Think you’ve already sat through the bloodletting, the mayhem, and the monologuing? If Hamlet were a daughter and the Queen had been murdered, what would the story look like? Well . . . pretty much the same—except for the monologuing. No time for that.

Running time: approximately 5 minutes

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2 Females, 3 M/F, 4-8 M/F Extras

NARRATOR (M/F) narrates the show and dies on stage.

WATCHMAN 1 (M/F) hates the night shift and dies on stage.

WATCHMAN 2 (M/F) a master of the bad joke and dies on stage.

QUEEN/GHOST (F) Hamlette’s mother, who is on a transparent quest for revenge.  Already dead on stage but dies on stage again anyway.

HAMLETTE (F) Really, she should have sought counseling a long, long time ago.

ASSORTED CASUALTIES (M/F) Only one line each, but they die spectacularly on stage.



(Lights up. Enter NARRATOR.)

NARRATOR:  Welcome ladies and gentlemen.  The play we are about to perform is The Tragedy of Hamlette, Princess of Denmark.

QUEEN:  (Entering.) Hamlet?  No, no, no. I’ve already sat through that.  Five minutes of bloodletting and three hours of monologuing.  And no romance to speak of!

NARRATOR:  No, not Hamlet. This is Hamlette.

QUEEN:  Hamlette?

NARRATOR:  Prince-ess of Denmark.

QUEEN:  (Excited.) A chick-flick?

NARRATOR:  Precisely.

QUEEN: Wonderful! Finally, a play for us women! Well? Do begin.

NARRATOR: You’d better get ready. You’re a ghost.

QUEEN: (Confused.) A ghost? I thought this was a chick-flick?

NARRATOR: Er . . . it is. You die . . . for love.

QUEEN: How romantic! Just let me get ready! (Exits.)

NARRATOR: (Smiles at audience and begins. Enter WATCHMAN 1 & 2.) The play starts with our two night watchmen on a cold winter’s night.

WATCHMAN 1:  (Shivering.)  It’s a cold winter’s night.  Man, I hate the night shift.

WATCHMAN 2:  But we’re night watchmen.

WATCHMAN 1:  Oh.  Right.

WATCHMAN 2:  How about a joke to pass the time?

WATCHMAN 1:  All right.

WATCHMAN 2:  What do you call people who provide timepieces for lords on horseback?

WATCHMAN 1:  I don’t know.  What do you call people who provide timepieces for lords on horseback?

WATCHMAN 2:  Knight watch men.

WATCHMAN 1:  (Long pause.)  Man, I hate the night shift.

NARRATOR:  Suddenly, the ghost of Hamlette’s mother appears. (Exits.)

GHOST:  (Entering.) I am the ghost of Hamlette’s mother.

WATCHMAN 2:  You sort of expect a ghost on the graveyard shift.  Get it?  Ghost?  Graveyard shift?

WATCHMAN 1:  I hate the night shift.

GHOST:  Go, run!  Get my daughter Hamlette.

WATCHMAN 1:  Daughter Hamlette?

WATCHMAN 2:  Weren’t you listening to the narrator?

WATCHMAN 1:  My attention wanders during Shakespeare.

WATCHMAN 2:  We don’t have a ham actor hogging the stage.  We have a Hamlette.

WATCHMAN 1:  I really hate the night shift.

GHOST:  Go get Hamlette!

HAMLETTE:  (Entering.)  Somebody call my name?

GHOST:  Hamlette!

HAMLETTE:  Mom!  (They run toward each other with their arms out to hug, but just pass by each other.  Make it look like HAMLETTE passed right through GHOST.)  Mom?

GHOST:  I need to talk to you!

HAMLETTE:  But you’re dead.

WATCHMAN 2:  That explains her grave expression.  (ALL stop and turn slowly in unison to stare at WATCHMAN 2 while he laughs at own joke.)

GHOST:  Hamlette, I know I’m a ghost, but you need to talk to me anyway.  I need you to do something.

WATCHMAN 2:  (Pointing to GHOST) That’s the spirit!  (ALL stop and turn slowly in unison to stare at WATCHMAN 2 while he laughs at own joke.)

HAMLETTE:  What would you have me do?

WATCHMAN 2:  Whatever it is, it doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance.

(HAMLETTE takes her sword and stabs WATCHMAN 2.)

WATCHMAN 1:  Thank you.

HAMLETTE:  (Squats down and holds WATCHMAN 2’s chin and contemplates.)  Alas, poor Dork.  I knew him well.  A man of infinite jest.

GHOST:  Hamlette, we don’t have time for one of your monologues now.  I need you to avenge . . . a murder!

HAMLETTE:  A murder?  Who was killed?

GHOST:  (Beat.) Hello?  Ghost?

HAMLETTE:  Right.  Who killed you?

GHOST:  Your aunt.  My sister.

HAMLETTE:  Both of them?

GHOST:  (To audience, nodding toward HAMLETTE.)  She takes after her father.  (Back to HAMLETTE.)  My sister who is your aunt killed me. (To audience.) I died for love, though this isn’t exactly what I was thinking. (To HAMLETTE.) Your aunt killed me and married your father.

HAMLETTE:  Oh, wow.

GHOST:  Horrendous, isn’t it?

HAMLETTE:  No, I just realized that . . . I’m my own cousin.

GHOST:  Hamlette.  I need you to avenge my death.

HAMLETTE:  If I’m my own cousin, can I even get married?  . . .