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A monologue from the play by Andrew Biss
FELICITY ( thirties – fifties)
Felicity, a rather caustic, imperious woman by nature, has just finished throwing a small soiree for their new neighbors with whom she was less than impressed. She is now chiding her husband, Douglas, for inviting them over in the first place.
While this monologue might appear more apt for a woman in her mid- 30s and upward based on the number of years Felicity’s been married, it could quite easily be performed by a woman in her 20s simply by adjusting that number down.
A bore? If it were simply a matter of finding them boring, Douglas, I’d have glided through the evening on autopilot. Without wishing to sound immodest, seventeen years of marriage to you has turned me into something of an Olympian at coping with boredom.
But it was all the rest of it. I mean, really… where does one begin? Aside from the fact that they were both as dull as dishwater, they were wearing matching ugly sweaters, their manners were rudimentary at best,
his voice had an irritating nasal twang, she obviously believes that less is more when it comes to hair care, their persistent attempts at humour made my throat sore from having to continually employ my professional laugh,
he kept picking at something at the base of his scalp that I’d rather not contemplate, she kept pushing her hair back behind her ears as if she were about to be photographed at any second,
and when I asked them if they liked the vol-au-vent his eyes glazed over and she looked at me as if I were speaking Swahili. (Beat.) I just don’t understand why you would’ve invited people like that into this house.
And how can people like that possibly afford to buy a place identical to ours? It makes me feel cheap and underprivileged. (Beat.) It’s going to take me weeks to alienate them.