Monologue Mania Day #181 by Janet S. Tiger Mate Tea Aug.12 , 2014

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Monologue Mania Day  #181   by Janet S. Tiger  Mate Tea Aug.12  , 2014

                      

                                         Mate Tea

                                                   (for The Book of Teas)

                                         A monologue by Janet S. Tiger   © all rights reserved

                                                     tigerteam1@gmail.com 

         (T is speaking with her daughter and granddaughter, with Ella visible, too - and yes, they all still have Southern accents and are drinking tea.)

Of course you want to get married, my dear girl.  It's only normal.

Everyone likes to mate.  Not just animals and humans, but inanimate objects as well, as you will notice every time you are in a rush and need a  paper clip.

There, in a pile of what used to be thousands of the damn things, is a remainder of only the ones who have chosen to procreate.  They are joined together, and not a one of them is ready to help you because of their distracted state.

I try to uncouple them, but they refuse.  The pieces of metal are wrapped around each other in a coitus that cannot be interruptus without a scraping off of the wonderful nail polish you had just had applied earlier today at May Wilson's Beauty Parlor.

Why does this happen to torment me?  I think that we do not appreciate the tiny items we use every day and their lives, which usually go unnoticed until we are forced to pay attention.

It is, of course, not just the paper clips I refer to -  hangers mate, the wire ones in horrible configurations…….  And I also refer to the migration patterns of pens and pencils.  I believe there should be a special on that PBS channel about this phenomenon - they have just about everythin' else, for God's sake.  Sorry, Momma, but I do not think God minds his name in the same breath as PBS - I personally believe God might be behind some of those shows.

Don't look at me like you've never seen this migration.  You notice that you have no pens near your telephone.  So you buy new ones.  Within days, they, too, are gone.  The entire package.  Now we are taught that pens, because they are without feet of any kind, cannot move.  This is, like many things we've been taught, quite untrue, and brings many other teachings to doubt.

Where did the pens go?  Upon searching, you find they have all congregated in an empty mug- probably still dirty with the remains of the last coffee dregs - near the desk in the den.  How did they get there?  I feel a complete study would prove what we all suspect- the pens migrate at different times of the month - the exact methodology how should be determined by one of those scientific-like experiments.

But I can tell you - they have migrated in order to multiply, which they have in that mug in the den.  Where you had bought 10 pens, and lost 5 before, now there are 25  - and some are different - you do not recognize them, because, of course, in the matin' process, their children look different from them.

Eldon Johnston and his wife - they are the folks who have that farm with the roadside peach stand - they are good examples.  Neither had red hair, but their third son, Corey, he had the bright orange kind - much like like the farm worker who was there the summer before.

The pens, I fear, are a little adventurous like that - the Bic fine points that are only blue ink suddenly have birthed pens with all types of colors- red, green, you name it.  

          (Listens, laughs)

No, it does not take much to occupy my brain.  That's what Daddy used to say - T, you are easily amused, and that is a good thing in this life.  Right now, I am blitherin on because I obviously do not want to deal with the obvious issue here - that you are considering marriage to a man who your mother does not want you to marry......and for once, I happen to agree with her.  

         (Listens, shakes her head)

To explain will take a little more than a cup of tea, my lovely girl....

         (She turns and lifts her teacup.)

.Ella.....bring in the whiskey!

         (The lights fade.  End of scene.)

                                               

                                      

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

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