By Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee

Inherit the Wind

By Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee

Inherit the Wind is the dramatization of the Scopes Monkey Trial of the 1930's, which challenged local legislation banning the teaching of Darwin's theory of evolution in classrooms. The lawyers were two of two of the greatest men of their time, and both were wonderful orators. Brady speaks now about the first witness, a youg boy who testifies about the defendant's teaching of Darwin.

BRADY:

Your Honor, I have no intention of making a speech. There is no need. I am sure that everyone on the jury, everyone within the sound of this boy's voice, is moved by his tragic confusion. He has been taught that he wiggled up like an animal from the filth and the muck below!

(Continuing fervently, the spirit is upon him.)

I say that these Bible-haters, these "Evil-utionists," are brewers of poison. And the legislation of this sovereign state has had the wisdom to demand that the peddlers of poison - in bottles or in books - clearly label the products they attempt to sell!

(There is applause. Brady points at the boy.)

I tell you, if this law is not upheld, this boy will become one of a generation, shorn of its faith by the teachings of Godless science! But if the full penalty of the law is meted out to Bertram Cates, the faithful the whole world over, who are watching us here, and listening to our every word, will cal this courtroom blessed!

(Applause. Dramatically, Brady moves to his chair. Condescendingly, he waves to Drummond - the defense attorney.)

Your witness, sir.

You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown

Based on the comic strip by Charles Schulz

Musical by Clark Geaner

Charlie Brown, age 8

I think lunchtime is about the worst time of the day for me. Always having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes mornings aren’t so pleasant, either—waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed. Then there’s the night, too—lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I’ve done during the day. And all those hours in between—when I do all those stupid things. Well, lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for me. Well, I guess I’d better see what I’ve got. Peanut butter. Some psychiatrists say that people who eat peanut butter sandwiches are lonely. I guess they’re right. And if you’re really lonely, the peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. Boy, the PTA sure did a good job of painting these benches. There’s that cute, little redheaded girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what she’d do if I went over and asked her if I could sit and have lunch with her. She’d probably laugh right in my face. It’s hard on a face when it gets laughed in. There’s an empty place next to her on the bench. There’s no reason why I couldn’t just go over and sit there. I could do it right now. All I have to do is stand up. I’m standing up. I’m sitting down. I’m a coward. I’m so much of a coward she wouldn’t even think of looking at me. She hardly ever does look at me. In fact, I can’t remember her ever looking at me. Why should she look at me? Is there any reason in the world why she shouldn’t look at me? Is she so great and am I so small that she couldn’t spare one little moment just to….She’s looking at me. She’s looking at me. (He plops a large paper bag over his head) approx 312 words

Down the Road

by Lee Blessing

Down the Road is the story of a married couple who make a living writing the biographies of serial killers. Their current project is a ruthless killer named Bill Reach. The ordeal starts to get to Dan, shortly after finding out that Iris, his wife, is pregnant. He is talking into a tape recorder, on which he records his thoughts and notes.

DAN

I talk to Bill about his childhood tomorrow - taking a vacation from his... road trips. The scariest thing is that his upbringing wasn't scary. Couple stepfathers, but no abuse, beatings, molestation. Only child - so are millions. In a juvenille center for a while - there are thousands. Didn't like his mother much, but she was no monster. His home life was marked by what you'd have to call - in this country at least - the usual emptiness.

I've started daydreaming about the Interstate. Mile after mile, every night. Utterly familiar by now, but... featureless. Where's it come from? Everywhere. Where's it go? Everywhere. The other day, driving to the prison, I caught myself fantasizing about just going on; ignoring the exit, following the next bend in the highway, the next. Getting lost on the largest engineering project in the history of the world. Floating there. No set destination, no limit to where you go. Parallel universe. If someone wants a ride, give 'em a ride. Nothing matters. Newspaper, TV, radio - it's their state, not yours; their problem, not yours; their daughter, not -

In the decade of the 1950's, before completion of the Interstate, there was only one case of serial murder reported in the United States. In the whole decade, just one. Now - one a month. One a month.

Inherit the Wind

by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee

Inherit the Wind is a dramatization of the Scopes Monkey Trial of the 1930's, which challenged local legislation banning the teaching of Darwin's theory of evolution in classrooms. The lawyers were two of two of the greatest men of their time, and both were wonderful orators. Drummond, the defense attorney, speaks now in response to being asked, "Is it possible that something is holy to the celebrated agnostic?"

DRUMMOND:

Yes! The individual human mind. In a child's power to master the multiplication tables there is more sanctity than in all of your shouted "Amens!", "Holy, Holies!" and "Hosannahs!" An idea is a greater monument than a cathedral. And the advance of man's knowledge is more of a miracle than any sticks turned into snakes, or the parting of waters! But are we now to halt the march of progress because Mr. Brady frightens us with a fable?
(Turning to the jury.)

Gentlemen, progress has never been a bargain. You've got to pay for it. Sometimes I think there's a man behind a counter who says, "All right, you can have a telephone; but you'll have to give up privacy, the charm of distance. Madam, you may vote; but at a price; you lose the right to retreat behind a powder-puff and a petticoat. Mister, you may conquer the air; but the birds will lose their wonder, and the clouds will smell of gasoline!"
(Thoughtfully, seeming to look beyond the courtroom.)

Darwin moved us forward to a hilltop, where we could look back and see the way from which we came. But for this view, this insight, this knowledge, we must abandon our faith in the pleasant poetry of Genesis.

Why did God plague us with the power to think? Mr. Brady, why do you deny the one faculty which lifts man above all other creatures on the earth: the power of his brain to reason? What other merit have we? The elephant is larger, the horse is stronger and swifter, the butterfly is more beautiful, the misquito more prolific, even the simple sponge is more durable.
(Wheeling on Brady.)

Or does a sponge think?

All My Sons by Arthur Miller

George – late 20’s to early 30’s

Talking to his sister, trying to convince her that she shouldn’t marry Chris.

You can’t know, you wouldn’t be here. Dad came to work that day. The night foreman came to him and showed him the cylinder heads…they were coming out of the process with defects. So Dad went directly to the phone and called here and told Joe to come down right away. But the morning passed. No sign of Joe. So Dad called again. By this time he has over a hundred defectives. The Army was screaming for stuff and Dad didn’t have anything to ship. So Joe told him. on the phone he told him to weld, cover up the cracks in any way he could, and ship them out. Dad was afraid. He wanted Joe there if he was going to do it. But Joe can’t come down…he’s sick. Sick! He suddenly got the flu! Suddenly! But he promised to take responsibility! Do you understand what I’m saying? On the telephone you can’t have responsibility! In court you can always deny a phone call and that’s exactly what he did. They knew he was a liar the first time, but in the appeal they believed that rotten lie and now Joe is a big shot and your father is the patsy. Now what’re you going to do? Eat his food, sleep in his bed? Answer me; what’re you going to do?

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

by Edward Albee

A great work of dark comedy, this play presents perhaps the most memorable of married couples - George and Martha - in a searing night of dangerous fun and games with a pawnlike other couple - Nick and Honey - who innocently become their weapons in the savaging of each other and of their life together. By the evening's end, a stunning, almost unbearable revelation provides a climactic shock of recognition at the bond and bondage of their love. In its superlative construction, in its mastery of razor-honed dialogue and emotional crescendo, and above all in its power to strip away layer after layer of a social pretense to expose the naked nerve of truth, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is one of the most riveting and unforgettable experiences of American theatre.

In this monologue, George and Nick have been left alone together and George begins a drunken rambling rant.

GEORGE:

Oh! OH! You're the one! You're the one who's going to make all that trouble... making everyone the same, rearranging the chromosomes, or whatever it is. Isn't that right?

I'm very mistrustful. Do you believe... do you believe that people learn nothing from history? Not that there is nothing to learn, mind you, but that people learn nothing? I am in the History Department.

I am a Doctor. A.B... M.A... PH.D... ABMAPHID! Abmaphid has been variously described as a wasting disease of the frontal lobes, and as a wonder drug. It is actually both. I'm really very mistrusting... Biology, huh?

I read somewhere that science fiction is really not fiction at all... that you people are rearranging my genes, so that everyone will be like everyone else. Now, I won't have that! It would be a... shame! I mean... look at me! Is it really such a good idea... if everyone was forty-something and looked fifty-five? You didn't answer my question about history.

That's very upsetting... very... disappointing. But history is a great deal more...disappointing. I am in the History Department.

I know I told you... I shall probably tell you several more times. Martha tells me often, that I am in the History Department... as opposed to being the History Department... in the sense of running the History Department.

Your wife doesn't have any hips, does she?

Proof by David Auburn

Hal (age 28)

Mathematicians are insane. I went to this conference in Toronto last fall. I’m young, right? I’m in shape, I thought I could hang with the big boys. Wrong. I’ve never been so exhausted in my life. Forty-eight hours of partying, drinking, drugs, papers, lectures…Amphetamines, mostly. I mean I don’t. Some of the older guys are really hooked. They think math is a young man’s game. Speed keeps them racing, makes them feel sharp. There’s this fear that your creativity peaks around 23 and it’s all downhill from there. Once you hit 50 it’s over, you might as well teach high school.

Scrambled Feet

By John Driver and Jeffrey Haddow

Jeff-20-30 year old actor

I can’t believe the Romans really wore this stuff especially in the summer. No wonder they lost the Empire. At least it’s nice being here in the park every night. Oh, god, it’s under my breast plate. That’s gonna itch. This is my big act, where I have my line. Four years of college and two years of graduate school for one line. Why don’t they just shut up and stab him. Everybody knows the story. Look at Cassius. He’s supposed to have a lean and hungry look so they cast a three-hundred pound Mexican. Here he goes with my favorite line: (bad Spanish accent) “The fawlt dear Brutoos eez not in our starss, but een ourselves dat we are underwear.” That’s what happens when you learn the part phonetically. Uh-oh, he got trouble with his body mike. Can’t hear a thing. No, it’s OK. Arrgh, there’s the itch and I can’t move. What did the director say? (with a lisp) “A Centurian never flinches…” Is that my cue? Was that my line? No, no, I’ ok. Booring. 1,2,3,4, (continues to count silently) 25. There are 25 bald people in the audience. Hey, there’s the agent I invited. He’s looking at me. Oh, boy, I can see him! Oh, no, I can see him. I forgot to take my glasses off. How could I spend 30 minutes in front of a mirror getting into character and forget to take off my glasses. Wait, if I take them off now everyone will notice. Well, what am I worried about? The Romans has glass, they had metal. Wait, here comes my line. Here it comes…Sail Heaser! Darn, Darn, Darn, Darn! One lousy line and I blew it. At least I’m working.

Rumors

by Neil Simon

Character: Lenny

Gender: Male

Age (range): 30s-40s

Style: Comedy

Length: 2 minutes

Background Info: Lenny is pretending to be someone else, who is not able to talk to the police, who are there for some "questions." Lenny over-dramatizes it to convince the officer. (Some spanish in text but only needs to know how to pronounce it properly.)

At exactly six o'clock tonight I came home from work. My wife, Myra, was in her room getting dressed for the party. I got a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator and headed upstairs. Rosetta, the cook, was in the kitchen with Romero, her son. I tapped on her door. She opens it. I hand her a glass of champagne. We drink, we kiss, and we toast. We drink, we kiss, we toast again...By seven o'clock the bottle is finished, my wife is sloshed, and I'm completely toasted.