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Each monologue runs approximately 2-4 minutes.
male or female monologue
So I go to it. I go to it and ask it, if it could tell me one thing, just one thing about itself, about me, what would it tell me. So it hesitates at first, you know, like it can’t decide what delicious secret to tell me. Then it sighs, as much as a soul can. It sighs and sort of hiccups a little. Like maybe it’s overexcited. Or drunk or something. So when it’s done making these sounds, it stares at me with its transparent eyes, and it says, in this tiny voice—the voice a fawn might have, or a baby lamb. And it says, “If you live through today, you’ll get fired tomorrow. And when you get another job, you’ll get fired from that. And when you find someone you love, that person will leave you. And when you die, no one will care.”
So what do you say? What do you say when your own soul tells you you’re a failure? And it looks pretty happy about that too. Almost giddy. Like it’s having fun telling you you’ll end up alone. So I start to wonder if it’s really my soul at all. If it’s someone else’s—like maybe my arch nemesis or something, and it’s telling me all this so I give up hope. Stop fighting for the good side and my enemy wins. By forfeit.
So I say the only thing I can think to say. And I do the only thing I can think to do.
“I don’t need you,” I tell it. (pause) And then I squash it. And I kill it. (pause) And
that’s why I’m down here, I guess. (pause) I really thought it’d be a lot hotter.
female or male monologue
Julia, your ferret ran away. He did. I know you don’t want to believe me, but I know this, because…well, I saw him. And I was wearing my glasses, so I had 20/20. Or 20/30. I need a new prescription. But I could still see it was Foozu, and he was wearing the yellow rain slicker, not the winter coat you tie dyed for him, so I think he was headed for Seattle.
And, I don’t think we should go after him, Julia. That Payless box wasn’t big enough; you always forgot to feed him, and when you did, it was usually just pebbles and sticks—and I really don’t think ferrets can live on that. Seattle has a lot more to offer Foozu. Food, drinks, warm shelter, intellectual stimulation, perpetual contentment. He deserves that, don’t you think?
I, I know coming in and seeing me with the knife over Foozu’s box makes it look rather strange. But. . . Well. . . You miss him, don’t you? (pause)
I could be your ferret. Don’t dismiss it right away. I’d be a good pet. I like to curl up in small places and I don’t mind rocks and sticks. You could knit me a winter coat, and you don’t even have to tie dye it if you don’t want to. That’s okay with me. Is that okay with you?
I’m gonna just rinse this knife off and throw this little bag away, and then I’ll curl up in my box. I found a new one—a size 11! I’ll wait for you there and you can throw me a ball, okay?
Unless, you don’t want me to be your ferret. You don’t need to back away from me. . . Don’t you want me here anymore? If I’m not here, who’s going to sing to you? I know the entire soundtrack to Sleepless In—don’t be scared—I’ll—but I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, Julia. (pause)
I could follow Foozu. I could—I could go to Seattle. . . . I’ll follow Foozu.
But Julia, when I go, you’ll have to clean off the knife again—I won’t be able to do it. . . . I don’t have a yellow slicker.
female or male monologue
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. He sees me and I think he recognizes me! I’m racing, I’m moving as fast as I can, but the winds are so strong and the water is so deep. Then I hear this giant crash behind me, and I stop and turn around. That big oak has fallen on my car. It’s crushed.
And when I turn back, when I turn back to see my nephew and grab him and bring him away with me…he’s not there. He’s not there anymore. Like the house.
I turned around, Mom. I turned around and I lost the baby. I lost Clara’s baby.
male or female monologue
Not s’posed to tell! Not s’posed to tell!
(uncovers head, looks up)
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. (pause)
Why I gotta tell you ‘bout the game we play? It our game! My game wi’ my friends! (pause)
We gonna play Muppets, he tell me. You be Gonzo! He tell me. GONZO! (pause)
Gonzo got a purple banana nose. I like Gonzo. They tell me be Gonzo ‘cause Gonzo weird and stupid. Like me. (laughing) They funny. My friends. (pause)
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. (laughs) He’s a boy, not a girl. (laughs) Boy-not-girl. Boynotgirl. (laughs) They all silly. (laughs) (pause)
I don’t wanna tell you no more. You’re not laughing. You don’t think my friends funny. (laughing) They make me laugh. (stops laughing) 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. (pause)
Muppet Caper. They go inside, they play. Gonzo stays outside and watches. Gonzo watches for the police. When police come, Gonzo go inside and yell, “Over the rainbow! Over the rainbow!” Then Gonzo stay there. Till muppets grab him and pull him away—to safety! (claps) Then muppets go back to J—my best friend’s house and eat poptarts—I get cherry with sprinkles—and cocoa. (laughs) That s’posed to be Muppet Caper! Muppet Caper! Muppet Caper! (pause)
But when police come and Gonzo go inside, no muppets there. And it look bad inside. Gonzo look and look. “Beaker! Fonzy! KERMIT!” (pause)
I forgot to say rainbow. (pause)
They gone. (pause)
But you there. With your gun. (laughs) But you didn’t wear blue hat then. I like your blue hat. And you take me here and make me talk to you and tell you my game. Wi’ my friends. (pause)
They be here soon. They tell you. They tell you our game. I didn’t take nothing. I didn’t hurt no one. I play game—Muppet Caper. I’m Gonzo! Purple-banana-nose. “Over the rainbow, Miss Piggy! Over the rainbow!”
male or female monologue
Now, I want you all to pick up your instruments and line up in—You! Stand up straight, please. I said, stand up! Would you like the whole town to see you in a wrinkled band uniform? Don’t answer, just listen. (pause) Now, form that single line and reflect on your assignment tonight. Remember, you’re more than simply clarinet players or baton twirlers. You have a mission, a purpose—and while you may not be here to witness the difference you make, know that I will. And that’s really what matters most, now isn’t it?
So all those people who said I didn’t have a voice, who said no one would ever listen to me—those awful people, with their awful taunts in my head—“She called ‘fire’ and no one heard her!” “Have you noticed how the waiter never stops at her table?” “She can’t even get a dog to lick her hand!”
Well, Awful People’s Taunts! Look at me now. Listen to me now! I have all these gentlemen right here. Haven’t I, gentlemen? Don’t answer, just think! You’re all prepared to march out that window, march out with flutes and heads held high, and fall to your fated death…all for me. All for me.
Ready? (pause) Oh, no! Mr. Teddy, your stuffing is seeping out again! I want you to look perfect when they all witness my power over you. I’ll grab a needle. But the rest of you, begin marching. (pause)
Then that guy who wears all the jewelry stole my crutch. My mom said it was okay for me to practice my song outside, since it wasn’t raining and I was only playing marches. But he ran up to me from across the street. He was yelling something like, “shut the hell up!” or something. And he knocked my stand over and grabbed one of my crutches. I tried to run after him, but I’m not very fast on one crutch. I didn’t let him get my clarinet though! I had to toss it under the picnic table, and I think one of my keys got bent a little, but at least I saved it.
Anyway, now I have to sort of hop and walk to get anywhere. I don’t think I can make it to the gym on time with only one crutch. And since you have that crutch you used in fourth grade when you were Tiny Tim, I was wondering if I could maybe borrow it. I know you want it to stay in mint condition, but I won’t mess it up. I’d have to bend over a little, since it’s a kiddie crutch, but my mom said I have a strong back. I don’t mind.
Hey, you’re the reason my leg is broken anyway. You’re the one who told me to jump off the truck so Lisa would see and fall in love with me. But since the truck was going 30 miles an hour—and you weren’t supposed to be going that fast—I just got this broken leg instead. The hospital did have HBO Plus though. My mom and dad don’t get that at home. I saw Austen Powers two times in one day!
But Lisa didn’t fall in love with me and now I have to hop and walk. So I don’t care if you don’t want fingerprints on your Tiny Tim crutch. I think you owe me! This is my chance to get in the marching band and show Lisa I’m worth something. So give me your crutch or I’m gonna tell your mom.
Well . . . I think I should stop waving my arms around. It’s just my arm is dripping on things, well, the blood anyway is dripping. ‘Cause it’s Christmas, y’know, and my girlfriend wanted a real tree. But I have allergies. I sniffle a lot. I think it annoys people. Well, I can’t help sniffling, y’know. I wish I would stop.
But I know my girlfriend’s been real disappointed not having a pine tree for the past few Christmases—so I thought this year would be different. But I never used a chainsaw before. Lot harder to handle than it looks. And since my girlfriend decided to take a break from me this summer—I lived with her . . . in a house. You don’t mind I’m dripping on the floor? I’ll take my sock off. Here. I’ll wrap it around my arm. That’s smart thinking, right? I don’t mean to mess up your nice floors. They’re so yellow. That’s nice.
But now that my girlfriend thinks I don’t have any motivation ‘cause I lost my job ‘cause I couldn’t keep up with my figures, well, now we don’t live with each other. So I thought it’d be a good time to get her a real nice tree for Christmas since I won’t be around to sniffle at it. ‘Cause they said it’s not in anyone’s best interest for me to spend time with my girlfriend since she didn’t like my calling on all my breaks at work to make sure she was okay and tell her I loved her. It’s a dangerous world out there. I used to get a break every two hours. I’ve never been on salary yet.
Oops, the blood’s soaking through my sock. Well, I have another one, I guess. But then, it’s not so comfortable wearing shoes without socks. My girlfriend used to say my feet smelled like sour milk. I guess they do a little bit. So I’m not supposed to see her really, but giving her a Christmas tree I cut down by myself isn’t so bad, right? Oh, I really think I should see a doctor soon. I’m kinda cold, y’know?
Well, I may not be seeing my girlfriend or anyone really on Christmas day, but at least I got her that tree. Left it on their porch. And that’s why I have to see a doctor. Because she has good aim with that gun (holds up arm)—as you can see.
I hope she decorates it with lots of tinsel.
female or male monologue
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…
Then I look back over at the brown tulips and I wonder if they’re all really dead? And I want them now. So I let go of the woman and I cut off a little piece of blue ribbon from the counter, and I tie it around the flowers. And I come here. To you.
And I know you’re used to getting fresh flowers every day, but I want you to know that I’m not coming back tomorrow. Or the next day either. Because it’s a two hour bus-ride to get here and I have a job now.
So you can have these dead flowers, Mother. But I’m keeping this tulip. Because it still has a little green in its stem.
I’ll see you at Easter.
Comedic (dramatic) monologue
See, I didn’t…really…think that I’d make it this far up. I didn’t really think it through at all. My mom keeps telling me that’s my problem, and I guess it is. I just…saw it, and I’ve always been a bit of a climber, my mom said. When I was nine months old, she found me sitting on top of the brown cow in the barn one morning. I guess we all have our strengths. I’ve never really 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—if you can call it a branch. They sure don’t seem like branches now—looking down. Oh, and, I’ve tried going down already. I put my foot on a branch, but it seems 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’m not a bright boy. They all tell me that, but that is one thing I do know.
And see, that’s why this is so, so, kind of tough to swallow. Maybe I was proving something. Maybe I was running away. I don’t know. But I was doing something. You know? Climbing up something. Something that wasn’t there before, but then suddenly was, and it made me feel powerful and strong and, and, smart. And I liked that feeling. So I kept on going, because the feeling kept on going. And, I’d never felt that way before. I mean, strong maybe, but—not smart.
But now I’m here. And I don’t feel very smart. Because a smart person would know how to get down. I can’t gain any footing on the sludge branch. I tried sliding down, but the few feet I did it, well, it hurts an awful lot, and I’m not even sure I wouldn’t fly off of it 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. And I guess they’d be right. So.
The other thing I could do…and this probably would show I’m just as slow of a boy. Because it sure doesn’t seem like a smart idea. But it’s all I can think of to not kill myself falling.
See, I’m starting to hear voices. And not like voices in my head. I haven’t turned silly yet. These are low voices. Really low. Booming voices, but not too loud yet. If you know what I mean. Like, a low rumble, sort like a bull when he sees his mate. So the idea, Black Crow, is just to…keep climbing up. And maybe there’s someone up there, one of the voices, who can help me, who can show me how to get down, or take me down. I’d be ok if someone else carried me down. I’d just ask them to do it at night, so no one in town would see. And I’d keep my eyes closed, so I’d remember it less. And then I could still sort of feel a little powerful. A little smart. So see? I’ve got it thought out now. At least a little bit. That’s a step, right? So. I guess maybe I’ll see you up there. If that’s where you’re going too.
(pause, starts going up)
It really doesn’t feel like sludge when you’re going up the stalk.
THE PLUM-COLORED SWEATER
Dramatic (comedic) monologue
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 a girl sometimes knows these things. And I think it really does…
I touched it the other day. In the store. Well, it touched me—sort of. I was just walking by it—Eva was with me. We’re talking about how polar bears like to play with their prey before killing them? Sick, right? And she’s saying how she’d just roll up in a ball, pretend she were dead, to bore the polar bear—well, that’s when it happens. That’s when it touches me. And I stop. Right there. I can’t move. My hands get cold and clammy—I think my body temperature even drops. And I know right then, that plum-colored sweater…wants to warm me up…And I want it to.
So since then, I’ve been thinking about it, and even dreaming about it. A little…How it would feel against my skin, how I would…But it’s so silly, and I know that. I’m even scared to try it on—to see if it fits how I imagine it will. Because what if it doesn’t? And all that softness becomes roughness? But what if it does? I can’t afford another sweater—this is some sort of hand made elegant—I don’t know—material. It’d be the most expensive piece of clothing I own. Even more than that Michael Kors coat I got at Macy’s. And I shouldn’t even want it. I feel guilty just thinking about it…the expense. The cost. And yes, maybe it’s on sale now, but maybe…maybe it’s not even there now.
So I guess what I’m asking you—why I’m telling you all this—because I think you can imagine my body in that sweater. And you know my bank account and…well, I was hoping you could…You see, this sweater—excites me. And I do want it. Badly. So…I guess what it comes down to…do you think…I mean…could you get it for me?
Children's, teen or adult monologue
Jaime can be as young as 10 years old and as old as 20 (or higher).
THE DOG TOENAIL
male monologue (or female monologue)
18th Century Period Monologue
(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.
(switches sign to say it’s closed and locks door)
There. Locked. That feels good. I feel really good now that they’re all closed out, and it’s just me and you, and our time together, and my gift for you. And I’m just so glad—but you’re so beautiful!—I’m so glad that you’re not just my customer anymore. I know you want me to just keep wrapping this gift for you, but I think maybe I should take a break from the wrapping. Just for a little bit, okay? Because you’re so…you’re so beautiful that it’s starting to really hurt me.
When a man is charged with a mission to find his wife a new heart, he sets into motion a series of unusual events, resulting in four strangers being left in his bathroom. One individual has a will, one has a makeup bag, one doesn’t know his name, and one has a gun—and no one has any idea why anyone else is there…
THE BEST MARRIAGE ADVICE
Scene: Georgia is speaking to a young man and woman who have just met in this encounter. The couple is in the bathtub, shower curtain pulled so Georgia cannot see them, but they are presumably making love, as they both have admitted they are young and attractive, and this should be the natural course of events. Georgia is a make-up artist, and older, believing she has much wisdom to impart. Georgia may be as young as in her thirties (30s) to as old as her seventies (70s).
Female or male monologue
So I know I forgot a few days. I’m not perfect like Emily, ok? I was watching tv, and maybe I didn’t think about Mr. Swimmie, but at least I was watching PBS, right? And…look, Mom, I was different then, when I had Mr. Swimmie. I was just a little kid. He died such a long time ago and you really have to just get over it. I think it was maybe like…two…or three weeks ago? I’m a lot more grown up now.
Let’s go back to the pet store, and get me that puppy!
Female or male monologue
Female or male monologue
But I’m not making you choose. See? I’m not even running. I’m right here. So why aren’t you shooting?
I know why you’re not shooting. ‘Cause when you came out here, you thought you could get me. You thought that little piñata prize water gun was gonna actually get me wet. But now you know better, right? Cause now you see what I had in my backpack when I was walking by. It’s not in my backpack anymore. I got a bazooka water gun that’s like a million times that size and it’s automatic. So you wanna go first? You shoot me first. You on. I’m waiting.
a monologue adapted from HOLDING GINGER
Jaime is 10-20 years old, and at the beach.