Random Acts Of Storytelling

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Random Acts Of Storytelling Page 11

by Earl T. Roske

Robbery Shmobbery

  (Lights up on a dark street. Professor Olypolyopolus enters, stage left. Half way across, Rick Snick steps out holding a gun.)

  RICK SNICK

  You! Hands in the air and give me your money.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Hands up? And give my money? That’s funny.

  RICK SNICK

  Where the humor? My gun’s pointed at you.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Robbery by gun point. Not funny. That’s true.

  Comedy lies in the action you’ve made,

  Reach up for money if my life’s to be saved.

  RICK SNICK

  Put one hand down and in your pocket reach.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  I’m a poor professor. Pity I beseech.

  RICK SNICK

  Just what is it you’re trying to do here?

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Your gun scares me. I’m quaking in fear.

  RICK SNICK

  There! Again, rhyme for rhyme. It this a trick?

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  I think now’s a bad time to make that pick.

  RICK SNICK

  Pick rhymes with trick. You’ve done it every line.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  It means I’m nervous and scared, it’s a sign.

  My life as a professor is poetry.

  Iambic pentameter by specialty.

  So when I get nervous, scared or confused

  Rhyming and verse-ing I unconsciously use.

  RICK SNICK

  Well stop it. I insist. Enough. No more.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  It’s just I’ve never been robbed before.

  I have no control. I apologize.

  RICK SNICK

  Do it again and I’ll shoot between your eyes.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  There, listen. It’s you that’s doing it now.

  RICK SNICK

  You’re wrong, mistaken, I don’t even know how.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Twice now, listen, you have rhymed my words back.

  RICK SNICK

  No, you listen. I don’t rhyme that’s a fact.

  I’m here to rob you not listen to smack

  Hand over the money or a life you will lack.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  You said fact for back and then lack for smack.

  RICK SNICK

  I don’t care. See the gun? All that I ask

  Is that your money finds its way to me

  Well? What say you? Money and you’ll be free.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Phew. Now I can speak. You’ve made your own rhyme.

  Here’s all that I have --

  RICK SNICK

  All? Every last dime?

  Stop it! Don’t laugh at me. Now’s not the time.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  It’s not me, it’s you and the words that you use.

  RICK SNICK

  Enough. No more. I don’t need the abuse.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  I’ve stopped rhyming, but it’s you going on.

  RICK SNICK

  It’s true, I am rhyming! What’s going wrong?

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Not wrong, it’s great. You’ve learned to speak in verse.

  RICK SNICK

  Learn it? No way! It’s your fault. I’ve been cursed.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  I didn’t do this. It’s nature you see.

  RICK SNICK

  Nature did this? But why do it to me?

  Argh! Again! Rhyme after rhyme!

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  You’ll be fine.

  RICK SNICK

  No I won’t. Here, take back every dime!

  Just make it go away. Give me a cure.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  A cure there ain’t, but a solution, sure.

  You know how a song gets stuck in your head?

  Over and over ‘til you wish you were dead?

  RICK SNICK

  Sure, sure but what’s that to do with the verse

  That falls from my mouth like an evil-eyed curse?

  Oh, no. Not again. They rhyming won’t stop.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  It will, I’ll help. If that gun you will drop.

  RICK SNICK

  Fine. There. The gun’s on the ground. Please help me.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Your money, too. I’ll need that. Like a fee.

  RICK SNICK

  Yes, take it all, any thing to be free.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  Now close your eyes and then count up to three.

  When you get there, the world orange you must say.

  RICK SNICK

  Right. Eyes closed tight and counting as you say.

  PROFESSOR OLYPOLYOPOLUS

  And I’ll be off to live another day.

  (Exits)

  RICK SNICK

  Counting one and two and three and now orange.

  Is that it? Like hiccups it’s gone away?

  Oh! Away doesn’t rhyme with orange hurray!

  (Beat)

  But hurray with away. Oh, dang it!

  (Lights out.)

  *****

  If you enjoyed this collection of short stories you might also be interested in:

  From The Angry To The Sublime: Six Ghost Stories To Entertain

  The Visitors: Eight Tales Of Strange Encounters

  Earl T. Roske is a writer and playwright in the San Francisco Bay Area of California.

  His short stories have appeared in magazines and anthologies. His short plays have been produced around the world. His first book, "Tale Of The Music-Thief," is forthcoming.

  If you enjoyed these stories and would like to know more about the author or find more work by him, please consider visiting his website at www.earltroske.com or on facebook at www.facebook.com/EarlTRoske where you can "like" him.

 


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