Saturday, August 30, 2014

Monologue Mania Day # 199 by Janet S. Tiger Dinner With the Devil (alternate) Aug. 30, 2014


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Monologue Mania Day # 199 by Janet S. Tiger   Dinner With the Devil (alternate)  Aug. 30, 2014
       Note - This piece is yesterday's monologue - but with a different angle.  Which one do you prefer - or are they both viable?  Thanks for the input! 

                                Dinner With The Devil  (alternate)
                                         A monologue by Janet S. Tiger   © all rights reserved
                                                     tigerteam1@gmail.com 

               (A man enters, he walks slowly, he is dressed in black, looks very much like an undertaker, probably because he is one.  He is carrying flowers, which he sets next to what we imagine to be a headstone, because that's what it is.  Then he removes his hat, which he holds carefully under one arm.)

Hello, Momma.  How are you doing, today?  (Thinks)  Probably the same as just about any day, I imagine.  You don't get to travel much, now do you?  (Thinks)  Or maybe you do, who knows?  Pastor Evans says the heat don't bother dead folks like it does the living, but I got to wonder about that.  If heat don't bother you folks when you're dead, what the hell is the purpose of hell?  I mean, if someone is goin to hell, wouldn't it be better if they didn't like it too hot?

         (Tilts his head, listens, sighs)

I know I must be crazy, but I swear I can hear you sayin, (imitates mother) 'Jimmy, you just think too much, that's your biggest problem.  Life is much easier if you don't think so damn much.'

        (Surprised)

I never heard you cuss before, Momma.  Maybe you already know what I'm here to talk about, who knows.  I like talkin to you Momma, better'n when you was alive.  We don't argue quite as much this way.

Yup, I'm here to talk about that funeral.  The two boys.  Very sad.  The whole town turned out, had to open the back doors and put up a canopy cover to keep em all from gettin the sunstroke.

Very sad.  Nice folks.  I don't care if their parents are wetbacks,  no one deserves what happened to them.  

Which brings me to why I'm here.  I am not exactly sure I did the right thing, so I thought I'd get your sage advice in this matter.

The mother, that'd be Mrs. Rodriguez, she came to the parlor, and asked to be alone with her boys one last time.  Of course I said, 'Take as long as you like, Mrs. Rodriguez' because I always give folks that last moment with their kin, and I left her be.  When I come back about an hour later, she was gone, and I went to adjust the coffins.....

          (Hangs his head, shakes it)

Two coffins in one family, very sad, not many times I ever had to do that before that I recall.  Maybe Daddy told me about times when there was the influenza, but not like this.  The influenza is like from God, nobody's fault......this was bad.  And I heard she can't have any more children either.

Sad.

So I notice that she must've touched the boys a bit - that's not unusual, you remember.  The family usually wants one last touch......

And I didn't think nothin of it until I went to move the coffins to the parlor for the viewin, and when I lifted the coffin to adjust it, I heard somethin shift.  I went to look, because sometimes people put in somethin extra, a book, most often a Bible, a toy when it's children like that......I just wanted to see what it was, and make sure it was secure, so it wouldn't roll around when we lifted the coffins.  No one likes to hear noises from inside those things, do they?

              (He walks around the headstone)

So I looked, and in the younger boy's coffin was a Bible, just like I thought.  And I secured it tight, made sure it would not move around.

Bibles are good things for the other side I imagine, that's why we put one in with you, Momma.  I wonder if you read it, or if you don't have to......whether you know all the things in it, without knowin why........

              (He shakes himself off)

Okay, Momma, I'll get to it.

So I check out the older boy, Jose, his name was.  Nice kid, very polite.  His English was good too.

           (He takes a deep breath, illustrates by taking his hand and reaching, pulling out his arm and looking in horror.)

And I find...... a gun.  And I know right away what that gun was used for......to kill the man who drunk drove his truck into those two boys.  You see, the police never found that gun, and that was a big thing  but I now knew where it was.

And I also knew Jorge didn't do it, he just ain't that kinda man.  But his wife, now, she's a steely one, you woulda liked her, Momma.

          (Listens)

Okay, okay, I'm gettin there.  Pastor Evans tells us we all gonna be eatin dinner with the devil if we do bad things.....I don't wanna eat dinner with the devil.  Amaleen is bad enough.  I wasn't sure what to do, but you always told me to tell the truth, not to say it's an oak coffin,  it it's really just a pine box.   That's why I.....I turned in the gun.

          (Sighs)

Did I do the right thing?   I kept an innocent man from goin to prison, but now his wife is prob'ly gonna go.   How much punishment does one person need?  Wasn't losing their only two children enough?  I know only Jesus can be the judge, and I had to do the right thing, I had to tell the sheriff!
(Gets really agitated)  Momma, you always could figure these things out, (getting loud) yes, I know it did the right thing!  I won't be havin dinner with the devil!

        (He is very affected by this, and shakes his whole body as if there was rain on him.)

Whew......I suppose that's why I keep on comin out here to talk with you, Momma, you always was good at figurin things out........Guess it's time to head back.  Everyone sends their love.  I'll bring the grandkids out next year, when they're a bit older.    Sleep tight, Momma, (laughs sadly) don't let the bedbugs bite!

        (He turns to leave, stops, looks back)
    
I guess there was one thing I forgot to ask you.......if what I did was so right.....why do I feel so bad?

       (He stares at the headstone, then puts his hat back on and walks slowly off.  The end.)



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