Matt's Monoblog - The Pulp Stage

Monologue 172: "Son" (fantastical, dramatic)

6/20/2016

For this one, you must make sure your son is ready for a dangerous new life.

SON (any gender, early forties through late life)

Grupgar will assemble a mob. At least twenty will come here looking for you. They'll arrive by dawn at the latest. The villagers listen to Grupgar. Heaven only knows why.

I will tell you the path to take. But only if I see no doubt in your eyes.

Son, do you really want to join the fliers? Even if you make it to their section of the world... nobody knows if they're good or evil. You've been given a gift.

Maybe.

Flying... Grupgar certainly knows you have a gift. But to him it's a curse for the whole village, isn't it? I don't believe you to be a devil. But perhaps it's best you die the death of an angel: Misunderstood and martyred?

No, I'm not ready to tell you the path, yet. I must know something... I've dreamt of flying all my life. I never told you... but in my dreams, it never felt like magic. It just felt like I was climbing the air, one step at a time. Until the steps got fewer and suddenly I was gliding forward with each push of my legs... it felt so wonderful. Is that what it's like?

Yes, I can see it in your eyes. Go then. The path is simple. Fly only between dusk and dawn. Chase the sun at dusk and flee from it at dawn. Your grandfather told me it is three months by foot. For you, it will likely be only three days.

Son, I don't know what you are... I fear what you will become. But whatever may be, you are no longer a child.

Goodbye.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage

Monologue 171: "Address"

6/19/2016

For this one: You must convince your mob boss not to dispose of you, due to a botched bank robbery. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Puck's speech to Oberon in Act 3, Scene 1 of A Midsummer Night's dream.

ADDRESS (any gender, early twenties through late life)

Boss, boss, BOSS. It's not pleasant news, I get that. I had them rob the wrong bank. Yes, that could be seen as unfortunate. The bank is supported by a rival gang. And that could be seen as very unfortunate.

But boss. Before getting rid of me, consider: You could be throwing away a VERY powerful assistant. The bank? We cleaned out everything and I mean EVERYTHING in that safe and we did it fifteen minutes before the cops arrived. We were able to grease wedding rings off the TELLERS. We even made off with all the FREE MINTS.

When you put me to work, boss, you've got a full scale nuclear missile on your hands. Now it's just a matter of... you know... a matter of AIM.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage

SOURCE TEXT
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me I should know the man
By the Athenian garment be had on?
And so far blameless proves my enterprise,
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
And so far am I glad it so did sort
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.

Monologue 170: "Pass" (dramatic, fantastical)

6/18/2016

For this one, you must convince a dying knight to pass the legacy on to you.

PASS (any gender, mid teens to late thirties)

Yes, I have done what I have done. And I shall leave your side. And I want you to give me the powers.

Sir there is honor in this. I will persuade you. Please lend me your ear one last time:

'Tis true, you are not dying on the battlefield.
'Tis true you are not dying under the claws of a beast.

You are dying in the wood, poisoned by your own servant.

But think on it.

Pass along the powers and I shall use them as you have never used them. I am ready to be the greatest warrior in the land. And I shall become a ruler... far in quality above our present tyrant. Pass me the powers and you will be changing the kingdom for good. What an honor. What an opportunity.

Your last breaths approach. Make them sweet.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage

Monologue 169: "Meltdown" (dramatic, comedic, gritty)

6/17/2016

For this one: You must turn the tables on your political opponent during a debate. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Hermia's retort to Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream. The original text follows this monologue.

MELTDOWN (any gender, late thirties through late life)

Barbarian? Ladies and gentlemen, you heard him. My opponent is calling me a "barbarian."

Did I not shake hands at the beginning of this debate?

Have I not been respectful throughout?

Have I called MY OPPONENT names like "Barbarian"?

And what exactly does he mean? Am I a barbarian because of the tragedy in my state? Does my opponent think that I ENGINEERED the meltdown? Ladies and gentlemen, just because I supported a new source of electricity... just because I was trying to save people money... just because I was trying to ELIMINATE waste from the environment... I'm a BARBARIAN.

No, forget it: My opponent is RIGHT. Clearly I must be a force of destruction. I caused the meltdown at the power plant and dumped the chemicals all over mother nature. All by myself-- right? I did it for FUN, right? Because I'm a REPUBLICAN and we're all just meatheads stomping about, squashing everything around us. We're BARBARIANS. Right?

Ladies and gentlemen... what does it take to prove that I'm human? What could it be? Ladies and gentlemen, how about this: I'll ask my opponent how he felt about the little accident last year. The one that conveniently killed his former rival? I cried during the press conference on that one. Let's have a look at my OPPONENT'S face right now.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"

SOURCE TEXT
Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urged her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
And are you grown so high in his esteem;
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.

Monologue 168: "Watching Us" (fantastical, dramatic)

6/16/2016

For this one: You must alert the king to a spread of dark magic.

WATCHING US (any gender, mid teens through late fifties)

Sire. There is something very wrong. It spreads through the village. It spreads through the countryside. I seek your help before it spreads to the palace.

I know you think me a fraud. A fool pretending to have magic powers. Perhaps I WAS. I failed at your last festival. Rather than power, I used tricks. And even my tricks weren't very good.

But I happened on something last week. I was practicing a chant and then I saw it. A hole in the air. It was the size of a plate. Big enough for me to peer through.

Sire, there's another world on the other side of that hole. There are people and they are watching us. They are seated in a room and they hear what we say. They see what we do. They murmur when we transgress. And they laugh when we struggle.

Sire, as soon as I backed away from the hole, it multiplied. There were ten of these holes, the last time I saw. They float around the village like soap bubbles. Sire, the citizens: They are looking through these holes. They now know they are being watched. They are unable to concentrate on their work.

And when the hole moves on, they act with growing bitterness. They see what fools they must be in others' eyes. They are beginning quarrel. They are beginning to despair. They are changing what they do. They are beginning to rebel. Not against you, sire. They are rebelling against themselves.

And the holes will keep multiplying. The village and the countryside are turning into a mad carnival.

Sire, I ask that you let me stay by your throne. One hour is all I ask. I must share these tales with you. Tales from the village. If you do not see the danger, then I am glad. I shall let you call me a fool again. But if you do see the danger, I beg you: Tell me. What was this world before you ruled it? How did this kingdom come to be? I think I can bring it back to order.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"

Monologue 167: "Neighbor" (comedic, fantastical)

6/15/2016

For this one: You must convince your little alien buddy not to give up the return-plans. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Puck's speech to Oberon in Act 3, Scene 2 of A Midsummer Night's Dream. The original text follows this monologue.

NEIGHBOR (any gender, late life)

Weemoe!

Weemoe!

It's okay, you can come out honey. They're gone-- oh they are GONE.

Who's the creature from outer space? It ain't Weemoe. Oh no... cops don't even KNOW about any Weemoe.

Neighbors think I'm hiding something? Call the cops on me? I called the cops on THEM. Well, I didn't CALL the cops, I just... well lemme tell you:

Soooo the cops come to my door and it's all: "There was a report of suspicious activity. Can we come in?" That's when you dove into the drier. Just in time! Nobody saw nothin'. By the way, you can come out.

Wememoe, come ON. Come OUT of there. It ain't comfortable in there, is it? Come on out--

Well anyway: So I'm aaaaall polite and I say, "Officer, I have lived in this neighborhood, thirty two years, I am a well regarded citizen, I have worked for the county corrections for twelve years, I do not have a police record, I do not perform 'suspicious activity' nor do I plan to. And I didn't want to tell y'all myself buuuuuuut... I DID see 'suspicious activity' from the very neighbor who called you."

Then Weemoe! MAN!

See, the neighbor's like this artsy actor type and that's alright, I respect that, but she's usually talking to herself all the time and ONE time I saw the inside of her place: WEEMOE! She's got like these clown and elf and devil masks all over her wall and I ain't judgin' but all I have to say about that is.... CUUUUUKOO!

Right.

So: They knock on her door and she's like in FULL COSTUME and MAKEUP, I guess she's been rehearsing something for herself but the cops don't know she's this "artist." So they start askin' what's up and she starts getting indignant. See I was brought up to be polite but my actor NEIGHBOR starts YELLING at the cops and she's got this weird European accent and WEEMOE: THE COPS BROUGHT HER IN!

They ain't gonna believe anything she says.

I'M the suspicious neighbor? Oh-HO! The cops now suspicion 'bout HER... CUUUUKOO!

So it's all good, but... I'm tellin' you, Weemoe, you GOTTA get your ship up and running SOON cause then you can go back to your planet and EAT... 'cause sooner or later, there ain't gonna be any pets left in this neighborhood and I don't mind the disappearance of those dogs, most of them do number twos on my lawn... but you gotta admit, you can only have so much pet food before things trace back to this basement.

Pet-food. Oh my God, you get it. Pet-FOOD!

Aahahahahaha!

Ohhhh... I just made myself laugh. I AM gonna miss talking with you, Weemoe.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage

SOURCE TEXT

My mistress with a monster is in love.

Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.

The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass's nole I fixed on his head:

Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly;
And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls;
He murder cries and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears
thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all
things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,

And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.

Monologue 166: "Tyrant" (fantastical, comedic)

6/14/2016

For this one: You must convince your younger sister to approve of your decision to blow up an island. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Coriolanus's speech to the senators in Act 3, Scene 1. The original text follows this monologue.

TYRANT (any gender, late thirties through late life)

Reckless... environmental... DESTRUCTION? That's what I'm doing? Jenny, the whole world knows this place as TERROR ISLAND. The name even skipped past Urban Dictionary. It's now an official term. You know WHY? Because this is an island filled with OVERSIZED MONSTERS.

Grasshoppers the size of construction vehicles. Stomping down entire plantations.

A hut got turned into slime thanks to a slug the size of a hippo.

Thirty foot rats. Not only eating humans but spreading baseball sized fleas. The scientists are saying you don't need a microscope to see the plague. You don't even need a magnifying glass.

But noooo... if I propose to nuke this rock... well, I'm just INSENSITIVE. And by the way? At the press conference? That was a really uncalled for. You've got your animal research. I've got my military background. We should have been arguing on those merits. But you bring up our past? I never picked on you. No more than any older sibling does. Okay, I gave you a noogie from time to time. So what? That makes me a sociopath? A tyrant to all things innocent and weak?

Lemme tell you something, Jenny. You weren't any kind of angel. You were always playing mom and dad against me. I missed about fifty meals growing up because of all your tattling. YOU were dangerous.

And so are those monsters. In one hour, the helicopter is coming. From a safe distance I will give a command to headquarters and then the island is going to turn into a beautiful glowing blob.

[shift focal point]

But ah! Wait, wait, wait. What have we here? Is it me, Jenny or does that look like a Terror Tarantula over there? Very famous on this island. You want to show it's misunderstood? Go over to it. If you can make it look like a cuddly little victim, I'll call everything off. You can give ME a noogie at the NEXT press conference.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage

SOURCE TEXT
For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them
Regard me as I do not flatter, and
Therein behold themselves: I say again,
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd,
and scatter'd,
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number,
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which they have given to beggars.

Monologue 165: "Stage Act" (horrific, dramatic, gritty)

6/13/2016

For this one: You must convince your friend to get out of the country with you before there's any more trouble. Matt's note: Mature audiences only.

STAGE ACT (any gender, late teens through late twenties)

Jay, can't you just GET OVER IT? The police have cleared us. Right? Even gave us a free return flight to the states. Right? We're fine. There's nothing to freak out about. I mean, maybe there is. I KNOOOOW... Murder's pretty scary. We're all on the same page, there. Fair enough.

But I didn't murder anyone. You didn't murder anyone. That DOUCHE-BAG murdered someone. How the hell were we gonna know he'd react like that?

I know you got the idea to send him there. Jay, you had the RIGHT idea. Either the guy was going to chicken out or he was going to get put in his place. Either way, he was going to stop following us around the city bragging on his bullshit: All the college freshmen he's sure now have baby bumps thanks to his old "Netflix & Chill" technique. And then every souvenir shop...

"Maybe I should get a bunch of these as push presents for the ladies back home. Ya-haw-haw-haw."

If he was telling the truth, that's scary. If he was kidding, that's... I dunno... that's GROSS.

You were totally right to tell me about that stage act. And I was totally right to take him. I want you to stop whining "I shoulda went." Could of, would of, should of. You didn't miss anything. It went just like you predicted.

Hooker needed a volunteer. He jumps right up onto the stage. They go at it. He gets a big round of applause when he finishes. He's looking really happy with himself. Again. Then part 2: The greased up body builder enters from back stage. Holds our guy down and five minutes later, gets a big round of applause when HE finishes.

Yeah, I felt a little shook up. I mean our guy actually started crying at one point. Started yelling something? I dunno. It was hard to hear over the chanting.

Maybe something snapped. Maybe he had it in him the whole time. But the police agree the connection is obvious. One messed up tourist. One dead female stage performer. When you really drill down, it has nothing to do with us.

Jay, let's just go home.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"

Monologue 164: "Easier" (dramatic, fantastical)

6/12/2016

For this one, you must convince a business partner to sabotage your own robot factory. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Lysander's speech to Helena in Act 2, Scene 2 of A Midsummer Night's Dream. The original text follows this monologue.

EASIER (any gender, mid forties through late life)

Me? Leader of the machine movement? Only the movement to destroy them. I will triple my efforts and stop what I started.

Jackie, we wanted to make things easier? Well, sending those robots to the scrap yard and doing things ourselves... as humans... that's a lot easier than being a slave. And mark my words, that's what the machines will make us.

I never remember my dreams, Jackie. But last night? What I saw playing out in my head? I remember every detail. And I don't think I can go to sleep again until we shut the factory down. BURN it down, Jackie.

Look. We all make mistakes. I told millions of people how my robots would improve life. Truth is, when I started this company? Jackie, I was YOUNG. I wanted to improve lives, yes. But even more than that, I wanted to be the winner. I wanted to make something that would floor everybody.

And it has. And it will. And it won't stop. Unless we stop it ourselves.

Jackie, can take one more risk with me?

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"

SOURCE TEXT
Content with Hermia! No; I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia but Helena I love:

Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd;
And reason says you are the worthier maid.

Things growing are not ripe until their season
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will

And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook
Love's stories written in love's richest book.

Monologue 163: "Wasteland" (gritty, dramatic)

6/11/2016

For this one: You must convince a corrupt business partner to go into semi-apocalyptic exile.

WASTELAND (any gender, late twenties through late life)

Hugh, at the end of the day, you have a choice. It is what it is.

Choice 1: Stay in the city and go to prison.

Choice 2: Go out into the wasteland.

Go into the wasteland?

Yes: Let's unpack that statement. You leave the hospital and go... doesn't matter if you haven't healed. You'll go. And you'll go tonight.

Get the help of that little motorcycle gang. Have them take you. You're not a pretty sight. I understand. Hide your face in a hood. Wear a hockey mask... I could care less. But I'm giving you a chance. Before the police interview you. Before they find out HOW exactly you burned your face off.

I don't mean to be rude - but... me kicking you out into the dust... that's a lot better than you deserve. Needless to say, I respect you. We're both passionate about automotive technology. But we have our differences, don't we? I'm just sayin': I believe in creating standard automobiles for middle class families. You believe in embezzling funds to build-- I don't even know what you call them... I had a look at the one that burned up on you. It looked like an outback vehicle made out of dinosaur bones.

Perhaps that's why you'll survive out there. You're creations have a brutality to them. It'll be difficult out there, I know. Nothing really grows out there. There were record temperatures yesterday... and it's not even summer yet.

But actually, you've always been into pain, haven't you? "No pain, no gain." All your body building... "Hugh the Humugus?" You'll be fine.

Go forth, my friend. My former friend. Take your strange little gang with you. They'll follow you anywhere. My IQ is triple theirs and you led ME along for years.

Hugh, I'm instructing you: Just walk away.

Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"

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Artistic Director Matt Haynes presents a new short monologue every day, 2016. The majority of these are gender-flexible and usable for teenagers on up. Feel free to grab any of these for your audition... or just to perform for fun. If you need to trim the beginnings or endings for time, go ahead, but please do not alter the text itself.

Hey! Also, if you end up using one of these, drop Matt a line. We're hoping to track the spreading of our work! pulpstagematt@gmail.com

Let's have some fun!

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