Vowel Recordings

1. A Sealicide Scene

Cop 1: Have you seen these men, Streetwise Steve?

Steve: I see many men on the streets.
Cop 2: No beating about the bush, Steve. We know about your flea market cheat last week. So
speak, or you’re coming to the police station.
Steve: OK, easy, fellows. Let me see. I didn’t know belonging to Greenpeace was illegal.
Cop 1: Who says they belong to Greenpeace?
Steve: Well, they’re wearing leaf green T-shirts.
Cop 2: It’s not leaf green. It’s sea green.
Steve: No way! Sea green is more bluish.
Cop 2: But leaf green is more…
Cop 1: They’re not from Greenpeace! That’s not their crime at least.
Steve: So what are they? Thieves? Drug dealers? Teeth whitener dealers?
Cop 1: They were seen fleeing from a crime scene.
Steve: And what was it? A robbery scene? A murder scene?
Cop 2: A Sealicide scene.
Steve: Sealicide?
Cop 1: The murder of a seal.
Steve: They cannot be from Greenpeace then.
Cop 1: Have you seen them or not?
Steve: I believe I haven’t.
Cop 1: You’re the worst police informant ever. Why do they call you Streetwise Steve?
Steve: It beats me.

2. Spirits in my Kitchen

Yeah, this is an emergency. I think there are spirits in my kitchen. … Spirits … Yeah, ghosts, spirits,
apparitions, call them what you will. The lingering souls of those no longer physically living. …
Are you giggling? … Do you giggle at all desperate women? … I did call the silly agent, but she
insisted the building was new. I told her it didn’t matter, because spirits could simply … What? …
Spirits from my hidden cupboard? ... If you’re implying I’ve been drinking, Mister, let me tell you
I’m a distinguished lady and I never drink. … Well, it all started when I invited my friend Liz; I
think she’s a black witch … You’re sending in a white witch? … OK, my address is 666 Imp Road.
… No, I’m not kidding.

3. Dressing as a Zebra

Boss: Well, everything’s ready.

Assistant 1: You think he’ll get to the end of the day?
Assistant 2: I wouldn’t bet ten cents.
Fred: Hey!
Boss: Don’t pay attention to their comments, Fred. They’re pessimists. They’ve said that about all
your dead predecessors.
Fred: You never mentioned anything about dead predecessors. How many were they?
Boss: I don’t remember.
Fred: But were they two? Three? Seven?
Boss: Yeah, around seven.
Fred: Around seven? Less than ten?
Assistant 2: Twelve.
Boss: They were not twelve; they were eleven. You see, they’re pessimists. Ben’s not dead yet.
Assistant 1: We’ll see when they find the lion’s den.

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Fred: The lion’s den?
Boss: Pull yourself together, Fred. Dressing as a zebra for shooting wild life scenes in the African
steppe is not that terrifying. And it’s a job you’ve done already, isn’t it?
Fred: I dressed as a dog at a pet shop in Devon.
Boss: Well, a leopard’s not different from a Dalmatian; just a bit more yellow.

4. The Magic Act

Mandy: Daddy! I need a black hat.

Mandy’s Father: Well, take my cap.
Mandy: No. It has to be a hat, not a cap. It’s for my magic act.
MF: Oh! Right! I think your grandma has a black hat she bought for Halloween. I fear though her
black cape will suit you better like a blanket.
Mandy: It’s OK. I have the cape from my Batman costume.
MF: Alright. Then you’re lacking nothing else.
Mandy: Well, not exactly.
MF: Right! You need a magic wand, don’t you?
Mandy: No, I … need a rabbit.
MF: A rabbit? What happened to Mr. Snowpads?
Mandy: He… had an accident.
MF: What kind of accident, Mandy?
Mandy: He leapt into a bear trap.
MF: A bear trap? In the capital of England?
Mandy: Yeah… you see, I… was using the trap for my magic act. I thought I would be able to
rejoin Mr. Snowpads, Dad, but he… well… went to paradise.

5. Like Mother like Son

Father: Where did this blood come from, son?

Son: I cut my thumb with the butter knife.
F: Come here. Let me take a look at it. How could you cut your thumb with the butter knife? It can
barely cut the butter.
S: I guess I’m clumsy.
F: Just like your mother.
Mother: His mother might be clumsy, but she isn’t deaf.
F: Sorry, honey. But you must admit your merely touching a cutting object is good enough a reason
for people to run.
M: It might be. But wasn’t it my loving husband the one who poked his cousin’s eye while carving
a duck?
F: Yeah. But wasn’t it the stubborn mother of my son who cut her brother’s wrist while chopping
mutton?
M: Yeah. But wasn’t it my numbskull of a husband who dug an ice-pick into his own thigh muscle?
F: Yeah. But wasn’t…
S: I think it’s begun to form pus.
Father and Mother: Shut up!
S: OK. I’ll just… dial 911 or something.

6. A Heartless Father

Arthur: I saw Dharma today at the supermarket.

Mark: Don’t mention Dharma. It’s a dart to my heart.
A: Come on, Mark. I know she did you harm, but you can’t stick to hard times.

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M: Marvellous argument. But Dharma’s harm was deeper than you regard it to be. She left me for
my father, and she took Bart away from me. Not to mention I still pay for her apartment and her car,
even though Bart’s working in Glasgow.
A: I know the story, Mark. But “Bart’s working in Glasgow”. When Dharma left you, he was in
kindergarten. Besides, you have Sara now.
M: Yes. Sara’s been a balm to my heart.
A: And you have forgiven your father.
M: My father? Says who? He scarred me even worse than Dharma; there’s no chance I’ll forgive
him.
A: But I just saw him talking to Sara at the park.
M: (Gradually growing desperate) My father? Talking to Sara?
A: (Hesitating) Yeah, well…
M: Get the car. (Under his breath) The heartless shark.

7. Bring Back the Sun to my Heart

Matt: “To bring back the sun to my heart”.

Marsha: What are you up to, Matt?
Matt: I’m transcribing a song for my language class.
Marsha: Oh, what’s the band? It doesn’t sound like your average hardcore punk trash.
Matt: It’s Scorpions.
Marsha: Oh, I love the Scorpions. Both their ballads and their hard rock songs are wonderful.
Which one are you transcribing? Hide your Heart? Love Hunter? Carrie?
Matt: Hide your Heart’s by Kiss, Love Hunter’s by Whitesnake and Carrie’s by Europe.
Marsha: What about Starstruck?
Matt: Rainbow.
Marsha: Slick Black Cadillac?
Matt: Quiet Riot.
Marsha: Rough Silk?
Matt: That’s a band itself.
Marsha: I guess I’m not as much of a fan of the Scorpions as I regarded myself to be.
Matt: I guess you aren’t. And why d’you call my hardcore punk “trash”?
Marsha: You prefer “garbage”? “Rubbish”?
Matt: (As if to himself) The things one has to put up with.
Marsha: Actually, I’m starting to like that stuff.
Matt: Really?
Marsha: Yeah. I guess it’s the “wind of change”; as The Cult’s classic goes.
Matt: You’re joking, aren’t you?

8. Johnnie and Bonnie

Johnnie: It’s not what you think, Constance.

Constance: It’s not what I think? What is it then, Johnnie? You were just polishing Bonnie’s teeth?
You sure like your job, doctor.
Johnnie: We…
Constance: [To herself] My fiancé and my long-lost foster sister. It’s horrible.
Bonnie: We’re sorry, Constance.
Constance: You’re sorry! Right! That solves the problem. The wedding’s off, and I’m not telling
Grandpa Ron. He’s not gonna be cross at me. Your fake sobbing never worked on me, Bonnie.
Johnnie: Please, Constance…
Constance: Shut up, Johnnie. I should have known I could not trust you around Bonnie. She’s hotter
than me, since she lost weight. And she’s a lot nicer. And she’s a top-notch cook. And she has a

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good job. And she does want children. And sure, “Johnnie and Bonnie” sounds better than “Johnnie
and Constance”. But it does not follow… Hey! Knock it off!

9. Store in the Fourth Floor

Lorna: Did you get the laundry, George?

George: Yeah, almost all of it. My sports jacket and your organdie dress are still there.
L: You see? Paul swore they’d be ready…
G: It isn’t Paul’s fault. I couldn’t afford to bring them all, because I was short of cash.
L: Oh, lord. Please tell me you didn’t go to the store in the fourth floor.
G: Don’t look so appalled, I feel awful enough.
L: Well, I’m tired of being supportive, George. You know I adore you, but we ought to do
something before we lose it all.
G: I know, Lorna. But the more I scorn myself, the more drawn I feel to the store in the fourth floor.
L: You need therapy, George.
G: Are you sure?
L: Well, how much is it normal to spend on false hair, before admitting you’re going bald?

10. Horses in the Fog

Lord: So you say we need a poet to write our chronicles of war?

Poet: Of course, Milord. All good warriors have one.
Lord: Well, I guess it shouldn’t cause any problem.
Poet: No problem at all.
Watchman: Milord! I see horses in the fog.
P: Horses crossing the fog from the north…
W: That’s not the north, chronicler.
P: Poetic licence.
L: The fog’s thick as a wall, how do you see them?
W: I see their torches bobbing, Milord.
P: With torches like a mob they haunt the walls
Of the horrible fort where…
L: Hey!
P: Sorry, Milord. Poetic licence.
W: They’re already on the fosse, Milord.
L: Let’s pray Tyr we’re not forced into battle tonight; we’re short of warriors.
W: Imploring the Norse God of war
His very office for him to ignore,
The lord of the lost fort his lack
Of both honour and knowledge flaunts,
And … drawing his long sword he falls
On the poor chronicler, whose fault it’s not…
L: Stop talking and stop running round Thor’s icon!

11. Pushing your Look

Brunnhilde: How do I look, Woody?

Woody: You look like a mad butcher.
B: Good! You never understood my look, anyway. I remember when you said my woollen pullover
would attract a bull; or when you said I needed a handful of salt and a little cooking; or that I looked

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like a burning bush…
W: Or a mad butcher. Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a dead woman hidden in a nook
around here.
B: Just pass me the hood.
W: This red hood? Should I play the wolf?
B: You’re pushing your luck, Woody.
W: And you’re pushing your look, Brunn.
B: (Brief pause/grinning) A dead woman in a nook, ha? Why a woman?

12. Blues to the Moon

Louis: What do you think of these verses, Hugh: “I sing a blues to the moon,
I beg it to soothe my gloom,
The truth is to me rude,
My dreams refuse to bloom
And smoothly they become my doom”?
I thought you could write the music and…
Hugh: It’d be a truly beautiful tune.
L: You’ll do it?!
H: No.
L: Why not?
H: I have bad news for you: You’re a fool! We play classical music, not blues.
L: Well, we may include some flute melodies, a few string harmonies, perhaps some lute intro,
and…
H: And brew something new and cool which will boost our yet fruitless careers.
L: You think?
H: No. It’s not new. They have been doing this for decades. Trying voodoo would be more useful.
L: You’re rude to me, Hugh.
H: I thought “the truth” was rude to you.

13. Move the Rook

Gustav: Move the rook!

Arbiter: Silence in the room, please.
G: (Whispering) Move the rook.
Player 1: I refuse to make a move until the football hooligan is hushed.
G: Who are you calling a football hooligan, you rookie?
A: Who are you, sir?
G: I’m Gustav Pushkin.
Player 2: Gustav who?
G: Gustav Pushkin. (Pause) The chess guru? (Pause) I wrote the books “Check, Dude!”, “Rook ’n’
Roll”, “Good Move for such a Brutish Bully”.
P1: You sound like a buffoon.
P2: And a crook.
A: Are you sure the word is “guru” and not “cuckoo”?
P1: We’ll be looking forward to his next book, “King Fu”.
P 2: That’s a good one.
G: Gustav Pushkin will not be made a fool of!
A: Calm down, Mr. Pushkin! The rules of chess –as the guru of chess should know, shouldn’t
he?– state that players can’t be disturbed. So you either cool off or leave.
G: I choose to leave.
A, P1 and P2: Good!

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Two moves later.

P2: Check mate.

P1: Oh, how stupid of me. I shouldn’t have moved the queen.
P2: No, you should have…
P1: I should have moved the rook.

14. A Nervous Surgeon

Surgeon: Are you nervous, Mr. Sherman?

Patient: A little.
S: Well, you’re certainly brave. I’m so nervous my shirt’s all wet.
P: What?
S: It’s perfectly normal, Mr. Sherman. It’s only my third surgery. You should have seen the first one.
I was so nervous that my epidermis burst into an allergic rash, and trying to spur things along,
’cause I preferred not to disturb the nurses permanently urging them to scratch me, I forgot some
curved blade scissors inside the person. And my second surgery was even worse. My first son was
learning about vertebrates at school. So although it was a hernia operation, I decided to cut a bit
further and show him some vertebrae. It turns out I almost murdered the poor girl. You do look
nervous now, Mr. Sherman.

15. Over-accenting

Actor: “A man and a woman pushed against a wall,

Where lovers and sinners led by nature’s eyes,
Accuse but themselves of their…”
Auditioner: Next!
Actor: Wait! Why?
Auditioner: You are overacting.
Actor: Overacting? How?
Auditioner: You are over-accenting the feet.
Actor: But isn’t it written in an Elizabethan style?
Auditioner: Even for the Elizabethan style, you’re over-accenting the feet.
Actor: OK, I can do it better. Just give me another chance, please.
Auditioner: OK, go ahead. Read the other character.
Actor: “The wounds of a lie can never fail to leave
A scar to remind the wounded creature’s heart
The words that a man with silver t…”
Auditioner: Stop! Please! Why are you accenting the feet so much?
Actor: I’m reading the lines the way the author would have liked them to be read.
Auditioner: I am the author. And I would like the lines to be read by another actor. Next!

16. A Lazy Sailor

David: Good morning. I came here on Friday and made a reservation for me and my fiancée.
Sailor: Your name?
D: David Crane.
S: Crane? Crane?
D: The salesman?
S: Oh, yes. From Cambridge?
D: Exactly.
S: Well, Mr. Crane, I’m afraid it ain’t a good day to sail.
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D: Why? It’s a sunny day.
S: Yeah, but they say it’s going to rain. And this is not a lake, Mr. Crane; during a storm, the waves
can be amazingly high and dangerous.
Fiancée: I heard in channel eight that it hadn’t rained in over a month and they didn’t expect the
situation to change until May.
S: Oh, no, lady! You mustn’t trust channel eight. They hate sailors. The station’s owner was slain by
a whale and they blamed a sailor for not saving him. So now they always say it isn’t gonna rain, in
the hopes we’ll meet our fate.
D: You don’t wanna work, do you?
S: Not today. It’s Saturday.
F: It’s Wednesday.
S: Oh, it’s all the same.

17. Why Are You Crying?

Michael: Why are you crying, my love?

Diane: I tried to dye my hair blond, but when it dried, it… it was green.
M: It’s alright, my queen. Whether Ireland green, ivory white or night-sky black, to my eyes it’ll
always be blond as the tide-fighting sands.
D: You’re so kind. But people outside aren’t as nice. They’ll talk and laugh behind my back.
M: Let them strike themselves with their spite-guided gibes. You’ll outshine them all with the
righteousness you hide inside. And if they are too blind to see it, in your divine smile they’ll find
enough beauty to shy down their pride.
D: You’re the best, Michael. I’ll iron my white dress.
M: What for?
D: I’m going to the wine club meeting with you.
M: No way! No one in his right mind would be seen at the wine club with a vine-headed woman;
it’d be social suicide.
D: But you just …
M: I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay at home this time. (Going away) Byyye!
D: Michael! Michael! You, lying swine!

18. The Owl and the Mouse

Grandpa: Michael Brown, come into the house now!

Michael: Were you shouting my name, Grandpa?
G: No, I wasn’t shouting. Now, I’ll be shouting! I’ll be howling! It says here Miss Downing found a
list of nouns bound around your wrist during the exam.
M: I thought you’d be proud.
G: How can you make me proud by cheating?
M: By passing.
G: So how you pass doesn’t count?
M: Yeah, but I found out cheating’s a thousand times easier.
G: (Sighs) Have you heard the fable of the owl and the mouse, son?
M: Yes, it’s about a cow.
G: The owl and the mouse, it’s about an owl and a mouse.
M: Then no.
G: Ok. There was once an owl standing on a bough, waiting for a prey to pounce on.
M: Did it pounce on a cow?
G: (After a pause to take a deep breath) You’re right, son. I’ll be proud of you if you pass; no matter
how.

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 19. Lonely in Rome

Joan: I want to go home.

Noel: Why? Don’t you like Rome?
J: Rome is Ok. But I feel… lonely.
N: Shouldn’t you feel more lonely back home, where you spend most of the day actually alone?
J: I know, but…
N: Rose is here, your only husband, as far as I know, is here, so…
J: I just feel lonely, ok? I don’t know why, but I do.
N: Ok. Ok. You wanna go home? We go home. No problem.
J: You’re so kind, Joe… I mean…
N: Joe?! You said “Joe”.
J: No! I said… “Jove”; the Roman god. I meant…
N: You wanna go home because you miss Joe.
J: Oh, don’t be silly. Things between Joe and I are over.
N: So I won’t find him in your new mobile phone?
J: I’ll show you my mobile, if you show me yours.
N: (Hesitates) I told you, if you wanna go home, we go home.

20. A Spear in my Ear

Doctor: Hello, dear! What brings you around here?

Patient: My ear hurts and I can’t hear too clearly. It feels as if I had a spear piercing my eardrum.
D: (Amused) Well, if it’s a spear indeed, it’ll be material for this year’s European conference. Over
here, please. (A few seconds later) Oh, dear!
P: What is it?
D: I have no idea, but it does look like a spearhead. How did this get in here?
P: Well, I was at the theatre watching The Near-Death Experience, when I noticed this weird guy
sitting next to me. He had his face smeared with what appeared to be real blood, and he fiercely
cheered at the spear-hurling scenes. “Hurl those spears,” he yelled. I thought it’d be a good idea to
move away from this weirdo, but when I stood up, I felt something pierced my ear.
D: Let’s see. Does this hurt?
P: Oooouch!
D: Sorry, dear. I’ll bring some shears. (To himself) That’s for calling me a weirdo.

21. I Dare You

Claire: I dare you to climb down the stairs wearing your hair on your eyes.
Mother: Claire! I ask you to take care of your sister, and I find you daring her to walk blind on the
stairs.
C: But she’d dared me to share my pear with Teartail.
M: You must bear in mind, Claire, that she’s not aware of the dangers yet.
C: Was aunt Ariel aware at her age?
M: Aunt Ariel?
C: Yeah, she told us you dared her to stand on a chair and dance like a bear there, while staring at
the ceiling.
M: Well, she had dared me to wear her glasses and stare at the glare of the TV. So I think it was a
fair… I mean…

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