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 four year Feb. 14, 2017- today!
I've continued with a monologue a day until the spirit moves me to stop - if you have any ideas for a monologue you want me to write, please let me know at tigerteam1@gmail.com.
Get more great award-winning monologues - MonologueZone.com
If you'd like to write your own monologues, I happen to have a book for that -
Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site on Facebook, Google - with friends. Wishing you much success!
---------------------------- ------------------------------ ---------------------
Monologue Mania Day # 1649 The Question by Janet S. Tiger (c) Aug. 22, 2018
The Question (c)
by Janet S. Tiger
© all rights reserved tigerteam1@gmail.com
(An older woman comes onstage – she is dressed conservatively, perhaps a bit like, can we say it, the Queen? And she has a twinkle in her eye. She also has a British accent – but you knew that!)
My poem for this evening is based on the reality that every woman in the world – regardless of her age or looks – has at one time – usually when she had less age and more looks – been propositioned. Yes, you can gasp, ladies and gentlemen, but you all know this is true.
It is usually when we have the intelligence and ego to say ‘no’, although, from I what I have heard in this dining room, some of us said ‘yes’- but that is another poem.
When I myself was propositioned, I was 19, dressed in one of my nicest coats and looking very fine as I had just had my hair done. I might also mention that I was in a very nice part of London, not a slum, mind you, and a man – I cannot call him a gentleman because of his question of course, a man saw me and walked over, and said, most brazenly,
(In a man’s cockney voice) ‘How much?’
I looked at him and replied, ‘For what?’
‘For the whole night!’ He responded.
At that point, I realized what he was asking for, and I turned and walked away. He followed in a bit of a huff, removing his wallet from his pocket and, taking my arm, he spun me around, showing me a fistful of hundred pound notes.
‘I have the money!’ He showed me, seeming irritated that I would not believe him.
‘Sir, the answer is no!’ I stood my tallest, which is hard as I am rather short, but I spun away from him to walk away, when I heard him call after me,
(in a man’s gruff voice) If you weren’t working, then why were you wearing that coat!
It took me several days to figure this out, but it made me much more observant about the clothing I purchased.
It turned out that the store which I had frequented for that coat purchase – was also frequented by how do I say this politely?.....ladies of dubious character.
I was horrified, and never wore the coat again, giving it away immediately to a charity for those who have no clothing.
But as the years have gone by, I somehow stopped being horrified by that incident. This happened in direct proportion to the number of years – hence, the older I got, the less horrified I was, now instead wondering…..and this is what led to the poem of course, what if someone…. were to ask me now…..
(She stands straighter, takes a deep breath and looks at the ceiling)
And please forgive me, Miss Strotham, for disobeying all of your well-taught rules about poetry. At age 77, I find I no longer care whatsoever about any rules at all.
(Looks back at the crowd)
Where was I, oh, yes, what if someone, someone probably blind, of course!....were to ask me now…..
(She smiles and stands straight again, recites as if she still in Miss Strotham’s class)
Young man, you are so handsome,
I have a strange request
Is it possible you could listen to an old story
And lay my questions to rest……
Here goes…..
Young man, when I was younger,
I was asked a question odd
How many pounds would I take for me?
As if I was sold by the yard!
I replied that it was rude to inquire
As I was not for sale
I walked away and to this very day
Have never gone down that trail
But as the years …have disappeared,
I find my answer …may have changed
Since no one now asks
And I do miss that task
I wonder if I’m just deranged
So young man, I realize
You look at me now and see
Someone so old
You’d never be so bold
To ever think of asking that question of me…..
Yes, it’s sad for me to think
Now I’m no longer in the pink
If I walked in the road
In a certain kind of clothes
I might not fetch a farthing -k
But….. here’s a new thought
That I may have learned
Perhaps over time - how the tables have turned!
So forgive me please, if this is still rude,
And you don’t have to answer, it’s true….
But…..how much, young man would it cost…..
…… for me….to have…. you?
(She smiles and walks off. The end)
------------------------------------------------------------------
First posted Mar. 8, 2014 Day #24
The Question (c)
by Janet S. Tiger
© all rights reserved tigerteam1@gmail.com
(An older woman comes onstage – she is dressed conservatively, perhaps a bit like, can we say it, the Queen? And she has a twinkle in her eye. She also has a British accent – but you knew that!)
My poem for this evening is based on the reality that every woman in the world – regardless of her age or looks – has at one time – usually when she had less age and more looks – been propositioned. Yes, you can gasp, ladies and gentlemen, but you all know this is true.
It is usually when we have the intelligence and ego to say ‘no’, although, from I what I have heard in this dining room, some of us said ‘yes’- but that is another poem.
When I myself was propositioned, I was 19, dressed in one of my nicest coats and looking very fine as I had just had my hair done. I might also mention that I was in a very nice part of London, not a slum, mind you, and a man – I cannot call him a gentleman because of his question of course, a man saw me and walked over, and said, most brazenly,
(In a man’s cockney voice) ‘How much?’
I looked at him and replied, ‘For what?’
‘For the whole night!’ He responded.
At that point, I realized what he was asking for, and I turned and walked away. He followed in a bit of a huff, removing his wallet from his pocket and, taking my arm, he spun me around, showing me a fistful of hundred pound notes.
‘I have the money!’ He showed me, seeming irritated that I would not believe him.
‘Sir, the answer is no!’ I stood my tallest, which is hard as I am rather short, but I spun away from him to walk away, when I heard him call after me,
(in a man’s gruff voice) If you weren’t working, then why were you wearing that coat!
It took me several days to figure this out, but it made me much more observant about the clothing I purchased.
It turned out that the store which I had frequented for that coat purchase – was also frequented by how do I say this politely?.....ladies of dubious character.
I was horrified, and never wore the coat again, giving it away immediately to a charity for those who have no clothing.
But as the years have gone by, I somehow stopped being horrified by that incident. This happened in direct proportion to the number of years – hence, the older I got, the less horrified I was, now instead wondering…..and this is what led to the poem of course, what if someone…. were to ask me now…..
(She stands straighter, takes a deep breath and looks at the ceiling)
And please forgive me, Miss Strotham, for disobeying all of your well-taught rules about poetry. At age 77, I find I no longer care whatsoever about any rules at all.
(Looks back at the crowd)
Where was I, oh, yes, what if someone, someone probably blind, of course!....were to ask me now…..
(She smiles and stands straight again, recites as if she still in Miss Strotham’s class)
Young man, you are so handsome,
I have a strange request
Is it possible you could listen to an old story
And lay my questions to rest……
Here goes…..
Young man, when I was younger,
I was asked a question odd
How many pounds would I take for me?
As if I was sold by the yard!
I replied that it was rude to inquire
As I was not for sale
I walked away and to this very day
Have never gone down that trail
But as the years …have disappeared,
I find my answer …may have changed
Since no one now asks
And I do miss that task
I wonder if I’m just deranged
So young man, I realize
You look at me now and see
Someone so old
You’d never be so bold
To ever think of asking that question of me…..
Yes, it’s sad for me to think
Now I’m no longer in the pink
If I walked in the road
In a certain kind of clothes
I might not fetch a farthing -k
But….. here’s a new thought
That I may have learned
Perhaps over time - how the tables have turned!
So forgive me please, if this is still rude,
And you don’t have to answer, it’s true….
But…..how much, young man would it cost…..
…… for me….to have…. you?
(She smiles and walks off. The end)
------------------------------------------------------------------
First posted Mar. 8, 2014 Day #24
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
* 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
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Janet S. Tiger 858-736-6315 CaregiversAnon.org
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
No comments:
Post a Comment