For this one. You must get your friends to come out from the darkness after running from you. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Bottom's speech in Act 3, Scene 1 of A Midsummer Night's Dream. The original text follows this monologue.
DOWN TO ONE (any gender mid teens to mid twenties)
[breathing hard, recovering from some kind of shock. Look around, not seeing.]
Guys, what is it? You took off with all the flashlights. I'm blind in here. Partially deaf too. You guys can really scream. Scared the hell out me. I even dropped MY flashlight. Who took it, GUYS?
-- Hey, guys? Am I in danger in here? If you really saw the ghost, help me out. I don't know this house any better than you do. I need some light. It's pretty crappy to just leave your friend here. If there's no real danger... you know it's pretty crappy to be playing a prank, too. And it IS prank. Right? Of course it's a prank. What did I do to any of YOU? Can't a person just go take a wiz without... without being bullied when they come back?
Guys, I told you I DON'T DO pranks. I don't laugh them off. PTSD... I've told you about it. THEY told you about it when you visited me, at the hospital. Now come back in here or I'll draw you out.
Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall
Ninety nine bottles of beeeeeeeeeeer....
I'll take this all the way down to one. Save yourself the headache and come on out.
Throw em all down, drop to the ground
Ninety eight perfect blue pills in the booo- tle?
Huh. Where'd that come fr-- ?- whatever, not funny. CONTINUING-- AH-HEM!
Ninety eight bottles of beer on wall
Ninety eight perfect blue pills
Throw them all down, drop to the ground
Don't go to heaven and talk through the walls.
[pause... continue, getting scared]
Ninety seven days to talk through the walls
Ninety seven days in here
Out of the lew
Go to the next room
Your friends run in fear when they hear your voice call--
Guys. GUYS. I'm here, I'm really here, okay? Please tell me I'm really here. Tell me I'm alive. Scare me if you like. Anything! There are things worse than being scared...
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"
I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; 940
to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir
from this place, do what they can: I will walk up
and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear
I am not afraid.
The ousel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill,
The finch, the sparrow and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay;
for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish
a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry
'cuckoo' never so?