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.

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