Tag Archives: love

death, hate, love, murder

ZOMBIE HATE

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[A seventy-year-old drunk, skeletal and haggard.]

I sometimes wish zombies existed.

And no, I’m not crazy…I just miss my dead daughter.

I don’t want her to come back as a zombie either. That’d be awful, worse than missing her. She didn’t just up and die anyway… she was murdered. There’s a big difference.

Although I didn’t give her much thought when she was alive. I couldn’t.  I was brimming with hate and anger; always shit-faced drunk or just sober enough to make some money for more booze. I was also an asshole to her and to her mother.

But on the day she got murdered, when the police caught the sonofabitch and they told me how he had made my little girl suffer, just out of pleasure… well, I stopped drinking right then and there. It was easy. I didn’t want to drown my pain anymore. I needed it so I could focus it on the murderer, with all its intensity, all its venom.

During the trial, I wished they would let him go free… so I could kill him myself. But they sent him to jail. Many years.

And me? Well, I remained sober, got a job, cleaned up my act. I even started exercising. I just wanted to be alive when that sonofabitch got out. I was tempted by religion too but, again, I didn’t want anything  interfering with my hate.

Thirty years went by. I lived a normal life. Uneventful. I didn’t suffer. Didn’t feel pleasure. I just did the time with him…waiting for mine to come.

And it did.

The day he got out, I followed him into an alley and shot him six times. Then went straight to the first bar I saw and got drunk.

I’ve been drunk since… because as soon as killed that sonofabitch, I knew my hate  wouldn’t die along with him. And indeed, it’s still inside me, more painful than ever.

That’s why I said I wish zombies existed… because if that sonofabitch was one of them, I could spend the rest of my life killing him time and time again.

But I’m afraid this hate of mine is the only possible zombie.

It must be because I don’t see a way to get rid of it.

Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016

love, old age

A SLOW DANCE

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[A 60-year-old man, bald but still attractive. He looks at peace with a content expression.]

“Susie and I were married for thirty years. We were happy, really happy.

Our best friends, the Olsons, were happily married too… that’s probably why we bonded so well.

Stuart was a nice guy, easy to talk to, good heart…

Lizzie, his wife, was… is beautiful, smart, full of life… Definitely something else.

We were so close we would go on vacation together, spend the weekends, sometimes we’d meet up after work for a drink.

Then, one day, Lizzie and I noticed my wife and her husband seemed to be getting even closer… I knew by the way Susie looked at Stuart; Lizzie saw how Stuart laughed at Susie’s jokes.

At first, we didn’t give it too much thought. After all, their personalities were very compatible, so it was only natural they got along so well.

In a way, Lizzie and I allowed the relationship to grow. We’d even encouraged them to just go together to the movies or to dinner when we weren’t up to it.

And yes, of course, we had our suspicions. Lizzie or I mentioned the possibility of them having an affair… and then we’d kid each other about our jealousy, our insecurities…

Then, not long ago, Lizzie called me… Stuart had confessed he was in love with Susie.

I asked my wife if she felt the same way about Stuart and she confirmed it. The following week they moved out and rented an apartment, ready to spend the rest of their days together.

Soon after, Lizzie and I did the same…

We thought they would never leave.”

Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016

destiny, love

IMPERFECT FUTURE

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[A good-looking man on a red polo shirt. He’s fifty, but you’d guess forty. He seems the pragmatic type, missing some deeper emotions.]

It’s so silly when you think about it…

I was eighteen… a friend asked me to go with him on a double date…

The other girl – who wasn’t that attractive I must say – claimed to be a psychic and insisted on reading my palm…. For shit and giggles I guess…

I didn’t believe in those things, but I wasn’t opposed either, or at least I wasn’t back then.

And so she began looking at my palm and telling me all these things about my life, my health, my studies; obvious stuff…

At some moment she turned silent…

I asked her what was going on, but she refused to tell me.

Of course, I insisted…

She then pointed at this line in my palm and said that, one day, I’d meet the love of my life, my true love… but that she would die soon afterwards.

Again, I’m not superstitious, but that prediction obsessed me for a long time

For starters, it made me afraid of falling in love… or more afraid I should say.

And then, on the other hand, those girls I took more seriously… well, those I got disillusioned with after a while… when I saw they weren’t dying.

Then I got over it and, a few years later, I met a girl.

We married.

I was happy, or at least I thought I was.

From time to time, I would remember that silly prediction and laugh at it…. And at myself for half believing it.

Then it happened…

My oldest son had just turned eight… he got invited to a birthday party.  My wife couldn’t take him, so I did…

That’s where I saw her for the first time.

Of course I thought she was pretty, beautiful in fact; but you know, I was married…

I swear I don’t remember how we started talking but, before we left that party, I knew I was in love with her, more than I had ever been with anyone else, including my wife.

She gave me her number. I called her and we met… in secret… she was married too.

We discussed a possible relationship; she said she’d think about it…

We kissed but never made love.

The next day she died… car crash.

Did I kill her by loving her?

Or did I decide I loved her just because she died?

My worst fear is that it was all mere chance.”

Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016