Dramatic Monologues, 3.jpg

Tara Meddaugh has written over 100 entertaining and unique and monologues.  Actors, students and educators are welcome to use monologues, free of charge, for auditions, workshop or classroom purposes, but you must contact Tara for permission to do so first, stating your name and your desired use of the monologue.  You must always give proper credit. In addition, videos and success stories are always welcome!


Tara's dramatic monologues range in actor age from 8 years old to mature adult.  Actors may use these free monologues for auditions, but must seek permission first by contacting Tara.

A Nice Night Together, monologue Genre: DRAMA/COMEDY Cast: MALE, Setting: Hotel
Abhay and the Banana, monologue Genre: DRAMA, Cast: MALE (female), Setting: MUMBAI, INDIA
Covering My Ears, monologue Genre: DRAMATIC/TEEN/CHILDREN Cast: FEMALE/MALE Setting: A Bathroom
Claire, My Eclair, monologue Genre: DRAMA/TEEN Cast: MALE (FEMALE) Setting: Outside
Crispy Leaves, monologue Genre: DRAMA Cast: FEMALE (MALE) Setting: GRAVEYARD
Dinner at Canale's, monologue Genre: DARK COMEDY/DRAMA, Cast: FEMALE, Setting: DINING ROOM
I Am a Shark, monologue Genre: DRAMA Cast: MALE/FEMALE Setting: A Beach
I'm Your Frankenstein, monologue Genre: DRAMA Cast: MALE/FEMALE Setting: A laboratory
Livvy's Vase, monologue Genre: DRAMATIC, Cast: FEMALE (male), Setting: HOUSE
Locking the Store, monologue Genre: DARK COMEDY/DRAMA, Cast: MALE, Setting: GIFT SHOP
Maybe the Next iOS Update... Genre: COMEDY/DRAMA/TEEN, Cast: FEMALE (Male), Setting: RESTAURANT
No Release, monologue Genre: DRAMA/TEEN, Cast: FEMALE/MALE, Setting: HOUSE
Purple Banana Nose, monologue Genre: DRAMATIC, Cast: MALE (female), Setting: POLICE STATION
Rising Fast, monologue Genre: DRAMA Cast: FEMALE (MALE)  Setting: HOUSE
Secret Santa, monologue Genre: COMEDY (DRAMA), Cast: MALE, Setting: AN OFFICE
The Beanstalk monologue Genre: Drama/Comedy, Cast: MALE, Setting: A BEANSTALK
The Bus Stop, monologue Genre: DRAMA/COMEDY Cast: MALE (FEMALE), MATURE ADULT Setting: BUS STOP
The Hotel Hallway, monologue Genre: DRAMA, Cast FEMALE, Setting: A HOTEL HALLWAY
The Nicest Worst Club, monologue Genre: DRAMA/COMEDY Cast: FEMALE (male), Setting: A HOUSE
The Other "Other Women," monologue Genre: COMEDY/DRAMA, Cast: FEMALE, Setting: HOTEL ROOM
The Plum-Colored Sweater, monologue Genre: COMEDIC/DRAMATIC, Cast: FEMALE, Setting: A CLOTHING STORE

Cast: MALE
Setting: HOTEL
Age range: 20-70
Approximate running time: 2 minutes

Description: SAMUEL, a married man, is standing outside of a hotel bedroom, speaking to his recent fling, Brigit. He explains the difference in her expressing things that will make them have a nice night together and expressing things that will make them have a bad night. He’ll stick around if it’s the former. He’ll leave if it’s the latter.



If you can keep those thoughts in your head, if you can, whatever it is you have to do, to make sure those thoughts that you think you’re feeling stay there—inside your head—where they belong, not outside your head—not coming out of your mouth, not going into my ears—then, well, we can have a nice night together. (pause) If you’re not sure what to say out loud and what to keep inside, ask yourself this question: “Is saying what I think going to help us have a nice night? (pause) If it is?  By all means—share.  You want examples?  Okay, so…you could tell me how you brought a bottle of whiskey with you. That’s fine. Whiskey’s gonna help things. Make us have a nice night together. Okay.  You could say how you’ve been thinking about me.  Remembering last night. You could tell me how you’ve been replaying the night over and over. Every touch…every sound…every breath…Yeah, that’s gonna help us have a nice night.  You see?  (pause) What I don’t want to hear, examples of things that should just stay in your head, because, well, they’re not gonna help us have a nice night, um, some examples would be…talking about your husband’s triathlon. Asking me what my wife... CLICK HERE FOR THE COMPLETE "A NICE NIGHT TOGETHER" MONOLOGUE.

Extracted from the play For My Silent Sisters
Genre: DRAMA
Cast: MALE (female)
Setting: MUMBAI, INDIA , a brothel
Age Range: 12-25
Running time:
Description: Abhay has lived on the harsh streets of Mumbai before being “taken in” by a brothel owner who is grooming Abhay to enter the field. Abhay is a teenager now, and it has been years since he had any kind of home or regular meals at all. Yet he's conflicted as he learns he has moved from one horrific circumstance to another. Abhay relives, to the audience, the moment he loses his mother and home, and what that means to him and his baby sister.


ABHAY (out)

I’ve had two people I loved. And two people who’ve died. I never met my dad, if you can call him that. Some man that got my mom pregnant. A different guy got her pregnant again two years later and gave me my sister. I never met him either but I owe him—‘cause he gave me Purnima. (pause) My mom was always warm, right up until the end. Always kissing my forehead, stroking my cheek with her hand, calling me “baby,” when she was just a kid herself. She had me when she was 14. She wore dark purple nail polish. It almost looked black. I liked the smell of it, like strawberry. Her bracelets would jingle when she hugged me and she told me I gave her the best hugs in the world. I believe it too because she was surrounded by some real bad people. (pause) She never even got to turn 20. She died of tuberculosis when she was 18. My baby sister was two. We got no family, no friends that would stick around and raise two bastard kids. Only took a day before some crazy men took over the hut she’d somehow managed to get for us. They said it was theirs. But I knew they were thieves, but I’m four so what can I do. One guy throws me a banana as he kicks me out. I ask him for another one. I got a baby sister, I tell him. He sorta laughs... Click for the entire monologue, "Abhay and the Banana."

To purchase the play, For My Silent Sisters, from which this monologue is extracted, click below:

Setting: A bathroom
Age Range: 12-70+

Running time: approximately 2 minutes long (varies depending on performance)
Description: Description: Whitney is in the bathroom, envisioning the calmness, peace and escape covering her ears in the shower gives her, before the abrupt harshness of reality comes when she uncovers her ears.

Excerpt from the monologue, "Covering My Ears"


I cover my ears in the shower. I stand there—letting the water drip down my hair, my back. I turn into it. It flows down my face. It’s loud. Not like thunder. It’s…it’s…peaceful. Like…I’m swimming under water, in a lake, it’s dark and the rain is pouring down. It’s loud under water. But it’s quiet. Muffled.  Calm. There are no problems under water. There is no yelling. No hurt. No pain. Everything is erased. And no one knows me.  What I’ve done. What’s been done to me. I’m nothing under the water. And nothing is…freeing. To me.
I uncover my ears.

I have to. I know I can’t stand like this forever.
And when I do--…Click below for the complete monologue of "Covering My Ears"

Covering My Ears, monologue
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Cast: MALE
Setting: Outside of a school
Age Range: 13-20
Running time: approximately 1 minute long (varies depending on performance)

Description: ANDRES, a boy around 16 years old, talks to his ex-girlfriend, Claire. He begs her for forgiveness in stealing from her father, and pleads that she consider how his actions were always for the benefit of their relationship.



Claire, Claire—my éclair…My chocolatey, sweet treat, my—okay, okay! I’ll stop!  Don’t leave!  I won’t call you that. I guess—I don’t deserve to call you that, do I? You’re not my—you’re not my éclair now. Not anymore. I’m just—if you’re sweet then I’m, I’m a—a—a—a Tylenol, like when you chew it up. All bitter and gross. That’s me. I know it, Claire. I’m a gross chewed up Tylenol, and you don’t deserve that. Why would you talk to me? Why would you even look at me after what I did?
But you do look at me. And that’s just because—that’s just because you’re so perfect. You’re like, the most incredible person in the world, and I was so lucky for those two months to be part of such an incredible person’s life.
(pause) And, I want you to know, I mean, I hope you already do—but…I know I messed up.  You trusted me...END OF EXCERPT. Click for complete monologue of Claire, My Eclair.

Genre: DRAMA
Setting: A cemetery
Age Range: 20-40

Description: After a physical run-in with a florist, Lexy visits her mother’s grave, informing her of a change she is making. She speaks to her deceased mother, at her grave.


Yes, the tulips are dead, Mother.  But I didn’t originally plan that.  Plan on giving you brown tulips.  With crispy leaves.  I tried to refuse them, but…I’m just not good at talking to florists...But I know it’s important to you—to have fresh flowers on your grave.  So this afternoon—when she—the florist—when she brings out these dead ones, I try to explain.  But still be polite, like you taught me.  So I say, “Ma’am, thank you for the thought, but—” And I put my hand out, I gesture, to sort of make my point.  And I’m not done, but that’s all I get out, when she shoves them in my hand and almost screams at me, “You’re welcome!”
So the flowers are in my hands and she’s looking at me, grinning, like she expects money or something.  And I’m about to pay her, I’m about to pay her for four dead tulips and leave—when something—I don’t know, something suddenly surges through me, through my veins—like I’ve got new blood in me!  Powerful blood!  Strong blood that people will listen to!  Respect!  So with my new blood pumping through me, I grab the tulips with one hand and this lady’s neck with the other, and I shove those moldy flowers all over her!  I shove them in her ears, and her mouth—since she’s got it open, screaming—and just all over her face!  And it feels so good, Mother!  It feels so good…CLICK FOR COMPLETE CRISPY LEAVES MONOLOGUE

Age Range: 20s-50s
Running Time: 1 MINUTE

Vicky has found evidence that her husband, Peter, has been cheating on her and she now confronts him. There is a gun on the table between them, and she implores him to lie to her, so that she is not tempted to actually use the gun against him.


Can you please not make me do this?  Just don’t—just don’t tell me what happened.  If you don’t tell me, if I don’t know, then I can’t react.  Right?  Just, let’s keep it simple, okay?    I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna do anything that…you know, that we’ll both regret later?  And…


God, I wish you hadn’t left that gun right there.  It’s just—I can’t stop playing with it now…and you left the safety off, and I…Peter, just tell me you love me and you didn’t cheat on me last night and...CLICK FOR THE COMPLETE MONOLOGUE, Dinner at Canale's

Setting: A BEACH
Age range: 10-20 years old
Description: Jaime is a child or teen (may be played by a male or female actor), anywhere from 10-20 years old.  Jaime is standing at a beach when confronted by a group of bullies.


Sometimes, when I stand on the beach and look out at the ocean, I imagine I’m a shark.  My feet are hot, so hot they’re burning.  Burning so much, I start to not feel the pain anymore.  I take several deep breaths, and I breathe out the heat through my nose.  I can feel it leaving me.  My feet are tingling.  A little numb.  But I feel no pain.  I am a shark.  I’m swimming through the water and you can cut me with your knives, but my skin is hard and I am tough.  And I feel no pain.  A boy, this boy I know, but wish I didn’t, runs out of the ocean and past me.  I feel the cold water he’s brought in on my legs.  He’s tossed sand on me too and it’s sticking to me.  I reach my hand down to feel the roughness on my legs.  It’s like sandpaper.  His friend runs out of the water too, chasing him, and he bumps into me.  CLICK FOR ENTIRE I AM A SHARK MONOLOGUE.

Age range: 20-80+
Description: JOE, a man in his 20s-80s, is in his science lab. He speaks to his creation, a horrid mass of muscles and blood. While he knows he should be repulsed by this monstrous experiment, he finds himself drawn to it.


I should think you’re ugly. Logically.  You—you—are covered in scale-like features—They’re not scales of a fish—placoid, cosmoid, ganoid or cycloid and ctenoid, and they don’t bear resemblance of reptilian scales, not being ossified or tubercular, or modified elaborately, so I dare say they are not truly scales as we know them, and it would go against my standards to call them scales. So I call them scale-like features, and I hope that you take no offense to this generalization, but I doubt that you do, considering I find it very implausible that you would understand my language, being only truly self-aware—if you are at all even self-aware—for less than this one day (pause And yet (pause You cock your head, and…you crinkle the balls in your eye sockets, and you use the wrinkles above those eye sockets to furrow or to make compassionate gestures with your face (pause So while your face is far from symmetrical and your body is more blood and muscle with little skeleton and only occasional scale-like substances—it does not repulse me as I know it should.  (pause I want to…hug you, and, shake what ought to be your hand, and pat you on the back. Because—I created you. And not like a father creates a son with his wife, but as a, well, as the truth stands: As a biochemist living seventy miles from the next known human creates some form of life from shreds of his own life and from carbon and…you are the “Adam of my labors…” and yet--CLICK FOR complete monologue, I'm Your Frankenstein.

Adapted from Holding Ginger
Cast: FEMALE (male)
Setting: HOUSE
Age range: 5-14 years old
Description: Jenna is standing in the hallway of her house.  Her older sister, Livvy, is near her, and they’ve both witnessed Jenna’s running through the hall and knocking over Livvy’s (empty) glass vase. There is broken glass on the floor.


Uh oh…uh oh…I’m sorry!  I’m so...I’ll clean it up! Right now!  I’ll—I didn’t do it on purpose. You know that, right?  It was an accident! I was just running through—I know I’m not supposed to be running through the hall, but…Ginger was chasing that ball and I was trying to catch him…Come on.  I’m sorry.  Okay?  I just bumped into it by accident…I’m cleaning it up, see?  Even though Mom would probably be mad I’m touching glass like this and you’re not helping even though you’re older than I am.  But look—I’m doing it!  I’m really sorry, Livvy.   You’ve had that vase for…I don’t know…when did that boy give it to you?  You were…were you my age?  Maybe older.  No boy has given me flowers yet.  CLICK FOR ENTIRE LIVVY'S VASE MONOLOGUE.

Click for the entire play, Holding Ginger, from which the "Livvy's Vase" monologue comes.

From Poorly Wrapped
Cast: MALE
Setting: GIFT SHOP
Age range: 13-30 years old
Description: Clark is a young man in his late teens or twenties. He is the sales clerk at a gift shop on a small isolated island. Grace, a beautiful customer, has convinced him to give her a free disposable camera, and to wrap it with a roll of wrapping paper from his store. He is smitten with her, beyond rational thought, and does what she asks. He has been wrapping the camera for her, but has been distracted by her beauty.


Grace, you’re so beautiful. Maybe I should…look, it’s almost five. I think maybe I’ll just turn that sign over. Turn it over to say we’re closed. Lock the door, maybe? Would that be alright with you? If I did that? I mean, just so we could make sure our time wasn’t interrupted. You’re so beautiful that I just couldn’t, I just really wouldn’t want it to be interrupted. You know? I mean, if someone walked through that door right now, I just, I just don’t know what I’d do. What I’d be able to do. I just…
     (moves to door)
I’m going to lock it. To say we’re closed. No one will come here anyway. No one should. No one on this island stays out past 4:00. I’m mean, we’re out. But that’s us. We’re different than all of them, aren’t we? We’re the two people who are different, and I’m going to keep the rest of them out. CLICK FOR COMPLETE LOCKING THE STORE MONOLOGUE.

Click for the complete play Poorly Wrapped (the one-act play which the "Locking the Store" monologue comes from).

Age Range: late teen-40s
Running time: approximately 3 minutes
Description: ESTELLE, a woman in her 20s-40s, has just made it to a restaurant to meet Dan, a man she is dating. She is one hour late to their dinner, and implores him to understand this is not her fault and no reflection of how much she likes him. It’s all just because of, well, her jealous Siri…



I know I’m late again, and you’re a, you’re a saint to wait an hour for me, but, listen, really, I didn’t know we were meeting at 6. I thought—remember yesterday, you said 7? And, I know, I know, I know, you’re not gonna believe me, but, I never got the update you sent to my calendar.  I thought we were still meeting at 7.  And—listen to me, I know this has happened before, and you think, you think I’m some sort of flake or, maybe I get off by making you wait, but I don’t. I don’t!  I (pause) Dan…I really like you. (pause) I like…how you make fun of my penguin socks, and how I sometimes have to look up words you use in your emails. I like how you take me to vegan restaurants when I know you love steak.  And, how you’ll listen to pop music with me and pretend to dance even though I know you want to listen to old-man jazz music. And…I like how you look at me, and take your glasses off, because your eyes make me feel warm…and safe… like we’re sitting by a fire place with a blanket around us and maybe drinking hot chocolate…and…you make me feel so happy my stomach’s always nervous around you. (pause) And…I think, see, I think that’s the problem. (pause) I haven’t felt this way before.  Not since...  Click below for the complete monologue of Maybe the Next iOs Update.

Cast: MALE (female)
Age range: 15-30 years old
Description: A room in a police station.  The light is white, cold.  A DETECTIVE sits at a table with a folder in front of him/her.  DANNY, sits on the other side of the table.  His hands are on his head and he shakes it back and forth.  He is mentally retarded.


Not s’posed to tell!  Not s’posed to tell!
I tell but not use names.  Okay?  That’s what Jimm—that’s what my best friend tell me to do.  No names.  ‘Cause we’re best friends.  My friends always save the cherry one for me.  They good friends.  ‘Cause I useta play by myself, but now they play games wi’ me.  My friend teach me S-s-s-sah-li-taire.  Put black on red.  Black on red.  Black-on-red.  Blackonred. 
Why I gotta tell you ‘bout the game we play?  It our game!  My game wi’ my friends!
We gonna play Muppets, he tell me.  You be Gonzo!  He tell me.  GONZO! 
Gonzo got a purple banana nose.  I like Gonzo.  They tell me be Gonzo ‘cause Gonzo weird and stupid.  Like me.  They funny.  My friends. 
We gonna do Muppet Caper.  My friend Pe—my friend, he play Kermit.  And one play Piggy—but he’s a boy, not a girl. (laughing) He’s a boy, not a girl.  Boy-not-girl. Boynotgirl.  They all silly.
I don’t wanna tell you no more.  You’re not laughing.  You don’t think my friends funny.  They make me laugh.  But you make me cry.  Why you look like you so mad?  Wanna go home.  Don’t wanna stay here.  You look so mad.  Don’t wanna talk. CLICK FOR ENTIRE PURPLE BANANA NOSE MONOLOGUE.

A Dramatic monologue by Tara Meddaugh
From the full-length play, For My Silent Sisters.
Genre: DRAMA
Cast: FEMALE (could be male)
Setting: A hotel room
Age Range: 13-30+ years
Description: JORANI is a young teen in Cambodia when she is taken from her home to work at a brothel. She sees herself in the mirror and does not recognize her face, filled with bruises.  She is speaking out toward the audience.


The bruise should be no surprise.  I’ve felt them often enough.  They don’t hurt unless you touch them.  So don’t touch them.  That’s what my mom would say.  No one says that now.  No one notices them.  They pull on my arm which is covered with bruises.  I flinch but they don’t see.  My caramel skin is more green and yellow now.  I’m used to seeing this.  My skin is no longer mine.  My body is no longer mine.  I understand that.  The Buddha shows us suffering is life.  When I last saw my mother, she reminded me of what I have known all my life—we must rid ourselves of our attachments, and then we can be on the path to enlightenment.  My path.  I think of this often, as I give up my body. I accept that.  I hold no attachment.  But when I see my face, I know that it’s mine.  I’m still attached.  I see it in the broken mirror of the hotel bathroom.  I see it in a reflection of his family’s picture on the nightstand.  I see it in the water he’s put in a bowl for me to drink out of on the floor.  My eyes house my soul.  My mouth houses my voice.  My ears house my compassion.  This essence of who I am is still mine.  Seeing my face reminds me…of me.
The American chose me.  I prayed he would not, but he did.  I saw him months ago and I dirtied my pants when I saw him choose me again.  I’ve been with him for two weeks now and I haven’t once looked at my face after all he’s done to me.  Our faces matter, Madam tells us.  Our faces are to stay clean and soft.  But this doesn’t stop them.  They’ll pay extra, but this doesn’t stop them.
And I need to see.
He’s stepped out to get high again.  He knows I won’t leave.  I crawl to the bathroom and reach up to the sink.  I pull myself up and ignore the pain in all of my body.  I stand, but my legs are shaking.  This mirror is clean.  I rub it with my finger and it squeaks.
I stare.  I breathe in…But I am quiet, I am a mouse.  I cannot make a sound...CLICK FOR THE FREE COMPLETE "NO MORE MIRRORS" MONOLOGUE

To learn more about Jorani and her story, check out the play, For My Silent Sisters. You can find information about the play here, or click below for a digital copy of the entire play.


 Tara Meddaugh (c) 2017
Setting: A HOUSE
Age range: 15-50 (any age)
Description: MELINDA, a woman in her 20s-40s, speaks to her friend, Lauren. Melinda’s mother is suffering from a debilitating and fatal disease and she has given up her job and apartment to move back at home and care for her. Her mother has stopped eating and Melinda knows that she is dying.



Everyone keeps telling me to cry like it’s some kind of, some kind of miracle cure or something. I’ll feel better, I’ll feel this, I don’t know, this release, and—I don’t even know what a release feels like.  What—suddenly I’ll have no tightness in my chest? Cause you know, I’m wearing this tightness inside of me like some kind of old fashioned girdle, you know? And, it’s like, if crying really did cure all of that—if it took away this—this monster that’s squeezing the breath out of me—if it took away that feeling in my throat like I’m being choked all the time, or like my throat is tired from whispering all night? I mean, if it took that away, if that’s what a release is…then, yeah.  I’d cry until my eyes dried out.


But…Lauren, it doesn’t work that way. I wish it did. God, I wish it did. Because I do cry. I cry and sometimes I sob like those little kids in the grocery store who want, whatever, candy or, I don’t know what they want. But I’m sobbing in the shower or in front of the refrigerator and that tightness in my chest is making me heave and those hands around my neck are still choking me, and, when I’m done crying—I’m hoping, I’m waiting…for me to feel that release…that everyone keeps talking about.


But the tightness is still there. And…now I have this weaknesses too, like, my legs don’t want to hold me up anymore. Like, I’m some sort of—you know those puppets? Marionettes? That have to have strings to hold them up or they’ll collapse? End of excerpt. Click for the complete free pdf of the monologue, No Release.

Genre: DRAMA
Setting: A HOUSE
Age Range: 18-50
Description: Elizabeth is at her mother's house, after a terrible flood that has devastated the town. Elizabeth and her mother are safe.  She speaks to her mother.


I—I saw the baby, Mom, the baby, he…She calls me, Clara calls me around noon and says the winds are getting bad and water levels are rising.  I’m sitting there, eating popcorn, watching reruns of Ally McBeal on DVD—and the whole town is evacuating!  She asks if I can come to her place, give them a ride to your house.  So of course, I tell her I’ll pick them up.  I don’t even hesitate...I walk outside and it’s pouring, and I see the water rising too.  Rising fast.  But I get in my car and start for her house.  The wipers can’t keep up with rain, so I drive less than 5 miles an hour.  It takes me forty-five minutes, forty-five minutes to drive one mile to her house.  But I get there.  And I’m not even thinking about how we’re going to get out of town, how I’m going to get my car to move again.  I’m just so relieved to be with my sister, and the baby.

But when I stop the car, when I crawl out the window and look up at her house…her cozy ranch-style home…it’s not there.  It’s just…not there.  I mean, there are pieces of it, there are boards and there’s the frame or whatever it’s called.  But it’s not a house anymore. 
And I start screaming and running around—as fast as I can through all that water—and I’m terrified because I can’t find them—then I hear a cry, a baby cry, and I see my little nephew, sort of propped up in a piece of broken gutter, between two boards, and I start toward him...CLICK FOR COMPLETE RISING FAST MONOLOGUE.

A 5-minute monologue play
Setting: AN OFFER:

Age range: 20-70
Description: DAN is at work, and has just participated in the office “Secret Santa” exchange where participants were instructed to make a gift for their Secret Santa. He is speaking to Penny, the coworker he has been assigned to give a gift to. He has just given her his gift and she is not impressed.



What did you expect? Me to knit a scarf? You think I’m gonna bake, what, cookies shaped like Santa and put a bow on it?

(shakes head)

You can’t have the same expectation on me as you do Chrissy—we all see her at lunch, reading those magazines with, I don’t know what they have on them—little crafts—and—food…things? And Gerald has his own woodworking shop in his garage. I’ve seen it. You probably haven’t, but he’s got everything. He built his kids a huge wooden fire truck.  They can stand inside of it and it has a real hose installed.. They keep it in their driveway all summer. So his handcrafted Frank-shaped nutcracker is nothing for him.


So. Look. It’s—you’re taking this too personally. I know the rules of Secret Santa this year were that we had to make our own gift. But…Penny. You know what I’ve been going through, right? Sarah left me right on Halloween. We’re going through the kids’ candy when they’re in bed, you know, making sure they’re fine, eating a few peanut butter cups. And she gets all excited and says she’s found one with the wrapper open. I tell her Joey was starting to open a pack of Skittles after he brushed his teeth, so I had him save it for the next day. And it’s a pack of Skittles she’s got in her hands too, so it’ gotta be the same one. I tell her all this but she doesn’t believe me and she gets hysterical that someone in the neighborhood is trying to poison the kids. I say I doubt that, but she keeps going on about it, so I shrug it off and let her get it out of her system. We’ll throw them out if it makes her happy, who cares. Joey has enough candy...
CLICK FOR THE COMPLETE 5-minute comedic/dramatic monologue play, Secret Santa.

Edited from the 10-minute play, The Beanstalk. CLICK HERE to read the entire play. NOTE: The monologue does not appear word-for-word from the play (some parts are changed and broken up in the play), but the character, situation and story are the same.
Age range: 12-25 years old
Description: Jack is on a very large beanstalk leading to the clouds.  He speaks to a black crow.


Don’t poke my eyes out!  I’m not one of those sisters! I’m not—wait! Don’t leave!  I’m sorry—I’m getting a little, I’m a little anxious up here. By myself. But don’t leave.  I don’t know if you can tell, but, I-I-I’m kind of a little bit stuck up here, and…I don’t want to be alone.
See, I didn’t…really…think that I’d make it this far up.  Although, I’ve always been a bit of a climber.  When I was nine months old, my mom found me sitting on top of the brown cow in the barn one morning.  I never considered myself afraid of heights before, but, it’s not really the climbing up that scares me.  It’s the getting down, Black Crow…It seemed so easy getting here—just put one foot on the branch then another and…Oh, I’ve tried going down already.  I put my foot on a branch, but it’s slippery now.  See?  It’s like the sludge at the bottom of the pig trough.  And you do not want be climbing down from the clouds on pig sludge!  I’d fly off and land down there in a broken bone pile. And, then everyone would just say, “Well, that’s Jack. He doesn’t know how to climb down, poor slow boy.”
*Edited from the 10-minute play, The Beanstalk. Click here to read the entire play. NOTE: The monologue does not appear word-for-word from the play (some parts are changed and broken up in the play), but the character, situation and story are the same.

Setting: A BUS STOP
Age range: 60-90 years old, mature adult monologue
Description: LAWRENCE stands at a bus stop. It is cold. He has just been to the grocery store. He talks to a woman in her 70s or so, who is also waiting at the bus stop.



I’m walking outta the damn food store carrying this bag of clementines—that’s all I got. Not even pushing a damn shopping cart. And some idiot with a Korean car almost runs me over! Some teenage kid driving, no doubt. Spikey hair. Playing games on his damn iphone, no doubt. Some lady behind me yanks on my elbow. She’s got her other hand holding some smart-allack kid’s hand and she says, “You all right?”  and he copies her like some damn parrot and says, “You all right?” I jerk her hand off my damn elbow and tell her and her smart-allack parrot-kid I’m fine. And I walk to the bus stop ‘cause I gotta take a damn bus and I think, this kid almost runs me over and I’m the one who can’t drive anymore?
     (shakes his head)
Not right. 
Not right for a damn second.
And I could tell you about how I served this country and put in my time and how Americans don’t give a damn about the elderly, when we should be respected because we’ve been places and built things and dammit we’re still here.
But it’s mostly…it gets me…because this is it.  CLICK FOR THE COMPLETE THE BUS STOP MONOLOGUE.

"The Nicest Worst Club"
A Dramatic monologue by Tara Meddaugh
Genre: DRAMA
Cast: FEMALE (could be male)
Setting: A house
Age Range: 18-90
Description: Julie, a married woman with children, speaks to her friend, Jan, about not wanting to be part of a club of very nice women (who have all lost a husband).


I think you’re awesome, Jan. Like, you’re so sweet, and understanding, and, like, you’re always there if I call or email you these ten page epics on how I’m feeling, and…I mean, I’m so lucky, because everyone’s nice.  Everyone in this—I don’t know, this—club or something. I guess, I guess it’s a kind of club. And, I don’t know if this is chance or just the people I know, or what, but none of you are bitter. Like, you’re still nice, and caring, and open, and happy. You’re all, like, the best group of women I could be part of.
And…I so…I so wish I was not a part of this club…
Like…I don’t want to have this in common with you. I’m sorry. I just—I want to push you and Maddie and Adele—I want to push you all away…and pretend I don’t deserve to be in this…really terrible club…of really nice women.
I want to be a spectator.  I don’t want to be on this side of things.  I want to comfort you. I want to be, I don’t know, I want to be there for you when you’re hurting, and, I want to order food from that sushi restaurant you like and have them surprise you and deliver it because you’re just so emotionally exhausted at the end of the day. I want to take you to the sauna and have a girls’ day out so you can, you know, replenish.
But then, after the sauna, I wanna go home and eat mint chocolate chip ice cream, and cuddle with Brandon and the kids, and leave it all at the spa, and be so grateful that I’m just a spectator.
But now you’re dropping off meals at my place.
And I love that you do that for me, Jan. I really do.
But I don’t want to have to need it.

The Other "Other Women"
Age Range: 22-+
Description: MARIAN, a woman in her 20s-50s, is in a very small NYC hotel room.  She speaks to her boyfriend, Patrick. He is a married man, but her status of The Other Woman has been diminished when she finds out he has three other “other women.” After throwing some white wine in his face, she demands the respect she deserves, as the Original Other Woman.



Are you still complaining about the wine spill? Okay, fine—it wasn’t a spill exactly, but you-you-you just made me so mad!  Here—I’ll lick it off you. You want me to do that? Let me do that.  It’ll be sexy. Come on.  Don’t back away.  Come on.  Okay, FINE! Then stop complaining about it! You sound like your 3-year-old right now!  You know how unattractive that is?


I bet you’d let one of your other women lick it off.  Yeah, I’m gonna start this up again!  Because up until tonight, I thought I was your only other woman, and to find out you’ve got, what, three more?  It’s kind of a lot to digest.  Like, I need a probiotic kind of digesting. And…and…while I’m digesting this, I’m, I mean, I know I’m crying now—don’t try to comfort me!  I’m crying because I really, I really thought I was special and like, the only one you’d want to cheat on your wife with, because I was really that amazing. But now—I can stop crying on my own, Patrick! Don’t coddle me—Now it’s like I’m not special. I’m just part of a, a, an addiction or something.  Like I’m crack cocaine or heroin. And that’s not good for someone!  I don’t want to be that bad!  Don’t make me be that bad!


I do wanna calm down, I do, but I can’t even walk away from you—there’s no where to go!  Do the other women have to stay in closets like this?  I mean, I know it’s New York, but spring for a bigger room. This is a-a-a-pod, a pod an alien—a cheap alien—would travel to Earth in. I’m not a freakin’ Martian, Patrick.  Do I have green hands?  I need room. I need a room.  A suite preferably.  I won’t—I won’t stay here anymore. I’m not going to.


Here’s what you do.  Here’s the solution. 



Age Range: 13-25
years old
Description: Jasmine, a beautiful girl in her late teens or early twenties, speaks to her friend, a successful businessman.  She builds up her case of why he should buy a specific sweater for her.


I want to go shopping.  And not just that typical “girl shopping” where you try on seven pairs of low rise jeans and four tank tops in different shades of blue.  I don’t need to check to make sure the camel belt looks just right around my….  I don’t need to try on anything—because I know exactly what I want.  Right now.
I want a new sweater. 

And I know I already have a bunch of sweaters, and you’re right—they fit fine.  They fit well.  Beautifully.  And I love them.  Really—every one.  Well, except for the pilled up grey one.  I should really just get rid it.  But the others…I wouldn’t stop wearing them.  I just…See, I didn’t even know I wanted a new one.  You know me.  Practical.  I don’t buy what I don’t need.  At least since I lost all that money, I don’t.  And I even saw this sweater, a few weeks ago.  On Lilah.  And I thought to myself, that’s a cool sweater.  I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it.  But Lilah has it.  It’s hers, and…I know you’re not a girl, but…you know how Eva dropped that blueberry cheesecake on my lap at Junior Prom?  Got that caramel sauce all over me?  Well, that wasn’t because she’s clumsy.  It was because I came in a sequin dress too.  And that wasn’t even the same color!  So…I don’t really want to do that to Lilah.  Or have her to anything to me.  We run in the same dance circle, you know?

But this…is…the same sweater.  The same cut, the same beautiful purple-plum color, so rich, but light at the same time.  That same softness, mixed with a little of something else to make it…rougher?  It’s just…it’s a perfect sweater…So I would never have even thought of buying it, but...
I think it wants me.  I know that sounds weird—it’s just a sweater—but...CLICK FOR ENTIRE THE PLUM COLORED SWEATER MONOLOGUE.