Men's Comedic Monologues That Are Actually Funny
Page 8
As I told the other officer, at the time of my wife’s death, I was out with her sister, Gwen. We were looking for a birthday present for Clara.
[Choked up.]
Our dear, dear, Clara. Clara’s birthday is February 4th, and we were looking for a present on January 18th. We had plenty of time to find something we loved. That we knew Clara would love. So, Gwen and I went downtown together to shop. I picked her up at noon. Well, I got there at twelve-oh-three, and man did she rag on me for being late.
[He laughs.]
Then, she kept changing the radio station. I don’t think we heard one complete song the whole way into the city. Must be a family thing. Clara does . . . did that.
Anyway, then we shopped . . .
[JEFFREY takes another sip of water.]
Oh yes. Before we went shopping, Gwen and I did have lunch at Pagliacci’s. I had the spaghetti Bolognese and Gwen had the chicken Marsala.
[He says, with a smile.]
Actually, she ended up eating half of my spaghetti. Why don’t people want what they already have? She always does that. Orders something and then wants what I’m enjoying.
[Catching himself.]
Not that we always do anything together. She’s just my sister-in-law . . . well, was. I guess that title goes away now that my wife’s gone.
[Then . . .]
G-d rest her soul.
[Smiling.]
It’s funny; I’ve always known Gwen as my sister-in-law; now she’s just Gwen. I mean, there’s no law saying we can’t still go out for pasta together. There isn’t, right?
[Beat.]
Okay, good. Anyway, we had some pasta . . . a few laughs.
[JEFFREY has another sip of water.]
Um, yes, we did have a few glasses of wine. Well, we each had one. One each. One glass of wine for each of us.
[JEFFREY takes another, longer sip.]
What did we get? I told you the spaghetti Bol—Oh, what present did we get? We, ya see, we didn’t end up getting the present that day.
[JEFFREY takes a deep breath and goes to take another sip of water. The cup is empty.]
We didn’t find anything we really liked. That Clara would really like. We wanted something special . . . for Clara.
[Wiping his brow.]
Oh, the bracelet. The bracelet on my credit card statement? Yes, the bracelet. I know I said I didn’t get her anything. And, the bracelet wasn’t for Clara. For . . . Clara’s birthday. It wasn’t a present for Clara’s birthday. It was more of a “just because,” present.
[Taking a breath.]
Well, right now Gwen actually has it. It . . . so . . . she wanted it because, ya know, for the sentimental value. Because we bought it together. For Clara. But right, like I said, it was not Clara’s birthday present.
[Standing up.]
Well, why the hell would I get Clara a birthday present if I knew by the time her birthday rolled around, she’d be dead!?!?
Healthy Living
Carla Cackowski
MIDDLE-AGED MAN, mid-40s to mid-50s
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN approaches the check-in desk at a gym.
MIDDLE-AGED MAN Excuse me, Miss. Excuse me. Miss. Miss! Sorry to interrupt the podcast you’re listening to—supposedly you’re at work?—but that elliptical machine over there isn’t working properly.
I know it’s not working properly because I was just on it. And it didn’t work. And so I wasn’t able to exercise. Currently, at this moment in time, that elliptical machine is the definition of not working.
No need to glare at me. Not my fault your company’s equipment isn’t working.
Huh? No, I will not wait for a new machine. I want a new machine now. Let me give you a little tip here, Mam. That’s right. I was trying to be polite with “Miss,” but your attitude has graduated you to “Mam.” I pay you guys money each month to work out when I want to work out. If I show up and can’t work out because you guys can’t keep up maintenance on the machines I help pay for, then what am I paying you for?
What is your problem? That look you’re giving me. The way you’re glaring at me, you’re glaring at me like this is my fault. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. That look in your eyes is crystal clear. You’re thinking, “Maybe it is his fault. Maybe he’s so fat he broke the machine. Or maybe he’s too stupid to make it work properly.” You’re thinking, “Maybe the machine’s not broken, maybe he’s broken.” That’s what your glare is telling me right now.
What do you mean, it hasn’t been working for a week? Wait. So it has been working? So, what you’re saying is that sometimes it works, and sometimes it does not work. Oh, is that so? Then why isn’t there a sign? On the machine. To say it isn’t working. Sometimes. Working sometimes. I mean, how else are we supposed to know that it sometimes doesn’t work if there’s not a sign to tell us Only Sometimes Working?!
No. I will not wait for a new machine! I stood in the elliptical machine line for fifteen minutes this morning waiting for an elliptical machine so I could get in my thirty minutes of cardio on the damn elliptical machine and now you’re telling me that because the elliptical machine that was working when the person before me was on it but now isn’t working when I’m on it, that it only sometimes works, you’re telling me I’m screwed and have to stand in line all over again?
Well, I call bullshit on you. You need to make my machine work. Or put up a sign. Or, or, OR I should get the next elliptical machine that opens up!
I will? Damn right I will. Okay, good. And until I do, I’m going to stand right here and glare at you. Because you deserve it.
[Beat.]
What is that podcast you’re listening to? How can you listen to that stuff? That guy sounds like an angry asshole.
Man Scout
Andy Goldenberg
RICHIE RANDALL, 30s to 50s
RICHIE, an impassioned father, speaks up at the local Boy Scouts Chapter.
RICHIE YAWN! Someone wake me when this conversation gets interesting! This is the most boring meeting I have ever been a part of, and I’m an accountant! I don’t know about the rest of you, but for the last twenty minutes, I’ve been sitting here wondering why I ever wanted my son to be a Boy Scout in the first place! What I’ve always really wanted was for my son to be a MAN Scout. I want him to get some real Scout badges for doing real things like us real men do. I don’t mean like tying a knot or fighting a grizzly bear. I mean, a REAL MAN. We should be giving our kids badges like . . . Sitting on the couch with nothing to do for an ENTIRE DAY. That takes some skill, right Bob? Or going a full week without bathing. Or going a full month without doing laundry. Or spending your entire life having always gotten out of bathroom duty, like Steve over here. Would our boys be able to achieve those honors, or have we made sissies of them? We’ve inoculated them from diseases by not letting them eat off of the floor in five-second-rule fashion. We’ve withheld the joys of seeing naked women with our harsh Internet parental controls. Gentlemen of Boy Scout Troop 365, we have mothered our boys for far too long, and it is time that we STOPPED! Let them get badges for realizing how to cheat the government out of their hard-earned money. Let ’em have a badge if they elude capture not only from an ex-wife, but an illegitimate child. One badge for each kid. Rack ’em up, right Troy?
Wouldn’t it be great if we gave them a badge for pounding down drink after drink at the bar and NOT cheating on their spouse or NOT getting killed on the treacherous way back to their house in the hills? Rest in peace, Sammy. You were a man. A REAL man. And what you accomplished in your life was worth more than any merit badge for sustainability, landscape architecture, or Scouting Heritage. When can we dig into the refreshments that Paul brought, because I could sure use a lemon-lime Gatorade and orange slice right about now.
Brownies
Chris Quintos
SON, mid- to late 20s
SON No, Mom. I got it. Trust me. I can handle making something for the church bake sale. Because I don’t want you to have to worry about any of this kind of stuff!
Because your main job is to get rest and recover.
Because I didn’t just have major surgery! I’ll probably make brownies. Give me a little credit, Mom. I’ve cracked an egg into brownie mix before, believe me.
What do you mean, when? When I made brownies, that’s when. Mom—I know you love me, and I know I’m your son, but you don’t know EVERYTHING about me. You just don’t! Like, like—well, you didn’t know that I’ve made brownies before.
Yes. Yes, for Melissa.
What do you mean? Because brownies were like her favorite thing.
Mom. We made them a lot. She got cravings for them at crazy times. She even packed mix when we traveled! It was pretty cute. Oh—I think I even have this special brownie pan in my apartment that makes it so that every piece has edges.
Mix is just as good as from scratch. What do you mean, how do I know? Because, we did side-by-side taste tests. You just have to get the right mix and spruce it up a little.
Well, you can add mini chocolate chips, or peanut butter chips. With macadamia nuts, maybe? Then right when they come out, you sprinkle a little sea salt on top. WHY am I telling you this???
Yes, sea salt—because sweet plus salty is like everyone’s favorite thing.
Yes. Of course I miss her.
Look, Mom, I miss her and I don’t want to talk about it!
I didn’t mean to snap. Just get some rest and don’t worry about the bake sale. My brownies will be great. Maybe I’ll even make an extra batch for you.
Yes, they’ll have sea salt on top. Now get some rest. Single son’s orders.
L’aissez Fritte
Brandon Econ
ALAN GREGORY, 29
ALAN is an effete intellectual who thinks he knows how the world works because he read about it in a textbook. Justified in his beliefs, but thoroughly unvalidated or self-aware, Alan makes it his mission to take offense at everything because he thinks being critical is the same as being smart. He’s talking to a Cashier, Jennifer, at a McDonalds near a college campus.
ALAN I don’t do this very often [Looking at name tag.], Jennifer. But, these fries, well I don’t even know how you call these “fries.” If a customer such as myself’s first experience with your establishment is one in which the quote “America’s Favorite Fries” are in complete disarray, what do you think are my chances for a return visit? Any thoughts?
I’d guessed as much. I haven’t had service this bad since the Pinkerton’s were called in to break up the strike on Carnegie Steel. I assume . . .
And look at this, a McNugget. It’s as if you are attempting to derive some sort of aesthetic from Irish chickens and pit them against Americans, in what is clearly the most blatant exercise of xenophobia, I ASSUME, since the Alien and Sedition Acts were repealed. Why does everything need to have the family name anyway? It’s as if “nugget” is some sort of pagan word derived from the root of some Luftwaffe word for “gas chamber,” and adding “Mc” in some way rectifies the situation. Do you find comfort in working for a fascist company, Jennifer?
Oh, you don’t think so? What do they call you at the barracks, McHitler Youth?
Fascinating. Well then, how do you justify weakening the dollar in a global market? Don’t you find it morally reprehensible to devalue the cost of produce in the middle of a recession and place it on a dollar menu. It’s as if you have nationalized every aspect of our agricultural system. Perhaps it is really some hyper altruistic cabal that finds it necessary to keep the dollar in a state of disrepair in order to pander to a downtrodden populace scratching for some sense of identity. I can tell with the utmost sincerity that I am indeed not lovin’ it.
To be perfectly frank. I find it disturbing that your mascot is a clown? Not only do you debase the constituents in your own country, but you portray Irish men in a light that is racist and degrading. It’s as if you feel the need to enforce some forgotten code of ethics and label the Irish as a white-faced, red-haired super race.
I’m not going to step aside, Jennifer. I have a right to be here, this is a free country. I will not stand idly by while you give me marching orders and force me out into the dead of winter. If you want my advice. I recommend you give me the same attention you would any other customer.
Unbelievable.
I won’t stand for it. Now you can either be the basis for all asceticism in this world and turn a jaundiced eye towards my needs or you can make sure the fries are well done next time. The decision is entirely yours.
Married Rant
Lynn Trickey
A MAN, 30s
A MAN talks to his buddy.
A MAN Hey man, I was thinking—I don’t know, I had this kind of crazy idea, and, stay with me on this, but I was thinking, maybe, you and Claire, maybe . . . don’t get married?
Look, man, I try not to be that single friend who is all antimarriage, but . . . you’re making it kinda hard on me.
I mean, you and Claire seem to be really happy, but ever since this whole engagement thing happened, all I hear from you is “Planning a wedding is so hard! And it’s expensive, and it’s tough to make decisions, and blah!”
Oh wait, shit, sorry, do you have to get married? Like right now?
Is she Catholic?
Or, is her family super conservative? Will they disown her if you guys continue to live in sin?
No? Oh, okay then don’t get—
Wait, is this like a health insurance thing?
Or are you trying to get some tax breaks, or . . . ?
Oh, okay, then don’t get—
Is this a green card thing?
Or some political statement I’m not understanding?
Oh, okay, then don’t get—
[Ticking off reasons on his hands.]
Are you moving to the Bible Belt?
Converting to Islam?
Looking to get in on that sister-wife thing and wanna make it legal?
Is a grandparent dying?
Are either of you suffering from a terminal illness?
Do you have to be married in order to qualify for some sort of inheritance a la the 1999 Chris O’Donnell/Renée Zellweger film The Bachelor?
No?
[He gets faster and more erratic as he ticks off ideas.]
Are you adopting a child and you need to become more desirable candidates? Looking to gain custody of children from a previous marriage to spite your ex? Do you already have some bastard children who are just now getting to the age that they can ask, “Why are my mommy and daddy not married?” And they’re really hounding you?
Do you already have some bastard dogs who are just now getting to the age that they learned human speech and they’re all “why are my mommy and daddy not married?” And they’re really HOUNDING you? (That was a dog pun).
Is this a scam to register for a bunch of stand mixers on your gift registry and then resell them on eBay?
Do you have to break some sort of gypsy curse?
Or are you looking for a really good excuse to get out of the priesthood?
Does she just have a bunch of flowers and a really great-fitting white dress lying around and you’re all, “WHAT THE HAY!”
Is one of you really old and wealthy and the other Anna Nicole Smith?
OH, IS ONE OF YOU GEORGE CLOONEY? BECAUSE THAT MAKES SENSE IF SHE IS ACTUALLY GEORGE CLOONEY STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING, GO DOWN TO THE COURTHOUSE, AND LOCK THAT DOWN!
[Shouting now.]
BUT IF YOU’RE JUST HAVING A HARD TIME WITH THE IDEA OF GETTING ALL THE PEOPLE WHO
LOVE YOU IN ONE ROOM TO CELEBRATE YOUR CHOICE TO SPEND YOUR LIFE WITH YOUR ROMANTIC PARTNER, IF THAT’S TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE? THEN MAYBE DON’T GET MARRIED!
[He takes a deep breath, composes himself.]
Yeah, but like I said, happy to be the best man and all. Mazel tov.
Baby Daddy in Prison
Alessandra Rizzotti
SEMAJ, 19 to 25
SEMAJ sits in his prison cell after a visit from his girlfriend. He is talking to his cellmate.
SEMAJ Man, why do women gotta be buggin’? My girl is gettin’ on me for not being able to get out o’ lockdown for my baby’s first birthday. She’s all in my lunch tryin’ to figure out what I do here all day. You know we don’t do nothin’. She want me to bake a cake or somethin’? Blow up balloons? I’m about to jump the couch!
[He sighs, plopping down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.]
Her mama sayin’ we shouldn’t have this baby, but I know we’s able to do it. Shit, I don’ never knew my dad. I’m not perfect or nothin’, but I have a lot o’ love to give. At least I gonna get to know this baby. I would give up my Sega Game Gear for a new baby carriage, ya know? Wheat bread instead of Cheetos, right? No more Red Bull. Just milk, right? They say you have to be healthy and shit when you gonna be raisin’ babies, so I gon’ have to stop hittin’ up 7-Eleven for dem frozen dinners and breakfast burritos. I’ll prob’ly sell my skateboard so I can get dem diapers too.
Life’s about payin’ the bills, and when you don’t, you go put yo’self out on the street. I ain’t here because I wanted to. I was just survivin’. My brotha said I could go do a deal, and then the po-po showed in the hood right when I got there. Shiiit. I’ll be out when the baby is like one and a half, though. At least it’s not ten years, right?
Man, what are you in here for? Ohhhhh duuude, I forgot. You prob’ly won’t see your kids ever again . . . woah . . . I didn’t mean to offend you or nothin’ in sayin’ that, but truth’s the truth.
[He pauses and looks over his shoulder.]