Friday, July 31, 2015

Monologue Mania Day #533 Finally by Janet S. Tiger July 30, 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
I've continued with a monologue a day until the spirit moves me to stop, so if you have any ideas for a monologue you want me to write, please let me know at tigerteam1@gmail.com.
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     To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - 
click here.
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click here  There are now over 500!

 
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Monologue Mania Day #533   by Janet S. Tiger  July 30, 2015

                                           Finally
                                           (for Crime)
                            A monologue by Janet S. Tiger   © all rights reserved                                                                                              tigerteam1@gmail.com

          (The black woman who comes out is dressed for church - nice dress, big hat and a large purse.  She takes the purse and sets it on the floor.)

Thank you, your honor, for giving me this chance to speak.  I don't know if I can remember all the things I wanted to say, so I put them on a paper, but, then I can't find it, so I'm just gonna tell you what I can recall.

Because you see, there are some days you never forget.  Like the day my baby boy was born.  He was a big baby, a happy baby.  Boy did he like to eat!  Anything I put in front of him!  By the time he was in first grade, he played with the big kids, and they respected him because he could hold his own.

By the time he hit seventh grade, he was like a man, tall, strong, but always sweet.  He used to tell me, 'Momma, one day, I'm gonna buy you a house, with a big yard so you can grow your tomatoes.' And I believe he meant it......He wasn't perfect, of course, no child is, but he was a good boy....

         (She takes out a handkerchief and wipes her forehead.)

Some things you never forget.

          (She looks at one person in the crowd)

When a policeman comes to your door......you know it's not good.  I will never forget what he said......he said, 'Mrs. Taylor, do you have a son, Tyrell?'  and I knew, right then, I knew.

I said, yes, I do.  And he looked at me and said, 'Do you have someone at home with you? Would you like to sit down?'  And I told him no one was home, but it didn't matter, because I knew.

He was a young man, Spanish, and I could see he had not done a lot of these.  And he told me my baby was dead.  It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the earth in that moment.  How?  He was eating a hot dog at the local De Weinershnitzel.......and a guy at the next table got mad at his girlfriend and shot at her.  But she ducked.  And the bullets hit Tyrell and two other people, people just sitting and having something to eat.  The others survived, but not Tyrell.

He was never in a gang.  He loved football, and he had a good chance at a scholarship and a good life.  Done.  Did they catch the man who killed him?  No.

He ran away, and for twenty-seven years, I have waited.  And I will never forget the officer who came to tell me they caught him.  It was the same fellow as the first day, older a bit, a detective now, but he remembered me, and I remembered him.  Finally is what he said to me.  I just looked.  And I sighed.  Finally.  I knew they would catch him.  I had prayed every single day of those years, and now, I am here at his sentencing because I wanted to look him in the face.  To look at the face of the man who killed my baby.

(Getting angry)  I tell you all of this because I am here to ask that you have no.lenience with this man who killed my son.  I want you to punish him, and make him regret his actions.  No amount of years can bring back my baby.....nothing will bring him back!.....(She takes a deep breath)...but killing him won't do it either.

So put him away until he rots if you have to.....but don't kill a man and say it's to make it even.  It will never be the same......and I do not want it on my conscience that I was a part of a murder.

           (She turns to leave, stops, looks back at the killer)

May God have mercy on your soul......

          (She stands tall as she exits.  Gone, but never forgotten)
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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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