Possible Doppelganger contest scripts
Aug. 16th, 2016 06:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonjajadeTell me what you think? Stuff in parentheses is stage direction and dialogue separate from the main idea.
DIARY ENTRY (without a Roy to help)
(Saunter out to stage, smirking, holding diary in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. Pry the lock, open to random page and begin reading)
March 26th, 1903
I’m almost certain today was the first time in six weeks I’ve seen sunshine. No, the weather outside is still gray as ever (“spring is always dreary out there in the sticks until about April”). However, I saw something today more lovely than any spring blossom. (eye roll) Miss Hawkeye was standing on a step-stool in the kitchen, reaching high into a cupboard for a rarely used spice. Her dress was hitched up a good six inches- nearly to the middle of her thighs. (“This boy… Ogling her instead of HELPING her!”) I carefully picked up the book I was studying to hide my face. I’ve never seen a set of legs as creamy and beautiful as hers. It was as if the most gifted sculptor in history had chiseled them from the purest alabaster on the planet. I wish I could have run my hands over them (“Pssh, yeah- and then her father would have laid HIS hands on ya!”). But my aunt would have murdered me with a glare alone had I touched her without asking, and brought me back to life and killed me again for doing it knowing how Master Hawkeye feels about me. Somehow, I think she probably knows about this, even though I’ll never breathe a word of it to her. (Close diary, shake it. “Oh I have my ways, Roy-Boy. And I’m so glad you remembered your manners.”)
NEW BAR
(Walk out to stage, looking around, calling out for Roy. Look to audience.)
Has anyone seen Col. Mustang? He swore he would meet me here- (sigh, shake head, *light* cigarette) Ever since the Promised Day, he barely makes time to see me anymore. Do you know who helped orchestrate that whole shindig? ME. And out of all the destruction that went down because of that little coup, guess who still doesn’t have their bar back? ME. (Pull out bottle of stray dog, take a swig, put it back in purse.) All I know, is if that if Roy-Boy doesn’t follow through on his promise to buy me a new place, he’s gonna have more than a measley 520 cenz to worry about! (Exit stage, still calling for Roy)
DIARY ENTRY (without a Roy to help)
(Saunter out to stage, smirking, holding diary in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. Pry the lock, open to random page and begin reading)
March 26th, 1903
I’m almost certain today was the first time in six weeks I’ve seen sunshine. No, the weather outside is still gray as ever (“spring is always dreary out there in the sticks until about April”). However, I saw something today more lovely than any spring blossom. (eye roll) Miss Hawkeye was standing on a step-stool in the kitchen, reaching high into a cupboard for a rarely used spice. Her dress was hitched up a good six inches- nearly to the middle of her thighs. (“This boy… Ogling her instead of HELPING her!”) I carefully picked up the book I was studying to hide my face. I’ve never seen a set of legs as creamy and beautiful as hers. It was as if the most gifted sculptor in history had chiseled them from the purest alabaster on the planet. I wish I could have run my hands over them (“Pssh, yeah- and then her father would have laid HIS hands on ya!”). But my aunt would have murdered me with a glare alone had I touched her without asking, and brought me back to life and killed me again for doing it knowing how Master Hawkeye feels about me. Somehow, I think she probably knows about this, even though I’ll never breathe a word of it to her. (Close diary, shake it. “Oh I have my ways, Roy-Boy. And I’m so glad you remembered your manners.”)
NEW BAR
(Walk out to stage, looking around, calling out for Roy. Look to audience.)
Has anyone seen Col. Mustang? He swore he would meet me here- (sigh, shake head, *light* cigarette) Ever since the Promised Day, he barely makes time to see me anymore. Do you know who helped orchestrate that whole shindig? ME. And out of all the destruction that went down because of that little coup, guess who still doesn’t have their bar back? ME. (Pull out bottle of stray dog, take a swig, put it back in purse.) All I know, is if that if Roy-Boy doesn’t follow through on his promise to buy me a new place, he’s gonna have more than a measley 520 cenz to worry about! (Exit stage, still calling for Roy)
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Date: August 23rd, 2016 12:04 am (UTC)I love the idea of you taking the stray dog bottle out of your purse though! XD;
...I hope someone takes video of this so I can see you!
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Date: August 24th, 2016 06:53 pm (UTC)"Thank goodness, people who look like they know something besides tobacco farming*! Hey, can you answer a question? Or should I say, 'Can y'all tell me somethin'? Where the hell am I right now? (hopefully audience answers) Please say this isn't a dry county! (it's not lol) Oh, listen to the angels weep! (pull out stray dog bottle, take a long drink, maybe even belch lol) Do you know how many damn miles I have walked just to be able to enjoy my Stray Dog? Oh, that's so nice... (have a shorter drink, cap bottle and put back in purse) This might be horse country*, but this Mustang is way outta place. I think Amestris is this way..."
*Tobacco is Kentucky's cash crop, and Lexington is right in the heart of horse country.