Mr. McBaldy

by Joe Shaboo

            Mr. McBaldy woke up one morning. He stretched his arms and yawned... but when he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror all of his hair was gone! How could that happen? How could that be! Have you ever heard of something so weird? What would you do if you woke up one morning and all of your hair disappeared?

Mr. McBaldy called the police. He thought, "Maybe they know what to do."  But instead they said, “We’re sorry, Mr. McBaldy, but the police are as bald as you!”

Mr. McBaldy grabbed his hat. He was determined to find his hair. He looked under the rug in the living room and found some underwear. He looked under the couch and behind a chair. He found some crackers and cheese. He found a diamond ring and a Ping-Pong ball. He found his wallet and keys. He looked in the kitchen in the cupboards and cabinets. He looked in his dresser drawer. He looked for his hair behind the stove and found a green apple core.

Mr. McBaldy wasn’t a dummy. He went to school. He was smart. But maybe, he thought, he left his hair at the store in a shopping cart. “No, no, no,” he thought. “That couldn’t be it.” Maybe he swallowed it in his sleep! Or maybe the tooth fairy took it by mistake and now it was hers to keep.

Mr. McBaldy searched the garage, the roof and the chimney top. He found a funny-looking suit, a fishing pole, some shoes and a lollipop. Then Mr. McBaldy drove away and knocked on Suzie McDougal's front door. When Suzie McDougal answered the door she said, “You don’t have any hair anymore!”

“I lost my hair, but I found something else.” Then he dropped to one knee. “Suzie McDougal, you’re the love of my life.Will you please marry me?”

Mr. McBaldy found true love but never did find his hair …and judging by the looks of things nobody seems to care.

(Picture of them fishing with the fishing pole) - he's wearing the funny-looking suit, the apple core is on hook, ping pong ball is the bobber, diamond ring on her hand, cracker and cheese spread nearby)

Maggie Maggoo & The Bubblegum Degummer

by Joe Shaboo

This is the story of Maggie Maggoo and the bubblegum stuck on the sole of her shoe.
How did it get there? Nobody knew, but the bubblegum stuck on the sole of her shoe.

“It wasn’t me,” said the bumblebee, “who put the bubblegum there.”

“It wasn’t me said the butterfly. “How on Earth could I?”

“It wasn’t me,” said the ocean. “I speak for the fish. There would be no more bubblegum if I had my wish.”

Maggie sat down. She looked all around. Wherever she looked, there was gum on the ground. A seagull said, “There’s bubblegum in my wings. I can’t fly anymore. There’s bubblegum sticking to the rocks on the shore.” Bubblegum was sticking to the flowers and trees. Bubblegum was sticking to the fish in the seas.

“Look at it all! Now what do I do? What do I do?” asked Maggie Maggoo.

Then a man with a machine KLUNKED and CLANKED his way through the woods. He said, “Have no fear, my invention is very good. I’m king of the clean-up. My name is Eddie McDrummer and my invention is called ‘The Bubblegum Degummer.’ My machine can clean the flowers and trees. It can clean the birds and the fish that swim in the seas. But I’ll need your help to have any success cleaning up this huge bubblegum mess.”

“Cleaning up bubblegum is my machine’s job. Look what happens when I press this knob.” The Bubblegum Degummer rattled and roared and a sign lit up that said, “All-Aboard!” It clucked like a chicken. It thundered like a train. “Please, find a seat! There’s no time to explain! Press this button when I say ‘GO’ and the bubblegum will melt like the sun melts the snow. Press this button when I say ‘NOW’ and the bubblegum will be gone.  You’ll see how. Are you ready? Get ready! GO, Maggie. NOW!”

Maggie pressed the buttons and the machine said, “KA-PLOW!” Then all of the gum on the birds and the trees zoomed into the machine like a hurricane breeze. The fish were clean and the flowers were too. There was no more bubblegum or bubblegum goo. “Very good, Maggie,” said Eddie McDrummer. “My machine is perfect. It’s the Bubblegum Degummer.”

But the machine BONKED! and WONKED! and HERKED! and JERKED! “Something’s gone wrong! My machine is overworked!” The machine began shaking. The machine began breaking. And Oh! The Bubblegum mess it was making! “Something’s gone wrong! My machine isn’t working. It’s BONKING! and WONKING! and HERKING! and JERKING! What can I do? What can I do? Everything is covered with bubblegum goo!”

Maggie thought quickly. What could she do? She thought of the gum on the sole of her shoe. “I found the answer! I can fix the Degummer!”

“Please fix it fast!” hollered Eddie McDrummer. Maggie jumped off the machine. She knew what to do. The answer was stuck on the sole of her shoe! She plugged up the cracks of the broken machine…and the leaves on trees turned summer-time green!

            The Bubblegum Degummer was working once more. It was cleaning the seagull and the rocks on the shore. The machine was cleaning the flowers and trees. It was cleaning the birds and the fish that swim in the seas. So, if you ever find bubblegum on the sole of your shoe, think of the Bubblegum Degummer and Maggie Maggoo. And remember…when you’re done chewing bubblegum and blowing big bubbles, please use the garbage to avoid these troubles.

The Little King

The Little King

by Joe Shaboo

The Little King was a very tiny king. His body was incredibly small. He wore a bottlecap crown and matchbox shoes. The King was only four inches tall! How could anybody be so short? No one could ever explain. Maybe it snowed the day he was born or maybe he shrunk in the rain. The King wasn’t happy with being so tiny. He wished to be 100 feet tall! “I’ll do anything to be taller than a mouse,” he said. “I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“I have an idea!” said one of his helpers. “We will build you a stretching machine. It will stretch your arms, your legs, your neck, your head… but it might cause your face to turn green.”

“A Royal Stretcher…” said the King. “Hmmm…that idea sounds good to me.” So all of the King’s helpers built the machine while the King sipped on his tea.

“Ready when you are,” they said to the King. The King was strapped inside. “Are you ready, your majesty?”

“I am,” said the King. His crown was placed by his side.

One leg was stretched to the corner of the room. The other was just as far. His arms were stretched like two rubber bands. The King looked a little bizarre. “How do I look?” the King asked a helper. “Am I finally taller than an elf?”

“You look …different,” said the helper. “Get out of the machine, stand up, and see for yourself.”

The King tried to stand. He tried to walk, but he kept banging his head on the wall. Suddenly, the King snapped back into place. He was again four inches tall.

“Maybe I can’t be 100 feet tall.” The King was tired and sad.

“I have another idea!” said the King’s helper. “It’s the best idea I’ve had! This funny mirror is from the circus. Stare into it and you will see! Your wish will come true in a matter of seconds. You’ll be 100 feet tall instantly!”

The King cheered as he looked into the mirror. His wish has finally come true. “I’ll stare into this mirror the rest of my life! That’s all that I have to do!” The King carried the mirror wherever he went. He smiled like a King. He was proud. Then he dropped the mirror. It crashed to the ground and the King cried like a cloud.

The helpers were thinking how to help the King. What could they possibly do? They gathered together and found a solution. “What we need is some glue! We will glue a stilt to each of your legs. Put your feet upon this chair. Hold very still, as still as can be. I don’t want to get glue in your hair. This should just take a minute… in a matter of seconds you’ll be taller than ever before! I think we can build you a little bit bigger. How about 100 foot 4?”

“Stop the procedure!” the King ordered at once. “How happy does a king have to be? I never realized how happy I am when I’m happy just being me!  If I was 100 feet tall, I couldn’t fit in my castle. I’d walk around and bang my head. I couldn’t sit down at the dinner table and how could I fit in my bed? I’d rather be happy than 100 feet tall, as happy as a king can be. And I’m happy,” said the King. “I’m a happy, little king because I’m happy just being me.”

The Pizza Box

The Pizza Box

by Joe Shaboo (c) 2001

(The stage is the interior of a small pizzeria. A large stack of pizza boxes sits atop the table in the corner booth. A decorative clock hangs on the wall. Nick Rotolli is the owner. He wipes his hands on his apron and walks into the customer area from behind the counter. There is no one in the restaurant except for an employee, Nicholas. He is making meatballs behind the counter.)

Mr. Rotolli

Nicholas.

Nick

Yes, Mister Rotolli?

Mr. Rotolli

You can call me Nick. Everybody calls me Nick.

Nick

Okay.

Mr. Rotolli

Atta boy. Come over here and have a seat for a second.

Nick

What is it? Did I do something wrong?

Mr. Rotolli

No. No. Nothing’s wrong. Nobody’s done nothin’ wrong. I just want you to have a seat.

Nick

Sure Mister…I mean Nick.

Mr. Rotolli

That’s it. Attaboy. Hiya doin’ today, Nicholas?

Nick

…better.

Mr. Rotolli

Better than what?

Nick

Better than before, I guess.

Mr. Rotolli

Attaboy. A little better than before. You’re a smart, young man.

Nick

Thanks.

Mr. Rotolli

I could tell you were a smart, young man. That’s why I hired you.

Nick

You could?

Mr. Rotolli

I could. I could tell a lot of things about you before you even walked through that door.

Nick

You could?

Mr. Rotolli

That’s right. I could probably tell ya your whole life story.

Nick

Really?

Mr. Rotolli

That’s right. I’ve been in the pizza business for thirty sump’n years now. Since 1969. You weren’t even born yet, were ya?

Nick

No. Not yet.

Mr. Rotolli

I didn’t think so. Bein’ in the pizza business that long, ya tend to know when a meatball’s cooked and when it ain’t. Ya know what I mean? (Funny laugh.)

Nick

Yeah. I think so.

Mr. Rotolli

Good. I called ya over here cuz I wanted to show ya sumpthin’.

Nick

You do?

Mr. Rotolli

Yeah, is that alright?

Nick

Sure. I guess so.

Mr. Rotolli

Good.

Nick

What is it that you wanted to show me?

Mr. Rotolli

I was just about to get to that. I was just about to get to that.

I hired you for a reason, Nicholas.

Nick

You did?

Mr. Rotolli

I did.

Nick

What would you like me to do?

Mr. Rotolli

That’s what I like about you, kid. You’re curious. You’re like a little squirrel. You know what I mean?

Nick

I think so.

Mr. Rotolli

Curious about everything. I could tell that about you. Remember what I was sayin’ before?

Nick

About…

Mr. Rotolli

About the pizza business.

Nick

Oh, yeah.

Mr. Rotolli

Good, cuz I know you’re gonna open up your own pizzeria some day.

Nick

I am?

Mr. Rotolli

Am I right?

Nick

I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve only worked here two days.

Mr. Rotolli

What do you like best about the business?

 

Nick

 Oh, I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to tell.

Mr. Rotolli

If you had to pick.

Nick

Oh, I don’t know. I guess makin’ meatballs.

Mr. Rotolli

Makin’ meatballs? You like makin’ meatballs?

Nick

Yeah. It’s alright.

Mr. Rotolli

Ain’t that somethin’. Ya see these boxes?

Nick

Yeah.

Mr. Rotolli

You know what’s inside these boxes?

Nick

Cardboard?

Mr. Rotolli

That’s a good answer. But it’s the wrong answer.

Your future is inside these boxes.

Nick

My future?

Mr. Rotolli

That’s right. And today,  I’m gonna show you how to make a pizza box.

(Grabs a flat pizza box.)

Nick

Wow.

Mr. Rotolli

Would you like that?

Nick

I guess so.

Mr. Rotolli

There’s really nothin’ to it but a couple of flaps and folds.

Nick

Hm.

Mr. Rotolli

Ya know who’s gonna  make the pizza box?

Nick

No.

Mr. Rotolli

Me and you. I’m gonna make this one and your gonna make the next one.

Know what I mean?

Nick

I think so.

Mr. Rotolli

Watch me. (Begins to fold the cardboard.) Ya ever heard of  ‘Origami?’

They teach ya that word in school?

Nick

I’ve heard of it.

Mr. Rotolli

You heard of it?

Nick

I’ve heard of it.

Mr. Rotolli

You know what it means?

Nick

Sorta.

Mr. Rotolli

Kinda?

Nick

Sorta.

Mr. Rotolli

Atta boy. Well, I’m gonna show ya what it means.

Nick

 Okay.

Mr. Rotolli

Origami is a Japanese word. You didn’t think I knew any Japanese, did ya?

Nick

I never really thought about it.

Mr. Rotolli

It’s real fascinating stuff. That Japanese stuff.

Nick

Yeah.

Mr. Rotolli

You can make birds, frogs, peacocks, komodo dragons…

You can pretty much make any thing you want.

Nick

Out of a pizza box?

Mr. Rotolli

Sure. You can make anything you want out of a pizza box.

But today, I’m gonna show you how to make a pizza box.

Start ya off with the basics.

The creases make it easy. Somebody already made it easy for us.

Ain’t that nice? Ya know what I mean?

Nick

Very nice.

Mr. Rotolli

Ya know what else makes it easy?

Nick

What?

Mr. Rotolli

(Pauses)

It’s a secret but I’ll tell ya.

Nick

Uh-huh.

Mr. Rotolli

These here tabs. Tuck and Fold. Piece o’ cake. You try.

(Grabs flat pizza box for Nick.)

Nick

I don’t know if I ca…

Mr. Rotolli

You’re young. Fold. Tuck and fold. Go ahead. That’s it. There ain’t nothin’ to it.

Nick

I don’t know if I’m doing this right.

Mr. Rotolli

Make whatever you want! It’s your box! Make whatever you want out of it!

You’re doing fine.

Nick

Like this?

(Folds long  flap over and tucks it in.)

Mr. Rotolli

That’s perfect.

Nick

That was easy?

Mr. Rotolli

Easy? Try again.

(Grabs another falt pizza box and hands it to Nick.)

This time I want to see a Komodo Dragon.

Nick

Komodo Dragon! There’s no way! I don’t know where to begin.

Mr. Rotolli

You want me to show ya?

Nick

Yeah, that’d be cool.

(Mr. Rotolli takes pizza box from Nick and folds it with drama and flair.

The end result is a pizza box.)

Mr. Rotolli

There.

Nick

Whaddaya mean? It’s just a pizza box!

Mr. Rotolli

You gotta use your imagination Nick.

Life is just a pizza box until you start thinkin’.

Nick

Thinkin’ about what?

Mr. Rotolli

You know what I like best about a pizza box?

Nick

What’s that?

Mr. Rotolli

The smell.

Nick

The smell?

Mr. Rotolli

Yeah, the smell. Each one smells like a Pepperidge Farm cookie. Take a whiff.

Nick

I guess you’re right.

Mr. Rotolli

That’s why you see me over here all day makin’ these boxes.

Nick

Because of the smell?

Mr. Rotolli

That’s right. You’re a smart cookie. What kind of cookie are you?

Nick

I don’t know. I never really thought about it.

Mr. Rotolli

Atta boy. You’re Milano. Don’t forget it.

Nick

I won’t.

Mr. Rotolli

(Grabs a square pizza box from the stack.)

This one smells like a Komodo Dragon.

That’s because it is one.

(He gives it to Nick who opens it and sniffs inside.)

Mr. Rotolli

There’s another reason why I like makin’ so many pizza boxes.

Nick

Why is that?

Mr. Rotolli

I don’t know if you’re old enough to understand.

Nick

I’m in high school.

Mr. Rotolli

You wear a watch?

Nick

A what?

Mr. Rotolli

A watch. Timepiece.

(Points to his wrist.)

Nick

No.

Mr. Rotolli

You got a girlfriend?

Nick

 Sorta.

Mr. Rotolli

Sorta? Whaddya mean sorta? You like somebody?

Nick

Kinda.

Mr. Rotolli

Kinda?

Nick

Sorta.

Mr. Rotolli

Y’ever make a pizza box for her?

Nick

No. Never have. You’re the only one.

Mr. Rotolli

That’s alright. It’s better that way.

Nick

Why is that?

Mr. Rotolli

You’re young, but I’ll tell you something. Some things are better kept between men.

Nick

Between men?

Mr. Rotolli

Between men. When you’re a little older, you’ll know what I mean.

Nick

I know what you mean.

Mr. Rotolli

You do?

Nick

I think so.

Mr. Rotolli

What do you think I mean?

Nick

 I know what you mean.

Mr. Rotolli

I think you do. I think you do know what I mean..

Nick

Then I probably don’t.

Mr. Rotolli

(Taps twice on Nick’s pizza box with one finger.)

You’ll figure it out. Open it up.

Nick

What do you mean?

Mr. Rotolli

Open it up. Take a sniff. Tell me what’s inside.

Nick

(Sniffs)

I can’t tell.

Mr. Rotolli

No?

Nick

(Sniffs again.)

It smells like coffee ice cream.

Mr. Rotolli

Not bad for a beginner.

Nick

I wish it smelled like a dragon.

Mr. Rotolli

It is what it is. In time. In time.

Nick

What time is it?

Mr. Rotolli

(Turns to look at clock on wall.)

Almost time for closin’.

Nick

I gotta run.

Mr. Rotolli

Where you gotta go?

Nick

Remember, I have to go to practice.

Mr. Rotolli

This time o’ night?

Nick

At school.

Mr. Rotolli

Atta boy. Nothin’ wrong with that. Practice…

Look at me. I practiced for years. Now look at me. I’m a professional.

Nick

You are.

Mr. Rotolli

I am. I’m a pro. I breed komodo dragons. Anyway…

Nick

I really gotta go.

Mr. Rotolli

Okay, Nick. I see ya tomorrow.

Nick

You got it.

Mr. Rotolli

Alright, kid.

Nick

I’ll see you, Nick.

Mr. Rotolli

I’ll see ya, Nick.

Nick

It feels funny calling you by your first name.

Mr. Rotolli

Why is that?

Nick

I suddenly feel like I’m talking to myself.

Mr. Rotolli

Maybe, Nicholas. Go practice.

(Mr. Rotolli sits down at the booth. He makes one more pizza box, opens it and sniffs inside. He stands up, closes down the counter and gathers his jacket and hat. He  walks over to the clock hanging on the wall. He moves the hour hand of the clock backwards one hour. He shuts the lights, locks the restaurant door and walks off stage. A faint beam of light illuminates the stack of pizza boxes. Blackout.)