August 29, 2012
“Tell me a story,” she says, her eyes bright in the light of the campfire. “About a pirate ship with crimson sails, billowing in a gale…” “Theirs is a hard course,” I reply, “set for them by so ancient a … Continue reading
August 7, 2012
I’ve had a bit of a mental paper jam, in that it appears I’m not to write anything of particular substance without first I should relieve myself of a play that’s been taking space in my head for the better part of two years, now. And so — tadaa! — I’m writing a play.
The following is *not* that play, but instead is a sketch that I tapped out in the course of testing the scriptwriting mode of the writing app I’ve taken to. It’s more than fair to say this piece has got a bit of Monty Python’s Dead Parrot Sketch in its DNA, and a certain gleeful irreverence for the Sunday morning after the night before.
SHOPKEEPER, the proprietor of a typical storefront.
MARTY, a patron.
A typical, traditional English (or merry old New England) storefront. Prominent among its features is a wooden counter, behind which is found the SHOPKEEPER. It is mid-morning, on the Sabbath Day.