Monday, 1 August 2016

Kim Kutledge Monologue by Josh Weckesser

Kim Kutledge's Monologue
By Josh Weckesser
KIM:
My name is Kim Kutledge and I am broken. I'm not really broken in the way that a tree becomes broken in a tropical storm or the way an egg becomes broken when it is dropped to the kitchen floor before it can be put in the omelet. I am broken like a bone, painfully and somewhat grotesque to look at, but under the right conditions and proper care I will heal. [beat] What I mean to say is that I am a poet. Really, I am. Listen to this. It's a love poem. [clears throat]
Excuse me, but if you would
Give me the chance, I think I could
Do what I need to make you feel good
[long pause] What? No applause? Now you see what I'm talking about, broken. I wasn't even blessed with being tortured, Poe and Dante were tortured, I am simply ineffectual and unloved. I know what you're thinking, "Surely you jest, who would not love you?" The answer is the source of my pain and the reason I cannot heal. I do not love me. I'm like that one guy in that one 80's movie, I do everything that everyone tells me to do. On the plus side nothing is ever my fault, I can always point the finger at someone else. On the down side I talk to myself a lot. Like now for example. None of you are real. I bet you didn't know that, and I kinda hate to break it to you because I'm sure you think you're real, but I just made every one of you up. That's gotta be depressing, but don't worry about it, you'll cease to exist once I've finished thinking about you. But you wanna know the worst part? Would Keanu Reeves please stand up? [pause] See? He's not here! He's never here! I'm so broken that I can't even control my own hallucinations even after I've accepted that fact that they're hallucinations. I know you're wondering about the whole Keanu Reeves thing, but even if he can't act he can say "woah" with the best of them and if he wore his Matrix costume he wouldn't have to say a thing. [beat] Maybe I should go see a psychiatrist about this. I'm pretty sure it's not normal. He'd most likely tell me it was 'advanced projected schizophrenia' or something. I'm sure he'd ask me, "Do you occasionally feel like you're on stage?" and I'd say no but he'd see though it because he'd be a good psychiatrist, and I'd never go see a bad one. So I'd admit to sometimes feeling like I'm on stage and he'd ask me if I'd like to see Keanu Reeves appear and I'd deny that too, but he'd see though it again. So then I'd tell him that Keanu never showed, with or without his leather Matrix jacket. Then I'd ask him how he knew and he'd tell me that it's a pretty common thing, he used to go though something similar. It's hero worship gone horribly awry, something about not having the confidence to want to see someone actually interesting. All I'd have to do to avoid these things was to believe in myself, have some confidence. [epiphany] Yes, I think that's it! Of course that's it. I can do that. I can love myself, I can. And I will. [pause] Right?

Just looking by Kellie Powell

Just Looking

By Kellie Powell

Angela is at the center of a complex love polygon, all set behind the scenes of a summer theatre program. Brian and Ryan are best friends who are both infatuated with Debbie, Debbie has cheated on Brian with Alex - who was briefly a love interest of Angela. Angela feels responsible for Brian's heartache because she is responsible for introducing him to Debbie - but perhaps there is more to it than that.

This monologue is from ACT II. Angela confides in Ryan that Debbie has cheated on Brian with Alex (who Angela has also had a bit of a fling with), and vents about her resulting anxiety.
ANGELA:
Things are so amazingly fucked-up right now! I mean, Debbie and Brian were not doing well... It's just, the logic escapes me. She feels like he doesn't trust her, like he's waiting for her to cheat - so she DOES. Instead of saying, "Brian, I don't feel like you trust me," she hooks up with Alex! What THE HELL is THAT? People are fucking INSANE! I...
The thing is, I feel inextricably linked to the whole mess, because I wanted them to be together, to work out, to stay together... And I end up sharing Alex The Walking Bag of Disease with her. I... She's the one who told me to have a fling, anyway! I guess she decided to take her own advice. She... She didn't know what I needed; she knew what she wanted.
I feel responsible for this. How else am I supposed to feel?
(Pause.) I need to stop feeling people's pain for them, trying to step between my friends and their scars.

Later in ACT II. Angela has just realized the real reason she's been crazy: Her infatuation with Brian.
ANGELA:
I have feelings for you. Not just, like, strange, uncontrollable physical attraction, although, I feel that... I have since we were in Oedipus together, since before I even broke up with Luke. And not just that bizarre combination of admiration and fascination that keeps you on my permanent good side no matter how drastically you cross the line or how much of a little whiny bitch you can sometimes be - although, obviously, I feel that. And not just that totally annoying and inescapable feeling that I want to take care of you, because I made you promise to treat her right, and I should've made her make that same promise, so you'd never have to feel the kind of pain I feel when I see her let you down - even though I feel that, too. It's all those things, and it's more, more than I can ever put into words.
Listen, don't say anything. Because you need to spend some time on your own, be alone for a while, and you're going to need time to let all that sink in.
I'm going to need time to let all that sink in.
But... if the time ever comes in your life, when you're ready... please consider me. I'll be here. I'll be waiting.

ACT III. Many months later, Angela is finally with Brian, but is very uncertain about their relationship.
ANGELA:
I used to have horrible insomnia. For years... And... I used to play all these games, you know, in my head, to try to relax and get to sleep... Like, I would count how long I could keep my eyes open. And then I would count how long I could keep them closed... And one night, after Luke and I broke up, I set my mind to trying to imagine the perfect guy. I did that for a really long time, until I had it down to microscopic detail, I knew exactly, precisely what I wanted. And then... Deb... she knew it before I did. She made me realize... it was you.
I stayed with my first boyfriend too long, because I was terrified of being alone again, and because I didn't know that I deserved better. And then, when I finally broke up with him, being alone was scary, but I got through that. I even started to like it. I found out I was pretty good at being alone. I found out that I was stronger than I ever thought I could be. And I just want you to know... that I like you, and I love being with you... but you're not perfect. And I... am no more lucky to be with you than you are to be with me. And... I need for you to tell me that you aren't with me just because you're afraid of being alone, just because you want to be with someone.

Because of Beth by Elana Gartner

Because of Beth

By Elana Gartner

Cara's mother has just died, and left custody of her sister, Penny, to Cara. This monologue is from Act I, Scene III. Cara enters, carrying a six pack of beer. She wanders through the tombstones until she gets to a fresh grave. She sits down next to it, takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one. She looks down at the grave.
CARA:
I'm really sorry, Mom. (long pause) I know I should have been there. I had so many chances to say goodbye to you and you kept telling me... say goodbye now, you never know... and I didn't want to. Well, so, are you happy? You were right. You were fucking right. (sighs) All that time and I never said goodbye to you. (finishes the cigarette and opens a beer. She sits down.) And let's get something clear: I'm not saying goodbye to you now. That's not why I'm here. I came to talk to you. Just talk. You and me. (stands up and starts pacing)So let's talk... (looks at grave. Short laugh.) I always wanted you to listen to me... now that I have your attention, I don't know what to... (long pause. Cara stares at the grave. Screams, frustrated.) Aaaaauuuuuughhhh! This fucking sucks! I can't believe how much this sucks! You're not supposed to be gone yet, Mom! This whole fucking mess sucks! Penny? She's so fucking whiny! It's like she has no other way to relate to me except to sob on me. And who do I have? No one! My friends aren't here. (pause) None of those people today cared about you, Mom. (gets quiet) I did. I cared about you. (pause) It's worse than when Dad left because at least then I had you. Now I don't have anyone. Oh, and what's with him showing up at the funeral? I mean, what the fuck is that, Mom? (Angrily) Since when does Dad even have a clue what the hell is going on in our lives? Do you think maybe you could tell me that? It's sick, you know. It's like I only get to have one parent surfacing at a time. Well, luckily, he's gone again. What a bastard! This is so fucking unreal. You have to come home! You have to! (accusing) You didn't even wait for me to show up so I could say goodbye to you! It wasn't my fault! I couldn't get here any faster! Couldn't you have waited just another fifteen minutes? And now Stanley wants to take Penny, the only family that I have left. It's not going to happen. Penny's my sister, not his daughter. Stanley wants me to go with him to the lawyers' tomorrow. He said he thinks Dad's going to try to take Penny. (looks uncomfortable) Dad can't do that, can he? He hasn't been here in forever. He can't just come and take custody, right? (long pause as she thinks) He won't. He won't get custody. I'll go to the lawyers' and make sure. I'll have to be in the grave next to you for him to get custody, Mom! (Quietly)I'm the only one left who actually knows, who remembers everything about you... I do. Even Penny doesn't. I remember the night Dad left. No one else knows about that. (sits down next to the grave) Remember how you came into my room and you were crying... and you couldn't tell me what was wrong, but you just crawled into my bed and asked me to give you huggies to make Mommy better. And I did. I gave you huggies. But it didn't get better. And I started crying and we fell asleep crying. (long pause as she chokes back tears)Mommy, I need huggies to make it better. I need huggies. Make it better. (starts sobbing and shaking. Rocks herself in her sobs.)

Because of Beth By Elana Gartner

Because of Beth
By Elana Gartner
When teenage Penny's long-missing father doesn't recognize her at her mother's funeral, she risks her relationship with her irresponsible older sister (Cara) to learn about him and possibly overturn the guardianship her mother chose. In her quest, Penny learns how post-death experiences for the living can be treacherous when secrets are fresh, plentiful and powerful. This monologue is from Act I, Scene VI, and takes place in a graveyard. There is a fresh grave without a headstone. It is late afternoon. Penny enters with her bike. Her backpack is in the basket and she is carrying her violin case. She is looking at each gravestone. She finally comes to the fresh grave. She puts her bike and violin case down and goes to the grave. She looks at it a moment, then leans down, picks up a handful of dirt and throws it at the grave angrily.
PENNY
Well, Mom, it looks like we have a few things to talk about! I don't know how things are in that nice coffin of yours, but out here, they kind of suck a lot! How could you give Cara custody of me? Don't you think you could have talked to me about it? I mean, it's about me, don't you think you could have asked what I wanted? All anyone ever says is that I have to be older. Well, when do I get old enough for you to discuss these kinds of things with me? Is there some age limit like drinking and voting? Suddenly you can talk to me about what would happen to me if you died? I am always the last one to know about what happens to me! It's not fair! You make decisions! Cara makes decisions! Stanley makes decisions! And Stanley wants custody! Yeah, he wants custody! He's not my father. He just wants custody because I'm your daughter. (pause)You told me that you would always be there. You're not. Where are you now? Oh, and just so you know, no matter how many people tell me, I'm not going to believe that mumbo jumbo crap about you being with me all the time. It's not the same. Who am I going to talk to about Peter? You were the only one who knew about him. God, I'm never going to go out with Peter because I have to move to Arlington! You are wrecking my life! Cara fights with Stanley all the time. Stanley's so out of it he can barely make it through the day. He didn't wake Cara up to go to your funeral because he knew Dad was going to be there. Oh, and keeping a few secrets about him, huh? (takes out something from her bag) You're really lucky that Cara didn't find this when we were going through the boxes. (she opens a T-shirt that says "Proud dad of a George Mason grad") So what the hell is this? I know this wasn't for Stanley. Cara would have flipped out if you ever called Stanley her dad. So I'm thinking this was supposed to be for DAD. What the hell were you thinking, Mom? (she crumples it back up and shoves it in her bag) What's up with you lying about how you met Stanley? You and Dad and Stanley being friends in college? You know, we used to tell each other everything, Mom! Everything! Or at least I told you everything. All of my friends thought you were so cool because they could come and talk to you when they couldn't talk to their own moms! And you know what's so stupid? They still think that! Georgia calls me, crying and shit because you're gone and I'm finding out all this stuff about who you really were! You were my mom! When Dad left, it was you and me and Cara! And then when Cara left, it was just you and me! It was always us. Even when Stanley moved in. You weren't supposed to keep secrets from me! You were still supposed to be my mom! Because of you, I spent my whole life thinking Dad was this awful person. Well, I met him, Mom! And you know what? He's not an awful person; he's just hard to get to know. I hate Cara! She sent him away! She doesn't understand that I never knew him. I never got the chance to make my own decision about whether or not to hate him. I had to get that decision from you and her, too. I'm tired of this. You were supposed to be different. But you were like every other mom who makes choices for their kids. You told me that you weren't like that but you were. And I never realized how much until you died. (long pause) I came here to tell you that I'm leaving. I don't care what you said about my custody and I don't care if you left me stuff. I'm going to Chicago or somewhere else where nobody can find me. I'm going to be a musician. I'm going to start making my own decisions. (glares at the grave for a long time. Starts to tear up and angrily brushes it away. Stomps away defiantly to her bike.)

The piaggi suite by Diane Grant

The Piaggi Suite
By Diane Grant
"The Piaggi Suite" is a romantic comedy in which a monstrously self-absorbed and powerful diva visits a legendary New England musicians' retreat that has seen better days. Dangling the prospects of celebrity and success, she manipulates the collection of resident musicians as they struggle with the conflicts between career and love, the dangers of ambition, the perils of success, the pain of loss, and the glory of music. In this scene, Darlene, a seventeen year old composer, meets her hero, rock star Ziggy Martiin.
DARLENE
Ziggy Martin. Is it you? Is it really? I saw you with Dave Matthews. In Syracuse. It was the most beautiful night of my entire life. Did you really sit in with Sting?
I was at the Black Hole when you were there. I'm mad about the Hole. It's the best club ever. I had this song I wrote for you but they wouldn't let me go backstage. In November, two years ago. I was sitting right in front, surrounded by an entourage of coffee cups. I'd had eight cups of coffee and I was high.
I don't drink alcohol anymore. I had this boyfriend, Gary, he's twenty one, and he does catering and we used to finish off the booze at the end of parties. One night, we finished off four or five Daiquiris and then we found a bottle with some gin in it. There were some Zimas but we didn't touch them. Gary said we should avoid the Zimas. I was so sick, I kept throwing up and the next morning, all I could eat was a pint of Ben and Jerry's.
He's not my boyfriend, anymore. He went out with my friend Gloria and then he dumped her, too.
Gary's a drummer, he just does catering for the money when he doesn't have a gig. He drums like God but he's kind of stunned and I'm glad we broke up because I think you're the most exciting and most creative man I've ever met.
I know you're into alternative pop-rock so the song I wrote for you is really retro. Do you want to hear it? Really? Really?
(raps)
Listen to my history rant.
Gonna tell you about Adam Ant
Bad Religion, Alice in Chains
Beck and Bjork and The Leaving Trains
Beastie Boys and Dead Kennedys
Talking Heads and Screaming Trees
Germ, Fear, Violent Femmes
Sisters of Mercy and R.E.M.
Devo and Rage Against the Machine
Pearl Jam, Garbage, Hole and Ween
Echo and The Bunnymen, Ministry
Flaming Lips and Fugazi
Pixies, Primus, Pere Ubu
(slowing down)
Jane's Addiction,
(slower)
X
(slows to stop)
U2.

Do you like it? Really? Really? (smothers a scream) This is the most beautiful day of my entire life.

The prism by Ed Friedman

The Prism
By Ed Friedman
The Prism is a one-act play consisting of seven monologues which express our perception of aging in the U.S. through the lens of culture and economic class. Gloria is an Italian-American waitress in her early forties living and working in the Bronx. She is sitting at a booth in the diner where she works, wearing her uniform, emptying half empty bottles into other half empty bottles and talking to another waitress (unseen) sitting opposite her.
GLORIA
(Her eyes trailing someone walking by her.) You see that? That guy with the old lady? That's his mother. They're in here three times a week. Sometimes he just comes in by himself to get her some cheesecake. Ya know what it would take to get one of my brothers to do something for my mother? She'd have to be held hostage by terrorists. I'm not kidding. Nine brothers, none of them do squat. She has to go to the doctor, I take her. She needs shopping, I do it. She wants to visit somebody, go to a wedding, go to a funeral, its me, me and me. I don't mind, but come on. If I had a couple of sisters ok, but it's just me. Plus, 'cause I'm divorced and got no kids, the sky's the limit. (Pause.) If that asshole I married woulda kept it in his pants, I woulda already been livin' upstate twenty years. Instead I'm still livin' in my mother's building. I swear if it wasn't rent controlled I'd be outta there...
This is what I mean: her friend's granddaughter was getting married in Brooklyn. My mother just wanted to go to the church. I was planning to get my hair done that day. I hadn't done it in about two months so I say to her, "Ma, I'm kinda busy, do you think one of the boys can take you?" "Who?" she says. "Who? How about Anthony, Emilio, Vincent..." I start goin' down the list. She goes, "They're busy with their families." I don't even get into that, that's a crock of shit, so I say, "What about John?" "He's got a girlfriend." "What about Danny?" "Oh Danny works so hard." So I say, "Are you kiddin me Ma? I'm on my feet sixty hours a week." Know what she says? "Forget it, I'll stay home." ...What'd I do? Look at my hair, whadda think I did? Ya know all that stuff about Jewish guilt? My mother could teach them, lemme tell ya. Ya know why she's like this don'tcha? You wouldn't get this, you're not Italian. In Italian families, the sons don't do nothin', they're all princes. The daughters got to do everything. That's the way she was raised. That's the way they were all raised around here. When my grandmother got married she had no say. Her father said, "See that guy? He's gonna be your husband." And that was that. When the family went to my grandparents for dinner, the women would be running around cooking and serving and making sure the men had everything. The wives were like slaves. When the men were finished then they could eat. And these women, when their husbands died, they'd dress in black - I mean, forever, no matter how old they were when their husbands died. (She laughs at what she's about to remember.) When I was young, I thought the women who wore black were letting the men know they were available. I'm not kidding. (Beat.)
And nothing ever changes. About two weeks ago, I'm in my mother's apartment. I'm ironing, right? Who comes in? My brother Vincent. You woulda thought he just came back from the war. He runs a goddam exterminating business in Bellmore. But he's like the waddayacall, prodigal son. Shit, they're all the prodigal son. And guess who has to wait on him? ...Good guess. Before he has his coat off, my mother goes. "Gloria, make some coffee, make Vincent a sandwich." And you know if I didn't do it, he'd sit there and let her wait on him. So, not to make my mother do it, I'm makin' the coffee, makin' the sandwich. Him? He just sits on his ass like a king, eatin' and drinkin'. God forbid he brings her something. How do you get raised in an Italian family and come over somebody's house empty-handed? Ya think he asks her how she's feeling? Not that she'd complain to him, that she saves for me. Or ya think he'd say to me, "I know this is all on you, can you use any help?" Nah. He just leaves after an hour, and I gotta watch this pathetic scene:
"Vincent, come next week with Rosemarie and the kids."
"I'll try Ma. But the kids have so much goin' on with school, and homework, and soccer. Rosemarie's got her hands full with the house and the kids..."
I know he's not comin' back any time soon, but I see her slip him two tens and she says, "Here, for the kids."
"Thanks, Ma; they'll give you a call."
They don't call. They could give a shit. You know when they see her? Once a year, Christmas. Each year one of the sisters-in-laws gets stuck makin' dinner. Thank God they all have houses and I'm still in an apartment or I'd be doin' that too. So this past Christmas, it's Anthony and Donna's turn. Of course, I take my mother. They're all seein' that she can't make it from the dinner table to the bathroom without help, but all they say is "Gee, doesn't Mom look great?" They don't pick up that she hears like every fifth word they're sayin'. And she won't let them know she can't hear. But between the pasta and the roast beef she'll grab my arm and like sneakily try to whisper, "Who are they talking about?"
...What? Please, the wives are as bad as my brothers. Last time we were at Emilio's, I grabbed his wife Lorraine to the side. I want her to try to get my brother to do the right thing, right? So I say to her, "Lorraine, ya know Mom's not doin so good. It would be nice if you guys came by, ya know for a visit, bring the kids." So she says to me, "Oh sure, but you know we've been so busy. And ya know it's not like she's on death's door, she'll be around for a long time." And I'm thinking, "She's eighty-six, what do you consider a long time?" So I try Victoria, Joey's wife and I'm tryin' to be honest. I say, "Vicki, I'm really getting worn down with Ma and work, and I'm just havin' trouble takin care of her. So I thought maybe you could talk to the other girls and come over once in a while to help take care of her." So she goes, "Ya know who's upstate, (by the way they consider Westchester upstate) who's out on the island, and let's face it, Glo, nobody can take care of her like you. You know what she likes, what she needs. She don't want us there. Besides, I'll tell ya, she looks like she's doin OK. Maybe you just need some vitamins." So I go, "Why don't you take this vitamin, my foot up your ass."
...No, but I wanted to. I was just so pissed. So, I grab Anthony in between football games, and I go, "Listen I can't manage her anymore, I'm gonna look for a nursing home." He looks at me like I'm speakin' Martian. I tell him that I can't take care of her by myself, and he goes, "Whadda ya talking about, she's fine."I say, "She can't be by herself anymore. I'm nervous when I leave to go to work. When I'm home she don't want me to go out. I'm gonna bring somebody in." "Fuggedaboutit, he goes," they're all moolinyam. She don't want one in her house, and I don't want one neither. Why don't you just move into her apartment? You'll be right there and you'll save on rent." I just fuckin' lost it. "Are you listenin' to me?" I tell him. "I have no life, I have no energy, and she needs more help. So she's goin' into a nursing home. You can ignore her there the same way you do now." So now he's getting crazy, turning red. "You listen to me. My mother's not goin' into a fuckin' nursing home and that's that." And he leaves. And I realize, I'm screwed, I'm just screwed.



Sometimes when my Mother makes me so mad I could spit nails, I imagine packin' up all her stuff without her knowin', puttin' it in the trunk and say, "Mom, we're goin to Vincent's." I'd drive up there, ring the bell and when they'd open the door, I'd say, "She's all yours, good luck." I'd get back in the car and keep driving till I got to Florida. I could never really do that, but I'm standin' there in my brother's den, hearin' all the voices upstairs and thinking I can't be here another minute. So I grab my coat, get in the car and go. Seriously. I didn't say goodbye to nobody, I didn't even say anything to my Mother. I just went home. They called my house, yellin' into my machine, "How could you leave your mother here?" Stuff like that. I knew eventually one of them would bring her home. (Pause.) I could never leave my Mother. I used to be mad at her for bein' the way she is. Then I got even more pissed at my brothers. Now I'm thinking, maybe this is my own fault. I've been goin' along with this for so many years. How the hell did this happen?

Everybody Else (is fucking perfect) By Karen Jeynes

Everybody Else (is fucking perfect)
By Karen Jeynes
Cathy, 29, is married to Gavin, who is ten years older than her, and was married once before. Cathy's sister, Traci, comes to stay with the couple and meets Jared, a bartender. Jared tells Traci that he recognizes Gavin from the bar - where Gavin brings dates. Male dates. Traci is unsure about what to do about Gavin's sexuality and his affairs. Then Cathy becomes pregnant. Traci convinces Gavin to confess to Cathy. Gavin tells Cathy, and Cathy tells him that it doesn't matter, and changes the subject. Here, Cathy is talking to Jared.
CATHY:
He was kind, and he treated me like a lady, and he called me every morning to find out if I was ok and he kept waking me up, and so I said wouldn't it be easier if I was just sleeping next to you, that way you could check if I was ok without waking me up. But he said his parents were very religious, they'd die if their son was living in sin. And then he asked me to marry him.
The thing is, the thing is - I knew. I knew he was gay when I married him. I've always known. The first time I saw him he was with another man. He doesn't know, obviously he doesn't know... I just wanted a husband, and I knew Gavin needed a wife, for appearances, for his family, for his work. Gavin will never have the courage to come out, so he will look after me, and the kids... This way I can stay home while my husband goes to work, the kids can have everything they need: a perfect happy family, you know, two parents, two kids. Everything perfect - except that he's gay. But that doesn't worry me, I mean, I know he'll be safe, and I don't really care if he goes out and has boyfriends, and... I'm happy this way. All the other men I've dated, they're just after sex, and when I wouldn't...
If you and that bloody interfering mothering smothering holier than thou sister of mine hadn't interfered, then everything would have been just perfect! She has to spoil everything, you know, she always has to be cleverer than me and better than me. Gavin will be the perfect father! And he's the perfect husband, he works hard, he looks after me, and he doesn't bother me to do stuff with him all the time. He even enjoys shopping! It's perfect, you know. But now you've gone and given Gavin a conscience. Why the fuck did you two have to go and ruin everything?


Daughter by Elana Gartner

Daughter

By Elana Gartner

The middle of Act I, Scene 3. The public library in Ewing, New Jersey. There is a table with several chairs. There is a pile of books on it. MILLIE, 32 year old biker chick, is talking with her biological daughter, ROBYN, 16, who has pretended that she is her friend, ALEXIS, who is also present, and that ALEXIS is ROBYN.

MILLIE:
Right. Boyfriends. Right. So one night, at the campground, this guy comes through. And he's really wild. And he just had this energy... you just wanted to be with him all the time, you know? And, out of everyone there, he wanted to be with me. He stayed at Blackbird Perch for a good week or so. And I stayed with him every single night. And he was a fantastic lover.
(beat) That's probably not the stuff I should be telling you about your dad. You probably don't want to be hearing that kind of stuff. Anyhow, he was wild and dreamy. I really thought this was it. I thought "Wow. This is it. This is what it's really like to be in love." Or whatever that means. At sixteen, can you imagine? And, there he was, just talking to me, spending every waking minute with me, looking up at the stars with me every night. It was like a dream. Really. I thought I'd died right there and gone to heaven. But.
(beat) One morning, he was out in the woods, looking for some berries or something. And, you know, he just must have lost track of where he was and wandered way off into another part of the forest where people are really not supposed to go. I mean, he had a pretty good sense of direction so you had to think he knew something but he wandered right into the hunting area. And, wouldn't you know it?
(SHE puts a finger to her head like a gun and makes gunshot noise.)
Just like that. Really quick, too. The hunter found him immediately and tried to get help but it was too late. A friend of my uncle's, actually. They used to hunt together all the time. And he just felt terrible. Never forgave himself. Even stopped hunting for a while. And, after his funeral, that's when I found out. I was pregnant with...
(SHE looks at ROBYN then at ALEXIS)
...you.
(Beat) I wanted to keep you but my mom wouldn't let me. She said that the baby was going to bring bad spirits on the family. She even closed Blackbird Perch after that. Sold it. She said it had bad juju. I never really believed that kind of stuff. But she marched me right to the clinic and signed me up to have you adopted. I never even got to hold you in the hospital. They took you right away. But I was always mad about it. So, when my mom died last year, I made up my mind to try to find you.

Daughter by Elana Gartner

Daughter

By Elana Gartner

The middle of Act I, Scene 3. The public library in Ewing, New Jersey. There is a table with several chairs. There is a pile of books on it. MILLIE, 32 year old biker chick, is talking with her biological daughter, ROBYN, 16, who has pretended that she is her friend, ALEXIS, who is also present, and that ALEXIS is ROBYN.

MILLIE:
Right. Boyfriends. Right. So one night, at the campground, this guy comes through. And he's really wild. And he just had this energy... you just wanted to be with him all the time, you know? And, out of everyone there, he wanted to be with me. He stayed at Blackbird Perch for a good week or so. And I stayed with him every single night. And he was a fantastic lover.
(beat) That's probably not the stuff I should be telling you about your dad. You probably don't want to be hearing that kind of stuff. Anyhow, he was wild and dreamy. I really thought this was it. I thought "Wow. This is it. This is what it's really like to be in love." Or whatever that means. At sixteen, can you imagine? And, there he was, just talking to me, spending every waking minute with me, looking up at the stars with me every night. It was like a dream. Really. I thought I'd died right there and gone to heaven. But.
(beat) One morning, he was out in the woods, looking for some berries or something. And, you know, he just must have lost track of where he was and wandered way off into another part of the forest where people are really not supposed to go. I mean, he had a pretty good sense of direction so you had to think he knew something but he wandered right into the hunting area. And, wouldn't you know it?
(SHE puts a finger to her head like a gun and makes gunshot noise.)
Just like that. Really quick, too. The hunter found him immediately and tried to get help but it was too late. A friend of my uncle's, actually. They used to hunt together all the time. And he just felt terrible. Never forgave himself. Even stopped hunting for a while. And, after his funeral, that's when I found out. I was pregnant with...
(SHE looks at ROBYN then at ALEXIS)
...you.
(Beat) I wanted to keep you but my mom wouldn't let me. She said that the baby was going to bring bad spirits on the family. She even closed Blackbird Perch after that. Sold it. She said it had bad juju. I never really believed that kind of stuff. But she marched me right to the clinic and signed me up to have you adopted. I never even got to hold you in the hospital. They took you right away. But I was always mad about it. So, when my mom died last year, I made up my mind to try to find you.

I'll Have What She's Having By Karen Jeynes

I'll Have What She's Having
By Karen Jeynes
Mpumi is a lawyer from Joburg, in her late twenties. She arrives early at a restaurant. She is meeting her boyfriend, who she hopes will propose. She is annoyed to find that two tourists,  Louis and his wife Jeanette, are sitting at "her" usual table. While she is waiting for her boyfriend, Jeanette is loudly talking on a cell phone to friends back home. Finally, when she starts barking at a friend's dog over the phone, Mpumi loses her temper.
MPUMI



I don't know which rock or bush you people crawled out from, but here in the civilized world, we do not have conversations with animals on our cellphones. We do not raise our voices when talking on our cellphones. I don't know if you're familiar with the device, but you don't actually have to shout all the way to Pofadder, the technology transmits your voice signal through the air like magic! And when we are in civilized restaurants we do not cause chaos and disrupt other restaurant goers attempting to have an adult meal, and not deal with two small children who are treating the whole occasion like a day out at the funfair. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go back to that skanky table in the back, and I'd be really grateful if you two could manage not to disturb me for the rest of my meal.

Another paradise by Donna Spector

Another Paradise

By Donna Spector

Set in Paradise, Kentucky, Another Paradise is a full-length memory play narrated by two women, Birdie Mae Tyler, and her daughter Neva, both on a journey of self-discovery. In this monologue, Neva, age 30, talks to her mother about being ashamed of her family. Neva is very elegant, and speaks with a genteel Southern accent.
NEVA:
You see, Ma, it wasn't that I didn't love you. Daddy, too. But I wanted us to be ACCEPTABLE, Ma. And we weren't. I wanted us to be middle class. Educated. I wasn't ever going to be laughed at again. Did you know I was laughed at, Ma?
(Touches BIRDIE MAE's shoulder.) First for my poverty, then for my accent when I went to college. Oh, yes, we all had accents, Ma, but I sounded like poor country folk. Which we were. My words were different. And if I hadn't been so goddamned beautiful, Ma, and so smart, I never would have been accepted.
And still it wasn't easy. When I married Aaron, I said it made no difference that he was Jewish. But it did, Ma.
(BIRDIE MAE freezes, standing down center. While speaking, NEVA gives her shawl to her mother and places elegant combs in her hair, adjusting her to appear more elegant.) So I did what I had to do. I made you rich, elegant. I said Daddy was educated. I know you think he was, and I suppose compared to you he seemed so, but he wasn't really, Ma. Oh, the world is not an easy place; you have to fight to live in it. And it wasn't pure invention, just exaggeration... a little distortion here and there. But I always loved you.
I will never mention this again, Ma. I will tell our story the way it should have been, the way it is. I will set you free.
(NEVA's voice becomes shy and girlish.) There's something I've been wanting to tell you, Ma. A dream I keep having, and it's so strange. You see, in this dream I'm all alone on a summer's night, and there are little breezes blowing around me. I hear crickets and smell honeysuckle drifting in the moonlight. My hair is silky, and I feel it on my shoulders. And then... 
(Laughs apologetically.) ...I realize I'm naked and standing on a barn roof. Well, there's no one around to see me, but I feel so lovely I wouldn't care anyway. I move around a little, but I'm very careful not to fall off. And then... I look up, and I see you, Ma, dancing in the clouds. You look so beautiful, Ma. I... I call: Ma! But you don't seem to hear me, so I reach up to you, and I... I force myself to rise up, up to where you're having such a good time, because I want to dance with you, but... 
(Her voice becomes whining, tearfully despairing, as though she cannot comprehend this at all.) ...before I can get there, I always wake up. (She reaches toward BIRDIE MAE, who is dancing away in the clouds.)

Dementia by Donna Spector

Dementia

By Donna Spector

Dementia is a comedy/drama about an improvisational theater troupe in Berkeley, 1969, era of the Vietnam War, a theater troupe that wanted to save the world but couldn't save itself. Eden is an actor in her early 20's, a flower child and free spirit in the theatre troupe. She performs this monologue in a coffee house.
EDEN
(As a spot picks her up, she puts on a hat, gloves and shawl.)
Hi! I'm the weather lady.
(Points to an imaginary map.)
As you can see, in the Northeast it's very cold. Snow and sleet all over New England as a storm moves down from Canada. Temperatures down near zero.
(She shivers.)
By Tuesday the snow will hit New York. Predictions are for a possible three feet of snow, so be prepared.
(She draws her shawl tighter.)
It's just terrible when the weather gets like this, isn't it? I personally couldn't stand it. But if you have to live there, remember the animals. Don't wear fur or leather, okay? Think of the little minks, raccoons, cows that could be alive right now and adding their lovely vibrations to the atmosphere.
(Points to map.)
However. Moving on down south, the weather is much nicer. I could stand to live in the Carolinas, where the temperature is still in the mid-60's.
(She removes her hat.)
Down here in Florida it's quite pleasant, which is what you'd expect in Florida. I mean, that's why people retire here, isn't it? Temperatures in the upper 70's to low 80's. Very lovely.
(Removes her gloves.)
I suggest moving to Key West. Very arty, and at sunset people all gather to watch the sun go down. When it dives into the water, people clap. Did you know that?
(Removes her shawl. Points to map.)
Moving on into Texas, things are really warming up. Whew! Upper 80's and in Dallas the mid-90's.
(She unbuttons her dress.)
No wonder presidents get shot in Dallas.
(Points to map.)
But if you think that's bad, look at the far west. California is undergoing a terrific heat wave. Temperatures up near 100.
(Drops her dress to floor, wipes her face and armpits.)
Really hot here. Lord, I just couldn't take it! And the smog alert in Los Angeles. Why people can't go outside, and if they do, they have to run for cover. That's sick, don't you think? And I'll tell you why, it's the horrible pollution, which is the fault of all those big corporations and the Republicans who support them and vote down all our environmental protection bills in Congress. Think about it.
(She's now in her bra and underpants.)
So, that's all for now. See you next time.
(Big smile at the "camera." Offstage, actors applaud.)

Strip talk on the Boulevard by Donna Spector

Strip Talk on the Boulevard

By Donna Spector

Sally, 30, manages a drugstore on Hollywood Boulevard. She tells her dream to Marty, a customer and new friend, as she puts makeup on Marty's face.
SALLY:
I was working in this place like Las Vegas, all lights and mirrors, but dark, y'know. Like how they never know whether it's day or night, and the clocks don't work. But I'm all in red spangles, my hair curled, and red fish net tights with these high-heeled red shoes like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I'm serving burgers and fries from a runway that's moving past slot machines where all these people are shoving in cash. You hear the machines going CLONK! TINGLE-TINGLE-TINGLE! And they play these Bugs Bunny tunes whenever someone wins. Most of the people are old and wrinkled, all silent like piles of mashed potatoes with arms that keep shoving in the coins and pulling down the levers. Their faces change colors--gold, red, blue, green--from the slot machine lights whirling around. There's a man's voice, too, coming outta what would be the sky, like God, only it's this blue ceiling with star lights. He's talking real soft and smooth, like God on Valium. Down below the runway all these men in tight, shiny dark suits, black shirts, white ties and black hats with a cheesy white band are grabbing at my feet. I kick at their hands, because I'm busy, I got a job to do. But what I don't do is jab my pointy heels into the soft part of their hands. After all, they're just dumb guys, and everybody's hungry. I dunno what they're hungry for, but it ain't really me, and it ain't burgers and fries. I start crying a little, my mascara running down my face, then I'm sobbing so hard I'm getting the food all soggy, and pretty soon everybody else is sobbing. All the old folks at the slot machines, and the guys in the dark suits, we sound like a bunch of hungry kids in a abandoned nursery. We're so goddamned noisy we drown out the voice of God. 

Hanging women by Donna Spector

Hanging Women

By Donna Spector

Peony, 25, talks with her sister, Celandine. The mother she refers to in the first line is Alicia.
PEONY:
Ma's right, Celandine. I always loved men. Men and freedom, nobody telling me what to do. Why, I'd run away every night if I could. I love that moment when you take off, just getting out of here. You've got no idea where you're going, or how, or if you've got enough money. You never take a suitcase to slow you down, just a big purse with lipstick, comb, underpants, Tampax and condoms, because probably you'll end up in some guy's bed. 
You'll meet him in a 7-11 over by the Doritos. He'll be big and shaggy and kinda nasty-looking, with a cigarette or a toothpick hanging out of the side of his mouth. He'll look you over and just say, "C'mon, Babe," and you'll think he could of murdered his mother an hour ago and I should stay right here. But even thinking that gets you so excited, you follow him like a magnet out to his Harley, and the two of you go screeching down the Arizona highway to his shack in the mountains. He hands you a beer, but before you can drink it, he's got you up against the wall and you fuck like crazy animals. After you've done it everywhere in his tiny shack and you're oily wet and wiped out, you get the giggles because you feel so free. And he says, "Wanna stay?" but you say no. 
So you finish your beers, and he drives you all the way home just so you can run away the next night and meet a married schoolteacher in the supermarket. You do it with him in the back seat of his Saab in the parking lot while all the people are walking by and he's whispering Shakespeare in your ear that makes you come about fifty times. 
Next night you run away you meet a lawyer in a bar, and he takes you to the bridal suite in Howard Johnson's. He orders room service--champagne, caviar and snails. Which makes you feel nauseated but fancy. He wants you to dance for him, naked, in your sparkling heels. You do, and suddenly he's all over you and showing you stuff you only heard about. When he takes you home, your whole idea about fucking is rearranged and you can hardly wait to run away again. 

Hanging women by Donna Spector

Hanging Women

By Donna Spector

Celandine is 30, insistently cultured & intellectual, neurasthenic, repressed, melodramatic, and always on the edge of hysteria. She speaks to her mother, Alicia, and sister, Peony as she climbs up on a chair, clutching a radio, which plays Mozart softly.
CELANDINE:
I don't need men anymore. I did, I admit, spend years looking for my perfect mate. The dark side who would let me see my bright side. And the other way around, like a two-way mirror. I wanted someone staring in my eyes, not in an unnerving way, but showing me he listens, he appreciates who I am. Someone to cook with, not chicken, but lobster thermidor, steak tartare, asparagus quiche. He holding the bowl and I the spoon, in perfect synchronicity. Someone who loves to hear me read Edna St. Vincent Millay by wine-laced candlelight on Saturday nights. Who will read me Wallace Stevens over coffee and oranges Sunday mornings. Someone for whom I could buy silk underwear and paint my toenails silver. Even shave my legs--they have gotten so hairy! A fire-builder, a door-holder, who doesn't condemn me for reading Cosmopolitan as well as The New Yorker. Someone who will riffle the hairs at the back of my neck, nibble my ear lobe in elevators, who will hold me, because my body is so lonely, it has forgotten the human touch. 
But now I understand these are adolescent fantasies. I don't need a man wrapped around me in bed, warming the sheets on freezing nights. And I am perfectly content to eat, not chicken, but a single artichoke and an isolated glass of wine. I like to open doors, fires are clich├ęd, poetry does not need to be shared, and I adore cotton underpants that make me look like a female wrestler. So I have no pressed flowers in fading photo albums. What if I get no love letters in blue envelopes and the phone stays silent and black. Why have a color phone when there is no man in your life? What do I care? I shall never have a broken heart or a vaginal infection. Men always disappoint you, and I choose to be disappointed with no one but myself. There is such freedom in this decision. I am finally an adult, responsible for my own existence. 
(She opens her arms wide.)
I embrace the status quo, and I shall die, unremittingly alone, in an old, rotting house by the sea! 

Hanging women by Donna Spector

Hanging Women

By Donna Spector

Alicia is in her mid-40s. Here, she tells her daughters, Celandine and Peony about the first time she met their father.
ALICIA:
You don't know what it was like to have an encounter with a god. 
It was late summer, I was walking barefoot down the road, scuffing up the hot dust with my heels and feeling my heavy braid swing back and forth across my back.
I heard a roar behind me, like a thunderstorm. Your father swerved past me on his motorcycle and skidded to a stop just in front of me, blocking my way. I was terrified, but I looked up at him, all in black and gleaming in noonday sun, and my heart felt a shock.
"Don't be afraid," he said, as he climbed down, swept off his helmet and bowed. He straightened up, looked in my eyes and then he really saw me, the way no one else ever did or would. "You're too beautiful to exist," he said as he came closer and closer, the careful way someone would who was trying not to frighten a rabbit so he could catch it. "Don't move," he said, but I couldn't. 
He touched me, his rough hands making my body flame. Then he reached into my sundress and lifted my breasts right out into the sun. He held them and kissed them, and I wasn't afraid anymore, I just... wanted him. "Turn around," he said. I did, and he unbraided my hair. Then he dropped to his knees, put his head under my skirt and I... knew ecstasy for the first time.