I Write Sins and Tragedies [Dark Improv]
Also called "Suck it, Urie", these are a series of really short stories that encourage audience participation in a stage improv setting. Note: doing exactly this is a really bad idea. enjoy
Scene One
It had been 8 months since the Jacobsons lost both of their children in a deadly school shooting. Their daughter was the shooter's final victim before he had turned the gun on himself, visibly shaken after taking his sister's life. The parents had just begun moving things from his room to piles meant for either the trash or Goodwill when they uncovered a notebook in their son's room, a notebook that had only one entry on it dated three days before the shooting. It said: [adjective noun]
Scene Two
The old woman looked out through her window into a rainy night with a sorrowful, bitter expression. On the verge of tears, she turns away and heads toward the bathroom, where she begins to draw a hot bath. She turns on the radio and lights candles before pouring epsom salts and bath oils into the steadily rising water. She leaves the room for a minute and calls her estranged son, knowing she'll only get the voicemail. She says what she felt she needed to and hangs up, then directing her full attention to the bath. She disrobes, turns the water off and slowly immerses herself into the hot and aromatic water, letting its warmth soothe her aching bones before she goes into a very brief period of blissful ignorance. Content, she reaches for a razor and disassembles it until she held a thin blade in between her withered, pruned thumbs.....
She was found almost two weeks later, still in the tub. Three months after she was cremated, her son finally listened to the voice message she left behind, of which spoke one word: [noun]
Scene Three
To think that the boarded-up building right across the bank in town set for demolition tomorrow used to be the best pizzeria ever..... It was called Papa Pizza and was owned by an Italian immigrant known as Papa Morella (or just 'Papa'). An active community member, Papa showed his abundant love for America by helping his neighbors and customers however he could at every turn. He loved the town and everyone in it loved him, save for one person. This person robbed the pizzeria one day and shot Papa execution-style before fleeing on foot. Since that tragic day, the shop closed and nothing's been in its place since; just a haunting husk of what once was, at least until tomorrow.
As for the killer? He was found but never formally charged because he happens to be [widely liked male actor, eg. tom hanks]
Scene Four
He catatonically stared at the brick wall, letting his mind wander and his vision slightly warp the brick into something he used to be familiar with. He dared to dream, almost. He knew better, though...he was in solitary at a max prison and he wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon or later. For now, the tricks his elongated stares plays on his perceptions would have to do as an astral projecting form of escape.
Whatever could distract him from the why. He loathed the why. He spoke only once about the why and never again because he can't acknowledge the why and stay sane at the same time. He rarely speaks now, except when he's sobbing. The only thing he does say is "I did the right thing."
The man sits in jail for life without parole for killing his son. According to his testimony, the man said he caught his 11 year old son with a knife and the lifeless body of the neighbor's daughter doing nothing that needs to be told in vivid detail about. Initially, he sought to protect his son and bury the body elsewhere, bringing the 11 year old with him. Along the way, the father's tension skyrocketed when a song on the radio allowed the son to gab about things he wanted to do with the baby the Millers across the street just had.
The bricks always morph into that path in the woods to him. The one he led his son down, turning left in the fork. A mile or so later, it becomes a burial site for two. He breaks into tears every time he dared to dream, chanting "I had to," "I did the right thing" or, on rare occasions, the song that his son felt he could be the most glib about his future slaughter listening to.
He's in for life because [song] was on the radio.
Try it out on your next improv show, or whatever
Scene One
It had been 8 months since the Jacobsons lost both of their children in a deadly school shooting. Their daughter was the shooter's final victim before he had turned the gun on himself, visibly shaken after taking his sister's life. The parents had just begun moving things from his room to piles meant for either the trash or Goodwill when they uncovered a notebook in their son's room, a notebook that had only one entry on it dated three days before the shooting. It said: [adjective noun]
Scene Two
The old woman looked out through her window into a rainy night with a sorrowful, bitter expression. On the verge of tears, she turns away and heads toward the bathroom, where she begins to draw a hot bath. She turns on the radio and lights candles before pouring epsom salts and bath oils into the steadily rising water. She leaves the room for a minute and calls her estranged son, knowing she'll only get the voicemail. She says what she felt she needed to and hangs up, then directing her full attention to the bath. She disrobes, turns the water off and slowly immerses herself into the hot and aromatic water, letting its warmth soothe her aching bones before she goes into a very brief period of blissful ignorance. Content, she reaches for a razor and disassembles it until she held a thin blade in between her withered, pruned thumbs.....
She was found almost two weeks later, still in the tub. Three months after she was cremated, her son finally listened to the voice message she left behind, of which spoke one word: [noun]
Scene Three
To think that the boarded-up building right across the bank in town set for demolition tomorrow used to be the best pizzeria ever..... It was called Papa Pizza and was owned by an Italian immigrant known as Papa Morella (or just 'Papa'). An active community member, Papa showed his abundant love for America by helping his neighbors and customers however he could at every turn. He loved the town and everyone in it loved him, save for one person. This person robbed the pizzeria one day and shot Papa execution-style before fleeing on foot. Since that tragic day, the shop closed and nothing's been in its place since; just a haunting husk of what once was, at least until tomorrow.
As for the killer? He was found but never formally charged because he happens to be [widely liked male actor, eg. tom hanks]
Scene Four
He catatonically stared at the brick wall, letting his mind wander and his vision slightly warp the brick into something he used to be familiar with. He dared to dream, almost. He knew better, though...he was in solitary at a max prison and he wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon or later. For now, the tricks his elongated stares plays on his perceptions would have to do as an astral projecting form of escape.
Whatever could distract him from the why. He loathed the why. He spoke only once about the why and never again because he can't acknowledge the why and stay sane at the same time. He rarely speaks now, except when he's sobbing. The only thing he does say is "I did the right thing."
The man sits in jail for life without parole for killing his son. According to his testimony, the man said he caught his 11 year old son with a knife and the lifeless body of the neighbor's daughter doing nothing that needs to be told in vivid detail about. Initially, he sought to protect his son and bury the body elsewhere, bringing the 11 year old with him. Along the way, the father's tension skyrocketed when a song on the radio allowed the son to gab about things he wanted to do with the baby the Millers across the street just had.
The bricks always morph into that path in the woods to him. The one he led his son down, turning left in the fork. A mile or so later, it becomes a burial site for two. He breaks into tears every time he dared to dream, chanting "I had to," "I did the right thing" or, on rare occasions, the song that his son felt he could be the most glib about his future slaughter listening to.
He's in for life because [song] was on the radio.
Try it out on your next improv show, or whatever
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