For this one, you must figure out a way to scare off intruders among the living. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Bottom's speech to the players in Act 4, Scene 2 of A Midsummer Night's Dream. The original text follows this monologue.
HOUSEKEEPING (any gender, early twenties through late life)
Fine! Fine, fine, fine. You're right. Why should I want to do things my way? They're MY-- but hey-- after tonight, baby, it's YOUR rules. AAAAANY system of upkeep, I'll go along with it. FINE!
But TONIGHT, darling: Tonight, we have visitors and we need to get ready.
First thing's first: Dust and grime. We need to spread it everywhere. I think there's an extra supply in the crawl space. I'll go get it.
Meanwhile, you do the windows. Smash two of them upstairs and put some cracks in the front ones. If you have time, unscrew a bit of the furniture, will you? Could you do that?
Whatever, I'll do it. Rickety furniture is a classic element of "the haunted house". The visitors need a physical scare to start things off and a breaking chair is perfect. Maybe a missing stair step too. Hmmm...
Now: Once they've laughed that stuff off, we make our entrance. Nothing too gory, nothing too campy. Something eerie-- oh! OH! Sweetie, you're gonna love this.
We float into the room-- we're invisible right?-- but we float into the room wearing completely washed and ironed clothing. And when they run from us we corner them AGAIN, wearing a completely NEW set of washed and ironed clothing. And again and again. They'll think it's an ARMY of ghosts. And all the ghosts who must be RECENTLY dead because of the PERFECT STATE OF THE CLOTHING. Creepy, creepy, creepy.
I'm sorry honey. Now I can totally see your side of the laundry issue.
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"
Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that
the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together,
good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your
pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look
o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our
play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have
clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion
pair his nails, for they shall hang out for the
lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions
nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I
do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet
comedy. No more words: away! go, away!