Recommended by Robert Weibezahl

Sickles masterfully portrays the awkwardness, anxiety, tension and, ultimately, tenderness between two teenage boys as they dare to explore the difficult terrain that comes with admitting your truth. A beautiful coming-of-age/coming out story.

Williams taps into the apprehension and misapprehension all writers face with their work in this wicked short satire. How strongly (or stubbornly) should we hold onto our “artistic vision”? Do we know our work as well as we think, or might others have valid insights we fail to see? Is comedy the poor stepchild of “serious” drama? These are just a few of the many ideas the play ponders while ramping up the anxiety as it heads toward a parting rimshot that literally has the last laugh.

Pandemic neuroses play out with absurd hilarity during a not-so-neighborly conflict over the blocking of the cans on trash day. Sharply observed and painfully accurate. This one would be much fun to stage and just as much fun to watch. Respect.

An engaging little monologue that uses an unlikely, yet oddly perfect, metaphor for marriage. As always, Mabey’s heart and generosity of spirit shine through the deft writing.

This short play offers a subtle yet complex look at end of life issues, petty familial resentments, and the lack of acceptance that can corrode the soul. Baker leaves us with much to think about in this heartbreaking two-hander, not least of all the poison served up in some expressions of faith and, ultimately, the true meaning of love.

This is a darkly hilarious satire of school science fairs, parental competition, and the beleaguered school principal trying to navigate it all. Busser keeps ramping up the ghoulish jokes with precision, until we find ourselves laughing at the most appalling things—and hoping for more. Judging from the online comments during a sharp virtual production that was part of the Two-Hander Slam, this one will slay a live audience.

Set in the Roaring Twenties and inspired by the iconic Edward Hopper painting, this charming short play, with an all-female cast, captures an era when ideas about morality and money were fast changing. The sisters at the heart of the play struggle to keep up with those changes even as they cling to more 'old fashioned' notions and dreams about love and marriage. Miller hides a lot of sub-text beneath the snappy dialogue—about secrets, sibling and family relationships, and the need to spread one’s wings while not abandoning the safe and familiar.

This delightful, unconventional brief encounter on an out-of-service train platform says so much about human connection and human kindness, as well as about generations, age and obsolescence, and the value we sometimes fail to place on the things that should matter most. We should all strive to be more like Bert, a gentle soul and one of nature’s true gentleman. This short play is heartwarming in all the right ways. Lovely in every way.

Scars are signs of healing, but they are also lingering reminders of pain. And, as O'Neill-Butler dares to explore in this brutally honest monologue, it is the scars we can’t see that can be the most painful to endure. The loss of a loved one, not through death or divorce, but through the cruel ravages of illness, leave perhaps the deepest and most enduring scar of all—a scar on the heart. This is the work of a brave writer, and would be an equally brave undertaking for a daring older actress to take on. Unforgettable.

Yikes! Nothing like a talking left ankle to make you shut up and listen! Williams’s darkly surreal comic monologue reminds us of our own mortality—that our body invariably will betray us, often when we least expect it, and even the miracle of modern medicine cannot erase that looming reality. Three screws may mend a bone, but a lingering scar will stick around to remind us who's in charge whenever it feels like it (especially when the weather changes). Humor and gratitude are our only defense. A fun and unexpected piece.