Monologue Mania

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Monologue Mania Day #1130 Dinner With the Devil (with Momma) by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 18, 2017

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.

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!
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 -

How to Write a Monologue in 10 Easy Lessons (Well, maybe not so easy)

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site. Wishing you much success!
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Monologue Mania Day #1130 Dinner With the Devil by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 18, 2017

Dinner With the Devil (with Momma)

a monologue by

by Janet S. Tiger (c) all rights reserved (c) 2017

               (A man enters, he walks slowly, he is dressed in black, looks very much like an undertaker, probably because he is one. He is carrying flowers, which he sets next to what we imagine to be a headstone, because that's what it is. Then he removes his hat, which he holds carefully under one arm.)

Hello, Momma. How are you doing, today? (Thinks) Probably the same as just about any day, I imagine. You don't get to travel much, now do you? (Thinks) Or maybe you do, who knows? Pastor Evans says the heat don't bother dead folks like it does the living, but I got to wonder about that. If heat don't bother you folks when you're dead, what the hell is the purpose of hell? I mean, if someone is goin to hell, wouldn't heat have to be an issue?

         (Tilts his head, listens, sighs)

I know I must be crazy, but I swear I can hear you sayin, (imitates mother)'Jimmy, you just think too much, that's your biggest problem. Life is much easier if you don't think so damn much.'

        (Surprised)

I never heard you cuss before, Momma. Maybe you already know what I'm here to talk about, who knows. I like talkin to you Momma, better'n when you was alive. We don't argue quite as much this way.

Yup, I'm here to talk about that funeral. The two boys. Very sad. The whole town turned out, had to open the back doors and put up a canopy cover to keep em all from gettin the sunstroke.

Very sad. Nice folks. I don't care if their parents were not here legal, no one deserves what happened to them.

Which brings me to why I'm here. I am not exactly sure what to do, so I thought I'd get your sage advice in this matter.

The mother, that'd be Mrs. Rodriguez, she asked to be alone with her boys one last time. Of course I said, 'Take as long as you like, Mrs. Rodriguez' because I always give folks that last moment with their kin, and I left her be. When I come back about an hour later, she was gone, and I went to adjust the coffins.....

          (Hangs his head, shakes it)

Two coffins in one family, very sad, I don't think I ever had to do that before that I recall. Maybe Daddy told me about times when there was the influenza, but not like this. This was bad.
And she can't have any more children neither.

Sad.

So I notice that she must've touched the boys a bit - that's not unusual, you remember. The family ususally wants one last touch......

And I didn't think nothin of it until I went to move the coffins to the parlor for the viewin, and when I lifted the coffin to adjust it, I heard somethin shift. I went to look, because sometimes people put in somethin extra, a book, a Bible usually, a toy when it's children like that......I just wanted to see what it was, and make sure it was secure, so it wouldn't roll around when we lifted the coffins. No one likes to hear noises from inside those things, do they?

              (He walks around the headstone)

So I looked, and in the younger boy's coffin was a Bible, just like I thought. And I made sure it would not move around.

Bibles are good things for the other side I imagine, that's why we put one in with you, Momma. I wonder if you read it, or if you don't have to......whether you know all the things in it, without knowin why........

              (He shakes himself off)

Okay, Momma, I'll get to it.

So I check out the older boy, Jose, his name was. Nice kid, very polite. English was good too.

   (He takes a deep breath, illustrates by taking his hand and reaching, pulling out his arm and looking in horror.)

And I find a gun. And I know right away what that gun was used for......to kill the man who drunk drove his truck into those two boys. You see, the police never found that gun, and that was a big thing but I now knew where it was.

And I also knew Jorge didn't do it, he just ain't that kinda man. But his wife, now, she's a steely one, you woulda liked her, Momma.

          (Listens)

Okay, okay, I'm gettin there. Pastor Evans tells us we all gonna be eatin dinner with the devil if we do bad things, but I dunno, how bad could dinner be after I been eatin' Amaleen's godawful cookin for, is it 36 years?, I think mebbe a dinner with the devil might be tastier.

          (Sighs)

Did I do somethin wrong?   Yeah, I know it was illegal to keep back that evidence, but, I ....I just couldn't do it. Why not you ask? I am not totally sure. How much punishment does one person need? Wasn't losing their only two children enough? I know only Jesus can be the judge, and I shoulda told about that gun, and all right, yes, I guess, momma, you always could figure these things out, (getting loud) yes, I know it was wrong!

(He is very affected by this, and shakes his whole body as if there was rain on him.)

Whew......I suppose that's why I keep on comin out here to talk with you, Momma, you always was good at figurin things out........Guess it's time to head back. Everyone sends their love. I'll bring the grandkids out next year, when they're a bit older.    Sleep tight, Momma, (laughs) don't let the bedbugs bite!

        (He turns to leave, stops, looks back)

I guess there was one thing I forgot to ask you.......if I'm so wrong.......why don't I feel guilty?

       (He stares at the headstone, then puts his hat back on and walks slowly off. As he leaves, a woman is seen now, watching him walk off, then going to the 'headstone'. She leans over, shakes her head)

MOMMA - You bought flowers. You paid for flowers for me. (Amazed) You could take some of the flowers outta the ones for the other folk, put a couple here on my grave, make it look like somebody cares, I mean who would notice a few missin' flowers? But no, you just too honest, boy. Won't take a flower, won't remove the watches, or the money they put in.....you didn't learn nothin' from your Daddy, didja? How many times did you hear him tell ya, where they're goin', no need for a gold watch, or fifty dollars. No need for the Bibles either, but who the hell needs another Bible in this town? You throw a stone you hit a Bible! Must be more Bibles than people in River Bend!

(She picks up a 'stone' and tries to throw it. Shakes her head again)

Nothin', can't pick up nothin' when you're dead. But I can hear, and I can see, and it's funny in a way, how you can see it all from this side of the grave. How my boy, even though he had nothin' to do with any of this, ceptin he buried the dead, well, he's gonna be part of it. Because he does a good job. Didn't want anything rattlin' around in the coffin.....the dead gotta be good and quiet.....

(She turns to leave, stops and looks back)

Or maybe just....quiet.....the good we'll leave to Jesus to sort out....won't we?

(She leaves laughing at her own joke. Lights down)

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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

JanetSTigerMonologueMania.blogspot.com

www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com

Member Dramatists Guild since 1983

Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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Friday, March 17, 2017

Monologue Mania Day #1129 Two for St. Patrick's Day by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 17, 2017

Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free* monologue a day- -and still going!

If you'd like to write your own monologues, I happen to have a book for that -

How to Write a Monologue in 10 Easy Lessons (Well, maybe not so easy)

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site. Wishing you much success!
- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #1129 Two for St. Patrick's Day by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 17, 2017

for DJ, Trish, Shirley - and all my Irish friends- too many to list! -Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Have two monologues about St. Patrick's Day -
the first - Leprechaun Stew first posted Day # 398 March 17, 2015
the second is The Great Corned Beef Hunt -first posted Mar. 17, 2014 Day #33

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                                          Leprechaun Stew
                     (for the Senior Channel)
  by Janet S. Tiger (c) 2015 all rights
                               tigerteam1@gmail.com

             (Woman enters, carrying a mixing bowl and bag of food. She has to be dressed with some green. It is a St. Patrick's Day monologue after all!)

I want to thank the Senior Channel for inviting me here on this special day.

             (She takes the bowl out and starts the preparations, which will continue throughout)

We were small the first time my mother made us Leprechaun Stew.

It was, of course, for St. Patrick's Day. And my mother was very ingenious about the whole thing.

(Irish accent) Oh, I have a fine treat for you, my dears! Wait'll you taste this!

(Back to herself) My mother had a thick accent, even though her family had come to the United States when she was ten, I think she cultivated it, and the thickness grew as she aged, until you'd a thought she had just stepped off the boat.

I first met my mother when she was 28 years old, that's when I was born you see, and she already had four children before me. One, Patrick, had died at birth. The rest of us were fine. But my mother looked like a mother. It was only when I had my own children and looked back that I realized how young she was then. But when I was four, and she was 32, she was a mother, old and wise. And about to make Leprechaun Stew!

Times were not so easy that year. My father was in the Navy, and only came home once in awhile to father that year's newest Fitzgerald. The money he sent never lasted the whole month, so the final days required extra care on my mother's part. And God forbid if there was an extra expense, like Kevin's broken arm or a pair of lost shoes, the difficult end of the month would start in the middle.

That February had been cold, needing more heating oil, so March dawned warmer, but with less green for those of us wearing the green. But what was going to happen for St. Patrick's Day? Everyone had to have fun that day!

So, that year, on March 16th, my mother was desperate, and she went to Greenberg's grocery right before they closed, and she offered her services to him........

         (She looks around, seemingly shocked)

Not those kinds of services!   She offered to weed out all the bad food and vegetables for him, so the rotten ones would not spoil the rest overnight. Mrs. Greenberg used to do this, but she had gotten very sick, which my mother knew because she and Mr. Greenberg had bonded over produce, both being aficionados of what was good and bad.

Of course, my mother had an ulterior motive - she got to throw out the bad produce....to save Mr. Greenberg the trouble..... of course.

So we got the discards. Which we watched my mother prune and chop and grind and make into a new dish that she told us was extra special for St. Paddy's day - Leprechaun Stew.

She told us there were many secrets to this dish, including having to start it cooking at exactly nine o'clock, and the leprechaun had to be fresh caught, and put in at precisely midnight.

'A real leprechaun?' We were impressed. How could our ancient mother capture such a creature, let alone kill and cook it? And would we want to eat it?

(Irish, as mother) Oh, when you capture the leprechaun, you don't have to kill it.....in exchange for his life, he'll give me something special to put into the stew, you'll see!

And so our leprechaun stew was born. We all tried to stay up to wait for mom's return, talk to the leprechaun and maybe trick him out of the pot of gold. But midnight was a lifetime away, and we all slept through the event.

The next day, a delicious aroma filled the air - the leprechaun stew was ready! There was something meaty in the stew, what kind of meat we could not determine, but the flavor was incredible. What had the leprechaun traded for his life, we begged.

(As mother) I can never tell - it's a secret, and if I was so foolish as to tell, I could never have the leprechaun's help again, so it is not worth it, it is!

(Back to herself) And so the secret ingredient remained so.....guarded by my mother's honor for many years. The leprechaun stew reappeared whenever times were really tough, always delicious, always there in the nick of time.

As I got older, I noticed a bag that was in the stew, and I asked my mother. She would grab this bag and hide it, but we all knew that the secret was in the bag.

Funny how years pass, and we barely notice until something happens that stands out. My father's death, even though halfway round the world, is one of those events. While he sent money every month, he had kept a portion for his drinking, and so it turned out that the widow's military stipend was - although less than his salary had been - actually more than my mother got from him every month.

His death meant we did better. Strange. And another twist of fate took Mr. Goldberg's wife that same year. I was twelve and my mother was, oh, so, old at 36! With seven children, it was not easy. And yet, due to their common love for fruits and vegetables, my mother and Mr. Goldberg started what was known in those days as.....a friendship.

Our lot improved greatly. Mr. Goldberg sold his grocery, and we all moved to Los Angeles with him, where we started new, including a new restaurant, with New York deli that all the transplanted Easterners just loved.

The first St. Patrick's Day out here was strange, and we asked my mother to make Leprechaun stew.    she didn't want to - she said there was no need, we had plenty of corned beef, all we could eat, and cabbage and (mother's accent) Why in God's name do we need to eat some stew? We can go out to eat! Have a treat!

(Back to herself) So we went to a place that wouldn't charge us - my stepfather's restaurant. Goldberg's New York Delights.....with the D-E-L-I in delights flashing neon that could be seen all over the Valley.

          (Shakes her head remembering)

That was soooo interesting when I started dating.....

Anyhow, so we come in, and on the board telling the day's specials, is a big sign......
'For St. Patrick's Day - Goldberg's New York Delights is proud to offer....COLLEEN'S AUTHENTIC LEPRECHAUN STEW.

My mother started crying, and that was a meal I will never forget. You see, I was old enough to know, for certain, there were no leprechauns anywhere near the stew, but I was curious, so, I snuck into the kitchen......

   (She looks around, will anyone catch her, she opens up the lid of a pot, is surprised)

Pops.....that's we called Mr. Goldberg.......Pops caught me and laughed.

          (She lifts something from the pot)

He pulled a bag out of the pot.........the secret.......pickling spices! And the meat from the original stew was all the trimmings from that very day my mother went back......Mr. Goldberg knew times were tough and my mother was proud, so he had given her pickling spices and the trimmed meat for that day.....and a job at his grocery.

And that is what has led me, Colleen Fitzgerald to become the head chef of Goldberg's New York Deli......as soon as I could, we dropped the 'ghts'

So I hope that, along with all our patrons, you folks on the Senior Channel can enjoy some Leprechaun Stew today - and any day you want to have a taste of something delicious.

The full recipe is online and right here onscreen -

(She points up)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

          (She turns to leave, stops, looks back)

And don't worry, no leprechauns were harmed in the making of this stew!

          (She exits to have a great St. Paddy's Day. Hope everyone reading does, too!)

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first seen on Mar. 17, 2014 Day #33

     The Great Corned Beef Hunt
                      by Janet S. Tiger (c) 2014 all rights
                                tigerteam1@gmail.com

(A young man comes out onstage. He is wearing something - or everything - green. And he has a big smile on his face.)

(Thick Irish accent) Top o the mornin' to you all!

(Regular Boston accent) And that's about it for my Irish accent!

But I am Irish...through and through, and today is St. Patrick's Day - the grandest holiday of the year!

At least that's what my Uncle Joe used to say, and my mother would tell him to be quiet, that Easter was the most important, because that was the day Jesus returned, but Uncle Joe would argue with her - the sign of truly brave man, or one who had already put in a few pints! -

(imitates a thick Irish accent) But Molly, I didn't tell ye that Easter was grandest, you can surely have Easter as the most important, no doubt, but when it comes to   , there is no other choice except it be St. Patrick's Day!

(Himself again) And then he would recount why Christmas was really for the children, Ash Wednesday for the Pious and Fat Tuesday for the gluttons! But for the drinking man - and my Uncle Joe was that - there was no grander day than 'the wearin' of the green'

But my Uncle Joe felt that children should not be drinking, and they needed to enjoy the day, too, so that was the reason to involve the children in finding- as he put it- 'the finest tastin' corned beef in the town' to eat on St. Patrick's Day - along with cabbage and potatoes, of course.

So, starting about a week before the big day, Uncle Joe would take me and my brothers and sisters on what would become some of the grandest days of our lives! First, we would take the bus or subway to the finer neighborhoods in Boston, and he would herd us in, like Irish cattle of some variety into these - hi-falutin'! - places,..and we would come to the grocery sections, and there would be meat in packages, not hanging from the ceiling as in our neighborhood! - and the butchers had no dirty aprons, and everything smelled clean.....

We would have to be on our very best behavior, as Uncle Joe would peruse these plastic-wrapped corned beef specimens and analyze each one with a perfect eye, honed from years of practice choosing...corned beef.

It had to have just the right amount of fat, marbled in JUST the right way - so that when cooked, the fat would....suffuse was the word he used - suffuse into the meat, and the taste would be exquisite.

Amazingly enough, the meat in the fancy places never seemed to please Uncle Joe - it was always too fatty, or not quite fatty enough. Never once did he mention what I now suspect was the real reason for him never buying at a 'rich man's' butcher; their meat was too expensive!

So we would leave the 'fancy pants places' and visit less ornate stores in the areas I now know are called middle-class. These establishments would be on nicer streets, and the butcher shops would have a mix of choices- but still, nothing good enough for Uncle Joe's discerning eye!

He would buy us all something to eat as we journeyed through the Boston of the 1940s, a post-war extravaganza of amazing excess and excitement. Sometimes it was 'that Italian food' pizza - most often, hot dogs, still the leader back then.....before Macdonald's made us all burger crazy!

And thus, by the end of the day, we would be tired, dirty as children get, and ready to go home....but there would be no corned beef!

Surprisingly enough, we would end up at our local butcher shop, McGinnty's- who- surprise again!- was also one of Uncle Joe's favorite drinking buddies!

By this time, Uncle Joe was saddened by the lack of fine corned beef, and would complain to McGinnty bitterly about the problem, which was about to result in a - shocking!- corned beef-less St. Patrick's Day!

Suddenly, McGinnty would remember that he had just gotten in a new shipment - his last from some special place that had an amazing year for corned beef! As a child I remembered believing that corned beef grew better in some places, like a crop of better apples....and we would all be ushered into the meat locker where this incredible corned beef was being stored, never having been seen by human eyes other than McGinnty's or....now...us!

It was a solemn event, McGinnty would open the boxes slowly and show us the meat.....running his thick fingers along the fat lines.

Uncle Joe would look, and his eyes would widen in appreciation.....(Irish accent) 'And that, my dear family, is what good corned beef is supposed to look like, - we'll take it!'

McGinnty would look surprised, (as McGinnty, sounds almost the same as Uncle Joe) 'But Joe my dear friend, I haven't even told you the price!'

(As Joe) 'That's all right, my friend, I trust you to be fair.......wrap it up!

(Back to himself) And we would cheer as if the Red Sox had won the World Series - the elusive corned beef had been found!

And it was - every year - dubbed the most delicious corned beef EVER in the history of the world!

            (He sighs, remembering.)

I was much older before I realized that the corned beef hunts were elaborately designed adventures - that Uncle Joe and McGinnty had the corned beef ready for us, that it had been paid for and the purpose of those marvelous days was never really that much about corned beef at all.

Oh, yes, it was supposed to be the reason, but it also meant that once a year we would get to look at things we never got to see. (Remembering) Clothing that was priced higher than a month's wages, objects we marveled at- washing machines, refrigerators....all manner of kitchen gadgets...people who were dressed well, and cars and houses that looked nice on the outside, not just on the inside.

And, combined with the exposure to other worlds, was the discovery that all these amazing places .......did not have anything better than what we could get in our very own backyard.

(Thoughtful) These were lessons in life that I think about now.

(Laughs) And, until I became a parent, I never realized that the Corned Beef Hunt day gave my mother and father a much needed vacation!

            (He now lifts his hand - with a fork in it- and is there something on the fork?)

So, today, on this special day, at age 78, I no longer can drink more than coffee, and only one cup of that! - but I can still lift a bite of corned beef to make a toast in honor of my Uncle Joe – may he rest in peace!.....to this bar, where he spent so many happy hours, and to everyone - on St. Patrick's Day, the whole world can be Irish!

             (He turns to leave, looks back at the audience.)

Pretty good for a man in his 70s!

             (Looks surprised)

Think I look very young for my age? This is me on the inside - on St. Patrick's Day - everyone is young!

            (He walks off, whistling 'Wearing of the Green')

            The end- have a delicious day!
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For those who are wondering about something brand new these last two days - just did some big re-writes on Caregivers Anonymous - will have the monologues from them posted soon!

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Janet S. Tiger 858-736-6315 CaregiversAnon.org

JanetSTigerMonologueMania.blogspot.com

www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com

Member Dramatists Guild since 1983

Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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Thursday, March 16, 2017

Monologue Mania Day #1128 You Don't Understand! (30-second version) by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 16, 2017

Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free* monologue a day- -and still going!

If you'd like to write your own monologues, I happen to have a book for that -

How to Write a Monologue in 10 Easy Lessons (Well, maybe not so easy)

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site. Wishing you much success!
- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #1128 You Don't Understand! by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 16, 2017

Just got some nice news - one of my plays is a winner in the 4th Annual CJC 5 Minute Play Festival (third win in four years!) More info when it gets closer to the May 22nd performance.

You Don't Understand! (30-second version)

a monologue by

(A teenage girl comes onstage, she is very angry and has a brush in one hand.)

I told my mom, “You don’t understand!” and she just laughed at me. I told her, “I wish I had the hair I had when I was 12!” and she just laughed again and said, “So do I.”

It is not fair! My hair used to be the envy of the locker room – even my older brother, who is completely oblivious about everything, noticed how good it looked!

So what happened? I cannot stand to look at myself in the mirror anymore! I used to just wash my hair and dry it, and it was perfect. Now…..(holds up some strands, in anguish) Ughhhhh!

We had so much fun together, my hair and me – washing, curling, streaking…..and now….it looks like poo ….mixed with straw!….I have tried EVERY shampoo on the market! They all claim to make your hair….(says it like in an ad) soft…shiny …. manageable (back to herself) BUT THEY ALL LIE! (Gets control of herself)….my Mom told me it was hormones, and I just had to wait and everything would be ok. But that’s what she says about everything!

She just doesn’t understand what it’s like….(very loud) to get old!

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Below is the original version- first posted  Day# 335  Jan. 13, 2015
              This is from an idea for a one-act Trich or Treat, started in 2010. See Day # 12

             You Don't Understand!

tigerteam1@gmail.com

(A teenage girl comes onstage, she is very angry and has a brush in one hand.)

I told my mom, “You don’t understand!” and she just laughed at me. I told her, “I wish I had the hair I had when I was 12!” and she just laughed again and said, “So do I.”

It is not fair! My hair used to be the envy of the locker room – even my older brother, who is completely oblivious about everything, noticed how good it looked!

So what happened? I cannot stand to look at myself in the mirror anymore! I used to just wash my hair and dry it, and it was perfect. Now…..(holds up some strands, in anguish) Ughhhhh!

(Quieter) That’s why I’ve started pulling out my hair. I figure it’s better than cutting myself. I tried that when I was younger but people notice bandaids, and something got infected….and my Mom made me go to a head doctor….(she shrugs) But pulling out my hair, nobody pays any attention.

I can even do it in public…..(demonstrates) See? You didn’t even notice…..(Sighs) I went online and there are lots of us doing this. It’s called trichotilomania…..and I’m on this blog and ….nobody notices until you get bald patches. And then you have to get meds and see a shrink…..I am not crazy about that, so maybe I’ll stop before I go bald.

(Hard for her) It’s just that my best friend moved away and I have to go to summer school to catch up in math and my hair used to be my favorite thing! We had so much fun together, my hair and me – washing, curling, streaking…..and now….it looks like poo ….mixed with straw!….I have tried EVERY shampoo on the market! They all claim to make your hair….(says it like in an ad) soft…shiny …. manageable (back to herself) BUT THEY ALL LIE! (Gets control of herself)….my Mom told me it was hormones, and I just had to wait and everything would be ok. But that’s what she says about everything!

She just doesn’t understand what it’s like….(very loud) to get old!

(She storms off, the end.)

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Janet S. Tiger 858-736-6315 CaregiversAnon.org

JanetSTigerMonologueMania.blogspot.com

www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com

Member Dramatists Guild since 1983

Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Monologue Mania Day #1127 Future Games by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 15, 2017

Welcome to Monologue Mania- one new free* monologue a day- -and still going!

If you'd like to write your own monologues, I happen to have a book for that -

How to Write a Monologue in 10 Easy Lessons (Well, maybe not so easy)

Thank you for your comments - and for liking and sharing this site. Wishing you much success!
- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monologue Mania Day #1127 Future Games by Janet S. Tiger (c) Mar. 15, 2017

Future Games

a monologue by

by Janet S. Tiger (c) all rights reserved (c) 2017

(Announcer enters with bullhorn - or microphone - or earpiece - whatever look is desired that will represent the future combined with the past)

Hello all!

Welcome to the game of the year....no, make that the game of the decade.....okay, even bigger....the game of.... the century!

(Listens)

The game of the century was last week, ok, how's this?.....the game of.....all time!

(Smiles and waves)

I just love to hear those cheers! And why not! Put on those helmets and set the dials - you are in for a treat! Pick your team, and you will get to see the game from the point of view of YOUR TEAM! That's right, YOUR TEAM will have better players, better coaching, even better uniforms, the referees will favor YOUR TEAM....and although the computers have designed the one hour on the field with some amazing close calls, be assured, no matter what......YOUR TEAM WILL WIN!

The ups and downs of a real game, the close calls, the anger at the ref for the wrong call, the amazing goal, the catches, the injuries - all ending in a last minute surprise success for YOUR TEAM! No matter what team you cheer for - YOUR TEAM WILL WIN!

And afterwards, when the game is over, a tiny spray of medically safe valium will insure that, when you leave, you and the opposing teams' fans will all be friendly, because you all believe you all won!
(Sounds like carnival barker) Everyone a winner! No losers! No problems!

(Turns to leave, stops, looks back)

Welcome to the future!

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Janet S. Tiger 858-736-6315 CaregiversAnon.org

JanetSTigerMonologueMania.blogspot.com

www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com

Member Dramatists Guild since 1983

Playwright-in-Residence

Swedenborg Hall 2006-8

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