<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Weekend of Monologues 2009 Photo Album
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Weekend of Monologues 2009
Photo Album

Act One School of Drama
March 28 & 29, 2009



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Act One Staff and Students wish to thank Nick Janushewski for his time
and expertise in photographing this event.






Notes from the Artistic Director

Monologues are an aspect of theatre performance that traditionally most audiences will  say they are unfamiliar with and actors often live in fear of. Yet if one really thinks about it, we use many of the same techniques and skills everyday whenever we tell a story, speak in public, give a presentation at work or just go about our lives. Anyone who has seen a motivational speaker or watched a compelling political address can appreciate the validity of this statement

From the actors perspective, if one really considers it, a monologue is in reality their own personal, short scene. The only difference between what they do in a monologue and what they present in a scene or play is that in this case, instead of being on stage with them, all the other characters, props and set pieces in their scene are in their heads. Even the often heard “but everyone will be looking at me” concern is in reality no different than when they perform scenes; as it is almost certain that all eyes in the audience are on the actor when they speak their lines, no matter how many other performers are on stage.

In effect, while they still may not realize it, any actor who has performed in a play has already overcome the hardest hurdles to performing a monologue. Indeed the fun of a monologue for an actor is that, unlike a play, where they are greatly restricted by the playwright’s script and the director’s desires, in a monologue, the actor is basically free to create their own world, populate it with their own characters and make their own choices with respect to interpretation. The challenge is then to communicate the imagery, events and actions of their “world” to the audience using only their own movement, expression, voice and the monologue’s words.

Good monologues provide opportunities to tell stories both simple and profound. Good actors find creative ways to interpret and communicate these stories in ways that resonate with their audiences. As a director I can tell you that I have seen some monologues done a hundred times and of those, many more than you would think were unique and very different interpretations.

For the two shows this weekend, the students performed monologues mostly of their own choosing. While my instructors and I tried to guide them in understanding the pieces, the creative choices arrayed before them and the performance options they could choose from, it was the students themselves who have put their own individual stamps of creativity and imagination on each piece.

One of the unexpected pleasures I had over the lead-up weeks while I watched the students work was to reflect on the variety of monologue choices they made. Over the course of the weekend, this studio was home to humour, anger, despair, triumph and heartbreak, to name just a few emotions. Some made you laugh, others challenged you to think. Throughout it all, if the goal of theatre is to communicate with an audience and make them feel, then I am very proud of what I believe the students proved themselves capable of.


















     
  The Monologues  

The Empty Fish Bowl

Miss Benson? I know I was supposed to bring Goldie back today, but... um ... Well, me and my dad put his fish bowl on my desk in my room. And I fed him just a pinch of food like you showed me and I watched him swim around until I had to go to bed. Well, this morning I woke up and Goldie was gone from his bowl! So I called my dad and he looked all over my room and then... he found a small piece of his tail. My cat Toby killed him and it's all my fault! I should have closed the door! I should have locked Toby out! I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't mean for him to die. (Beat.) Miss Jenson, do you think Goldie went to Heaven?
         


White Magic

My name is Melissa Leah Lakow, I'm 11 years old and I have cancer. When I first found out that I had leukemia, I couldn't accept it. How could I have cancer? Me, who never even stands in front of the microwave? Me, whose Mother always insists on my having suntan lotion on? Me, who has never even been in a hospital except when I was born? Why do I, of all the people in the world, have leukemia? My parents took it worse, neither of them could believe that their "little girl" had cancer. My Mom keeps trying to make everything up to me because "when you have cancer, one thing you don't have is any fun." My Dad is kind of hard to explain, he treats me as if I am the disease rather then I have it. He's not really mean, though. I know that he doesn't want to hurt me, he's just scared. My friends haven't come to visit me yet, but I've only been in the hospital a week. The nurses are friendly. So are the Doctors but they never really stay and talk. My favorite nurse's name is Kelsey Komers. She always treats me as a normal human being, which is really what I am.



         


Jeremy

Uh ... Hi. My name is Jeremy and I just moved into the neighborhood today and I was wondering if you have any kids? See, I've been riding my bike up and down the street for the last couple of hours and I haven't seen a single kid. And I'm starting to get worried. Back in Florida where I'm from, there were tons of kids. And we always played outside. You know, roller skating, throwing baseballs, playing tag. But here ... well ... it's quiet. Too quiet. I haven't even seen a stray dog. So lady you understand I'm starting to get nervous. This is not a town with just old people in it, is it? (He hears a noise of a bus pulling up) Hey, what's that? A school bus? All the kids were at school? In the summer? Boy, this is a crazy town.



         


Romeo

Monologue text currently unavailable.


         


Eternal Friendship

Winnie, Pa's right about you having to keep the secret. It's not hard to see why. But the thing is, you knowing about the water already, how it lets you never age and live forever. And with you living right next to it so's you could go there any time, well, listen, how'd it be if you was to wait till you're seventeen, same age as me—heck, that's only six years off—and then you could go and drink some, and then you could go away with me! That'd be pretty good, wouldn't it! We could have a grand old time, go all around the world, see every­thing. Listen, Ma and Pa and Miles, they don't know how to enjoy it, what we got. Why, heck, Winnie, life's to enjoy yourself, isn't it? What else is it good for? That's what I say. And you and me, we could have a good time that never, never stopped. Wouldn't that be something?



         


Marrying Mathew

Daddy, Daddy! Guess what? Matthew proposed to me today! Matthew — he's my boyfriend. Now we're gonna get married like you and Mommy. And you know how you gave Mommy her ring? Well, Matthew's gonna give me one too! Only mine's gonna have a big dia­mond in it, not a tiny one like Mommy's. And we're gonna get our own house! But he's gonna have to sleep in his own room cause he snores like a monster — just like you do. Oh, and ya wanna know the best part? Miss Rich told me since I'm the bride and you're my dad, you get to pay for the wed­ding!



         


Wall of Van Gough

I am a very talented painter. An artiste. I am going to be as famous as Van Gogh one day. It was clear to me from a very early age. When I got my first paint set and that little brush in my hand, I knew I was inspired. My bedroom wall, like a giant white canvas, was calling to me. "Paint me! Paint me!" it pleaded. Before I knew what was happening, my hand was swirling and stroking and speck­ling all over! When I finished, I stepped back to admire my masterpiece. It was divine! I called for my mom. I was sure she'd instantly enroll me in the finest art school in the coun­try. She came running into the room, and when she saw my exquisite mural, she screamed at the top of her lungs and threatened to ground me for life! No wonder Van Gogh cut off his ear! Being a naturally gifted artist is not easy in a world full of moms.



         

ESP

ESP is not actually possible. Scientists have tested it. It's bogus. A certain amount of the time people guess things right by sheer luck. Especially when you know something about the person or the situation, which you totally know in this case since you're related to us. So guessing that Mom's think­ing about housework is a no-brainer. She's always saying she has too much to do. Plus, people can learn to read people's body language really well. That's what so-called psychics do. Dad is sitting with his arms folded. He could be stressed or want to get away. And psychics say general information. Anyone could do it. I could pretend to read your mind now, Lottie. You're probably thinking I'm a stupid dork.



         


Fuming

You should film me, not him/her. I was supposed to be the star of this movie. I really thought this was going to be great for me. My mom is going to be so mad; Miles is going to be in big trouble if he doesn't finish this. My mom has been taking me to acting lessons for two years now, and Miles promised this film was going to be great. He said I could definitely take this to agents and get some major work. And I trusted him! He told me he'd giveme lots of close-ups and camera time! I'm perfect for film work. Look how cute I am! This kind of thing is not supposed to happen! I'm supposed to get this film done and then an agent is supposed to see it and then I'm supposed to get a job in a film with Tom Cruise and then I'm supposed to be famous forever and ever. It's not supposed to go like this. I'm supposed to be a star! A star!



         


Bright Lights And Pearly Whites

You know how bad I've wanted that make-up mirror with the lights, right? I mean, you have one and so does Missy and Jeri and Kelly. Well, I saved twenty dollars that I got for my birthday, but I still needed five more. I was rack­ing my brains, trying to figure out how I could get the rest. Then it dawned on me! I had a couple of loose teeth and my mom gives me $1.50 for each tooth. So I got some taffy and stuffed a big glob of it in my mouth. And it worked! One of my teeth fell out! So I kept chewing and chewing, and before I knew it, all four loose teeth came out! My mom gave me six dollars and I ran to the store and bought the make-up mirror. I was so excited! But when I got home and looked in it with those bright lights, my mouth looked like the Grand Canyon! I'm never smiling again! Now, will you please come with me to return the stupid mirror?



         


What A Waste

Mom, I don't see why I have to make my bed because when it's bedtime, I have to get in it and it just gets all wrinkled up again. And I don't think I should brush my teeth anymore because at lunchtime, I eat food and my teeth get all dirty again. Plus, why should I clean up my room when it's only gonna be a mess again as soon as I come home and play? It's just a waste of cleaning. Don't play?! But Mom, it's better to have my room always messy than always clean. That way I know where everything is.



         

The Grown-Up

Dad, can I borrow your razor? Because I finally grew a mustache today. Look. Well look closer, it's there. I can see it. And I have to shave it off right away or I'll never get a girlfriend. It'll look stupid and get food stuck in it. Besides, girls don't like mustaches cause it feels gross when you kiss them.Lisa Rosen told me. Dad, you're going to have to face the fact that I'm all grown up. I'm a man now, and I have to start doing grown-up things like you do. Like shaving and wearing cologne and showering on a regular basis. Mow the lawn? Hey, look! My mustache was just fuzz from the blanket. I guess I don't have to shave after all!

         


My Real Father

Mom, I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'm ready to meet this man that I've never known. What if he hates me? I mean what if he thinks I'm ugly? I just know he's not going to like me... What if I don't like him? What if he comes through that door, right, and our eyes meet and the feeling's not there? Yeah, he's my father, but not like Frank is. Frank is Dad, this guy...I mean Ben, is just a father, right? I mean he and my biological mother decided they couldn't hang with having a kid at such a young age so they gave me up. And I'm cool with that, I think. It's just that I really don't know what to expect from him. I mean the letters he sent where cool and all, but they were just words on paper. I don't even know why I bothered looking for him, I'm eighteen now. I should be getting ready for college and not sweating the old stuff. I mean my biological mother couldn't deal with it when I found her. She's got her own life now with her own kids, the one's she actually wanted. I'm just a bad memory she's trying to erase. What do you mean I don't understand? Mom, she doesn't want to know me, and she sure doesn't want her husband and kids to know that she had a bastard kid when she was sixteen. So, what if, my father feels the same way? Rejects me like she did? I should have never contacted him. I'm setting myself up big time, I just know it! He's here isn't he? Okay, I'm ready to meet him!



         


Look My Way

Oh — hey — hi Justin. I just came out here for some air, ya know? Sometimes they play the music so loud and it gets hot and stuffy when everyone's skating. I saw you skating with Ashley. You looked like you were having fun. Well, I think I'm gonna go home now.What do you think is wrong?! You're with a girl I can't stand and you're the one... Forget it — never mind. I gotta go. What?! God, don't you get it? I've liked you for such a long time. You never even noticed. Do you have any idea how bad that makes me feel? And what do you do? You go and skate with Ashley, when she doesn't even like you and talks behind your back. But I don't care because I don't like you anymore. I changed my mind. And don't say I'm crying because I'm not. I would never cry about someone as stupid as you.



         


Late Pass

Sorry I'm late Mrs. Applebee, but I have a really good reason. See, my alarm clock broke and didn't wake me up. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Anyway, by the time I got up, my mom had left for work thinking I was already on the bus. She's blind as a bat without her glasses in the morning. But when I got up and looked at my mom's clock — ahhhh! I already missed the bus! I had to rush and take a shower because my dog drooled all over me in my sleep. But the shower wasn't working! So I had to go outside in my pajamas and hose myself down. Then I couldn't find any clean clothes, so I had to wear my big brother's overalls. I grabbed my piggy bank — phew — lunch money! As I was running to school, I tripped five times on my pants. Then some bullies came running after me — I pulled up my pant legs and ran like the wind. And here I am. I hope I didn't miss the test.



         


Down The Tubes

Well it's done, I've passed the point of no return...I can't believe this has happened! All my life, I've been great in school, I've always been a leader, almost always the first in my class...until now. I don't know what got into me. I'm so angry at myself; I knew I should have studied harder. Ever since I was a little girl, I've dreamt of delivering my Valedictorian speech at Graduation...just like Mom, just like you, just like most of my cousins...now, my shot at being Valedictorian is pretty much over. I feel awful; I feel like I've disappointed everyone, including myself...Why didn't I try harder, I should have paid more attention to my grades. My Dad would tell me, "I know your smart sweetheart, I know you feel like you've got it nailed, but it wouldn't hurt to do just a little extra credit to pad your average." But noooo! I was too smart for that...You know most kids would have celebrated the grades I got, but not me, it's like I broke some sacred chain!...Well it's finally over, and there's nothing I can do about it, but cry a little tear and get on with life. But you know what's ironic?...As bad as I feel right now, it's like a giant load has been lifted off my shoulders...it's like I'm ...........FREE!



         


Grandma's House

Do we have to go to Grandma's house? I don't know what makes you think going to Grandma's house is so much fun, you get up early and polish the car like we're going someplace cool, like the beach..Is it just me, or does her house smell like an old antique store couch...Yuk! And besides that, I'm the one she latches onto, to listen to all her old stories...well, I'm sorry if I can't appreciate her "WISDOM" right now...and  let's face it, even you can admit the lady's a little bit crazy. One day I was going into the kitchen to get myself a drink and I heard her talking to somebody, I didn't want to disturb her, so I was really quiet. She was asking Grandpa how much salt he'd like in the stew,.....and he's been dead for ten years! I mean, come on! And another thing, I'm sorry, but her cooking is awful too...and OH!...OH!...and what was that disgusting stuff she made us last time for supper...BOILED OKRA?...That's just wrong! It felt like a hairy clam going down my throat. It took me three or four sips of Coke after each bite to get it down, and stay down....eeeeew I can still taste it! Can't we just skip this visit? I mean, Christmas is only four months away. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if we just called her.....Pleeease!



         


The Initiation

We're agreed. You're going to go through, the initiation. You're very lucky. We've turned down a bunch of girls. Nancy Turner? Reagan Simone? Lisa Masterson? We turned down all of them. They just didn't have it. We're looking for something more than just the ordinary girl. Just anyone won't do You need to be well dressed, pretty, not stupid, not geeky, and willing to break the rules. We don't like to follow other people's rules. Of course, it can't be anarchy. We have rules of our own. Like always have lip gloss and a short skirt in your bag. Like always help a sister with a test or homework. That's a good example. Teachers and parents say, "Don't cheat." Well, let's face it. We do. But we see it as helping. As a sign of sisterhood. Which is better: Helping someone or letting them fail? Definitely helping them, right? So that's how we operate. We stick together. So we all succeed in the end. If that means breaking the rules, so what? Is this something you're up for? Just remember that you promised to do what­ever we want.



         


The Divorce

What? What do you mean you're getting a divorce? No, no this can't be happening to me. Can't the two of you work things out? I mean how bad could it possibly be? It's you right? It's your fault; it always is. You're always riding Daddy, nagging him. I hear you. Maybe if you weren't such a nag then he wouldn't be leaving. Why shouldn't I, Daddy? She should know the truth. If she weren't always on your case then we wouldn't be having this conversation! I can't believe you're doing this to me! Do you know how embarrassing this is going to be for me at school? Everyone thinks we're happy. I'm always telling people how in love you two are and how I want to have that same kinda love. What am I going to do? I mean really? I'm going to have to change schools. All of my friends' parents are still married you know. Please tell me what's going on, Daddy. Tell me why you're leaving. Tell me what's wrong. No--no don't touch me. Don't touch me! How could you do this to me? Huh? How could you? I don't want you to touch me. I don't want to be comforted, Dad. Wait! Please don't go, Daddy. I promise I'll do better. I'll go easy on the shopping. I won't bug you about the silly stuff. I'll do the chores without tripping out...I'll do anything. Mom, why is he leaving? No--no I don't want to hear that okay? There is no such thing as "making it work out for all of us" okay. There is no such thing. Stop trying to lie to me I'm not a child! This is the worse possible thing that could happen and I will never...NEVER forgive either one of you ever again!



         


Bandana Mania

Are you crazy! You can't wear that around here...Where do you think you are, the "St. Mary's School for Girls", cutie, you're downtown now. You can't wear that bandana around your ankle, like some little fashion accessory! You'll get us both killed! Yeah it looks great...but sorry...you're not wearing it. You'll see a lot of kids around here wearing bandanas on their heads and it's not because it goes with their shirt. They are like signs of association and sources of pride, or something like that...oh, and good luck if you DON'T happen to be familiar with, "The Code". Oh man, and heaven forbid you put a wrong color on, or wear it because it's cute...you could get yourself messed-up! Yesterday, I thought I'd have a little fun and wear that bandana my little brother gave me, with the good ole Red, White, and Blue, United States Flag printed on it...You should have seen the looks on their faces, they didn't know whether to throw me a peace sign or beat me up...but you can forget about it, I'm not wearing enough under arm deodorant to try that stunt again today, so please, just take it off!



         


Daniella

It's an absolute lie, the whole story. We have not abandoned her. As a child she was left without father or mother when she was seven years old. Her mother, a good woman, was unfortunate in love, and set her heart on a worthless fellow, one of those glib, smooth-tongued wretches, half French, half Spanish, who hail from nobody knows where. Well, one day they were married. Years later, she died from a blow that he gave her, and the man, for he was a smuggler, was found dead one morning in a gully on the French border, half across the line from Spain, slain in a drunken brawl. As for the girl, she was brought home to us and she became to me--a sister. But she was a strange child, always making a great outcry, passionate and wild, impetuously stamping and weeping about, so that one day my father went to lay hands on her to control her; and, because I defended her and held him off, he became angry with me, till, choking with rage, he could no longer bear to see her in the house. She, seeing how his passion had possessed him, for she was very near thirteen then and seemed much older, one day, when a party of mountebanks or jugglers were passing through the village, disappeared, and when it came to be vesper time we could not find her. Nowhere Daniela! I ran through the streets distracted--everywhere about. At first I thought I would go mad, for I feared she had fallen from some cliff or that the rapid current of the river had carried her away. I wanted to kill myself, believing that she was dead. We had lived so much together I did not really know her; I was too young to understand. Like a fool, for days I wandered through the villages and towns, until, at last, one night I learned that she had been seen crossing the frontier in a tartana with those same mountebanks, laughing, chattering there on the seat beside them, carousing in their arms, and shamelessly making merry. And this, this woman--this is she, that Daniela you know, for whom I would have given up my life, and who has never once since so much as troubled herself to think of me, no, not once, nor of her home. And now that she finds herself sick and poor, without resources, cast-off, rejected, despised, she has the shamelessness to propose to return home again to me and present herself again in my house. Ah! How does it appear to you now, gentlemen? Is it another story? Let her die and be buried in the deepest hole in the ground as befits such a thing, rather than that after what has happened, she should again enter my house. I have my wife, I have my children, we are happy because we believe in God and have done wrong to no man, no, not in all our lives, but good--nothing but good--and to that, you can all bear witness.



         


My Real Father

Mom, I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'm ready to meet this man that I've never known. What if he hates me? I mean what if he thinks I'm ugly? I just know he's not going to like me... What if I don't like him? What if he comes through that door, right, and our eyes meet and the feeling's not there? Yeah, he's my father, but not like Frank is. Frank is Dad, this guy...I mean Ben, is just a father, right? I mean he and my biological mother decided they couldn't hang with having a kid at such a young age so they gave me up. And I'm cool with that, I think. It's just that I really don't know what to expect from him. I mean the letters he sent where cool and all, but they were just words on paper. I don't even know why I bothered looking for him, I'm eighteen now. I should be getting ready for college and not sweating the old stuff. I mean my biological mother couldn't deal with it when I found her. She's got her own life now with her own kids, the one's she actually wanted. I'm just a bad memory she's trying to erase. What do you mean I don't understand? Mom, she doesn't want to know me, and she sure doesn't want her husband and kids to know that she had a bastard kid when she was sixteen. So, what if, my father feels the same way? Rejects me like she did? I should have never contacted him. I'm setting myself up big time, I just know it! He's here isn't he? Okay, I'm ready to meet him!



         
  Saturday Show MCs  
         


The Babysitter

Mom, I think you and Dad should go out tonight. Then Linda can come back and babysit! I didn't even get sad when you left 'cause Linda let me play my favorite songs and watch TV at the same time! And she said I could have one snack, but I couldn't decide between a Poptart, a dough­nut, or cookies. So she put them all on a plate and said it was one snack plate! And when I threw up later she didn't even get mad! She just said not to tell — oops! Anyway, I like her a lot. And her boyfriend, Bobby, and her other friends that came over too! They brought apple juice to drink. But they poured it in tiny glasses and gulped it down real fast like this. (Demonstrates.) It made them laugh so hard that they danced all over the living room — even on the new couch! It was the most fun ever! (Beat.) Mom, are you okay?



         


Dads Are Embarassing

All dads are kind of embarrassing. My dad calls everyone by weird nicknames. Most of them are food names like “cupcake” and “cookie” and stuff. I don't know what his deal is with that. Once I called him “creampuff” and he liked it! He thought it was cute. I thought it would get him to stop. “Pumpkin”, “sugarplum” — the list goes on and on. And it's bad enough he'd do it to me. He'd do it to you, too. He can't stop himself. He'll call anyone by a silly food name. He'll say it to waitresses and stuff. "I'll have an egg salad sandwich, “tootsie pop”, with a coke." And then they're like, "We don't have toot­sie pops." And I just wanna die. I swear. One time I called him “banana cream pie”. One time I called him “brussel sprout casserole”. He didn't care! You could call him “spinach and hair milkshake”, and he'd think you really thought he was swell. What's wrong with that man? So all dads are weird, Just in different ways.



         


Getting Old

Yeah, who wants to be old? I never want to be old. I mean, I hate school and all, but I don't want to work in a bank, either. How boring would that be? If I have to have a job when I'm older, I'm going to be a sportscaster. And the homework for that is to watch sports on TV. So what's the point of school? Who really learns anything anyway? I mean, look at Leila there. Sure, she knows stuff, she gets A's, but does she really know anything? She certainly doesn't know how to deal with people. I mean, who actually likes her?



         


The Basement

I am the least chicken person you'll ever meet. I'll take any dare. Just ask Mike. One time I kissed Susie "Monkeyface" Benefisi on a dare. It was gross, but I did it. Another time, I touched Mrs. Doppler's butt. I pretended I tripped and had to get my balance. That was seriously gross. And an­other time, I climbed the highest tree at school and jumped off when I got to the top. I broke my leg. It was awesome. Oh, and I licked Becky Fernhauer's locker when she was sick with chicken pox and told Mr. Tolbert his fly was down when it wasn't. I'm the bravest kid you know. So going down to your dumb old, dark and dirty basement is no big deal. What could be so bad? It's probably just filled with power tools your dad doesn't want you to touch. Big deal. It's not like you could have demons or mon­sters down there waiting to grab your legs and eat your face off. Demons don't even work like that. They'd probably just freeze you, so you couldn't fight, then eat your face off. They wouldn't want a struggle. So……… where's the basement?...........



         


Sticks And Stones

My brother thinks he's so smart. He's always show­ing off and making fun of me. If I make the tiniest mistake he calls me names like dummy or moron or bozo-brain. Yesterday he came up to me and said, "What is nine and nine?" I said, "eighteen." And he laughed and said, "It's ninety-nine, dummy!" I was so mad! I hate when he calls me that. Then he goes, "Ask me a question, bozo. Come on! Can't you think of any?" So I thought for a minute and then I said, "Why is the sky blue? How come birds can fly? Why does the President have so many girlfriends?" He just stood there all quiet, staring at me. Then he goes, "You think you're so smart, don't you?" I said, "No, I don't think so. I know so!"



         


Ode A l'Acadie

Monologue text currently unavailable



         


White Magic

My name is Melissa Leah Lakow, I'm 11 years old and I have cancer. When I first found out that I had leukemia, I couldn't accept it. How could I have cancer? Me, who never even stands in front of the microwave? Me, whose Mother always insists on my having suntan lotion on? Me, who has never even been in a hospital except when I was born? Why do I, of all the people in the world, have leukemia? My parents took it worse, neither of them could believe that their "little girl" had cancer. My Mom keeps trying to make everything up to me because "when you have cancer, one thing you don't have is any fun." My Dad is kind of hard to explain, he treats me as if I am the disease rather then I have it. He's not really mean, though. I know that he doesn't want to hurt me, he's just scared. My friends haven't come to visit me yet, but I've only been in the hospital a week. The nurses are friendly. So are the Doctors but they never really stay and talk. My favorite nurse's name is Kelsey Komers. She always treats me as a normal human being, which is really what I am.



         


Tooth Fairy

Fairy Tale was a movie! There's no such thing as real fairies. Think about it. If they existed, we'd see them caught in our bug zapper. Or we'd feel them get squashed under our bare feet in the grass. If you can't see them or feel them, they don't exist. That's why the only fairy that is real is the Tooth Fairy. I know that for a fact because she leaves me cold, hard cash. Now that's something you can feel.



         


Fun

Kids are supposed to have a good time! I'm a kid! I'm not having any fun! No fun at all! Mom, dad... I... I tried. I really did. I did my best but... Damn! Did it ever dawn on you two geniuses that I might not be the genius you thought I was! I am just an ordinary person. I am. And I'm okay with that. Are you? (Beat) Are you? (Beat) And that's all I want to be! Just me! Can I do that? Can I just come in this house and be with my family? Please! (Beat) I love you so much. I do. Could I just come in and... and not be put under a microscope. Like... like a little specimen. Damn! Because I tell you what! I can't take it anymore. I can't! I am about to burst wide open. Blow up into a million little pieces! And just.... just... disappear.



         


Missing Barbie

Hang up the phone. I don't want to talk to her. (Beat.) Because Barbie is so mean. She was my best friend. She told me she liked me better than anyone in the whole world. We always did everything together. Built sand castles at the beach, played games, watched movies, played catch. Now she has a new friend, Linda. I even introduced them. And since then, Barbie spends all her time with Linda, not me. When she is around, all she does is talk about Linda —Linda this and Linda that. I can tell she doesn't really want to hang out with me because she'd much rather be with her new friend. God, I hate her! How could she just stop hang­ing out with me and leave me all by myself? She was my best friend ever. I miss her. I want her back, like we were before.



         


The Concert

You guys, I really, really want to go. It's not fair that I have to miss the concert when I'm the one who wants to go the most. I don't know what my parents' problem is. Why can't they let me do any­thing? Why do they have to have control over everything? I don't get why they see the worst in everything. How often do people really die in ter­rible accidents? Not that often. Have I ever been a kid who took drugs or did really bad stuff? No! I'm always good. I get good grades. I hardly have any fun at all. Is that what they want? That I should have no fun 'til I'm, like, forty? You guys don't understand. I tried everything. I asked. I ex­plained why this is important. I begged! I tried to make them understand. But they just don't get it! It's like—I think they were born old. They just can­not understand how going to this concert is impor­tant. They just refuse to see the possibility that I could go to something like this and not get high, maimed, or kidnapped. Why is that so hard to understand?



         


You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown

I think lunchtime is about the worst time of the day for me. Always having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes mornings aren't so pleasant either - waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed. Then there's the night, too - lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I've done during the day. And all those hours in between - when I do all those stupid things. Well, lunchtime is among the worst time of the day for me. Well, I guess I'd better see what I've got (He opens the bag, unwraps a sandwich and looks inside.) Peanut butter. (He bites and chews.) Some psychiatrists say that people who eat peanut butter sandwiches are lonely. I guess they're right. And if you're, the peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. Boy , the PTA sure did a good job of painting these benches. There's that cute little redheaded girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what she'd do if I went over there and asked if I could sit and have lunch with her. She'd probably laugh right in my face. It's hard on a face when it gets laughed in. There's an empty place next to her on the bench. There's no reason why I couidnt just go over and sit there. I could do that right now. All I have to do is stand up. I'm standing up. I'm sitting down. I'm a coward. I'm so much of a coward she wouldnt even think of looking at me. She hardly ever does look at me. In fact, I can't remember her ever looking at me. Why shouldn't she look at me? Is there any reason in the, world why she shouldnt look at me? Is she so great and I am so small that she qomaldn't spare one little moment just to        . She's looking at me. She's looking at me. (His head looks all around, frantically trying to find something else to  notice. Then, with one motion, he pops the paper bag over his head.)



         


Rebecca

Frank tells me to forget the past. And I want to forget it. But Frank doesn’t have to sit in the morning-room as I do, every day, and touch the pen she used to hold between her fingers. He doesn’t have to look at the candlesticks on the mantelpiece, the clock, the pictures on the walls and remember, every day that they belonged to her, she chose them, they are not mine at all. Frank doesn’t sit at her place in the dinning room, hold the knife and fork she held, nor drink from her glass. He doesn’t notice, as I do, the blind gaze of the old dog in its basket in the library, who lifts its head when it hears my footstep, the footstep of a woman, and sniffing the air, droops its head again, because I am not the one she seeks. Does she resent me and fear me as I resent her? If it was some woman in London that Maxim loved, someone he visited, I could fight her. We would stand on common ground. I wouldn’t be afraid. Anger and jealousy are things that can be conquered. One day the woman would grow old or tired or different, and Maxim would not love her anymore. But the memory of Rebecca will never grow old. Rebecca will always be the same. And her I can not fight. I am like a guest, biding my time, waiting for the return of the hostess. Little sentences, little reproofs remind me of this; every hour of every day.

 



         


Invasion

Guys, I am more certain about this than I've ever been about anything in my life. I know I've done other experiments that haven't turned out right; like the robot to clean my room and the dust ­eliminator that melted my fish tank, but this one is good. This machine is right. I know it! I just know it. I am certain there is something going on, a big disturbance in the earth's atmosphere. It's possi­ble that nothing at all will happen, but I doubt it, This response is too strong. Right now, something is approaching the earth. I don't know what—or who - but I know it's big and it's coming and there's no stopping it. I don't think there's anywhere we can run or hide. I think we just need to brace ourselves for the worst. The total destruction of life on earth or ... or a takeover of our planet. I know it sounds crazy, but it's possible. How could we be the only living creatures in the universe? Isn't it possible for there to be other forms of life that are more advanced than we are? We don't know of anything, but that doesn't mean that nothing else exists. You ask why, if there are creatures smarter than us, how come we've never seen them until now?..........Maybe they just were never bothered by us before.



         
 
Monologue Montage
(Improvisation Class)
 
         

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