For this one. You must convince your future daughter-in-law to stick with your superhero son. Matt's note: This one is sourced from Volumnia's speech to Virgilia in Act 1, Scene 3 of Coriolanus. The original text follows this monologue.
FAMILY (any gender, mid forties through late life)
Sheri, I understand what you're going through. I'm proud of my son. And I'm proud of what he did today-- but Sheri, Sheri, SHERI---I do understand that it's hard for you. I do.
Abandoned at the alter? Few things more humiliating, right? And only you and I know the real reason. The guests won't know what he's really doing. They won't know that he's saving the planet. They'll feel sorry for you. They'll feel sorry for ME.
But Sheri, I sure don't feel sorry for me. I'm the parent of a real-life superhero. And today, you're the wife of a superhero. You are. You will be. Today. He'll sign the forms when he gets back. He'll be back today. He'll probably be back. A bus full of hostages? Piece of cake. He'll be back.
And hey-- you knew what you were getting into, Sheri. Don't tell me you didn't. The superhero thing... once he told you, I'm sure that's what really attracted you. Wasn't it? God knows his secret identity's nothing to write home about. Would you really want to be married to THAT?
Be proud of who your husband really is, Sheri. You can do that. Even today. What am I saying? ESPECIALLY today. Pride is what holds this family together.
And... you DO want to become part of SOME kind of family, don't you Sheri?
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"
I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
he would show most love. When yet he was but
tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not
sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
how honour would become such a person. that it was
no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
than now in first seeing he had proved himself a