Fucking Horrible - Comedy Monolgue

Hello everyone and welcome to my blog. This will be a place for me to post my many MANY monologues which I create on a daily basis. You may use them for auditions as much as you want, the only rule (if you can call it a rule) is that you have to tell us how the audition went in the comment section below.

Without further delay, I bring to you: 

F U C K I N G   H O R R I B L E

BY   Paul William Fassett

 

I have one singular love in this world and it is a simple love. It's the one thing that gets me up in the morning. That love is, you ask?

The squeegee. Yes. I love to clean my car windows.

It's the one thing that keeps me going is knowing, that no matter what happens in my life, at least I know how to get a streak free shine on my windows. See I have this special technique. I go up and down, with the spongy part. Then I go side to side with the squeegee. I never leave a single streak.

So that's why I attacked that homeless man.

He was standing there on the corner, yelling at something imaginary floating in the air around him, when he saw me. At a dead stop. The red light at Vermont and Hollywood. The one that takes forever to change... That's when I saw it. The bottle of blue stuff. Soap streak in liquid form. I wasn't going to let him take away one of the last joys I had in life so I scrambled to get my windows down. My hands out, waving, practically screaming: “No thank you!”

He kept on coming and was already half-way through the intersection when I got out of the car. I stood in front of him but he actually tried to go around me to get to my windows. That's when I pushed him. That's also when I noticed he was an old man.

So yes. I pushed down a crazy old homeless man. To be fair though, tensions were high. I had a change of heart when I saw him laying there. Might have had something to do with him screaming: “I'm trying to clean his windows! Asshole!”

That's when I noticed the car sitting next to me at the light. Hasidic guy. He was wearing one of those crazy top hats and the spiral spaghetti hair. Anyway he looked straight on down the road. Had a white knuckle grip on the steering-wheel. When the light went green he took off like a lightning bolt.

I put a hand out to help the old man up but he slapped it away and got up on his own. Called me every kind of fucker name he could think of. Like mother-fucker, cock-sucker, crazy mother-fucker. Even some colourful variations I can't quite remember. He pushed me and then told me to go: “Fuck my mother.” And given all the accusations of mother fondling before, it sounded like he was giving me a command, so I punched him.

Yes. I know. I punched an old homeless man.

I'm fucking horrible...