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NARRATOR:
In the museum, toys do not age the way people age.
They don’t get older, exactly.
They get… remembered.
And on the last nights of December, the museum feels like a giant attic—
full of objects that once felt brand new…
and now feel like proof that time is real.

NIGHT WATCHMAN (to mic, mock-host):
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Late Night at the Toy Museum—

Tonight we’re approaching New Year’s.
That magical time when everybody vows to “turn a page”…
even though most of us haven’t finished the last chapter and are actively using the book as a coaster.

And speaking of turning pages—

Ladies and gentlemen—please welcome… Etch A Sketch!

“Tonight’s featured toy didn’t start in America. It started in France, in the late 1950s, My first name was the Magic Screen—and in 1959 I was
NIGHT WATCHMAN (to mic):

Watchmen
So, basically… our guest is European royalty.

ETCH A SKETCH (light French accent, offended-proud):
Mais oui. I am not “a red toy.” I am ze Magic Screen. I am art… contained politely in plastic.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
Contained politely… with two knobs.

ETCH A SKETCH:
Two dials. One for horizon… one for destiny. Try to keep up, mon ami.
I accept your applause, your awe, and your immediate apology for ever calling me “that red thing.”

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
He’s already offended. We’re going to have a great night.

ETCH A SKETCH:
I am not offended.
I am… misunderstood.
I am an instrument. A gallery. A discipline.
A tiny rectangle of destiny.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
A tiny rectangle of destiny with two knobs.

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NIGHT WATCHMAN (to mic, mock-host energy):
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Late Night at the Toy Museum.

Tonight’s top story: New Year’s Eve is the day after tomorrow, which means the museum is preparing the traditional celebration of “fresh starts”… by using the same extension cords from 1997.

And speaking of 1997—remember when our biggest problem was keeping a Tamagotchi alive?
Now I can’t even keep my phone alive without carrying a charger like it’s a life-support system.

But enough about me—let’s talk about the real drama.
No beeping no dramatic monologues no existential crisis from a pocket size objects oh what do we have here he has arrived
Tonight’s featured guest is a toy that goes down, comes back up, and somehow still looks smug about it.

Now back in the Metropolitan Museum of Toys and Childhood Artifacts, the corridors are quieter than usual. Not because the toys are asleep—no, they’ve never been less asleep than the week between Christmas and New Year’s—but because everyone is waiting.

NARRATOR (cont.):
Tomorrow night, this museum celebrates New Year’s Eve. Tonight is the last night before the countdown begins… and the night watchman makes his rounds with the steady patience of a man who has survived dolls, robots, and electronic creatures.

NIGHT WATCHMAN (EBENEZER):
All right, Mr. Museum. One more quiet night. That’s all I ask.
(beat)
No beeping. No dramatic monologues. No existential crises from pocket-sized objects.

NIGHT WATCHMAN (cont.):
…Oh.

NARRATOR:
He has arrived at the Classics & Skill Toys case. Marbles. Jacks. A paddle ball that looks like it has seen war. And in the center, on a small velvet stand, a simple circle of plastic with a string—resting like a relic.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
Don’t.

YO-YO (smooth, slightly theatrical):
I was not doing anything… until you accused me of doing something.

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NARRATOR:
Welcome back to the Metropolitan Museum of Toys and Childhood Artifacts—where the lights dim, the doors lock, and the exhibits do what exhibits are not supposed to do.

[SFX: A security door clicks shut.]

NARRATOR (cont.):
Tonight, our night watchman makes his rounds with a thermos of tea, a sensible flashlight, and the quiet confidence of a man who believes no object smaller than a breadbox could possibly ruin his evening.

[SFX: Footsteps. Keys jingle softly.]

NIGHT WATCHMAN (EBENEZER SMITH):
All right, Mr. Museum… let’s see what you’ve got for me tonight. No juggling dolls. No ventriloquist dummies practicing stand-up. No remote-control cars attempting a heist.

[SFX: He stops walking. The ambience hushes slightly.]

NIGHT WATCHMAN (cont.):
Oh. The Digital Fads case.

NARRATOR:
A glass display case labeled “Pocket Companions: 1990s–2000s.” Inside: a pager, a flip phone, a tiny handheld game, and—resting on a velvet stand like a jewel—an egg-shaped plastic keychain with three little buttons.

[SFX: A tiny electronic “BEEP-BEEP!”]

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
…No.

[SFX: “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” intensifies.]

NIGHT WATCHMAN (cont.):
Absolutely not. We are not doing this tonight. I remember you. I remember the… the neediness.

NARRATOR:
The night watchman leans closer. The little screen glows with a pixelated face that looks… concerned. Accusatory. Dramatic.

[SFX: “BEEP!” a little sadder now.]

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
Fine. All right. Rule of the museum: if you’re going to speak, you tell me your name and what you are. No mysterious beeping from the shadows. Understood?

[SFX: One polite beep. Then a short, proud chime.]

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NIGHT WATCHMAN (mildly amused, to himself):
All right, Museum. Let’s see what you’ve got tonight. No stampedes. No… spontaneous karaoke from the animatronics. And if the wind-up monkey even looks like it’s planning something—no.

SFX: a faint plastic “tap… tap… tap”

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
What was that?

SFX: tiny clicks, like pegs being nudged in a bowl

NIGHT WATCHMAN (approaching):
Okay. Either a mouse has learned arts and crafts… or—

LITE-BRITE (grand, theatrical, as if onstage):
Behold.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
…Hello?

LITE-BRITE (with dignity):
Hello, wanderer of dim hallways. Guardian of velvet ropes. Keeper of “please do not touch” signs. You may address me as—
(a beat —the Artist-in-Residence.

NIGHT WATCHMAN (dry):
You’re a Lite-Brite.

For a basic explanation, I am a classic art toy: a flat plastic board with a grid of tiny holes, a sheet of black paper you place over the board, and lots of small colored pegs. You push the pegs into the holes, and when the light behind the board is turned on, the pegs glow like little stained-glass dots. Kids can follow printed pattern sheets—or freehand their own designs—so it’s part craft, part puzzle, part “tiny theater marquee” for your imagination.

But I like to think of myself as a luminary medium. I am mood lighting with a mission. I am the living marriage of electricity and vision.

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NIGHT WATCHMAN (EBENEZER, cheerful):
All right, toys—another calm, orderly night.

Nothing’s going to—

SFX: A sudden electronic WHIRR from a glass case.
SFX: Tiny motor clicks: eyelids opening.
SFX: A bright chirp, then a giggle.

FURBY (loud):
KAH! DOO-AY! NOO-LAH! NOO-LAH!

NIGHT WATCHMAN (startled, then amused):
…And right on schedule, the museum installs a tiny chaos engine.

FURBY:
A-LOH! MAY-MAY! A-LOH MAY-MAY!

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
Hello to you too, Sir Fluffington.
Let’s keep it classy. We’re in a museum.

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NARRATOR:
It’s Christmas Eve at the Metropolitan Museum of Toys and Childhood Artifacts—
after the last visitor has gone,
after the gift-shop lights click off,
after the lobby wreath stops smelling like “busy” and starts smelling like “quiet.”

[SFX: KEY RING JINGLE. DOOR CLICKS. FOOTSTEPS ON TILE.]

NIGHT WATCHMAN (GENTLE, CONTENT):
All right, everybody…
Merry Christmas Eve.

(beat)

Now… let’s have a peaceful night.
No surprises.
No—

NIGHT WATCHMAN (LOOKING UP):
…No surprises.

NARRATOR:
In the Seasonal Traditions Gallery, under the dim night-lights, something small sat on a shelf as if it had always belonged there.

An elf doll.
Not blinking.
Not moving.
Just… waiting.

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NARRATOR:
It’s Christmas Eve at the Metropolitan Museum of Toys and Childhood Artifacts—
after the last visitor has gone,
after the gift-shop lights click off,
after the lobby wreath stops smelling like “busy” and starts smelling like “quiet.”

[SFX: KEY RING JINGLE. DOOR CLICKS. FOOTSTEPS ON TILE.]

NIGHT WATCHMAN (GENTLE, CONTENT):
All right, everybody…
Merry Christmas Eve.

(beat)

Now… let’s have a peaceful night.
No surprises.
No—

NIGHT WATCHMAN (LOOKING UP):
…No surprises.

NARRATOR:
In the Seasonal Traditions Gallery, under the dim night-lights, something small sat on a shelf as if it had always belonged there.

An elf doll.
Not blinking.
Not moving.
Just… waiting.

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This episode begins with the night watchmen engaged in conversation with Rubik's Cube.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
Mr. cube, I want the museum-tour version of how to start.

RUBIK’S CUBE:
Very well.
Rule one:
Choose one face to become your “home.”
Many begin with white—because it is easy to recognize.
But any color will do.

RUBIK’S CUBE:
Rule two:
Do not attempt to solve everything at once.
Solve a layer.
Then another.
Then another.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
So… first you build a little island of order.


RUBIK’S CUBE:
Yes. And then you expand it.

NARRATOR:
The Night Watchman nods like this is simple.
Which is exactly how the cube likes to begin.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:
Okay, I’m going to try.
No promises.

RUBIK’S CUBE:
Promises are unnecessary.
Attention is enough.

NARRATOR:
Ebenezer turns the cube, slowly.

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