Age (range): 20s
Length: 3 minutes
I'm not hardened, Mother. But I can't talk nonsense about it. You see, it's all real to me. I've suffered it. I've been shoved and bullied. I've had my arms twisted. I've been made to scream with pain in other ways. I've been flung into a filthy cell with a lot of other poor wretches as if I were a sack of coals being emptied into a cellar. And the only difference between me and the others was that I hit back. Yes I did. And I did worse. I wasn't ladylike. I cursed. I called names. I heard words that I didn't even know that I knew, coming out of my mouth just as if somebody else had spoken them. The policeman repeated them in court. The magistrate said he could hardly believe it. The policeman held out his hand with his two teeth in it that I knocked out. I said it was all right; that I had heard myself using those words quite distinctly; and that I had taken the good conduct prize for three years running at school.
The poor old gentleman put me back for the missionary to find out who I was, and to ascertain the state of my mind. I wouldn't tell, of course, for your sakes at home here; and I wouldn't say I was sorry, or apologize to the policeman, or compensate him or anything of that sort. I wasn't sorry. The one thing that gave me any satisfaction was getting in that smack on his mouth; and I said so. So the missionary reported that I seemed hardened and that no doubt I would tell who I was after a day in prison. Then I was sentenced.
So now you see I'm not a bit the sort of girl you thought me. I'm not a bit the sort of girl I thought myself. And I don't know what sort of person you really are, or what sort of person Father really is. I wonder what he should say or do if he had an angry brute of a policeman twisting his arm with one hand and rushing him along by the nape of his neck with the other. He couldn't whirl his leg like a windmill and knock a policeman down by a glorious kick on the helmet. Oh, if they'd all fought as we two fought we'd have beaten them.
Sticky Situation by Marah Refety
Age (range): Teens
Length: 3 minutes
Background Info: Mera is an outgoing teenage girl who loves playing matchmaker. Usually every thing works out but this time things get switched around.
(The phone rings and she picks up) Hello? (Beat) Oh hey Lisa! What’s up? (Beat) So, are you going to the dance this Friday? (Beat) What, you're not going? Why not? (Beat) Who cares if you don't have a date? You have 2 days till Friday! Oh, hang on Lisa, I have another call coming in. (Push button on phone) Mera here, talk to me. (Beat) Brad, hey! How you doin'? (Beat) What? You like Lisa! Ohmigosh this is so cool! (Beat) Uh, no, I haven't herd from Lisa in a while. Oh, uh, Brad? Hang on. Uh, I, I think I, um, smell smoke!
(Push button on phone) Lisa? Eek! You'll never guess who that was! (Beat) Brad! Yeah! He says he likes you! This is so awesome! Hang on, kay? (Push button on phone) Brad? Still there? (Beat) Oh the smoke... uh musta been my imagination. Anyways... (Beat) Yeah, sure. I'll ask Lisa if she likes you next time I talk to her! So, are you going to the dance? (Beat) Oh! That will be great! (Beat) No! I promise every thing you've said will never leave this conversation! But hang on one sec; my dog's lifting its leg!
(Push button on phone) Lisa? Ohmigosh Brad just said he's going to ask you to the dance! (Beat) Yeah, this so cool cause Brad is a total hottie! (Beat) Hold that thought. (Push button on phone) Brad? (Beat) Oh, yeah. The dog! Uh, I pushed him outside just in time! (Laugh nervously) Yeah. But anyways, I'm sure she will definitely say YES! (Beat) Oh, really, that so sweet! Uh, Brad, can you hang on for a few; my last beverage is going right through me!
(Push button on phone) Lisa? Anyways, yeah, he says you are the prettiest girl at school! (Beat) I know that is like sooo sweet! Oh great, someone's calling in on the third line hang on! (Push button on phone) Summers residence. (Beat) Oh, Grandma! How are you sweetie? (Beat) Oh that's great! I've been doing fine. And school is going steady! But I'm kind of busy right know, Grandma, so can I call you back in a few? (Beat) Okay, I love you Grandma! Bye!
(Push button on phone) Uh Brad I got ta go! See you at school tomorrow! (Push button on phone) That was my Grandma. But who cares? Lets get back to Brad! He is such a babe! You are so lucky, Lisa! If he wasn't so for you, he would be the perfect guy! Oh and when he asks you to the dance, act surprised cause I told him you would never know a thing that we talked about.. (Giggle) This is so awesome! Oh! What are you going to wear? Maybe I can come over and help you pick out the perfect outfit! (Beat) Lisa? (Beat) Oh! (Laugh nervously) Wait, this is Brad! BRAD! Ohmigosh! Yeah I don't think she suspects a thing! (Beat) But don't be surprised if she says YES! (Beat) I uh . . . I Got ta go! (Push button on phone) OOOPPS!!
Age (range): 13-18
Length: 3 minutes
Background Info: Isis, a distraught punk/goth talks to herself about her inner feelings. She begins her monologue as a speech to herself, then sits and begins writing a letter, in which she is appeared to have two personalities, one while she writes and another when she speaks to herself.
All I ever wanted was to make you like me. From the day I met you, I knew you were everything I'd ever thought about. You know how some girls always go on and on about what kind of guy they want and yada, yada, yada? I never wanted to be one of them. Then I met him. I mean, you. You, with those eyes that I get lost in, oh. Those eyes... that don't even see me. I'm a shadow; behind you when the sun hits. But your sun is that preppy blonde cheerleader who giggles and hangs off your arm. You’ll never see me. I must be invisible, because I could be in the same room as you, and I'd still be as transparent as ever.
Last Tuesday, when I ran into you in the hall, you helped me up, and smiled at me. Ever since that jumbled conversation, I've been listening so hard I hear a vow in every word you speak, even if you're not speaking to me. But I'm still just that shadow, and you're still that unobtainable goal I strive for.
Not that I'm thinking of you as an object or anything. I should have known you were just part of a misconstrued fairytale before I let you consume me; I should have known that you were one of them, and I could never be. Them, with their collared shirts and designer jeans, that's what you deserve, not me with my black eyeliner, baggy jeans and blasphemous religion.
What was I thinking when I got dressed this morning? This shirt doesn't flatter me; I'm too pale to wear black. And my parents are always nagging at me about my hair... Someday I'll find the way out of this labyrinth; I'll follow the white light. 'Till then I'll be no one. At least that way I'll belong to something. I'll stay hidden in my darkness, cold and unfeeling as I'm supposed to be. I'll show no emotion as I realize that every step towards you is two steps back to the mistake that I run from. Mistake. It's a mistake. It’s a mistake! I can't believe what I've done for you. So many times I've gotten lost inside of myself and now all that's left are the scars on my skin.
What am I doing, writing to you? This sounds like I'm constructing a Linkin Park song. I sound so pathetic. You're never going to notice me anyway. It's all a hollow oblivion.
Age (range): 13-19
Length: 1 minute
Background Info: Even in the best of families things get tense, things go bad. Kids try to do their best and parents wish they had done better. A little misunderstanding can go a long way.
Kids are supposed to have a good time! I'm a kid! I'm not having any fun! No fun at all! (Turns away from parents, turns back) Mom, dad... I... I tried. I really did. I did my best but... Damn! Did it ever dawn on you two geniuses that I might not be the genius you thought I was! I am just an ordinary person. I am. And I'm okay with that. Are you? (Upset) Are you? (A pause) And that's all I want to be! Just me! Can I do that? Can I just come in this house and be with my family? Please! (A pause) I love you so much. I do. Could I just come in and... and not be put under a microscope. Like... like a little specimen. Damn! Because I tell you what! I can't take it anymore. I can't! I am about to burst wide open. Blow up into a million little pieces! And just.... just... disappear. (Turns and exits.)
Unknown by Anthony Beatrice
Gender: Male / Female
Age (range): 13-17
Length: 1 minute
Background Info: This person has committed suicide due to the fact he/she could not survive in high school and being fat. The setting can be anywhere. The person is dead but is talking to the mother who is crying. The mother does not hear this person because he is not alive. The person tries to explain himself and his reasons for committing suicide in order to stop the mom from crying.
I’m sorry. I am sorry mom. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I had to do it. There was no way out. No way out of the hell of life. Everyday, every morning, noon, and night, I was dead. I wasn’t living, mom. At home, at school, at summer camp... No, no. I couldn’t take it anymore. They made fun of me, ma. They called me names like fatso, the blob, big fat balloon. But it wasn’t even the names, ma, it was the looks. The looks I got in the hallways, on the bus, and in the lunch room. There wasn’t enough room in the hallway for me, ma. I got pushed and shoved, they didn’t want me there, ma. There weren’t enough seats on the bus mom. I got my own seat cuz no one will sit with me. They rather sit three in a seat than sit with me. They didn’t want me there, mom. I got my own lunch table, mom. My own lunch table. That’s not a good thing. I would be all alone. Nothing to do but eat. Eat but not talk. There was no one to talk to. They didn’t want me there, ma. No one wants me. Stop crying, ma, stop crying (pause) cuz I am living now.
William Shakespeare - As You Like It (2/7)
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.