What a talented writer, I'm no connoisseur of manuscripts but this is a lovely parcel by Frank Garland:
Hey classy class,
For my presentation on Tuesday here are the first two scenes of a play I've been working on. Please read scene 1, and if you have time I would love it if you read scene two as well.
See you Tuesday,
Child’s Play Scene 2
HERALD stands waiting at the side of the stage, she is now dressed as a dignified looking rabbit in a waistcoat, holding a large pocket-watch that she checks impatiently. A door descends from above, coming to rest on the stage. ALICE comes hurtling through the door. She is a redhead, young and at times beautiful, wearing a red leather jacket. She looks around wildly. The door ascends back up out of sight.
You’re late. (ALICE pulls out a gun and turns on HERALD pointing it at her.)
Where’s Sam? (HERALD reacts to a gunshot to the head and falls over, dead. ALICE stands at a loss. She looks around, suppresses a sob, and turns back to HERALD.) What are you doing. I didn’t shoot you.
Oh. A thousand apologies. (She pops back up to her feet.) I’m not always very good at judging such things. Do let me know if you ever do kill me.
* * *
Yes. Take me to the throne room.
But we’re already there. (PRESIDENT and COWBOY, in masks, glide on stage. HERALD blows a fanfare from her trumpet.) Ladies. Fair gentlemen. The Queen! (QUEEN enters. All bow. ALICE bows belatedly.)
Thank you! Thank you! Oh, you’re all such dears. (To HERALD.) Read my titles.
Her royal highness, Queen Titania. Ruler of the fair folk. Empress of the Seelie Court. Speaker for the trees. Maven. Raven. Lady. Daughter of the sky snake. Lover of the sky snake. Slayer of the sky snake. Concubine to Mr. President, whose titles include—
Skip. (HERALD twitches and buzzes, moving at double speed as if controlled by the fast-forward button on a remote. She then resumes her recitation.)
Moonlight bather. Mountain eater. She with the crystal laugh and molten kiss. Our grand dame of the spectacle. First huntress. Last sorceress. Star child. Wyrd Wiled. Sound of a small sharp stone plummeting through the air and then down a tin pipe, before landing with a plop. (Apologetic.) Oh. A thousand apologies. That was a direction for me. (She makes the sound of a small sharp stone plummeting through the air and then down a tin pipe, before landing with a plop.) Fairie Queen.
Oh you’re too kind. Really, I don’t need all that. You may rise. (All rise from their bows. To ALICE.) It’s all just words, you know. And quite a mouthful at that. Though each with a story locked inside. What is your name, sweet one?
Alice, Your Grace.