PLAYWRITING

DATES WITH DEATH

An excerpt of two monologues from Dates with Death.

A man sitting across from a girl as he begins to talk. Around them are more tables with couples beginning to chat.

                                                                                       Stephen:

Well, uh, hi. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Stephen, with a ph. Wish I had a PHD, but no, it’s Stephen with a ph. I’m not really in a business that needs a PHD. You see, I make coffins. Big coffins, wood coffins, coffins en masse, little candy coffins for the gift shop- oh, yeah, we have a gift shop in a funeral home. You’d be surprised how many people show up to a wake and forget to bring flowers or candy for the grieving, then panic and come in to the gift shop to buy our overpriced floral arrangements. When you’re feeling guilty, you’ll pay any price. 

I guess the question I get the most is, do I make baby coffins? Well, yeah. I do. I promise, it’s not as morbid as it sounds. It can be kinda rewarding sometimes. One time I had an interesting custom job, where this lady wanted me to make her kid a coffin themed around Space Jam, where I had to put Bugs Bunny wearing a cross on there while MJ did a sick slam dunk. It was a pain in the ass to do the slam dunk especially, and then the kid didn’t even die! Now I just have an unused mini Space Jam coffin just lying around, and like, what am I supposed to do with that? Sell it on eBay? Wait for another cancer kid to love Space Jam so much they wanna be laid to rest with an anthromorphic rabbit? 

​

I hear they’re making a new Space Jam with Lebron. Kids love Lebron. I could always replace Michael with him.

​

A bell rings and people start shifting.

​

Well, it was nice to meet you! This speed dating thing isn’t so bad, huh? Hey, call me!

​

The people on stage freeze. The lights shift to another couple, already in conversation.

​

                                                                                            Katie:

And so that’s why I can’t eat Chipotle without thinking of bees. Hey, I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well, so I’m just going to lay this out on the table. That’s cool, right? Cool. So my dad’s side of family is like super, like, deep south pride, Confederate flag waving, yippie ki yay hicks. Well, no, that’s not very nice. It’s true, but not very nice. Anyway, so I was getting home from work- I work at a Walgreens, by the way. Between you and me, I steal salted nuts all the time because not that many people buy them, so my manager doesn’t notice if one or two is gone. So I get home, and I expect to see my dad watching the Mets lose again. But instead, he’s sitting alone on the couch, just straight up weeping. And I’m thinking, is it playoff season already? Usually Dad curses more than cries when the Mets eat it. But no, he’s just, sobbing. And then I see the phone in his hand, and he sees me. And we just stare at each other for like, a weird moment in time where I have to see my dad just so broken. Then he says to me, “Your grandpa has liver cancer.” And then he hugged me, and I had a couple thoughts running through my mind. One, we don’t really talk to most of Dad’s family because of the whole Confederate thing? And two, because I never thought my dad would care about his dad so much that he would cry over him. Every time he talked about him, it would mostly be about how he wouldn’t give tips and would leave bible quotes, and how he once set fire to his neighbors tractor because he saw him watching Ellen. 

But then I realized that despite how much he was disgusted by his father, he still didn’t want to see him dead. And that compassion amazed me, ‘cause I’m not sure I’m capable of that just yet. Anyway, we hugged for a while, and then we put on a movie. I think it was Space Jam? I love that funky green dude. 

I guess that the reason I’m saying this is because I want to be with someone as compassionate as my dad.

If this is, like, too much for you, I super understand.

The bell rings, and the person in front of Katie immediately gets up.

Well, uh, nice meeting you!

As she says this, Stephen sits down in front of Katie, They all open their mouths to begin their monologues, but stop, realizing they were talking over each other. They share a laugh together, then begin talking as lights fade out.

UNTITLED MONOLOGUE

A monologue from an as of now untitled work regarding domestic abuse.

                                                                                        SARAH:

I didn’t mean it, I swear. I… it all started out so small. I was coming home from school- we had a stage makeup workshop so I stayed late. We were learning how to do like, fight injuries, and it was really cool. Then I took a different bus home, because the 56 doesn’t run past 6? Anyway, I walked up my driveway and… I heard it again. I hate it, I hate it, I…- I walked in the back instead and tried to go quietly to my room, cause, I just don’t know what to do in that situation, I’m not properly equipped, what am I supposed to do? So I try and creep in, and be as silent as possible, and then it’s too silent. I see her then. She’s in the corner, huddled up, hugging her knees like they’ll save her. And he’s towering over her, a drink in one hand, a vengeance in the other. And then he turns around, and I just run. I wanted to help, I wanted to say STOP, not again, stop hurting her! But I just ran. I’m a coward. I ran and I ran and I only stopped when someone stopped me, seeing me running by a busy highway with my stage makeup still on, looking like I had a broken nose. I don’t even remember her name- is that wrong? I don’t think I did anything right, I just don’t know. They took me with them and she called 911, but… it was too late. It was too much this time.

​

It’s all my fault.