Recommended by John Busser

Anthropomorphized animals are always a delight to see portrayed onstage, and Rex McGregor's three creations are no exception. A frog out to survive a harsh world chooses the lesser (and more maternal) evil of a tarantula over the "body-positive" (HA!) scorpion, and the comedy ensues. With a number of wonderful puns and jokes on every page, this would work as both a kids show and be a light-hearted romp in any evening of 10 minute plays.

In Your Eyes might be the song of note here, but another equally appropriate song might be "You Can't Always Get What You Want". John Minigan has written a charmingly sweet play about a man who can't see what's right in front of him because he's set his sights on something he may never get. With relatable characters and a look at how different people deal with the inevitability of aging, this play never gets old. These are some terrific roles for older actors to show how vibrant people can be, no matter what time of their life it is.

Prejudice is always ugly, and never uglier when it concerns members of family. Paul Donnelly gives us a mother and son who have been butting heads on his lifestyle choices, with neither one backing down, in true Irish fashion. Kevin's attempts to gain her acceptance of him and his lover Michael while visiting the Stonewall Inn don't go as planned, but when do they ever? There is a breakthrough of sorts between the two men however that shows even smaller victories can be just as satisfying.

A unique and novel way to highlight the across-the-spectrum look at how different people respond to... well, anything. Whether it's art, an event, or another person, everybody has a response to it. And based on what Ryan Stevens shows us here, the response is a mixed bag of reverence, awe, disdain, emotional connection, dismissal, remorse, reflection and love. I wouldn't be surprised if this is a direct translation of an actual exchange. There's a fascinating sadness seeing this sort of cross section of humanity who can come together but be apart at the same time. Wonderful stuff.

Why do two headless chickens make more sense at the end of their lives than a lot of us do everyday? I don't know. I don't care. I just want more chickens like these. Before they cross the final road. Funny as hell, absurd as f*ck, this is a 10 minute piece that I'd love to see onstage. Optimistic Nihilism indeed!

Sometimes you read a play that isn't flashy. There are no twists or hidden reveals. Sometimes a play just says something about the human condition. Max has had an excruciating experience that has left him depressed, humiliated and wanting to cut himself off. But his sister and best friend do what sisters and best friends always do. They attempt to jumpstart Max's willingness to get out there again. It's simple, sweetly done and very, very relatable. We've all had our world-ending embarrassments. If only we could all have a Brenda and Stuart to get us through it.

THAT was brilliant. Mother should be running police interrogations. Rachel Feeny-Williams has written a real treat of a ten minute play showing us that kids aren't as smart as they think, and parents aren't nearly as dumb. I'd bet many an audience member will take this tactic in mind when dealing with their own kids.

The claws come out fast and furiously in this all-male "Private lives" sendup, and has just as many laughs. Marj O'Neill-Butler writes some hilarious dialogue that perfectly sets the tone here. But as lives go their divergent ways, people still find old connections that are hard to break, with strangely appropriate results.

Jacquie Floyd's pointed monologue is so on target here. How many of us are just opening our eyes to our own misdeeds or transgressions against others because we don't see their needs above our own? How many give in to gratification of our immediate wants because we don't see any reason NOT to indulge? And then, when we see that others have done the same, we accuse, and wag our fingers, and leap onto our soapboxes and tell everyone to wake up... but then we get hungry again. What a terrific monologue.

Sometimes we can get so caught up in denying our own beauty that we become entrapped in a labyrinth of our own making. Scott Sickles shows us one such individual. Someone who has been told countless times of their brutishness and bestial nature. How else could a minotaur respond? All it takes is someone reaching out to help lead us out of the maze. A wonderful parable here.