Read on Twitter
Native American Short Story: The Lord of the Flies
Native kids get stranded on island. Ask the kid w/ glasses to use them to start fires. Eat well. Tell stories. Laugh a lot. Catch and smoke some fish. Plane rescues them. They tell funny stories about it when they get home.
Native kids get stranded on island. Ask the kid w/ glasses to use them to start fires. Eat well. Tell stories. Laugh a lot. Catch and smoke some fish. Plane rescues them. They tell funny stories about it when they get home.
Native American Short Story: Poltergeist
Native Auntie shows up. “Carol Ann stop talking to tv & go to bed.”
Oh look an Indian Burial ground. “Are these terrified white people bothering y’all? Yeah they built a subdivision. They blaming you but it’s a white guy haunting them!”
Native Auntie shows up. “Carol Ann stop talking to tv & go to bed.”
Oh look an Indian Burial ground. “Are these terrified white people bothering y’all? Yeah they built a subdivision. They blaming you but it’s a white guy haunting them!”
Native American Short Story: The Catcher in the Rye
Holden: I am very smart. I am a teen and I know everything. Everyone here sucks. I am so bored with life.
Native Grandma:
Somebody’s bored which means somebody wants to clean pine nuts!
Holden: I don’t want to...
Gma:
Holden: I am very smart. I am a teen and I know everything. Everyone here sucks. I am so bored with life.
Native Grandma:
Somebody’s bored which means somebody wants to clean pine nuts! Holden: I don’t want to...
Gma:
Native Short Story: Sense & Sensibility
Oh no. Poor Mrs. Dashwood’s husband died & she only has daughters which means... they can inherit his estate b/c women are equal to men in Native cultures. They can decide who to marry & divorce. Also they can serve in government. Fin.
Oh no. Poor Mrs. Dashwood’s husband died & she only has daughters which means... they can inherit his estate b/c women are equal to men in Native cultures. They can decide who to marry & divorce. Also they can serve in government. Fin.
Native Short Story: The Count of Monte Cristo
“I am the Count of Monte Cristo!”
“Eddie is that you?”
“I have a mysterious past & many riches!”
“Thats Ed right? You know my cousin. From my Auntie. No, other Auntie. She’s my moms friend but we call her Auntie. EDDIE! Hey Ed!”
“I am the Count of Monte Cristo!”
“Eddie is that you?”
“I have a mysterious past & many riches!”
“Thats Ed right? You know my cousin. From my Auntie. No, other Auntie. She’s my moms friend but we call her Auntie. EDDIE! Hey Ed!”
Native American Short Story: The Iliad
“So Helen these dudes will fight & whoever wins marries you.”
Native Helen: “excuse me?”
“THEY’LL FIGHT and... she’s walking away. She’s in her car. She’s flipping me off. She’s gone.”
Native Muses: “And she lived happily ever after.”
“So Helen these dudes will fight & whoever wins marries you.”
Native Helen: “excuse me?”
“THEY’LL FIGHT and... she’s walking away. She’s in her car. She’s flipping me off. She’s gone.”
Native Muses: “And she lived happily ever after.”
Native American Short Story: Romeo and Juliet
Native Grandma: You’re 13 Juliet. Get back to the house. Talking about Ima take this potion and pretend to be dead. I’ll give you something to pretend to be dead about. You best head home Romeo. I’m about to call your mom.
Native Grandma: You’re 13 Juliet. Get back to the house. Talking about Ima take this potion and pretend to be dead. I’ll give you something to pretend to be dead about. You best head home Romeo. I’m about to call your mom.
Native American Short Story: Grapes of Wrath
“Grampa took up the land, & he had to kill the Indians...Then a bad year came & he had to borrow money. An’ we was born here. Our children born here.”
Narrator: Must suck when they take ur land even though you were born there.
“Grampa took up the land, & he had to kill the Indians...Then a bad year came & he had to borrow money. An’ we was born here. Our children born here.”
Narrator: Must suck when they take ur land even though you were born there.
Native American Short Story: Indian in the Cupboard
Native Narrator: Nope.
Boy protagonist: See this magical cupboard.
Narrator: NOPE.
Boy: I put in a toy Indian...
Narrator: *Stares at camera*
Boy: He’s real. But for me to play with.
Narrator: Shut it down. We’re done here.
Native Narrator: Nope.
Boy protagonist: See this magical cupboard.
Narrator: NOPE.
Boy: I put in a toy Indian...
Narrator: *Stares at camera*
Boy: He’s real. But for me to play with.
Narrator: Shut it down. We’re done here.
Native American Short Story (or more of a play in one act): Foucault
Foucault: It’s a panopticon.
Native Feminist: It’s a fucking travesty is what it is dude and it needs to be set on fire and burned to the ground.
End scene.
Foucault: It’s a panopticon.
Native Feminist: It’s a fucking travesty is what it is dude and it needs to be set on fire and burned to the ground.
End scene.
