Recommended by John Busser

01.24.25 - The Playwright (and in this case, our monologuist) ponders aloud in this short piece that he is a storyteller and that to tell a proper story he needs to engage in DIAlogue. And yet, he tells a wonderful story all about his hopes and dreams to do just that even if he is, dare I say it, monologuing. Kim Ruyle has put up a cheerily cheeky diatribe against the very thing he is excelling at right now. I thought this was marvelous. The ending is a chef's kiss as well.

01.24.25 - I'm stunned. STUNNED. I read that title. I've read Prillaman's stuff before. I still wasn't prepared for what he put on paper here. A young woman talks us through her crucifixion at the hands of a magician at a school assembly. Read that sentence again. It's brilliant and disturbing and impossible and Prillaman (If I can use that as a descriptive, and hell yes, I can). He never fails to astound me with his imagery and imagination. Keep writing this stuff Dan, and show us how it's done

01.24.25 - HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That made me laugh. I funky little nightmare with a tip of the hammer to Tales From the Crypt comics. "Dad flipped for the basement all right!" or some other appropriate bon mot from a creepy narrator is all that's missing. Thanks for the terrifyingly funny 2 minutes Julie Brandon.

01.24.25 - Poor Doug shows us his own version of an escape room, only it's HIS escape from the rest of the world. Like a metaphorical ostrich, Doug wants to put his head (and body) in the ground for comfort. Lynn can't quite grasp this need to run away. But as the audience knows, cocooning has it's benefits, even if Doug's are on the extreme side. Steve Martin recognizes the plight of this outsider and makes us sympathize with him. Quirky and heartbreaking at the same time.

01.22.25 - Like a midnight confession, our monologuist Pandora, wants to present, as the title suggests, her side of the story. And shouldn't we hear her out? It's only fair, after all. We're all so quick to take sides, but Julie Brandon gives us a wonderful little version of the infamous opening that should give us pause. How many of us might have done the same? Aren't you curious? Aren't we all?

01.22.25 - Okay, I got suckered! I thought i knew where this was going, and I absolutely did not. And boy am I glad of that. Because it would have deprived me of the joy of discovery on that last page. I should known Paul Smith would zag where I was zigging. A fun piece for any two actors who can play it straight for maximum humor. Well done Paul.

01.22.25 - Ha! I knew it! Ed is more than just dour tidings and gloomy despair. Thanks to Julie Brandon's fun little ode to the creative process (and just where do all our ideas come from?), we get to see a somewhat famous inspiration take place. Imagination is great and all, but sometimes, it really is as simple as "A little bird told me..." to put you back on track.

01.10.25 - I find it telling that Robin so matter-of-factly chooses Stewie over responsibility to her well-being. Definitely the norm for our endorphin-addicted, satisfy-me-now, don't-tell-me-what's-best-for-me society. Deb Cole hits her target squarely (or maybe "clicks the button" is more apt here). Wonder what the Stewie avatar would look like?

01.10.25 - A wonderful memory play is evocative on a gut level. This small look from someone reminiscing about their childhood hits a number of buttons for me. Even though I never replicated the specifics here, I can remember my own childhood memories with breakfast rituals, fondly. Julie Brandon creates a vivid atmosphere here, and the audience hopefully will create some of their own after hearing this.

01.10.25 - I love the gumption shown by the monologuist here. She seems to have been buffeted about by life's travails, never in charge of her own destiny, until now. Instead of moving on, running away and being at someone else's mercy, she decides to take a stand and be the person she wants to be. And paint her damn walls red if she wants. A nice speech from Julie Brandon.