MONOLOGUE OPTIONS (IF NEEDED): FEMALE
Lucy from You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown by Clark Gesner
LUCY: Excuse me a moment, Charlie Brown, but I was wondering if you'd mind answering a few
questions. I'm conducting a survey to enable me to know myself better, and first of all I'd like to ask: on a
scale of zero to one hundred, using a standard of fifty as average, seventy-five as above average and
ninety as exceptional, where would you rate me with regards to crabbiness? You may have a few
moments to think it over if you want, or we can come back to that question later. This next question
deals with certain character traits you may have observed. Regarding personality, would you say that
mine is A forceful, B pleasing, or C objectionable? Would that be A, B, or C? What would your answer be
to that, Charlie Brown, A, B, or C, which one would you say, hmm? Charlie Brown, hmm? (listens)
"Forceful." Well, we'll make a check mark at the letter A then. The next question deals with physical
appearance. In referring to my beauty, would you say that I was "stunning," "mysterious," or
"intoxicating"? (listens) "Stunning." All right, Charlie Brow, that about does it. Thank you very much for
helping with this survey, Charlie Brown. Your cooperation has been greatly appreciated.
Sally from Valhalla by Paul Rudnick
SALLY: Some people think that I had—feelings for James Avery, but that is just not true. But before
he—went away, he always used to say something which I will never forget. He would say that he’d been
studying the situation since kindergarten, and that he’d made lists and charts and held a personal
pageant, and that he had finally determined that I was the prettiest girl in all of Dainsville. And he said
that the prettiest girl can give people hope, and brighten their day, and wasn’t that just a wonderful thing
to say? Especially for a delinquent? And ever since then, whenever I look in the mirror, I see Eleanor
Roosevelt. Only, of course, pretty. I mean, Mrs. Roosevelt works so hard, trying to help the poor and the
downtrodden, but can you imagine how much more she could do, if she were pretty? And of course,
there’s also inner beauty, but inner beauty is tricky, because you can’t prove it. I’ve thought a lot about
this, you know, about beauty and goodness, and all the different religions? I mean, Buddha is chubby—
face it. And Confucius was all old and scraggly and, I imagine, single. And you’re not even allowed to
have a picture of Mohammed—was it the teeth? I don’t know. But Jesus is always really pretty, with
perfect skin and shiny hair, it’s like God was saying, look to Jesus, for tips. And I don’t want to be vain or
prideful, so I always remember what James said, in one of his letters. He said that there are only two
things which really matter in life: youth and beauty.
Alex from A Girl’s Guide to Coffee by Eric Coble
ALEX: Lucy Panchero. She was the best. She’s the whole reason I became a barista. What that woman
could do with an espresso machine. I mean getting the density and flavor and color just right, that’s vital,
that’s an art, but it was her lattes, the way she poured the steamed milk into the espresso to create
pictures, that’s the signature in the bottom corner. Where do you even begin? What made her so sick
brilliant was that her signature… was that she had no signature. It’s so Zen. Anything that came through
the transom of space and time into her brain, she could create in steamed milk. I’m totally not ripping
you. I saw her top off this espresso once with an exact likeness of Che Guevara. And when you tip your
cup, just a bit, just a – he winked at you. I’m serious! She did a Taj Mahal sunrise where the marble was
just translucent. On the 4th of July she did this George Washington looking both joyous and a yet a little
pensive about where his newfound nation was going. That’s a good barista. But, see, Lucy left. I was
there. I saw her make her final latte, but of course no one else knew it at the time. She made it for me…
and it was me. The steamed milk was a portrait of me. And then she went on her break… and she never
came back. Vanished.
MONOLOGUE OPTIONS (IF NEEDED): MALE
Lenny from Rumors by Neil Simon
LENNY: Okay... let's see... the story... 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. Rosita, the Spanish cook,
was in the kitchen with Ramona, her Spanish sister, and Romero, her Spanish son. They were preparing
an Italian dinner. I tapped on Myra’s door. Tap tap tap. She opens it. I hand her a glass of champagne.
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. 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. I run to
take some aspirin. But the blood on my fingertips gets in my eyes and by mistake I take four Valium
instead. I hear the guests 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, 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 story, as sure as my name is -- Charley Brock.
Charlie Brown from You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown by Clark Gesner
*NOTE: please pantomime paper bag, do not use a real prop
CHARLIE BROWN: I think lunchtime is about the worst time of day for me. Always having to sit here
alone. There's that cute little red-headed girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what she would do if I
went over and asked her if I could sit and have lunch with her?...She'd probably laugh right in my
face...it's hard on a face when it gets laughed in. There's an empty place next to her on the bench. There's
no reason why I couldn't just go over and sit there. I could do that right now. All I have to do is stand
up...I'm standing up!...I'm sitting down. I'm a coward. I'm so much of a coward, she wouldn't even think
of looking at me. She hardly ever does look at me. In fact, I can't remember her ever looking at me. Why
shouldn't she look at me? Is there any reason in the world why she shouldn't look at me? Is she so great,
and I'm so small, that she can't spare one little moment?...SHE'S LOOKING AT ME!! SHE'S LOOKING
AT ME!! (he puts his lunch bag over his head*) ...Lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for
me. If that little red-headed girl is looking at me with this stupid bag over my head she must think I'm the
biggest fool alive. But, if she isn't looking at me, then maybe I could take it off quickly and she'd never
notice it. On the other hand...I can't tell if she's looking, until I take it off! Then again, if I never take it off
I'll never have to know if she was looking or not. On the other hand...it's very hard to breathe in here. (he
removes his sack) Whew! She's not looking at me! I wonder why she never looks at me? Oh well, another
lunch hour over with...only 2,863 to go.
Paul from Barefoot in the Park by Neil Simon
PAUL: Oh yeah? Well, I’ve got a big surprise for you. I’ m not going to be here when you get back. Let’s
see how you like living alone. A dog, ha! That’s a laugh. Wait till she tries to take him out for walk. He’ll
get one look at those stairs and he’ll go right for her throat. You might as well get a parakeet, too. So you
can talk to him all night. “How much can I spend for bird seeds, Polly? Is a nickel too much? Well,
fortunately, I don’t need anyone to protect me. Because I’m a man, sweetheart. An independent, mature,
self-sufficient man. (Sneezes.) God bless me! I probably got the flu. Yeah, I’m hot, cold, sweating,
freezing. It’s probably a twenty-four hour virus. I’ll be all right. Well, I guess that’ sit. Goodbye, leaky
closet. Goodbye, no bathtub. Goodbye, hole. Goodbye, six flights. Goodbye, Corie. Don’t I get a
goodbye? According to the law, I’m entitled to a goodbye!