The
Monologue Store
  • Home
  • Monologue Mania---a blog with one new free monologue per day

monologue mania day # 69 by janet s. tiger  slow train coming

4/23/2014

0 Comments

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                                                                        - for a whole year!  

If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

-------------------------------
for those following, I am now doing this blog on blogspot.com - http://janetstigermonologuemania.blogspot.com/
Please switch when you can, as my time is getting shorter, and posting this twice is more difficult.  Thank you

Apr. 22, 2014 Day #69 Monologue Mania
                           

                                        Slow Train Coming
                                                         
(from Book of Teas)
                                                  by Janet S. Tiger
                                       © 2014 all rights reserved
                                                [email protected]

              (T  comes onstage.  She is holding a mop.  Southern accent, just like in the others)

What does this mop have to do with a slow train coming?  Well, I'll tell you, honey, you just set a spell, have some tea, and I'll inform you directly.....

               (T mops slowly, very deliberately)


If you have ever been in the South, although I suppose the trains run all over, you will certainly remember having seen a slow train.  It is going slowly because the fuel to make it go fast is expensive, and so, because what it is carryin' does not have to be anywhere very fast, the train takes its time, kind of like a cat, who has just eaten and is waitin to find a good place to sleep.

These trains are no less giant, or powerful.  They are just as big as other trains, sometimes longer, 50 cars, 100 cars.  But they are slow, and deliberate, kind of like how I'm wipin this floor.

              (She illustrates, almost like slow brush strokes)

And so, when you hear one comin, far off, with its whistle and the ground startin to shake, you think there is a lot of time to get off the tracks.  Now an express, those babies are goin like the wind.  You hear one, you know it's time to move.  But the slow ones lull you into thinkin you have time.

But they are comin at you, slowly, but surely.  Just like this mop, wipin slow but sure.  And no matter how long you think you have, it is never enough time.

I always came to the kitchen when I had a decision that I was puttin off.  You see, the wipin is quiet, peaceful, kind of like that slow train noise.  It doesn't rush you, but, one minute, you start, and there's the whole floor ahead, and the train is far away.  Then suddenly you notice, the floor is half done, and that train, chuggin away, is closer, you can hear it round the bend.

People have troubles for two reasons - one, they don't do somethin they should have, like you remember Mr. Tarman, he didn't want to work his fields, like he should have.  He wanted to read, and sleep, and chew tobacco.  So they lost their farm, because he didn't do what he should have.

Now, others, they do things they shouldn't a been doin - like widow Stubinhall, she shouldn't a been bringin cakes and food to that married man over in the next county when his wife was away, leastwise, not without one of her children to accompany her.  But she did, and the results were on the front page, remember?  When the wife came back and found them, together, it turns out the wife had been a champion skeet shooter in her youth, and she had not forgotten those skills as an angry, cheated on spouse.

So, some people do not do what they should, others do what they shouldn't.  Bad results, both ways.

                (She pauses to look at the floor)

Now look a that.....I've only got a few spots left.

               (She puts a hand to her ear.)

Is that the train?  Is it almost here?

               (Leans on the mop)

When you are on the tracks with a person - it doesn't matter whether they did the wrong thing or just didn't do the right thing, if you stay with them on the tracks, you will be squashed, too.

              (She takes a final swipe)

Unless, of course,.......

             (She pushes the mop as if it were a person)

...... you push the person out of the way, just in time, because they will not get off the tracks!....and you...

            (She stands there, arms out, as if a train were about to hit, her mouth open, she screams)

You get runned over, because you want to be some type of hero!

             (She leans the mop against the wall)

What is my advice?  Go home, my dear daughter, and get yourself a mop and pretend there is a train comin.   Because there is a train comin......

             (She turns to leave, looks back. )

And when you are done with the moppin, you will find there is an answer, because, if there isn't, at least you will know it's time to jump off the tracks.

            (She exits.  End of scene)




Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

0 Comments

monologue mania day # 68 by janet s. tiger      i am a washing machine  (c) 2014

4/21/2014

0 Comments

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                                                                        - for a whole year!  

If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

-------------------------------
Apr. 21, 2014 Day #68  I Am a Washing Machine Monologue Mania

                           
                                   I Am a Washing Machine

                                  (with apologies to Christopher Isherwood)

                                                For the Senior Channel
                                                  by Janet S. Tiger
                                             © 2014 all rights reserved
                                                [email protected]

           

            (A person walks onstage.  They can be dressed to fit this role, or in street clothing.  Male   or female is not important, nor is age, because this is not really a person….it is something    else all together.  In fact, with imagination, this can be a wild visual.  Have fun.  The person looks at the audience, stands tall.)

I am a washing machine.

You look surprised.

Not because you do not know what a washing machine is, but just surprised to hear one speak.

You look at us every week, possibly daily, not realizing that underneath the metal and wires and water running through, is a heart and mind and …..soul.   And even a sense of humor – don’t believe me?  Where do you think all those socks disappear to?  Don’t think that‘s funny?  Well we do!  We find that hilarious – how you all talk about it, get irritated about it, even scream sometimes!  It brings us all hours of laughter when we are alone….

            (Listens)

Oh, you thought I was a ….(says this with derision)……house machine.  No, I was not built in the factory to be cleaning just one family's dirties…..no, I am a washing machine for the people!  I am in what you call a……Laundromat, a self-service laundry, launderette, washeteria, or even Zìzhù xǐyī fang.  That one is Chinese for Laundromat!

Whatever you want to call me, I clean it all…I see it all…..I…know it all!

That’s right, a washing machine has an ….intimate view of all humanity.

In a private home, those of us relegated to lives of unrelieved repetitious boredom are subjected to the same people’s wash…..day in, and day out.  One person, two, three, four…babies sometimes….maybe with luck the residence is sold and someone new is introduced.  But that newness wears off quickly, to return to the pushing and pulling and clothing of the same old people……worse than being married, it is as if you are married AND chained to the floor.

            (Puffs up like a peacock)

But I and my kin are special.  In the course of our long and industrious lives, we clean clothing from not dozens, not hundreds, but thousands of people!  Maybe tens of thousands, or hundreds, depending upon how long we live for, how often we can be repaired, how many times people kick us, and damage us, and how soon we are ….(saddens) retired from service…..for …how do you people put it……for transplants……(disgusted) …..parts.  Relegated to cemetaries for us….the junk heap….or worse, what is that word?  Cremated?   Oh, yes, your word for it now…..(with horror)…recycled!

            (Shudders)

But we cannot worry about our futures, because our presents are such a present.  Not that you appreciate us – we are ignored unless we break, and yet we know every little detail about you.  (Laughs)  I see some of you wiggling…yes, I know your secrets!

And why shouldn’t we?  We get to clean all your privates…..your most intimate objects….your….(with glee)  …..your underwear!

And, using our powers of deduction, we know everything about you….what you eat…no matter how much bleach or cleaner, the stains tell that story!  …..….and how much you eat!...the size of the clothing reveals that!  Larger shirts, giant pants! 





And what the fashions are, and which ones you like…..and…dare I say it?  Everything that goes on….between those sheets!

We are very knowledgeable, we machines, and yet, unless we leak or make strange noises, we are to you …….invisible.

Doomed to lives of incredible immobility.  Except for those of us small ones of lucky to be traveling in your vehicles to strange places around the country….which is, from what I hear, not the greatest because it’s not as if we get to leave and go look around these places!  The rest of us are born to serve, created in great factories, our only movement through space happening at our births, when we are loaded into darkened machines and transported to the location where we will slave our entire lives.

            (Sighs deeply, bows head)

But ours is not to question why, ours is just to clean and dry……

Which brings us to why I am here, today, in front of you, a representative of millions of us….we beg you, we do not want much, just a kind word and a small thank you once in awhile…(gets angry) ..not a kick when our bones are old and tired, and something has broken and we don’t start!

And that is why I wrote this book…….some people ask how did I come to be a writer?  To that I say…..in between loads, I have plenty of time to think….and someone left a book by a man named Christopher Isherwood….called I Am A Camera…….no, I did not read it….I prefer the TV….but I loved the title!  I identified deeply with the idea!  A perfect sound bite!  And so …that’s how I wrote…….I Am A Washing Machine….(puffs up impressively) …and with the help of my cyber-publisher, everyone in the audience will be receiving a copy!

            (Waves his hands, then stops)

I believe this is where all of you shout and cheer and stamp your feet!  Come on now, you’ve all seen TV shows before!

            (Encourages the audience to comply)

That wasn’t so bad, was it? 

Now, when you leave, you will give the nice people your email, and I Am A Washing Machine will be sent to your computer, along with some lovely coupons for your local Laundromat.

Thank you all, you’ve been a lovely audience!

            (Turns to leave, hears something, looks back)

Did you think you were getting a printed copy?  Are you kidding?  What year do you think this is?  1962?  Do you pay with coins or can you use your debit card?  Join the modern age! 

            (As exiting, we hear…)

Next they’ll be wanting to use washboards!   

            (Exits,  the end of this cycle)

Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

0 Comments

monologue mania day # 67 by janet s. tiger      a rose from death  (c) 2014 all rights reserved

4/20/2014

0 Comments

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                                                                        - for a whole year!  

If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues-
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com
Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Happy Easter to all celebrating today!

                             A Rose From Death   (c)                 
                                        by Janet S. Tiger

                                    © 2014 all rights reserved


                                      [email protected]


            (A woman comes onstage, she walks carefully, maybe with a walker if        you can find one, a cane if not.  She looks at the audience, waves)


For all you out there in TV land, I have brought flowers for the entire audience, in honor of Easter.  And why this is a special day.  A few years ago, it was Good Friday, but not really.  In the middle of the night, just after the beginning of Good Friday, there was a fire in the retirement home where I reside.

It appears Mr. Meecham could not go to sleep without a cigarette, and so, he disabled the smoke alarms, and lit up, the old darling.

The result, after he fell asleep, was not good at all, in fact, he almost died.  And, so for that matter, did the rest of us.  But our own Beverly Hillbilly, Jethro, that nice young man who helped me here today, he pulled all 26 of us out of that burning building.  Including idiot Meecham, who suffered from smoke inhalation, but, with the wisdom of a man who still does not care, continues  to smoke nonetheless.

Our lovely establishment was burned, and sadly, so were the grounds, including the beautiful flowers and bushes surrounding our residence, which made looking out the windows so lovely.

Luckily, the bushes and grounds had formed a type of boundary, where the brave firemen fought the flames and won, before the second building – Building B – could be burned as well, so, although it was very sad, we were able to double up with the others for that night, until they were able to clean up and rebuild the smoked out rooms.

On Easter Sunday, we had our services outside for sunrise, and the nice pastor came, and it didn’t rain, the sun peaked out at us.  Amidst the charred bushes, and the withered vines, there was suddenly a gust of wind, and some of the burnt leaves blew off of a rose bush……and there, as if painted by the hand of God himself, was a perfect rose!

It had survived somehow, in the ashes, perhaps because the burned foliage had protected it, who knows?  But we all smiled, and knew that no matter what, all would be well. 

A rose from death…..a perfect moment for Easter.

And a perfect time to realize that, even though I am almost 85, I was going to do something for my birthday that week, that I had hoped to do when I was much younger, but decided was too dangerous.

            (She takes a deep breath)

I decided to go skydiving.  My thinking was that if the rose could live through the fire I could do anything, too!

And I went.  Up in a tiny plane, high in the sky, accompanied by my granddaughter, who thought I was crazy, but was going with me as support – and because my daughter would not give permission otherwise!

            (She is reverent)

How beautiful it was! And the young man going with us was so handsome! In the plane, I felt…so young…..just like a bird!  

            (Listens)

Did I jump? 

            (Laughs)

Of course not!  Do I look that crazy?

I mean, I went up there, and realized the rose lived through the fire, but so did I, and that was enough for me!

I stayed in the airplane while the handsome young man jumped with my granddaughter……and now, two years later, they are getting married.

So, the morale is……if you get a rose from death, take it and run with it, and love it, because it is a gift……

Thank you….

            (She exits, looking back0

I know all the people who come on this show have something else to say when they leave….but I don’t!  Oh, wait a minute, I do!

     (She removes a paper from the walker or cane’s carrying bag.  She reads)


Of all the gifts I got from death
I found that one I chose

Surprised me by its beauty
It was a lovely rose

It smiled at me one morning
I picked it there and then

And put it on my table
As if it were a friend

The other presents I received
Came quietly at best

The hope of resurrection
And the chance for peaceful rest

So I am glad to share my rose
That I kiss with my last breath

I won’t regret one moment
Since I got … A rose from death…..

            (The woman puts away the paper, smiles, and really exits)

            (The end.)


Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

 







0 Comments

monologue mania day # 66 by janet s. tiger  the joy of sox    (c) 2014 all rights reserved

4/19/2014

0 Comments

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                                                                        - for a whole year!  

If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

-------------------------------
Only 299 days to go!

Apr. 19, 2014 Day #66 Monologue Mania

                           

                        The Joy of Sox                               
                                        by Janet S. Tiger

                    © 2014 all rights [email protected]


            (A man comes out onstage, he has a very big bag of….socks.  Which he opens up, and      dumps             on the ground, stares at audience in hostility.)

I know that nowadays, everybody has a fascination with things that, when I was younger, were never discussed in public.

These private functions were discussed behind barns and in closets where they belonged, with snickers and giggles, because the images were funny….and never, ever referred to in front of…(whispers)  the children.

But now, things are ….different.

Which is why I like to return to the simple things in life – the joy….of socks.

Let me explain why I can discuss this publicly.

Here is a pair of socks. 

            (He holds it up to illustrate)

They are happy, perfectly matched.  Watch as they are mated together, to be kept in a warm, happy drawer until they make someone’s feet very cozy…

            (He takes the two socks are puts them together, opening the top of one pair and enclosing             the other, suggestively)

Now see these socks……

            (He picks up a sock with a hole in it.)

How could this bring joy?

Because if you look at this sock, you see the years of faithful service…..judging by the size of the hole, many years! 

            (He pokes his fingers through the hole, wiggles them around, suggestively)

And notice how smooth the material has become, how gentle against the skin.

            (He rubs the sock against his face, smiling)

And look at all these socks…..

            (He now gets animated, sits down and starts putting on a new pair of                     socks, smiling.)

Some are matched, but others have lost their partners, it doesn’t matter to my feet!

            (He picks up the others, holding them to his chest.)

They are all different styles and colors, yet they do not fight!  They do not start wars, they do not argue over who did not put the toilet seat down!  They are happy!  They are content to make others happy!  They are…….perfect!

            (He pours the socks over his head, shivering in ecstasy, rolling in them.) 

(Going wild)  I love them all!  Why can’t anyone understand this?  They don’t argue with me, or ask to borrow the car?  Or want to marry drunks!  They hurt no one, and they only give joy! And that is why, I cannot….no…I will not!..... discard these socks.   And if my wife wishes me to do that, she should be coming here to see a therapist, not me!

            (He gathers the socks, and puts them lovingly back in the bag, starts to                 leave.)

You’ll have to excuse me….I think I need to go change….my socks.

            (He exits, tiptoeing.  The end)

Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
0 Comments

monologue mania day # 65 by janet s. tiger  peace out  (for the senior channel) (c) 2014 

4/18/2014

2 Comments

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                                                                        - for a whole year!  

If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

--------------------------------------------------------
Apr. 18, 2014 Day #65  Monologue Mania  

                         Peace Out
(c)
                                        (for Senior Channel)
                                            by Janet S. Tiger
                                     (c) all rights reserved 2014
                                        [email protected]

(An older man comes out onstage, he is dressed casually, as if he has just finished a long flight.)

For this Senior Channel  show, everyone is doing either their own personal rants or their favorite holiday.  Well, if I ranted, it would last a lot longer than the few minutes you alot, so I think I'll stick with...holidays.

Now you did birthdays, so I want to nominate.....death days.

We celebrate when people died - JFK, Pearl Harbor, 9/11......I am going to nominate a friend, his name is Jose, and I just came back from burying him in a land far away.

Why did I take back his body to his mother. who is 93, and had to watch another child put in the ground?

Because..... Jose was a good friend.

And the land I buried him in, well..... that's really the story.

You see, when I was young and stupid, I was in the Peace Corps.

Two years.  From 21 to 23, right out of  college, filled with all kinds of hopes and dreams of helping the underprivileged reach the levels we have here in the United States. 

I was miserable the entire two years.

Actually, I think I can honestly say those were the two most miserable years of my life.

I had worked with my father in his construction business, and I spoke some Spanish, so they sent me to a small town in a place in Central America that I will not mention so that your imagination can fill in the blanks.

But it was hot, and humid, and filled with unusual bugs and poisonous things that you could step on, or that could creep or crawl into your bed while you were sleeping.

And yet, nothing was as dangerous as the microscopic parasites......introduced into my system with needlepoint accuracy by a mosquito.  Malaria.  Yes, there was quinine, and in the sixties, the newer chlorquine...but somehow, over the years, the one that got into me had mutated, and the medicine given to me before I left the relative safety of San Diego, was not useful.

I got sick within the first two weeks, and it was misery.

Slowly, I got better, but then the fevers and chills would return, and I would change, like Jekyll and Hyde, from being able to hammer a nail to being unable to get out of bed.

This went on for months, over a year and a half.  But I was young and tough, and I wanted to prove myself.

So I stayed.  And as the end of the two years approached, I felt all right.  Only two months to go.  And then.....it wouldn't let me go.  The malaria kept me in bed for weeks...... naturally during the rainiest part of the year, and it was impossible to move me, let alone get me to a hospital.

I slipped into a coma,  And I do not remember anything from that point on until I awoke back in San Diego, in a veteran's hospital with guys next to me who had been in Vietnam - and who felt sorry for me.

And now I come to Jose. 

In the driving rain, the dangerous horrible roads, Jose took an old broken down truck and drove me over 150 miles to the nearest hospital.....and he saved my life.

He had come with me on the transport back to the States, and brought all my stuff, including....

(He gets a bit emotional about this)

Including .... notes from the villagers thanking me for building them a school and getting running water into their village........

(Pulls himself together)

Anyhow, my family sponsored Jose, and he lived here...until last month, when he died. 

And so,  on the same roads he brought me back to life,.......I took back his body, to his family.

(He turns to leave, looks back)

When I said those were the two most miserable years of my life, that was true.  But, also true, is that all the years after, I had a friend, a good friend.  And that is something that is worth honoring with a day of remembrance.

(He exits.  The end of one life. May he rest in peace)















Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
2 Comments

monologue mania day # 64 by janet s. tiger  the original coming out party  (2014)

4/17/2014

1 Comment

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                                                                                                  - for a whole year!  

If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!


------------------------------------------------------------
Beginning of week 10! 
Apr. 17, 2014 Day #64 Monologue Mania


            The Original Coming Out Party 
(c)
                                   (for the Senior Channel)
                                        by Janet S. Tiger
                                    (c) 2014 all rights reserved
                                        [email protected]


            (Woman comes out onstage, she is smiling)

Hi, there!  I just love all the crazy people who come on this show!  And my family is always telling me that I'm the craziest of all, so I just had to come on and tell you my favorite holiday - and that is....Mother's Day.  Which, as a Senior, is even more special, because I am not only a mother, but soon to be a grandmother, and then I hope a great-grandmother...and after that, maybe a -how many is that...great-great grandmother.?

            (She counts on her fingers)

Ooh, I wish they could figure out a new name, because the baby is gonna take forever to rememba that one!

I wonder because I actually know about my......

            (counts on her fingers quickly and quietly)

....great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great....grandmother....

When I retired, I decided to find out more about my family, which some of my family was not too happy about, but that's because they worry too much...Anyhow, I started doing the research......and it turned out this relative had come across the Atlantic - while pregnant!  And she gave birth....during a storm. When I read about that, I thought, wow!  That explains a lot.....

So why is Mother's day so so special?  Because, you see, this day was also my coming out day.....not the way it means now with sex and gay, but a very old-fashioned way.

My mother was pregnant with me - I was the third.  And she was busy, and she waited to go to the hospital, because, she always said, after two babies, she knew what was going on.

But she didn't!  On Mother's Day, on the way to the hospital - in the bus, no less, she realized my head was starting to come out!

It was an amazing scene - the driver was able to call for help, but, unlike the movies, there were no doctors riding the bus that day.

I don't have any home movies from the time - and it was way before cell phones! - but I can show you a bit of what happened.....

          (She takes off her sweater and lays it down on the stage)

 The other passengers helped by putting down coats for my mother to lay on the back bench, and one woman had been a nurse in World War II, and.....I was born on the back seat of the Number 47 downtown express!

            (She gets up, holding a 'baby' in her hands)

But that's not all......after hearing this story my whole life, I decided that would never happen to me, so at the first sign of imminent birth,I had my husband drive me straight to the hospital.  Four hours of contractions and I was exhausted.

But....no baby. 

They called it - false labor.

So we went home.

A couple of days later, the pains started.  Rushed again to the hospital. 

False labor.  What a ridiculous name for it!  It is definitely labor, and it is certainly not false!

But still, no baby.


On the way home out of the hospital, my husband started to laugh.  When I asked what was so funny, he said.....'What if the baby doesn't come for another year....or two?  We could have a giant baby!'

I almost killed him!  The baby was already huge, and it was no picnic going to the bathroom ten times a night, and he was laughing!

But he was laughing so hard he had to pull over....right there in the parking lot of the hospital.

            (She starts waving her hands)

I started to slap at him, and he silly slapped back and we got into the silliest looking argument and suddenly I saw us in the mirror and now I started to laugh.  Maybe he was right!

We would be on the front page of the paper!  Maybe even the National Enquirer!

After all the nerves of two false labors, it was such a relief to laugh....and then....it was like the most amazing sensation, but I knew the baby was coming out - in the car!  I stopped laughing.

            (She smiles and puts her hands on her hips.)

My husband stopped laughing.

And then he got out of the car.  I was horrified - was he going to leave me NOW?

Then I heard him calling to some of the workers walking into the hospital.  They ran to get some doctors, and they brought a gurney, but by the time they got to our car....the baby was already out!

First me, then my daughter.....

And now it's her turn.....and we are on...baby watch.

Where will this baby have its coming out party?  In the park?  At work?  On an airplane?

But here's the thing - we were all born in  May - even my ancestor in the boat! 

            (She pulls a small book out of her pocket, reads)

'.... and it was in the fifth month, on the second Sunday.....when I gave birth to my first child, a male, in the stomach of the ship, heaving and tossing with the great storm outside....we christened him 'Jonah' and he was born a healthy baby, in the midst of all the wailing of the wind, he wailed back, as he had a strong voice, and with his birth, I became a mother......'

            (She turns to go, looks back)

Coming out… as just who you are, naked to the world….it only REALLY happens one time in your life…….

 Get it, my TV friends, the second Sunday in the fifth month, the month of May, she started a family tradition.......we all had our ‘coming out’ parties on what would be....Mother's Day!

            (She laughs as she exits.)

Happy Mother's Day - a few weeks early!- to all!






  




Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

1 Comment

monologue mania day # 63 by janet s. tiger       friends       (c) 2014         all rights reserved

4/16/2014

1 Comment

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day - for a whole year! 
If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!
---------------------------------------------------------------
Apr. 16, 2014  Day # 63  Friends  Monologue Mania



                                Friends (c)
       
                       by Janet S. Tiger  
                                                (c) 2014 all rights reserved
                                                    [email protected]



(A person runs onstage, keep running around wildly.  Bumps into walls and bounces off the floor.   Can be any or all sexes - this is to represent....an atom, right at a major moment in the history of the universe. The actor can have fun with this.  Runs, then slows a bit.)

Whoa!  What a ride!   Where am I?  I'm floating......

            (Drifts around the stage)

Look at all those other atoms......Hi!  Hi!

            (Waves wildly at one)

Oh, I remember you!  You were right next to me before that big bang.......was that something or what?

Yeah, me too, my head is still ringing.......

Wait, where are you going? 

            (Listens)

I'm being whooshed off to someplace .....in some other galaxy far, far away. ........I forgot the name.....it's a weird one.....

            (Listens)

Yeah, that's it!  Earth something or other!

            (Listens)

No kidding!  You, too!

Well, I hope to see you there!

            (Waves wildly)

Have a good trip!

            (Waves again, slowly now, more sadly)

It'll be good to know someone from the 'hood......in 13 billion years!

            (Listens)

Oh, don't worry, we'll recognize each other!......
I think that's what they're gonna wonder about......how come some people seem more familiar than others, and they'll never know it's from..... this very moment.....

            (The atom bounces around a moment, then starts to exit.  Looks back)

I really do hope to see you there.......my friend....

            (The atom exits.  The beginning of....a friendship)








Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8





1 Comment

monologue mania day # 62 by janet s. tiger  the ides of april   (for Donut Diaries) (c) 2014

4/15/2014

1 Comment

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day - for a whole year! 
If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

--------------------------------------------
Although this is part of Donut Diaries, I thought it was also appropriate for Tax Day - are your taxes finished?  Good luck!   

Apr. 15, 2014  Day #62  The Ides of April    Monologue Mania

                    The Ides of April (c)
                                     by Janet S. Tiger
                                    © all rights reserved
                                   [email protected]


For Donut Diaries  (We see this young man throughout the play, he is always dressed in an unusual way - one shoe different from the other - odd hats for the holidays.  This will be the first time he speaks more than 'hello,' or 'time for St. Patrick's Day!)

(A man comes onstage – he is young and has wings and he is running and jumping.  He     looks around wildly – smiling, happy.  The others eating donuts mostly ignore him.)

Hi!  I’m having so much fun!  Wheeeeee! 

            (He whirls about, gets a little dizzy)

Do you know who I am?  Think about it for a minute while I play…..

            (He runs throughout the tables)

Can you guess?

            (At this we see the pixie come and wave at him.  He waves back.)

Oh yes, we have an interesting relationship, the two of us.

            (He turns – the pixie is beckoning him, but instead of going he looks at the audience and   starts to move in slow motion.) 

Let me give you a clue…….

            (He now circles with his arms, looks disappointed with the non-response)

If you can’t guess, I will just have to tell you!

            (The pixie whistles, and the man looks over, shakes his head.)

Oh, all right, I’m coming! 

            (He turns to go offstage, then looks back.)

You didn’t figure it out, did you?  ……(Conspiratorily)  You almost have it….that’s right….I’m very hard to manage…. … …..I’m always here but you never notice me until I’m gone……. which I will be soon ….oh, yes, it is a paradox.....everyone wants more of me but…….no one ever notices me passing….and no one ever appreciates me until I’m …..gone…… ….

            (He points to someone in the audience)

You got it!.....I am…..(ta-da!)…… time!  and right now…..

            (He sprints off, calling over his shoulder)

…… I’m running out!


            (And he does.  Which is what is happening - time IS running out on filing!              Do you wait until the very end, well here it is.  The end.  Now go file a tax)






Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
1 Comment

monologue mania day #61 by janet s. tiger  last passover in cairo (c) 2014

4/14/2014

2 Comments

 
Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day - for a whole year! 
If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wishing all a Happy Passover - and a great Matzoh Meal!

Apr. 14, 2014 Day #61

                               
Last Passover in Cairo
                                       (for the Senior Channel)
                                            By Janet S. Tiger
                                      © all rights reserved 2014
                                         [email protected]

(A man comes out, in Army fatigues, he is holding a box of matzohs.  He speaks calmly, with no discernible accent to start)


First let me say I was inspired by that gentleman who told the story about Palm Sunday - which always comes around Passover, followed by Easter.  In my lifetime, I was lucky enough to experience Passover in many locations, but my favorite was ...the last one in Cairo.

Now
when you say,'Cairo',  people think.... exotic...and pyramids.  But actually - in the United States, there are 36 places named Cairo  most of them in the South, and one, the one I am fondest of, was near  where my father was based for two years of his Army career. 

(More of a Southern drawl)  You will notice, that as I speak more of the South, my accent returns.  The South is a place that weaves its spell on you, like the tentacles of the honeysuckle do - pretty, so pretty, you barely notice the life being squeezed out of you.  Or at least that's what my New York born and raised mother used to say.

We were oddities - a Jewish family in the military.  My father had been drafted for WWII, and stayed on when they offered him a reserve commission after the war.  My mother objected, but he - as always - ignored her, saying, 'Miriam, there's not gonna be another war!  We won't allow it!  So, I was born in New York, but Korea and that other war we wouldn't allow - Vietanm - made sure my father and our family traveled all over this great big country for over 20 years.

But this memory is of one of the most memorable Passovers that our family enjoyed - the last one in Cairo, as my mother used to call it.

Now in most small Southern towns, there are few Jews, and our Cairo was no exception.  There was a traveling rabbi who handled the 50 or so families throughout the county - but mostly we had to spend time explaining to people what Jewish holidays were, and why we did not celebrate Christmas or Easter.

To avoid fights, I soon found it easier to explain Easter as being Jesus' last Seder - and the kids understood that.

And, over the years, we invited many families to join us for Seder, allowing my mother to explain the peculiarities of her family's Passover observances - that the hard boiled egg came AFTER the soup, and that the horseradish had to be VERY hot, so your eyes teared - and each of these came with its own family tale, always appreciated by the story-loving Southerners at our tables.

And people loved coming - my mother made sure the Seder itself was shortened for their benefit - easy to understand, and with amazing amounts of food - something Southerners truly appreciated.

But the problem with the year I remember best was one of transference - the transfer of my father, that is.  He was being transferred right around Passover that year - and my mother was in a tizzy.

You see, she had always hated the moving, but had gotten used to it - had it down to a science.  Our first few moves, she was ready one week before the actual day.  But then, there was the fated Passover in Texas - and we were all set to move, all packed, items sent on ahead, when the order came through - we were staying!  Another 3 months!  You could hear my mother's shrieks in the real Cairo!

Since then, my mother had decided to wait until the absolute last minute - armed with lists and lists of lists and places where she had secretly stored boxes - to make sure orders hadn't changed.

This worked fine - until, in our last year in Cairo, it turned out the last week when the FINAL decision came down – was right before Passover!

We couldn't leave - what if the orders changed?

And yet, everything was almost packed!  What could we do?

 My mother was horrified - to pack or not pack the fancy dishes?  Did the Army care?  For those who have never been in the Army, here's a news bulletin - the Army never cares!

So our Passover was in doubt.....just like the Jews waiting for Pharoah's decree, we huddled and worried, well, maybe not huddled, but we went to school and worried.

My mother decided that we would have a 'petite'  Passover - scaled down to the very basics - no extra charoset, chopped with those delicious Southern pecans, just enough for one mouthful as the Seder dictated.

It was very sad - and that was on top of the sadness that always went with moving away from new friends that you would usually never see again - or if you did, they would have changed.

Sadder because Passover was always such a family event - with us and all the new friends and Dad together, and now it was just going to be lonely and....sad.  Especially because Dad had been called out of state, and would not be back until after Passover.  He would call us, of course, but he had only missed one other Seder, and that was when he was in Korea, and it was a distant memory.

Passover was on a Monday night that year - and when my mother came to pick us up at school, the principal came out to wish her a Happy Holiday.  The woman spoke for what seemed like hours - as Southerners and Jews are very good at - and finally we got to leave.

As we pulled up to our home, we noticed there was almost no parking, just one spot in front of our house.

My mother was surprised - then she remembered the principal had mentioned one of the neighbors had gone into labor early, and so maybe the baby had come.....

We went to our front door, and just as we got there.....

(He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his eyes)

Just as we got there, the door opens and everyone screams - in a Southern accent, of course - (Yells)  Hog Someach!.....Which should be...Chag Sameoch, but it didn't matter, you see, all the neighbors had gotten the traveling rabbi, who was there, too, by the way, they had gotten the rabbi to give them recipes for Passover.

And they had lovingly made all the items - from the roasted shankbone done by Mrs. O'Reilly, to the delicious Matzoh Ball soup by the Dunns to the hit of the evening, Ole Miss Mcclintock's KFC - kosher fried chicken.......they had brought fancy tablecloths and napkins and silverware and dishes - all the packed away items had been lovingly replaced by beautiful Irish linen and Waterford crystal and even some silverplated candlestick heirlooms that looked like they had been through the Civil War.

My mother took one look and started to cry, and her friends and neighbors hugged her and it was a very incredible scene.

We sat and the rabbi did the Seder - edited a bit due to the fact everyone had to be at work and school in the morning.

When he talked about the Exodus from Egypt, somehow it meant so much more that night than any other time I've heard it.

And that, my friends, was my most memorable holiday.

(He turns to go, stops)

Almost forgot.  There's a part where the door is opened for a mystical guest, Elijah.  And when the door opened, we half expected my father to be standing there.
But he wasn't.  You can't have everything!  Then the phone rang.......that was my father!  Calling all the way from Montana, he was thinking about us, and how much he missed us.

(Sighs)  I've been all over the world, but that last Passover in Cairo will stay with me forever.......

(He leaves)

Hag Sameach!

(And next year in Jerusalem, too!  The end)




Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

2 Comments

Monologue mania day #60 by janet s. tiger  psalm psunday (c) 2014 all rights reserved

4/13/2014

1 Comment

 
Picture

Photo  -  Palm Sunday at Swedenborg Church in San Diego - with real palms!
pictured - l-r -
photo by -

I was the Playwright-in-Residence at Swedenborg Hall from 2006-2008

Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day - for a whole year! 
If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down. 
     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.  
     For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here

Help  a playwright and get  more great  award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com
Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wishing a wonderful holiday to all my friends celebrating Palm Sunday!
Apr. 13, 2014 Day #60 

                                          Psalm Psunday (c)
                                   (for The Senior Channel)
                                        by Janet S.Tiger
                                (c) 2014 all rights reserved
                                    [email protected]

(A man comes onstage, carrying a palm.  He puts it reverently on the floor)

I want to thank the Senior Channel for letting people come on who don’t have complaints.  And for allowing us to tell stories about families and their favorite holidays.  Mine is Palm Sunday, and this is why.  My mother used to say she wanted to have a special day to die on - and she would prefer Psalm Psunday - she spelled the Sunday P-s-u-n-d-a-y because she liked it so much.

As she got older, somehow, she got more obsessed with this.  Palm Sunday only falls on March 23rd once in a blue moon -  1902 was one year, then 1975 the next time.

So, when she found out that Mar. 23rd, 1997 was going to be Palm Sunday, and she was going to be exactly 78 years old, the same age her mother was when she died, she decided that was the day that she was going to die.

Even though it was over ten years away, even though she was in perfect health, she had made her decision.  She wanted - can you guess it? - the 23rd Psalm read at the funeral, and she wanted Easter Sunday to be celebrated as always, with a wonderful meal at her house, with all her family around.....around her ashes!

She was adamant that's what was going to happen.  She was a little surprised to be incredibly healthy going into her seventies - her mother had died of lung cancer, so she had never smoked.  When it was pointed out that's probably why she was so healthy, she would respond, (slight Irish accent)  'Healthy or not, when God wants you, that's your time.'



Just as it was useless to argue with her about not finishing your food, or marrying  a Protestant, it was not wise to argue about her death date.

So Palm Sunday loomed, like a train coming down the tracks, my mother in its direct path, unable to see that all she had to do was notice that the train was heading on another track before it got to her.

My mother got up on Palm Sunday, and it was a beautiful day, and she got her palm fronds and she and my father headed to the church.

You see, because of what she expected, she expected us all to show up.  So we met her there, the whole family....we knew her strength of mind - my father used to say she loved Palm Sunday because she was as stubborn as the donkey Jesus rode on - and she would say the donkey represented peace, of which there would be none if my father argued.

It was one of their many running battles - and that Palm Sunday was no different.  My father almost refused to go to church - saying he did not want to disturb people with a wife dropping dead.  But he went.

And we waited - through the service, and the priest's incredibly long sermon, which my father declared would be the death of himself!  But my mother was still alive....and we could tell there was an element of surprise, as the woven crosses were displayed, and the ceremonies finished, and the feasting progressed, and still, she lived.  The day wound down, and no one would leave my mother's house, concerned that if they were there, perhaps, just perhaps, her horrible prediction would not come true.  The minutes ticked down.....9 o'clock, ten o'clock,  then....11.......my mother started to get tired, and perhaps a tiny bit disappointed?.... and wanted everyone to leave, but no one would go! 

            (He wipes his forehead, the memory is tough)

It was almost midnight, and all of a sudden, my mother’s face changed, and she closed her eyes.

            (He closes his eyes, bows his head)

…..and, she started ….to say something…….

 ‘(slight Irish accent)   The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.’

            (He lifts his head, looks up, smiles.)

You do want to hear the end, don’t you?  What happened at midnight?

At this point, I would like to point out the suspense of this story is only predicated on the fact you don't know my mother, and if you did, you would know she is, at age 95, still very much alive. 

But it doesn't matter, because now, with a real belief born only of faith, she truly believes she got the day correct - she will die on a March 23rd, but the year, well, anyone can get numbers wrong!- so when she dies on March 23rd,  that will be the next time March 23rd falls on Palm Sunday....which is 2059......

So, my dear friends,  have a wonderful Palm Sunday, if you have a moment, please drop by and join us for some of my mother's delicious fig pudding....

(He turns to leave, looks back)

…..and please, if you are still with us in 2059 - and my mother is, too - please join us then!

(He exits, the end)




Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

1 Comment
<<Previous
Forward>>
    Note: A few words about 'free' -  all these monologues are protected under copyright law and are free to read, free to perform and video as long as no money is charged. Once you charge admission or a donation, or include my work in an anthology, you need to contact me for royalty info.

    Author

    Janet S. Tiger’s award-winning plays and monologues have been produced internationally and are currently in popular anthologies in the United States and Canada.

    Archives

    November 2015
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    September 2013
    June 2013
    April 2013

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.