A monologue from the play by Adam Rapp
SHAYLEE (seventeen)
Shaylee, a teenaged runaway, is here talking to her younger brother, Wynne, who is a video game genius.
Wynne, you know about six months ago I had a baby? It came out dead. It was about the size of a tomato. I put it in a McDonald’s bag and threw it in the garbage.
I talked about it in group today. How I keep dreamin’ about it. How sometimes it’s huge and it’s eatin hamburgers at that Wendy’s Oasis on 294.
How I always wake up all f***ed up and cryin’. This nun told me that God’s tryin’ to talk to me and that I should use the opportunity to ask him for forgiveness.
Like I should start prayin’ and sh*t. In group we had to go around a circle and describe our own personal picture of God.
The crack addict chick said God was Smokey the Bear. I said he’s like this old freak wrapped in a shower curtain and he’s got this big holy boner.
And he’s eatin’ one of those side salads from Kentucky Fried Chicken. Black was all, “Naw, man, God’s a meat eater.”
His personal picture of God is this old buff ancient-lookin’ f***er in a toga. And he’s got a perm and he’s at the Sizzler eatin’ a steak.
Pretty funny, ain’t it? . . . Group’s pretty cool. You get to talk about yourself, you know? Listen to all these f***ed-up stories. Some people just sit there.
You don’t even gotta say nothin’ if you don’t wanna . . . In the book there’s this whole thing about God, but it ain’t all phony. The brother calls him the Fat Lady.
It’s actually pretty cool, Wynne. They learn about stuff, you know? Like how to get through the sh*tty times . . .
Ma’s talkin’ about you like you’re her hero. She paid off the house yesterday. And Pop’s seein’ this back specialist in Mount Prospect.
And I guess Marna’s husband’s gonna come over and look at the house to see about central air. Pop’s callin’ you the Champ.
They’re on their way right now . . . Dr. Kennedy said I can go home next month. I might do this halfway house thing first, but I’d get to crash at home on the weekends.
Urine samples every three days. Try your luck, piss in a cup. Ma says I’ve been approved to re-enroll at Norridge, too.
If I catch up in school they’re gonna let me back on the track team. Mr. Mecklo asked me to run the mile again but I was like, f*** that, I wanna pole-vault.
Fly over some sh*t, you know? . . . I’m gonna stay clean this time, Wynne, I really am . . .
