elizabethmccoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elizabethmccoy) wrote2013-05-06 08:50 pm
elizabethmccoy) wrote2013-05-06 08:50 pm
Entry tags:
For Want of a Comma.
I have also been known to do a spot of editing now and then. While I'm not as happy with the ending as I could be, the rest of it amuses me and even made my spouse smile.
For Want of a Comma
Scene: a throne room. Prince John paces. You may imagine him played by a scruffy lion with a short mane if you wish.
PJ: I have sent my man, Rich Lackcomma, to spy upon Robin Hood. He reports today!
ENTER Lackcomma. You may imagine him as played by a cross-eyed crocodile.
PJ: You have returned with information?
Lackcomma: I have my prince!
PJ: (looks nervous) You most certainly do not. I'm here and you are over there. See that it stays that way. Now, you have information?
Lackcomma: I have sire!
PJ: Let us not include your escapades with the outlaw camp followers! I have no interest in your children. I want to know about Robin Hood!
Lackcomma: He robs from the rich and gives to the poor sire.
PJ: The poor sire...? You mean the poor Friar? Friar Tuck! Guards, bring Friar Tuck!
The guards exit and return with Friar Tuck. If you wish to continue the animal theme, envision the good friar as a large rooster, tonsured about his comb. His spurs poke the back of his robe.
PJ: Lackcomma, this man is sympathetic to the outlaws?
Lackcomma: I don't know my prince!
PJ: I'm standing right here.
Tuck: What am I accused of, anyway, your Grace?
PJ: Fraternizing with the outlaw of the greenwood, Robin Hood!
Tuck: Balderdash. This man has likely never even seen Robin Hood, and would not know him from a common fox.
Lackcomma: I have my prince!
PJ: (sidles away) You are not my type, man. Have you seen Robin Hood?
Lackcomma: I did my prince!
PJ: YOU MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT!
Lackcomma: (protesting) I found Robin Hood my prince!
Tuck: (smirking to himself) You sound like a man who has found the Lord.
Lackcomma: (insisting) I found Robin Hood my prince!
PJ: You verge on treason, man. Do you think he is my half-brother, then?
Lackcomma: He is not my prince.
PJ: Then why did you imply he was? Never mind. You could lead the guards to his hideout?
Lackcomma: I can sire!
PJ: I told you, I'm not interested in your conquests. Robin Hood is in the greenwood, is he not?
Lackcomma: He is my prince!
PJ: But! You! Just! Said!
Lackcomma: I did not sire!
PJ: I told you I'm not interested! Wait, you mean you and that outlaw....?
Tuck: I shall pray for their souls.
Lackcomma: Surely your Grace does not think--?
PJ: You insult me!? (grabs Lackcomma by the nose -- or snout, should you prefer)
Lackcomma: Help my prince!
PJ: I don't need your help! (squeezes more tightly)
Lackcomma: Help my prince!
Tuck: (helpfully) Perhaps he means his greenwood prince. Perhaps he wishes to abide there with the outlaws, aiding Robin Hood.
Lackcomma: (still rather nasally) I cannot abide your Grace!
PJ: (releases Lackcomma's nose) Guards, take this traitor away and lock him in the dungeons!
Lackcomma: (being dragged away) Why your Grace? Why my prince?
Tuck: (quoting) A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
PJ: (screaming) Traitor! You wish to set Robin Hood on my throne!
As the doors close behind the protesting Lackcomma, Friar Tuck pats Prince John's hand.
Tuck: There, there, your Grace. I'll pray for that poor, confused man's soul. I'm sure he's no threat to you.
PJ: (slides his hand away with ill-hidden distaste) I suppose he meant to falsely accuse you. You may go, friar.
Tuck: (bowing) I thank your Grace. I'll go back to teaching the children their letters and punctuation. (turns, mutters) Lackcomma never did show up for those. Good thing, too.
For Want of a Comma
Scene: a throne room. Prince John paces. You may imagine him played by a scruffy lion with a short mane if you wish.
PJ: I have sent my man, Rich Lackcomma, to spy upon Robin Hood. He reports today!
ENTER Lackcomma. You may imagine him as played by a cross-eyed crocodile.
PJ: You have returned with information?
Lackcomma: I have my prince!
PJ: (looks nervous) You most certainly do not. I'm here and you are over there. See that it stays that way. Now, you have information?
Lackcomma: I have sire!
PJ: Let us not include your escapades with the outlaw camp followers! I have no interest in your children. I want to know about Robin Hood!
Lackcomma: He robs from the rich and gives to the poor sire.
PJ: The poor sire...? You mean the poor Friar? Friar Tuck! Guards, bring Friar Tuck!
The guards exit and return with Friar Tuck. If you wish to continue the animal theme, envision the good friar as a large rooster, tonsured about his comb. His spurs poke the back of his robe.
PJ: Lackcomma, this man is sympathetic to the outlaws?
Lackcomma: I don't know my prince!
PJ: I'm standing right here.
Tuck: What am I accused of, anyway, your Grace?
PJ: Fraternizing with the outlaw of the greenwood, Robin Hood!
Tuck: Balderdash. This man has likely never even seen Robin Hood, and would not know him from a common fox.
Lackcomma: I have my prince!
PJ: (sidles away) You are not my type, man. Have you seen Robin Hood?
Lackcomma: I did my prince!
PJ: YOU MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT!
Lackcomma: (protesting) I found Robin Hood my prince!
Tuck: (smirking to himself) You sound like a man who has found the Lord.
Lackcomma: (insisting) I found Robin Hood my prince!
PJ: You verge on treason, man. Do you think he is my half-brother, then?
Lackcomma: He is not my prince.
PJ: Then why did you imply he was? Never mind. You could lead the guards to his hideout?
Lackcomma: I can sire!
PJ: I told you, I'm not interested in your conquests. Robin Hood is in the greenwood, is he not?
Lackcomma: He is my prince!
PJ: But! You! Just! Said!
Lackcomma: I did not sire!
PJ: I told you I'm not interested! Wait, you mean you and that outlaw....?
Tuck: I shall pray for their souls.
Lackcomma: Surely your Grace does not think--?
PJ: You insult me!? (grabs Lackcomma by the nose -- or snout, should you prefer)
Lackcomma: Help my prince!
PJ: I don't need your help! (squeezes more tightly)
Lackcomma: Help my prince!
Tuck: (helpfully) Perhaps he means his greenwood prince. Perhaps he wishes to abide there with the outlaws, aiding Robin Hood.
Lackcomma: (still rather nasally) I cannot abide your Grace!
PJ: (releases Lackcomma's nose) Guards, take this traitor away and lock him in the dungeons!
Lackcomma: (being dragged away) Why your Grace? Why my prince?
Tuck: (quoting) A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
PJ: (screaming) Traitor! You wish to set Robin Hood on my throne!
As the doors close behind the protesting Lackcomma, Friar Tuck pats Prince John's hand.
Tuck: There, there, your Grace. I'll pray for that poor, confused man's soul. I'm sure he's no threat to you.
PJ: (slides his hand away with ill-hidden distaste) I suppose he meant to falsely accuse you. You may go, friar.
Tuck: (bowing) I thank your Grace. I'll go back to teaching the children their letters and punctuation. (turns, mutters) Lackcomma never did show up for those. Good thing, too.