Monologue Monday

Monologue Monday: Dreams in Captivity (Deafening Applause/My Father’s Blue Eyes/Barry’s monologue) by Gabriel Davis

Howdy all! Welcome back to Monolgue Monday. As I type this, there’s some jerk nearby playing wank-ballads at an ungodly level. If this post is lesser than previous posts, blame the Wank-Balladeer of Jakarta.

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Available where fine plays are sold.

This monologue comes from Dreams in Captivity by Gabriel Davis. We have profiled other Davis monologues (Coffee Slave, Quiche isn’t Sexy, Almost 16 and Lacey’s Last Chance).

Let’s check out this play’s plot via StageAgent:

After being kicked out of culinary school, aspiring chef Pax returns to his hometown to regroup. There he happens upon an old friend from high school, Livi, who he learns has forgone a promising acting career to work in a retirement home. Meanwhile Livi’s sister-in-law Reina enrolls in a class about space at the local community college and, much to her husband Barry’s dismay, becomes fixated on the unlikely dream of becoming an astronaut. Pax supports Reina’s aspirations and encourages Livi to revive hers – all while pursuing his own far-fetched dream of opening a restaurant for celebrities in LA.

It certainly sounds like the world of dreams in LaLa Land.

My Father’s Blue Eyes

In this monologue, Livi is remembering when her father actually saw her.

I was fourteen.  For some reason, my guidance counselor took an interest in me.  Who knows what she saw in me – wearing Barry’s hand-me-down rugby shirts…  But she entered me in a local beauty pageant. Bought me a nice dress, and some makeup and everything.  Got me all dolled up….
(Beat)
It’s a silly story.  (Pax tells her to “go on”)
(Beat)
Well, the night of the pageant came – and she tried to get my dad there.  But of course he wouldn’t… And then…I won.  I won.  I couldn’t believe it.  And they gave me this tiara.  I remember getting home and being so proud – and there was Dad, sitting on his Lazy-Boy, watching something funny on TV, ’cause he was laughing – just really in a good mood.  Well, I just waited, patiently, until the commercial.  Then I walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, ever so lightly, and showed him my tiara – my crown.  
(Beat)
And this part, I’ll never forget, he actually smiled at me – he touched my face – and he said “Are you my Miss America? Are you my little Miss Universe?”  At that moment, I had his attention.  He was looking right at me.  And I remember, thinking it was really weird, because I’d never noticed how blue his eyes were before.

Let’s see what the actors on YouTube have cooked up:

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Deafening Applause

Now Livi is talking to Pax, telling him how her dream died. You can find the monologue here.

I remember how everyone got quiet, okay?  

Quiet…and still.  Like they were all connected to me.  All a part of me.  Even Dad and Barry – I looked out, even they were…seeing me.  I mean, really seeing me.  And at the end of the show, when I stepped forward to take my bow the applause was—was— It was deafening.  In a little high school auditorium.  It was deafening and — Dad and Barry were applauding with the rest of them.  They had these big smiles on their faces.  

Afterwards Dad took us out to dinner.  And I was thinking, this is it, ya know.  He’s finally seen what they all see. We sit down. The first words out of his mouth are “Sure, you were OK, but I’m not really sure you’ve got the movie star look.  Take Annette Benning – she’s real tall, isn’t she, Barry?”  “Oh yeah, Liv,” Barry says, “movie stars are real tall.”  So I’m like, “What about Marilyn Monroe? She was short.”  And Dad just looks at Barry and says “Now she thinks she’s Marilyn Monroe.”  And they just laugh and laugh. 

Dad wanted me to come work at the Techno-Hut.  He didn’t want me to leave.

You ask me if I’m truly happy having stayed?  I don’t know.  I live a good life here.

Let’s see how our brave YouTube mono-thespians did!

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Here is something really special. An Australian actress documented her journey working on this monologue. It’s pretty cool. It’s also fun seeing her adopt a fairly believeable American accent.

Barry’s Monologue/Best Lazy Boy Recliner

Lest all the women have all the monologues, Barry gets a monologue where he talks about the nature of men and the best Lazy Boy in space.

Again, via StageAgent.

You know why men are constantly fighting instead of working together to survive?

Simple. Man is mainly motivated to sit on his ass. Our greatest inventors are busy right now finding more ways for us to sit on our ass better. And when they make it, men will kill to sit on it.

​Wars will happen because every man wants the best Lazy Boy Recliner in the galaxy. AND I SELL IT.

I sell a deluxe Lazy Boy outfitted with massagers, heating pads, a cooling unit for drinks – it’s the closest experience of comfort a man can get on earth short of climbing back through his mother’s hoo-ha into the womb.

If it’s a choice between that and helping you colonize space? No contest.

Let’s see how the YouTube actors fared:

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Where are you trying to run to?

Livi calls Pax out on his nonsense. You can read the monologue here.

Where are you trying to run to, Pax? Can’t you just stop and enjoy life while you’re here—lucky to be alive and breathing? I mean, there may be no tomorrow and you may have missed today in some desperate, frenetic, striving frenzy.

I like the people at the retirement home. Their time is limited and they know it. They have a palpable sense of their limits. And they know how to enjoy the moment. There’s an old couple there, that I aspire to. They sit together, all day, hand in hand, just breathing, staring at the TV.

Yes Pax … like just two bodies…sitting there. Yes. “A sitting-down love.” They have “a sitting down love.” You think love should make you stand up, jump up…achieve your greatest heights. Sure, yes love can do that but it can also make you calm, centered, at peace, contented.

Is that really what I want for us? You call it “A life in retirement.” I don’t know, Pax. I just want us to be fulfilled. Yes, I know you want that too. So why can’t you accept things the way they are?

It’s not “giving up.” It’s … giving in. Surrendering. Being .. at peace. You say you want to “fly on the stars and never look back.” But Pax … Sometimes falling can feel like flying.

Look we … we don’t have to solve this tonight. Tonight we can just take a breath. Take a step back. We can retire … to bed. Not retire forever. Not give in forever. Just give in … for tonight. Retire … for tonight.

Come to bed. Pax … just … come to bed.

Let’s see what our YouTube acting heavyweights can do with this monologue:

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There we have it. Thanks for stopping by. I hope everyone stays safe during the Covid19.

For fun, while researching this I found a song with the exact title of My Father’s Blue Eyes. For novelty’s sake I’m posting it here.

Monologue Monday

Monologue Monday: Becker from Jitney by August Wilson

Howdy! Welcome back to Unknown Playwrights and Monologue Monday.

I hope everyone is well during this Coronapocalypse. This week we’ll be looking at the character of Becker in August Wilson’s Jitney.

Here is the plot synopsis of Jitney

“Regular taxi cabs will not travel to the Pittsburgh Hill District of the 1970s, and so the residents turn to jitneys—unofficial, unlicensed taxi cabs—that operate in the community. This play portrays the lives of the jitney drivers at the station owned by Jim Becker.”

  • Jim Becker, the well-respected manager of the jitney station. In his 60s. 

A good role for a senior actor, that’s for sure. In a previous post we covered Jitney more in-depth and also profiled Rena’s monologue.

One reason we’re covering this monologue this week, is that the Los Angeles cops totally handcuffed an actor for doing the monologue. His video will appear at the end.

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Let’s take a minute and talk about how this Covid-19 and the resulting quarantine has hurt people of color the most in the US.

First, it kills them way more than white folks:

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Here’s a couple links about why that is the case.

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Congratulations, America. Even Germany is calling you out on your racist BS. 

In addition to built-in societal and health service shortcomings, there’s the police. Most of America is under some sort of quarantine order. Wearing masks are required in some places or encouraged in others.

Presumably faced with a dearth of real crimes, police all across America must find other ways to take out their superior attitude on the civilian populace.

Here a gangster thug cop in Wood River, Illinois is harassing two African American men for wearing masks…you know, the masks everyone is supposed to wear so we don’t all get sick and die?

God forbid these cops have to fight real crimes or investigate something. The city of Wood River is soooo f*cked.

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Of course there’s a golf course on their homepage. The town’s lack of self-awareness is hilarious. Or are they hyper-aware??? 

These gentlemen were harassed for wearing a mask. But what happens when you DO wear a mask? Don’t worry we have video of that, too courtesy of the Philadelphia cops:

The news person says three police officers, but they were backed up by a bunch more.

African Americans aren’t the only ones to bear the brunt of America’s stupidity. Asian Americans have caught their fair share.

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Here a Chinese American doctor talks about what it’s like to save people’s lives while folks are busting your mom’s windshield.

There’s enough racism for another video…

Back to the play….

Becker has a monologue where he berates his son, for being a murderer and such…and not beng around when his mom died:

I was there! I was holding her hand when she died. Where was you? Locked up in a cage like some animal. That’s what killed her. To hear the judge say that the life she brought in the world was unfit to live. That you be “remanded to the custody of the Commissioner of Corrections at Western State Penitentiary and there to be executed in the electric chair. This order to be carried out thirty days from today.” Ain’t that what the judge said? Ain’t that what she heard? ‘This order to be carried out thirty days from today.’ That’s what killed her. She didn’t want to live them thirty days. She didn’t want to be alive to hear on the eleven o’clock news that they had killed you. So don’t you say nothing to me about turning my back when I nursed that woman, talked to her, held her hand, prayed over her and the last words to come out of her mouth was your name. I was there! Where were you Mr. Murderer? Mr. Unfit To Live Amongst Society. Where were you when your mama was dying and calling your name? (Stops talking a moment to gather himself.) You are my son. I helped to bring you into this world. But from this moment on…I’m calling the deal off. You ain’t nothing to me, boy. You just another nigger on the street.

 

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A 2017 production

Now we come to the video portion of our monologue.

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Last, but not least, with some improvisation from LA’s finest method actors, here’s Tyree Freely’s monologue:

View this post on Instagram

Hey what’s up Instagram. I was filming a self-tape this morning for @ldbcasting @thats_mrs_butler_2_you, and I heard a knock at the door. I looked through the peephole and didn’t see anything, so I opened the door to see 2 LAPD officers on the sides of my door. They told me to step out of my own home as they asked me who was inside. As I informed them that it was just me inside, they weren’t trying to tell me what happened nor were they trying to tell me their names. I told them how I was making a self tape for class (though they didn’t know what a self tape was nor did they believe me). Then, they were trying to place me under arrest for something I had no idea about. I kept asking why are you trying to place me in handcuffs, and you can hear the officer saying, “You’re lucky we didn’t just grab you and throw you in handcuffs.” For whaat ?!? Being black in my own home? They finally told me someone called them because of some possible fighting going on here, so instead of asking me to wait outside, they decided to “detain” me. So I politely complied w/ their orders as I refuse to be another hashtag. As I was placed in handcuffs, one officer searched my whole apartment as no one was there (like I said). (FYI, soon as you walk in, you could literally see my tripod/ring light set up w/ my phone on it) They finally said it was suspicion of domestic violence in my apartment! AS I AM IN MY HOME BY MYSELF! Who am I beating up? Myself? This was completely uncalled for as I was taken out of my own home to be handcuffed for doing a monologue. Also, they were too close to me to begin with. I thought we were suppose to be social distancing as I’m being placed in metal handcuffs that could’ve been infested w/ Rona germs. I apologize @ldbcasting for not submitting in a timely manner, but this is what I was dealing with. I didn’t even get to finish my take as this was take 4. Thank you officers Velasco and Terzes for ruining my self tape and also this entire monologue for me. The devil is a liar & I am blessed. God I thank you for covering me because it could’ve went a totally different route. #quarantinemonologues #artist #black #disrespectful #God #trending #Jitney #blm

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Everyone please stay safe during this awful time and love your neighbor.

We will see you soon.

Ciao.

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Monologue Monday

Monologue Monday: Slow Dance on the Killing Ground (Rosie, Glas) by William Hanley

Howdy! Welcome back Unknown Playwrights! Here we have some more Monologue Monday.

This week’s play is Slow Dance on the Killing Ground by William Hanley. The play is from 1964 and takes place in 1962.

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Low price previews!

I’m using the plot synopsis from the Dramatists Play Service:

As the curtain rises, a poor, dusty shop with its dirty window obscuring the dark hos-tile night, with its mean little counter, and with its juke box glaring vulgarly from the side, the storekeeper is taking inventory. The door is flung open, letting in a lithe young black man, weirdly gotten up in a soft, high-crowned hat, sunglasses, a cape, short slacks and sneakers. Mr. Hanley calls this act Pas de Deux. In this dance for two, the characters make hesitant approaches, circle, feint, threaten each other with gun and ice pick but scarcely make contact. The young man is obviously a hunted man. Through the circumlocutions of his odd mixture of jive talk and fancy literary allusions, there pants a sense of terror. The storekeeper is a non-Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, is close-mouthed, suspicious, anxious to avoid self-involvement. In the second act, the Pas de Deux becomes Pas de Trois. The third dancer is Rosie, an eigh-teen-year old from Riverdale, has wandered into the shop after losing her way while looking for the address of an abortionist. Rosie has no illusions about her homeliness or about the encounter that has led to her troubles. The laconic German and the flowery young man react to her with a sensitivity and concern that seem to diminish the furies within them. But not for long. Finally the German is driven to revealing the truth about himself as the young man, at last, in the third act, faces his inexorable fate out there on the killing ground.

It looks like they haven’t updated the synopsis since ’64, either. Hehe.

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2006 production.

The original play featured a young Clarence Williams III aka Linc from Mod Squad. Billy Dee Williams starred as Randall in the 1970 Off-Broadway revival.

Playwright Hanley was the nephew of two other successful writers, Gerald and James Hanley. His sister Ellen Hanley was a noted Broadway actress.

Hanley eventually had a successful career writing for television, especially TV movies. He was nominated for five Emmys and won two. Here are some links about him:

Wikipedia

IMDb

Lortel Archives

IBDB

There are monologues for all three characters.

Rosie: If you knew me better…

Rosie has the misfortune of suffering from the “I got pregnant my first time” trope.

This monologue is available right here.

Rosie: If you knew me better, you’d see that this is exactly the kind of thing that’s likely to happen to me. Getting knocked up, I mean. The point is it was my first time, I was a virgin before that. Wouldn’t you know it, I’d get caught? Aside from everything else, I’m not lucky, either. You see, if I was lucky, Harold and I could’ve succumbed to our silly little passion and that would’ve been that, the end of it. And New Rochelle, of all places. At least if it’d been in some nice apartment in the Village, say, with the sound coming through the window of traffic and people, the breeze blowing the curtain over the bed, like in the movies. But no. I lost my virginity in the attic of an old house in New Rochelle. Harold’s grandmother’s house. On a rainy day in spring on the floor of the attic in his grandmothers house, listening to the rain on the roof, breathing the dust of old things…And what comes next but his grandmother who was supposed to be in the city for the day. But instead, she’s suddenly standing there, screaming: “Stop that! Stop that this instant!” Needless to say, it was out of the question. Stopping. At that particular moment. I mean, sex is like a flight over the sea, one reaches the point of no return…I guess it sounds funny now, but you know, at the time…it was pretty rotten. Sordid, I mean…it wasn’t at all the way it’s supposed to be. And Harold, of all people. A girl finds herself in this predicament, this condition, she’d at least like to think the cause of it was some clever, handsome guy with charm and experience, just returned from spending a year in Rome, say, on a Guggenheim fellowship. But Harold. Harold is six foot two, about a hundred and twenty five pounds, tops, and an Economics major at CCNY…That’s about the best I’ll ever be able to do, I know it. Ever since I found out I was pregnant I’ve been walking around with a face down to here and my mother kept saying, “What’s the matter with you, anyway? I just don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.” So, finally, I told her: a kid named Harold, as a matter of fact.

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Glas: But I had a wife…

There is a male monologue in the play. And it might be a decent one for an older actor. Glas’ character survived the Holocaust.

He talks about those days, being a Gentile married to a Jew.

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And there we have Slow Dance on the Killing Ground.

This last video is a filmed scene from the play.

Monologue Monday

Monologue Monday: Cactus and Karma by David Hansen

Hello everyone and welcome to a very special pandemic edition of Monologue Monday! Today we bring you two pieces of Quarantine Theatre.

These are monologues written by playwright David Hansen and performed by actors under quarantine. How claustrophobic is that?

Playwright Hansen and his gang of thespians have created something called The Short Play Project where they perform Hansen’s plays from the comfort of their very own quarantine.

CACTUS

The first play we’re profiling is about cactus sex. Kinda.

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OH YEAH!!!!

It’s actually about vulnerability and is more of a metaphor. I know, I was kinda crushed, too.

This monologue can be used by any gender.

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The guys, at work. They call me the cactus. Not “Cactus,” that would feel like a

nickname. “What’s up, Cactus?” That would be cute. No, that’s what they say behind

my back. [concerned, under the breath] “Don’t fuck up today, the Cactus is out for

blood.”[normal voice] Which is fine. I’m not there to have fun or be liked. I have work to

do and so do they, I don’t care if they are afraid to deal with me, they have to and that’s

it.

I do hate when I am referred to as prickly. That bothers me. But tough? Okay. Yes. Call

me tough. Is it because I am aggressive? No, it’s not. A cactus isn’t aggressive. A cactus

doesn’t leap out at you from a dark alley and murder you. That would be funny right.

[hard stare] No, you have to mess with it. Then you get hurt. That was a warning. To

you. I guess.

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Look, but don’t touch.

I am a seed that fell in a stony place, with no roots and little hope for survival. But when

the sun rose up I was not scorched, I said, “up yours, sun,” and grew anyway. That was

a biblical reference.

My toughness is my defense. My thorns are a defense. My just coming out and telling

you these things. That doesn’t mean I’m “letting you in.” I am stating the obvious so you

can’t tell me later that you didn’t know.

But I’d like to have sex with you, which means one of two things are going to happen.

You get close and I hurt you, or I let you cut me open to experience all the sweetness I

have hidden inside of me and then I die. I am no longer a cactus.

So ask yourself. Which outcome is more likely to happen?

“The guys at work” always seemed to be assholes, so I wouldn’t put much stock in what they say.

However, this is an interesting play about perception, vulnerability and human nature.

To download the monologue, just click here.

KARMA

The second play is about that age old concept of karma. The play is about a millipede.

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I like to pretend it’s this millipede.

We’re not really told why/how this millipede ended up at its karmic destination, but we don’t really need to be, either.

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I live. I live. I eat. I live. I hunt. I eat. Eat what is in front of me. Navigate the surface. Always moving forward. Across the surface. Surface down. Surface across. Surface up. This is up, I am up, I live, I move, move unencumbered up. Vast plane of nothing, no food, no dark, but safe. Safe, I am, from beings, impossibly large beings, gigantic meatsticks, the great dangers. Also giant, but less so, the beasts who torture, crush, consume. Up surface they cannot go. But no food, I live. I eat, must eat. So, to the surface, with obstacles, surfaces smooth, surfaces nubbly, moving to catch, consume, sate, moving on. I was. I was. I recall. A meatstick once, once giant, a giant meatstick, with, I had, my, the way the world was, to me, mine, I understood. Understood. Understood me. A youth, young for meatstick, very old for me, turns of dark, numbering in the hundreds. A child? A child, curious, thoughts, ideas, catching, hunting, pinching, one like me, separating me, part by part, separated, causing chaos, call it pain. Ending life. I was. I was not. No longer child, now me. To learn. To truly understand.

That’s it. I’ve known several meatsticks in my life and many of them would be better off as millipedes.

You can download the play here.

To see all the plays of Hansen’s noble experiment, please check out the YouTube playlist.

Also, please check out Mr. Hensen’s website where he maintains a blog and other goodies. If you have access to the New Play Exchange, dude is on there, too.

This concludes our very special pandemic Monologue Monday. Everyone be safe. See you soon!

 

 

 

Monologue Monday

Monologue Monday: Laundry and Bourbon (Elizabeth & Hattie) by James McLure

Howdy and welcome back to Monologue Monday. This week’s monologues come from a play entitled Laundry and Bourbon (aka Southern women drinking and gossiping).

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In Siloam Springs, Arkansas.

The play claims to have a plot. I stole this one from playdatabase:

The setting is the front porch of Roy and Elizabeth’s home in Maynard, Texas, on a hot summer afternoon. Elizabeth and her friend Hattie are whiling away the time folding laundry, watching TV, sipping bourbon and Coke, and gossiping about the many open secrets which are so much a part of small-town life. They are joined by the self-righteous Amy Lee who, among other tidbits, can’t resist blurting out that Roy has been seen around town with another woman. While the ensuing conversation is increasingly edged with bitter humor, from it emerges a sense of Elizabeth’s inner strength and her quiet understanding of the turmoil which has beset her husband since his return from Vietnam. He is wild, and he is unfaithful, but he needs her and she loves him. And she’ll be waiting for him when he comes home–no matter what others may say or think.

Admittedly, this isn’t my cup of tea. The Southern-fried genre of theatre has been done much better (think Tennessee Williams) and the small-town village mentality and escape thereof has been better portrayed by Inge. As for comedy, I know real-life Southerners 10 times funnier than this play.

However, on the plus side, it does provide three female roles, some strong. It also provides decent audition monologue material.

Let’s take a look at the character breakdown:

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Two of these characters have monologues we can explore.

Elizabeth: I remember the first day he drove into town in that car.

So these people like to talk about the past. Elizabeth is remembering when she saw Roy with his car.

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Elizabeth: Wish tonight was 10 years ago.

Elizabeth has reached a point in her life and relationship when she wishes she could go into the back seat of a Ford Thunderbird 10 years ago. Also, in fiction, why does it seem men need to teach women about their bodies?

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Hattie: Figure I better check on the kids.

Hattie complains about her kids. The monologue is here.

Hattie: Figure I better check on the kids. No telling what devilment they’ve gotten up to. (Dialing.) Everything gonna turn out fine you’ll see. (On the phone.) Hello? Cheryl? Cheryl dear, this is Mommy. . . Mommy. . . your mother. (Aside.) Child needs a hearing aid. What’s that dear? Vernon Jr. threw a rock at you? Well, throw one back at him, honey. Show him who’s boss. Cheryl, sweetheart, put Grandma on the phone. . . Cheryl this week! (Pause.) Sounds -like they’re running her ragged. Hello? Little Roger. Is that you. I don’t want to talk to you right now punkin, I want to talk to Grandma. . . ’cause I want to talk to Grandma . . . yes Grandma does have baggy elbows. Now lemme talk to her. . . what’s that? Honey of course Mommy loves you. . . I love you all the same. . . Do I love you more than who? Fred Flintstone. Yes. More than Paul Newman no, but Fred Flintstone yes. . . It’s a grown-up joke honey. Now put Grandma on . . . She’s what? Tied up! You untie her you hear me? You want a switchin’? . . . Then you untie her, right now. . . Marion? That you. . . Oh, you were playin’ . . . Oh good I thought they had you tied up for real. . . How they doing. . . yes . . . yes. . . yes I agree there is too much violence on TV. . . yes I’ll pick them up at five. . . No I won’t be late. . . You have my solemn word. . . Goodbye. What’s that? Little Roger? . . . Yes it’s nice to hear your voice again too . . . You’re playing what? Sniper? Vernon Jr. has climbed a tree in the backyard and he has a brick? Well, little Roger, listen and listen carefully, under no circumstances go under that tree. . . He’s gonna drop the brick on your head, sweetheart. . . So don’t go under the tree. That’s just what he wants. . . OK . . . OK . . . “Yabba dabb doo” to you too. (She hangs up.) He’ll walk right under that tree. The child has no more sense than God gave a screwdriver.

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Hattie: Today I went through living hell.

She also goes shopping with said kids. The monologue is here.
HATTIE
Today I went through living hell. I went shopping with my children. Disastrous. When my kids hit a department store, they go berserk. I think it activates something in their glands. We hadn’t been in J.C. Penney’s five minutes before they scattered in all direction. Now you take my little Cheryl. She’s a sweet little thing but bless her heart she’s a thief. It’s time I faced facts, ‘Lizabeth. My daughter is a kleptomaniac. As soon as we got into that store, she started stuffing her pockets. Stuffing her clothing. She ran away from me and ten minutes later I saw her. I barely recognized my only daughter. She looked like a beach ball with legs. Telling her to put it back is no good. Thieving is in her blood. She gets it from Vernon Jr. Now he was in the hardware department chasing his brother with a hammer. And all little Roger was doing was screaming. Somehow Vernon Jr. broke a solid steel J.C. Penney hammer. When it comes to destruction, Vernon Jr. is a genius. But I tell you, it’s the last time I go shopping with those kids. I took the little darlings over to Vern’s mother’s place. She has a nice big house. They ought to have it leveled in about an hour or so.

 

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Hattie: Elizabeth you’re getting all sentimental and romantic.

Of course Hattie has some advice for her yearning-for-the-past friend Elizabeth.

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B

 

C

 

And there you have it, some monologues. For quality female contemporary monologues, please check out Adam Szymkowicz’ Pretty Theft and Rare Birds as well as Incendiary. There’s also My Name is Tania Head by Alexandra Wood.

PS if you ever wondered what Laundry and Bourbon being rehearsed in Indonesian looks like, now is your chance. And yeah, the director is kind of a dick (like a lot of American directors I’ve known).