Get some chills and laughs, inspired by the classic horror and comedy-mystery films of the past. Fun for all ages. Grab a part, break a leg, and ham on!

Mystery-comedy script.  Click here to read Mystery at the Milford Wax Museum part 6 (Campfire Creepers 3)

Mystery comedy script. Click here to start at Campfire Creepers Three: Mystery at the Milford Wax Museum (part 1)

 

Uncle Charlie:    I’m beginning to think now it would have been better if I’d taken the vacuum cleaner in to Max first thing.  It is a bit inconvenient lugging this thing around.

Bonita:  Can’t you drop it once we get inside the wax museum?

Uncle Charlie:  Say that again Bonita.

Bonita:  Oh, I didn’t mean to drop it literally.

Uncle Charlie:  Of course, I know what you meant, but you’ve just hit on the solution.  Drop it, that’s the key!

Joan:  The key to what?

Uncle Charlie:  The key to your unknown young admirers shyness.  Bonita’s timely utterance of the word ‘drop’ reminded me of a similar case in my high school days; a young man by the name of Willoughby Bunsteader was secretly enamored of a young woman by the name of Graveline Potts.  He could never muster the courage to speak to her, or even approach her, until one day  between geometry and Spanish class she dropped her protractor.  Willoughby seized upon the opportunity and rushed forward, scooping the protractor off the floor with great dexterity and returning it to Miss Potts.  Her smile and warn thank you, combined with his own sudden action, instantly dissolved Willoughby’s prior reticence, and, almost at once he became a most ardent suitor.

Joan:  Most ardent?  You mean like sending flowers?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, flowers.

Joan: And chocolates?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, in the heart-shaped box and all.

Joan:  Wow.  And writing poems to her?

Uncle Charlie:  Well, perhaps not that far, after all no young man likes it to be known that he writes poetry, unless of course he has a British accent, or perhaps a rugged-looking scar on his cheek.  Willoughby however spoke with as pure a Midwestern twang as the best of us, and his cheeks still looked as soft as a babies bottom.  Bold as he may be in bestowing flowers and chocolates, he knew ’twas best to give poetry a pass.  Theirs was a great high-school romance, and it didn’t end there either.  They stayed together all through college and were eventually married.  They have seven children together.

Joan:    All  because a girl dropped her protractor.

Uncle Charlie:  Exactly my dear, and I say what worked on Willoughby may also work on your young man.  All you need to do is drop something.

Joan:  I haven’t got a protractor on me at the moment.  Here’s a pen, do you think that would work?

Uncle Charlie:  Sure, anything like that.

Joan:  Here goes.  Drops pen to ground.

Enter two young looking teenage boys.  One stops, picks up pen, and hands it to Joan.

Young teenage boy:  Here you go m’am.

Joan:  Thanks.

Exit two teenage boys.

Joan:  Did you hear that?  He called me m’am.  What do I look like, somebodies grandmother?

Uncle Charlie:  Probably a couple of freshmen.  You know how everyone else in high school looks so much older when you’re a freshman.

Joan:  Freshman or not, I think he needs to have his eyes examined.

Lou:  Look, here come two seniors, both of them starters on the football team.  Try it with them.

Joan:  Okay, here goes again.  Drops pen as two high school senior  boys enter.  One picks up pen and hands it to Joan.

First senior:  Here you go, you dropped this.

Joan:  Thank you.  Say, you guys are on the football team, aren’t you?

Second senior:  That’s right.

Joan:  You know, I go to all the home games.

First senior:  That’s great.  I remember I loved going to all the Milford home games when I was in middle school too.  Well, we gotta go.

Second senior:  Yeah, bye little girl.

Exit two high school senior teenage boys.

Joan:  Did you hear that Uncle Charlie?  Little girl!

Uncle Charlie:  Don’t lose heart Joan.

Joan:  You know the problem with me?  I’ve got no feminine charm.   I’m just a dud.

Uncle Charlie:  Nonsense my dear. None of those was the right boy.  You wait, you’ll see when your young man comes along. Now on to the wax museum.  Once I introduce you to Mort, I want you to finish telling me about the strange noises and things going on at the Little Theatre.  I think if there really is anything going on there, he can be of help in solving the mystery.

Lighting shifts to a different part of the stage, where Cesar is seated at a bench as Ilinca enters.

Ilinca:  There you are, you good for nothing.  Where have you been all this time?

Cesar:  My darling, I have been here the whole time, I swear it.

Ilinca: Doing what, watching all the pretty girls go by?

Cesar:  I have watched not even a single one.  I have been sitting here listening.

Ilinca:  Listening, eh?  To what have you been listening for so long?  Is there some concert going on?  I hear nothing that could keep you here for so long just listening.

Cesar:  Shhh.  If you will just be quiet, I will explain everything to you.  Now, come, sit down beside me.  What I have to say will give you something to think about, then you will be glad I sit here for so long.

Ilinca:  Always you give me plenty to think about, but  never it makes me feel glad.  Always you give me  great big headache, chasing after the pretty girls.

Cesar:  Me?  I never chased after a one.

Ilinca:  No, never a one.  Maybe two or three or four! Who knows how many?

Cesar:  Ilinca, believe me, I never chase after the pretty girls.

Ilinca:  Aha!  So you admit you notice how pretty are all the girls!

Cesar:  Me?  No, I notice no such things.  All the girls look all the same to me:  no pretty, just all like, like my mother.

Ilinca:  Your mother is very beautiful woman.

Cesar:  Sure, but she is my mother, I no notice such a thing in my own mother.  That’s the way I see all the other girls. even if other people see pretty girl, I see just the same as my mother.

 

To be continued …

 

Copyright 2017 r.k.morris