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All the world's a stage...
... the men and women merely players.
The Colored Museum
George C. Wolfe

Soldier with a Secret

The Colored Museum is a series of exhibits in “a museum where the myths and madness of black/Negro/colored Americans are stored.” In this exhibit, Junie Robinson, a black combat soldier, “comes to life and smiles at the audience. Somewhat dim-witted, he has an easygoing charm about him.”

Junie: Pst. Pst. Guess what? I know the secret. The secret to your pain. ‘Course, I didn’t always know. First i had to die, then come back to life, ‘fore I had the gift.
Ya see, the Cappin sent me off up ahead to scout for screamin’ yella bastards. ‘Course, for the life of me I couldn’t understand why they’d be screamin’, seein’ as how we was tryin’ to kill them and they us.
But anyway, I’m off lookin’, when all of a sudden I find myself caught smack dead in the middle of this explosion. This blindin’, burnin’, scaldin’ explosion. Musta been a booby trap or something, ‘cause all around me is fire. Hell, I’m on fire. Like a piece of chicken dropped in a skillet of cracklin’ grease. Why, my flesh was justa peelin’ off of my bones.
But then I says to myself, “Junie, if yo’flesh is on fire, how come you don’t feel no pain!” And I didn’t. I swear as I’m standin’ here, I felt nuthin’. That’s when I sort of put two and two together and realized I didn’t feel no whole lot of hurtin’ cause I done died.
Well I just picked myself up and walked right on out of that explosion. Hell, once you know you dead, why keep on dyin’, ya know?
So, like I say, I walk right outta that explosion, fully expectin’ to see white clouds, Jesus, and my mama, only all I saw was more war. Shootin’ goin’ on way off in this direction and that direction. And there, standin’ around, was all the guys. Hubert, J.F., the Cappin. I guess the sound of the explosion must of attracted ‘em, and they all starin’ at me like I’m some kind of ghost.
So I yells to ‘em, “Hey there, Hubert! Hey there, Cappin!” But they just stare. So I tells ‘em how I’d died and how I guess it wasn’t my time ‘cause here I am, “fully in the flesh and not a scratch to my bones.” And they just stare. So I took to starin’ back.

(The expression on Junie’s face slowly turns to horror and disbelief.)

Only what I saw… well, I can’t exactly to this day describe it. But I swear, as sure as they was wearin’ green and holdin’ guns, they was each wearin’ a piece of the future on their faces.
Yea. All the hurt that was gonna get done to them and they was gonna to do folks was right there clear as day.
I saw how J.F., once he got back to Chicago was gonna get shot dead by this po-lice, and I saw how Hubert was gonna start beatin’ up on his old lady, which I didn’t understand ‘cause all he could do was talk on and on about how much loved her. Each and everyone one of ‘em had pain in his future and blood on his path. And God or the Devil one spoke to me and said, “Junie, these colored boys ain’t gonna be the same after this war. They ain’t gonna have no kind of happiness.”
Well, right then and there it comes to me. The secret to their pain.
Late that night, after the medics done checked me over and found me fit for fightin’, after everybody done settle down for the night, I sneaked over to where Hubert was sleepin’, and with a neeld I stole from the medics...pst, pst… I shot a little air into his veins. The second he died, all the hurtin’-to-come just left his face.
Two weeks later, I got J.F., and after that Woodrow… Jimmy Joe. I even spent all night waitin’ by the latrine ‘cause I knew the Cappin always made a late-night visit and… pst, pst… I got him.
(Smiling, quite proud of himself.) That’s how come I died and come back to life. ‘Cause just like Jesus went around healin’ the sick, I’m supposed to go around healin’ the hurtin’ all these colored boys wearin’ from the war.
Pst, pst. I know the secret. The secret to your pain. The secret to yours, and yours. Pst. Pst. Pst. Pst.

(The lights slowly fade.)

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by Sojourner Truth

Delivered 1851 at the Women's Convention in Akron, Ohio

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"]

That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

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By Rebecca Gilman

I’m a waiter, right? The people with the kids come in, and it’s one of two things. Either they bring a whole refrigerator’s worth of food with them, in these little Tupperware containers, or they don’t bring anything. Both suck equally. If they bring in the food, it’s like, they hand you a Tupperware full of some sort of mush and they ask you to take it back to the kitchen and put it in the microwave for thirty-six seconds, like you have nothing else to do and, like, there’s a fucking microwave in the kitchen, which there isn’t. So you take it back and throw it under a warming lamp, for, like, two minutes, then you bring it back and they stick their finger in the mush and they ask you, “Could you warm it up for eleven more seconds?” And while they wait, they open Tupperware number two, which always has Cheerios in it. Always, always. Fucking Cheerios. Which the kids -- they don’t eat the Cheerios. They throw the Cheerios. They spread the Cheerios like seed, like they’re seeding the restaurant with little Cheerio trees. These people leave their tables, and it’s like a goddamn cereal… PB and J.. booger… tsunami hit.

(Dwight breathes.)

But if they don’t bring the food, it’s fucking torture the other way. “Could the kitchen make, like, a bowl of plain pasta, with no sauce of any kind on it?” “Could he get a cheese pizza? But could you scrape the cheese off before you bring it out” “Do you have, like, any kind of melon or fresh fruit in the kitchen? Could you just bring us a little bowl of cut-up fruit? Oh. That’s a lot of fruit. Is that the only size bowl you have?” “ Was this -- did you make a cheese pizza? Because you have to make a cheese pizza and scrape off the cheese. If you didn’t put the cheese on at first, then it’s just a sauce pizza, and he won’t eat it. He won’t eat that.” (Beat.) Eat this, asshole.

(Dwight grabs his crotch.)

(Windsong: God.)

Here’s an idea: Next time, go to Applebee’s. There’s a menu there, for kids. It’s called a “kids’ menu.” Chicken fingers. Wieners in sauce. It’s on the fucking menu. Along with a word search and a crazy maze. Here are your crayons. Go wild.


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Hello all!

I'm actually in the process of posting monologues and scenes and such on my LJ to share with anyone interested. Everyone is free to take and use for auditions, class, what have you (but please credit). Feel free view my page and read my stuff. Friend requests are welcome.

Here is one that I recently posted on LJ ((Warning: There is some swearing. I wasn't sure what was allowed here so I censored)):


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I've been performing for quite some time, and I just happened upon this site sooo for the first order of business let me add a monologue to the archive for you all.

Sarah from Beau JestCollapse )

The second thing is I have a month before auditions but I want to be extremely prepared. It is a general audition of two minutes max and an option of contrasting pieces. The shows I am auditioning for are: The Mad Women of Chaillot, It's a Wonderful Life, A Bad Year for Tomatoes, and a View from the Bridge. My type varies between ingenue and character roles. So I was wondering if anyone has any ideas about pieces I could do.

Thanks much. ^-^

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I need help finding a monologue. I am trying out for Lady Larken (Once Upon A Mattress). And, I need a comical, less than a minute monologue that shows four emotions. Please help!
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Play: Seascape With Sharks and Dancer, by Don Nigro
Copyright: 1974, 1985 by Don Nigro

Character: Tracy
Character Info: Just a little background, Tracy is kinda crazy. This is a 2 character show. Ben, the male, fishes Tracy out of the ocean, clothes her and takes care of her... and she decides to stay after the first night... and they end up being a couple for several months.

At this point in the play, (after having been together for several months) Tracy has just revealed that she is pregnant, and had no intention of telling Ben about any of it. She, in the next scene, ponder aloud to Ben, the prospect of terminating the pregnancy.

A play very much worth reading, if you can find it.

I'm going to include a little bit of the pre-conversation. There are a few lines from Ben in the monologue, but I'm going to write it as it's written in the script so you can alter it to a monologue of your satisfaction. Everything but the monologue portion, however, will be in "small" font.

Ben: How long have you been pregnant?
Tracy: I don't know. You tell ME, Sherlock, you're so smart. What difference does that make?
Ben: It'd be nice to know when you're going to have it.
Tracy: Yeah.
Ben: Why didn't you tell me?
Tracy: I just did.
Ben: I mean, why didn't you tell me before?
Tracy: I didn't know before.
Ben: Before what?
Tracy: Before I found out. That makes sense. Doesn't that make sense?
Ben: There's no reason to get upset. The damage is already done.
Tracy: Damage. That's a nice way to put it.
Ben: I didn't mean it that way.
Tracy: What other way is there? Here's the thing growing inside me like a fungus and there goes our lives. At least MY life. I guess it doesn't do much to yours.
Ben: It does as much to me as it does to you.
Tracy: Really? You going to get up every morning and throw up with me?
Ben: Why don't you just sit down and relax?
Tracy: I AM sitting down.
Ben: Well, relax.
Tracy: I'm relaxing. Is it going to make me less pregnant? (She gets up and begins pacing.)
Ben: You like children.
Tracy: I hate children.
Ben: Nobody hates children.
Tracy: My father hates children.
Ben: He does not.
Tracy: He hates ME.
Ben: That's different.
Tracy: Why is it different?
Ben: I notice you're pretty jealous of other people's children.
Tracy: Whose children?
Ben: Like you wish they were yours. I've seen you.
Tracy: Your understanding of character is literary, not visceral.
Ben: What the hell does that mean?
Tracy: Visceral. It means --
Ben: I know what visceral means.
Tracy: You treat people like they were characters in books. (**Ben, by the way, is the authour of the Great American Novel, which is being stored in the refrigerator.) You have not sense of cause and effect. You have no sense of reality. You have no sense. you're and idiot. They should lock you up and eat the key.
Ben: I don't understand what that's got to do with you being pregnant.
Tracy: Of course you don't.

You don't understand anything about anything. And do you know why?

Ben: No. Tell me why.
Tracy: I'll tell you why.
Ben: I thought you would.

You can't connect things up in your mind. When I tell you I'm going to meet you some place and you go and wait there for two hours and then come home and find me sitting here eat a popsicle, what do you do? Do you yell at me? Do you beat me up? Do you throw me out? No. You come over and lick my popsicle. Like you expected me not to come but you waited anyway and then you come home and act like you're not even mad.

Ben: What flavor popsicle?
Tracy: You asshole.
Ben: So I accept you. So what? (**This part would need some editing to create a more natural flow)

But you DON'T accept me. You don't even SEE me. You see some nice little drippy-eyed girl who just can't help herself because of her unfortunate childhood toilet training experiences, when in reality I am a normal healthy person who screams a lot and knows exactly what she's doing. You can't be anybody's father. You're unfit. You can't just ACCEPT your children. You've got to teach them how to handle themselves and how rotten the world is. We can't have a baby.

Ben: Well we're GOING to have one, so we'll just have to make the best of it, won't we?

That's another thing wrong with you. You're always trying to make the best of things. Do you realize what a pain in the ass that is? There are many things you just can't make the best out of, and I'm one of them. I am not domesticable, I never WAS domesticable, and I'm never going to BE domesticable, so just forget it. Boy, I should have got out of here so fast when I could have. Babies are the worst trap there is. They make you old. We'll be OLD.

Ben: I think we ought to go to bed now and talk about it tomorrow.

That's it, stuff it under the sheets, a little early morning fuck and a nap will make it all right. That's what got us into this damn thing in the first place.

I know it's slightly long, and it's going to take some work... but it's a good one.

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Play: Seascape With Sharks and Dancer, by Don Nigro
Copyright: 1974, 1985 by Don Nigro

Character: Tracy
Character Info: Just a little background, Tracy is kinda crazy. This is a 2 character show. Ben, the male, fishes Tracy out of the ocean, clothes her and takes care of her... and she decides to stay after the first night... and they end up being a couple for several months. Have I mentioned that Tracy has a few screws loose? A play very much worth reading, if you can find it.

You know what I have nightmares about? There's these little tiny transparent flying things, see, I don't know what they are, but they're all sort of soft like the crap on pussywillows, you know what I mean? And they love me a lot and trust me and it'd be nice except they're so tiny and fragile I've got to watch out all the time or I'll squash them, and then there's more and more until almost all the space in the dream is filled up with them and I almost can't breathe and then somebody's calling me and I've got to go but I can't move because these damn little things are all over the place and they come right up and land on me and whisper things like music that i can't quite make out, and this person is calling me and I've got to go, so I try to get up very carefully and get away but as soon as I move I start to squash them and it's horrible but I can't stop so I keep going and every place I step I keep squashing them and they don't understand and tey're screaming and they make these terrible betrayed and shocked noises and then I'm running and stumbling and squashing them everyplace and crying and there's this screaming and screaming. (pause)And then I wake up and find myself having sex with some character I don't even know who is going to get in a hell of a lot of trouble if he doesn't let me get out of here quick.

Okay. the inserted "pause" is actually a line by Ben, who says, "And then what?" It's your discretion if you want to put that last sentence in.



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H'okay folkies, I wanna make this a better site for YOU. In order to do that, i'd like to get more features, but haven't the money to do it.

We can always switch to a Plus Account.

Here's a side-by-side comparison of account types.

Poll #967207 Ads or No Ads?

Would you rather have more features with some ads? Or status quo?

More Features w/ Ads!
Status Quo. No ads for me.

Keep in mind, IF we change over to a Plus Account (more features w/ ads) we can always change back.

I'm going to leave this up for a month, or so, since i know there's not much activity here. After a month (May 16th) I'm gonna act on the outcome of the poll. Please participate?

If we change over, I'll give it a month... and then post another poll to keep the status quo, or change back to basic.

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Hallo there, You're friendly neighbourhood moderator here!

Just want to welcome all the new members, and remind everyone that the idea is to post great monologues -- not just to request them. For every monologue you request (as I've noticed that the last 25 entries, or so, are all requests), try to post one that you've used.

If we all work together, this will a fantastic resource!

Thanks Folks!

any other concers? Lemme know!

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