Hope's Monologue from Almost, Maine

 I took a taxi here. From Bangor. To see him. This place is a little further away from things than I remember. I could only fly as close as Bangor and I needed to get to him as fast as I could. Because I want to answer a question he asked me. The last time I saw him, he asked me a very important question and I didn’t answer it, and that’s just not a very nice thing to do to a person. He asked me to marry him. And that’s why I’m here. To answer him. (Beat. Then, realizing she probably ought to defend herself.) I mean, I didn’t answer him in the first place because I didn’t have an answer at the time. I mean, I was going to college, and then… the night before I’m about to go off into the world to do what I hope and dream, he asks me, “Will you marry me?” I mean, come on! I was leaving in the morning… What was I supposed to do? (Defending herself.) I mean, I told him I’d have to think about it, that I’d think it over overnight and that I’d be back before the sun came up with an answer. And then I left. Left him standing right… there…and then… I didn’t make it back with an answer before the sun came up or… at all. No! That wasn’t my answer! I just… went off into the world, and that’s not an answer, and I think-… (little beat) I think he thought I’d say, “Yes.” I know, and… I’m afraid he probably waited up all night, hoping for me to come by, and I just want to tell him that I know now that you just can’t do a thing like not answer a question like the one he asked me, you can’t do that to a person. Especially to someone you love. (pause) I know this isn’t going to be very easy, but I was just out there all alone in the world, and I got so scared, because all I could think about was how I had no place in this world, but then outta nowhere realized that there was one place in this world that I did have, and that was with you, so I flew and I took a taxi to get to you, I just had to come see you (finally really looking at him) thank God you’re…. Oh ___... Wait ___ … I’m sorry.  You’re not---…. I’m ---…  This is the house---..I’m so sorry--- …. Does Daniel Harding live here?, I’m looking for Daniel Harding.  Um, he lives here.  I thought.  But… ohhhh… he doesn’t, does he?  Ooooh.  I am so sorry.  I’m so embarrassed.  “Who is this woman and what is she doing here?” (beat) I just honestly thought he’d be here. I always thought he’d be here.  Always.  (beat)  Do you know him?  Big guy, big tall guy.  Played basketball, all-Eastern Maine, center? Strong.  Do you know him?

Hope

Almost, Maine by John Cariani

Maggie's Monologue from The History Lesson

And what's interesting about George Washington, and most people don't know this about him, he wasn't just the father of our country, he was also the father of the first septuplets born in the United States. Martha gave birth to seven children on October 5th, 1762. Five of the children were very badly behaved, so they were sold into white-slavery, while the remaining, Maxwell and Hortense, drowned tragically in the Potomac while trying to retrieve their father's wooden teeth, which had fallen out of his mouth while he was beating a seagull with a canoe paddle.
For those of you just joining the group, my name is Maggie, and today's my last day here at the Mount Rushmore National Memorial. There have been some cutbacks at the National Park Service, so I've been let go, which in my opinion is a huge loss to tourists like yourselves who are hungry for history, because I happen to be what we in the industry call "a font of knowledge."
Now if you look to the right, you'll notice that the next head belongs to Thomas Jefferson, who, and this may come as a surprise to you was actually born without skin from the neck down. In fact, he spent most of his childhood in and out of hospitals because of his susceptibility to disease, what with the exposed muscle and sinew and whatnot. But in 1772, his good friend Benjamin Franklin fashioned together a crude epidermis out of sheep bladders and carpenter's glue, held together by pewter hooks that Paul Revere forged in his silver shop. Paul Revere, you may have heard, was a smithy, which is one of my favorite words. Smithy! He was also a eunuch, which was not very common in the 1700s, though there were a few. I believe Sam Adams was also a eunuch and... Nathan Hale, who I've been told had a wonderful singing voice. So that's probably something you haven't heard on any other tour today. It's interesting, isn't it?
Oh, by the way, if any of you happen to have a question, feel free to raise your hand and stick it up your ass because that's just the kind of mood I'm in. I see I'm losing some of you. Well that's alright. It's more intimate this way, isn't it? And I happen to be very comfortable with intimacy, unlike a certain Victor Collins, my direct supervisor here at the National Park Service, and my former lover. He's the man responsible for my layoff, as well as my monthly herpes outbreak.
Moving on, we have the esteemed Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt, our twenty-sixth president, and a well-documented pederast. He spent much of his presidency traipsing through Cuba and Panama in search of little boys to induct into his Rough Rider Club, whether they liked it or not. Bully, indeed. He appeared briefly in a burlesque-house comedy titled "Tally-Ho, Kathleen!" He enjoyed playing chess, and long walks on the beach.
Coincidentally, so does my ex-lover slash boss, Victor Collins. Any complaints about today's tour can be directed to him. His office is located just past the gift shop, behind the glass doors. He'll be the fat fuck in the stupid hat and chinos. He's hard of hearing, so I encourage you to yell whenever speaking to him, and use as much profanity as possible. He's more responsive when berated and under pressure.
Next up, we have Abraham Lincoln, our first Jewish president, and the inventor of dirt. He was, of course, our tallest president, standing ten feet, two inches tall, he spoke fluent Mandarin and walked with a peg leg. A thrice-convicted arson, Abraham Lincoln grew up in an adobe hut and had X-ray vision. He was one of our greatest presidents and his wife was mentally unhinged. Speaking of mentally unhinged, let's pretend I'm Victor and you're me.

Maggie
The History Lesson by David Lindsay-Abaire
Part of Snapshots (anthology)

Laura's Monologue from The Arcata Promise

I came to live with you because I loved you. I stayed with you because I loved you. (pause). I endured you because I couldn't imagine life without you. (pause). I feel battered. Ignored. Belittled. (pause). I didn't care for you because you're a famous actor. You remember talking about that party where we met? Well when you came over and talked to me- I thought I'd never seen a man so haunted. So defensive and uptight. (Pause). I never thought you'd find me attractive. I never thought you'd see me again. (pause). When you asked me to, I said yes for you.Not because I was impressed, or flattered, or anything like that. I almost didn't dare to think you'd have any serious interest in me. (pause) But you did. (pause) Girls at school used to laugh at me because I said I wouldn't go to bed until it was somebody I loved. Very old-fashioned, or whatever. At my school you were considered freaky if you were still a virgin after sixteen (Pause). And because of you- I was glad. I was happy I'd never been with anyone else. (Pause), I've been happy with you- but to sad as well. Too sad as well. Too humiliated. (Pause). Too hurt. (Pause) I never thought it mattered at all your being so much older. Now I can see it does. Not the years. Not the difference in experience. (pause). It's that you'll go on being exactly the same. (her voice rising). And I'm changing.... (standing), I've loved you. I believe you love me. But you've lived and behaved exactly as you wanted- with me like some kind of appendage. (pause). Where have I been? Who did anybody ever think I was? Some of your friends still can't even remember my surname! Others pity me. I can count on one hand the number of items I've ever been asked a question about myself. I image people find me dull and boring. You drink. You talk. You dominate. I'm the one who drives you home. You rant. You rave. You're the evening's entertainment. I'm the one you turn on when we get home. I should think I'm despised. Not because anyone's taken the trouble to find out what I'm like. No. But because I must seem like your bloody shadows. (Pause). I'm not envious. I admire your acting and respect it as much as anybody else does. But I'm not just a servicing arrangement to your needs. I'm something else. (Pause). And I'm going to find out what that is. 

Laura
The Arcata Promise by David Mercer

Dr. Igloo's Monologue from Couch Potato Santa

It's just that when a person says something like "I wanted movies to be my life" the other person should say something like "well, what happened? Why aren't they your life?" Well, I'll tell you why they aren't. I was brought up by a mean step-3rd cousin. My step-3rd cousin you ask? Well, she was my step-mother's 2nd cousin on her father's side. What happened to your step-mother you ask? She died at the hairdresser's under one of those industrial-strength hair dryers. She went in for a perm, dehydrated to begin with--she was a sun worshipper--and the dryer just sucked the last drop of moisture from her body. She shrivelled up like a prune. Anyway, to make a long story short, my mean step 3rd cousin thought I should be a doctor. I wanted to be a director--you know, make independent films about ordinary people who work in buildings--but it was "you have to go to medical school" everyday of my life. I'd ask over and over "Please, can I watch a movie?" and she'd just say "Movies are evil. Movies are evil. MOVIES ARE EVIL!" And, now, here I am. I'm sad. Sad, you ask? Yes, I'm very unhappy. My life is all about me. I live alone--I don't count the parakeet--and all I do is play Nintendo and listen to Miss Britney Spears--I like to keep up with the youth of America. I need...I need...I don't know what I need. Just help me. Please. Tell me what to do, Santa. I thought I'd try the personal ads, but such things are for losers. Plus, what if I place an ad and no one answers? Well, I'll just die, that's what. But if I don't get out and meet someone, it'll be me and the parakeet forever. But what if I do meet someone and she/he doesn't like Miss Britney? I don't think I could date someone who doesn't like Miss Britney. No, I can't--"movies are evil, movies are evil, movies are evil..."

Dr. Igloo

Couch Potato Santa by Jimmy Brunelle

Rose's Monologue from Slow Dance on the Killing Ground

If you knew me better, you'd see that this is exactly the kind of thing that's likely to happen to me. Getting knocked up, I mean. The point is it was my first time, I was a virgin before that. Wouldn't you know it, I'd get caught? Aside from everything else, I'm not lucky, either. You see, if I was lucky, Harold and I could've succumbed to our silly little passion and that would've been that, the end of it. And New Rochelle, of all places. At least if it'd been in some nice apartment in the Village, say, with the sound coming through the window of traffic and people, the breeze blowing the curtain over the bed, like in the movies. But no. I lost my virginity in the attic of an old house in New Rochelle. Harold's grandmother's house. On a rainy day in spring on the floor of the attic in his grandmothers house, listening to the rain on the roof, breathing the dust of old things...And what comes next but his grandmother who was supposed to be in the city for the day. But instead, she's suddenly standing there, screaming: "Stop that! Stop that this instant!" Needless to say, it was out of the question. Stopping. At that particular moment. I mean, sex is like a flight over the sea, one reaches the point of no return...I guess it sounds funny now, but you know, at the time...it was pretty rotten. Sordid, I mean...it wasn't at all the way it's supposed to be. And Harold, of all people. A girl finds herself in this predicament, this condition, she'd at least like to think the cause of it was some clever, handsome guy with charm and experience, just returned from spending a year in Rome, say, on a Guggenheim fellowship. But Harold. Harold is six foot two, about a hundred and twenty five pounds, tops, and an Economics major at CCNY...That's about the best I'll ever be able to do, I know it. Ever since I found out I was pregnant I've been walking around with a face down to here and my mother kept saying, "What's the matter with you, anyway? I just don't know what's gotten into you lately." So, finally, I told her: a kid named Harold, as a matter of fact. 

Rose
Slow Dance on the Killing Ground by William Hanley

A Dog's Monologue from Sylvia

Hey! I’m looking around. I gotta get used to things. I’m not ready to sit. I’m too nervous to sit. I’m worried about where I sleep. Do I sleep on this couch? (Reacts to a quick smack) Ouch. I’m sitting, I’m sitting. You don’t have to hit, you know. It most certainly did hurt. You ought to be sorry. O.k. (Master reads, Sylvia sits looking at him) I love you. I really do. Even when you hit me, I love you. I think you’re God, if you want to know. I want to sit near you. Nearer, my God, to thee. You saved my life. You did. You saved my life. I never would have survived out there on my own. Oh no, not just anyone would have done the same thing. Someone else might have ignored me. Or shooed me away. Or even turned me in. Not you. You welcomed me with open arms. I really appreciate that. I hardly knew where to turn. I was beginning to panic. I thought my days were numbered. Then there you were. I felt some immediate connection. Didn’t you? I feel it now. I know you will try to give me a good home. And I’ll try to show my appreciation. (Hearing something, she begins to bark)Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Someone’s there! (Reacting) This is your wife, Kate? Hello, Kate. I’m just trying to make friends. You don’t like me, do you? You don’t like dogs. You’re prejudiced. I think you’re prejudiced against dogs. O.k., fine. No problem. I’ll just stay out of your hair. (Steps onto couch and settles) Off? Me? You speaking to me? I’m just relaxing. Can’t I even relax? Easy! Take it easy! ....Jesus! I’ve sat on couches before, you know. I’ve sat on plenty of couches. (Getting up, easing onto the chair) Can’t I at least sit on a chair? No!? (Slumping back onto the floor) Piss. What do you mean this is not going to work? The pound??? Hey, I’m sitting, aren’t I? I’m sitting on the floor. Look how quickly I sat. O.K. I get the picture. I’ll avoid the furniture. I’m not dumb. I don’t mind. I’ll sleep. I’ll chew things. All right, I won’t chew things. Just show me the rules and I’ll follow them, I swear. (She watches Kate go off) Dig her! She doesn’t like me. She makes me nervous. I sense the clock ticking away. It took her two years to say she’d marry you?!? Two years!? Jesus, Greg! If you multiply that by seven why that’s...um...carry the two...I make that fourteen years, dog time! That’s too long, Greg! Can’t I do something to speed things up? I’m tired of being just a houseguest around here. I want to feel totally at home. (She looks at the moon that Greg has pointed out to her) Yeah. Nice moon.....I suppose you’d like me to sit down and howl at it? Well, I don’t think I can do that, Greg. Sorry. I like to think I’ve grown beyond that kind of behavior. I think I’ll just take my nap.

A Dog
Sylvia by A.R. Gurney

Hattie's Monologue from Laundry and Bourbon

Say mind if I use your phone? Figure I better check on the kids. No telling what devilment they've gotten up to. (Dialing.) Everything gonna turn out fine you'll see. (On the phone.) Hello? Cheryl? Cheryl dear, this is Mommy. . . Mommy. . . your mother. (Aside.) Child needs a hearing aid. What's that dear? Vernon Jr. threw a rock at you? Well, throw one back at him, honey. Show him who's boss. Cheryl, sweetheart, put Grandma on the phone. . . Cheryl this week! (Pause.) Sounds -like they're running her ragged. Hello? Little Roger. Is that you. I don't want to talk to you right now punkin, I want to talk to Grandma. . . 'cause I want to talk to Grandma . . . yes Grandma does have baggy elbows. Now lemme talk to her. . . what's that? Honey of course Mommy loves you. . . I love you all the same. . . Do I love you more than who? Fred Flintstone. Yes. More than Paul Newman no, but Fred Flintstone yes. . . It's a grown-up joke honey. Now put Grandma on . . . She's what? Tied up! You untie her you hear me? You want a switchin'? . . . Then you untie her, right now. . . Marion? That you. . . Oh, you were playin' . . . Oh good I thought they had you tied up for real. . . How they doing. . . yes . . . yes. . . yes I agree there is too much violence on TV. . . yes I'll pick them up at five. . . No I won't be late. . . You have my solemn word. . . Goodbye. What's that? Little Roger? . . . Yes it's nice to hear your voice again too . . . You're playing what? Sniper? Vernon Jr. has climbed a tree in the backyard and he has a brick? Well, little Roger, listen and listen carefully, under no circumstances go under that tree. . . He's gonna drop the brick on your head, sweetheart. . . So don't go under the tree. That's just what he wants. . . OK . . . OK . . . "Yabba dabb doo" to you too. (She hangs up.) He'll walk right under that tree. The child has no more sense than God gave a screwdriver.

Hattie

Laundry and Bourbon by James McClure