Singing Loudly: I write monologues

Singing Loudly

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

I write monologues

The following is a monologue from the commissioned play that I wrote this past summer. It has finished its run, and, I believe really helped this theater company get noticed by more people. They have some bigger name sponsors interested in them now. I try to tell myself that I was the producing cause of that...ahem.

In this monologue the husband is speaking to his wife...


We were in the kitchen. I was sitting in one of those heavy metal chairs with glossy vinyl covering-we had two of them-and my mom got mad at me. I was used to this. She had a job now in a dental office, and things like this happened because she was tired when she came home. But this time he was there. They were always going out, and I was left at home alone with our knobless television and a TV dinner, sometimes two, because I was getting taller, flexing muscles I could see in my arms. He only came inside our house once in a while, and she must have told me to go away, to get out of the kitchen. In that loud voice he told me to do what she said. I sat there. Then he was louder, really yelling. I sat there. And so he grabbed me and I held onto the metal rails under the chair and he picked it up along with me. I'm not leaving! I told him. You don't tell me! He was furious, and my mom was yelling now, too, and she told him to leave me alone, and he stopped, dropping the chair and me in it. I went into the bedroom and I was crying, waiting for her to come. She hit me sometimes, and when she got there that's what I was expecting. Instead she held me and she was smiling. She was proud of me. She said, You're such a man already.

Perhaps I'll post a couple more if I continue to have little else to say.


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