Shakes-fear

Isaiah:

Now is the winter of my discontent.
For rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
I Please Get a Job and I am forsaken.
Grim-visaged directors hath handed down
their instructions. And now, instead of merely
hiring me much to the dismay of my less
talented adversaries, they demand two
contrasting Shakespearean monologues!
But I, am not prepared for such tricks
Nor made to court an amorous kleenex,
I, that am distressed and want to get cast,
To run around my apartment in victory
am made to scramble like an ambling nymph
I, that am cheated of success by mediocre selections past,
desperate, overwhelmed, called back before my time
Into this expecting world, should I make something up?
And therefore, since I cannot prove a Shakespearean Actor
to entertain these fair well spoken casting agents,
I am determined to prove an improviser,
and hate these theater bigwig gents.
Dive thoughts, down to my soul; here
my roommate comes.

Season Three: Advanced Annoyance

Jake


I hate technology. It never gives you what you want. I don't understand why we need to make progress in our lifestyle when that lifestyle does not include a flying car. Instead of thinking big, we keep thinking smaller. "Oh, look, now we have a computer that can fit into a manila envelope" "Oh, check this out bro, my phone is smaller than my wallet" "Wow, I can't believe it, I lost my bluetooth in my left ear!" I mean, seriously people. We are living in a time that was once written by famous authors as this mysterious future. But there is no mystery. There is just annoyance. We used to envision this time as a time of space travel, and jet packs, and conveyor belts in every home; now, we just have personal music devices that get lost in our butt cracks. And robots! Where are the robots? I tell you where: right in front of a mirror. I walked down a college campus the other day and saw no interaction between students. They all ignored each other as they talked on their phones, the minuscule keys being pounded by their whale like fingers by comparison. If I could, I would throw every single piece of these advanced accessories out of the window and start thinking big! Let's get the houses a hundred feet off the ground and put some mysterious fog around it. Let's take our college bound kids and program them to serve us willingly. Let's put explosives in our footwear so we can fly. Let's start thinking bigger before our brains get smaller.

Season Three: Us Vs. Phones

Anna Marie


I've thought about it, and I've come to the conclusion that the problem really, is you. You sit there, glorified in your shiny black case, and you think you're just too cool for school. And you may be right. You have moving 3D objects as wallpaper. My last phone only had one kind of background, and it looked like an IBM screensaver from 1994. You don't even have any buttons, it's all touch screen, and half the time I'm touching the wrong thing...I've accidentally called my landlord more times than I care to admit. And he's not a sexy landlord, like in those porno's where the girl is all "Oh, thanks for coming over to fix my heater, it's in the bedroom", no, he's a very unsexy landlord, we call him landlard behind his back if that's any kind of a hint. But what do you care? You're a sleek, modern phone that everyone has and hates. But we don't dare complain about it because we were blinded by your shiny black exterior at the store. We were drawn in by the ads that made us feel inferior. "Here we are, attractive thin people having so much fun! You can be just like us, if, and only if, you get this attractive, thin phone!" I bought the lie. I bought the phone. I exchanged numbers with a guy who also had an attractive thin phone. Was that phone not up to your standards? Don't you realize that I am not as picky? He was a guy! He was there! I'm pretty sure he was real. He seemed like a very nice man, so I refuse to believe that he didn't respond to my cute and flirty text. I am blaming you, you sleek piece of shit.

Season Three: Liz's Monologue

(Lights rise to reveal Liz, sitting in a chair with a spotlight on her. She indignantly looks up)


Liz


I'm pretty sure it was asking for it. It was just standing there, white and smug looking. And in these days, it's given me nothing. No acceptance letters to community college, no unemployment checks, not even a nice, random card in the mail from my senile grandmother who used to think every week was my birthday! Man, those were some sweet times....no, all I get from that self righteous piece of crap is credit card offers. It KNOWS I can't even afford to get a new credit card, I know it knows, because it keeps sending me statements from my recent credit cards. I don't even use them anymore, but I still have to pay them off. I forgot what I even purchased on my old American Express, but they sure as heck didn't! And you know what was even worse? The anticipation. The hope. The optimistic, delusional feeling that THIS day might be it. You might get something good in the mail. It's so pathetic, how you walk out of your house with all the grace of Charlie Brown. You dance back and forth between clarity and ambiguity with each step you take. Something's there. Nothing's coming. Something is going to be there. It was never there. It's maddening because no matter what, it's still a mailbox. It's still fulfilling it's purpose in life. It's still doing better than you! So yeah, I ran over that piece of shit with my car! I felt good about it! I don't care if you think I was going too fast or if I was over the (overly dramatic finger quotes) "legal limit", I took one for the team here! And there is no "mail" in team!

Season Three: Cookie Monster

Amy


Okay, can we just cut the crap here for one second, you backstabber? I know you have them. I know what's been going on around here. You're holding out on me, aren't you? Don't even try to deny it. The truth is in your pudgy little irises. I can see it. I can see it all. I've lived in this hicks-ville of a town for twenty five years, okay? I knew what you were going to wear before you got up this morning. I've seen your face behind the rows of merchandise almost all my life. I just saw you giving them away to kids, okay? KIDS. What kind of sick freak are you? They're innocent little tykes with no clue how it's going to go down. They just think they'll always get it whatever they want. Until one day, they'll be grown, like me, and have too much shame to ask for it. Well, fuck that! I've had a really hard day, and I WANT A FREE COOKIE!!
It's not fair! I know you have free samples out there, and it's not fair! I know that as time goes on, we are denied certain things. I accepted the tragedy that was the McDonald's Happy Meal Toy. I'm still trying to accept that my metabolism is now the speed of a slightly retarded turtle. But I'm looking around this store and I cannot, CANNOT accept the substitutes for free cookies. I mean, what do you have here? Slices of bread. BREAD. WHO THE FUCK WANTS A FREE SAMPLE OF BREAD, HUH? I'll tell you who: No one. That's why there's always a ton of it out there. Or those stale corn chips and salmon dip you try to pass off as fresh! And don't even get me started on those old ladies trying to sell me tiny cups of clam chowder. I've never even heard of clam chowder acting as a comfort food. No.
I want a cookie, and I want it from you. With a big smile. I even want the condescending voice, "Do you want a free sample today?" Yes. The longer you live life, the more you need a jolly baker handing you a cookie. And when it's just one and it's free, it's like someone picking you up after you've been kicked down by a world that is filled with sugar free, lactose intolerant bastards. C is for cookie, and that's fucking good enough for me!

Season Three: Ari's Monologue

Ari is practicing in front of a mirror, wearing a veil.


Ari

All right, here we go. Here we go, here we go, here we go.

I, Ariana, take you, Steve, to be my lawfully wedded husband. Even though I think that it should be more than just lawful. What about moral or ethical? And what does it really mean to be lawfully wedded? It just means not against the law. And really, what does that mean? That gay people can't do this? I don't want our love to be purely exclusive. I mean, I do, but not in that sense. I want our marriage to be something that everyone can celebrate, and as an artist, I'm going to have a lot of gay friends in the audience. I don't want to rub that in their faces, some of them are coming from out of state, where they can't wed, into another state where they can't wed. Oh god, I'm a terrible person, I can't say this in my vows! Okay, we'll just skip that part. I, Ariana, take you, Steve, to be my husband. Okay wait. My husband? I'm going to take him to be my husband. No one else. Just mine. So that's supposed to mean what, exactly? That we don't condone polygamy? Well that's not going to work, some of our best friends are coming in from Idaho and Utah! They all watch "Big Love" and I can't have them thinking that I don't approve of their lifestyle when I'm up at the altar! The altar is like their mothership to them, it'll be like I'm spitting on their mothership. How can I be so insensitive? I'm just going to have to skip that part too. I can't worry about hurling chunks of my phlegm onto their mothership during my wedding!

Maybe I'll just pantomime my vows instead.

Season Three: Marci's Monologue

Marci


I don't know where these are coming from, but someone needs to put them back. This is a new millennium, women can be executives, sports casters, and can run for president, for God's sake! But there are some things that should not be equal. There are some things that women should not partake in, and that my friends, is the naming of our private parts. It's just a vagina! It's something that should just have an "insert here" label. It's not something to fuss over or create stupid little nicknames that don't make any sense! Who wants to refer their private parts as a Va Jay Jay or Woo Ha or Muff? Or a Peep, Poop A Loo or Pussycat? Who are these people, and when did they think that these names could work? It's ridiculous! Let men name their situations, it's embarrassing enough when they do it. I guess when it's just dangling in front of you all day you feel compelled to name it, but we're women. All of our sex organs are tucked up neatly inside. We don't just let it all hang out. We're different than our male counterparts for a reason. There are some things we can share. Love of sports, beer, certain kinds of music, but this, this is where it ends. There is just no good word for what we've got going on down there. There never will be. But can't we all just agree to not continue the search for ridiculous words for our private areas? Could we not use nicknames during foreplay? Just shut up and do me! God!

Season Three: Mandie's Monologue

Mandie

Hello. Thank you for meeting with me, I know you are probably busy right now, watching everyone with their new bags, fresh notebooks and pencil sharpeners...(sighs) so I'll be brief. I want you to take me back. Please. Pretty please? Look, I'm begging you here. I'm not ready for the real world. You can't show up wearing pajamas, you can't skip because you're still drunk from last night's kegger, and no one gives you a syllabus! Besides, you lured me here under false pretenses: Your school's motto is and I quote: "From Here, You Can Go Anywhere". Well, you can't go ANYWHERE with a four year degree in Theater! You know where you can go? The unemployment office, or a cardboard box. So you need to take me back and give me something I can use. I hear that Accounting is productive to modern society. Personally, I'd rather swallow my leather bound cover than major in it, but I'm desperate. Or Speech Therapy, I hear that's a popular major. So I'll take that one, and Accounting, and...pre-law, just because that one seems like it'll take a long time. Basically, I'd like to stay here for another ten, twelve years tops, until either the economy improves or I regain my self esteem, whichever comes first. So let's get going here! You've got all those fancy file cabinets behind you, which I'm sure I PAID FOR by the way, pull out my old application, I've got some white out in my bag, it's no problem! I'll drag my cardboard box over to the freshmen dorms and just wait for one of them to crack, you won't even notice me. Look, I have to come back, I long to smell the dirty laundry, I need to gorge on the overpriced and greasy food, and I have to lounge outside the library that I'll never go into! I want to zone out in front of a teacher rather than my own television. I want to suck at beer pong again! I know where I want to go after college. College! From Here I Can Go To Here! I'm ready! Enroll me now! School is in my possession!

Varuka's Tale

Veruca Salt

Tell my story for me, won't you? They'll get it all wrong, I'm sure. Tell them all what happens afterwards; when we burn and turn into ashes just like a wrongly accused witch. Tell them of the injustice of it all. I really don't think it was my fault, but I'm not smart enough to say what really happened. I just tried now and all it got me was incinerated. Was it all me? Tell me. And then tell them, I promise he will listen, at least. I don't know about the others. They may know already.

I mean, why is everyone staring at ME, like it's my fault? Did I do this to myself, truly? Well, okay, yes, I chose where to stand, I made my intentions loud and clear, and I awaited judgment. But what about him? What about my creator? He's the one that made me like this. He's the one who pampered and spoiled me like an overfed cat. He petted me and fed me and gave me toys that I never used. How else was this to end? You know exactly who is to blame.

Them.


Tell them.

Before the smokes clears.

Season Three: Jessica's Monologue

Jessica, a beautiful young woman, is about to give the audition of her life:


Hello my name is Jessica Rice and I will be doing a piece from Rose Kinne's "Desire". I am showing no fear and in fact have greeted you almost sheepishly, like a person who is already precast but wants to do the formality thing for practice.

(She takes a deep breath)

Nope, I am not focused. I don't know where to look; should it be slightly above you or off to the side? Let's go with off to the side, nope, bad idea, bad idea, I just looked right at you anyway, and now I can't look away. My first line will not work for eye contact. "You fucked me hard that night". Did I just say that? Yes, yes I did, I hope you don't think that I want to be fucked hard. I mean, I do, but by someone who loves me, and not during this. This is degrading enough. What should I do? Just keep going, keep acting, I won't think of myself in a ballet studio...but really, this is a dream locale for an actor. I can see my entire profile in my peripheral vision. OH MY GOD! Posture! Dear lord Jessica, did you learn nothing from your professor of Basic Movement...

...What did my professor say that one day? It was really important, something about how you should never let your mind wander during your craft or something...that was the same day I was wearing my new vest, and crap! I'm about to get into the "pain" part of the monologue....shit....okay, now I'm going to lower my voice and make this moment private and special, but I must first cheat out and show my good angles...there...I think I saw you lean forward!! Oh my god oh my god I think I'm going to win you over, I will now deliver something painful again and I will tighten my abs while bringing a part of me into this character. No, this is crap, this isn't believable at all. I'm trying to hide my pain through humor, but all I can focus on is the way my abs look in the mirror. Wait, did I just hear thank you? You did. You just thanked me.

Aaaaaaannnnd we're friends again! I'll try to do something memorable that won't waste any more of your time. Should I be gracious like Kristin Chenoweith? Wave like Nixon? Whatever I do, I will not say "it", I won't say it, it will not be an impulse reaction this time, there is no way they will hear me say that kiss of death known as "Thank you".

I just said it, didn't I?

Season Three: Crystal's Monolgue

Dearest Miss Rose,

I've been catching up on your blog, and I am in love with the Spokes in the Wheel of Love piece! I'm wondering if you'd mind me using a cutting of it for an audition monologue

love,
Crystal



Dear Crystal~

I'd be honored if you would use this for an audition! Let me know what you think!

Love, Rose


"Wheels in the Spokes of Love" by Rose Kinne

Scarlett

Jeff. I think it's time we talk about the monkey wrench you keep jamming in the Spokes of Our Love. Do you know how many young adult males out there are constantly screwing up their relationships? I've been reading this book, “Spokes in the Wheel of Love"

(She starts digging through her bag, mostly filled with used tissues)

And in Chapter Three, “Rocks, Small Animals, and other Obstacles in The Bike Trail to Commitment”, if--

(and here she whips out a highly over-read and abused chapter book),

--wait, ah, “if he doesn’t call back after two weeks, then the next step is a bold declaration of his feelings, for example a surprise visit at your doorstep”. Do you know how many times I’ve been available in the past two weeks? A lot. Sometimes I come home multiple times a day. If I come home at least twice a day for the past two weeks…and there’s seven days a week… I can’t do math, so let's just say I’ve come home a lot in the last two weeks Jeff. And you haven’t been there. Once. Not once! In all of those probably more than ten times you haven’t been there once. That is not good math.

Why aren’t you outside my house right now? Why don’t you miss me? Don't you want to experience the Trail of Commitment with me here? It's not that hard Jeff! Just remove your monkey wrench from the spokes of love, avoid the road kill of uncertainty, and push on the pedals of true intimacy so we can GLIDE PEACEFULLY DOWN THE TRAIL OF COMMITMENT TOGETHER!!

(end scene)

Season 3: Dorothy's First Group

(We are in a small, brightly lit room. Chairs and patients sit in a small circle, with a Guard standing near the door. He opens it and Alice, walks in. Everyone stares at her. She stares back. Nurse Mona smiles and makes encouraging gestures for her to sit down. Alice sits, but everyone still stares at her)

Nurse Mona
Okay, now that we are all here--

Rina
We aren’t all here. Paul’s in the bathroom, puking again.

Nurse
Thank you for being so informative Rina, but let’s concentrate on who IS in the room, and who wants to talk about current events. Now I have some printouts here-

Crystal
I have MORE printouts than her. She doesn’t even have the right ones.

Afrika
Yeah, where’d you get the printouts? We aint allowed to even be in the office unless it’s with a counselor.

Rina
She IS a counselor, stupido. Did the acid pour into your brain as well as your face?

Afrika
Yo, don't talk to me like that!

Rina
I'll talk the way I wanna.

Khan
Yeah, hot mama, you'll talk the way I wanna.

Karen
I would like to hear about the current events, please?

Nurse Mona
I like the way Karen asked politely for the printouts. Okay, so the current events are things that are going on in the world that we should be aware of. I'll just pass these print outs around

Crystal
I already have them. I got them from my vagina

Rina
That’s not true! That’s not even true!

Crystal
They ARE from my vagina, and they are more TRUE than ANYTHING

Ximena
Shut it, both of you. Who is she?

Nurse Mona
Everyone, this is Alice. She just transferred up here today, so let’s make her feel welcome now, okay?

Crystal
She doesn’t have printouts in her vagina.

Nurse Mona
No, that’s correct Crystal, but maybe she would like to talk about something current she experienced before she got here. Alice?

Alice looks around at the group. Khan leans forward and licks his lips very slowly. Her eyes widen. He blows a kiss at her from across the room.

Alice
Um, that guy is blowing kisses at me.

Crystal
No! He doesn't care at all about you. He was fucking me a few minutes ago. We're going to get married, he told me, and you are not invited to the wedding.

Nurse Mona
Now, this is not something that relates to Current Events.

Crystal
She doesn't know anything because I just gave birth to her. She came out of my vagina and there are crystals all over her.

Nurse April
Lunch! Lunch time!

Nurse Mona
Okay, I guess that's all we can do for now for Current Events. Everyone please take a print out and next time we'll discuss it, okay?

They all file out for Lunch.....

Chasing Love

Chase, mid twenties, is a fierce gay man who lives in the smallest hick town you can imagine. He has just returned from a college party.



Chase

At that moment I knew. I knew the way you know about a good melon. You know how you're strolling along the fruits and you're just dying for something...juicy, but not too soft? Because if it's too soft, then it might go bad. You gotta test the little piece of potential before you take it home, right? Stop giggling, I'm serious about this.
I swear, as soon as I walked into that apartment, it was like strolling down the sexiest aisle in Safeway. Oh, there were potential fruits, some peaches I'd already sampled, a few cherries I'd already popped...STOP LAUGHING, I'm trying to tell you my life story here, it's very painful! Where was I...popping cherries, right...when I looked across the beer pong table and (he gasps, lost in the world of the party) that was it. The Mellen. John Mellen. I remember listening to John Mellencamp when I was with my father, stealing the CD cover at night and memorizing the lyrics over and over so my dad wouldn't think I was gay...so he'd be proud to have a straight son...so to meet someone named John Mellen was just pure satisfaction. I have to have him. He knew me from around, in fact we're normally beer pong buddies, it's very convenient how many straight super powers I have. I changed the music to "Hurts So Good" and offered my services to John as a beer pong partner. He was already too buzzed to realize that I was deliberately sucking on purpose.
Every person in them has a percentage of gay in them. Some are 15%, some are 29%, and if you're like me you realize that alcohol encourages a rise in someone's percentage. I helped him to the spare room, we laughed and wrestled and I could almost taste how juicy his lips were. He was ripe for the picking. And I knew. I knew the way you know about a really good Mellen.
I'm not going to kiss and tell, mind you, I am a gentleman and a lady at the same time. But let's just say I have a feeling that he's not going to call me. You girls have all the luck.

Season Three: Alice turns into Dorothy

(Lights down. We hear the cackling of evil flying monkeys, the screams of a young girl, and the appropriate muiscal score along with it. Suddenly, lights rise to reveal ALICE, 18, clutching a stuffed dog)


Alice:

I really don't know what happened. One minute, I was preparing to go on a trip through the woods, and the next thing I know, all these monkeys are climbing over me! It's terrifying: They keep asking me questions, I think, but I don't speak ape so I decided to keep my mouth shut. Save my voice for screaming for help, you know? But help's not coming. I don't know where my friends are, if they got lost in the thicket or maybe they did turn back...I'm on my own a lot, you see. I have to make friends as I go. It's alright. I'm not lonely, just alone. A lot.
That's not the point here. The point is I was accosted by a bunch of barbaric baboons! Flying savages! They surrounded me, no, the swooped over me and grabbed me like I was a piece of meat! One held my wrists behind my back, scrapping my face raw on the ground. Another shone a light into my eyes, and made excited whooping sounds....three more surrounded me, holding me down. One ground its nasty feet into my leg when I tried to kick at him. Another just stood there by my face and did nothing. Perhaps he was the leader, I never did get a good look at his face, but I spat on him anyway. Well, I tried, I think I got close to his foot, but it was hard to tell. Anyway, at that point they carried me away, and this I remember very clearly: Though I could feel the night air whipping through my dress and around my skin, I never felt less free in my life; their restraints held me so tightly it was like my skin was PlayDough in their hands. I could feel the circulation cutting off my wrists, feet, and when I tried to tell them, the monkeys just clapped something over my mouth which choked me and made it impossible to breathe. I tried to eat it, just to get it out of my way but it was to no avail. I was trapped and headed for the worst place I could never have imagined in my wildest nightmares: Here.
And here I am, sir. I could care less what you say you are. You are not my friend, you are not my co-worker, you are just another Monkey and no amount of glamorous disguises can change anything. I know exactly who you are and exactly who I am.

Officer Ben: And who exactly are you?


Alice: I am Dorothy Gale of Kansas, in the United States of America. One day I will get back home and leave all this insanity behind. If I still have friends out there, if your people didn't do away with them, then they will save me and take me out of....

Officer Ben: Ward AB-11 of Echo Glen Pysch. Hospital....

Alice: ....and take me out of this Witch's Tower.


end scene 1.

Season Three: Planet of the Monkeys

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YgSPaXgAdzE&feature=av2e

Mona:

Hey Frank. Is that a good name for a fly? I don't know, I always think that alliteration names are kind cute for brainless animals. See? I can talk to other species. I am a very open and accepting ape. Some keep saying I'm a freak, but really I'm not. I'm not a freak, I'm not insane, I'm just complaining when everyone else thinks they're fine. But I tell the truth and it's like I'm objecting at a wedding. All I'm saying is...something. I'm trying to say something that I can't even form into words. I thought...I thought maybe I could talk to the abomination today, the human, but I couldn't do it. My tongue felt like a piece of wax. Like a candle that was made way too long. All I can see in my mind is the top half falling off into a warm puddle of candle entrails. I am disgusting, aren't I? What's more pathetic Frank? The fact that I can't find anyone in my own species or that I have a crush on a human? A kind, decent, decidedly less hairy human. Is this one of those gross fetish things that no one else has? Am I really just a loser?

Don't believe everything you breathe into your life Frank. I guess that's the best piece of advice I can give you. I believe that I love him. I believe that it might work out. I breathed all of that in and I can't even tell you if it's real or not. Are you still there Frank?

Frank?

SEASON TWO FINALE

HEY Y'ALL. ROSE RUSSO HERE. LISTEN UP.

SEASON TWO IS DONE.

I WANT TO DEDICATE THIS SEASON TO MY AUNT ROSE RUSSO. THANK YOU.

SEASON THREE COMING....

THE DVDS ARE FREE.

HERE'S THE FINALE:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKQbcJyVKR0

Witch.

Oh, we're doing this now? You've decided that it's me, have you? Well, I should just hang up my hat and start cackling with glee, now shouldn't I? I am so flattered! How filled with love and hope I am right now. Oh, my darling, I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby.

Just in case your people can't translate sarcasm, I am not serious here. Do you even know me? Do you know what I am, where I come from, or am I just a heart beating in a skirt to you? Is that all that matters...yes...yes I think it is. I have an answer for your question. Yes. I do. But you have to ask me. Say my name.

Nope. You failed. You don't even know my real name. You probably were ready to call me a witch. Well, I admit that in the past I was a nasty...they weren't kidding when they called me a witch, I know, but I do have a name and you're already screwing it up.

Don't call me that name now. I don't want to hear you say it to me. Ever. And what is THAT?!
That better be something else in a velvet box. Stop please just let me go. I've been broken by love, my lovers are like my fathers. Or I just have daddy issues. Yes, of course, of course I love you, only you, no one else, it's always been you, even when you tell me I talk too fast and too much. I love you. There. I love you. I really do love you!! I "Love Is All You Need" love you, I love you like a hot Mexican sunset. But it's a bucket of water to me. It's death, and....
I'm going crazy. I'm out of my mind with you on bended knee. I don't want to touch it, I don't want to be near it or watch it sparkle in the flames of our fireplace. Were do you think we're gonna live, huh? Some palace with a view of the emeralds?

It's like you've got nothing in between your ears. Seriously. I can see you a nodding and agreeing but it's a going one ear and out the other. What is wrong with you? Why did you fail the easiest test in the world? All you had to do was call my name out from your dusty lips...

Or is there someone else's name choking your tongue, eclipsing your lips, breathing through your teeth?

I thought so. I knew so. That's it. That IS the straw that's breaking my back. I knew you weren't over her.

Don't act stupid.

What name did you say last night?
You heard me.
What was her name?
You know what I'm saying.
That's right.
I KNEW IT.

Your love isn't here, and neither is mine. I just want someone who isn't green with jealousy, someone who doesn't shriek when you enter the shower....why are you always taking showers? It's like your scarred from a PAST FLAME! No, you don't even get to call me by my name. It's not even my name! How dare you make me into someone I don't wanna be!

Get off your knees.

Stop saying Marry me

I'm not a WITCH, I'm not crazy, I'm not cackling here, I'm telling you the truth! I'm not what you want me to be, I used to be a sweet, farm girl with pigtails once upon a time, until YOU made me into THIS. You made me into a WITCH and now you want to change me again into...

....a.....

....cowardly............



..............Witch............................................



........................With no heart...................................................................................(lights out)


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The Little Vampire


(Lights up. We are on an isolated beach. The Sea Witch is about to hear a story from Ariel, a human princess)


Hey. I know it's been a long time, and I know we didn't exactly part on the best of terms. Okay, yes, an attempt on your life was taken, but you know, that wasn't me, that was my soon to be ex-husband. Oh, don't look so shocked, you must have heard that Eric and I were separating. How was I to know that 50% of marriages in the 80's end in divorce? But I have a request.

I don't want to be a human anymore, and I can't go back to being a mermaid. I wanna be a vampire.

Vampires are so popular now with humans. They are either reading about them or watching them on some kind of screen. They are stronger, they are powerful, and they can kill a human with a flash of their teeth. Vampires don't have to go to family functions if they don't want to, or cook dinner for anyone, or anything they aren't comfortable with. I want my immortality back. I want to really live this time.

I am ready to pay with whatever you need. I do not mind being silent for a few days. It will be worth it. I will be worth it.

Part of Your World

There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.

Jacques, pirate, finally breaks up with his mermaid girlfriend.

Jacques

I quit. I can't keep up with you anymore. I can see the looks my fellow sea dogs give me, and it's pity. Pity. It's like a bad swig of rum, something foul in your mouth that putrefies your throat and twists itself all the way down into your churning stomach. I can't be looked at by them with your looks too. It's two different swords; one through my gut and another plunged into my back. I can't do this anymore. You make me weary of love; you make me long for this home we've created here to be crushed to dust.

You're amazing. You really are but I can't keep going like this. Literally, I can't. Do you know how exhausting this lifestyle is? You can swim faster than any pirate can sail. There's just too much for us to handle: you're immortal, I'm a human, you sing beautifully and I hurl myself over the edge of my ship for you. Thank God my shirt sleeves are so puffy; otherwise I might have drowned. And then we wouldn't have had the chance to get to know each other. But you're still cold. I would hold you all night and you never warmed to me. And I'm not talking about just the poor circulation, or biological survival tactics. You in fact, are a cold person. Not once did you hop up on my ship, or take an interest in my raping and pillaging. I am fascinated by you still, yet all you seemed concerned with is brushing your hair, or singing, or gutting a fish. Which is very impressive, and still turns me on, I mean, how do you do that with just your mouth?

But Love doesn't mean having to hurl yourself off your own ship for someone. Or it shouldn't. And it shouldn't mean holding your breath for someone either.

July 8th: Episode "Alice's and Dorothy'sJourney": For Alice, by Rose:

Hello. This is a collaboration piece between myself, an AMAZING ACTRESSS Alison Roseburg, and her ideas about my cat, Alice. We then threw in a sassy Dorothy role while we were at it.


Enjoy.


(Lights up. Alice is in a very slutty light blue dress and torn apron. She is either blonde or is holding a disheveled blonde wig.


Black Setting. White Spotlight. Almost in the shape of...)


(She speaks to them as if it is a Prologue to Romeo and Juliet)

Alice

Hello. My name is Alice. I have to say that because I forgot who I was the other day. I fell in a hole. Yeah. I'm sorry. I changed when I fell in that hole. But I'm fine. I swear. Oh, wait. I forgot. You are not allowed to swear or recite bad poetry or pick flowers where I...am...now living. Did I live someplace else? I think I did actually live there because I know that you can't swear up here. It's opposite land up here! It's scary. I'm terrified and feel like I might die tonight!


Yeah. I should go. I wanna run to the middle of my fears. It was just like a pill. It made me worse though. Normally, whenever I try to be all that I can be, it makes me better. After I got out of this dirty knarled tree hole, I wanted to run as fast as I could, I swear. Oh shit! I forgot you're not supposed to swear out of the rabbbit hole. Again. I'm always opening my mouth and getting into trouble. Shut up Alice, just shut up!

I'm sorry. Maybe I am crazy. Alice, what do they say? Alice, you've changed when you walk down the ... *snaps her finger* ahh....I know this..don't tell me. Don't speak. Please stop explaining. I know this, it's a called a Street!


They say you changed Alice. What happenend.

And I say, I know. I'm sorry. I'm fine. I feel like I have to have a crisis to get people to believe that I'm fine.

But then they say. Alice, you've changed. What happened.

So I say again: I know! I'm sorry! I'm fine.

Mother looked at me.

Alice. Look at your clothes!

You've changed. What happened?

Father came out of the study to peer over his pipe and muttered:

Alice, you've changed; what happened.

And I say I know Father. I'm sorry. I'm sorry daddy. Daddy I'm so sorry. I'm fine. I'm fine.

And I ran away from the house because I couldn't understand anyone but the servants and they don't speak English! They are fluent in French and Italian!! I only know a few words from falling in a hole for a year; or was it 10 minutes?

But they taught me things! I learned so much. Crazy accents and odd fashion and THE CURSING! Oh I learned some fantastic swear words: Stick a too Zorro. I guess it means something bad; I screamed it down in the Rabbit Hole and a bunch of evil pelicans laughed at me and turned into innocent oysters.

And I kept running, as fast as I could. I couldn't stand this life here, there was too much support and love and no drugged oysters laughing the entire night away... I went on a Journey: I was a small town girl. I lived and still do live in a very lonely world. I took a midnight stroll and fell somewhere. It was everywhere.

And I met a boy, and fell in love. Born and raised in South Wonderland. He took a midnight stroll. I think I fell on his face. Nothing broke. All the kings horses and all of his men helped him out. I became a warrior princess there. It's not Jabberwocky, I swear! I think the monster followed me up here. I am so paranoid he didn't die. I wanted to slay him until there was nothing left; But I think that was just the Wonderland talking.

I didn't move from the spot on the ground; my friends caught up with me as soon as I got back from the Rabbit Hole. One by one they each took me aside and said:

Alice. You have changed. What happened. AND I SAID THIS:

Don't call my name. My name isn't Alice. Not Anymore. It's Alejandra. It's Alicia, It's Alexandra. Alice. Is that my name? I can't remember...

Alice! You have changed, what happened? I know, I 'm sorry I 'm fine, I'm fine, I know, I'm sorry, I'm fine, I'm fine. I didn't know whether to laugh at them or cry with them.

I think people who haven't fallen in a hole don't understand what it's like once you are IN that place. I'm in the hole, I could say to my father, and my mother, and all two friends that I have left, because no one wants to even look at me. Once I climbed out, no one wanted . No one. Anyway, I could look at the four people who could still look at me and say "I fell in!" and it was like I was speaking French. It was like I was too dirty to look at, and too soiled to be understood. But I'm not dirt under your feet. I'm a poor girl who climbed out of a giant vortex. No one seems to have been there before.

I have a big mouth. I should never have said anything about the Rabbit Hole. I ate the wrong pill and got me and my big mouth into trouble.

I'm Alice. I've changed. I'm sorry. But I am fucking fine.




Dorothy


(Sings last part of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow)


Somewhere, over the rainbow

Way up high

Birds cry over that rainbow

Why then can't I just fly?



If happy little scarecrows sigh
on a rainbow
Why
Oh
Why
Can't
I?


(BLACK AND WHITE MAKE GRAY. DOROTHY IS IN A GRAY CHECKERED DRESS. IT'S BLOODY AND TORN. SMUDGED EYE MAKEUP LIKE SHE SPENT THE NIGHT IN JAIL)

Don't do you do it. Don't cry. Big city girls don't cry. The path I walked I had to go alone; I didn't get any "baby steps" along the way. They were full grown steps on that golden brick facade. Road is not what I would have named it. But it wasn't my world. I just dropped in.

But I loved it. I wanna go back! How can you return to a city when you have no map?
And you never had one. At all. And short little freaky people would sing a long with your GPS device and you really just wanted to take some cute shoes and leave; but no, no, no, they have to have a flippin' ceremony over every little thing. They didn't even like that witch; I wouldn't give a mutt I liked to that woman. Much less hold a procession for her. Not even if she was in Kansas. There are some things small farm folk just do not do!

Item 1: You must be kind to your fellow travelers. Glinda was kind, but what a tyrant. She was kind but extremely firm.

Item 2: Play games, all sorts. I played games, I played tons, I played "Ring Around the Golden Road of Confusion!' , "Cat on a Hot Tin Man's Roof " and "Are You Smarter than a Cowardly Lion?" THAT was a most excellent game. I won a puppy!

Item 3: Rosie Cheeks. Well, obviously. You had to be cute to survive. Perfect brown curls. You had to have the same color eyes to match your gown. That's how they play the day away in the merry yet old Land of Oz. Rub, dub, scrub, pat, fat, he looked so good when he got new straw.

I guess I miss him most of all. When we hugged goodbye, and I thought I would never see him again, I could have deflated, like a hot air balloon. I did. I waited. I embraced, I cried, I laughed at all the Professor's jokes; the entire time I thought I can't hug him goodbye. I can't say goodbye. I can't ANYTHING goodbye. Not with him. I stood there and felt like the Tin Man's heart had been wrenched from MY chest.

But I followed my head. I said, in my head, I love you. He said in my head, if only I had...and I said, in my head, yes? But then I remembered. I knew. He did say he loved me. He told me of a place. The other day, we came across a very angry tree with him, but before that he looked at me and said Is this the place that I've been dreaming of? If you were with me, I would wall away the hours; we'd talk to nice trees and flowers, even consult with the wheat grain. And I wouldn't be confused, I'd keep up with you, physically and intellectually. Oh. If I only had...

Had what I said?

More time.

SHE SINGS AS IF HER HEART WILL BURST BUT SHE SINGS SOFTLY:

If happy little scarecrows cry
over rainbows
Why oh why no more time?

*LIGHTS OFF

July 7th, Episode "HEY!!! YOU!!!! WRITE!!!! "

Hey y'all. "Rose Russo" here. (Yes, it's a pen name). Need your help.

I wanna set up JULY as "POST FEEDBACK MONTH".

Are you a writer?

Then WRITE, damn it!!




*Submit monologues, scenes, ANY WRITING OR FEEDBACK TO:

rkinne@vandals.uidaho.edu


Thanks for your help!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0jIl6_UCzA

July 7th: Episode "Male Monlogue: Comedy" "Getoutta ur Mnd"

(lights up)




I gotta tell you, I don't know what's wrong. I find your suggestions very offensive and frankly, I don't think you know what you're talking about. I am perfectly out of my mind. I know exactly how to use my body, I can get into a dancing zone, hell, I can make it rain with my dances! I can lose it. I can get down. I can get out of my mind!

Watch this shit!

(He hits a song on his Iphone and starts busting some serious hip hop moves)

I never had a dance lesson. I really don't dance; I just get in a zone.

(The dancing does not have to match his speech)

I don't think there's ever been a person like me in dancing history. My concept is brilliant, I call myself "Twitch". I'm an All Star. It's about me at the end of the day, doing the most incredible hip hop ever anywhere. If I don't get an Emmy for this I don't know why not. I mean, who the hell am I ?

I guess that's why I'm in therapy now. I came because of some "life crisis" but really, I'm just a hip hop star stuck in this form. This is my world, you're just visiting. I cannot tell you how ridiculous you are with your clipboard, and your questions about me crying in public, and you have no idea what is like Being Twitch. I am an All Star, god damn it!!

LATEST EPISODE: Episode "Female Comedy: Long Time"

(lights up)



Louise

Hello.



I realize that it's been a long time. We had some long, hot tortured nights between the two of us. We had a terrible love: A Bad Romance. But to be quite honest, it's in the middle of July, we're both at this extremely sexy Latin dance club and you aren't making me crazy. In fact, I feel like a Latin Sex pot. Like the Columbian singer, Shakira? Seriously, my hips don't lie. You need to touch me. I have to tell you something.

I'm wearing black eyeliner. I NEVER wear black liquid eyeliner;. Girls will tell you it's something they do "just for fun". This is a lie. It takes an entire damaging relationship cycle to take this shit OFF. Forget about putting it on "just for fun". I'm not here just to have "fun" with my girl friends. Well, okay, that is a lie. I am telling people that on my Facebook account right now. Or do the kids call it Twiiter? It's supposed to be this online dating network; I guess in college you were supposed to know about it.

What I'm trying to say is, I think I can dance, even though I'm holding an Long Island Iced Tea, and my hips are not lying, and you need to do me like I'm Shakira right now.

Season Two, Ep. 5 "Hopelist"

  And now, a gorgeous piece by a Ms. Alli O., who I had the pleasure of meeting in Idaho, along with some other kick ass women writers.  Enjoy her "Hopelist"

Hopelist

I hold this little one in my arms,

Warm and soft and laughing

And I tell her my hopes:

  That her tomorrows shine like her eyes

  That her hair dances on alpine breeze

  That she holds daily dialogue with trees

  And that she spends as much time outside as in.

I hope that she tells a good joke

  That she appreciates fine whiskey and cheap beer

  That she listens to herself

  And that she always chooses hearts over diamonds.

I hope that she lives by the sun

  That she believes in magic

  That she sees every stranger as her next best friend

  And that she knows unspeakable joy.

  

If I could fall into yesterday

I'd hold you in my arms,

  Warm and soft and laughing

  And I'd tell you my hope:

            That this little one lives just like you. 

Alli O. 2010

Season Two, Ep. 4 "The Rookie"

  Hello!  "Rose Russo" here.  I have a project by an extremely talented actress/writer, Kate B.  Feedback is welcome!

 The Rookie

By Kate B.

Sarah- Hey, Doc.  Wait.  Who are you?  You a new Doc?  Don’t think I’ve seen you around here.

Doc- Uh, no.  Sarah, you don’t recognize me?

Sarah- No, but then my memory isn’t always solid.  Kind of swiss cheesy.  So I know you?

Doc- Yeah. Uh-

Sarah- How long have I been  seeing you?  You’re not my primary.  That’s Stevens.  Unless you are Stevens and I’ve just made you a lot cuter in my brain in order to stand you, or Stevens has always looked like you and I’ve made him bald and overweight in my head for some reason.  I don’t think I’m that delusional.

Doc- No, I’m not Stevens.

Sarah- Well good.  I would have hated to say that to his face.  

Doc- Yeah?

Sarah- No, not really.  I tell him all the time.  I’m rather up front.  So what are you here to talk to me about?

Doc- You.

Sarah- Ah.  Come on Doc.  Gonna have to do better than that.  I know what you’re here about.

Doc- Yeah?

Sarah- Oh yeah.

Doc- What?

Sarah- Zack. He’s all anyone wants to talk about.

Doc- Is he?

Sarah- That’s gonna get old fast, Doc.  Every once in a while one of your sentences should be a sentence and not a question.  Just to make sure you’re a person and not a parrot.
 
Doc- Well.  I am certainly not a parrot, though I do have a tendency to be colorful.

Sarah- Nice.  Green.  Parrots are green.  Does that mean you’re new?  They send in the rookie to chat with the crazy girl to cut his teeth?

Doc- I have all my teeth, thank you.  And I think it was your sister that use to bite you, never a doctor.

Sarah- No, you’re right.  The only harm a physician has done me has been to be insufferably boring.  If you want to talk about me, you want to talk about Zack.  Agreed?

Doc- Agreed.

Sarah- How read up on me, are you?  Hm?  What do you know?

Doc- I know you’re incredibly smart.

Sarah- Huh.

Doc- I know you were abandoned by your father, aggressively attacked by your sister to the point of hospitalization on at least three occasions, and that your mother was an alcoholic and severe manic depressive that refused any real medication.

Sarah- Ahah.  Nowadays they call them bipolar.  My grandmother called her sad.  

Doc- And you call her a moron.

Sarah- Moron mom.  Sounds funny, doesn’t it.

Doc- Nice assonance, yes.

Sarah- Don’t try to butter me up wit’ all dem ten cent words, Doc.

Doc- I like that word a lot, too.

Sarah- It’s a waste of fucking time, that word.  A word describing words, pretty fucking useless.  If you ask me.

Doc- I didn’t.  I didn’t ask you.

Sarah- Good.  Nice.  How’s it going?

Doc- Our chat?  I think we’re still sizing each other up.  How am I doing?

Sarah- You’re passing.

Doc- Good. I’d hate to disappoint you.

Sarah- You could never disappoint me.  (pause) Cute as you are, and you know what an assonance is?  How am I?

Doc- How are you doing?

Sarah- That’s not what I asked.

Doc- How are you?

Sarah- Yeah.  I want to see if you can guess.

Doc- I would guess you’re very sad.

Sarah- Ern!! (loud noise indicating he’s wrong)

Doc- Okay.  Sad would be the wrong word.  Oppressively alone.

Sarah- Nice.  What do you want to know, rookie?

Doc- I want to know.  I want to know your favorite memory.

Sarah- Nice.  Easy.  Zack.

Doc- Anything specific?

Sarah- The color of his hair.  The bridge of his nose.  His two front teeth.  His smell.

Doc- What color were his eyes?

Sarah- Blue.  Brown.  Grey.

Doc- You don’t know?

Sarah- I know.  They were the same as yours.  Or maybe I’m just saying that cause you’re here.

Doc- You think so?

Sarah- What’s that- Projection.  I don’t want to really think about him, so I’m filling in bits of you.  You’re easier to take.

Doc- Why?

Sarah- Cause you’re here.  And he’s not.

Doc- Where is he?

Sarah- Dead.

Doc- How’d he die?

Sarah- Come on, Doc.  Questions, questions.  Don’t be green.

Doc- Sorry.  I just.  You know.  Nervous.

Sarah- Why nervous, kid?

Doc- Cause you called me cute.  Always flusters me.

Sarah- Ah.  That’s sweet. Doesn’t your girlfriend tell you you’re attractive.  If she doesn’t, you need a new one.  I’d make a pass, but, you know…

Doc- Well, I haven’t talked to her in a while.  Work.  It’s a killer.

Sarah- Oh, no, greenhorn.  You can’t let work get in your way of love.  You love her?

Doc- Tremendously.

Sarah- I believe you.  

Doc- Good, cause it’s true.

Sarah- Zack and I had that problem, almost.  When I was a cellist for the symphony.  I was always practicing and he got really jealous, and the pads of my fingers would get really sore, so there were certain things I couldn’t do-

Doc- What symphony?

Sarah- Goodness, Doc.  You didn’t read that in my report.  I’m a real workaholic.  I’ve been a cellist, composer, novelist, playwright, history teacher, and a nurse.

Doc- Wow.  Picked that up from your mom, didn’t you?

Sarah- The story telling?  Yeah.  I’m not a compulsive liar though, cause I actually believe what I’m saying.  I have to break down things to make sure they’re true or not.   That’s schizophrenia, for you.  But I know I was never a cellist.  I just wanted you to feel like my advice was valid.

Doc- I think you’re very valid.

Sarah- Aww, shucks, Doc.

Doc- Can I ask you a question?

Sarah- Shoot.

Doc- How do you think Zack died?

Sarah- How do I think?  Don’t be condescending.  Like, what.  He never existed?  He was real, Doc.  Know how I know?

Doc- How?

Sarah- He was the first person I ever had really good sex with.  I mean, really good.  And if he didn’t exist, then I was just fooling around with myself, and well, I don’t like myself that much.

Doc- Ah. Makes sense.

Sarah- That’s the danger.

Doc- How do you know Zack is dead?

Sarah- That’s the only possible explanation for him not being with me.  We were inseparable.

Doc- Do you know how he died?

Sarah- I killed him.  I’m sure this is all in my report.

Doc- How did you kill him?

Sarah- Pills. Water.

Doc- Why?

Sarah- Well, I guess I’ve had a long complicated relationship with pills, what with my mother’s distrust of them.  Her rants and raves and tornadoes of destruction.  And water? That’s how you make them go down, right?  You don’t want that gross taste in your mouth.

Doc- Your sister almost drowned you once, didn’t she?

Sarah- Did, Doc.  Did.  They had to perform CPR.  Cracked my sternum.  Hurt a lot. But it was necessary.  I was eight.

Doc-  Why did you kill him?

Sarah- Bugs.  To get rid of the bugs.

Doc- The pills were to get rid of the bugs?

Sarah- Yeah.  They fix a lot.

Doc- You don’t take them.

Sarah- Can’t.  Family tradition.

Doc- But you made him.

Sarah- I was always the dominant personality. You see, Zack was highly suggestible.  You tell him something enough, and he’d believe it, eventually.

Doc- Anyone?

Sarah- Mostly.  But me especially.  I could get him to think anything.

Doc- I wouldn’t think if you loved him, you would do anything mean.

Sarah- Not intentionally.  But Doc.  Sometimes I really think things.

Doc- Like bugs.

Sarah- I thought he had bugs.  I felt them on my skin.  And we’re inseparable.

Doc- So, if you had them.  He did.

Sarah- Right.

Doc- So you gave him the pills to get rid of the bugs.

Sarah- Right. (Sarah launches herself on top of a chair and grabs Doc.  She puts one hand over his mouth) And I held him just like this, Doc.  So he couldn’t spit them out.  He was going to take them.  He wasn’t going to have was I had.  I wasn’t going to give him bugs.  He was too good for this.  But he didn’t fight back.  He just laid there.  He trusted me.  And he wasn’t swallowing.  He was remembering all the stupid rants and raves and tornadoes of destruction because of the pills-

Doc- Sarah, wait-

Sarah- So I got water, and I poured it down his throat.  He choked on it.  So much water.  More and more.  Too much for his mouth.  I couldn’t hear him anymore, but I wasn’t sure he’d swallowed them, so, more pills.  I let go of him.  He didn’t move.  He’s dead, Doc.  I killed him.  If I didn’t drowned him, the pills really were dirty like mom always said, or there were bugs.  But I’m smart enough to figure it was probably me.  (she lets him go)

Doc- Sounds like a wimp.

Sarah- Just trusting.

Doc- He laid there while you drowned him.  Did you bring a hose over?  You said more and more water.  Did you prepare ahead of time? Did you tell him to hold still while you continued to drown  him?  Was he stupid?

Sarah- No.  He was brilliant.  Incredibly smart.  It follows our disorder.

Doc- Our disorder. So what.  How’d you do it?

Sarah- Come on, Doc.  Too many questions.

Doc-  Tell me, Sarah.  He had to have been tied up.  Or someone else helped you.  Or he was a bumbling weak idiot that only liked you cause you told him what to do.

Sarah- He said he liked me cause I was smart.  And funny.  He said I was sweet.

Doc- Sweet people don’t drown other people, Sarah.

Sarah- They do to save them.

Doc- Oh I understand. You got tired of having this little simp follow you around.  How unattractive was he, huh?  How bad in bed?  Was the first to get it up with a skitso bag like you in the room?

Sarah- Don’t provoke a violent schizophrenic, Doc.

Doc- How did you do it, Sarah?  Break it down.  Tell me.

Sarah-  I had the bottles.  He was saying he had bugs.

Doc- You said you felt them.

Sarah- I did.  We did.

Doc- Yes.  So what did you do?

Sarah- He needed to take the pills.

Doc-  What about you?  Why didn’t you take them?  Same problem, same pills.

Sarah-  I couldn’t.  I was scared.  Family tradition.

Doc-  Sarah.  Your mom wouldn’t take her pills because she was paranoid and selfish.  It made her feel good to be in that tornado.

Sarah- You’re not telling me anything I haven’t said before, Doc.  Moron, she may have been, she was still my mom.  You listen to your mother when you’re six.  Your mom probably told you to study hard, and look at you.  My mom told me that pills killed your soul and made people leave you.  I couldn’t take the damn things, until he did.

Doc- And he did.  Didn’t he.

Sarah- Yeah.  He took them.

Doc- And?

Sarah- This isn’t like Alice in Wonderland, Doc.  You don’t eat the mushroom and suddenly become thirty feet tall if you just believe.

Doc- I do know how medication works.  I meant, then what happened.  Did you take them?

Sarah- There wasn’t any water.  We’d run off away from the docs again.  But everyone knew we were okay, together.  We were so good at keeping each other together.  If anything got scary the other one was there to help break it down.  Except these bugs.  I felt them.

Doc-  You were outside?

Sarah-  Yeah?

Doc-  Then they were just bugs.

Sarah- No.  Zack, he felt them under his skin.

Doc- Cause he was having an episode.  What’s that called?

Sarah- A tactile hallucination.

Doc- Right.  You’re so good at that.

Sarah-  He needed the pills.  To calm down.

Doc-  There wasn’t any water.

Sarah-  No.  He kept gagging.  Have you seen those things?

Doc-  Yeah, they’re huge.  You had to keep his mouth shut, so he could swallow.

Sarah-  He laid down.  We tried again.  He held on to my arms so he’d keep from clawing at his arms.

Doc-  And he swallowed?

Sarah-  Yeah.

Doc-  And?

Sarah- And I told him I loved him.

Doc-  And then?

Sarah-  And then he calmed down.  His eyes kind of went funny.  And then he fell asleep.  I got the nurses.  They took him in.  I wrote him.  Told him he had to keep taking the pills.  That I was going to, too.  That he was gonna be fine.  And that he should come find me when he got out.

Doc-  Did you take them?

Sarah-  No.
            I couldn’t.
            You listen to your mother when you’re six.

Doc-  Sarah.  What color are Zack’s eyes?

Sarah-  You know?

Doc-  Know what, Sarah?

Sarah-  You’re really smart for a rookie, Doc.

Season Two, Ep. 3 "Kill All The Brutes"

Hello!  "Rose Russo" here.  (yes it's a pen name). I just received a promising new piece by Andrew S.  It's a monologue from his hot new play "Kill All the Brutes".  Enjoy, and if you have any questions or want to know more or have ideas for this monologue, feel free to submit at rkinne@vandals.uidaho.edu.  

KILL ALL THE BRUTES

(1.)

(A pinspot opens on JAKE, a punk. His bright pink liberty spikes shoot from the top of his skull. He’s plainly dressed in fatigue pants, combat boots and a white tee.)

JAKE

The moment you know they have you. 

(A RECRUITER appears) 

It’s not when you sit in the office signing your life to a piece of paper. The smiling man offers you the pen, claiming this is the best family you’ll ever now.

(pause)

It’s not when you sit on a bus, with a ticket they paid for, driving through the great nothing that is middle America. A steady ready death march going night and day with sad faces staring out windowsills -watching wheat field after cow pasture-losing count of all the states you barrel through.

(A SERGEANT appears)

And its not when Sargeant Spits Too Much is barking at you to get your “faggot ass off the bus.” To “file up”. “stand straight.” “arms at your side”. You look down the line and you see some porcelain toys already to crack. But that isn’t the moment. 

(pause)

The moment you know they have you, is when you’re sitting in a chair. The chair.

(A BARBER appears)

He tells you to sit. He tells you not to move, which for a punk is damn near impossible. They love the kids who love their hair. Fucking sadists the way they are, they click the trimmers and they smile. Approaching you like some B-Movie Dracula, trimmer at the ready. You’re clenching the armrests,

(All but Jake disappear) 

He tells you this is the brand new “You”. 

That’s the moment you know. They have you.

(Pinspot on Jake fades.)

Season Two, Ep 2: "Keep Your Pants On"

  And now, a tailor made monologue by Dave Eames Harlan, who quite possibly, is the best writer for women out there.  No one gets it like this man.  I tip my hat to you sir.  

WOMAN

"Keep your pants on." Seriously. He said that to me.

SERIOUSLY?! I'm used to them - boys, men, dates - wanting

them to come off. Not that I WANTED him to bed me.

Necessarily. Yet. "Bed me." God. That's another turn of

phrase. I thought it was a good first date though. At first.

He opened the cab door for me. Touched my elbow lightly -

guiding me perhaps. Not helping exactly. But there TO help

should it be needed. I wondered if he was looking at my

legs. The skirt did show them to advantage. "Show them to

advantage." What am I from the fifties? I suspected, though,

he was looking at my legs.

(Beat)

That's not vanity. That's knowledge of human nature. HuMAN

nature. I've seen 'em all: Boys who thought they were men;

Men who acted like boys; Boys who didn't care if they were

nothing but boys (They can be fun in the right

circumstances.) But this man was a man. Old...er. Let's say

late thirties - chronologically. Maybe a Highlander-era Sean

Connery in attitude. So yeah, he handed me into the cab. He

offered his hand to me as I was getting out. He deftly

danced around me to get the restaurant door. He even held my

chair and... scooted me to the table. It was nice. Sweet.

Dare I say romantic? But I was beginning to wonder if it, if

he, was too much when he ordered for me. What am I, 10?

(Pause.)

I half-expected him to take my Ossobucco alla Milanese and

mince it it into tiny, little easily chewable chunks while

making little mewing noises. But he didn't and dinner was

tasty. I, again, thought there might be... possibilities.

(Reflective pause.)

Then? Then he ordered a desert wine. I made the mistake of

saying I'd never had a desert wine. The waitron poured. I

took the glass. I lifted it. And... wait for it... he put

his hand over my glass. "uh uh. Patience," He said. "You

have to wait. You need to let it breathe." I thought -

loudly - "I'm a writer. I'm educated. I have a terminal

degree! I can freaking decide when I want to drink a glass

of wine" as he went on to explain about tannins and legs and

sugar content and... oxidation. "I'd really just like to

drink it." And that's when he said it with a smile and a

wink and a chuckle in a singsongy kindergarten teacher

voice: "keep your pants on." I wanted to punch him.

(This might take some time.)

So yeah, that's why I probably shouldn't have slept with

him.

(Beat. A breath. A memory.)

He's got great eyes. I think it was the wink that did it. I

hope he calls soon.

Season Two Debut! Part II of "Don't Drink and Climb"

Previously, on "LetterzFromRose" Season One:

"Rose Russo here. Yes, it's a pen name. Soon it will be a famous, household name. Until then, I will try to change the world one piece of theatre at a time by creating a blog called 

                                                   LetterzFromRose.  (Title Page)

Season Two:  Making the world better...one piece of theatre at a time.  

The first piece I have today are two comedic monologues, male and female. The female's is a continuation of a monologue you might have read in Season One and the male is a favorite character of mine:

Don't Drink and Climb by "Rose Russo" (pen name)

(Louise stands up )

Louise

  

  Well...first of all, I'd like to thank all the lovely people who traveled so very far out of town to be here, including my date, Mr. Chelsea all the way from...the hotel.  Right.

  I've known Mike Chelsie ever since I moved here.  We bonded over our mutual hatred of cheerleaders and drooled over the hot seniors. We were hiking the Cascades two years ago when Mike told me there was "someone special" that I just HAD to meet...and here we are.

  I always knew Mike was gay.  It was pretty obvious: when I first met him I was instantly attracted to him.  Ha.  Ha.  No, seriously, I couldn't take my eyes off his face.  My Auntie Katy always said (adopts a throaty accent) "Louise, gay men are like mirages:  you crawl on your knees for ten years but you'll never quench your thirst".  Still, in this age and time, one is never really sure:  Is he gay, or just raised by women?  Bisexual, or republican?  Some people never figure it out.

  Not Mike.  He knew exactly what he wanted when he saw Drew across the street in Capitol Hill.  He told me about that first night, in vivid detail.  Ha. Ha.  No seriously, I can't get the images out of my head.  Ha. Ha.  

  And when I met Drew, I knew they were perfect for each other.  I couldn't really see him all that well, what with the lighting in the "Spankin' Monkey" Nightclub, but what I could see was...love.  So I would like to raise my glass to Drew and Mike Chelsie:  May your love always be brand spanking new. 

  Cheers.

  

   

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The 40 Year Old Version.


(Lights up. Brody stands holding a flute of champange)

Brody

  Hey. So, hello, can we get the DJ to turn on the...thank you.  Well.  Drew and Mike, never thought we'd be here, huh?  Congrats you two! I mean, I remember when Drew was my best man and hell, if I was allowed to marry that then you two certainly should have the right to...(visibly shudders). 

  I'm sorry, this shouldn't be about me or my former legal marriage.  It's about you two and your barely acceptable partnership.  I know you guys won't make my mistakes: Drew isn't marrying a former student of his, and we can all safely assume Mike didn't get pregnant on purpose. 

  Did I say "my mistakes?"  I really meant the royal "me".  I mean "we".  The Royal "We".  "Our mistakes."  I know you guys won't make our mistakes.  I guess I'm speaking on behalf of straight people right now.  Family. Friends.  Friends of family.  I'm sorry, I'm getting off track. What I'm trying to say is that already this marriage has a better chance than most straight couples I know!  And by "know", I mean "friends", "family", and above all, "not me".  

(Brody drinks his entire flute of champagne).

  I'm sorry, I was supposed to give a toast before doing that.  TO Drew and Mike!  May Mike never withhold sex as punishment!  May Drew realize that after two years you are entitled to a blow job!  May they both be really miserable like the rest of us have been for centuries!  

  (Brody holds his empty glass, tries to sip from it, remembers it's gone. Awkward...)

Cheers!

 

BOTH BY "ROSE RUSSO" 

Season One Hiatus

So, if this is a first time for you, here's what you missed on "Letterz From Rose"


Season ONE: "Rose Russo" (Yes, it's a pen name) moved to New York and began working in a theatre field. There has been success in the work force. The goal is to find success in the work force and in the creative world as a writer. It's a slow first season.

SEASON ONE FINALE: "Rose Russo" creates an online blog to post her theatre work. Hopefully, her theatre friends will post stuff here too.

So far "Rose Russo" is the only person getting feedback.

BUT! Big plans are in order for Season Two. We shall see what develops.

STAY TUNED FOR SEASON TWO: LETTERZFROMROSE: Changing the world, one piece of theatre at a time.

Buen Provecho!

*"Rose Russo" (yes, it's my pen name) =)

Just Like Green Day!

I think this officially makes me a sellout?

Coming UP.....SEASON TWO OF "LetterzfromRose!"

Hi Y'all!!!


"Rose Russo" here. Time to reflect on a fun first season of blogging. I hope you enjoyed the Season One of theatre work, including my favorites "Kissing", Andrew S.'s jail scene, "Smoking Beauty", and the Season Finale, "Don't Drink and Climb" followed by a preview for Season Two, "40 Year Old Version".

I've finally decided what I want this blog to become. THEATRE!! Duh! If you want a monologue, if you want a scene, if you need help with a scene, if you want to write a scene DO THE FOLLOWING:

1. SUBMIT: rkinne@vandals.uidaho.edu

2. READ: www.letterzfromrose.blogspot.com.

3. ENJOY:

SIMPLE AS THAT.


ENJOY.

STAY TUNED FOR SEASON TWO.

~"Rose Russo" (Yes It's My Pen Name!!)

Don't Drink and Climb

Hello! I have today a woman and a man's role. You can adjust their ages, but don't try it if you are 10. It will not compute. THANKS!!! FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED!


Don't Drink and Climb by "Rose Russo" (pen name)

(Louise stands up and knocks on a door to a hotel. It opens. She looks surprised, almost like she forgot why she came. Then she remembers and puts on her high heels)


Good afternoon Mr. Chelsea*,

I do hope you are well. I am here to enquire about your whereabouts for this coming evening. As you all know, summer time is upon us and hormones are a 'flourishing. Soon bridesmaids everywhere will be making tons of mistakes. My best friend from grammar school, Chelsie* actually, is tying the knot in about...90 minutes. Well, she's just doing pictures, but we can start without you.
No. Wait. Let me start again.
I'm 38 Mr. Chelsea*. I know we just met at the "Wine Tasting and Mountain Climbing" Workshop in the REI Mall, but I felt a connection. Plus you said you were just visiting Seattle for the weekend and had no major plans. I can offer you either the surf n' turf combo, or the teriyaki chicken for dinner tonight? I know it's a little trite to say this, but I do believe I am the only single woman in the greater Puget Sound area. Good looking men flee from me. Disgusting ones gravitate toward me. I think I must have a terrible odor, but I can't tell. I might be immune.
What I guess I'm trying to say is, if you can't be my date to this wedding, I understand, but you could at least smell my hair before you go?


The 40 Year Old Version.


(Lights up. Thin, attractive man in his early 40's. He is in a extremely organized office. Bob Dylan plays in the background. He is tense. He looks at his phone. He picks it up)

+
Brody

Please. Please just work with me. You're most excellent at putting me through to Jim when I'm about to run for the bathroom. You've never failed at getting Marcia on the line (visibly shudders at her name). I know you have the technology. The Power. You got the finest electricity this side of Tacoma for an hour straight. Do you not like her? Were you not impressed by her "accidental" brush against my leg at lunch? I'll put you in the appropriate pocket next time, I swear. Her touch is quite lovely. It's also few and far between, and I'll have none of this refusal to put her through! I know she's trying to call me now, dammnit, and you could be ruining everything because you're too proud to realize that it's ME she wants, not YOU. SHE already HAS a cell phone. It's pink and I'm sure it never looses reception due to where she's standing. Or sitting. Or standing. I mean, what is this?!

(He stands)

Half a bar.

(He sits)

Quarter bar.

(He stands)

And now no bars!

(He tries to sit and stand at the same time, resulting in a little dance)

Is this what you want? A final exhibition of a man's failure is a POLKA?! I was already behind the times, when I was young we would ask the girls in school if they'd like to, what was the exact phrase....ah yes. "Go with me". Her answer felt like a rock punched through my left lung.

To be rejected is considered success, even for a moment, however brief. To be ignored, not to be considered...it's like a thousand little rocks in my lungs.

(He collaspses on the desk)

(The phone rings)

THE END


BOTH BY "ROSE RUSSO" YES, IT'S MY PEN NAME. Me gusto!

True Life: I'm a Restaruant Chef: New Chapter

Once again ladies and gentleman, I give you the entertaining writing styles of Reid Wright and his college essay, "The Machine"

Many cooks came and went from the Metate room; sparking and fading in my memory. But there were four who stayed – standing like pillars - through the worst of times.

Lorenzo Whitehorse - The souse chef - was the big dog in the kitchen. He was 400lbs of barking Indian. He always seemed to be grumpy, and his booming voice could be heard shouting orders and curses through the solid brick wall in the customer’s bathroom.

“What the hell? Godamnit! Get your shit out of my face!” he would shout at the servers. Every once in awhile, he would flash a Cheshire grin to let us know it was all an act. Most of the time, it was.

Toby - Lorenzo’s little brother - was shorter and walked with a limp. Toby was a Satanist who collected action figures from horror films. The other cooks called them his “dolls”. Sunday morning, when most of us were hung-over, Toby hobbled around with a cone shaped colander on his head, whacking a sauté pan with a wooden spoon shouting: “Bring out your dead!” At 25, Toby was the closest to me in age.

Ben was a short, stocky, Navajo who was a little older and always had a kind grandfather smile. Ben was quiet in the way Lorenzo was not. I worked with him a year before he said a single word to me. When he did speak, it was in quiet mumbles that I usually couldn’t make out.

Brandon was the executive chef in charge. He was the glue that held us all together and kept us from getting sloppy. He was a big pale guy with glasses. A former Opera singer, Brandon would occasionally sing along operatically to ACDC on the radio.

Before we opened for dinner every night, Brandon would hold a staff meeting, which he would always end with the line: “Have fun, make money.” I have learned a little something from every single cook I have worked with, but most of it, I learned from Brandon.

People often ask me what the difference is between a cook and a chef. Chefs have been to culinary school. This doesn’t necessarily mean that chefs are better. I have known experienced cooks who could make food better and faster than most chefs. Graduating culinary school usually (but not always) gets you more money and better jobs. You can usually pick out a chef in a crowd of white coats because they use a lot of French vocabulary and they have a $1000 knife set rolled in a fancy case.

At first I was given odd and end jobs that a trained monkey could do. Mostly it was knife work. I was given several cases of vegetables to slice, chop, dice and julienne. I had a plastic bin the size of a bathtub and a four gallon bucket to fill up in three hours.

These days, most new cooks are given tightly woven fiber gloves to prevent them from cutting themselves. I had no such protection. Many times my blade would slip and I would feel the bitter kiss of laceration. I would often be seen wearing a latex glove stuffed with paper towel to soak up the blood. I still have the scars.

My hands learned a little from each cut. Now when the blade gets close to cutting me, I feel a tingling sensation, and pull away.

I worked my way up in rank quickly. I worked with Toby making deserts and appetizers. In retrospect, it was one of the most fun cooking jobs I ever had. Deserts are very artistic, and Brandon gave us free reign to do whatever we wanted with them. “People eat food with their eyes.” He used to say.

Once I had this mastered, Brandon started training me on “The Line”.

To us, there’s really just two kinds of cooks: Line cooks, and the rest. I read somewhere that fighter pilots, L.A. cops, and line cooks had the highest heart rates of any occupation.

For example, pretend you’re a broiler cook. A commercial broiler is much more potent than any backyard grill, and food cooks much faster.

Standing in front of this broiler it is about 110-120 degrees. You have 16 pieces of meat on the broiler. Each one is a different cut and a different temperature. You have to keep track of each one and which table it goes to. There an buzzer going off on the other side of the kitchen. Tickets are printing incessantly, needing to be read and called out to the other cooks. Your microwave beeper is going off. A pot is boiling over on the stove, servers are yelling at you, you’re out of sauce, you’re being elbowed by another cook trying to get something, there is a fire in your catch tray, and you have to piss like a pregnant woman. What do you do?

The answer: everything.