Quality forensics performance material is often difficult to find. SpeechGeek provides high school coaches and competitors with scripts that are not only challenging, but also of strong literary merit. Each issue of SpeechGeek contains five scripts in a variety of events: prose interpretation, poetry interpretation, humorous interpretation, dramatic interpretation, and duo interpretation. SpeechGeek’s interp scripts are written by winning authors who know what it takes to make final rounds at all levels of competition.
Quality forensics performance material is often difficult to find. SpeechGeek provides high school coaches and competitors with scripts that are not only challenging, but also of strong literary merit. Each issue of SpeechGeek contains five scripts in a variety of events: prose interpretation, poetry interpretation, humorous interpretation, dramatic interpretation, and duo interpretation. SpeechGeek’s interp scripts are written by winning authors who know what it takes to make final rounds at all levels of competition.
Quality forensics performance material is often difficult to find. SpeechGeek provides high school coaches and competitors with scripts that are not only challenging, but also of strong literary merit. Each issue of SpeechGeek contains five scripts in a variety of events: prose interpretation, poetry interpretation, humorous interpretation, dramatic interpretation, and duo interpretation. SpeechGeek’s interp scripts are written by winning authors who know what it takes to make final rounds at all levels of competition.
Quality forensics performance material is often difficult to find. SpeechGeek provides high school coaches and competitors with scripts that are not only challenging, but also of strong literary merit. Each issue of SpeechGeek contains five scripts in a variety of events: prose interpretation, poetry interpretation, humorous interpretation, dramatic interpretation, and duo interpretation. SpeechGeek’s interp scripts are written by winning authors who know what it takes to make final rounds at all levels of competition.
ISBN 978-1-61387-070-9 Price $25 US http://www.speechgeek.com SpeechGeek SpeechGeek ISBN 978-1-61387-070-9 Corey Alderdice Editor and Publisher Email: thegeek@speechgeek.com 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. ht t p: / / www. s peec hgeek. c om SpeechGeek Season Twelve: Fall 2014 Is it autumn already? It seems like just yesterday we were loading up the car to drive up to Kansas City for the National Speech and Debate Associa- tion National Tournament. So much for our internal clocks. It was an awesome summer, though! We introduced new buttons! We made new friends! We even experi- mented with a new t-shirt design. Through an informal partnership with the Womens Debate Institute, we sold a series of Debate Like a Girl t-shirts to help raise money for their summer camp. We took pre-orders for one week and managed to raise over a thousand dollars to provide scholarships for deserving young women. We had a ton of fun, and were thinking about doing it again. Plus, wed love to welcome your ideas. Is there a national non-profit organization whose efforts benefit folks in speech and debate that youd like to see get a bit more attention? Send your ideas to thegeek@speechgeek.com. Best of luck this season! Corey Alderdice Publisher In This Issue: Season Twelve: Fall 2014 Dramatic Interpretation (Female) The Extra Woman by Josh Fleming..................................................................................04 Prose Interpretation (Female) When I Made Him Cry by Doug McConnaha.......................................................................08 Dramatic Interpretation (Male) Between Notes by Matt Mills........................................................................................10 Duo Interpretation (Male/Female) A Brothers Love by Doug McConnaha.......................................................................14 Humorous/Duo Interpretation The Great American Cookie Duel by Matt Mills........................................................................................18 4 (A WOMAN lays in a hospital bed.) WOMAN. There are four ways to die - fast, slow, gory, or neat. Now from there you can do all types of combinations. Fast/Neat. Slow/Gory. Slow and neat is my favorite because thats when I really get to show off my skill. A lot of people say the death scene is over done, but not me. Ive died 53 times, and its always different. I think thats why I like death so much; its the variety. Now, the first time I ever kicked the bucket, I was on the verge of being evicted. I needed some money fast and was scanning the classifieds for a good telemarketing job. I know thats not the most glamorous job, but if you find one that pays wellplus sleep with your supervisoryou can be back on top in a couple of weeks. So, Im looking for a job in the paper when I see an ad for movie extras in a low budget film. No acting experience necessary, it said. Now I have to confess, much like many other people when they were young, it had been my childhood dream to be a movie star. I had been in pageants and Christmas plays, I even played Dorothy in a Wizard of Oz production for deaf kids (you should have heard them clap). But those dreams faded with the onset of breasts, boys, shoplifting, and a raving case of herpes. Not all dreams can come true, right? Well, I saw this as my chanceeven if in a minimal wayto fulfill that childs dream. The movie was called Living Lies. I played a waitress who was mercilessly gunned down while pouring coffee for the lead actor. I had one line: Would you life more coffee, sir? I was no Audrey Hepburn, but Audrey Hepburn never had a bullet rip through her back and spurt out the front splattering the custom ers. I did, and I got paid five hundred dollars for it! After that I played a young, unwed mother who dies from an alien that is eating her brain. I had four lines, all given while dying in the arms of my eight-year-old son. Later on, he told me that I really made him cry. Well, I never looked back after that. I auditioned for every extra role I could find. Soon enough I was getting cast in minor roles, all with death scenes. Producers now know me as the Death Woman. Im becoming highly sought after in the realm of B movies. In fact, by Josh Fleming The Extra Woman 5 after this, I have to go die in a car crash. Im looking forward to it. Ive never died in a car before. But aside from it paying the bills and fulfilling a dream, I really seem to have a knack for dying. Many directors have told me that I have a hauntingly natural way of passing from existence. Hauntingly natural Havent you always wanted something like that said about what you do? You have a hauntingly natural way of barbequing. You have a hauntingly natural way of petting animals. Its as if you were born for it. And I think thats how it is for me. I was born to die. Theres just something about creating a life, giving it a voice, a face, a soul, and whether she has two lines or fifty, making that life real enough to then be able to take it away. Fast. Slow. Gory. Neat. Birth to death with the snap of your finger And then, after the director calls cut and the lights are turned off, I open my eyes and step out of that dead figure I was just lying in on the floor. And then, I am me again. Real me. Alive me. Exhilarated me. But each time afterwards, Im absorbed with this unshakable sense of reincarnation. As if I keep coming back as myself until I get it right. And thats why Im afraid of dying. Of death! The actual, physical, real life concept Dont get me wrong. I accept death as an inevitable factor of life. We live in a world of uncertainty. I could die when I am ninety-nine and everybody I love is around me knowing time is weighing heavy on my body. There would be an obituary in the paper touting my longevity and what a kind, generous, compassionatedid I say kind?and loving person I was. Or I could be out walking my dog tomorrow on the outskirts of the city and be the hapless victim of a derailed train. Fast. Slow. Gory. Neat. Whichever way my demise comes, I want to be prepared for it so I can give the best performance of my career. But theres no real preparing, is there? At no point will there be a moment of revelation and I will say to myself: These are the last lines I will ever say. 8 The first time I ever saw my father cry I was only nine years old. It was summer, and I was outside running around with my best friend Alice. We were kicking one of those giant balls back and forth when Alice kicked it over my head and over the fence. Our neighbors had an old barbed wire fence, which was five feet tall and made it taller than me. I looked through the strands of wire at the ball and was thinking about going into the house to tell my dad. He was busy working in his shop in the garage, and I knew how much it bothered him to be interrupted even though he acted like it didnt. Being a single dad wasnt easy, but no one did a better job at it than he did. As I stood there wondering what to do next, Alice said, What are you waiting for? Go get it. And I said, Im not the one that kicked it over the fence, figuring that my logic would either buy me some time or convince Alice to get the ball. Alice, who later did debate in high school, said, You were supposed to catch it or block it. If you had done your part, the ball wouldnt have gone over the fence. And, besides, its your yard. Fine, I said. Ill get the ball. I pondered my best option and decided that if I propped up the bottom strand of barbed wire, I could slide under it. Alice and I got wood from the wood pile and made two stacks with a space between them. I lay flat on the ground and did my best to look cool while slithering on the ground. My hair got snagged, which made me panic for a second, and Alice just reached down and untangled it. So much for cool. I got into the neighbors yard, grabbed the ball, and tossed it back over the fence. Feeling triumphant, I practically dove under the fence. They say that time slows down at certain moments in your life and that you notice small details. At first, I didnt understand why I couldnt move. Then I felt sharp pain on the back of my head. I tried to move again and the pain exploded. I started to yell, and I heard Alice yell also, saying Dont move! Dont move! She sounded scared. She ran across the yard and into the house. I heard her shrieking to my dad that I was bleeding all over the place. I went from scared to really scared, especially now that I realized the sweat running down my face wasnt just sweat. I started to scream and cry and thrash. That didnt help. My father came running up and got down on his knees. He was yelling for me to hold still and stop screaming. He told me that I was caught on the fence. He grabbed the barbed wire with one hand and moved my head with the other one. He told me to slowly move forward and that he had the wire out of the way. I couldnt see clearly through the tears but I knew that as long as my dad was there, it was going to be okay. So I stopped crying and started to move forward. It seemed to take forever, and my dad just kept talking to me. Then I was being picked up and carried to the car. My dad yelled at Alice to go open the back door and get in. He set me in the back seat and told Alice to hold her hand on the back of my head to help When I Made Him Cry by Doug McConnaha 11 fatiguejust to pay the rent. But music...music is all Ive ever understood. After over a decade of odd jobs and learning the hard way, I was fortunate enough to be hired on in the music department here at NYU. I have to say Im fortunate, because I know it could be a lot worse. But this was hardly my dream. Somewhere along the way, my dreams trapped me and led me into my nightmare. (grows increasingly uncomfortable, goes to retrieve violin and bow from the case) (slowly stares at violin while speaking to the audience) I stay up all night, staring at my instruments. In between every piano key, every stroke of the violin, the humming fluorescent lights ring in my ear with voices. Voices that clamor on and on, Youre not good enough. Youre a burden, an embarrassment. I found my father when I was seventeen, you know. I figured that before I moved across the country to fill the hole he left inside of me, Id make sure that hole existed in the first place. So, I tried. I wanted to meet him. After reaching out, (beat) he didnt want to meet me. (starts to play, his movements and strokes match the intensity of his words) I could understand if it were out of pain, or guilt, but he simply didnt care. He didnt care about me. That I even existed. He didnt care enough to waste the time it would take to meet me. Apathycold, lifeless, silent apathy. I failed. Im the failure that isnt worth his time. I dont deserve love from him. I dont deserve love from anybody. And every time I try to push the memory away, the voices keep coming back, the fluorescent lights beating down on m, over and over and over and over, Youre not good enough; youre an embarrassment! Youre not good enough; youre an embarrassment! Over and over again until finally I just SNAP! (Josh furiously throws his violin at the ground. He stares at it, awed by his own anger. He breathes, tries to collect himself, walks to a piano, then gently starts playing.) Music is how I come back, back from the dark and away from my thoughts. I cant remember the first time I played a note, but theres something in my blood that wont let me abandon that feeling it gives me. The sedation music brings that seeps through your veins, infiltrating your brain as you play. I play a song that stems from myself, my own creation. Ive been teaching here for about ten years now, and I dont plan on leaving anytime soon. The kids I work with on a day-to-day basis 10 (JOSH, a middle-aged professor, prepares a violin tunes it, collects his bow - all with calculated grace. He plays. Throughout his lecture, he demonstrates a variety of instruments.) JOSH. I love the violin. In a single moment, it can transform from a sound as soft as rain to unbridled rage. A collection of wood and metal smaller than an infant, it can encapsulate the entire range of human emotion and force an audience to experience those feelings, too. Listen. (draws the violin to chin, draws the bow across) Strings start crossing strings to create vibrations that ricochet through space until they land in our ears. Fingers press and pluck in particular positions to manipulate the strings. When you find the right vibra tions, when you move your fingers just so (illustrates, then smiles) ta-da! You have music. Sure, theres a scientific explanation behind the acoustics, but the way those sounds and vibrations can come together to make you feel something It is nothing short of magical. I wasnt always this awesome at music, believe it or not. They never tell you just how much work goes into learning an instrument, especially teaching yourself. I mean, if they were honest about how difficult it is, how many people would still try it? Hey, want to spend hours of your life working on a skill that you will never be the best at and will have almost no prospect of making you money? Oh, whoa, you all dont need to jump out of your seats at once! For those of you who dont know me, my name is Joshua Ratliff. I am a musician. Surprise! Believe me, I wish I werent. (begins tuning the instrument) Life would be so much simpler if I hadnt fallen head over heels in love with music the first time I tried it. By age nine, I had mastered the piano. Age ten: the guitar. Age twelve: the flute, clarinet, oboe, saxophone, trumpet, trombone, drums, bass, upright bass, electric bass, synthetic bass, and the accordion. (plucks a string, makes a disapproving face) That last one wasnt as popular with the ladies as you might think, but that was never what it was about. I grew up in a mid-sized, middle class home in the middle of the Midwest. And as fate would have it, I was the middle child. Yeah. My motherand I mean this with love, Momwas absolutely talentless. She was an accountant at a Fortune 500 Company, the pantsuit, coffee mug, and hair-bun type. Needless to say, she didnt Between Notes by Matt Mills 15 JULIA. The student was too ashamed to claim it. Johann was in that class with me. He asked the professor after class about how to find the American radio station. I was afraid that Johann would be taken as well. ANDREW. Johann! He is nothing but trouble. His father didnt even serve in the army during the war. You will stay away from him. He will only bring you trouble. JULIA. I like him. He is not pretentious. He doesnt go around spouting Party slogans and acting like hes important. ANDREW. You were not like this before you went away. Being at the university has changed you. And not for the better. Perhaps the authorities should consider JULIA. Consider what! Closing it? Arresting all the teachers? What is the Party afraid of? ANDREW. The Party doesnt fear the words of a few old men. JULIA. Oh, no? Well does it fear the words of a young man? Johann and I are leaving before something else happens. ANDREW. Leaving for where? JULIA. America. We are leaving tonight. We have the right papers and some money. We want to see it for ourselves. We want to go together. We are going to be married. I want my children to grow up in a place where they dont have to worry about someone spying on them. ANDREW. I wont allow it! I wont let you marry a traitor, and I wont let you leave East Berlin. Father would be ashamed if he were alive. He would have killed Johann with his own hands. JULIA. Just because you are my brother doesnt mean that you are in charge of my life. I go where I please and with whom I please. I will not stay here and watch you turn into some heartless monster like Father was. ANDREW. (He slaps JULIA twice, hard. She falls to her knees. He grabs her and forces her into the chair. She covers her face and sobs as he rants at her). How dare you call Father a monster! How dare you plot against the Party! You dont know anything! Youre a stupid child who doesnt understand what is happening in the world. You think that just because a boy makes eyes at you and tells you he loves you that you can throw away your life. You think that you can run from what you are? You are the daughter of a loyal German soldier; you are the property of the Deutsche Demokratische Republik! JULIA. (calms down and speaks with control) You have no right to strike me. I will not stay here anymore. Look at you. You are so self- important, so arrogant. You cant stop me. ANDREW. I already have. Do you think that someone like Johann wasnt already being watched? Do you really think that the Party could be fooled? We knew that he would try to escape. We just waited for the right moment. Where do you think I was this afternoon? I arrested 14 The year was 1952, behind the Berlin Wall. Families were torn apart, neighbors were suspicious of each other, and the Communist Party had control. In a small house in East Berlin, a brother and sister deal with the ghosts of the past and the uncertainty of the future. (JULIA is seated, reading quietly. Andrew enters, removes his coat, and warms his hands by a fireplace.) JULIA. (after a moment) I have saved you some dinner; its on the stove. Its not much, just soup again. ANDREW. Soup is enough. We have more than many others. At least we have a fire and a warm house. JULIA. This house is drafty and old. Father was a good man but not very talented as a carpenter. I wish he would have left us a better home. ANDREW. Julia, be careful of how you talk about our father. He was a great soldier and a good man. He understood what was right and wrongand what was important. JULIA. He was a camp guard in the army of a madman. Dont glorify the past. Dont try to whitewash what Hitler did or excuse Fathers part in it. If he hadnt died in prison they would have executed him as a war criminal. ANDREW. (serious and proud) You havent been home a week, and all youve done is judge others, criticize our father and complain about everything else. You spend your time in useless books, or in classes listening to professors telling lies. The Party is trying to help every one, but there must be some sacrifices on our part. We, you and I, are only part of a larger ideal. Father understood that sometimes people have to be dealt with in order to serve the higher good. JULIA. You mean killed or imprisoned. Why dont you just say it? ANDREW. To protect the Party, to protect the proletariat, some people have to be eliminated. The greater good. JULIA. (calmly, without much emotion at first.) Last weekjust before I left the universitysomeone turned in one of my professors for something he said in our class. Our professor had been talking about how America had freedom of speech and that he had been listening to an American radio broadcast. That same night, he was taken from his home. One of the other students saw him dragged from his house. He was bleeding and begging. The next day we had a different instructor who told us that our professor had been sent to a reeducation camp. Is that your greater good? ANDREW. The man sounds like a traitor! The student who turned him in should have gotten a medal. A Brothers Love by Doug McConnaha 19 RYAN. Yeah, we both think you should leave! MARSHA. Yeah, we agreed to it! RYAN. Yeah! MARSHA. Sure! SERGE. Oh, Im sorry. I didnt realize this was your fair. I was a little con- fused because everybody seems to be at our cookie stand, and oh, where are all of the people at your stand? Where are they, I dont see them! Are they on vacation? Are they invisible? What is it, Clairge? CLAIRGE. I dont know, Srge. SERGE. Nor do I, Clairge. MARSHA. They were here! They just, uhwere too RYAN. Shocked by how good our cookies were! MARSHA. Yeah! So they had to be taken to the hospital because SERGE. You poisoned them? Oh, Marsha. Marsha, Marsha I knew your cookies were bad, but I didnt realize they were lethal! CLAIRGE. I had a feeling. SERGE. I mean, of course. CLAIRGE. Its like you get sugar confused with anthrax. SERGE. And eggs with linoleum. CLAIRGE. Flour with The Black Plague. RYAN. Yeah, all right. We get it! MARSHA. If you think your cookies are soooo much better than ours SERGE. We dont think, we know! CLAIRGE. Its like, Whats two plus two? SERGE. Four! CLAIRGE. Whose cookies taste like my grandfathers rotting ashes? SERGE. Theirs! CLAIRGE. See? RYAN. Nuh-uh-uh. No-no-no-no-no, youve got to prove it! CLAIRGE. Okay, well four is two more than two. RYAN. I mean your cookies! MARSHA. Yeah! RYAN. Our cookies are the best cookies in town and we know it! CLAIRGE + SERGE. Oh really? RYAN + MARSHA. Yeah! I think! SERGE. Are you challenging usTO A COOKIE DUEL? (CLAIRGE gasps dramatically.) RYAN. Y (RYAN looks to MARSHA to confirm.) MARSHA. (whispering) Yeah. RYAN. Yes. We. Do! MARSHA. Cookie duel! (SERGE laughs. Laughs. Laughs again, until he cant control it. CLAIRGE joins in and they laugh it up. RYAN gets confused and joins in as well.) MARSHA. Ryan! 18 ...Cookie Duel by Matt Mills (We hear a peppy jingle blast into the surrounding fairgrounds. At a cookie stand called Goody Cookies, two bubbly employees, RYAN and MARSHA, perform a dancing and singing routine for passing customers.) BOTH. Hello, fair goers! Come and eat your treat! RYAN. Weve got sugar cookies... MARSHA. Chunky cookies RYAN. Liquid cookies MARSHA. and even plastic cookies! RYAN. So if you love cookies just as much as we do MARSHA. Come and try some today! RYAN. Well be mad if you say nay! (They both make angry horse sounds then pose with a smile. After a beat, they sag in disappointment.) MARSHA. Why does that never work? These cookies seem even less desir able than me! (MARSHA grabs a bowl and ingredients then begins mixing a new batch. RYAN commences moving sheet pans and helping out with the process.) RYAN. I know! Its likehas anyone at this fair even had a cookie before? Its the best noun of all time, right? MARSHA. No. RYAN. What? MARSHA. JK! Of course cookies are! RYAN. Yeah! MARSHA. Yay! We get to make cookies every day, how neat of a job is that? RYAN. When I die, I want to be cremated in a cookie oven. MARSHA. When I die, I want to be reincarnated as a cookie. RYAN. When I die, it will probably be due to my overconsumption of cookies. MARSHA. Ryan. Can I ask you something? RYAN. Sure thing! What is it, Marsha? MARSHA. Do you ever wonder why nobodys buying our cookies? (A chic and pompous pair, SERGE and CLAIRE, appear in front of the booth.) SERGE. Its because they suck. CLAIRGE. Like suction cups. (SERGE makes a sucking sound.) CLAIRGE. Yes, like that. SERGE. Yes. MARSHA. You two again? RYAN. I thought I told you two to take your foul, new-age cookies and get out of our fair! MARSHA. I told you that, too! SpeechGeek 248 Arlington Park Dr. Hot Springs, AR 71901 thegeek@speechgeek.com Season Twelve: Fall 2014 Copyright 2014 ISBN Number 978-1-61387-070-9 For more quality material, visit our website at http://www.speechgeek.com! Dramatic Interpretation (Female) The Extra Woman by Josh Fleming Prose Interpretation (Female) When I Made Him Cry by Doug McConnaha Dramatic Interpretation (Male) Between Notes by Matt Mills Duo Interpretation (Male/Female) A Brothers Love by Doug McConnaha Humorous/Duo Interpretation The Great American Cookie Duel by Matt Mills 20 RYAN. Oops! Sorry, I just love laughing SERGE. Tomorrow. CLAIRGE. Right here. SERGE. Best cookie wins. CLAIRGE. Winner takes allthe whole fair! SERGE. Loser leaves the fair and never bothers us with their stupid plastic cookies again! CLAIRGE. Seriously, why do you guys do that? SERGE. Its like theyre losers or something Oh, wait! CLAIRGE. They are! SERGE. They totally are! MARSHA. Maybe for now, but as of tomorrow, well be eating our cookies with a grin RYAN. Right in your face! SERGE. Just dont poison yourself MARSHA. That was one time! SERGE. Sure it was. CLAIRGE. See you tomorrow, losers! SERGE. Auf wiedersehen! CLAIRGE. People who lose. (SERGE and CLAIRGE walk away.) RYAN. Oh my god, Marsha, what are we going to do? They have the most popular cookie in the country! How can we compete with their chocolate chip, macadamia nut, and porterhouse steak cookie?! MARSHA. I dont know. But if theres one thing I know, its that we love making cookies. RYAN. Right MARSHA. And we also love eating cookies RYAN. When theyre not poisoned MARSHA. So between the two of us, I bet we can make the best cookie anyone has ever had! RYAN. Yeah, I bet youre right! MARSHA. Right? RYAN. Lets show those creepazoids how cookie baking is done! MARSHA. Were not actually going to show them how its done, are we? RYAN. No, thats just a saying. MARSHA. Oh, okay. Goody Cookies, its time to get to work! (Transition to RYAN and MARSHA hustling like mad scientists, concocting a compli- cated recipe.) MARSHA. Walnuts RYAN. Marshmallows! MARSHA. Chocolate chips! RYAN. Banana cream! MARSHA. Kidney beans! RYAN. Shoelaces!