Monologue Fest! (Part Three)

Here's the next one! It's pretty out there, but they've all been that way I guess. Enjoy!!

Saint

An extremely run-down young man shuffles onstage, staggers for a moment, then looks up as if the light bothers him. He grimaces, looks about tensely, breathes out a puff of air and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

I know you don't really know me or nothin', but I wanna' say thank you. Thank you for savin' my life. Now no, don't go thinkin' it was givin' blood or nothin'. It wasn't anything like that. You just...you've just been there fer me. So...thank you.

The young man starts pacing.

Like one time I was on acid, right? Y'know...among other shit. I was with some other guys, but I was havin' this real bad trip, right? Like...I get all up in my head on that shit. I'm like...I'm like that anyway, but like—this time was real intense. Real like—metaphysical personal shit. I started seein' these eyes and shit everywhere. The walls started like...bleeding and there was this red glow from the lights and it got like...it was just bad y'know? So anyway, everybody like...went to bed and everything, but I was still awake—just trippin' out and getting' the shakes and all that sorta' shit. I couldn't stay warm, right? I wrapped a blanket around myself and I still kept shiverin' like it wouldn't stop. I didn't know what else to do so... The man laughs. Look, I'm sorry. You prolly don't wanna' hear this part...but I just gotta' get it off my chest. I start jackin' off, right? Cuz like—I dunno, somethin' about is just...it's familiar. Y'know? I don't care if it makes sense. Anyway, I wasn't...gettin' anywhere. Y'know? I started thinkin' about all sort of shit, but nothin' was doin' it for me. And like..my heart was pounding like crazy cuz I was still trippin' balls. I was feverish. I couldn't stop sweatin' and clenchin' my jaw. And fuck, man, I was still seein' shit. That—darkness was tryin' to claw its way into my brain through my eyelids and just...suddenly...you were there. I don't know why. You just...you showed up.

The man smiles.

This might sound weird...but...my heart slowed down. I calmed down. I don't know if it was cuz' I was still seein' shit or whatever, but you—listen, again sorry but—you took me in one hand and with the other you pushed my face up to yours and kissed me. I remember you wore this...I dunno...gypsy costume or something. Ocean blues and greens...and...from there we. Well...look, you can probably guess the rest. Right? But look—I don't know what it was about that, but after we finished, you poured a golden light over my whole body and whispered into my ear until I fell asleep.

It wasn't 'till later that I found out I was in the early stages of an OD. Y'know. If I hadn't slowed my heart rate down, it woulda been...well yeah, it woulda' been bad. So just...thank you. I've never told you that, but thank you.

The man begins to walk away.

But um...let's not talk about it, alright? It's weird.

Hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them!

Love,
Dakotah

Monologue Fest! (Part Two)

Here's number 2 of 5. Yahoo!

Casual Encounter

Lights up on an attractive man typing away on a laptop. 'The Girl From Ipanema' plays from the speaker. He clicks around a bit, then stops and looks at his screen. He looks up.

“Tongue in your bung. M for W. I get pleasure from giving your nice sweet ass oral until you (finger quotes) 'Assgasm'. You need to be very clean...et cetra et cetra....I will lick and tongue your backdoor for as long you like.” The man lets out a sigh and shakes his head. Definitely not one of mine. The man puts his laptop aside. Who would wanna' go on a rollercoaster called “There are three loops in it”? Hm? “This one spins around”? There's no...mystery here. No excitement. No, sweetie—this was clearly made in haste. You've got to take your time, even with Casual Encounters.

Oh I'm sorry--you are...familiar?

Oh, honey--let me educate you! In the era of technology, where everything is at your fingertips—hmm—we still need that extra little bit of connection. Not just talking to an old college friend, not just gettin' coffee witcher coworkers, but—well—fuckin'. Even the magical iPhone hasn't solved that problem. I can press a button to find the nearest sushi restaurant, make a reservation, and have drinks on the table by the time I get there—but my dick certainly won't suck itself. Pause To be crass. So they've got a little place online where you can write out a one-line personal ad to get—hmm--what you want. The only problem is that most people are not the eloquent type. They want what they want and they can't think of anything else. For example. The man picks up his laptop again, clicks around a bit, then looks at his screen with satisfaction. “Hey, where's the giant cocks at? Hungry for deepthroat and a tight ass.” Man cocks his eyebrow. I won't even get into the spellin' errors, but this definitely does not serve to entice. It's written like bathroom scrawl. Utterly no magic at all. This nervous little boy should have come to me. I am what you'd call a 'Marketing Expert'. People come to me to add a little flavor to their—hm—'invitations'. For example this lady e-mails me one day, says “Look, I'm twenty-eight, gorgeous, and a dancer—and all I want is a good no-strings-attached fuck.” I say to her “Sweetie, you've got to be eloquent. Mysterious. A little witty, a little charming. You've gotta' sell it. None o' this hamfisted 'light brown hair, blue eyes, huge breasts' junk. Lure em in~” So for a little fee, I turned her desire into a regular rolex ad. Ahem--

The man clicks around on his laptop, grins, then looks at the audience.

First line--”You got one leg over your shoulder.” Intrigued? Of course you are. The man clicks dramatically. Ka-lick-ka. “Now contact me. You won't be sorry. I'm willing, open minded and I am able to bend to both of our wills and twist into some pretty crazy positions. Let's show the Kama Sutra what we can do!” Now that is an ad. That was written by yours truly. Y'see, there's a major difference between....the man clicks around ...ah—'Young Stud Em for Em'—aaaand...the man clicks around again...'Part saving the world...part savoring it'. Isn't there? Now--the man closes his laptop and leans forward --what can I do for you?

P.S. All of the examples in this monologue are REAL CRAIGSLIST ADS.

Monologue Fest!

Well..not the UCSB Monologue Festival (which was awesome.) This is the Dakotah Brown monologue festival. By that, I mean--I'm going to write five monologues by next Friday and I'd like you AVID READERS to select the best one out of the group. I'll memorize and perform it via YouTube or...y'know...just on here. Maybe I can develop this into a submission-based thing-a-ma-bob, but for now I just need to increase my body of self-written work.

SO, widdout furder a doo-doo sticks. Here's the first one!

Deals

How's it goin'? How are ya'? How's the family? Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and have a seat there.

The man in a suit arranges some papers on his desk.

Aaaalright. So I've been looking through your file and it looks like just about everything is in order. You must have a good...guy. It's all up to date. You've got documentation for everything. Good. We can get down to brass tacks. The real..ah..meat of the deal. So- The man folds his hands -I've prepared a few deals for you based on your current financial situation, and I think you're going to enjoy what I've come up with. First off, you've got your basic deal. You have free access to the green paved roads, with bonus days on Sunday and Thursday, where you can use the red and blue roads from seven pm until midnight. All the standard pedestrian walkways are free and the premium walking paths are pay-as-you-go. You don't have to worry about that, though—I'm looking through your usual routes on here...aaaaand yeah, no you'll be good. Oop, wait—you'll have to take a slightly more scenic path to and from the grocery store, but that's fine. We could all use the exercise, am I right? I'll go ahead and throw in public toilets within a certain area and, if you don't mind the small surcharge, you can have access to 'raising your voice'. That's a good deal. If I were you, I'd keep that one in the docket. You won't find an access deal much better than that.

Hm? Go on?

Alright! I knew you had a nose for values, my friend. The next deal is a bit tricky. I had to do some finagling to draw this one up, but I know my loopholes. This is like the last one; green roads anytime, bonus days, walking paths—no premium walking paths at all, but whatever you'd be paying for those goes directly into talking with premium members. How's that? Say you go to a bar—well, assuming you pay for entertainment access of course—but say you go to a bar, see a nice looking lady across the way—but boom, you realize she's paying for premium access. You'd never be able to speak to her. Or, y'know, more specifically the anvil in her inner ear is tuned to a wavelength that doesn't accept incoming sound from public sources. You can talk all you want—at a normal volume until you pay to upgrade—and she wouldn't hear a word of it. But now, with this other deal, you can give her a 'hello'. Spring for a few drinks and take her home along the green roads. Of course you'd only be able to converse once you're back there. I mean...it's a shame they don't make other options available for more...ah..frugal individuals...but y'know how it is. I don't make the rules here. Hey, if you get that raise though—we might be able to tack on a basic touching plan. Get some interaction going on? Hm? Anyway, I would take that one. That one's veeery—huh? Oh. I gotcha. Okay, nothing flashy. That's fine. I understand that. You're saving up. That's great. I totally respect that. We can dial it down so you can afford it. Are you interested in the..ah...no-frills deal?

Okay, yeah—just let me...

The Man in the Suit flips through the papers on his desk, singles one out with a slight hint of disgust.

..Alright, here we are. Ultra-Basic. You get green roads on weekdays from six am to five pm. After that they're off-limits...so try not to drive before or after that. It'd be an automatic violation, and nobody wants to see that happen, am I right? Standard pedestrian walkways are free on weekdays, but the tolls are in effect on weekends and holidays. In addition, there are blackout days where...ah...where I suggest you find something really good on TV.

The Man laughs.

Speech is basic-to-basic, 'raising your voice' is charged per-use and you have an exertion cap of forty minutes total...weekly aaand no more than ten minutes a day. You'll have to ahh...cut the jogging routes a little shorter now, eh? That's about it, if you're interested. It's a good deal, don't get me wrong. If I could afford to cut back on some of the finer things, I'd be on it myself. Unfortunately the ol' yacht won't sail itself. Am I right? Huh? Am I right?

Dear Madam,

Man enters from stage right, stops center. He carries a carefully handwritten letter in his hand. It is crisp. He holds up the letter, clears his throat, and begins to read.

MAN
Dear Madam, I write this letter as a dire warning. It is not an ultimatum, for that would require that you exist in the literal sense. No, this is from past me to future you. Excuse the errors in tense, since I'm new to this sort of thing. I don't believe in time travel, but I do believe in preparation. So, when I accidentally reach for your glass of wine at that dimly-lit hole-in-the-wall bar and our eyes meet for the first time, and I notice that your eyes don't match and your bleached hair is growing brown again at the roots--I warn you--do not stop me from making a fool of myself. Under no circumstances are you to shift the conversation away from favorite childrens' picture books onto more savvy sociopolitical topics. Do not stifle your laughter when you spot the gaping hole in the crotch of my jeans. And if you dare--for one second--assume that I just might be the grown up shit-together guy to pull you out of a frivolous life of floundering and excess, walk away immediately. Do not even entertain that thought.

The man turns over the letter.

In return for listening to my warning, I vow never to cut you down in front of your friends or mine because I'm feeling insecure. I promise never to force you to come to comic book conventions with me or stay up late to watch zombie movie marathons. On my honor, I'll never talk down to you for your tastes in music, fashion, books, or tv. Hear me out, because I will never call you too much or too little--in this I admit I have an uncanny tendency toward absolute perfection. I will notice a new beauty in you ever single day for a full year--and if we last that long, I will write a poem for each one and publish them in a book that I will bind myself--and give you for our two-year anniversay. All I ask of you is to follow my warning. Do not be fooled by my brooding nature or my stoic looks. I am not one to be taken seriously, but I am one to be taken.

Love, Me. (The one who ordered the Merlot.) P.S. If I won't eat something because I don't like onions, I don't like onions. If you respond "Eat it, you love onions." I will walk right out on you so fast your head will spin.




I guess that's a monologue?

Love,
Dakotah