Missing: IT
List of Characters. Note that this play has enough characters for the entire classroom or for everyone at the party to have a role. There are small roles for shy people.
Narrator
Maggie
Zelda, the cat
Rosie
Mailman
Athletic girl: Sarah
Angry driver of a car
Petulant little boy
His mother, any age
Crying woman, any age
Two scholars
Old woman with invitation
Dorcas, the Great Dane (may be imagined)
Aunt Florence, elderly
Barbara, early 30s
Uncle Orlin, elderly
Sister
Various relatives (walk on parts)
Kids of all ages
Jimmy, early teens
Maggie and other characters pantomime, script-in-hand, what the narrator says, unless you are performing with the readers seated. Props may be imagined or used as you wish. Animals must be imagined, except for Zelda.
We have found that the play works as a combination of some seated readers and some active players reading script-in-hand. I have included actions, but any actions you can’t pantomime must be read by the narrator.
Missing: IT
Narrator:
Here’s what happened. Maggie sat all alone by herself on her bed in her bedroom. Sighing. Feeling sad. Just like Maggie—always missing . . . well, everything.
She had missed yesterday and the day before and the day before that. She had missed knowing her father and her mother. She missed aunts and uncles, cousins, not to mention grandmothers.
Maggie was all alone. Today as every day. Sad . . .
Maggie:
. . . as usual.
Narrator:
Not even the Zelda the cat stuck around, not even for petting and stroking.
Maggie:
Bye, Zelda.
Narrator:
All alone.
Pause
Suddenly, something, something odd shaped and lively looking, something jumped up, and away it flew! Out the door, but not before knocking half of Maggie’s books off her bureau. Maggie jumped off the bed and she chased it past the bathroom door, down the stairs until it flew out through the crack at the bottom of the drafty front door.
Maggie:
Maggie runs around the stage and finally stops, nearly slamming up against the front door.
Whew. Gotta catch my breath.
Narrator:
Yes, Maggie was out of breath after all that running. So by the time she yanked the door open, whatever it was had flown—just like the tail end of a dream you chase as you wake up and it seems to fly around the corner just ahead of you.
But . . . what was it?
Well, it wasn’t Zelda the cat. Zelda was rubbing figure 8’s around Maggie’s legs.
Maggie:
Now you want to be petted! Now, I’ll never catch up with it. What to do, what to do.
Narrator:
Maggie and Zelda went outside and sat on the porch, thinking. Zelda, who could talk, suggested that Maggie make signs to put up around the neighborhood.
Zelda:
That’s what people do when cats are missing.
Narrator:
Sensible.
Maggie:
Good idea.
Narrator:
So Maggie got up and made some signs and set about putting copies in the neighborhood.
Maggie holds up the sign
The sign said:
Missing: IT.
Reward.
Ask for Maggie, at the yellow house on the corner.
Enter Rosie, a 50’s housewife.
Narrator:
Maggie’s neighbor Rosie leaned over the fence between their houses, watching Maggie struggle to nail up her poster on a telephone pole.
Maggie:
Have you seen IT?
Points to her poster.
Rosie:
Oh, no. No I haven’t. And I sure miss my dog, oh; I surely do, oh, my Dorcas!!
Rosie burst into tears.
Maggie:
Oh, Rosie, I’m so sorry! I miss Dorcas, too! She was so sweet.
Narrator:
But Rosie had scurried back into her own house.
Rosie sobs loudly off-stage.
Maggie:
I couldn’t have lost Dorcas, could I?
Enter Mailman. Maggie shows him her sign.
Maggie:
Have you seen IT?
Mailman:
Oh, my goodness, young lady. So you’ve missed it. So have I. I missed my calling. Yes, I did. I should have been a Baptist preacher. That’s where my gifts lay. Yes, I missed my calling. [Muttering to himself] No one to talk to but myself.
Stops and strikes a ministerial pose.
And the Lord God saith unto you. The Lord God saith . . .
Narrator:
Shaking his head, sadly trudging on with his heavy sack of advertisements and bills. Maggie felt sorry for him.
Maggie:
Those ads must weight a ton. No one reads them and no one listens to him.
But I’d better get more posters up.
Enter Sarah, a girl from the neighborhood.
Sarah:
Hey, Maggie! Catch!
Narrator:
Maggie caught the ball and tossed it back.
Sarah:
Oops, darn! Missed it!
Narrator:
Sarah dashed across the street after the ball.
Enter man driving a car.
Maggie:
Watch out! Here comes a car!
Screeching of brakes, sounding of horn.
Angry Driver:
Hey! Watch where you’re going, kid! You’re right lucky I missed you!
Sarah:
Sorry! Don’t know what got into me!
Muttering as she moves off stage.
What are ya doing, ya looney? . . . ya never miss a catch . . . get it together, girl . . .
Narrator:
. . . and then Maggie could hear no more. Of course, Sarah completely missed seeing her sign. Maggie sighed and moved on down the street heading towards the busy corner.
Enter petulant little boy with his mother.
Little Boy:
My turn! It’s my turn!
Mother:
No, my young man, you missed your turn because you were staring at that train set in the window and you didn’t listen when I called you and called you so . . .
Little Boy:
. . . Wail !
Narrator:
Another conversation trailed off into the crowded street.
Pause
The street was now completely crowded with people heading towards . . . well? Maggie had no idea.
Maggie:
If it’s a parade, I’m not going to miss it!!
Enter a woman running by, crying. . .
Woman:
Oh, how I miss my sister! Oh, I surely do.
Maggie:
There, there. Cry all you must. Missing is terrible.
Woman:
Oh, oh, oh . . .
Maggie:
Now I feel like crying.
My goodness, everyone’s running so fast and they’re all going that way.
To audience
Are you also missing something? What are you missing?
Wait for some audience response.
Enter two elderly scholars, walking quite slowly.
First elderly scholar:
My dear colleague, you miss the point entirely.
Second elderly scholar:
My esteemed colleague, you overlook the most recent research.
First elderly scholar:
If you mean from the journal that went missing from the library, well . . .
Maggie:
At least these guys aren’t running.
Both Scholars:
Turning to her.
My dear, we are moving as fast as we can.
Finally, all available characters repeat their phrases at once.
Maggie:
This is terrible, terrible! This is no parade. It’s a universe of . . . of . . . confusion!
Enter old lady with an envelope.
Old Lady:
Tut, tut. It is terrible. Everyone in a hurry. You lose things when you’re always in a hurry. And then you miss them. Here, young lady. Step this way.
Narrator:
Maggie opened the envelope the old lady gave her. In it, she found an old black and white photograph of a picnic with a crowd as large as a parade, an announcement of a family reunion.
Maggie:
[Reads] “Troutman-Williams Family Reunion. At the First Church down by the Old Farmstead on Troutman Road. If you miss the old times, don’t be late!!” Hum. . . . Should I look there? But how will I get to Troutman Road . . .
Narrator:
And the old lady gave her a yank.
Maggie:
Whoa!
Narrator:
She barely had time to grab Zelda, and together they slammed into the picnic.
Set turns color, if you can make that happen. The Narrator may have to say much of what follows. Chairs appear. And old man and an old woman sit down and Maggie sits down between them. Gradually, the stage fills with people, including Rosie who is reunited with Dorcas. People bring a table. Others bring food. Kids fill the stage, running around, playing tag. The narrator and the old lady who gave Maggie the invitation join in and sit down at the table, perfectly naturally.
Maggie and Zelda sat themselves down between an old man and an old woman near a table piled with food.
The Narrator grabs a plate and helps himself to a piece of fried chicken. Note that from now on, he has a pronounced Southern accent.
Maggie:
Zelda, is that Dorcas? I do believe it is!
Enter Aunt Florence, carrying a recipe box, talking to a lovely young woman, Barbara.
Aunt Florence:
My goodness. Yes, I’ll certainly give you this recipe.
Muttering as she flips through the box.
Now where can it be? Where did I put it? Oh, here it is. There you go, darlin’.
Barbara:
Aunt Florence, I do hope you’re not one of those cooks who leave out a necessary ingredient.
Old Woman:
You must be joking, Barbara. That’s awfully mean. Missing ingredients, indeed!
Narrator:
Ah, I do believe I’ll have some of those deviled eggs if you’ll be so kind as to pass me the platter.
Barbara:
Surely. But, no, ma’am, I’m not joking. My best friend’s grandmother used to do it. On purpose. Mean old lady.
Narrator:
And is that a pitcher of sweet tea I see over there?
Aunt Florence:
You don’t say! Share and share alike, I’ve always lived by. They’s lemonade, too, Larry. And don't miss out on Audrey's buttermilk biscuits.
Exit.
Old Woman:
Now, where are my glasses? Has anybody seen my glasses?
Turning to Maggie and Zelda
Maggie, have you seen my glasses? What a pretty kitty.
Maggie:
Turning to Uncle Orlin, an old man seated on the other side of her.
Have you seen Aunt Hilda’s glasses? She needs them to find a recipe for Mama.
Uncle Orlin:
Say again? What did you say, my girl? Durn hearing aid’s been missing for months.
Old Woman:
He can’t hear you, dear. Where are my glasses? Has anyone seen my glasses??? These old bones . . .Come here, Maggie, and just look around my chair, will you?
Maggie:
Here they are. Must of just fallen out of your apron pocket.
Uncle Orlin:
Why that there’s John’s girl! Lordy, last time I seen you, you wasn’t but knee high to a grasshopper. Where is John, anyway? He’s been missing about an hour. I sure hope he’s not hittin’ the. . .
Old Woman:
Little pitchers have big ears, brother.
Re-enter Barbara, moving quickly.
Barbara:
Here, honey, here’s your plate. And a little chicken skin for Zelda. Well. Gotta get back to that kitchen before Audrey misses me . . . .
Younger sister runs by.
Sister:
Maggie, Where’s Daddy? Hey, where’d you get that kitty? How come you got a kitty and I don’t? I miss out on everything.
Maggie:
Well, you got a puppy, don’t you?
Pause.
Let’s see if they’ll let you get yourself a kitten and then maybe I can have a puppy too.
Sister:
Naw, they’ll just tell us to share.
Runs off.
Narrator:
Look at all those kids playing tag. How come you don’t play, Maggie? You just going to watch all afternoon? You missing all the fun!
Enter young teenager, Jimmy, rushing at Maggie and tagging her.
Jimmy:
Gotcha! You’re IT.
Shouts to the kids.
Maggie’s IT! Everybody run!
Maggie:
I’m IT? What am I supposed to do?
Narrator:
I guess you gotta join in.
Maggie:
I’m it, I’m it, I’M IT!
Pause for a beat. Then shouts to the yard in general.
Ready or not, here I come!
End of Play
Monday, July 11, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Rabbit Who Loved Peas
The Rabbit Who Loved Peas
(Based on a Southern folk tale)
An interactive play.
Narrator: There once was a boy named Ned who loved flowers and vegetables but more than anything else in the world, he loved peas. Do you like peas? Ned adored peas. He could eat peas every day of his life, he loved them so much. He loved them so much that his garden, or I guess I should say, his section of the family garden, was full of peas. He left the rest of the flower and vegetable growing to his sisters Lucy and Nora, and his brother Roan.
Well. One fine morning Ned was picking peas, just as he did every morning of that glorious summer, and this is the song he sang as he picked:
Ned: Pickin’ up peas, putting ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, putting ‘em in a pail.
Pickin’ up peas, all for me; pickin’ up peas, all for me.
Narrator: Now Rudy Rabbit also loved peas, and he liked to pick them and eat them, too. The reason he could pick them is that when Ned picked his peas he sang so loud he couldn’t hear Rudy picking and eating. And Rudy wasn’t stupid, oh, no; Rudy made sure he was at least a row behind Ned. So Ned couldn’t see Rudy either. Rudy also had a pea-picking song and it went like this, with some variations:
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Narrator: If Rudy was real careful with his singing, it matched up with Ned’s singing and all went well for Rudy. But he had to be careful because he loved peas so much that when he ate some, he got a big burst of joy that caused him to jump up high and unfortunately, when he landed, he landed on his knees. Ow!
So now you know how this morning, like every other morning, went. That is, until Ned turned a corner to start another row and heard something funny.
Ned and Rudy sing at the same time.
Can you sing along with them?
Ned: Picking up peas, putting ‘em in a pail, picking up peas, putting ‘em in a pail.
Pickin’ up peas, all for me; pickin’ up peas, all for me.
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Ned: I hear an echo. And an “ow!”
Narrator: I told you Rudy had to be careful. He got so caught up what with eating peas and singing that soon he forgot that Ned wasn’t singing. What do you think Ned did?
Ned: I think I’ll just stop at the end of this row and see what’s coming my way. Maybe I can catch ‘em!
Narrator: And so just as Rudy rounded the corner to the next row of peas . . .
Ned: I’ll open up my spare basket and snatch ‘em up. Aha! Got cha!
Narrator: Just like that! And the next thing he knew, it was all dark and Rudy Rabbit was stuck in a basket, jostled, with only a few peas for comfort. He was scared.
Rudy: Oh, no! I’ve gone and done it this time. Where is that boy taking me? What is to be my fate? Pea and rabbit stew? Pea and rabbit kabobs? Pea and rabbit cacciatore? Yikes!
Ned: A pea pickin’ rabbit, huh? I’m taking you out of my garden and back to my room. Where you won’t get into trouble. The nerve. Humph.
Narrator: After what seemed like a forever of rumbling about in the basket, Ned plunked Rudy down on the bureau in his room.
Rudy: Ow. You could be a little gentler. That was a bumpy ride.
Ned: Too bad. So, you silly rabbit, eat my peas, will you?
Rudy: Are you going to eat me?
Ned: No, but I’m going to keep you here until pea-picking season is over. You can eat rabbit pellets.
Rudy: Oh, no! Anything but rabbit pellets! If you let me go, I could . . .um . . .possibly . . .help you keep your room clean. . . maybe?
Ned: Oh, sure. You’d be real helpful. What are you good for except singing and eating peas?
Rudy: Vacuuming?
Ned: Ha, ha! No, I’m too young to vacuum. My mother does the vacuuming. Luckily.
Rudy: I can dance.
Narrator: Now Ned was a dancer himself and loved good dancing, so that piqued his interest, but he didn’t want to let Rudy Rabbit know that bit of information too quickly.
Ned: Dance, huh.
Rudy: Sure. You might not like my singing all that much but I sure can dance.
Ned: I’ve never heard of a rabbit that could dance. Let’s see what you can do.
Rudy: Watch me. Just look in the basket.
Narrator: So Ned did.
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancing in the breeze.
Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancing in the breeze.
Narrator: Well, Ned couldn’t help it. He was beside himself.
Ned: That is some really cool dancing! How did you learn to dance like that? Really cool!
Rudy: Of course, I’m much better when I’m not so cramped. I knock ‘em dead when I have the whole floor. If you were to put me, say . . .
Ned: How about up here on top of the dresser?
Rudy: Perfect. Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze!
Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze . . . .
Ned: Why did you stop? That was some great dancing!
Rudy: Well, this here is a line dance and I can’t finish it because I don’t have enough room on the top of this dresser. But see that chair on the other side of the window? If you were to put that chair between this dresser and the window sill, I’d have enough room to finish the dance.
Ned: I’ll move the chair because I love your dancing. Now you can start again.
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze.
Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, oops, gotta sneeze! Kerchoo!
Narrator: And out the window he flew!
Ned: Oh, no! Come back! Come back! You didn’t finish your dance! Please, Rudy!
Narrator: But all he saw was the back end of Rudy Rabbit high tailing it down the road.
Ned: [Sigh.] Bye, bye, rabbit.
Narrator: Well, Ned didn’t see Rudy all the rest of that summer or the fall. But the next summer, when pea-pickin’ time came around, he heard a familiar echo as he picked.
What do you think he did?
Ned let Rudy sing and pick and Ned sang and picked along with him. Ned had loved Rudy’s dancing so much that he’d planted an extra six rows of peas. There were enough peas for the two of them and everybody else who wanted some. Rudy could have all the peas he wanted.
End of Play.
(Based on a Southern folk tale)
An interactive play.
Narrator: There once was a boy named Ned who loved flowers and vegetables but more than anything else in the world, he loved peas. Do you like peas? Ned adored peas. He could eat peas every day of his life, he loved them so much. He loved them so much that his garden, or I guess I should say, his section of the family garden, was full of peas. He left the rest of the flower and vegetable growing to his sisters Lucy and Nora, and his brother Roan.
Well. One fine morning Ned was picking peas, just as he did every morning of that glorious summer, and this is the song he sang as he picked:
Ned: Pickin’ up peas, putting ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, putting ‘em in a pail.
Pickin’ up peas, all for me; pickin’ up peas, all for me.
Narrator: Now Rudy Rabbit also loved peas, and he liked to pick them and eat them, too. The reason he could pick them is that when Ned picked his peas he sang so loud he couldn’t hear Rudy picking and eating. And Rudy wasn’t stupid, oh, no; Rudy made sure he was at least a row behind Ned. So Ned couldn’t see Rudy either. Rudy also had a pea-picking song and it went like this, with some variations:
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Narrator: If Rudy was real careful with his singing, it matched up with Ned’s singing and all went well for Rudy. But he had to be careful because he loved peas so much that when he ate some, he got a big burst of joy that caused him to jump up high and unfortunately, when he landed, he landed on his knees. Ow!
So now you know how this morning, like every other morning, went. That is, until Ned turned a corner to start another row and heard something funny.
Ned and Rudy sing at the same time.
Can you sing along with them?
Ned: Picking up peas, putting ‘em in a pail, picking up peas, putting ‘em in a pail.
Pickin’ up peas, all for me; pickin’ up peas, all for me.
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Pickin’ up peas, puttin’ ‘em in a pail, pickin’ up peas, fall on my knees, ow!
Ned: I hear an echo. And an “ow!”
Narrator: I told you Rudy had to be careful. He got so caught up what with eating peas and singing that soon he forgot that Ned wasn’t singing. What do you think Ned did?
Ned: I think I’ll just stop at the end of this row and see what’s coming my way. Maybe I can catch ‘em!
Narrator: And so just as Rudy rounded the corner to the next row of peas . . .
Ned: I’ll open up my spare basket and snatch ‘em up. Aha! Got cha!
Narrator: Just like that! And the next thing he knew, it was all dark and Rudy Rabbit was stuck in a basket, jostled, with only a few peas for comfort. He was scared.
Rudy: Oh, no! I’ve gone and done it this time. Where is that boy taking me? What is to be my fate? Pea and rabbit stew? Pea and rabbit kabobs? Pea and rabbit cacciatore? Yikes!
Ned: A pea pickin’ rabbit, huh? I’m taking you out of my garden and back to my room. Where you won’t get into trouble. The nerve. Humph.
Narrator: After what seemed like a forever of rumbling about in the basket, Ned plunked Rudy down on the bureau in his room.
Rudy: Ow. You could be a little gentler. That was a bumpy ride.
Ned: Too bad. So, you silly rabbit, eat my peas, will you?
Rudy: Are you going to eat me?
Ned: No, but I’m going to keep you here until pea-picking season is over. You can eat rabbit pellets.
Rudy: Oh, no! Anything but rabbit pellets! If you let me go, I could . . .um . . .possibly . . .help you keep your room clean. . . maybe?
Ned: Oh, sure. You’d be real helpful. What are you good for except singing and eating peas?
Rudy: Vacuuming?
Ned: Ha, ha! No, I’m too young to vacuum. My mother does the vacuuming. Luckily.
Rudy: I can dance.
Narrator: Now Ned was a dancer himself and loved good dancing, so that piqued his interest, but he didn’t want to let Rudy Rabbit know that bit of information too quickly.
Ned: Dance, huh.
Rudy: Sure. You might not like my singing all that much but I sure can dance.
Ned: I’ve never heard of a rabbit that could dance. Let’s see what you can do.
Rudy: Watch me. Just look in the basket.
Narrator: So Ned did.
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancing in the breeze.
Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancing in the breeze.
Narrator: Well, Ned couldn’t help it. He was beside himself.
Ned: That is some really cool dancing! How did you learn to dance like that? Really cool!
Rudy: Of course, I’m much better when I’m not so cramped. I knock ‘em dead when I have the whole floor. If you were to put me, say . . .
Ned: How about up here on top of the dresser?
Rudy: Perfect. Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze!
Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze . . . .
Ned: Why did you stop? That was some great dancing!
Rudy: Well, this here is a line dance and I can’t finish it because I don’t have enough room on the top of this dresser. But see that chair on the other side of the window? If you were to put that chair between this dresser and the window sill, I’d have enough room to finish the dance.
Ned: I’ll move the chair because I love your dancing. Now you can start again.
Rudy: Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze.
Pickin’ up peas, dancin’ in the breeze, pickin’ up peas, oops, gotta sneeze! Kerchoo!
Narrator: And out the window he flew!
Ned: Oh, no! Come back! Come back! You didn’t finish your dance! Please, Rudy!
Narrator: But all he saw was the back end of Rudy Rabbit high tailing it down the road.
Ned: [Sigh.] Bye, bye, rabbit.
Narrator: Well, Ned didn’t see Rudy all the rest of that summer or the fall. But the next summer, when pea-pickin’ time came around, he heard a familiar echo as he picked.
What do you think he did?
Ned let Rudy sing and pick and Ned sang and picked along with him. Ned had loved Rudy’s dancing so much that he’d planted an extra six rows of peas. There were enough peas for the two of them and everybody else who wanted some. Rudy could have all the peas he wanted.
End of Play.
Soup poetry . . . a work in progress
Here is Act I of a play about making poetry. Act II will follow after Nadia's birthday party when we put this play in action (and see if Nonny's new soup really works!)
Cast of characters: [endless possibilities, depending on your party!]
Narrator
Cleo . . . age 8
Nonny . . . age Grandmother
Nadia . . . age 6, soon to be 7
Soup, Soup
ACT I
Narrator: One day, Nonny was cooking up some soup. But for some reason, she was simmering it in a huge pot, big as a cauldron--the kind of cauldron you'd find in a fairy tale.
Enter Cleo.
Cleo: Nonny is making soup. What kind of soup can it be? Hey, Nonny, Nonny . . . what you got cooking? I’m a coming and I’m a looking! Wow, I made a rhyme.
Narrator: Cleo stood on tiptoe and could just see into the pot.
Cleo: Hum. Problem . . . I know what to do. I’ll stand on this footstool. Where did this footstool come from, anyway? We never had a footstool here before. Hum . . . mighty handy that it’s here now.
Narrator: And so she peered into the pot.
Cleo: Why, this is odd soup. There’s not a single dumpling or piece of chicken . . . not a vegetable in sight, not even a carrot! Let me see . . . Yeow!
Narrator: Those of you who have heard other stories about Cleo will recognize a pattern here. What do you think happened? Yep. She fell right smack into the pot. And yes, it was large enough to hold a eight-year-old girl.
Cleo: Yikes! Hum . . . This soup should be hot but instead it feels . . . like a warm bath. Hum . . . it’s really rather nice. Ahem.
Narrator: “Ahem” came out of her mouth after she accidentally swallowed some of the broth. It sounded, well . . . odd.
Cleo: Ahem. It appears that I have been mistaken in my initial assumption. This is no more a pot of chicken soup than I am myself a chicken. Just as it is plain to see that I am a eight-year-old girl, I hereby state for all and sundry to note that that this is no ordinary soup but indeed, it is a pot of word soup. A soup with a slight nineteenth century flavor. The chef must be somewhat literary.
Narrator: Cleo felt a strong urge to recite a poem.
Cleo: I am simply beyond myself with inspiration of a garden variety. I would hasten outdoors but I cannot get out of this cauldron.
Narrator: She pulled herself up to her full height in the cauldron and began.
Cleo: Oh! Sunflower!
How large thy leaves appear
To these nearly nine-year-old eyes!
How coversome and protective
When the beamish sun
Pours forth her hot July rays
Especially last week—-today is not so bad.
I like you, Sunflower.
Enter Nonny, who had been hiding behind a chair all this time.
Nonny: [clapping] Lovely, Cleo! And best of all, my recipe worked!
Cleo: Top of the morning to you, Grandmother Dearest. And what, may I ask, is the nature of the concoction you’ve brewed up this time?
Nonny: I’ve finally perfected-- I think and I hope-- my word soup. Shall we test it on Nadia? Here she comes. Can you get her to fall in too? Here, let me lift you out. Take this towel and dry off quickly so Nadia won’t suspect anything. By the way, how does it taste?
Cleo: It presents an intense violet colour, plums, black cherries, licorice, and dried herbs aroma in the nose. Sweet, round and ample in the mouth with a lingering finish.
Nonny: Good. Sounds like I’m almost there. Quick. Here comes Nadia.
Lifts Cleo out of the cauldron.
Narrator: Quite unsuspecting, Nadia entered through the back door.
Nadia: Yoo hoo, Nonny! Anybody home?
Cleo: Nadia! Look at the grape vine growing out the soup Nonny is cooking! Hum . . . I sound like myself again.
Nadia: You always sound like yourself. What are you talking about?
Cleo: Stand up on this footstool and look!
Nadia: Ok, ok!
Narrator: And so Nadia did. And Cleo pushed her right into the soup.
Nadia: Wha!!!
Cleo: Now take a sip.
Nonny: Wait! Let’s try something different.
Sprinkles something into the soup.
Nadia: Nonny, look what Cleo did to me! [Gulp] But I’m not afraid.
Pulling herself up to her full height.
I may be a young girl but I know life is hard
For those not so lucky as I am. I'm aware.
I’ve got sprite, I’ve got chutzpah, I got spunk, I got guts.
With some luck, I will help them. Need me? I'll be there.
Narrator, Nonny, Cleo: [clapping] Well done, Nadia!
Nadia takes a bow.
Cleo: That was a beautiful poem, Nadia. And such big words!
Nonny: It worked! I sprinkled in heroic words and she spoke a heroic poem!
Nadia: Anybody need rescuing?
Nonny: Here. Let me lift you out. I’m perfecting my word soup. I sprinkle in words and whoever stands in the cauldron or better yet, swallows some of the soup, finds they can’t resist reciting poetry in the language of the words! It’s my best invention yet.
Cleo: Ohhh. Let’s try it on the Narrator.
Nadia: Yes! We’ll put in some music words for him. OK, Larry?
Our narrator’s name is Larry and he’s a pianist when he isn’t narrating.
Narrator: Well, Ok. Why not?
Nonny: Girls, go find some music words for him. Meanwhile, we’ll try to fit him into the cauldron. Sorry, Narrator, it is the largest cauldron I could find.
Narrator: Well, I hardly need much prompting about words. I am a narrator after all. But let’s see what they come up with. Oh, yes, speaking of narrating. [Clears his throat.] So Cleo and Nadia scoured Nonny’s books for words about music. Luckily, Nonny has a lot of books. The Narrator, well, that’s me so I might as well just say “I.” I stepped into the pot and waited. And waited. And waited. I must say that I felt heroic and rather nineteenth century-ish at the same time. I barely suppressed a strange prompting to speak along the lines of David Copperfield when Cleo and Nadia suddenly appeared with a handful of music words.
Cleo and Nadia: Here you go. Into the pot.
They throw in the words.
Narrator: Oh, my.
Standing up to his full height.
The Rite of Spring does not elicit pity.
Stravinsky leaves no room for our lament.
She dances and she dies and it’s expected.
And so, how starkly modern can you get.
Nonny: Oh, my goodness. Modernism in a nutshell.
Cleo and Nadia: We don’t get it.
Narrator: That’s all right, my dears, I’m not sure I do either.
Cleo: I have a great idea! Let’s have a party and invite everyone we know and let them all stand in the pot and recite poems about what they love!
Nadia: Yes, let’s do. When is the next cele . . . celebration?
Nonny: I believe it’s Nadia's birthday, in thirty-one days. We’ll do it then. And you learned some big words when you were in the soup. Celebration is a big word.
Cleo and Nadia: Yay! Celebration!
End of Act I. Stay tuned.
Cast of characters: [endless possibilities, depending on your party!]
Narrator
Cleo . . . age 8
Nonny . . . age Grandmother
Nadia . . . age 6, soon to be 7
Soup, Soup
ACT I
Narrator: One day, Nonny was cooking up some soup. But for some reason, she was simmering it in a huge pot, big as a cauldron--the kind of cauldron you'd find in a fairy tale.
Enter Cleo.
Cleo: Nonny is making soup. What kind of soup can it be? Hey, Nonny, Nonny . . . what you got cooking? I’m a coming and I’m a looking! Wow, I made a rhyme.
Narrator: Cleo stood on tiptoe and could just see into the pot.
Cleo: Hum. Problem . . . I know what to do. I’ll stand on this footstool. Where did this footstool come from, anyway? We never had a footstool here before. Hum . . . mighty handy that it’s here now.
Narrator: And so she peered into the pot.
Cleo: Why, this is odd soup. There’s not a single dumpling or piece of chicken . . . not a vegetable in sight, not even a carrot! Let me see . . . Yeow!
Narrator: Those of you who have heard other stories about Cleo will recognize a pattern here. What do you think happened? Yep. She fell right smack into the pot. And yes, it was large enough to hold a eight-year-old girl.
Cleo: Yikes! Hum . . . This soup should be hot but instead it feels . . . like a warm bath. Hum . . . it’s really rather nice. Ahem.
Narrator: “Ahem” came out of her mouth after she accidentally swallowed some of the broth. It sounded, well . . . odd.
Cleo: Ahem. It appears that I have been mistaken in my initial assumption. This is no more a pot of chicken soup than I am myself a chicken. Just as it is plain to see that I am a eight-year-old girl, I hereby state for all and sundry to note that that this is no ordinary soup but indeed, it is a pot of word soup. A soup with a slight nineteenth century flavor. The chef must be somewhat literary.
Narrator: Cleo felt a strong urge to recite a poem.
Cleo: I am simply beyond myself with inspiration of a garden variety. I would hasten outdoors but I cannot get out of this cauldron.
Narrator: She pulled herself up to her full height in the cauldron and began.
Cleo: Oh! Sunflower!
How large thy leaves appear
To these nearly nine-year-old eyes!
How coversome and protective
When the beamish sun
Pours forth her hot July rays
Especially last week—-today is not so bad.
I like you, Sunflower.
Enter Nonny, who had been hiding behind a chair all this time.
Nonny: [clapping] Lovely, Cleo! And best of all, my recipe worked!
Cleo: Top of the morning to you, Grandmother Dearest. And what, may I ask, is the nature of the concoction you’ve brewed up this time?
Nonny: I’ve finally perfected-- I think and I hope-- my word soup. Shall we test it on Nadia? Here she comes. Can you get her to fall in too? Here, let me lift you out. Take this towel and dry off quickly so Nadia won’t suspect anything. By the way, how does it taste?
Cleo: It presents an intense violet colour, plums, black cherries, licorice, and dried herbs aroma in the nose. Sweet, round and ample in the mouth with a lingering finish.
Nonny: Good. Sounds like I’m almost there. Quick. Here comes Nadia.
Lifts Cleo out of the cauldron.
Narrator: Quite unsuspecting, Nadia entered through the back door.
Nadia: Yoo hoo, Nonny! Anybody home?
Cleo: Nadia! Look at the grape vine growing out the soup Nonny is cooking! Hum . . . I sound like myself again.
Nadia: You always sound like yourself. What are you talking about?
Cleo: Stand up on this footstool and look!
Nadia: Ok, ok!
Narrator: And so Nadia did. And Cleo pushed her right into the soup.
Nadia: Wha!!!
Cleo: Now take a sip.
Nonny: Wait! Let’s try something different.
Sprinkles something into the soup.
Nadia: Nonny, look what Cleo did to me! [Gulp] But I’m not afraid.
Pulling herself up to her full height.
I may be a young girl but I know life is hard
For those not so lucky as I am. I'm aware.
I’ve got sprite, I’ve got chutzpah, I got spunk, I got guts.
With some luck, I will help them. Need me? I'll be there.
Narrator, Nonny, Cleo: [clapping] Well done, Nadia!
Nadia takes a bow.
Cleo: That was a beautiful poem, Nadia. And such big words!
Nonny: It worked! I sprinkled in heroic words and she spoke a heroic poem!
Nadia: Anybody need rescuing?
Nonny: Here. Let me lift you out. I’m perfecting my word soup. I sprinkle in words and whoever stands in the cauldron or better yet, swallows some of the soup, finds they can’t resist reciting poetry in the language of the words! It’s my best invention yet.
Cleo: Ohhh. Let’s try it on the Narrator.
Nadia: Yes! We’ll put in some music words for him. OK, Larry?
Our narrator’s name is Larry and he’s a pianist when he isn’t narrating.
Narrator: Well, Ok. Why not?
Nonny: Girls, go find some music words for him. Meanwhile, we’ll try to fit him into the cauldron. Sorry, Narrator, it is the largest cauldron I could find.
Narrator: Well, I hardly need much prompting about words. I am a narrator after all. But let’s see what they come up with. Oh, yes, speaking of narrating. [Clears his throat.] So Cleo and Nadia scoured Nonny’s books for words about music. Luckily, Nonny has a lot of books. The Narrator, well, that’s me so I might as well just say “I.” I stepped into the pot and waited. And waited. And waited. I must say that I felt heroic and rather nineteenth century-ish at the same time. I barely suppressed a strange prompting to speak along the lines of David Copperfield when Cleo and Nadia suddenly appeared with a handful of music words.
Cleo and Nadia: Here you go. Into the pot.
They throw in the words.
Narrator: Oh, my.
Standing up to his full height.
The Rite of Spring does not elicit pity.
Stravinsky leaves no room for our lament.
She dances and she dies and it’s expected.
And so, how starkly modern can you get.
Nonny: Oh, my goodness. Modernism in a nutshell.
Cleo and Nadia: We don’t get it.
Narrator: That’s all right, my dears, I’m not sure I do either.
Cleo: I have a great idea! Let’s have a party and invite everyone we know and let them all stand in the pot and recite poems about what they love!
Nadia: Yes, let’s do. When is the next cele . . . celebration?
Nonny: I believe it’s Nadia's birthday, in thirty-one days. We’ll do it then. And you learned some big words when you were in the soup. Celebration is a big word.
Cleo and Nadia: Yay! Celebration!
End of Act I. Stay tuned.
Monday, July 4, 2011
For the child who's a dancer, or a budding acrobat . . .
The Cat Who Couldn’t Take a Nap
A play to be danced to. . .
Characters:
Narrator
Cleo Belber, who dances all the actions described
Rebecca, lives in Vermont
Edouard, lives in Vermont
Jake, a dog who joins in one dance
Lucy, another dog who instigates another dance
Setting: House in Vermont
Time: the present
Narrator: One day Cleo Belber woke up with an irresistible urge to lick her arms.
Cleo: Umm . . . how soft and furry my arms are today. What? I don’t have fur. That is, I don’t usually have fur. But I seem to have lots of it today. Lots of lovely, brindled fur! Why, I’m beautiful today!
Narrator: She jumped up, much higher and with greater ease than she usually jumped (and Cleo was a good jumper) and she bounced over to a mirror to get a good look at her new, beautiful fur.
Cleo: Why . . . why . . . I’ve turned into a cat!
Narrator: And sure enough, she had. She had turned into a lovely tortoise shell cat, just like the one her grandmother’s friend Rebecca has.
Cleo: I look just like Rebecca’s cat, Cassandra! I think I’ll call myself Cassandra today.
Narrator: She leapt off the bureau . . .
Cleo: Whoa . . . jumping is a lot different when you’re a cat! I can jump farther and higher than when I was a human. I’m leaping! Better get used to this. . .
Narrator: . . . and realized that not only did she look like Cassandra, she in fact, was Cassandra for the day and that she was at Rebecca and Edouard’s farm in Vermont.
Cleo: This is fun! I can leap all over the place!
Cleo leaps and pirouettes and a few pas de chat [that is, dancing like a cat!]
Oh, there’s Rebecca. Rebecca, look at me!
Rebecca: Cass, you are one lively cat today. Look at you prancing about. Edouard, look at this creature! She’s downright majestic today!
Edouard: Not too bad for an old girl.
Cleo: Humph. An old girl.
Narrator: Cleo had forgotten that Cassandra was ten.
Cleo: Better take it easy. But what fun.
Rebecca: Good kitty.
Cleo: Meow. Hum. I guess it makes sense that I meow instead of talking. Comes with the job of being a cat. Shouldn’t be surprised. Wonder what’s to eat around here? Ohh, what’s in that bowl? That smells good . . . ohh, it is good. Salmon, my favorite.
Leaps up onto a table and eats from a bowl.
Why is this delicious salmon up so high that I have to jump for it? Must ponder this question. But now I think I’ll take a nap. What’s this enormous warm thing here on the floor . . . I’ll just snuggle up next to it and take a little snooze.
Narrator: And Cleo did just that. But after only a few moments, the giant pillow she had snuggled up next to suddenly moved.
A Jake-and-Cleo pas de deux begins on the floor.
Cleo: What’s this? What’s this? What on earth could it be? Oh, my goodness. . . it’s a huge dog! This dog is . . . is . . . ten times bigger than I am!
Jake: [Sniffs her and she sniffs him]
It’s me, Jake. You don’t recognize me? I live here, too, you know.
Cleo: Oh, of course! I don’t know where I left my mind this morning. Sorry, Jake.
[To the audience] I won’t tell him that I’m not really Cassandra but Cleo Belber. Jake is very sensitive. That might confuse him. He’ll get upset. [To Jake] What a pleasure to see you, Jake.
Jake: Well, Ok, but you see me every day. Oh, I’m so taken for granted around here. I really must move around a bit more, and remind everyone of my presence. I’m a big guy, after all. I should command respect! Maybe I lie around too much. They see me as part of the furniture. Oh, my. No good. No, no good at all.
Cleo: I’ll saunter about and look for another place to take my nap. How about this closet. Looks nice and cool in here.
Narrator: Cleo, now called Cassandra the cat, had found the linen closet. What a perfect place for a cat.
Cleo: So many soft things in here: cool, clean sheets nicely folded, towels, face cloths, all stacked. I’ll just climb to the top of this stack and make myself comfortable. What beautiful colors. Oh, there’s a plush red towel on top.
Narrator: Cleo made her way to the top of the pile, did a little paw exercising (we don’t call it scratching) . . . and settled herself in for a nap.
Cleo does these things. But almost immediately, she starts to slip. Clowning acrobatics.
Cleo: Oh, oh, oh, no . . . what’s happening . . . a landslide . . . an earthquake . . . help!
Rebecca: What’s going on in here? Oh, Cassandra! All of the sheets and towels and pillow cases are tumbling out the door of the closet and to the floor. You’ve knocked down everything! How did you manage to knock down absolutely everything?
Cleo: The world slid out from under me! My nap was rudely interrupted! I’m leaving.
[Exits]
Rebecca: Ohhh. Now I have to put it all back.
Narrator: Well, Cleo got out of there lickety split and found herself in another part of the house.
Cleo: Hello! What’s this? A back porch? How nice! I think I’ll just wander around a bit and see what I can see. Oh! Flashes of blue and red . . . oh my! They’re birds! They’re flocking to feeders down there in the yard. They look yummy . . . hum . . . I’ll watch for a while and then I’ll take my nap. Wow! There’s a cardinal! And a rosy breasted grosbeak! And his wife next to him, big as he is and with brown streaks on her head. What a lovely sound he makes. I can imitate that sound because I just learned how to whistle. Here goes: Meow. Oops. Forgot again. Oh! What was that emerald green flash and I mean a flash. I can move like that!
Cleo dashes from one end of the porch to another,
imitating a hummingbird. Pas de bourrée couru. [That is, a running dance.]
That was fun. Wow. Look at that black squirrel! I’ve never seen a black squirrel before although Rebecca told me one lived here. Where did a black squirrel come from? Most squirrels are red or gray. That thing is as big as I am. I sure wouldn’t want to tangle with that guy. Or girl. Now that scrawny little chipmunk on the sunflower seed feeder . . . heh, heh. Ok, get ready, set, pounce!
She lunges and hits her nose on the screen. Backwards somersault.
Oh, I forgot it was a screened-in porch. How utterly humiliating. I hope no one saw that. Oops, here comes Rebecca. I’ll pretend I was doing jumping jacks all along.
Cleo does five jumping jacks. Rebecca enters.
Rebecca: Cass, you’re so frisky today, let’s play some.
She dangles string before Cleo.
Bet you can’t catch it!
Cleo: Meow, meow. Sure I can catch that, Rebecca. You know what a good catch I am. Although I am better at soccer than I am at playing ball. Meow, meow.
Cleo bats at swings at the string, rolling around on the floor. Then she leaps. Acrobatics.
I’m tired. I think it’s time for that nap I keep postponing.
She walks away from the string.
Rebecca: That was quite a show. I hope it didn’t get to be too much, old girl, huh? Ok. Here, have a treat.
Sprinkles cat nip on a cat bed. Exits.
Cleo: [Yawns.] Old girl again, huh? Hum. . . well, she didn’t see my hummingbird imitation. Old girl, indeed! What is this soft round plushy pillowy thing and what did she just sprinkle on it? It looks very comfortable. I think I’ll just climb up for a quick nap.
Climbs into a cat bed. Stretches her claws into it, sniffs it.
And it surrounds me perfectly. And it smells divine. What is it? Yum, yum. The sun is perfect, just here.
Falls asleep. Wakes up to another dog sniffing her.
Cleo: Hey, hey, what are you doing?
Lucy: Wake up, let’s play.
Cleo: Let’s play what?
Lucy: Let’s play chase! You run and I’ll chase you.
Cleo: I don’t believe it. This dog wants me to run. This dog is chasing me. Where should I go? She’s after me. Oh, my goodness. She’s nipping at my heels! This is not fun, this is no good. There are the stairs but where do they lead? Now, where am I? I’ve never been in this room before. I see a glimmer of sunshine through that small door,it looks like a dog door to the outside, better go that way. I’m outside. Run!
Cleo does all of these actions, pas de bourrée couru. Enter Rebecca and Edouard.
Rebecca: Lucy! You cut that out right this minute! Lucy! Bad dog!
Lucy: Oh, all right. I’ll stop.
Cleo: Whew! Thank goodness she’s obedient. But why did she want to chase me?
Lucy: I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just wanted you to run. And you did! Thank you very much.
Cleo: You’re welcome. I guess . . . but oh, what are these beautiful yellow flowers?
Cleo luxuriates in a patch of buttercups, batting at some of the taller flowers.
Rebecca: Look at Cassandra playing in the buttercups.
Cleo: Buttercups. Perfectly named. Cups of butter. What a perfect spot to ponder the glories of nature. And what was that other idea I wanted to ponder? Oh, yeah, why they put the food up so high that I had to jump for it. Well, now I know. To keep it from all these dogs. So what can I ponder now? The yellow of buttercups. I’m getting awfully sleepy. Yawn. What a perfect spot for a nap.
Cleo settles herself in for a nap.
Rebecca: [To Edouard] Think I can just leave her like this?
Edouard: Why not? She looks comfortable.
Rebecca: What if she can’t get back in the house? She’s never been out before.
Edouard: If she got out, she can get back in.
Rebecca: Lucy chased her out. She may not remember how to get back in. I’d better take her in. Besides, it’s time for her flea medicine. Come on, big girl. Let’s go.
Crouches to call Cleo. Cleo wakes up.
Cleo: Oh, no! Not flea medicine!
Edouard: Minou, minou, minou.
Crouches to call Cleo.
Cleo: Who’s meowing in French? I can speak French, too. Je suis là! Je suis là!
Goes to Rebecca and Edouard.
Edouard: Did you just say something in French?
Rebecca: No.
Edouard: I could swear I heard . . . must be losing my hearing.
Rebecca: No, not your hearing, just your mind. Ha, ha!
Rebecca leads Cleo back into the house, and puts her on the couch. Gives flea medicine.
Rebecca: There you go.
Cleo: Oh, it’s cold.
Cleo shivers. Rebecca exits.
I’m exhausted. It’s hard being a cat. And I have so many things to ponder. I think I’ll go back to being Cleo.
Narrator: And before you could say “kitty, kitty,” Cleo was back in her room, her fur had vanished, and she looked like a normal girl again.
Cleo: Home again, in my own room.
Checks herself in the mirror.
And I look like myself again. Well, that was fun. But I’m really sleepy. Maybe now I can finally take a nap.
Gets in her bed and falls asleep.
End of Play.
A play to be danced to. . .
Characters:
Narrator
Cleo Belber, who dances all the actions described
Rebecca, lives in Vermont
Edouard, lives in Vermont
Jake, a dog who joins in one dance
Lucy, another dog who instigates another dance
Setting: House in Vermont
Time: the present
Narrator: One day Cleo Belber woke up with an irresistible urge to lick her arms.
Cleo: Umm . . . how soft and furry my arms are today. What? I don’t have fur. That is, I don’t usually have fur. But I seem to have lots of it today. Lots of lovely, brindled fur! Why, I’m beautiful today!
Narrator: She jumped up, much higher and with greater ease than she usually jumped (and Cleo was a good jumper) and she bounced over to a mirror to get a good look at her new, beautiful fur.
Cleo: Why . . . why . . . I’ve turned into a cat!
Narrator: And sure enough, she had. She had turned into a lovely tortoise shell cat, just like the one her grandmother’s friend Rebecca has.
Cleo: I look just like Rebecca’s cat, Cassandra! I think I’ll call myself Cassandra today.
Narrator: She leapt off the bureau . . .
Cleo: Whoa . . . jumping is a lot different when you’re a cat! I can jump farther and higher than when I was a human. I’m leaping! Better get used to this. . .
Narrator: . . . and realized that not only did she look like Cassandra, she in fact, was Cassandra for the day and that she was at Rebecca and Edouard’s farm in Vermont.
Cleo: This is fun! I can leap all over the place!
Cleo leaps and pirouettes and a few pas de chat [that is, dancing like a cat!]
Oh, there’s Rebecca. Rebecca, look at me!
Rebecca: Cass, you are one lively cat today. Look at you prancing about. Edouard, look at this creature! She’s downright majestic today!
Edouard: Not too bad for an old girl.
Cleo: Humph. An old girl.
Narrator: Cleo had forgotten that Cassandra was ten.
Cleo: Better take it easy. But what fun.
Rebecca: Good kitty.
Cleo: Meow. Hum. I guess it makes sense that I meow instead of talking. Comes with the job of being a cat. Shouldn’t be surprised. Wonder what’s to eat around here? Ohh, what’s in that bowl? That smells good . . . ohh, it is good. Salmon, my favorite.
Leaps up onto a table and eats from a bowl.
Why is this delicious salmon up so high that I have to jump for it? Must ponder this question. But now I think I’ll take a nap. What’s this enormous warm thing here on the floor . . . I’ll just snuggle up next to it and take a little snooze.
Narrator: And Cleo did just that. But after only a few moments, the giant pillow she had snuggled up next to suddenly moved.
A Jake-and-Cleo pas de deux begins on the floor.
Cleo: What’s this? What’s this? What on earth could it be? Oh, my goodness. . . it’s a huge dog! This dog is . . . is . . . ten times bigger than I am!
Jake: [Sniffs her and she sniffs him]
It’s me, Jake. You don’t recognize me? I live here, too, you know.
Cleo: Oh, of course! I don’t know where I left my mind this morning. Sorry, Jake.
[To the audience] I won’t tell him that I’m not really Cassandra but Cleo Belber. Jake is very sensitive. That might confuse him. He’ll get upset. [To Jake] What a pleasure to see you, Jake.
Jake: Well, Ok, but you see me every day. Oh, I’m so taken for granted around here. I really must move around a bit more, and remind everyone of my presence. I’m a big guy, after all. I should command respect! Maybe I lie around too much. They see me as part of the furniture. Oh, my. No good. No, no good at all.
Cleo: I’ll saunter about and look for another place to take my nap. How about this closet. Looks nice and cool in here.
Narrator: Cleo, now called Cassandra the cat, had found the linen closet. What a perfect place for a cat.
Cleo: So many soft things in here: cool, clean sheets nicely folded, towels, face cloths, all stacked. I’ll just climb to the top of this stack and make myself comfortable. What beautiful colors. Oh, there’s a plush red towel on top.
Narrator: Cleo made her way to the top of the pile, did a little paw exercising (we don’t call it scratching) . . . and settled herself in for a nap.
Cleo does these things. But almost immediately, she starts to slip. Clowning acrobatics.
Cleo: Oh, oh, oh, no . . . what’s happening . . . a landslide . . . an earthquake . . . help!
Rebecca: What’s going on in here? Oh, Cassandra! All of the sheets and towels and pillow cases are tumbling out the door of the closet and to the floor. You’ve knocked down everything! How did you manage to knock down absolutely everything?
Cleo: The world slid out from under me! My nap was rudely interrupted! I’m leaving.
[Exits]
Rebecca: Ohhh. Now I have to put it all back.
Narrator: Well, Cleo got out of there lickety split and found herself in another part of the house.
Cleo: Hello! What’s this? A back porch? How nice! I think I’ll just wander around a bit and see what I can see. Oh! Flashes of blue and red . . . oh my! They’re birds! They’re flocking to feeders down there in the yard. They look yummy . . . hum . . . I’ll watch for a while and then I’ll take my nap. Wow! There’s a cardinal! And a rosy breasted grosbeak! And his wife next to him, big as he is and with brown streaks on her head. What a lovely sound he makes. I can imitate that sound because I just learned how to whistle. Here goes: Meow. Oops. Forgot again. Oh! What was that emerald green flash and I mean a flash. I can move like that!
Cleo dashes from one end of the porch to another,
imitating a hummingbird. Pas de bourrée couru. [That is, a running dance.]
That was fun. Wow. Look at that black squirrel! I’ve never seen a black squirrel before although Rebecca told me one lived here. Where did a black squirrel come from? Most squirrels are red or gray. That thing is as big as I am. I sure wouldn’t want to tangle with that guy. Or girl. Now that scrawny little chipmunk on the sunflower seed feeder . . . heh, heh. Ok, get ready, set, pounce!
She lunges and hits her nose on the screen. Backwards somersault.
Oh, I forgot it was a screened-in porch. How utterly humiliating. I hope no one saw that. Oops, here comes Rebecca. I’ll pretend I was doing jumping jacks all along.
Cleo does five jumping jacks. Rebecca enters.
Rebecca: Cass, you’re so frisky today, let’s play some.
She dangles string before Cleo.
Bet you can’t catch it!
Cleo: Meow, meow. Sure I can catch that, Rebecca. You know what a good catch I am. Although I am better at soccer than I am at playing ball. Meow, meow.
Cleo bats at swings at the string, rolling around on the floor. Then she leaps. Acrobatics.
I’m tired. I think it’s time for that nap I keep postponing.
She walks away from the string.
Rebecca: That was quite a show. I hope it didn’t get to be too much, old girl, huh? Ok. Here, have a treat.
Sprinkles cat nip on a cat bed. Exits.
Cleo: [Yawns.] Old girl again, huh? Hum. . . well, she didn’t see my hummingbird imitation. Old girl, indeed! What is this soft round plushy pillowy thing and what did she just sprinkle on it? It looks very comfortable. I think I’ll just climb up for a quick nap.
Climbs into a cat bed. Stretches her claws into it, sniffs it.
And it surrounds me perfectly. And it smells divine. What is it? Yum, yum. The sun is perfect, just here.
Falls asleep. Wakes up to another dog sniffing her.
Cleo: Hey, hey, what are you doing?
Lucy: Wake up, let’s play.
Cleo: Let’s play what?
Lucy: Let’s play chase! You run and I’ll chase you.
Cleo: I don’t believe it. This dog wants me to run. This dog is chasing me. Where should I go? She’s after me. Oh, my goodness. She’s nipping at my heels! This is not fun, this is no good. There are the stairs but where do they lead? Now, where am I? I’ve never been in this room before. I see a glimmer of sunshine through that small door,it looks like a dog door to the outside, better go that way. I’m outside. Run!
Cleo does all of these actions, pas de bourrée couru. Enter Rebecca and Edouard.
Rebecca: Lucy! You cut that out right this minute! Lucy! Bad dog!
Lucy: Oh, all right. I’ll stop.
Cleo: Whew! Thank goodness she’s obedient. But why did she want to chase me?
Lucy: I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just wanted you to run. And you did! Thank you very much.
Cleo: You’re welcome. I guess . . . but oh, what are these beautiful yellow flowers?
Cleo luxuriates in a patch of buttercups, batting at some of the taller flowers.
Rebecca: Look at Cassandra playing in the buttercups.
Cleo: Buttercups. Perfectly named. Cups of butter. What a perfect spot to ponder the glories of nature. And what was that other idea I wanted to ponder? Oh, yeah, why they put the food up so high that I had to jump for it. Well, now I know. To keep it from all these dogs. So what can I ponder now? The yellow of buttercups. I’m getting awfully sleepy. Yawn. What a perfect spot for a nap.
Cleo settles herself in for a nap.
Rebecca: [To Edouard] Think I can just leave her like this?
Edouard: Why not? She looks comfortable.
Rebecca: What if she can’t get back in the house? She’s never been out before.
Edouard: If she got out, she can get back in.
Rebecca: Lucy chased her out. She may not remember how to get back in. I’d better take her in. Besides, it’s time for her flea medicine. Come on, big girl. Let’s go.
Crouches to call Cleo. Cleo wakes up.
Cleo: Oh, no! Not flea medicine!
Edouard: Minou, minou, minou.
Crouches to call Cleo.
Cleo: Who’s meowing in French? I can speak French, too. Je suis là! Je suis là!
Goes to Rebecca and Edouard.
Edouard: Did you just say something in French?
Rebecca: No.
Edouard: I could swear I heard . . . must be losing my hearing.
Rebecca: No, not your hearing, just your mind. Ha, ha!
Rebecca leads Cleo back into the house, and puts her on the couch. Gives flea medicine.
Rebecca: There you go.
Cleo: Oh, it’s cold.
Cleo shivers. Rebecca exits.
I’m exhausted. It’s hard being a cat. And I have so many things to ponder. I think I’ll go back to being Cleo.
Narrator: And before you could say “kitty, kitty,” Cleo was back in her room, her fur had vanished, and she looked like a normal girl again.
Cleo: Home again, in my own room.
Checks herself in the mirror.
And I look like myself again. Well, that was fun. But I’m really sleepy. Maybe now I can finally take a nap.
Gets in her bed and falls asleep.
End of Play.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
For a birthday celebration, a play: Boom De a Da
Please substitute any of the characters with people of your choice and alter the dialogue to suit your purposes.
There are speaking parts for lots of children or adults.
You'll need the following:
A Narrator (or two, if you'd like. They can split the parts.)
Two siblings
Two speaking notes
Several boxes that speak
Kizzy is a dog, so you'll need a speaking dog (he also barks)
A meowing cat
At least five people at the party (revealed at the end of the play) but of course you can add as many people as you'd like to the Birthday Party celebration.
Boom De a Da
Preface: It’s quite possible that none of these events really happened. But it sure felt like what happened to Cleo and Nadia one morning in February.
Narrator
On the 21st of February, Cleo woke up in the bed with the many-colored quilt that she shared with her sister, Nadia. She yawned and stretched and . . . but, hello, what’s this? The first thing Cleo noticed was how quiet the house was.
Cleo
Hum. Now this is odd. Why don’t I smell scrambled eggs? Why isn’t Mama showering after her run? Why isn’t Daddy singing and swinging with Nadia and for that matter why isn’t Nadia waking the dead with her raucous laughing?
Nadia
Because I’m still asleep.
Narrator
Cleo sat up suddenly. There wasn’t a sound in the whole house! Not even a meow! This was beyond odd: it was scary. She turned and nudged Nadia until she was fully awake.
Cleo
Why didn’t Mama come and wake us up? Why aren’t you singing and swinging with Daddy? Where is everybody?!
Nadia
Wail!!
Narrator
The two sisters clutched each other in fear. Then Cleo ran downstairs. Daddy wasn’t there cooking; She ran back upstairs and looked in the bathroom. Mama’s contact lens case was empty, so she must have gone out.
Cleo
So that’s what happened. Whew!
Nadia
What happened?
Cleo
They’ve just gone out. . . I hope.
Nadia
Wail!
Cleo
Stop wailing, Nadia. We have to check things first, then figure out what to do.
Nadia
And then wail!!!
Narrator
She flew into Mama and Daddy’s room. Nobody. She looked in Mama’s closet but all of her dresses were there. She looked in Mama’s jewelry boxes, but all of her necklaces and bracelets were there.
She even looked outside at the bird feeder. There wasn't even a chickadee at the birdfeeder.
Cleo
No chickadees! But it’s February! There’s snow on the ground! There are always chickadees when it’s February when there’s snow on the ground! Especially on February 21st!
Narrator
Was the world suddenly empty?
By that time, Nadia was up and running, too. Both sisters ran outside to the yard. The bicycles were there and so were the helmets and so was the red wagon. She looked in Mama’s studio. Empty.
Cleo
They must have gone to Nonny and GrandMark’s.
Nadia
Oh, yes. I’m sure that’s where they are.
Narrator:
So they ran down the street into the kitchen at Nonny and GrandMark’s house.
Cleo
Yoo Hoo.
Nadia
Yoo Ooo
Cleo
It’s Yoo Hoo, Nadia. Not Yoo Ooo.
Nadia
Well, I made up Yoo Ooo and I like it. Nonny likes it when I make up words.
Cleo
OK, Ok, we have more important matters at hand.
Narrator
Silence.
Cleo
No Yoo Hoo? – where’s Nonny?!
Narrator
There was no smell of GrandMark baking cookies. Cleo looked in the oven. No ham? Not even a chicken? And no Christmas tree.
Nadia
Where is the Christmas tree?
Cleo.
[Crossing her arms and planting her feet firmly on the floor.]
Well, it is February after all. They've taken the tree down and put the ornaments away. At least something around here makes sense.
Narrator
But somehow, that wasn’t very reassuring.
Cleo
Maybe they’re upstairs thinking, not downstairs cooking.
Nadia
Let’s go look.
Narrator
But GrandMark wasn’t in his study studying. Nonny wasn’t in her computer room computing. Or whatever she does with all those emails.
Cleo
Where’s Kizzy?! [pause]
I bet Mark took him for a walk. That’s where they all are. Of course. They’re taking Kizzy for a walk... yes, most likely that’s what has happened. Everyone has gone for a walk.
Nadia
Yes, that is most likely what has happened.
Narrator
So she ran back downstairs and looked in the shoe box by the porch door. Mark’s Kizzy-walking shoes were there. She looked on the porch. Kizzy’s leash was there.
Cleo
Ok . . . I know! They’ve gone to French Memories for some tarts!
Nadia
I sure would love a tart right now.
Narrator
But the car was there.
Cleo
Nadia, wait here. I’m going to check Lucy and Roan’s house.
Nadia
Why??? [sob] I don’t want to wait here all alone.
Cleo
But what if they come back? If we’re gone, they’ll worry.
Nadia
Good idea.
Narrator
So Cleo ran across the street to Lucy and Roan’s house. Nobody.
Cleo slowly walked back to Nonny and GrandMark’s house. She sat all alone on the couch, trying not to cry. She sang the boom boom song to keep up her spirits.
Cleo
I love Miss Nadia
I’m glad that she is four.
[sob]
Nadia
I love Miss Nadia
I’m glad that she is four.
[sob]
Cleo
Nadia, quit sobbing. It doesn’t help.
Nadia
Well, you’re sobbing.
Cleo
That’s ‘cause I’m in charge.
Nadia
Oh. I didn’t know you were in charge and I didn’t know people in charge were supposed to sob.
Cleo
Well, I do and they do.
Narrator
The house remained eerily still.
Cleo
[To herself] Cleo. You are seven years old. Face the truth. Everyone has vanished. That’s all there is to it.
Nadia
And I am five years old. Almost. We must face the truth.
Narrator:
Well, that thought comforted the sisters for about one minute.
Cleo:
Why didn’t they take us?? [sob]
Narrator:
Together, they looked out the window one more time, then together they sat down on the couch to wait. But Cleo sat down on something hard and bulky and uncomfortable.
Cleo
[British accent] ‘Hello! What’s this? [Regular voice, almost distracted.] Now I sound like a character from the books Daddy and Nonny read to us. Ha, ha! [pause, sob] Where’s Daddy?
Nadia
[sob]
Narrator
Cleo was sitting on a lump. Something was under the couch cushion. Sure enough, under the cushion was a book.
Cleo
Oh! Rebecca must have brought a book. She always brings us books, or at least she used to. [gulp] Where’s Rebecca? And her dogs? [sob]
Well, I’ll just read this here book to Nadia until everything gets back to normal. I’ll read until everyone comes back. [gulp]
Cleo
[British accent] ‘Hello! What’s this? A note? [Back to regular voice] There’s that strange voice again. But what does this note say . .
Note
Look in the bookcase next to the front door.
Narrator
So she and Nadia ran to the bookcase next to the front door. There was a box. And the box also had a note.
Box
Take me with you and go to where Kizzy eats his dinner.
Cleo
What? Well, OK.
Nadia
Over here! Look! Over here!
Narrator
They ran to the place where Kizzy eats his dinner. They found another box and another note.
Box
Take me with you, too, and go to where all your books and toys are.
Narrator
So they did and they found still another box with still another note.
Box
Take me with you and go under the dining room table. . .
Cleo
Oh, my. Ok.
Nadia
I’ll hold the boxes while you read the notes.
Cleo
Good idea.
Narrator
This time the box said, take me and go to GrandMark’s desk. And so, believe it or not, by the time the sisters looked and found boxes with notes and more boxes and more notes, not only was they out of breath, but Nadia was balancing 7 boxes and Cleo was balancing 10 boxes and there was still one more note. How can this be? The last box said:
Box
Now go to the refrigerator and look inside.
Narrator
Cleo opened the refrigerator door and was really stumped this time!
Cleo
This refrigerator is so full....so much food....how will I find . . . that last note makes no sense. [Pause while she searches].
Umm, my favorite cake. I’ll eat some of it while I wait for everyone to get back.
Nadia
I’d love to eat some cake. All this running around has made me hungry.
Cleo
Not so fast! There’s a note attached to a cake. So what does this note say?
Note
Take this cake.
Cleo
That’s all? Now what am I supposed to do?
Nadia
Now what are we supposed to do?
Narrator
By now Cleo was staggering under the weight of 10 boxes and Nadia was staggering under the weight of 7 boxes and Cleo was supposed to put a cake on top of it all?
Cleo
This is getting tricky. I’d better put this stuff down somewhere before I fall down.
I know. Let’s put it all in the shed.
Nadia
Good idea.
Narrator
The sisters staggered to the shed, each balancing a total of 17 boxes and Cleo had the cake on top of her 10 boxes to make things even more complicated. They barely made it to the shed. But they did. Cleo tried to open the shed door but it was not easy with 17 boxes and a cake balanced on one hand.
Nadia
Let’s count to three.
Cleo
Good idea. Well, here goes.
Cleo and Nadia
One, two, three—yank!
Narrator
EEECCHH went the shed door and . . .
Lo and Behold! Or rather [in a British accent], ‘hello, what’s this?’
Everyone, Jonny and Sage, Nonny and GrandMark, all of the cats and even Kizzy and Rebecca, everyone who had been missing-- all were in the shed!
Everyone
Surprise! Happy Birthday!
Kizzy
Woof, woof!
Cats
Meow, meow!
Narrator
Well, Cleo laughed so hard that the 10 boxes balanced with the cake on top started to wobble dangerously. Quickly, Nonny caught the cake just before it crashed to the floor, Jonny caught four of the boxes, Sage caught two, GrandMark caught three, and Nadia held onto her 7 boxes because her jumping school has made her strong. Rebecca and Kizzy grabbed the last two, even though they did hit the floor. Kizzy had a bone in his mouth which prevented him from helping much.
Then Cleo and Nadia did a dance which everyone joined in until GrandMark stubbed his toe on a bicycle rim and Nadia bumped her head on a box containing a portable bread maker, so they all decided to go to the porch.
They joined hands around the table and, dancing in a ring around the table, they sang.
Now’s the time to celebrate,
Everyone is in the room,
Soon enough we’ll eat our cake,
But not until we’ve boomed and boomed.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Then Cleo sang her boom boom song:
Eight years ago today
I, Cleo, I was born.
Now I can act in plays
I can even play the horn.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Then Nadia sang hers:
We love Miss Nadia
We’re glad that she is four.
We like to stretch and stretch
Next to Kizzy on the floor.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Narrator
There were only three verses by nobody cared. They sang them over and over until Kizzy decided he was hungry. So everyone sat down and ate the chocolate cake Nonny had made for Cleo’s eighth birthday.
And it sure was GOOD!
End of play.
There are speaking parts for lots of children or adults.
You'll need the following:
A Narrator (or two, if you'd like. They can split the parts.)
Two siblings
Two speaking notes
Several boxes that speak
Kizzy is a dog, so you'll need a speaking dog (he also barks)
A meowing cat
At least five people at the party (revealed at the end of the play) but of course you can add as many people as you'd like to the Birthday Party celebration.
Boom De a Da
Preface: It’s quite possible that none of these events really happened. But it sure felt like what happened to Cleo and Nadia one morning in February.
Narrator
On the 21st of February, Cleo woke up in the bed with the many-colored quilt that she shared with her sister, Nadia. She yawned and stretched and . . . but, hello, what’s this? The first thing Cleo noticed was how quiet the house was.
Cleo
Hum. Now this is odd. Why don’t I smell scrambled eggs? Why isn’t Mama showering after her run? Why isn’t Daddy singing and swinging with Nadia and for that matter why isn’t Nadia waking the dead with her raucous laughing?
Nadia
Because I’m still asleep.
Narrator
Cleo sat up suddenly. There wasn’t a sound in the whole house! Not even a meow! This was beyond odd: it was scary. She turned and nudged Nadia until she was fully awake.
Cleo
Why didn’t Mama come and wake us up? Why aren’t you singing and swinging with Daddy? Where is everybody?!
Nadia
Wail!!
Narrator
The two sisters clutched each other in fear. Then Cleo ran downstairs. Daddy wasn’t there cooking; She ran back upstairs and looked in the bathroom. Mama’s contact lens case was empty, so she must have gone out.
Cleo
So that’s what happened. Whew!
Nadia
What happened?
Cleo
They’ve just gone out. . . I hope.
Nadia
Wail!
Cleo
Stop wailing, Nadia. We have to check things first, then figure out what to do.
Nadia
And then wail!!!
Narrator
She flew into Mama and Daddy’s room. Nobody. She looked in Mama’s closet but all of her dresses were there. She looked in Mama’s jewelry boxes, but all of her necklaces and bracelets were there.
She even looked outside at the bird feeder. There wasn't even a chickadee at the birdfeeder.
Cleo
No chickadees! But it’s February! There’s snow on the ground! There are always chickadees when it’s February when there’s snow on the ground! Especially on February 21st!
Narrator
Was the world suddenly empty?
By that time, Nadia was up and running, too. Both sisters ran outside to the yard. The bicycles were there and so were the helmets and so was the red wagon. She looked in Mama’s studio. Empty.
Cleo
They must have gone to Nonny and GrandMark’s.
Nadia
Oh, yes. I’m sure that’s where they are.
Narrator:
So they ran down the street into the kitchen at Nonny and GrandMark’s house.
Cleo
Yoo Hoo.
Nadia
Yoo Ooo
Cleo
It’s Yoo Hoo, Nadia. Not Yoo Ooo.
Nadia
Well, I made up Yoo Ooo and I like it. Nonny likes it when I make up words.
Cleo
OK, Ok, we have more important matters at hand.
Narrator
Silence.
Cleo
No Yoo Hoo? – where’s Nonny?!
Narrator
There was no smell of GrandMark baking cookies. Cleo looked in the oven. No ham? Not even a chicken? And no Christmas tree.
Nadia
Where is the Christmas tree?
Cleo.
[Crossing her arms and planting her feet firmly on the floor.]
Well, it is February after all. They've taken the tree down and put the ornaments away. At least something around here makes sense.
Narrator
But somehow, that wasn’t very reassuring.
Cleo
Maybe they’re upstairs thinking, not downstairs cooking.
Nadia
Let’s go look.
Narrator
But GrandMark wasn’t in his study studying. Nonny wasn’t in her computer room computing. Or whatever she does with all those emails.
Cleo
Where’s Kizzy?! [pause]
I bet Mark took him for a walk. That’s where they all are. Of course. They’re taking Kizzy for a walk... yes, most likely that’s what has happened. Everyone has gone for a walk.
Nadia
Yes, that is most likely what has happened.
Narrator
So she ran back downstairs and looked in the shoe box by the porch door. Mark’s Kizzy-walking shoes were there. She looked on the porch. Kizzy’s leash was there.
Cleo
Ok . . . I know! They’ve gone to French Memories for some tarts!
Nadia
I sure would love a tart right now.
Narrator
But the car was there.
Cleo
Nadia, wait here. I’m going to check Lucy and Roan’s house.
Nadia
Why??? [sob] I don’t want to wait here all alone.
Cleo
But what if they come back? If we’re gone, they’ll worry.
Nadia
Good idea.
Narrator
So Cleo ran across the street to Lucy and Roan’s house. Nobody.
Cleo slowly walked back to Nonny and GrandMark’s house. She sat all alone on the couch, trying not to cry. She sang the boom boom song to keep up her spirits.
Cleo
I love Miss Nadia
I’m glad that she is four.
[sob]
Nadia
I love Miss Nadia
I’m glad that she is four.
[sob]
Cleo
Nadia, quit sobbing. It doesn’t help.
Nadia
Well, you’re sobbing.
Cleo
That’s ‘cause I’m in charge.
Nadia
Oh. I didn’t know you were in charge and I didn’t know people in charge were supposed to sob.
Cleo
Well, I do and they do.
Narrator
The house remained eerily still.
Cleo
[To herself] Cleo. You are seven years old. Face the truth. Everyone has vanished. That’s all there is to it.
Nadia
And I am five years old. Almost. We must face the truth.
Narrator:
Well, that thought comforted the sisters for about one minute.
Cleo:
Why didn’t they take us?? [sob]
Narrator:
Together, they looked out the window one more time, then together they sat down on the couch to wait. But Cleo sat down on something hard and bulky and uncomfortable.
Cleo
[British accent] ‘Hello! What’s this? [Regular voice, almost distracted.] Now I sound like a character from the books Daddy and Nonny read to us. Ha, ha! [pause, sob] Where’s Daddy?
Nadia
[sob]
Narrator
Cleo was sitting on a lump. Something was under the couch cushion. Sure enough, under the cushion was a book.
Cleo
Oh! Rebecca must have brought a book. She always brings us books, or at least she used to. [gulp] Where’s Rebecca? And her dogs? [sob]
Well, I’ll just read this here book to Nadia until everything gets back to normal. I’ll read until everyone comes back. [gulp]
Cleo
[British accent] ‘Hello! What’s this? A note? [Back to regular voice] There’s that strange voice again. But what does this note say . .
Note
Look in the bookcase next to the front door.
Narrator
So she and Nadia ran to the bookcase next to the front door. There was a box. And the box also had a note.
Box
Take me with you and go to where Kizzy eats his dinner.
Cleo
What? Well, OK.
Nadia
Over here! Look! Over here!
Narrator
They ran to the place where Kizzy eats his dinner. They found another box and another note.
Box
Take me with you, too, and go to where all your books and toys are.
Narrator
So they did and they found still another box with still another note.
Box
Take me with you and go under the dining room table. . .
Cleo
Oh, my. Ok.
Nadia
I’ll hold the boxes while you read the notes.
Cleo
Good idea.
Narrator
This time the box said, take me and go to GrandMark’s desk. And so, believe it or not, by the time the sisters looked and found boxes with notes and more boxes and more notes, not only was they out of breath, but Nadia was balancing 7 boxes and Cleo was balancing 10 boxes and there was still one more note. How can this be? The last box said:
Box
Now go to the refrigerator and look inside.
Narrator
Cleo opened the refrigerator door and was really stumped this time!
Cleo
This refrigerator is so full....so much food....how will I find . . . that last note makes no sense. [Pause while she searches].
Umm, my favorite cake. I’ll eat some of it while I wait for everyone to get back.
Nadia
I’d love to eat some cake. All this running around has made me hungry.
Cleo
Not so fast! There’s a note attached to a cake. So what does this note say?
Note
Take this cake.
Cleo
That’s all? Now what am I supposed to do?
Nadia
Now what are we supposed to do?
Narrator
By now Cleo was staggering under the weight of 10 boxes and Nadia was staggering under the weight of 7 boxes and Cleo was supposed to put a cake on top of it all?
Cleo
This is getting tricky. I’d better put this stuff down somewhere before I fall down.
I know. Let’s put it all in the shed.
Nadia
Good idea.
Narrator
The sisters staggered to the shed, each balancing a total of 17 boxes and Cleo had the cake on top of her 10 boxes to make things even more complicated. They barely made it to the shed. But they did. Cleo tried to open the shed door but it was not easy with 17 boxes and a cake balanced on one hand.
Nadia
Let’s count to three.
Cleo
Good idea. Well, here goes.
Cleo and Nadia
One, two, three—yank!
Narrator
EEECCHH went the shed door and . . .
Lo and Behold! Or rather [in a British accent], ‘hello, what’s this?’
Everyone, Jonny and Sage, Nonny and GrandMark, all of the cats and even Kizzy and Rebecca, everyone who had been missing-- all were in the shed!
Everyone
Surprise! Happy Birthday!
Kizzy
Woof, woof!
Cats
Meow, meow!
Narrator
Well, Cleo laughed so hard that the 10 boxes balanced with the cake on top started to wobble dangerously. Quickly, Nonny caught the cake just before it crashed to the floor, Jonny caught four of the boxes, Sage caught two, GrandMark caught three, and Nadia held onto her 7 boxes because her jumping school has made her strong. Rebecca and Kizzy grabbed the last two, even though they did hit the floor. Kizzy had a bone in his mouth which prevented him from helping much.
Then Cleo and Nadia did a dance which everyone joined in until GrandMark stubbed his toe on a bicycle rim and Nadia bumped her head on a box containing a portable bread maker, so they all decided to go to the porch.
They joined hands around the table and, dancing in a ring around the table, they sang.
Now’s the time to celebrate,
Everyone is in the room,
Soon enough we’ll eat our cake,
But not until we’ve boomed and boomed.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Then Cleo sang her boom boom song:
Eight years ago today
I, Cleo, I was born.
Now I can act in plays
I can even play the horn.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Then Nadia sang hers:
We love Miss Nadia
We’re glad that she is four.
We like to stretch and stretch
Next to Kizzy on the floor.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da, boom de A Da.
Narrator
There were only three verses by nobody cared. They sang them over and over until Kizzy decided he was hungry. So everyone sat down and ate the chocolate cake Nonny had made for Cleo’s eighth birthday.
And it sure was GOOD!
End of play.
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