These monologues are free for all to use. They were written mostly for audition purposes. The corresponding plays are listed. You may read the monologues here and/or download the PDFs.
PLAY: Speed Dating and Light Sabers
WOMAN: The thing that I like about speed dating is that you get all the bad dates out of the way in one shot. It’s not for everyone. Some people like to drag it out over a long period of time. It may take months, or even years, to find someone tolerable enough to date. In traditional dating, you go out with someone, say, once a week. You get off work, put on your cutest outfit, redo your hair and makeup, then wait for your date to pick you up. After all that, your date turns out to be an escaped circus freak, or a multi-level marketing salesman, or a mortician who wants to “practice his craft” on you. Months of Friday nights totally wasted! But with speed dating, you can eliminate all the losers within a couple of hours. In fact, I wish we could expedite all the miserable things in life that way. Imagine if you could take all the colds you would ever catch and condense them into one week. Yeah, it would be a pretty miserable week, but for the rest of your life you’d never catch a cold. Or what if you could walk your dog… all at once. Or take all the injuries or medical emergency procedures you’ll have in the span of your life and have them all on the same day. They wheel you into the emergency room, you get 258 stitches in various parts of your body, they remove your appendix, pass three kidney stones, take out your gall bladder, transplant a kidney, remove your varicose veins, set three broken bones, and give you six root canals, all while giving birth to your five children. You might be thinking, “ouch!” But it’s better than going out every weekend with some freak!
MAN: Speed dating is awesome! You can meet a lot of interesting people. Last time, I got six numbers. One more and I would’ve had a full phone number. It’s a way to “filter in” all the good people in one night. You could meet 12 of your soul mates all at once. Seriously, in traditional dating it might take months or years to find the number of high quality people you can find in a single hour at speed dating. For example, how many people can say that they’ve had a date with a doctor, a lawyer, a congresswoman, a CEO of a major corporation, a movie star, and an astronaut, all in the same night? It hasn’t happened yet, but it could! That’s the thing – it could! Oh, get this: At my last speed dating event, there was a multi-level marketer! How lucky is that?! But somehow she skipped my table. I’d sure like to date one of those. You know what would be the best? To take the awesome things in life and experience them like speed dating. Like, whatever your favorite desert is, mine’s chocolate molten lava cake ala mode, and tally up the number of them you would eat throughout your life, probably like 326, and then eat them all in one day. Best day ever! Or take every awesome event in your life and compact them into one day. Check this out: On your birthday, which is also on Christmas and Halloween, you go to Disneyworld, Disneyland, Hawaii, get married, go to an Elton John concert, meet Chris Pratt, go scuba diving, sky diving, and cap it with a chocolate molten lava cake ala mode, with a cherry on top. That is what speed dating is like.
WOMAN: The thing that I like about speed dating is that you get all the bad dates out of the way in one shot. It’s not for everyone. Some people like to drag it out over a long period of time. It may take months, or even years, to find someone tolerable enough to date. In traditional dating, you go out with someone, say, once a week. You get off work, put on your cutest outfit, redo your hair and makeup, then wait for your date to pick you up. After all that, your date turns out to be an escaped circus freak, or a multi-level marketing salesman, or a mortician who wants to “practice his craft” on you. Months of Friday nights totally wasted! But with speed dating, you can eliminate all the losers within a couple of hours. In fact, I wish we could expedite all the miserable things in life that way. Imagine if you could take all the colds you would ever catch and condense them into one week. Yeah, it would be a pretty miserable week, but for the rest of your life you’d never catch a cold. Or what if you could walk your dog… all at once. Or take all the injuries or medical emergency procedures you’ll have in the span of your life and have them all on the same day. They wheel you into the emergency room, you get 258 stitches in various parts of your body, they remove your appendix, pass three kidney stones, take out your gall bladder, transplant a kidney, remove your varicose veins, set three broken bones, and give you six root canals, all while giving birth to your five children. You might be thinking, “ouch!” But it’s better than going out every weekend with some freak!
MAN: Speed dating is awesome! You can meet a lot of interesting people. Last time, I got six numbers. One more and I would’ve had a full phone number. It’s a way to “filter in” all the good people in one night. You could meet 12 of your soul mates all at once. Seriously, in traditional dating it might take months or years to find the number of high quality people you can find in a single hour at speed dating. For example, how many people can say that they’ve had a date with a doctor, a lawyer, a congresswoman, a CEO of a major corporation, a movie star, and an astronaut, all in the same night? It hasn’t happened yet, but it could! That’s the thing – it could! Oh, get this: At my last speed dating event, there was a multi-level marketer! How lucky is that?! But somehow she skipped my table. I’d sure like to date one of those. You know what would be the best? To take the awesome things in life and experience them like speed dating. Like, whatever your favorite desert is, mine’s chocolate molten lava cake ala mode, and tally up the number of them you would eat throughout your life, probably like 326, and then eat them all in one day. Best day ever! Or take every awesome event in your life and compact them into one day. Check this out: On your birthday, which is also on Christmas and Halloween, you go to Disneyworld, Disneyland, Hawaii, get married, go to an Elton John concert, meet Chris Pratt, go scuba diving, sky diving, and cap it with a chocolate molten lava cake ala mode, with a cherry on top. That is what speed dating is like.
| Speed Dating and Light Sabers Monologues |
PLAY: Pillage and Blunder
PIRATE KING: Avast there! Pay attention! Ye come seekin’ adventure and salty old pirates, eh? Well, in luck are ye! Come to gather a crew, have I. Make no mistake, a bad guy be I. And the only reason ye be here is because a bad guy, ye be as well, and it be too late to alter course, mateys. Ye all must prove that ye be worthy to become plunderin’ pirates, lurkin’ in every cove. And to do that, ye must answer me these questions three. Ferst! What be the best way to repeal boarders?
(Quickly)
Nothin?’ The answer is to sit close together and keep your ruddy hands and legs inside the boat at all times. More time? Oh, me bad. I’ll give ye that one on account. Two more questions! And ye better get these uns correct! Second! What kind of men tell no tales?
(Quickly)
Dead men!!! Dead men tell no tales! Ooops. I didn’t give ye time to answer, did I? I just like that saying so much. Move on shall we; the third and final question. To answer correctly means to be a full-fledged member of me band. Here we go: When Davy Jones be waitin’, an’ there be squalls ahead, what be the best navigation strategy?!
(Quickly)
To please remain seated, hold on tight, and have fun! Permanence sentados, por favor. Congratulations! You’re now all evil pirates, and under my command, ye be. So, keep a weather eye open, if ye please. And mark well me words, mateys: “Dead men tell no tales!”
PIRATE QUEEN: Hello Ladies! Welcome to good guy auditions! Now, I know what you’re all asking yourselves, are all girls good guys and all boys bad guys? Let me make this perfectly clear… No. You can find both good guys and bad guys within both genders. In fact, the being a boy or a girl has nothing to do with it. It’s all about the content of your character. Some of you might be wondering, “am I really a good guy?” Well, that’s what these auditions will determine. And these three questions will help you decide if you’re in the right place. First, let’s say someone attacks you with a sword. Do you, A) stab him or her in the heart? B) stab him or her in the face? Or C) stab him or her in the tushy? The only acceptable answer for a good guy is… C) stab him or her in the tushy. It is the only non-lethal answer. And remember, good guys never kill anyone. That’s basic good guy etiquette. I see we have a couple of girls in the back who are already leaving. Second question, listen to this phrase:
(Pirate accent)
Fo’c’sle swabs who be curvy
are oft beset with rum and scurvy
(Loses the pirate accent)
By the show of hands, who understood that? All of you raising your hands, I’m sorry, that’s bad guy talk. You’re dismissed. Thanks for coming out. And the last question: Everyone knows that a good guy must be romantic. What is the best way to show romance?
(Listens)
No! No, no, no! Who said that? Kissing is not the best way! In fact, kissing is completely out of bounds! You’re dismissed young lady! There’s no room for that kind of talk on the good guy ship. I apologize to the rest of you. Now, if no one else was thinking that, then, welcome to the good side.
PIRATE KING: Avast there! Pay attention! Ye come seekin’ adventure and salty old pirates, eh? Well, in luck are ye! Come to gather a crew, have I. Make no mistake, a bad guy be I. And the only reason ye be here is because a bad guy, ye be as well, and it be too late to alter course, mateys. Ye all must prove that ye be worthy to become plunderin’ pirates, lurkin’ in every cove. And to do that, ye must answer me these questions three. Ferst! What be the best way to repeal boarders?
(Quickly)
Nothin?’ The answer is to sit close together and keep your ruddy hands and legs inside the boat at all times. More time? Oh, me bad. I’ll give ye that one on account. Two more questions! And ye better get these uns correct! Second! What kind of men tell no tales?
(Quickly)
Dead men!!! Dead men tell no tales! Ooops. I didn’t give ye time to answer, did I? I just like that saying so much. Move on shall we; the third and final question. To answer correctly means to be a full-fledged member of me band. Here we go: When Davy Jones be waitin’, an’ there be squalls ahead, what be the best navigation strategy?!
(Quickly)
To please remain seated, hold on tight, and have fun! Permanence sentados, por favor. Congratulations! You’re now all evil pirates, and under my command, ye be. So, keep a weather eye open, if ye please. And mark well me words, mateys: “Dead men tell no tales!”
PIRATE QUEEN: Hello Ladies! Welcome to good guy auditions! Now, I know what you’re all asking yourselves, are all girls good guys and all boys bad guys? Let me make this perfectly clear… No. You can find both good guys and bad guys within both genders. In fact, the being a boy or a girl has nothing to do with it. It’s all about the content of your character. Some of you might be wondering, “am I really a good guy?” Well, that’s what these auditions will determine. And these three questions will help you decide if you’re in the right place. First, let’s say someone attacks you with a sword. Do you, A) stab him or her in the heart? B) stab him or her in the face? Or C) stab him or her in the tushy? The only acceptable answer for a good guy is… C) stab him or her in the tushy. It is the only non-lethal answer. And remember, good guys never kill anyone. That’s basic good guy etiquette. I see we have a couple of girls in the back who are already leaving. Second question, listen to this phrase:
(Pirate accent)
Fo’c’sle swabs who be curvy
are oft beset with rum and scurvy
(Loses the pirate accent)
By the show of hands, who understood that? All of you raising your hands, I’m sorry, that’s bad guy talk. You’re dismissed. Thanks for coming out. And the last question: Everyone knows that a good guy must be romantic. What is the best way to show romance?
(Listens)
No! No, no, no! Who said that? Kissing is not the best way! In fact, kissing is completely out of bounds! You’re dismissed young lady! There’s no room for that kind of talk on the good guy ship. I apologize to the rest of you. Now, if no one else was thinking that, then, welcome to the good side.
| Pillage and Blunder Monologues |
PLAY: Curses, Foiled Again, and Again, and Again
SUZANNA: I’ve turned over a new leaf! I will no longer be a damsel in distress. It’s the 1860’s for cryin’ out loud! I am a strong, independent woman. I realize that the damsel in distress is the basis for lots of good entertainment. I mean, John Wayne wouldn’t have a reason to exit without the damsel in distress. And then there’s damsels like the princess who is kidnapped by three lost circus performers, or Lois Lane, Mary Jane Watson, Princess Leah, or Ann Darrow in King Kong. Oops, I keep for getting that it’s the 1860’s. Who I meant to say is… uh… Maiden Marion. But that’s not me anymore. I’m sick of it! I’ve been captured and tied up more than I can remember. I’ve been blown up, sawed in half, thrown off a cliff, run over by a train, etc. etc. It’s like I let myself be captured all because I’m Sweet Suzanna, profession damsel in distress. Well, no more! I will not be taken advantage of again. The next time that Villain, Dastardly Dan, comes around, POW! Right in the kisser! That means I’m gonna sock him in the mouth. Kisser. Ha! That’s a funny name for mouth. Makes sense though. Kisser. Hmm. Of course, every time Dastardly Dan captures me and sets me in the middle of a trap designed for my ultimate doom, Dudley Do-Gooder always saves me. And you know what happens after the hero saves the damsel, there’s always supposed to be a kiss. Sigh. A kiss from Dudley Do-Gooder. Sigh…! Where is that villain?! Dastardly Dan!? Where are you?! Come and get me!!!
DUDLEY: (Heroic)
I am a hero. You can tell by my muscular build, neatly trimmed hair, perfectly chiseled chin, light colored clothes, knee-buckling smile, and of course, my confident masculinity. I tell you this because you look like the type of person who would be confused on who to call if you ever needed to bring about the rescue of a damsel in distress. Now, most of the time, I’m just a stranger passing through. Sure, sometimes I get weird looks from the townspeople in the bar when I order a warm milk, or when the frills on my shirt flap in the wind, but the way I see it, what a person drinks or how a person dresses is nobody’s business but his or her own. Besides, as soon as people get to know me they realize that I’m dressed appropriately, and that warm milk is a suitable drink for a hero. If you’re planning to become a hero yourself, let me offer one bit of advice: Always leave a little bit of milk in the bottom of the glass, that way you don’t drink the cow hairs. Oh, and remember, a true hero must always let the villain attack first. This means that if you’re using six-shooters, you have to let the villain draw first. If you’re using swords, you have to let the villain take the first stab, and if you’re just using your fists, you have to let the villain take the first swing. And lastly, and most important, you can’t kill the villain, or do anything to him that would make anyone cringe, like disfigure or mutilate. You’re probably wondering, if you’re a hero, with these rules, how could you ever win? Well, that’s where confident masculinity comes in. On the other hand, in order to be a hero, you have to have good table manners. So, try not to let that conflict with the confident masculinity. Sometimes, it’s impossible.
SUZANNA: I’ve turned over a new leaf! I will no longer be a damsel in distress. It’s the 1860’s for cryin’ out loud! I am a strong, independent woman. I realize that the damsel in distress is the basis for lots of good entertainment. I mean, John Wayne wouldn’t have a reason to exit without the damsel in distress. And then there’s damsels like the princess who is kidnapped by three lost circus performers, or Lois Lane, Mary Jane Watson, Princess Leah, or Ann Darrow in King Kong. Oops, I keep for getting that it’s the 1860’s. Who I meant to say is… uh… Maiden Marion. But that’s not me anymore. I’m sick of it! I’ve been captured and tied up more than I can remember. I’ve been blown up, sawed in half, thrown off a cliff, run over by a train, etc. etc. It’s like I let myself be captured all because I’m Sweet Suzanna, profession damsel in distress. Well, no more! I will not be taken advantage of again. The next time that Villain, Dastardly Dan, comes around, POW! Right in the kisser! That means I’m gonna sock him in the mouth. Kisser. Ha! That’s a funny name for mouth. Makes sense though. Kisser. Hmm. Of course, every time Dastardly Dan captures me and sets me in the middle of a trap designed for my ultimate doom, Dudley Do-Gooder always saves me. And you know what happens after the hero saves the damsel, there’s always supposed to be a kiss. Sigh. A kiss from Dudley Do-Gooder. Sigh…! Where is that villain?! Dastardly Dan!? Where are you?! Come and get me!!!
DUDLEY: (Heroic)
I am a hero. You can tell by my muscular build, neatly trimmed hair, perfectly chiseled chin, light colored clothes, knee-buckling smile, and of course, my confident masculinity. I tell you this because you look like the type of person who would be confused on who to call if you ever needed to bring about the rescue of a damsel in distress. Now, most of the time, I’m just a stranger passing through. Sure, sometimes I get weird looks from the townspeople in the bar when I order a warm milk, or when the frills on my shirt flap in the wind, but the way I see it, what a person drinks or how a person dresses is nobody’s business but his or her own. Besides, as soon as people get to know me they realize that I’m dressed appropriately, and that warm milk is a suitable drink for a hero. If you’re planning to become a hero yourself, let me offer one bit of advice: Always leave a little bit of milk in the bottom of the glass, that way you don’t drink the cow hairs. Oh, and remember, a true hero must always let the villain attack first. This means that if you’re using six-shooters, you have to let the villain draw first. If you’re using swords, you have to let the villain take the first stab, and if you’re just using your fists, you have to let the villain take the first swing. And lastly, and most important, you can’t kill the villain, or do anything to him that would make anyone cringe, like disfigure or mutilate. You’re probably wondering, if you’re a hero, with these rules, how could you ever win? Well, that’s where confident masculinity comes in. On the other hand, in order to be a hero, you have to have good table manners. So, try not to let that conflict with the confident masculinity. Sometimes, it’s impossible.
| Curses Foiled Again, and Again, and Again Monologues |
PLAY: Drama Competition
MALE: Drama competition sucks! I mean, who ever heard of judging drama? It’s so stupid. The winner is just whoever the judges like the best. It’s an opinion thing. It’s not like sports where there’s a legitimate winner. In football, if one team scores more points than the other team, they win. In the hundred-yard dash, whoever crosses that finish line first is the winner. There’s no question! There aren’t any judges watching the race and giving their opinion: “Well, I thought runner seven was the best runner, so he’s the winner.” No! Everyone observing knows who won. But in Drama Competitions we got judges who give us their oh-so-enlightened assessment. They give us scores and suggestions based on what? Their opinion! I overheard one judge telling his friend-judge that he gave number 326 in dramatic monologues a Superior rating and the 1st place ranking because, and I quote, “She was the cutest one in the round.” How am I supposed to compete against that?! What if they judged the winners of the football game by whoever had the cutest quarterback? And check this out: Last year one of the judges wrote in the comments section of my adjudication form, Don’t break the third wall. The third wall? Seriously? Where do they get these judges? What, did I run into the wall of the classroom where we were performing? Then in one of our rounds, the judge starts off by saying, “Well, I guess I should tell you all why I’m qualified to judge at the state competition.” And then he proceeds to tell us all the plays he’s been in and all the plays he’s directed. After the round, one of the kids told me that he was the janitor at that school and they didn’t have enough judges so they grabbed him. I should’ve played football.
FEMALE: Drama competition is Awesome! It’s like the funnest thing ever! First, you getta go on a school bus. I live like two blocks from our school so I hardly ever get to go on the bus. It’s so much fun! Plus, you have to take all your props and stuff too and if your school is competing in the one-act play competition you have to take your whole set and everything on the bus with you and all the other kids at your school are watching you load the bus with all this stuff and they’re going, “what’s up with all this stuff? They must be important!” And then, sometimes, if you get a boy judge, you can press the flirtatious button. One time I was so flirtatious with the judge that I broke the third wall and didn’t even get penalized. In fact, I think I even got extra points. I mean what are they gonna do? I’m too cute to get a bad score. The only bad thing is when you get a girl judge. They are obviously so jealous of me that they mark me down for being cuter than they are. That’s the only explanation. And that’s why I am going to suggest to the government that all drama judges should be boys. It would be nice if all the other competitors were boys too. Then I’d totally be state champion. Ya know, someone should write a play about drama competitions… or at least a monologue.
MALE: Drama competition sucks! I mean, who ever heard of judging drama? It’s so stupid. The winner is just whoever the judges like the best. It’s an opinion thing. It’s not like sports where there’s a legitimate winner. In football, if one team scores more points than the other team, they win. In the hundred-yard dash, whoever crosses that finish line first is the winner. There’s no question! There aren’t any judges watching the race and giving their opinion: “Well, I thought runner seven was the best runner, so he’s the winner.” No! Everyone observing knows who won. But in Drama Competitions we got judges who give us their oh-so-enlightened assessment. They give us scores and suggestions based on what? Their opinion! I overheard one judge telling his friend-judge that he gave number 326 in dramatic monologues a Superior rating and the 1st place ranking because, and I quote, “She was the cutest one in the round.” How am I supposed to compete against that?! What if they judged the winners of the football game by whoever had the cutest quarterback? And check this out: Last year one of the judges wrote in the comments section of my adjudication form, Don’t break the third wall. The third wall? Seriously? Where do they get these judges? What, did I run into the wall of the classroom where we were performing? Then in one of our rounds, the judge starts off by saying, “Well, I guess I should tell you all why I’m qualified to judge at the state competition.” And then he proceeds to tell us all the plays he’s been in and all the plays he’s directed. After the round, one of the kids told me that he was the janitor at that school and they didn’t have enough judges so they grabbed him. I should’ve played football.
FEMALE: Drama competition is Awesome! It’s like the funnest thing ever! First, you getta go on a school bus. I live like two blocks from our school so I hardly ever get to go on the bus. It’s so much fun! Plus, you have to take all your props and stuff too and if your school is competing in the one-act play competition you have to take your whole set and everything on the bus with you and all the other kids at your school are watching you load the bus with all this stuff and they’re going, “what’s up with all this stuff? They must be important!” And then, sometimes, if you get a boy judge, you can press the flirtatious button. One time I was so flirtatious with the judge that I broke the third wall and didn’t even get penalized. In fact, I think I even got extra points. I mean what are they gonna do? I’m too cute to get a bad score. The only bad thing is when you get a girl judge. They are obviously so jealous of me that they mark me down for being cuter than they are. That’s the only explanation. And that’s why I am going to suggest to the government that all drama judges should be boys. It would be nice if all the other competitors were boys too. Then I’d totally be state champion. Ya know, someone should write a play about drama competitions… or at least a monologue.
| Drama Competition Monologues |
PLAY: Road Trips and Ketchup Packets
FAST DRIVER: I’m driving on the freeway and there’s this line of brake lights in the fast lane. And it’s all because some slow driving moron won’t move over. Then I hear a voice on the radio say, “Today, we’re talking about bad drivers, call in with your bad-driver stories.” And I’m thinking, “I got one right here.” Then the first car behind the slow driver pulls into the middle lane and passes the idiot. But the slow driver still cruises the fast lane like he’s the only one on the road. The next car does the same thing and a caller comes on the radio and starts complaining about how people are always passing on the right and how you’re supposed to pass on the left. And then the next car passes the slow driver on the right, exactly how she described. I start yelling at the radio, “Maybe people are passing you on the left because YOU’RE GOING TOO SLOW IN THE FAST LANE, JUST LIKE THIS MORON IN FRONT OF ME!” I flash my brights at this guy but he still doesn’t get the hint, so I right lane it and pull up beside his car. I roll down my window hoping to yell something, when I hear the lady on the radio say, “There’s someone passing me on the right, right now!” I look over at the moron car and I can see a lady talking on her cell phone and her mouth is moving in sync with the radio! “The nerve of this guy. Don’t you know you’re supposed to pass on the left?!” Then I hear myself in my own radio yelling at her, “You’re in the left lane, you moron!” One thing led to another and that’s how your wife ended up in that ditch, officer.
PARKER: I’m horrible. I like to drive on the freeway with my head tilted back, my mouth wide open, and my outside eye closed. It looks like this.
(Turning sideways – it looks like he’s asleep while driving)
I keep my inside eye open. See? So, cars pull up to me, honking their horns and I can hear them yelling, “Wake up! Wake up!” Then I turn my head and look at them with my open eye. They feel really stupid. See? I’m horrible. One time, I borrowed my dad’s car, which has a handicap plate, to go to the grocery store. I know it’s wrong, but I had the plate, so I parked in the handicap parking spot. As I was getting out of the car, I noticed that there was a cop parked in front of the store and he was looking at me. I panicked. And then I noticed my dad left his cane in the back seat. I grabbed the cane and put on my dark sunglasses. I walked to the store, moving the cane back and forth in front of me like I was blind. I bumped into a few cars for effect and ran into the door frame on the way in. The cop looked dumbfounded. When I came out of the store he was still there, so I had to keep up the act. But this time, he stepped in front of me and said, “Excuse me? How are you able to drive?” I said, “What do you mean?” He said, “Aren’t you partially blind?” I said, “No, I’m fully blind.” I kept walking, got in the car and the cop watched as I drove away. Just for fun, I ran over the curb on the way out. I’m horrible.
FAST DRIVER: I’m driving on the freeway and there’s this line of brake lights in the fast lane. And it’s all because some slow driving moron won’t move over. Then I hear a voice on the radio say, “Today, we’re talking about bad drivers, call in with your bad-driver stories.” And I’m thinking, “I got one right here.” Then the first car behind the slow driver pulls into the middle lane and passes the idiot. But the slow driver still cruises the fast lane like he’s the only one on the road. The next car does the same thing and a caller comes on the radio and starts complaining about how people are always passing on the right and how you’re supposed to pass on the left. And then the next car passes the slow driver on the right, exactly how she described. I start yelling at the radio, “Maybe people are passing you on the left because YOU’RE GOING TOO SLOW IN THE FAST LANE, JUST LIKE THIS MORON IN FRONT OF ME!” I flash my brights at this guy but he still doesn’t get the hint, so I right lane it and pull up beside his car. I roll down my window hoping to yell something, when I hear the lady on the radio say, “There’s someone passing me on the right, right now!” I look over at the moron car and I can see a lady talking on her cell phone and her mouth is moving in sync with the radio! “The nerve of this guy. Don’t you know you’re supposed to pass on the left?!” Then I hear myself in my own radio yelling at her, “You’re in the left lane, you moron!” One thing led to another and that’s how your wife ended up in that ditch, officer.
PARKER: I’m horrible. I like to drive on the freeway with my head tilted back, my mouth wide open, and my outside eye closed. It looks like this.
(Turning sideways – it looks like he’s asleep while driving)
I keep my inside eye open. See? So, cars pull up to me, honking their horns and I can hear them yelling, “Wake up! Wake up!” Then I turn my head and look at them with my open eye. They feel really stupid. See? I’m horrible. One time, I borrowed my dad’s car, which has a handicap plate, to go to the grocery store. I know it’s wrong, but I had the plate, so I parked in the handicap parking spot. As I was getting out of the car, I noticed that there was a cop parked in front of the store and he was looking at me. I panicked. And then I noticed my dad left his cane in the back seat. I grabbed the cane and put on my dark sunglasses. I walked to the store, moving the cane back and forth in front of me like I was blind. I bumped into a few cars for effect and ran into the door frame on the way in. The cop looked dumbfounded. When I came out of the store he was still there, so I had to keep up the act. But this time, he stepped in front of me and said, “Excuse me? How are you able to drive?” I said, “What do you mean?” He said, “Aren’t you partially blind?” I said, “No, I’m fully blind.” I kept walking, got in the car and the cop watched as I drove away. Just for fun, I ran over the curb on the way out. I’m horrible.
| Road Trips and Ketchup Packets Monologues |
PLAY: A Play Within A Play Within A Play Within...
DR. LENNIN (M/F): (Speaking like at an AA meeting)
Hi, I’m Doctor Lennin, and just like all of you, I’m a college professor. I never thought it would come to this. I started out as a middle school teacher. I guess that’s the “gateway” profession. Middle school gave me that rush that made me feel so good. When I’d see that light turn on in a student’s mind and I knew they’d had an “ah-ha” moment, a warm tingle would fill my whole body. But, it wasn’t enough; I needed more, so I moved onto high school. That worked for a bit but there were too many disinterested students and that real teaching rush occurred less and less frequently. I figured that in college, students were excited to learn and there would be that intellectual rush every day. So, I got my doctorate. My first day teaching, I was assigned to a small lecture hall. It was going to be like drinking from a continual fountain of knowledge. The students arrived and just as I was ready to start my lecture and feel that tingling sensation; young man walked in looking like he’d been up all night. He tried to sit in a desk but missed, fell on the floor and then vomited. He then went to the window, opened it, and climbed out. My class was on the third floor. It only got worse from there. After assigning the class to read Romeo and Juliet, we had a 45-minute test on the play. With five minutes left, a student came in wearing a taco costume and as she picked up a blank test, remarked that she was surprised to learn that they had color film back in Shakespeare’s day. That’s when I knew I had a problem. I decided to join College Professors Anonymous.
LAURETTA (F): (Crazy confused)
No! Stop saying, “Hold it,” or “Cut!” or “That’s not right, let’s take it back!” I can’t take it. Just let it play out! I can’t tell where one play ends and the other begins! I go home from play rehearsal and my mom says, “Wait a minute…” I scream and jump! Whaaa! What?! What?! It’s my real life but I think she’s stopping another play and wanting me to take it back a few pages. Then she says, “Take it easy, I was just gonna say, ‘Wait a minute, I forgot to put the salt on the table.’” I’m all, “Phew! I’m sorry, mom. This play within a play thing has me so confused, I’m just not myself right now.” Then my dad says, “Hold it!” Whaaa! What?! What?! My dad says, “The salt’s already on the table.” Shakespeare was right!!! All the world’s a stage!!! But does there have to be a stage within a stage? It’s just too weird! Then my dad says, “You can’t have the salt on the table before you say, ‘I forgot to put the salt on the table.’” Then he pulls out a script called Dinner Within Dinner and says, “Go back to page 12.” Whaaa!
(Composing herself)
What? I’m sorry, can I try it again? I can do it different. Listen, I’ve been waiting for hours for this audition. I’m really versatile. I can do it just the way you want it.
(Tearing up)
Alright. Thank you.
(Starting to leave but turning back, now excited)
What do you think? Am I ready for this audition or what?! Thanks for helping me practice.
(Turning to someone else, angrily)
What! Don’t tell me to stop and try it again! That’s the way you said you wanted me to do it!
(Turning to someone else, sweetly)
So, do I get the part?
DR. LENNIN (M/F): (Speaking like at an AA meeting)
Hi, I’m Doctor Lennin, and just like all of you, I’m a college professor. I never thought it would come to this. I started out as a middle school teacher. I guess that’s the “gateway” profession. Middle school gave me that rush that made me feel so good. When I’d see that light turn on in a student’s mind and I knew they’d had an “ah-ha” moment, a warm tingle would fill my whole body. But, it wasn’t enough; I needed more, so I moved onto high school. That worked for a bit but there were too many disinterested students and that real teaching rush occurred less and less frequently. I figured that in college, students were excited to learn and there would be that intellectual rush every day. So, I got my doctorate. My first day teaching, I was assigned to a small lecture hall. It was going to be like drinking from a continual fountain of knowledge. The students arrived and just as I was ready to start my lecture and feel that tingling sensation; young man walked in looking like he’d been up all night. He tried to sit in a desk but missed, fell on the floor and then vomited. He then went to the window, opened it, and climbed out. My class was on the third floor. It only got worse from there. After assigning the class to read Romeo and Juliet, we had a 45-minute test on the play. With five minutes left, a student came in wearing a taco costume and as she picked up a blank test, remarked that she was surprised to learn that they had color film back in Shakespeare’s day. That’s when I knew I had a problem. I decided to join College Professors Anonymous.
LAURETTA (F): (Crazy confused)
No! Stop saying, “Hold it,” or “Cut!” or “That’s not right, let’s take it back!” I can’t take it. Just let it play out! I can’t tell where one play ends and the other begins! I go home from play rehearsal and my mom says, “Wait a minute…” I scream and jump! Whaaa! What?! What?! It’s my real life but I think she’s stopping another play and wanting me to take it back a few pages. Then she says, “Take it easy, I was just gonna say, ‘Wait a minute, I forgot to put the salt on the table.’” I’m all, “Phew! I’m sorry, mom. This play within a play thing has me so confused, I’m just not myself right now.” Then my dad says, “Hold it!” Whaaa! What?! What?! My dad says, “The salt’s already on the table.” Shakespeare was right!!! All the world’s a stage!!! But does there have to be a stage within a stage? It’s just too weird! Then my dad says, “You can’t have the salt on the table before you say, ‘I forgot to put the salt on the table.’” Then he pulls out a script called Dinner Within Dinner and says, “Go back to page 12.” Whaaa!
(Composing herself)
What? I’m sorry, can I try it again? I can do it different. Listen, I’ve been waiting for hours for this audition. I’m really versatile. I can do it just the way you want it.
(Tearing up)
Alright. Thank you.
(Starting to leave but turning back, now excited)
What do you think? Am I ready for this audition or what?! Thanks for helping me practice.
(Turning to someone else, angrily)
What! Don’t tell me to stop and try it again! That’s the way you said you wanted me to do it!
(Turning to someone else, sweetly)
So, do I get the part?
| A Play Within a Play Within a Play Within... Monologue |
PLAY: 30 Horrible Catastrophes of Middle School
MORGAN (F): (Standing at the front of class with note cards)
Hi, I’m Morgan. My health-science report is on dreams.
(To teacher)
Mr. Crabtree, would you tell Wyatt to stop it? Uh, he’s looking at me? Hello? He knows I don’t like it when he looks at me. Thank you.
(To class)
Dreams. Dreams are a series of mental images and emotions occurring during sleep. This is not to be confused with daydreams. For example, I always daydream that Wyatt’s face gets smashed in by a Wac-A-Mole machine. I put the tokens in and then I hold his face right over one of the wholes. It’s awesome. That’s my conscious mind. Real dreams take place in the subconscious. When you fall asleep, your conscious brain shuts down. After several hours, you enter R.E.M., which stands for Rapid Eye Movement. That’s when the subconscious takes over and produces what we know as dreams.
(Looking at Wyatt)
Knock it off!
(To teacher)
He’s doing it again!
(To Wyatt)
You are too!
(To teacher)
He’s trying to use R.E.M. on me. He’s looking at me really fast! Like this.
(She looks at the teacher with rapid eye movement.)
Keep your eyes to yourself, Wyatt! Now, the correct usage of rapid eye movement cannot be done while you’re awake and you can’t control it. When you’re asleep, your eyes are closed and your eyeballs move rapidly back and forth behind your eyelids, like this.
(She demonstrates then pops her eyes open.)
What was that?! Who threw that? Mr. Crabtree, Wyatt hit me with a spitball! How could you not see it?! It hit me right in the face! Yeah, I had my eyes closed but everyone knows it was Wyatt! You need to send him to the office. Well, I’m not going on with my presentation until Wyatt is outta here! Thank you!
(Singing to Wyatt)
Ha! You got sent to the hall. You got sent to the hall. That’s right and stay out there! Good riddance. I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why he acts like that.
(Looking to a student)
He what? Wyatt has a crush on me? Really?! I had no idea!
(Looking in a compact mirror and fixing her hair)
Wyatt, wait!
(She rushes off after Wyatt.)
MORGAN (F): (Standing at the front of class with note cards)
Hi, I’m Morgan. My health-science report is on dreams.
(To teacher)
Mr. Crabtree, would you tell Wyatt to stop it? Uh, he’s looking at me? Hello? He knows I don’t like it when he looks at me. Thank you.
(To class)
Dreams. Dreams are a series of mental images and emotions occurring during sleep. This is not to be confused with daydreams. For example, I always daydream that Wyatt’s face gets smashed in by a Wac-A-Mole machine. I put the tokens in and then I hold his face right over one of the wholes. It’s awesome. That’s my conscious mind. Real dreams take place in the subconscious. When you fall asleep, your conscious brain shuts down. After several hours, you enter R.E.M., which stands for Rapid Eye Movement. That’s when the subconscious takes over and produces what we know as dreams.
(Looking at Wyatt)
Knock it off!
(To teacher)
He’s doing it again!
(To Wyatt)
You are too!
(To teacher)
He’s trying to use R.E.M. on me. He’s looking at me really fast! Like this.
(She looks at the teacher with rapid eye movement.)
Keep your eyes to yourself, Wyatt! Now, the correct usage of rapid eye movement cannot be done while you’re awake and you can’t control it. When you’re asleep, your eyes are closed and your eyeballs move rapidly back and forth behind your eyelids, like this.
(She demonstrates then pops her eyes open.)
What was that?! Who threw that? Mr. Crabtree, Wyatt hit me with a spitball! How could you not see it?! It hit me right in the face! Yeah, I had my eyes closed but everyone knows it was Wyatt! You need to send him to the office. Well, I’m not going on with my presentation until Wyatt is outta here! Thank you!
(Singing to Wyatt)
Ha! You got sent to the hall. You got sent to the hall. That’s right and stay out there! Good riddance. I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why he acts like that.
(Looking to a student)
He what? Wyatt has a crush on me? Really?! I had no idea!
(Looking in a compact mirror and fixing her hair)
Wyatt, wait!
(She rushes off after Wyatt.)
| 30 Horrible Catastrophes of Middle School Monologue |
PLAY: Middle School Science Fair
ARCHIBALD: The science fair is a double-edged sword. Sometimes it’s wonderful. We get to conduct dramatic experiments. Students experience forces of nature like the effects of air pressure and centrifugal force. It’s action packed! But the literal meaning of science has been watered down over the years. The word “science” comes from Old French, meaning knowledge, learning, application. But now it means papier-mâché, vinegar and baking soda volcanos, or blindly following anybody who claims to be a scientist. For example, one year, Bobby Sacamano was the smartest kid in my class. He even wore a lab coat to school. Everyone regarded him as a genius. I mean, why wouldn’t they? He wore a lab coat. So, he enlisted several kids to assist him in his science fair project. The name of his project was, “Jumping Off Buildings: How High is Too High?” They all attended the science fair in double-leg casts, double-arm casts, full-body casts, and one kid swallowed his retainer. But they did answer the question, “How High is Too High?” It turns out, anything higher than Barbie’s Townhouse, in case any of you’re wondering. Oh! One year, a girl made a papier-mâché volcano but without vinegar and baking soda. Somehow, and I still don’t know how, she used real lava. The volcano caught on fire and the lava burned through the table, then the floor, fell into the boiler room and blew up the school. Well, almost blew up the school.
(Day dreaming)
I wish it would have blown up the school. I mean, what I’m trying to tell you is don’t make a papier-mâché, vinegar and baking soda volcano. Got it?
STUDENT: Good afternoon. My science fair experiment is about cows. It specifically answers the scientific question, “What happens when a cow steps on its own udder?” To answer this question, I watched cows in a grassy field for several hours. Nothing happened. They just stood there. So, I hopped the fence and started chasing them. It was fun but since I was running at the same time, I couldn’t ever see if or when they stepped on their own udders. So, I abandoned the whole field idea and visited a dairy. They gave me free rein to observe. Those cows move around a lot more. They move them into shoots and hook up these milker-machine things to their udders. It’s pretty cool. And the cows seem relieved afterward. They even taught me how to squeeze some milk out by hand. I squoze it directly into my mouth. It was warm but yummy. I realized, though, that these milking machines would not allow an opportunity for them to step on their own udders. So, I focused on the time when they move them from the corrals to the stalls. I came every day for weeks. Nothing. Then I realized that the dairy farmers might have seen the occurrence. Nope. They said that their udders don’t hang low enough for that. So, I gave up my endeavor. But then, yesterday I was walking past that grassy field and a cow began walking next to the fence. She jumped over a fallen tree where a broken branch was sticking up. The cow’s udder caught the pointy branch, stretching it far enough that its back hoof stepped right on to it, smashing it onto the ground. Then I heard a guttural sound come from the cow’s mouth. It sounded just like, “Uff-Da!”
ARCHIBALD: The science fair is a double-edged sword. Sometimes it’s wonderful. We get to conduct dramatic experiments. Students experience forces of nature like the effects of air pressure and centrifugal force. It’s action packed! But the literal meaning of science has been watered down over the years. The word “science” comes from Old French, meaning knowledge, learning, application. But now it means papier-mâché, vinegar and baking soda volcanos, or blindly following anybody who claims to be a scientist. For example, one year, Bobby Sacamano was the smartest kid in my class. He even wore a lab coat to school. Everyone regarded him as a genius. I mean, why wouldn’t they? He wore a lab coat. So, he enlisted several kids to assist him in his science fair project. The name of his project was, “Jumping Off Buildings: How High is Too High?” They all attended the science fair in double-leg casts, double-arm casts, full-body casts, and one kid swallowed his retainer. But they did answer the question, “How High is Too High?” It turns out, anything higher than Barbie’s Townhouse, in case any of you’re wondering. Oh! One year, a girl made a papier-mâché volcano but without vinegar and baking soda. Somehow, and I still don’t know how, she used real lava. The volcano caught on fire and the lava burned through the table, then the floor, fell into the boiler room and blew up the school. Well, almost blew up the school.
(Day dreaming)
I wish it would have blown up the school. I mean, what I’m trying to tell you is don’t make a papier-mâché, vinegar and baking soda volcano. Got it?
STUDENT: Good afternoon. My science fair experiment is about cows. It specifically answers the scientific question, “What happens when a cow steps on its own udder?” To answer this question, I watched cows in a grassy field for several hours. Nothing happened. They just stood there. So, I hopped the fence and started chasing them. It was fun but since I was running at the same time, I couldn’t ever see if or when they stepped on their own udders. So, I abandoned the whole field idea and visited a dairy. They gave me free rein to observe. Those cows move around a lot more. They move them into shoots and hook up these milker-machine things to their udders. It’s pretty cool. And the cows seem relieved afterward. They even taught me how to squeeze some milk out by hand. I squoze it directly into my mouth. It was warm but yummy. I realized, though, that these milking machines would not allow an opportunity for them to step on their own udders. So, I focused on the time when they move them from the corrals to the stalls. I came every day for weeks. Nothing. Then I realized that the dairy farmers might have seen the occurrence. Nope. They said that their udders don’t hang low enough for that. So, I gave up my endeavor. But then, yesterday I was walking past that grassy field and a cow began walking next to the fence. She jumped over a fallen tree where a broken branch was sticking up. The cow’s udder caught the pointy branch, stretching it far enough that its back hoof stepped right on to it, smashing it onto the ground. Then I heard a guttural sound come from the cow’s mouth. It sounded just like, “Uff-Da!”
| Middle School Science Fair Monologues |
PLAY: Santaphobia
ALICE GRUBER: Good evening ladies of the Springfield City book club. I’m very excited to share with you my review of our latest read, that wonderful novel by Joanne Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Now, in the previous book, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Professor Slughorn was hiding that memory of when Tom Riddle was his student. I can’t believe he vas hiding dat! Oh, I’m sorry about that, my accent comes out when I get angry. I vill… I will try to control my emotions. But hiding things, keeping deep dark secrets, is vat gets all dee characters in trouble! If dey vould just tell dee truth, tings vould be just fine! Sorry, sorry. I just get carried away, you know. Now back to Miss Rowling’s book. Now see? There’s another thing: Why does the book say, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling? J.K.? J.K.? Vat is J.K.? Just Kidding? It’s Joanne Rowling! Dat’s it! Der is no “K!” She vas hiding some ting! Dee Truth! Sure, everyone knows dat it vas dee publisher’s idea to hide her female name because little boys vould not read any ting from a female author! Dis is an outrage! Covering up da truth undt den profiting from dee result is Schreckenstat! I for vun, vould never commit such an sich daneben benehmen!
(pounding the book and yelling)
Undt further more! Wann wird das Mittagessen serviert! Ich bin am Verhungern!! Oh, I’m terribly sorry. My blood sugar must be low. Or should I say, my half-blood sugar must be low. Ahaha. Actually, now dat I tink about it, everyone knows dat “J.K.” is a voman! Undt little boys vill now read tings written by female authors, so… I guess vat she did vas actually a good ting. Hmm, maybe keeping a secret undt den revealing it at dee right time might not be so bad after all. Harry Potter uber alas!
CHARLES GRUBER: Sandra, Lorena, will you please sit down? Your mother and I have decided that it is time that you two have “The Talk.” Now even know you’re a… you know and I’m a… you know, your mother thought that it would be best if I was the one who explained the… you know… “The Talk” to you. First off, the question that, um, makes us have to have “The Talk” is, you know, “Where do… you know… little, miniature people… called, you know… babies come from?” I don’t know. Well, I do know. It’s just that, you know… something. So the first thing you need to know is that contrary to popular opinion it has nothing to do with birds or bees. I don’t even know why they equate the two. I mean that would be impossible right? Ha, ha, ha. I mean a bird and a bee can’t… you know. I mean you don’t see many bee-birds flying around, do you? So you can just forget about that. Now the real story is this: There are two types of people in this world. The first one is like you two. They’re… you know… something. Uh… they umm… have longer hair, well; most of them do, except for, you know, some of them. And they watch different shows on television, you know, like Lifetime. And for the most part they don’t spit. Now the other half of the people are, you know, like me; short hair, zombies, and loogies. So that pretty much sums up the two types of people. But the main difference between the two types of people is that the long-haired people, you know, have a you know and the short-haired, phlegm-people, have a you know. Don’t they teach you this stuff in school or on the streets? Alright, now when a mommy person and a daddy person want to have a you know, there are several options available to them. Adoption is definitely one of them! In fact, that’s where a lot of you knows come from; probably most of them. So I guess, you know, adoption is definitely part of, you know… “The Talk.” I’ll bet it would hurt if you got stung by a bee-bird. Alright, enough is enough. I’m just gonna come out and say it. Girls, I’m gonna tell you straight out: When a you know and a you know are something and they you know what and you know where and something is if I’m not mistaken they would be you know or is it just me? And then you know what travels through the something until it you know what happens with the you know thing-a-ma-jig which your mother likes to call something until finally the stork, which hasn’t had any stinging insect interaction at all, drops the something on the front door or down the chimney, I can’t remember which. Okay, that’s good. That was pretty good. I’m ready. Go get the girls for real this time.
ALICE GRUBER: Good evening ladies of the Springfield City book club. I’m very excited to share with you my review of our latest read, that wonderful novel by Joanne Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Now, in the previous book, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Professor Slughorn was hiding that memory of when Tom Riddle was his student. I can’t believe he vas hiding dat! Oh, I’m sorry about that, my accent comes out when I get angry. I vill… I will try to control my emotions. But hiding things, keeping deep dark secrets, is vat gets all dee characters in trouble! If dey vould just tell dee truth, tings vould be just fine! Sorry, sorry. I just get carried away, you know. Now back to Miss Rowling’s book. Now see? There’s another thing: Why does the book say, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling? J.K.? J.K.? Vat is J.K.? Just Kidding? It’s Joanne Rowling! Dat’s it! Der is no “K!” She vas hiding some ting! Dee Truth! Sure, everyone knows dat it vas dee publisher’s idea to hide her female name because little boys vould not read any ting from a female author! Dis is an outrage! Covering up da truth undt den profiting from dee result is Schreckenstat! I for vun, vould never commit such an sich daneben benehmen!
(pounding the book and yelling)
Undt further more! Wann wird das Mittagessen serviert! Ich bin am Verhungern!! Oh, I’m terribly sorry. My blood sugar must be low. Or should I say, my half-blood sugar must be low. Ahaha. Actually, now dat I tink about it, everyone knows dat “J.K.” is a voman! Undt little boys vill now read tings written by female authors, so… I guess vat she did vas actually a good ting. Hmm, maybe keeping a secret undt den revealing it at dee right time might not be so bad after all. Harry Potter uber alas!
CHARLES GRUBER: Sandra, Lorena, will you please sit down? Your mother and I have decided that it is time that you two have “The Talk.” Now even know you’re a… you know and I’m a… you know, your mother thought that it would be best if I was the one who explained the… you know… “The Talk” to you. First off, the question that, um, makes us have to have “The Talk” is, you know, “Where do… you know… little, miniature people… called, you know… babies come from?” I don’t know. Well, I do know. It’s just that, you know… something. So the first thing you need to know is that contrary to popular opinion it has nothing to do with birds or bees. I don’t even know why they equate the two. I mean that would be impossible right? Ha, ha, ha. I mean a bird and a bee can’t… you know. I mean you don’t see many bee-birds flying around, do you? So you can just forget about that. Now the real story is this: There are two types of people in this world. The first one is like you two. They’re… you know… something. Uh… they umm… have longer hair, well; most of them do, except for, you know, some of them. And they watch different shows on television, you know, like Lifetime. And for the most part they don’t spit. Now the other half of the people are, you know, like me; short hair, zombies, and loogies. So that pretty much sums up the two types of people. But the main difference between the two types of people is that the long-haired people, you know, have a you know and the short-haired, phlegm-people, have a you know. Don’t they teach you this stuff in school or on the streets? Alright, now when a mommy person and a daddy person want to have a you know, there are several options available to them. Adoption is definitely one of them! In fact, that’s where a lot of you knows come from; probably most of them. So I guess, you know, adoption is definitely part of, you know… “The Talk.” I’ll bet it would hurt if you got stung by a bee-bird. Alright, enough is enough. I’m just gonna come out and say it. Girls, I’m gonna tell you straight out: When a you know and a you know are something and they you know what and you know where and something is if I’m not mistaken they would be you know or is it just me? And then you know what travels through the something until it you know what happens with the you know thing-a-ma-jig which your mother likes to call something until finally the stork, which hasn’t had any stinging insect interaction at all, drops the something on the front door or down the chimney, I can’t remember which. Okay, that’s good. That was pretty good. I’m ready. Go get the girls for real this time.
| Santaphobia Monologues |
PLAY: Snow White and the Seven Mummies
QUEEN: For some reason, fate has determined that Mindy will always be there to freakin’ irritate me. Let’s face it, I’m a “get things done” type of person and she’s a “get in the way of getting things done” type of person. During the auditions for Snow White, our director didn’t have enough scripts so who do I have to share with? Miss “I’m not a strong reader.” So we’re going through the script to get a feel for it and I’m like “Turn the freakin’ page you moron! I’ve read this page like five times already!” I’m always waiting on her. I get behind her in the lunch line like every freakin’ day! And there’s always some sort of problem. Her account is messed up, or she can’t find her lunch card, or she wants to exchange her apple for a different one. “Pick the right apple before you get in line, you moron!” The first time I got stuck behind her was when we were six years old - that’s how long this has been going on. I’m at the mall and I’m in line to see Santa. I didn’t even know her name then but I can hear her talking to Santa and she’s like, “I wanna a pink wagon and a Baby Eats a Lot and a pink bike and My Little Pony and a real pony and a pink unicorn and pink rainbow…” and she just keeps going on and on and finally I can’t take it anymore and I yell “Hurry up, you moron!” And there’s this elf lady that says, “You need to learn some patients.” And I’m like, “I don’t have time to learn patients, I need it right now!” And Mindy just keeps going on and on and finally the elf changes to my side and she goes to help Santa and they have to practically peel her off him. By the time I get up on Santa’s lap his beard is all mangled and I was like, “All I want for Christmas is a taser.”
SNOW: People say that the eyes are the window to the soul. But I think it’s the lips. My favorite story of all time is The Princess and the Frog. My mom read me that story when I was six from my princess story book. Of course, I wanted see what would happen if I kissed a frog. I figured since my dad always called me “Princess” it was worth a try. The answer to your question is yes, frogs are gross, but they’re not as bad as you think. I kissed a lot of them in my day. Their lips are like kissing a big rubber band. I did have a couple of them relieve themselves in my hand but it didn’t bother me because of the next story in my book, which was, “The Princess and the Pea.” But none of the frogs turned into a prince so I moved on to hamsters. They tickle and they have cold noses. Gerbils are pretty much the same. But none of them ever turned into a prince either. Cats just lay there and dogs love kisses but they’re kind of slobbery. Parrots don’t like it at all. That’s how I got this scare. I kissed about every animal I could lay my hands on. Not one ever turned into a prince. But now that I’m older, I realize that there’s one animal I haven’t tried yet. They’re hairy and gross but at the same time they’re kinda cute. And there’s a lot of them out there. I’m sure that if I kiss enough of them, one is bound to turn into a prince. They’re called boys.
PALBAUM: There’s a problem. For whatever reason, you guys have been working on a play. During your practice after school yesterday one of our concerned faculty members saw that one kid was wearing a holster. I know there was no G-U-N in it at the time, but just having an item that is associated with G-U-Ns is very troublesome. Don’t say anything. I also learned that this play thing is about the old west with cowboys and a sheriff and an outlaw. Now, I’m not here to restrict you or your artistic whatever you call it. But you need to understand that I am here to restrict you and your artistic whatever you call it. You cannot have G-U-Ns in your play thing. I can’t have impressionable young minds thinking that G-U-Ns are something that is acceptable in any walk of life. Their minds can only be impressioned with things that I deem they should be impressioned with. Also, I’m terrified of losing my job if we get sued by anyone so I have to be as unreasonable as possible. Therefore, during the big shoot out scene, which you thought I didn’t know about, there will be no G-U-Ns. You will use bananas. But they cannot fire the bananas in the usual fashion; they’ll just eat them. Then, for all future productions, you can only do plays about happy people, in happy places, who all get along, and nothing ever bad happens. In other words, no conflict! Break a leg!
DIRECTOR: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We welcome you to tonight’s performance of Snow White and the Seven Mummies, an original play written by myself. I would like to remind everyone of some basic theatre etiquette. Please turn off all cell phones and pagers at this time. Please do not yell out the names of the actors you might know, like, “go Sophia!” That’s not appropriate. And we welcome the little ones to our theatre but if they start to cry please take them out. Don’t stand in the back with them and let their screaming resonate throughout the theater. I don’t know why you want to bring a baby to the theater anyway. I don’t bring the bagpipes. Also, if you need to exit for any reason please do so in a quiet manner as not to disturb those around you and then next time remember to go potty before the show starts. And finally, please refrain from putting your gum in the hair of the person in front of you. I mean, do you understand how much work we’ve put into this? I know you all like sports better, and you’re only here because your son or daughter made you come. Heaven forbid you sit through a boring play without being obligated because of a family member! I mean, would it kill you to experience some culture instead of your usual mindless activities?! To you people that just came here to appease a spouse or your offspring, I am not grateful to you at all! Do you hear me? I am not grateful!!! Thank you, and enjoy the show.
QUEEN: For some reason, fate has determined that Mindy will always be there to freakin’ irritate me. Let’s face it, I’m a “get things done” type of person and she’s a “get in the way of getting things done” type of person. During the auditions for Snow White, our director didn’t have enough scripts so who do I have to share with? Miss “I’m not a strong reader.” So we’re going through the script to get a feel for it and I’m like “Turn the freakin’ page you moron! I’ve read this page like five times already!” I’m always waiting on her. I get behind her in the lunch line like every freakin’ day! And there’s always some sort of problem. Her account is messed up, or she can’t find her lunch card, or she wants to exchange her apple for a different one. “Pick the right apple before you get in line, you moron!” The first time I got stuck behind her was when we were six years old - that’s how long this has been going on. I’m at the mall and I’m in line to see Santa. I didn’t even know her name then but I can hear her talking to Santa and she’s like, “I wanna a pink wagon and a Baby Eats a Lot and a pink bike and My Little Pony and a real pony and a pink unicorn and pink rainbow…” and she just keeps going on and on and finally I can’t take it anymore and I yell “Hurry up, you moron!” And there’s this elf lady that says, “You need to learn some patients.” And I’m like, “I don’t have time to learn patients, I need it right now!” And Mindy just keeps going on and on and finally the elf changes to my side and she goes to help Santa and they have to practically peel her off him. By the time I get up on Santa’s lap his beard is all mangled and I was like, “All I want for Christmas is a taser.”
SNOW: People say that the eyes are the window to the soul. But I think it’s the lips. My favorite story of all time is The Princess and the Frog. My mom read me that story when I was six from my princess story book. Of course, I wanted see what would happen if I kissed a frog. I figured since my dad always called me “Princess” it was worth a try. The answer to your question is yes, frogs are gross, but they’re not as bad as you think. I kissed a lot of them in my day. Their lips are like kissing a big rubber band. I did have a couple of them relieve themselves in my hand but it didn’t bother me because of the next story in my book, which was, “The Princess and the Pea.” But none of the frogs turned into a prince so I moved on to hamsters. They tickle and they have cold noses. Gerbils are pretty much the same. But none of them ever turned into a prince either. Cats just lay there and dogs love kisses but they’re kind of slobbery. Parrots don’t like it at all. That’s how I got this scare. I kissed about every animal I could lay my hands on. Not one ever turned into a prince. But now that I’m older, I realize that there’s one animal I haven’t tried yet. They’re hairy and gross but at the same time they’re kinda cute. And there’s a lot of them out there. I’m sure that if I kiss enough of them, one is bound to turn into a prince. They’re called boys.
PALBAUM: There’s a problem. For whatever reason, you guys have been working on a play. During your practice after school yesterday one of our concerned faculty members saw that one kid was wearing a holster. I know there was no G-U-N in it at the time, but just having an item that is associated with G-U-Ns is very troublesome. Don’t say anything. I also learned that this play thing is about the old west with cowboys and a sheriff and an outlaw. Now, I’m not here to restrict you or your artistic whatever you call it. But you need to understand that I am here to restrict you and your artistic whatever you call it. You cannot have G-U-Ns in your play thing. I can’t have impressionable young minds thinking that G-U-Ns are something that is acceptable in any walk of life. Their minds can only be impressioned with things that I deem they should be impressioned with. Also, I’m terrified of losing my job if we get sued by anyone so I have to be as unreasonable as possible. Therefore, during the big shoot out scene, which you thought I didn’t know about, there will be no G-U-Ns. You will use bananas. But they cannot fire the bananas in the usual fashion; they’ll just eat them. Then, for all future productions, you can only do plays about happy people, in happy places, who all get along, and nothing ever bad happens. In other words, no conflict! Break a leg!
DIRECTOR: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We welcome you to tonight’s performance of Snow White and the Seven Mummies, an original play written by myself. I would like to remind everyone of some basic theatre etiquette. Please turn off all cell phones and pagers at this time. Please do not yell out the names of the actors you might know, like, “go Sophia!” That’s not appropriate. And we welcome the little ones to our theatre but if they start to cry please take them out. Don’t stand in the back with them and let their screaming resonate throughout the theater. I don’t know why you want to bring a baby to the theater anyway. I don’t bring the bagpipes. Also, if you need to exit for any reason please do so in a quiet manner as not to disturb those around you and then next time remember to go potty before the show starts. And finally, please refrain from putting your gum in the hair of the person in front of you. I mean, do you understand how much work we’ve put into this? I know you all like sports better, and you’re only here because your son or daughter made you come. Heaven forbid you sit through a boring play without being obligated because of a family member! I mean, would it kill you to experience some culture instead of your usual mindless activities?! To you people that just came here to appease a spouse or your offspring, I am not grateful to you at all! Do you hear me? I am not grateful!!! Thank you, and enjoy the show.
| Snow White and the Seven Mummies Monologues |
PLAY: Unfortunate Fortune Cookies
FEMALE TEENAGER: (Speaking into a phone or device) Dear digital diary, my friends are idiots. First of all, Madison keeps trying to be as popular as me by standing next to me. It’s really annoying. I get in the lunch line and there she is, standing shoulder to shoulder with me. I go to class and she’s connected at the hip. Even at the dance she finds a way to be seen dancing right next to me. She’d probably bail on her date and go to the dance with me just to be seen by boys. She thinks that when boys look at me they think “popular” and “awesomeness” and “breathtaking” and of course she’s right about that part, but she thinks that if she’s standing next to me that she’ll be in their line of sight and while they’re thinking those things about me they’ll be thinking “super-gorgeous” about her too. Sort of like being next to godliness or something. I don’t know, I suppose it’s an okay strategy; I mean, what else does she have? Actually, standing next to me might be a really good strategy. Now that I think it through, it’s brilliant. Wow, she’s really clever. She maybe one of the smartest people in the world. Second of all, today she wore her Pierre Dumas with that Sandra Suede Zipper Skirt. What an idiot!
MALE TEENAGER: Let me tell you about my girlfriend. Actually she’s my ex-girlfriend. But if she tells you that she broke up with me first she’s a sack of lying dog poop because I definitely told her to get out of my face first. See, any girl that wants to go out with me exclusively has to understand that going out with me exclusively doesn’t mean that she’s the only one that’s going out with me. There’s plenty of me to go around. The problem is that the “plenty to go around” part doesn’t go both ways. See, we all have what I like to call an “Internal Good-Looking Scale.” Here’s how it works: The scale is one through ten and whenever we see someone, we subconsciously rank their good looks on the scale, ten being the hottest. But here’s the catch, everyone’s scale is different depending on where they themselves actually land on the scale. For example, let’s say there’s a guy who is a six on the scale. To him, any girl that is equal to him or above, that would be six through ten, would be good-looking. And likewise, the ones through fives are ugly. So, a person that is a one would think everyone is good-looking. My problem is just the opposite. Naturally, I only find tens to be good-looking. I always found Emily to be a ten. But then I started noticing Madison standing next to her and it was like being next to tenliness or something. See, if you’re a nine on the scale, you only find nines and tens attractive. But if you’re a ten you wouldn’t stoop to a nine. And finding a ten is rare. There aren’t very many of us so of course, I had to go out with her. But if Emily wants some more ten, she knows right where to find me.
FEMALE TEENAGER: (Speaking into a phone or device) Dear digital diary, my friends are idiots. First of all, Madison keeps trying to be as popular as me by standing next to me. It’s really annoying. I get in the lunch line and there she is, standing shoulder to shoulder with me. I go to class and she’s connected at the hip. Even at the dance she finds a way to be seen dancing right next to me. She’d probably bail on her date and go to the dance with me just to be seen by boys. She thinks that when boys look at me they think “popular” and “awesomeness” and “breathtaking” and of course she’s right about that part, but she thinks that if she’s standing next to me that she’ll be in their line of sight and while they’re thinking those things about me they’ll be thinking “super-gorgeous” about her too. Sort of like being next to godliness or something. I don’t know, I suppose it’s an okay strategy; I mean, what else does she have? Actually, standing next to me might be a really good strategy. Now that I think it through, it’s brilliant. Wow, she’s really clever. She maybe one of the smartest people in the world. Second of all, today she wore her Pierre Dumas with that Sandra Suede Zipper Skirt. What an idiot!
MALE TEENAGER: Let me tell you about my girlfriend. Actually she’s my ex-girlfriend. But if she tells you that she broke up with me first she’s a sack of lying dog poop because I definitely told her to get out of my face first. See, any girl that wants to go out with me exclusively has to understand that going out with me exclusively doesn’t mean that she’s the only one that’s going out with me. There’s plenty of me to go around. The problem is that the “plenty to go around” part doesn’t go both ways. See, we all have what I like to call an “Internal Good-Looking Scale.” Here’s how it works: The scale is one through ten and whenever we see someone, we subconsciously rank their good looks on the scale, ten being the hottest. But here’s the catch, everyone’s scale is different depending on where they themselves actually land on the scale. For example, let’s say there’s a guy who is a six on the scale. To him, any girl that is equal to him or above, that would be six through ten, would be good-looking. And likewise, the ones through fives are ugly. So, a person that is a one would think everyone is good-looking. My problem is just the opposite. Naturally, I only find tens to be good-looking. I always found Emily to be a ten. But then I started noticing Madison standing next to her and it was like being next to tenliness or something. See, if you’re a nine on the scale, you only find nines and tens attractive. But if you’re a ten you wouldn’t stoop to a nine. And finding a ten is rare. There aren’t very many of us so of course, I had to go out with her. But if Emily wants some more ten, she knows right where to find me.
| Unfortunate Fortune Cookies Monologues |
PLAY: Obedience Is Mandatory
LUCY: (Giving a speech)
My fellow citizens! Or should I say, my beloved brothers and sisters! We are about to embark on a new adventure! We are to choose the destination of our new civilization! Now, I know you’ve heard what my opponent had to say, and I can see that you are very impressed with him, as am I! But did you hear what he actually said? He said that he would let you choose for yourselves! On the surface, that sounds great. But let us look a little deeper. If we allow our fellow citizens to choose for themselves, they will inevitably make wrong choices. Sure, they’ll make some good ones, but is that worth the multitude of bad ones? Imagine that a fellow citizen wants to break into your house and steel your possessions. In my opponent’s plan, that citizen is free to do as he will. He can choose whether or not to rob you! And as a result, you come home from work and everything you own is gone! Is that what you want to have happen? Or let’s say you, yourself, make a bad choice, which I assure you, each and every one of us will at some point choose bad, and because of that bad choice, the enforcers come to your home and take you away. It will happen! And what if, all your life, you chose good, and then one day, one time, the first and only time in your life, you choose bad? You are taken away, without a thought of all the good choices you’ve made before. Under my plan, this will not happen! No one will be taken away because no one will make bad choices. You’ll all live equally. My friends, free will is highly overrated.
JACK: Okay, okay. Okay, okay, okay. All these choices! I wish we were just automatically given a job, like assigned to a profession at birth. What am I talking about?! I would probably get something boring. So I guess this is better, but now I have to choose the best way to interview. Okay. All I have to do is walk in there and say “hello.” And then he’ll say, “hello” back. Okay, that’s easy. No problem. But what if he doesn’t say “hello?” Ah, man. What if he says, something else? What if he says, I dunno, “hi?” Shoot! If he says, “hi” it’s over, I’m dead. I’m not gonna get the job. Of course, “hi” is pretty close to “hello.” It practically means the same thing. I guess I can deal with it if he says “hi.” “Hello” would be better. But “hi” is doable. Oh, no. What if he’s a girl? Dang it! It’s entirely possible that the interviewer will be female. In fact, it probably will be a woman. And there’s no way a woman is gonna say “hello,” much less, “hi.” This gonna be a total disaster. She’ll probably say “hello.” But there’s still the possibility it will be a man. I’ll just call him or her, “they.” They, whoever it is, will probably say, “hello.” Okay, time to practice. I walk in and I see them sitting over there and I say, “Hi.” And they’d say “Hello.” Shoot! I said, “hi” and they said “hello.” That’s just gonna throw me off. I’ll just have to wing the greeting. If we weren’t given any choices it would all be predictable and I would be all stressed out! Hmm. Maybe I’m interviewing with the wrong candidate.
LUCY: (Giving a speech)
My fellow citizens! Or should I say, my beloved brothers and sisters! We are about to embark on a new adventure! We are to choose the destination of our new civilization! Now, I know you’ve heard what my opponent had to say, and I can see that you are very impressed with him, as am I! But did you hear what he actually said? He said that he would let you choose for yourselves! On the surface, that sounds great. But let us look a little deeper. If we allow our fellow citizens to choose for themselves, they will inevitably make wrong choices. Sure, they’ll make some good ones, but is that worth the multitude of bad ones? Imagine that a fellow citizen wants to break into your house and steel your possessions. In my opponent’s plan, that citizen is free to do as he will. He can choose whether or not to rob you! And as a result, you come home from work and everything you own is gone! Is that what you want to have happen? Or let’s say you, yourself, make a bad choice, which I assure you, each and every one of us will at some point choose bad, and because of that bad choice, the enforcers come to your home and take you away. It will happen! And what if, all your life, you chose good, and then one day, one time, the first and only time in your life, you choose bad? You are taken away, without a thought of all the good choices you’ve made before. Under my plan, this will not happen! No one will be taken away because no one will make bad choices. You’ll all live equally. My friends, free will is highly overrated.
JACK: Okay, okay. Okay, okay, okay. All these choices! I wish we were just automatically given a job, like assigned to a profession at birth. What am I talking about?! I would probably get something boring. So I guess this is better, but now I have to choose the best way to interview. Okay. All I have to do is walk in there and say “hello.” And then he’ll say, “hello” back. Okay, that’s easy. No problem. But what if he doesn’t say “hello?” Ah, man. What if he says, something else? What if he says, I dunno, “hi?” Shoot! If he says, “hi” it’s over, I’m dead. I’m not gonna get the job. Of course, “hi” is pretty close to “hello.” It practically means the same thing. I guess I can deal with it if he says “hi.” “Hello” would be better. But “hi” is doable. Oh, no. What if he’s a girl? Dang it! It’s entirely possible that the interviewer will be female. In fact, it probably will be a woman. And there’s no way a woman is gonna say “hello,” much less, “hi.” This gonna be a total disaster. She’ll probably say “hello.” But there’s still the possibility it will be a man. I’ll just call him or her, “they.” They, whoever it is, will probably say, “hello.” Okay, time to practice. I walk in and I see them sitting over there and I say, “Hi.” And they’d say “Hello.” Shoot! I said, “hi” and they said “hello.” That’s just gonna throw me off. I’ll just have to wing the greeting. If we weren’t given any choices it would all be predictable and I would be all stressed out! Hmm. Maybe I’m interviewing with the wrong candidate.
| Obedience Is Mandatory Monologues |
PLAY: Death of the Doorstep Kiss
SNOW: People say that the eyes are the window to the soul. But I think it’s the lips. My favorite story of all time is The Princess and the Frog. My mom read me that story when I was six from my princess story book. Of course, I wanted to see what would happen if I kissed a frog. I figured since my dad always called me “Princess” it was worth a try. The answer to your question is yes, frogs are gross, but they’re not as bad as you think. I kissed a lot of them in my day. Their lips are like kissing a big rubber band. My mom would say, “Stop kissing that frog! You’re gonna get warts on your lips!” My mom’s so dumb; warts on my lips. That’s just a silly superstition. Besides, I’m trying to find a prince! Of course, I did get a big bump on my upper lip one time from kissing a frog. It was that singing cartoon frog on TV. You know, (Singing) “Hello, my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal.” He was sooo cute! He just floated down the television screen holding on to an umbrella. I got so excited that I dove at him all puckered up. I split my lip on the screen. It was all swollen for a week. A fat lip but definitely not a wart. I did have a few frogs relieve themselves in my hand, but it didn’t bother me because of the next story in my book, which was, The Princess and the Pea. Anyway, after the fat lip, I figured frogs were too dangerous and none of the frogs ever turned into a prince, so, I moved on to hamsters. They tickle and they have cold noses. Gerbils are pretty much the same. But none of them ever turned into a prince either. Cats just lay there and dogs love kisses but they’re kind of slobbery. Parrots don’t like it at all. That’s how I got this scar. Pigs have a snout that gets in the way of their lips and there’s always mucus dripping out of it so you have to use a tissue to wipe it off first. My dad lifted me up to kiss the giraffe at the zoo once. Their tongues are like two feet long. I think it might have been a French giraffe. Yep, I kissed about every animal I could lay my hands on. Not one of them ever turned into a prince. But now that I’m older, I realize that there’s one animal I haven’t tried yet. They’re hairy and gross but at the same time they’re kinda cute. And there’s a lot of them out there. I’m sure that if I kiss enough of them, one is bound to turn into a prince. They’re called boys.
SNOW: People say that the eyes are the window to the soul. But I think it’s the lips. My favorite story of all time is The Princess and the Frog. My mom read me that story when I was six from my princess story book. Of course, I wanted to see what would happen if I kissed a frog. I figured since my dad always called me “Princess” it was worth a try. The answer to your question is yes, frogs are gross, but they’re not as bad as you think. I kissed a lot of them in my day. Their lips are like kissing a big rubber band. My mom would say, “Stop kissing that frog! You’re gonna get warts on your lips!” My mom’s so dumb; warts on my lips. That’s just a silly superstition. Besides, I’m trying to find a prince! Of course, I did get a big bump on my upper lip one time from kissing a frog. It was that singing cartoon frog on TV. You know, (Singing) “Hello, my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal.” He was sooo cute! He just floated down the television screen holding on to an umbrella. I got so excited that I dove at him all puckered up. I split my lip on the screen. It was all swollen for a week. A fat lip but definitely not a wart. I did have a few frogs relieve themselves in my hand, but it didn’t bother me because of the next story in my book, which was, The Princess and the Pea. Anyway, after the fat lip, I figured frogs were too dangerous and none of the frogs ever turned into a prince, so, I moved on to hamsters. They tickle and they have cold noses. Gerbils are pretty much the same. But none of them ever turned into a prince either. Cats just lay there and dogs love kisses but they’re kind of slobbery. Parrots don’t like it at all. That’s how I got this scar. Pigs have a snout that gets in the way of their lips and there’s always mucus dripping out of it so you have to use a tissue to wipe it off first. My dad lifted me up to kiss the giraffe at the zoo once. Their tongues are like two feet long. I think it might have been a French giraffe. Yep, I kissed about every animal I could lay my hands on. Not one of them ever turned into a prince. But now that I’m older, I realize that there’s one animal I haven’t tried yet. They’re hairy and gross but at the same time they’re kinda cute. And there’s a lot of them out there. I’m sure that if I kiss enough of them, one is bound to turn into a prince. They’re called boys.
| Death of the Doorstep Kiss |
PLAY: What If...
WHITNEY: Did you ever see that cartoon, I think it was on Sesame Street, where the little girl wonders what would happen if she pops a balloon with a pin? She’s gripping this balloon on a string, and in the other hand she holds a pin, and she says something like, “I wonder what would happen if I stuck this balloon with this pin.” So, she does, and it pops. Bam! Then you realize it’s all in her mind and she’s still holding the balloon and the pin. Then she says it again and her imagination shows us that when the balloon pops, “Bam!” it scares her little sister. She does it again and her little sister drops a vase. She does it again and when her little sister drops the vase it shatters, and she cries. She does it again and her mom comes in and scolds her. “Sally!” In the end, she decides that she won’t pop the balloon and avoids getting in trouble. At least I think that’s what she decided, I didn’t actually see it. I never liked Sesame Street. But someone told me about it. So, I thought, what if I had seen it? What if I had watch that cartoon as a kid and I got all hung up on what ifs? Like what if I throw an egg at Tina Farkus’s house? Or what if throw a rock through Matt Housner’s window? Or what if I set fire to some great public building? Or what if I just don’t make my bed?! Of course, those are all just what if’s, you know, something that I just make up in my mind, imaginary. But what if they weren’t?
BOOK GUY: (Holding a book)
I don’t usually read books. I mean, you can’t get anything from a book that you can’t get from the internet faster. But the other day, I was sitting in Starbucks having a Blue Mountain Decaf Cappuccino with three one-third pumps of caramel, when this guy walks by on the way to the restroom and drops a book on the ground right in front of my table. I pick it up but before I can tell him, the restroom door shuts behind him. So, I put the book on the table and wait for him to come out. While I’m waiting, this girl approaches me. She says, “You read Douglas Adams?!” I say, “No.” Then I notice she’s cute. “Yes, I meant yes. Yes, I do. I read… (Looking down at book) Douglas Adams.” So, she starts going on and on about this book. And I’m doing my best to fake it, like I know what she’s talking about. Then she says, “So, what’s the secret of life?” And I’m like, “Duh.” And she says, “From the book, silly.” And I’m like, “Oh, from the book, well, that’s… kind of… it’s uh…” I can’t think of anything! I mean, how can I fake the meaning of life as written by Douglas whatever his name is? I completely freeze. And then I look down at my receipt for my Blue Mountain Decaf Cappuccino with three one-third pumps of caramel, and I see my change was 56 cents and blurt out, “Fifty-six?” She looks at me like I’m an idiot and then she says, “No, no, you’re way off. It’s seventy-two.” Then she gives me her phone number and tells me to call her. Since then, I always carry a book with me. They’re chick magnets! Oh, and educational. I mean, who woulda thought that the secret of life was seventy-two?
INTERVIEWEE: Okay, okay. Okay, okay, okay. All I have to do is walk in there and say “hello.” And then he’ll say, “hello” back. Okay, that’s easy. No problem. But what if he doesn’t say “hello?” Ah, man. What if he says, something else? What if he says, I dunno, “hi?” Shoot! If he says, “hi” it’s over, I’m dead. I’m not gonna get the job. Of course, “hi” is pretty close to “hello.” It practically means the same thing. I guess I can deal with it if he says “hi.” “Hello” would be better. But “hi” is doable.
Oh, no. What if he’s a girl? Dang it! It’s entirely possible that the interviewer will be female. In fact, it probably will be a woman. And there’s no way a woman is gonna say “hello,” much less, “hi.” This gonna be a total disaster. Wait a minute, I’m a girl, I’m a girl, and I’m saying “hello.” She’ll probably say “hello.” But there’s still the possibility it will be a man. I’ll just call him or her, “they.” They, whoever it is, will probably say, “hello.”
Okay, time to practice. I walk in and I see them sitting over there and I say, “Hi.” And they’d say “Hello.” Shoot! I said, “hi” and they said “hello.” That’s just gonna throw me off. I’ll just have to wing the greeting. Whatever happens, happens.
Now, what are they gonna ask me? Probably questions that don’t have anything to do with the job. Like, if you could be a Barbie Doll, which one would you be? And I’d be like, International Spy Barbie, duh! I better not say “duh.” Yeah, mental note to self, don’t say “duh” to the interviewer. Just, International Spy Barbie. And, of course, they’d say, “why?” And I’ll go, because International Spy Barbie’s birthday is August 3rd, same as mine. Her name is Barbie Ann Roberts, same as my middle name. Barbie has had 38 pets over the years, including cats, dogs, horses, and even a lion cub. In 1971, Barbie’s eyes were changed from looking sideways, to looking straight ahead. Do you want me to keep going? Cause I know everything there is to know about Barbies. And they’ll be so impressed. They’re not gonna be impressed. They’ll probably go, stop talking about Barbie! That’s enough about Barbie! And I’ll be like, you’re the one that asked about Barbie. They’re not gonna ask about Barbie. That’s stupid.
They’ll probably ask something about why I think I’m the best candidate for the job or why they should hire me? I need to practice those types of questions.
Look, I know I can do this job. There’s no question. I can do this job. The question is will you hire me? Because I know I can do the job, the only thing that’s in question is can I get the job? That’s what I wanna know. Can I get the job? ‘Cause I can do it. I just don’t know if I can get it. That’s where you come in. I got my part covered, ‘cause I can do the job. I just need to know, from you, if I can get the job. I think I’ve made it abundantly clear that I can do the job. So, I’m not going to argue that. I’m not arguing that with you. I know I can do the job. I am not arguing that with you! I’m not arguing that with you! Can I get the job? Can-I-get-the- job?! I’m not arguing that part with you! I know I can do the job, but can I get the job? Tell me if I can get the job. Say it! I am not arguing that with you! I am going to count down from five. Tell me I have the job on zero. Ready? Five-Four-Three-Two-get ready to say I have the job-one-zero. Say it. Say I have the job. I am not arguing that with you! Yes, I can do the job! Everyone knows I can do the job! And you know it too!!! Uh… Let me start over. As you can see from my resume, I can and will do this job and meet, nay, exceed your every expectation.
Okay, what do I do at the end? It’s got to be professional and dignified. How about something like, it was wonderful to meet you and I look forward to hearing from you. Oh, and I promise that I will be the best babysitter you’ve ever hired.
WHITNEY: Did you ever see that cartoon, I think it was on Sesame Street, where the little girl wonders what would happen if she pops a balloon with a pin? She’s gripping this balloon on a string, and in the other hand she holds a pin, and she says something like, “I wonder what would happen if I stuck this balloon with this pin.” So, she does, and it pops. Bam! Then you realize it’s all in her mind and she’s still holding the balloon and the pin. Then she says it again and her imagination shows us that when the balloon pops, “Bam!” it scares her little sister. She does it again and her little sister drops a vase. She does it again and when her little sister drops the vase it shatters, and she cries. She does it again and her mom comes in and scolds her. “Sally!” In the end, she decides that she won’t pop the balloon and avoids getting in trouble. At least I think that’s what she decided, I didn’t actually see it. I never liked Sesame Street. But someone told me about it. So, I thought, what if I had seen it? What if I had watch that cartoon as a kid and I got all hung up on what ifs? Like what if I throw an egg at Tina Farkus’s house? Or what if throw a rock through Matt Housner’s window? Or what if I set fire to some great public building? Or what if I just don’t make my bed?! Of course, those are all just what if’s, you know, something that I just make up in my mind, imaginary. But what if they weren’t?
BOOK GUY: (Holding a book)
I don’t usually read books. I mean, you can’t get anything from a book that you can’t get from the internet faster. But the other day, I was sitting in Starbucks having a Blue Mountain Decaf Cappuccino with three one-third pumps of caramel, when this guy walks by on the way to the restroom and drops a book on the ground right in front of my table. I pick it up but before I can tell him, the restroom door shuts behind him. So, I put the book on the table and wait for him to come out. While I’m waiting, this girl approaches me. She says, “You read Douglas Adams?!” I say, “No.” Then I notice she’s cute. “Yes, I meant yes. Yes, I do. I read… (Looking down at book) Douglas Adams.” So, she starts going on and on about this book. And I’m doing my best to fake it, like I know what she’s talking about. Then she says, “So, what’s the secret of life?” And I’m like, “Duh.” And she says, “From the book, silly.” And I’m like, “Oh, from the book, well, that’s… kind of… it’s uh…” I can’t think of anything! I mean, how can I fake the meaning of life as written by Douglas whatever his name is? I completely freeze. And then I look down at my receipt for my Blue Mountain Decaf Cappuccino with three one-third pumps of caramel, and I see my change was 56 cents and blurt out, “Fifty-six?” She looks at me like I’m an idiot and then she says, “No, no, you’re way off. It’s seventy-two.” Then she gives me her phone number and tells me to call her. Since then, I always carry a book with me. They’re chick magnets! Oh, and educational. I mean, who woulda thought that the secret of life was seventy-two?
INTERVIEWEE: Okay, okay. Okay, okay, okay. All I have to do is walk in there and say “hello.” And then he’ll say, “hello” back. Okay, that’s easy. No problem. But what if he doesn’t say “hello?” Ah, man. What if he says, something else? What if he says, I dunno, “hi?” Shoot! If he says, “hi” it’s over, I’m dead. I’m not gonna get the job. Of course, “hi” is pretty close to “hello.” It practically means the same thing. I guess I can deal with it if he says “hi.” “Hello” would be better. But “hi” is doable.
Oh, no. What if he’s a girl? Dang it! It’s entirely possible that the interviewer will be female. In fact, it probably will be a woman. And there’s no way a woman is gonna say “hello,” much less, “hi.” This gonna be a total disaster. Wait a minute, I’m a girl, I’m a girl, and I’m saying “hello.” She’ll probably say “hello.” But there’s still the possibility it will be a man. I’ll just call him or her, “they.” They, whoever it is, will probably say, “hello.”
Okay, time to practice. I walk in and I see them sitting over there and I say, “Hi.” And they’d say “Hello.” Shoot! I said, “hi” and they said “hello.” That’s just gonna throw me off. I’ll just have to wing the greeting. Whatever happens, happens.
Now, what are they gonna ask me? Probably questions that don’t have anything to do with the job. Like, if you could be a Barbie Doll, which one would you be? And I’d be like, International Spy Barbie, duh! I better not say “duh.” Yeah, mental note to self, don’t say “duh” to the interviewer. Just, International Spy Barbie. And, of course, they’d say, “why?” And I’ll go, because International Spy Barbie’s birthday is August 3rd, same as mine. Her name is Barbie Ann Roberts, same as my middle name. Barbie has had 38 pets over the years, including cats, dogs, horses, and even a lion cub. In 1971, Barbie’s eyes were changed from looking sideways, to looking straight ahead. Do you want me to keep going? Cause I know everything there is to know about Barbies. And they’ll be so impressed. They’re not gonna be impressed. They’ll probably go, stop talking about Barbie! That’s enough about Barbie! And I’ll be like, you’re the one that asked about Barbie. They’re not gonna ask about Barbie. That’s stupid.
They’ll probably ask something about why I think I’m the best candidate for the job or why they should hire me? I need to practice those types of questions.
Look, I know I can do this job. There’s no question. I can do this job. The question is will you hire me? Because I know I can do the job, the only thing that’s in question is can I get the job? That’s what I wanna know. Can I get the job? ‘Cause I can do it. I just don’t know if I can get it. That’s where you come in. I got my part covered, ‘cause I can do the job. I just need to know, from you, if I can get the job. I think I’ve made it abundantly clear that I can do the job. So, I’m not going to argue that. I’m not arguing that with you. I know I can do the job. I am not arguing that with you! I’m not arguing that with you! Can I get the job? Can-I-get-the- job?! I’m not arguing that part with you! I know I can do the job, but can I get the job? Tell me if I can get the job. Say it! I am not arguing that with you! I am going to count down from five. Tell me I have the job on zero. Ready? Five-Four-Three-Two-get ready to say I have the job-one-zero. Say it. Say I have the job. I am not arguing that with you! Yes, I can do the job! Everyone knows I can do the job! And you know it too!!! Uh… Let me start over. As you can see from my resume, I can and will do this job and meet, nay, exceed your every expectation.
Okay, what do I do at the end? It’s got to be professional and dignified. How about something like, it was wonderful to meet you and I look forward to hearing from you. Oh, and I promise that I will be the best babysitter you’ve ever hired.
| What If... Monologues |
PLAY: Fangs of Justice
MR. RENFIELD: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I can see you’re all impressed with the prosecution’s defense of the supposed victims. Heck, I’m impressed! But do you realize what she actually said? She said that the alleged victims were “simply” looking for a bathroom. Simply? They were simply? Why would she use the word “simply?” It’s very simple. You see, the word “simply” makes it sound like an everyday common occurrence. A simple explanation for a simple straightforward task that the common citizen would perform when going about his normal, ordinary, commonplace daily schedule. Something you, yourself, might “simply” do. Let’s test that word out on the rest of their agenda, shall we? They “simply” stole a case of toilet paper from their parents’ underground storage bunker. They then “simply” stopped for Big Gulps and then drove to the nearest Egyptian archeological excavation site. They “simply” T-P-ed the pyramids. They “simply” used the entire case of toilet paper but it “simply” wasn’t enough to cover said pyramids. They “simply” entered the ancient burial site in search of a bathroom to find more. They “simply” found some. They “simply” began to unravel it, awakening a 4,000 year old mummy and “simply” triggering a deadly curse. Throughout the course of this trial, you’re going to hear a lot of fancy terms thrown out by the prosecuting team, like “radical mummy extremist,” but these terms will “simply” not be able to divert your attention from the fact that Imotep, otherwise known as “The Mummy,” is not guilty. Thank you.
OFFICER CHERSTI: Hello, my name is Officer Shhhersti. I know it’s spelled with a C-H, but it’s pronounced Shhhersti. It’s like when you fill up your Chevrolet at the Chevron station. Shhhevrolet, Shhhevron, Shhhersti. All C-H words. Everyone got it? Good. Now, I am happy to be here at career day. I’ve been asked to speak to you about what it’s like to be a cop. Well, let me tell ya, it’s not easy. They make us pay for our uniform and our gun. And guns aren’t shhheap. In fact, they’re the opposite of shhheap, they’re expensive. Dating is also difficult. The guy always thinks I’m gonna pull him over for speeding. And I’m like, “hurry up, or we’ll be late for the choh.” And he’s like, “the what?” And I’m like, “the choh! The picture choh!?” Deciding on a movie is always confusing. I’m like, “Let’s watch one of the Treks.” And he’s like, “I’m not really a sci- fi fan.” And I’m like, “I’m not either. That’s why I suggested one of the Treks.” And he’s like, “Star Shrek is ultra science fiction.” And I’m like, “Star Shrack? I’m talking about Trek! You know, the green ogre with the talking donkey?! (Imitating Donkey) ‘Trek! Trek! I’m a donkey, Trek!’” And he’s like, “Oh, you mean Trek!” And I’m like, “No, not Shrack. I don’t wanna watch Star Shrack.” And he’s like, “It’s not Star Shrack, it’s Star Shreck.” And I’m like, “Whatever, I just don’t like Shooey.” And he’s like, “Shooey? What’s Shooey?” And I’m like, “You know, Shoobacca?” And he’s like, “That’s Star Wars, not Star Shrack, I mean Shreck.” Anywho, it’s tough being a cop.
MR. RENFIELD: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I can see you’re all impressed with the prosecution’s defense of the supposed victims. Heck, I’m impressed! But do you realize what she actually said? She said that the alleged victims were “simply” looking for a bathroom. Simply? They were simply? Why would she use the word “simply?” It’s very simple. You see, the word “simply” makes it sound like an everyday common occurrence. A simple explanation for a simple straightforward task that the common citizen would perform when going about his normal, ordinary, commonplace daily schedule. Something you, yourself, might “simply” do. Let’s test that word out on the rest of their agenda, shall we? They “simply” stole a case of toilet paper from their parents’ underground storage bunker. They then “simply” stopped for Big Gulps and then drove to the nearest Egyptian archeological excavation site. They “simply” T-P-ed the pyramids. They “simply” used the entire case of toilet paper but it “simply” wasn’t enough to cover said pyramids. They “simply” entered the ancient burial site in search of a bathroom to find more. They “simply” found some. They “simply” began to unravel it, awakening a 4,000 year old mummy and “simply” triggering a deadly curse. Throughout the course of this trial, you’re going to hear a lot of fancy terms thrown out by the prosecuting team, like “radical mummy extremist,” but these terms will “simply” not be able to divert your attention from the fact that Imotep, otherwise known as “The Mummy,” is not guilty. Thank you.
OFFICER CHERSTI: Hello, my name is Officer Shhhersti. I know it’s spelled with a C-H, but it’s pronounced Shhhersti. It’s like when you fill up your Chevrolet at the Chevron station. Shhhevrolet, Shhhevron, Shhhersti. All C-H words. Everyone got it? Good. Now, I am happy to be here at career day. I’ve been asked to speak to you about what it’s like to be a cop. Well, let me tell ya, it’s not easy. They make us pay for our uniform and our gun. And guns aren’t shhheap. In fact, they’re the opposite of shhheap, they’re expensive. Dating is also difficult. The guy always thinks I’m gonna pull him over for speeding. And I’m like, “hurry up, or we’ll be late for the choh.” And he’s like, “the what?” And I’m like, “the choh! The picture choh!?” Deciding on a movie is always confusing. I’m like, “Let’s watch one of the Treks.” And he’s like, “I’m not really a sci- fi fan.” And I’m like, “I’m not either. That’s why I suggested one of the Treks.” And he’s like, “Star Shrek is ultra science fiction.” And I’m like, “Star Shrack? I’m talking about Trek! You know, the green ogre with the talking donkey?! (Imitating Donkey) ‘Trek! Trek! I’m a donkey, Trek!’” And he’s like, “Oh, you mean Trek!” And I’m like, “No, not Shrack. I don’t wanna watch Star Shrack.” And he’s like, “It’s not Star Shrack, it’s Star Shreck.” And I’m like, “Whatever, I just don’t like Shooey.” And he’s like, “Shooey? What’s Shooey?” And I’m like, “You know, Shoobacca?” And he’s like, “That’s Star Wars, not Star Shrack, I mean Shreck.” Anywho, it’s tough being a cop.
| Fangs of Justice Monologues |
PLAY: Substitute for Death
ALEX (M/F): I’m really smart. I have a 4.0 GPA. I always have. But I’m not like…
(Nerd voice)
…the sum of the square roots of any two sides of an Isosceles triangle is equal to the square root of the remaining side.
(Normal voice)
Or is that a right triangle? Anyway, the point is, I’m really smart. But I am also devious. I like to have fun and play pranks. If I was a super hero, I’d probably be an evil genius, like Lex Luthor or someone funny, like The Joker. He’s funny, sometimes, occasionally. He likes to play jokes, I mean, his name is The Joker. And I like to play jokes. Not like a whoopie cushion or a squirting flower; I’m talking about huge Corillian sized jokes. Like if I was on Star Trek, I would set Spok’s phaser to “squirt.” That would be epic. He’d be like, “Hey, Klingon, let go of my friend, Kirk.” Then he’d squirt the Klingon. He’d be like,
(Looking at pretend phaser)
“That is highly illogical. I’ll just pinch your neck.” And Chewbacca would be like, “Dude, let go of my neck. You can’t even reach it.” I mean,
(Does a terrible Chewbacca growl).
Anyway, I’m really smart.
EWELENHOPE (F): Some people say my sneezes sound fake. But they’re not. Now, my cough sounds fake. Listen to this.
(Coughs normal)
See? Totally fake. Now, listen to my sneeze.
(Waits)
I don’t need to sneeze yet. I will though. Just wait a sec. My allergies are really bad. And they’re really weird. See, I’m not allergic to hay, or pollen, or cats. I’m allergic to flusterization. I know it’s not a word. I made it up because there’s no other word to describe it. See, if I get flustered, I sneeze. I’ll show you. Try to fluster me. Go ahead. That’s not flustery. Flustery is when everything is going wrong and all these things happen at the same time and you can’t think straight. That’s flusterization at it’s worst. I hate that. Here. Let me try to fluster myself. Uh, okay, got it.
(Tries to pat head, rub tummy, and hop on one foot all at the same time)
I’m not very good at this. Wait, here it comes!
(stands still and focuses on the sneeze building)
Aaaah. Aaaah. Aaaah… It went away.
(Again pats head, rubs tummy, and hops on one foot all at the same time)
It’s back!
(stands still and focuses on the sneeze)
Aaaah! Here it comes! Aaaah! Remember, people think it sounds fake! Aaaah! But it’s not!
(Let’s loose the biggest, longest, loudest, fakest sneeze of all time.)
AAAAAAAAAAAH CHEEEEEEEEEEEEW! Well, what do you think? I told you it was real.
ALEX (M/F): I’m really smart. I have a 4.0 GPA. I always have. But I’m not like…
(Nerd voice)
…the sum of the square roots of any two sides of an Isosceles triangle is equal to the square root of the remaining side.
(Normal voice)
Or is that a right triangle? Anyway, the point is, I’m really smart. But I am also devious. I like to have fun and play pranks. If I was a super hero, I’d probably be an evil genius, like Lex Luthor or someone funny, like The Joker. He’s funny, sometimes, occasionally. He likes to play jokes, I mean, his name is The Joker. And I like to play jokes. Not like a whoopie cushion or a squirting flower; I’m talking about huge Corillian sized jokes. Like if I was on Star Trek, I would set Spok’s phaser to “squirt.” That would be epic. He’d be like, “Hey, Klingon, let go of my friend, Kirk.” Then he’d squirt the Klingon. He’d be like,
(Looking at pretend phaser)
“That is highly illogical. I’ll just pinch your neck.” And Chewbacca would be like, “Dude, let go of my neck. You can’t even reach it.” I mean,
(Does a terrible Chewbacca growl).
Anyway, I’m really smart.
EWELENHOPE (F): Some people say my sneezes sound fake. But they’re not. Now, my cough sounds fake. Listen to this.
(Coughs normal)
See? Totally fake. Now, listen to my sneeze.
(Waits)
I don’t need to sneeze yet. I will though. Just wait a sec. My allergies are really bad. And they’re really weird. See, I’m not allergic to hay, or pollen, or cats. I’m allergic to flusterization. I know it’s not a word. I made it up because there’s no other word to describe it. See, if I get flustered, I sneeze. I’ll show you. Try to fluster me. Go ahead. That’s not flustery. Flustery is when everything is going wrong and all these things happen at the same time and you can’t think straight. That’s flusterization at it’s worst. I hate that. Here. Let me try to fluster myself. Uh, okay, got it.
(Tries to pat head, rub tummy, and hop on one foot all at the same time)
I’m not very good at this. Wait, here it comes!
(stands still and focuses on the sneeze building)
Aaaah. Aaaah. Aaaah… It went away.
(Again pats head, rubs tummy, and hops on one foot all at the same time)
It’s back!
(stands still and focuses on the sneeze)
Aaaah! Here it comes! Aaaah! Remember, people think it sounds fake! Aaaah! But it’s not!
(Let’s loose the biggest, longest, loudest, fakest sneeze of all time.)
AAAAAAAAAAAH CHEEEEEEEEEEEEW! Well, what do you think? I told you it was real.
| Substitute for Death Monologues |
PLAY: The Velocity of Sin
DAVE (M): I wanna commit suicide eight hours a day. Not 24/7; just 8/7. I figure that’s enough. Once I tried hanging myself and I ended up dangling from a tree with the noose around my waist. I put it around my waist because when I tried it around my neck I couldn’t breath. I know, I know, my wife always says, “How can you be depressed, you’re sooo funny!” Let me back up. My wife used to say that. She doesn’t say much at all anymore. I mean, I know it’s my fault; I’m not blaming her. It is a good question though. How can you be funny and depressed at the same time? I know it doesn’t make any sense; but neither does the way I feel. I have no reason to be depressed. I’ve never lost my job. I wasn’t abused as a child. I’ve never lost a loved one. Sheesh, I can’t even remember ever stepping in a pile of dog poop. And don’t say it! I’ve heard it from I don’t know how many doctors; how many 80 buck an hour trips to the couch. I’ve been told often, endlessly, up to my craw, I know it by heart! Disease Burden – defined as living for years with the disease. There’re over 120 million people diagnosed with it. 25% of the population of Europe has it! I can give it to you frontwards, backwards, in and out, up and down, in three different languages! It’s like a terribly rehearsed inappropriate piece of poetry! You can get help from support groups – you don’t have to be alone in this! That’s all very empathetic and it’s worth about five bucks a word but it’s wrong! They’re wrong! I told everyone before you that, and I’m telling you that! Because no matter how many people have it, no matter if you or my next door neighbor has it, no matter if everyone in the world has it, it doesn’t change the fact that I have it! I feel it! Everyone goes through depression at some point - who cares?! That doesn’t help me! (Pause) I’ve felt this way since I was in junior high. Good ole junior high. Ya know I was voted class clown three years in a row. I guess I’m just really good at manufacturing illusions.
DEBBIE (W): You ever been frightened? I mean, not that I’m frightened. But have you ever been afraid that everything was too good? That sound stupid, doesn’t it? How can things be too good? There’s a girl in my department that’s like that. She’s sooo good. And everything is sooo good and great and peachy. “Peachy!” What a stupid word – but she uses it all the time. She stands there and tells me how peachy everything in her life is. She’s smilin’ and laughin’ and she’s just bein’ so nice to me. And I smile back and I laugh and say things like “that’s great” and “fantastic” and “you’re so awesome.” I think I may have even used the word “peachy,” once or twice. But in my mind I’m thinking, you monster. You dirty little monster, you. You’re probably saying all these nice things to my face but I’ll bet in your mind you’re thinking terrible things. You think I’m bad. You think I’m filthy. And then I think, go ahead, think bad thoughts about me. And while you’re thinking those awful things, maybe Ed Holister, he works just a couple of rows down, and I can see him behind her at his desk, and I think maybe he’ll have some guts, that he’s so sick of listening to you go on and on about how great your life is, and maybe he’ll sneak up behind you and raise something across your skull and end this once and for all! But Ed just sits there. He doesn’t have the backbone. Or who knows, maybe he likes listening to her. For all I know, Ed’s life is just as peachy as hers. Hmm, I wonder what her name is.
DAVE (M): I wanna commit suicide eight hours a day. Not 24/7; just 8/7. I figure that’s enough. Once I tried hanging myself and I ended up dangling from a tree with the noose around my waist. I put it around my waist because when I tried it around my neck I couldn’t breath. I know, I know, my wife always says, “How can you be depressed, you’re sooo funny!” Let me back up. My wife used to say that. She doesn’t say much at all anymore. I mean, I know it’s my fault; I’m not blaming her. It is a good question though. How can you be funny and depressed at the same time? I know it doesn’t make any sense; but neither does the way I feel. I have no reason to be depressed. I’ve never lost my job. I wasn’t abused as a child. I’ve never lost a loved one. Sheesh, I can’t even remember ever stepping in a pile of dog poop. And don’t say it! I’ve heard it from I don’t know how many doctors; how many 80 buck an hour trips to the couch. I’ve been told often, endlessly, up to my craw, I know it by heart! Disease Burden – defined as living for years with the disease. There’re over 120 million people diagnosed with it. 25% of the population of Europe has it! I can give it to you frontwards, backwards, in and out, up and down, in three different languages! It’s like a terribly rehearsed inappropriate piece of poetry! You can get help from support groups – you don’t have to be alone in this! That’s all very empathetic and it’s worth about five bucks a word but it’s wrong! They’re wrong! I told everyone before you that, and I’m telling you that! Because no matter how many people have it, no matter if you or my next door neighbor has it, no matter if everyone in the world has it, it doesn’t change the fact that I have it! I feel it! Everyone goes through depression at some point - who cares?! That doesn’t help me! (Pause) I’ve felt this way since I was in junior high. Good ole junior high. Ya know I was voted class clown three years in a row. I guess I’m just really good at manufacturing illusions.
DEBBIE (W): You ever been frightened? I mean, not that I’m frightened. But have you ever been afraid that everything was too good? That sound stupid, doesn’t it? How can things be too good? There’s a girl in my department that’s like that. She’s sooo good. And everything is sooo good and great and peachy. “Peachy!” What a stupid word – but she uses it all the time. She stands there and tells me how peachy everything in her life is. She’s smilin’ and laughin’ and she’s just bein’ so nice to me. And I smile back and I laugh and say things like “that’s great” and “fantastic” and “you’re so awesome.” I think I may have even used the word “peachy,” once or twice. But in my mind I’m thinking, you monster. You dirty little monster, you. You’re probably saying all these nice things to my face but I’ll bet in your mind you’re thinking terrible things. You think I’m bad. You think I’m filthy. And then I think, go ahead, think bad thoughts about me. And while you’re thinking those awful things, maybe Ed Holister, he works just a couple of rows down, and I can see him behind her at his desk, and I think maybe he’ll have some guts, that he’s so sick of listening to you go on and on about how great your life is, and maybe he’ll sneak up behind you and raise something across your skull and end this once and for all! But Ed just sits there. He doesn’t have the backbone. Or who knows, maybe he likes listening to her. For all I know, Ed’s life is just as peachy as hers. Hmm, I wonder what her name is.
| The Velocity of Sin Monologues |
PLAY: We Found A Finger
TEENAGE GIRL: Lisa and I searched the field for almost an hour. Everyone else was gone, the crowd, the police, the ambulance, you, everyone but us. We both spotted it at the same time. There it was; sitting in amongst the dried weeds was this severed finger. According to those in the crowd, a certain boy, who shall remain nameless… Okay Jack… had been viciously attacked by a Pit Bull on his way home from school. The dog had bitten off his left pinky finger before a man came to his aid with a big pointy stick. Some people searched for the finger but couldn’t find it. They just assumed that the dog had ran away with it or even eaten it.
Lisa and I lunged for the finger at the same time. We rolled around in the dirt trying to take from each other, that’s why I’m so dirty.
Lisa was like, “It’s mine! I saw it first!” But I was like “I saw it first! It’s mine!” We wrestled around for a bit and then I was like “Wait, wait, wait! We’ll share it.” And Lisa was like “Share? Okay.” So we relaxed our hands and opened our fingers. And there it was the missing pinky. It was all dirty and bloody and Lisa was like “Eeeww! Dog slobber!”So I was all, “We could take it to the hospital. Maybe it’s not too late to re-attach it.” And Lisa was like “Are you kidding? I know exactly what you’re thinking. You walk right in there with Jack’s finger and he’s gonna think you’re a hero. Well, you can forget that. He never paid any attention to us before and returning his finger isn’t gonna get us anything but a “thank you.” Oh sure, he’ll be real nice and he’ll smile at us and we’ll both pee our pants but that will be the end of it.” So I was like, well, what are we supposed to do with it? And she says, I say we plant it.
I’m like, plant it? Yeah, she wants to plant this finger, you know, and water it and nurture it and grow a whole new Jack. So I’m like, are you kidding? We know him; he goes to our school. We only plant boys that we don’t know. But she was insistent and I was like we don’t want two Jack’s running around, I mean that would be too weird. So, I grabbed the finger and took off running and here I am. And here is your finger back, Jack. (Hands him his finger and waits for a reaction.) Aren’t you gonna say thank you?
TEENAGE GIRL: Lisa and I searched the field for almost an hour. Everyone else was gone, the crowd, the police, the ambulance, you, everyone but us. We both spotted it at the same time. There it was; sitting in amongst the dried weeds was this severed finger. According to those in the crowd, a certain boy, who shall remain nameless… Okay Jack… had been viciously attacked by a Pit Bull on his way home from school. The dog had bitten off his left pinky finger before a man came to his aid with a big pointy stick. Some people searched for the finger but couldn’t find it. They just assumed that the dog had ran away with it or even eaten it.
Lisa and I lunged for the finger at the same time. We rolled around in the dirt trying to take from each other, that’s why I’m so dirty.
Lisa was like, “It’s mine! I saw it first!” But I was like “I saw it first! It’s mine!” We wrestled around for a bit and then I was like “Wait, wait, wait! We’ll share it.” And Lisa was like “Share? Okay.” So we relaxed our hands and opened our fingers. And there it was the missing pinky. It was all dirty and bloody and Lisa was like “Eeeww! Dog slobber!”So I was all, “We could take it to the hospital. Maybe it’s not too late to re-attach it.” And Lisa was like “Are you kidding? I know exactly what you’re thinking. You walk right in there with Jack’s finger and he’s gonna think you’re a hero. Well, you can forget that. He never paid any attention to us before and returning his finger isn’t gonna get us anything but a “thank you.” Oh sure, he’ll be real nice and he’ll smile at us and we’ll both pee our pants but that will be the end of it.” So I was like, well, what are we supposed to do with it? And she says, I say we plant it.
I’m like, plant it? Yeah, she wants to plant this finger, you know, and water it and nurture it and grow a whole new Jack. So I’m like, are you kidding? We know him; he goes to our school. We only plant boys that we don’t know. But she was insistent and I was like we don’t want two Jack’s running around, I mean that would be too weird. So, I grabbed the finger and took off running and here I am. And here is your finger back, Jack. (Hands him his finger and waits for a reaction.) Aren’t you gonna say thank you?
| We Found a Finger Monologue |
PLAY: Witchapalooza
LUNA (F): Hello out there in T.V. land. Welcome to the Enchantress Channel and to Cooking with Luna. I’m your host, Luna Moonstruck! Today we’re cooking up a wonderful dish I like to call Adolescent Surprise. Now, the main ingredient of course, is the adolescent. I have one simmering in the oven right now. We’ll take it out in a few moments after we’ve made the basting. But first, a few words on choosing your adolescent. One might think that you just choose a big fat juicy child. The fat is important but the way you capture the little pre-pubescent is just as critical. Don’t just scoop them off the trail. You’ve got to scare them and scare them good. You see, when you scare a child, the adrenal glands release the adrenaline hormone which creates the most succulent flavor. So jump out and startle them. Put them into a panic. I mean frighten the dickens out of them! Get that heart to flutter. And you know what I always say, “more flutter, more better.” Now, in a large mixing bowl, dump your premeasured ingredients in this order: Cricket legs, slugs, half a cockroach, lizard tongue, eye of newt and two teaspoons of cilantro. Mix in a can of warthog blood with a ram’s bladder, unemptied. The extra moisture will create the perfect drizzle. Once you’ve mixed that up it’s time for the spell. Now remember, all spells must rhyme. So, while you’re mixing, say the magic words:
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire bubble, and cauldron burn.
Perfect! Your baste is ready. (Opening oven) Take it to the oven and pour it all… What?! He’s buggered off! He’s completely absent! Well, let that be a lesson to everyone: Always install locks on your oven door. And that’s Adolescent Surprise! I’m Luna Moostruck, goodnight everyone!
SCARLET (F): (Holding notes)
Good evening, fellow witches. I’m grateful for this opportunity to speak at this year’s witch conference. Wait that’s not right. Is it a conference or a convention? I don’t know! What sounds better? Conference or convention? Coooonfereeeence. Coooonveeentioooon. They both sound boring. I’ll just go with conference. I’m grateful for this opportunity to speak at this year’s witch convention. (Looking at her notes) And that’s as far as I got. Oh, I wish they hadn’t asked me to speak. I’m a brand new witch! How am I supposed to know what to say? Let’s see, what do witches say? Oh! I know. How about a little fire, Scarecrow? No, that’s way out of context. Wait that’s it! (Writing in her notes)
My talk is titled “How to Not Get Burned at the Stake.” Yes, that’s good. Okay… Every witch is entitled to not get burned at the stake. I mean it’s not like we’re made of wood. Ha! That’s a good one.
(Writing in her notes) Pause for laughter. Okay, stake burnings often take place when villagers learn of the witch’s involvement with witchcraft. To avoid being burned, one should stop practicing witchcraft altogether. Hmm. That probably won’t fly. Oh, I know, to avoid being burned, one should keep all witchcraft and witchcraft related activities a secret. And find a nice, handsome young man to settle down with. (Love struck) Yes, a boy with big hazel eyes that remind you of the different shades of autumn with hundreds of millions of leaves falling at once amongst which you can dance and sing and bask in their beauty. That’s probably a bit much. But it’s so good. So, in conclusion, to avoid the stake fires and land those hazel eyes, don’t make witch-like faces like this: (Makes ugly face)
Thank you.
JACK (M): Stand up straight when I’m talking to you, maggots! You’ve joined the army! Jack’s army. And when you’re ready, together we will hunt down and destroy the witches once and for all. But until then you will speak only when spoken to and when spoken to the first and last word out of your mouth will be “Sir!” Do you understand me?! I’m sorry, you’re not really maggots, I just get carried away sometimes. I shouldn’t call you names. It’s just that we must stop those potion sniffers and the only way to do that is to change you into a weapon, a weapon of war so destructive that your mommies will wet themselves when they see you come home. But until that day, you are vomit! You are the lowest life form on the planet! You are a festering bowl of puss! Sorry, sorry, that’s a rotten thing to say. You’re not really puss. That’s disgusting. I just mean that you’re all the same. I don’t show any favoritism. I‘m mean but I’m fair because I’m mean to all of you! You are all equally worthless! I will weed out all the lazy no good screw-ups that don’t deserve to serve in my army! I will not pander to frail, pathetic, puny, feeble, sad, fragile, little pitiful weaklings! When I’m through with you, those cauldron lickers will be so terrified they’ll sit on their hats and spin! You sniveling maggots better get a good night’s rest because tomorrow at oh-six-hundred you enter a world of hurt, a world of pain, a world of agony! You’re about to enter the bowels of Hell!!! Okay, uh… Sleep tight. goodnight Hansel, goodnight Gretel.
LUNA (F): Hello out there in T.V. land. Welcome to the Enchantress Channel and to Cooking with Luna. I’m your host, Luna Moonstruck! Today we’re cooking up a wonderful dish I like to call Adolescent Surprise. Now, the main ingredient of course, is the adolescent. I have one simmering in the oven right now. We’ll take it out in a few moments after we’ve made the basting. But first, a few words on choosing your adolescent. One might think that you just choose a big fat juicy child. The fat is important but the way you capture the little pre-pubescent is just as critical. Don’t just scoop them off the trail. You’ve got to scare them and scare them good. You see, when you scare a child, the adrenal glands release the adrenaline hormone which creates the most succulent flavor. So jump out and startle them. Put them into a panic. I mean frighten the dickens out of them! Get that heart to flutter. And you know what I always say, “more flutter, more better.” Now, in a large mixing bowl, dump your premeasured ingredients in this order: Cricket legs, slugs, half a cockroach, lizard tongue, eye of newt and two teaspoons of cilantro. Mix in a can of warthog blood with a ram’s bladder, unemptied. The extra moisture will create the perfect drizzle. Once you’ve mixed that up it’s time for the spell. Now remember, all spells must rhyme. So, while you’re mixing, say the magic words:
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire bubble, and cauldron burn.
Perfect! Your baste is ready. (Opening oven) Take it to the oven and pour it all… What?! He’s buggered off! He’s completely absent! Well, let that be a lesson to everyone: Always install locks on your oven door. And that’s Adolescent Surprise! I’m Luna Moostruck, goodnight everyone!
SCARLET (F): (Holding notes)
Good evening, fellow witches. I’m grateful for this opportunity to speak at this year’s witch conference. Wait that’s not right. Is it a conference or a convention? I don’t know! What sounds better? Conference or convention? Coooonfereeeence. Coooonveeentioooon. They both sound boring. I’ll just go with conference. I’m grateful for this opportunity to speak at this year’s witch convention. (Looking at her notes) And that’s as far as I got. Oh, I wish they hadn’t asked me to speak. I’m a brand new witch! How am I supposed to know what to say? Let’s see, what do witches say? Oh! I know. How about a little fire, Scarecrow? No, that’s way out of context. Wait that’s it! (Writing in her notes)
My talk is titled “How to Not Get Burned at the Stake.” Yes, that’s good. Okay… Every witch is entitled to not get burned at the stake. I mean it’s not like we’re made of wood. Ha! That’s a good one.
(Writing in her notes) Pause for laughter. Okay, stake burnings often take place when villagers learn of the witch’s involvement with witchcraft. To avoid being burned, one should stop practicing witchcraft altogether. Hmm. That probably won’t fly. Oh, I know, to avoid being burned, one should keep all witchcraft and witchcraft related activities a secret. And find a nice, handsome young man to settle down with. (Love struck) Yes, a boy with big hazel eyes that remind you of the different shades of autumn with hundreds of millions of leaves falling at once amongst which you can dance and sing and bask in their beauty. That’s probably a bit much. But it’s so good. So, in conclusion, to avoid the stake fires and land those hazel eyes, don’t make witch-like faces like this: (Makes ugly face)
Thank you.
JACK (M): Stand up straight when I’m talking to you, maggots! You’ve joined the army! Jack’s army. And when you’re ready, together we will hunt down and destroy the witches once and for all. But until then you will speak only when spoken to and when spoken to the first and last word out of your mouth will be “Sir!” Do you understand me?! I’m sorry, you’re not really maggots, I just get carried away sometimes. I shouldn’t call you names. It’s just that we must stop those potion sniffers and the only way to do that is to change you into a weapon, a weapon of war so destructive that your mommies will wet themselves when they see you come home. But until that day, you are vomit! You are the lowest life form on the planet! You are a festering bowl of puss! Sorry, sorry, that’s a rotten thing to say. You’re not really puss. That’s disgusting. I just mean that you’re all the same. I don’t show any favoritism. I‘m mean but I’m fair because I’m mean to all of you! You are all equally worthless! I will weed out all the lazy no good screw-ups that don’t deserve to serve in my army! I will not pander to frail, pathetic, puny, feeble, sad, fragile, little pitiful weaklings! When I’m through with you, those cauldron lickers will be so terrified they’ll sit on their hats and spin! You sniveling maggots better get a good night’s rest because tomorrow at oh-six-hundred you enter a world of hurt, a world of pain, a world of agony! You’re about to enter the bowels of Hell!!! Okay, uh… Sleep tight. goodnight Hansel, goodnight Gretel.
| Witchapalooza Monologues |
