Fly Like A Bumblebee, a full-length stage play
Fly Like A Bumblebee, based on the book by the same name, is a story of growing up blind, and not even knowing it. No one knew that Bobby Bill was nearly blind until he was eight years old. He just kept bumbling along. Then someone gave him glasses, and he graduated to being only a little bit (legally) blind. Bumblebee is a humorous story of a kid struggling against the odds to make a success of teaching high school, working in radio-TV advertising, and becoming a performing magician despite his blindness.
For advanced groups, a full-length stage play of Fly Like A Bumblebee is available. Humorously inspirational story line is suitable for general audiences. There is a $25 charge for an e-mail copy of the play, applicable to a $200 minimum royalty charge for production.
For more details, contact the author at 816-254-0432 or email bob@klammbooks.com.
opening scene
FLY LIKE A BUMBLEBEE A Stage Play
© 2005 by Klamm Magic LLC
1412 S Appleton Ave
Independence MO 64052
816-254-0432
bob@klammbooks.com
SUGGESTED CAST DOUBLING:
6 MEN:
BOB-BOBBIE, AE VOICE
BUCKY, keeler, BOB BROWN, RADIO ACTOR, CLASSROOM STUDENT
JAMES, NEWSBOY, NU INSTRUCTOR, RADIO ACTOR, DALE
JAKE, CUB REPORTER, NBC INTERVIEWER, SCOTT
BOYS VOICES played by VARIOUS MALE ACTORS
DAD, WILSON, Bill Standart, CLASSROOM STUDENT
DOCTOR, Art Mathews, John O'Hern, CLASSROOM STUDENT
5 WOMEN:
MOM
GRANDMA, Anna Mang, A SECCOND STUDENT IN CLASSROOM
EDNA, NURSE, Gretchen, RADIO ACTRESS
ALMA, RADIO ACTRESS, BERNIECE
MISS FETCH, DORIS, Carter secretary, JENNY
ACT I:
THERE ARE THREE PLAYING AREAS: STAGE RIGHT, STAGE LEFT AND CENTER STAGE. THESE AREAS ARE HIGHLIGHTED, AS NEEDED, TO MOVE FROM SCENE TO SCENE. SET PROPS ARE KEPT TO A MINIMUM, AND ARE CHANGED, WHEN THAT AREA IS IN DARKNESS.
ALL CHILDREN'S PARTS ARE PLAYED BY ADULT PERFORMERS, SUGGESTING AGE BY MINIMAL COSTUMING CHANGES AND MANNERISMS. IT IS INTENDED THAT ONE ACTOR PLAY BOTH THE NARRATOR AND THE "IN SCENE" CHARACTER OF BOBBY.
BOB: (NARRATING FROM OUT OF THE DARKNESS. DURING THIS NARRATION, THE SOUND OF A BUMBLEBEE BEGINS TO GROW UNTIL IT FILLS THE AIR. AT THE SAME TIME, ALITTLE GOLDEN LIGHT MOVES FROM STAGE RIGHT TO STAGE LEFT. IT MOVES IN A WAVERING, IRREGULAR PATTERN, LIKE AN INSECT IN FLIGHT. THIS IS EASILY DONE BY BOB WITH THE TRICK CALLED "D-LITE" ON HIS THUMB. )
Science says that bumblebees can't fly, but they don't know it, so they just go ahead and fly anyway. I was like a bumblebee. I didn't know I couldn't see until I was eight years old. No one knew. Until I was eight years old, I just kept bumbling along.
AS THE LIGHT REACHES CENTER STAGE, STAGE LIGHTS COME UP, ALONG WITH THE BUMBLEBEE SOUND, REVEALING BUCKY AND BOBBY BILL. BOBBY BILL HOLDS HIS EARS AGAINST THE SOUND. HE DUCKS, DODGES AND FLAILS THE AIR FRANTICLY AT THE SOUND. BUCKY STANDS IDLY BY.)
BOB: Look out, Bucky, he's gonna sting.
BUCKY: Awww, leave him alone. He ain't gonna sting."
BOB: Sure, He ain't gonna sting, just like he can't ain't gonna fly. Look out!
(WITH HEAD DOWN, BOB RUNS HEAD-ON INTO BUCKY. THEY BOTH FALL BACK ON THEIR REAR ENDS. THE BUZZING STOPS.)
BUCKY: See. I told you. He's gone. You're worse than any dumb bumblebee.
(HE GETS UP, AND SLAPS BOBBY ON THE ARM.)
BUCKY: Tag, you're it.
(BUCKY RUNS UPSTAGE TO A THREE-QUARTER POSITION, AND STANDS RIGIDLY ERECT WITH ARMS EXTENDED UPWARD.)
BOB: (STILL SITTING, FACING DOWNSTAGE ONE-QUARTER LEFT) Where'dja go?
BUCKY: Look behind you. I'm hiding behind the big tree.
BOB: (GETS UP, PEERS AROUND BLINDLY. NOTICES BUCKY, AND CIRCLES COMPLETELY AROUND HIM, EXAMINING WITH PEERING EYES. ) I don't see nothin' but a tree.
BUCKY: (BREAKS HIS RIGID STANCE) open your eyes. Look! I'm a son of a birch.
BOB: You act more like a son of a beech.
BUCKY: Forget it. Let's play pirate. Got your treasure map?
BOB: (EXTRACTS A CRUMPLED PAPER FROM POCKET, AND STUDIES IT WITH NOSE TO PAPER.)
BUCKY: Not that way, stupid. You got it upside down. (TURNS IT UPRIGHT FOR HIM) meet you right... there. (HE EXITS)
BOB: (STUDIES MAP AGAIN. Where's there? HE WALKS A FEW STEPS, TRIPS, PICKS HIMSELF UP, BUMPS INTO A TRASH BARREL, ADJUSTS TOWARD UPSTAGE, SLAMS INTO A WALL, TURNS TOWARD AUDIENCE AND, IN A DAZE, SLIDES DOWN WALL TO SITTING POSITION. )
BOB: It's no use. I guess I'd just better sit here and wait for this crowd to go by.
MOM: (CALLING FROM A LONG DISTANCE) Bobbeeeee! Bobby Bill! Supper!
BOB: I'm coming. I'm coming!
(BOB GETS UP AND GOES STAGE LEFT. SPOT GOES OUT CENTER. LEFT SPOT COMES UP ON KITCHEN AS BOBBY BUMPS INTO TABLE.)
MOM: Bobby Bill! Don't be so clumsy.
BOB: I didn't do nothin'. The table jumped at me.
MOM: How can a table jump at you?
BOB: Easy. We got a table with no table manners.
MOM: Next time, just open up your eyes and look. Watch where you walk. Oh, just go wash up.
(BOBBY GOES OFF TO WASH, AS MOM FINISHES SERVING UP. THERE IS A BIG CRASH, OFF.)
MOM: That boy. I do not know what we are going to do with him.
(SHE RINGS TINKLING DDINNER BELL. BOBBY AND DADDY COME TO TABLE. THEY ALL SIT AND HOLD HANDS AND PRAY.) "Come Heavenly Father, be Thou our guest. Bless all Thou hast prepared for us. Amen."
MOM: Bobby Bill, it's not good manners to eat with your spoon. Learn to use your fork.
BOB: Nothing stays on a fork.
MOM: Some nice places don't even give you spoons. Use your fork.
BOB: It's too hard.
DAD: Don't talk back to your mother.
BOB: What did I say?
DAD: Just do what your mother tells you.
BOB: If I do, I'll never get anything to eat. I'll starve to death.
DAD: You won't starve to death. I do not want to hear any more about it. And stop dropping your peas on the floor.
BOB: They roll off all by themselves. They got a mind of their own.
MOM: You don't hold your fork level, dear.
BOB: How do you know when your fork is level?
MOM: You just know. My goodness! Everybody knows when their fork is level.
BOB: Tell my fork that. I don't want my peas anyway.
MOM: Then eat your noodles. They won't roll off.
BOB: Right. They slide off.
DAD: Not another word. Eat!
(THEY EAT IN SILENCE.)
BOB: My milk disappeared!
MOM: Look in front of you, dear.
(BOB REACHES OUT, AND KNOCKS IT OVER.)
DAD: You clumsy idiot! You did that deliberately.
BOB: I did not. It was hiding.
MOM: Get up, Bobby Bill, before it runs all over. (MOPPING UP)
DAD: (ROARING) Hiding? How can milk hide from you?
BOB: (HOLDING ARMS PROTECTIVELY OVERHEAD. Don't hit me. Don't hit me.
DAD: (STILL ROARING.) Who's going to hit you? I'm not going to hit you. How can a glass of milk hide from you?
BOB: I don't know. It was just hiding. The table is white. The milk is white. It was just hiding.
DAD: Don't make excuses! Milk doesn't hide, and peas do not jump off of forks. From here on, young man, you just mind your p's and-p's and-p's and noodles-carrots-dumplings-I mean noodles.
BOB: It's mind your P's and Q's.
DAD: Don't contradict me. When I say noodles, I mean noodles. Get that through your-your-your-noodle. (EXITS VIA SLAMMING DOOR)
BOB: (PEEKING OUT FROM UNDER ARMS) Is he gone?
MOM: He's gone.
BOB: I never know when he's going to hit me. Why doesn't he like me?
MOM: Bobby Bill, of course he likes you. He loves you. We both love you. Let me show you something. I think you are old enough to understand. This is a picture of your little baby sister, Dorothy June. If she had lived, she would have been your big sister.
BOB: She doesn't show up much.
MOM: That's because she is in her little casket.
BOB: She's dead?
MOM: She died when she was born. (BEGINNING TO WEEP) Oh, Bobby Bill, your daddy and I both love you very, very much. You are the little girl we never had.
BOB: I don't think I want to be a little girl.
MOM: Of course not. Sometime we will go visit her in the cemetery.
BOB: She's dead in the ground? Like that squashed squirrel the car ran over?
MOM: Here is a sample of her hair. Feel how silky it is.
BOB: (BACKING AWAY) No. No. I don't want to touch anything dead.
MOM: Maybe some other time. I just wanted you to know how much your Daddy and I love you. We love you enough for two of you. One of these days, we will bring home a little baby, just like Dorothy June, for you to play with.
BOB: I think I'd rather have a fire truck.
(BLACKOUT)