Thursday, 13 September 2012

Prodigal Son Story for Remu’area Christell Youth Event



So, a few weeks ago, I wrote a little drama based on the parable of the prodigal son for the “Remu’area Youth Collective” night. I thought that I may as well put it up here for all to see. Enjoy!


Narrator: Once, in the bustling Auckland suburb of Remuera, there lived two brothers Bret and Jermaine.

Jermaine: I am the older son. My name is Jermaine

Bret: I am the younger son. My name is Bret.

(together) Jermaine: and we are the two sons Bret: and we are the Flight of the Concords

Bret: Oh sorry, my bad.

Narrator: They lived in a nice house with thier Father

Father: I am your father… Their father! I have no name in this narrative: I’m just referred to as “Father.”

Narrator: the Father was also CEO and owner of a large company, which his family had run for generations, and it was his hope and dream that one day his sons would take it over. Jermaine had just started a commerce and law degree at uni, while Bret was a bright year 11 student about to sit his exams. However, one night at dinner, Bret said,  

Bret: Dad, I think I am going to drop out of school. Do you think that you could maybe give me what I would get when you die now? I’m going to go to America and I’ll need a bit for money for that.

(Everyone sits around in stunned silence, until finally)

Jermaine: BAZINGA!!!!

Bret: This, ahh, isn’t a joke.

Jermaine: What!? I still can’t get your sarcasm.  

Bret: Well, I just feel like its time for me to get out in the world, find out who I am. I know that you want me to continue the family business Dad, but, well, I couldn’t really care less, to be honest.

Narrator: To everyone’s surprise, his father agreed.

Father: I agree.

Narrator: So he gave him 50% of the shares in his company, one of his sports cars, a few nice paintings and the family batch on the Cornmeal.  Nek Minnet, Bret sells everything and heads off to New York. There his lives it up: partying hard and spending wildly.

Bret: Drinks are on me everybody! Tonight is going to be legen…. wait for it ….dary!

Everyone: Yay!!  (put on some music and everyone dances)



Narrator: He spent his money on all kinds of things: nice cloths and flash cars, fine food and the best drinks, tickets to sports games and Broadway shows, and many other things which it is best not to talk about in a setting like this. While he had money to burn, everyone wanted to hang around him and he thought he had made plenty of friends.

American 1: hey dude! Can you buy me a drink?

Bret: Sure thing bro!

Narrator: He never bothered to Skype home, and ended up unfriending most of his kiwi friends on Facebook. This lasted for a while, but before he knew it, his money had run out.

Bret: oh no! My money has run out.

Narrator: Unfortunately, this also happened to be the time of the Global Finical Crisis, and he found it very difficult to get work. He thought that he had made many friends, but fond that once his money had dried up, they were nowhere to be found.

Bert: Hey bro. do you think you could spare me $20 so I can pay my rent?

American 1: Nah man! Go back to Newfoundland.

Bret: New Zealand.

American1: Whatever dude!

Narrator: In the end, he had to resort to selling drugs, and he wasn’t event very good at doing that.

Bret: that will be $50.

American 2: 25.

Bret: $20, and that’s my final offer.

America 2: ok. (pays money and leave Bret looking confused.)

Narrator: Things got so bad that he found himself living rough on the street, with very little to eat. Finally, he realised he had messed up.

Bret: I’ve messed up!

Narrator: he began to think about life back home. He thought to himself.

Bret: You know, the Global Finical Crisis has not hit New Zealand as much as it has America. The guys working for my Dad’s company will have it way better than I do. Maybe I should go back there and ask my Dad for a Job.

Narrator: So he got together enough money to buy a ticket back to New Zealand, and headed home. The movies on the flight back were rubbish, so he had plenty of time to think about what he would say when he met his Father. He decide to say

Bret: Dad, I know I have screwed up real bad. I’ve done what is wrong both by you and by God. I know I don’t deserve to be your son any more, but is there any chance that you could hook me up with a job? I kinda need one big time.

Narrator: so Bret arrived at the airport, ready to make his way back to his Dad’s house. But his Dad had been in the habit of waiting at the airport, just in case. And across a crowed airport, he saw his son.

(Father runs in slow motion to his son and hugs him, possibly to the music of Chariots of Fire)

Father: BRET!!!! Your back!!!!

Bret: Dad, I know I have screwed up real bad. I’ve done what is wrong both by you and by God. I know I don’t deserve to be your son any more…

Father: Sheeh! Don’t worry about all that, I need to make a call. (on a cell phone) Hello, Murray. Drop whatever you’re doing! Bret’s come back and we have a party to organise! I want you to head down to the supermarket; we’ll need a lota meat for the Barbie, and chips and dips and drinks, and sausage rolls and those little mini pies… Everything! What’s that? Oh, everyone is invited!  Yep, everyone! Great! Make sure the music is rocking by the time I get there! Right, catch you soon!

Narrator: By the time they had gotten home, the father had brought him new clothes to replace the tatty old one which he had come home in, and had already given him the pin number to the Eftpos card. The party was already cranking when they got there.

(music playing, people dancing)

Bret: Abba!? What is this…

Father: Come on boy: Dance!

Narrator: Later, the older son, Jermaine came home. He asked one of the gusts what was going on.

Jermaine: Oi! Murray, what’s going on?

Narrator: Murray told him “your brother has come back and is safe, so your father threw a big party!

Murray: your brother has come back and is safe, so your father threw a big party!

Narrator: Jermaine was furious and refused to go inside and join the party.

Jermaine: Hemh! I refuse to join the party.

Narrator: so his father came out to talk to him. But he was still mad!

Jermaine: All this time I have been working my butt off at uni and doing an internship in your office. And you still wouldn’t pay me for it! If I have some mate around to watch a movie; you wouldn’t even give me 20 bucks to get some pizza! Yet when this son of yours, who sold half our company to some Australian bloke and then spends it all on booze and strip clubs, comes home, you say sweet as mate and throw this! There’s food hare for Africa!

 Father: Jermaine, I know that you have stuck by me all this time, doing the right thing and everything that I have is yours. But come on man, your brother’s back! We though he was dead, but he’s alive! Surely that is a reason to party hard! Please come and join the party!

Narrator: and that is where we leave them for today. Tune in next time to hear Jermaine say

Jermaine: You know I can’t eat your ghost chips!

Narrator: Or Something.

No comments: