Galatians 2:20a
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not i, but Christ liveth in me:
My Life Verse

Ephesians 6:6

Not with eyeservice, as men pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;

Friday, June 12, 2009

Peeps Are Friends, Not Food


play written
by
Rachael Campbell
With Contributions
by
Kailyn Stewart
Daniel Sparkman
and
Tyler Campbell

Cast:

Aaron Bien-Homie
Sharon Clifton-Narrator
Brandon Martin-Addict #1
Kyla Destin-Addict #2
Cheyanne Rebollar-Addict #3
Ben Hatcher-Addict #4
Abby Keliher-Leader of the Addiction Program
Frankie Gagliano-Non-speaking Addict
Gaby Rebollar-Non-speaking Addict
Jacob Panas-Non-speaking Addict
Matthew Robertson-Non-speaking Addict
Kaitlyn Johnson-Non-speaking Addict
Cheyenne Johnson-Non-speaking Addict
Angelica-Non-speaking Addict

Skit:

(Aaron)a homie peep/person walks across stage circumspectly toward a sign that says "Peeps Anonymous Meet Here" while the narrator reads.


(Sharon)Narration: Peeps, those marshmallow peeps, all sticky, gooey, and soft. What went wrong? Why are they nearly extinct?!?! The fact is peeps can't be found because the world is addicted! Panic has set in and peeps anonymous is now the largest attended addiction program in the world.
(Homie peep walks past the sign and sits down in a semi-cirlce of chairs. The other people come to life as they were frozen.)


(Abby)Leader: Brandon you're next

(thru each testimony time other addicts are saying its ok, pour it out, let it go..etc.)


(Brandon)Addict #1: (ashamedly walks to the front of the class) Hi i'm Brandon and i am addicted to peeps.
(Angelica:come on! Frankie: don't be shy!)


Leader: And what method or substitution have you used to help you addiction?


Addict #1: Twizzlers.....i tried twizzlers....but its just not the same!!!! They're so hard and chewy....i want peeps soft and gooy!!!
(wipes tears and sits down)
(Aaron:That's right! Ben:Preach it!)


Leader: Poor thing! next is Kyla.


(Kyla)Addict #2: Hi i'm Kyla and i am addicted to peeps...but i have been peep free for a month now because i can't find any!!!


Leader: and how do you feel?


Addict #2: Terrible!!! I tried to replace them with Tootsie Rolls, but they tasted like cardboard!!! So then i search the world for peeps....i found one box! but the price was so high, the only thing they'd accept as payment was my blue diamonds! I quickly agreed as they are not worth to me nearly as much as my precious peeps! But now my box is gone(sulks and returns to chair)
(Frankie:It's ok!)

Leader: Hmm..remember everyone...no matter how hard this may be...PEEPS ARE FRIENDS NOT FOOD! Next is Cheyanne.


(Cheyanne)Addict #3: Hi I'm Cheyanne and i am addicted to peeps.


(Kaitlyn: Pour it out! Cheyenne: Tell us all about it!)


Leader: And did you try an alternative to peeps?


Addict #3: Yes...i tried Jolly Green Giant Vegetables....trying to be healthy....but i admit...i hated it! (angrily yells )Who likes vegetables anyways!?!?!?! (shaking her head returns to seat)


Leader: wow...i might suggest you seek out a physiatric help ma'am. and we have time for one more testimony today.


(Ben)Addict #4: Hi i'm Ben and i'm addicted to peeps. They're just so awesome!!! One of a kind, make ya feel good, sets me on a high for the day ya know. (Kaitlyn: You know it! Cheyenne J: That's right! Gaby: Yeah!)


Leader: so what have you used to compensate for this addiction?


Addict #4: Orange Crush...but of course it hasn't work...it's nasty with its terrible aftertaste that leaves you wanting something more! nothing can compare to the peeps!!!
(sits back down)


Leader goes back to the front


Leader: in the short time we have left i'd like to give my testimony for i too was a peep addict. Clearly stated it is impossible! (Frankie, Jacob, and Matthew: GASP!!! Angelica Screams: NO!!!!)The addiction for peeps cannot be overcome, for there is nothing better, nothing stronger, nothing with more will to win, Then The Peeps!


The End.

1 comment:

lindsayliz said...

cool

I Have Been Blessed!!!!

THE ROOM

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to
catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some
were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it
and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this
room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw
a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.
He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name
of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
- Brian Moore