Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free* monologue a day- -and still going!
first year - Feb. 13, 2014 - Feb. 12, 2015 second year - Feb. 13, 2015 - Feb. 12, 2016 third year - Feb. 13, 2016 - today! *********
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.
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.
If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues- for a list of the titles and blurbs from each day, click here There are now over 1100!
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Monologue Mania Day #1110 The Infield by Janet S. Tiger (c) Feb. 26, 2017
The Infield
a monologue from the one-act by
by Janet S. Tiger
(The woman is in her 30s, a little drunk, with a baseball cap and clothing slightly askew. She is bewildered, but getting angry, holding a drink)
Now the four of us....we been friends a long time.....since we met on the team, how old were we? Eight, nine? and here we are, together again, for a weekend....we try to do this every year, to catch up, almost as good as batter up.....but now, no jokes, because.....this is serious....
(She looks at the others, takes a drink)
Okay, so here it is, our friend is dead, and ...the way I see it......one of us is.....I'm sorry, I have trouble saying it.....(takes a deep breath) one of us killed her.
There, that actually sounded worse than I thought it would!
(She takes a big drink and shakes her head)
Whooo, remind me not to mix kahlua and vodka......not pretty.....not pretty at all....
And we have to wait until the police come tomorrow, when the roads clear.....but which of us did it? I know I didn't.....
(The others protest neither did they)
But everyone is innocent in prison.....I found that out when I interned at the Public Defender's office....so this is really strange......one of you is a killer, my best friends forever, and I don't know if I can trust you....it's like everything I believed, isn't true......the only thing scarier would be if my mother walked in and told me I was adopted, but that's not gonna happen, because, one,
(She counts on her fingers, but very sloppy)
....the roads are closed, two, even if the roads were open, my mother wouldn't be caught dead in the mountains, and three, my mother is dead....
(She holds up her fingers and looks at them)
Three strikes.....we're out......
(Lights down. End of scene)
a monologue from the one-act by
by Janet S. Tiger
(The woman is in her 30s, a little drunk, with a baseball cap and clothing slightly askew. She is bewildered, but getting angry, holding a drink)
Now the four of us....we been friends a long time.....since we met on the team, how old were we? Eight, nine? and here we are, together again, for a weekend....we try to do this every year, to catch up, almost as good as batter up.....but now, no jokes, because.....this is serious....
(She looks at the others, takes a drink)
Okay, so here it is, our friend is dead, and ...the way I see it......one of us is.....I'm sorry, I have trouble saying it.....(takes a deep breath) one of us killed her.
There, that actually sounded worse than I thought it would!
(She takes a big drink and shakes her head)
Whooo, remind me not to mix kahlua and vodka......not pretty.....not pretty at all....
And we have to wait until the police come tomorrow, when the roads clear.....but which of us did it? I know I didn't.....
(The others protest neither did they)
But everyone is innocent in prison.....I found that out when I interned at the Public Defender's office....so this is really strange......one of you is a killer, my best friends forever, and I don't know if I can trust you....it's like everything I believed, isn't true......the only thing scarier would be if my mother walked in and told me I was adopted, but that's not gonna happen, because, one,
(She counts on her fingers, but very sloppy)
....the roads are closed, two, even if the roads were open, my mother wouldn't be caught dead in the mountains, and three, my mother is dead....
(She holds up her fingers and looks at them)
Three strikes.....we're out......
(Lights down. End of scene)
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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
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Janet S. Tiger 858-736-6315 CaregiversAnon.org
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
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