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The alphabet blocks are gathered around the bobble head figure of Edgar Allan Poe - complete with Raven. The alphabet blocks seem to be fascinated by Mr.Poe’s use of language and are clearly intrigued by his words until the night watchmen makes an announcement.

Block a
You are famous for your work of terror. Could you share with us your scariest poem.

Mr. Poe.
That really depends on your opinion - what you believe is scary.
Many people believe my poem The Conqueror Worm is the scariest.
As you probably know, my birth mother was an actress and the stage was very important to her. Some people may not realize it at first but my poem The Conqueror Worm uses the theater as a metaphor for a hopeless death - that we all are ultimately food for worms after we die - so there is no hope.

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Tonight we leave the playhouse wing and walk—quietly—into a different kind of stage: a mirrored room, a window, and a tube of glass and brass pointed at the sky.

Because when Edgar Allan Poe looks up, he doesn’t just want a story. He wants an explanation.

SFX: soft footsteps, a faint “gallery hum,” a distant night security beep.
Different exhibit tonight, folks. Same rule, though—no touching the artifacts… even when they start talking back.
Now a telescope, such as the one you see, can be an instrument.But in the hands of the curious—especially the young—it behaves like a toy in the best sense: not a trinket, but a machine that turns wonder into a habit.
And Poe… Poe was the kind of mind that didn’t outgrow wonder.He made literature from it.
He weaponized it.

NARRATOR (leaning into awe):At first, it’s simple: you look through the tube and the sky stops being a ceiling.The moon becomes a place with edges.Stars become objects, not decorations.
But Poe doesn’t stop at looking. He starts asking the dangerous question:“If the universe looks like this… then what must it be?”
And that’s how you get Eureka: not a poem, not a lecture, not quite a treatise—but Poe’s late-life attempt to tell the grandest story of all: how everything began, how it holds together, and how it might end.

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NARRATOR / NIGHT WATCHMAN (gentle, amused):
It’s amazing what feels different in a museum at midnight.
In the daytime, the lights are bright, the brochures are tidy, the gift shop is cheerful…
…but when the doors are locked and the echoes stretch a little longer…
you start to notice the small things.

The way the glass cases hold their breath.
The way the EXIT signs glow like tiny red moons.
And, sometimes…
the way one little plastic head keeps nodding…
long after everyone’s gone home.

Tonight, we’re back in the Metropolitan Museum of Toys and Childhood Ar tifacts.
And down one of the quieter aisles—past the superhero lunchboxes, past the snow globes that never stop snowing—
Somewhere between Shakespeare in his ruffled collar and a slightly bewildered Jane Austen…
there he is.

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NARRATOR (WARM, INVITING)
Welcome to Celebrate Creativity and Conversations with Toys,
our after-hours visit to the Metropolitan Museum
of Toys and Childhood Artifacts—
where the lights are low,
the alarms are set,
and words wait quietly on the shelves…
until someone notices them.

Narrator
And we see the action figure of William Shakespeare - complete with quill - surrounded by a group of alphabet blocks. He continues to talk about his life and literary career.

Shakespeare
Many scholars believe that it was around this time that I wrote the comedy As You Like It with its famous all the world’s a stage monologue. By the way, the word sans in the last line of this monologue means without - as you can probably tell, much of my language was quite different from today.

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

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Shakespeare
Hello Mr. Smith. This is William Shakespeare the action figure, and I would be most remiss if I did not continue my narrative regarding my education in Stratford. You see, like many boys of my station, I probably attended the King’s New School in Stratford. It has been so long that I must admit I am a bit foggy. The curriculum would have been heavy on Latin, rhetoric, and the classics. Day after day, I was been drilled in the works of Ovid, Seneca, and Plautus. Later, echoes of those schoolroom authors would resurface in my plays — such as Pyramus and Thisbe in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, as well as the Roman senators in Julius Caesar.

Night watchmen
So when did you start using the alphabet and language so masterfully?

Shakespeare
I certainly intend to address that, but for now be patient, my fellow toys, be patient. You see, by 1582, when I was only eighteen, I married a lady by the name of Anne Hathaway, Some scholars Believe that my wive's name was actually Agnes. In any case, our first daughter, Susanna, was born the following year. Twins, Hamnet and Judith, followed in 1585. Unfortunately my dear son Hamnet later died as a result of the plague.

And then comes the mystery: the so-called “lost years.” Between 1585 and 1592, I completely disappear from the historical record. No plays, no mentions, no documents, but what we do know is that by 1592, I was in the city of London and making a name for myself. A rival playwright, Robert Greene, derided me in print as an “upstart crow.” For all its venom, the insult is proof that I had arrived — I was already challenging the university-trained writers and beginning my rise to the very top of the Elizabethan stage.

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Night watchman
I must admit that my first impression of the William Shakespeare action figure was - what is all the big deal. I even have a background in Shakespeare acting - though I don't have a job with that training. But if you look at the William Shakespeare action figure - even though he has a scroll and quiil - your first reaction is what is all the fuss for?

Narrator
As the narrator of this podcast episode, my suggestion is to look at the history of the character behind the William Shakespeare action figure, complete with quill. Do you have any comments, Mr. Shakespeare. I would be surprised if you didn't.

English Shakespeare
Yes gentlemen, if you visit the city of Stratford-upon-Avon in England today, the first thing you’ll probably hear is that I was born in 1564. We don’t actually know the exact day, but we do know that I was baptized on April 26th at Holy Trinity Church. Since baptisms usually happened a few days after birth, tradition has settled on April 23rd — St. George’s Day — as my birthday. A fitting coincidence, since St. George is England’s patron saint and many individuals said during an after my life that Iwould become England’s greatest poet.

Night watchmen
Mr. Shakespeare, I am from the State of Mississippi in the United States, and am currently employed as a night watchmen in this toy museum. Could you tell us about YOUR background in Stratford-upon-Avon.

Shakespeare
Certainly. I was the son of John Shakespeare, a glove maker and part-time wool dealer who rose to become an alderman in the town, and Mary Arden, who came from a well-off farming family. My parents gave me a household connected both to trade and to old Warwickshire landowners.

Night watchman
I can't believe I'm talking to a toy - especially such a small toy - but I guess it isn't every day that you get a chance to talk to the world's greatest writer - even if it is an action figure. Well I might as well ask you - you obviously know that you are very small and stature - but what seems to bother you the most?

Shakespeare
Ah, let's view things in perspective one must realize that after midnight, the Toy Wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Toys and Childhood Artifacts
is a very opinionated place.
The teddy bear has thoughts about immigration.
The race cars debate who’s the fastest.
And down one quiet aisle,
between a plastic model of the Globe Theatre
and a bucket of foam swords,
stands a small figure in black.
Black doublet.
White ruff.
Quill pen forever poised above a tiny scroll.
And my name tag reads:
“William Shakespeare Action Figure
c. 2010 – Plastic, Paint, and a Suspiciously Confident Smirk.”
Shakespeare
Good even, kind sir.
You may put “suspiciously confident smirk” in the catalogue if you like,
but ’twas crafted by a very cheap mould.

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NARRATOR (WARM, INVITING)
Welcome to Celebrate Creativity and Conversations with Toys,
our after-hours visit to the Metropolitan Museum
of Toys and Childhood Artifacts—
where the lights are low let's get the disclaimer out of the way this podcast behind every line of Shakespeare behind every Erie sentence from Poe behind every every
the alarms are set,
and words wait quietly on the shelves…
until someone notices them.

NARRATOR (WARM, WRAP-UP):
The alphabet blocks settle back into their tray,
quiet again behind glass—
twenty-six little doors
waiting for the next set of hands
to open them.

Wherever you are listening from tonight,
I hope you’ll remember them the next time
you see a word on a page,
or a sign, or a screen.

Behind every line of Shakespeare,
behind every eerie sentence from Poe,
behind every text, email, and grocery list,
there’s still a tiny alphabet,
stacked up like toy blocks,
holding the whole thing together.

Thank you for spending this after-hours visit
at the Metropolitan Museum
of Toys and Childhood Artifacts.

Support the show

Thank you for experiencing Celebrate Creativity.

Send us a text

NARRATOR (WARM, INVITING)
Welcome to Celebrate Creativity and Conversations with Toys,
our after-hours visit to the Metropolitan Museum
of Toys and Childhood Artifacts—
where the lights are low let's get the disclaimer out of the way this podcast behind every line of Shakespeare behind every Erie sentence from Poe behind every every
the alarms are set,
and words wait quietly on the shelves…
until someone notices them.

NARRATOR (WARM, WRAP-UP):
The alphabet blocks settle back into their tray,
quiet again behind glass—
twenty-six little doors
waiting for the next set of hands
to open them.

Wherever you are listening from tonight,
I hope you’ll remember them the next time
you see a word on a page,
or a sign, or a screen.

Behind every line of Shakespeare,
behind every eerie sentence from Poe,
behind every text, email, and grocery list,
there’s still a tiny alphabet,
stacked up like toy blocks,
holding the whole thing together.

Thank you for spending this after-hours visit
at the Metropolitan Museum
of Toys and Childhood Artifacts.

Support the show

Thank you for experiencing Celebrate Creativity.