 
# BUILT FOR ABUSE

Acting Monologues For Men

By  
 **Joshua James**
Copyright © Joshua James

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved

Cover design by Todd Alcott

POD cover by Bosa at www.Buddhacandy.com
_For all my acting friends, every single one of you that I've met along the way._

_We had a ton of fun in the trenches._

_No one rages, despairs or, more importantly, LOVES like an actor does  . . . no one._

_Feast, you beautiful monsters, feast._

## CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Author's Note

On Rights

TODD (20s) from THE MEN'S ROOM

SETH (20s) from THE MEN'S ROOM

RAY (20s) from THE MEN'S ROOM

TODD from THE MEN'S ROOM

TODD from THE MEN'S ROOM

RAY from THE MEN'S ROOM

ROBB (early 30s, gay) from THE MEN'S ROOM

MAYNARD (early 30s) from 2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

MAYNARD from 2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

MAYNARD from 2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

MAYNARD from 2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

SEAN (early 30s, Irish as fuck) from TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL (30s, black and proud) from TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL (30s, black and proud) from TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL from TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL from TALLBOY WALKIN'

AXEL (teen, black and all attitude) from TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL from TALLBOY WALKIN'

FRANK (60s) from TALLBOY WALKIN'

FRANK (60s) from TALLBOY WALKIN'

SPENSER (30s) from TALLBOY WALKIN'

MICHAEL (30s, black) from THE HOT NAKED TRUTH

PETE (30s, gay as fuck) from THE HOT NAKED TRUTH

RUSS (30s) from THE HOT NAKED TRUTH

TREY (30s) from THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE

NELSON (30s) from THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE

TREVOR (20s) from RUNNING IN PLACE

TREVOR from RUNNING IN PLACE

HANK (60s) from OLD DOG

HANK from OLD DOG

CHARLIE from THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP

CHARLIE from THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP

SANTA from THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP

THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT

PAUL ON THE PLANE from THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT

BUILT FOR ABUSE – ORIGINAL

BUILT FOR ABUSE – THE ONE MAN SHOW

THE CYCLE

THE CLASSIC

THE MINI-BIKE

THE SLOW STARTER

THE USED BIKE

THE BICYCLE

THE HOG

THE CROTCH-ROCKET

THE SHOWBIKE

About the Author

## AUTHOR'S NOTE

This book is a short collection of acting monologues for MEN. Male roles of various ages, races and sexuality. The monologues were selected from the following plays: **THE MEN'S ROOM** , **2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE SHARING 1 SMALL SPACE** , **TALLBOY WALKIN'** , **THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP** , **RUNNING IN PLACE** , **OLD DOG** , **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT** and the as-of-yet unpublished plays: THE HOT NAKED TRUTH and THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE. If you're interested in either of the latter two, you can contact me via my Facebook page **WRITER JOSHUA JAMES**.

Most often the race and cultural background of the character doesn't matter, with the main exception of **TALLBOY WALKIN'** , in which the race of the character is significant and THE HOT NAKED TRUTH. But for the rest, one can be of any cultural background and it should work. If you don't find what you need here, there are many more in the collections: **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT** , **SPOOGE: THE SEX & LOVE MONOLOGUES** and **The THE Plays**. **THE PENIS PAPERS** is also a free ebook. Check all those plays out in full and thanks.

Cover and inner photo: Actor Taylor Ruckel, veteran of many of my plays and a great talent, as Eugene in the TBG Off-Broadway production of EXTREME EUGENE, featured in **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT** , directed by Eric Paeper.

## ON RIGHTS:

The work in this collection is under my copyright and I reserve all other rights, including professional, motion pictures, radio broadcasting, television, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, all those rights are strictly reserved. Copying from this book in whole or in part is forbidden by law, and the right of performance is not transferable.

Performance rights are free for amateur and educational productions. You have my permission, just check the guidelines and requirements as listed in **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT** for more information on staging an actual performance without royalty. This collection is free, you can use any and all of them for auditions, classroom study, whatever. I remember how hard it was the find the right monologue way back when I was an actor, so have fun. This collection is free, you can use any and all of them for auditions, classroom study, whatever you need. I remember how hard it was the find the right monologue way back when I was an actor, so have fun. You have my permission.

All I ask is that you leave a review of this book and the above plays online, wherever you see them. Every review matters, and it gets the word out.

You can follow me via my Facebook page **WRITER JOSHUA JAMES**.

## TODD (20s)

from

THE MEN'S ROOM

TODD: Well, see, I have this girlfriend, kinda. We been kinda goin' out, it's been an exclusive sorta thing, just her and me, and I really like her, I think I really like her. She keeps askin' these questions, though, like what do I really think of her, what do I really feel? An' I'll say I like you, I like you a lot. She never looks happy with that answer. I don't know what she wants me to say, if she told me what she wants me to say I'll say it, but she won't say anything more.

I don't know, maybe she wants me to say I love her. I don't know if I love her, I don't know what love is, or how it feels, I've never been there, so I don't know what to say to her. I like goin' places with her, doin' things, sleeping with her, she's real fun to be with, I just wish I could talk to her. Lately, havin' a conversation with her has been like walkin' through a minefield, I say the wrong thing and BOOM I blow up. I wonder if all woman are like that. I don't know. I don't know if I love her. I think I could love her. Maybe. I don't know. I need Cliff-notes, that's what I need, I need some clues. Like in the movies, when a guy meets a girl, and MUSIC plays, and right away you know that they're gonna fall in love.

That's what my life needs, a soundtrack.

## SETH (20s)

from

THE MEN'S ROOM

SETH: Are men and women equal? Let me tell you somethin'. I love women. I have always loved women. I love all their shapes and sizes, the mean ones, the shy ones, the tall ones and the short ones, I have loved them all. There is somethin', somethin' just magical about 'em, about bein' female, that sets 'em apart from everything else. I don't just love 'em, I WORSHIP women. It's how I know there's a God, 'cause he put women down here on earth with us. He put them down here to keep us guys in line.

Sure, I've been hurt by women before. Oh yeah, I've had my heart stomped and my ass kicked. Oh yeah, oh yeah. I could tell you stories. But in the end, it doesn't matter. 'Cause no matter what the do to me, no matter how much pain and aggravation they have given me by the simple nature of their being female, I will always forgive them, and always come back for more. 'Cause I love 'em, pure and simple. There'll be something in a look, or a smile, or maybe just the simple way they bring their hand up and touch their cheek, that makes it all worthwhile. I love 'em, and they know it.

So if you ask me if men and women are equal, my answer would be NO.

They are not equal.

Women are much better than men.

## RAY (20s)

from

THE MEN'S ROOM

RAY: Life seems to me to be pretty simple. You got your winners, and you got your losers. I decided earlier on which team I was gonna play on. I was gonna be a WINNER. The whole key to everything is strength. My daddy used to tell me that, and he sure as hell knew what he was talkin' about. Never let someone see where you're weak. Never show pain or fear. Just be strong. That's how I want my life. No one's ever gonna know enough about me to fuck with me. STRONG. In the jungle, with the wild animals, that's what it's all about. Who gets the most respect in the jungle? The tiger with the biggest teeth, the snake with the biggest reach, the bull with the biggest horn. It's all about strength. To survive in the wild, ya gotta be STRONG. Fuck everything else. All that sensitive bleeding heart bullshit makes me wanna puke. You know, those fucking pussies that are always worried about this or about that. Here, sign this to save the ozone, oh sign this so they'll stop killin' whales. Fuck you, let 'em die. Animals died off long before Mankind ever wandered outa their caves. That's the way Mother Nature works. The weak pansies die, the strong survive. Look at the Dodo-bird, it's extinct, right? Good! I say good! Anything called a Dodo-bird should be dead! I don't miss it! It's dead for a reason! 'Cause it couldn't cut the mustard! It wasn't STRONG enough, and that's why it's gone!

You can't fuck with Mother Nature.

## TODD

from

THE MEN'S ROOM

TODD: It is horrible, that's why. You know what they mean when they say that. It's always the same. FRIENDS is the female code-word for I will never see you again. Synonymous with so long, adios, good-bye, sayonara, get away and don't let the door slap you on the ass on the way out.

FRIENDS is female for fuck-off. If I happen to bump into you accidentally on the street I will act like your closest and dearest buddy and ask you how you are and pretend to listen attentively, but otherwise I won't call you, I won't go out with you even for lunch, and I certainly will not go to bed with you under any circumstances.

The ONLY exception to these circumstances will be if I date someone and he dumps me, then I reserve the right to come over and cry on your shoulder, but this does not obligate me to go to bed with you, or even to be nice to you the next day. That's what FRIENDS means!

## TODD

from

THE MEN'S ROOM

TODD: Okay, I got one for ya. You see, I had this really intense acting professor who was deep into the Meisner technique. She was really good, but she wouldn't let you coast at all. If she thought you were, you know, just phoning it in, she'd holler, "NO! Go back and do it again!" And you'd have to. I had kind of a crush on her.

And one night, I had this dream.

I dreamed I was naked, and I had this massive erection, a big walloping hard-on, and I was outside the classroom. I went in, big dick and all, and there was my professor, sitting with the rest of my class, and there I was, cock at full mast.

She looked up, saw me and my cock, and screamed "NO! THAT'S NOT RIGHT! GO BACK AND DO IT AGAIN!" Then I woke up.

## RAY

from

THE MEN'S ROOM

_(RAY at the bar drinking the hard stuff. He talks to GEORGE.)_

RAY: You know how long I've known that little bastard Seth? Since we were kids, fucking almost before that. Lived on the same street. Did everything together, played Six-million dollar man down at the dump, breakin' shit, you know. Kid-stuff. Spent half his time at my house, 'specially in the summer, slept over.

I didn't have any brothers, neither did he, just sisters. Just me and the old man at my house, and he was gone most of the time. Christ, the shit we got into. Summer we were nine, we got nuts over baseball, played every day for hours, 'cause the next year was little league and we wanted to be ready. I had this bat, this favorite bat of mine my old man gave me, walnut stock, and I swung it every day, back and forth. I hit balls, rocks, you name it. I was gonna be the next Hank Aaron. That was my big dream. Seth's too.

Seth's old man like to smack him around. Smacked everybody in the house around, but 'specially Seth 'cause he was such a little runt. 'Course in that neighborhood back then, everyone got a smack or two. Hell, my Pop would give me one once a week whether I'd done something or not. Insurance, he called it. But it was a little different at Seth's house. That piece of shit over there took great delight in beatings, 'specially when he was drunk. I was there for a couple. He like to pick up shit and throw it, a full beer can, lit cigarettes. Toaster. Chair. We never talked about it, but we knew it was always there.

That summer we were nine and playin' baseball, it was really bad. His old man was always drunk and his folks were always fighting. One night after we got done playin' ball, a great night, I had hit a homer and we were biking home. We got to Seth's house and there was all this crashing and screaming. He looks at me and throws his bike down and runs into the house. I went on home, watched the game on TV, went to bed. He came knockin' on my window at about midnight. His face was pretty bad. I grabbed him by the arms and pulled him in. He almost screamed when I did that. His back was bleeding through his t-shirt. I took it off him. His old man had taken the electric cord from a lamp and whipped him with it till he was bloody. He was crying. I didn't say nothing. To him, to anybody.

I grabbed my bat, my favorite baseball bat and went out through my window. I sat in the bushes outside Seth's house for an hour, waitin' for that fuck to come back home from the bar. Finally he did, and as he come up the sidewalk I stepped out and let him have it right on the knees. He went down like a sack of potatoes. I hit him in the face with the bat, hard as I could, home-run. I hit him until I couldn't hold the bat up anymore.

Then I went home. I chopped the bat up for firewood, then went to bed with Seth. I held him as he cried and slept on his stomach all night. I've never played baseball since.

His old man was in the hospital for five months, broken legs, fractured skull, the works. Didn't remember anything, either. Everyone thought he got the bad end of a bar brawl. By the time he got out of the hospital, limping, he was divorced.

We never told nobody what happened. We never talked about it ourselves. You know what, George? A woman can do a lot of things for a man, I'm sure. But I've never seen a woman love a man like that. Never. That's something only a man can do. Don't make men like that anymore. Endangered species. Goin' extinct.

## ROBB (early 30s, gay)

from

THE MEN'S ROOM

ROBB: Women? Women love me. Always have, probably always will. If I'm in a room full of guys, and one girl walks in, she'll go for me. If I meet a guy and his wife, odds are she makes a play for me before the night is over. It's uncanny, it really is. I think part of it is that I put forth absolutely no effort to get them into to bed, and it turns 'em on somethin' fierce. Also I treat them nice and respectful, and they're not used to that, either.

They get so shocked that someone is being decent, right away they think they've got husband material on their hands. But these things only in part explained the stampede. I always knew that there was some deeper explanation in my behavior that was makin the fur fly. Then I figured it out. There is something undeniably attractive about masculinity, something beautiful in all that sweaty manliness, something admittedly pure about man in all his hairy glory that they love. And that's why they come runnin' to me. Me.

Because I am all-man. I am a full-bore, whole hog, pig-boy prototype of a man's man. I am the leather-studded poster-boy for masculinity. I indulge my male id down deep as far as it will go. I am all about being male, and masculine, and strong. I love being a man. I love everything about being male and a man. I love being a . . . MALE MAN.

I love it all. And to top it off, I'm polite about it. And see, women, they can sense this. They can smell it on me and so they are pulled to it like a tractor beam from a death-star. They can't help themselves. Women fucking love me.

## MAYNARD (early 30s)

from

2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

_(Spotlight on MAYNARD as he watches GINNY sleep. He gets up and lays his sheet out, kneeling and putting the towel around his head as he talks. His ritual.)_

MAYNARD: Silence. It's nice, nice to sit and listen to nothing. I savor it, I know it won't last long. Because bad dreams attack and I watch you fight in your sleep as the bleeding bodies howl on the wall. I watch you. I can't always see past your face, and it's starting to worry me _. (He leans close to her.)_ What do you want from me? What do you think she wants, Roscoe? All I can do is tell stories. Is that what you want? I could do that. I could tell you really scary stories. _(He stands, stalks around his room.)_

In this very building, for example, in an almost empty apartment upstairs sits a small boy watching a broken TV, listening to quiet walls, glancing at a closed hall door, anxiously waiting for someone to come home. I've seen this boy once, seen him with his family of faces and I've read what's written there. The little boy stares at the closed door with much biting of the lip, he's grown afraid of closed doors, especially at night. There's a new face in the little boy's life, a craggily-toothed stepface that his mother let in, and the little boy can feel this stepface watching him, charting his movements and leering at him in the bathroom, and it makes his stomach hurt just thinking about it. He doesn't know what to do. He tries to tell his mama, he tries to, but her face is tired and alone, she doesn't care, she just doesn't want to be alone her whole life, she needs a man, any man. Upstairs the little boy rolls himself into a tight hidden ball trying to stay small and silent, away from the stepface. He's trying to hide but he doesn't know exactly why. But I know. I know the craggy hairy stepface has designs on him, I know the stepface wants to play horrible games with him, I knows sooner or later one of these dark nights the door is gonna open and the stepface is gonna be there, ready to have fun with his own private breathing blow-up doll. I know and I listen to the little boy cry, cries because he doesn't know who's gonna come home first. See, I know things I shouldn't. I know things that will make you old. I know things only ghosts should know. When you see what I see, you won't sleep easy at all. You don't know what you've walked into.

**2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE SHARING 1 SMALL SPACE**

## MAYNARD

from

2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

_(Spotlight on MAYNARD as he plays his records. GINNY is asleep. He watches her as he listens to music and talks to ROSCOE the Dummy.)_

MAYNARD: She does have a pretty face, though, doesn't she, Roscoe?

Faces. Fucking faces. Can't trust 'em.

I remember the first face I ever really looked into, other than my parents. The first time I ever saw someone else's, that's when I knew all was not right in the really-real world. I was seven, he was nine. He was the neighborhood bully, and he always used to thump me on the back or stick his bubble gum in my hair.

He trapped me in the park one day when I was in the sandbox. He jumped on top of me and pinned my arms down with his legs and laughed in my face. He then would spit slowly, letting it dribble out of his mouth in one long pendulous strand and let it hang over my face, and at the last second he would suck it back up. "Say you're a pussy, tell me you're a pussy an' I'll let you go," he said. I squeezed my eyes shut tried to hard not to cry, I would not cry, then he started getting mad. He picked up a blade of grass, held it before my eyes and told me that unless I informed him just how big a pussy I was, he would take the blade of grass, stick up my nose and tickle my brain with it. I struggled in silence and up my nose went the blade of grass. I started to cry. I got one hand free and I grabbed his wrist. I felt his pulse flash blood into mine. Then it happened.

I looked up into his face and I saw his entire life mapped out before me. I saw his birth, I saw his first words and his first steps. I saw all the little frogs and birds he's tortured in his back yard, I saw the smokes he stole from his mom. I saw the girl with braces he would impregnate, marry and abuse. I saw the dead-end job he'd have and the in-laws he hated. I saw the barmaids he would screw around with and all the Budweiser's and boilermakers he would drink. I saw his son on a tricycle that he would ignore and later lose. I saw the day he would put the working end of a shotgun into his mouth and take his own life, I saw it, saw it as if I were there. I knew he would die at thirty-nine, and I stopped crying. He looked at me as if he knew, and he hit me twice in the face until I bled and then ran away. He stared at me from the other side of the park and I looked over and said, "You're a pussy," and then he ran home. He never bothered me again. I went home with blood on my face and shirt, but no one noticed, my mother slept the Valium sleep and my father watched TV with the King of Beers, so it was just me in my room looking in my mirror with my bloody face and it was then, in that mirror, that I first saw the black dogs on the wall. As I closed my eyes an angel child whispered an obscenity into my ear and then I did start to cry, really really cry. I cried tears of blood.

That was my first time.

**2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE SHARING 1 SMALL SPACE**

## MAYNARD

from

2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

_(GINNY sleeps. MAYNARD goes about his ritual.)_

MAYNARD: Did you hear that, Roscoe? She likes me, she says she likes me. She actually likes me. Shit. How could she like me? This is not good, Roscoe, not good. Things with her are feeling too smooth and delicious, it's too easy to let her fingers touch me, and it's too goddamn easy to let her questions squeak by me, every time I deflect one, I got five more coming at me at all sides, and the next thing you know I've accidentally answered a couple, and then all of a sudden I'm thinking thoughts I don't want to be thinking and before you know it this whole year has been shot to shit and I didn't do what I need to do. I don't know what I was thinking by inviting her up here. I must've been outa my mind for doing such a bonehead thing like that. It's all a trap, I got sucked in by her pretty face, you can't trust faces, Roscoe, you just can't. I'm close, I'm so close to what I want, I can't let myself get distracted by some woman, by some pretty face. What the fuck am I gonna do? It's almost Friday, I have to do something, before it's too late. She actually likes me. She must be really fucked up.

**2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE SHARING 1 SMALL SPACE**

## MAYNARD

from

2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE

MAYNARD: I can see you at work watching your ex-boyfriend, how he laughs with his new girl and how that stabs you inside, I can see you waiting outside his apartment, late at night, waiting and watching, reading his mail at work, calling him up at all hours, just to hear his voice, then hanging up again. I've seen you do these things, and I see how ashamed you feel about it but you couldn't stop. You just couldn't.

I can see you sitting on your father's lap, loving the deep sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne, you're eleven years old and you love your father. But he didn't pay much attention to you, did he? He didn't hold you enough, he didn't talk to you enough, you yearned for more. One time he doesn't come home, he leaves for good, you see him on weekends, his gifts are generous, but you get almost nothing of what you really need, nothing. At first you blame your mother, then you believe it must have been you that drove him away, if you had been good enough, if you had loved him enough, he would have stayed with you. And you never told your mother, you never told her how much you hated her, and hated yourself for feeling that way. When you were thirteen you hid in a corner of your closet and you cried and cried, because you believed you weren't good enough for anyone to love.

**2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE SHARING 1 SMALL SPACE**

## SEAN (early 30s, Irish as fuck)

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

SEAN: I would have to say, though, that the WOMEN of America speak quite well for your country. They are, how shall we say, much more RELAXED in their approach to male-female interactions. An Irish lass will make you work for it, and she has marriage on her mind and will not let loose of the strings unless she knows she's getting what she wants. But here, this is paradise on earth, my first week here I was in a pub and this pretty young thing up and asks me do I want to dance with her and I said surely, and we dance and the next thing you know she's asking me, do I want to go back to her place with her? And I said, "Well, let me think about this for a moment, OKAY LET'S GO!" And we goes back to her place an' she walks in an' takes her clothes OFF straightaway and we have ourselves a lovely, lovely time. An' the whole time I'm thinkin', I'm not in Ireland anymore. It is lovely, it is. I guess the other thing about this country is that it doesn't seem to matter much who believes what, I mean, no one much cares who's Catholic, who's not, Jew, Muslim, doesn't matter. Quite nice. In fact, were it not for the fact that most Americans are loud-mouthed empty-headed bollocks, present company excepted of course, this would be a truly lovely place.

## PAUL (30s, black and proud)

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL: You look at him, you don't see a kid. You see black. Don't try and tell me you don't, I know it, you know it and he knows it. When you see black on the street, you don't look black in the eye, when black moves close to you on the bus, you instinctively step away, you instinctively feel for your valuables, when you see black on the street you fucking stop and you know it. It stops you and it stops him. It doesn't happen with white kids, it doesn't happen with Asian kids or Irish kids, it happens with black, black stops you. You can go to as many rallies and political meetings and join the NAACP all you want, but as long as black stops you and him you're not getting anywhere fast. You may have grown up in the neighborhood, you may have had some hard knocks, but you're not like him. Not even close. You're white and you got out. He's not and he didn't.

## PAUL (30s, black and proud)

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL: My father. My father was a great believer in corporal punishment. He believed you had to have a close hard understanding of the effects your personal choices and actions had upon your own world and the world at large. I learned a lot from my father. He was a well-read, intelligent man that loved his children and his wife. He was strict but fair. He drew a line in the sand and if you crossed it, you drew fire.

But it wasn't enough that he punished us, he wanted us to know why, he wanted us to understand his rules, why they existed, what they meant to him. In that way, they would become something we all shared. He wanted his sons to be able to think clearly about their place in this world, so that when he left it, we wouldn't do something irresponsible or foolish, end up in jail and blame the SYSTEM and the MAN instead of shouldering the responsibility of our own actions. He did that for us. He did it because he loved us.

When I was six and my brother five, our father gave us something for Christmas I'll never forget. At that age, we were just starting to get all smart and lippy, you know how it is. And for Christmas that year, we each got this stick, painted and fancy, that had our names painted on it. It was a spanking stick. Each one was hung on the wall. Now when were bad, like the time we broke the kitchen table playing spaceship, we each had to go get our stick, bring it back to our father and get a certain number of licks, depending upon the severity of the offense. If we didn't do our homework or our chores, that might be one or two swats. If it was something worse, like the time we accidentally set the cat on fire, well then, the sky was the limit. The cat turned out okay, but I ate dinner standing up that night. The point to the whole story is, whenever we got caught doing something that we knew we shouldn't have been doing, we had to go GET our stick. Pops wouldn't go get it, we had to. And the walk to the stick and back again to Pops, that was the longest walk in the world. It was far worse than the swats on the ass. And the most valuable. Because that was when we had to think about it.

Now look at me Axel. _(AXEL looks at him.)_ You're on that walk. Understand?

## PAUL

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL: Ohh, here we go. Here we GO. WHERE, where is it written that life should be fair? Is it fair I had a father and you didn't? Is it fair that he has three hundred dollar shoes and he doesn't? Is it fair that you are young and he is not? Is it fair that I got the gun and you don't? Is it fair that you were born black and beautiful and they weren't? I don't think so. If you are gonna remember anything from this night, BOY, I want you to remember this. Life is not now nor has it EVER been fair. It's all one big fucked up puzzle of choices, actions and accidents. That's all it is. How you put it together, that's up to you. That's what defines you.

## PAUL

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL: Educating yourself doesn't make you WHITE. Putting on a suit and dressing clean and professional doesn't make you WHITE. Just because I did those things, that doesn't make me WHITE. It just makes me better. Deep south is full of white crackers whose English and grammar is as bad as yours is. Does that make them BLACK? I see young white kids walking around all the time, hat on backwards, shoes untied, wearing gold chains and calling each other, "my nigger", like they was like you. Does that make them BLACK. No. It doesn't. It makes them ignorant. Like you.

Ignorant, foolish dumb-ass PUNK.

Let me tell you something. There are many proud black men in this world that have accomplished many great things. And they did it through hard work and discipline, not pissing around on street corners insulting strangers. And they did it when times were a lot harder than they are now, when there were no black lawyers or doctors, no black senators, no wealthy black sport stars, no black generals in the army, no rich black TV actors, they did it when racism was the LAW OF THE LAND, not just a problem but a fucking COMMOM LAW. They bled to get us to where we are now.

If you knew what it was to be black back then, if you knew what the word NIGGER really meant to them, it wouldn't come out of your mouth so easy! I'm not ashamed of my color. I love my color. I'm ashamed of you.

## AXEL (teen, black and all attitude)

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

AXEL: Then what you keep comin' back here fo'? You so ashamed, why you here? Dig 'dis, I know why, listen up y'all, I heard 'bout 'dis man right here in front of us, all strong an' black an' proud. I know 'bout him. He used t'live on 'dis street as well.

Like me. An' he got out, joined up, be all he could be, got himself ed-u-cated, cash-money job way away from the old neighborhood, wear a suit an' tie everyday, bought a house, got hisself a WHITE wife, everything. He got the white life he used t'see on TV, he's living like Cosby now, only without Phylicia Rashad. But he keep comin' back. He keep comin' back to the old hood. Why is 'dat?

He got a girl here. A girl he usta know from when he live here. He come over, get hisself some COLOR, a taste of CHOCOLATE ever now an' then, then back t'vanilla castle he go. Say he ain't ashamed of his color, but he don't live here, don't work here, just come here once in awhile and piss on us and then go.

You usin' someone, one of MY people, as a whore, 'dat's all there is t'know!

## PAUL

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

PAUL: All right. The reason I am here, at this bus stop at this time of night . . . there is a woman here that I come to visit once in awhile. Axel was right, I am here because of a girl. I knew her from school, we went out together in junior high, nothing, you know . . . like it is today, mostly holding hands, innocent kissing, you know. Then the next year we ended up going to different high schools and I didn't see much of her after that. She was my first crush. I never forgot about her. Anyway, she was hanging out with a bunch of different boys, she ended up pregnant, dropped out of school. Never saw her for a long time. I got out of the service, I came by the old neighborhood to air out old ghosts and I ran into her. Time had not been kind, but all I could see was the girl I used to know. I bought her a cup of coffee, gave her some cash and my cell-phone number. She'd call when she needed help and I would come when I could.

You know who she is, don't you? I thought so. You know what she is, don't you?

I knew. I knew the minute I saw her, my daddy didn't raise me to be stupid. But still I come out. I keep giving her money. We still don't do anything 'cept for maybe holding hands and such. She may be a whore, but I don't treat her that way. When I look at her, I don't see a crack-whore, I see the little girl in junior high, poppin' bubble-gum and jumpin' jump-rope. That's what I see.

But this place . . . everything it's become . . . it makes me sick. What's happened to her makes me sick. She's not now, nor is she ever gonna get herself out, no matter how much I try to help her. She just doesn't want to. I know I couldn't keep coming out here. Tonight was the last time. I told her that. Then I left. I cut her loose. I wasn't happy about it, but it had to be done. I had to do it, and I did. I did it. There are two types of people in the world. Those that go, and those that stay. Now the question is, which one are you, kid?

## FRANK (60s)

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

FRANK: They can surprise you, you know. Kids, I mean. If you give them a chance, they can really surprise you. My wife couldn't have children, but years and years ago we were able to adopt a boy, a wonderful boy, and have the family we always dreamed of. He was a great boy. Grew up to be a fine man.

He travels a lot with his work, he's an engineer, but we talk three times a week and see each other at least once every other month. His name is Adam, but when we adopted him, he was three-and-a-half and his name then was Sheldon.

The doctor said it would be too traumatic to change his name at that age so we named him Sheldon Adam Seigel. And when he was nine, we sent him away to camp, because that's what parents did back then. And when we went to visit on Parent's Day, he was out playing some game or something and we were in his cabin, and we asked the counselor, "So, where's Sheldon's bunk?" and he said "Who?" "Sheldon!"

"There's no Sheldon here."

We thought, we must have the wrong cabin or something, then the fella says, "What's the last name?" And we said "Segal, Sheldon Segal," and he goes "Oh, you mean Adam!" It turns out the whole three weeks he was there, he was calling himself Adam. So we sat him down and asked him, we said, "Sheldon, what's going on, why are you doing this?" And he looks me in the eye, and he says "Dad, I want the name you and mom gave me. That's what I want to called." And my wife and I knew, we knew at that moment that we had done something good with our lives. We knew. Sometimes it's only one thing, but one thing can be enough. Ours was our son.

## FRANK (60s)

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

FRANK: She asked me to. (short pause) I love my wife. She's been gone a few years now, but I still love her every day just as much as when she was with me. Meeting her was one of the best things that ever happened to me. She was just the sweetest, most wonderful being I had ever met and I loved her so much. Just like the bible says, in sickness and health, I loved her. All during her sickness, I loved her. She was sick a long time. It was painful for her, toward the end, she was hurting so much, it was more than anyone should be asked to bear. She asked me, near the end, she asked me, did I love her. Of course I do. She asked me how much did I love her. As much as she needs me to. She asked me for help. I gave it to her. She asked me for my help and love and God forgive me, I couldn't refuse her. (short pause) It was a sad thing.

## SPENSER (30s)

from

TALLBOY WALKIN'

SPENSER: Last year, out of the fucking blue, she called me. She called me. She was different. She was calm. Sober. She was HAPPY to talk to me. I almost didn't recognize her. We started talking again, exchanging phone calls every week, and it was nice to talk to her about my life again. Nice to have her again. It was almost . . . like we were best friends again. I didn't want to believe it, I knew better, whenever things seem to be going RIGHT, there's always a big FUCK YOU waiting for you, right around the corner. That's how life is, I didn't want to believe her, even just over the phone . . . Every time, before she hung up, she'd say "I love you" and I would say "I know," and hang up. I've been trying to say "I love you" back to her but I can't, I just can't get it out. About two weeks ago she called me at work, something she didn't usually do . . . we chatted a bit, she filled me on the news, what's happening with her new church group, her dogs and her job . . . and at the end she says she . . . had to go to the hospital. For an operation.

Something on her lungs. She wasn't too concerned, she said the odds were good and she didn't want me to worry. I wanted to come out and see her then, but I couldn't move. I was frozen. I was the one that couldn't move this time. I sat there that day and tried not to think. I tried not to think about how many people die of cancer. I tried not think about my mother smoking two, three packs of cigarettes a day since she was fourteen. I tried not to think about how much better it's been since we started talking again. Most of all I tried not to think of all the evil shit I have wished upon my mother at different times in my life. I tried not to think, period. She went in for the surgery and . . . I got the call early this morning. The odds aren't good anymore. I jumped on the first plane here. I'm standing here waiting for a bus to take me to the hospital because I forgot to rent a car and I got fucked over by a cab. I'm stuck here because I didn't think. I haven't been thinking about anything except getting to the hospital before . . . I just want to tell my mother "I love you," before . . . before I don't have that chance anymore. That's why I'm here. That's why I want to go. Let me go. Please let me go.

## MICHAEL (30s, black)

from

THE HOT NAKED TRUTH

MICHAEL: I'm thirty-three years old. I'm a software consultant for DGI, Inc. I make pretty good money that I invest on my own. I'm from Chicago originally, went to school at the University of Iowa on a basketball scholarship that went to shit when my knee blew out my junior year. I stayed with the books and got my Masters there five years later. I don't have a huge number of friends, but the one's I do have I value greatly. I'm a Leo, I like to lift weights, cook, canoe and read popular fiction in my spare time. I'm allergic to shellfish. I drink socially but don't do drugs. I don't consider casual marijuana use to be "doing drugs". My parents are deceased but I dealt with that long ago. I don't go to church or buy into any of the bullshit the pope and the rest of those goofs on TV are trying to sell to everybody, but I do consider myself a spiritual person. I love all athletic events, especially basketball and football. I don't consider bowling or golf to be athletic events. I love jazz. I like the music of Michael Jackson and Madonna. I like a good movie. I like a well-cooked Italian meal. I like a good massage. I like to give a good massage to the right person. I have a major weakness for Van Damme movies and Tom Clancy novels. I don't like Madonna movies. I don't like people that smoke and I especially don't like people that insist on smoking around non-smokers. I don't like pre-packaged boy bands. I don't like casual dishonesty, religious intolerance or the Republican Political Party. I don't like to be around a lot of white people armed with guns, even if or especially if they're wearing a police uniform. I don't like to go to movies that have a lot of black people in the audience because they make too much Goddamn noise during the picture. I believe in karma. I believe in a greater good. I believe hard work will always pay off in the end. I believe in the Constitution and The Bill of Rights. I believe in freedom of speech and the right to protest. I believe the government of this country fucks its citizens over every chance they get. I believe our election process is anything BUT a democratic process. I believe that Mike Tyson was innocent, O.J. Simpson was guilty and as far as Kobe is concerned, we're probably never going to know for sure. I strictly believe that women should and must be respected but some days it's hard, it's GODDAMN fucking hard! AND . . . And . . . I believe in love. That's what I believe.

## PETE (30s, gay as fuck)

from

THE HOT NAKED TRUTH

_(Pete's cell rings and he answers.)_

PETE: Peter's house of pancakes. Hey. You get my note? Did you do it? Why not? Look . . . look, this is just more of the same bullshit. Look . . . no listen to me, I don't want to go round and round with you on this same subject, I don't. I'm not asking you to do these things, I'm telling you that you have to. Why? Because it's my fucking house, that's why. Right. It's my house. I bought it. It's mine.

Look. Look, let me be totally and completely honest with you, okay? It is MY house, like it or not, and if you're gonna stay for ANY length of time then there are things you HAVE to do. You have to let dog out and mark the exact time you did so on the board on the fridge, three times a day. You HAVE to do your dishes, you can't leave dirty dishes in the sink overnight, you wash them as soon as you dirty them and AFTER you wash them you HAVE dump out the sink strainer, you can't leave bits of food in the sink at night, you just fucking can't. You HAVE to clean out the bathroom after you use it and you CAN'T smoke in the house. That's it. I don't care how bad a day you've had, I don't care how busy you are, what audition you might or might not have, these are things that must be done and if you don't like it, too bad. I'm not your fucking housewife, got it?

All I'm asking is that you help me with the dog and clean up after yourself. It's not that much to fucking ask, I work full-time and manage clean up after myself. You're not even working, for Christ's sake. No, you are not. Doing a play at the community theatre is not fucking working-as-an-actor! Are they paying you?

Well, then, there you go. With no pay, it's not a job it's a hobby.

Hey. I don't care about your degree in theatre, that was your mistake. You know why I'm called a paramedic? It's not because of my college degree, it's because I get PAID to be a paramedic. People give me money to DO paramedic things. So when you get paid for doing acting things, then you can call yourself a working-fucking-actor and then maybe we can talk. Hey.

Hey, don't call me an asshole, all right, it just pisses me off and . . . fine. All right.

Go ahead. I'm sure I will be sorry someday, but you know what? When and if you are famous, you know what I'm gonna be telling everybody? I'm gonna say, see that guy, see that actor on TV? I fucked him! I fucked him right up the ass and he squealed for joy! So put that in your memoir, Brando!

## RUSS (30s)

from

THE HOT NAKED TRUTH

RUSS: Anal sex. She's mad because I wanted to try anal sex. It offended her. That's it. _(points at Pete)_

And you CANNOT, under any circumstances, tell her I told you that, she'd kill me.

Hey Mike, she's my wife, we do sex things, okay? Husbands and wives do sex things together! Sometimes! There's nothing wrong with that! I've never tried it before and I wanted to, simple as that! Have you ever tried anal? Well, I've always wanted to try it, okay? Hey. It's my wife. Of course I ASKED her first. Besides, it not just anal sex, anyway. It's a whole bunch of other stuff we've been fighting about and the anal thing just kicked it off. Adele's changed. She's changed.

She's changed, she got conservative on me all of a sudden. I mean, she used to be raunchy, she used to be fun. We did some kinky shit in the early days. Not much, but some. We even talked about stuff we wanted to do someday, you know? I mean, this isn't the first time this subject has been broached. Before we were married, we talked about it. We talked about trying all sorts of kinky shit. We just never got around to it. And now I'm finding out that was all just fucking talk.

Now I'm an asshole and a pervert for even bringing the shit up. Now I have to bug her just to do it a couple times a week. Sometimes I think she sees sex as like a chore about the house that she has to do once in awhile. Me, I'm different. I'm like you, I want all the nastiness, all the time. Sex is like . . . wired into my fucking chromosomes . . . I fucking love sex. I need sex. All the time. She don't get it.

God, sometimes I wish I was gay. If I was gay I'd have fuck-buddies lined up the block. I'd be chugging cock like nobody's business if I was gay. Of course I love her. It's just she's changed. The thing is . . . she ain't the dirty girl I married anymore. I miss the dirty girl.

## TREY (30s)

from

THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE

TREY: Because Dave, you fuckwit, this is something YOU DO NOT DO. Not ever. You DON'T FUCK WITH YOUR FRIEND'S WIVES, YOU DON'T DO THAT! You want to know why I'm pissed? Nelson is your FRIEND. I'm your FRIEND. It could've just as easily been ME. Asshole. Shit. This is bad, Dave. Do you realize how bad this is?

Oh COME ON. It didn't just HAPPEN. Your dick didn't just HAPPEN to fall out of your pants and into the ass of your best friend's wife, SHIT LIKE THAT DOESN'T JUST HAPPEN! I should really kick your ass up, down and sideways for this, you broke a major fucking MAN rule, you don't have sex with your friend's wife, girlfriend or sister. You DON'T DO THAT.

No, ASSHOLE, you don't fuck your buddy's sister, his wife or his girlfriends, you don't fuck with them! You don't even fuck your buddy's EX-wives or ex-girlfriends. It's fucking immoral. Christ! It's not like there ain't a lot of women out there that you can have if you want 'em, why piss on your friends? Hey, you got needs that ain't being taken care of at home, I can understand that, you travel a lot and if you want to tear off a piece of road-ass I wouldn't blame you. Hell, I'd even want the blow-by-blow gory details.

You want to live out some sick fantasy with a hooker in Vegas I'd be the first to cheer you on without telling nobody, I'd do that, I'd be there for you like that, that's the honorable MAN thing to do.

But THIS. THIS is FUCKED UP SHIT. You do NOT DO THIS. You DO NOT shit at home and you DO NOT shit on your FRIENDS.

ASSHOLE! Of all the man rules that exist, this is one of the biggest you shouldn't break, having sex with your buddy's wife, it's one of the worst, it's like number two on the forbidden list.

## NELSON (30s)

from

THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE

NELSON: I love her and it never made any sense whatsoever. She's the polar opposite of me in every way, she's a dreamer, a schemer and a dramatist in everything she does. She has emotional highs and lows that are unimaginable to me, you have no idea, but it's worth it because of who she is and how she lives.

I meet a lot of smart people, I mean, I know some of the most brilliant minds in the country and none of them, not one of them is as endlessly fascinating to me as my wife is. I found it to be the height of absurdity that she loved me and even more so that I loved her. I do. And I'd do anything for her.

Do you know what an event horizon is?

Event horizon. It's an astronomy term, primarily, it means a theoretical boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape. There's another definition of event horizon that's more figurative. It means any point of no return.

Ann was close to an event horizon. Personally, on the edge of no return, not just with our relationship but with all things. She was so close to going over the edge. I couldn't let that happen. I won't. I made her promise, promise that for the rest of the year she would only do those things that gave her pleasure, those things and nothing else.

Whatever it is she has done and continues to do, it pulled her from the brink and until she's away and safe from the edge of despair, I want her to keep doing it. Her job is to make herself happy, and if that means having an affair, then I'm all for it. I love her, make no mistake, I love and worship her in a way I probably don't understand myself, and that's why I'm not purple with rage. I'll do everything in my power to make her happy.

## TREVOR (20s)

from

RUNNING IN PLACE

TREVOR: No, no, it's a compliment, I mean, not the age thing but a work thing, nobody does stuff like this anymore, homemade pie, homemade cakes, everything is frozen and microwaveable. Most people don't have the patience to make something like this. That's something about our culture that I've been thinking about. No patience, no responsibility. We want everything now, fast food, fast cars and instant messaging. We want everything done for us and done quickly so we can get on with enjoying our lives. And we want that enjoyment to start NOW. We want the fireworks NOW. We don't want to stand in line, we don't want to be put on hold, we want to see the doctor NOW.

That's why there are so many divorces these days, because people want the love and happiness to start NOW. They say, I paid my money, I got the license, I want my happy marriage. When it starts to get shaky, they say whoa! I ordered a happy marriage, not this one! I want my money back! If they had put the kind of time and care into their relationship as you did into making this pie, if they rolled the dough themselves, if they peeled and cored the apples themselves and timed the baking just right, by the time they were ready to take a bite, it would have tasted great. Instead, they said, let's have pie and slapped the ingredients together and wondered why it tasted like shit.

## TREVOR

from

RUNNING IN PLACE

TREVOR: Well, see, I was sitting around staring at my painting a couple of weeks ago, and I was drinking this drink called a salty dog, which I had read about but never had before, it's vodka and grapefruit juice with salt rubbed around the rim, a salty dog, and this thought kept running through my mind "what makes a salty dog salty?" On and on in my head, "what makes a salty dog salty, and would it drive that dog to drink?" I couldn't stop. So I left the bar, got into my car, and I went for a drive, and the next thing you know, I was on the interstate goin' west, thinking about all the dogs I've ever known, and how salty they were. I kept thinking sooner or later I would turn around and come back, but I kept goin', and before you know it, I was at the desert. I kept on driving, and of all the dogs I have ever known, not a single one was the least bit salty. Just as I came to this conclusion, I looked up and there it was, Salt Lake City, Utah! I thought this is great! Here I am thinking about salty dogs in Salt Lake City Utah! I remembered reading about this lake, that you could just lie in the water and not drown, because the salt in the water makes your body float, and so I stopped the car, got out and jumped right in. And I did float, on and on, it was so peaceful, I wasn't thinking about dogs, I wasn't thinking about salt, I wasn't thinking about me, I wasn't thinking about anything. It was what I always imagined the womb must have been like when I was a baby. Peaceful. I could feel myself letting go of everything, the dogs, the painting, babies, Thursdays, I let it all go, got out, and I came home. Here I am.

## HANK (60s)

from

OLD DOG

HANK: I come from a long line of beer drinkin' men, Doc, you might say it's in my blood. I'm part German, part Dutch, half Polish an' all bullshit some might say, but men 'a that stock they love their beer. I remember the first beer I ever drank, I wuz five an' I wuz down fishin' all afternoon at the creek with my Granddad, got us a whole string 'a bullheads an' even one fine catfish, an' since they wuz bitin' so well we didn't wanna leave. But it wuz hot as hell an' I wuz thirsty as all get out. I had finished all my pop hours ago. Granddad looked at me, said "don't tell yer ma," an' handed me a Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I threw it back like I'd seen Granddad do, an' it took me by surprise. First drink I had 'a something that bit back. I liked it so much I drank it down quick an' asked for another. Granddad laughed, first time he ever really cut loose around me, most of the time the old cuss just growled at everybody, an' he said "Son, here's a lesson for ya, when your young, you nurse the beer, an' when your old, the beer, she nurses you," an' he laughed an' clapped me on the back just as if I wuz big like him. It wuz almost like I wuz grown up. It wuz almost like I wuz like him. It wuz all right.

## HANK

from

OLD DOG

HANK: So I guess I couldn't really tell ya how many beers I drink a day, not as many as I'd like, that's fer sure. But beer drinkin' ain't serious drinkin'. The REAL drinkin' starts with the Jack Daniels, which wuz the only good thing I picked up in the army. Jack'll take you around the world an' back again, an' ya never have to leave the comforts 'a your home. The great thing 'bout Jack is that he kicks in right away.

Drinkin' problem, the only drinkin' problem I got is when they ain't nothin' left t'drink, that's the only problem, other then that, things is just dandy.

I hooked up with this widow once, maybe fifteen years ago, Lord that woman had a mouth on her, but she wuz loaded, Doc, nothin' but time an' a shitload 'a money on her hands, which is the first thing I look for in a women, an' she said she wuz gonna make me her project an' save me from my drinkin' problem. She lasted 'bout three weeks. She wuz talkin' 'bout sendin' me to that Betty Ford place an all, shit. Yeah, I could just see myself in there with all them famous women movie stars, all of them falling all over me and in love and the next thing you know I'm hooked up with one 'a them and MARRIED, and hell, Doc, you go into those hospitals to get better, not to get WORSE.

Alcoholic, I ain't no damn alcohol-ic. I'm a drinkin' man. There's a Goddamn difference.

## CHARLIE

from

THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP

CHARLIE: I hate Christmas. Christmas sucks. Christmas sucks huge dripping donkey-dongers. Of all the holidays that are holidays, Christmas is by far the worst of the lot, celebrating greed, waste and advertising.

It's the one time of the year where people are SUPPOSED to be nice to each other, the ONE time of the year to celebrate fellowship and love and what do they do? Pull hair, knock out teeth and draw the blood of their fellow citizens, all just to get at the very LAST useless Pokemon doll that's on the shelf that they can give to their squalling snot-nose selfish and useless excuse for children that they squirted out indiscriminately and irresponsibly.

Christmas. Christmas isn't about LOVE anymore, it isn't about GIVING, it's all about who's got what and how much, merchandising tie-ins and HAPPY-MEALS, I swear if I hear another brat screaming for a cheap toy and a Happy Meal I'm gonna kill myself, I swear it. Who in their right mind would buy a toy at a frigging fast food half-assed hamburger chain anyway? Wake up dipsticks! Would you shop for food at a hardware store? I DON'T THINK SO!

Christmas. Christmas really chaps my ass.

## CHARLIE

from

THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP

CHARLIE: Listen to me prong-head, and listen close. I'm an elf, a frickin' Christmas elf, all I've ever been is a Christmas elf. I'm in the union, I've paid my dues. I've worked under deadlines, in sub-zero temperatures, fought off polar bears and a pair over-zealous seal hunters with a serious case of mistaken identity. I always got the job done. On time and on the mark. Always.

But these days elves don't have a place in Christmas any more, we don't even make the toys anymore, they farm that work out to eleven year old kids in Thailand, pay them twenty-five cents per twelve hour day to churn out toys non-stop and our frigging union bent over like a cheap two dollar whore for the Big Guy and let him screw us right up the Hershey highway! I'm a frigging Christmas elf and I don't even get to wrap the gifts much less make them anymore. All I do is answer the phone, get the coffee and put paper in the fax machine, so don't expect me to be a happy about what Christmas has come to!

## SANTA

from

THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP

SANTA: Shaddup! When I want any shit outa you I'll squeeze your head. Now then, it's December 23rd, and do you know what I'm USUALLY doing on December 23rd?

Shaddup! USUALLY on December 23rd I'm in Amsterdam, getting drunk, having a massage and a hand-job before the big night. Now am I doing that now? NO, I AM NOT! I'm chasing down a couple of boobs I shoulda fired YEARS AGO!

_(to Bunny)_

Rabbit, what the hell are you doing here anyway, you crackhead junkie, you're lucky you're not a muff, that's all I got to say to you.

_(turns to Charlie)_

As for you, you little tree-stump, if it weren't for the union oh mama, what fun I woulda had with you. You think I didn't notice you flirting with my wife, you little scamp? Too bad those seal-hunters weren't any faster, and you thought it was all a mistake, them trying to spear you, didn't you? Well it won't be next time, I've got Time Warner and Disney behind me this year, I can hire hundreds of seal hunters and you won't stand a chance.

_(turns to Hank)_

And as for you, you walking venison steak you, I keep you on and don't eat you and this is how you repay me? I've got pair of boots that need to be resoled and they got your name written right on it. Boys, you don't piss on Santa like this and get away with it, that's for damn sure. I got shareholders to answer to and alimony to five ex-wives to pay and I don't have time for shit like this. Now, hand it over. Give me the bomb!

Think you can wire the North Pole and I won't KNOW about it?

If I had more time, I'd take care of you right now. But I have a four-alarm hangover and a timetable to keep, but rest assured once Christmas is over I'm a coming for you two. That'll give you something to think about. Just you wait! And you rabbit, you stay out of my Christmas business, take your little chippie and stay with Easter where you belong!

## THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT

I have a quite a few short one-person short plays, and they're all available in **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT** , so you can go through those to see what fits. There's 44 short plays there, so there's bound to be something there that works for you.

I also made all of those plays royalty-free for amateur and educational production, so have at it. I'm including one of my favorites from that collection, it's been produced in NYC and Los Angeles, among other places. Here you go.

## PAUL ON THE PLANE

from

THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT

_(Paul sits on a plane that's in flight. He speaks to the MAN seated next to him.)_

PAUL: You okay? You look a little . . . you know. A little queasy. Afraid of flying? It's okay, perfectly normal, most folks are. We're thousands of feet in the air, who wouldn't be a little concerned, right?

_(The plane hits some turbulence, rocking them both.)_

Whoa, that was a rough one, wasn't it? You okay? Just turbulence, that's all. A lot of people are afraid of flying, aren't they? Seems pretty common. It's always struck me as funny, folks saying that they are afraid of flying. Because when you think about it, it's not the flying part of the process that's frightening, it's the possibility that at some point in the process, maybe even mid-flight, the possibility that you might find yourself on a plane that is suddenly NOT flying, only falling. That's the scary part, the falling is the scary part. I'm not, myself. Afraid of flying, I mean. I think the reason I'm not afraid of flying is because the first I ever flew in a plane was when I was going through my suicidal phase, so there wasn't really anything to be scared of. The only thing I was scared of at the time was killing myself, so getting on a plane was something of a relief, because if the plane blew up, BING BANG BOOM, suddenly I no longer have to worry about either suicide or life, it's out of my hands. Taken care of. Great time to start flying, when you're suicidal. It was the most relaxed I'd been in years.

I've grown past my suicidal tendencies, but luckily I'm still not afraid to fly.

_(More turbulence.)_

Really bouncy flight today, isn't it? I kind of like flying, myself. Actually, I really like it. I find that flying is a good time to contemplate death.

I mean, why not, right? Contemplating death is a good thing. It could happen at any time, so why not think seriously about it? What else is there to do on a plane? The movies always suck, there is never anything to do once you've plowed through your magazines and don't get me started on the food they serve here. It's poison. You ever think about death? I do. I think about it a lot.

I don't think enough people think about it, I mean really think about it. Consider it, for a moment. That is the one true link we all share with each other, the one thing you know for certain will happen is that you and I, someday we will die. We will close our eyes and existence as we know it will cease. Or maybe we WON'T close our eyes, maybe we pop off with our eyes open, that happens, it happens, right?

Here's a thought, this is a great thought, see that exit door over there? If you were to open that door and jump out with no parachute, right now, three thousand feet over Wyoming, that means you'd have a good two or three minutes to think about things before you landed. Now then. What do you think would be going through your mind before you hit the ground?

_(More turbulence.)_

That reminds me of a joke my Grandpa would always ask us kids, he'd go, "What's the last thing that goes through a mosquito's mind right when it hits your car windshield?" "What Grandpa?" we'd ask, and he'd say "His Ass!"

And he would slap his knee and laugh and laugh. Grandpa's dead now, drank a little too much Wild Turkey one night while driving and hit a telephone pole. Wasn't wearing his seatbelt, went right through his windshield.

I really think that he'd find that terribly amusing.

Now seriously, what do you think is going to happen once you die? Any idea? Me neither. Lots of people, a LOT of fucking people have theories, oh there are a lot of theories on what happens after death, but no one really knows for sure, do they? They say they do, people SAY they know for sure, but nobody does and nobody will until they hit that big exit door, right? Nobody really fucking knows. That's something to think about. That's what I think about. That's what kept me from committing suicide. Thinking hard about death kept me alive. Grandpa would have appreciated that irony, I think. Long flight ahead. Why don't you give it a shot? I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.

_(Paul gets up, edges past the man to the aisle.)_

_Lights down._

## BUILT FOR ABUSE

ORIGINAL

So what follows is the original one man show called BUILT FOR ABUSE. I performed the piece as my thesis project while in graduate school, then had it restaged later in New York City as part of Cap 21's New Work Festival. I include it here so one can look through it for monologues.

If you wish to perform it, the performance rights are royalty-free for amateur and educational production. Please see **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT** for the complete details on what's required for that.

In both productions I made use of a real motorcycle onstage, but as that not everyone has access to such a wonderful piece of machinery (and in NYC, I wasn't allowed to start the engine onstage) I find it's not necessary in every production and I encourage any creative way around that particular obstacle. The important thing is to communicate the following character's love of motorcycle's and other forms of two-wheeled entertainment. Neither is it written in stone that this show be performed by just one actor, it can be done by as many actors as deemed necessary.

Thanks and happy trails, reader.

## BUILT FOR ABUSE

THE ONE MAN SHOW

By  
Joshua James

Nine Monologues

THE CYCLE

THE CLASSIC

THE MINIBIKE

THE SLOW-STARTER

THE USED BIKE

THE BICYCLE

THE HOG

THE CROTCH ROCKET

THE SHOWBIKE

BUILT FOR ABUSE

"Masculinity – that four letter word containing five syllables."

## THE CYCLE

_The stage is dimly lit. Onstage there are various props; table, chairs, and a work bench with tools, all of which are used by the ACTOR within the action of his following scenes. There are also several motorcycles sitting in various states of repair. There is a small curtain center stage back. Lights fall to black and the sound of a roaring motorcycle is heard and the ACTOR drives onstage on a black '93 Honda Nighthawk 750. He is dressed in black leather._

_Music, Joe Cocker's "You can keep your hat on" begins to play as the ACTOR kills the engine and, with a great sense of ritual, removes his helmet and leather gear. He changes into work overalls and begins to tinker on his bike as the music fades. He addresses the audience._

ACTOR: I just rode one thousand miles, and is my ass sore. It's worth it, though. A sore ass is a small price to pay to ride this bike.

_He proceeds to check the carburetor._

ACTOR: The freeway is America's last frontier, and this here bike is the last wild bronco left to run free on it. That's what my grandpa always used to say, and he was right. I love motorcycles. Grandpa loved motorcycles, too. He always said, "Try an' learn from the bikes, boy, be strong, built for speed, endurance. Life is just like a road, so run it like the bike does." Gramps was crazy for cycles, and so am I. There's a wildness to 'em, an ordered sort of wildness. Ordered in that you can depend on a bike, as long as you take care of it, to do exactly what you tell it to do. A wildness in that you have all this power, all this unrealized power sitting under you, and you can cut it loose if you dare and all that power might throw you or it might swallow you both. Wild danger, that's what it is, and makes life sharper knowing it's at my fingertips and between my legs. Bike like this, if you wanted to, you could open her up and fly right off the face of the earth.

_He checks the plugs._

ACTOR: My grandpa hooked me on bikes, he had him one, even when they wasn't too popular, he had an old one, a 1941 Harley Davison 61-cubic inch Knucklehead, which was barely in one piece when he got done with it. My grandpa rode bikes just like he lived life, hard, and you could tell just by lookin' at both of em. I ain't partial to Harleys myself, Harley a bike in my opinion, you know why they call 'em Harley? Cause they Harley ever start. I sure wish I had that bike today, though, it'd be worth some money, that's for sure. These days it's the rice bikes for me, but I'll never forget that first ride on the back of grandpa's Harley, with the wind screaming in my ears and Gramps lookin' back and smilin at me, shouting "Freedom, boy, Freedom!" I was only eight and already tired of everything else, so I snapped for it like a hungry fish. Goin' eighty miles an hour I finally knew what it was like to fly, and I remember thinkin' "this is me, this is what I want to be." I've never matched the excitement of that first ride. I ain't never stopped tryin', either.

_He checks the drive chain._

ACTOR: After that one day of the ride, Grandpa was like God in my eyes. I never did give a shit bout anybody else, probably cause no one else gave a shit 'bout me. But Gramps was different, an' I listened to him like no one else. He had the word, he had the bike, the cycle, and I spent hours cleanin' it and listenin' to him talk. He used to say, "Boy, think of this motorcycle just as you would your life. You have to respect it, otherwise you'll end up a greasy spot on the pavement somewhere." I wrote that one down. He had bunches of 'em, called 'em his rules of the road. Rule of the road, you ride a bike, you have to expect, you have to know, that sometime, somewhere, you're bound to dump it at least once and take a spill. So be ready for it. That's kinda like life too, ain't it? Rule of the road, always expect the other fellow to hit ya. That's one of my favorites, an' it's saved my ass many a time, and not just on the bike, either. Some people just blow through life without lookin' forwards or backwards, an if you're not careful you could get sideswiped by one of them dumb assholes. Even if you're careful, you could still get hit hard. That's one of the rules of livin' I guess. Gramps got hit, but not by a car or nothin'. He got sideswiped by this big rig called CANCER and took a hell've a spill. Rule of the road, on the highway, if there's a little animal in your path, don't swerve, let it get outa your way an' there's less chance of you hittin' it. I guess Gramps just wasn't ready for the spill, he took it real hard. I guess I wasn't ready either. Seemed to me we had come so close to takin' that big drink of freedom together, on now I was gonna be on my own. I didn't think I was ready for that. But it didn't make no difference to Gramps, he died just as he lived, fast an' hard, and I remember thinkin' if that day that now there was no God anymore, there was just me. I was seventeen, an' with some money Gramps had given me, I went out an' bought my own bike, a Kawasaki, that very day. I took it and rode it as fast as it would go. Sittin' on my own bike, I was, for the first time, proud of myself. For the first time, I felt like somebody. Like gramps. Like a man.

So I've been tryin, since he died, to catch the excitement of that very first ride. That's what I'm runnin' for. Runnin' hard.

_The lights shift as the ACTOR moves and slowly changes into an old man for the next scene._

## THE CLASSIC

_ACTOR moves as an old man and sits with a blanket in a chair. He has a carburetor in his hand and is trying to clean it._

ACTOR: This carburetor is all shot to shit.

_He spots his grandson._

ACTOR: C'mere, boy, get on over here an' learn yourself somethin' from your grandfather. Take a look at what I got here. This here, carburetor, you gotta keep it clean, cause it's the heart of the engine, gets the fluids around, an' its easy to forget when you're zippin' around havin' fun on your bike, that you gotta take care of it. It gets all filled with shit, then you ain't goin' nowhere. Now, even if you take care of it real good, someday it's just gonna plain wear out from all the work, and then all you can do is throw it away. That's just the way things is.

_He leans to one side and passes gas. It sounds like a horn._

ACTOR: Ahh, my doctor, he said I'm eating too many fried foods. No fried foods anymore, unless I wanta die of grease build-up. He makes it sound as though there's gonna be this big fried food explosion, if I keep at it. He's fulla shit. I told em, I said, doc, what's life without fried foods? He said longer. He's still fulla shit. I bet he eats fried foods. Makes me almost wanna cry. Almost. I didn't. Instead I did somethin' about it. Action. I went home an' had a fried egg sandwich, an' I'll tell you, I felt better. There's one thing you gotta remember about life, son, an' that's that most people, most of the time, they're fulla shit. They don't know bout you. World's fulla people tellin' you to do this with your life or vote for this guy or buy this car or go to this store, an' they don't know shit 'bout you or where you come from. Don't know shit. Now, you're a young man, fulla piss an' vinegar, but I know what it's like at your age, I haven't completely forgotten. I know that your life revolves round that little thing swingin' tween your legs. I know. An' I say good, that's good, that's right where you should be. God gave you that blessed thing for a reason, so use it! That's what life is about when you're that age. When you get my age, all that's left is to pass water through it, so take advantage. Now don't look at me like that, what are you lookin' at? This is Man Talk boy, get used to it. Men have this thing, this important thing that they carry between their legs, an they should be proud of it, I say. By'-God Proud! I watch these TV. talk shows all day an all I hear is bitchin' and bitchin' 'bout how men are this an' men are that an' I say bullshit. There's nothing wrong with MEN. Men have done great things for this country, men wrote the Declaration of Independence an fought the American revolution an invented light bulbs an' penicillin and climbed Mount Everest an' tamed the wild west an' they got it done cause they were MEN, by God, an' they had this thing hangin' down tween their legs an' two by-God big balls underneath that reached up an' grabbed ahold of 'em an' said "Hey! Let's get something DONE around here!" An' things got done.

_He passes gas again. Pause._

ACTOR: Look at me. I'm a man, and I've done a bunch 'a good things. Too numerous too count, the many good things I've done. One of the best things I've done, I fell in love, I built a life, and I had a family. I had children. My children had children. I had grandchildren. I consider that one of my best things. People come and people go. Little babies are born, and old farts like me pass on. Everyone dies someday. Dyin's a natural thing, so don't let it bog ya down. It's all a parta life. It's alright to feel bad, just don't stay there, you understand? Do somethin'. Action boy. Action's what made this country great. Action. Now I want you to live some life, an' stop thinkin' bout me. Go out, dance in the streets, do somethin', anything. Have a fried egg sandwich. You've been mopin' around here long enough. Go hop on that cycle of yours and live, boy. You'll get by, trust me. You'll get by, you know why?

_He leans forward._

ACTOR: Cause you're a man.

_Lights change as the ACTOR rises and morphs into the next character for the next scene, which is:_

## THE MINI-BIKE

_The ACTOR moves as a little boy and sits on a swing. He talks to another little boy. The empty spaces indicate places where the other boy "speaks" and Robert listens._

ACTOR: Hi. My name is Robert. What's yours?

Yeah, but I'm not a stranger, I'm Robert.

I'm new. I just moved here.

Can too.

Can too.

Can too move wherever I want. My daddy is gonna work here. In this city. He's got a big job. He works at the newspaper.

Can too.

Can too.

Can too work wherever he wants. This is America.

No he can't.

No he can't.

No he can't beat up my daddy. MY daddy would beat up YOUR daddy instead. That's what would happen.

Huh.

Huh.

Yeah but my daddy lifts weights.

Your daddy has a motorcycle?

So.

He has a gun too?

So.

No, I can't play guns of war with you.

My daddy says so.

Cause.

Cause.

Cause he says so.

He says guns . . . warp our social consciousness. That's what he says.

It means bad.

My daddy is writer.

It is not stupid. You're stupid.

I am not stupid. You're stupid.

You are too stupid. You . . . you . . . you're STUPID!

Go ahead and go home, I don't care! I didn't like you anyway! I'm going.

_He pouts and stalks off. He looks back._

ACTOR: He doesn't know anything. I hate him. He's stupid.

_He looks around, than points his finger at the other little boy and 'shoots' him._

ACTOR: Bang! Take that. Now you're dead and you won't have any fun. Bang!

_The ACTOR moves into the next scene as lights change._

## THE SLOW STARTER

_The ACTOR moves and gets on the bike and starts it, gunning it ferociously. He then turns it off. A police siren. The ACTOR sits on his bike and looks at the ticket he just got._

ACTOR: Look at this, I got a ticket, can you believe that? My neighbors called the cops on me for being too loud. Can you believe that? Loud? I been busted, this police woman comes out to my house, catches me on my bike, and busts my ass for not having a muffler, runs my number through the computer, finds out I have no motorcycle license either, gets really pissed off and cites me on that too, and would have impounded the bike if I hadn't a charmed her outa it. Now I can't ride the cycle, my driver's license has been revoked and I can't drive a car either, I'm totally without any wheels what so ever. Now I'm almost nothing, a very near nobody without my bike. I've been auto-emasculated by a lady cop. This may not sound like much to you, but to tell a man he can't ride his cycle is a tragedy of epic proportions. How am I gonna meet any babes? I'm a lost boy. I know you look at me, you see the motorcycle man, a mountain of masculine confidence, and you ask yourself, "Hey, what's his problem?" But you know, I wasn't always this prime, I used to be, well, I hate to say it. I was . . . shy. It's true, I was a shy boy. Shy, short and ugly. And I literally could not speak to women. Hard to believe, I know. It's like this, I come from a family of men. By that I mean, I only had brothers, I had a father, but no mother. So here I am surrounded by . . . men. And I was a man. But I didn't know that, cause everybody at home was pretty much the same. I didn't know what I was until I found out what I wasn't. Until I discovered women. There I was. No experience with feminine things at all. At least, nothing that I noticed until junior high. Until then, it seems to me that little girls aren't that different from little boys. Just like little boys. And they don't look that different, either. But then, all of a sudden, in junior high, things change. The little girls change, they . . . sprout is the only word that comes to mind, they sprout and change uniformly. They all change. The little boys don't change, they stay the same until . . . Oh, I don't know, twenty or thirty? But the girls, they change, they become . . . WOMEN. I was naturally greatly curious about these new and unusual creatures that had entered my life. But how to deal with them, that was the problem. There was this one particular girl, Michele, that I could never chase out of my mind. She was . . . beautiful. I'd follow her, I don't know why, she was like a magnet. I'd be telling myself, no, no go the other way, but my feet wouldn't listen. And of course she knew. She had that psychic geek alert that most girls have, and it was probably sending off major red alerts whenever I was in the vicinity. Because, naturally, I was a geek nightmare. Under a hundred pounds, thick glasses and only five feet tall. The only adult things on my body were my feet. My feet were the same size that they are now when I was thirteen. It wasn't until I was eighteen that the rest of my body caught up. And of course by then I had the seal of geekdom tattooed on my soul. Early on, I attempted contact with Michele, my dream girl. I'd try asking her something like, 'did you get the assignment done?' but when I tried talking to her, it was as though I was suddenly thrust into a foreign film convention, and I didn't speak the language. It would be like "hey Michele, ldkja dsfjsld flajfdljal sdfjlsd" gibberish, pouring out of my mouth, and I would try and staunch the flow of absurdity, but it was hopeless, it would just keep coming until I would drown in it, and she would just give one of those looks, a giggle, a shake of her head and then she would be off down the hall. I once asked her out. I figured I would never forgive myself if I didn't try at least once. I waited till she was alone in library before I approached her. And approached her. And approached her. I had rehearsed my lines over and over, so in case my brain froze my mouth might do the job on its own. I stood by her shoulder unable to move, till she looked up from her book and said "What is it?" And there was stillness. Then, from deep inside the bowels of my soul the words erupted from my mouth in an explosion. "ARE­YOU­BUSY­THIS­SATURDAY­NIGHT?" And she looks at me and said "What? What'd you say?" And I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself as sweat poured from my body and I gritted my teeth and said, "Are . . . You . . . Busy . . . Saturday . . . night?" And she looks at me and says "No, I'm not busy. Why?" And I looked at her and said, "Oh, Umm, just wondering," and I scurried away as fast as I could. Of course, this was all B.C. Before Cycle. You see, a magical thing happened. My body grew to match my feet, I discovered motorcycles and found that I could talk sweet to anyone, even a police officer, while I'm sitting on my bike. It took me a while to get started, but once I did, I got goin' real fast. Of course, though I am still very upset about losing my wheels for awhile, there is a ray of sunshine pokin' through the dark clouds. That female police officer that wrote me up? she was mighty pretty. I was sitting on my bike when I asked her out. The way I figure it, Lady cops need boyfriends too, and she's got a great motorcycle herself. I told her if she wanted to, she could even wear her gun. That might be kinda fun, actually. She's pickin' me up at seven.

_Lights shift as the ACTOR moves to the next scene._

## THE USED BIKE

_The ACTOR looks about confusedly. He is bandaged and has a cast on. There are crutches sitting next to him._

I really don't understand women. You know, women are not like motorcycles. A motorcycle, if you give it gas, it goes faster, if you put on the brakes, it stops. It doesn't seem to work that way with women. Take my girlfriend, for example. We've been dating six months, and she had decided that I was holding back, that I was not OPEN and HONEST enough about how I felt about her and about us. So I said, okay, open and honest you want, open and honest you got. I hadn't realized how dangerous that could be. Anyway, that very day we're watchin' this video, at home, a Van Damme film, really good one, and she kept talking and talking through all the good parts. I kept dropping subtle little hits like, not looking at her, and cheerin' Wham Bam Van Damme on every time he smacked somebody in the face. But she just kept chatterin' away, until finally, I figured, it's honesty time, and I turned to her and said, "Would you shut the fuck up!"

_He pauses._

Boom! Explosion. Honesty. Throwing fucking honesty into a relationship is like throwing gasoline on a fire. She left. She yelled, she screamed, and she left. So I called her, against my better judgment, I called her and said I was sorry, but that wasn't good enough, she was mad and said she felt that she needed more out of this relationship. I said, "What more do you want, I should do everything you say like some fucking robot?"

_Pause._

Boom! Openness. Like throwin' dynamite into a fireplace. She hung up. She yelled, she screamed, and she hung up. So I called back, like an idiot I called back and begged for forgiveness, I was crawlin' for Christ sake, but she wasn't havin any of it. She said we needed time apart to get our priorities straight. And maybe it was better if we saw other people. So I said, "Okay," and I hung up. Following Saturday, I'm at the Park Ave Bar when she comes roarin' up breathing fire and seeing' red. She goes "Ohh, I'm so mad at you I could SCREAM!" By then she was screaming, and everyone is looking over at us. I said "Babe, what's the problem, what'd I do?" She goes "I just want to know ONE thing before I lose my mind, and one thing only. Did you fuck her?" Now, my mind was blank, I didn't have the slightest idea who or what she was talking about. So all I could say was, "What?"

"Did you fuck her?"

"Did I fuck who? I don't know what . . . "

"You know who, did you fuck her?"

"Baby I don't . . ."

"Did you fuck her?"

Now I'm starting to go a little apeshit here, and she's starting to remind me of that dentist from that movie with Dustin Hoffman, you know, _Marathon Man_ , when it hit me, she was talking about my cousin, she musta seen me talking to my cousin and naturally assumed the worst. By now I'm a little pissed off, and I said "What exactly do you mean by, 'did you fuck her?'"

"Did you fuck her? Did you take your pee-pee and place it in her body?"

I said "Hey, we're not really goin' out anyway, so where I put my pee-pee need not be any of your concern anyhow. I thought we were supposed to be seeing other people?

"Seeing does not mean fucking!"

I said "I sure don't remember there being' a no-fuck clause in this here contract,".

She said, "You're an asshole."

_He takes a deep breath._

Now, I was gonna tell her about my cousin and all that, but it was here that I made the major big mistake. Here I followed her advice and told her exactly how I felt about her. I looked at her and I said, "Fuck you, you neurotic paranoid loud-mouthed little bitch!"

_He pauses._

Boom. Honesty. Like splitting the atom for a nuclear explosion. That's when she socked me on the jaw. She yelled, she screamed, and she socked me in the jaw. I fell to the floor, and she started kicking me, going "Asshole, asshole, asshole!" I just covered up and said over and over "Baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," while she kept kicking me, until she got tired and stormed off. That's how I ended up here in the here. And what did I learn from this, Doc? I learned this. Openness and Honesty. It just don't fucking work.

_The ACTOR morphs as the lights shift and the scene changes._

## THE BICYCLE

_The ACTOR pokes his head in. He enters and speaks to his unseen son._

ACTOR: Son? Hey, kiddo, I got something for you to take with you to the city.

_He wheels in a bicycle._

ACTOR: Here you go, new bicycle. I got a great deal. Your old one was about to fall apart, anyway. Now I want you to be careful on this thing, and be sure to watch out for cars, you're not gonna be in a small town now, so don't let anyone hit you, you understand? I don't want anything bad happening to you, little mister, so I'm trusting you to look out for yourself, okay? Boy-howdy, this place is gonna be as quiet as a cemetery with you gone for a whole month. I'll have to hire people to come in and bang around at night, and make a lot of noise, just so it will seem like home. Don't know what I'm gonna do with myself. What will I do? Oh, I don't know, I'll find something, don't worry about it, just have fun, I'll be alright. Am I gonna what?

_Pause._

ACTOR: Am I gonna date? You mean, women? Date women?

_Pause._

ACTOR: You know son, that reminds me that we need to have a talk. I was planning on having this talk with you sometime in the next three months, so I guess now is as good as time as any. Just wish I knew what I was gonna say. I think we should talk about . . . your mother. Son, I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I truly loved your mother. And I always will, in a way, love her to my dying day. I'm also sure that in her way, she still loves me. I know it doesn't make much sense, in light of the divorce and all, and I don't know how to explain what happened.

_He takes a breath._

ACTOR: Do you remember when you were eight, and your very best friend in the world was little Davie Freely that lived down the street? That summer you were inseparable, and half the time you slept at his house or he slept at ours, and you were together all day, and when school started you two were like blood brothers, until winter came, and you were doing the wrestling thing, and he was doing all that archery stuff his old man was crazy about, and you two just started doing less and less together, and for awhile you were sad about it, but you two just needed to do different things to be the type of people that you were. You still liked him, you just needed to be away to be who you are. Things like that happen. That's kinda like your mother and me. I may be oversimplifying it, but that's the clearest way I can think of to explain it. I will never regret being with her. I remember the first time I kissed your mother, November 12, 9:04 p.m. I'll never forget. We were sitting on the porch swing at her house and I found she was looking right at me, her face only a couple of inches away. I could feel it coming in the air between her lips, I could feel the kiss like it was a solid and separate thing before it even happened, and then we came together. It was my first kiss ever. I remember thinking at the time, this is what love tastes like. It was the absolute best thing in the world. I felt the same way the day you were born, and I looked at you and touched your face and you grabbed my finger. The absolute best thing in the world. So, to answer your question about dating, to be honest, I just don't know. Maybe someday, I hope, but probably not right now. What I want you to remember, son, is that you were a product of love. I'm telling you this because you're thirteen now and I have custody, but a couple months after you come back from visiting your mother, you're gonna have a birthday, and what that means, son, is that when you are fourteen you can decide for yourself who you would like to live with. And I just wanted to tell you now, before you start to worry about it, that no matter what you decide, you're my son, and I'll always love you. No matter how old you get, or where you move to, you'll have me to turn to. That's me, your father, and it's my job and it's my pleasure. Now let's go, your mother's waiting. Take good care of the bike, you understand?

_The ACTOR moves as lights shift and he morphs into the next character, which is:_

## THE HOG

_The ACTOR moves out onstage wearing the standard Hell's Angel outfit of jeans boots and bandana. He looks really rough._

ACTOR: Mom? How ya doin', Mama? I know, I know, been a long time since I came to visit ya, I know, don't get all pissed off. I haven't been to this cow town since the last time I saw ya. I've been all over the country on my Harley, Mama, it's been a hell've time. Been to Las Angeles, Scottsdale, Arizona, Seattle, an' New Mexico and Old Mexico too and even Iowa, Mama, can you believe that, I was in Iowa, it's right next to Chicago. I got some new tattoos, wanna see?

_He rolls up his sleeve._

ACTOR: It's says "Born to Run", but here, on my chest, you'll like this one.

_He opens his shirt._

ACTOR: It says "Mama's Boy"! Great, huh! I got another one, here, this is the best one.

_He unbuckles his pants._

ACTOR: Me an' a buddy got really plastered, an' got tattoos of road signs on our ass that say "One Way Only", see? Isn't great! I knew you'd love it!

_He pulls his pants back up._

ACTOR: Mama, I came here to tell you some great news! I've met someone, a woman. You'd like her, she's got a black belt in karate or judo or something like that, an' she's really tough. She threw me out of a bar in New York an it was love at first sight. I was so charmed I kept going back until she gave in an' went out with me. I really like her, Mama, she don't take no shit. She smacks me up side of the head if I give her any lip, just like you used to do. That's one of the reasons I came back to talk to you, mama. I'm givin' up the road. Parkin' the Hog. But there's somethin' I wanna tell you. On the road, I remember lots of things, I remember once when I was little and I was sick, I was callin' for you at night, an' just as you came I started to throw up, and you caught it in your hands so it wouldn't splash all over me, I remember that. I remember another time, when I was eight an' some kids were makin' fun of my clothes, you came out an' glared at 'em an they ran away, and you ruffled my hair and said, "don't worry about it, darlin', it's what's inside that counts." I remember that. But what I remember most is when Daddy was drunk an' whaling on Melissa an' me, and we were screamin', you didn't say nothin', you just swooped on him like a hawk an' smacked him on the head with that beer bottle and he went down like he was shot. I'll never forget the sight of you standin' over him, breathing heavy and swearin' like a motherfucker. Even though he beat you for it the next day, I'll never forget the image of you standin' over us like a guardian angel. An the day you kicked him out, when you stuck that gun in his face an told him never to come near you or your children ever again, an he said you're bluffing, bitch. You just cocked the gun an' said you got the balls to bet on it, asshole? An' he ran like a scared rabbit. I always remember that. Mama, I learned from you that I didn't have to eat anybody's shit if I didn't want to. You showed bout bein' strong. You were the most important person in my life. I'm gettin' married tomorrow, an' I want to have your blessing', Mama. I drove all over America till I finally found a woman as strong as you. I'll bring her here to meet you tonight. I know you'll like her. Also, I would never forget this.

_He reaches on his bike and pulls out a rose._

ACTOR: Happy Birthday. Since you've gone, I've missed you everyday.

_He lays the rose on her grave._

ACTOR: Happy Birthday, Mama. Sleep in peace.

_Lights change as the ACTOR moves into the next scene and character._

## THE CROTCH-ROCKET

_The ACTOR morphs into a regular type guy who is very nervous._

ACTOR: The nightmare always starts out the same. I'm on a moped. I'm drivin' down the street where I live, and I stop in front of my Dad's house. There's a vendor-push-cart type of guy sitting out on our lawn, and I've never seen him before. He's really muscular, and he has all these snake tattoos. He's selling hotdogs on our lawn. I go up to him, to see who he is, and he gives me a hotdog. I don't want to offend him, so I eat it.

Then he gives me another, then another, and another. I try to tell him to stop, but my mouth is full of wiener, and I can't speak. He just keeps pushing hotdogs in my mouth, and I turn to run away, then . . . all of a sudden I'm with my best friend Brent at his apartment, and he's got a six-pack and a pizza.

Brent is a welder, we went to school together and he's my very best buddy in the world. I'm happy to see him, and I ask him what was goin' on tonight, you know, what're we gonna do?

And Brent says, "Well, I just called Kevin and Brian, they'll be right over, and we're all gonna HUMP and put the devil back in hell."

I said, "We're gonna do what?"

"Hump, bump uglies, we're going to FUCK each other like there's NO tomorrow," he says, "What'cha think I said?" And he gets up and starts to undress! I just looked at him, my mouth hanging wide open, and Brent looks at me and says "What'cha waitin' for, stupid, get your clothes off, they'll be here any minute!"

I said, "I don't remember making any plans that called for you, me, Brian and Kevin to get NAKED and do anything nasty!"

Brent says, "What're talkin' about? It was YOUR idea, dummy! Now get them pants off and bring that sweet ass of yours over here, I've been waiting for it all day!"

I scream, then I wake up.

I keep having this . . . GAY dream. Every week.

And the thing is, I'm not gay, seriously, I'm a dedicated heterosexual.

Seriously.

But this dream keeps following me around, and it's freaking me out.

I need help.

Now there's a new variation to it. I had it last week.

I dreamed I was on Jeopardy, you know, the game show, and I was kicking ass! I knew all the answers, or questions, or whatever the hell it is, and I was winning tons of money! But the categories were: Gay Poets, Gay Americans in History, Politicians and Homosexuality, and B for Bisexual! I was winning, I knew everything, and all I could think every time I got one right was; my God, I'm on TV!

And my father's at home watchin' and wondering how I know all this stuff!

I don't know why these dreams are following me around like this, I'm not a homosexual, I'm not afraid of homosexuals, I know they're not going to kidnap me and turn me into one, at least I'm pretty sure they won't, I'm not a homophobe, I love women religiously, and JESUS, WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME! Do you think my subconscious is trying to tell me something?

_Lights shift as the ACTOR morphs into:_

## THE SHOWBIKE

_We hear the sound of a roaring engine and the ACTOR walks in, pushing an empty wheelchair. He looks at the audience._

ACTOR: I wanna tell you about this guy I know. Picture him in your mind. He's in a wheelchair. Someone who's disabled. Someone with two legs that don't work and a face that looks like it leaped out of a Picasso painting. Handicapped top to bottom. Maybe you think I'm being cruel to him. Well, think again. Being ugly in America is a huge handicap. Think about it. Do you ever see ugly disfigured receptionists? Waiters? Even checkout people at supermarkets? Nope. The jobs my buddy would normally be allowed to do would be dishwashing, or a stock-boy, or anything that would keep him from scaring customers away. When you're ugly, the rest of the world just wants to hide you in a corner. And they'll pay you minimum wage to stay there. People usually try to avoid looking at him, as if they're afraid if they stare too long their faces will end up like his. And for the longest time, he never looked directly at anyone else, like he was ashamed. Then, one special day he realized what he was missing, and started looking everyone straight in the eye. Nowadays when he's teaching his class the first assignment would be to draw his face. What an icebreaker. Now everyone is honest. Now everything is normal. But the chair. Oh boy. The chair was a pain in the ass, metaphorically and physically. People never look at you when you're in a wheelchair. Unless they're sitting also, that is. But when they're standing or walking around talking, they never see you cause you're not at their level. Their eyes are up. He could be sitting directly in front of a guy and he'd still bump into him or trip over his wheels or something and say "Oops, didn't see you there," like he's small and hard to miss. Give me a break. He always use to feel below ordinary consideration sitting in his wheelchair. You see, the thing was, he wanted to be a man. He grew up, just like every boy, wanting to be a man. And a man, in his point of view, had to stand. Men stand. Men stand up for what is right. Men stand up for what they believe in. Men stand up for God and Country. Men stand. And he would be sitting there saying, Goddamn, I wanna be a man so bad, but I can't stand! I have to sit! Shit! Women were the worst, at that time in his life. They never treated him like other men. If they didn't ignore him then they were always so. . . nice. He always wanted to yell at them, say "Hey, I'm a man too, be cruel, toy with me, flirt with me, lead me on, anything, just stop being NICE, stop treating me like your LITTLE BROTHER!" And he blamed the chair. The chair was the reason for his abnormality. He figured if he could just get up and chop down a tree or hunt a grizzly bear or something like that, the women would just come running. If he could just stand up and do something he could make them forget his face. He knew he could. He'd seen other ugly men do it. He'd seen athletes that looked like they been beaten with a two-by-four and they'd be surrounded by women. And rock stars, you ever take a good look at some of them rock stars? UGLY! Some of them fat and bloated with craters in their face, but all they would have to do it pick up a guitar and sing and the women would be throwing their panties at them. All he could do is dream. He dreamed about standing. He dreamed about running and jogging and kicking and catching footballs and going up and down stairs and stubbing his toes, he always wanted to stub his toe. Oh, and a big thing for him was, he always wanted to use one of those urinals in the men's room. He always wanted to do that.

He just wanted to stand and be a man. He was afraid that if he wasn't a man, if he was this lonesome ugly halfling creature, he would be alone the rest of his life. If he could just stand up, things would be alright. If he could be tall and a man, he could handle being ugly. He really got fed up. Fed up with the chair and the face and women and manhood and life in general. He was really angry. Why me? He wanted to know why me. Why should I be so lucky to be chained to this chair and this face? Who was gonna love me looking like this? Where was the hope for any happiness in my life sitting in this chair? He stayed up all night trying to figure it out. Sat in his fucking chair with his fucking face pointed out the window thinking about it all night. He figured, if there's not gonna be any love in my life, if there's not gonna be any hope, then what's the point? Why abuse myself any further? He sat there all night with a gun in his lap, wondering if he could be free. As the sun started to come up, he raised the gun as his last defiant act of masculinity. Then . . .

A bird landed on the branch outside his window. It was a gold finch, and it looked right at him and started to sing for all its worth. He remembers saying "You stupid bird, stop being so cheerful, can't you see how miserable I am? You're gonna ruin everything." And the finch stopped, cocked his head at him, and he swears he smiled, even though birds don't have lips, he would swear the bird smiled at him, and started to sing again. It hit him . . . what a beautiful song. That a finch as big as your finger with a brain the size of a pea could create a song so wonderful you'd swear the world would stop, that had to be . . . Free.

_He caresses the motorcycle._

It wasn't the face. It wasn't the chair. It wasn't women. It wasn't masculinity. It was me. And I found that if I closed my eyes and thought about it, really thought about it, my face could become . . . normal.

_The ACTOR's face slowly changes in such a way that it appears disfigured._

And if I dreamed even farther, I could maybe even . . . stand.

_He sits in the wheelchair._

And walk.

_He covers his legs with a blanket._

And be . . . a man.

_He sits back and is now the disabled man._

All inside. Freedom. Simple. Not easy, but simple. I found that love and hope do exist in the world. Always. The problem is that they are almost never in the shape that we expect them to be. Like people. Like men. Like me. I may never walk again and I may appear disfigured but inside I fly. Fly like that pretty bird that sang to me at sunrise. Now I spend every day throwing my dream at reality. Now I spend every day being happy.

Now I spend everyday just being me.

Now I'm free.

_The ACTOR rolls off, and music, the ZZTOP song Rough Boy begins to play._

_Lights fade on the stage._

## ABOUT THE AUTHOR

**JOSHUA JAMES** is a screenwriter, novelist and playwright based in New York City. As a playwright, Joshua made his London debut when The Men's Room was produced at the Croydon Warehouse Theatre. He made his Off-Broadway debut in The Fear Project at The Barrow Group with his piece Extreme Eugene. His plays have been produced throughout New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, all across the United States and various other parts of the world. His most recent books are **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT** , an anthology of forty-four short plays that are now royalty-free for educational and amateur production and **THE PENIS PAPERS** , a free ebook of his popular play.

His film credits include POUND OF FLESH, starring Jean-Claude Van Damme. Yeah, JCVD, baby. Joshua loves ice-cold tea, cool summer breezes and hot Brazilian Jiujitsu, though not necessarily in that order. www.writerjoshuajames.com and **WRITER JOSHUA JAMES**.

Thanks for reading, and if this collection was of any help to you, please remember to leave a review of this book wherever this collection is, or any of his other plays **THE MEN'S ROOM** , **2 VERY DANGEROUS PEOPLE SHARING 1 SMALL SPACE** , **TALLBOY WALKIN'** , **THE ELF, THE BUNNY AND THE BIG XMAS BLOWUP** , **RUNNING IN PLACE** , **OLD DOG** , **THE JOSHUA JAMES PROJECT**.

Remember, every review, and reviewer, matters. So help spread the word. Karma is a boomerang, after all.
