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A monologue from the play by Matt Cox
I’m going to ask an uncomfortable question right now. I ask for an honest response. Where are my shoes? I’ve been back three years, and three years – barefooted.
No one has offered me a pair of sneakers, or some lounge loafers. Wingtips. At first, I thought oh – maybe this is the fashion – but quickly learned – no – that’s not it.
One year later, my little piggies are still out for all to see – it became about the principle of the matter – I’m the Dark Lord.
Surely someone will offer me some shoes. Or at least ask if I’m comfortable. But now; we are in the woods. We’ve spent a whole evening outdoors.
My feet are wet – I’ve stepped on several pointy rocks – I may need a tetanus shot. So, no. I am not comfortable. So where are my – what?
The megaphone is still on? Really? Oh my. I am just having a day, aren’t I? YAH! Harry!