Monologue #1 Hey it’s…it’s me.I know I shouldn’t…but I don’t know what else to…We need to talk. It’s about our son. He got in a fight.On school. grounds.They’re going to…they’re talking about…they’re talking kicking him out.They’re talking pressing charges.They’re going to…I don’t know what they’re going to …I’m just…(Beat beat beat).I’m exhausted.You know that?Like there is no more helium.I’m sinking.Like there is all this…weight…I can’t fight gravity.You know?Like I just can’t even fight this pulling down…taking all of my-I don’t know.I don’t know.I don’t even know.(Beat beat beat beat beat)
(Then randomly enthusiastic.) So anyway!Give me a call back when you get a moment.So we can talk.Talk about.Your son.Our son.Us… … …
Monologue #2 I will take a bullet for you.I will suffocate the fun for you.I will steal the sky for you.I will blind Moses for you.I will strip the wind and the rain and the forests for you.Before I let you die or rot or lose your freedom, I will surrender my own.You know that?I would die if you could be born again without this oppressive rage.I just…I don’t know what to do.I need you to tell me.Tell me how to save you.Tell me how to give you another life.Tell me what will take this failure away.Because I have listened to everyone else.I’m ready to listen to you.Guide me.Give me the answer.Just give it to me and I’ll do it.I swear.
Monologue #1 The cute young blonde straight outta Teachers College.Patricia or Patrice or some shit.What the hell are they teaching them over there?The last sub they sent me showed ‘em Dangerous Minds.Do they really believe public school is Michelle Pfeiffer and Hilary Swank and corny fucking music and close-ups?I’m a white chick who has never had the luxury of winning over a class full of black and Latino kids.This is war.Got my fucking face cut by the family of a failing student.Fuck them and their lies and the substitutes that show them these dumb-ass, god-forsaken, setting-us-back-three-hundred-educational-years bullshit flicks.TEACH, you assholes!I left you lesson plans for fuck’s sake!
Monologue #2 That was the best.I’m telling you.I had this one kid, Louie Gaspacho.I remember him real good.You know how some of ‘em stay with you for a lifetime.He had kind of a schizophrenia thing going on.Undiagnosed but I knew.They should let us prescribe the drugs instead of these bogus doctors.I know these kids inside and out.I knew Louie.Another kid I think Ritalin ruined.But his folks listened to that sorry excuse of a counselor, Ms. Esselman-who would recommend a drug to Jesus if she couldn’t get him to sit still for five minutes.Never figured maybe it was her tactics and not the kid-but whatever.His folks would never get him tested for his mental health.Couldn’t afford the medical bills.Half these damn kids are suffering from mental illness.That’s what the real problem is.A classroom can’t fix that shit.And neither can Ritalin.But what do they know?Nothing, that’s what.I know what these kids need, but who listens to me?Anyway-what the hell was I talking about?
Monologue #1 Our school is fuckin’ fucked.Bitches can’t never mind their own damn business.Gossip whores at every level.It’s like-private school for what?For who?Ain’t nothin’ you do here private!My parents are stupid crazy paying all this money to keep me away from all the kids in my neighborhood cuz they’re so damn spooked I’ll get pregnant or shot or some shit if I go to public, but I’m like-they must not’ve ever been in the staircase here at freakin’ Fernbrook cuz for reals…it’s all types of teen fuckery going on and these rich bitches are the nastiest-straight up.It’s like they privilege bought them some extra freak or something’, or maybe they ain’t never known what it’s like to be desperate so they rather figure that out through sex or whatever.It’s tragic.And I cannot keep myself in this wasteland of talent.Stuck-up girls in my dorm acting like I’m gonna steal their fabric softener or grab their granny panties out the laundry cuz I don’t have my own or whatever.Like are you serious?Bitch, I may not have your money but I have BOTH my mother and father at home workin’ their asses off at two jobs just to have me study up here with the rest of you cuz they think your privilege will rub off on me by association or some shit.
Monologue #2 I was gonna leave you this long-ass message, but I’m not sure you’ll even get it.And if you do, I’m not sure you’ll even respond back.I think we’re over and it kills me in a thousand ways.Not because I’ll never find love again.I know we’re young.I know I’m cute and I’ll find somebody else.It’s a lot of fish in the swimming pool or whatever.But I’m just sad that this is the end of an era and it’s over before it really began.I don’t think I got enough chances to fuck up and get mad at you and yell then make up.I hate that.Every relationship deserves to go through all the colors of the rainbow.That’s how you know you had something.Deep. Ugly.Beautiful.Whatever.We didn’t get to give all our shit a try.But for the little parts we did have…For the parts that made me want to cut a chick’s face for you turnin’ your head in her direction, I want to thank you.For giving me that space.For making me feel room enough to be jealous and mad and whatever.Because I also got to smack you and get it out and then that made me free enough to tell you that I love you.I just really, really, love you.
Monologue #1 We gotta work this out together.I never quite you.I didn’t… You don’t know what you’re talking about.There’s adult business you aren’t privy to.You need to keep the issues separate.You’re my son.I never quit you.Let this go.I took good care of you.Never missed a payment.Never missed a birthday or first day of school.You never went hungry.Always had a shirt on your back. Money in your pocket.Didn’t I do that?Is that my sin?The hell you want me to do?You want me to cry and hold you in my arms and tock you to sleep?That’s not my gig.I’m still your father.I’m still here.You know what?I don’t give a shit if you like me or want to go to the gotdamn basketball court with me or pin a fuckin’ tail on my ass- I’m here.I’m the father and you’re the kid and that’s the law of the land.Like it or hate it.Screw it.I’m here.You’re gonna respect me.Don’t have to like me.Don’t have to enjoy my company.But the respect is non-negotiable.
Omari I was sittin’ in class, listenin’ to the lesson. Was gonna be a silent observer.Was talkin’ about Native Son.I had woke up that day thinkin’ bout you. Hadn’t seen or talked to you in weeks but the check came on time.I woke up with that check in my hands and I had a feeling about that.Like I didn’t know what to say but I wanted to say somethin’ to you.I called you but you didn’t answer.So I went to class.Sittin’ there listening to the class talk about Native Son.About the character Bigger Thomas and who he was and what led him to his act of rage.Teacher kept saying he was “unleashed”I kept thinking -animal.And we discussin’ this Bigger Thomas.Discussin’ his circumstances and what he comes from and this and that.Single mother.That got brought up.One of the students said he only had his mother.And I’m sittin’ there listening to this.On a day where I woke up with you on my mind and tried to call you.Tell you I had this feelin’ about getting these checks.Tell you I hadn’t seen you in a minute.Wonder where you been.But you didn’t answer your phone .So I sat there.Listenin’ to single mother poor angry animal Bigger Thomas.And when the teacher come askin’ me what I thought…I felt like he was sayin’ somethin’ to me. Like he knew I was sitting there, thinkin’ about you, feelin’ single mother poor angry animal Bigger Thomas-like.And he start sayin’, Mr. Joseph-what made Bigger Thomas do that to that girl?What were his social limitations?What made the animal in him explode?And he lookin’ at me.But also through me.And I say, I don’t want to talk about it.Cuz all I’m thinking about is you.And how I haven’t talked to you in weeks but I get this check on time.Like it’s automated.Like the bank sends it to me.And I wanted to know if you even mail. it.Like is it even personal.Or is it just robotic routine responsibility.And I’m thinking-who does that??? What kinda nigga just sends checks and calls that fatherhood?And we talkin’ Bigger Thomas this and single mother that and limitations and animals exploding and I say DO NOT FUCKING CALL ON ME I DO NOT HAVE THE ANSWER.
You keep thinking this is me?You act like I did something wrong.What did I do wrong?Was I not able to answer your call fast enough?When it’s only eight of us working four different schools in one building, did I not reach you fast enough?Did I not run from one hallway to another at a speed that makes you satisfied?I’m so sorry.I’m so sorry that while I’m sitting up here, barely breaking minimum wage and dealing with the attitudes of a hundred teens and teachers per minute, that I’m not a suitable service to your beck and call.I do what I fucking can.I’m not Cox-sitting up here stealing computers from the school lab or Bender-flirting with teenage girls.I ‘m Dun.I’m the last of the good guys wearing a uniform and greeting kids with a smile when they enter the building.I try to make a sunny day out of shit.And I answer every call I get at the security desk.I do my job, damnit.And this time, Laurie, maybe the job got the better of you.That shit happens. But don’t go taking me down with you.You get in trouble, you get early retirement.You wanna know what I’d get???-I do my damn job.