Monologue Mania

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Monologue Mania Day #83 by Janet S. Tiger May 6, 2014 The Juggler (c) 2014

The Juggler (from a play The Ringmaster)

                                                    by Janet S. Tiger
                                             © 2014 all rights reserved
   tigerteam1@gmail.com

(A woman comes out singing the circus music we all know and love- da, da, da, da, da, da,da, da da, da da da DA! She is juggling, but we see nothing in her hands.)

Ooh, I think I can get another one up there.......

(She reaches into a pocket and pulls out something, throws it into the other invisible items circling)

That makes....one, two, three, four! Four eggs!

Ooh, it's possible! Four eggs!

First one.......is the oldest, he's nine, and will not do homework first....only play on the computer......

Second egg....the middle child, six,......a girl who loves to talk....and talk.....and talk!

How do I keep these in the air?

Easy!

Watch!

(She watches the 'eggs' as the keep going, even without her hands!)

Talk about miracles! I can even add a few....

(She throws a couple more eggs up in the air, starts juggling them all)

The baby is always fun.....six months old, just starting to crawl and get into things!

OOh......

And my husband......there's a good egg......except when he's rotten, of course..... and now I put up a few more.....

(Throws another egg up)

that's my folks who are getting older by the day.....

(Another egg goes into the air)

....and how about my siblings.....

(Launches four more eggs)

......none of whom live near my parents, so it's me taking care of them, except of course when the siblings come to town and ....

(Another egg)

They stay with me!

Wheee!

(She throws them all in the air, and puts down her arms, leans her head back and 'swallows' the eggs!)

And that's how it feels! Eggs -ellent!

All those eggs in the air, they are all mine….and yet, not one of them is mine!

But wait....there's more.........

(She leans over, and like a magician, takes the 'eggs' out of different body orifices - ears, nose.....be creative and see how far the audience will let this go - and throws them all up at the same time)

And now, for something truly special......

(She holds her hands up, palms open)

Freeze!

(She looks up - obviously the eggs are no longer moving, but frozen in mid-air. She smiles and walks around them.)

And that's how you do it!

I've seen men juggle balls and plates and even chain saws, but none of them can touch this without it all falling to the ground - without broken eggs splattered everywhere!

And then they would complain about how hard it is to juggle all this stuff, and how if you miss a few, and they break, it can make an omelet......but the reality is.....juggling life is the toughest act in the world.......except…..

(Now she seems less energetic)

When you get tired…..

(She steps back and her face twinges as things hit the ground)

That’s the neighborhood watch committee – I’m the chairman and there’s a big fight how to handle poor Mr. Rivera’s son who is getting into high school….and into drugs…..

(Another egg hits the floor)

Oops! That’s the new boss…..didn’t she had a crazy aunt locked up and I made some silly joke….

(She cringes as it appears a lot of eggs are falling now)

There’s my poor daughter who can’t understand why I can’t listen to every word!

(Faster) And her brother who is almost a teenager now! And the mailman is new and he misplaced the letter from my old friend who is about to get married – next week!

(She is now running around trying to catch the eggs, to no avail)

And just when I started back at the gym, they decide to move five miles away! Because it’s easier for most of the new members! And….and…..and,…and…..

(At each missed egg, she shudders)

And……

(She throws her hands up – gives up)

Maybe I should’ve married Humpty Dumpty!

(She now gets on hands and knees and starts re-assembling the eggs0

There, there, you’ll be fine in the morning – a good night’s sleep will make everything seem so much better!

(She goes to tuck in the eggs, sits up looking at them fondly)

Sleep……now that’s a good idea……

(She gets up and starts to walk out, we see her starting to juggle slowly)

Now if only I could learn to juggle in my sleep……there’s a plan!

(We hear the strains of the circus song as she leaves. Never the end of juggling!)

Janet S. Tiger 858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Monologue Mania Day #82 May 5, 2014 by Janet S. Tiger Under the Mountain (part 2) (c) 2014

Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                      - for a whole year!
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!
--------------------------------------
May 5, 2014 Day #81 Monologue Mania by Janet S. Tiger (c) 2014


(The woman returns. She is still dressed like a pioneer, but much more       fashionably, one might even be impressed with the fancy shawl. She is holding a package wrapped in paper and string)

Remember how I told how we started digging through the mountain with a spoon?

The funny thing about doing something crazy is that sometimes, when you do that, crazy things keep happening.

See this spoon? Simple, wooden. There is no mistaking its purpose.

Yet if you were to take it, and really start trying to dig through a mountain, people would laugh.
Like everyone did when I said we could survive traveling to Europe – with no money.
Like taking a spoon and digging through a mountain.

Yet there really was a family that went across the country – and were at a mountain, and the husband and wife started fighting about which way was better.
The wife got so angry, she took the wooden spoon and started digging at the mountain for real.
The husband got furious – he yelled and screamed and the others tried to stop them fighting. It was not the most pleasant moment of the journey.

And then, one of the younger travelers- he had been to college, but dropped out to make his fortune in the great west – this young man looked at the spoon.

He took it from the woman and examined it, then he started to laugh.

Everyone thought he was crazier than the married couple.

But he just smiled at them and explained something he had learned in chemistry.

Chemical changes occur for different reasons – and the spoon had turned a turquoise blue for the probable reason that….the mountain was probably made mostly of copper ore…..
They were rich…..all of them! They had found what we in Nevada call the Copper Spoon
Mine…….And now all they had to do was survive.

How true that is of all of us. We are all rich, we all have the chance to touch richness every day if we just pick up that wooden spoon! Challenge those who say you can't do it! Challenge yourself to do it! ...Challenge the mountain!......My children and I may have had no money, but we knew of our bounty, which was why we could go to Europe with no money – and never worry.

We toured 12 countries, ate like kings, had incredible adventures with princes and gypsies - and made friends we still have to this day.

So anytime you have the idea the mountain is too high – or the winter too cold, or the troubles too grand…….

            (She opens the string and package to show the wooden spoon, now in a case like a valuable jewel)

………please take one of these….

            (She starts to walk off, turns back.)

And give yourself a whack on the head until you remember what it’s all about!

            (She smiles and exits. The end.)

Monologue Mania Day #81 May 4, 2014 by Janet S. Tiger Under the Mountain (part 1) (c) 2014

Under the Mountain part 1

                                                    by Janet S. Tiger
                                             © 2014 all rights reserved
   tigerteam1@gmail.com

(A woman comes onstage. She is everywoman, dressed in a way that it is difficult to tell if she is from today's era or the past.)

(Thinking) Sometimes I feel as if I was part of one of those pioneer families. The ones who traveled in wagon trains with small children and no food and water and never complained.

The ones who settled the West! Only my group reminds me of the Donner party. Well, maybe not that bad......(pauses)...yet.

We have arrived at a large mountain.

(She indicates the size with her arms)

It is big, and on the other side is California.

We have a big decision to make. Do we go over the mountain? (She mimes climbing up.) It would be less mileage covered, but there are some big problems with this. We have horses, and small children - is there a safe path up - and down the other side?

Another option is to go around it.

(She walks around the stage.)

This would be easier than climbing, but it will be more miles, and winter is coming - will there be enough food? Enough time to get through the pass before rain or snow hits? Then there is the third (thinks about this word carefully) possibility.

We could tunnel through the mountain using dynamite - making a new route for anyone who follows us. Creating a path for others - and attaching our names to this so that we are immortalized forever.

(Throws her arms out wide to show that this is a serious goal. She slowly brings them down.)

Tunneling has its own series of....problems. First, we have no reliable geographical information so that we really don't know what will happen when the explosions rip through the layers of stone and rock. Next issue is that we don't really have a good navigational system to make sure we go straight through the mountain. And we have small children and horses - will we be able to shore up a tunnel safe enough to go through to the other side?

(Nodding a bit) Now my husband - this will probably not surprise anyone - he wants to go straight through the mountain. And, because he wants to, that is what we will be doing.

(Trying not to be angry - is she laughing a little?)

So, I guess we'll see you on the other side.

(She goes to walk offstage, then stops.)

There is just one other teeny, tiny, little problem ......... (she almost whispers) ..we don't have any dynamite.

(Listens to a voice offstage)

Coming dear.

(She reaches into her apron pocket, pulls out a wooden spoon, smiles at the audience - and exits.)

End part 1.

Janet S. Tiger 858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Monologue Mania Day #80 May 3, 2014 by Janet S. Tiger Maybe Day (c) 2014

Maybe Day

                                                    by Janet S. Tiger
                                             © 2014 all rights reserved
   tigerteam1@gmail.com

(A woman comes onstage wearing a wreath of flowers on her head. She has a basket of flowers in her hand and throws them into the crowd.)

Mayday! mayday! My father used to love to say that while we watched the parades on May 1st. Because he had a bad leg from when he was hit by a car., my father couldn't walk with his friends, but he could wave and shout.... (Like a father, loud) 'Mayday! Mayday!' and then he would explain....(father's voice) 'Mayday means - 'help' .... 'trouble' - and those people need help and make trouble!'

I didn't understand when I was little - I would ask him - if they make trouble, why do we go watch their parades every year?

And he would just smile and say - 'May is just another way of saying 'Maybe' - and maybe is a magic word! It may happen means maybe it will happen, maybe life will get more fair for the workers, for the poor......maybe not right away, but maybe some day.

Maybe is such a powerful word, he would tell me.

Maybe is the leap from 'no' and 'never' and 'can't' and 'won't' Before you have a yes, you have a maybe. And that's why maybe is...a magic word!

So that's when I said, 'Can we have a dog?'

He just laughed and explained that we lived in an apartment, and dogs were not allowed.

I remember thinking for a moment.

(She stands, like a child, finger in mouth)

(Young) So, if we moved to a different place, Daddy, MAYBE we could have a dog?

(She throws back her head and guffaws)

And he laughed and laughed.

So I said......(as a child) Maybe?

(She is quieter)

He stopped laughing, looked at me very quietly....and said.....the magic words....maybe.

And I held onto that 'maybe' for years - through the horrid place with the neighbors that argued till three in the morning, to the tiny cramped apartment on an alley where the garbage trucks would wake us up every day. That maybe helped keep me going, until one day, after my father's father passed away, and there was a small inheritance that came to us, and we moved to a neighborhood with lawns, and grass, and...dogs. The day we moved in, with all the boxes still unpacked on the floor, I asked my father.....(older child) Dad, how about that dog?

And he looked and said.......May......

I remember how my heart fell, because may always meant 'may..be'

But this time, he said......'You may'......and he smiled.......and the next day, we went to the pound!

You never forget your first love....especially when he wags his tail at you.....

(She whirls around as if holding a dog in her arms)

And that's the way it is with all of them! I wrote about my first dog, and won a contest. That turned me into a writer, and, the books I wrote about dogs allow me to help all the strays I can here on my farm.

Maybe you can help, too...see that big number on the screen.

(She indicates the side of the stage)

The Senior Channel is supporting your local pound so that maybe you can help save an animal today.

(She indicates the side of the stage)

Just......maybe......if you can't help today, maybe tomorrow......

Make today a 'maybe' day.......

(She turns and walks off. Maybe the end!)

Janet S. Tiger 858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

Friday, May 2, 2014

Monologue Mania Day #79 Yay for New Wrinkles! May 2, 2014 by Janet S. Tiger (c) 2014

Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free monologue a day
                      - for a whole year!
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!
--------------------------------------
May 1, 2014 Day #78 Monologue Mania by Janet S. Tiger (c) 2014


                                       Yay for New Wrinkles!
      (for the Senior Channel)
                                                    by Janet S. Tiger
                                             © 2014 all rights reserved
   tigerteam1@gmail.com              (The older gentleman from Day 9 and Day 22 returns - with another idea he is very excited about. He strides onstage purposefully and faces the camera and studio audience. He is holding a mirror in one hand.)

Ladies and gentlemen - I welcome you to the continuing Senior Channel show which highlights our problems and how to solve them. Since I have a great deal more time to think about things than when I was younger, I have been pondering a new issue, a new fight for us.

And it's literally staring us right in the face.

               (He holds up the mirror)

I see 'em.....there they are......(booms) WRINKLES!

And when you say new wrinkles, I think that's one of those phrases like jumbo shrimp.....New Wrinkles! A wrinkle by its very definition is....old!

But with wrinkles, I am just scratching the sagging skin surface......I want everyone here to think about wrinkles.....and how they have become a symbol of a subtle, but ubiquitous ageist attitude that all seniors face!

Still don't get it? Everyone here has heard the ads for ANTI- wrinkles, right? Well, if wrinkles are a sign of deepening wisdom - why the urge to get rid of them?

Why not have a brand new cream - PRO- wrinkle cream!

It wouldn't have to be a cream, it could just be someone calling you up to remind you how old you are - with a new photo every day! And then another angle would be to have teams cataloging all the things you can worry about - personal AND global - now that's a way to make those wrinkles hatch like eggs on a KFC farm!

And we could protest all those young, smooth-skinned people in the ads! We could even kidnap one and take photos to show how old and wrinkled she really is without makeup!

           (Listens)

Sorry, didn't mean to advocate kidnapping....just a joke, there, folks, to illustrate my main point.

Which is - if wisdom is gained through age, and wrinkles are the gift we get, why is the present so ridiculed? In other times, people revered age - wrinkles indicated you had survived! Now, the object is to look young forever! What's next? Actually living forever?

           (He takes a deep breath to calm down)

So I am suggesting that we protest where it hurts them the most - we stop buying all the wrinkle creams.... and age-defying systems that are just more expensive wrinkle creams, and we launch a march on Washington to protest the treatment of wrinkles! Better yet, not a march, but a marathon run......(thinks)....ok, maybe a 5K.......

And the name would be........

            (He spreads his arms wide, beaming)

The Wrinkle Run!

             (He turns and starts to jog off, looks back)

You can sign up on my website - Pro-Wrinkle Seniors - Take Back the Skin! Dot com.

              (He exits. The end of this wrinkle.)


Janet S. Tiger 858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Monologue Mania Day # 78 May 1, 2014 The Waiter by Janet S. Tiger (c) 2014

The Waiter

by Janet S. Tiger
© 2014 all rights reserved

tigerteam1@gmail.com

(A man comes out onstage, he is dressed formally, and walks straight and tall. He carries a waiter’s tray, with a glass of water on it. When he gets to the front of the stage, he bows, then takes the glass and drinks the water.)

Mmm, very good. I am Tobias, your waiter for this evening. (Listens) Your water? I will be glad to bring it to you, you will just have to wait for a moment.

You have obviously come and asked for me because you are waiting to hear this story. Someone told you it was worth your while, so you have waited several days to get a reservation specifically with me as your waiter. So, I will wait, and you, too, will wait.

Waiting is a very good way to learn things. Notice I did not say ‘patience’, because patience is considered a virtue, and thus, extremely difficult to cultivate. Patience is a grace, a gift. We honor those with patience because we identify that it is as difficult for some as calculus is for others.

Waiting, on the other hand, is something everyone has to do. We wait to be born. Then – (sighs)…… we wait to die.

In between, we wait for our waiter. Who will bring the water after this brief, but important story for you.

This is a story that is mostly true. I say ‘mostly’ because as certainly as beauty, truth is in the eye of the beholder.

The story is one from my youth, that of a young man growing up during the Depression.

My family had farmed the same land for many years. My mother’s father had broken the rocks and made the land into a habitable – even profitable- endeavor. My father – who had worked for my mother’s father - had married the farmer’s daughter, my mother.

Together, they had raised seven children, of which I was the youngest. It was a good life, until …it wasn’t.

Then came the years with no water, and the inability to pay the bank, and then the bank repossessing and then we had to leave.

The very unfortunate event occurred on a very hot day, preceded by many hot days. My father was particularly upset by the turn of events, as he had been friendly with the bank manager, Jed Wilson, until the foreclosure, of course. Then his anger had grown, exponentially, until the day when the sheriff was coming to forcibly remove us.

My mother, who had actually dated the sheriff before my father came to work for her father, felt the sheriff would not be too mean, and the best thing to do was to actually leave peaceably.

But not for my father! He kicked in our front door, and proceeded to take paint and splash it across all the walls of the house, followed by opening all the gates to release our stock into the wilds around our farm. Out went chickens and pigs and horses and cows, with my mother yelling at him, Stop! Please stop! Wait…….

Not my father. He was filled with a deep rage, and the damage was impressive. To his credit, he did not burn anything down, but he had calmed a bit after the paintfest, and we were all poured into our old truck with the possessions we could fit, ready to move to my Aunt Molly’s house in faraway Wichita, Kansas.

The smoke of the sheriff’s car could be seen in the distance, and we started to slowly drive off, letting the sheriff see we were going. My mother just sat, looking back and crying softly, saying, ‘Why’d you have to go crazy, Thomas? You just made work for some poor woman who’s gonna live here, just like we lived here….’

My father didn’t respond, but something strange happened. Instead of the sheriff going to the house, he stopped us as we rolled slowly down the dusty road.

‘Hey, Martha……’ the sheriff was waving for us to listen. My father threw the shift into a higher gear and took off quickly, leaving us kids to hang on as boxes and pots and pans rocked off the now speedy truck.

‘Thomas, slow down! Thomas, wait!’ My mother was grabbing at the wheel. Even though it was technically a horrible moment, there was an element of intense humor, especially when one of our cows walked in front of our truck, forcing my father to slam on the brakes, and allowing the sheriff to pull next to us, yelling the whole time!

(Imitates sheriff) What the hell are you doin’, Tommy? You tryin to kill us all! I’m trying to get you to stop, for God’s sakes, so you see this!

(He pretends to open an envelope)

Here, you idiot! Ol lady Mitchell got together all the people in the church and they collected the money and paid off your mortgage lien! You get to stay in your house!

Now, if there was an element of humor before, it was more like an avalanche now……..the tension, which had built over the last two years of trouble, and had been flamed by my father’s ‘gifts’ to the new tenants, erupted as we laughed until we were weak!

‘Ya couldn’t wait, could ya, Thomas!’ and she would collapse again, until finally the sheriff got one of us children to explain, as my father just sat there shaking his head through it all.

Then the sheriff laughed, and I swear, we all sat there for hours laughing. Of course, I was a child then, so maybe it was just ten minutes, but the reality was, that my mother never let my father forget that day. ‘Wait, Thomas,’ she would say, while helping him clean the paint off the walls, and then she would collapse agin in giggles. 'Wait, Thomas,' became her favorite phrase, and, to his credit, my father’s anger seemed to be dissipated after that day of gifts from our friends and neighbors – and the fact that his actions took on the hallowed story effect that comes only in small towns – where a great tale starts and grows, like a cat becoming a lion or even a dragon by the time it is retold a thousand times.

(He adjusts his suit and takes a deep breath)

And that, my dear friends, is why I became a waiter. Because I have learned since then, that it has held true all my life – good things come to those who wait.

(He turns to leave, looks back)

And now, I will get you some water…..

(He exits.)

A special note to all our dear, dear friends and family who enabled us to have a home to go to when things got tough – thank you!

Janet S. Tiger 858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8