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If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
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Note: A few words about 'free' - all these monologues are protected under copyright law and are free to read, free to perform and video as long as no money is charged. Once you charge admission or a donation, or include my work in an anthology, you need to contact me for royalty info.
If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues, please
scroll down for the previous days or go to http://www.monologuestore.com/ -click on the Monologue Mania button please scroll down.
To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.
For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here
Help a playwright and get more great award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com
Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site
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Monologue
Mania Day # 226 by Janet S. Tiger Sept. 26, 2014
Bertha’s
story (for crime)
A monologue by Janet S. Tiger ©
all rights reserved
tigerteam1@gmail.com
(A woman comes out onstage with a
piece of pie on a plate. She is older, but very energetic, and glowing,
but quietly so.)
I'm
so glad you could come and help, dear. I know it must be difficult for
you to understand me talking to you like this, considering I'm dead and all,
but that's really what dreams are for.....to reach people when you can't phone.
(Listens)
Well,
of course I'm Bertha dear, who else would I be? What a silly
question! I'm Bertha, and this is my house....excuse me, was my house.
Wouldja
like a piece of pie?
It's
always nice to have a piece of pie when you talk with someone. Pie and a
cup of hot coffee.
(Listens)
Of
course I know who you are! You're the young lady who's been poking
through all my things! I'm only kidding, I don't mind at all.
In
fact, I think you're doing a bang-up job. I'm so glad you could come and
help with all this. It was a big job, but I think you were the right
person.
You've
got a lot of questions I know, and I can help with some of them. Why did
I let all these drifters stay? Didn't I know it could be dangerous, that
something bad could happen?
Funny
you should mention that....
(She sits at the kitchen table)
Do
you know how many years people been asking me that same question?
Friends, neighbors, even some of the young men who stayed here!
Thirty-five years. Since my husband died. Amazing. And the
funny thing was, that in the 15 and 17 years my daughter and son were alive,
not one person said, Bertha, why do you take your kids in the car, why do you
let them drive around? Don't you know some drunk could crash into them
and kill them?
But
no one asked that. Not one person. And before my darling husband
died, I can't recall one person saying, Bertha, did you know that since your
husband worked with asbestos druing World War II, he could get cancer?
So,
I never really listened. Because after everyone was taken from me, I
would lie awake nights and wonder why I was still alive. Why me?
Didn't I deserve to die? Why did I have to have all this pain? The
first years were the hardest, but everyone helped with the crops. Then
people have their own problems, children are born sick, parents need
help. Then a fellow stopped and asked if he could stay for a bit, in
exchange for room and board, he could take care of fixing the fence, milking
the cows.
And
I said yes.
Why?
Because
I needed help....and I was lonely, and these young men were all lost. And
I could give them something they needed. The truth. Which is in
pretty short supply, it seems.
They
would sit and complain about their parents, and I would listen. Then I
would ask, when did all this bad stuff happen, and they would answer....when I
was ten, when I was fifteen, when I was four.....and I would ask, and how old
are you now?
And
they would say, eighteen, twenty six, forty-three.......
And
somehow, they would get the message.
If
they worked hard, and they all did, I gave them the praise and the love they
somehow missed out one somewhere........
(She takes a deep breath)
I
don't remember all their names. But some of them stayed in touch, did
well for themselves. I'm proud of them.
Others,
I can just hope they're all right.
Even
the last one, the one you're looking for, I don't wish him ill, I just want for
him not to hurt anyone else.
Am
I sorry? (Laughs) Oh, no! I'm very happy it turned out like
this!
You
see, my death did good. Better than an organ donation I think.
Because you're going to find this poor man who killed me...because he will kill
again......and I don't want that to happen.
So,
have a piece of pie and some coffee....but first, please wash your
hands.
(She gets up)
You
think I'm silly? It's the first thing I learned from my momma, wash your
hands before you eat. And I had to train these young men, too,
sometimes......so, please, wash your hands.......the pie is worth it!
(She turns to leave, stops, looks back)
I
may be silly, but who's talking to the dead person!
(She laughs as lights black out. She is gone, but definitely not
forgotten)
--------------------------------------
Janet S. Tiger 858-736-6315
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
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