PLAY AT HOME - MONOLOGUES

 
 
  Robert Smith  
 


If  Iíd known then all of this would have been completely different it wouldnít have been like this.  It wasnít that, it wasnít that at all, nothing so clean, nothing so perfect. Was it far? I canít really remember, donít know.  There were three reasons, I felt sick, most of them were asleep and it just didnít feel right at the time.  Baby baby, baby baby.  Was it as cold as it is here?  Itís not cold here, itís been a lot colder.  Moving,  moving moving, always like you want to leave, if you want to leave just go.  Anna? Chance? what have they got to do with it?, what have they got to do with it? What have they got to do with it?  If you looked at them in a certain way they jumped like that, like that, like that.  Why donít you just listen, It wasnít that it wasnít that at all, nothing so clean, nothing so perfect, nothing so clean, nothing so perfect it wasnít like that canít think canít think, itís too late I canít stay here anymore, no I donít, no no I canít stay here anymore

 
     

 


 
 
  Budgie  
 


The famous Prince Albert in London was noted for all he had done
And Kingy & Queeny from Blackburn went to see him with young Albert their son
A grand little lad was young Albert all dressed in his best quite a swell
With a stick with horses at handle the finest that Harrods could sell

They didn't have much fun in Soho the clubs they were seedy and small
There's no wrecks nobody drinking in fact nought to laugh at all
The next day for further amusement they paid and went into the zoo
Where there's Polar Bears, Lions & Peccaries, aye and Vodka & Tonics too

There was one little Peccary called Gregory his nose was all covered in scars
He laid a coenobulant posture with the side of his face to the bars
Now Albert had heard about Peccaries how they were ferocious and wild
But to see Gregory lying so peaceful it didn't seem right to the child

So Albert the brave little fellow not showing a morsel of fear
Took a stick with his horses at handle and pushed it in Gregory's ear
You could see that the Peccary didn't like it and rousing himself from his nap
Pulled Albert inside of the cage with him and swallowed him leaving his hat

Now Kingy who'd seen the occurrence and not knowing what to do next
Said "Queeny, young Peccary's ate our Albert" and Queeny said "Eee I am vexed"
Then Kingy & Queeny from Blackburn, quite rightly when all's said and done
Complained to the animal keeper that the Peccary had eaten their son

The keeper was quite nice about it, he said "What  nasty mishap,
Are you sure it's your boy he's eaten?" Kingy said "Am I sure? There's his cap, (there's his cap)"
The manager had to be sent for, he came, he said "What's to do?"
Kingy said "Young Peccary's ate our Albert and him in his Sunday clothes too"

Then Queeny said "Right's right young fellow I think it's a shame and a sin
For the Peccary to go and eat Albert and after we'd paid to come in"
The manager wanted no trouble he took out his purse right away
Saying "How much to settle the matter?" Kingy said "How much do you usually pay?"

At this Queeny got a bit awkward when she thought where her Albert had gone
She said "No no someone's got to be summoned" So that was decided upon
And off they went to the police station in front of the Magistrate chap
They told him what happened to Albert and proved it by showing his cap

The Magistrate gave his opinion that no one was to blame
And he said that he hoped King & Queeny would have other sons to their name
At that mother got blazing and "Thank you Sir kindly" said she
"What waste our lives raising children to feed another Peccary? not me"

 
     

 


 
 
  Siouxsie  
 


She couldnít account for the emptiness she felt here in the heart of the beast.  Success, bright lights, noisy friends music, something always happening, happening all so fast, but something was lacking, she yearned for something solid, something that was always there, unchanged.  The decision was made,  all had been arranged,  she was going home. 

Outside the window the scenery changed quite suddenly, where before all stood shoulder to shoulder, now all was quite isolated.  The winter evening drawing in made it seem all the more desolate, cut off.  She felt her first tingle of panic. 

She got off the train deriding her foolish imagination, how absurd, feeling quite thrilled now and looking forward to the short walk from the station to her home through the woods.  Ahh the woods, how exciting, she was already feeling that she was embarking on a small adventure. 

Standing at the mouth of the woods looking down itís long black throat she took her first steps in and was slowly consumed.  It was dark now, with the moon making brief appearances through the branches, serving as a tease not a comfort.  It would be fine if she could focus her sight to tunnel vision, but all to the side and behind was alive.  The next tingle of panic and this made things worse, the path narrowed, the branches closed in and the sound of a thousand flick knives echoed,  the trees had their claws out, not just a tingle of panic now, run.  

She escaped, spat out as it were, out of breathe, she stood outside her own front door.  Then she was inside with the family, disappointed, well yes.  It wasnít the fanfare welcome she expected or needed.  Oh it was very warm, and they were very eager to hear about all her tales, but she felt ill at ease, she imagined herself being suffocated, what with all the plans they were making for her to stay for not just a few days, but maybe a week or two or more, ignoring her protestations like she wasnít there, and all the while watching her with those greedy possessive eyes.  

When it was time for the good hearty meal she was relieved, she was hungry, um umm her mothers cooking, the meat had always had a unique taste to it, she must ask her for the secret. 

Seated at the table opposite both her sister and her mother she watched them, heads down, they were so intent on eating, such concentration, she herself took a few bites but found inexplicably that she had lost her appetite.  Every now and then they would look up and catch her eyes, making her feel embarrassed, guilty, but she couldnít stop watching them, it was fascinatingly ugly, from fork to mouth then back to plate never ending, the meal was over. 

That night the silence was unbearable, her sleep disturbed by the door being opened, or was she still asleep?, all so confusing.  Opening her eyes she looked up to see a figure hovering at the foot of her bed, was it her sister? All was still silent, her fear stopped her from calling out and the figure floating out. 

She was beside herself now, she flunk the bedclothes off and ran down the stairs turning on lights as she did so.  Something stopped her in her tracks at the door to the front room, she heard the hushed bickerings of a tug of war, ďItís mine, itís mine, give it to meĒ.  She opened the door and there was her mother on all fours with her sister pulling at something raw and dripping red.  They both looked up and caught her with their eyes, pinned her to the spot, they were coming closer and closer, ďTake me back, take me backĒ 

Look to where you have arrived not to where you have come from

 
     

 


 
 
  Steven Severin  
 


THE ASSASSIN'S SCRIPT 

Kennedy got off to a bad start...
fired by blood and quicksand...
glass spiraled round his spine
bursting through his target bones
splintering into a million laughing fists. 

(Endless slow-motion movie loop
reveals the other gunman) 

The Ruby barrel glistening...
kiss the throne, boy...
Fortune creaks an ugly wink...
crooked arched gray with spite
the chance of a lifetime
Blood pumping through Papal cloth...
Headless chicken G-men flounder
in the gunshot wake...
A networked matinee slapstick dance... 

The tragedy was a macabre copy of the film...
Limousine actress in a public disguise
mourning a realized obsession
Dead days ashes scented by lilies
vibrant - alive w/despair
"Roll back those pretty blue eyes
play dead baby, play dead" 

Fanfare blast...Motorcade flash
words charged by electricity banners
tongues tied to bedpost
melting tonsils red-hot branding iron
steamy, breathy whispers...
metal violence in nail and vein...
toneless sweety-pie sentences
snipers in the rented pit
choosing targets - BIG GOO
(dribbling death against all the lampposts) 

Snapshot parody
A vaudeville scene
FBI plug the seeping ebony arteries
..born-again President...
resurrection in black phoenix and rainbow shapes 

(Endless newsreel loop
of the other gunman
leaving...)