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SpeechGeek Season Eleven: Fall 2013

SpeechGeek ISBN 978-1-61387-045-7

Its that time of the year again. With the end of summer comes the start of a new season. To most, competition in the autumn months means sweaty hands clutching brown pigskin and plenty of shouting. But at SpeechGeek, competition in the autumn months means sweaty hands clutching black binders and plenty of shouting, usually in the D.I. rounds. In some ways, forensics and football arent all that different. Both require dedication, hard work, practice, and shoulder pads. This new issue features scripts that touch on teamwork (Ever After You), the standout stars (INfamous), the underdogs (The Graveyard Shift), the resilience of the mind and body (BRAINS), as well as disappointment (La Llorona). Ironically, none of the scripts actually deal with football. That was just our thematic element to welcome you back to another season. Heres hoping everyone is ready to tackle the new school year.

Corey Alderdice Editor and Publisher Email: thegeek@speechgeek.com

Season Eleven: Fall 2013

248 Arlington Park Dr. Hot Springs, AR 71901 (888) 742-2028

SpeechGeek is published up to four times per year: August, October, December, and April by Corey Alderdice, 248 Arlington Park Dr., Hot Springs, AR 71901. Special issues are also published from time to time.
ISBN 978-1-61387-044-0 Price $25 US http://www.speechgeek.com h t t p : / / w w w. s p e e c h g e e k . c o m

Corey Alderdice Publisher

In This Issue: Season Eleven: Fall 2013

The Graveyard Shiftby Jane Nicolaas

Today? I shrugged,Today, I quit my job. I lean on the grocery belt awkwardly, and I show her my most handsome smile. A moment ago, I was wandering through an orchard of commerce, through the shelves and aisles after aisles and shelves. I, like a monkey, swung around the sides of the store, skillfully acquiring my nightly Yoo-hoo and Ritz Bitz and a fresh jug of Tide.Then, I found myself here. Her cash register. Her. Sam. The Hi, My Name Is tag on her left breast doesnt leave room for a last name, so I dont know it. But I know her eyes: black. I know her hair: black. I know her skin: ancestral bronze. I know her voice with that Spanish tint on certain words. I know her moods. I know her silences. She doesnt know my name either, because the E.M.T. vest that I have worn into this store every night but tonight only says my last name: Parke. She eyes me cautiously, knowing my prankish ways,Really? Can E.M.T.s just quit? I dont see why not, I shrugged. So you just said to hell with this and threw your defibrillator paddles out the window? No. I just started yelling DIE! DIE! DIE! There was a moment of terror until the humor overtook us both. A mischievous giggle grew out of her throat to the height of a full cackle. I enjoyed the sound as it bounced off the soup cans, slid off the frozen meats, and shook the tea bags. Our giggles began to settle back into frowns until she picked up the Yoo-hoo off the conveyer belt to ring it up. I, still leaning on my thick hands, temporarily forgot that the automatic belt was turned on. My elbow crashed down like thunder, sending lightning pain up my arm. Sam was so startled by the episode, she yelped in a high and clear bark. We were silent for the next several minutes. It was laughter too hard for sound. You are too much, she said floating back to Earth. I want to be cute and coy and say something cool like,Can I buy you a drink? Id then set the Yoo-hoo by her on my way out the door. I want to be the guy that knows how to make an exit. But Im not. I just chuckle a little and shrug. The truth is that I am an autumn leaf around her: quiet, shaky, and destined to fall. So what are you going to do now? She says hopping up to sit on the back counter as I twist open my chocolate drink. Normally, I love it when shes in this mood. Its the mood when all she wants to do is talk to me, forgetting the store and the boss and the customer service. She shows up without the job.

Prose Interpretation (Male) The Graveyard Shift by Jane Nicolaas................................................................................04

Duo Interpretation (Male/Female) Ever After You by Katherine Raul..............................................................................08

Prose Interpretation BRAINS: A Guidebook for the Newly and Nearly Undead by Stephanie Patterson Alderdice...........................14

Poetry Interpretation Program Builder INfamous by Jonathon Harper..........................................................................17

Duo Interpretation (Female/Female) La Llorona by Julia Neva.......................................................................................23

There is something different tonight.There is a phantom shadow in her burnt sienna complexion. I offer her the Yoo-hoo and she smiles a little receiving it, but she doesnt drink it. She just holds it carefully between un-manicured fingers. Dunno, I sigh.Maybe take some time off. Nodding, she looks away, guarding her eyes. She is secluded tonight despite her seemingly conversational disposition.When she looks back at me, I cant find her in her eyes, and its scary. Its enough to make me ache. On the ambulance, I would ache constantly as eyes looked up at me wishing to help them live or die. All I really wanted was to stop people from hurting. Thats probably why I will miss my job, although I have a theory buried deep inside of me that I secretly never wanted to be an emergency medical technician. I think I thought I wanted it, but maybe I just wanted to be the one to take their pain and make it retreat back to the horizon where it couldnt hurt them anymore. When it comes to Sam, Ive always just wanted to save her. As ridiculous as it sounds, I want to grab her hand and take her into the lightto the joy, to the day. All I really want is to see her in the sunshine. I can see her fighting back to the surface, away from the thoughts that make her sad.There is a fight inside her tonight, and somehow she is drawing me into it, too. Her dark hair and dark eyes pull me closer to myself and to her madness, but I dont run. What are you thinking about stranger? She waved a hand in front of my disengaged eyes. Sunshine. I said. Sunshine? What the hell? You quit your job and all of the sudden youre a day walker? Nah. I just think, you know, now that Im not on graveyard, I might be able to come in here during the day. I try to encourage her to the light, to the joy, to the sun. Its totally different in the day.The reverse effect settles in; she is suddenly overtaken with subtle sullenness. How so? In the day time, theres so much noise and light. I hate it. You like the hum of fluorescents, huh? No. I like the hum of silence. Its like stillness. Outside theres only noise. This place reminds me of the tree behind my parents house right outside the city. In my mind I can see a towering oak, a hundred years old. The seat of the tree is smooth and molded to fit the way that really worn couches are.The branches are stained with elbow and knee blood from kids who have tried to climb up, but shes the only one who knows its secrets. And I imagine there is a hole in the arm of the tree, too, probably from a squirrel or a raccoon. Maybe she hid her diary in it. When she stopped writing a diary, she hid her heart in a box made of pink plastic. She hasnt said another word, but Im completely drawn into her in this moment. She is far away and muted. She knows Im here, but she hypnotized herself into the past. A past where I am only an observer, a cautious bystander. Motionless, I let her continue despite my growing concern. I wonder if she left it there: her heart. Maybe she always knows when its

Ever After You

ALEX.

by Katherine Raul

(holding her scrapbook) I dont think friendships are measured in days.The really good ones arent counted in minutes, but in mo mentsstill frames of time that capture you just as you are or, I guess, as you want to be. Sometimes theyre happy, sometimes theyre sad, but they are what define you; set you up for the next page. And its amazing how many moments you can pack into a single immeasurable, incredible, inconceivable story. A story that started with a single question: (flashback 15 years) TYLER. (finds her) What are you doing? ALEX. Are you my partner for this stupid flour baby thing? TYLER. (covers the flour babys ears) Shh, shell hear you. ALEX. I say we take a 0 out of 10 and make pancakes instead. TYLER. So Ill be the mom, and youll be auntJemima? (flashforward to present) ALEX. (She is still looking at their scrapbook.) That was one of my all-time favorite days. The day our story began. And when you look at the differences between then and now, there arent many. (flashback to 21 weeks ago) TYLER. (finds her) What are you doing? ALEX. Oh, nothing. I was just TYLER. Now? Youre playing arts and crafts now?! This is the most important day of our lives and yourewait Youre chickening out, arent you? ALEX. What? No! TYLER. You are! Alexandra Howard, I cannot believe you! ALEX. Im not chickening out,Tyler Phelps. TYLER. What did you promise me back at the start? You told me you wanted to do this, and I said this is crazy. And you said ? ALEX. Heres my number. Call me, maybe? TYLER. You said ALEX. I said,I promise I wont chicken out. TYLER. And here we are doing (picks up the scrapbook and realizes) a scrapbook of us? ALEX. This is the most important day of our lives and I wanted to remem ber all the other ones, too. TYLER. Wow. ALEX. Someday well be able to show this to our kid and tell him all about how his mommy and her best friend made him. TYLER. Thats a nice thought that wont ever happen if we dont get down to the fertility clinic and get you knocked up. ALEX. Im trying to have a moment!

Well, bring the moment with you! And bring the book (picks up something) and some pens and this glitter. Because this day calls for glitter! (throws a pinch in the air and leaves) (flashforward to present) ALEX. A story that started with one question, and ended with another: how did this happen? TYLER. INTRO (flashback to 21 weeks ago) TYLER. (laying on the hospital bed) Ugh. I loathe hospitals. ALEX. So dramatic. TYLER. Im not good at all this waiting. Do you feel pregnant yet? ALEX. I dont know. TYLER. Ugh! (looks out the window) News people are still outside the hospital. ALEX. What for? I mean other than our immaculate conception. TYLER. I think those two boys are there, the gay couple that got jumped last night. ALEX. Another attack? Whats that make this month? TYLER. Too many. Its crazy.Were all we just want to get married and theyre all if you cant beat em, beat em. But whatever, this is not good convo to have around the future baby. ALEX. Well, lets talk about something else. TYLER. Did you get the baby names I emailed you? ALEX. Ha! Yes. And no. TYLER. What? You didnt like any of them? ALEX. Fedora? Echinacea? Basil? (emphasizing a hard a like the spice) TYLER. Basil. (soft a sound) ALEX. Basil. Did you just go through your cabinets at home? TYLER. No. (beat) Yes. I just wanted something familiar but different. ALEX. Fine, but we are not going to name our kid Beyonce. TYLER. Fine.You are no fun.What about one of our names? ALEX. Thats certainly familiar. TYLER. Tyler for a girl. Alex for a boy. Lets have one each! Aww, it be so cute, a little T and A! ALEX. (reacts) Really? TYLER. Yeah, I knew it was terrible the minute I said it aloud. ALEX. But seriously TYLER. Seriously? ALEX. Seriously, a kid. TYLER. I know, right? Whoa, A.Youre turning a little green, is that a preg nant thing? ALEX. No. Its a panic thing. Oh my god,Tyler! What are we doing? TYLER. Now youre totally chickening out. ALEX. What if were not good at it?

BRAINS: A Guidebook by Stephanie Patterson Alderdice

BRAINS: A Guidebook For the Newly and Nearly Undead (Prose)

Congratulations!
If you are holding a copy of this guidebook, you probably fall into one of following three categories: 1) You or someone you know has recently joined the ranks of the undead, and you want to know what to expect; 2) You or someone you know have been informed by a medical professional that you are most likely about to join the ranks of the undead, and you are desperately searching for a modicum of hope before soiling yourself in despair; or 3) Amazon.com shipped you the wrong book and youre too lazy to return it. I know that, while you may not have had a choice in the slow and debilitating disintegration of your brain and central nervous system, you had a choice in guidebooks. I am thrilled that you have chosen this one. (Except for you, Number Three.) The transitioning process, or turning, can be a confusing experience. Misinformation and misperceptions about the undead run rampant.This guidebook is intended to be an open and honest resource. Hopefully, it will answer your questions, calm your fears, and guide your planning process. I know what youre going through, because Ive been going through it as well. When you first discovered that you would be turning, you most likely panicked. It sounds scary, right? Of course! Who can blame you? Hollywood has waged an unrelenting smear campaign against the undead. Any time an undead person appears onscreen, everyone panics. The undead are portrayed as untouchable, terrifying, and grotesque creatures trying to destroy the living. Our loved ones from our former life recoil at our visage. Blunt objects are smashed against our skulls. Even video games rejoice in our destruction. I havent been able to walk past a garden without worrying that the plants are going to start attacking me. We are considered freaks and monsters. Which brings me to the first item: the Z-word.You may have overheard friends and family members using the Z-word in conversation before.You may have even used the word zombie when referring to the undead prior to this point. Some people jokingly say,I feel dead or I feel like a zombie when what they

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mean is that they are tired or unfocused. Among the undead, the Z-word is considered an insult and grossly insensitive. The word zombie brings us back to a time of Halloween costumes and Hollywood monster propaganda films. If you have any intent of assimilating with the undead community, avoid using this term at all costs. There are plenty of other appropriate terms such as:Expired-Americans, Prematurely Deceased, or even the recently adopted and slightly self-referential Numbed Chucks. It is the motto of the undead,I lost my higher neurological functioning, not my sense of humor! After all, were still humaneven if certain pathologies are doing their best to prove otherwise. The symptoms one experiences before turning can vary between individuals. A medical professional is the only person who can confirm if an individual has the specific pathology of the undead. However, there are some indicators that are widespread among those who have been diagnosed. I remember the last day I didnt think about my hands. The time before, when my wrists and fingers felt invisibly attached and smoothly did whatever I wanted them to do. I remember where I was the last time they felt normal. I remember quite vividly the moment I noticed things changing. It was the first part of March, when unexpected cold fronts were not terribly unexpected. The night had been spent cheering on a college basketball. Leaving the arena, I first attributed the numbness in my hands to the applause then, later, the cold. Holding them out in front of me fingers stiff and tingling how could I have known that the life was slowly being drained out of them? The next morning, the numbness had spread from my toes to my torso. Walking had grown difficult. My balance was nearly non-existent. If I stood on my toes, Id topple forward in an instant. A tight sensation wrapped around my torso. How to describe it? Snake? Girdle? Id learn later that it was known as The Hug. Funny. I had always figured it would be a bitenot a hugthat would start the slow spiral toward the undead. When you experience the symptoms of turning, it is easy to see why the undead are depicted as they are. Stiffness of limbs, loss of balance, difficulty walkingall consequences of the nervous system on the fritz. Add the fatigue, blurred vision, and lapses in memory and it isnt hard to become an empty shell of a person lumbering about with no recollection of what happened ten minutes prior. The symptoms of turning are frustrating.You will feel like exhaling a low, guttural groan. Resist the urge. It only adds to the misperceptions. There will be a moment of shock and despair when your healthcare professional gives you the news. Up until that moment, you will cling to some hope. Perhaps it is a pinched nerve, chronic fatigue, vitamin D deficiency.Youll wonder aloud to yourself.You will attempt to convince yourself that you are fine. Despite the fact that your symptoms match eerily to the online diagnosis of turning undead, it is all in your head.

INfamous
FAMOUS Someday, Im going make it. My pearly whites blazing, a constellation stationed in the center of my face which youll gaze upon in amazement. I can be patient, but I cant wait to be famous. Because one day, Im going to make it. My name splayed out over magazine pages, breath taking, like a Monet painting. Ill be the greatest, have to bolt like Usain from all the paparazzi chases. So fashion forward, my hand-me-downs inspire designers latest. So undeniably sweet, youll wish there was a taste test. So in-demand, my assistant will have a wait list. So brilliant and creative even Kanye couldnt hate this. Me? Ill re-invent famous. Doesnt matter how, itll happen, its fate, its my only option. What? You picture me rocking

by Jonathon Harper

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some nine-to-five life of anonymous caution? Tethered to two-point-five kids and a chestnut brown dachshund? Ambition shriveled up, passed up, fearing what-could-have-been haunted? Days trickle by til Im dead forgotten? Nah, havent you heard the song, man? Fame: Im gonna live forever. Its not just stardom Im chasing. Im racing, running fast from that aching fear of fading, being erased from the face of the world, without a trace of leaving my mark on this place. So I have to make it. Because the only way to be remembered is to be famous. SIREN SONG OF REALITY TV You feel the vibrations first. The humming is so low its Like the earth is purring at your feet. This town is a galaxy comprised only of black holes. It is cold and sucks the life out of you. Being here makes you smaller. It collapses the space within you, pulls the air out of your lungs so you no longer sing, only sigh. For something made of star dust,

La Llorona
MIRANDA. MOTHER. MIRANDA.

by Julia Neva

MOTHER.

MIRANDA.

MOTHER.

MIRANDA.

(to audience) There were two things my mother excelled attelling stories and making babies. If you were to ask her, though, shed say: (off-stage) Its not that Im great at making babies; its just that your father is horrible at resisting my charms. With three daughters and two sons, you can just imagine how charming she is. You can also imagine how exhausted she was trying to keep five spirited children in line. Her methods were a bit unconventional. (in a flashback scene) Mijitas, Ive told you twice that its bedtime. If you dont go to sleep right now, Ill call the Tooth Fairy to come and remove all your teeth while youre sleeping, so youll only be able to eat through a straw and never take a nice picture again. Is that what you want? (to audience) Okay, so moms stories werent always the most accurate, but they were colorful and effective. Above all, she knew the power of fear. She knew being rewarded for doing something good didnt make the same impression as being punished for doing something wrong. One night, when my brothers ran off to play without telling anyone and missed dinner, she sat down to tell us the story of La Llorona, also known as (in a flashback scene) The Wailing Womans little ones were killed when they were swept into a river and she didnt save them.When she died, the angels said she could not get into heaven without her children, so she was sent back as a ghost. La Llorona was doomed to roam the earth wailing and crying for her lost babies and searching for new children to steal so she can try to get back into heaven. (to audience) At first, we didnt think much of the story. Later that night, she walked down the hall past our bedrooms, dragging her nails across the closed doors (MOTHER lets out a low, muffled my baaaaaby under the rest of MIRANDAs lines.) wailing quietly. (MIRANDA gives a creeped out shiver.) It worked.

INTRODUCTION MIRANDA. (flashback) MOTHER. MIRANDA. MOTHER. (to audience) Dont get me wrong.When my mother wasnt causing deep, irrevocable psychological terror, she was an amazing parent. Miranda, dont beat yourself up over one lousy test score. I know, but Sweetheart, you were born with an incredible mind, but sometimes

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MIRANDA.

DOCTOR. MIRANDA. DOCTOR. MIRANDA. DOCTOR. MIRANDA. DOCTOR. MIRANDA. DOCTOR. MIRANDA. DOCTOR. MIRANDA. DOCTOR. MIRANDA.

you spend too much time in it. Just focus on being a good person. (rolls eyes) Okay, mom. (to audience) Sorry, but being a good person wasnt going to bring up my AP Chemistry average.Years later, I get what she was trying to tell me. I know a lot of girls worry about turning into their mothers when they get older. For me, it was something I was actually looking forward to. Hello,Miranda. (blurting it out) Hey, Doctor Zeller! Whatd the test say? (calm and jovial) Yes, Im fine.Thank you for asking. Sorry. Impatient? A bit. Mmhmm. (toying with her) So I guess what youre saying is that youre going to be upset if I forgot to have the lab analyze your blood sample? I dont know. Are you going to be upset if I strangle you with that stethoscope? (laughs) A bit. (amused) Im sorry, Im sorry. So, youre positive you want the result? So help me, if you dont Let me repeat myself: youre positive you want the result? Are you saying? Congratulations, Miranda.Your blood sample confirms that youre pregnant. (MIRANDA squeals with delight.) Now, in terms of prenatal care, youre going to need to (interrupts and begins rattling off orders) Cut caffeine, deli meats, alcohol, and sushi out of my diet. Maintain healthy heart rate and glucose levels. Monitor weight gain.Take all my prenatal vitamins. (to audience) I got this. Has Paul been helping you out around the house? Of course, Mom. Besides, Im only eighteen weeks along. My baby bump is still small enough that I can move around just fine. Im not worried about you, Miranda. Im worried about him.You need time to train him on how to do things right. Paul has always helped out around the house.Things wont change once the baby arrives. The baby? Uhyeah? You cant call it The Baby.What kind of name is that for a baby? Were not going to name it The Baby. So, what? When you talk to her or him every day you just say,Hello, The Baby. How are you feeling today? (rolling eyes) Oh, Mom. Seriously? The whole talking to the pregnant womans belly thing is so dorky. Dorky? This coming from a woman whose favorite show is about a

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Prose Interpretation (Male) The Graveyard Shift by Jane Nicolaas Duo Interpretation (Male/Female) Ever After You by Katherine Raul Prose Interpretation BRAINS: A Guidebook for the Newly and Nearly Undead by Stephanie Patterson Alderdice Poetry Interpretation Program Builder (IN)famous by Jonathon Harper Duo Interpretation (Female/Female) La Llorona by Julia Neva
SpeechGeek 248 Arlington Park Dr. Hot Springs, AR 71901 thegeek@speechgeek.com

(flashforward) MOTHER. MIRANDA. MOTHER. MIRANDA. MOTHER. MIRANDA. MOTHER. MIRANDA. MOTHER. MIRANDA. MOTHER.

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Season Eleven: Fall 2013 Copyright 2013 ISBN Number 978-1-61387-045-7