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A monologue from the play by Lindsay Price
BLAKE starts off with his arms folded, looking off to the side. His girlfriend is talking nonstop. He tries to say something, no dice. He tries to get her attention.
No dice. He turns to the front.
Blake
I think I have to break up with Brittney. We don’t have anything in common. Sometimes, I can’t even hear what she’s saying. It all just runs together, (toward her) blah, blah, blah, like wet gravy and cranberry sauce.
(out to front) I know gravy is normally wet, you don’t eat dry gravy. But if the consistency is overly runny ‘cause Jimmy likes runny gravy and you don’t make a big enough well in your mashed potatoes the gravy just runs all over your plate right into the cranberries.
It looks like a crime scene. I don’t like eating a crime…
He trails off. There’s a look of horror on his face. He whips his head to the side and then whips his head to the front.
She stopped talking. (he whips his head to the side and then whips his head to the front) When did she stop talking? What did she say? Did she ask me a question?
I have to say something, otherwise it’ll look like I haven’t been listening. Even though I haven’t been listening. How long has it been?
Are we just staring at each other? Say something, anything! (He takes a breath, turns to his girlfriend and smiles. He speaks very tentatively) Yes…?
I am…? (with slow horror) Celine Dion here we come? (calling after) Wait! (runs after her).
