“The Monologue Sonata” – Number 2

Photo Courtesy ERIC MAGNUSON

{JEFFREY is chilling out with a buddy of his outside a bar in the cold, smoking a cigarette, drunk off his ass.  A street light illuminates him in white.  The moving sound of car traffic is heard throughout.}

JEFFREY:  Whas it all about man?  No, seriously, seriously, what the ffuu; this shit all ’bout man…ssssso sick a thdis shit man…arh ffua man.  Standing here, you’re standin’ here and I’m like, like; shouldn’t we be doing somethin’?? hahahahahaha—{inhales deeply}—hahahahahahaha…man. {puffs cig} …man…{puffs cig}

{pause.}

Been goinround in circlez man…callin all these places, goin’ on all these stupid interviews…feel like a guy who can’t get laid man…just a—you know?  {half beat} Nobody’s hirin’, nobody’s hirin’, nobody’s nobody man, you know?  Fuckwe spposed do man?  You know?  WHAT?!  You know?  Ain’t shit in those papers man…calling, calling, calling…gonna find a job, I’m gonna find a job, gonna get the job…sleepin’ on—no heat no electric no lights no phone no—I got a cat!  Yeaaaaaa I gotta cat.  She’s more fed than me man.  Yeah…she’s more fed than me…

“The Monologue Sonata” – Number 1

Photo Courtesy ERIC MAGNUSON

{stage right…BUCK, a middle-aged man seated in a beige recliner.  He leans back with one leg resting carelessly and the other planted firmly to the floor.  He wears a light blue and white checkered shirt, with long sleeves that are rolled up at each arm—tattoos…he sweats, he sips his beer…he has a withering tan.  Buck watches television stage left.  There is a white light being exuded from the t.v. screen accompanied by a low humming noise.  This is a living room; decorate it the way you want but it must come off as being “old” in it’s set appearance.}

{phone rings.}

{beat}

{phone rings.}

{beat}

{phone rings.}

{Buck answers…}

BUCK:  …Yello.  {long pause.} Why Friday, not Monday?  {beat} Uh-Huh.  {he sniffs}  Alright Alright—already don’t like this guy but—{pause.} Alright, I know, I know, you’re right Merv—I DO appreciate this; your help…{softly} I do.  {sighs} I’ll be there, pal.  What time you say? {beat} Jesus Christ. {Chuckles}  I’ll be there. I’ll be there—and you said…{he fumbles around for a pen and paper…he finds pen but can’t seem to find paper in time—he uses his hand} theeeee uh, the Wuckleberry Barn??  {beat} Where the fuck is that??—Oh!  Right down Van Buten, over by; wait, that’s that brownish black Castle looking joint we see from the—awwww hell Merv, THAT’S the Wuckleberry Barn?? Jes—alright, alright.  {sighs} I’ll be there—YEAH YEAH, no drinking, alright, let me go. {hangs up phone abruptly}

{to himself} …Pay for my gas, too…shit. {sips beer}

“RRRR!!!!” (drama) 1-2 Minutes

Photo Courtesy BRIAN J MATIS

(room is lit as COLD BLUE)

(sound of a Harley Davidson motorcycle roars by.  A distant drip from a faucet 1 second apart per drip.)

(16 seconds of dripping water sound)

(four footsteps, increasing in volume and closeness—before the fifth step, a quick shuffle of the body slowing down to turn handle of door—door bursts open, followed by RUTH’S entrance, followed by her slamming the door)

(room changes color on door slam to bright yellow – HARD)

RUTH: RRRRRRRR!!!!  (she throws her hand bag) RRRR!!! (she picks her hand bag up from the floor—takes out cellphone—makes call)  …KAY!  Kay, it’s me.  Can you, can you talk?? (beat) They won’t let me date him! (half beat) Yeah! They won’t let me go out—because they’re selfish assholes, that’s—they found out from my sister…Yeah, her big fat mouth as usual, always—I’m gonna punch her in the face when—RRRRR!!!!! I can’t! (sighs) What am I going to tell him? (beat) How am I going to explain this to him Kay?? (imitating a dumb version of herself) “I can’t date you cause your black.”  (mockingly) Is that what I should say?  (half beat) I can’t tell him that, I can’t tell him the truth; can’t tell him that my father will kill him and beat my ass cause he’s an uneducated racist—my mother goes along with it cause, I mean, God forbid she ever sticks up for me for once—(sighs) (beat) (moans) I can’t Kay…I hate them all—so alone…they can’t just let me be me, support my choices; IT’S MY LIFE!—Always criticizing me and talking shit—MYSISTERTHERAT—it’s why she gets everything because she brown noses them so bad—spoiled little twerp! (clenching fists) RRRR!!! (pause.) I don’t know what to do.

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