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 Monologue 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.

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….
It’s a silly story.  (Pax tells her to “go on”)
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.  
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:













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!











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:



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:




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.


A 2017 production

Now we come to the video portion of our monologue.





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.



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.

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:



Lortel Archives


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.
















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.


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


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.


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


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.

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.


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

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.


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: When It Rains Gasoline (Paul, Alysa, Emily, Jody) by Jason D. Martin

Howdy all! Welcome back to Unknown Playwrights and Monologue Monday! This week’s monologue has the winsome title of When It Rains Gasoline.

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I couldn’t find any art for this play, so I borrowed something from Maiyal.

According to the review on TheatreMania, “Jason D. Martin’s When It Rains Gasoline chronicles the massive emotional insecurities and social compromises of a group of Columbine-generation teens, navigating the treacherous waters of adolescence.”

The play premiered in 2010.

Paul: I get along with pretty much all the kids.

Even the play’s description of Paul is none-too-flattering:

Paul: A heavy-set stereotypical “loser.” The other kids avoid Paul or make fun of him.



This scene is basically Paul’s social media video diary. Paul isn’t feeling too well and lets the world know.

I get along with pretty much all the kids. I know there are a lotta’ girls that really like me, they’re just shy. I’m kinda’ shy too. I know what they’re going through. I don’t expect them to jump out and tell me how they feel, especially with Chris and… Well, you know. This one group of girls – really popular girls – invited me to a party. I got all dressed up. I was the only boy there. We played a game where they giggled and dared each other to kiss me. None did… I’m sure they were just shy. I… I can really get people to laugh when I do things sometimes. I’m… I’m not always sure what those things are… I mean, I get up from eating lunch and a whole group of kids at the next table starts to laugh. I’ve thought about maybe being a comedian… Especially since I’m so good at making people laugh. Chris and Angus and… I don’t like making those guys laugh. Not really. Sometimes they’re… I… It’s not fun to make them laugh, they… (A painful pregnant pause.) Sometimes I wish that their little hearts would just freeze. I have fantasies about that. Sometimes in my dreams I see people like Chris choking on something. He’s motioning for me to help him. He wants me to give him the Hiemlick maneuver or something, but I just stand there. I watch him fall to his knees, holding his throat, his face turning blue… For some reason blood starts to come out of his nose and ears. His eyes pop out and blood starts to come from there too. The whole time I know that I can save him, but I don’t do anything. I watch him die. He’s lying there, not moving, not doing anything. And suddenly… Suddenly his skin splits open. I expect to see muscles and bones, but… But instead, maggots and spiders and worms start to crawl out of his ravaged body. And then… And then I know what he was… Nothing. He wasn’t worth anything to anyone but insects and maggots… Sometimes… Sometimes, I think about ending it. It would be so easy to make a statement, to show the world that people like me aren’t gonna’] take it anymore. Put a gun to his head… Pull the trigger… See if I’m right about his insides…


















Poor Paul. Now we’re onto Alysa’s monologue.

Alysa: Do you realize that tonight….

Alysa: One of the most popular girls at the school. The head cheerleader. She is both a stereotypical “mean girl” and an airhead.

Her monologue is about the troubles of a stereotypical rich girl:

Do you realize that tonight is the most important night of my life? Oh my God! Do you? It’s like way more important than cheer tryouts. It’s way more important than my first kiss, the first day of middle school, the first day of high school, the first day of drivers ed, more important than my driver’s license, more important than any of my ex-boyfriends, more important than my current boyfriends—I mean friend. It is the pinnacle of the high school experience. The prom. Prom night. The night that I will remember for the rest of my life. I spent six-hundred dollars on my dress. Anyway, Jane Hickman spent a thousand… She’s a total daddy’s girl. For her sixteenth birthday, her dad got her a brand new Ford Mustang. For my sixteenth birthday, I got a two-year old Prius. Whatev. Some girls are just born with a silver spoon in their mouth. She’s such a snobby little rich girl. A little rich girl who’s parents buy her anything she wants. Her parents have a swimming pool and a tennis court. All we have is a Jacuzzi. One time she told me she, (Make quote signs with her fingers.) liked my outfit. She’s such a snob. I know what she meant. She was making fun of my new designer jeans. She thinks they’re out of fashion already. Slut. Oh well, I’m not gonna’ let Jane Hickman ruin the most important day of my life. My six-hundred dollar dress is way more stylish than the over-priced rag she’s gonna’ wear. That little bitch. That little slut. I’m gonna’ be homecoming royalty for sure. Homecoming queen! I hate Jane Hickman. Hicky Hickman, ‘cause she’s always got a hicky. That little hootchie-mamma better not be gettin’on the royal court. I’d just kill myself if she was homecoming queen. I’d kill myself! It’s bad enough that her dress costs more. It’s bad enough she’s got a newer car. It’s bad enough she’s got a pool and a tennis court. I hate my parents. Why don’t we have a pool and a tennis court? My Mom is so lazy. All she does is sit around at the computer. And my Dad… My Dad’s never around. He’s always (Makes quote signs again.) at the office. Whatever that means. Like if he was (Makes quotes a last time.) at the office, he’d be making money, right? Well maybe he needs to get his butt in gear and get his daughter a fifteen-hundred dollar dress so she doesn’t look like a bag lady at the prom. That’s what I’m gonna’ look like. A bag lady! Jane Hickman’s gonna’ be prom queen for sure! This is the worst day of my life!
























And now we leave popular rich girl angst to bring you…

Emily: Pink Bunnies monologue

Popular pregnant girl angst by way of Emily.  Here is her character description:

Emily: A popular cheerleader who has just found out that she’s pregnant.

Whoops. Here is the monologue:

“Sometimes I just wish the world was full of pink bunny rabbits. There would be a beautiful lush forest, green grass, a sparkling brook, and it would always be warm. And all that would live there would be pink bunny rabbits. Hundreds of pink bunny rabbits. They would eat the grass and the leaves and there wouldn’t be any wolves to hurt them. Every rabbit’s Mom and Dad would love them no matter what… And all the rabbits would be in love… They would all have the perfect mate that would never ever hurt them in any way. They would all be able to trust each other and know that if something bad happened, no one would run away. I know it’s a weird dream, but I’ve heard weirder. My boyfriend used to tell me how cool it would be if there were a one-way mirror into the girls locker room. That’s kind of strange… Then again, he is a guy. I had another friend who thought that rocks were alive and that if you touched them, the grease on your fingers would kill them. A little weirder. Someone once told me that he had a premonition that one day we would all have flying waffles for cars… That almost takes the cake for weirdness. No, I’ll tell you the weirdest thing I ever heard was when my doctor told me that I was pregnant… There is no doubt that that’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. I never knew a fifteen-year old girl would… Well, I suppose I’ve heard about it happening. I guess I just never thought that it could happen to me. I wish the world were full of pink bunny rabbits…”

Her boyfriend sounds like a creepy loser. Here are the videos:









That was all very thrilling. Now we come to Jody.

Jody: I’m scared.

It seems there’s only one video of Jody. Here is his character description:

Jody: A young man who is trying to deal with his sexual identity.

I’m scared. I mean, I’m not just a little bit frightened… I’m actually scared—really scared. I can put ‘em on a bit. Act cocky. But they know. They know what I really am. These kids here… They… Well, they don’t understand. Most of ‘em live in a dream world. They think about football and prom and hanging out at the mall. I guess that’s pretty normal. Problem is… I don’t fit the norm. It’s not easy being what I am here. People say it’s not an easy thing to be anywhere, but… It’s really not an easy thing to be here. And it’s not like I got a whole lotta’ support. My Mom—well that didn’t go over well. Locked herself in the bathroom all night. And my Dad… Let’s just say he’s not very open-minded. We don’t talk about it at home. We pretend like it, never came up. It is not a subject that is open for discussion. I know that a lot of queer teenagers are suicidal. They just can’t take it. But that’s not me. That’s not me. I don’t think about that stuff… Mostly, I don’t think about that stuff. Okay, sometimes it comes into my head, but there is no way I’d ever do anything to myself. There’s no way. I mean, look at me. I’m not scared of what I’m gonna’ do. I’m scared of what other kids are going to do to me if they ever really find out. I mean, I’m worried about my friends. I’m worried that they won’t want to be around me. I’m worried that they’ll think I’m somehow different, diseased, inferior… But that’s only part of what I’m scared of. Only part… I’m also worried about the others, the ones who aren’t my friends. The others…the ones who hate. The ones who sit in the back of the classroom and talk about Mexicans taking their jobs. The ones who thought Obama was born in Kenya. The ones who think we’re all pedophiles with AIDS who made a choice to be like this. (Laughs.) If only they knew. I don’t think anyone anywhere would ever make a choice to be like this. It’s too hard…Yeah, the ones who hate…they’re stupid. But you know what? Stupid people are dangerous, really dangerous. I mean, I’m just a guy. I’m just a person. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m not going to hit on some insecure jock. I mean, give me a break. I don’t even have the self-esteem to hit on another gay guy. So I don’t know what they’re problem is. I don’t know what it is. But it doesn’t matter. If the others—the ones who hate—if they find out about me, they’ll come after me. And they’ll hurt me. And they’ll laugh when they do it. I’m afraid. Scared. What will people think of me when I’m out? What will people do to me? Everything’s gonna’ change. Everything.


The entire play is available from the author’s website.

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