| Time Written by: Unknown |
| I remember the fortune I got in that cookie. "Counting time is not as important as making time count." And it was right, it just took me a long time to understand. Makes you kinda think huh? When I got it, I wanted to crumple it up in my hand and throw it away. That's what I do with all my other fortunes. Then you said, "No just save it for a rainy day." So, I unwillingly listened. I put it in my wallet with my spare change, and it was forgotten for months. Months. One month, two months, all the way up to seven. Yes, I counted. I counted time. Oh yeah, a lot of people would ask, "So how long have you been with your boyfriend." Blah, blah, blah... but the thing is, I didn't make that time count. You were gone from my grasp in the blink of an eye. I told you stop. You didn't listen. Stupid stuff. Really dumb stuff. All I did was sit and let you deteriorate me day by day. I didn't get to tell you what you meant to me. How much you meant to me. I can't breathe anymore because my breath is too heavy. I can't think anymore because my thoughts are too congested. Time is passing me by too quickly I'm being left alone, because I'm too busy counting. Like it matters. What I do is just sit here, crave your presence and ask for just one more minute. That could have changed my life. Can you imagine my surprise today when it fell out of my wallet. "Counting time is not as important as making time count." Yes, you were right. But now your not here to listen to it. So good-bye my love. Until it is my time. I will make it count. |
| Real Written by: James J. Brunelle |
| Most people think I'm weird because I volunteer down at the local homeless shelter. It's just one day, I was walking around feeling sorry for myself because my mother wouldn't let me pierce my nose--- everyone else was getting it done. Anyway, I walked by this wooded area that was really, really littered. Suddenly, this guy sits up from beneath all these cardboard boxes. I'd never seen anybody so dirty. Beard down to here, hair down to here. It was his eyes though. When I looked into them. it was like seeing myself--- but he wasn't me--- but he was me. I just took off running as fast as I could. I didn't want to feel what I was feeling. Finally, something made me stop. I couldn't just do nothing. So, I bought him a pepperoni pizza, went back and just plopped it there in front of him like he was going to bite me or something. He said, "Thanks sister," and smiled. I said, "You're welcome." and really meant it. Then I walked home, the long way. I needed to think. Up to that point, my whole life was a sham. For the longest time I pretended to be someone I wasn't---- so other fake people would accept me. I finally saw someone for the first time--- me. So, that's why I work at the shelter. There, I feel real. |
| Collision Monologue by: Marissa |
| The world is a busy place, even for a guy who gets tomorrow's newspaper today. It's hard to get ahead and sometimes it is impossible to get a cab. So, what do you do? Make it up as you go. And above all else, keep your head up and your arms out, because you never know what's gonna drop into your life. Accidents will happen, they can't all be avoided. Best you can hope for is to get lucky every now and then. Thing is, there are all kinds of accidents. There are even some you don't want to miss. Because and accident can change a life. And sometimes isn't that exactly what you need? |
| One Sunday Afternoon Play written by: James Hagan |
| Amy. I don't know. Maybe it was love, I don't know but--- * Well when I was very young--- of course, that's a long time ago, you understand---. It was in school. There was a boy. I don't know--- he never looked at me and I never--- Virginia, did you ever have a feeling in your heart--- something that you feel is going to happen and it doesn't--- that's the way my heart was--- {she touches her heart.} It was love, I know that--- {Pause.} He never even noticed me. I could have been a stick in the mud as far as he was concerned. Virginia, this boy seemed lonely somehow. Everybody had it in for him, even the teachers--- they called him bully--- but I know he wasn't. I saw him do a lot of good things--- when the big boys picked on the smaller ones, he helped the little fellows out. I know he had a lot good in him--- good, that nobody else could see---. |
| Facts: This play was written in the 1930's about a young girl in a small Midwestern town. Amy, a romantic girl, has a crush on the town bully. |
| Life With Father |
| Mary. You know, the first few days I was here you'd do anything for me and then you changed. You use to be a lot of fun--- and then all of the sudden you turned into an old sober-sides. * The first time I noticed it was when we walked home from Dora Wakefield's party. My, you were on you dignity! You've been that way ever since. You even dress like a old sober-sides. * But Clarence! We'll see each other in a month. And we'll be writing each other, too. I hope we will. Oh Clarence, please write me first, because it will show me how much you like me. Please! I'll show you how much I like you! |
| *Astericks were made to replace lines of the other characters in the play. |
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