fun-for-artists-blog
Fun For Artists
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fun-for-artists-blog · 8 years ago
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Piano Bar (monologue)
The other night, you know, at the piano bar, I got a really weird request. And it came from this strange, very short man that was wearing a mask. His mask looked like it was put on backwards with a weird, sort of carnival tent design. His feet were the size of baby goldfish, and he had a mustache the color of...well, baby goldfish. And over all of this stuff he was wearing a flat, bright orange velvet hat and a big black coat that went down to his feet. That actually meant it was only about three and a half feet long, cause, as I said he was really short. I was going along, playing my music, and I see him sourly staring down at his sassafras root beer. Maybe he was mad that he had ordered it, but I mean, wouldn’t he just not order it? Alright, alright. Anyway, I finished my piece, and he slowly come up to me. O.M.G! He takes so long on those goldfish feet! 10 minutes or something. Okay, so he might have been injured. But it was so strange. Then he stopped right in his tracks and spits his gum into a handkerchief. Yeah, it was so gross! Well, he starts walking again, and then he stuffs this crumpled little slip of paper into my hand. And you know what it says on it? (Scoffs) “Hot cross buns.”
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fun-for-artists-blog · 8 years ago
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Helen (monologue)
Sean White: Hey! Helen! Please... hear me out. Look, I know I’m a slow starter. People have told me that all my life. From when I was 5 to now...I’m 23. All these people telling me that I'll never get a job, that I’m never gonna care about my future, except for going to some stupid book store every Saturday, and never buying anything cause I don’t have the money. But it isn’t true. I do care. Believe me Helen, please. Remember? You’re the one person that smiled, at me, on that fateful day at Starbucks. You smiled, Helen! Not my teachers, not my customers at Taco Bell, not my parents, ever gave me that chance to redeem myself and my insecurities. But you did. You made a dent, in my monotonous river of loneliness, that I have been swimming in all my life. You save me from that river, Helen. I promise you, I will work hard. I will get a job that will pay, so that next Saturday, when I go into that stupid book store, I will buy that book. I will do it Helen, if you promise to save me from that river again.
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