This is just the fruits of some deranged afternoons when my friend Tuesday and I worked at AC Moore together. Hey, someday this may be a famous play on Broadway in the Monty Python fashion!

Sick Joke

a short play

*We see on stage a counter with a cash register on it. Behind the counter is a shelf of paints, and a young teenaged employee in a green apron arranging them. Beside the counter is a large poster of all the colors of the paints, available for the customers to view. There is also a door with an ĎOpení sign and a little bell that rings whenever one opens it.*

+The teenager, aptly named Suzie for no other reason then the fact we like the name ĎSuzieí, is busy stocking the tiny cans of brown paints. An elderly woman enters the tiny shop, and the bell rings. She begins to examine the chart, and finally decides on a color.+

Woman- Excuse me, young lady?

Suzie- Yes?

+Suzie sets down the little paints beside the register and turns to the woman, slightly irritated.+

Woman- Iíd like to buy a paint, please.

Suzie- Well, what color would you like?

+The woman points to the chart at a brown color.+

Woman- Iíd like the ĎBurnt Barní, please.

Suzie- +Sighs+ Iím sorry, we donít have any Burnt Brown.

Woman- Why not?

Suzie- They donít make it.

Woman- But itísÖ itís right here on this chart!

Suzie- So?

Woman- So they must make it.

Suzie- No they donít.

Woman- But itís on the chart! They must make it!

Suzie- No, they donít.

Woman- But---

Suzie- Itís not here! Itís kaput, deceased, sayonara, gone, itís not breathing!

Woman- But itís on the color chart! They must have it!

Suzie- I said, ITíS NOT BREATHING!!!

Woman- Then why would they put it on the color chart if the color isnít here!?

Suzie- To confuse old hags like you, I suppose.

Woman- What was that?

Suzie- Nothing.

Woman- Listen, just give me one can of the Burnt Barn, and Iíll pay double.

Suzie- WHAT!?

Woman- Fine. Triple.

Suzie- Are you listening to a word Iím saying!?

Woman- Quadruple?

Suzie- No! Itís not here! It never was! Itís never been made! It is a color still in the bowels of the Earth waiting to be born!

Woman- They donít make it?

Suzie- YES!

Woman- Oh. Then Iíd better stock up. Iíll have four, please.

Suzie- ITíS NOT HERE! IT NEVER WAS, AND NEVER SHALL IT BE!

Woman- They never made it, but itís on the color chart?

Suzie- Exactly!

Woman- What kind of a sick place is this!?

Suzie- What!?

Woman- You must think this is hilarious, but Iíll tell you, it ainít funny!

+The woman leaves in a huff, slamming the door as she goes. Suzie sighs and shakes her head sadly, and begins to restock the paints once again. A man named Howard, dressed in khakis and flannel, enters the store.+

Howard- Excuse me?

Suzie- Yes?

Howard- May I have one can of the Burnt Barn paint, please?

Suzie- Certainly.

+Suzie hands him a can of brown paint, and Howard pays.+

Howard- Thanks.

+Howard turns to leave and walk out the door.+

Suzie- My pleasure.

+Lights dim.+

_________________

*We see on stage, a wooden bench, facing the audience. A small tree is on stage left to the bench. On the bench, Howard sits, with a little brown bag to his right. He is sitting up straight and proper, hands folded neatly in his lap. A voice sounds, one with a slight British accent. It is the Narrator.*

Narrator- This is Harold. Harold is the perfect example of a human being. He is intelligent, to some degree. He is loud and boisterous, and smells of German cuisine. As if you didnít know that. Harold doesnít move very often.

+Harold crosses his right leg over his left.+

Narrator- Wup. There he goes.

_________________

+Yamato runs across the stage with a chicken chasing him.+

Narrator- One cannot escape the Chicken of Immortality. Once it pecks at you, your soul and life becomes his own. You are therefore damned to an eternity, knowing you have been pecked by the Chicken of Immortality.

Yamato- What kind of sick joke is this!?



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