All monologues are property and copyright of their owners. Monologues are presented on MightyActor for educational purposes only .
A monologue from the play by Marisa Wegrzyn
GAIL (forties)
Gail is a policewoman who is having difficulty recording her suicide tape. Late that night, Gail is sitting at the kitchen table with a tape recorder and gun.
(Hits ‘record’ button.) Okay. Hey. If my handwriting weren’t all chicken scratch I’d leave a note but, uh. Crud. That’s stupid. (Stop, rewind, record.) Hi. This is Gail. Um. If you’re listening to this, it means, um. y’know, I’m probably dead.
On the floor. Or something. No. (Stop, rewind. record.) Hi. Um. Blehhh. Poop. (Stop, rewind, record.) Let’s see, uh. Hi. Gail here. These are my last words. Um, first to Eddie.
You’re a b*stard for sleeping around with cocktail waitresses that Shirley or Susie or Sally. I let you follow your dreams and you didn’t give two halfsh*ts about my dreams and I had dreams,
whole dreams, not just halfsh*ts of dreams, and you better believe I would not have encouraged your baseball dream had I known the steroids would squash your little sperms.
To Valerie. You were never good enough for my brother and if you didn’t kill him then you drove him to it and that’s all I have to say about that. Though you do bring me good cuts of meat and you don’t make me pay for them. So, thanks.
Midge, you irritate me. A lot. But I know how much you like Billy Joel so you can have my records Glass Houses and 52nd Street. You’re welcome to Piano Man, but it has a big scratch.
And, also, have my collection of souvenir ashtrays, I’ve collected one from every state except Montana and Hawaii. And Delaware but (Scoffs.). Sevenly, if you want my Peter Paul & Mary record your kids might like that, it’s very wholesome.
Donal: I don’t have anything for you. You made fun of me when we were younger and you made me feel stupid and you set my teddy bear on fire. It’s you who should’ve died instead of Frank.
And if the lot of you think I haven’t been very nice, then that’s just the way I am and what I felt is what I felt and I can’t change things now. The Crystal Meth I did gave me clarity and perspective,
mostly on the ineffectiveness and wrong-headedness of our school district’s anti-drug programs. (Pause.) I loved Frank and I miss him. I miss him so much. The other day, I drove to the lake,
late, and the lake, it was frozen, and out there, I thought I saw Frank give me a wave before going under. It was my imagination I suppose. I’ll have to live and die with that I suppose.
And . . . Despite all the stuff I’ve said, I love most of you somehow, for some reason. That’s it. Goodbye. (Stop. Pause. Rewind. Play.)
