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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CHARACTERS
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.
SAMPLE PAGES
(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? . . .