Adorable Budgie Video

A heartwarming video that I found on Youtube.

Buddie the Budgie Gets a Budgie Buddy

A cute story featuring Buddie the Budgie. Buddie the budgie is a cartoon parakeet. He's the main character of Buddie the Budgie Celebrates Christmas.

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The Swirling Torrent of Nonsense and Other Travel Destinations

By Phoebe Hawthorne

Act 1, Scene 1

A street.

Enter Earl of Westfordshire. He is bifacial. His hat is befeathered and bedizened unbeknownst to him.

Commoner [to Westfordshire, accusingly]: Wherefore art thou so ignorant as to the befeathernment of thine hat?

Westfordshire [while unsheathing his sword]: How darest thou question me on my birthday, most special of all holidays?! [He begins to wave his sword menacingly.] Gifts, thou bearest not! Neither doth thou come with cupcakes. Nay! Nary a greeting card nigh! Only falsehoods concerning my hat hath thou! Draw thine sword thou cupcakeless knave! Thou greeting-card-less villain!!

Commoner unsheaths his sword and begins to fight with the Earl of Westfordshire.

The Duke of New Westfordshire enters, interrupting the swordfight.

New Westfordshire: Hath thou both forgotten the new law of the land, prohibiting mortal combat?

Westfordshire: A most vile legislation! How else but with combat might we settle our differences?

New Westfordshire: With crafts!

Commoner: What meanest thou?

New Westfordshire: I mean that there shall be a craft deul! Each of thee shall be given an official "Craft Duel Kit"; consisting of a bottle of glue, a pair of scissors, a bag of rhinestones, a block of styrofoam, a triangular prism of decorative paperclips, a ream of felt, a bucket of cardboard tubes from papertowel rolls, a high-powered electro-magnetic transfuser, some recycled newspapers and magazines, a goblet of macaroni, a tub o' glitter, and various other knick-knacks of which there are too many to name.

The Duke of New Westfordshire takes a breath, then, from his satchel, produces two boxes of considerable breadth, length, and height.

New Westfordshire: Here are your kits. He who maketh the best creation wins. The other shall be banished from the kingdom forevermore.

After these solemn words, New Westfordshire exits. Shortly thereafter, Westfordshire and Commoner descend upon their kits. Within the minute they are gluing, cutting, bedazzling, and transfusing like true craftsmiths.

A crowd forms. They are regular craft duel spectators and came from far and wide to bear witness to this interesting scene.

A regal looking man, habited with aristocratic vestments, pushes through the crowd. He is a baron.

Baron [shouting angrily at Commoner]: Commoner! What new nonsense art thou involved in?! It is rumored that thou art meddling with crafts, bric-a-brac, and the like!

Commoner: Father, it is so. I am craft-dueling.

Baron: Craft-dueling?!! Wherefore art thou not dueling with swords?!

Commoner: Because it is outlawed.

Baron: A most sissyish jurisprudence!! The most loathsome of all decrees!! No son of mine shall participate in such non-violent battle! Bedazzle no more, Commoner, or I shall disown you!

Commoner [while pouring glitter on something so encrusted with aforesaid glitter that it's original form is unknown.]: I can not. For if I cease this artistic activity my adversary shall win and I shall be banished forevermore.

Baron: I shall see the King about this matter and demand of him to end this craft nonsense!

The Baron exits.

Act 1, Scene2

The Baron is in the throneroom of the King's palace.

Baron [addressing the king]: I have just heard from my son, Lord Commoner of Newish Westfordshire, that sword-dueling has been outlawed. I command thee to inlaw it at once!

King [while unsheathing his sword]: How darest thou command something of me, with incorrect vocabulary, in my own throneroom?! And on this, my birthday! Most special of all holidays! Draw, thou party hatless knave!

The Baron draws his sword. An attendant dashes forth and stands between them.

Attendant [addressing the king]: Hath thou forgotten thine own legislation that prohibits mortal combat?

King: Thou art right. I shan't break mine own law. Bring forth the official Craft Duel Craft Kits!

The kits are brought forth. The King, after unsealing his kit, immediately opens the triangular prism of decorative paperclips, unbends them, and begins sticking them haphazardly into the block of styrofoam.

The Baron, cursing his fate and decrying the concept of arts and crafts, opens his kit and unenthusiastically begins to complete his half of the duel.

Act 1, Scene 3

A kitchen in the house of Westfordshire.

Earlina: Whither is father, Earl of Westfordshire?

Wife of Westfordshire: I know not, Earlina, daughter of the Earl of Westfordshire.

Earlina: Well I do hope that he shall arrive posthaste, ere the ice sculpture melteth.

Earlotta: Whither is the soda pop?

Wife of Westfordshire: Hath thou forgotten? The year is 1580. Artificially flavored, carbonated refreshments have yet to be invented.

Earlotta: What primitive times we live in!

Enter Lord Falworth XXVIII.

Lord Falworth XXVIII: Good noontide! Whither art the birthday cupcakes for Westfordshire? He is in the midst of a great craft war and in much need of sustenance.

Wife of Westfordshire: Craft war?

Lord Falworth XXVIII: Better known as craft dueling, a practice started in the year 450 by the Gelsh as a means of driving out the Rokins from the northern hills of Reingut; a major commercial port whither pet snails were traded for taffy to prevent the Great Taffy Famine of 460. But, alas! Twas nary enough taffy nigh; as was predicted by my ancestor, Lord Falworth V. For, you see, I come from a long line of predictors. Why, just the other day I forsaw that...

Earlotta [interrupting]: Nonsense! Thou art not able to predict thine way out of a satchel made wholly of a papery substance!

Lord Falworth XXVIII [while unsheathing his sword and addressing the Wife of Westfordshire]: May I borrow thine silver polish? I fear my sword hath lost it's luster and I desire for it to gleam as I divide the ice cream cake at the Earl of Westfordshire's birthday celebration slash craft duel.

Wife of Westfordshire: Of course. And aft thine sword is polished we all shall betake ourselves thither the craft duel; with the birthday party trappings in tow.

Earlina: What a gladsome time we shall have!

All exit stage left.

Act 2, Scene 1

A street.

Westfordshire is cutting a large piece of yellow construction paper with a pair of safety scissors. After dividing it in two, he staples both halves to an object five feet tall and birdlike, with rectangular, orange, yellow, and red feathers arranged like shingles.

It is only half covered and you can see that it's body is made of papier mache. The head of Westfordshire's creation is adorned with two, shining, glassy, purple eyes and a great sparkling beak covered in rhinestones.

Commoner is standing a few yards to the left (stage left) of Westfordshire, behind a three foot mound of something glittery. He is pouring glue and shaking glitter on it at the same time. He looks over at Westfordshire's project without stopping his task.

Commoner [mockingly]: Wherefore doth thou not staple the feathers of thine hat to thine bird? Is it because thou art so ignorant as to the befeathernment of thine hat that thou doth not?

Westfordshire: Thou shalt pay dearly for thine mockery, Commoner!! Fie on thee and thine purposeless heap of beglittered glue! Whither the duel is done I shall be the victor, for my craft is not only pleasing to the eyes, but it hath a use! A use that shall free the human race from the perpetual swirling torrent of nonsense that beguiles our children and leaves us bereft of our mental swiftness!

Commoner tries to take a step toward the left of the stage, but his left foot does not leave it's place. He bends down and pulls at his foot.

Commoner: I am stuck! My foot moveth not! But I must betake myself thither my official Craft Duel Craft Kit in order to attain more glitter for I hath run out.

Commoner looks mournful as he inverts the empty shaker. Westfordshire begins to laugh uncontrollably.

Westfordshire [merrily]: Ha Ha! Thou hath attained thy just dessert!

Commoner [contemptuously]: Make jest for as long as thou desireth, Westfordshire. But I shall win this duel! Lord Commoner never loses!!

Westfordshire: But, I fear thou hath already lost thine wits. Thine bold proclamation proveth it!

Westfordshire begins again to cut construction paper. He chuckles.

Westfordshire [addressing Commoner]: Wherefore doth thou not ask thine glitter heap for assistance?

Commoner does not reply. He sits by his craft, looking angrily at Westfordshire.

Westfordshire: The cat hath hold of your tongue, hath it not? Then I shall ask for you. Prithee glitter heap, wilt thou assist thine creator to his craft kit ere he loseth hope of winning the duel. What? Thou wilt not? Wherefore? Doth thou not care if he loseth? Hath thou no heart? O, thou disloyal heap of glitter! Thou sparkling mound of indifference!

Westfordshire laughs.

A lady steps forth from the crowd. She is a dutchess.

Dutchess [addressing Westfordshire]: Fie on you, Earl of Westfordshire! Mocking Lord Commoner whilst he is down is ignoble and bad sportsmanship!

Man in the crowd: She is right!

Different man in crowd: I concur!

Frenchman in crowd: Who would have thought that Westfordshire could sink so low?!

Westfordshire: Use me not, thou spectators! It is my birthday! And I shan't be critisized on my birthday!!

Man in crowd: Thou'rt not above criticism on any day! What maketh thee think thou art?

Woman in crowd: Wethinks thou art egomaniacal!

Westfordshire [while unsheathing his gluestick]: Thou contrary crowd! Thou art able to speak ill of me; but art thou able to summon the courage to duel with me? I can craft duel the whole lot of ye!

Man in crowd [addressing the crowd]: Shall we craft duel this earl on behalf of Lord Commoner?! What say ye, yea or nay?

Crowd [enthusiastically]: Yea!!

Commoner: But I do not wish for thee to duel on my behalf. I would rather finish it myself! If only thou all would help me remove myself from this spot.

A man from the crowd walks over to Commoner.

Man from crowd: All thou needeth is for someone to give thine foot a good tug. Shall I try?

Commoner: Alright. But be thou most careful.

The man bends down and takes hold of Commoner's boot. He pulls with great effort, but the boot remains stuck.

Man: It budgeth not! What maketh it cleave so fast to the ground?

Woman in crowd: Perhaps the glue Lord Commoner useth for his craft is to blame for this mischief.

Different Man in crowd: He useth but school glue! It is not possible for such mild adhesive as that to hold a man to the ground with such unwavering stickiness!

Elderly man in crowd: Then what could have done it?

Young woman in crowd: The high-powered electro-magnetic transfuser!

Portly Man [standing apart from crowd]: She is right! the high-powered electro-magnetism hath transfused the sole of his boot to the crust of the earth! We musn't dare try to remove his foot ere the tectonic plate that it is affixed to should also move; altering the atmospheric pressure of the our planet, rewriting the gravitational plan of the universe, and sending the earth hurtling into that swirling torrent of nonsense that Westfordshire spoke of earlier. I am an astronomer! I know of such things!

Woman in crowd: Well if we can't move his boot then what can we do?

Portly Astronomer: Leave him there forever!

Woman: But how shall he survive?

Astronomer: There art plenty of edible vegetation within his reach. Whither that runneth out, he can surely partake of the deer and other wild game that may happen to come by. And whither he hath thirst, he shall catch the rain in his mesh hat.

Woman: What a detestable existence!

Portly Man: I think not! He shall lead a most interesting life! By the end of a fortnight, I fear, we all shall envy Lord commoner his predicament! For whilst we are at home beside cozy hearth fires, he shall be out here! [The portly man makes a sweeping motion with his hands, indicating the general area] Communing with nature! Working on his wilderness beard and attaining a fantastic tan! For, mark thee well the absence of shade trees nigh.

Commoner [with a note of petulance in his voice]: But I do not wish to commune with nature, grow a wilderness beard, and attain a fantastic tan! I wish to be by the cozy hearth fires!

A girl who is about twelve years old comes forward.

Girl: What great folly thou grown-up people art mired in! Wherefore doth not anyone see the obvious answer to the problem at hand?

Woman: Of what doth thou speak?

Girl: Lord Commoner can not remove his boot from the ground but, surely, he can remove himself from the boot.

There is a general murmur of agreement from the crowd.

Astronomer: A most risky theory. But it may work! Prithee, Lord Commoner, try to separate thyself from the accursed boot!

Commoner unlaces his shoe and pulls out his foot.

Commoner: I am free!

The crowd cheers.

Woman: The girl hath saved Lord Commoner from a wilderness life!

Elderly man: We should petition the king to give her a reward!

There are general sounds of agreement and cheering from the crowd.

Everyone but Commoner and Westfordshire exits stage left.

Act 2, Scene 2

The throneroom of the king's palace.

The king is beside a large architectural structure, comprised mainly of purple popsicle sticks, held together with wood glue and twine.

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The Swirling Torrent of Nonsense and other Travel Destinations © 2009 by PQCreations. All rights reserved. No part of this play may be reproduced without the author's prior written permission, except for the first act and Scene 1 of Act 2.