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A monologue from the play by Jordan Harrison
MOLL (a teenager)
Moll is a gifted scientist who has invented a bizarre listening de vice she calls The Third Ear.
She is telling off Gareth, a scruffily attractive boy who she thought was interested in her romantically,
but who is in fact some sort of secret agent in the employ of Mysterious Parties who want her machine for their own nefarious ends.
Garth has stolen the machine.
(Barely scrutable.) Goooaway. You’re the ENEMY. . . .
Used to be I was your sun and moon and stars. What happened to that? . . .(Pause.)
I will get you for this, Garth. The world will have to go without new inventions for some time, because all my ingenuity will be directed toward your undoing.
I will GET you for messing with my machine and my sanity. . . .All of CREATION will get you. You will be FOOD.
A plane will drop you over the unforgiving Serengeti with a faulty parachute an empty canteen no sunblock, and when one of these circumstances fells you,
you will finally do some good on this planet as recycled material. Your meat will invigorate the ecosystem, your stumpy remains will feed the beasties of the earth. . . .
Lions, tigers, big sharks. Crocs and bears and mean mean dogs —What does it matter, don’t interrupt! . . .
Unprotected from the African sun, your eyes will shrivel into tiny raisins, the albino kind no one favors.
And you will be alone, totally alone, for so long that proximity to another body is novel.
And when you think you’ll never see a human face again, I’ll swoop in, deus ex machina, to say simply: ’Sup.
Your stumpy remains are so glad to see me, looking up to me like a God. But instead of kisses or cool clear water
I serve you up a subpoena, bringing to the fore your crimes against United States patent law.
MAY ALL THIS COME TO PASS. The loneliness most of all.
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