Five Historical People in an Elevator - 03/04/2010

[RoughWriters]

In this challenge, we each had to take five figures from history, vlad Dracul, Oprah, Marilyn Monroe, Marilyn Manson, and Charlie Chaplain and write a scene in which they were all stuck in an elevator.

[glen]

STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR

The small room lurched and the sound of the gears ground to a halt. The lights went out, and I heard someone curse in a thickly accented foreign language.
“Be calm,” I said. “The emergency generator will kick in in just a minute.”
“How do you know, madam,” the heavily accented voice came back. In response, the red lights from the emergency system kicked in. I looked back at the burly, long haired man standing in the corner.
“See?” I said to him. “High school physics, and a lifetime spent in hotels. And doofus, I’m a man, not a woman.”
“You could have fooled me,” a small mustachioed man in the corner said. “Why are you dolled up like a girlie then?”
“He didn’t fool me,” a breathy feminine voice said. I turned to the blonde standing next to me. She smiled prettily. “You’re a performer, aren’t you.”
“Bingo,” I told her. “I live for the stage.”
“Me too,” she said.
“Me too,” said the small man.
“Well, I’m not a performer,” said the black woman standing behind me. “But I am on television every day.”
“What does that make you?” said the man with the accent. “And what is television?”
“It makes her a gazillionaire,” I said. “And television is the one-eyed God that the world worships.” I nodded to the black woman. “I thought I recognized you, Oprah.”
She nodded back. “It’s been too long, Marilyn. About time I had you back on the show.”
“Ooh,” the blonde cooed. “My name is Marilyn too.”
I took another look at the blonde and then realized that I was looking at Marilyn Monroe.
“Aren’t you dead?” I asked her.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” she said.
“Must wreak havoc on your acting career,” I said. “Course, some people think I am dead, and they still go on rocking when I am on stage.”
“Well, I have suffered quite a downturn in my career since I died,” said the small man. I stared at him.
“Who are you?” I said.
“Has it been that long?” he said. “Has everyone forgotten my contributions to the silent screen?”
“Of course,” Oprah said. “Marilyn, you are looking at Charles Chaplin, father of the silent screen.”

[scott]

The lofty pillars of the New York Skyline stood as a testament to the endless flow of time. However in one elevator, high in the towers, time folded back on itself. Vlad Dracul was an assuming man; his assumptions had cost him everything, including his dear love Aria. As the enemy invaded his fortress he yelled at forces pulling him.

Suddenly he felt as if he had been pulled through one of the many contraptions of ill refute in his own basement into a small room the he barely had room to stretch in. Four others stood with him. A small man with a tuft of hair at his lip introduced himself to the Iron prison as Charlie Chaplin. A beautiful woman of golden hair cast him considering looks from across the space. However, the two in front of her were of a different sphere altogether. Mud had caked the face of one and she, if she it be, appeared to be one of his own victims. “Manson”, he drawled. The other, he did not even deign to care about.

Chaplin from the corner broke the silence, “So, how do you do?”
Vlad spoke worriedly, “How do I do what? And why I would I do it? I am Vlad Dracul!” A small soundtrack echoed in the distance and Vlad turned, worriedly inspecting the walls.

“Real integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that nobody's going to know whether you did it or not.”, Oprah read in the corner, from cue cards.

The Four looked at her, out of all of them she seemed the most suspicious.

[Sarah]

The elevator music quietly playing in the background did nothing to soothe the tension. Everyone was on edge. The whispering between Oprah and Marilyn Manson was becoming heated.

“You stupid woman. Why do you want to interview me?”

“Because,” replied Oprah “When else could I have this
opportunity?”

“Why don’t you get one of those dead people over there?”

Vlad Dracul bristled at the remark.

“You strange man-woman, how dare you make such a horrid remark.” Said Vlad.

Marilyn Manson glared at the Prince.

“You vampire, shut your mouth.”

Vlad was purple with rage.

“I shall have you impaled!” shrieked the prince.

“Can everyone just calm down?” the beautiful tone of Marilyn Monroe’s voice was musical in its sound.

“You loose woman, how dare you talk to me, I am the Prince of Wallachia!” said Vlad imperiously.

Marilyn’s smile was wiped from her face at the remark.

“How dare you say that to me, you fiend.”

There was a sudden banging on the wall, everyone turned to look at the lone man who said nothing. Charlie Chaplin was miming his thoughts. Everyone rolled their eyes.

“Just talk you crazy man, and stop complaining about Vlad’s moustache.” said Marilyn Monroe.

Her sweet countenance having left her after her purity was questioned. A slap rang out in the silence. Marilyn Monroe grabbed her now stinging cheek and glared at Oprah.

“How dare you!”

“You deserve it, you pampered, self-indulgent hussy.”

Another slap rang out, this time it was Oprah grabbing her cheek and glaring at Marilyn Monroe.

Suddenly guitar music rang out! Everyone turned to look at Marilyn Manson. He was playing his guitar with fervor.

“Don’t stop, this would make a great concert!”

Another bang rang out. The doors began to open, suddenly they closed again. Everyone turned to look at the panel. Charlie Chaplin looked sheepishly at it. Everyone suddenly knew what had happened. He had mimed them out of being rescued… The next floor was lit up brightly on the panel and then the thud of being stuck rang out!

[Edward Cheever]

Here's my entry:

“You are all mad!” Vlad Dracul shouted into the cramped elevator space.
“Look who’s talking sweetheart, Marilyn Monroe said sourly.
Charlie Chaplain nodded at Marilyn, “You know the right of it, darling.” He turned to Vlad, “If you had to get back to Romania so badly you should have taken the stairs!
“Come on people, let’s calm down and talk this out.” Oprah said.
“You should listen to O, over here.” The pale man in the corner said.
Vlad looked incensed. “Who’s side are you on, Manson!”
“Hey, man. Everybody likes Oprah.”
“We should all just keep to ourselves and be silent.” Charlie said.
Manson laughed, “Silent…” he snorted with laughter.
“Don’t you go making fun of Charlie, now.” Marilyn said.
“Hey, babe, he’s the one who said ‘silent.’”
“It’s quite all right, Marilyn, my dear.” Charlie said seriously. “ I used to get that all the time before the talkies.”
“’Talkies?’ What is this nonsense?”
Manson patted Vlad’s armored shoulder, “Hey Vlad, it’s past your time. Don’t worry about it.”
“Get your filthy hand off of me!”
“Well screw you too, fang boy.”
“Fang? What do you mean by that.”
“Nothing, leather-wing. Just referencing your legacy.”
“You vulgar oaf!”
“Calm down people, or I will make you all calm down!”
“Yes, Oprah.” They said in unison.
The time passed by and the elevator grew hot. Both Marilyns’ makeup had started to run, and Vlad was looking particularly uncomfortable in his heavy armor.
“Where are the servicemen?” Charlie asked, whipping his brow with a kerchief. “Surely they would have been here by now?”
“Perhaps more than one elevator is down.” Oprah suggested.
“Or maybe they all think we’re stuck in a stairwell,” Manson sneered, “Idiots.”
“Close enough for Government work, honey.” Marilyn answered.