Monologues from the works of Playwright Todd McGinnis

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With thanks for his creativity!

Comedy Monologues

"POINT OF VIEWING" by Todd McGinnis

1) "THE TWO FACES OF SINCERITY WEEKS" SINCERITY on her cell phone

SINCERITY

(On her cell phone.) MARLA! (Beat.) Oh, don't give me "What time is it?", Marla. I know it's early. But if I have to be up so do you. (Beat.) Marla? (Beat.) MARLA! (Beat.) You're doing it again. (Beat.) ...Talking. ...You were just talking again, weren't you Marla? (Beat, waiting for an answer.) Weren't you, Marla? (Beat.) Yes. You were. And we both know that's not what I pay you for, is it, Marla? (Beat.) ...No. It isn't. Oh, and hey ---now that we're on the subject, Marla--- just what is it that I pay you for again? Come on Marla, this is an easy one... (No answer, so, prompting...) I pay you to...? (Beat.) "Listen!" That's right. Very good. Now let's just practice that a little shall we? Are you ready Marla? Good. You agent. Me TV Star. THEY very bad people who call TV Star in the wee wee hours of morning and say TV Star must get out of bed early and REDO show she already DONE! And why? Because she do something wrong? No. Because bad people with computers make boo boo. ---Are you with me so far, Marla?--- (Beat.) Good girl. Now at this point in the story our TV Star is very, very sad. She not want to get up early to redo show she already done. But, as luck would have it, TV Star is also very sweet girl: never say "no"; always willing to pitch in and never asking what's in it for her. And do you know why she is that way, Marla? (Beat.) That's right Marla: Because she doesn't want people to think she's a bitch. No. ...She wants people to think YOU'RE a bitch, Marla. And THAT'S the OTHER THING she pays you WAY TOO MUCH FOR! You follow? Now get out your megaphone and don't--- hang on. I've got a beep.

(Sincerity hits a button on her phone to pick up the other line.)

(Answering, very sweetly.) Hello? Sincerity Weeks... (Beat.)(Rolls her eyes in annoyance but manages to keep her tone unbelievably sweet and warm.) Oh, hello, Janine. I was so hoping you'd call. I've been wanting to call you but I lost your number. My little electronic daytimer-thing ---what do you call those again?--- (Beat.) Of course! "Palm pilot." Anyway, mine just went Kaa-PLOOEY! I lost everything! Appointments. Phone numbers. Reminders. Everything. But I do know why you're calling and I've been trying to get an answer for you about my availability to host that benefit dinner of yours. Unfortunately, my agent is right in the middle of trying to set up a really big deal for me that might conflict with your benefit and she won't give me the go-ahead to commit to you until she's finished negotiations. You see... (Suddenly, confiding.) Janine? Can you keep a secret? (Beat.) Good. Because I wouldn't want you to think I was trying to duck out on you. The truth is, the deal my agent's trying to put together, well, it's so hush-hush she won't even tell me much about it. But if I said the words: "Movie" and "Tom" would you have an idea what I'm talking about. (Beat.) SHHH! Ja-nine! You said you could

keep a secret! (Suddenly coy.) Besides... I didn't necessarily say it was that "Tom", did I? (Beat.) Good girl. So anyway, I hope you understand why my agent's making it a little difficult for me to push her on this. (Beat.) And you don't hate me too much? (Beat.) It's very sweet of you to be so understanding, Janine.

(Sincerity rolls her eyes and mimes "gagging" herself by sticking a finger down her throat.)

Listen Janine, have you still got my agent's number? (Beat.) Good. Now, I know it probably seems like I'm just giving you a runaround but ---I'm being very honest with you here, Janine--- Marla's honestly more in charge of my schedule than I am. So what I need you to do is give Marla a call and just keep bugging her until she gives you an answer. Will you do that for me, Janine? Because I really want be there for you. But I need you to get me there. Okay hon'? (Beat.) (In a sudden "rush".) Oh! I'm sorry, hon'. They're calling me to makeup. I have to go! Promise you'll call Marla, okay?

(She hits the "hang-up", then takes a calming breath before getting back to Marla.)

Okay, Marla. I have no idea what I was saying. But the bottom line is this: YOU are horribly, horribly offended that these jerks just expected me to come running back in here to cover their mistake without so much as a word about compensation. In fact, you are so outraged that you won't give them a moment's peace between now and air-time until they've named at least two outrageously high numbers. That clear enough? (Beat.) Good. Oh... And that woman from the hospital is going to be calling you about the benefit. You're negotiating a big secret deal for me so you can't possibly free me up unless she can pay full guest-speaker rates. Got it? Oh... and Marla? Find out how she got my number and make sure it doesn't happen again.

(Sincerity hangs up, blows out a breath of tension and slips the cell phone into a pocket.)

Comedy Monologues

2) TABITH SMILEY "SHE'S AFTER MY JOB"

SMILEY

(To the person offstage right.) Yes, Iris! I see you. I'll be there in a minute. (Drains her coffee. Then, to Sincerity.) And: No. I'm not bitter. I just don't see why she got the plumb job of hosting our Tenth Anniversary Pre-show Interview? They couldn't get somebody a little higher-profile than her? I mean, we are national... Hell, we're international tv stars! We've been Number One in our time slot for almost all of the time we've been on the air. What's the Stick ever done? [Besides...] I don't "think" she's after my job. I know it. I keep my eyes and ears open. You know she's sleeping with Terry. How did you think she got her own show last fall? Talent? [Of course, they pulled it after three episodes but still. That’s all the more reason] why Terry needs to find something else for his love-muffin to do. And why go to all the work of trying to create and sell a new show when you can just make a little room for her on a top-rated show that you already own? Of course, it won't happen overnight. No. You have to do these things carefully, little by little, you have to make sure that it all happens quietly. That way Britanny can get what she wants, Terry can keep on getting what he wants... for as long as he wants. Everybody's happy. (Beat, a wicked, musing smile begins to show.) Unless of course, the boys in "post" screw up so badly that you have to put a woman who has nothing to lose ---the woman you're trying to ditch--- on the air... in a live tv broadcast over which you have little or no control. Then things might not go quite so according to plan. Maybe I'll go BALLISTIC on the air!?! Huh? How would that be? Maybe I'll just go NUTS and tell the whole world what these ungrateful, back-stabbing creeps are up to? HUH!?! HOW 'BOUT THAT!?! HOW WOULD THAT BE!?! (Beat. (Beat, the fantasy loses its charm, wind goes out of her sails.) Or maybe... I'll just behave like a professional and get on with things since there's nothing I can do about it anyway. [If I complain] they can accuse me of trying to poison the working atmosphere and I'm gone. Freak out on the show? Unprofessional conduct and I'm gone. Either way, I'm gone. (Smiley notices the "return" of Iris offstage.) Oh look who's back? What the matter, Iris? Did you miss me? (Smiley heads for the exit, then stops and turns back, about to say something else but apparently silenced before she can do so by the continued glare from offstage. She turns back to "face" Iris, planting a fist on one hip and glares right back.) Oh you so don't want to give me that look at this hour of the morning, Iris. (Beat.) I'm warning you, woman: I am only three coffees into a six coffee morning...

Comedy Monologues

3) SINCERITY’S CONCERN FOR HER ACCOUNTANT’S MENTAL HEALTH

SINCERITY

Suit yourself. (Then, into her phone.) Put Martin on. (Beat. Then suddenly sweet.) Hi Martin. It's your favourite client. (Beat.) I know this is your home number, Martin but I just couldn't wait. I was worried about you. (Beat.) Yes Martin. I was worried about that little drug problem of yours and I was just wondering how it's going? (Beat.) Well, let me try to refresh your memory. Do you remember that invoice you sent me recently? (Beat.) Okay. That's good. Your memory isn't totally gone...

Now, Martin, do you remember the invoice amount? (Beat.) Oh you do? So I guess you also remember that it was a little high... (Beat.) Well, Martin, when I say "a little high"? I guess what I mean is: You must have been high when you came up with that number. What're you, on crack? Is that it? (1/2 Beat.) Martin, I'm saying this for your own good: That invoice was clearly a cry for help from a sad pathetic mind in the grip of some terrible addiction. If you thought for one second that I was going to pay your ridiculous hourly rate for work that very clearly wasn't even done by you--- (Beat.) ...No it wasn't. (1/2 beat.) No it wasn't. (1/2 beat, then suddenly ominous.) Go ahead, Martin... Make me say it just once more... I dare you.

[AUTHOR’S NOTE: At this point in the play, someone passes through the room, distracting Sincerity from her phone call for several long silent beats. For monologue performance purposes… Sincerity now takes a long beat away from the phone call to do something else. ----Suggestions: chew some aspirin; take a drink; check her makeup; signal for another drink; telegraph her disgust with the food that’s been brought to her and send it back; blow kisses and mime an enthusiastic greeting to someone she really can’t stand who just happens to be passing by, etc.---- When she is done, she returns her attention to the phone.]

Hmmm? (Beat.) No Martin, I didn't hear a word you said, I wasn't listening to you. Which is probably the only reason you're still my accountant. Now, here are the possibilities: One. You got one of your junior chimpanzees to do the work and you signed off on it without checking it thoroughly. Or Two. You did the job yourself five minutes after you became a total mental retard! Now which is it? (Beat.) ...Shall I take your stunned silence as an admission of guilt? Okay then. Here's what you're going to do Martin: You're going to go back through that return and you're going to find all the mistakes that I found and you're going to correct them. Then you're going to send me a whole new return with a whole new invoice for a whole lot less money. In exchange, I won't fire your ass and bad mouth your good name to everyone I know. How's that sound? (Beat.) I thought you'd like it. You are now free to hang up.

Comedy Monologues

4) TABITHA SMILEY’S RANT ABOUT TV EXPERTS & POP-PSYCHOLOGISTS

SMILEY

You know what the problem is with you ["Experts"?] You take some totally ordinary, mildly annoying or inconvenient human characteristic and you attach a name to it and suddenly... BOOM! You've identified a BIG SPOOKY SYNDROME!!! Like... a fat kid who gets no exercise and spends the whole day eating potato chips and Oreos isn't just "fat", is he? Oh no! He's got "Narco-Lethargic Snack-itus SYNDROME!". Ooooo! Or a kid who hasn't been outdoors in a month and won't sit still doesn't maybe just need some fresh air and exercise. No way! 'Cause that kid's got "Interio-Phobic Hyperactivational SYNDROME" RIGHT? OOOOOOooo! So now we all have to be SCARED of the BIG BAD SYNDROME!!! And why? Because some total nobody, like you were, who's trying to establish a name for himself so he can build his practice... well... he's written dozens of articles about this HUGE NEW PROBLEM in some pseudo-credible rag like... I don't know...

(Smiley pours herself a drink.)

Time or People or… Maclean's. And of course, because this is just ordinary, everyday reality for a lot of people, you have no problem finding lots of "tragic case histories" that you can trot out on shows like this one. And the next thing you know? Everybody's looking over everybody's shoulder, wondering if this person has this "syndrome" or that person has that "issue" and what should they do about it? Well, what CAN they do? I guess they have to call the EXPERT, don't they? And that's the idiot they read in the paper or saw on tv talking about this thing they never even knew was a LIFE-SHATTERING CRISIS until he told him it was.

(Takes a sip of her drink.)

(Aside.) OOO! Look! I've got I-FELT-LIKE-HAVING-A-FREAKIN'-DRINK SYNDROME! OOOooo! How will I LIVE!?! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! So now, our expert has a thriving practice ---which he's never at because he's too busy attending symposiums and conferences--- and the talk shows have something to buzz about between commercials, and the chemical companies have scads of new pink and yellow pills to sell, when all our "Video-game-ADDICTED, Hyperactively-Manic-Depressive, Chronically-Obese case of Attention-Deficit Disorder" really needed was: a piece of fresh fruit; a whack on the ass; twenty minutes of fresh air and movement; and a dictionary so he could look up the meaning of the word "NO"!

Comedy Monologues

7) HERA, QUEEN OF THE GODS DISCUSSES HER MARITAL PROBLEMS

HERA

(Complimenting Iris, Goddess of Rainbows on her efforts to prevent Zeus --Hera’s husband--- from following through on his planned "romantic" conquest/infidelity with a visting goddess.)

I must say... you did that rather well ...Keeping yourself alive for a little while longer, I mean. (Filling her cup.) After all, there he was, about to stroll off with that... (Can't find the word, lets it go.) ...only moments away from sealing your fate and suddenly... you have him postponing his little "rendez-vous" as though it was his idea. Not for long, of course, but still... impressive. You must show me how you do that sometime. I mean you really must. Or I'll destroy you. (Beat.) Do you want to know what the real problem is? I'm the Goddess of Domestic Bliss! Happy homes and healthy marriages are my territory. And I can't even make my own work! (Sighs.) One day I'm the happily-married "Queen of Gods", the envy of earth and heavens, with a perfect, loving, devoted husband. The next? I'm threatening to rip the wings off Hermes when I find out he's carrying a love note from my husband to some shepherd-girl! Not that it was Hermes's fault, of course. He just naturally thought the letter was for me. But it was an honest mistake and he felt so bad about it ---He's been really sweet to me ever since, just trying to make it up--- so I never told Zeus how I found out. Oh! And if you ever tell anyone--- (Makes a threatening gesture suggesting she’ll destroy Iris.)

(Sighs.) Anyway, that's how things are: He cheats... I get angry and accuse him. He denies it... I fill his bathtub with poisonous vipers and scorpions. It's a vicious circle.

Comedy Monologues

8) IRIS, GODDESS OF RAINBOWS REVEALS HER AMBITIONS

IRIS

(Confiding.) Rainbows aren't really as fascinating as most people think.

(Nodding.) It's true. Sometimes... it's even dull. [I mean,] "rainbows" is mostly working "in-the-field" you know... Long periods of time, hanging around on horizons, waiting for rain. And THAT's the problem! Being "in-the-field" for so long I've lost touch with what's really going on. Anyway, that's why I asked to see Zeus. I need to be here at "head office", where the action is! Give my image as a goddess a complete make-over. It's time I started getting the same respect all the other gods take for granted. I want... (Her eyes widen as she enthusiastically envisions her dream.) I want... Whole cities of people afraid to make a move in case they incur my displeasure and I crush them… That's why I need Zeus to promote me. I want to take on some new powers, add a whole new dimension to what people think of me. Something cool like Iris... Goddess of Volcanoes! Or Terrible Storms or... Or Exploding Fish! ...or something. Well... That would sure put the fear of Me into them, wouldn't it? I mean there they are, ordinary little mortals home from a nice day at sea... They sit down for dinner, go to take a nice big bite of tasty fish and… POW! That's the fish exploding. Oh! But don't worry! I'd still do rainbows. I just want to... you know, add value to what I do. I would never leave Zeus short-handed. Maybe you could mention that when you tell him I'm here?

Comedy Monologues

9) CHASTITY TELLS THE STORY OF HER "ONE & ONLY"

CHASTITY

When I was twelve years old, I had to walk through this little park every day on my way home from school... [And] there were these mean kids who had started hanging out in the park. They'd been giving me a bit of a hard time. Calling me names. Chasing me. Knocking my books out of my hands. So, I started taking a longer way home. But this one day it didn't help. I was taking a cut-through between two streets. I was only a couple blocks from home and suddenly, there they were at the other end of the path. I remember thinking, actually thinking about turning around and going all the way back to my old route. But that would have taken so long and my Mom would have been mad at me if I got home that late. So I decided, "No, I'm going this way. Maybe they'll just leave me alone this time." Of course, they didn't. They pushed me into the mud at the edge of the sidewalk, they kicked my books around. And then one of them grabbed my charm bracelet. I tried to stop him ---it was a Christmas present from my Grandmother--- but of course, it broke. And that was it. I started to cry. I sat there in the mud and covered my head and started to cry. And then, all of a sudden I heard this other voice. I looked up, and there's this boy, standing between me and the bullies. He's not as big as they are but he's standing in their way and he won't move. I couldn't hear what he was saying over my own crying but the next thing I knew the bullies were running away and he was helping me to my feet. He picked up my books while I picked up the pieces of my charm bracelet. Then he did the sweetest thing, he walked me all the way home to make sure I got there safely. I know it sounds corny, but all the way home I just couldn't stop looking at him. I mean, here was this boy, he'd rescued me and now he was walking me home, making sure I was safe, like my own knight in shining armour. And that was when I realized he was my "one". I just knew it somehow. I was sure of it. (Beat.) [Anyway], a week later there was going to be a school dance... And I just knew I'd see him there. I spent the whole week worrying about what I should wear. My Mom finally helped me to pick out this really nice blue dress. But then, on the night of the dance, I ripped one of the seams when I was putting it on. My Mom had to get out the sewing machine to fix it. So I was a little late getting to the dance. I couldn't wait for him to see me, in my new dress. 'Cause I knew that when he saw me, I mean really saw me, he'd know that I was the "one" for him just the same as he was the "one" for me. (Beat.) He never showed up. And I never saw him again. Over the next couple of weeks I looked for him in the halls at school. But I never saw him. I asked around until I found out that his family had moved. I was never able to find out where. ...Ever since then... I've had this problem. No matter how attractive I find a man, as soon as we start to... get close, I start to panic. What if I met my "one" when I was twelve? Who knows? He could walk back into my life tomorrow. Then again, what if he wasn't the "one"? What if waiting for the wrong "one" keeps me from being able to recognize my real "one" when he does come along? (To Jerry.) You at least had time with the person you thought was your "one". You got to find out that she wasn't. I found the person I thought was my "one" but then I lost him. I never had the chance to find out if I was right.

Comedic Monologues

5) HARRISON "GETTING DIRECTIONS FROM A HICK"

HARRISON

I got lost. (Beat.) Well I haven't been here in almost ten [years], have I? Besides... It looks different at night. [Stupid rental car didn’t have a map. And BEFORE YOU SAY IT: Yes! I DID ask for directions.] I stopped at a gas-station and asked directions from some young "Jethro". That's what you're supposed to do, right? That's what women always complain about isn't it? That men never ask directions? Well, I did. And you know what I found out? I found out that, with someone else's "help" it was possible to get even more lost than I already was! I spent forever driving around looking for the unmistakable landmarks of the "Henderson's big red barn" at which I was supposed to turn left, and "the Jacob's white picket fence", at which I was supposed to turn right. The only problem with these helpful travel tips were... that the Henderson's "big red barn" is actually nothing more than a pile of rocks overgrown with grass and weeds, and the Jacobs would seem to have disposed of their white picket fence some time ago! Apparently, people who live in the sticks only seem to know how to give directions in reference to landmarks that aren't there anymore!

[…Fortunately], I had a chance to discuss my little theory with young "Jethro", whose "directions" had just been oh-SO-helpful... when I arrived BACK at his gas-station an hour later because apparently I had just been driving around in circles the whole time. I was beginning to expect Rod Serling to step out from behind a hedge and welcome me to the Twilight Zone!

Comedy Monologues

Where's the Poison?from The Princess Bride by William Goldman

Vizzini: Where's the Iocaine poison? But it's so simple! All I have to do is divine from what I know of you - are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or his enemy's?

Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet knowing that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must've known I was not a great fool; you would've counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.

I haven't made my decision yet, though.

Because Iocaine comes from Australia, as everyone knows. And Australia is peopled entirely with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. And you must've suspected I would've known the powder's origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.

Now... You've beaten my giant, which means you're exceptionally strong, so you could've put the poison in your own goblet trusting on your strength to save you, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But, you've also bested my Spaniard, which means you must've studied, and in studying you must've learned that man is mortal, so you would've put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.

Ha, it's worked; you've given everything away! I know where the poison is...! And I choose- (points behind the Pirate) what in the world can that be?! (switches goblets) Oh, I could've sworn I saw something. Well, no matter. Let's drink - me from my glass, and you from yours. (drinks, then laughs)

You think I guessed wrong, that's what's so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned! Ha ha, you fool! You've fallen victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous of which is "Never get involved in a land war in Asia", but only slightly less well known is this - "Never go in against a Sicilian, when death is on the line!" Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha h-! (falls over dead)

Comedy Monologues

President Muffley Callingfrom Dr. Strangeloveby Peter George, Stanley Kubrick & Terry Southern

President Merkin Muffley: Hello? ... Ah ... I can't hear too well. Do you suppose you could turn the music down just a little? ... Oh oh, that's much better. ... yeah ... huh ... yes ... Fine, I can hear you now, Dmitri. ... Clear and plain and coming through fine... I'm coming through fine, too, eh? ... Good, then ... well, then, as you say, we're both coming through fine. Good. Well, it's good that you're fine and ... and I'm fine. ... I agree with you, it's great to be fine. ... a-ha-ha-ha-ha ...

Now then, Dmitri, you know how we've always talked about the possibility of something going wrong with the Bomb. ...The Bomb, Dmitri.... The hydrogen bomb! ... Well now, what happened is ... ah ... one of our base commanders, he had a sort of ... well, he went a little funny in the head ... you know ... just a little ... funny. And, ah ... he went and did a silly thing. ... Well, I'll tell you what he did. He ordered his planes ... to attack your country... Ah... Well, let me finish, Dmitri. ... Let me finish, Dmitri. ... Well listen, how do you think I feel about it?! Can you imagine how I feel about it, Dmitri? ... Why do you think I'm calling you? Just to say hello? ... Of course I like to speak to you! ... Of course I like to say hello! ... Not now, but anytime, Dmitri. I'm just calling up to tell you something terrible has happened... It's a friendly call. Of course it's a friendly call. ... Listen, if it wasn't friendly ... you probably wouldn't have even got it. ... They will not reach their targets for at least another hour. ... I am ... I am positive, Dmitri. ... Listen, I've been all over this with your ambassador. It is not a trick. ...

Well, I'll tell you. We'd like to give your air staff a complete run-down on the targets, the flight plans, and the defensive systems of the planes. ... Yes! I mean i-i-i-if we're unable to recall the planes, then ... I'd say that, ah ... well, ah ... we're just gonna have to help you destroy them, Dmitri. ... I know they're our boys. ... All right, well listen now. Who should we call? Who should we call, Dmitri? The ... wha-whe, the People... you Sorry, you faded away there.... The People's Central Air Defense Headquarters? ... Where is that, Dmitri? ... In Omsk. ... Right. ... Yes. ... Oh, you'll call them first, will you? ... Uh-huh ... Listen, do you happen to have the phone number on you, Dmitri? ... Wha, what? I see, just ask for Omsk information. ...Ah-ah-eh-uhm-hm ... I'm sorry, too, Dmitri. ...I'm very sorry. ... All right, you're sorrier than I am, but I am sorry as well. ... I am as sorry as you are, Dmitri! Don't say that you're more sorry than I am, because I'm capable of being just as sorry as you are. ...

So we're both sorry, all right?! ... All right.

Comedy Monologues

My Watchfrom Sketches New and Oldby Mark Twain(Written about 1870)

MY beautiful new watch had run eighteen months without losing or gaining, and without breaking any part of its machinery or stopping. I had come to believe it infallible in its judgments about the time of day, and to consider its constitution and its anatomy imperishable.

But at last, one night, I let it run down. I grieved about it as if it were a recognized messenger and forerunner of calamity. But by and by I cheered up, set the watch by guess, and commanded my bodings and superstitions to depart.

Next day I stepped into the chief jeweler's to set it by the exact time, and the head of the establishment took it out of my hand and proceeded to set it for me. Then he said, "She is four minutes slow -- regulator wants pushing up." I tried to stop him -- tried to make him understand that the watch kept perfect time. But no; all this human cabbage could see was that the watch was four minutes slow, and the regulator MUST be pushed up a little; and so, while I danced around him in anguish, and implored him to let the watch alone, he calmly and cruelly did the shameful deed.

My watch began to gain. It gained faster and faster day by day. Within the week it sickened to a raging fever, and its pulse went up to a hundred and fifty in the shade. At the end of two months it had left all the timepieces of the town far in the rear, and was a fraction over thirteen days ahead of the almanac. It was away into November enjoying the snow, while the October leaves were still turning. It hurried up house rent, bills payable, and such things, in such a ruinous way that I could not abide it.

I took it to the watchmaker to be regulated. He asked me if I had ever had it repaired. I said no, it had never needed any repairing. He looked a look of vicious happiness and eagerly pried the watch open, and then put a small dice box into his eye and peered into its machinery. He said it wanted cleaning and oiling, besides regulating -- come in a week. After being cleaned and oiled, and regulated, my watch slowed down to that degree that it ticked like a tolling bell. I began to be left by trains, I failed all appointments, I got to missing my dinner; my watch strung out three days' grace to four and let me go to protest; I gradually drifted back into yesterday, then day before, then into last week, and by and by the comprehension came upon me that all solitary and alone I was lingering along in week before last, and the world was out of sight. I seemed to detect in myself a sort of sneaking fellow-feeling for the mummy in the museum, and desire to swap news with him.

I went to a watch maker again. He took the watch all to pieces while I waited, and then said the barrel was "swelled." He said he could reduce it in three days.

After this the watch AVERAGED well, but nothing more. For half a day it would go like the very mischief, and keep up such a barking and wheezing and whooping and sneezing and snorting, that I could not hear myself think for the disturbance; and as long as it held out there was not a watch in the land that stood any chance against it. But the rest of the day it would keep on slowing down and fooling along until all the clocks it had left behind caught up again. So at last, at the end of twenty-four hours, it would trot up to the judges' stand all right and just in time. It would show a fair and square average, and no man could say it had done more or less than its duty.

But a correct average is only a mild virtue in a watch, and I took this instrument to another watchmaker. He said the kingbolt was broken. I said I was glad it was nothing more serious. To tell the plain truth, I had no idea what the kingbolt was, but I did not choose to appear ignorant to a stranger. He repaired the kingbolt, but what the watch gained in one way it lost in another. It would run awhile and then stop awhile, and then run awhile again, and so on, using its own discretion about the intervals. And every time it went off it kicked back like a musket. I padded my breast for a few days, but finally took the watch to another watchmaker.

He picked it all to pieces, and turned the ruin over and over under his glass; and then he said there appeared to be something the matter with the hair-trigger. He fixed it, and gave it a fresh start. It did well now, except that always at ten minutes to ten the hands would shut together like a pair of scissors, and from that time forth they would travel together. The oldest man in the world could not make head or tail of the time of day by such a watch, and so I went again to have the thing repaired. This person said that the crystal had got bent, and that the mainspring was not straight. He also remarked that part of the works needed half-soling. He made these things all right, and then my timepiece performed unexceptionably, save that now and then, after working along quietly for nearly eight hours, everything inside would let go all of a sudden and begin to buzz like a bee, and the hands would straightway begin to spin round and round so fast that their individuality was lost completely, and they simply seemed a delicate spider's web over the face of the watch. She would reel off the next twenty-four hours in six or seven minutes, and then stop with a bang.

I went with a heavy heart to one more watchmaker, and looked on while he took her to pieces. Then I prepared to cross-question him rigidly, for this thing was getting serious. The watch had cost two hundred dollars originally, and I seemed to have paid out two or three thousand for repairs. While I waited and looked on I presently recognized in this watchmaker an old acquaintance; a steamboat engineer of former days, and not a good engineer, at that. He examined all the parts carefully, just as the other watchmakers had done, and then delivered his verdict with the same confidence of manner.

He said, "She makes too much steam -- you want to hang the monkey-wrench on the safety-valve!"

I brained him on the spot, and had him buried at my own expense.

My uncle William (now deceased, alas!) used to say that a good horse was a good horse until it had run away once, and that a good watch was a good watch until the repairers got a chance at it. He also used to wonder what became of all the unsuccessful tinkers, and gunsmiths, and shoemakers, and engineers, and blacksmiths; but nobody could ever tell him.

Comedy Monologues

Men Are From Mars, Women Are From The GAPBy Dave Barry

I believe that, in general, women are saner than men.For example: If you see people who have paid good money to stand in an outdoor stadium on a freezing December day wearing nothing on the upper halves of their bodies except paint, those people will be male.Without males, there would be no such sport as professional lawn mower racing. Also, there would be a 100 percent decline in the annual number of deaths attributed to shooting beer cans off of heads. There would be no such words as ``wedgie'' and ``noogie'' and probably "booger."Also, if women were in charge of all the world's nations there would be --- I sincerely believe this --- virtually no military conflicts. If there happened to be a military conflict, everybody involved would feel just awful and there would soon be a high-level exchange of thoughtful notes written on greeting cards with flowers on the front, followed by a Peace Luncheon (which would be salads, with the dressing on the side, of course).So I sincerely believe that women are wiser than men, with the exception of one key area, and that area is: clothing sizes. In this particular area, women are insane.When a man shops for clothes, his primary objective -- follow me closely here -- is to purchase clothes that fit on his particular body. A man will try on a pair of pants, and if those pants are too small, he'll try on a larger pair, and when he finds a pair that fits, he buys them. Most men do not spend a lot of time fretting about the size of their pants. Many men wear jeans with the size printed right on the back label, so that if you're standing behind a man in a supermarket line, you can read his waist and inseam size. A man could have, say, a 52-inch waist and a 30-inch inseam, and his label will proudly display this information, which is basically the same thing as having a sign that says: ``Howdy! My butt is the size of the Kingdome!!!''The situation is very different with women. When a woman shops for clothes, her primary objective is NOT to find clothes that fit her particular body. She would like for that to be the case, but her primary objective is to purchase clothes that are the size she wore when she was 19 years old. This will be some arbitrary number such as "8" or "10". Don't ask me "8" or "10" what; that question has baffled scientists for centuries. All I know is that if a woman was a size 8 at age 19, she wants to be a size 8 now, and if a size 8 outfit does not fit her, she will not move on to a larger size. She can't! Her size is 8, dammit! So she will keep trying on size 8 items, and unless they start fitting her, she will become extremely unhappy. She may take this unhappiness out on her husband, who is waiting patiently in the mall, perhaps browsing in the Sharper Image store, trying to think of how he could justify purchasing a pair of night-vision goggles."Hi", he'll say when his wife finds him. "You know how sometimes the electricity goes out at night and . . .""Am I fat?", she'll ask, cutting him off.This is a very bad situation for the man, because if he answers "yes", she'll be angry because he's saying that she's fat, and if he answers "no", she'll be angry because HE'S

OBVIOUSLY LYING BECAUSE NONE OF THE SIZE 8's FIT HER. There is no escape for the husband. I think a lot of unexplained disappearances occur because guys in malls see their wives unsuccessfully trying on outfits, and they realize their lives will be a lot easier if, before their wives come out and demand to know whether they're fat, the guys just run off somewhere and join a UFO cult.

Comedy Monologues

Lenny's Explanationfrom Rumorsby Neil Simon

Lenny: Okay... let's see... the story... as it happened... as I remember it... (as I'm telling it...) oh, God... Well, here goes...At exactly six o'clock tonight I came home from work. My wife, Myra, was in her dressing room getting dressed for the party. I got a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator and headed upstairs. Rosita, the Spanish cook, was in the kitchen with Ramona, her Spanish sister, and Romero, her Spanish son. They were preparing an Italian dinner. They were waiting for Myra to tell them when to start the dinner. As I climbed the stairs I said to myself, "It's my 10th wedding anniversary and I can't believe I still love my wife so much." Myra was putting on the perfume I got her for Christmas. I purposely bought it because it drives me crazy! I tapped on her door. Tap tap tap. She opens it. I hand her a glass of champagne. I make a toast. "To the most beautiful wife a man ever had for ten years." She said, "To the best man, and the best ten years a beautiful wife ever had." ... We drink, we kiss, we toast again. "To the loveliest skin on the loveliest body that has never aged a day in ten wonderful years." She toasts, "To the gentlest hands that have ever stroked the loveliest skin that has never aged a day in ten wonderful years."... We drink, we kiss, we toastWe drink, we kiss, we toast...By seven o'clock the bottle is finished, my wife is sloshed, and I'm completely toasted... And then I smell the perfume. The perfume I could never resist... I loved her in that moment with as much passion and ardor as when we were first newlyweds. I tell you this, not with embarrassment, but with pride and joy for a love that grows stronger and more lasting as each new day passes. We lay there spent, naked in each other's arms, complete in our happiness. It's now eight o'clock and outside it's grown dark. Suddenly, a gentle knock on the door. Knock knock knock. The door opens and a strange young man looks down on us with a knife in his hands. Myra screams.(he begins to act out the story)I jump up and run for the gun in my drawer. Myra grabs a towel and shields herself. I run back in with the pistol, ready to save my wife's life. The strange young man says in Spanish, "Yo quito se dablo enchilada por quesa in quinto minuto." But I don't speak Spanish, and I never saw Rosita's son, Romero, before, and I didn't know the knife was to cut up the salad and he was just asking should they heat up the dinner now? So I aimed my gun at him, Myra screams and pulls my arm. The gun goes off and shoots me in the ear lobe. Rosita's son, Romero, runs downstairs to tell Rosita and Ramona, "Mamasetta! Meela que pasa el hombre ay baco ay yah. El hombre que loco, que bang-bang" -the crazy man took a shot at him. So, Rosita, Ramona, and Romero leave in a huff. My earlobe is bleeding all over Myra's new dress. Suddenly we hear a car pull up. It's the first guests. Myra grabs a bathrobe, and runs downstairs to stop Rosita, Ramona, and Romero, otherwise we'll have no dinner. But they drive off in their Alfa Romeo. I look out the window, but it's dark and I think someone is stealing my beautiful old Mercedes, so I take another shot at them. Myra runs downstairs to the basement where we keep the cedar chest. She's looking for the dress she wore last year for Bonds For Israel. She can't find

the light, trips down the stairs, passes out in the dark. I run downstairs looking for Myra, notice the basement door is open and afraid the strange-looking kid will come back, so I lock the door, not knowing Myra is still down there. Then I run upstairs to take some aspirin because my ear lobe is killing me from the hole in it. But the blood on my fingertips gets in my eyes and by mistake I take four Valium instead. I hear the guests downstairs and I want to tell them to look for Myra. But suddenly, I can't talk from the Valium, and I'm bleeding on the white rug. So I start to write a note explaining what happened, but the note looks like gibberish. And I'm afraid they'll think it was a suicide note and they'll call the police and my friend Glenn Cooper was coming and it would be very bad for his campaign to get mixed up with a suicide, so I tore up the note, and flushed it down the toilet, just as they walked into the room. They're yelling at me, "What happened? What happened?" And before I could tell them what happened, I passed out on the bed and that's the whole damn story, as sure as my name is -- Charley Brock.

Comedy Monologues

It's A Jobfrom Perfect Specimenby Charles E. Street and John LoPresti

FOSTER: Well like I said, I went into the Air Force and went into basic training at Lackland. You know, 'couple of weeks into it they put you on KP and let me tell you were you in the service? (LEBEAU shakes his head "no") Well, KP's the worst thing there is. It's like 18 hours of scrubbing pots and things like that as fast as you can and no breaks at all. Well after several days of that you get to hate it. Then one morning they lined us up and said "Ok, another day of KP unless you want to volunteer for something easy." And of course we all did. So they marched us to this other part of the base, like with big hangars, and we were feeling pretty smug.

Well they split us up and we each went with different people in lab coats. The lab coats were the tip-off we should have known. Anyway they stuck me in this little steel room with a lounge chair and a t.v. set. And they told me to just sit there and watch t.v. I had these electrodes all over me and some tubes sucking saliva out of my mouth so I had no idea what they were doing.

Well, I sat there watching Perry Mason and pretty soon I started feeling funny. I didn't know they were sucking the air out of the room. You see, they don't tell you a thing. And pretty soon I started getting pretty light-headed and Della Street and Perry Mason were wrestling naked... Honest, that's what I saw.

Then WHOOOM, all the air comes rushing back in. It hits you like a run-away freightliner. And as soon as the air is all back in, they do it again. All day.

But I'll tell you what. I did such a great job they asked me to come back the next day. And pretty soon I didn't even have to go back to basic training. I just worked there. Got my stripes and all and met a lot of people over the four years who got me started doing it for pay. Just dumb luck, I guess.

Thing is, I have to cover my own medical costs. It was all free at Harvard but I don't want to talk about them. And M.I.T. picked up on the repairs too. But I'll tell you, out in the private sector, well, it's a whole different deal. Dog-eat-dog. And you can't imagine... like when you get a disease or something from those little alien bastards, NOBODY can fix it. And the bills just keep piling up. Well, I need to work.

Comedy Monologues

Invisiblefrom The Comedy of Neil Simonby Neil Simon

(introduction)

In the beginning, I was a boy. A plain boy. A nice, plain boy. I went to school, I ate breakfast, I listened to The Shadow, I dreamt of being Joe DiMaggio, I went to the movies a lot and once was thrown out of a theater for laughing too loud at Chaplin in Modern Times. No sinister signs, no black omens. A nice, plain boy . . .

Well, perhaps a few telltale hints to a discerning eye. I would go with my parents to visit a "distant" relative, distant in those days meaning a forty-minute trolley ride across the river to the Bronx, and once there, I imagined myself invisible. No earthly creature could see me because no earthly creature talked to me for hours at a time, save for grown-ups, when they offered me a cookie or a nice apple. I refused, hoping this would discourage them from further contact, enabling me to mask myself again in a cloak of obscurity. Hours would go by. They would talk, I would listen. I got to know them better by listening than if I had engaged them in conversation myself. On the trolley going home I realized again that I could not be seen by the human eye. People talked to each other, not to me. They looked at each other, not at me. Unobserved, unnoticed, unheeded, I could go about my curious business, storing up vast amounts of valuable information like accents, hair styles; those who shined their shoes and those who did not, nose blowers, nose wipers, nose leakers and those with various other nose habits too indelicate to mention. Occasionally I would be noticed, invariably by another young boy my own age and alone with his parents. I would have to be careful. If the other boy noticed what I was doing, I would be exposed. I stared at the Wrigley Chewing Gum sign above the heads of the occupants on the other side, hoping and praying the interloper would get off before I did. Success at last. There he goes. Stubby arms and a fat behind. Bad athlete, good student, and probably gets an allowance. Oh, terrific, his underwear constantly sticks in his crotch and he pulls at it in a really ridiculous way. I have him now. Let him dare to threaten to expose me, to reveal to the world my existence, and I shall shame him with vivid descriptions of how he gets off a trolley.

Home to bed and dreams of victory and triumph. The Shadow knows.

Comedy Monologues

ColaBabyby Michael T. Folie

First of all, I'd like to take a moment to congratulate each and every one of you on the impending birth of your children. Second, I'd like to thank your teacher, Karen, for given me this opportunity to address you here in your Lamaze class.My name is (YOUR NAME) and I am a Special Programs Marketing Coordinator for the Tasta-Cola Bottling Company. You may have noticed the free Tasta-Cola soft drinks we've provided for you during your breaks.(Displays $100 bills)Tonight, though, I'm not here to give away soda, I'm here to give away money. That's right. The Tasta-Cola Bottling Company would like to give each set of new parents here tonight $500. I'll bet an extra $500 would come in handy right about now, wouldn't it?I know. You're saying to yourself, "what's the catch?" The catch is that you and your unborn child could play an important role in the most exciting consumer product marketing program in history.Soon-to-be-Moms who agree to take part and sign our release will receive one, tiny little injection prior to birth, administered by a fully acredited doctor or nurse. And that's all there is to it. When your child is five, ten and fifteen years old, medical researchers from Tasta-Cola will visit your home, interview you and your child and peform -- completely free of charge -- a thorough physical examination. And you will be paid an additional $500 for each of these visits.Imagine, a doctor who makes housecalls AND gives you $500. Plus, you will also receive, after each exam, a free year's supply of Tasta-Cola soft drinks.(To someone who has tried to ask a question)Yes, I'm getting to that. As you know, the world is divided into two kinds of people: those smarties who drink Tasta-Cola, and those poor, misguided souls who, for some reason or another, choose to drink that other cola. Well, our Tasta-Cola research scientists believe they have isolated the chemicals in the developing brain of a fetus that cause that child later in life to prefer one brand of soft drink over another. I know, it sounds like science fiction. But trust me, if you had seen, as I did, all those little white laboratory mice jumping all over each other to get to that Tasta-Cola feeding tube, you'd be a believer, too.Now, if you don't take part in this program, there's a better than 50 percent chance your child will grow up preferring the great taste of Tasta-Cola anyway. And you'll be out a total of $2,000. In fact, I'm not even supposed to mention this, but a TV movie about the program called COLABABY! is already in the works. And every child who takes part will receive a limited-edition, 50 percent cotton, collector's edition t-shirt that says "I'm a ColaBaby!"Any questions?Is it safe? I'm very glad you asked that. You know why? Because I've got the answer right here in this little statement that the lawyers tell me I have to read word for word. Let's see. (Reading from card) "You know, the one thing Tasta-Cola values above all else

is the total and complete trust ordinary people like you have in our company and our products. Without that consumer trust, we're nothing. So ask yourselves this: would a multi-billion dollar company like Tasta-Cola risk losing that trust?"That just about says it all, doesn't it? Any baby taking part in this program will have three loving parents from now on: Mom, Dad -- and the Tasta-Cola Bottling Company.Okay, to get your first $500 and your ColaBaby t-shirt, just come up and see me during the break. All you have to do is sign your name and schedule your injection. We'll take care of everything else.

Comedy Monologues

7) BRAD "YOU'RE KILLING ME, MYRON!" Opening Monologue

(Presented here complete with stage directions for clarity's sake.)

BRAD

(Entering a tv studio at the start of the day.)

Jeez-us! Welcome to the fridge.

(He takes a swig of his coffee and calls out over the audience to the booth, as he crosses towards the table extreme down left.)

Hey! Somebody up there wanna fire up some show-lights? It's colder than my ex-wife's lawyer in here.

(Setting down his food, and clipboard he spends a moment looking around the table for something that seems to be missing.)

("SHOW" LIGHTS COME UP, replacing the harsh, overhead glare of the work-lights, with something a little more pleasant.)

(Then, noticing that the stools from the interviews are still in place, he quickly sets about clearing them from the stage, calling out to someone in the booth at the back of the house as he does so.)

(Crossing to clear the center-most stool) Hey! Anybody up there seen the ladies' sheets? (Crosses back left, gathering up the stage left stool as he goes. He pauses before exiting.) Hello...? (Sighs, exasperated.) ...Okay. Fine. Ignore me. (He exits left and reenters without the stools, crossing right to clear the remaining ne.) Hello? Anybody home? (Stops when he reaches center and planting his hands on his hips glares up at the booth.) Myron. I can see you hiding up there. Now, did you booth-guys scoop the ladies' sheets or what? (Beat.) "What?" What do you mean "what?" "What" you can't hear me? Or "what?" I can't hear you? (Beat. Then, cupping a hand behind one ear and yelling.) WHAT? (Listens for a moment, straining to hear and then gives up.) I can't read lips, Myron! (Beat.) NO! Don't give me the hand-behind-the-ear-thing you idiot. If you can't hear me it's 'cause you've got the house mic turned off! (Beat, then, to himself, waiting) C'mon, Myron. Figure it out. (Beat.) Oh for cryin' out---

(Fed up, Brad EXITS, clearing the stage right stool as he goes.)

(Brad REENTERS a moment later putting on a set of Clear-com style headphones that cover both ears and hitting the "Call" button on his belt pack.)

Earth to Myron! Earth to Myron! (Beat.) Ah! There you are. You know you'd find it a lot easier to hear me if you turned your mic on! (Beat.) Oh? Well, if it's on why didn't you answer me the first time, huh? (Beat.) No you didn't. (Beat.) No, you didn't. (Beat.) No you didn't! (Beat.) Oh. You did. Well then, you forgot to turn on the house speakers, 'cause I didn't hear you. (Beat.) No... it's because you didn't have the speakers on. (Beat.) No you didn't. (Beat.) No you didn't. (Beat.) No you didn't! (Beat.) Well, are you using them now? (Beat.) Well, try them. Say something. (Beat.) No wait! Hang on! (Beat.) ...Because I can't tell if I'm listening to you in the house or on the headset, that's why. (Uncovers one ear to be sure whether or not the voice he's hearing is audible on the house speakers.) Okay, go ahead. (Listens, nothing.) Go ahead... (Listens, nothing. Puts headset back on.) Ummmm, Myron? Did you put it up to full volume? (Beat.) You did, huh? Oh. Well. That's not good. (Beat.) Because I didn't hear anything that's why.

(Starts looking around and appears to discover the problem's source somewhere high overhead.)

Uh... Myron? I think I found the problem. (Beat.) Uh... No, no... I'm sure the speakers are plugged in... (Beat.) The problem is they're not plugged in here. (Beat.) They're gone. (Beat.) What do you mean "what do I mean gone"? They're gone! Gone, as in "not here anymore". (Beat.) "Uh-oh"? What do you mean "Uh-oh"? Uh-oh doesn't sound good, my friend. "Uh-oh" actually scares the crap out of me, to be honest. (Beat.)You "forgot who took them"? You knew about this? (Beat.) How could you lend them to Prescott? What were you thinking? We need them here! In case you haven't noticed we're setting up for a live television broadcast here, Myron. I'm pretty sure the director's going to want the freedom to communicate with the studio directly during rehearsal and you're telling me you just loaned out the speakers that enable him to do that. (Beat.) Oh... You rented them, huh? (Crossing his arms, with exaggerated patience.) And just how much did you "rent" them for? (Beat.) Great. So you've got beer money for the weekend and we have no speakers in the studio. Are we renting anything else today, Myron? (Beat.) We are? What? (Beat.) The teleprompter!?! Oh GOD! You're killing me, here!

(Brad heaves a heavy sigh and heads for the chair closest to center.)

(Resigned, without any real venom.) You're a cheap man, Myron. A cheap, cheap, rotten little man. (Beat.) (Annoyed.) I know we weren't supposed to be here today. I'm also pretty sure the guys in post-production weren't supposed to destroy POV's Tenth Anniversary special less than twenty-four hours before it was supposed to air either. But there you go. (Beat, thinking.) Can we get any of this stuff back in time for tonight? (Beat.) Of course, not.

(Brad drops into the chair with a heavy, defeated sigh.)

BRAD

Well, I guess we'll have to make do... (with a pointed look at the booth) won't we? Nigel's just going to have to relay everything he wants to say through me. (Beat.)

(Laughing derisively, Brad gets up, and over this next section, crosses down to retrieve his coffee and doughnut.)

BRAD

Oh no, my friend. You get to tell him that joyous little bit of news. (Beat.) No. I won't rat to Nigel about your little side-rental business. I'll be very Sgt. Schultz about the whole thing. (Impersonating John Banner's character from the 60's tv series "Hogan's Heroes".) "I'll see nothing. I'll hear nothing. I'll. Know. NUH-THING."

Comedy Monologues

8) ERRONYUS MISCELLANEOUS INTRODUCES HIMSELF

ERRONYUS

I'm Erronyus. Erronyus Miscellaneous... Temporarily the Acting God of Love. Normally, I'm the God of "Voice-Mail" and um... uh... something else... I can't quite... YES! That's it! Of course! God of Forgetfulness! That's me! Must remember that.

I’ll bet you didn't even know there was a God of Forgetfulness. Even if you did you probably wouldn't remember. I'm a pretty powerful god in that respect.

Oh yes. I may only have one temple down there BUT... Every one of MY people has a perfect record of NON-attendance. (Boasting.) Perfect records across the board ...And they don't just forget to go. Oh no. Most of them have even forgotten how to get there and what the temple was even built for in the first place! Talk about devotion!

Oh I am so proud. Well... when I remember to be. But important as forgetfulness is, my real passion lies with the cutting edge stuff. I like leading the wave, new territories, pushing the envelope.

I mean, Voice-Mail's good: I get to be both a Good AND Evil god depending on whether you're the Call-ee or the Call-er. But the latest thing? (Leans in, confiding.) Awkward Silences.

Like when two passing acquaintances meet up and feel compelled to say "hi" to one another, but don't know what to say next. Their greeting is followed by... an Awkward Silence.

Not really a lot of call for that at the moment. Down in the world right now things are still pretty much at the I-Either-Know-You-Really-Well-Or-I'll-Have-To-Kill-You stage. But believe me, this is a growth field. I'm going to be HUGE in elevators.

Of course, they haven't been invented yet. They're little boxes that open on one side and there's numbers over the door on the inside. So what happens is: people go inside this box and as soon as the door closes everybody races to see who can stare at those numbers longer than anybody else without saying anything. [And why?]

Because they're terrified of breaking the Awkward Silence!

Comedy Monologues

9) MYRON CALL #1

(Stressed-out Self-Help Guru MICHAEL SAGE counsels Myron ---his most frustrating client--- by cell phone.)

MICHAEL

Hello Myron. (Beat, listening.) ...Well, did you try talking to her? (Beat.) Now Myron… I need you to find your Inner Circle of Calm. Can you do that for me? (Beat.) That's right, I wrote it all down in my book Centred Mind, Centred Self. (Beat.) I know you bought the tapes, Myron. The lessons are the same. Just apply steps seven-though-nine. Can you do that for me now? (Beat.) Good. Now, let's start again. (A few beats, listening.) Okay. Now we've been over this before, haven't we Myron? You said that you felt that Sophie was ignoring you, that she wasn't as invested in the relationship as you were, that she wasn't making an equal contribution to your shared happiness. (Beat.) Now do you remember what I advised in my book The 22 Crucial Elements for Positive Relationship-Building? (Beat.) That's right, the chapter on Developing a Nest of Nurturing. And did you try expressing your feelings in order to get beyond your Resentment Wall? (Beat.) Good, good. And what was her response? (Beat.) ....She just walked away. (Beat.) Uh-huh. Well, Myron, maybe she just needed some space and you have to respect that. And another important thing to bear in mind here, Myron, is that... Sophie is a cat. (Long beat.) Well... I don't know, Myron, why don't you get her one of those squeaky mouse-toys with a bell inside it and see how she responds. (Beat.) I know that isn't it the book, Myron. That's a special insight that I've been saving for the second edition. Okay. 'Bye.

Comedy Monologues

.....George Carlin

George Carlin: Thank you! Talk about a live show! It's nice to see you, welcome, and thanks for joining us - live. Um.. I'm kinda glad that we're on at night, so that we're not competing with all the football and baseball. So many, man.. And this is the time of year when there's both, you know?

Football's kinda nice, they changed it a little bit - they moved the hash marks in. Guys found it and smoked them, anyway! But you know, football wants to be the number-one sport, the national pasttime. And I think it already is, really, because football represents something we are - we are Europe, Jr. When you get right down to it, we're Europe, Jr. We play a Eurpe game. What was the Europe game? [ high voice ] "Let's take their land away from them! You'll be the pink, on up; we'll be blue, the red and the green!"

Ground acquisition. And that's what football is, football's a ground acquisition game. You knock the crap out of eleven guys and take their land away from them. Of course, we only do it ten yards at a time. That's the way we did it with the Indians - we won it little by little. First down in Ohio - Midwest to go!

Let's put it this way - there are things about the words surrounding football and baseball, which give it all away:

Football is technological; baseball is pastoral.

Football is played in a stadium; baseball is played in the park.

In football, you wear a helmet; in baseball, you wear a cap.

Football is played on an enclosed, rectangular grid, and everyone of them is the same size; baseball is played on an ever-widening angle that reaches to inifinity, and every park is different!

Football is rigidly timed; baseball has no time limit, we don't know when it's gonna end! We might even have extra innings!

In football, you get a penalty; in baseball, you make an error - whoops!

The object in football is to march downfield and penetrate enemy territory, and get into the end zone; in baseball, the object is to go home! "I'm going home!"

And, in football, they have the clip, the hit, the block, the tackle, the blitz, the bomb, the offense and the defense; in baseball, they have.. the sacrifice.

Comedy Monologues

George Carlin

Did you ever dial the phone and forget who you're calling? Don't you feel dumb? You don't know whether to hang on and hope you remember the voice or not.. Then when you remember who it was, you have to call back, so you change your voice so they don't think you're a moron.

Did you ever look at yourself in store windows when you're walking past the stores? "Hey, I look cool in the store window, man! [ lukewarm audience reaction ] Have I done these jokes before tonight? Please tell me.

Why is there no blue food? I can't find blue food - I can't find the flavor of blue! I mean, green is lime; yellow is lemon; orange is orange; red is cherry; what's blue? There's no blue! Oh, they say, "Blueberries!" Uh-uh; blue on the vine, purple on the plate. There's no blue food! Where is the blue food? We want the blue food! Probably instores immortality! They're keeping it from us!

I'll take my vitamin. Do you take vitamins? Did you ever travel with vitamins? Oh, well.. if you take a lot of vitamins, and they're not the kind that says "Joe's Vitamins" on the side - the plain-looking vitamins - and you have a whole lot, and you don't the whole big jumbo thing on the road, you take as many as you need - and they're not marked. And the jar you put them in isn't marked. If a policeman really wants to give you a hard time, he can hold you overnight while they check the vitamins. That's why I travel with Flintstone vitamins!

The term Jumbo Shrimp has always amazed me. What is a Jumbo Shrimp? I mean, it's like Military Intelligence - the words don't go together, man.

How many of you have heard this in your home: "Where's the good scissors? I can't keep anything nice in this house."

Here's another thing you don't hear at home, mostly guys say this: "Hey, who stole my underwear! Somebody stole my underwear!" "Which one?" "This week's underwear."

Do you ever look at the crowds in old movies and wonder if they're dead yet? I can't help it.

Have you ever tried to throw away an old wastebasket? You can't do it. People keep bringing it back to you, man. "Hey, uh.. your wastebasket is in the garbage here!"

Check this out. When you have a package of bacon, underneath all the neat, horizontal strips, there's always one weird piece of bacon. [ leans back and stretches his arms out ]

What do dogs do on their day off? They can't lie around, that's their job, man!

As you know, they search you pretty well at the airport. There'll be lots of places later they'll be searching us, but the airport is where they're kind of trying it out. And, as you know, they search your bags, too, to make sure there's no weapons. "Don't want any weapons on the plane! you know." They have the little fluoroscope job, and they run you through the model home, and: "No weapons! Let 'em on!" Yuo get on the plane, and you're clean! What do they do, they give you a knife and a fork, and all the wine you can drink, man. I mean, I could take over a plane with a piece of looseleaf paper, right? Just hold it at the stewardess's head and threaten paper cuts! "Do what he says! Do what he says!"

Oh.. there's a moment.. coming. There's a moment coming, it's.. it's not here yet. It's on the way.. It's still in the future. Here.. here it is! [ a beat ] Oh.. it's gone, man. There's no present, man. Everything is the near future and the recent past. No wonder we can't get anything together, we've got no time, huh?

Comedy Monologues...Lily Tomlin

Lily Tomlin: [ screams ] Well, thank you all a lot! And welome to the show. We're excited tonight to show this pageant to you. It's something that's inside our bodies, and it just wants to get out! I'm especially excited to be back here in New York, because when you're here, you know, there's just so many impressions and so many impulses that greet you and meet you. In fact, so many, that, very often I just feel bound to write them down in my notebook, which I have concealed here very cleverly in my armpit! [ reaches in blouse and pulls out notebook ] And, um.. I thought I'd read them to you:

"I wonder what it would be like if we all became what we wanted to be when we grew up? I mean, imagine a world filled with nothing but firemen, cowboys, nurses and ballerinas."

"I've decided that New York is always knowing where your purse is."

"And I'll tell you something else - I resent losing the Ozone Layer just so we cna have Pam."

"Have you ever actually seen someone laughing all the way to the bank?"

"Why isn't there a special name for the tops of your feet?" [ audience applauds wildly ] Why, this audience is filled with a bunch of little freaks!

"Being a New Yorker is never having to say you're sorry."

"How come when you're last in a line that isn't moving, and someone comes and stands behind you, you fell a lot better?"

And, most important of all: "Wouldn't it be nice if all those people who roam the streets of New York, talking to themselves, were paired off so that they could walk around in couples and look like they're having a conversation?"

Comedy Monolgues

Teen.....Lily Tomlin

[ open on teen dressed in poodle skirt standing around at high school dance in the 50's ]

Teen: [ speaking to an off-screen friend ] Geez, Margo.. I don't think none of the cats is gonna ask us to dance. Wanna you and I dance? Let's wait for a good beat.

Oh, kid, I almost killed myself, I swear to God! I went over to Patty's last night; she bleached her bangs, looks tough. Her ol' lady don't feature it, Margo, but that ain't the cool part. I copped a look at Patty's dairy.. you know what? [ makes sure no one is looking ] She made out.. [ makes sureno one is looking ] ..with Richie Vonatelli on the first date - no lie. Sure, where you think she got that big hickey? Plus, Margo, that ain't all Patty. [ chuckles ] I seen her bra! It was layin' right on the bed - honest to God, there was tissues in it. Yeah.. Flatty Patty. Yeah, I wonder if Richie'd give her his I.D. bracelet he knew she was made out of Kleenex? You know we should do - arrggh!! We should! We should! We should tell all the guys to sneeze when they see her! That would be so bad! This is a great tune. Why don't you and I dance?

I almost didn't get out of the house tonight, no lie. Ah, my old man, he's all shook up. Just on account I got 8 U's on my report card. Hey, Margo.. how 'bout Frankie? You didn't hear? Margo, where are you? Frankie smashed Mr. Gilman right in the mouth during Metal Shop! Yeah, they're kickin' him outta school for a week. Frankie's so cool. He don't care. Gives him time to soup up his Chevy. Honest to God, Margo, you should see that car. That car is so cherry. It's chopped, it's channeled, it's got this real cool horn, you know, you squeez it, it goes Ooga! Ooga! Ooga! Ooga! Oo-oo-oo-ga!! So what are you lookin' at?! so why don't you take a picture, it lasts longer!

I can't stand her. Oh, she's on the Honor Roll. Yeah, I shoulda.. I shoulda flipped her the bird! Anyways.. forget her, Margo. I said, forget her! Anyways, this is so cool.

So Frankie was laying rubber in front of the bowling alley, and there was some punk there, from the Heights, you know? Kept yelling Frankie's name: "Heeeey! Frank-ieeee!! So, Frankie yells back, "That's my name! Don't wear it out!" It really shot the punk down! Then, the next thing you know, this stud wants to grab Frankie for pinks.. so Frankie tells the creep, he says, "Dry up and fa-loat away!" And, honest to God, Margo, just as we're peelin' out, Frankie shoots the guy a couple of real loud ones! [ sticks hand under armpit to demonstrate ] I ain't lyin', Margo - Frankie's got a great personality. Wait, I gotta show you the picture he gave me for my wallet.. [ reaches in purse and pulls out a photograph she conceals from others in attendance ] Don't he look tough? That cigarette behind his ear.. this guy's the most. Look, is that cute? There, that big green spot - that's where he usually has his crucifix. [ puts photograph back in purse ]

[ looking about the gym ] Margo! There he is! I'm gonna have a heart attack! I swear to God, I'm gonna have a heart attack! Margo, he's so choice! Promise me you won't leave,

Margo! Look at his white socks! Wih his powder blue two button roll-ups! Whatever you do, promise me you won't leave me, 'cause I swear to God I'm gonna fall down and have a heart attack right over here! [ panicking ] He's coming right over here.. [ plays it cool, watching ] Yeahhh.. he's coming right over here.. [ plays like she's not interested, watches as he passes by her ] No he ain't, Margo? What's he doing? Come on, honest to God, I ain't lookin', what's he doing! [ looks, catches her breath ] He's dancin', ain't he, Margo? Come on, honest to God, he's dancin'? With Francine Puli? I'm gonna have a breakdown, Margo.. I swear to God, I'm gonna have a breakdown right here. Promise you won't leave me. Let's go to the john. I gotta have a ciggy butt. Oh, what do I care? That creep?! She washes her gym suit every week.

Comedy Monologues

"ETHNICALLY CHALLENGED"By Victor Celania

Being Japanese and white is kind of hard because no one can ever guess what race I am.. So, this monologue sprung from that notion. It began as a conversation and then into a conversation piece. I decided to make it a monologue. You can put whatever emphasis you feel is necessary.

You know what really… annoys me the most? It's… it's people that have NO concept of ethnicity. Ever since I was a little kid it's been, "HEY CHINK!" Where the hell did they get that idea? Do I look like I work in a rice field, with a crappy Raiden hat on? NO! Do all Asians look alike? Hell no. I'm like… no, I'm from Japan… you…you know what happens when I ASK them what they think I am? First reaction is Filipino…. Which… I can kind of understand…(beat) The funny thing about that is that.. they can't even tell their own kind! How stupid is that? I mean, I have people come up to me and speak to me in Tagalog for like five minutes, and then they realize… "Oops… he can't understand a damn thing I just said"……Not to say I've never made a mistake before, but not as much as everyone does about me. Then next comes Korean, which comes a little closer, but no cigar. After that, their guess is Chinese… okay.. now we're just getting stupid… Only ignorant people think that stuff. It just gets worse and worse from there… Hong Kong, Taiwan, Vietnam,… Indonesia… etc..etc…. Now, where the hell do they get that stuff from?! They name EVER country BUT mine… The funniest thing is though, when I speak Spanish to native Spanish people, I can pull off being Puerto Rican, Cuban, Venezuelan.. etc..etc… And I KNOW I don't look a DAMN thing like a Puerto Rican, or a Cuban. But then again, it's kinda cool sometimes, because I can hang with anyone, or pull off being anyone… well.. except for black.. that'd be kinda difficult… I finally get fed up and say " LOOK, there's only ONE DAMN country left…".. Their response? " Uhh… Korean?" "NO! TRY AGAIN!" "Uhmmm.. JAPAN!" "YES! HELL! TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!!!!"…. You know, most people would think that the derogatory term "JAP" is offensive, but when someone yells out "HEY! YOU JAP!" I'm like THANK GOD SOMEONE GOT IT! I just wanna give em a hug! LORD! The ignorance of people!!!Comedy Monologues

10) MYRON CALL #2

(Stressed-out Self-Help Guru MICHAEL SAGE counsels Myron ---his most frustrating client--- by cell phone.)

MICHAEL

Hello, Myron... (Beat, listening.) Okay, Myron. I think an important first step here is just to calm down. (Beat.) Well, calming down is very important, Myron. (Beat.) Yes. I suppose, Navigating the Sea of Self-Awareness is one example. After all, if we want to...

sail with Captain Conundrum towards the Isle of Resolution, who do we have to watch out for...? (Beat.) That's right: Peter Panic. ...What? (Beat.) Oh yes. The Pirates of Paralysis. You'll want to watch for them too. Now you--- What? (Beat.) Well, I don't think you need to concern yourself with the Mermaids of Misunderstanding at this point, Myron. (Beat.) Well, because you're still waiting on the Dock of Dilemma, aren't you? Which, of course, means that you haven't even boarded the Ship of Self-Determination yet. So maybe, if you were to--- What? (Beat.) What Dolphins? ...The "Tuna of" what? Myron, let's not get too hung up on the nautical metaphors, okay? Maybe Sally and Stevie Set Sail on the Seven Seas of Self-Awareness isn't the most appropriate tool at this point--- (Beat.) Well, I'm flattered you think it's an insightful book, Myron, but it was written for children ten and under. Grown-up issues like yours tend to be a lot more complex. Now, why don't you just try telling me what the problem is. (Beat.) ...um... as opposed to what, Myron? (Beat.) Uh-huh. Well. In that case, I'd say, go with pants. (Beat.) You're welcome, Myron.

Comedy Monologues

11) MYRON CALL #5 – MICHAEL SAGE FINALLY SNAPS

(Stressed-out Self-Help Guru MICHAEL SAGE counsels Myron ---his most frustrating client--- by cell phone.)

MICHAEL

Yes Myron? (Beat. Then suddenly, concerned.) Who is this? (Beat.) Well, where's Myron? Is he alright? (Beat.) He's right there? Well, why isn't he---(Beat.) "He doesn't know know what to order for lunch"? Okay... And why are you calling? (Beat.) "He didn't know whether he should bother me with this." (Snaps.) Alright! That's it! Put Myron on the phone right now! Put him on! (Beat.) Myron? Why was I just talking to your waitress? What hell are you--- What? (Beat.) Yes, Myron. I am a little upset. (Beat.) Why? Well, let's recap shall we, Myron? 'Cause basically you're the paradigm of my career up to this point, and I want you to see that. In many ways, Myron, you are the embodiment of everyone who has purchased my books over the years. NOW... once upon a time I wrote the Twenty-Five Things You Need To Know For A Successful Life. It was very successful. (Beat.) Yes, I know you have a signed copy, Myron. I signed it. After that book, I came up with Seventeen, The Magic Number for Personal Prosperity. Then, along came the whole "Twelve Step" fad, so I wrote: Twelve Truths For Today And Tomorrow. Then Top Ten Lists were big. And after that, for awhile, everybody seemed to want things in "sevens". Eventually, I tried to simplify everything by distilling all that I'd learned into The Five Steps for Finding Fulfillment. Apparently… (yelling at the phone. He’s lost it.) still too complicated for some! So then came my most recent work… in which I painstakingly define the most basic, fundamental principles of ALL Problem-Solving, boiled down into THREE points, so simple and easy-to-remember that even a chimp could understand them! Yet STILL, somehow, it's beyond your grasp. So I'll tell you what Myron.... I got a ONE STEP program for just for you! You think you can handle that!?! Good! Here it is: Make a friggin' decision! (He hangs up and screams in frustration.)

Comedy Monologues

12) JERRY, THE HOSTAGE-TAKER, TELLS WHAT DROVE HIM TO THIS POINT

JERRY

Well, everything was fine, or at least it seemed fine. You know, we had bills like everybody else. We had to buy groceries, keep the apartment clean. We were saving to buy a house but we both worked so we were doing alright. It was an ordinary life, you know? We liked the same things. We liked going to movies, bowling once a week, hanging out with our friends and family. And then, one night, over dinner, Donna just suddenly says she thinks we should get counselling for our problems. I didn't even know we had any problems. So I said, What problems? She couldn't name one. But then she said she was worried that we might have an unhealthy marriage. She said she kept hearing on all these talk shows and reading in magazines about how even the most healthy marriages still have problems that need to be worked out. Well, I couldn't quite follow the logic there... But I figured, hey, she's worried about it. She thinks we should talk to somebody. What harm can it do? It's just talk. Maybe we'll even learn something. So I said yeah, of course I'll go. (Beat.) …The next thing I know, I've identified dozens of problems in my life that I didn't even know were there. I have intimacy issues, issues about "personal space", issues with "communication", issues with sharing, issues with not sharing. I have issues of unresolved anger and resentment towards my parents and I didn't even know I was mad at them! Suddenly, I'm going to counselling once a week with Donna and three times a week on my own. The more I try to solve my problems the more problems I seem to have. I can't sleep 'cause I'm worrying about all my problems. My work starts to slide because I'm not getting any sleep and I have all these friggin' appointments. The next thing I know, I get fired from my job. I work for my Dad! It's a family business and suddenly, no one in my family is even talking to me anymore. Then the bomb drops: Donna leaves me... for our counsellor. And as if that isn't bad enough, I have to get a new counsellor. He says he can't see me anymore because apparently now there's a conflict-of-interest! So he refers me to another doctor, Dr. Rogers, who immediately goes on sabbatical! I never even get to see him. So then I get bumped to the waiting list of Dr. Enbridge, the guy who's filling for him. And you know what he does when I finally get an appointment? He reschedules on me. Five times. Two of those times he didn't get around to "rescheduling" me until after I'd been sitting here for an hour and a half. That's why I decided that today, no matter what, he was going to have to make time for me.

Comedy Monologues

A New York Actor serio-comedic, 1 mBy G. L. Hortoncopyright © 2004 Geralyn Horton

You saw that commercial? Yeah, that was me. I'm surprised it's still running-- I did that a commercial a long time ago. When I was trying to be a New York actor-- or let's call it an actor in New York. I did a bunch of them. As a male model, a classy type. I'd get these jobs cause I've got a clean cut look and a good body: that's the association they want, of course. So I'm supposed to be a doctor or a dot com whiz or an investment banker or something. The real guys who have those jobs in real life? Don't look like the image at all-- how could they? They're overweight and stressed out. They're bald and have tics, or acne. Cause they don't sleep! And they never get out doors and they have stress like you won't believe. So I'm living in a dumpster-- no, not really a dumpster, one step up: I'm living in my car. And I borrow a suit from a friend who's a bald lawyer and get cast as this success fantasy.

It's all fantasy, of course. Not imagination: imagination has to do with truth. Or at least that's what they teach you in Acting 101: imaginary circumstances, truthful behavior. But for ad guys it's all miracles. Instant gratification. No Method allowed. I once had an audition for toilet paper? Really really stupid. A guy's reading the paper and ignoring his wife at Breakfast and so she puts a roll of Charmin or whatever where his orange juice used to be, and when he touches it he has to drop the paper and say to her, "Wow! That's really soft!" Like only the miracle of Charmin could get this rude, boring son of a bitch away from his sports section. Now the actress I'm auditioning with is trying to make it the opening bit in Pinter's The Birthday Party. All pauses and heavy sighs and God knows what else. I knew I could nail this puppy if she'd just speed things up. So I lean over and say:"Look, this is toilet paper; not Pinter" and she cuts to the chase and we get hired. Instant grat.

I kept getting hired to play smokers. I've never smoked, but they make you sign this thing saying that you are a smoker. Everybody lies, of course. The tobacco companies want you to look like the picture of health, but there aren't any smokers who look like that. Smokers look stressed like brokers, or pasty like doctors--- only worse, because they all have yellow teeth and wrinkly skin here around their mouths where they pucker and puff, and squinty eyes. Tobacco guys know this, but they make you sign so you can't turn around and do anti-smoking, even in an interview if you get famous. Of course they know it's a lie. They have to show you how to smoke, so they know you don't. Well, yeah, ---they'd have to show you anyway, since they want you to look good doing it. Can't have you have a coughing fit or a butt hanging out the side of your lip or go flouncing around like Joan Crawford, can they? So they show you exactly how to smoke. The acting part is where you have to look like you're enjoying it. Which gets harder and harder the more takes you do. A dozen takes and your eyes are red and your head's

splitting and your heart's pounding and your tongue's cracking and your whole mouth tastes like an ashtray and you want to barf all over the prop guy.

Even harder was a commercial where I had to drink an entire bottle of the soft drink at one long gulp, and go "Aahh!" and wipe my mouth and look like that was the most wonderful experience this side of heaven. I'm just one of a bunch of happy people, and we've all got to look happy in our different happy ways, at the right angle and in the right light. This isn't easy, and by the 15th take we're all farting and belching in great rolling waves, and one poor guy with incurable hiccups has been sent home and replaced by an understudy. Before they get the shot they want I've downed 23 bottles of fizzy corn syrup, one gulp each. I've let my belt out two notches and I'm so full of liquid and gas it's a wonder I don't explode. The blissful look on my face is really really soggy by now, and what with the gas bloat I figure I must look more like a balloon with a smiley face than the cool dude member of the Pepsi generation they were looking for at casting. But hell, it's New York acting. On the ol' resume it looks better than a three month run playing Ibsen in Peoria. Pays better, too.

Comedy Monologue

Serio-comedic, 1m

CYRANO:Ah no! young blade! That was a trifle short!You might have said at least a hundred thingsBy varying the tone. . .like this, suppose,. . .Aggressive: 'Sir, if I had such a noseI'd amputate it!' Friendly: 'When you supIt must annoy you, dipping in your cup;You need a drinking-bowl of special shape!'Descriptive: ''Tis a rock!. . .a peak!. . .a cape!—A cape, forsooth! 'Tis a peninsular!'Curious: 'How serves that oblong capsular?For scissor-sheath? Or pot to hold your ink?'Gracious: 'You love the little birds, I think?I see you've managed with a fond researchTo find their tiny claws a roomy perch!'Truculent: 'When you smoke your pipe. . .supposeThat the tobacco-smoke spouts from your nose—Do not the neighbors, as the fumes rise higher,Cry terror-struck: "The chimney is afire"?'Considerate: 'Take care,. . .your head bowed lowBy such a weight. . .lest head o'er heels you go!'Tender: 'Pray get a small umbrella made,Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!'Pedantic: 'That beast AristophanesNames HippocamelelephantolesMust have possessed just such a solid lumpOf flesh and bone, beneath his forehead's bump!'Cavalier: 'The last fashion, friend, that hook?To hang your hat on? 'Tis a useful crook!'Emphatic: 'No wind, O majestic nose,Can give THEE cold!—save when the mistral blows!'Dramatic: 'When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!'Admiring: 'Sign for a perfumery!'Lyric: 'Is this a conch?. . .a Triton you?'Simple: 'When is the monument on view?'Rustic: 'That thing a nose? Marry-come-up!'Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!'Military: 'Point against cavalry!'Practical: 'Put it in a lottery!Assuredly 'twould be the biggest prize!'Or. . .parodying Pyramus' sighs. . .'Behold the nose that mars the harmony

Of its master's phiz! blushing its treachery!'—Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said,Had you of wit or letters the least jot:But, O most lamentable man!—of witYou never had an atom, and of lettersYou have three letters only!—they spell Ass!And—had you had the necessary wit,To serve me all the pleasantries I quoteBefore this noble audience. . .e'en so,You would not have been let to utter one—Nay, not the half or quarter of such jest!I take them from myself all in good part,But not from any other man that breathes!

Comedy Monologue

Prisoner of 2nd Avenue by Neil SimonCharacter: Mel Gender: MaleAge (range): 40-50 Style: ComedyLength: 3 minutesBackground Info: Mel is a middle-aged man in the high finance world of advertising. He has lost his job and is having a breakdown. His identity was his work. Edna is his fretful wife, watching the breakdown of Mel.

You don’t know the first thing I’m talking about... You don’t know what it is to be in my place... You’ve never stood in line for two hours waiting for an unemployment check with a shirt and tie, trying to look like you don’t need the money. And some fat old dame behind the counter screaming out so everyone can hear, "Did you look for a job this week?" "Yes I looked for a job." "Did you turn down any work this week?" "What the hell am I doing here if I turned down work this week? ...You never walked into your own building and had a ninety-one-year-old doorman with no teeth, asthma, and beer on his breath giggle at you because he’s working. You’ve never been on your own terrace and gotten hit with a bucket of ice-cold ice water. I haven't forgotten that son-of a-bitch! (he goes to the terrace door and looks up) I haven't forgotten you, you son-of-a bitch!!!!!

I’m waiting for him. I’m just waiting for him. He’s up there now, but one day he’s gonna be down there, and I'm gonna be up here, and then we'll see. One cold, snowy day some Son-Of-A-Bitch in this building is gonna be buried under three feet of snow. They won't find him until the Spring. (yells up again) They won't find you until the spring, you son-of-a-bitch!

He thinks I don’t know what he looks like... I know what he looks like alright. I know what they all look like. I’ve got their faces engraved in my brain.

They can get your clothe, Edna. They can get your clothes, your Valium, your television, your Red Label Whisky, your job, they can get everything. But they can’t get your brains.That’s my secret weapon. That and the snow.I pray to God it snows tomorrow, I’ll wait for him. I bought a shovel today, oh yeah.

I live for it. I live for the first snow of the winter... He gets home at five-fifteen, I checked with the doorman...I gave him a five dollar tip, it was worth it. (yells up) I know what time you get home, you bastard! Try using the service entrance, I got that blocked off too!

(to Edna, oblivious of her on the phone) Do you have any idea, any conception of the impact of two pounds of snow falling from a height of fourteen floors...They’ll find him in the garage. (yells up) They’ll find you in the garage, you bastard!....I know what you look like.

(he goes out onto the terrace) And if it doesn’t snow this winter, I’ll wait till next winter. I’m in no hurry, smart ass. (yelling up) I’ve got nothing but time...Nothing but time, baby...(he laughs as the curtain falls)