Comic Monologues for Gals
Little Red Riding Hood’s Mother
by Tammy Ryan
Joan, age unspecified
Joan, an eccentric mother, has recently moved to the country with her daughter.
She is disturbed to learn that young girls in the area are being abducted at school bus
stops. Here she laments the tragic situation and offers a cynical view of a world in which
such conduct is possible. There is genuine, sudden wit in her maternal instinct that
captivates that hilarity of the moment.
Joan: This is what I want to know: how come we never hear the story about Little Red
Riding Hood’s Mother? What about her side of it? Standing on the doorstep, watching
Little Red as she disappears round the bend into the dark woods. Heart beating, hands
wringing, hyperventilating, completely powerless, frozen on that doorstep? What the hell
was the matter with her? Letting her defenseless child walk through the woods by
herself with a maniac on the loose? She knew full well that the forest was full of wolves,
but she sent her out there with a basket of bait! ‘Stay on the path,’ like that’s gonna save
her. It’s almost like she wanted Little Red out of the way...Maybe she couldn’t stand the
pressure of living in the woods anymore, the isolation, doing nothing but baking cookies
for her sick mother herself? And where was Little Red’s father? No one ever addresses
that. And what about the Woodcutter? A strange man in the woods with an ax. Why
does everyone automatically trust him? It’s a frightening story.The Interview
by Jill Morley
Laura, age unspecified
Laura, an insecure actress with a dark, brooding temperament, is being
interviewed by a theatre casting director. She is a larger-than-life social misfit in the
middle of an unmistakable personality identity crisis. Laura’s lack of self confidence
accurately reflects her inability to make appropriate choices, and her prospects for a
successful interview are minimal, to say the least.
Laura: Don’t you have a scene for me to read? I am so boring. I am not one of those
personality actresses. I’m completely devoid of personality. You’re probably looking for
one of those fun-loving, festive girls and that’s not me. You see, I don’t wear green on
St. Patrick’s Day. I’m not the kind of girl who dresses up for the holidays. I’m antiholiday.
I don’t know what it is…I have friends. They like me. I’m not even shy. Just…When I
was in the third grade, I wrote an essay for my teacher. Miss Laskowski. The theme
was, “I’ll Never Forget The Day.”
I wrote something like, “I’ll never forget the day my father brought us ducklings. It was
such a surprise. The smallest one was Milk. The next smallest was Quackers. The
biggest was Harold. Milk was the first one to die…”
I went on to coldly describe how each one of them got killed by my dog. I was a dark
child.
In the margin, Miss Laskowski wrote, “I enjoyed your story! Very good.”
She probably thought I would grow up to be an axe murderer. But instead, here I am, an
actress. (Laughs nervously)
Oh! I started working this receptionist job but I’m terrible! I’m not built to ‘receive’ people.
I can’t synthesize a genuine smile to random people, strangers. Who cares? I don’t
know them, and the temp agency certainly isn’t paying me the big bucks.
Are you sure you don’t want me to read something? I really feel uncomfortable…A
scene? A poem? The telephone book? Because even that is going to be more
interesting than…excuse me…can I do a monologue?Faith in Flowers
By Shannon M. Scheel
Laura, a young girl
Laura, a lively young girl wearing dirty jeans, ripped T-shirt, and a soiled apron,
enters hurriedly carrying a bucket and a flower. She crosses to center stage with a
sense of urgency, puts the bucket down and looks about ready to scrub the floor. Laura
speaks directly to the audience and gives a brief glimpse of her career prospects. She is
an enticing free-spirit with considerable charm.
Oh, hi! I didn’t see you there! Welcome to Mr. Fernwick’s Flower Haven! My name is
Laura, how can I brighten your life today? (Giggles) Okay, that is corny I’ll admit, but my
boss, Jim, says I have to say it to every customer…not like we get many these days.
Whys’ that? ‘Cause it’s the new millennium! Nobody really gives flowers anymore. I
mean, for example, my sister, Erika, works at that fancy electronics store down the
block.
Every night at dinner she tells me stories of how husbands or boyfriends come in and
buy a romantic CD to apologize for a fight with their sweetie, or how a nine-year old boy
walks in with a wad of cash to buy mommy a new DVD player for her birthday. He gets
it from his dad who’s in the next aisle over. I don’t think a lemonade stand could make
four hundred fifty dollars and ninety-nine cents…it just isn’t possible, you know? But for
four dollars and fifty cents, he can buy her a nice bouquet all by himself. I know my
mom would appreciate that more. I mean, I don’t believe anyone has faith in flowers
anymore.
But enough about me, what can I do for you? We have this great special on lilacs. You
get two for…huh? (Long pause) Oh, I don’t know if he’s in… Calls into the back) Jim?
Jim? The landlord’s here. He said that if you don’t have the rent today…Jim? He’s not
here, apparently. Please, if you just wait until tomorrow…! Oh, you’ve been waiting for a
month…Well, yes I understand. The computer place bought us out…I see…Yes, I’ll lock
up…Takes the flower from her pocket and places it on the table) Here…a freebie…if
you put it in water right away, it’ll keep for a while. Makes a nice centerpiece. You’re
welcome…and thanks for stopping by! (Wipes her hands on the apron) Now to start
packing up, and…what’s this? (Picks up paper on the table and reads) ‘Now hiring:
Virtual Boutique Inc – send your loved ones gifts online for half the cost…” (Smirks)
Huh…welcome to the twenty-first century.
Hush
by April de Angleis
Denise, twenties to thirties
Denise , when asked, says she ‘does house craft’ but to everyone around her
she is a treasured cleaner. She wants to fulfill herself in some other way and dreams of
going to Tibet to find her real self. She is very attracted to New Age thinking. She is
friendly and chatty but in a self-absorbed way. She has met a man on the beach and
she hopes, though she never actually invited him, that he will unexpectedly drop round
to see her. In anticipation she has put on a short dress and made herself up. In this
speech she offers an explanation for ‘the bit’ of a depression which had once caused
her to get ‘really pissed’.
Denise: The reason I’d been depressed was because I’d been working at this
sandwich-making job. I was living with this bloke and we were making sandwiches in his
flat. At first I really threw myself into it. I experimented with fillings, I bought a butter
dish. We used to drive round delivering sandwiches to local businesses only quite often
we never got any orders. We ate quite a lot of sandwiches on those occasions. That
dealt quite a blow to my enthusiasm, I can tell you. Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t
getting the correct balance of amino acids in my diet. And that can lead to personality
disorders. Like shoplifting or slimming. Then one day we found a cockroach lying upside
down in a giant size tub of margarine. It wasn’t me that left the lid off. That was when
the infestation started. You can never be alone with an infestation. Soon after that he
left me. He walked out leaving rent arrears and twenty-seven kilos of cheddar. I lay in
bed weeping for days. I don’t know if what we had was love, but it did provide light relief
from all the buttering. That was before I became a Buddhist. I used to watch the
cockroaches basking on the walls. They do say in the event of a nuclear holocaust
cockroaches will survive to inherit the earth. They used to crawl around in a superior
manner as if they knew they could survive intense heat and I couldn’t. Cocky bastards.
The thing is, I’d never go through that now. Be used like that. Because now I’m different.
Transformed by experience.