Monday, March 23, 2015

Monologue Mania Day # 404 by Janet S. Tiger Where's My Thank You Note! March 23, 2015

Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day- for a whole year-and still going!
                                                                    first year -  Feb. 13, 2014 - Feb. 13, 2015
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Monologue Mania Day # 404 by Janet S. Tiger Where's My Thank You Note! March 23, 2015      
                                      Where's My Thank you Note!
                                 (opening scene from a one-act of the same name)
                                                    by Janet S. Tiger  (c) 2015 all rights 

        (Stage lights up to see an older woman wearing white gloves to complement her purse and shoes,   She also has a hat, which she wears with great aplomb. She is knocking firmly at the door of a room in a fleabag motel. She stops, listens.  No response. She  pounds on now, still nothing.  Finally, it sounds as if a hammer is hitting the door and she hears something inside)
 Jeffrey!  Open this door immediately! 
 It is your grandmother! 
Open this door immediately or I will call the hotel manager and inform him that you are ill and he is to call the police!
I do not care if you are dressed!  I changed your diaper when you were a baby, I do not care if I see your wingle now!  Open this door.....NOW!

        (The door opens and she storms in, she is furious)

 Well, this is a fine way to treat your grandmother! And don't tell me you didn't know I was coming,  I sent you a letter.  (Thinks)  Or maybe you just didn't read it....
        (She takes her cane and poke a pile of trash)
I am not here to castigate you.  Rest assured I am also not here to convince you to return home.
It is very simple what I am asking you to do.  I am asking you to sit down, this minute and write me a thank you.  It doesn't get much simpler than that, my boy.

You are still my boy, aren't you?
         (Listens, hint of a smile)
So then you understand me completely.  Here's a pen and paper.....I brought them with me as I had extreme doubts that this superior establishment where you now reside carries such amenties in the drop drawer.

         (She looks around the room and shakes her head)

But your choice of habituation is your decision, as you are of majority age now, but your choice not to send me a proper thank you, that is not acceptable.
        (She waves her hand to dismiss his response)
I have no interest in your prediliction for progressively self-destructive behavior, I am only interested in receiving what is rightfully mine - a thank you note for the gift I sent you for your birthday.
And I also have no interest in what you did with that gift, whether you enjoyed it, lost it, sold it to buy drugs that will intensify your slide into complete and utter ruin, or still have it in an unopened box - I am only interested in......are you listening to me, Jeffrey?  .....a thank you note.
(Laughs) Now that's interesting.  You can't remember!   It was a check.  From the trust fund your grandfather and I set up for you when you were born.  A check in the amount of twenty thousand dollars.
 When do you think I sent it, Jeffrey?  When is your birthday?   (Nods, waiting) So glad you can remember!  Yes, the third of June.  An almost summer baby.  That's what we called children born in June, but before the 21st.  Almost summer babies.

Today? (A tiny bit kinder) It's Sept. 30th.  
Unlike the friends you have now associated with, I do not lie.  Today is the last day of September.  30 days hath.
 It appears as if you have lost an entire summer, which, in a lifetime, won't mean much, but now, as it stands, is definitely noteworthy.

Why did I come?  I find it hard to believe you still have no idea.  I came because......(hard to say)
because your parents are still grieving your untimely  - and, to be accurate - the inaccurate reporting of your demise.
It appears as if one of your reprobate associates borrowed your birthday check while you were in a state of, shall we say, inebriation......and, it appears..... this aforementioned associate found the gift I sent, and cashed it himself.
It also appears as if one day, after purchasing and ingesting some form of psychedelic medicine...he was walking, in a state of some type of hallucination, and was hit by a trolley that was unable to stop in time.

The police said he probably thought the trolley was part of the dream.  I imagine the man driving that trolley now has many unusual dreams, none of them pleasant.  But I digress.  Because of the fact that, when a trolley which is made of tons of steel hurtling down a track at fifty miles an hour, hits something made out of skin and bones and flesh, how shall I put this politely?  He was splattered like a bug  on a windshield.
Your identification was found on his body, and it was assumed that...well, I'm sure you can understand the mistake.  Now, if your brain is working at all, you might be wondering how I found you.   (Takes a deep breath) My boy,  I just could not believe you were dead.  I would have known, in my heart, and I .....(almost gets emotional, stops herself)....wanted proof.  So I paid a very unsavory gentleman more money than he was worth, but he turned out to be worth every penny, as he found you, and now, I am here.  Not to tell you what to do with your life - you are an adult, and have chosen your path.  Not to tell you to contact your parents - I will do that out of courtesy to their sorrow and pain.
No, I am here for one reason only, and that get my long overdue thank you note!
So, for the sake of both our lives to is the pen.......I will sit here and wait....

       (She goes to a chair and sits)

...and remember!  If there are any mistakes, I will make you do it over!
        (Blackout.  End of scene)

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

1 comment:

JennyRedbug said...

That one ran the gamut of emotions. Can't imagine where the rest of the play will go, but I like the monologue!