Shorn, A Fragmented Di-Monologue
by Adam Hahn
353-0275
(Center Stage is the table. On the front side is a trash bag, taped between the table and a chair
to stay open. ADAM HAHN #1 and ADAM HAHN #2 stand to either side)
(Lights Up)
ADAM HAHN #1: I will be playing the part of Adam Hahn #1, and I will be reading a monologue
about long distance relationships.
ADAM HAHN #2: I will be playing the part of Adam Hahn #2, and I will be reading a monologue
about failed visual metaphors.
ADAM HAHN #1: The real Adam Hahn will not be speaking until the end, when he will deliver
the closing line. (Real ADAM waves)
(Fake Adams speak directly to the audience from now on. Real Adam lies down on the table
with his head over the trash bag.)
ADAM HAHN #2: Maybe the eggs were a mistake.
ADAM HAHN #1: I'm in love. It's wonderful.
ADAM HAHN #2: This might sound juvenile, but I think that things breaking on stage look really
cool.
ADAM HAHN #1: The only thing I can compare it to in my childhood is riding a bike too fast
down a hill that was too big and too steep.
ADAM HAHN #2: There is something beautiful and real about a once-complete object being
shattered into a million pieces.
ADAM HAHN #1: That feeling in my stomach, nervous yet invincible.
The wind playing through my hair.
That's probably the closest thing to love I ever experienced before the real thing.
ADAM HAHN #2: It isn't the same as something breaking in a movie.
ADAM HAHN #1: That's a lot like how it feels to hold her.
(Real Adam runs his fingers through his hair.)
ADAM HAHN #2: No stunt men, no blue screens, nothing computer generated, this is real. When
something breaks on stage, theatre stops being safe.
ADAM HAHN #1: Of course, the feeling of holding her isn't always available. (Real Adam
displays scissors.) There are certain drawbacks to falling in love with someone who lives
three hours away.
ADAM HAHN #2: If it's done correctly, the effect can be magical. The audience has no choice
but to be silent and attentive.
Whatever it is you're trying to say to them, they're listening.
ADAM HAHN #1: It's not as if I didn't know coming into this that she'd be going to school out of
state. (real Adam snips at hair)
ADAM HAHN #2: Unfortunately, it can work too well.
ADAM HAHN #1: I could have predicted from the beginning the loss, the tears, the desperate
squeezing hugs.
ADAM HAHN #2: If the front row is flinching and everyone else is gasping and giggling, any
serious point that you were trying to make is forgotten.
ADAM HAHN #1: Every time she leaves, it's like the feeling of holding her is slipping through
my fingers. (bigger chunks of hair)
ADAM HAHN #2: The audience is lost. What was meant to be the theatrical effect of chaos now
actually is chaos.
ADAM HAHN #1: Twelve hundred miles. (Real Adam starts using electric
clippers)
ADAM HAHN #2: If it doesn't work, you're left wondering if maybe those jagged pieces on the
stage floor are actually the remnants of the audience's respect.
(Real Adam attempts to removes all of his hair, which doesn't work because the cheap
trimmers on the back of the electric razor can't cut for shit. Try again with scissors. Other Adams
watch until he gives up and sits up, then turn back to audience)
ADAM HAHN #1: This isn't the end. She isn't gone forever.
ADAM HAHN #2: Don't let it get to you.
ADAM HAHN #1: We can make it through this.
ADAM HAHN #2: Clean off the stage, learn from your failure, and start working on next week's
script.
ADAM HAHN #1: Thanksgiving break is only six weeks away.
ADAM HAHN: It'll grow back.
(Lights Down)
(Put on baseball cap, and finish the job at home. Get razor burn.)
"Shorn, A Fragmented Di-Monologue" debuted October 15, 1999, performed by Kevin Phan, David Harman and Adam Hahn.
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