Plays by Musau Mm

By Musau Muhammad

Plays by MUSAU mm is a book of plays written over a course of several years, and performed in various capacities in Boston and Detroit.

This book of plays represents over two decades of reflection and meditation by the author.

Act One, Scene One is just an experiment and an exposition related to the structure of stage and playwriting. It is the only play script in this collection which tries to approach the genre of comedy.

E=mc Squared, rock n roll is a childrens play written for a mature audience. This is a social dance musical which tries to address itself to the real realites which face modern youth in America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 22, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453596685

Musau Muhammad

MUSAU mm born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, USA. Salutatorian of High School Class. Graduate of Tufts University. Medford, Massachusetts. (B.A.’72) Bachelor of Arts Degree. Major: Drama-Philosophy. Attended University of Ibadan in Ibadan, Nigeria. (1970-71) Other books by MUSAU mm: Novels: A Dog is a Man’s Best Friend, Judgment Day, A Love Story , Pretty Judy. Photo/Poetic Expression , JAKE! , a novel. All this material is registered with the Copyright Office in The U.S. Library of Congress.

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Copyright © 2010 by Musau Mattmeachamjr Muhammad.

ISBN: Softcover     978-1-4535-9667-8

ISBN: Ebook         978-1-4535-9668-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Act One, Scene One

E=mc Squared, rock ’n role

El-Al-Amen

The Last One

Working on the Railroad

The Swingers

INTRODUCTION

The year of the publication of this book finds me at sixty years old. Drama and playwriting are my first two loves. I can remember my high school days several decades ago in a small Alabama town, and the encouragement of a special English teacher who insisted that I continue to write. (I used to write short plays for my English class to perform). After receiving a scholarship to attend Tufts University, a university outside of Boston, I continued to write and was able to study under a Nobel Laureate in Literature at the University of Ibadan in Nigeria who also recommended that I continue to write.

The first professional performance of one of my stage scripts occurred during my senior year at Tufts University. The play was entitled Marcus, the Prophet, a play about the Harlem Renaissance’s Black Nationalist, Marcus Garvey, performed in Playhouse in the Park in Boston by The National Center of Afro-American Artists. After that, in conjunction with getting involved in other aspects of stage production, I staged original plays at colleges in front of small audiences.

I have written under several names over the internet; for example, you may read some of my poetry at ‘Triond’, Musauthor. However, in most instances, my publications have been published under my legal name MUSAU, or MUSAU mm. And my poetry can also be read on my website poetrypoem.com/musau.

ACT ONE, SCENE ONE

Characters        Otis, a man

                        Mag, a woman

Place                An empty stage

Time                Any

(The stage is black dark. However, as Otis begins to speak, the lights begin to rise. The lights come up gradually with his every word. Each time he is emphatic, the lights react. This lighting and speaking relationship continues until the lights are all the way up. The stage is empty with the exception of the actor).

Otis:                Why did he name me Otis? What kind of name is that? Why not Moses, or Abraham, or Joseph? Why not Malcolm, or Elijah, or Abdullah, or something with a classy sound? Socrates, or Plato? Jesus! Otis. Why Otis?! What kind of name is that? Oh. Otis Redding. That sounds familiar. But, still, it is such a bland name. Who wants to be named Otis. Well, it looks like I’m stuck with it. Huh. But, Otis!

Mag:                (Her voice is heard offstage). O-tiss. Oh. OO-tiss!

Otis:                Please.

Mag:                (She enters). Oh! O-tiss. (She is dressed in a long old fashioned dress. Her hair is rolled up in a ball. She is made up to look as old as his mother).

Otis:                Will you please stop yelling my name! Someone may hear you.

Mag:                (She kisses him on the cheek. He resists). What’s wrong, honey?

Otis:                Nothing. I wish you would refrain from calling me that in public.

Mag:                But, Otis, honey, you are my sweetheart.

Otis:                (Embarrassed). Don’t be so loud!

Mag:                Otis. Ooo-tiss.

Otis:                Please. Do me a favor.

Mag:                What?

Otis:                I know my name is Otis, but certainly not Oo-tiss.

Mag:                But, Oo-tiss.

Otis:                There you go again! It’s Otis. Otis! (He puts his hands to his mouth). I hope nobody heard me.

Mag:                What’s wrong with your name? I like it. Oo-tiss. It sounds so cute to me, so very cute.

Otis:                Cute?

Mag:                Yes. Cute.

Otis:                Who wants to be cute these days?

Mag:                Why are you so disagreeable?

Otis:                Me?

Mag:                Yes, you.

Otis:                This name. I hate my name. It could have been Albert, or Edward. Anything but Otis.

Mag:                Oo-tiss.

Otis:                Otis. It’s Otis! That’s why I don’t like it. See how you do me.

Mag:                This is just ridiculous. Whoever heard of somebody acting this way because of their name? This is absolutely ridiculous!

Otis:                You can say what you want, but I still don’t like it.

Mag:                Why don’t you just change it?

Otis:                (Smiles). I never thought about that.

Mag:                May I give you another name?

Otis:                What name would you give me?

Mag:                (She looks up). Ooo-tissss.

Otis:                You are no help at all!

Mag:                Well, I like your name.

Otis:                I don’t, and I am going to change it.

Mag:                Then. Who would I call you? I like Otisss.

Otis:                I don’t.

Mag:                Some people are never satisfied.

Otis:                I’m not some people.

Mag:                Well. Who are you?

Otis:                I’m O (He grimaces). Tis.

Mag:                Some people.

Otis:                I told you I was not some people.

Mag:                Who are you?

Otis:                I’m me.

Mag:                And who is that?

Otis:                The person you are talking to.

Mag:                I’m tired of your nonsense. You are Otiss.

Otis:                No. I’m Charlie.

Mag:                Charlie. Who is Charlie?

Otis:                I am.

Mag:                This is silly.

Otis:                Why can’t I be Charlie?

Mag:                Because, he named you Otis.

Otis:                I don’t like the name he gave me.

Mag:                But, you are holding up the show.

Otis:                What show?

Mag:                This show.

Otis:                I don’t like showing off. I hate to be upstaged. I’m such a cool guy.

Mag:                With a name like Otisss?

Otis:                I thought you said it was cute.

Mag:                You are cute. Very.

Otis:                Why would he give me such a bland name? It’s no character in it. What kind of character does he expect me to be?

Mag:                The protagonist.

Otis:                And what about you?

Mag:                I’m the antagonist.

Otis:                So, that means I’m the good guy, and you are the bad guy.

Mag:                I’m afraid so.

Otis:                Do you like the name he gave you?

Mag:                It doesn’t make any difference to me. I’m getting paid for it.

Otis:                Do you like the name he gave you?

Mag:                It doesn’t make any difference to me. I’m getting paid for it.

Otis:                Money is not everything.

Mag:                But, it sure does help.

Otis:                Help what?

Mag:                Everything.

Otis:                The whole world is a stage and everybody plays a role.

Mag:                So. What does that have to do with anything?

Otis:                A lots.

Mag:                A lots. I’m sure it wasn’t written that way in the script.

Otis:                What script?

Mag:                This script.

Otis:                As long as we say things to make people think, we are in good shape. But, he still should not have named me Otis.

Mag:                Will you stop it!

Otis:                Why?

Mag:                You are getting on my nerves. I’m already stage fright.

Otis:                (Examining her). You are more fright than that.

Mag:                What does that suppose to mean?

Otis:                Have you taken a good look at yourself?

Mag:                Is that an insult?

Otis:                Does it sound like one?

Mag:                (Crying). Are you saying that I’m unattractive?

Otis:                No.

Mag:                Then, what are you saying?

Otis:                I’m saying that you are ugly.

Mag:                (Crying). Boo-hoo!

Otis:                I’m honest.

Mag:                (Still crying). You are so cruel.

Otis:                It is written.

Mag:                What?

Otis:                It is in the script.

Mag:                What script?

Otis:                This script. He wrote it.

Mag:                (Still crying). He didn’t write that.

Otis:                You should have known something was fishy when he named me Otis.

Mag:                Oh. Otisss!

Otis:                Please say it right since I am stuck with the name.

Mag:                You are so into yourself.

Otis:                That bothers you?

Mag:                It certainly does.

Otis:                He should have named me Moliere.

Mag: