Monologue: Morrisa’s Lost Game
TIME: Late at night, approximately 4 A.M. Winter.
PLACE: Small apartment living room. Mismatched furniture, looks chaotic, but homey.
Lights on Morrisa, as she paces back and forth lit up by a small light and a television. She is wearing lounge pants and a baggy sweatshirt, and her hair is in a messy bun that looks like she hasn’t brushed in a day. Barefoot.
(Starts out by speaking off into the distance, words aimed at the empty space on the couch.)
You can’t just treat everyone that way. It’s not fair, y’know? People have their own thoughts and opinions! If they don’t want to go to the stupid restaurant you do then you should ask where they actually want to go! Not tell them what they’re allowed to like! I don’t even like Italian food! They use way too much tomato in things! Like ugh, use something else. I don’t care if it is your favorite food! What I want should matter! And I want Dominican food!
(She stops walking and falls back onto a couch, and picks up a sock off the couch and stares at it. Her expression softens slightly, but remains angry.)
And of course you leave your stupid socks all over my couch. Your stupid light blue socks because it just had to match your shirt. When you took me to the movie. You know I hate movies. Well, I hate sitting through movies. (She sighs and drops the sock onto the floor) Why did you have to leave this morning? I know I was being angry. I just get angry sometimes, you know that! You know me! At least I thought you knew me.
(She flops into a laying position on the couch, and covers her face with her hands before letting her hands fall to the floor. Her tone switches from angry and upset, to hurt and sad.)
I don’t want to have to call you first. I always call you first. Why can’t you call me first for once? Why do I always have to miss you first? This game we play, I’m getting tired of it.
(She pulls out a cell phone, and start to hit buttons on it.)
I wish I could win, for once.