writings

  

"The Gnome Chronicles"
Note-There are some formatting issues with the .txt file on this one. There are also a lot of spelling errors as well.

He was on a mission. He would make it. He would deliver the codes. He... was stuck in a middle school.

ÒDrat,Ó he muttered. He had miscalculated his entry. Instead of flying over the school, he had fallen through a window. Fortunately, he had landed in a library bean bag. Unfortunately, it had taken him three hours to get out. It was hard, since he was not able to move his arms and legs. Well, have you ever seen a gnome move his limbs? No? I didnÕt think so.

As the top of field agent of the E.G.G.H.E.A.D. or ÒEvil Gnomes Get Help Even After Death,Ó (Yeah, it didnÕt make any sense, but the head of the bureau wanted their acronym to spell out Òegghead.Ó The agents just went with the flow.) it was important that this mission was completed.

He wobbled into the hallway, and looked for an exit. There was one about 100 feet away, but it might has well have been a million miles to someone without legs. He dropped onto his side and rolled toward the door. He had to stop and backtrack every few feet because his lack of symmetry would send him hurtling toward the walls. This system was not going to work.

A bell rang and doors flung open as kids tore into the hallway. He had to roll under a drinking fountain to avoid being crushed. He estimated that the hallways would be empty in another five minutes. That was all right. He could wait that long. Then he overheard the kids talking about what was for lunch.

ÒDrat!Ó Cursed lunch hour, when children roamed the halls without real purpose. He would be stuck under this moldy fountain for the next forty minutes. That would be too long. The CIA might catch on to the operation by then. He had to make a break for it.

He dove out from under the fountain, and hopped toward the exit. He was only about fifty feet from it when a boy picked him up. He twisted and turned, but the boyÕs grasp was strong. He could feel his abdomen cracking.

ÒLet me go! Let me go! DonÕt make me decapitate you!Ó

ÒNow, how would you go about that?Ó asked the boy.

ÒWhy, I would...never mind.Ó the gnome sheepishly replied.

ÒI thought so,Ó remarked the boy. ÒNow, how may I ask did you get into this school?Ó

ÒI flew threw a window, stupid. How else would a gnome get into a school?Ó the gnome spat.

ÒI donÕt know. I imagined that you fell out of someoneÕs bag or you belonged to one of the teachers.Ó

ÒTeach-! Techer-! Teachers!? You far underestimate me! I am the top field agent for the infamous underground group of rogue gnomes known as E.G.G.H.E.A.D.!Ó

Unimpressed, the boy simply replied, ÒNever heard  of it. Now, IÕm going to go eat my lunch. ItÕs radish suprise day, and I donÕt want to miss it.Ó

ÒFine, donÕt let me break.Ó The boy set the gnome down and walked away. The little gnome hopped the last fifty feet to the door and discovered that he had a new problem. He was too short to reacht he door. ÒDrat drat and drat!Ó he fumed. He sat there for ten minutes, waiting for someone to walk by, but got impatient and decided to take matters into his own hands. He hopped back about twenty feet and charged. His plan was to hop onto the crash bar, and open the door. He reached the last five feet of his run and jumped. He hit the crash bar and further cracked his stomach even more. That didnÕt matter to him, because he had succeeded! The door opened! He held on to the bar until the door was fully opened, and let go. He promptly shattered on the sidewalk below.

This all goes to show you that no matter how determined you are, if you are a gnome, you are no match for concrete.

the writer's block rap

Sittin' in a room

In my base-a-ment

Got a thin carpet

Over cold cement

Starin' at a screen

But I can't write a song

Cause I got Windows

And it loads too long

So I try to play my drums

But they're just too loud

My mom is yelling

To turn them down

I can't write a song

When I got no feel

I can't write a song

I got no record deal

Write-er's block

Write-er's block

I have got

Write-er's block

Maybe fresh air

Would help my brain start

Maybe caffine

To start my heart

I think I'll eat cookies

'Till I fall down dead

And then use a pillow

To rest my head

Rap music's corny

Don't ask me why

It's got hype

You do or die

Turn this song off

'Cause it's really lame

Stop listening

I'll call you names, Fool.

I'm so indie

I'm so fresh

I drop dumb rhymes

I'm better than the rest

Hip-Hop

Shock Jock

I hate teen pop

Vulcan Nerve Pinch

Mister Spock

Toothless in Denver: A Single Act Play

All characters except MR. YOUNG (before he turns into OFFICER WATTERSON) and OFFICER YERKE should be painfully overdramatic and loud. Large, expressive gestures and quick, forcefull movements are reccommended.

Charcters:

DENTIST/MATTY McOLDS (a 38 year old, extremely good looking dentist)

HYGENIST/MADELINE (a 28 year old employee of said dentist)

MR. YOUNG/OFFICER SOLOMON WATTERSON (a 32 year old man who pretends he is a cop)

DERRICK (jealous little baby of a man, same age as hygenist)

OFFICER YERKE (steriotypical member of the Colorado state police)

Setting: a tiny, cramped single chair dentist's office in downtown Denver, Colorado. The office should have far too many surgical lights (off) for its size, various dental tools displayed for all to see, and dim lighting.

LIGHTS UP:

The DENTIST is sitting in a desk chair ,with his back to the door, beside a standard dentist's chair. He is eating a very large sandwich when the HYGENIST and PATIENT walk in to the room, startling him.

DENTIST: Good grief, Madeline! Do not walk in here unnannounced like that! I nearly choked on my chicken sandwich! I could have died just now!

HYGENIST: I deeply apologize. But Mr. Young is ready to see you.

Mr. Young sits down in the chair.

DENTIST: Well then, let's see what's wrong with you.

MR. YOUNG: Well, uh, I've had this toothache for the past few days, and it doesn't seem to be getting better.

DENTIST: Great Scott! We'll have to put you under! Move you into ICU! Tell me, man, who is your closest living relative? But we'll need dysfunction... Quick man, tell me the names and phone numbers of all your relatives! They need to be here for this!

MR. YOUNG: Actually, I think I just have a cavity.

DENTIST: In your heart? From some long lost love? Well, I'll have you know, she's just in the next room.

MR. YOUNG: No. It's probably in my tooth. I'll have YOU know that it's just in my mouth.

DENTIST: (Pulls his hand back to slap MR. YOUNG) Wait. Bad idea. I could get sued for malpractice.

MR. YOUNG: I don't think that you'd have to slap me for that.

DENTIST: Shut your mouth. Now open it. (MR. YOUNG complies, and seems nervous) Good gravy! There's a huge hole in there!

MR. YOUNG (With mouth open): In my tooth?

DENTIST: Oh wait, that's your throat. Deepest apologies. Now which tooth seems to be giving you trouble? (Pulls away from MR. YOUNG)

MR. YOUNG: Well, why don't you take x-rays and find out?

DENTIST: Curse you, man! I greatly wish to beat you into a sarcastic pulp! Tell me which tooth it is.

HYGENIST (steps in): Dr. Dunham, is everything okay?

DENTIST: This fool in the chair seems to think I am an incompetant idiot. (Shouts in frustration, and throws a dental tool across the room.)

HYGENIST: Dr. Dunham, please calm down. I know you're not an incompetent idiot.

DENTIST: Yes... but do you know... who I really am?

MR. YOUNG: Uh, guys?

HYGENIST: Yes I do, you're Dr. Michael Dunham, the perfect boss and dentist. (MR. YOUNG scoffs in background.)

DENTIST: No. I am more than that.

HYGENIST: Who? Who?

DENTIST: I am... I am...

HYENIST: Who?

DENTIST: I... am...

HYGENIST: Whooooooooooooo?

DENTIST: I am-

MR. YOUNG: Will you two knuckleheads stop it?! I need to get back to work!

DENTIST (Removes wig): Madeline, it's me.

HYGENIST: Matty McOlds? My high school boyfriend?

DENTIST: That's right, Maddy.

HYGENIST: I thought you died in that firey 40 car pileup in April of '95!

DENTIST: Well, technically I did, but they revived my at the hospital, and I joined the FBI, where I was given a new identity. A dentist in Colorado.

MR. YOUNG: I knew you weren't a dentist!

HYGENIST: But you're ten years older than me! How do you explain that?

DENTIST: I was held back for seven years in high school. And my voice didn't change until I turned 22. But now that I've revealed my identity to you... (gets down on one knee)... will you marry me?

HYGENIST: Oh my word... Yes! Yes! A million bajillion septazillion times yes!

DERRICK: (Offstage) No! Never! (Enters room)

HYGENIST: Oh no. Derrick!

DENTIST: Derrick Skipper? My old nemesis?!

DERRICK: That's right, Matty McStupid.

DENTIST: But how? I thought you moved to Iceland with your disgustingly rich parents!

DERRICK: I did move to Iceland, McDork-boy. But I moved back, where I immediately proposed to Miss Tooth-Scrubber here. And as I recall, she said yes to me, seven years ago.

DENTIST: What?! Maddy! Is this true.

HYGENIST: (In tears) Yes, Matty. I'm afraid it's true.

DENTIST: No! Never! I'll die before I'll let you marry her.

(All the while this has been going on, MR. YOUNG has been growing more and more uneasy. His anxiety only grows through the next excanges.)

DERRICK: Is that a challenge, McGeeky?

DENTIST: Sadly for you, it is! (Grabs dental tools, jumps over MR. YOUNG in the chair and tries to attack DERRICK. DERRICK fights back with his fists. The two fight for several seconds. All the while, the HYGENIST is sobbing uncontrolably. MR. YOUNG remains in the chair, seeming unsure of what he should do.)

DERRICK (Grabbing the x-ray machine): Stand back, McWeirdo. Or I'll blast us all so full of radioactivity that we'll turn into little blobs of gelatain right before our own eyes.

DENTIST: That doesn't even make sense.

DERRICK: I don't care. Now... renounce your proposal.

DENTIST: Never!

DERRICK: Okay. Your loss. (Starts to press button.)

MR. YOUNG (Standing on chair) : Alright! Everybody hold it!

DERRICK: What the heck are you doing?

MR. YOUNG: I am Officer Solomon Watterson of the Colorado State Police. We've recieved a number of tip offs that someone (staring at HYGENIST) has been embezzling money.

DENTIST: Maddy?! Is this true too?!

HYGENIST: Yes. (Resumes sobbing)

DERRICK: That's right, she's been stealing money from your fake practice so that she could help fund my project.

MR. YOUNG: And what project would that be? Maybe that little gang that blew up town hall yesterday?

DERRICK: Uh... maybe.

MR. YOUNG: That's enough. You're all sentenced to two weeks in a coma. You have the right to-(Door is broken down)

OFFICER: Officer Yerke, Colorado State Police. We've gotten a tip-off about a fake cop, a fake dentist, a fake hygenist, and Derrick, here. We've been watching the building for three days and you are all going to be taken down to the station for a reading of your diaries. You have the right to remain silent. Finally.

END

...more to come

*and! notice the capitals again!