Audition Arsenal for Women in their 20's
Page 7
SHEVAT: Sometimes I smell the side of the bed where Brian sleeps. It smells like him.
[SILVA: I smell Sammie’s armchair on occasion. When I’m feeling lonely. It still smells like him. Fifteen years and it hasn’t lost the scent. It’s miraculous I think.]
I lie on his side of the bed and delve into the smell. I smell and smell and melt into the mattress. Melt right through it.
[SILVA: I used to fall asleep in that chair, for years after he left I’d curl up and fall asleep in it, God keep him.]
I can feel my skin again. I haven’t felt my skin since I was five or so. Out in the sun, y’know. With the sun and the breeze and the grass I could really feel my skin. And then it was gone. I forgot I had skin or that skin could feel. — But yesterday I woke up and it was there. It was all tingly and shimmerific. Like light was breaking through all my hair follicles. I could feel it growing. And dying. And laughing. Skin moves, it’s always moving and dancing, and laughing all over you.
[SILVA: I have felt my skin before, but it’s rare.]
I wanted to lie in bed and luxuriate all around in it. But I wanted to go outside and dance around in the sun and street-lights and water. It’s so much. I don’t know where to put it all. It’s not like drugs, you don’t feel burdenified. It’s clean, shimmering. Like I’m breaking open into light.
Thoughts and Remembrance
By Jennifer Miller
Bernice (Bern): twenty, “radical” college student, plain, stocky
Dramatic
Bern enters slightly drunk. She has been going out with Josh, a Jewish actor. Bern is thrilled to finally have her first boyfriend at the ripe old age of twenty. Diane, Bern’s perfect older sister, is on the couch sleeping. Diane has unexpectedly returned home following the collapse of her flawless marriage. She is temporarily living on the couch, refusing to share her old room with Bern. A FedEx envelope is on the floor near Diane (containing divorce papers). Bern bangs into the table.
BERN: Shit! (She starts to laugh.) Oh my God, he loves me! OK, I know I’m acting stupid. Diane wake up. I have something to tell you. It’s unbelievable! I know I always told you I didn’t care about love, only about truth and justice, well, I was full of shit. I mean I do care about that, but the way Josh listens and believes in me and touches me. Oh my God, the way he kisses me—Diane, wake up. Don’t you want to hear about it? I’m in love. Was it like that with you and Steven? Did you act stupid and giggle all the time? Did your heart race when he looked at you? Were you all tingly when he touched you? I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love before. I mean, ya know outside the family. It’s amazing — Diane wake up! Diane. Diane!
(She picks up the empty prescription bottle.)
MOM!
The Six Basic Rules
By Mara Lathrop
Louise Pettigrew: twenties, a brand-new bride
Comic
After meeting in a car crash and a wild, one-week courtship, James and Louise get married. In this scene, Louise is explaining to James why she doesn’t want to go into the honeymoon suite.
LOUISE: You bashed in my fender and completely swept me off my feet. For this whole glorious week, why, I’ve barely even breathed since then, from that first moment of … impact. My entire brain has been consumed with you, James darling, cataloging you, what you say, what you do, all your parts, your eyes, your hands, the dear little hairs on your neck, your voice, your smile, your shoulders … Ahhhh … And then yesterday was the first time I talked to my mother in over a week. When I called her and said, “Ma, I met a fella, and we’re getting married — tomorrow!” But was she happy for me? Was she thrilled? My mother? No, because according to my mother, I’m making a miserable mistake. Well, naturally, I defended us, James. Because my mother is NOT going to tell me whom I should love or when. And then today and the ceremony and our vows, then the cake and champagne and the rice in my hair and the limo and then the hotel and the elevator … And then, then I got to thinking, finally got to, you know, thinking, James. This is a very big step — he could turn out to be a con man or an ax murderer. (Off his look.) Well, I’m sorry, but you could, and once we cross that threshold, once we’re on the other side of that door, it’ll be too late. We will be married. And I mean, yes, we already are married, I know that, but in there — we’ll be MARRIED.
A Rustle of Wings
By Linda Eisenstein
Mara: twenties to thirties, shy in matters of romance
Dramatic
Mara has had an unusual encounter in a bar. She has met Jewell, a woman who appears to have wings. She tries to explain to her friends Frankie and Shraine how profoundly Jewell has affected her.
MARA: My heart is fluttering, racing, faster than I can count. Like a bird. And I think, oh, I get it, that’s why birds have such short life spans. That’s the price of flight. Their heart outruns their life, outruns their good sense. You can’t live with that kind of heart-pounding excitement, and last. I can’t feel anything except this pounding, this shuddering, in my head and my chest and my knees and … (She stops.) Except suddenly, I could. There was this itching, this intense feeling crawling up my spine. And I could hear the beating of thousands of pairs of wings, like a humming. It started to fill the back of my throat with something sweet, something I’d never tasted. It got me so dizzy, I had to hold onto the table, or I knew I’d topple over. I was afraid to let go, and afraid to look at her. So, I ducked my head, and looked at the ashtray for a really really long time, until my head stopped spinning. And when I looked up again? She was gone.
Jugger’s Rain
By Ron Mark
Dulcy: twenty-five; lovely, ebullient, outgoing, caring, devoted; trace of a rural West Virginia accent; now caught in the throes of an emotional upheaval in her life
Seriocomic
Dulcy is married to Carney, Jugger’s older brother. Covering her fear, despair, and anger that her marriage is falling apart, she talks to Jugger about how wonderful Carney had been: the early times of romance, elation, hilarity, and his dynamic ability as a preacher. But her anguish breaks through as she reveals where Carney now considers her in his emotional life.
DULCY: Carney had your hands, Jugger. He did. Strong and hard. Rough like the bark of that tree. I loved his hands. Dirt and grease under his nails. Tobacco on his teeth. Beer on his breath. He wasn’t at all like the rich boys I knew. Carney was all muscle and sweat, dreams and heart. And Kiss. God, how he could kiss me. Kiss me with his soul. Make the earth move, you know … and talk. All night sometimes, about the world, his dreams … stand right up there on that porch. Preach the devil out of them poor people that came around to hear him. All them poor sinners. Carney could scare anything out of anybody. Bring them back to the Lord. Remember old Billy Clapper? Billy the Bottle? Carney scared that bottle out of Billy for a whole year. And Mog Blue. Had poor Moggy on her knees. Screaming out the name of every man she ever did it with. Half the county. Remember the candles? How Carney’d light up all those candles in a circle? Dragged poor Moggy into that … Ring of fire. Made all those people sing and cry. Saving all those crooked, busted up people … He loved those people. They loved him. Come a hundred miles to hear Carney scare the devil out of them. God, that man had such love inside him. Got it from your daddy.
(Tears begin.)
All the loving in this house. All the kissing you’d do. The laughing and crying … And now, I’m not his wife. I’m not anything to him!
ANGRY/FED UP
Lavinia Speaks
By Jennie Redling
Lavinia Lewis: twenties, African-American, hiding behind smiles and a fragile self-control
Seriocomic
Lavinia Lewis is a struggling actress. Among several part-time jobs, she works for an attorney. Meanwhile, her father is ill and Lavinia is convinced he might live, but he seems to be giving up. Watching him, Lavinia sees her own lifelong inability to fight for herself, and her buried anger surfaces. Here, she reaches the end of her patience with the attorney
’s disregard for her feelings.
LAVINIA: But, Mr. Collins, with all due respect, it’s New Year’s Eve, the court buildings are closed, so this won’t be filed anyway. Yes, alright, alright, I’ll finish it — (She types like a demon.) Mr. Caca — anyone ever tell you you got a nun’s fingernails? I mean there are white people an there are WHITE people and you are — I mean you are BLEACHED, Mr. Caca, you are a WAX CANDLE. No offense, but sometimes I have a hard time going to movies cause sooner or later I know I’m gonna watch white people make love and I got to tell you, that is one of the most singularly NASTY sights, like watching two folks in some fake silent ecstasy while we get to admire the results of their personal trainers. Don’t once see nobody happy or smiling or caring about nobody, just two bodies starved and weight-lifted into inorganic matter, devoid of character, fixated on this worrisome, hungry, graspy, greedy dance.
Mr. Collins, it’s on the file cabinet, you just gotta sign it and get it notarized and stick it up your backside. That’s right, sir, you heard me right — you have your ass a happy new year.
Heaven in Your Pocket
By Mark Houston, Francis J. Cullinan, and Dianne M. Sposito
Kay Lee Davis: twenty-two, sweet yet feisty, with her heart full of musical dreams
Dramatic
Kay Lee, an aspiring songwriter and songstress, longs to go to Nashville but must confront her over-bearing, domineering mother, and the career she didn’t have, before she can break away. Finally, realizing that her mother has deceived her into signing over her rightfully inherited property, Kay Lee reaches the breaking point in the loss of her father, career, and trust, and reacts to the betrayal.
KAY LEE: You never let me figure out anything on my own! It’s always do as you say, follow the leader. How do you do it, Mama? Pushin’ me forward and yankin’ me back all at the same time! “Be a success but don’t you dare leave me!” “Use your gifts but take me along.” My head hurts from tryin’ to figure out all your double messages. Worse, I got a big ol’ pain in my heart. You tricked me out of what is rightfully mine. How could you? I’m your daughter! Are you too proud, Mama? You didn’t even ask me! Is this about Daddy and how much you hated him? I remind you of him every day of your life, don’t I? He was gone long before he was dead, Mama! You’re mad at somebody who isn’t even here! I forgave him, Mama, why can’t you? Is this about the career you didn’t have in Nashville because of him? That’s it, isn’t it? Well, you have no one to blame for that but yourself! Just ’cause you didn’t pursue a career, Mama. Just ’cause you chose to drive around in a lipstick red paint job Ford sellin’ somethin’ other than your God-given talent! Get real, Mama. This is about what you did one night twenty-two years ago in Nashville and the mistake you made was me.
Robertson & Kyle
By Adam Simon
Blair: mid to late twenties
Seriocomic
As their mother gets ill and eventually passes away two sisters begin to unravel. In this monologue Blair is attempting to get something accomplished on the same day as finding out about her mother’s death. A call to a utility company becomes charged quickly as tempers flare.
BLAIR: (On speakerphone.) (Extreme whisper for text in bold.) We’ve paid our bills on time. So I don’t know what you’re talking about. There must have been a mix up in the mail or something. But surely there was no reason for you to turn the heat off. That’s just inhumane, turning us into popsicles like it’s some kind of sport or something … Excuse me? Don’t speak to me that way please. I’ve dumped a ton of money into what you people do (or at least what you people are supposed to be doing) and what do I have to show for it? Huh? It’s not like I can take my heat with me wherever I go. You ever think of that? And how much of that money is spent when nobody’s home, answer me that? You can’t treat me like this because you aren’t qualified, the last thing I need is somebody — … (Her facial expression twists to that of absolute shock, she picks up the phone.) Excuse me, but my children are in the room and you were on mother-fucking speakerphone you stupid cocksucker, so why don’t you just fuck off. (She hangs up the phone.) Tommy, sweetheart, don’t sit so close to the space heater … Because Mommy said so!
Get Real
By Kay Rhoads
Alexandra DuPou: late teens, attractive, bright, loves life, dramatic and optimistic, but can be narcissistic and rigid in her judgment
Dramatic
Alexandra DuPou has come home to find her mother preparing a “welcome home” dinner for her father, whom she has never seen, who is coming for dinner after being released from prison. Alexandra, who was born after her father was sent to prison, is a successful high-achieving young woman and has no interest in any contact with an ex-convict father.
ALEXANDRA: Oh, I get it. This is that ancient film, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner with Katherine what’s her name and the black guy. Well, you can take one plate off the table. He’s a convict. My God. I don’t believe this … Mother! And we are going to what! … sit down and have some kind of family thing? Well, not me. I don’t know this man. I’ve never believed it, really. Not for one minute did I ever believe that my father was a convict. My father died in a mountain-climbing expedition. Mt. Kilimanjaro. It was in my fourth grade geography book. This little black speck on the picture of the mountain. My teacher said it was just a piece of rock jutting through the snow. It could have been him. The whole class laughed. So, what was I supposed to say, Mom? When I was ten and someone asked? Dad? Oh, he just offed someone but you know he’s your basic nice guy throwing the ball around with his kids and washing the car on Saturdays. And now? What do I say now? Come over and meet Dad who, due to, oh, some circumstances, has never been home a Saturday in my life? “Sarah, meet my father. You know … the mountain climber? The one I said died on Mt. Kilimanjaro? It’s a miracle. He’s only been away studying the circumstances of the formation of rocks and how to break them.” “Sarah, meet Dad. He’s been captivated by, you know, circumstances, for something like my whole life and now he’s home.” He’s not is he? Home. Like in our house. He’s not home is he? Or going to be, I mean, when he shows up … ever … be home.
Optional
By Linda Eisenstein
Mary Ellen: twenties, normally accommodating
Seriocomic
Mary Ellen has gone with her fiancé, Jack, his sales manager, and his manager’s girlfriend, on a weekend trip to a woodland resort in the woods. She is mortified to find out Jack’s “surprise”: It is a nudist camp. She has been alone, steaming, refusing to take off her swimming suit.
MARY ELLEN: (To her fiancé.) A spa, you said. A “rustic resort.” “Todd and Ginger go up there all the time, they absolutely love it.” I can’t believe I am even socializing with people named Todd and Ginger, thank you very much. Much less … A whole weekend of this! And you, you can hardly keep your eyes off the scenery. God! (Gets up.) I’m going … I don’t know where I’m going. (Sits down again.) Did you notice that Ginger has a tattoo of a cartoon chipmunk on her right ass cheek? I shouldn’t have to know that about her. This is Todd and Ginger’s idea of relaxation? … A “clothing optional hot springs.” It doesn’t look freaking optional to me. I’m the only one in two square miles who doesn’t have all her parts dangling out.
Optional
By Linda Eisenstein
Mary Ellen: twenties, normally accommodating
Seriocomic
Mary Ellen has gone with her fiancé, Jack, his sales manager, and his manager’s girlfriend, on a weekend trip to a woodland resort in the woods. She is mortified to find out Jack’s “surprise”: It is a nudist camp. She has been alone, steaming, refusing to take off her swimming suit.
MARY ELLEN: (To her fiancé.) See, that’s the problem, Jack. I’ve been sitting here for what?, an hour and forty-five minutes, trying to figure it out. Figure out what I’m doing engaged to a guy who would drag me into the bare-ass naked Northern California woods — with his sales manager and his bimbette girlfriend — without
letting me know what to expect. Because I know damn well YOU knew what was up here. Yes you did! You did, don’t bother denying it, I can hear that little creak in your voice, the one you get whenever you’re trying to push through a dubious sale. And I, gullible pinhead that I am, walked right into it. So I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’ve been asking for it — the way I’ve always been such a “good sport,” you know? Such a good girl that I wouldn’t say boo if somebody served me leftover rubber tires, I’d just smile, pour ketchup on them, and saw away at them politely until they were gone. How did I get to be like that? Is that the kind of woman I think I’m supposed to be?
A Summer Wasting
By Erica Rosbe
Joni: twenty-six, frumpy but idealistic
Seriocomic
Joni has been working at Cutco Knives until today. She is in the Cutco Sales Manager’s office speaking to her boss, Rita.
JONI: I don’t believe in them. They are too sharp. Too dangerous. They cut bone, slice it right through with their three-part serrated-edge system and I don’t think we should make things that sharp. At least not for our cutlery needs … I don’t know if you saw the paper or not but I’m in it, me, right under the horo-scopes, because I saved this woman from this creep. He was going to hurt her and he didn’t because I rang the doorbell and I saw him and I pulled out the model 5 vegetable slicer and he stared at me and then at the knife and I said, “This cuts metal asshole” and he took off out the back door. And that was nice because I felt so powerful, hard-core, like I finally was needed, all my work at last worth something of goodness. Then the woman looked at me and said, “Jesus, that knife saved my life,” and I realized it wasn’t my power. It was the knife. The model 5 vegetable slicer, the tool in my hand. Not me. And I don’t believe in that. We have middlemen between us and what we eat! Utensils. And I peddle them. I don’t stand for utensils! This whole company revolves around gadgets that will make the dinner process smoother, slicker, prettier. I am sick of the cleanness of the Cutco cut. I am going to use my hands more! I am going to cook by ripping skin from potato and meat from bone and anything I cannot tear with my hands I will slice apart with my front teeth. Rita. I am not losing my sales position here at Cutco, I am re-claiming my right to dinner as it was supposed to be eaten. Cutco knives are sharp, yes, but my incisors are sharp too. I’m sorry. I quit.