Chris Stangl Should Like This Monologue Better Than Last Week's
Adam Hahn
353-0275
(Lights Up)
(Produce a folded piece of paper and unfold it. Place it carefully on the table, very close to the
audience. Make a large "X" on it with a marker)
Walking to No Shame last week, I passed three signs that
diverted far too much of my attention.
The first one (produce a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and
eat it) was written on a dry erase board in the hall. It said, "Troy likes to play with little boys'
penises and fucks goats."
Oh, I'm eating this peanut butter cup for two reasons. First,
it's because I was actually eating a peanut butter cup when I passed the sign, and, second, it's
because of my first high school speech coach. She told us never to eat chocolate or drink milk
before speaking, because it produces mucous and makes it hard to speak. And she was a
bitch.
(as the monologue continues, keeping producing and eating chocolates)
Anyway, I'm walking, and I'm thinking about Troy. I don't
know Troy, although I assume it was his dry erase board. I have absolutely no idea if Troy
actually likes to play with little boys' penises. To tell you the truth, I don't really care.
What fascinates me is the goat-fucking. I'm not absolutely
certain of this, but I think it would be pretty much impossible. I'm not saying that you couldn't
have sex with a goat. I'm sure that Troy or whoever could find a goat orifice and go to town with
it, but I don't think that "fucking" is the right way to describe the act.
Don't get me wrong, I don't find "making love" to be any
better of a description. "Making love" implies a level of affection and emotional involvement that
I, for one, am not quite ready to attribute to goats.
What I'm saying is, "fucking" implies some kind of mutual
consent. It's not that I think that no goats anywhere would be interested in sex with Troy, I just
think that the odds of a particular college student willing to have sex with a goat meeting up with
a goat willing to have sex with a college student, given the relatively small goat population of the
Iowa City/Coralville metropolitan area, must be exceedingly small.
So I'm outside now, mentally debating the semantics of
barnyard rape, when another sign catches my eye. This one says, "Last Death from Jumping or
Diving From Bridge, June 15th, 1995."
I start thinking about the person who jumped or dived. I
wonder if maybe they could have been stopped, if only someone was there to talk to them. If only
someone was there to say, "Stop, you're too late. For the words on the sign to form a haiku, you
needed to jump last week."
Dying on the fifteenth made it exactly one syllable too long,
I've counted.
I get inside. I'm on my way to the lounge to get my place in
the order. I go past the "David Thayer Theater" sign, which doesn't bother me at all. I've got one
door left, and then it hits me: "Theater Personnel Only".
I'm not theater personnel. I've never been theater personnel. I
never will be theater personnel. They might as well just put up a sign: "If You Have Ever Applied
to the College of Engineering, Stay Out."
I'm in this little enclosed space with myself and the sign, and
I'm wondering what I should do and I'm reaching for the door handle even though I'm not sure if I
can turn it, and then I suddenly understand.
The thoughts running through my head are just like sweet,
sweet chocolate. (Jam lots and lots of chocolate into mouth, chewing violently. When no more
will fit, jump into crouching position on top of table and open mouth to spit out chocolate over
the X.) Oh sure, they're fun, (Use hands to remove any remaining chocolate from mouth
then wipe them on a paper towel.) but I have to learn to slow down and take a break every
once in a while.
(Lights Down)
(Chris Stangl eats an M&M from the pile of chocolate I just spat out. Even I am
repulsed.)
"CHRIS STANGL SHOULD LIKE THIS MONOLOGUE BETTER THAN LAST WEEK'S"
IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED,
TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS
PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
"Chris Stangl Should Like This Monologue Better Than Last Week's" debuted November 5, 1999, performed by Adam Hahn.
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