CURSES! EXCERPTED AGAIN!

Nobody asked for it, but I'm going to give it to you anyway. Here is an excerpt from my latest melodrama CURSES! OILED AGAIN! or NO CRUDE FOR A RUDE DUDE

(CREIGHTON CRETIN, a creep of the highest order, dressed to the nines all in black with a top hat and cape like he was going to the opera in the middle of nowhere, enters carrying a book entitled "Villainy for Dummies". He also has a badge pinned on his lapel with the letters VIT. Upon his entrance, he opens his book and reads aloud)

CRETIN: "Answer jeering audience with snappy comeback." Let's see...snappy comebacks. Ah, here we are.(flips through pages and reads) "That's okay. I booed when you came in too." Did someone perchance utter the name Creighton Cretin? They must have. My ears are burning. Then again so is everything else in this tortuous Texan terrain. Consider yourselves fortunate that you are in the presence of genius. Don't look around. I am referring to the gentleman who stands before you at this very moment. Need another clue? Let me sing it out for you. "Me me me me me!" (reads from book again) "Laugh maniacally for no reason at all." (laughs maniacally) It would behoove you all to cut me a little slack. I happen to be new at this. As you can plainly see, I am a VIT...Villain In Training. It wasn't long ago that I was a normal, every day dullard (addresses a male audience member) much like you, sir. (reads from book again) "The last time I saw a mouth like that, it had a hook in it." Anyway, back to me. I was stuck in a go nowhere, do-nothing job for what seemed to be the rest of my pathetic life. On the advice of a larcenous family member, a distant cousin, in fact, I set out to better myself by embracing the flip side of the coin because evil pays much better than good. I took a correspondence course. "How to Be a Bad Guy in Ten Easy Steps" and here I am, already in the midst of a most marvelous scheme concocted by this cousin of mine. This is how I find myself in this dreadful part of the world known as Armadillo, Texas where I have set myself up as the most prominent man in town, a dubious honor to say the least. The only problem is, I don't know the rest of the plan. My cousin sent me a wire to meet her out here in the middle of nowhere for some unfathomable reason. If she doesn't show up soon, I shall melt away. So why am I telling you all of this? Because I cannot resist an audience. But after getting a gander at you people, I should have tried a little harder. Go ahead. Get it out of your system.

(DELILAH DELUSCIOUS, a bawdy saloon chanteuse dressed in a showgirl variation of a cowgirl outfit, much like Marlene Dietrich in DESTRY RIDES AGAIN, enters holding a rope that leads off-stage behind her)

DELILAH: Hello, Creighton. Making friends again I see.

CRETIN: Well, if it isn't my late cousin, Delilah Deluscious. You certainly took your sweet time getting here. I'm a busy man I'll have you know.

DELILAH: As you should be. Have you done everything I've told you to do thus far?

CRETIN: Indeed I have. Upon arriving at this little piece of nothing on earth, I had no trouble whatsoever not only seeking employment in the town bank, but to rise in the ranks as the bank president within days. It was so very easy since no one was more qualified than I. Of course I had to step on a few toes, not to mention necks to get to that exalted position. This correspondence course of mine is working wonders for me. They've even provided me with this handy-dandy guide. (hands DELILAH book)

DELILAH: (hands him rope as she takes book and reads title) "Villainy for Dummies". They sure know their audience, don't they?

CRETIN: The title is the school's idea of a little joke.

DELILAH: That's why it's only a little funny. Speaking of which, why are you wearing all black in this heat? And a cape...are you attending the opera as well?

CRETIN: My ensemble happens to be traditional. It says so right there in the book. (reads) "Always dress in black as befitting your dastardly nature, regardless of the time of day, year or weather" But you are correct. This sun is absolutely unbearable. I'm sweating in places I didn't know I had before. What's at the end of this rope?

DELILAH: In due time. Since you're the bank president, you're in control of the mortgages of all the land in these parts, are you not?

CRETIN: Naturally. Unfortunately, they've been paid off for some time now only these rubes don't know that. As such, I have been able fleece every individual in the entire area who believes they are depositing their funds into the bank, but instead are heading right into my pockets. All I have to do is doctor the books which is possible with one of these. (produces eraser) Voila! Meet the eraser. It makes the truth go away just like magic and I can fill in whatever numbers I choose. Oh, eraser, you are the best thing ever. I do love modern technology. Clever, eh?

DELILAH: (grabs eraser and tosses it off stage) Chicken feed.

CRETIN: Is that so? I'll have you know that I am the richest man in town.

DELILAH: I've seen the town. That's not saying much. Now put a sock in it, you sap. When you see what I've brought you, you will fall to your knees in gratitude.

CRETIN: I doubt it. These trousers are brand new. Now what about this stupid rope already? Are you bringing a cow to market?

DELILAH: Oh, it is indeed a cow, cousin o' mine. A cash cow, that is. Get ready to thank me for everything you are about to receive. Give this rope a little tug and find out for yourself.

CRETIN: If I must. (attempts to pull rope and finds resistance) Seems to be stuck. (tries again) This is absurd. (goes the big yank and finds himself pulled off stage with a loud yelp)

DELILAH: That’s my Creighton. Weak of body, weak of mind.

CRETIN: (entering opposite, still fighting with the taut rope) I...almost...have...it....

DELILAH: Oh, give it to me! (impatient, taking rope from CRETIN, then tugs slightly) Right this way. (At the end of the rope, tied to his belt, is SLAP HAPPY PAPPY, an aged derelict seemingly lost in the world in both mind and body)
Creighton Cretin, allow me to introduce you to...

CRETIN: He looks like a piece of beef jerky with hair.

PAPPY: Howdy, pardner!

CRETIN: I am not your pardner.

PAPPY: Slap Happy Pappy's the name.

CRETIN: I didn't ask.

PAPPY: This purty lady here says y'all gimme a nickel.

CRETIN: The lady is wrong in more ways than one.

PAPPY: Gimme a nickel, I'll shows what I can do.
​
CRETIN: What, scare the crows away?

Copyright 2026 by Scott Cherney

To read the entire script, you can purchase a copy rightcher.

CURSES! THE ENTIRE SCRIPT! AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD

What? Are performance rights available? What do you think I'm doing this for my health? Of course they are!

Contact me at: writtenbysc @gmail.com

​

Blog Behind the Blog

In my last blog about my latest melodrama, CURSES! OILED AGAIN!, I promised my next post would be the story behind the story under the assumption there was a story behind the story. Well, there is. Read on at your own risk...which is basically a few minutes of your precious time.

Way back in the 20th century, I was deeply entrenched in a dinner theater in Stockton, California called the Palace Showboat at Pollardville. The specialty of the house was melodrama/vaudeville double bill where I cut my teeth (and cracked a few molars) a budding actor/writer/director of several productions. At one point, I had a trifecta of shows I had put together, the musical/comedy variety second half of the program, our version of what was known as an olio. The last of this series of mine was a tribute to the theater itself, but more importantly the fantastic actors I had performed with and had the honor of directing as well. The name I gave this vaudeville was IT'S SHOWTIME, FOLKS!, an allusion to the incredibly inspirational Bob Fosse film ALL THAT JAZZ.

I wrote a comedy sketch called MURPHY'S MELODRAMA, utilizing Murphy's Law of whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. Quite simply, it was take-off of the melodramas in the first half of the show, only this time, it all went to hell from the word go. The card girl had a nasty cold, cues were missed, heroine had poison ivy, the villain drunk, etc. (While this pre-dated THE PLAY THAT GOES WRONG, it was nowhere neat the excellence of that show, but mine did come first, so there.) Anyway, the sketch, longer than most that we did on that stage, was received quite well, but my producer Goldie Pollard told me to cut it because the length of the entire show went far too long. Begrudgingly, I ditched it, then it finally dawned on me: The audience just sat through an entire melodrama. Now I was making them sit through another one, albeit a skewed version, but still... 

Oh well. Cut to twenty years later. Pollardville was closing for good, theater, restaurant, ghost town and all. We had a final reunion and show at the theater featuring Palace Showboat Players throughout the years. The show started as it always did with a melodrama and director Ed Thorpe chose MURPHY'S MELODRAMA to fill that spot and therefore became the last on that stage, an accolade I cherish to this very day.

Later on, I revamped my script, eliminating the wacky mishaps and transformed it into a normal, everyday melodrama that got a couple of nibbles over time which led the way to further success with my other properties. I had to put the brakes the on eventually and dive headlong into my novel which turned into a total obsession. Once I finished, I needed to get back into the script writing game again since I had a few ideas lined up. (See previous post: COMING ATTRACTIONS)

In my addled brain, I thought the best thing to start with would be an expansion of MURPHY'S MELODRAMA. Why not? The previous revamp I rattled off in just a few hours. How tough could it be? 

Two years later...

CURSES! OILED AGAIN! 

Yeah, a real walk in the park. During a snowstorm. Without a jacket.

It reminded me of the time my wife and I moved from one apartment complex to another which was right across the street. That was the first time I had used the phrase that never pays. How tough could it be? The answer: Almost as difficult as the move from California to Oregon. If I ever utter that rhetorical question again, I will punch myself in the face. Repeatedly.  

But I got another script out of it that I'm happy with and it's another notch in my writing belt. Now if I can only get someone to produce it. How tough can it be?

KA-POW!

CURSES! OILED AGAIN! or NO CRUDE FOR A RUDE DUDE is available for download at Lulu.com. 

CURSES! OILED AGAIN! 

on Lulu

Performance rights are available. Contact me at:

writtenbysc@gmail.com

Curses! Oiled Again!

 

The drought is over...at least for me. 

I am finally beginning to make headway on the promise I made to you and myself last year at this on delivering some new material (See post: COMING ATTRACTIONS). Okay, I finished one out of the four I planned for 2025, but that's at least 25%, right? Okay, fine. 

Anyway, here is the first melodrama in forever from yours truly, the aptly(?) titled CURSES! OILED AGAIN! or (wait for it) NO CRUDE FOR A RUDE DUDE. A one act, one set play with six-count 'em-six characters. The plot, such as it is, follows:

THAR'S OIL IN THAT SOIL! 

When oil is discovered underneath Nana Nanette's dirt farm deep in the heart of Texas, the vultures begin to swarm. Villain-in-training Creighton Cretin and his cousin, the dastardly diva known as Delilah Deluscious seek to to steal that land right from underneath Nana's nose. But she's got a pair of aces on her side-future Texas Ranger Buck N. Bronco and her granddaughter Bonnie Bluebonnet, a finishing school graduate with a mean right hook. And who is this Slap Happy Pappy, the kooky old cuss who found that black gold in the first place? (If you find out, let him know cuz he ain't got a clue)

CURSES! is available for PDF download at the low, low price of $2.99 at Lulu.com where you can find an array of my other works as well. Look around. maybe you'll see something you like. 

CURSES! OILED AGAIN! LINK

Remember that with every sale of this or anything else of mine, an angel gets its wings.

Coming up next, THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY or WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT, SCOTTY?

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