Agnes of god

I. . . it was about two weeks ago. I was walking down the street one afternoon and I turned up the stairs into my flat and I looked back and he was there framed in the doorway looking up at me. I couldn’t see his face because the light came in from behind him and he was in shadow and he said, “I am Picasso.” And I said, “Well so what?” And then he said he wasn’t sure yet but he thinks that it means something in the future to be Picasso. He said that occasionally there is a Picasso and he happens to be him but that was okay. He said the twentieth century has to start somewhere and why not now. Then he said may I approach you and I said okay. He walked upstairs and picked up my wrist and turned it over and took his fingernail and scratched deeply on the back of my hand. In a second, in red, the image of a dove appeared. Then I thought, why is it that some guy who wants me can hang around for months, and I even like the guy but I’m not going to sleep with him, but some other guy says the right thing and I’m on my back, not knowing what hit me.             So the next thing I know he’s inside the apartment and I said what do you want and he said he wanted my hair he wanted my neck, my knees, my feet. He wanted his eyes on my eyes, his chest on my chest. He wanted the chairs in the room, the notepaper on the table; he wanted the paint off the walls. He wanted to consume me until there was nothing left. He said he wanted deliverance, and that I would be his savior. And he was speaking Spanish, which didn’t hurt I’ll tell you. Well at that point, the word “no” became like a Polish village: unpronounceable.

BETTY’S SUMMER VACATION

By Christopher Durang

(Speedy, upset, to herself): Where am I going to sleep tonight? I don’t know why the people in the ceiling let me leave. I don’t think I could have saved Mrs. Siezmagraff. I don’t feel too guilty about it. I mean, they all seemed really terrible. I feel bad for Trudy, sort of. . . but well, I don’t know what to think. (Looks out, includes the audience in her thoughts now)  Now, actually, I think I’d like to become a hermit. Or I might become a nun if I could live in a convent in an isolated area with no other people around, and where no one in the convent is allowed to speak ever. I’d like that if it was quiet, and peaceful, and if they didn’t care if I believed in God or not. (Another idea) Or maybe I could start my own community where people don’t speak. And we’d plant our own food, and we’d watch the birds in the trees. And maybe I’m having a breakdown. (Holds the sides of her head, as if it might fly apart) Or is it a breakthrough? (Hopeful; another possibility) Maybe it’s a bad dream I had, and am still having. (Looks around her) But I seem to be on the beach. And the house seems to be smoldering somewhere behind me in the distance. (The sound of the ocean) Isn’t the sound of the ocean wonderful? (Calming down slightly) What is it about it that sounds so wonderful? But it does. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel connected. (Realizing what she said before was a little off) Well, maybe I don’t have to join a convent where they don’t speak. Maybe that’s overreacting. But it is hard to be around civilization. I don’t like people. But there are nice people, though, aren’t there? Yes. I’m sure you’re very nice—although I’m just trying to ingratiate myself to you so you don’t try to cut any of my body parts off. (Laughs, then cries) Now I’m sad. (Suddenly looks up, scared) Now I’m frightened. (The emotions pass) No, now I’m fine. Listen to the ocean. That’s

why I wanted to come on this vacation, and have a summer share at the beach. I wanted to hear the ocean. But you know I forgot to listen to it the whole time I was with those people. But I’m going to listen to it now. (She listens and with her we hear the sound of the waves; tension leaves Betty’s face and body) Oh, that’s lovely.  Yes.  Ocean, waves, sand.  I’m starting to feel better.  (Smiles.  Closes her eyes>  Continues to relax her body. The sound of the ocean continues…)

NO PROBLEM by Catherine Butterfield (Off Off Broadway Plays #13)

I saw the most amazing thing the other day.  It was a couple of weeks ago. I was in my apartment, sitting on the couch, just sort of daydreaming, you know? I was thinking about all the things I had to do that day, and trying to get up the nerve to do them, —Oh, you know. Talk to the landlord about the leak in the bathroom. Call my agent.  And as I was sitting there, I began to realize that for some time I’d been hearing this same sound over and over again. It was kind of working its way into my brain, this sound. Kind of like the drip in the bathroom, only this was a voice, a male voice, and it was repeating the same one-syllable word over and over again. He was shouting it. I don’t know how long it had been part of my unconscious before I realized what it was. For some reason I went to the closet, put on my jacket, and started for the door. I’m not even quite sure why. To talk to the landlord, I guess. And as I reached the street, I saw the strangest sight. This man in a business suit was running up and down the street, ripping at his clothes, ricocheting off the cars, shouting over and over again, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I don’t know why, but he was. He was yelling out “Yes!” and just tearing up and down the street. And his suit coat, it was a really nice one, was lying on the street about a half a block away, and he was in the process of trying to get his tie off. But he was pulling at it in such a tortured way that I was afraid he was going to strangle himself. And everyone on the street was just standing there kind of shocked, you know? I mean, it takes a lot to shock people in this town, but everyone was just staring at him, open~mouthed. Because you see these guys on the street, these men with no homes who look so awful and make you feel so sad, and you know that a lot of them used to be successful. You know, they say a lot of these street people used to be executives or something. But you never actually see one in transition, you know what I mean? I mean, you never actually see someone at the absolute moment that they lose it. And you know that the moment before they were perfectly rational human beings, but now something has just snapped, and they’ll never be the same again. I mean, it was upsetting. You know what I mean?

LOVE OF A PIG

There’s nothing wrong with you Jenny!  It's not you. It's the rating system. On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate Joe?   A 10. Keep in mind that men aren't rated on looks, they're rated on power and position. Although Joe has incredible potential, he has no money, no car, no Pulitzer Prizes-he couldn't possibly be a 10.   I’ll give him a 6. How would you rate yourself?   Six?  Oh, you're at least a 7.5.  Let's just say you’re a 7 and Joe's a 6. One would think that Joe the 6, would be flattered to be with  Jenny the 7, right?  Wrong. A 6 wants a 6, so he doesn't have to feel inferior?  Right?  Wrong. A 6 wants a 10. And a 10 wants a ... 10.  And a 2 wants ." a 10.  Everyone wants a ... TEN!!!  Not negative.  Facts! But there are ways to beat the system. Depending on the angle from which you are being judged, you can get bonus points. A 20-year-old 6 being viewed by an old man automatically becomes at least a 9 based on her youth alone. Hopefully she knows the value of her youth, and doesn't sell it just for points. And, then there's always money-a rich woman being viewed by a poor man. Compassion. Success. Humor. And of course, love. Love adds five points to any woman's face. So the difference between acquiring points versus having them at the get go, equals the difference between growing on someone versus having someone fall for you. For example, Crystal is a fall-for, and I'm a grow-on.   And, Jenny,  obviously with Joe, you’re a grow-on. What'd you think you were, a fall-for?  Hey!  You look like it’s some kind of disease. I'm a grow-on. …I'm hardly a wart, Jenny!

Laugh's Lasts by Shannon Dare

ONCE UPON A MATTRESS

Well then how can you say such a thing, I want you to get married, how many times have I said to you I want you to get married. Only this morning I was saying to your father: I said Sextimus, I want that boy to get married, it just isn't normal for a boy that age to stay single I said after all he is a prince, don't forget that, and he is next in line for the throne. I mean we're not exactly the oldest people in the world but on the other hand we're not going to live forever and I would just feel much better, much easier, and much more relaxed in my mind if I knew that that boy were married, settled and set and that's absolutely verbatim, exactly what I said to your father this morning. Of course he didn't say anything, he never does, but you know him just as well as I do and I don't have to tell you how impossible he is. If he makes me miserable and makes me suffer then I'll just have to put up with it, but I will not allow it to effect my son's attitude toward him or me. He may be a mean, stupid, dreadful, selfish, rotten man, but he is your father and I want you to respect him. After all there is only one person who really cares about you and really worries about your health, your happiness and your future and that's exactly what I'm talking about right now, your future and I want to make myself absolutely clear that I want you to get married, but I don't want you to marry just anyone. Marriage is a lifetime partnership and I wouldn't want my little boy to make the same mistake I did and wind up miserable the way I did. You are a prince, and you must marry someone suitable, someone who's good enough, smart enough, and fine enough for my good, nice, sweet, beautiful baby boy. And of course she has to be a princess, I mean a real princess. A genuine bonafide princess, just as I was. And that is what you want, isn't it? Someone like me? Of course you do. Oh God if I were only twenty years younger. Just remember this, you must trust me.

Waiting for Guffman
written by Parker Posey, from "Waiting For Guffman" written by Christopher Guest

Libby: My name is Libby Mae Brown and this is my monologue. And, um, there's a bed right here and... windows. (points to the middle of the room) This is a hospital. The door's right through here. (The door is apparently right behind the window) Through here. Um, this is the hallway. And um, (grabs a stool) this is the chair that I sit in. And so, the bed is.. is right there. Um, I'll be just, you know, looking there. (grabs her bag) My stuff. (She sits on the stool and looks at her monologue) Oh! I don't start here. I start back in the hallway.  (She stands in the "hallway," breathes, puts on her character glasses. She holds her monologue the entire scene. Libby as "Susan" walks up to the "door," breathes deeply, and uses her foot to simulate knocking. She enters the "room.")
Libby as "Susan:" Billy? It's Susan. (She sits on the stool and gets a doll from her bag) I was going through my trunk of souvenirs and I found this doll. The doll we used to play with before the war. Before you went insane. You were sitting on that quilt that had at one time kept us warm and it was so worn, Billy, and it smelled of mothballs which brought back all those memories of those times that we spent in the attic. Locked up. With Muffin. (refers to the doll) And you told us that mother was wrong and we were right. Didn't you, Muffin? And I took care of you and Billy. But Billy was much more trouble than you, wasn't he, Muffin? Especially when he got to be bigger than Susan. And made her do things she did NOT want to do. Things that made her sick! And mother pretended she didn't know, but she did. (sighs) Well, who's lying in bed in an insane asylum plugged into a life support system? And who's wearing fine jewels and expensive clothes? (she takes off her glasses and waves her hair) And whose husband accidently died just recently and left me all his money? (She puts her glasses in her bag; she stands, walks toward the "bed," and proceeds to break character) 
Libby: Oh, this is a, there's a plug here that hooks up to where he's breathing and stuff. Um... lemme just take it back. (She sits back on the stool.)  Libby as "Susan:" And whose husband just accidently died and left her all his money? (she walks up to the "bed," unplugs the "plug" forcefully, and waves her hair) And who's on top and who's on bottom, now?? Huh?? Who's on top and who's on bottom, now?? (She walks to the "door.") I'll see you in Hell, Billy. But at least I'm gonna have some fun before I get there! (She has problems finding the "door," but then finally opens it and leaves.)
Libby: Scene!

When Harry Met Sally

While You Were Sleeping #1

While You Were Sleeping #2

The Holiday

In & Out

Klute

 

Eve's Bayou