03/15/2025
ACTS isn't just for performance development, we also conceptualize & write creative content. Here is one of the recent sketches. See if you can guess what Bible story it is based on...
And once you finished reading, anyone want to make it? đ
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Sketch Title: The Remote Control Blessing
Characters:
1. Mom (Maureen) - Cunning matriarch who favors Jake. Sheâs knitting a lumpy scarf, plotting as she goes, and jumps at the chance to outsmart Eddie.
2. Jake (Younger Sibling) - Momâs sly favorite, quick-witted and schemingâalways ready to con his way to the prize.
3. Eddie (Older Sibling) - Dadâs favorite, loud, burly, and gullibleâdesperate for the remote but clueless.
4. Dad (Doug) - Walk-on role, gruff mechanic who hid the remote and loves Eddie, but gets caught in the chaos.
Setting: The cluttered family living room. Maureenâs on the couch, knitting furiously. There is a recliner, Eddieâs gym gear, and a dusty bowling trophy on a shelf. The TVâs offâno one knows where the remote is.
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Sketch Script
[Scene opens with Maureen knitting a hideous scarf, muttering about dropped stitches. Jake slinks in, chewing gum and glancing at the blank TV. Eddie barges in, holding a football and wiping sweat off his brow.]
Eddie: (booming) Ma! Dadâs out fixinâ the truckâsays Iâm his right-hand man! I need the remote to watch the game tonight. Coach says Iâm a legend! Whereâd he stash it this time?
Maureen: (not looking up) Oh, Eddie, my lumbering ox, your fatherâs turned hiding that remote into a national sport. Iâm busy with this scarfâfigure it out yourself.
Jake: (sidling up, all charm) Mom, youâre the brains hereâDadâs just playing games. How about we find that remote together? Iâll put on that crime show you love, no sports junk.
Maureen: (beaming) My clever little Jake, you know how to treat your queen. Eddieâs out there tossing balls for Dad, but youâyouâre my pride. (whispers) Letâs con that oaf and snag the remote for ourselves. Start smallâmess with him first.
Eddie: (scratching head) Mess with who? Ma, Iâm right here! I need the gameâDad says Iâm the family champ!
Maureen: (snapping) Youâre the champ of breaking my chairs, Eddie! Go wash your mitts. (to Jake) Tell him the remoteâs in the fridgeâheâll buy it.
Jake: (grinning) Hey, Eddie, Dad told me he hid the remote in the fridge to keep it cool for your big game. Better check!
Eddie: (eyes wide) For real? Thatâs genius! (charges offstage, hollering) IâM COMINâ FOR YA, REMOTE!
[Sounds of crashing offstage.]
Maureen: (to Jake) Perfect. Now, grab his stinky football jerseyâweâll use it to trick your father into spilling the real spot.
[Jake snags Eddieâs sweaty jersey, throws it on, and mimics Eddieâs lumbering gait.
[Eddie returns, holding a frozen hot dog, bewildered. Eddieâs still holding a hot dog, confused.]
Eddie: Ma, all I found was this! Did the dog eat it? Wait, whyâs he wearinâ my jersey?
Maureen: (stifling a laugh) Just a game, dear. (video-chats Dad, making sure not to show Jake's head) Honey, itâs me. Eddieâs here, begging for that remote you hid like the big shot you think he is.
Dadâs Voice: (gruff, over clanking tools) My boy Eddie! Tell him itâs inside my old bowling trophy. Heâs earned it!
Jake: (gruff voice, flexing) Uh, yeah, Dad! Itâs Eddie! Tacklinâ life like a pro! Thanks for the tip, Pops!
Eddie: (bursting in) HOLD UP, THAT AINâT ME! IâM EDDIE! HEâS STEALINâ MY GAME NIGHT!
Maureen: (feigning shock, turning phone to only show her face) Eddie, hush! Too many tackles to the head. Jakeâs just⌠practicing your grunt.
Jake: (grabbing the trophy, pulling out the remote) Too late, big guy. Found it in Dadâs dusty old strike-kingânow Iâm lockinâ in Momâs cop shows. But heyâcheck the cookie jar, maybe Dad left a âbackup remoteâ there.
Eddie: (desperate) A backup?! Youâre the best! (bolts offstage, crashing sounds ensue)
Maureen: (smirking, knitting a tight stitch) That lunkâd trade his own touchdowns for a cookie.
Jake: (grinning, clicking remote) Yeah, and heâd call it a protein boost and flex at it.
[Eddie returns, covered in cookie crumbs, holding a broken flashlight.]
Eddie: (wailing) ITâS A LIE! JUST CRUMBS AND A DEAD LIGHT! YOUâRE KILLINâ ME, JAKE!
Jake: (smirking, clicking remote) Relax, crumb-face. Enjoy your flashlight reruns.
Eddie: (roaring) NOOOO! MY GAME! MY GLORY! IâLL TRADE YOU MY LUCKY SOCKS, YOU SNEAKY RAT!
Maureen: (cackling) Oh, boys, nothing beats a little family fun. Jake, youâre my hero. Eddie, go tackle the laundry and sulk.
[Eddie stomps toward the door but pauses, a glint in his eye.]
Eddie: (muttering) If I canât have the TV, nobody will. Time to fix this my way!
[Eddie storms out. Jake and Maureen settle in, TV now on. Suddenly, Eddie comes in with a hammer and begins destroying the cable box! Jake and Maureen begin screaming and attempting to stop the carnage, but to no avail. Eddie throws them around in a violent ecstasy.]
Eddie: No cop shows for traitors!
[Dad bursts in]
Dad: (furious) EDDIE! What in tarnation?!
Maureen: He just took a hammer to the cable boxâsmashed it to bits!
Dad: Weâve got no TV at all now?
Maureen: (gasping) That little barbarian! Iâll knit him a muzzle!
Jake: (groaning) Mom's crime marathon! Eddie, you meathead, youâve ruined us all!
Eddie: (smug) Thatâs right, suckers! If I canât watch my game, youâre all watchinâ static! (brandishes hammer) Whoâs the champ now, huh?!
Dad: (charging after him) EDDIE, YOUâRE SLEEPINâ IN THE GARAGE TONIGHT!
[Eddie bolts offstage with a triumphant yell, chased by Dad. Maureen throws her knitting at the blank TV. Jake slumps in the recliner, gazing at the now useless remote in his hand.]
