Musical of the Pen

[Katzaniel]

The basic idea is that characters have to speak in song/rhyme as much as possible. I guess this is a mixture between multi-authored storytelling and poetry, but I figure it fits better in this room than the conservatory. Anyone welcome though!

 

To give the idea some direction... (stealing this from multiple bad movies)

 

A group of diverse people are visiting for this rich guy's 60th birthday party. I'll play both him and the maid, because partway in (after everyone is introduced) he gets murdered, and the maid can control things somewhat. Of course, no one can escape from the house (all of the vehicles have been sabotaged, we're in the middle of nowhere, and all characters are afraid of walking )

 

I strongly encourage you to plan on one of the following:

• affair with another character
• sworn revenge on another character
• blackmailing another character
• long lost relative of another character
• anything else you can think of

You may PM each other to set up any "intrigue" that both parties would know about, or send it through me. I ask that you CC me with anything. ex) You and I dated fifteen years ago, or (to me) Tell X that she ran over someone while drunk driving when she was 16, because that's going to be my sister.

 

After all this is set up, and everyone knows whatever they need to know about their character, I'll decide who murdered the man and PM you your alibis (or have a brief discussion with you to decide on it). Then we try to unravel it all. The maid is a possible suspect.

 

In the meantime, I'm going to make an intro post and then you can introduce your character. Remember: Speak in rhyme when you can! This is a musical.

 

Edit: Important note for those not used to posting in the banquet room... you will get an "email" error when posting, but your post has been made, don't repost.

Edited April 11, 2004 by Katzaniel

[Katzaniel]

Charles Buckerby looked out his front window. Martha, the maid, stood nearby with a tray of meats and cheeses, but he wasn't very hungry.

 

Charles:

Martha, 60 I will soon be turning

My mind is full of tumult, churning

I'm getting old, yet I feel alone

I miss the friends I made when young.

 

Martha:

Am I not company enough?

You're plenty strong, you're very tough

Why do you suddenly feel the need

To be surrounded with others greed?

 

Charles:

I know that many of my friends

Were jealous of my meagre ends

But surely they'd get over that

Not bicker when I drop my hat.

 

Martha:

Meagre? Ha! You're very rich.

They'd all come to scratch your itch.

But only if they felt your will

Might all their many dreams fulfill.

 

Charles:

Perhaps you're right, you always are

But still I need my friends from far

I'm getting old and soon will die

I'll bring them here if I have to lie.

 

Charles goes to the table and starts to write.

 

Charles:

I know that I can bring them here,

If just to see them once again

Don't they know I hold them dear?

I'll tell them that I'll make a change.

 

My will is theirs if they can prove

That they know and understand me

If they can show that they are true

Then they can leave with glee.

 

I may not do it, Martha

But I'll tell them that's my aim

I'm old, I should be a grandpa

I need to see my friends again.

 

He writes a letter to each of his friends and a few relatives, claiming that if they come for his sixtieth birthday party he might make a change and add them to his will. A month passes, and his offer begins to pay off. Soon, the first guest arrives.

[Wyvern]

The Sun sets under golden hills as light turns into dark,

and car tires come to screeching halts as hands put them in park.

A tall man exits his gray buggy, then heads straight to the door

he raps it twice, then knocks it thrice, and schemes of wealth and more.

 

Martha:

The first of guests is here already? Goodness, we're not prepared!

I'll answer first, then furnish second, lest he disappear.

 

Martha answers the door, then turns to the side the moment she see's who it is:

 

Martha (to the side):

Oh no, not him! Of all the folk

That invitation could provoke

It had to bring Charles' ex-lawyer:

schemer, dreamer, and voyeur!

 

Mark "the shark" Malarkey:

Why greetings, little Bartha dearest!

Where is good Charles, whom I am nearest?

I wish him the happiest of glee

on this, his day... good God! Sixty?!

Pardon my laugh, have you champaign?

Let's celebrate, wine bottles drain.

Say, how is the old geezers health?

Or better yet: how fairs his wealth?

 

Martha:

My name is Martha, can't you learn?!

Just wait right here, I shall return

with some sort of tasty beverage

(and hopefully poison for leverage...)

 

Mark nods and waits till Martha exits, then speaks to himself when he's alone:

 

Mark:

Lord, why can't that stupid geezer choke?!

At this rate, I'll serve as a spoke

in a larger machine aimed at wealth

a curse upon Charles and his health!

Had he not fired me, I would have had fortune

a piece of the pie, an enormous portion,

but as it stands I must live poorly

drive a small buggy and have women ignore me.

Except for sweet Alice, my reason of being!

whose parents won't allow me to wed without seeing

some material wealth... monsterous wretches!

As if marriage and wedlock came with catches!

If only my father, Honest Abe E.

Could have given in and lent me some money...

but he's always complaining about how I'm a dreamer

and won't give me cash until I own a beamer,

or am married... what a catch! And so I'm caught here,

with Charles' staying alive my one fear.

His not mentioning me in his will could be a second

but I know that my cousin Nate has a good record

and will get a fair sum... Nate's the gullible type,

so I'll extort it from him with no trouble in sight...

[Gnarlitch]

I do not know

those crazy singing folks

waiting impatiently

until poor Charles croaks!

I find them rude

unseemly and innane

and also I feel

that my rhyming is in vain.

I am a neighbor

but not a friend

I sit, I watch

I await this story's bitter end.

I hear them fight,

Martha is so shrill

Then there's poor Charles

always editing his will.

The vultures circle

they watch and they wait

with hopes and dreams

of being given silver plate;

or perhaps stock

in Cousin Edward's bank

but he lost it

for playing a small prank.

Still there's a house

in some wooded hills

with fish swimming

in the brooks and rills.

He also has money

and piles and piles of gold

franks, pounds and Euros

from all that stuff he sold.

Maybe I'll stop by

and have a little chat

get to know him

I'll even pet his cat!

A friend I'll be

to ease his misery

and when he dies

inheritance there for me!

 

*er...this kinda sucks, but it's kinda fun too