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Random Wisdom

“For me, every defeat is the beginning of success. No matter how much negativeness life throws at me I am determined to find a way to use it as the foundation to victory.” — J. D. Moss

Fruit Flies for Dinner

Fruit Flies For Dinner -Monologue

By Edward St. Joseph Zapata & J.D. Moss


Preformed in the 2007 production of Into The West.


(Lights come up on a woman in her early twenties, dressed to party. She has had a few too many drinks. Her lips are puckered and her hands are at her chest. She pushes them out as if she is pushing a person away from her.)



Get that ashtray of a mouth off of me! Your tongue taste like the ass end of a Newport. God, why the hell do I keep coming to loser bars and trying to hook up with losers like you?


You know what your kiss reminds me off. It reminds me of my ex –Larry, even his name says loser. You know because it begins with the letter “L”.


Get your hands off of me. Why is it that men interpret “fuck off” as “grab my ass?” I mean do I have to wear a sentry safe on my cunt to keep you out?


Larry was the same way, no meant yes, maybe meant yes, and yes meant let’s do it twice. That asshole never worked a day in his life, while I worked 24-7, taking food orders from self absorbed people who thought they were better than everyone else because they were eating at an organic restaurant. And why? Because I was in love. You know – Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah’s couch kind of love.


Then one day I woke up realizing this creep has nothing to offer me. No brain, no personality, no future, not even a big enough dick. I mean this guy was so small he needed a thimble for a condom.


What? Wait a minute just because we’ve been drinking doesn’t mean you can bring “sexy back”. Shit, I know I came on to you first, but I’m done with it.


Why? That’s the same problem I had with Jake. He thought he was God’s gift to women; he practically lived at Abercrombie and Fitch. Truth was he looked like he lived at the Salvation Army. The guy had no taste, couldn’t pick a decent restaurant, didn’t have any manners, and thought romance was a box of Russell Stover chocolates. He thought he was all that and really was just all fat. Fat head, fat assed, and a fat bastard.


Why did I stay with him? L –O –V –E. I was (sings) “Blinded by the light”. Course he was good in the sack. Only reason I kept him around so long. But I had to dump him. He just wasn’t a complete package.


Jesus! I am so damn tired of getting men that have “assembly required” stamped on the ass.


What was that? Oh my God that was the most intelligent thing you’ve grunted all night long. What’s my idea of the perfect guy?

One, Its not you honey.


Two, there is no such thing.


But I’ll tell you what most women would be willing to settle for, although I already know the only reason you ask is because you think you can use what I say to get laid. It won’t happen. There is not enough alcohol or drugs in this world to get you passed this velvet rope buddy. Hell, I wouldn’t let you fuck me even if I were dead. But listen and learn, maybe it will help you at closing time with some other desperate chick.


A passable guy would be able to string together enough words to form at least a coherent conversation about more than sports, politics, or sex.


Speaking about sex, he would be able to do more than just brag; he would be good enough in bed to be bragged about. In addition he would be capable of actually making love, not just pounding me like a screen door in a hurricane.


Sex should be a union. I get that cuming is the big bang for the guy; I understand that, I love that too, I want the same, I want to see fireworks every single time I’m in bed with a man. Is that too much to ask? The party ain’t over until I sing too!


Moreover, a man needs to be secure, not only financially, but emotionally; its about a strong arm holding me in the middle of the night, he doesn’t have to be rich, he just needs to be there.


Finally he would know what I’m thinking with out having to ask me all the time. He has to be confident, know that I love him. He has to be able to love me the way I love him. Not feel threatened by an unknown caller on my cell.


He has to love me even if I gain a little weight and begin looking like a muffin top. He has to love me when I have sociopathic mood swings during PMS!!!


(Frustrated) God why is it so hard. (Looks down at the guys waist)


Not you!


Bartender, another shot of Jaeger.


(Looks at the guy) (beat) I’m not going to find the ideal guy tonight, so what the hell; we’re going to my place.


And you’re brushing that mouth. (Starts walking off stage – stops and turns to the guy)


And no matter how long it takes, I’m going to see fireworks first! (Heads off stage.)



Copyright ©2007 by J.D. Moss –All Rights Reserved

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