Overview
- Female: 4
- Male: 3
Context
Jamie has finished all his chores and desperately wants to go out and play. However, his mom insists that he tidies his room before going outside. Grumbling, Jamie tidies his toys away but fails to make the bed. When he questions why he has to, his mom takes him back though a history of his ancestors asking exactly the same question. Here we meet several of his relatives dating from a 1600s pilgrim back to Ancient Rome.
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(A 1600s girl steps out onto the stage. She sways from side to side.)
Jamie: Where is she from?
Mom: The 1600s.
Jamie: Why is she swaying back and forth in her bedroom?
Mom: She's not in her bedroom. She's a pilgrim, and she's on a boat, traveling across the Atlantic Ocean.
1600s Kid: get on with the story, please. I am getting sea sick.
Mom: And that little girl was as cantankerous as an old sea dog. And she said...
1600s Kid: I already swabbed the deck. I dusted off the captain's spy scope. I even picked out the rats that were hiding in the pickle barrel.
Jamie: Gross!
1600s Kid: So why do I have to make my bed?
Mom: Her mother clucked her tongue and said, "That reminds me of a story about your double-great-greatgreat-grandfather, when he was a little boy.
Jamie: Now how far back are we going?
Mom: Hundreds and hundreds of years, to the middle ages.
Jamie: Like with kings and queens? Was our ancestor a knight?
(A little Medieval Kid stands heroically center stage. He holds up a small broom as if it was a sword.)
Mom: No. He was a peasant. But he was very adventurous, and loved to frolic and play outside. Sound familiar? But on this day, he was as wicked as a warlock, and he said...
Medieval Kid: I already sheared the sheep and milked the yak. I dusted off sister's loom. I even planted the wheat and picked up all of the pig droppings.
Jamie: That's even grosser than the rats in the pickle barrel.
Medieval Kid: We use the animal droppings to help stoke our fire. But it is kind of gross. So tell me, ma-ma, why do I have to make my bed?
Mom: His mother just put her hands on her hips and said, "That reminds me of a story about your double-greatgreat-double-double-great-great-grandmother, when she was a little girl. And that little girl was more thunderous than Thor, and she said..."
(A girl with a viking helmet struts onto the stage.)
Jamie: (Trying to guess the era.) Oh, I know, I know. We're back in Viking Times.
Viking Girl: Silence, scrawny boy! This is my scene! I already stoked the fire for the sword maker. I dusted off the sacred blowing horn. I even picked up the broken spears and patched up father's war wounds.
Jamie: No toys to put away?
Viking Girl: Toys? What are toys?
Jamie: I guess not.
Viking Girl: So tell me Mama Viking, after all of this work, why do I have to make my bed?
(A viking mother, looking very gruff, enters.)
Mother: Her mother just burped---
Viking Mother: Burp!
Mother: And said...
Viking Mother: I shall tell you, my obnoxious viking daughter, that all of your grumbling reminds me of a story about your triple-great-triple-great-triple-great-great-grandfather, when he was a little boy. And that little boy was as ill-tempered as a caged lion, and he said...
(The viking family makes way as a Boy from Ancient Rome enters.)
Roman Boy: Make way, make way! Gladiators coming through!
(Two gladiators battle their way across the stage.)
Jamie: Gladiators! We must be in ancient Rome!
Mom: 121 A.D. Almost two thousand years ago.
Roman Boy: No time to talk. I've got so much to do. (He pantomimes his chores as he talks.) I've got to unclog the aqueducts.
Jamie: What are aqueducts?
Roman Boy: It's how we get our water. And after that I dusted off the statues in the courtyard. (Several actors can pose as statues.) And I even picked up after the gladiators. (One or two gladiators can fall over, or just drop a sword -- the Roman Boy then carries them away.)
Jamie: That sounds hard.
Roman Boy: It is. Especially when lions are involved. So, after all of this, why do I have to make my bed?
Mom: His mother just brushed her golden hair and said, "That reminds me of a story about your triple-greatgreat-triple-triple-great-great-great grandmother, when she was a little girl. And that little girl was as cranky as a crocodile. And she said...
Jamie: Just how far back does this story go?
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