Thursday, January 23, 2014

Example of "Character Monologue"

LuLu, 30,

When I was 19, I went home for Christmas break. My parents were very close. My  father really loves my mother. If I am on the phone with him and she calls, he tells me he has to call me back. I say ‘Mom is more important than me?” And he said “yes” as the phone went dead.

Once my mother had been working in her garden all morning, she walked in with her gardening gloves, spade and hat, she wiped her brow with her forearm, her shorts were sticking to her, that made her waddle a little. My father said very loudly ‘Look at your mother, isn’t she the most beautiful woman you have ever seen?” My mother was beautiful that morning carrying her compost pile, waddling and dripping in sweat. I asked myself if I would ever have a man who looked at me like that.

When I was 19, and I had gone home for Christmas Break and my parents were in love, I got in a fight with my youngest brother who was 15, 6”4 and 230 pounds. He was eating my fat free ice cream that I bought out of the carton with a big wooden spoon. He always was such a pig. I asked him to not eat my ice cream, only I said it in that big sister kiss my ass sort of way. He told me to go fuck myself. Which only made me remind him why he got shipped off to military school with some other choice details about his days in special education. He went crazy like I knew he would. He threw a knife at me, but it missed and smashed one of my mother’s pictures.

I ran into my bedroom, but he kicked the door down and punched me from behind a few times. I turned around and he punched me in the face. He sucker punched me. He always was a little bitch.

My next older brother came and pulled him off me. I walked to tell my mother and she told me to stop being so dramatic. My father tells me that my problem is that my mouth is always going to get me in trouble. I threatened to call the police, but I was just mad and decided to let it go. No one needs to go to jail over ice cream. Well I old was I? Yes, 19. I pissed blood the next day cause he punched my kidneys so hard. My dad said that what I did was a “provocation.”

I remember this years later, I am 30 and the DEA Agent asks me about my brother after he conveniently asked me if I was a stripper. I have no idea how he got this information, it must be the wigs in the box, I shipped them from Los Angeles. They are searching my room. I was standing in the backyard and he asked me about the box. I remember how my mom carried a box of compost in the same place he was standing. I remember how my father told me my mouth was always going to get me in trouble. He asks me if I have ever been in trouble for drugs. I think about that stupid misdemeanor charge I got for marijuana that got dropped because of fucking John mouthing off to the L.A. Sheriff and somehow that shit magically appeared in the car and I wonder if he knows. I think he is stupid, so I tell him, “no.” I forget which way my eyes should look if I don’t want to be considered deceptive. I can hear one of the agents playing my mother’s piano. It made me angry so I told him “if anything illegal was involved with that box that got delivered, then I know my brother did it. He already went to prison. I thought you would have known that since you guys took the time to get a warrant.”

It was really hot the way Kentucky gets in July at 10:30am. I didn’t feel guilty. Let someone say I provoked him to do this, I wish they would. I am wearing jean shorts and a tank top, and maybe I looked like I could work at a strip club, but why would I live here in Prospect? I sat there thinking about it as the officer stared too long at my thighs. I am such a liar I think. I wonder if he knows what a liar I am. I am sure Jackson knows what a liar I am, that’s why he left. He got tired of yelling. I suppose everyone gets tired. Iyanla says that the person that loves you the most will stay and fight for you, but when is that too much? Jackson got tired of me yelling. I yell, I scream, I just need to make sure that he understood me.

 I hate it when I think you are not listening. The yelling is something I understand I think. I think you don’t mean it if you whisper it. The hot air that pushes into you while you are yelling makes me smile a little bit. I remember that day and what I said to my brother and I realized that there is something really sick about making someone lose control. I made Jackson so mad he got on a plane to Africa to help them build roads, that’s how much he wanted to get away from me. I guess he didn’t really love me. I am really such a liar. I wish the officer wouldn’t look at me like that for long periods of time, just because he can right now. I tell him I don’t know anything else. He starts to get really mad. He tells me he will tear my room apart. I know he can’t arrest me. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know anything. I can’t help, but smile inside as he grabs my elbow and pushes me down on the chair. The things I say can really make a man lose control of himself...and that my friend really makes me drunk with power.

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