A TweeAtre play by François Vincent, David King, Jonathan Fournier and Matt Raudsepp
Edited by Gaëtan L. Charlebois
(All rights to this work - including performance - remain with the authors. Please contact CharPo to secure permissions)
An empty stage. Zee, a solid looking woman in her late 40s, enters clutching a script.
Hi! (beat) Hello? (beat. still nothing): Um, HELLO? HELLLLLLLO?
(Quentin, 30, scrawny and smug, enters. He glances at Zee, uninterested and sits in his director's chair.) Hi. Sorry I'm early. I'm usually late... I'm... Do you want me to start? (no reply) Alright... Um, this piece, written by me, is called, "My Face Is My Window."
Quentin (cuts in)
Thank you, that will be all. (Silence. Zee is dumbfounded) My plays are quite dangerous and only the strongest actors survive. I don't like your odds. (Shouting over his shoulder) Lower the gauntlet! (Gouts of flame shoot up from the ground, a log chiseled to a point swings in from stage left, darts fly in from stage right.)
Ernest (Comes on stage. Also 30ish, nerd. As he is carrying off Zee's lifeless carcass:)
Our next audition is by Lionel.
Quentin (Calling after him)
Very well. Your weak actors continually disappoint me. I hope for your sake that this one is different (Lionel, 80 years old, enters. He moves incredibly slowly across the expansive stage.)
I'm Lionel. My piece is called - (he punches the air feebly and says dramatically:) Viagra Nightlife!: My Luvin' in the Tubbin. Ohhh, hmmmm... (Suddenly, a trap opens, Lionel is sucked in)
This is too easy...perhaps it's unreasonable to make peaceful actors evade deathtraps. I'm so confused!
(Lights begin to dim)
Ernest (returns, adjusting his glasses)
Ahem. I'd like to audition too. (He holds a knife to Quentin's throat)
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