Monologue - Comedy, by Ken Bradbury, 2016

At least that’s what this young man thinks in this piece about the tortures of adolescence in the typical American family. The longer he goes, the loonier he becomes as he fights his way toward adulthood.


8 - 11 minutes

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  • 1 Male

Product Id: #145

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An excerpt …

Can we talk? I mean just for a minute. Can we talk? And if you don’t listen to me, that’s okay, because nobody else does either. I want to tell you a secret. You listening? I … am … going … crazy. No, no … don’t worry. I’m not dangerous … just crazy.

Have you ever been a boy? Okay, some of you have and some of you are and some of you never will be, but have you ever been one? A boy, I mean? It’s not easy. I mean, if somebody offers you the job, don’t take it. It makes you crazy. My mom says it’s my chromosomes. She’s always got an answer for everything. She says that girls have two X chromosomes and boys have an X and a Y and as far as I’m concerned that doesn’t explain anything. Like basketball. Chromosomes have nothing to do with basketball. You look like you’re confused. I’ll explain.

No. No, I won’t. That’s too confusing. Let me start with something easier. Dads! Yeah, let’s start with dads. I like dads. Dads are necessary. In fact, I like my own dad. He’s pretty cool. He helps me with stuff and doesn’t try to butt into my business too much, but there are times when I just wish he’d … well … chill. Mellow out a little bit.

Which brings me to basketball. Are you confused? Good. That means you might be a boy. Dad works with me on my shots and rebounding. When he comes home from work he hollers, “Hey Sport! Let’s shoot some hoops!” So we go out behind the garage and he shows me the way they used to play basketball back when he was a boy which isn’t even close to the way we play now, but I play along with him. It’s easy to hurt a dad’s feelings.

So I play along with him and he teaches me how to play the zone defense even though everybody today plays man-to-man, and I humor him and say, “Hey! That’s great, Dad! Thanks a lot!” and he smiles like he’s just created the next NBA star and we go in and eat supper while he tells me stories about how he helped win the district championship back in the dark ages. Then they all took a victory lap on their horses.

Okay, I’m making that part up, but he’s not a boy anymore … until the game starts. Dad never misses a game and that’s pretty cool since not every kid’s dad comes to every game, but if he’d just sit down and watch, then everything would be great. But he doesn’t. He shouts. Dad shouts a lot. If the game gets boring then people in the stands turn around and watch Dad. He’ll shout, “Get in your zone, Sport!” Dad, we don’t have zones anymore. Did I mention I’m going crazy?


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