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
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #128   by Janet S. Tiger  How to Annoy a Woman   (c) June 20, 2014  

                                          How To Annoy a Woman

                                                     by Janet S. Tiger
                                       (c) June 20, 2014 all rights reserved
                                         tigerteam1@gmail.com

                   (Man comes onstage.  He is not bad-looking, not too badly dressed.  He is a little nervous, twisting his hands as he starts to speak.)

I, uh, I'm a little nervous about this, because I don't usually talk in front of people.  I work with my hands, and, um, well, I guess I just have to start.  (Clears his throat loudly, takes a deep breath)

Ladies, you probably already know all this, and men, you do, too, but, I just want to let you know some things to do that can annoy and irritate women.

(Another deep breath, exhales loudly)  Whew, that's not so hard.  (Laughs a little)  You see, the first thing you do, is get born!  That starts 'em off with years of things to complain about.  And, if truth be told, it sure doesn’t take much to irritate a woman, because, God knows, women LOVE to complain.

(Smirks) That's why you wanna know how to give 'em things to complain about, so they're in an almost constant state of annoyance with you.  Why?  (Smiles) Because after you fight, which is always the outcome of these annoyances….. after you fight, you kiss and make up!

There, I've told the secret.  I guess we all know how much fun the making up is, but if you work it just right, women can never be sure that all of this annoyance is on purpose!  I mean, they may suspect, but hey, the secret is practice.

Once they love you for, God knows what reasons, you can start laying the groundwork for a life of irritation.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not talkin' about cheatin' on the missus, no, that's just not right.  I'm talkin' about little things...things that if you live with another guy, I mean a roommate, well, guys never notice stuff like putting away the milk, or leaving dishes out.  They don't care.

But a woman.  (Shudders)  You have to find that special spot that makes her quiver with annoyance.  Every woman is different, but there is a way to tell.  Try it.  Leave out a glass on the table after you drunk from it.  If she puts it in the sink and warshes it, no comment, then that's not the spot.  But if she glares at you, or makes a comment, then you know you hit pay dirt.

Next time, leave out a glass, a plate and some silverware.  Oh!  That'll get her goin'!  She will probably make a remark to start.  That's when it's all new, and she's still bein' polite to you.  She'll say somethin' like, (imitates woman's voice)  'Oh, sweetie, could you please not leave out dirty dishes?  We don't want to get bugs, do we?'

And she'll clear and warsh 'em, and you have to let it escalate -  leave em out day after day.  Resist the urge to help her, because then you have to start all over again!  After a few days, they either start to sulk or they start the yellin'-  I personally prefer the yelling, it's loud and faster!  But the sulk really makes that passion percolate, like a good stew.....sometimes for days and even weeks....and then...when it blows....it is magnificent!

They start to screamin'  - this is often around that very difficult time of the month for ladies, so be careful if she has a mean streak in her and you own guns.  And that screamin' can be bad, let me warn you - you may need plugs for your ears!

(Imitates yelling woman)  'Why don't you put the damn dishes in the sink!  I musta' told you a million times!  How hard is it to put them in the SINK!'

(Back to himself) Well of course it ain't hard, if it was hard, they wouldn't get so mad!    In order to make this work,  you start to yellin' back at 'em -
(Loud man)  I can't remember everything!  I get tired with all your rules! 

(Calmer, instructive)  But the real trick is gettin' them to cry about it.  Then you get to put your arm around 'em and hold em, but - now listen closely fellers - do not try anything then, you have to yell one more time and storm out.....

(Yelling man)  I hate when you cry!  You think I'm gonna do everything you tell me to do, well, you ain't my mother!

(Himself)  And then you storm out in a big huff.

(Deep breath) I don't know about you, but that cryin' really gets to me.  Anyhow,  when you storm out, you go to get her some nice flowers, and maybe chocolate.  They all like chocolate - even when they say they don't.

And when you come back, you get this look on your face.....(illustrates) ...they call it a sheepish look, but I never seen no sheep look like this...  (again the look)  ...and you hafta tell them you're sorry.  Now one time is enough, because otherwise they start to expect you to say that, and that is just too much for any man!  but you do have to tell 'em you love 'em and, then, at that point, they will usually smile and hug you and you can laugh about all the silly things you said to each other.  (He thinks about the making up, smiles)

A final word of warning -  don't keep the fight going, just do the making up!  Cause when you get back into the fight, it can get very ugly.  (Shudders)  Sleep on the couch ugly, if you know what I mean.

There, that's the pattern -(counts in on his hands)  annoy a little, then annoy some more, build into a fight, a big fight, yellin', screamin', get her to cry, make some very mean comment and then storm out, come back with flowers, candy, a one-time 'I'm sorry' and you get to fun makin' up!

As you get good at this, you can add many variations, like what to annoy them with - look for clues from what they tell you, this is otherwise known as the complaining.  If she complains about how you don't mow the lawn, then wait a little more each time before you do it.  And then after the fight, do a real good job mowin'.  If she complains about you forgettin' to take down the Christmas lights, leave 'em up until June!  I once got ten great fights - and make-ups- from a single string of flashing lights!  It was fantastic!




 I don't really have to tell you what annoys them, they are quit to let you know.    Toilet seats, towels on the floor, toothpaste caps, puttin' on a new roll of paper when it runs out - why the bathroom can provide years and years of wonderful altercations!  In the kitchen, the dishwasher is a wonderful source of annoyance, but this is only a distant second to the (says it as if was a delicious steak)  .....garbage....ooh how they love the garbage!  How you take it out, wrong, no matter how you do it!  Tie is up this way, not that way - forget to put in the new bag, let somethin' fall on the floor, why you can't lose with garbage!  It is a veritable gold mine of opportunity for annoyin' your woman!

And one of the best parts - even if you go for weeks and months doin' it right, all you have to do for a little fun, is do somethin' wrong agin just one time and (smacks his hands together)  BAM!  Are you in the doghouse!  Oh, yeah!  But here's the thing, gentlemen, no matter how a woman complains, you know how they love their dogs!

(He now responds to a sound in the back of the audience.)

Of course, there is a little something else I have to tell you.  You really shouldn't go out of your way to annoy your woman.

It's really not a good idea.  Especially if she finds out.  (Deep sigh)  That's kind of what happened to me.  I was braggin to a buddy on the phone and, well, you know how they can hear everything.....she heard me and we had a REALLY big fight.

I musta bought out that entire See's candy shop, and still....no makin' up for a long time...if you know what I mean.

So, she had me tell this as a wa (quickly) a very small way...of makin' amends.  Because, I was.......(it's as if his tongue is being twisted)  I was wrong.

That woman laughin’ in the back is my wife, so she has done this to help other couples not go through the pain we have.

There, honey, is this good?  I'll see you outside....

(He waves)

There, (takes a deep sigh) now you know it all.  (Brightens up)  It has been hard,...very hard....if you know what I mean.... but I am really lookin' forward to making up!
(He starts to exit, looks and sees she's gone,)  There is one very important thing to remember if you ever try my plan.......

(Leans forward to emphasize)  Don't get caught! 

(He smiles and exits.  The end.)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janet S. Tiger    858- 736-6315
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #127   by Janet S. Tiger  Five Minutes in Hell (c) June 19, 2014   
          Parental alert - strong language

                                    Five Minutes in Hell

                                                     by Janet S. Tiger
                                       (c) June 19, 2014 all rights reserved
                                                    tigerteam1@gmail.com

                    (A woman comes onstage and sits at a typewriter.  She stands up, walks around, then sits down again.)
 

Okay, I'm going to do this. 

            (She carefully takes out a timer) 

And now I set it......

            (She adjusts the buttons, putting it on the table.  She now stares at the typewriter, raises    her hand to hit the keys, then takes it back.)
 

This is going to be harder than I thought.  Who would have thought five minutes      could be so long?

            (She types)
 

Five minutes.  What if I had only five minutes left to live?

            (Stops typing)

There's a cheery thought!  Let's go with that!

            (She hunkers down as if to type more but her hands remain frozen over the keyboard)
 

How can I do that?   I know damn well that I wouldn't spend the last five minutes   writing...I'd try to argue or cajole or talk my way out the mess.  Which assumes there was       a mess, and I wasn't just dying.  If I was dying from a horrible, painful slow excruciating        demise, would I want to extend that?  No, extend is not the right     word....continue...no....oh, wht is the word.... let me call up my friend....

            (She pulls out a phone, starts to make a call, then stops.)


This is what happens whenever I start to write. That's why I am using a typewriter - so the Internet can't bother me.  But if I call someone up, we go out for coffee...all right, maybe sometimes ice cream......but then I blither on how I can't write, and that's my writing time.

            (She puts the phone away.)

All right.....I won't call, but, how much time do I have left to write? 

            (She examines the timer.)

  (Shrieks)  Oh my God, I forgot to push the on button!

            (She almost throws the timer across the room, then stops, pushes wildly and sets the timer             down carefully.)

 All those precious minutes!  And they don't even count.....

            (She pulls the paper out of the typewriter, counts the words on the page.)
 

Nine words, and now I am spending time counting them.  Genius.  I am a genius.       Why should I write - others should be following me around with a tape recorder to catch  my every dripping ......(she pauses to think of the right word)  ...what word is it?  '   dripping..... thought?  idea?  they don't drip, they...drop......there I have the truth...droppings...what comes out of my brain......How much time do I have left now?

            (She examines the timer)
 

Four minutes and 30 seconds.  Holy crap!  I think I've invented a way of getting  more time!  You set a timer to do something you hate to do, then the minutes stretch like     hours....

           (She starts to type furiously, then stops.)

Another brilliant idea.  Except I realize, from the depths of my memories that it's  been done...only it was called...school.


            (She gets up, shaking her head)


Now school was a way of stretching minutes into hours, days into months, years!  I   remember waiting for the bell to ring....the seconds ticking on that clock.....

            (Snaps back to herself, sits down, types)
 

Okay,   I can do this.  If I write more than the five minutes, can I avoid tomorrow?  (Shakes her head)  No, my original concept was to do a little writing every day.  That's  what I'm doing.  I can waste an hour, all right, maybe a few hours, on those stupid angry birds, but if I can do that, I can write for 5 minutes every day.

            (Looks at timer)

There, that wasted...I mean used....almost one minute.  (Starts to get happier)  I can do this, I can do this!  (Gets a thought)  Can I count thinking as part of the time?  (She  weighs this)  I don't know if it's fair.....

            (Looks at timer, shakes it a little)

Only one stinking minute to go!  I guess these things aren't like the old sand timers, where you could shake them and they'd go faster.  (Like a TV announcer)  Like sands through the hourglass, so, too, are the days of our lives....  I remember my mother   watching that!  I wonder if someone got that idea trying to write five minutes a day.....

            (She sits down, more thoughtful.)

Excuses. Maybe I should write a 'Book of Excuses.'   I certainly have enough. 

            (She starts to type.)

  The kids are little, I don't have time.  The office is busy, I don't have time.  My aunt  is sick, I need to take care of her, so I really don't have time.  I got sick, I can't write when I'm taking antibiotics.  I have to go shopping, I have to get the car repaired...the list   is...endless.  Actually, why did I do this?  Why start? (Loud)  Why did I start these five      minutes in hell?

            (She stops as if in anguish, then gets up as if searching........She takes a deep breath.  A      light dawns on her face.)
 Wait a second...I think I remember.  This is for me.  Only I can write these words.    No one else.  Someone can read them, but they are a part of me.

            (She sits and starts typing)
 

My children, once a major part of my life, are grown up, and although I see them, and of course I still nag them...... it is just not the same. Thank God for that.   I can do things for myself - get a haircut, a manicure, take a bath.  (Figures it out)  But when I ....when I write, that IS me.

            (The timer rings.  She turns to it and shuts it off.  Then we see her reset it.)
 

Maybe ...maybe five minutes isn't enough.....

            (She presses the button to start the timer, only this time with reverence.)

 Maybe just a few more minutes.....

            (She sits to type and the lights go down.  We hear typing and laughter.)
                                                             

(The end - but actually the beginning - this is how this year really started!)

 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janet S. Tiger    858-736-6315
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #126   by Janet S. Tiger  A Stroke of Luck   (c) June 18, 2014       

                                        A Stroke of Luck
                                                     by Janet S. Tiger

                                       (c) June 17, 2014 all rights reserved

                                                     tigerteam1@gmail.com









                  (A woman comes onstage, wearing loose clothing with lots of pockets.  She is walking       almost normally, it is only if you really pay attention that you can see one leg drags a little and the arm on that side doesn’t swing as much.  She is a bit grumpy.)

Stroke of luck, huh?  Talk about an oxymoron! 

                 (She holds up an arm.  It is fine, holding tall.)

Pretty good, right? 

                  (The arm starts to drift down.)

I’m not telling it to come down, it’s doing that all by itself.  Like it has, I dunno, I mind of its own.

                  (A phone rings.  She reaches frantically in her pockets for it, going a tiny bit berserk during the search.)

A simple thing like a phone!  You’d think by now I could find the phone….


                  (She finally retrieves it and starts poking at the buttons.  The ringing stops.)

Hello?  Hello?  Did I get to you in time?  Are you there?  Did I hang up on you?

                   (She shakes her head and screams.  The phone rings again during her scream.)

Is that me or the Memorex? 

                    (Listens, puts it to her ear – yes, the phone is ringing.)

I hear ringing sometimes when it doesn’t ring….but now….which button do I push?

                    (Once again, she pushes repeatedly at buttons.  Phone finally stops.  She starts shaking – is it laughter or tears?  She can’t tell either.)

It’s like I’m in some old vaudeville routine!  And I’m Lucy…but there’s no candy and there’s no Ricky…and there’s sure no money!


Now the question is – do I wait until it rings again, or do I put it away?   Did they give up?  Or they now trying again and as soon as I put it back in my pocket, it will go off, like a time bomb, driving me even more crazy than I am already! 

Or – are they calling the nurse’s station, which will get a nurse in here to check on me and if I have lost the phone again, and if I don’t remember how to use the phone, maybe I’m not getting better and they’ll kick me out sooner!


I can’t win!  It’s like a whack-a-mole game – you know the kind (she illustrates) where you have a hammer and you whack the mole when it pops up.  Except the mole keeps popping up in different places.  This is a fun game when you have the hammer – and you are five years old.  When you’re 75 and you are the mole…not so funny.


Funny thing is, I used to love scary movies.  Now, I’m the scary movie.  I’m afraid to stay here because I’m going crazy here – (more serious) but I’m afraid to go home because…well, that’s where I had the stroke. 

Two weeks ago.  New Year’s Day.  We had stayed up late for the first time in ten years. I don’t even remember falling.  (thinks)  What a way to start the year! 


But would you believe it?   Something amazing happened right after we left for the hospital.  (She illustrates this.)  A giant meteor came down and flattened our house!  We missed it just in the nick of time!  (She waits for a reaction.)  I didn’t think you’d believe it.

(While she’s saying the next, she puts the phone slowly in one of her pockets.)

Now that would have been a stroke of luck.  Well, maybe not, all our stuff would have been gone.  So, I guess I just have to learn to live with it.  My grandmother always said there’d be days like this….or is that a song?

                   (She removes her hand from the pocket, just as…the phone rings.  She looks like she’s going to explode, then takes a deep breath, reaches in her pocket and pulls out the phone.  It stops ringing – she looks at it, throws it across the room.  Turns back and looks at the audience, then smiles)

Wrong number.

                   (She laughs and leaves.)

The end - but never for stroke victims.  This one is for Diane and Stan and all the others dealing with strokes......




 








------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

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
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monologue Mania Day #125   by Janet S. Tiger    The Taming of the Hoarder (c) June 17, 2014           

          Parental alert- strong language

                              The Taming of the Hoarder
                                                     by Janet S. Tiger
                                       (c) June 17, 2014 all rights reserved
                                                     tigerteam1@gmail.com
(from a one-act of the same name)

                       (Jessie is a Southern woman with her hands on her hips.  She is listening, but we know, from where her hands are placed, that the response is not going to be quiet.  She is restless, waiting to respond.)

Are you quite finished, my dear friend?  Good.  Now I will tell you what you do not want to hear.

Are you ready, because, as your oldest friend......let me re-phrase that....as the friend you have had longer than all those new Hollywood pals....a friend who will give you something worth more than all the money you have earned over these last ten years.  All of which is rightfully yours, I agree, but which does not, and never will, give you the right......(shouting)....to talk to me in that tone of voice!

                         (She waves her hands at an interruption)

Do not even attempt to stop me now!  I am on a roll like the midnight train comin through and you better just stand back and watch me go!

I have been so very happy that you are a BIG, FANCY SUCCESS!  And you know it, too, and not just because you flew me out to Hollywood for the openin of the movie made off of your best-selling book - which used me, your best friend, as the lead character and for which I did not ask one cent of remuneration in appreciation for all the lines you stole from me over these many years!

And now, to add insult to injury, you do not want me to sell all the items that I helped you pack up when you moved, and stored for you - EVEN THOUGH YOU TOLD ME TO.....(quieter)...and I am quotin you exactly here......THROW ALL THAT DAMNED SHIT OUT!

So assumin that I had thrown it out, which I did not, because it was all your stuff and I couldn't bear to see you leave it behind because your Daddy sold the farm right out from under you and you had to run to (says it with disgust) HOllywood to earn your living......no, I SAVED YOUR SHIT - with not a peep of 'thank you, Jessie,' or 'that was awfully sweet, Jessie'....no, all I heard from you over these last ten years was......(imitates friend)......'Do you still have all that crap?  Didn't I tell you to throw it out?  For God's sakes, Jessie, what the hell is wrong with you - are you now one of those hoarders like I see on TV?'




Well, since you considered it crap, and you wanted it gone, I do not see why you are so upset when I earned a teeny extra bit of money by selling it....due to the fact you are famous now and all.  What is the big F-ing deal?

I only got ten dollars for that silly nightlight you had next to your bed - you know, the one that said...'Sleep Tight Light'.......and had a skunk with a bottle of booze on it, to imply you were sleeping because you were drunk as a skunk......and it took me an hour to pack it because it was such a weird shape....so it's not like I am getting rich off all your old junk!

Some of us are destined.....you might write it as 'doomed' to remain in this two horse town, but at least give us the chance to make an extra buck on ebay!

So if you want your crap back, all the stuff you didn't want, then you can just take my draggin ass to court and sue me for it!

   (She turns to go, stops, smiles, looks back)

 But if you wanna go see the movie at the Pickle Theater, I'll see you later....

         (Exits, end of scene)

-----------------------------------------

Today's monologue is for my dear friends who helped me pack and move - and are still storing some of my things!  And Kam, you are amazing and I thank you - hope you perform this and it gets you a great part!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

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

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monologue Mania Day #124   by Janet S. Tiger    A Modern Day Tale of Woe (c) June 16, 2014                     

                                          A Modern Day Tale of Woe

                                                     by Janet S. Tiger

                                       (c) June 16, 2014 all rights reserved

                                                     tigerteam1@gmail.com


              (A woman comes onstage with an ipad.  She is staring, deep in thought, suddenly notices the people)


Sorry, just had to finish something.


              (She reluctantly puts down the ipad)

I know I'm a bit late, but you have to understand, I was involved in something very important....really!


               (Listens)


Oh, all right, maybe not that important......oh, why should I bother to hide it!  You probably already know.


               (Takes a deep breath)     


It's official, I am a Words With Friends slut.  At first I only played with friends, people I knew.  OK, some people I only knew via other people, but there was a tenuous connection.  OK, the connection on Facebook is like a spider thread, but hey, spider thread is very strong for its size!  I played them, but it just wasn't enough.  I had to have more.  


 Yes, it's true, I'm admitting it out loud - I am an addict.  I am an addict of Words With Friends.


I started trolling for new 'friends' - people who knew people who knew people I knew.  There were a few billion left.  And then, I found...random.


Had never noticed it before, but I read an article about the origin of Words With Friends, and clicked on the Start Game button (like many times before)  I scrolled down past the hordes of supposed friends - most of whom would never accept my invitation -the rest did play, but never enough!  never enough!- and there it was -   RANDOM OPPONENT!

I imagine this is what it is like discovering that your local drug dealer has a hole in his pocket, and valuable drugs are dripping out - FREE - for all willing to trail him licking the sidewalk where he walked for the chance to get FREE cocaine or meth or whatever is falling out.

I clicked on RANDOM OPPONENT with a quivering hand - more people to play with!  People who would be available at all hours, when I couldn't sleep -why do you think I play so much?


It was a rush!  Suddenly I was playing five new games!  The words were flying into my brain -so what if most of them received the dreaded 'this word may be misspelled' black box!  I was in ecstasy!  A dream come true!  And I could even beat some of them!  All right, only one of them, but it felt so good until  xyghbytr 243 quit.  The others were beating me - by a lot - and then they started to quit, too.  What was happening?  Didn't they want to play anymore?  Wasn't I good enough?  Smart enough?  Is isn't possible that they could smell the fact that I hadn't showered in a day or two - online doesn't have smell-o-vision -yet-.....




As fast as they were there, playing, they were....gone.  The request to play with me went out into the silent night -  'Searching for Random Opponent'.  Had the word spread that I was....to put it politely...insane?


I'd like to think not.  I would prefer to think of it as ...cyber error.  Try saying that one fast, Sue by the Seashore


And until the mistake is fixed, I am asking for help.  If you can hear this, read it, sense it.....I want to play Words With Friends with you.  I don't want to talk with you - or -God forbid!- meet you.  I don't even want to know your real name....


          (Sobs openly)


I just want to play!  


Won't somebody please play with me?


          (She gets down on her knees and clasps her hands together)


So, please, I send out this plea.....help an addict!  Play with me...please?..........    


           (She looks around, realizing what she must look like, gets up, dusting off her clothes)




Unless, of course you don't like this game.....




           (She turns to leave, looks back)




But you might want to try it, just once, it won't hurt to just try.....




          (She exits through the crowd, begging people to play.  Unfortunately,. there is no end to this  sad tale....Words With Friends continues forever.)







 

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

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
------------------------------------------------
Monologue Mania Day #123   by Janet S. Tiger  (c) June 15, 2014                     

                                              Father's Daze
                                                     by Janet S. Tiger
                                       (c) June 15, 2014 all rights reserved

                                                     tigerteam1@gmail.com

                (A man enters, he is in his 70s, but looks good for his age.  He is wealthy, the money evident in his clothes, watch, bearing.)


Fatherhood.


They asked me to speak to you all today about a field that I know a very little about.  I do have four children, but - as they all will be fast to tell you -that makes me far from an expert.


Money.  That I understand.

I have understood money ever since I was a kid.


I earned it, and I invested in my first business - a lemonade stand run by my brothers and sister.


They did the work and paid me back with interest.



That did it for me.  No work, just collect the money.  I liked that. Now it took me awhile to find out that not every investment returns well - sometimes a sibling borrows, and never returns.  But then, if you are wise, you have had a written agreement, and you end up with the sibling's bicycle, and that is worth more than what they owed you, so one way or the other, you come out on top.

            (Takes a deep breath)


Money is easy.  Children.......not so easy.


I mean, they are a necessity.  Without them, no more humans.


So, we breed, and we procreate.  But I think the pro is over-rated - at best I am an amateur at being a father.

Decisions.  In business, the decision is usually obvious once you do the Ben Franklin list - pros, cons, simple.


My youngest son was born normal.  Ten fingers, ten toes.  Smiled, cried, walked, talked.  Normal.


Until he wasn't anymore, and the doctors told us that he had....(hard to say)....a tumor.  In his brain.


It was 30 years ago, chemotherapy was still hit or miss.


And the brain couldn't do the chemo they had then.


So, it was an operation .......where they would  (sighs deeply) have to remove a large portion of his brain...his intelligence....the ability to grow past ten years old inellectually.......or, the other alternative...let him die.


Pros.


Cons.


I walked around in a daze for the next week. (Laughs)  Father’s Daze.  There was no emergency, the doctors told us, we had a bit of time to make, as the lead doctor said- this  (says it with scorn)  ...this difficult decision.


Difficult.


Difficult is when you have to decide to take on a larger debt in order to finance a new project when you are not sure your contractor can come in under budget.


Difficult is having to decide whether or not you should donate a million dollars to one charity with a purpose close to your heart, or another where the money is better spent because the head takes no salary.


               (He takes out something from a pocket)


Impossible is a decision like the one we had to make about Lyle.

              (He holds up a photo)


This is Lyle before all the .......trouble.


Handsome little fellow.


              (He hangs his head)


My own son.  They wanted us to choose.....it nearly destroyed my wife, and our marriage.  How do you choose?


And then of course, there is the thought, the hope, the dream that maybe, just maybe the doctors are wrong, that your beautiful child will heal himself, that God will heal him, that time will heal him.....but ....he gets worse, and is in pain.

What would you do?

All the money I have, useless.  For all the wealthy friends and connections could give me no solution, no help......what do I do?




And that, my friends, is my Father's Day advice.  No matter how hard the choices you have when dealing with your children, there are some that are, without doubt, much worse.


Please keep that in mind when you  spend time with your family on Father's Day.


            (Turns to go, is walking off, when he hears something.)

What did I do?


            (He hangs his head and shakes it.  Then takes out something from his pocket)


This is my son today......


             (He holds out a photo)


He's 40 years old, and he is forever ten.....but he has many friends...... and I have......no regrets...


             (He stands up straight and exits.  The end.)

------------------------------------

Inspired after reading an article in the Union-Tribune today -

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

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

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #122   by Janet S. Tiger One Little Mistake  (c) June 14, 2014

This is one-third through the year!

                                     

                                            One Little Mistake

                                                     by Janet S. Tiger

                                       (c) June 14, 2014 all rights reserved

                                                     tigerteam1@gmail.com

        (A woman comes out onstage.  She is quiet, but very elegant.)

It's amazing how little things - and I mean really little things - can totally change your life.

I used to write in my online diary every day - I've done so for years.  It is not fancy, and I only write for ten minutes, but I have been nothing but consistent over the course of the 25 years since I started, on the advice of a psychiatrist.  I have long since stopped seeing the psychiatrist - I found talking to the computer page was just as easy, resulted in the same responses most of the time -which was nothing - the shrink had been quiet for most of the 50 minutes that I had blathered on-  and amazingly cheaper.  In fact, after quitting the official time spent on therapy, I had very carefully saved the money I used to spend on Dr. Whitherspoon, and every year, have taken a fantastic vacation.

I even increased the weekly deposit into my 'time-off' fund when I would learn of the new hourly shrink rates.  The previous year I saved almost $10,000 and took an amazing cruise throughout the Mediterranean, meeting more marvelous new friends and taking wonderful pictures with my new iphone.

Yes, the change in my life has been amazing due to therapy - and the switch to what I like to call -'typing therapy'

It changed my life, that ten minutes a day.  I figured out that 50 minutes was ten minutes a day for five days a week.  And, because I knew that sometimes Dr. Witherspoon had given extra time -and Kleenexes when needed - which was usually why I would need extra time- I added the extra ten minutes on Saturday and Sunday as well.

I did this 10 minutes religiously - even on the trips and cruises I took.  Like the pills I take for my cholesterol, I was very careful never to vary the time and duration of the typing.

I would be up at 6am, and after my exercises and a cup of tea, would sit down at exactly

6:30 am and put the time onto my first 'compose' in my email account for that day.

'6:30am’  then the date, then 10 minutes, then xyzzz so I could always search easily for the file if I couldn't find it.

It was a strange mistake I made, not that mistakes were uncommon as I am – by admission and constant reminder- not perfect, but this time, I didn't catch the error before emailing the file back to myself.

I had put down the date the way I always did - it was April 22, 2014 - but by accident, I typed in April 22, 3014  xyzzz

How was I to know that that one tiny error would forever change everything I ever knew?  Had I known, would I have even started the diary in the first place?  Ever stopped with Dr. Witherspoon?

It was funny, though, that fateful day, how I had hesitated before pushing the send button.  I sensed something was off, just the way you get the mail sometimes and know that big puffy letter is about to cause all sorts of anguish.  And it always does.

But, in my sublime ignorance, I just hit the button and Send I did.

There was an instant sensation I couldn't identify and it was breathtaking.  I gasped and closed my eyes to experience the feeling with every fiber of my being - it was as if my whole body was undergoing a change.  I breathed deeply - is this what a heart attack was like?  Or a stroke?  Or some brain catastrophe I had read about - and lived in dread about?

When I opened my eyes, I immediately noticed something incredibly odd. 

               (She examines her hands)

My hands, which had been starting to wrinkle noticeably and get those brown spots that come with age, were actually getting younger.    As I watched, the skin reversed the oldifying process and my fingers looked younger, more supple - and I noticed no pain when I moved them, no soreness, no stiffness.

I took another deep breath and looked up at what was once the computer screen.  It had changed completely to some sort of floating thing, and a face was looking at me, a face I recognized slightly – who was that?  Oh, no, it was my face!  Only it was my face from when I about 20 years old!  As I became aware of more of my surroundings, I continued to breathe deeply- what was happening? 

As I looked around, I realized I was no longer sitting at my computer, but rather floating at some kind of station, no chair, no table, no visible support.  As I struggled to grasp what was happening to her, a voice came through.

'Are you all right?'  The young man looked so familiar to my - could that be....

'Gerald?'

'Yes, Mom?' 

'Is that you?'  He looked just liked Gerald had looked at around age 18, but how could that be possible?

'In the flesh, what seems to be the problem?'

'There's something very wrong...'  I indicated the floating screen.

'Oh that damned thing!  Let me look at it....'

He proceeded to float upwards to some type of odd device on the ceiling, and started fiddling with it.  I was relieved to see some things hadn’t changed.

'They just set up a new switching station somewhere in Alpha Centauri...and now the reception is so bad sometimes....I wish they'd go back to the old method of relays via the stations on Pluto.  It may be old school, but it worked so much better and no gaps!'

He said this in way of explanation of some sort, but it had exactly the opposite reaction - I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, and he seemed to sense that.

'Don't worry Mom, I'll get this fixed.  If necessary, we can patch through to the Pluto lines until we do.  Not to worry, you won't miss a minute of your daily therapy.'

The way he said it annoyed me, and I didn't even know why.

'And what is wrong with my daily writing therapy?'

He kept a smile to himself, but I saw it, and knew he was –as always- secretly laughing at her.

"Well, since neuro-balancing transmission was developed, no one uses that old time stuff - it's been out, for what, 800 years?'

Now I was starting to get really worried.  My children were always up on the latest developments - I was used to them making fun of my for taking years to get modern devices, the first example being a cell phone, and then once I got it, I loved it so much I even slept with it.  But this was different - this had an air of something from a dream.  And yet I knew I wasn't dreaming - well, actually I didn't, but this seemed too detailed to be illusion.  First, I needed to know something.  If I looked 20 and he looked 19, how is that possible?


'How old are you, Gerald?'

'Mom...'  I could hear the annoyance in his voice - it sounded identical to the sounds he had made when he was 9 years old and I couldn't figure out what was wrong with the computer.

'I'm still in my second mil - just like you - and I will be for another 972 years.  I know you want to have decade parties, but come on!  We'd all spend all our time on birthdays!  You have to know how silly that is!   Here, someone sent a funny 3d about that, like… 200 years ago.....'

He fiddled with the device on the ceiling and I saw a very realistic birthday party - one I might have gone to as a child, in fact - right in front of her.  So real, I could smell the cake and the smoke from the candles.  My son watched my reaction with a smirk.

'There, does that satisfy your need?'

I leaned back, forgetting there was no chair, and suddenly was upside down.

My son laughed as I spun, trying to get back into some level of equilibrium.

'I don't think you'd be laughing if you knew what I just went through......'

Something in my voice stopped him laughing and spinning....and he looked at my in a different way.

'I'm listening.  Are you ok?  Did you forget to check your immune level today?  And your blood flow ratios?'

I had not a clue what he was talking about, but I could sense his concern, which was reassuring.

'I am not ok, and that's what you need to know.'

I then proceeded to recount the whole story about my day, and he was not laughing any more, but watching my very carefully, only touching his ear in an annoying way every few moments.  Gerald had always had numerous annoying habits as a young man, and as his mother, I felt an almost overwhelming need to keep up the also annoying habit of noting the habits.

But even as I made a mental note to remind him of this irritating habit, I decided to wait until I had some type of understanding of what was going on.

I finished my explanation, and he stared at me, with no sign of making fun, which I was glad about, but with another look in his eyes that was nerve-wracking because I couldn't identify the emotion.

'Okay, Mom, I've heard about this.'

'You have?' 

'Well, I am a universal engineering physicist.....'

'I guess I forgot that - or maybe I just don't know.'

'That is possible, too....tell me again exactly what you recall.'

He sat down with me, listening intently to my description, asking me detailed questions at some points, and when I finished, he touched behind his ear, listening to something I couldn't see.  He started to laugh.

‘There's a chance, very small, that you stumbled upon a very strange renegade code, put into the old time emails, and there was some time of warp, and by typing in the incorrect year, with that code, you jumped.'

'Jumped?'

'That's what time exchange is called now.  You don't travel through time, you jump.  The person who was here, is now there, because they made the exact same mistake at exactly the same time you did.'

'How is that even possible?' 

'Well, obviously, the odds are against it, but from what I see, it was so expensive to fix this code error -once they found it it- that they figured if anyone actually had it happen, it would be such an anomaly, it wasn't worth the zillion dollars of repair.'

'Zillion?  I that an actual number now?'

'Oh, yeah, it means a google google billion.  It's a lot.'

He touched his ear again, and I realized that he was listening to something …..inside his ear - which appeared to have no phone and he smiled when I stared.

'I'm using the implant computer you gave me 250 years ago,  accessing the original universal computer system which is still anchored on Mars. It may be 500 years old, but in some ways is a lot more stable than the newer systems - and it still has much more info than on your set.  I think I have the patch....'

He came to my machine and waved in something so strange I could not have described it.  My page of typing appeared, as it had just a few hours ago - with the date at the top.

He looked at me and smiled.  Take this, and when you get home, insert it into your…what did they call it then…..’ He was searching in his ear again.  ‘ into your computer’s USB.  It’ll make sure this never happens again.’  He handed me a tiny card that I knew instantly I had seen before.  But before I could think about it, he was checking what appeared to be a clock of some variety.

'Now, we have to go very quickly, this window closes in 60 seconds.  Do you remember what you were doing before this happened?’

I nodded.

‘Type in exactly what you typed ...'

I put my hands up - there was no physical keyboard, just filmy letters seeing to float in the air.  The time on the air clock glowed at 6:30am

'Hurry!'

I put in the 10 minutes first, then the -A-p-r-i-l, and the 2-2-...and then the fateful year, only this time, correctly.  2-0-1-4.  As I typed in the last number an odd sensation hit me, much like the original feeling at the beginning of this 'Anna in Wonderland' day.  I barely had time to croak out - 'goodbye, Gerald, thank you!' before it happened.

              (She stares at her hands)

It was as if everything was going in reverse.

I could see changes in my hands first - they were no longer young, and they now had spots.  A fleeting thought that perhaps I might have stayed - young is nice - flew into my brain, but it was replaced at a remarkable rate by the changes I now saw -I was home.  My computer faced me and I was looking at this 10 minutes I had just written - which seemed amazingly long for such a short span of time.

Should I call my doctor?  Was something going awry in my brain circuits?  Then I started to read and began to laugh.  I was still laughing when my son Gerald and his wife came later that day.  It turned out to be an amazing birthday for me, but I decided I would never tell what had happened just because of one teeny, tiny mistake that I made....no, that would be my little secret.

            (She walks off, then comes back, she looks younger, perhaps a change of hair – pulled up or down, a different jacket)


I didn't realize that thinking one tiny little mistake while working on my daily diary would change my life so much.  After 1059 years, you'd think you'd seen it all.  For centuries, they all laughed at my for still doing this daily routine, but I found it comforting.  Long ago, once the immune response magnifier had been perfected, it had been discovered that regularity of routine was no longer necessary for longevity, but that did not stop me from enjoying the constancy of putting down my emotions and activity on a set basis.  At 6:30am every morning - even if my children and grandchildren and all their assorted descendants still laughed at me, even if some of them laughed so hard they almost lost control of their bladders and had to activate an instaclean-bot.   One has to develop a thick skin to live so long, and I had.

But there it was, and I hadn't even noticed  - the real date was 3014, of course,  not what I had written -  which was 2014, xyzzz and I was amazed to see that even as I identified the error, that my hand was almost drawn to the floating send button.  I waved over the send - and instantly I knew that something very strange was happening........'this can't be good' I thought as the first thing I noticed was that my hands seemed much older....and they had spots.......



             (She shudders, then turns and walks off, shaking her head, looks back)

That’s all it takes…..one little mistake…….

            (An end – a continuous loop end, but an end.)

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

 

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
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #121   by Janet S. Tiger  The Worst Day of My Life (c) June 13, 2014

                                    The Worst Day of My Life
                                                  or - Every Day is Friday the 13th
                                                     by Janet S. Tiger
                                       (c) June 12, 2014 all rights reserved

                    (Man comes out onstage - he is older, well, ok, he's pretty old.  He has a cane and he is furious.)




This is the worst day of my life!  You heard me, the absolute worst day ever.




And the worst day before that was yesterday.  You heard me, yesterday.  Each day my life gets worse -it's like I am getting older and worse and...I hear you laughing!  Stop that!  Immediately!  I will not put up with disrepect!




If I was ten years younger, (thinks) well, maybe 20 years, ok- if I was 35!  I would come out there and make you respect me!




                    (Bangs his cane and waves it at the crowd.)




Amazing, I feel like crap and now I have to put up with your laughing at me!




It never ends!




They used to say pneumonia was the old man's friend.




Well, I guess that's a load of crap, too.




You see, pneumonia used to get you sick, and you'd just slide away into death.




Just like most of my other 'friends' who are dead or senile or in wheelchairs - pneumonia is no friend of mine anymore.




I had penumonia 4 years ago - it was a nightmare.  But I pulled through!  I survived.  But it left with me with side effects the doctors can't figure out!  I'm cold all the time, yet inside, my back heats up like a damn furnace!  You can't feel it when you touch me - my temperature is normal!




I've had every damn test known to man - EKG, MRI, SHIT - that one stands for 'So He's Into        '




Think I made that up - I wish I did.  One day, they were hooking me up to a strange device, and I heard the tech say - 'this guy is circling the drain'




So I piped up - 'Then stop peeing on me!'  


(Laughs)  That shut him up.


Nothing - they can't find anything wrong with me - (loud)  and yet I feel like CRAP!


I wake up every morning and call my daughter, who takes me to the doctors appointments - she is amazingly optimistic about everything.  I hate that.  It drives me crazy.  She always asks - (Mimics) 'How are you?'

How am I?  (Loud)  I feel like crap!  

But I say to her that I'm not sure.  I woke, and I felt fine - but you see, that's really an illusion.  In a couple of hours, that feeling wears off, and...I feel like....-say it with me -  CRAP!

And the amazing thing is, today is Friday the 13th - and it is my worst day ever - so it is as if I am living on Friday the 13th EVERY DAY!

                (He stops now, takes a deep breath and leans heavily on his cane.)

But my dear friends - this is one thing I ask, if I choose to make this not only the worst day of my life.....but ...also my last.....please let me have my way.


I know this is difficult to hear, and I am not quite ready, but if I get there....please respect my wishes.  


               (He turns to walk off, stops, looks back)


Crap.  How can I end my life on the worst day!  It is just too damn depressing!   Maybe I will try just one more doctor......


               (He waves his cane and exits, hopefully not the end!)



















Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678 

www.PlaysByJanetSTiger.com

Member Dramatists Guild since 1983

Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Monologue Mania Day #120  by Janet S. Tiger      c) June 12, 2014


                                        Returns of the Day

                                                     by Janet S. Tiger

                                       (c) June 12, 2014 all rights reserved
                                           tigerteam1@gmail.com


             (A woman of indeterminate age comes onstage.  She is dressed in an indeterminate style.  The only determining factor is that she seems to be a bit irritated.)


I have been working at Finch's Sundries  for over 23 years.  I love working there.  Or perhaps I need to say ....loved, if this employment conference does not go well.


            (Her chin starts to quiver and she looks like she is about to cry.)


Okay, I'll just stick to the story.


They started me in sales.  I hated sales.  Hated, hated, hated, hated!  I hated trying to get people to buy things they didn't need.  To convince them to spend money on something they didn't really want.  To (says it with disgust)...to push them into an action that might cause them to run up their credit cards further, which in turn would cause them to go bankrupt, and then maybe out on the street!  No, I just hated sales.


So, after three days in the sales department, I begged them to find something else, and Mrs. Finch, she was very nice, and still alive back then, she suggested I try the Returns Department.


(Happy)  What a difference!  I just was made for Returns!  I could help people give back the items they hated, or had made a bad choice on the color, or had been given for Christmas.....I just LOVED the Returns Department!


           (Opens her purse and brings out a paper)


I even had a little sign made, that I put out when I was working.....


           (Holds up the sign)


Many Happy Returns!


That just about summed it up for me!


Twenty-three years of helping people, and then.....


         (Her face darkens)


Last Sunday....he came in.


I will never forget him.


He had an item that was from another store.


Now, I do not mind returning items sold at Finch's/


I even have a brand new computer with EVERY SINGLE ITEM we have ever sold!  It is truly amazing!


But even before I checked with my trusty computer, I knew the item was from another store.


Finch's does not carry and has never carried items related to automobiles. Mr. and  Mrs. Finch were good friends with the A-1 Auto Supply owner, Thomas Duddly, and they had agreed never to carry automobile items, and he would never carry sundries at his sales counter, like candy and magazines.


So when...he...came in...


          (Listens)


Mr. Fitzwilliams, for the record, when he came in with a battery charger that Mrs. Fitzwilliams had given him for his birthday, I told him that he could not return it here, as we had never sold them.


(Earnest)  Please understand!  I love to help people with returns! 


         (She waves the sign)


 Many Happy Returns!  I wanted to help him, he seemed like a nice man, a little nervous at first, but nice, and then he said, 'My wife told me she bought it here'


And I told him, 'Perhaps she was mistaken.'  Which is another way of saying maybe she forgot.

'My wife is never mistaken'


'But we have never sold these, sir!'  I always say sir and madam, it is much more professional.


I even tried to show him the computer, but he was getting very angry.


I suggested his wife come to return the item, with her receipt, and that made him even angrier.

But sir, perhaps she made a mistake when she told you.....




 He was adamant and starting to get very nasty.  He even shouted at me. (Shouts) 'My wife never makes mistakes!'


Well then maybe she just lied!

I know it was an impolite thing to do, but he was being so mean and irrational, it just slipped out, and that's what caused the whole problem, I believe.


'Are you saying my wife is a liar?'

I was horrified.  Oh, no, sir, that isn't what I meant, maybe she got it from a garage sale, or a friend......

'Are you saying my wife is having an affair with the big stupid lummox who works at the A-1 Auto Supply counter?  And that he gave her this battery charger after they had one of their afternoon visits in his office?  With the loudspeaker button pressed on?'




And that's when I said.......'yes, everyone in town knows about it.....if you bought her a nice present once in awhile here at Finch's maybe she wouldn't be doing what she's doing......'




And that's when he took the battery charger and threw it against the wall.




(Thinks)  I don't believe any guarantee covers that.
Please, I want to stay in this store!  I am truly sorry I lost my temper and said those things.

        (Listens)

(Happy)  Really?   Oh, thank you!

         (Listens, worried, then stunned)

He did?  He wrote a letter of recommendation?  Because of what?

         (Listens, dumbfounded)

Because he hadn't wanted to face the truth, but I made him do it, and he was mad, but happy.


Well, this has been an amazing day!  Thank you for letting me stay!

         (She gets up, starts to exit, looks back)

So, I can return to the Returns Department?




          (Giggles and leaves.  The end.)














Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678

www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com

Member Dramatists Guild since 1983

Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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Monologue Mania Day #119  by Janet S. Tiger   Death by Mail  (c) June 11, 2014

                                 Death by Mail  

       (A man comes onstage, he is walking toward the door, and he sees something.)


Is that the mail?  So early?  Usually it doesn't come until after 5 pm!  

            (He goes to the door and picks it up where it fell on the floor)

(Surprised)  Well, that's a lot today....

            (As he leans over to pick it up, he gets hit with more mail.)


That really is a lot.


             (Looking through)  


What is all this crap?  Wayband catalog.....brand new....wait, didn't I just get one of these yesterday?


             (Goes to another surface, picks up a stack of mail)

Here it is.....Wayband.... everything you will ever need...from cradle to grave...buy now and save!


How many of these do they send in a week......this one came a couple of days ago!  What a waste of paper!  These damn catalogs will be the death of me yet!


              (A lightbulb goes on over his head, he has an idea)

I know what to do....


               (He takes the catalogs and shoves them back through the mail slot, wipes his hands- he won!)


There, that'll show them!


                (He turns away, hears something and goes to the mail slot)


I know i just got the mail....


                 (He is stunned as a big pile of mail comes through the door, growing as he watches in horror)






What is going on here!






                 (He takes the mail and tries to stop the mail from coming in - no use.  Next he tries to shove the mail back)






Stop it!  I don't want any of this junk mail anymore!






                 (He pushes, but the mail keeps pouring in, he stumbles and falls, tries to push the mail off himself, but is being rapidly buried.)






No!  Stop!  Please.......


                  (The mail continues to pour in, covering him until he is just a hand waving.)


(Muffled)  I take it back!  I'll buy something!  Anything!  Just stop!


                  (But the mail continues, and the hand slowly falls.  As it falls, it picks up a catalog.......then holds it close.)


(Voice is distant under all the mail) Cradle to grave...maybe they have a nice coffin in here.....


                (The end - but not of catalogs)






Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678

www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com

Member Dramatists Guild since 1983

Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8