Scattered Showers

French styled cafe in the big city. Day. Two woman, polar opposites (one is hyper business, the other hyper chill) but are always their for one another.

Sandra: I can’t seem to keep it together, lately. I’ve never experienced this before. I have to push my brain forward. Does that make sense? I have to literally push my brain through a bitter fog of anger.
Tanya: Jesus.
Sandra: I think it’s a combination of stress and being overwhelmed, so many things scattered around my mind.
Tanya: God.
Sandra: I have to fight for one thought to actually come through and make sense.
Tanya: Mary, Joseph and—
Sandra: Enough with the religious names. I’m serious about this.
Tanya: I’m serious, too. Okay, well, oh, maybe less coffee?
Sandra: Why do I even bother telling you any of this?
Tanya: I’m here for you. You make me nervous.
Sandra: I don’t want to make you nervous. I just want you to be there for me.
Tanya: I’m there, I mean I’m here. I’m here.
Sandra: I can’t talk to Dan about it cause his head is always up his ass with his own selfish problems and my mother is a raging lunatic and the tiniest, ittiest, weeniest little itty bittiest thing I say to her that has any inclination that my life has one problem in it, the entire house comes down. My dad, is like talking to a dead man dug up from the ground. My—
Tanya: I get it, I get it, I get it.
Sandra: Right…sorry.
Tanya: It’s okay. You are blowing off steam. How’s work?
Sandra: Work is a joke. Not a joke, you know, torture but it’s still a joke. See? I don’t even make any sense anymore.
Tanya: Maybe you need a holiday?
Sandra: Tanya, I can’t take a holiday. I could but I can’t, you know?
Tanya: …Wow, I guess your shit out of luck then, huh?
Sandra: That’s all you got for me?
Tanya: I’m just saying, I’m not really sure what to tell you.
Sandra: Thanks.
Tanya: Well, if I were in your shoes, I guess, I wouldn’t really give a shit anymore.
Sandra: I have to give a shit about everything.
Tanya: There in lives the problem.
Sandra: Aaaaaaannnnd?
Tanya: Care less.
Sandra: If I care less, I don’t know what will happen.
Tanya: What will happen?
Sandra: I just said, I don’t know.
Tanya: Exactly.
Sandra: Exactly, what?
Tanya: It’s the fear of not knowing that’s crippling you.
Sandra: Jesus. God. You’re right.
Tanya: No religious names.
Sandra: Right. But you’re right! It’s fear of the black abyss. It’s the not knowing what will happen if I don’t give a damn…what will happen?
Tanya: Nothing.
Sandra: Something needs to happen.
Tanya: I think things will go on as usual.
Sandra: What if I become lazy?
Tanya: Negative. You won’t. You see, things will alter but not become tragic devastation. There won’t be heads rolling in the streets.
Sandra: Ew. I get your point. I’m being too hard on myself and I need to lighten up, huh?
Tanya: Just a tad. Do more fun things. Find activities and other interests other than work and Dan and family and all of it. Just do you.
Sandra: Do me? Wow, I never did me before.
Tanya: There you go. Do you like you’ve never done you before.
Sandra: Damn. Sounds hot.
Tanya: It is hot because your hot. You’re a hot bitch.
Sandra: I am a hot bitch, aren’t I?
Tanya: Steaming hot.
Sandra: You’re right. I’m going to be fifteen minutes late going back to work after this. Hell, make it twenty!
Tanya: Do thirty! Screw it!
Sandra: Screw it!  (chanting) Thirty!  Thirty! Thirty!
Tanya: Throw caution to the wind you hot pepper!
Sandra: I am volcanic acid! Don’t come too close.
Tanya: Tsssssss!
Sandra: Watch me burn!  (beat) Oh shit, wait!!
Tanya: What?
Sandra: There’s a meeting!
Tanya: What meeting?
Sandra: Oh my God!
Tanya: When?
Sandra: Five minutes. I just remembered. We were supposed to take lunch indoors today. Oh shit balls! I have to bounce on you. Like now! Just cover this and I’ll get you tomorrow or this week or something. Okay? I have to run. I can’t be late!
Tanya: I got this. Don’t worry. Go!
Sandra: Okay, thanks. So sorry to bail!  See you later.
Tanya: Remember what we talked about!
Sandra: Yes, after my meeting I will be the hottest bitch in town!!!

Joseph Arnone


Monologue Blogger ePlays