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The Note By Anonymous, By Tarzan MacMood
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George, a boy enrolled in 7th grade who dresses up as a stereotypical nerd (Thick black glasses, white buttoned down shirts, belt and pants above waist, etc.). He receives a letter that mentally and emotionally crushes him.

Mom, George’s mother who is always on top of her son by making him think about his future. When she notices George’s struggles, she changes gear to a loving and caring mother.

Setting: George’s bedroom which includes a bed, bookshelf with tons of books, desk, and a chair (Other material may be added, but it isn’t necessary. The idea is to look like a bedroom).

Scene 1:

George enters the stage excitedly because school has ended and he has received a letter after a long time. First walks over to his desk to pick up his Nexus 7 (or any other tablet or electrical device). He falls backwards on his bed.


(Sigh of relief, then searches for his notepad app [which doesn’t need to be there but to give the audience the impression]. He may say "Ah where are you my good ol’ notepad app?”)

Alright, microphones are on! Hmm, thank God it’s Friday! It felt like an eternity since I had a break from all this unnecessary work. Finally, I am in the safest place in the world, also known as home. Nothing better than a Friday afternoon, no need to worry about school the next day, or the ignorant children that roam the school! Oh, and the best part, I don’t need to finish my homework tonight!


(Calling from offstage)

George, make sure to get all of your homework completed today so then all you have to worry about for the rest of the weekend is SAT studies.


Okay mom.

(Says to himself and raises his upper body so he’s now sitting)

I’m only a 7th grader, why do I need to prepare for the exams right now, isn’t it too early? Oh mom. So, where was I?

(Looks at the letter in his hand)

Right! I received a letter today for the first time in my life! Isn’t that amazing? Well, I’m just exaggerating, but for once it isn’t from my family. I wonder who sent it to me.

(Opens the envelope and takes the note out)

Let me read it out loud:

Hey there four eyes, or should I say twelve eyes, why don’t you get a life you nerd. Get a life, or get out of our school, not yours, ours! No one likes you, no one wants you here. You’ll always be a nobody, so give up, and never come back…

(Holds back the tears but struggles to. There are constant moments of gulping and heavy breathing.)

Who would write something like this? Why?

(Shakes the note angrily. Yelling at it)


(Throws the paper on the ground, turns the mic off of his tablet)


(You can hear the footsteps of Mom from offstage behind George’s tears. Walking onstage and immediately holds her son with her arms.)

What is wrong sweetie? Don’t cry, talk to your mommy. I don’t like seeing you cry, it hurts my feelings too you know.


(Holds his mother tightly but does not respond)


(Slightly nudges him)

Come on George, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. I’m your mother, it is my duty to guide you in the right path and make sure you are happy. So, let me be that mother that I am meant to be.


(Points at the letter on the floor)

Just read that note…


(Reaches down to pick it up. She reads it really quickly but doesn’t read all of it.)


(Hugging George; says in a soothing and understanding tone)

Don’t listen to these uneducated people. Ignore them, they aren’t worth the time. I know it’s tough; I was in your position once upon a time. When I was a little girl, about the same age as you, I was bullied often. Just like you, I was brilliant, and the other kids did not like that because all I did was study. Girls pushed me. They passed notes around; spread rumors and said all the worst possible things they could say. The boys weren’t any better.


Mom, words hurt, how can one possibly ignore them when they are stuck lingering in one’s head?


Words stick like glue, but you can wash them away. Don’t let the glue harden those terrible words.


So, should I take a shower and hope that these words will disappear?


(Laughs a little)

I wasn’t talking literally silly. There aren’t any words on you!


(Laughs along feeling a little better)


(Still with the note in hand, searches for a name on it but realizes there isn’t any)

Who could’ve written it?


Obviously a really mean person…

(Realizes the stupidity)



I figured that, but I hoped to see a name so then we could solve this issue.


(After a few moments of silence)

I feel so vulnerable and weak inside, but at the same time I feel anger and hatred building too. You’ve disciplined me well to understand that violence isn’t the correct option. In this position, I just want to pound whoever is harassing me with these notes.


Don’t let these horrible villains release the fury of your mind. They want you to feel this way, but George; it is your duty to look ahead. And it is my job to end this conflict no matter what.



I wish father could’ve been here to guide me, I’m sure he would know what to do.


The past won’t help us, what happened in the past stays in the past. At times like these I wish I had given you the time you most deserved from a mother. It’s my fault, I’m always busy with work and telling you to study where now I realize that I am blind. Each day I should’ve asked how your day was or what did you learn in school today? But, what did I do? I just made work my number one priority, and left you as an independent child. Your father would be ashamed of me if he had still been in this world…is it too late to change my ways?


Mom, you did so much for me, so why are you complaining about yourself now? Sure you could’ve given me more time and sometimes you do too much work, but, you have a purpose in the end of the day. That is why I appreciate everything you do for me. You’re holding a tough responsibility. Don’t let yourself down, because to me, you’re a great mother!


(Shows affection towards George)

Thank you son, but I think we need more time together, I feel that I can help strengthen our special bond.


(Out of curiosity)

I have a question mom. If my father was here next to me right now, what would he tell me?


(Thinking about it)

Love and hate is everywhere, there will always be a group of people who will not accept you, but there’ll be another group who considers you a friend. Inherit the love you get by the ones who adore you, and use that to move forward and pull through.


(Inspired by the phrase)

This bumpy pothole in the street won’t stop me; I’ll find a way to leap over it and continue to walk my path.


(Notices that George is building confidence)

That’s the spirit! Now, is there anything that I can do to make your day better?


Well, my tummy would like some of your famous apple pie; do you think you can make that?


Anything for you my love!

(Kisses George on the cheek and leaves offstage)


(Steps aside to speak to the audience, lights only on him, he turns the mic in his tablet back on)

This wasn’t the first time I faced the pain. Most days, I suffer, the beating, the laughing. What could I do, I’m helpless. They attack me when they find the opportunity to do so. Why? I’m still trying to figure that out. But, I’ll never get the answer.

(Questioning more towards the audience)

Do I need to change who I am? Is it because I have an IQ higher than a billion? Mom tells me to she’ll solve this situation. Lies…lies, lies, LIES! You never did anything for me in your life, what makes you think you’ll do me a favor now?

(Voice crescendos and expresses hatred)

You’re leading me to believe that there is love for me in this world.I cry and cry and cry again but not once did you take a paper towel to wipe the salty liquid off my face. What kind of mother are you? When I come home, I talk to a microphone, and I consider "it” a better friend than you. I record my words into this journal hoping that one day a savior will save me. Like Jesus to you, and my God to me. But my God created this world for me to suffer; he made humans to hate me. Why am I here?

(Picks up the note from the floor)

Why were words created when they can be used as a deadly weapon? Like I said, words hurt, and it is worse when you receive these words from anonymous. You didn’t even have the guts to add your name to the powerful words you wrote. I just needed a signature you bully. You guys give me a reason to feel hopeless, well once I’m done with you, then we’ll see who the real nobody is. Words stick like glue, and this glue has already hardened. Mom, you better hope that the heat intensifies this summer or else this glue will never melt, or since it has already hardened, shatter. And you bully, you’ll feel sorry for what you wrote.

(Rips the note. Lights go off.)

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