Here’s a play I wrote for the 2014 Dallas One-Minute Play Festival at Kitchen Dog Theater.
by Crystal Jackson
(GIRL is facing upstage with her shirt unbuttoned as MOM helps her fasten something underneath it.)
GIRL: I don’t want to wear this.
MOM: You’re starting middle school today. It’s time.
GIRL: But it hurts.
MOM: All your friends already wear one.
GIRL: It’s gonna rub a hole in my armpit.
MOM: Pretty soon you’ll feel naked without it. You might even sleep in it.
GIRL: I’ll never want to sleep in this.
MOM: It’s too early for you to say never about anything.
GIRL: I’m twelve. I think I know what I like.
MOM: Okay, all done. See? It doesn’t look so bad.
(GIRL turns downstage to face the mirror. She is wearing a shoulder holster with a gun secured inside.)
GIRL: I look stupid.
MOM: You look like a big girl who’s ready for sixth grade. Now go grab your Hello Kitty backpack and I’ll take you to school.