FSA Drama! (Monologues)

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<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<| DRAMA! (Monologues) |>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
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SOURCES
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MONOLOGUE ARCHIVE
There are a whole lot of dramatic monologues for men and women here. Comedic stuff too.
http://www.monologuearchive.com/

GENERIC RADIO WORKSHOP SCRIPT ARCHIVE
http://www.genericradio.com/
Welcome to the Generic Radio Workshop's online repository of scripts from the Golden Age of Radio: the original and largest collection of radio transcripts on the World Wide Web.

OLD TIME RADIO RESEARCHERS GROUP
http://www.otrr.org/pg06a_scripts.htm
Original radio scripts have been archived for the following shows.

GREAT SOURCE FOR MONOLOGUES
http://www.whysanity.net/

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INDIVIDUAL MONOLOGUES
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“She deserves better, you say. I say: You’re a goddamn coward. What she deserves is an actual person she can connect with. She deserves you, or me or the entire world; she deserves someone achingly real and honest. She deserves a human being equally raw to pursue her and love her and, perhaps, destroy her emotionally, but she deserves all that as well. She doesn’t deserve anyone’s sugary fairytale. She deserves to float freely, with you, or me, or the world, into the very depths of her own psychosynthesis. She deserves to explore the meaning of the word "intimacy", with someone beside her that will care regardless. She fucking deserves all of it. So, pluck up the courage and be with her or leave her in peace but don’t you dare "sell" her your own "inadequacy" as a lie so that, again, you manage to comfort your conscience and eventually come to feel that you love her exactly because you’re letting her go. Because, darling, that’s bullshit. That’s only you own little self-created lie laying behind a much bigger lie; it’s not even properly concealed within itself, you fucking idiot.”


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“We are here. We will work together for what purpose seems to us right. We will work with calm, and with tolerance and , please God, with saving laughter.
We know something of men. We know of evil, and of sloth, and of self-seeking ambition. We accept it, and will use what we have of wit and good faith to overcome it.
And if we do not overcome it, still we are the road; we are the bridge; we are the conduit. For something have we been brought here. And if we hold firm, the men who peopled our earth need not be ashamed, when the reckoning comes, to say, we worked with all we had been given; and for one another.
We have reached the open sea, with some charts; and the firmament.”

-Dorothy Dunnett, Checkmate

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100 Monologues #16: Mother Knows Best

CARLA ANN:

Here’s an idea, why don’t you shut up for a minute? You talk so much I can barely hear myself think. Yap Yap Yap, if I knew you were going to talk so much I would have starved you to death long before this. Oh don’t give me that look. I’m only being mean to you for your own good. The world is a terrible place, you know. I’m the only person who truly loves you. Your father doesn’t love you. What does he know about love? No, honey, your mother is the only person that will ever truly love you.  Now quit fussing over there. I want to look at some of these dresses. You stay still while I try these on. I swear on your ugly little mole, if you don’t shut up, I really will smack you. I don’t care if we’re in a store. You are a nasty little brat and you need to learn to behave. What’s that? They’ll take me away, oh yes, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Well they’ll take me away and lock me up and then you’ll have to live with strange people. You’re not going to get bedtime stories and warm cookies. Who’s going to do the Rabbit Dance with you? Who’s going to let you play Goose Bear in the kitchen pantry? Nobody, that’s who. So go ahead, scream and report me, but you know I only want what’s best for you. Quit your complaining, you know that you need me, so there’s no way you’re going to do it. If you ever want me to make you hot porridge and eggs when you’re sick again, then you better just shut up and do what I say.  If I didn’t love you, would I have watched Pocahontas with you every day for eight days straight? Would I have carried your doll house all the way up a mountain just so you could have it at the picnic last weekend? No, I wouldn’t have. You can scream if you dare, or you can just shut your whiny little mouth and wait here until I finish shopping.


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Faithless Loss

I had no urge to kill the man. Quite the opposite… I almost considered him a friend. Or so I have lead myself to believe. But that is just the way things go I guess.

Life goes on, and if not…. well, you will find it hard to care at such a time. That’s the mantra that has given me the will to wander on these past years.

But I find myself rambling. What I meant to say is that I have missed you. It’s been a long time. Far too long.

Silence? Well it is fortunate that I have never found myself at a lack of words. I suppose I shall talk for the both of us.

I’ve heard much of your escapades. Fancy yourself a prince, even. It fascinates me how fast a person can change. The last time we met you were merely a groveling child.

Time hasn’t treated you well.

Those eyes, so full of hatred. Did you think you would somehow grow stronger, enough so to get your revenge? Or perhaps it’s that idyllic heart of yours. Somehow you dream to prevent tragedies such as yours.

How I do love that feeble, childish dream.

You’re pitiful.

Laughable.

You lie even to yourself. It’s been years… yet you refuse to forget.

I wonder if that Angel of yours knew how twisted your heart really was. But I suppose he couldn’t. How can the puppeteer see the suffering of his tool.

But, alas I once again find my thoughts wandering. Perhaps my age of finally catching up with me.

Ah, you’re friend. That’s where all this has begun. You see, the Glass Man had served me quite well over the years. Quite the servant, I must say. But of course, the terms of his service had come to an end.

I’ve must wonder if he had seen that in his treasured visions. I hope not. I never had supported the idea of a metal reading fate’s threads. A surprise would be to much for his feeble heart.

Still, you do not speak? Then perhaps I must use other methods. I grow bored of those eyes. You had known from the start it would end like this.

Pray, do not begrudge me my actions.

I have no use for a broken toy.

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Spilled Milk By Kellie Powell - Female (JOAN) Monologue

Joan returns from a year away at college and confronts an old friend at her homecoming party. Just before Joan departed, her friend Helen did something Joan considers unforgivable - she failed to protect Joan from a possible threat of sexual assault.

JOAN:

It happened right here, you know. Almost a year ago. Right before I left. He came to the party with Kevin and his friends. And he liked you right away. Like they always do. Oh, I got used to being invisible, whenever you were around a long time ago. I mean, just look at you. And look at me. If I were a guy, I wouldn’t look twice at me, either. The point is, he wanted you. No surprise. He saw you, he wanted you. And you definitely didn’t want him. And he could tell. And that was when I moved in for the kill.

We had all been drinking. People were starting to leave. We were sitting on the floor in the living room, and I kissed him. You saw us, and you watched me bring him up here. And then you went to sleep on the couch. Like you had a dozen other nights, after a dozen other parties. And then… everyone else left. I brought him here. We were kissing… and he was a good kisser. And he… he started… and I didn’t stop him. And then, he went downstairs, to the bathroom. And he was gone a long time. And when he came back, he brought a condom.

I woke up the next morning, and he was gone. And I put on my clothes, and I came downstairs, and you were there, sleeping. And I woke you up, and I told you what had happened. I told you that I had slept with him. And you know what you told me? You said, “I woke up, in the middle of the night, and he was on top of me.” He was feeling you up, in your sleep. He was groping you, basically molesting you… while you were passed out. You woke up, and his hand was in your crotch. I mean, that’s what you said, right? It was… strange, how it didn’t really seem to bother you. But I guess you’ve had guys do worse. You told me all this… so calmly. Like, it meant so little…

You said, “I woke up, and I made him stop, and I kept telling him, ‘Go back to Joan. Go back upstairs with Joan.’” You said, “I gave him a condom from my purse.” Why? Why would you do that? I mean, what the fuck is wrong with you? A guy tries to assault you while you’re passed out, and you think, “I know. I’ll send him upstairs to my best friend.” Why?

Why didn’t you kick him out of my fucking house? You could have screamed bloody murder and woken up my parents. You could have threatened to press charges. What he did was assault. What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t woken up? He could have raped you. And you… you sent him back to me. How generous. How benevolent. Why didn’t you fucking warn me? Why did you wait until the next morning to tell me what he did? Why didn’t you tell me right then? God, Helen. I mean, think about it. You send this guy, this guy… who has just violated you… up to my attic. What do you think would have happened if I had said no?

It never occurred to you… that I might say no? Well, sure. That makes sense. I mean, I had certainly brought enough guys up to the attic that summer, hadn’t I? Yeah. I mean, I kissed this guy this guy, who I barely knew. So, I guess I deserved whatever I got. And you were right. I mean, I didn’t say no. But I would have. If I had known what he had done to you, I would have. But you didn’t know that? Oh, right. Because I’m such a slut, I’ll fuck anyone. It’s what you were thinking, though. It had to be. It’s the only explanation. You had a chance to protect me, and you didn’t. Because you never thought, not even for a second, that I would say no…

I was drowning! …And you couldn’t see it. You were my best friend. And you couldn’t see it. All I wanted was for someone… to look at me the way they all looked at you. I just wanted someone… to want me. Someone, anyone. I didn’t fuck those guys in the attic because I wanted to. I did it to prove that I existed. That I wasn’t invisible. And you… you were oblivious.

I would have done anything to protect you. I would have done anything.

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Luna by Rebecca Sunshine

    "You’re told growing up that this word exists; that if you want it enough you could cradle it in the palm of your hands. It smells of oranges and feels like the wet sand between your toes and the Sun’s kisses smothering you like a blanket and it’s making love without the curtains drawn above the city that never sleeps. But life doesn’t work that way, it isn’t always so kind. That seven letter word is just an idea, it can only exist in moments and it cannot transcend time.  But the beautiful truth is that this word can live within another; but only with complete harmony and seeing eyes. If the universe was created out of an imbalance of matter and anti-matter, if we were created out of a flawed accident how can such perfect flaws feel so…so ugly? I remember sitting in the back of a taxi, winding down the window and feeling the rush of the cold winter air. The wind whistled and my ears were ringing and ringing and the drone of the mumbled voices of everyone else. I let my hand dance in the wind, let it dance out side the little yellow taxi as we drove down the highway. I was like a bird, flying and I no longer walked the earth. That was the closest I’ve been to perfect."

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Making Reuben Propose - Female Comedic Monologue

*Accent required

Come in, Reuben. Have a chair. [Pause.] This is a real nice day, except fer the wind blowin’ an’ bein’ sort of cold, an’ fer that shower we had this mornin’. Paw’s real well — aside from a little touch of lumbago. Maw’s enjoyin’ real poor health — sort of neuralgy in the head. Our crop’s lookin’ fine. You just oughter see our taters. It beats all how they’re growin’. [Pause.] How’s your mother now? Feelin’ real miserable? You think she has to work too hard? Wal, I think so, too. The truth is she needs some one to take the burden of work off ‘er shoulders. If you’d jest git married, now, an’ take a good, strong wife home to help ‘er — What? That’s jest what yer folks say? Wal, I should think ye’d mind ‘em long as the Bible says childrun obey yer parents. Now there’s Emmeline Gilbert. She’s a good housekeeper an’ — oh, you don’t want her? Then Car’line Tayler ought to — What? She’s too cranky? Wal, it seems like there ought ter be some one ye’d fancy, Reuben. Oh, there is some one ye want? They why don’t ye git tied up? A fellow ain’t got much grit if he can’t pop the question to a girl. That’s what yer folks say? Wal, they ought ter know. What? You’ve got something to tell me? All right. [Moves chair as if getting closer to him.] Oh [in disappointed tone], you’ve bought five new cows? [Hopefully.] Then I should think you’d jest have ter git a wife to help take care of all that extry milk. What? You’ve thought that — what is it you’ve thought, Reuben? [Moves chair closer.] Oh, [very disappointed tone] you’ve thought you’d plant the south forty all to corn? [Cheerfully.] That’ll make extry men to cook fer when huskin’ time comes. Seems like you’ll have to git some one ter help yer mother, sure. You ain’t never goin’ ter be hung fer yer beauty, Reuben, but they’s a lot of girls that’d be willin’ ter marry ye. What? That’s what yer folks say? They surely ought ter know. They’s going ter be quite a few weddin’s this summer. I’m thinkin’ some of gettin’ married myself. George Melcher’d be awful tickled ter git me, an’ I spose I might’s well make up my mind ter take ‘im. Maw don’t really need me at home any longer sence Dollie’s gettin’ to be so much help. What? You’ve thought that — what is it you’ve thought, Reuben? Oh [hopelessly], that it’s real warm fer this time of year? Yes, I spose it is. I should think you’d git married, Reuben, when so many other fellers does. That’s what yer folks says? Wal, they surely ought ter know what’s best. I don’t know’s I’d think of takin’ George Melcher if anybody else wanted me. What? Somebody else does want me? [Very coaxingly.] Now who in the world is it? Oh-h-h-h, you don’t know? I was in hopes you’d tell me, Reuben. [Moving chair closer.] Now if it was you that wanted me, Reuben, why — what? You do want me? Do you mean you want ter marry me, Reuben? You do? Wal, if that’s the case, you can have me. What a fool you were not to tell me so a long time ago! What? That’s what yer folks says? Wal, they oughter know, I guess!

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 Secret Bridesmaid's Business monologue - Female Monologue

 Play: Secret Bridesmaid’s Business

Playwright: Elizabeth Coleman

Character: Naomi

I had to walk down to reception in my undies, because I was too scared to go back in there and ask for my clothes! And you know what? Even though I felt so guilty and so ashamed, I still found myself thinking, “Thank god I didn’t wear that old blue bra and the baggy cotton tails”. Does that make me a bad person? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I already was… When I was younger I never thought I’d have an affair with anyone’s boyfriend…let alone a friend’s boyfriend… Let along a friend’s fiancé… But things seem really simple when you’re young – everything’s so black and white. But as soon as life gets interesting it starts to turn grey. I didn’t know he was Meg’s fiancé when I met him. I was drunk, and he was cute, and what happened happened. And I kind of convinced myself - and him – that it was cool, that I could handle it, then I got Meg’s wedding invitation and that’s how I found out it was him.

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100 Monologues #13: Premeditated

SARAH BLUM:

I’ve always thought it would be fun to disappear. I don’t even think I’d want to leave a note, you know. Half of the fun is in the slipping away.  I have this fantasy, where I just slip into the night with the television still on. Poof. Gone. I wouldn’t even take out the trash. Well, maybe I’d take out the trash because who knows how long it would be until they found out I was gone, and I would hate to be the cause of a roach infestation in my apartment. It would just be inconsiderate, and I’m not an inconsiderate person.  But I probably wouldn’t even do my laundry. I’d leave a half pile of laundry in my hamper. It wouldn’t be full because I wouldn’t want people thinking I was lazy (I’m not).  In fact, a distant acquaintance might not even realize I was gone until months later. Maybe even a year later.  A close friend would probably notice. I would deactivate my Facebook, because a Facebook is like an illusion of a person, and the whole point would be to erase my presence from the world.  A social media presence would undo everything I want to accomplish in disappearing.  In fact, I’ve always been bothered by people that keep their Facebooks after they die.  Well, I know it’s not the person themselves keeping it, it’s just that their friends and family decide to keep the account around as some sort of memorial, but it really bothers me. They write notes like “miss you” and “visited you today” on the dead person’s wall, like it somehow will fill the hole that their death has caused… like that dead person can be replaced by their flimsy online profile. It’s belittling, that’s what I think. If I were to disappear but then allow people to interact with my online profile indefinitely, well then what’s the point in disappearing anyways? The thing is, the more I talk about it, the more trapped I feel. Like I can’t just disappear, because now it will be premeditated, and all I really want is to vanish without any precursor.  Well, it would be fun, anyways.


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“'Did you screw up his life?' You offered him ten years of fantastic, non-consequential, open and free sex, with the additional kick of it being slightly naughty because you’re slightly related! Of course he took it! Only a lunatic would turn that down! It’s also made him a fantastically skilled lover, which I appreciate, but it’s become the chief way you both draw comfort which is fucked up! I mean, you have an argument with a boyfriend and it makes you drive across the state and climb into our bed! It was a lot of fun at the time, but doesn’t it strike you as kind of an odd coping strategy? You may not have screwed up his life, but you're sure as fuck messing with mine!"

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I don’t give a fuck who you are or where you live. You can count on me to be there to bring your fucking life to a hellish end. I’ll put you in so much fucking pain that it’ll make Jesus being nailed to a cross in the desert look like a fucking back massage on a tropical island. I don’t give a fuck how many reps you have or how tough you are IRL, how well you can fight, or how many fucking guns you own to protect yourself. I’ll fucking show up at your house when you aren’t home. I’ll turn all the lights on in your house, leave all the water running, open your fridge door and not close it, and turn your gas stove burners on and let them waste gas. You’re going to start stressing the fuck out, your blood pressure will triple, and you’ll have a fucking heart attack. You’ll go to the hospital for a heart operation, and the last thing you’ll see when you’re being put under in the operating room is me hovering above you, dressed like a doctor. When you wake up after being operated on, wondering what ticking time bomb is in your chest waiting to go off. You’ll recover fully from your heart surgery. And when you walk out the front door of the hospital to go home I’ll run you over with my fucking car out of no where and kill you. I just want you to know how easily I could fucking destroy your pathetic excuse of a life, but how I’d rather go to a great fuckng length to make sure your last remaining days are spent in a living, breathing fucking hell. It’s too late to save yourself, but don’t bother committing suicide either… I’ll fucking resuscitate you and kill you again myself you bitch-faced phaggot. Welcome to hell, population: you

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    The world used to be silent.

    There are things not covered by genetic information. Human memories, ideas, culture, history. Genes do not contain any record of these things. Is it something that should not be passed on? Should that information be left at the mercy of nature?
    We've always kept records of our lives, through words, pictures, symbols. From tablets to books. But not all that information was inherited by later generations. A small percentage of the whole was selected and processed, then passed on. Not unlike genes, really.

    In the current, digitized world, trivial information is accumulated every second, preserved in all it's triteness. Never fading. Always accessible. rumors about petty issues, misinterpretations, slander. All this junk data preserved in an unfiltered state, growing at an alarming rate. It will only slow down social progress, reduce the rate of evolution. You seem to think that our plan is one of censorship. What we propose is not to control content, but to create context. the digital society furthers human flaws and selectively rewards development of convenient half truths.
    Just look at the strange juxtapositions of morality that surround you. Billions spent on new weapons in order to humanely murder other humans. Rights of criminals are given more respect than the privacy of their victims. Although there are people suffering in poverty, huge donations are made to protect endangered species. Everyone grows up being taught the same thing. Be nice to other people, but beat out the competition! You're special, believe in yourself and you will succeed. However, it is obvious from the start that only a few can succeed.

    [cont]

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    Now there are too many voices

    You exercise your right to freedom and this is the result. All rhetoric to avoid conflict and protect each other from hurt. The untested truths spun by different interests to churn and accumulate in the sand box of political correctness and manufactured value systems. Everyone withdraws into their own gated communities, afraid of the larger forum. They stay inside their little ponds leaking whatever truth suits them into the growing cesspool of society at large. The different cardinal truths neither clash nor mesh. No one is invalidated, but no one is right. Not even natural selection can take place here. The world is being engulfed in truth.

    The world used to be silent, now there are too many voices. They multiply, intensify, they will divert your attention to what is convenient and forget to tell you about yourself. We live in an age of many simulations. If you are focused, you are harder to reach. If you are distracted, you are available.

    You are distracted.
    You are available.

    You want flattery, always looking to where it's at. You want to be apart of everything and everything to be a part of you. You're head is spinning so fast at the end of your spine until you have no face at all. And yet, if the world would shut up for even a while, perhaps we would hear the rythme of an angry young tune and recompose ourselves. Perhaps, having reconstructed everything, we should be thinking about putting everything back.

    And this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
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