“How Roger and Polly Felt About the New Baby”

[Roger: the Budwicks’ pet sheepdog. He’s still just a puppy, but he considers it his responsibility to take care of the new baby. Roger is good friends with Polly, and he wants to make a good impression, and prove that he is a ‘good dog’.]
[Polly: the daughter. Seven years old, Polly is very preoccupied with trying to fit in at school and make friends. Doesn’t want to be forgotten now that the baby’s arrived.]

Roger: (Barks) Hooray! The new baby’s here, the new baby’s here! Is it a boy or girl? What’s it’s name? Man, I hope Mrs. Budwick’s brought home doggy treats. What am I thinking? She’s just gotten back from the hospital… Of course there’ll be doggy treats! (His paws padding on the kitchen tiles) Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes. (Woofs. Door opens) It’s a… what the heck is it? A girl? It hasn’t got long pigtails like Polly. A boy maybe? He isn’t even holding a remote control. I’m confused. Am I stereotyping? Ooh, let me hold it. No wait, I haven’t got any hands, just paws. It’s so cute! Like a rabbit. I eat rabbits. No, don’t think about food, Roger.
Harriet! That’s the baby’s name. So it’s a girl. She hasn’t got any teeth! What happened, were they all knocked out? Ah, she’s a fighter isn’t she. Harriet’s green eyes are ginormous! They’re like green sparkly marbles. I like her already. (Tongue licking baby, baby giggles). And she likes me! Good thing too, where going to be spending a lot of time together. I will personally teach Harriet everything I know: how to sit, roll over, fetch, play dead, and soon she’ll be drinking out of the toilet bowl like a pro. Whew, something reeks. And it wasn’t me. What is that smell? Good grief, it’s Harriet. That’s my girl. Her first day home and she’s already stinking up they place. I could learn a thing or to from this baby.

(Roger pants excitedly) Maybe she’ll want to chew my new squeaky toy. (Toy squeaks) Or she could throw this frisbee. Hey, why are her eyes closed? Is she playing dead? Oh, she’s just sleeping. That’s okay, I remember when I was puppy I used to sleep a lot too. I’ll come back later, maybe she’ll be ready to play with me then.

Polly: She’s actually kinda cute, and she’s so small. Still, I hope I don’t have to take care of her. She may be my sister, well, stepsister, but there’s no way I’m going to look after her. (Door slams shut) I’ve got too much on my plate already: school, friends, ballet rehearsals, and Nicky’s birthday party.
I just know mom and dad are going to expect me to watch the baby, play with the baby, feed the baby, and worst of all.. (Smell the air) Phew! Change her nappy! It shouldn’t be my responsibility. Don’t they have any respect for my social life? Babies are disgusting. All they do is eat, poop, and sleep all day. I wish I could sleep all day.
Why did mom and dad have to have another baby in the first place? Maybe one wasn’t enough for them… Maybe they thought it would be ‘good for’ me. Maybe it was accident! Yes, maybe they didn’t mean to have Harriet. No, of course they did. But why did they have to have her?
Do I even want a baby sister? I’m not sure. They should have asked me that though. I’m a part of this family too. Maybe they just don’t value my opinion. Do I wan’t a baby sister? Yes.. and no. I don’t want her, because I’m jealous! Yes, I’m jealous. Mom and dad with be spending more time with Harriet now and will have less time to spend with me. Maybe they’ll forget about me. They have forgotten about me. They’re so busy playing with and fussing over that thing they don’t even notice I’m there. Even Roger adores her. Traitor. What’s the big whoop about a new baby anyway? I mean, it’s going to grow up someday and be just like me. A selfish, moody teenager. Ouch. That really stings when you say it out loud.
Then it is my responsibility. I’m the older sister, she’s going to look up to me, it’s only natural. And if she sees me being moody all the time, that’s what she’s going to be like. Okay, Polly, you’d better clean up your act. It’s time for you to set a good example for Harriet. Hmmm, maybe having a baby sister won’t be so bad after all. (Door opens, and closes)

“Opposite Deaths”

Scene 1

(A laboratory. A giant, cylindrical machine is center stage.
MARX and PHILIP are confronting each other. PHILIP is
cornered, he is up against the machine)

MARX:

I am vexed, Philip, I truly am. Our lives have reached a dueling climax. Who would’ve thought that you and I would be sworn enemies till the ends of our days?

PHILIP:

I certainly wouldn’t have.

MARX:
(Draws sword)
We had different journeys. We chose different paths, and yet some roads have been designed to converge. The rich and the poor. The educated and the uneducated. One must encounter their polar-opposite somewhere along the line.

PHILIP:

And here we are.

MARX:

I have fed off my anticipation of today, Philip.

PHILIP:

Whereas I have tried to forget that this day would come.

MARX:

I am hurt. (Acts as though he is wounded) How could you forget? Did our friendship mean nothing to you?

PHILIP:

You_

MARX:

No, no, don’t answer that. It was rhetorical anyway. And besides, I already know the answer. Obsession? Madness? Is that what’s kept me going?

PHILIP:

My theory goes a tad deeper.. You’re possessed.

MARX:

By what though? That’s the mystery… By hatred, by bitterness. Writhing fury at your betrayal. I have meditated, my dear friend, meditated. The pinnacle of our epic saga has consumed my every thought.

PHILIP:

I would try to persuade you, Marx. I did not steal her from you. She married me. It was her choice. I wasn’t desperate, as you were, that I would stoop to the level you did. I didn’t force her, she chose to marry me.

MARX:

And it was the death of her… (Stabs PHILIP)

PHILIP:
(Sinks to the ground)

MARX:

I have decided, after years of consideration. There are too many ways to kill you; too many I couldn’t decide. They were all so cumbersome… None seemed fair enough, to me. So I will make you suffer, I will break you. I will reduce you to the animal, the beast, that you so blatantly perceive me to be.

PHILIP:

Far be it from me to resist you, Marx. I blame myself for what’s happened to you. But they were candlestick-wings to begin with… you flew to close to the sun.

MARX:

I am the sun. The sun, the moon, the stars, and the earth. Behold my coat brother. I am a cut above the rest.

PHILIP:

Indeed, you shall be cut down.

MARX:
(Strikes PHILIP in the face. Opens the doors to the machine.)
Open Sesame.
(Laughs insanely)
Goodbye, brother.
(Kicks PHILIP thru the open door. Doors close. MARX exits)

Scene 2.

(WWII. Soldiers are busy fighting. Three of them are dug into a fox hole, shooting their rifles at the enemy)

PHILIP:
(Tumbles onto stage)
I’m alive? Where am I?

FREDRICK:

Blimey. D’you see that, fella’s?

TOM:

See? See what? What is there to see but this stinking war?

FREDRICK:

That. A bloke drop outa the sky like he was a Nazi bomb or something.

JERRY:

Probably was a Nazi bomb what flew him into the air in the first place.

TOM:

Have a drink of water, then join us back here in reality when you’re done daydreaming, Fred.

JERRY:

Right good advice there, Tom.

TOM:

Oh, shut up, Jerry.

PHILIP:
(Approaches the soldiers)

Excuse me, but where exactly am I?

TOM:

Holy_

FREDRICK:

See, what I tell ya? That’s the falling bomb chap.

TOM:

All dressed up like a gentlemen? At war?

PHILIP:

Did you say war?

TOM:

‘Course I said that. Where else d’you think you are? The Queen’s garden party?

JERRY:

Ooh, that would be a nice change to all this fighting.

TOM:

Shut up, Jerry.

JERRY:

Yes sir, Mr. Tom, sir.

PHILIP:

But whose at war here? These are peaceable times.

TOM:

Yes, and I’m the rabbit what’s late for tea. The Nazis, you blind idiot. We’re out here fighting Nazis. What devision you from anyway, Posh-mouth?

PHILIP:

What year is this?

TOM:

This be 1944, the most miserable year of your life.

FREDRICK:

Where you been, anyway? Living the highlife, while we’re out here suffering?

PHILIP:
(Remembering)

“I will make you suffer. I will break you…”

TOM:

So you’re our new commander, is that it?

PHILIP:

No, but as long as I’m here… Might as well give it all we’ve got.
(Picks up a rifle)
Come on, men, charge!
(Charges off stage)

JERRY:

He’s crazy that one… Charge!
(JERRY, TOM, and FREDRICK charge off stage)

Scene 3.
(The home of MARX. A lugubrious living room.)

MARX:
(Pacing back and forth)

Oh, life is so empty now. It’s boring. I have disposed of the one thing that brought me comfort. I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed plotting against Philip. And now, oddly enough, I find myself missing it. Missing it? Missing him? No, this is ridiculous.
(Sits down on a couch. Enter Lucile)

LUCILE:

Where is my brother, Marx?

MARX:

Somewhere in the middle of the twentieth century I imagine.
(chuckles)

LUCILE:

You’re insane.

MARX:

Your brother Philip said something along those lines before I got rid of him…

LUCILE:

What did you do?

MARX:

I sent him to hell.

LUCILE:

Enough riddles, Marx, where is he? Is he dead?
(Pulls out a gun)

MARX:

Whether he is or not, it is no fault of mine, I have washed my hands of that heathen.

LUCILE:

Talk.

MARX:

It is like I told you. He is wedged somewhere between 1640 and 1960.

LUCILE:
(Fires gun. MARX collapses on the floor.)
I know you killed him. You’re fortunate that your death was over quickly.
(Exits)

THE END.

Little Johnny’s Journal

Dear Journal, 1/2/13

It’s my first day away from home. I miss it. I miss my mom and dad, the good food, and my own warm bed. But I try to remind myself not to look back. There’s a whole world waiting out there, and it’s not gonna wait for me to catch up.
Still, I miss being a kid. Being grown up isn’t as much fun as I thought it was going to be. Honestly, I’d rather be at school than have to wear this itchy mustache. It keeps peeling off my face because my top lip gets sweaty. And this suit! I don’t know how dad wore a suit every day to work! It almost fits me, but that’s not the problem. It’s so stiff, and I can’t run or jump or play or scrape my knees, because I’m a man now… It stinks.

Dear Journal, 2/2/13

I slept in my own apartment last night. It was okay. The mattress was like a wooden board though, and I hardly got any sleep. Also the cars were very noisy! There’s a highway right next to my window! I thought a truck was going to come crashing through the walls at any moment! I even had a nightmare about it…
But when I woke up and called for my parents, I remembered there wasn’t anybody there. I cried.
I hope no one reads this. My colleagues at work would laugh so hard if they knew I cried. I wonder what they would do to me if they found out I’m only a boy.

Oh, that’s right, I forgot to tell you. I got a job today! I work for a company that manufactures sticky-tape! Dad would be so proud. He used to be in the scissor-making industry. I used my first salary (haha, I’ve got a salary) to buy a gigantic Oxford Dictionary! That’s how I know big words like “colleagues” and “manufacturing”.

Dear Journal, 3/2/13

No one’s figured out that I’m a boy yet! They all think I’m a grown up man! And they don’t ask me about my height anymore at work. I told them I was a dwarf, so they treat me really nicely. I don’t even have to wear that mustache anymore since I “shaved”.
I have my own cubical too! Dad used to have a cubical. I like it. It makes me feel important; the only problem is that it’s very… very… square. And there’s no juice, only coffee at the coffee break. I mean, it makes sense, but what about the rest of us who don’t like coffee? At least there’s a lot of biscuits. I help myself to five or so every day.
It’s also nicer now since I’ve made a friend. Norbert, the guy in the cubical next to me has really curly hair and thick glasses. He not only looks funny, but he is funny! He’s such a comedian, always telling jokes. I just have to remember to laugh in as deep a voice as I can when he does tell one.

The best part of my day though was when the boss’s daughter came to visit. She walked through our beehive of cubicles waving her hair and blinking her eyelashes like an angle. It was like she was walking in slow-motion. She had her school uniform on and her backpack over her shoulders. When she passed my desk she looked at me! I nearly fell over! It was the most amazing experience I’ve had in my entire life. But after that, I started to wish I wasn’t a funny, beardless dwarf behind a desk anymore.

Dear Journal, 4/2/13

Being an adult is getting really boring. I’m so tired, and it’s hard to work eighteen hours a day selling sticky-tape. This morning I fell asleep on my keyboard, and when I woke up, the letters M,N,J,K, and L were printed into my cheek.
I miss cooked food. I’ve eaten pizza and cereal for the last four days and I’m sick of it. I want to go home. I miss my mom and my dad, and I miss bedtime stories. Being grown up is lousy! It stinks! I don’t know how real adults cope. That’s it, I’ve had enough! I’m going home tomorrow!

Dear Journal, 5/2/13

I promise never to run away again. And I sure as heck am not going to grow up any time soon. Well, maybe I will, when I’m ready. But for now, I’m going to be a very happy boy. Just a boy, in school, doing stuff that a boy should do. I’m going to play sports, explore beaches, and I shall never set foot inside another cubical for as long as I live. I’m going to be a grown up someday, but I’m going to be a different kind of grown up.
Oh, and I’m really excited about going back to school next week! You want to know why? Because it turns out that my old boss’s daughter (who’s name I found out is Cindy) will be coming to my school this term. Yes! I’m so glad to be a boy again!

“What We Need From Education!”

Dear parents, and teachers. Thank you for asking me to give a speech to you today. Firstly, I would like to acknowledge your authority; parents over your children, and teachers over your students. I respect that. I would like to thank you for the responsible way in which you exercise that authority. Also, for the examples you set for the youth, some of whom will one day have those same responsibilities. I recently watched the music video by Pink Floyd, “We don’t need no education”. And honestly, I was very disturbed by it. After thinking about it for a while, however, I realized the frustration those guys must’ve been feeling towards the education system.
Back in their day, children were told to sit quietly in their desks while the teacher’s voice boomed above their heads. Thirty years ago, it was legal to punish a disruptive child by whacking their hands with a ruler. How many of you experienced that in school? Can you still feel the pain on your wrist? Thank God we’ve moved passed that. Or have we? I’m not accusing any of you of hitting a student. But I am asking whether or not your school experiences have influenced your attitude towards education today. Have they?
Stephen Ambrose described his school experience like this: “I was taught by professors who had done their schooling in the 1930’s. Most of them were scornful of, even hated, big business.”
Is there a subject you hate, parents; honestly, as a result of the teacher who taught you that subject that you hated? Teachers. What is the one thing you refuse to do or teach? And Why?

Education has come a long way. Now we have computers and the internet to help us. A never-ending source of knowledge. But only a limited amount of human interaction and influence. Maybe I’m wrong. After all, the most attractive thing to students about school is the amount of time they get to spend with their friends. But how much time do students and teachers spend interacting with each other? Not to worry, now we have e-mail! And so many forms of social networking, we don’t know what to do with them! Need your teacher’s help? Send them an e-mail! And Hallelujah! We have spellcheck, so that’s taken care of too. But how much can teachers impart via the internet? This might sound like a contradiction, but the possibilities ARE limited.
Don’t you think that by relying on machines, we acquire a machine-like approach to learning? E.M. Forster pointed out, “Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon.”

One of the imagines from Pink Floyd’s music video that I think will stay with me forever, is the scene in which the children are riding on the conveyer belt. Then, all of sudden, they drop mindlessly into a giant funnel, to be churned out as mince! It’s so similar today. The only difference is that the machines are turning out child computers! Child goes in one end, out comes a laptop.
What I think we all need from schools today, was brilliantly pictured in the opening to “We Don’t Need No Education.” The boy, urged on by his friends, runs on to the railroad tracks. He then places bullets down on one of the rails, and steps out of the way just in time to let the train rush past him. As the wheels of the train run over the bullets, there’s a spark!
That’s what teachers need to be helping their students to find: a spark. Each time they get a spark like that, they learn something. Because they see it. They know it’s there. I think Dave Meier would agree with me. He said, “Learning becomes vessels to be filled, not fires to be ignited.” That’s what it needs to be. The fire needs to be ignited. The lightbulb needs to be turned on!

I’m not a teacher. I’m a student. And I love to find those little sparks of knowledge. They spur me on. I can only encourage you all, parents, and educators, to help your learners experience those moments of enrichment. “I don’t teach my students,” said Albert Einstein, “I create an environment for them to learn.”

“Should Music be Free? And When?”

Ladies and gentlemen, and that includes the youth, I am honored that you asked me to speak to you here, today. It’s a big deal, the International Youth Conference, and I’m very grateful for the opportunity to speak at this event. Many people wonder whether or not music should be free to buy. At a store, or online, should we be made to pay for something as crucial as music?
Crucial? Yes, I say crucial because music is something that everyone needs. Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” I agree with him. Can you imagine life without music? How often has music influenced your actions? Gotten you through hard times? Helped you see the best in people or in a difficult situation?
Music surrounds us, it’s like a living force. Don’t you think it’s possible that George Lucas’s inspiration for THE FORCE in STAR WARS came from his experiences with the energy created by music? I can picture Yoda going to a Michael Jackson tribute concert and saying, “The Force was strong with this one.”

Music is a necessity. We feed off of it. Lyrics to our favorite songs define us, shape our thoughts, and can build us or break us down. William Shakespeare might be a historical figure, and you might think because he lived and died so long ago that he has no relevance when it comes to today’s music. But I value his opinion highly, he wrote songs too. And his words have had a huge impact on my life even though he died way before I was born. That’s the power of music in a nutshell. He believed that music was “the food of love”. And music is food. It’s fuel. It fuels our emotions, whether its love, anger, or just makes us laugh. I need music just as much as I need a slice of delicious pizza!
But we pay for pizza don’t we? Unless their giving out free samples at the Slice Bar to promote a new kind of stuffed crust! So yeah we should pay for music! Where would the composers, hip-hop artists, and orchestras be if we didn’t pay to hear their songs? They’d be out on the streets begging for food while we walked passed eating that slice of pizza that we PAYED for! Artists need money too, guys. They need to be able to live to make more music!

But what if they’re dead? Like with Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, Amy Winehouse, The Beatles, Whitney Houston, and the list goes on. Why should publishers, and managers get to make a killing from selling music that they didn’t even make?
“Music is everybody’s possession,” said John Lennon. “It’s only publishers who think that people own it.”
Am I trying to promote piracy here? No. But the songs belong to the songwriters, and the singers, and artists. And they created them to be heard. They didn’t make them so that after their death, a publisher with a lot of money could buy it, put a stamp on it, and say, “I own it.” What I’m trying to say here is, people who had nothing to do with creating the song shouldn’t make a profit from it if the artist’s dead. That’s when music should be free! And there are lots of other singers out there, so people’s jobs won’t be put in danger. Sell music, make a living. But respect the purity of the songs of past artists. Let their music be heard, especially by those who can’t afford to hear it.

I hope I’ve inspired you today, or at least shown you how much music inspires me. I hope I’ve made you all think; the youth, those who want to get into the music business, and those who are. Respect the artist.