMBER: This is our Talking Stick. Whoever is talking, we listen…with intention.
And for the rest of us, as we listen, we can practice our Goddess Pose!
Hold the baby to your chest, and we’re going to do a slow pop and squat! You don’t have to
go too low, protect those knees! Feel your inner Goddess coming out. She is powerful and
brave and strong.
(Everyone gets into position except CHAOS MOM, who must console CHAOS BABY—she
does not want to be there! CHAOS MOM gives a hard, desperate stare, “Please please
please can we hold it together for this one class…for the next twenty minutes…?” But the
answer is NO.)
AMBER: Wonderful. Let’s get into it!
(The class begins to devolve for the CLONE MAMAS: a baby pulls on their mom’s hair,
another pulls on their mom’s necklace, someone needs a diaper change.* The Goddess Pose
is not a happy pose for anyone, adults or babies.)
(TIFFANY does a deep squat, reaches for the rattle first.)
TIFFANY: I want to talk about sleep. Specifically:
When did your baby first begin to sleep through the night?
(TIFFANY hands the rattle to MARIN.)
AMBER: No, Tiff, that’s not how this works—
MARIN: Um, maybe…three months? Yeah. Probably about then, thank goodness! I was ready
to claw my eyes out!
(MARIN hands the rattle off quickly like a game of Hot Potato, squats and pops.)
KARYN & SHARON:
…Maybe two months?
…Maybe one month? #blessed!
(A round of self-congratulatory applause, kisses for the babies, etc. Squatting and popping.)
AMBER: Wow, a roomful of sleepers! I don’t know that I’ve ever—
* Have fun here, there’s no need to shy away from the absurdity of the situation. Remember that these
are prop babies!

28
Ten(ish): Comedies
(TIFFANY takes the rattle from SHARON.)

AMBER: Oh!
We shouldn’t grab, we’re sharing. We shouldn’t take things that aren’t ours—
TIFFANY: My Meadow was a lamb. She slept through the night immediately! 10–12 hours
straight! I’ve never known a night without sleep, I wake up fresh as a daisy each and every
day!
(A pause, then more applause, incredulous snaps and kudos! CHAOS BABY tries to escape
but CHAOS MOM pins her down gently. TIFFANY tosses the rattle into the circle. CHAOS
MOM thinks, then reaches for it. Holds it up in the air before—)
CHAOS MOM: Well. Isn’t that nice.
I mean. (Laughs.)
Yeah, soooo. Sleeping through the night!
Because everyone knows how important sleep is. Because (laughs more)
Sleep torture—it’s an actual thing! That people do…to like, wrestle state secrets out of spies?
Yeah.
I mean, maybe it was…oh gosh. Maybe it was…what you all had? Maybe a little later? Who
knows what time is, is anyone actually tracking these things—are you? Am I? No, we just…
we just go with the flow. Because that’s what we do. Easy breezy.
Yeah, we do that. Sleep through the night.
(CHAOS MOM looks around the semi-circle—she receives tepid snaps and kudos. CHAOS
MOM sadly hands the rattle back to AMBER.)
AMBER: Ah, not exactly the way that I envisioned our sharing, but thank you all for participating—
CHAOS MOM: (Raising hand and releasing CHAOS BABY to do whatever she wants:) I’m sorry,
I just
Could I have that back, please?
(Holding the baby rattle again:)
I just have to say something
I have to confess something
How do I, do this
…
Uh.
Most of the time?
We don’t. We don’t sleep.
The truth is. The truth is, that we have never slept through the night in my house. I mean, I
haven’t slept more than a few hours a night since I got pregnant, actually? It’s, um. Surprising?
To hear that nobody else’s baby fights sleep tooth and nail.
It’s impressive. And then…again, I’m trying to…live in my truth?
It frankly—if I can be frank?
It makes me a little sad.
And more than a little jealous.
Dejected even.
Like I’m failing? Like I’m failing on a very fundamental and basic level?
(CHAOS MOM looks around the semi-circle again. The room is dead silent, nobody is
Goddess Posing anymore. Even CHAOS BABY stops moving and goes quiet. Finally—)

29
Ten(ish): Comedies
MARIN: Well, I mean—maybe it wasn’t three months—

(The other CLONE MAMAS shush her with their eyes.)
MARIN: …but like, maybe it was? #bestjobintheworld!
(CHAOS BABY resumes crying!)
CHAOS MOM: Because I read so many things that say, let them cry it out! And then so many
other things that say, co-sleeping is the only way! And I tried everything, and nothing works?
So how do we know?
KARYN: How do we know what?
CHAOS MOM: What the right thing to do is?
MARIN / TIFFANY: Cry it out KARYN / SHARON: Co-sleep
(Lines have been drawn now. Deep judgment from both sides as the protests begin again.)
AMBER: (Breaking it up:) Mamas! Please, this isn’t a debate. The Sharing Circle is. To share!
And to listen!
(To CHAOS MOM:)
Thank you for being so vulnerable. There is power in that.
(Inhales, exhales, 1, 2, 3. They all reset.)
AMBER: I think we need to move into a more challenging pose now…since most everyone here
is so…advanced?
This one is called the Flying Baby Pose. Lie on your back, place your baby on your shins,
and hold them. Then you’re going to lift your legs and “fly” them to you. Or if you want
a modification, stay standing and “fly” them from side to side. Wheee, whoosh, wheee,
whoosh! It’s great fun for them, especially as you make those sounds!
(CLONE MAMAS and TIFFANY begin wheeing and whooshing. Everyone looks goofy but is
very serious about this. CHAOS MOM and CHAOS BABY just look at each other. No way,
no how.)
CHAOS MOM: I think maybe…maybe we should just go.
I don’t
I don’t feel like we belong here.
(Everyone stops and looks at CHAOS MOM, but nobody says anything.)
CHAOS MOM: Okay.
Wow. Yeah, okay.
Right. (I see how it is.)
AMBER: …You’re doing great, Mama.
CHAOS MOM: Am I?
AMBER: Maybe there’s another class you can try, maybe in a few months…maybe—
CHAOS MOM: No. This isn’t for us. Clearly.
(CHAOS MOM turns to go, but then thinks better of it—)
CHAOS MOM: …
And you know what?

30
Ten(ish): Comedies
I was hoping for some reason, when I signed up for this class that maybe I would be able to
find other moms…like me?
So I wouldn’t feel so alone.
This wasn’t that.
(CHAOS MOM begins to gather all her things, the multitude of bags…CHAOS BABY clears
her throat:)
CHAOS BABY: Excuse me. Excuse me.
Listen to meeeeee!
You made my mommy sad.
And that makes me mad.
(Yawns, rubs eyes.)
My mommy is tired.
I am tired.
(Yawns, stands up).
This class is not fun. I do not like it.
I do not like to pedal my legs or fly or wheee or whoosh
I especially do not like to have Mommy press on my feet because it feels like ants crawling
And maybe you do not like us because we are not good at it
YET
But my mommy, is the best kind of mommy. Because she tries very hard and when I cry
She cries, too.
And because we are both always crying
At this world and how not fun it is
We are both always puffy-eyed and messy
She forgets things…a lot
Because she forgets to write things down to remember for later
Mostly because she stops to play with me and tries to feed me and rock me
There’s so much rocking and she is always going shhhh shhhh shhhh
And we are sometimes very sad together
But when we go outside we try to smile and try to look okay
But we know we do not look okay
Because we are actually not
(CHAOS BABY yawns very big, lies down, and puts herself to sleep.)
AMBER: Oh wow! “She’s little, but she’s fierce” amirite? What a talker!
CHAOS MOM: Yeah…no idea what she’s saying.
(CHAOS MOM moves to pick up CHAOS BABY but MARIN stops her with frenzied gestures.)
MARIN: (Loud whisper:) No, don’t!
SHARON/KARYN/MARIN: (Loud whisper:) Never wake a sleeping baby!!!
TIFFANY: Haven’t you ever heard that?!
Rule number one!
(Under her breath, laughing:)
Are you brand-new or something?

31
Ten(ish): Comedies
(TIFFANY looks at the CLONE MAMAS for support, they pause, look at one another, then
laugh. CHAOS MOM jumps into the middle of the circle, snatches the rattle. All in a loud
whisper—)
CHAOS MOM: I. Have. The TALKING STICK.
You’re gonna listen to me.
With intention. Whatever that means.
(She stalks the room, like a D.A. in the closing argument of Law & Order.)
CHAOS MOM: You all act like this is some kind of exclusive club or something! Some kind of
Best in Show. For babies! Babies!
Like you invented motherhood and perfected it.
But guess what.
I have to be honest.
I think that you’re all lying.
And…maybe not just a little bit lying?
But a lot
And what good does it do any of us, to act like we’re all perfect all the time.
It’s exhausting.
I see through you.
I see through all of you.
You. (To TIFFANY.)
Talking about nursing 24/7
When I saw the Enfamil peeking out of your bag!
(CHAOS MOM flips over TIFFANY’s bag, multiple baby bottles tumble out along with a
Costco-sized container of formula. The CLONE MAMAS gasp.)
TIFFANY: I told you, I’m supplementing!
CHAOS MOM: Who actually cares? I sure don’t!
And you! (The CLONE MAMAS cower.)
I saw your bags as well
(CHAOS MOM jams her hands in KARYN and SHARON’s bags, respectively—takes out two
copies of the same book, one in each hand:)
CHAOS MOM: What’s this?
“How to Be a Mother…For Dummies”
…Wait, are you in a Book Club? With each other…?
KARYN & SHARON: Who put that in there?!
It’s a setup!
(CHAOS MOM turns the books over in her hands, thinking, “Wow, but seriously, I didn’t
know this existed… Can I borrow it?” She drops the rattle.)
MARIN: You know what? She’s right.
The truth is—we drink these huge, oversized lattes because we are tired. Nobody is sleeping!
(She looks at SHARON and KARYN, they look down in shame and slurp their drinks loudly.)
SHARON/KARYN/TIFFANY:
I just like coffee Marin.

32
Ten(ish): Comedies
It’s actually just part of my morning ritual.

Actually, I only drink matcha. It’s high in antioxidants.
MARIN: Also? My name is really pronounced “Muh-RIN” not “MARE-in.”
I don’t know why I did that earlier? Made my name rhyme with yours?
But I don’t want to be in this class with any of you anymore.
(SHARON, KARYN, and TIFFANY get up to exit.)
SHARON/KARYN/TIFFANY:
Whatever. I’m cancelling this class. Consider me gone.
Whatever. I’m taking Baby Pilates instead. I need my core to like…snap back?
Whatever. I’m late to my spa appointment…because self-care is so important.
(SHARON, KARYN, and TIFFANY exit one at a time in dramatic fashion.)
AMBER: Wait! You can’t just…leave? You didn’t pay me for this class!
(AMBER chases after them, leaving MARIN and CHAOS MOM alone.)
MARIN: (Picking up the rattle, waves it like a surrender flag:)
Uh, so you don’t have to “out” me—
The truth is
If I’m being honest.
I’m actually…seeing things?
Like…the other day…
I felt like I was in a cartoon
Or one of those sitcoms with a laugh track
Only I couldn’t see the audience
But they were all laughing at me
My skin, my teeth, my face…I looked
So fake
Everything was so fake
In a kinda lo-fi plasticky? way
Like I was on the wrong frequency
There was this static
And I didn’t want them laughing at me
So I started laughing
And my partner said
Muh-RIN, Muh-RIN
Wake up
Go home, go to sleep
You need to sleep
Because you are not holding the baby
You are rocking, you are actually rocking
A watermelon
In the middle of a Target— A Super Target, to be exact
And you should know
Zephyr Breeze is only calm right now because
She’s been up for three days straight
(A long beat.)

33
Ten(ish): Comedies
CHAOS MOM: Wow

Um
I’m really really sorry about
MARIN: Yeah, me too
I honestly don’t know what I’m doing most days.
(The two of them look down at CHAOS BABY sleeping. She stirs a little, then goes back to
sleep.)
CHAOS MOM: She’s never slept like this before.
MARIN: …So
Same time next week?
(They laugh, maybe it gets hysterical, but it should feel like a release.)
(MARIN places her baby down next to CHAOS BABY. MARIN begins to do some deep
breathing. CHAOS MOM joins in. They both exhale, inhale, 1, 2, 3 as the lights go down.)
End of Play.

34
A Tiny Talkback with Elissa C. Huang
(ELISSA C. HUANG enters carefully, trying not to trip on the way over, covering her eyes at
the blinding lights and takes her seat in the open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Elissa C. Huang, who
will be chatting with us about her play, Baby Yoga. Thanks for speaking with us today. Shall
we begin?
(ELISSA waves to the audience and tries not to fidget with the strings on her hoodie too much
throughout the talkback.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing Baby Yoga?
ELISSA C. HUANG: Ah…well, my daughter and I went to a Baby Yoga class once, and while
we were not exactly kicked out…we didn’t go back again. Reflecting on that experience and
having met many other chaotic parents since then, I wondered if maybe we are all Chaos
Moms living in a world of Clone Mamas who might actually all secretly be Chaos Moms,
too.
writing?
ELISSA C. HUANG: I have some very funny kids in my life and a partner who likes to do all
sorts of goofy voices. We watch a lot of animated features and silly shows—everything from
Miyazaki to The Muppets.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for Baby Yoga, who would be in it?
ELISSA C. HUANG: I’m not great with celebrity names or faces, so I think probably I’d cast this
with some of the parents in my life and turn it into a drama therapy session of sorts.
INTERVIEWER: If you could teach a parent/baby sport, activity, or, exercise what would it be?
(For example, Baby Boxing, Baby Skydiving, Baby Ironman, [a.k.a. Ironbaby].)
ELISSA C. HUANG: Anything that had an element of speed in it might be fun to try, as
babies don’t care about things like time or rules. Something like Baby Speed Reading
or Baby Relay Crawling.
ELISSA C. HUANG: Realistically, at home, with an uninterrupted pocket of time in the evening
into dawn with an endless supply of warm tea. Fantasy, to have any number of international
vacation homes which I could escape to on a writing retreat at a moment’s notice.

35
Ten(ish): Comedies
ELISSA C. HUANG: This is an easy one. I was just texting this to a friend the other day: to win
the lottery and hole up at home with spicy snacks and a/c and a gravity blanket forever. And
to get away to a beach whenever I wanted. If you’re being for real with this question, then
maybe anything where I could be outside in nature and away from devices.
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for Baby Yoga and you’ve been asked by the director to say
something to the cast backstage. In one line, what would you say to them?
ELISSA C. HUANG: Be ridiculous and have fun. But don’t throw any of the babies—they can’t
help who their mamas are.
INTERVIEWER: Now it’s time for the real hard-hitting questions—Would you rather have a third
arm or a tail? (Note: There is a right answer and a wrong answer to this.)
ELISSA C. HUANG: A third arm, unequivocally. No further explanation needed.
copy of Baby Yoga. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate you. What
is the first question you ask them?
ELISSA C. HUANG: Have we figured out a way to bottle that new baby smell yet? And if not,
what have you all been doing all this time?
Elissa about Baby Yoga, please feel free to reach out to info@yourstagepartners.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. ELISSA C. HUANG follows. The INTERVIEWER goes for an
enthusiastic high five but ELISSA recoils. The INTERVIEWER tries again and with more gusto
as ELISSA ducks and weaves out of the way before finally running away and offstage.)
(Lights down.)

36
The Job Interview
by
Don Zolidis

37
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
MARIGOLD, a teenager looking for a summer job (she/her)

EMILY, a young mother looking for work (she/her)
T.J., the interviewer—any age or gender
Casting Notes
I have written T.J. with he/him pronouns, but there’s no reason T.J. couldn’t be any gender.
Marigold and Emily could also be male, but I don’t think that’s quite as funny.

38
The Job Interview
By Don Zolidis
(The waiting area outside an office.)

(At rise, EMILY, a young mother, is waiting. She’s dressed for a job interview and nervous.
She looks around anxiously.)
(MARIGOLD, a teenager, enters. Also dressed for a job interview.)
EMILY: Are you here for the sales associate job?
MARIGOLD: Yeah.
EMILY: You must be early.
MARIGOLD: No.
EMILY: Cause…cause I’m supposed to go at two and—
MARIGOLD: That’s when my interview is.
EMILY: Oh. We’re both at two.
MARIGOLD: Guess so.
EMILY: That’s probably just a mistake. Why would they schedule us both at—?
MARIGOLD: Maybe it’ll be like a cage match. Two people go in. One person comes out.
(EMILY laughs nervously.)
EMILY: I hope not!
(Short pause.)
I’ve taken a few self-defense courses.
MARIGOLD: Sure.
EMILY: I’m Emily, by the way.
MARIGOLD: Marigold.
EMILY: That’s a very pretty name.
MARIGOLD: Yeah.
(Short pause.)
EMILY: You seem fit.
(MARIGOLD gives EMILY a look.)
I don’t mean anything by that! I just—I really need this job.
MARIGOLD: I’ve heard this place is intense.
EMILY: Is it?
MARIGOLD: I knew somebody who worked here—afterwards they had to leave the country.
EMILY: Why?

39
Ten(ish): Comedies
MARIGOLD: They were haunted—by their deeds.

EMILY: Wow.
Can I just say that I have three kids and I need to support them—
MARIGOLD: I think the less we know about each other the better.
EMILY: I’m sure they don’t have us interviewing at the same time.
(T.J. enters—he wears a patterned vest and a bowtie.)
T.J.: Come on in,you’ll be interviewing at the same time!
(T.J. claps his hands and gestures for them to follow.)
(Without another word, he walks into a small office—one desk, one chair.)
EMILY: Are you sure that—?
(She notices MARIGOLD warming up, doing some stretches.)
What are you doing?
MARIGOLD: Just limbering up. Just kidding— I’m sure there won’t be any physical violence.
T.J.: Choose a seat.
EMILY: Are we supposed to be doing this at the same time?
T.J.: Does that unnerve you? Have I thrown you a curveball?
EMILY: Well I—
T.J.: Good. Sit.
EMILY: There’s one chair?
(MARIGOLD sits in it quickly.)
T.J.: Excellent.
(T.J. takes a note.)
EMILY: You just—you just took a note.
T.J.: Did I?
EMILY: Is there another chair?
T.J.: Do you see another chair?
EMILY: So I’m just going to stand here?
T.J.: What does that tell me about you?
(EMILY looks around for a hidden camera.)
EMILY: Is this some kind of psychological test?
T.J.: This is an interview. You are applying for a sales position at one of the most physically
demanding, mentally exhausting, spiritually damaging places in existence. If you can’t
handle that, you can walk out the door right now. I must test you, because this place will
break you.
EMILY: OK.
T.J.: You must be Marigold.

40
Ten(ish): Comedies
MARIGOLD: Yes.
T.J.: Staring contest. Right now!
(T.J. stares at MARIGOLD intently.)
(MARIGOLD stares right back.)
(Staring continues.)
(T.J. breaks it off.)
T.J.: I see.
(He starts to write something down in his notebook, then abruptly stares at MARIGOLD
again—she meets his stare.)
T.J.: Well done.
And you are Emily.
EMILY: Yes.
(EMILY readies herself for a staring contest.)
(T.J. observes her.)
EMILY: What are we doing right now? Are we doing the staring contest thing?
T.J.: We are seeking sales associates in peak physical and emotional condition. We take no sick
days. We do not ask for assistance. I have not taken a sick day in thirteen years. I have come
into work sick with the flu, temperature of a hundred and four, I hallucinated a kaleidoscopic
fantasy world with dancing fairies and talking furniture, and I still worked my shift.
EMILY: Well I—
T.J.: (Continuous:) I nearly lost my foot in a threshing accident and I came into work, trailing
blood and my partially severed extremity— I staggered through the store like the undead
and I only stopped when the paramedics strapped me into a gurney and took me to the
emergency room.
EMILY: Were you okay?
(T.J. puts his foot out in front of him. )
T.J.: Partially filled with stuffing. Feel it.
EMILY: No thank you.
(MARIGOLD feels it. )
MARIGOLD: Cool.
T.J.: So my tactics, though they may seem unorthodox to you, are here to save your life. Because
if you get hired at the Build-A-Bear Workshop, you better be ready.
(He sets a Build-A-Bear bear on his desk. )
EMILY: I didn’t realize Build-A-Bear was that intense.
T.J.: Oh it is. This isn’t a store. It’s a workshop. We come to work.
MARIGOLD: I can do that.

41
Ten(ish): Comedies
EMILY: Me too.
T.J.: I was in the Marines for seventeen years. And the things I’ve seen in that workshop…
(He stares, haunted.)
I don’t sleep anymore.
EMILY: I’m sure it’s not that bad— I love kids!
T.J.: Let me paint a scenario for you—and I apologize in advance if you are traumatized for
life. It’s a four-year-old’s birthday party. The children cross that ridge there—their mouths
are frothing with a cotton candy slurry mixed with Sprite. None of them have had naps. In
their eyes you see the crazed maniacal gleam of a world without morality—they are chaos
incarnate. Our supply of Giant Happy Hugs Teddy Bears is down to two, and three of those
demons want one. What do you do?
MARIGOLD: Me?
T.J.: Yes, Marigold, you! They are approaching! You have seconds to decide before they
dismember the teddy bears and white stuffing explodes into the air in a maelstrom of fluffy
blood! Go!
(MARIGOLD stands up, trying not to panic. )
(T.J. makes noises as if he’s the approaching horde of four-year-olds)
(MARIGOLD acts as if she’s holding back the throng of small children. )
MARIGOLD: STAY BACK!
T.J.: Ah let me have the teddy bear let me have it!
MARIGOLD: If you all don’t settle down…
(She mimes grabbing a giant teddy bear.)
The Giant Happy Hugs Teddy Bear gets it! I WILL CUT THIS BEAR. I WILL SEVER HIS
GIANT HAPPY HEAD. AND IT WILL ALL BE YOUR FAULT. AND I WILL TELL SANTA
CLAUS AND YOU WILL NEVER BE HAPPY AGAIN!
T.J.: Well done.
EMILY: What?! You can’t possibly threaten to execute a teddy bear—
T.J.: They aren’t alive, Emily. It’s a hollow threat. Those work great with children.
(MARIGOLD sits back in the one chair. )
MARIGOLD: Thanks. I just—I thought about my little brother and how I used to control him.
T.J.: I appreciate your ruthlessness.
Emily? Your move.
You hear them before you can see them. A wave of noise and sweat and horror. You glance
at your supply of Giant Happy Hugs Teddy Bears. A chill goes down your spine. They burst
through the door like an invading army—their parents are staring at their phones, they have
given up controlling the swarm. It is on you. Go.
EMILY: Hi everyone! My name is Emily and welcome to the Build-A-Bear-Workshop! We are
going to have so much fun today!

42
Ten(ish): Comedies
T.J.: (Assuming the voice of the children, which sounds a little like Gollum:) ”I wants a giant
Happy Hugs Teddy Bear! I wants it! I needs it! Aaaaah!”
EMILY: Everyone is going to have a chance to make their own bear today—
T.J.: “It’s my birfday I gets all the bears! Aaaaaah!”
EMILY: We are taking turns and—
T.J.: “All mine! I gets all of them!”
(As T.J.:)
Come on Emily how much do you want this?!
EMILY: Let’s take a moment to breathe and—
T.J.: “If I don’t get what I wants I’ll hold my breath until I die!” Aaah punching is happening!
(He mimes children fighting each other.)
Blood! Spurting! Tears! Snot!
EMILY: Guys let’s calm down and—
T.J.: Society is collapsing! Anarchy reigns! Display bears are being carted away! The mob is
here! God is dead! COME ON EMILY SHOW ME THAT YOU WANT THIS.
(EMILY loses it.)
EMILY: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
(EMILY grabs the teddy bear off the desk and beats T.J. with it, punctuating each word with
a strike.)
YOU. WILL. DO. WHAT. I. SAY.
AAAAAAAAAAAH.
(She drops the teddy bear and stops, hyperventilating.)
You will take a Cocoa Cuddles Bear and you will be thankful.
(T.J. is cowed. He sits on the ground.)
MARIGOLD: Wow.
T.J.: Impressive.
EMILY: Sometimes the best self-defense is a good offense.
(She points at the chair.)
Move.
(MARIGOLD gets up.)
MARIGOLD: I hope when I’m a mom I’m half as cool as you.
(EMILY sits.)
EMILY: So do I get the job?
T.J.: Actually we need to go with someone a little more stable.
(Lights down. )
End of Play.

43
A Tiny Talkback with Don Zolidis
(DON ZOLIDIS enters and takes a seat in the open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Don Zolidis, who
will be chatting with us about their play The Job Interview. Thanks for speaking with us
today. Shall we begin?
(DON nods in the affirmative.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing The Job
Interview?
DON ZOLIDIS: Terror, I think. Just remembering the times I’ve been at a child’s birthday party
at Build-A-Bear and thought about the end of the world and all that is good. I did that a lot
during children’s birthday parties, honestly. So sometimes I like to think about the question,
who are the people behind these things? What is going through their heads? How are they
surviving the day?
writing?
DON ZOLIDIS: Oh so many. Monty Python of course is a huge influence on me and you can
see it all over the place in my writing. I think some other writers that have had a big impact
have been Christopher Durang, Eric Bogosian, David Lindsay-Abaire, and pretty much every
sitcom that was on the air from 1979–1988.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for The Job Interview, who would be in it?
DON ZOLIDIS: I think I would like to see Christopher Walken be T.J.—that would be amazing.
And for the others, maybe Emma Watson and Drew Barrymore.
INTERVIEWER: Besides this one, what is the most bizarre interview (or similar) situation you
have found yourself in?
DON ZOLIDIS: Oh boy I don’t know that I’ve had any crazy interviews in my life, that’s really
disappointing.
DON ZOLIDIS: Definitely mornings at the coffee shop. I like having people around to work.
And then I look like a weirdo, because I’m basically acting out the plays while I write them.
So I’m a very strange, demonstrative guy in the corner.
DON ZOLIDIS: Surf instructor? I don’t know, something where I didn’t have to do much and
could be on a beach much of the time.

44
Ten(ish): Comedies
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for The Job Interview and you’ve been asked by the director
to say something to the cast backstage. In one line, what would you say to them?
DON ZOLIDIS: Don’t screw this up. Everything is riding on this. Your lives will never be same
after this play. That’s three lines. Four.
DON ZOLIDIS: Tail. Definitely. And that brings me back to Christopher Walken, who was once
asked a version of this question (whether he would like to have a tail or wings), and he chose
tail, because then everyone would know how he was feeling without having to ask him.
copy of The Job Interview. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate you.
DON ZOLIDIS: Does Build-A-Bear still exist?
Don about The Job Interview, please feel free to reach out to info@yourstagepartners.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. DON ZOLIDIS follows. They shake hands, wave at the crowd,
and exit.]
(Lights down.)

45
A Stitch Here Or There
A Sock Tragedy in One Act
by
Aeneas Sagar Hemphill

46
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
COTTON & COT

ARGY & GYLE
DRESS & TUX
WOOL & ARAN, MITTEN, LINT
Setting
The Drawer and the Laundry Room
Note
Each actor plays both parts of the pair with sock puppets—but this need not be a puppet show
in the traditional sense. You are welcome to draw from that form, but hiding the actor is not
necessary. In fact, it is preferred that the actor is seen and the sock puppet more of an extension
or centering of their body. Bold choices, technical or physical, are encouraged.

47
A Stitch Here or There
A Sock Tragedy in One Act
by Aeneas Sagar Hemphill
(Lights up on COTTON, one arm behind her back. The other socks stand in a line behind
her. They trade off the following lines, as a sock chorus might.)
THE SOCKS:
Look at Cotton.
Poor poor Cotton.
She was so full of life.
Her and her sister Cot.
They were the Master’s favorites.
Long green socks.
No one had those.
And now…
She just lays there.
It’s sad what happened to her.
You always hear about socks getting lost in the machine.
But we never thought it would happen here.
We try to help, to comfort her.
But she just…
She just won’t.
Nothing makes her happy.
At first, well we understand the loss, but it was easier at first.
No one knows how to handle her emotions.
She won’t go for her cleanings.
She stinks! Does that sound bad?
She’s just so sad.
And smelly!
What are we supposed to do—stop living?
(COTTON speaks to us.)
COTTON: Have you ever lost a piece of yourself? I don’t mean like a stitch here or there or a
little unraveling. I mean a part of who you are. I have. I had a sister. Her name was Cot. I
don’t know if you would understand.
(ARGY and GYLE enter.)
ARGY: I really care about you, Cotton. But I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.
GYLE: I don’t even know what I would do if I lost Argy.
(ARGY and GYLE exit. DRESS and TUX enter.)
TUX: The Machine works in mysterious ways.

48
Ten(ish): Comedies
DRESS: Do you think that such an unknowable power could wash us of our dirt, our stink, our
sin, and not ask us something in return?
TUX: You live on—this is a test. We are given suffering to know what is truly important in this
world.
DRESS: We are afraid of what we don’t know. Like it or not, it is what unites all of us. None of
us will ever know what happens to us when we go. Except the Machine.
TUX: We must give our faith and ourselves to its Divine Machinations.
(WOOL and ARAN, two thick wool socks, enter.)
WOOL: It’s all a load of baloney.
COTTON: It’s all made up?
WOOL: You ask me…everything’s a bleeding accident.
(ARAN addresses the audience.)
ARAN: I have a pretty thick skin. Yeah. I dunno…I just look straight ahead you know? ‘Sides, a
sock like me’s not fit for the machine anyway. I’m out after the washer and I hang dry, every
time. I’d be half the cover I was if I let that that old oven get to me. I know she’s got a lot
of pain, that one. I do not envy her. What can she do? Best is hope for an amputation. And
that’s if the Master takes pity on you and keeps you. What’s the Master to do with one of a
pair?
(MITTEN enters.)
MITTEN: I don’t know what to say. We usually fall out of people’s pockets outside. Frozen to
death.
COTTON: “Frozen to death”?
MITTEN: It’s the harsh reality of the glove. The days in the shoebox are the good ones.
COTTON: So you never find the ones who go?
MITTEN: Sometimes they get found the next day, even the next week, and 40% of gloves are
lost within five miles of home. Sometimes a glove stays in the snow, freezing, soggy, till
Spring comes and the piles get melted down. And then there are those unlucky souls that
don’t get found at all.
COTTON: Oh my. How do you face that every day?
MITTEN: That’s the reality. Nothing you can do. Most are proud to go in the line of duty, and
the lost get the greatest respect us gloves can offer.
COTTON: And have you lost someone?
(MITTEN scrunches up.)
Mitten?
MITTEN: I think about Mitty every day. Every minute.
(DRESS and TUX swoop in to console MITTEN and take them away. )
COTTON: The truth is no one knows anything. They just accept things the way they are. Pairs
go in for their cleansing, one unlucky pair gets their life torn apart.
(ARGY and GYLE enter.)

49
Ten(ish): Comedies
GYLE: Our day was great. There was a job interview and he wanted to look put together. Dress
is great, but safe, you know? Today, today was a special interview.
ARGY: He wanted this one bad.
GYLE: And he knew he had it in the bag—
ARGY: So then he—oh my gosh I’m so sorry—
GYLE: No no!
ARGY: No you were telling the story! Sometimes it’s like we’re—
GYLE & ARGY: —One yarn!
(ARGYLES nuzzle.)
GYLE: So we were exactly what he wanted: dressy, but with just that little bit of a statement. I
bet he landed it!
ARGY: Yeah he didn’t even drench us in sweat like he normally does!
(GYLE and ARGY laugh.)
GYLE: Well that was our day. What did you do today Cotton?
COTTON: It’s been a while since I’ve been picked.
GYLE: What about Mismatch Monday?
ARGY: Yeah Mismatch Monday!
COTTON: Screw Mismatch Monday.
ARGY: Hey!
GYLE: Let her feel, Argy.
ARGY: I was trying to be helpful.
COTTON: Well you weren’t.
GYLE: Cotton, you can talk to us.
ARGY: You don’t have to bite our toes off.
GYLE: Argy!
ARGY: Gyle!
(GYLE gasps. ARGY gasps.)
I’m sorry Gyle.
GYLE: I’m sorry Argy!
ARGY: Let’s never fight again!
(They make up, like sock puppets do. COTTON scrunches. ARGY and GYLE return to the
world of complete pairs, leaving COTTON alone with us.)
COTTON: I almost unraveled myself one time. It’s easy. You just find that gaping whole in your
fabric and pull yourself out line by line. Just go and go until you’re a pile.
(COT enters. A flashlight shines towards the stage. COT moves toward it.)
COTTON: Wait!

50
Ten(ish): Comedies
COT: What are you worried about?

COTTON: Do you know what that is?
COT: It’s a nightlight.
COTTON: A what now?
COT: A nightlight, dummy. It lights up in the night.
COTTON: Why would anybody need that?
COT: The master is scared of the dark.
COTTON: No way.
COT: Yes way. Not everybody grows up in a drawer you know.
COTTON: So?
COT: So big people like him are afraid of things they don’t know. The dark is scary until you
get to know it.
COTTON: I guess you’re right.
COT: I heard rumors but I’ve never seen one up close. We can’t get one of these in the drawer,
that’s for sure.
COTTON: Does it hurt?
COT: No silly, look!
(COT stands in front of the light, casting a shadow on the wall.)
COTTON: Wha?
(COT begins making shapes. Her simple sock structure restricts her range. COTTON’s fear
turns to amusement. She laughs.)
COT: Hey. Get over there.
COTTON: Here?
COT: Little bit more.
COTTON: Ok.
COT: Look.
(COTTON looks back to the wall.)
Now you got one too!
(COTTON stares in amazement.)
Try to keep up.
(The two make shapes together. Eventually, the two come together to build a heart.)
Now the piece de resistance!
(COT tugs at COTTON.)
Hey that tickles! What are you—?
(COT pulls out a string.)
Cot?

51
Ten(ish): Comedies
(COT pulls COTTON’s string out and around and all over.)
COT: Cot! Stop it! What are you doing!?
(COT drags the string off-stage.)
COT: Be with me Cotton.
COTTON: Cot!
COT: I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone.
COTTON: I’m sorry Cot I’m sorry—
COT: Come with me.
COTTON: I will. I’m coming.
(ARGY and GYLE enter. We are out of the dream. )
GYLE: Cotton!
(The flashlight goes off and lights up on COTTON with her string sticking out. GYLE and
ARGY staring shocked.)
ARGY: Uh. Uh.
COTTON: Argy—
(ARGY can’t look at her.)
Argy!
GYLE: Let’s get you fixed up. Argy. Argy!
(ARGY and GYLE snap the loose thread off.)
COTTON: I’m sorry.
GYLE: Just relax. Relax.
COTTON: I’m—
GYLE: Shhhh.
COTTON: Argy? Argy, say something!
(ARGY can’t bear to look at her. The other socks line up to receive their cleaning. ARGY and
GYLE join them. COTTON, separated from the group, speaks to us.)
This is the life of the sock: the master pulls out the drawer, bathing us in light. We hope and
pray that we’re the pair he picks. And if we are, we cover the Master’s feet and off we go
into the day. The Master’s stride—it’s like flying. Life is an adventure on the master’s feet.
I lived for the sounds of the new and familiar places outside the shoes. Now all I can think
about is the master walking all over me, soaking me all day in his sweat and dirt, getting wet
and cold and smelly. How he tosses us into a hamper and sends us to The Machine. The
Machine that cleans us, makes us new, but once in a while has to eat one of us, you know,
to make it worth its while. Rinse. Recycle. Repeat. Is that all there is? You lose someone and
all of a sudden, everything we’ve believed—it doesn’t apply to you. What is one sock alone?
Am I really nothing?
(We hear the dryer roll and hum as it spins. COTTON stares down the Machine as the
SOCKS go inside. )

52
Ten(ish): Comedies
Why do you need us to suffer? What do you get out of it? Why?
(The Machine starts as COTTON climbs under it. THE SOCKS turn, spin, tumble around. It
gets trippy. Psychedelic swirls, loud washing machine noises. Then silence as the SOCKS
exit. LINT enters. )
LINT: Man. I really want to help you out. Living under the machine seems like the throne of
wisdom or whatever right? And I mean it’s chill down here, I can just roll. But I haven’t seen
or heard anything more than you guys in the drawers.
COTTON: You have to have seen something. Cot. She looks like me. Maybe a little worse for
wear.
LINT: Yeah, no, sorry.
COTTON: No?
LINT: Yeah. I mean, no.
(Beat.)
COTTON: I can’t accept that.
LINT: It’s all I got…
(Beat. )
COTTON: What do I do now?
LINT: I mean you’re like always cool to crash down here. I know it’s a little different that up in
the dresser or whatever, but you’ll be taken care of.
COTTON: Thanks. But I might go back to the drawer. It’s kind of cold down here.
LINT: Is it? Yeah, lint like me, we just keep rolling with it. Don’t even feel a thing.
You should try it.
COTTON: Yeah, thanks.
LINT: I mean, things happen, you know?
(LINT rolls off like a tumbleweed. ARGY enters, the arm with GYLE now behind their back.
ARGY addresses the audience. )
ARGY: You never think it’ll happen to you. And then, in an instant, your best friend, your
partner, your thread-mate. They’re gone.
COTTON: Argy.
ARGY: Gyle’s gone, Cotton.
COTTON: I know.
ARGY: I’m all alone.
COTTON: You’re not alone, Argy.
ARGY: Gyle’s gone! No one can understand.
COTTON: I do.
ARGY: What’s the Master going to do with one Argyle sock? I’m useless. I should just be thrown
away.
COTTON: No Argy. No.

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Ten(ish): Comedies
(COTTON nuzzles ARGY. ARGY pushes her away. )

ARGY: Why did this happen to me?
COTTON: I asked myself the same question.
ARGY: Did you find out?
(COTTON thinks.)
COTTON: No.
ARGY: Then I guess I’m just going to feel like this forever.
COTTON: You won’t.
ARGY: How?
COTTON: I’m here. We can make our own pair.
(COTTON and ARGY nuzzle, as sock puppets do.)
End of Play.

54
A Tiny Talkback with Aeneas Sagar Hemphill
(A sock-gloved hand rises from behind the Interviewer’s chair. Another hand emerges from
the other side. The two hands fight over the Interviewer’s head, until one hand removes
the sock from the other. The bare hand deflates and falls out of sight. AENEAS SAGAR
HEMPHILL enters from offstage. The sock-gloved hand looks at him. AENEAS looks at the
sock-gloved hand. The hand disappears. AENEAS and the INTERVIEWER look at each other
and shrug.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Aeneas Sagar
Hemphill who will be chatting with us about their play, A Stitch Here or There. Thanks for
speaking with us today. Shall we begin?
(AENEAS flaps his arms like an excitable Kermit the Frog.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing Stitch?
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: If you can imagine, I was doing laundry. I laid out my socks,
making separate piles for each pair, only to find most of my pairs were incomplete. Things
got existential right away. What is the purpose of a sock by itself? What do you do with it?
Throw it away? Wait to see if you find its missing partner? That seemed cruel in the moment.
And things got weirder from there.
writing?
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: Of course there’s Sesame Street, The Muppets, even Avenue Q,
though I took a different approach to “puppets with adult themes.” Beyond puppets proper,
I was going for a clash with the subject matter and the world. Bojack Horseman might be
the closest thing I’ve seen since.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for A Stitch Here or There, who would be in it?
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: While I believe this play should serve as a vehicle to launch early
careers, I would not say no if Frank Oz wanted to play a mitten. Or Austin Butler if he gives
one of the socks the Elvis voice.
INTERVIEWER: Do you have an absolute favorite article of clothing? If so, what?
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: People often associate me with turtleneck sweaters. There’s
something sock-like about them, now that I think of it…
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: I’ll do all of the above depending on my mood. Sometimes I spend
so much time in my room I lose touch with reality so I need to be around people even if I get
less work done, and vice versa. My ideal, which I’ve only experienced in an artist residency,

55
Ten(ish): Comedies
is having a studio space I can walk to and compartmentalize my writing time. It’s the most
I’ve felt like writing was a job—and only in a good way.
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: My only dream job is being an artist, whether that’s performing
or writing. The medium can change, but I don’t know if I can be anything but a storyteller.
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for A Stitch Here or There and you’ve been asked by the
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: While in some ways this is a small story, the care with which you
all brought this world to life makes it infinitely larger than the frame I gave it. I hope you will
do laundry just a little bit differently from now on.
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: I’d prefer a tail. I can interact with things behind me, have
something to chew on when I’m bored. A tail could even be trained to be a sort of third arm.
copy of A Stitch Here or There. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate
you. What is the first question you ask them?
AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL: “What is happening?!”
INTERVIEWER: I think that is about all of the time we have. If you have any more questions
for Aeneas about A Stitch Here or There, please feel free to reach out to info@
yourstagepartners.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. AENEAS SAGAR HEMPHILL follows. They look behind the
Interviewer’s chair, but find no one. As they walk off, AENEAS rests a sock-gloved hand on
the Interviewer’s shoulder.)
(Lights down.)

56
Happy Birthday to Me
by
Alle Mims

57
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
CHELSEA
ANDREA

58
Happy Birthday to Me
by Alle Mims
(AT RISE: The stage is dark and silent. There is a howl. A flashlight turns on and illuminates
CHELSEA’s face. )
CHELSEA: This is the story of the lost little girl. The very scary story of the girl who was lost.
Perhaps the scariest of scary stories about a young female child—
(Another flashlight turns on, revealing ANDREA’s face.)
ANDREA: This is the dumbest of dumb stories.
CHELSEA: You gotta wait for it to get good… Turn out your light, please. It’s not scary enough.
(ANDREA turns off her light with a scoff.)
CHELSEA: It was a stormy, windy, stormy night. With thunder. And lightning, too. A little girl
was walking home. But she decided to cut through the woods—
ANDREA: (Turning on her light:) She obviously doesn’t watch a lot of scary movies.
CHELSEA: Andreaaaaa!
(ANDREA switches off her light again.)
CHELSEA: She knew the woods pretty good, actually, which is why she would take the short
cut in the first place. But in the dark, it was hard to see. She didn’t have a flashlight. Or a
map. And even if she had a map, she couldn’t read it because she didn’t have a flashlight.
Anyway, she’s walking through the woods she realizes she’s been turned around and
doesn’t know where she is! She starts to shiver. “Vfvfvfvfvfvfvfvf!” And suddenly, she hears
howling— “OOoooOOOOOoooo!” And at first, she’s not even scared because she loves
wolves. They’re like her favorite animal. But as she gets closer, she realizes, those aren’t wolf
howls at all! They’re HUMAN howls!!
ANDREA: Chelsea, If this is another one of your Teen Wolf self-insert fan-fictions, I am so done.
CHELSEA: Wait! Don’t turn on the lights!
(ANDREA does turn on the lights. We are clearly in sleepover mode with pillows and
blankets strewn through out the living room. )
CHELSEA: I wasn’t finished.
ANDREA: I was. Who all is coming?
CHELSEA: I told you, I invited Kristina and Rachel and Isabella and Megan and Alora and
Freddie.
ANDREA: We’re not allowed to have boys over.
CHELSEA: I only told everyone I invited Freddie because Alora said she wouldn’t come unless
he was there and if Alora doesn’t come neither will Isabella and Isabella and Kristina are
neighbors so that carpool would be destroyed.
ANDREA: What time are they getting here?

59
Ten(ish): Comedies
CHELSEA: Technically, I said any time after school. I know some of them had track practice.
ANDREA: That was over hours ago. Maybe I should have reminded Izzy.
CHELSEA: Did Isabella say anything about me at practice?
ANDREA: No, why would she?
CHELSEA: I just meant about the party or something. Maybe she was confused about the time.
I just said I wanted people here in time to sing happy birthday for it to end right at midnight
so I guess the latest they could get here would be around… 11:59?
(Cue awkward silence.)
ANDREA: What are we supposed to do until then?
CHELSEA: I made a list of a bunch of games to play at a sleepover.
ANDREA: This doesn’t count as a sleepover. We’re the only ones here and we sleep here all
the time.
CHELSEA: But we usually sleep in our rooms, and tonight we’re sleep-ing over here, in the living
room. Living Room Sleepover!
ANDREA: Whatever.
CHELSEA: Most good games need three people. But… we can put stuff from the freezer in our
bra? Or maybe it was put our bra in the freezer? Does that make more sense?
ANDREA: How about we play truth or dare?
CHELSEA: That wasn’t on my list.
ANDREA: Well it is now.
CHELSEA: It’s my birthday so I get to choose.
ANDREA: It’s not your birthday until tomorrow. And mom put me in charge because I’m the
oldest.
CHELSEA: We’re in the same grade.
ANDREA: Only because you skipped a grade.
CHELSEA: Which means, I’m the smartest. So I should be in charge.
ANDREA: The smartest people don’t get to be in charge. Just the oldest. That’s why the president
is always old but not always smart.
CHELSEA: Fine, but you go first. Truth or dare, if you dare.
ANDREA: Truth.
CHELSEA: Where’s your current hiding place ANDREA: What?! That is not fair! No way!
for your journal?
CHELSEA: You picked truth! You have to! It’s the rules!
ANDREA: Fine! It’s pinned between the long side of my bed and the wall.
CHELSEA: I never would have found that.
ANDREA: Whatever, I’m re-hiding it in the morning. Truth or dare.
CHELSEA: Hmmm… Truth.

60
Ten(ish): Comedies
ANDREA: Okay—
CHELSEA: But you can’t ask the same question I just asked.
ANDREA: Hmmmm. Truth: did you really get something in your eye? Or were you crying on
the first day of school?
CHELSEA: That’s two questions.
ANDREA: You have to answer one of them.
CHELSEA: I cried—
ANDREA: I knew it.
CHELSEA: —but only because it wasn’t just the first day of school, it was our first day of high
school. And I was remembering a Teen Wolf episode. Okay, truth or dare? And you just did
truth so you gotta pick dare.
ANDREA: What?
CHELSEA: I don’t make the rules.
ANDREA: You are literally making the rules.
CHELSEA: I dare you to go to the porch outside and scream, “I eat dog poop!” Three times. So
the neighbor’s dog can hear you.
ANDREA: You are so dead when I get back.
(ANDREA exits. We hear some faint noise. CHELSEA yells out the door or a window:)
CHELSEA: Louder!
ANDREA: (Louder, from offstage:) I EAT DOG POOP! I EAT DOG POOP! I EAT DOG POOP!
(ANDREA enters, out of breath and embarrassed.)
CHELSEA: Did the dog say anything?
ANDREA: Shut up. Truth or dare? (Cutting off CHELSEA before she can answer:) Dare? Okay. I
dare you to call Alora and ask where she is.
CHELSEA: I don’t have Alora’s number.
ANDREA: Okay then Kristina or Isabella.
CHELSEA: My phone is charging.
ANDREA: You can use mine.
CHELSEA: Ew no, it’s an Android.
ANDREA: You picked dare.
CHELSEA: No, you picked dare. Maybe I’m done and want to play Freezer Bra.
ANDREA: I’m dialing Isabella.
CHELSEA: No, wait wait wait!
ANDREA: It’s ringing. What’s wrong? It’s CHELSEA: No, please, not her. Give me the
just a dare. phone!
CHELSEA: STOP IT!
ANDREA: Woah, calm down.

61
Ten(ish): Comedies
CHELSEA: They’re not coming!

ANDREA: Chels—
CHELSEA: No one is coming. When I gave Kristina her invitation, she stuffed it in her backpack
like you do with old assignments you don’t want anymore. And I know Alora only said that
stuff about Freddie because she knows boys aren’t allowed at sleepovers. So I said, “He’s
already invited!” But I said it too fast and I know she didn’t believe me. And after that I got
so nervous I just threw the rest away.
ANDREA: What about Izzy?
CHELSEA: She’s the worst of all of them.
ANDREA: She’s been my friend since like second grade. She’s always been nice.
CHELSEA: She used to be. Until the Locker Room Incident. The other girls freaked out and made
a huge deal.
ANDREA: I don’t understand.
CHELSEA: You know I have PE first period.
ANDREA: Like a psycho.
CHELSEA: I had to so I could be in honors algebra and band! Anyway! I’m kind of tired in the
morning and not really paying attention and I zone out. You know how I zone.
ANDREA: You do be zoning.
CHELSEA: I zone all the time! But it’s worse in the morning. So we had just finished PE. And we
had our first swim day and we all went inside to change after. Some girls go in the bathroom
to change but there aren’t very many stalls so some of us change near the lockers. And my
locker is near Isabella’s. And I never know how to act when people change around me.
Do I close my eyes? Or look at my feet? Or just talk casually like we aren’t naked behind
our towels? It feels like everyone knows what to do except me. No one else’s forehead is
dripping. With sweat I mean. We’re all soaking from the pool and a lot of the girls have long
hair so that’s dripping and it’s kind of unsanitary if you think about—
ANDREA: Chelsea. Get to the point.
CHELSEA: Right. So I decided on staring at my feet because I’d tried the whole eyes closed thing
once and my shirt was on backwards when I was done. So I was staring at my feet and I kind
of zoned out. And I heard something or someone kind of slip and fall and Isabella made a
sound like—(she makes a little shriek that almost sounds like words) and I was concerned
and so I looked! And I only looked for a second! But she hadn’t gone—(she does the shriek
again). She said, “Oh my god, my towel fell!” So it might have looked like to the outside
observer that I heard her say, “my towel fell” and then I looked. But I didn’t! And, I looked
back at my feet immediately. I swear!
ANDREA: That’s not your fault, Chels. It doesn’t mean Izzy hates you.
CHELSEA: That wasn’t even the worst part. After I looked away, I heard Isabella turn to her
friends and say, “See? I told you she was.”
(Silence.)
CHELSEA: I think she thinks I’m—
ANDREA: No.

62
Ten(ish): Comedies
CHELSEA: But I’m not.

ANDREA: Of course not.
CHELSEA: Because I like—I mean I don’t like anyone right now because everyone at this school
is so stuck up and no one can measure up to Stiles Stilinski from Teen Wolf—but if I did like
someone it wouldn’t be someone like Isabella. She’s not even pretty, she just wears a lot of
make-up. Her eye lashes are always stuck together in ugly clumps.
ANDREA: They are huh?
(They share a small laugh. After a beat:)
ANDREA: You know, if you were—or if you did ever like someone, like Isabella—
CHELSEA: I just said I wouldn’t—
ANDREA: I know but if you did like someone, anyone, you know you could tell me.
CHELSEA: Even if it was a friend of yours?
ANDREA: I mean I’m not saying it wouldn’t be weird but you can still tell me. You could’ve told
me about the locker room.
CHELSEA: If I told you no one was coming, you would’ve slept over there in your room instead
of sleeping out here. Then it would just be me singing at 11:59: “Happy Birthday to meeeee.”
I thought maybe if we had fun, if we played all my games on the list, you might forget that
you were just here with your dorky little sister. Who does band instead of track. And isn’t
boy crazy. And is just…not good with friends.
(Silence as ANDREA thinks.)
ANDREA: Tomorrow’s your birthday, right?
CHELSEA: Duh. We’re at my Birthday-Living-Room-Sleep-Over.
ANDREA: And my birthday isn’t for another two and a half months. So, tonight at midnight,
you’ll be fourteen and I’ll be fourteen. So, you’ll be the older sister, too.
CHELSEA: That doesn’t make any sense.
ANDREA: Yes it does! Because when people ask how old I am, I usually say, “I’m fourteen
and nine months.” But now I’ll say, “I’m fourteen,” so no one will know. They might even
assume you’re older.
CHELSEA: If I’m the oldest, or tied for the oldest, I’m in charge?
ANDREA: Sure.
CHELSEA: First order of business, as the oldest and smartest—
ANDREA: I never said smartest. You may be able to guess mom and dad’s parental locks but
you’ve never guessed my password.
CHELSEA: That you know of.
ANDREA: I swear to god, Chels, if I find you CHELSEA: I’m kidding, I’m kidding!
snooping, I will break all your reeds
even the gross spit-covered ones.
CHELSEA: I swear I’m kidding. My first order of business: Isabella is officially uninvited!
ANDREA: Agreed!

63
Ten(ish): Comedies
CHELSEA: My second order of business: finishing my scary story!

(Lights go out. CHELSEA and ANDREA use their flashlights to illuminate their faces again. )
CHELSEA: The sound of howling got closer and closer as the girl shivered harder. “Vfvfvfvfvfvfvfvf!”
ANDREA: “OOOOOooooOOOO!” (She pants and snarls like a dog. Wow she’s really getting
into it.)
CHELSEA: Finally, the little lost girl saw them: a pack of werewolves! Dun dun DUN!
ANDREA: Luckily, the lost girl’s taller, but not older, sister got there just in time to help her fight!
CHELSEA: “Werewolves were supposed to be the good guys!”
ANDREA: “But…they have red glowing eyes!”
CHELSEA: “… They’re evil! Kill them ALL!”
ANDREA: The sister drew two swords, giving one to her shorter, but not younger, sister.
(They are both slashing and grunting! Its a rough fight!)
CHELSEA: But the werewolves fought back! Things weren’t looking good!
ANDREA: Until they remembered, our swords have silver in the—the—the handle part—
CHELSEA: The pummel.
ANDREA: Those things! And they hit them in the head! Boom! Bam!
CHELSEA: And all you can hear is the sound of werewolves dying!
ANDREA: “Ohhhh NOOOOOoooooOOOOOoooooOOO!”
(They continue to fight for the lives! But they are winning! In a moment of stillness, the
connect with each other.)
ANDREA: Happy Birthday to you.
CHELSEA: Happy Birthday to me.
(They embrace. Before one last battle cry together!)
(Blackout.)
End of Play.

64
A Tiny Talkback with Alle Mims
(ALLE MIMS enters jauntily, wearing workout clothes, despite the fact they haven’t been to
the gym in months, and takes their seat in the open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Alle Mims, who will
be chatting with us about their play, Happy Birthday to Me. Thanks for speaking with us
(They dab.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing Happy Birthday
to Me?
ALLE MIMS: The play is very much inspired by mine and my older sister’s very loving but at times
very contentious relationship growing up. We were very close in age, and that sometimes
meant we were best friends, but as we got older, she wanted to be more mature, and cool while
I felt stuck in the dork phase indefinitely. And the Locker Room Incident is also unfortunately
based on a real life event that I’m sure every young queer person can relate to.
writing?
ALLE MIMS: I recently read Blks by Aziza Barnes for the first time and think every Black
playwright should give it a read. I grew up with a lot of Mel Brooks and classic James Bond,
and I think those witty one-liners come through. My more historical plays are inspired by
Anna Deavere Smith and Lynn Nottage.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for Happy Birthday to Me, who would be in it?
ALLE MIMS: Halle Bailey as Andrea and Sky Jackson as Chelsea.
INTERVIEWER: What was the best birthday you ever had?
ALLE MIMS: In 2016, I graduated from college on the same day as my birthday, so it felt like the
whole school was celebrating me!
ALLE MIMS: I love writing with other people. My classmates and I will often get together, even if
it’s just on zoom, and write for hours at a time. If I can’t get any friends together, I usually go
to a busy coffee shop. I feel the pressure to be productive when I know people are around.
ALLE MIMS: Mattress tester.
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for Happy Birthday to Me and you’ve been asked by the

65
Ten(ish): Comedies
ALLE MIMS: “Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry, and then make ‘em laugh again.”
ALLE MIMS: A tail as long as it’s nimble enough to be useful! Perhaps a little curly hair on the
end that I can dye fun colors.
copy of Happy Birthday to Me. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate
you. What is the first question you ask them?
ALLE MIMS: Did they end capitalism yet?
Alle about Happy Birthday to Me, please feel free to reach out to inquiries@allemims.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. ALLE MIMS follows. They are met with thunderous applause
that makes them tear up a bit. The INTERVIEWER gestures to the playwright who takes a
polite bow before dabbing again.)
(Lights down.)

66
A Talkback
by
Patrick Greene

67
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
STAGEHAND
MODERATOR
PLAYWRIGHT
PLAYWRIGHT 2
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 1
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2
Author’s Note
This play can be performed after any other play. It doesn’t matter if the playwright of the
preceding play is alive or dead. There should be no attempt at all to make the PLAYWRIGHT
look at all like the actual playwright of the preceding play. Hell, you don’t even have to tell
your audience that there will be another play after the one they planned on seeing. Just tell them
there will be “A Talkback.” They will absolutely be confused, and that’s okay. Sometimes it can
be fun to not know what’s going to happen next…
Production Note
Character genders can be changed to suit the needs of the production. Feel free to change any
pronouns used in the script.

68
A Talkback
by Patrick Greene
(A stage. Maybe there is a set… From a play. From any play.)

(A STAGEHAND enters with a couple of folding chairs. They place them downstage, just off-
center facing the audience, but at an angle so that the occupants can easily converse with
one another. The sort of set-up you often see at a post-show talkback.)
(At this point, the STAGEHAND can either exit and then come immediately back on with
microphones and set them up at the chairs, or, if no mics are being used, simply exits.)
(After a moment, the MODERATOR, enters smiling and waving at the crowd. He catches the
eye of someone he knows in the audience and gives them a special wave.)
(The MODERATOR stands, facing the audience.)
MODERATOR: Hello. Hi. Thank you. (He spots someone in the audience and gives them a
wave.) How are you? Hi. Okay, well…wow. That was a great show, wasn’t it? (Waits for
applause. Maybe claps a bit himself.) And thank you for sticking around. Tonight is a special
night. We have the playwright here. How about that? (More applause.) I think she is about
ready to join us. (He looks offstage.) Is she ready? Great! Folks, here is our fearless playwright.
(The PLAYWRIGHT enters, all awkward smiles. She maybe trips a bit, or takes an awkward
route to the MODERATOR and the chairs. The MODERATOR shakes her hand. They take
their seats.)
MODERATOR: Hello, hello!
PLAYWRIGHT: Hi… Wow… Thank you!
MODERATOR: What a show! What a night!
PLAYWRIGHT: I know. Yeah. It’s great. I’m just so happy. So…so happy to be here.
MODERATOR: How are you tonight?
PLAYWRIGHT: I’m okay… A little nervous. I’m not used to being…up here.
MODERATOR: You’re gonna be great. Don’t worry. And we don’t bite, do we, folks?
(Some scattered audience laughter… Or maybe dead silence. It works either way.)
PLAYWRIGHT: That’s… That’s great to know. Thank you.
MODERATOR: (Suddenly getting very intense:) Which character is based on you?
PLAYWRIGHT: Oh… I… Uh, well, I wouldn’t say…that, uh,
MODERATOR: (Smiling wide:) I’m just messing with you. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t resist.
PLAYWRIGHT: (Trying to laugh it off:) No, that’s okay. You got me.
MODERATOR: But seriously, why is that always a question we ask writers?
PLAYWRIGHT: (Sort of just nodding. Waiting for a real question:) Oh, that wasn’t rhetorical?
MODERATOR: No.

69
Ten(ish): Comedies
PLAYWRIGHT: Oh, well, uh, I think it’s probably natural for people to want to know why a
writer wrote something. And that question, I think, comes from a place of wanting to know
what inspired a story.
MODERATOR: Hmmm. Yeah. Well, that’s very insightful. So in your opinion, it’s a fair question
to ask a writer?
PLAYWRIGHT: I mean, sure. It’s… I would say that it’s not always easy to answer, and I don’t
think it always gets to the root of why a writer has created something, but…yeah, it’s a fair
question.
MODERATOR: (Again serious:) So which character are you?
(The PLAYWRIGHT tries to laugh off the question, until she sees that the MODERATOR is
actually serious this time.)
PLAYWRIGHT: Well, uh, I guess I’d have to say that, in a way—
MODERATOR: Don’t say that a part of you is in all of the characters.
PLAYWRIGHT: Well, I…I would maybe put it a different way, but… I mean, I wrote it, so
literally, something of me is in each of these characters.
MODERATOR: I’ll allow it. (Completely switching gears:) So what about the ending?
PLAYWRIGHT: Oh, what do you…what do you mean?
MODERATOR: That’s what I’m asking you. What do you mean?
PLAYWRIGHT: You want me to explain the ending?
MODERATOR: Yes. And also what happens to all of the characters after the end of the play.
PLAYWRIGHT: Well, I think it’s more fun to leave it open to interpretation. I like to hear what
other people think about the ending. I have my version in my mind, but it’s more interesting
to hear what everyone got out of it.
MODERATOR: So you’re not gonna tell us, huh?
PLAYWRIGHT: No, I’m just saying, I don’t want my version of what happened to change what
other people feel about it.
MODERATOR: Did I write this play?
PLAYWRIGHT: Did… What?
MODERATOR: (Pointing to someone in the audience:) Did he?
PLAYWRIGHT: I… (Awkward chuckle:) Well, no…
MODERATOR: Artists, am I right folks? Just terrible, arrogant people.
PLAYWRIGHT: Excuse me?
MODERATOR: So you’re not going to answer the question? You’re gonna make me and these
folks do that for you?
PLAYWRIGHT: I just don’t think it’s my job to explain everything to you… I’m sorry are you
being serious?
MODERATOR: No, that’s okay. I understand. I think… I think we should get a different playwright
out here.
PLAYWRIGHT: What?

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Ten(ish): Comedies
MODERATOR: (Talking to someone unseen offstage:) Can we get a new playwright? And can
you take care of…? Thank you.
(The STAGEHAND enters and goes to the PLAYWRIGHT. They motion for the PLAYWRIGHT
to get up.)
PLAYWRIGHT: Are you kidding me?
MODERATOR: It’s just not working out.
PLAYWRIGHT: But I…
(The MODERATOR motion to the STAGEHAND to hurry it up, The STAGEHAND can grab
the PLAYWRIGHT here, or in some other way suggests they need to get moving.)
PLAYWRIGHT: (As she is escorted off:) But it’s my play…
MODERATOR: It’s all “Mine, mine, mine,” with these people. (Once the PLAYWRIGHT is off,
he switches to all smiles.) Folks, I’m thrilled to introduce to you our wonderful playwright.
(Applause. PLAYWRIGHT 2 enters and is all smiles. They should look very different from the
original playwright. PLAYWRIGHT 2 and MODERATOR shake hands and take their seats.)
MODERATOR: Let’s get right down to it.
PLAYWRIGHT 2: Sounds great.
MODERATOR: What happens in the end?
PLAYWRIGHT 2: They all died. Except for Little Billy, who’s there to serve as witness.
MODERATOR: I knew it.
PLAYWRIGHT 2: It’s powerful stuff, I know. I really want people to feel…emotions, you know?
MODERATOR: I felt those. I did. So…okay, they died, but do they end up in some sort of afterlife.
PLAYWRIGHT 2: Well, there are some things that I can’t reveal.
MODERATOR: Tell me!
PLAYWRIGHT 2: Yes, they do. Sort of a purgatory, but…not, if you know what I mean. Like,
it’s not bad, but it’s not good either, but it’s also kind of fun. Like a beautiful park on a warm
spring day, but it’s just a little too crowded. Like it’s nice out, but you wish not so many
people had the same idea as you.
MODERATOR: That’s happened to me.
PLAYWRIGHT 2: That’s why it’s so powerful. We can relate.
MODERATOR: Alright then, let’s open this up to the audience. They always have the most
insightful things to say. Who has a question for our playwright?
(The MODERATOR shields his eyes from the lights and looks out at the audience. He either
scans for an awkwardly long amount of time, or he immediately spots someone, like too
quickly.)
MODERATOR: You with the face. What’s your question?
(Someone in the audience stands up.)
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 1: Hi, this is a question for the playwright.
MODERATOR: Go ahead.

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Ten(ish): Comedies
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 1: Hi, I’m an actor. I’ve been in the business for…well, most of my
life. My mother got me into the craft when I was quite young. She’s here with me now.
There she is (He points to someone, anyone.) She doesn’t like to sit with me. It’s a long
story… Well, it’s not super long. She is my manager too. We had a recent dispute over some
residuals from a local TV spot I did last year. Slammin’ Sammy’s Wings ‘N Things on Route
12. I was Guy 1 who eats the wing and then says, “These are sooo slammin’” and high-
fives the waitress and she falls over. Funny story, she wasn’t supposed to fall over. Anyway,
Mother thinks the residuals should be governed under our old deal where she got eighty-
percent of my earnings. But as I explained, that was only when I lived in her basement, and
now that I don’t… I’m above the garage now, which is its own separate facility, it should be
under the new splits where she only gets seventy-percent. So that’s why she isn’t sitting next
to me, if you were wondering. But my question is, can you get me a job? Can you hire me
to act in something?
MODERATOR: (To PLAYWRIGHT 2:) Actually, do you mind if I field this one?
PLAYWRIGHT 2: No, go right ahead.
MODERATOR: (To AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 1:) You seem delightful, and you’re obviously
very talented, so let’s talk after. This theater can definitely use you.
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 1: Sweet. Thank you.
MODERATOR: (Very serious:) No. Thank you.
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 1: (To the random person they pointed to before:) You’re not getting
even seventy-percent of that, Mother!
MODERATOR: Okay, I think we have time for one more.
(MODERATOR once again scans the audience—too long, or too short.)
MODERATOR: Yes, you with the terrifying grin.
(Someone else from the audience stands.)
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: Hi, I’m Sheila,* first time, long time.
MODERATOR: First time, long time, what?
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: It’s the first time asking a question at a talkback, but I’ve wanted
to for a long time.
MODERATOR: Makes sense. Continue.
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: This is for the playwright.
MODERATOR: Go ahead.
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: May I bite you?
(MODERATOR turns to PLAYWRIGHT 2, expectantly.)
MODERATOR: Hmmm. Interesting.
PLAYWRIGHT 2: Uh… I think… I don’t understand.
MODERATOR: She said, “May I bite you?”.
PLAYWRIGHT 2: No, I… I heard, I just… I don’t understand what she means.
* This name can be changed if needed.

72
Ten(ish): Comedies
MODERATOR: No, that’s okay. (To AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2:) And please step in here if I
am misinterpreting, (Back to PLAYWRIGHT 2:) I think what she is asking is, can she come
up on stage and bite into your flesh?
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: It doesn’t have to be on stage. It could be backstage.
MODERATOR: (To PLAYWRIGHT 2:) Doesn’t have to be on stage. Could be backstage. So…?
PLAYWRIGHT 2: I’m…I’m not gonna let her bite me.
MODERATOR: I get it… Just another artist who doesn’t respect his audience.
PLAYWRIGHT 2: (Under his breath:) I’m not even really the writer.
MODERATOR: You know what, folks, let’s just have Sheila come up here. Come on up here,
Sheila.
(AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2 goes up on stage.)
PLAYWRIGHT 2: Uh, I don’t know how I feel about—
MODERATOR: Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, so Sheila, so why is it that you want to bite the playwright?
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: Oh, well, I am a bloodthirsty vampire.
MODERATOR: Oh, okay, wonderful.
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: Yeah, I and I just love taste of artists’ blood. Before I was turned,
I liked foods that were a bit more bitter. I liked strong coffee, really dark chocolate… And
since I became a vampire, I have found playwrights have the most bitter blood. It’s delicious.
MODERATOR: That’s fascinating. Thank you for sharing that. Well then, what does our illustrious
playwright have to say?
PLAYWRIGHT 2: I… No, I… Don’t want to be—
(AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2 pounces on PLAYWRIGHT 2, biting their neck. If you can do
gratuitous blood effects, great! But they are not required. AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2 takes
PLAYWRIGHT 2 to the ground. PLAYWRIGHT 2 may or may not yelp in agony.)
MODERATOR: I think that is about all the time we have. Thank you so much for staying for our
talkback. As always, it’s been enlightening. Get home safe, folks.
(AUDIENCE PARTICPANT 2 pops up, preferably wiping blood from her mouth.)
MODERATOR: You know, if you’re still hungry, there’s another playwright backstage.
AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2: Really?
(MODERATOR makes some sort of odd hand gesture to indicate that he is, in fact, telling
the truth.)
(AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT 2 runs offstage, followed by a SCREAM from offstage.)
(The MODERATOR smiles and waves at the audience.)
(Lights out.)
End of Play.

73
A Tiny Talkback with Patrick Greene
(PATRICK GREENE enters. He is in black and white and looks as if he just returned from an
Arctic expedition in the early 1900s. PATRICK takes his seat in the open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Patrick Greene, who
will be chatting with us about his play, A Talkback… which is certainly very meta. Thanks
for speaking with us today. Shall we begin?
(PATRICK attempts to adjust his “resting scowl face” into a smile. It’s…not pleasant.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing A Talkback?
PATRICK GREENE: I had recently attended a friend’s play, and he had to sit through a talkback
afterward. I myself have never been invited to talk after one of my shows…until now. How
am I doing?
INTERVIEWER: Terrible… Just kidding… So, what are some of your favorite comedies that have
inspired or influenced your writing?
PATRICK GREENE: The absurdity that is life on this planet…and also Pee-wee Herman.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for A Talkback, who would be in it?
PATRICK GREENE: Paul Reubens as the Moderator. Ian McWethy as the Playwright. Me as
Playwright 2. Mother as Audience Member 1 and Father as Audience Member 2.
INTERVIEWER: You mean your mother and father?
PATRICK GREENE: (Suddenly scary:) Next question!
INTERVIEWER: Okay… Uh… What’s your ideal writing scenario? Mornings at a crowded coffee
shop? Alone at night in an attic? What?
PATRICK GREENE: Nothing too fancy…just on a ship in the middle of the ocean on a star-filled
night.
PATRICK GREENE: I like bread a lot.
INTERVIEWER: So…a baker?
PATRICK GREENE: No. I don’t like to bake. I want to be paid to eat bread.
INTERVIEWER: Moving on… It’s opening night for A Talkback and you’ve been asked by the
PATRICK GREENE: Where’s the bread?

74
Ten(ish): Comedies
PATRICK GREENE: I once knew a tri-armed fellow, and also a lady with a tail. Tri-arms are more
useful. Tails are more fun.
copy of A Talkback. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate you. What
PATRICK GREENE: Where’s the—
INTERVIEWER: Don’t say, “Where’s the bread?”.
PATRICK GREENE: …the…
INTERVIEWER: Don’t…
PATRICK GREENE: Where’s the bread? (He laughs, as if victorious. It’s…not pleasant.)
INTERVIEWER: Alright, I think that is about all of the time we have. If you have any more
questions for Patrick, and I can’t imagine why you would, please feel free to reach out to
patrickgreeneplays@gmail.com
(The INTERVIEWER stands. PATRICK GREENE remains sitting. The INTERVIEWER motions
for PATRICK to get up. PATRICK does not move. He stares at the audience. The INTERVIEWER
gives up and walks off. PATRICK remains on stage until everyone has left the theater.)
(Lights down.)

75
The Bargain
by
Kathryn Funkhouser

76
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
DAN, a humanoid demon who fancies himself a suave film-noir, Twilight-Zone type of trickster,
but doesn’t totally pull it off. Feels a bit unappreciated.
SARAH, a nerd who leans towards the goth end of the spectrum, a bit of a mess about basic life
stuff but very sensible in a crisis.
MARCY, any gender, a terrifying demon, less humanoid than Dan. Fond of him, but exasperated
by his drama. Could pop into existence when needed, or also be a disembodied voice.
Casting Note
Character genders are flexible for this play—feel free to modify pronouns for any character to
suit your cast and production.

77
The Bargain
by Kathryn Funkhouser
(DAN, a sinister figure in a trench coat and hat who seems like he’s stepped out of an
episode of The Twilight Zone, addresses us.)
DAN: It’s a beautiful night. A quiet night on a quiet street in a place that just might be anywhere,
USA. There’s a wind blowing down this way. A chill. There, do you feel it? That’s the wind
that I rode into town. I’m here on business. But there’s not a soul expecting me tonight. No
one ever does.
Not my kind.
Yes it’s quiet on this little street, in this town. Maybe it’s your town. Maybe it’s—
MARCY: (A terrifying demon popping into existence, or the voice of one:) —It’s Queens.
DAN: That’s right. And tonight, that’s where—
MARCY: —You’re in Queens, Dan.
DAN: Well, I know that I’m in Queens, Marcy, I was getting to Queens. It was a rhetorical device.
MARCY: I told you weeks ago, this is the one time I need to get out of here at a reasonable hour.
DAN: We all want more time, Marcy. (To us, trying to recapture the moment:) In fact, that’s
what the souls of the damned are screaming when I take them.
MARCY: You have the address, right?
DAN: I have it. As surely as I will have her soul.
MARCY: Come on, we’ve done so well since we got assigned to work together, we’ve already
made our numbers for the quarter. Everyone else has gone to the lake of fire for the weekend,
is there any way you can just, I don’t know, calm down a little bit so we can get out of here?
DAN: Excuse ME if SOME of us actually have a shot at Employee of the Month this month and
maybe don’t actually have PLANS this weekend—
MARCY: Okay, hey, Dan. Buddy.
DAN: I said YOU could call me Dan, I did not say EVERYONE could call me Dan, and here in
this professional context I would APPRECIATE it if I am known as RZOHNDANIEL DUKE
OF SHADOWS, OKAY?
MARCY: Geez, okay. Call me on the amulet when you’re ready to close.
(MARCY disappears.)
DAN: (Turning back to the audience:) …A quiet town, on a quiet street. A cool night, just like
the night when Sarah Nickleby swore she’d sell her soul to the devil for an affordable one-
bedroom off the NQR. Something popped up in the listings, yes. She got what she wanted.
But in that same instant, a name popped into a very old book where my boss gets our
assignments. And he’s going to get what he wants too.
(SARAH is unpacking some household stuff. DAN glides into the apartment supernaturally.)
DAN: Meet Sarah Nickleby, an everyday girl who took one wrong turn into darkness. Could be
any one of you. Could be—

78
Ten(ish): Comedies
SARAH: (Noticing him all of a sudden:) Oh hi, you’re the super? Come on in, it’s right over here.
(A faint MEOW from just offstage. DAN stops short as if he has just spotted a land mine.)
Sorry it’s such a mess still. I’m Sarah, by the way.
DAN: There are many… Who call me… Dan.
SARAH: …Okay. Well, good to meet you.
(Another meow.)
Oh don’t mind Banana. She’s kind of loud with people she doesn’t know.
DAN: Oh, she knows me.
SARAH: Sorry I should have asked, are you allergic?
DAN: No, I. I can go about my business. (Raising his voice so the cat can hear:) Whatever CATS
might THINK ABOUT IT.
SARAH: …Great. Okay. Well, uh, so this is the outlet, um I’m not sure if it’s my lamp or the
electrical thing… (She can indicate an onstage or offstage light.) So I was hoping you could
take a look.
DAN: Yes.
SARAH: Alright. Um, would you like a water, or…?
DAN: Yes. Please.
SARAH: Be right back.
(Flustered: DAN pulls out a sinister-looking amulet and does something supernatural to
summon MARCY, who is being impressive for the mortal.)
MARCY: THE PORTAL IS OPEN AND DESPAIR IS THINE. WRETCHED SOULS—
DAN: —Just me.
MARCY: Oh. Sorry,
DAN: I don’t recall giving the signal.
MARCY: You change the signal every time .
DAN: It doesn’t matter. We have a situation. There’s a cat here.
MARCY: (Genuine:) Oh, man, are you okay?
DAN: Yeah. Yeah. It’s. It’s keeping its distance but. You know, it definitely knows.
MARCY: Alright, look, why don’t you come back to headquarters, we’ll file a report, and pick
this all back up on Monday.
DAN: You just want to go.
MARCY: Dan, I always work late when you ask me too. This is the one time I told you I have
dinner plans. I told you weeks ago. It’s been on the calendar. The cat could blow your cover
any minute. This is going to take forever.
DAN: You know maybe if you were more serious about your work and less concerned about
your dinner, maybe we’d get something done around here.
MARCY: Excuse me, my numbers are consistently excellent. You just don’t have any respect for
anybody else’s time.

79
Ten(ish): Comedies
DAN: We get it, you have “weekend plans,” look who’s the BIGGEST DEAL in the WHOLE
realm of shadow—
SARAH: (Just off, talking to the cat:) Hey Banana, still meowin’ away over there?
DAN: Alright, she’s coming back. We’re going to fast-track this one before the cat catches on.
The signal is when I say “The nightmare begins.”
MARCY: Oh come on.
DAN: Stand by. Be ready to move.
MARCY: We’re partners. I don’t work for you.
DAN: Just do it, Marcy.
MARCY: WOW.
(She disappears as DAN puts the amulet back in his pocket. He snaps his fingers and the
broken light pops on a moment before SARAH re-enters)
SARAH: Oh, you fixed it!
DAN: So it seems.
SARAH: Oh my god, thank you so much, you know in my old apartment you’d have to call like
five times before somebody would come take a look at things.
(Another offstage MEOW.)
Banana! Stop being weird!
DAN: So you really wanted a new apartment?
SARAH: I cannot stress ENOUGH how badly I had to get out of there. Shut up, Banana. I’m so sorry.
DAN: Would you say that you’d do…anything?
(This is a little weird.)
SARAH: Oh. Um, what do you mean?
DAN: Would you, say…sell your soul?
SARAH: (Relieved:) Oh, god, sure! Haha, I was like, this guy’s being kind of creepy all of a
sudden! Yeah, no, I definitely did say that.
DAN: (Now in his element, this is what he lives for:) SO. You sold your soul to the devil. And
NOW. Hell has come to collect.
(DAN makes something clearly supernatural and spooky happen! Music? A magic trick? Be
creative! SARAH is startled and freaked out but takes it pretty well considering:)
Behold, the wages of hubris! BEHOLD, the DOOM that awaits your WRETCHED SOUL.
BEHOLD, AS THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS!
(He gestures, waiting for MARCY to take his cue. Nothing happens. He decides to vamp for
a minute.)
DAN: THE NIGHTMARE from which there is no waking, FOREVER! The nightmare that you
CREATED for YOURSELF in an IRONIC TWIST. THE NIGHTMARE BEGINSSSS!
(Nothing happens. Even SARAH’s kind of catching on that something’s not totally working
for DAN. DAN, agitated, takes out his amulet, tries to activate it.)

80
Ten(ish): Comedies
DAN: THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS, MARCY. COME ON. Are you serious right now?
SARAH: Uh, is something supposed to be happening?
DAN: SILENCE, mortal! Your begging will not save you.
SARAH: No I mean, I can’t believe it!
DAN: And thiiiiis is the price you pay. This isn’t funny, Marcy!
SARAH: Wait, can Banana see demons?
DAN: It’s a mystery of the universe that you can never fathom.
(He gives up in frustration.)
SARAH: She totally can! She’s never this meowy! And now she won’t come out from under the
bed. Hey. Are you okay?
(DAN has buried his head in his hands.)
DAN: I’m supposed to drag you to hell.
SARAH: So it’s like a comeuppance thing, right?
DAN: I really need this, you know? I work all the time, if I’m not employee of the month then
it’s like, what am I even doing, right? It’s not like I have anything else going on.
SARAH: Okay, well we’re gonna have to unpack some of that, but first, uh, is there a reason
we’re not in hell right now?
DAN: My partner was supposed to open the portal but I— I was being a jerk I guess, I think they
left for the weekend. Hey, you know, I’ve revealed to a lot of people that I’m a demon taking
them to hell, but you seem to be very calm about it.
SARAH: Well, I mean, this isn’t how I thought this was going to go, but frankly, I’m feeling very
validated,
DAN: Wait. What?
SARAH: I mean, you’re Rzhondaniel, Duke of Shadows, right?
DAN: What are you???? How do you know that???
SARAH: I’m the admin for urbanlegendsalive.com.
DAN: I’m an urban legend?
SARAH: You’re one of our most popular cryptids! The fics about you are my favorite!
DAN: Really? People…like me? I mean, I drag people to hell and everything so I didn’t think…
SARAH: I mean, our whole audience is goths and weirdos so that’s not a dealbreaker for them.
People like your whole noir thing? Like the trench coat and everything?
DAN: Marcy always makes fun of my trench coat.
SARAH: I mean, I’ve been running this website for years but I was really starting to think like
“what am I doing here” you know? Like I’m this adult woman still doing this thing I started
as a hobby, and it’s not like I’m getting paid, and then I’m moderating this absolutely brutal
argument about whether or not the Loch Ness Monster is gay and I’m like, I’m a joke.
Nobody even appreciates that I’m doing this. But if you’re real, like even if I’m going to
hell—which, fair—this thing I’ve spent years building actually meant something and… I
think that’s pretty cool.

81
Ten(ish): Comedies
DAN: Okay, so first of all, you can’t tell anybody I told you, but I think she would want me to
correct the record: The Loch Ness Monster is bisexual.
SARAH: That’s what I said!
DAN: But people talk about me too?
SARAH: Yeah, do you want to see your page? (She pulls it up on a device.) Some people write
stories or do art about you, then there’s a whole wiki about what’s canon—
DAN: Whoa, is that me kissing the Babadook?
SARAH: Yeah, fair warning, a lot of this is pretty uh—graphic.
DAN: No, I mean the pencil work is exquisite. Somebody spent a lot of time of this!
SARAH: (Proud:) It really is a very dedicated fandom. I wonder who’ll step up to run it when
I’m in hell?
DAN: Oh.
SARAH: There’s a few commenters that have been around for a while but Bob’s on Australia
time—
DAN: (Getting some kind of message from the amulet:) Sorry, one second.
(MARCY pops back into existence, but can only see DAN. SARAH resignedly prepares
herself for hell, maybe putting on a sweater or putting her hair up or something.)
MARCY: Okay, I felt bad.
DAN: Marcy, look. I want to apologize. I was being a jerk.
MARCY: You were, but I couldn’t leave you the whole weekend with a cat. Okay, so what’s the
plan, you want to monologue at the mortal again, and then I’ll open the gate when you say
“it’s a nightmare” or whatever?
DAN: (Looks at SARAH:) You know— You were right. I think our numbers are really good
actually. It’s going to be a real hassle with the cat and everything. Let’s just call it a day.
(SARAH mouths “thank you.” DAN gives a thumbs-up.)
MARCY: Are you sure?
DAN: It was kind of a technicality anyway, let’s be honest.
MARCY: Okay, well I’m going to dash but maybe we can do drinks on Monday?
DAN: Really?! I mean, sure that would be great!
MARCY: Have a good weekend.
(MARCY pops out of existence.)
DAN: (To SARAH:) I was never here.
SARAH: Gotcha. I will tell your story. The story of Rzohndaniel, Duke of Shadows.
DAN: Oh, you can totally call me Dan.
(He snaps his fingers to disappear into the blackout as Banana meows a final time.)
End of Play.

82
A Tiny Talkback with Kathryn Funkhouser
uncomfortable plastic chairs. They set them down stage center, angled towards each other.
(KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER tap-dances onstage in a ferocious display of razzle-dazzle, then
takes her seat in the open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Kathryn Funkhouser,
who will be chatting with us about her play, The Bargain. Thanks for speaking with us today.
Shall we begin?
(KATHRYN jauntily tips her bowler hat in invitation.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing The Bargain?
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: I was watching a lot of the original Twilight Zone and thinking
about the standard pattern of “selling your soul” stories—the human is approached by a
(usually kind of cool) agent of evil, makes a deal that seems to work out, then gets their
comeuppance for trying to game the system. I liked the idea of turning that pattern around
on the agent of evil—it’s always fun when big, mythical figures are insecure.
writing?
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: Some of the biggest influences that apply to this piece would be the
book Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Buffy, What We Do In the Shadows
(both film and TV show), and short-form humor writers in the Weird Internet sphere of the
late aughts–early 2010s (shoutout to The Toast).
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for The Bargain, who would be in it?
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: Jon Hamm for Dan because he could nail the Rod Serling thing and
the comedy; a deadpan cool-girl comedian for Sarah like Aubrey Plaza or Ayo Edebiri; and
Bowen Yang in an ornate demon costume for Marcy, because I feel like his voice cadence
is how I hear the character in my head, especially when proclaiming things.
INTERVIEWER: What’s the most mundane thing you would sell your soul for? (And if not “sell,”
then maybe “rent.”)
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: A dishwasher would be totally worth it. (New York, am I right?)
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: A long afternoon on my couch, then to a coffee shop with good
pastries for a change of scene when I get frustrated, then back to my couch, into the night.
All other responsibilities on hold, copious snack breaks, and a hard deadline of tomorrow.
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: I feel like I’d be a decent detective. Unbeatable aesthetics, and I
like to dig for proof.

83
Ten(ish): Comedies
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for The Bargain and you’ve been asked by the director to say
something to the cast backstage. In one line, what would you say to them?
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: “I’m proud to be in the presence of such an extraordinary group of
artists, which makes it difficult to tell you that unfortunately I will need to collect the soul of
anyone who skips a line after the show.”
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: Third arm, for holding an iced coffee while you do other things.
copy of The Bargain. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate you. What
KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER: “So what, I’m the fish-out-of-water protagonist of this dystopia now?”
Kathryn about The Bargain, please feel free to reach out to info@yourstagepartners.com or
kathryn@kathrynfunkhouser.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. KATHRYN FUNKHOUSER begins tap-dancing towards the
exit, but the INTERVIEWER has been secretly studying the choreography and shocks her
by joining in. The result is a marvel of showmanship as they tippety-tap offstage in perfect
unison.)
(Lights down.)

84
Eating Crayons
by
Ryan M. Bultrowicz

85
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
EMILY—any age, female

VERONICA—any age, female
NICK—any age, male

86
Eating Crayons
by Ryan M. Bultrowicz
(Lights up. Three actors are facing upstage. Each has a crayon in their hand. When not
speaking as an individual, the actors facing away from the audience represent the CHORUS.
EMILY turns around and steps forward.)
EMILY: This crayon. This monster.
(EMILY holds out a green crayon. )
EMILY: Jungle green. The color of this crayon and the color of my face that day after my perilous
mid-morning snack during story time with Mrs. Schmidt.
(Still facing away from the audience, the CHORUS lifts their crayons into the air.)
CHORUS: Jungle green! You tormentor! You fiend!
EMILY: I was six years old and I didn’t know any better. My best friend, Shelby, let me borrow
her new box of crayons. The special back-to-school sixty-four pack.
(The CHORUS gets in B-Boy stance.)
CHORUS: With the sharpener?
EMILY: No. Shelby wasn’t that bourgeois.
(The CHORUS reverts back to neutral. )
EMILY: You know, people really try to dig down deep into the psychology of it. They ask—
CHORUS: Why are the kids eating the crayons?
EMILY: Mommy blog after mommy blog dedicated to finding an answer. Countless papers
about child psychology. It’s an oral fixation. It’s an iron deficiency. It’s the devil inside them.
(The CHORUS raises their hands to the sky.)
CHORUS: Lord have mercy!
EMILY: Simple truth of the matter is…they just look delicious. I mean, come on. You’re telling
me this doesn’t look like a piece of candy?
(EMILY showcases the crayon.)
EMILY: It even has a wrapper. Children are voyagers of the sea and crayons are our sirens.
(The CHORUS begins to hum in harmony.)
EMILY: So, I decided to try one. Crunch.
(The CHORUS hums louder.)
EMILY: And it didn’t taste like anything. But I did like the texture. So…in goes another. Crunch.
(The humming gets even louder.)
EMILY: Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Until finally Mrs. Schmidt sees me shove the final crayon, that
jungle green crayon into my mouth and says:

87
CHORUS: Emily! What on earth are you doing?
EMILY: Those big, shocked eyes. The things I could’ve said to her.
CHORUS: Indulging! Treating myself! Spiritual enlightenment, woman!
EMILY: Instead, I said: “I’m just eating some crayons, Mrs. Schmidt!” Then I spewed wax chunks
and that morning’s breakfast all over my desk.
(The CHORUS makes over-exaggerated throwing-up noises.)
CHORUS: Taste the rainbow!
EMILY: The nurse said I was lucky. I could’ve gotten wax poisoning and died from an intestinal
obstruction. I remember asking if I’d beaten the world record for most crayons eaten. Kids
care about the most trivial things.
(Pause.)
EMILY: I lost two things that day. My breakfast…and my best friend. Turns out Shelby wasn’t too
happy with me after I turned her sixty-four crayons into a mucky, colorful stomach paste.
I betrayed her trust. I betrayed her trust sixty-four times. That kind of thing can really hurt
a six-year-old’s reputation, too. People started talking about me behind my back. Saying I
lacked integrity. Fellow six-year-olds telling me I lacked integrity!
(The CHORUS whispers to each other.)
EMILY: And so, I made a vow. A vow to never eat a crayon again. It was bad for my body. It was
bad for my mind. And it was bad for my soul. Don’t be like me. Don’t eat crayons.
(EMILY stares at the crayon in her hand with a deep hatred.)
EMILY: Never. Again.
CHORUS: Never again!
(EMILY returns to the CHORUS line. VERONICA turns around and steps forward.)
VERONICA: It was an earth-shaking event for me.
(The CHORUS stomps their feet.)
VERONICA: The first and only time I ever ate a crayon. It was my Icarus moment. I pushed my
luck and I was punished for it.
(Pause.)
VERONICA: They had a name for me in the cafeteria. Veronica the Vacuum!
(The CHORUS makes vacuum noises.)
VERONICA: Pass a few quarters my way and I would eat anything for anybody. Mixed some
mayonnaise in your pudding?
CHORUS: Give Veronica a taste!
VERONICA: Soaked your bologna in strawberry milk?
VERONICA: Lunch-lady hair lurking in your lasagna?

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Ten(ish): Comedies
VERONICA: I know, I know. Disgusting. But it was like my superpower and it made me a couple
of bucks every week or so. To a kid, a couple of bucks feels like a couple of hundred bucks.
(The CHORUS pumps their fists in the air.)
CHORUS: Ca-ching!
VERONICA: It made me popular, too. Kids care about that kind of thing. People knew I could
eat any food they put in front of me without spewing it up. I was the belle of the lunchroom
ball…until little Randall Lincolns presented me with a new challenge. He walked right up
to my lunch table, with this smug smile on his filthy face, pulled out a lint-covered crayon
from his pockets and said:
CHORUS: You can eat anything? Bet you can’t eat this crayon!
VERONICA: Stupid little boy! You just challenged the monarch of munching! The deity of
digestion! And your embarrassment, your execution, will be swift and merciless! That’s what
I thought to myself as the crayon passed into my hand.
(VERONICA holds up an orange crayon.)
VERONICA: An alloy orange crayon. It’s either going to taste like the fruit…or it’s going to taste
like a handful of pennies. I didn’t realize at the time crayons are just made of wax…
CHORUS: Facts!
VERONICA: Didn’t matter what it was made of. Didn’t matter how it tasted. I put that crayon
in my mouth and started chewing. Crunch. Then I swallowed. Then it was over. Cheering,
applause, the works. I’d proven myself the apex predator of the cafeteria.
(The CHORUS applauds and cheers.)
VERONICA: Word spread how I gobbled that crayon like it was nothing. I was the girl who
could eat anything. Not just food anymore! I was living the high life…until some teachers
caught wind of me and what I was doing during lunch.
CHORUS: Dun, dun, duuuuuun!
VERONICA: They forced a confession. They made me tell them about all about the nasty things
I ate…including the crayon. The crayon that broke the camel’s back. Somehow eating a
crayon was just taking it too far—they made an assumption that I was pretty slow up here.
(VERONICA taps at her temple.)
VERONICA: They moved me into this special class.
(The CHORUS does air quotes at the word “special.”)
VERONICA: It was a bunch of kids who were deemed dummies just because they didn’t learn
in the exact same way as all the other kids. That’s the public school system for you—punish
uniqueness! Squash it like a bug…
(The CHORUS squashes an invisible bug.)
VERONICA: Once you’re in those classes, you are IN those classes. My entire time in the public
school system, I was in those special classes. And you know what? I made great friends in
those classes. Great, smart, compassionate friends.
(Pause.)

89
Ten(ish): Comedies
VERONICA: Did I ever eat a crayon again? No. Do I wish I never ate that crayon? Heck no! No.
Regrets.
CHORUS: No regrets!
(VERONICA returns to the CHORUS line. NICK turns around and steps forward.)
NICK: I hate my job. I hate my job with a burning passion. I work in IT and I spend my days
fixing people’s problems. Really simple problems. I mean, a child could solve some of these
problems. And whenever I have to deal with these frustrating, rude people…all I see is red.
(Pause.)
NICK: My boss is the worst one. He’s an incompetent, ill-mannered, ignoramus. He’s always
walking around chewing bubble gum. With his mouth open! The sound…ugh.
(The CHORUS chews loudly.)
NICK: This one day…everything at work is just going wrong.
CHORUS: Wrong, wrong, wrong!
NICK: And I run out to the parking lot to get a breath of fresh air and I’m seeing the red. I mean,
really seeing the red! I’m sweating. My blood pressure’s spiking. I can’t see anything but red!
But then…time stops. Happier memories flow in. Happy memories of red.
(NICK holds out a red crayon.)
NICK: Brick red. Just like this crayon.
(Pause.)
NICK: Crayons remind me of when I was just an innocent, responsibility-free, little kid. With my
baby fat and chubby cheeks.
CHORUS: Awwww.
NICK: I used to snack on these things actually.
(NICK laughs.)
NICK: It got so bad that whenever I wanted to color, I needed to be under parental supervision.
The all-seeing eye of adults. You know, in most cases, eating crayons is harmless. Sure, you
might get the tummy rumbles.
(The CHORUS rubs their stomachs.)
NICK: And if you eat, like a ton, I guess some bad stuff could start to happen. But who can really
do that? Most of us kids who ate crayons would kind of just munch on one at a time. It was
fun. You got to see the indentation of your teeth in the wax. Super cool.
(Pause.)
NICK: I long to go back to a time when I didn’t have to work at a meaningless, soul-sucking job
for eight hours a day. A time where my biggest concern was figuring out a way to chew on
crayons without getting caught by my parents. Crunch.
(NICK looks longingly at the crayon.)
NICK: Brick red was always my favorite. There was something just slightly different about its
texture. Grittier, I guess. Being an adult…
CHORUS: Taxes! Budgeting! Insurance!

90
Ten(ish): Comedies
NICK: Well, it can really suck sometimes. But no one can go back to the past. It’s nice to have
the memories. I’ll always feel this twinge of happiness when I see a crayon. But my crayon
crunching days are over. I can’t go back to those magical times—but maybe I can make my
future better.
(Pause.)
NICK: And so, I came out of my parking lot trance with a new sense of purpose and inspiration
from my crayon-filled memories. I marched into my office and told my boss:
CHORUS: I quit!
NICK: I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I just knew it was right. I knew
it was magical. I’m going to forget my frustrations and focus on my freedom! Thank you,
crayons.
CHORUS: Thank you, crayons!
(NICK returns to the CHORUS line. Each person holds up their crayon, turns around and
steps forward.)
EMILY: Jungle green.
VERONICA: Alloy orange.
NICK: Brick red.
EMILY: These are the crayons our childhood was made of.
VERONICA: The crayons we played with.
NICK: The crayons we colored with.
EMILY: A rainbow in a box.
VERONICA: Sharp sticks of wax.
NICK: Vivacious tubes of glee.
EMILY: Our imagination.
VERONICA: Our expression.
NICK: Our childhood.
ALL: These are the crayons we ate.
(Blackout.)
End of Play.

91
A Tiny Talkback with Ryan M. Bultrowicz
(RYAN M. BULTROWICZ enters, throwing crayons out to the audience, and takes his seat
in the open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Ryan M. Bultrowicz,
who will be chatting with us about his play, Eating Crayons. Thanks for speaking with us
(RYAN M. BULTROWICZ gives two enthusiastic thumbs up, the audience swoons.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing Eating Crayons?
RYAN M. BULTROWICZ: Let me say right off the bat—I was NOT a crayon-eating kid. For
anyone who continues to perpetuate that rumor, you’ll be hearing from my legal team. To
answer the question, I’ll often extrapolate images from my dreams and then build plays/
narrative around them. So, at some point I must have dreamt about crayons!
writing?
RYAN M. BULTROWICZ: Anything written by Albert Camus or Franz Kafka—those aren’t
traditionally considered comedic, but they reflect truths about our world and how we act
in it and, to me, there’s inherent comedy in truth. We often don’t realize how absurdist our
lives are until someone holds a mirror up to us.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for Eating Crayons, who would be in it?
RYAN M. BULTROWICZ: Danny Trejo, Jack Nicholson, and Cher.
INTERVIEWER: If you could magically make one crayon color edible, which would you pick?
What does it taste like?
RYAN M. BULTROWICZ: Well, first of all—anything can be edible if you try hard enough, no
magic required. That’s not a challenge, though so don’t go eat anything crazy and then try to
blame me when your stomach turns against you. I think a purple acai bowl flavored crayon
would be an absolute delight, though.
RYAN M. BULTROWICZ: On a yacht. I’ve never been on a yacht, but doesn’t that sound lovely?
A yacht can make anything better. If you have a yacht and want me to write plays on it…
hit me up.
RYAN M. BULTROWICZ: Bank robber. If I didn’t have writing, I’d need something equally as
intense to provide me with the adrenaline rush I’ve grown so accustomed to from creating
plays.

92
Ten(ish): Comedies
copy of Eating Crayons. Using their cool future technology, they are able to recreate you.
RYAN M. BULTROWICZ: Have any aliens performed my plays?
Ryan about Eating Crayons, please feel free to reach out to Ryan.Bultrowicz@gmail.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. RYAN M. BULTROWICZ follows. They execute an extremely
impressive leap-frog chain as they exit the stage.)
(Lights down.)

93
Muddy Death and Strudel
by
Jason Pizzarello

94
Ten(ish): Comedies
Cast of Characters
EDGAR
MARTHA
BRUNO

95
Muddy Death and Strudel
by Jason Pizzarello
(A well-decorated flat in a well-decorated neighborhood. Day. EDGAR, 50/60s, wearing a

tie and sweater vest, sits at the kitchen table holding a glass of water. He doesn’t look well.
His wife MARTHA, who looks tired if nothing else, is at the door opening it for BRUNO.
BRUNO is a brute in a suit. Not slick, but professional. He carries a leather doctor bag.
MARTHA has to hold the door open wider and gesture for him to come in before he does.
He takes a good long look at EDGAR, then crosses to a window and peeks out of the blinds.)
MARTHA: (To BRUNO:) Tea?
BRUNO: Please.
(MARTHA exits.)
EDGAR: You must be Mr. Crabtree?
BRUNO: And if I wasn’t? Could I still stay for tea?
EDGAR: I’m fine with it. Not much to lose.
BRUNO: And what about your wife, Mr. Beere? Does she got anything to lose?
EDGAR: Please. Call me Edgar.
BRUNO: Call me Jeremy.
EDGAR: Nice to meet you, Jeremy. Please sit. Now that you’ve checked the window or what is
on the other side of the window. Consider this a “safe home.”
BRUNO: I’m very thorough.
EDGAR: So I hear.
(MARTHA returns from off with tea. Hands it to BRUNO. Some for EDGAR, and herself.)
BRUNO: Thank you, Ms. Beere.
MARTHA: Please. Call me, Martha.
BRUNO: Call me, Bruno.
MARTHA: (With a giggle:) Okay. I’ve never met a Bruno before.
EDGAR: Either have I. What happened to Jeremy?
BRUNO: I’m a man of many aliases.
MARTHA: So your real name isn’t Bruno?
BRUNO: No, it is.
MARTHA: Oh good.
(EDGAR slides a piece of paper across the table.)
BRUNO: Is this it?
(EDGAR nods. BRUNO opens his bag and sticks his hand in. MARTHA gasps. BRUNO gives
her a look.)

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Ten(ish): Comedies
MARTHA: Sorry.
(BRUNO pulls out a white glove. He puts it on before picking up the list. BRUNO tries to
read it, before going in the bag again. MARTHA gasps and covers her mouth. BRUNO takes
out a pair of reading glasses, puts them on.)
BRUNO: You have very small handwriting.
EDGAR: I’m not a wasteful man.
(BRUNO sips his tea and reads the list. MARTHA gives EDGAR a little kiss on the forehead.)
BRUNO: And is this in any sort of order? Preference or what not?
EDGAR: No. Yes. That’s… I’d prefer not to die at all, haha, but seeing as that’s how my hand is
playing out I’d like to have control somewhat of the means by which this glorious flame is
extinguished. The question is to be, or not to be determined by, your, uh, particular set of
skills, of which I’m you sure possess in great, uh, uhhh….
MARTHA: You come highly recommended.
BRUNO: Eric Strafford on Cheshire.
MARTHA: Why yes!
BRUNO: Nice man.
EDGAR: Yes. He was.
BRUNO: I’m not an arrogant man—
MARTHA: Of course not!
BRUNO: — But I’m good at what I do.
MARTHA: I’m sure!
EDGAR: Martha. Please. Let the man speak.
MARTHA: Sorry.
EDGAR: Be truthful.
BRUNO: This is a long, strange list. You’re a little odd, aren’t you, Mr. Beere?
MARTHA: He’s a Shakespeare aficionado, that’s all.
EDGAR: I’m a fan.
BRUNO: I know what aficionado means.
EDGAR: Can you do it? Anything on the list?
BRUNO: I’m prepared for anything. It’s just a matter of—really are you sure you want it?
EDGAR: It’s poetic.
BRUNO: Let me tell ya something. I’m no Shakespeare and there’s nothing poetic about gettin’
stabbed.
EDGAR: It is a bit brutal, isn’t it?
BRUNO: Just a bit.
MARTHA: More tea?
BRUNO: Please.

97
Ten(ish): Comedies
EDGAR: Fine. Fine. No stabbing. Cross it out.

(BRUNO feels his pocket for something to write with.)
BRUNO: Got a pen?
EDGAR: I thought you were prepared for anything?
BRUNO: Like I said, I’m no poet.
(MARTHA hands him a pen and pours more tea. BRUNO smiles at her. She blushes. He
crosses out a line on the list.)
BRUNO: No stabbing. Good choice. Let’s see, what else do we have here.
EDGAR: The rest are on the table.
BRUNO: “Eat hot coals.” That’s on the table?
EDGAR: It’s from Julius Caesar.
BRUNO: Okay, but do you really need me for that? I mean if that’s what you wanna do, I say
go for it. I got other nut jobs who need me.
EDGAR: Point taken.
MARTHA: I don’t know, dear. It seems rather painful.
EDGAR: Well they’ll all be painful to some degree. It’s death. It’s Shakespeare.
BRUNO: It’s poetry.
EDGAR: Exactly. But maybe you’re right. Skip the burning coals. I feel like I wouldn’t be able
to do more than one.
BRUNO: Probably not. (Crosses it out.) Next: “torn apart by mob.”
EDGAR: Exciting.
BRUNO: Again, how do I come into this?
EDGAR: You’re the mob.
BRUNO: Unless Martha wants to help, I don’t see it.
MARTHA: Oh no, I couldn’t.
EDGAR: That’s alright, dear.
BRUNO: (Crosses it out. Reading:) “Smothered by pillow.”
MARTHA: Oh now that one I could do!
EDGAR: I appreciate your enthusiasm, darling!
MARTHA: It could be fun!
EDGAR: Let’s save that as back up. We brought Bruno all the way down here.
MARTHA: Right, that’s true. (To BRUNO:) Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your thunder.
BRUNO: Not at all, sweetheart. (Puts a mark on paper. Reading:) “Buried up to neck and starved.”
MARTHA: Oh, that’s interesting. Wasn’t expecting that.
EDGAR: Yeah I added it last minute. I think it could work.
MARTHA: As long as you don’t mess with my flower bed.

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Ten(ish): Comedies
EDGAR: We’d have to. You’ve planted everywhere.

MARTHA: Then no, definitely not.
BRUNO: We could go somewheres else. I got some spots.
EDGAR: Oh no, I’d rather not. I’d like to die at home.
BRUNO: Of course. (Crosses it out. Reading:) “Drowning.” Hmm. Now before you say anything,
let me just put it out there that—humble brag— I’m pretty good at doing drownings. I even
got a boat.
MARTHA: A boat?
BRUNO: Yeah. “Ophelia.”
EDGAR: Really?
BRUNO: Named after my mother.
EDGAR: That is poetic.
BRUNO: Now that you mention it, I guess it is. Thank you.
EDGAR: Tempting. But again, I’d really rather be at home, so maybe something with the bathtub?
MARTHA: No reason to settle at this point, honey.
EDGAR: You’re right. Forget it. Feels forced.
BRUNO: It’s all gonna be forced. But I hear you. (Crosses it off. Reading:) “Bitten by asp.” Huh.
MARTHA: It’s a snake. I had to ask.
BRUNO: I know what an asp is. I don’t deal with asps. Out of the question.
EDGAR: This one I really like. This is poetry of the gods.
BRUNO: No asps.
EDGAR: No asps?
BRUNO: No asps. I cannot be clearer about this. I don’t even like the thought of this. I don’t
even like talking about it. You wanna asp, find a different guy. NO ASPS!
MARTHA: It’s okay, Bruno, no asps. We’re not finding a different guy. You’re our guy. Right,
Edgar.
EDGAR: Okay, no asps.
BRUNO: Good. (Crosses it out. Reading:) “Stabbed through curtain.”
EDGAR: Classic.
MARTHA: Isn’t that just stabbing again?
BRUNO: Sounds like stabbing. Curtain or no curtain. Why do you need a curtain?
EDGAR: Hamlet. The curtain. He didn’t know who was behind it.
BRUNO: But I’ll know who is behind it.
MARTHA: I hope you don’t think you’re using my curtains.
EDGAR: First the flower beds, now the curtains. Listen, dear—
MARTHA: —You wanna die, you can find a way to do it without ruining my things.

99
Ten(ish): Comedies
EDGAR: You can buy new curtains.

MARTHA: I like these curtains! Let me have one nice thing!
EDGAR: You have plenty of nice things.
MARTHA: STAY AWAY FROM MY CURTAINS! NO STABBING THROUGH MY CURTAINS! I
LOVE MY CURTAINS! SO DOES YOUR MOTHER!
EDGAR: You’re both a little touchy. I’m the one that’s gotta die here.
BRUNO: You wanna do it without us go right ahead.
EDGAR: Fine fine. No curtains. No asps. No burying. No coals. No being torn apart by a mob
of one. No stabbing. Let’s just all settle down. Honey, break out the brandy. The good stuff.
MARTHA: Good idea. (Under her breath:) Try and stab my curtains.
EDGAR: No one is stabbing your curtains, just please get the glasses.
(EDGAR gets a bottle while MARTHA returns with some glasses. EDGAR pours over the
following.)
BRUNO: Crossing out curtains. (Crosses it out.) Not to be outdone: “chopped up and baked in
a pie.”
EDGAR: And eaten by loved one. That’s optional.
MARTHA: How kind. I still have to bake it.
(EDGAR lifts his glass.)
EDGAR: No baking of pie. To death, however it may arrive.
(They drink.)
BRUNO: (Reading:) “Dies of a broken heart.”
EDGAR: What?
MARTHA: Really?!
EDGAR: I didn’t put that on there!
MARTHA: I’m the one who’s going to die of a broken heart. I can’t believe you wrote that.
EDGAR: I didn’t!
BRUNO: I’m just kidding. It’s not on there.
EDGAR: And he says he’s not a poet. Please stick to the list.
BRUNO: Alright, alright. (Skimming over it:) There’s a lot of stabbing on here. Oh, okay.
Beheading. Kinda medieval.
EDGAR: Heads will roll. (Looks to MARTHA:) It’s clean. It’s simple.
MARTHA: Says you.
BRUNO: Yeah it’s clean and simple for you.
EDGAR: It is my death. It is my choice.
MARTHA: It’s my carpet.
EDGAR: We can put down a tarp.
MARTHA: You have a tarp?

100
Ten(ish): Comedies
EDGAR: I can get one at the hardware store.

BRUNO: I’ll bring a tarp. Don’t worry about the tarp.
MARTHA: I don’t know. I don’t like tarps. They make weird sounds.
EDGAR: What?
MARTHA: They do!
EDGAR: I want you to be happy.
MARTHA: No beheading.
EDGAR: Okay, dear. (To BRUNO:) What’s left?
BRUNO: (Reading:) “Poisoning.”
(EDGAR looks to MARTHA.)
MARTHA: I like poisoning.
EDGAR: Me too. I always have. Ever since Romeo and Juliet.
BRUNO: It’s timeless.
MARTHA: Wow. That was easy. Why didn’t you read that one first?
BRUNO: It was a long list. And it was written so small.
MARTHA: I can’t believe it. It’s settled. I’m hungry. Who’s hungry?
BRUNO: I could eat.
MARTHA: I’ll heat up some strudel.
EDGAR: You’re a treasure.
(MARTHA kisses EDGAR on the top of his head.)
MARTHA: Poisoning.
EDGAR: Poisoning.
(She leaves.)
EDGAR: Let’s drink.
(EDGAR turns to retrieve the bottle. While he does, BRUNO takes a small vial out of his bag
and pours it in EDGAR’s glass. He’s finished by the time EDGAR turns back around with the
brandy. He pours for both.)
EDGAR: To the bard.
BRUNO: To the end.
(They drink. They sit. EDGAR takes out a thick envelope and slides it across the table to
BRUNO. He flips through it and slips it in his jacket.)
EDGAR: Now, Bruno, we just need to discuss the details.
BRUNO: The details?
EDGAR: The timing.
BRUNO: The timing? The timing of what?
(MARTHA returns.)

101
Ten(ish): Comedies
MARTHA: They’re in the oven!

EDGAR: Lovely! We need to talk about the poisoning, Bruno.
MARTHA: What do you mean, I thought it was settled?
EDGAR: It is, it is.
BRUNO: Then what do you mean then?
EDGAR: I mean the timing. Now the doctor says I have three years. But I think we better plan
on two. Never know and I’d rather not suffer through that last year.
MARTHA: Me neither.
(EDGAR pulls two tickets out of his pocket.)
EDGAR: See these? Do you know what these are? Two tickets to the cruise around the world.
Twelve months at sea and seeing all the sights of the world.
(MARTHA claps in giddy excitement. She takes the tickets.)
EDGAR: Non-refundable of course. We set sail tomorrow. Why wait? It’s going to be the best
year of our lives! Then when we come back, we’ll tidy up, say my goodbyes, and then that’s
when you come in.
BRUNO: That’s when I come in?
(EDGAR scratches at his throat. An irritation. A bing from the kitchen. MARTHA leaves and
returns with a plate of strudel during the following.)
EDGAR: Exactly. I’m a man who likes to tie up loose ends. That’s why I wanted to get this all
settled now, so we can enjoy ourselves without worrying about any stabbing or drowning
or digging or what have you.
(EDGAR is gasping a bit. Takes a sip of water.)
MARTHA: Or baking.
EDGAR: Exactly.
(EDGAR realizes something is terribly, terribly wrong.)
MARTHA: So it’s settled then.
EDGAR: …Exactly…
BRUNO: I think there might have been a slight misunderstanding. I’m usually a man of
thoroughness.
(MARTHA notices EDGAR’s condition. He’s paralyzed.)
MARTHA: What’s wrong, Edgar? Do you want a strudel?
(EDGAR collapses. MARTHA gasps. She looks to BRUNO. Beat. MARTHA gives EDGAR a
little kick. He’s definitely dead.)
(Beat. MARTHA hands one of the tickets to BRUNO. She offers him a strudel.)
BRUNO: Don’t mind if I do.
(They take the tickets and the strudel and walk out the door.)
End of Play.

102
A Tiny Talkback with Jason Pizzarello
The INTERVIEWER enters, all smiles, shuffling a stack of note cards. They take their seat at
(JASON PIZZARELLO enters in a bathrobe with a mug of coffee and takes his seat in the
open chair.)
INTERVIEWER: Welcome, everyone, to our Tiny Talkback. I am joined by Jason Pizzarello, who
will be chatting with us about his play Muddy Death and Strudel. Thanks for speaking with
us today. Shall we begin?
(JASON shrugs.)
INTERVIEWER: Great! My first question is, what was your inspiration for writing Muddy Death
and Strudel?
JASON: It was in response to a writing prompt about death in Shakespeare’s plays. The rule was
to include a death. But I couldn’t decide on one so I included them all.
writing?
JASON: For this play I’d say Monty Python was the biggest inspiration, but also the dark comedy
The Lieutenant of Inishmore by Martin McDonagh and the black farce Loot by Joe Orton.
INTERVIEWER: If you could have your dream cast for Muddy Death and Strudel, who would
be in it?
JASON: Marylouise Burke, Sir Michael Caine, and James Gandolfini.
INTERVIEWER: If you have to choose one Shakespeare death for yourself, what would be it?
Actually, that’s too grim. Don’t answer that… How about…if you could spend one day as a
Shakespeare character, who would you be and why?
JASON: Cinna the Poet from Julius Caesar. He’s torn to pieces by a mob by mistake. Ah, the life
of a poet.
JASON: I love writing on a quiet train, which is how I wrote this play. But yeah, dark attics can
be good too, I guess, as long as the ghosts are quiet.
JASON: A zoologist astronaut. You know, for space animals.
INTERVIEWER: It’s opening night for Muddy Death and Strudel and you’ve been asked by the
JASON: Well, before a show, if I’m lucky enough to be there, I usually say something vaguely
threatening and leave it immediately. I’m not sure how this goes over because, as I said, I
leave immediately. But for this play in particular, I would say “don’t breathe.” Okay, a better
way to put that might be “don’t add pauses.” Pace is everything.

103
Ten(ish): Comedies
JASON: I get this question a lot. I always go with tail and under the assumption that I can use
it to swing from trees and things like that. A tail can act like a third arm in a lot of ways and
I’ve never seen a third arm act like a tail.
INTERVIEWER: One final question— The year is 2123. An archeologist of the future digs up
a copy of Muddy Death and Strudel. Using their cool future technology, they are able to
recreate you. What is the first question you ask them?
JASON: Is this the best you could do?
INTERVIEWER: I think that is about all of the time we have. If you have any more questions
for Jason about Muddy Death and Strudel, please feel free to reach out to info@
yourstagepartners.com.
(The INTERVIEWER stands. JASON PIZZARELLO follows, before he trips on his robe, falls,
and spills his coffee. He manages to get back on his feet only to slip on the puddle of coffee
and land back on the floor. He dies. The INTERVIEWER shrugs.)
(Lights down.)

104
An Afterword by the Editor
The correct answer is a third arm. If you must have an explanation, you may email info@
yourstagepartners.com with the subject “Why a Third Arm?” But honestly, just take a moment
and really think about it.
Brendan Conheady
Brooklyn, NY
October 2023

105
About the Authors
Ryan M. Bultrowicz is a Mexican-American playwright currently based out of Los Angeles. He’s
had countless productions of his works staged across the world. He is the author of Three Woman
and an Onion (MadLab, Ohio), The Audience Disturbs Marcel’s Bath Time and He Is Very Upset
With You All (Tiny Dynamite, Philadelphia), Monsters are Made in the Minds of Men (Scantic
River Productions, New York City) and many more. Bultrowicz’s writing explores complex
themes such as morality, family tragedy, and the intangible powers of intense love and hatred.
He often employs a distorted lens to emphasize certain aspects of his subject matter, resulting in
a signature style that incorporates absurdism, existentialism, and purposeful oddness. His plays
serve as experimental conversation starters, pushing the boundaries of conventional storytelling
and leaving a lasting impression on audiences.
Ruben Carbajal writes for stage, screens, and beyond.

He’s the author of the 80s high-school stage comedy The Gifted Program, the minimalist love
story Portland, and many short plays. His award-winning audio dramas include Something
in the Air (Sundog Theatre’s The Originals Project) and, You Can Thank Me Later (Marion
Thaurer Brown Award). His work pops up in the occasional theatre anthology, like The Covid
Monologues, 105 Five Minute Plays, One Minute Plays: A Practical Guide For Theatre, and most
recently, Ten(ish): Comedies for Stage Partners.
For screens, he’s developed a sci-fi pilot for Nickelodeon, was a showrunner for Awesomeness
TV, and scripted several of Fuse’s top-rated music specials. The beyond includes traveling the
globe as a live entertainment writer for the NBA, naming new apps and companies, and writing
speeches for everyone from celebrities to CEOs.
Find him online at www.rubencarbajal.com.
Kathryn Funkhouser is a writer whose plays have been produced throughout the U.S. and
internationally. In addition to her plays with Stage Partners, published plays include Careless
People: A Great Gatsby, Double Double, Unbreakable Timmy Cratchit (with Tyler Dwiggins),
Do You Read Me?, Weekend Warriors, and Badger Poison. She wrote the libretto and lyrics for
the musical Imagine a Dragon (Beat by Beat Press). Her articles and essays have appeared in
publications such as The Toast, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The Atlantic, and The Nation.
BA Drew University. Member of the Dramatists Guild, Athena Writes (2018) and Project Y
Theater Writer’s Group (2018-2019). She lives in Brooklyn with a lot of original cast albums.
For links and more, visit kathrynfunkhouser.com.
Stage Partners plays by Kathryn Funkhouser

How (Not) To Be a Wizard The Collector (Part of the Rogues’ Gallery
Will You Be My Nemesis? collection)
Beware the House on Haunted Hill! Knock Knock

106
Ten(ish): Comedies
Patrick Greene is the author of I Quit, Masterclasses, Instructions for Hugs (Stage Partners), and
Brief Interviews with Internet Cats (Playscripts). He is the co-author of Rogues’ Gallery (Stage
Partners), The Alibis, A Simpler Time, Scared Silly, Around the World in 8 Plays, The Very Un-
Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, The Edgar Allan Poe Afterlife Radio Show, (Playscripts) as
well as the musical Our Christmas Carol. (Broadway Licensing). He lives in New York City and
he owns no pets.
Stage Partners plays by Patrick Greene

How (Not) To Be a Wizard
I Quit!
Masterclasses
Mayonnaise Mayonnaise (Part of the Rogues’ Gallery collection)
Instructions for Hugs & Other Post-Quarantine Tutorials
Aeneas Sagar Hemphill is a bicultural south asian-american writer and performer based in NY
and DC. Drawing from a wide array of artistic and cultural influences, his work digs to the root
of our most pressing issues, telling intimate stories at intersection with the systems and histories
that define our world. Recently, he was an R&D Fellow with The Civilians, a Speakers’ Corner
Fellow with Gingold Theatrical Group, and a PlayLab Fellow with Pipeline Theatre Company.
His plays include: A Wake At Singh’s (The Civilians, Prologue), Karma Sutra Chai Tea Latte
(Gingold Theatrical Group), The Empire Live! (The Brick, COOP), Black Hollow (Argo Collec-
tive, Columbia), The Troll King (Pipeline), A Stitch Here or There (DarkHorse, Slingshot), The
Red Balloon (Noor Theater), and The Republic of Janet & Arthur (Amios). He holds an MFA in
Playwriting from Columbia University.
Elissa C. Huang’s play Bruce & Lee is published by Playscripts, Inc. She also writes plays with
a writing partner under a joint pseudonym, e.b. lee, whose plays include 8 Minutes Left (Stage
Partners) and Arctic Circle (Playscripts, Inc.). Her fiction has appeared in Sycamore Review, The
Masters Review, and Iron Horse Literary Review, among others.
Stage Partners plays by Elissa C. Huang

Pranksy (Part of the Rogues’ Gallery collection)
Alle Mims is a Black genderfluid artist living in Harlem. They are a cultural archeologist and
political satirist who writes about revolutions from a marginalized perspective, often engaging
with the archive and first-hand historical accounts. Mims earned their BA in Drama from Texas
Woman’s University (’16) and MFA in Playwriting from Columbia University (’23). Their work
has been produced in New York and Dallas. They are currently a part of Clubbed Thumb’s
Emerging Writers Group. You can find them everywhere @allemims or on their website,
www.allemims.com.

107
Ten(ish): Comedies
Laura Neill is a co-author and co-creator of Isolated Incidents, an audio drama series produced
by Broadway Podcast Network and Rattlestick Playwrights Theater. She developed her play
Winter People at the O’Neill National Playwrights Conference. Past commissions include Just
Cause (SpeakEasy Stage Company) and DIVAS (OperaHub). Full-length productions include
Public Property, workshopped with Salvage Vanguard Theatre; Skin and Bones, workshopped
with Wilbury Theatre Group; Don’t Give Up the Ship, premiered by Fresh Ink Theatre; and
DIVAS, premiered by OperaHub. Laura’s one-act and ten-minute plays have been produced
by SHEM Productions at Rutgers University, Milton High School, Weston High School, San
Antonio Young Women’s Leadership Academy (UIL), and others. Publications include Funtown
(YouthPLAYS), The Last Red Lion (ScriptWorks’ Perfect Glitch), One Kind of Fear (Flowersong
Press), The Best New Ten-Minute Plays 2019 (Applause Books), and The Best Women’s
Monologues From New Plays 2019 (Applause Books). Laura was an affiliate of the Company
One PlayLab and playwright-in-residence at University of Tulsa’s WomenWorks. She has taught
courses on creative writing and theatre at universities across the country. She lives in Brooklyn.
Stage Partners plays by Laura Neill

Game Night (Humans Only, Please)
Jason Pizzarello is a playwright and Co-founder of Stage Partners with director/writer

Morgan Gould. His plays have been produced/developed with Veterans Repertory Theater,
Penguin Rep Theater, Everyday Inferno Theatre Company, Blue Rider/Classic Stage Company,
3-Legged Dog, Soho Rep Writer/Director Lab, Irondale Ensemble, HERE Arts Center,
Clubbed Thumb, Source Festival (DC), and many others. Over forty of his plays for young
actors are published and have been produced in all 50 states and over 20 countries. When
he’s not writing, he proudly serves as a logistics officer with the New York Army National
Guard but reports directly to his two young daughters in Connecticut. For more info visit
www.jasonpizzarello.com.
Stage Partners plays by Jason Pizzarello
How (Not) To Be a Wizard My First Lockdown

Everything You Always Wanted to Know Spoon River (full-length and one-act)
About Your Teachers (but were afraid to ask) When Bad Things Happen to Good
Knock Knock Actors
The Participant (part of Rogues’ Gallery collection) Places in Five
As If, Cassandra 12 Angry Villains
The Cast List The Graduation Project
The Stowaway 101 Breakups
The 24 Days Before Christmas Alice in Wonderland
The Day the Internet Died (full-length and one-act)
Identity Play
All the Ways the World Will End, But Not You

108
Ten(ish): Comedies
Don Zolidis holds a B.A. in English from Carleton College and an M.F.A. in playwriting from
the Actor’s Studio Program at the New School University, where he studied under Romulus
Linney. His plays have been seen at numerous theatres around the country, including The
Purple Rose Theatre, The Ensemble Studio Theatre, The Phoenix Theatre, the Victory Theatre,
Stage West, The Williamstown Theatre, and many others. Don received the Princess Grace
Award for playwriting in 2004 after having twice been a finalist. His plays have received two
Edgerton New Play awards and multiple NEA grants among other honors. His plays for young
people are among the most-produced in the country and have received more than 20,000
productions, appearing in every state and 67 countries.
Stage Partners plays by Don Zolidis:

No Substitutes How to Win at Life
Citizen Crane Princess Party Smackdown
The Littlefield Gazette Does Not End Today The Chips are Down
The Witch’s Princess The 8 Ways Pokemon Go is Destroying
How to Survive Being in a Shakespeare Play Your Life
The Video Gamapalooza Monster
The Single Man - A Murder Mystery The Seven Torments of Amy and Craig
(a love story)
The Elf on a Shelf Must Die
About Stage Partners

Stage Partners is an independent play publisher dedicated to making exceptional
plays accessible to all theatres and schools. Founded in 2015 by two playwrights with
extensive backgrounds in theatrical publishing and licensing, Stage Partners was created
with the simple idea that regardless of whether you are a new drama teacher or an
experienced artistic director, finding the perfect new play should be easy, engaging, and
exciting. With scripts that are always free to read, lightning-fast licensing, production
& educational resources, and a passionate staff, Stage Partners is committed to offering
industry-best services to both its customers and its playwrights. If you are looking for
a publishing partner that understands that making theatre happen is hard work, but
discovering a great new play should be a breeze, join us at www.yourstagepartners.com
and we’ll begin together.

109
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Ten(ish): Comedies

10 (or so) minute plays

Edited by Brendan Conheady

SONGS AND RECORDINGS: For performances of copyrighted songs, arrangements or recordings

ADDITIONAL PRODUCTION INFORMATION:

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

To Gayle. For putting a remarkable life together.

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

End of Tiny Talkback.

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

BRI, Lou’s roommate and friend. Any pronouns.

Bri and Lou’s apartment.

For K., A., J., and J.,

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

(A single Oreo on a napkin in the middle of the room.)

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

LOU: I just said that for you.

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

LOU: And I had a crush on Jo!

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

End of Tiny Talkback.

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

Note on the babies as props:

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

AMBER: Meadow. Huh.*

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

TIFFANY: She just doesn’t…look like you.

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

CHAOS MOM: I mean…every baby is different, right?

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

(TIFFANY takes the rattle from SHARON.)

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

MARIN: Well, I mean—maybe it wasn’t three months—

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

It’s actually just part of my morning ritual.

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

CHAOS MOM: Wow

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

End of Tiny Talkback.

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

MARIGOLD, a teenager looking for a summer job (she/her)

© Stage Partners yourstagepartners.com

(The waiting area outside an office.)