Copyright

I do not own any of these monologues. I tried to list all the authors that were available from all the stuff that were with the monologues when I got them. I hope these will be useful.

It's a Living

Cori: You won't believe what just happened to me! I'm getting off EI and this guy comes up to me and says, "Hi there. You got a minute?" I say, "Sorry, I don't have any money," and I start to walk away. He scurries up beside me and goes, "Wait! I don't need any money. Actually I'm on my way to Crobar. It's fetish night." I pick up my pace. Then he runs infront of me, blocking my path and says, "Look, I don't mean to bug you and I'm not going to hurt you. It's just that I couldn't help but notice your beautiful feet in those sandals. I'll give you ten dollars if you let me smell them for just thiry seconds." You should have seen his face! The guy was dead serious! (Beat.) Of course I didn't! Are you kidding? (Beat.) I made him give me twenty. 

Searching for Justice

Janis: Justice was served?! You've got to be kidding me! I was there. I saw everything. Your client beat that man to a bloody pulp. He left him lying in the street. Just a mass of blood where his face used to be. You saw the pictures. He had to have his entire face surgically redone. And why? Because your hero was itching for a fight and didn't like his long hair. Two years of private investigators calling me and having me indentify photos. And for what? So I could sit in that witness stand and have you twist my words into lies. You must be awfully proud of yourself. What do you feel when you're lying in bed at night? Do guilt or shame ever come creeping in? I have been waiting in that stuffy office all day. Because I came here to tell the truth. And I did. Now would you tell me something? How can you live with yourself? How?

There's Gotta Be a Better Way

Faith: Ma'am, I replaced the first burger free cause it "didn't taste right" to you. And the second burger cause you said it wasn't cooked enough. Now you're telling me that this burger is burnt?! You have got to be kidding me. Where do you think you are. This is McDonald's! We ain't serving no sirloin steak! $5.25 an hour and I gotta put up with the likes of you. I'll tell you what. Why don't you come back here, take my greasy apron and my stupid hat, and stand back here in 128 degree temperature and cook your own burger til you're satisfied. Oh, and hey, don't forgot you gotta smile nice for all the customers while you're sweating to death and the French Fry boys are whispering perverted jokes!! No? Doesn't sound like a good old time to you? Well then, I highly suggest you take that burger back to your little table, eat it, and think about how lucky you are that I didn't smush an apple pie in your face. Have I made myself clear? Thank you. Have a nice day.

What Kind of Mother? by Adam J. Wahlberg

Ruth: I’m not disturbing you, am I? You scrambled up here so fast. Didn’t even say hello to your cousins. There’s a party going on downstairs, or haven’t you heard? Grandma made that macaroni salad you love so much. If you’re hungry...Who was that boy that dropped you off just now? He was cute. Even Aunt Harley thought so, and she’s gay. You’ve got good taste, Lana. (Pause.) Not talking. Okay.Is it his? If so, that’ll be one gorgeous grandchild. (Pause.) C’mon honey, you’re my own flesh and blood. What kind of mother would I be? I mean, all these sweatshirts in the middle of August. I also know that you were at St. Joe’s yesterday.Lana, look at me. (She doesn’t.) Look at me! If you go through with this, you’ll be out of my house so fast it’ll make your head spin. No, you are going to raise that little whelp and love the shit out of it. And I am going to help you.And if I ever see that boy in my driveway again, I swear to Almighty God I’ll take the shotgun down from the mantle. And I’m one hell of a shot.So get your ass down there, hug your grandmother, and shove that macaroni salad into your face. You’re eating for two now.

Your Money’s Worth by Kellie Powell

Carla: You give up so easily! You don't get validation, you walk away. You don't get enough attention, you take some pills. That's the problem with your generation, really. You're over-indulged by your parents and you're spoiled and impatient and entitled. Hence the so-called suicide attempts. You don't want to die, you want people to pity you. It's pathetic.If you wanted to die, you'd be dead. You would keep trying, over And over, until you got it right. But you don't drink bleach. You don't hang yourself or jump off a bridge or crash your car into a wall. You take pills. You stick your head in the oven. It's a cry for help. So stop wasting your time idealizing and romanticizing death and accept the fact that everyone is miserable. Life is hell for everyone. They just fake it better.Who are you to think you deserve to be different? Just grow up already! Lose 80 pounds, buy some new clothes. Get a haircut and put on some make-up. Stop looking for fairness and authenticity and inspiration, because they don't exist. Get a job at a bank and get a manicure once a week. Marry a dentist. But for God's sake, don't have children, because your DNA is filled with idealism, and no kid deserves to be saddled with that. When you're unhappy, go shopping. Run five miles a day and grow your own tomatoes. Volunteer at a soup kitchen. Read to visually impaired gay senior citizens. All you have to do is quit whining, show some willpower! You're not special. You are just like everyone else. You think you're in pain, but that's all in your head. Just SNAP OUT OF IT.

Richard Fisher’s Funeral by Kellie Powell

Drew: You don't get it. I've been afraid of my father all my life. I spent every waking moment trying to keep him from exploding. Trying to do everything just right - and not just believing, but knowing... that one day he would kill me. That he'd kill us all.My first memory... is the day my brother spilled a can of paint down the stairs. My parents were painting the house. Ricky thought he was helping, but it was too heavy for him, and... paint just went flying, everywhere. I held my breath. I don't know why I thought that would help.My father put his fist through the wall. I screamed. Ricky and I started crying. And the whole time that he... the whole time, he kept yelling at us to stop crying. I couldn't. I thought he was going to kill us both, and my mother couldn't stop him. I was four years old. Ricky was two. And I have been living in that hole in the wall, ever since.I can't forgive him. I won't pretend. So go read "Footprints in the Sand" if it'll make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Today my father's going in the ground. Except I don't remember having a father. A father couldn't do that to his kids.

Collaboration by Kellie Powell

Kim: I wanted those moments - few and far between as they were. I wanted whatever time and affection you could give me. No matter what it cost me. I felt like you found comfort in me. And maybe I wasn't your first choice, you know? But I was glad that I was somewhere on the list. I let it happen again and again, more times than I can even count.You wanted to keep things casual, you wanted to keep me at arm's length. You leaned on me. I cared about you so much. I can't explain it, but, I've seen the best and the worst of you... and I love you. I love the way you can tell me what I'm thinking. I love the way you tell a story, drawing me in. I love you for all the times you convinced me, with a stupid joke, or even just a look... to stop taking myself so seriously and just enjoy my life. Nothing could ever make me regret the way I feel about you. What I feel for you isn't a negative thing. It makes me better, it makes my life better. That's what I've been trying to say: That love is never wrong, even when it grows in the worst conditions, with no encouragement...

Psycho written by Joseph Stefano, from the novel by Robert Bloch

Mother: It's sad when a mother has to speak the words that condemn her own son. I couldn't allow them to believe that I would commit murder. They'll put him away now, as I should have, years ago. He was always bad and in the end, he intended to tell them I killed those girls and that man. As if I could do anything except just sit and stare, like one of his stuffed birds. Oh, they know I can't even move a finger and I won't. I'll just sit here and be quiet, just in case they do suspect me. They're probably watching me. Well, let them. Let them see what kind of a person I am. I'm not even gonna swat that fly. I hope they are watching. They'll see. They'll see and they'll know and they'll say, 'Why, she wouldn't even harm a fly.'

Mommie Dearest written by Robert Getchell, Tracy Hotchner, Frank Perry, & Frank Yablans, from the book by Christina Crawford

Joan Crawford: No wire hangers! What's wire hangers doing in this closet when I told you no wire hangers?! EVER!!!! I work till I'm half dead and I hear people say she's getting old! What do I get ? A daughter who cares as much about a beautiful dress I give her as she cares about me. What's wire hangers doing in this closet?! Answer me! I buy you beautiful dresses and you treat 'em like some dishrag! You threw a 300 dollar dress on a wire hanger! We'll see how many you got hidden in here, we'll see! All of this is coming out! Out! Out! Out! Out! We're gonna see how many wire hangers you got in your closet! Wire hangers. Why? Why? Christina, get out of that bed! Get out of that bed! (picks up hanger and begins to beat Christina) You live in the most beautiful house in Brentwood and you dont care about crease marks from wire hangers, and your room looks like some two dollar unfurnished room in some two- bit backstreet town in Oklahoma! Get up! Clean up this mess! Did you scrub the bathroom floor today? Did you?

Addams Family Values written by Paul Rudnick, based on characters created by cartoonist Charles Addams

Debbie: I don't want to hurt anybody. I don't enjoy hurting anybody. I don't like guns or bombs or electric chairs, but sometimes people just won't listen and so I have to use persuasion, and slides. My parents, Sharon and Dave. Generous, doting, or were they? All I ever wanted was a Ballerina Barbie in her pretty pink tutu. My birthday, I was 10 and do you know what they got me? Malibu Barbie. That's not what I wanted, that's not who I was. I was a ballerina. Graceful. Delicate. They had to go. My first husband, the heart surgeon. All day long, coronaries, transplants. "Sorry about dinner, Deb, the Pope has a cold." Husband number 2: the senator. He loved his state. He loved his country. Sorry Debbie. No Mercedes this year. We have to set an example." Oh yeah. Set this! My latest husband. My late, late husband Fester, and his adorable family. You took me in. You accepted me. But did any of you love me? I mean, really love me? So I killed. So I maimed. So I destroyed one innocent life after another. Aren't I a human being? Don't I yearn and ache...and shop? Don't I deserve love...and jewelry? Good-bye everybody. Wish me luck.

MARRIAGE OF BETTE AND BOO by Christopher Durang

BETTE: Hurry up, Boo. I want to use the shower. (Speaks to the audience, who seems to be her great friend:) First I was a tomboy. I used to climb trees and beat up my brother Tom. Then I used to try to break my sister Joanie's voice box because she liked to sing. She always scratched me though, so instead I tried to play Emily's cello. Except I don't have a lot of musical talent, but I'm very popular. And I know more about the cello than people who don't know anything. I don't like the cello, it's too much work and besides, keeping my legs open that way made me feel funny. I asked Emily if it made her feel funny and she didn't know what I meant:; and then when I told her she cried for two whole hours and then went to confession twice, just in case the priest didn't understand her the first time. Dopey Emily. She means well. (Calls offstage:) Booey! I'm pregnant! (To audience:) Actually I couldn't be because I'm a virgin. A married man tried to have an affair with me, but he was married and so it would have been pointless. I didn't know he was married until two months ago. The I met Booey, sort of on the rebound. He seems fine though. (Calls out:) Booey! (To audience:) I went to confession about the cello practicing, but I don't think the priest heard me. He didn't say anything. He didn't even give me a penance. I wonder if nobody was in there. But as long as your conscience is all right, then so is your soul.(Calls, giddy, happy:) Booey, come on!

LAUNDRY AND BOURBON By James McClure

Hattie: 

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.

ANNE OF THE THOUSAND DAYS by Maxwell Anderson

Anne:Will you give back what you stole from the monasteries, and the men executed? Will you resume with Rome? When you do that I'll take your word again, But you won't do it. And what you truly want— you may not know it— Is a fresh, frail, innocent maid who'll make you feel fresh and innocent again, and young again; Jane Seymour is the name. It could be anyone. Only virginal and sweet. And when you've had her you'll want someone else. Meanwhile, to get her, you'll murder if you must. (Lashinq out.) Before you go, perhaps You should hear one thing— I lied to you. I loved you, but I lied to you! I was untrue! Untrue with many! You may think this is a lie. But is it? Take it to your grave! Believe it! I was untrue! Only what I take to my grave you take to yours! With many! Not with one! Many! I've never thought what it was like to die. To become meat that rots. Then food for shrubs, and the long roots of vines. The grape could reach me. I may make him drunk before many years. Some one told me the story of the homely daughter of Sir Thomas More, climbing at night up the trestles of London Bridge where they'd stuck her father's head on a spike, and hunting among the stinking and bloody heads, of criminals, still she found her father's head, his beard matted and hard with blood. And climbing down with it, and taking it home. To bury in the garden, perhaps. Would they fIx my head up on London Bridge? No. Even Henry would object to that. I've been his queen. He's kissed my lips. He wouldn't want it. I'll lie in lead—or brass. Meat. Dead meat. But if my head were on the Bridge he wouldn't climb to take it down. Nobody'd climb for me. I could stay and face up the river, and my long hair blow out and tangle round the spikes—and my small neck. Till the sea birds took me, and there was nothing but a wisp of hair and a cup of bone. I must think of something to say when the time comes. If I could say it—with the axe edge toward me, Could I do it? Could I lay my head down— and smile, and speak? Till the blow comes? They say it's subtle. It doesn't hurt. There's no time. No time. That's the end of time. Go your way, and I'll go mine. You to your death, and I to my expiation. For there is such a thing as expiation. It involves dying to live. Death is a thing the coroner can see. I'll stick by that. A coroner wouldn't know you died young, Henry. And yet you did.

Sleeping Beauty and the Beast by Wade Braford

WICKED WITCH:
So, looks like everyone is having a marvelous time. Hello, good to see you. Nice to meet you. Hi there, I’m the Wicked Witch, here’s my card. Let’s do lunch sometime. Ah, and here’s the birthday girl, surrounded by all of these gifts and her good little fairy friends. And here’s King Jonathan and Queen Jessica. You certainly invited a great number of people. But somehow you seemed to have overlooked the one person who could have been your most delightful guest. But no, no, don’t apologize. My feelings are hurt, yes, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t brought along a special gift for the princess. A brand new, never-seen-before, Curse of the Wicked Witch! “For all the tears you’ve made me shed, you’ll prick your finger on something pointy and fall down dead. And if your friends are feeling blue, in just one day they’ll drop dead too!” HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (Runs off cackling… continues cackling looking for the exit.) How do you get out of this place? Oh – HAHAHAHAHA! (Exits.)

Much Ado Out West by Wade Bradford

BETTY:
Ben is in love? With me? I would think that clucking batch of hens were playing some kind of trick on me, just making stuff up. But Aunt Sue… she wouldn’t lie. She’s old. She wants to make sure she gets into heaven. So it must be true. Ben loves me. And the others think that I would shun him. That I would scoff 
at him just because the poor guy has feelings for me. Or that I’d gloat ‘cuz he finds me so beautiful.I wouldn’t gloat. It ain't his fault I'm so darn pretty. And I’d never be cruel like that. I don’t hate Ben. He’s just an ugly and obnoxious rattlesnake of a cuss, is all. In fact, I don’t even think he’s that ugly. Fact of the matter is, he’s kinda cute in his own stupid way. Charming if you think about it. I guess I like him all right. You might even say I… oh my word… I’m kinda sweet on him! Why... I... I love the varmint! 

Cinema Limbo by Wade Bradford

VICKY:
I’m the kind of girl who takes pity on poor pathetic geeks who have never kissed a girl. Let’s just say that I like someone who is easily trainable – someone who will truly appreciate me. It’s sad, I know. But hey, I’ll take an ego boost wherever I can get it. Unfortunately, these adorably nerdy boyfriends get boring after a while. I mean, I can only listen to their computer games andmathematic equations for so long. Of course, Stuart’s different in a lot ways. He’s terrible at math, for one. And he’s pretty clueless about technology. But he’s a comic book sort of geek. And a hopeless romantic. He’s pre-occupied with holding my hand. Everywhere we go, he wants to hold hands. Even when we’re driving. And he’s got this new pastime. He keeps saying “I love you.” It was so sweet and wonderful the first time he said it. I almost cried, and I’m not the kind of girl who cries easily. But by the end of the week, he must have said “I love you” about five hundred times. And then he starts adding pet names. “I love you, honey bunch.” “I love you sweet-heart.” “I love you my little smoochy-woochy-coochi-koo.” I don’t even know what that last one means. It’s like he’s speaking in some brand-new, love-infected language. Who would have thoughtromance could be so boring?

Promedy by Wade Bradford

BEATRIX: Hold it right there, Dante! I’ve watched you do this all your life, from kindergarten to the twelth grade. But it’s not going to happen tonight. Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Remember first grade? The lunchroom. You’re walking around begging for achocolate chip cookie. “Oh, I’m little Dante and I’m so sad. My mommy packed nothing but veggies. Oh I wish I had a cookie. Oh if only!” Here, Dante, I said kindly, here’s a chocolate chip cookie, and what did you say? "I’m not hungry." Flash forward. Third grade, playground. It’s the game of tag. You’re it. A hundred kids are running around and you can’t catch a single one. You’re desperate, you’re panting, you’re crying for someone to slow down so that you don’t have to be it anymore. So, feeling sorry for you, because I’m an idiot, I walk right up and say, “Here Dante, I’ll be it. You can tag me.” And you say? "I don’t want to tag you. That’s too easy." Whatever you can’t have, that’s what you want. That’s why you’ve said you were in love with Kay all these years. You knew, deep down that she would never return your affection. And that made things easy and safe. Every time she ignored you, that meant that you’d never have to feel anything real. You’d never have to know what it’s like to have someone who wants to be with you, which meant that you could always be alone. But is that what you want, Dante? Look at her. You’ve been chasing Kay like she was some sort of dream. Well… don’t you want it to come true? Wait, why are you looking at me like that?

Promedy by Wade Bradford

BEATRIX:
That's not true. Young women need the Prom. It's a rite of passage as sacred as getting your driver's license or buying your first bra. There are only a few things in life that are guaranteed to be glorious and memorable and sparkling with gowns and cummerbunds. Prom is the quintessential teenage experience. Think of the unlucky grown-ups and the elderly who lament the day they decided not to go to the Prom. It is a key ingredient to a happy and meaningful life. Prom is short for Promenade, a slow, gentle walk through a shady glen, and this beloved ceremony symbolizes our journey from the shadows of adolescence to the bright sunshine of the adult world with all its freedoms. And it may be the only chance I'll ever have to dance with a boy. Maybe I'll never have someone get down on their knee and Offer me a diamond ring. Maybe I'll never walk down the aisle with a smug look of bridal triumph. But it is my right, and the right of every plain, frumpy, book-wormish, soon-to-be librarian to have one night of Cinderella magic. Even if we have to go with our cousin, or our gay best friend from tap class, we will have a Prom. And you will help me.

Dangerous Beauty written by Jeannine Dominy, from the book by Margaret Rosenthal

Beatrice Venier: When my daughter is old enough, I want you to make her a courtesan. … The life you live, the freedom that you have! Would you deny my daughter the same chance? … Do you know what my daughter's nurse told her this morning? That "in a girl's voice lies temptation -- a known fact: eloquence in a woman means promiscuity. Promiscuity of the mind leads to promiscuity of the body." She doesn’t believe her yet, but she will. She'll grow up just like her mother. She'll marry. Bear children and honor her family. Spend her youth at needlepoint and rue the day she was born a girl. And when she dies, she'll wonder why she obeyed all the rules of God and country, because no Biblical hell could ever be worse than this state of perpetual inconsequence.

night Mother by Marsha Norman

JESSIE: Mama, listen. I am not your child, I am what became of your child. I found an old baby picture of me. And it was somebody else, not me. It was somebody pink and fat who never heard of sick or lonely, somebody who cried and got fed,, and reached up and got held and kicked but didn't hurt anybody, and slept whenever she wanted to, just by closing her eyes. Somebody who mainly just laid there and laughed at the colors waving around over her head and chewed on a polka-dot whale and woke up knowing some new trick nearly every day and rolled over and drooled on the sheet and felt your hand pulling my quilt back up over me. That's who I started out and this is who is left. (There is no self-pity here) That's what this is about. It's somebody I lost, all right, it's my own self. Who I never was. Or who I tried to be and never got there. Somebody I waited for who never came. And never will. So, see, it doesn't much matter what else happens in the world or in this house, even. I'm what was worth waiting for and I didn't make it. Me...who might have made a difference to me...I'm not going to show up, so there's no reason to stay, except to keep you company, and that's...not reason enough because I'm not...very good company.

INDEPENDENCE by Lee Blessing

JO: Kess? Kess!? Can you come down? Where's Mom? I'm okay. So, Mom's not here. I've been on an errand. I had to go over to Waterloo. Kess, do you remember when you asked me to come up and stay with you? Did you mean that? I want to come up. I want to come up right now. I want to stay for the summer at least, maybe longer. You said I could come up. You said that roommate of yours, Susan, you said Susan thinks it's okay. I have to get away from Mom. (a beat) I just did a...very odd thing. I went over to Heidi's house. I thought I was only going over to talk with her. Just to....look her in the eye once, and ask her if she really slept with Don while he and I were...you know, like Sherry said...But as I turned the corner I saw her pull out and driver away. So I followed her. I watched. I watched the way she drove. I watched the way she shopped., She hit all the bridal shops, plus a few others. She's a good shopper. No, she didn't see me. I hid. I stayed two cars behind her, like on tv, and I hid behind pillars in the stores. I never lost her. I stared at her and stared at her for four hours, and she never saw me and I never lost her. I didn't want to talk with her anymore. I just wanted to watch her. On the way home, I thought "My God, why am I doing this!?" But i just kept following. I thought "Mom should be driving this car. I should be Mom doing this." then I thought "I am." Kess, I love Mom. But I thought of how I'll be in ten years if I stay with Mom. Kess, I can't be Mom. How can I help her if I'm just like her? I want to leave tomorrow. And I want to stay with you. Is that all right? Kess... I don't care how Mom is, I don't care how lonely she is. She'll never be all right. I can't stay here. I'm coming up north, and I'm living with you. You offered it. And I need it. You owe me! I don't care how guilty you feel about Mom, Kess. I don't. We can't save Mom. Save me.

BUS STOP by William Inge

CHERIE: Mebbe I'm a sap. I dunno why I don't go off to Montana and marry Bo. I might be a lot better off'n I am now. But all he wants is a girl to throw his arms around and hug and kiss, that's all. The resta the time, he don't even know I exist. I never did decide to marry him. Everything was goin' fine till he brought up that subjeck. Bo come in one night when I was singin' "That Ole Black Magic." It's one a my best numbers. And he liked it so much, he jumped up on a chair and yelled like a Indian, and put his fingers in his mouth and whistled like a steam engine. Natur'ly, it made me feel good. Most a the customers at the Blue Dragon was too drunk to pay any attention to my songs. Anyway...I'd never seen a cowboy before. Oh, I'd seen 'em in movies, a course, but never in the flesh...Anyway, he's so darn healthy-lookin', I don't mind admittin, I was attracted right from the start. But it was only what ya might call a sexual attraction. The very next mornin', he wakes up and hollers, "Yippee! We're gettin' married." I honestly thought he was crazy. But when I tried to reason with him, he wouldn't listen to a word. He stayed by my side all day long, like a shadow. At night, a course, he had to go back to the rodeo, but he was back to the Blue Dragon as soon as the rodeo was over, in time fer the midnight show. If any other fella claimed t'have a date with me, Bo'd beat him up. He kep tellin' me all week, he and Virge'd be by the night the rodeo ended and they'd pick me up and we'd all start back to Montana t'gether. I knew that if I was around the Blue Dragon that night, that's what'd happen. So I decided to beat it. One a the other girls at the Blue Dragon lived on a farm 'cross the river in Kansas. She said I could stay with her. So I went to the Blue Dragon last night and just sang fer the first show. Then I told 'em I was quittin'...I'd been wantin' to find another job anyway...and I picked up my share of the kitty...but darn it, I had to go and tell 'em I was takin' the midnight bus. They had to go and tell Bo, a course, when he come in a li'l after eleven. He paid 'em five dollars to find out. So I went down to the bus station and hadn't even got my ticket, when here come Bo and Virge. He just steps up to the ticket window and says, "Three tickets to Montana!" I din know what to say. Then he dragged me onto the bus and I been on it ever since. And somewhere deep down inside me, I gotta funny feelin' I'm gonna end up in Montana.

BROADWAY BOUND by Neil Simon

KATE:What do I want to do? Is that how it works? You have an affair, and I get the choice of forgetting about it or living alone for the rest of my life?...It’s so simple for you, isn’t it? I am so angry. I am so hurt by your selfishness. You break what was good between us and leave me to pick up the pieces...and still you continue to lie to me. I knew about that woman a year ago. I got a phone call from a friend. I won’t even tell you who..."What’s going on with you and Jack?" she asks me. "Are you two still together? Who’s this woman he’s having lunch with every day?" She asks me...I said, "Did you see them together?" ,,She said, "No, but I heard."...I said, "don’t believe what you hear. Believe what you see!" and I hung up on her...Did I do good, Jack? Did I defend my husband like a good wife?...A year I lived wit that, hoping to God it wasn’t true, and if it was, praying it would go away...and God was good to me. NO more phone calls, no more stories about Jack and his lunch partner...no more wondering why you were coming home late from work even when it wasn’t busy season...until this morning. Guess who calls me?...Guess who Jack was having lunch with in the same restaurant twice last week?... Last year’ lies don’t hold up this year, Jack...This year you have to deal with it.

Because I Said So

Milly: Really? I'll tell you one thing though. You did not have me the moment that we met because I'm not even sure I like the fact that your staff talked about you behind your back at the dessert table. And excuse me but truth be told I didn't like anything that you ordered for me on our first date except the calamari. And okay fine, yes, it was nice to not have to think for a change. But who wants someone that doesn't think? Look! And sometimes you laugh when I cry, and you say "huh" when I make perfect sense. And never ever in my life have I burnt a chocolate suffle until now, and that in and of itself... oh my god. Should have told me I don't feel like myself around you. And I would have decided that. A long time ago if it weren't for my mother. Because who wants someone who laughs like a hyena in a polka dot dress that my mother made me buy.

The Accused written by Tom Topor

Kathryn Murphy: Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Paulson has told you that the testimony of Sarah Tobias is nothing. Sarah Tobias was raped, but that is nothing. She was cut and bruised and terrorized but that is nothing. All of it happened in front of a howling crowd and that is nothing. Well, it may be nothing to Mr. Paulson but it is not nothing to Sarah Tobias and I don't believe it is nothing to you. Next Mr.Paulson tried to convince you that Kenneth Joyce was the only person in that room who knew that Sarah Tobias was being raped. The only one... Now you watched Kenneth Joyce. How did he strike you? Did he seem especially sensitive, especially observant? Did he seem so remarkable that you immediately said to yourselves, "Of Course! This man would notice things other people wouldn't!" Do you believe that Kenneth Joyce saw something those three men didn't see? In all the time that Sarah Tobias was being held down on that pinball machine the others didn't know? Kenneth Joyce confessed to you that he watched a rape and did nothing! He told you that everyone in that bar behaved badly...he was right. But no matter how immoral it may be it is not the crime of criminal solicitation to walk away from a rape, it is not the crime of criminal solicitation to silently watch a rape ...but it is the crime of criminal solicitation to induce or entreat or encourage or persuade another person to commit a rape - "Hold her down! Stick it to her! Make her moan..." These three men did worse than nothing. They cheered and they clapped and they rooted the others on, made sure that Sarah Tobias was raped and raped and raped... Now tell me... Is that nothing?

Designing Women from the TV series created by Linda Bloodworth-Thomason, from the episode "The Candidate" written by Linda Bloodworth-Thomason

Julia (Dixie Carter): I do not think everyone in America is ignorant! Far from it! But we are today, probably, the most uneducated, under read, and illiterate nation in the western hemisphere. Which makes it all the more puzzling to me why the biggest question on your small mind is whether or not little Johnny is gonna recite the Pledge of Allegiance every morning! I'll tell you something else, Mr. Brickett. I have had it up to here with you and your phony issues and your Yankee Doodle yakking! If you like reciting the Pledge of Allegiance everyday then I think you should do it! In the car! In the shower! Wherever the mood strikes you! But don't try to tell me when or where I have to say or do or salute anything, because I am an American too, and that is what being an American is all about! And another thing, I am sick and tired of being made to feel that if I am not a member of a little family with 2.4 children who goes just to Jerry Falwell's church and puts their hands over their hearts every morning that I am unreligious, unpatriotic, and un-American! Because I've got news for you, Mr. Brickett. All liberals are not kooks, anymore than all conservatives are fascists! And the last time I checked, God was neither a Democratic nor a Republican! And just for your information, yes I am a liberal, but I am also a Christian. And I get down on my knees and pray everyday - on my own turf - on my own time. One of the things that I pray for, Mr. Brickett is that people with power will get good sense, and that people with good sense will get power... and that the rest of us will be blessed with the patience and the strength to survive the people like you in the meantime!

Up at the Villa written by Belinda Haas, from the book by W. Somerset Maugham

Mary Panton: I don’t want love because for years I’ve only known the humiliation of it. I loved my husband desperately and he ended up killing himself with drink and gambling and left me with nothing. Apart from debts. We were married for twelve years. Everyone told me I shouldn’t marry him - but I didn’t care. We had plenty of money then but I’d have married him if he hadn’t had a cent. He was such fun, lots of friends and we were terribly in love, but in the end he was- bankrupt and had no friends except for the riff raff that sponged off him and bled him to death and the women he with when he went out and got – got blind drunk. I preferred it that way. First I was terribly jealous and very upset and in the end I realized if he didn’t have them he’d come home and want me with his breath stinking of whiskey and his face all distorted and all hunched up and I knew it wasn’t love that made him passionate, just drink. Me or another woman, it made no difference. And his kisses made me feel sick and his desire horrified me. I should have left but I couldn’t. Even when I thought I’d die of shame, even when he got rough with me, I still stayed. How could I leave when I knew I was the only thing standing between him and absolute ruin? He was alone in the car when he crashed it, thank God. He was doing 60 miles an hour on a slippery road and went straight into a tree. I got there before he died. His last words were, "I’ve always loved you, Mary". And that broke my heart. You see, despite all he’d done I still loved him. Well, you certainly got more than you bargained for when you brought me up here, didn’t you. Well, may I have one of yourcigarettes, please? Anyway I feel much better.

Stardust written by Jane Goldman & Matthew Vaughn, from the novel by Neil Gaiman

Yvaine (Claire Danes): You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn’t true. I know a lot about love. I’ve seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars... pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I’m trying to say, Tristan is...I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. Myheart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it’s trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I’d wish for nothing in exchange...no gifts. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

Sliding Doors written by Peter Howitt

Lydia: Don't you know Gerry? Don't you know what I'm trying to do? I am trying to be yourgirlfriend, Gerry! I'm trying to win you back! It's fairly simple. I'm standing on the platform at Limbo Central with my heart and soul packed in my suitcase waiting for the Gerry Friggin' Express to roll in and tell me that my ticket is still valid! That I may reboard the train! Only the station announcer keeps coming on and telling me that my train has been delayed! As the driver has suffered a major panic attack in Indecision City, we suggest you take the bus! That's what I'm trying to do, you cripple! Except it's quite clear that that is never going to happen. Is it? No reply. Perfect. So I – I'm not waiting anymore, Gerry. I am cashing my ticket in. I am taking that bus. Oh, God. I tell my friends "Never go back." Look at me. I must be crazy. Don't phone me for a while. (putting on shoes) Ow! Oh! No, don't phone me at all ever! It's over! Again!

Presumed Innocent written by Frank Pierson & Alan J. Pakula, based on the novel by Scott Turrow

Barbara: You understand what happened had to happen. Couldn't have turned out any other way. A woman's depressed...with herself, with life...with her husband, who made life possible for her until he was...bewitched by another woman, a Destroyer. Abandoned. Like someone left for dead. She plans her suicide. Until the dream begins. In the dream, the Destroyer is destroyed. That's a dream worth living for. Now with such simplicity, such clarity, everything falls into place. It must be a crime that her husband can declare unsolved and be believed by all the world. She must make it look like a rape, but she must leave her husband a clue. Once he discovers who it was, he'll put the case into the file of unsolved murders. Another break-in by some sex-crazed man. But all his life, he'll know that it was her. She remembers a set of glasses she bought for the woman some time before, a housewarming gift from her husband in his office. She buys another set. Her husband has a beer one night, doesn't even comment on the glass. Now she has a fingerprint. Then on a few mornings, she saves the fluid that comes out when she removes her diaphragm, puts it in a plastic bag, puts the bag in the basement freezer. Waits. She calls the woman and asks to see her. She stops at the U and logs into the computer. Now she has an alibi. She goes to the woman. The woman lets her in. When her head is turned, she removes the instrument from her bag and strikes. The Destroyer is Destroyed. She takes the cord out that she brought along and ties her body in ways her husband described the perverts do. She feels the power, the control, a sense that she's guided by a force beyond herself. Takes a syringe and injects the contents of the ziplocked bag. Leaves the glass on the bar. Unlocks the door and windows. And goes home. And Life begins again. Until a Trial. When she sees her husband suffer. In ways she never intended. She is prepared to tell the truth right up to the very end, when magically, the charges were dropped. The suffering was over. And they were saved.

The Notebook written by Jan Sardi & Jeremy Leven, from the novel by Nicholas Sparks

Allie: Do you remember sneaking over here the first time you told me about this place? I got home late that evening, and my parents were furious when I finally came in. I can still picture my daddy standing in the living room, my mother on the sofa, staring straight ahead. I swear, they looked as if a family member had died. That was the first time my parents knew I was serious about you, and my mother had a long talk with me later that night. She said to me,"Sometimes, our future is dictated by who we are, not what we want." And I know it was wrong of her to keep your letters from me, but just try to understand. Once we left, she probably thought it would be easier for me to just let go. In her mind, she was trying toprotect my feelings, and she probably thought the best way to do that was to hide the letters you sent. Not that any of it matters, now that I have Lon. He's handsome, charming, successful. He's kind to me, he makes me laugh, and I know he loves me in his own special way...but there's always going to be something missing in our relationship -- the kind of love we had that summer.

Gypsy written by Arthur Laurents & Leonard Spigelgass, from the book by Gypsy Rose Lee

Louise "Gypsy Rose Lee" Hovick: I said turn it off! Nobody laughs at me, because I laugh first. At me. Me from Seattle. Me with no education. Me with no talent, as you've kept reminding me my whole life! Well, Mama, look at me now. Look! Look where I live. Look at my friends. Look where I'm going. I'm not staying in burlesque, I'm moving. Maybe up maybe down. But wherever I'm going, I'm having thetime of my life, because for the first time, it is my life! And I love it! I love every second of it! I am Gypsy Rose Lee! And I love her! And if you don't you can just clear out! Now!

Funny Girl written by Isobel Lennart

Fanny Brice: Suppose all ya ever had for breakfast was onion rolls. Then one day, in walks (gasp) a bagel! You'd say, 'Ugh, what's that?' Until you tried it! That's my problem - I'm a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls. Nobody recognizes me! Listen, I got 36 expressions. Sweet as pie and tough as leather. And that's six expressions more than all those...Barrymores put together. Instead of just kicking me, why don't they give me a lift? Well, it must be a plot, 'cause they're scared that I got...such a gift! 'Cause I'm the greatest star, I am by far, but no one knows it. Wait - they're gonna hear a voice, a silver flute. They'll cheer each toot, hey, she's terrific!, when I expose it. Now can't you see to look at me that I'm a natural Camille, and as Camille, I just feel, I've so much to offer. Kid, I know I'd be divine because I'm a natural cougher (coughs) - some ain't got it, not a lump. I'm a great big clump of talent! Laugh, they'll bend in half. Did you ever hear the story about the travelling salesman? A thousand jokes, stick around for the jokes. A thousand faces. I reiterate. When you're gifted, then you're gifted. These are facts, I've got no axe to grind. Ay! What are ya, blind? In all of the world so far, I'm the greatest star! No autographs, please. What? You think beautiful girls are gonna stay in style forever? I should say not! Any minute now they're gonna be out! FINISHED! Then it'll be my turn!

Fried Green Tomatoes written by Fannie Flagg and Carol Sobieski

Ruth: I had a dream the other night. I dreamt that Buddy was gone. I ran to his crib and there he was, sleeping like an angel. And you know, I thanked God for letting me still have Buddy. And I remembered having the same reaction after Frank would beat me, thanking the Lord for giving me the strength to take it. And I remembered thanking the Lord for each day that my mother lived. Even when she was spittin' up blood and prayin' for me to kill her. I looked into my mother's eyes, pleadin' for me to help her, and all I could do was pray. While... while you were gone, and I was holding Buddy, I thought, "If that bastard, Frank Bennett, ever tries to take my child, I won't pray. I'll break his neck. 

The French Lieutenant's Woman written by Harold Pinter, from the novel by John Fowles

Sarah: You cannot understand because you are not a woman. You are not a woman born to be a farmer's wife but educated to be something better. You were not born a woman with a love of beauty, intelligence, learning, but who's position in the world forbids her to share that love with another......You are not the daughter of a bankrupt. You have not spent your life in penury. You are not condemned. You are not an outcast. I gave myself to the French Lieutenant so that I should never be the same again, so that I should be seen for the outcast I am. I knew it was ordained that I could never marry an equal. So I married shame. It is my shame that has kept me alive, my knowing that I am truly not like other women. I shall never like them have children, a husband, the pleasures of a home. Sometimes I pity them. I have a freedom they cannot know. No insult, no blame can touch me. I have myself gone beyond the pale. I am nothing. I am hardly human anymore.(pause) I am the French Lieutenant's Whore.

Dangerous Beauty written by Jeannine Dominy, from the book by Margaret Rosenthal

Veronica Franco: I will confess, Your Grace. I confess that as a young girl, I loved a man who would not marry me for want of a dowery. I confess I had a mother who taught me a different way of life, one I resisted at first, but learned to embrace. I confess I became a courtesan. Traded yearning for power, welcomed many rather than be owned by one. I confess I embraced a whore's freedom over a wife's obedience… Your Grace, what am I to do? I need to confess my evil as the church instructs, these are my sins... I confess I find more ecstasy in passion than in prayer. Such passion IS prayer. I confess… I confess I pray still to feel the touch of my lover's lips, his hands upon me, his arms enfolding me. Such surrender has been mine. I confess I hunger still to be filled and enflamed, to melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place, to where we are not even ourselves, to know that always, always this is mine. If this had not been mine, if I had lived another way, a child to a husband's whim, my soul hardened from lack of touch and lack of love, I confess such endless days and nights would be punishment far greater than any you could meter out. You, all of you, you who hunger so for what I give, but cannot bear to see such power in a woman. You call God’s greatest gift- ourselves, our yearning, our need for love- you call it filth, and sin, and heresy. I repent there was no other way open to me. I do not repent my life.

Hello

Hi I'm Morgan and I am an avid actress. I love anything to do with the theatre and any time I have an audition it  takes me forever to find the perfect monologue; so I got to thinking how amazing it would be to have alot of monologues in one place where they are easy to find. I'm going to make a bunch of posts today and every time I find a new monologue that I love I'll put it on here. Enjoy.