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Random Wisdom

“No one has the right to do wrong, not even if wrong has been done to them.” — Viktor E. Frankl



Twenty Years of Anger

Twenty Years of Anger-Monologue (Version 8 )

By J. D. Moss

 

Preformed in the 2007 production of Into The West.

 

 

(Lights come up on a man in his late thirties. He is dressed in white shirt and is shaving. When he is done shaving he will finishes dressing. All action takes places throughout the monologue. He is facing the audience and is looking into a mirror.

 

What happened to me? I used to be so good looking. Look at that chin. You know what that is don’t you? Blue Bell. I have a peppermint ice cream neck and a rocky road body.

 

Did you ever think we would go to our high school reunion? Tom, no one’s going to remember us. We were just a couple of faceless fags to them. Every time we stepped into that school big shoots like Steven Payne pushed us around – humiliated us. There was the name calling: queer, four eyes, fat ass, cocksucker. Then there was the taunting, pushing, kicking, spitting, punching every damn day. We had no social life, no friends. We stuck together, but I never stood up for you. Hell, I never stood up for myself.

 

I looked Steven up on the web. I was hoping to find the asshole flipping burgers somewhere. You know what he’s doing? He’s a doctor and he got some national award a few years ago. A bastard like that given an award.

 

After you were gone I became the number one “queer to target”. Steven and his thugs started taking all their shit out on me. There was this time in chemistry – the paper wads flew my direction every time the teacher turned her back. Steven was sitting behind me and kept whispering that I’d never see another sunset. Then the teacher was called out of class and I was left alone with those jackals, every fiber of my being trembled. I was paralyzed with fear.

 

I put my head down on the desk that just made it worse. Soon small objects came flying through the air: erasers, coins, rulers. A pencil hit me in the side of the face, it tore open my skin just under the eye. I could feel blood dripping down my face, yet I did nothing; I figured it was the safest thing to do. I wanted to cry; I mean I could feel tears forming, yet I knew I couldn’t. I knew if I did, I’d be broken, just like you. I wasn’t going to give them that.

 

Then fear was replaced by anger. Steven got up and hit me over the head with a textbook. My head hit the desk. I bounced up knocking it over. The room became deadly quiet. My fists were clenched so hard I couldn’t feel them. My face was red – my eyes- inflamed. He didn’t move. He just stood there, unsure – frightened. We stood like that for the longest time. I wanted to kill not just Steven but every last one of them. I wanted to see them pay and I wanted it to be with my hands. If the teacher hadn’t come back when she did— it took the rest of the class before I could unclench my fists and almost two days before the red spots in my eyes went away. But the anger – the anger remains.

 

My God do you know how crazy this is? Damn it Tom; you took the easy way out. Do you realize what it was like to find you hanging in that closet? Do you realize how that affected me? Why the hell didn’t you talk to me first, or leave a note? I love you. I never stopped loving you, but you left me so now I have to do this alone. (Pulls gun from pocket and places bullets in each chambers as he talks.)

 

You know I went to the principal once to ask for help. You know what he told me? That is was my fault. That I was a disruptive element in his school. He called my parents and told them “your son is a fairy.”

 

(Now that the gun is loaded, he slams it closed so the sound is heard across the silent stage.)

 

Maybe he’ll be there too.

 

(Fade to black.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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