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Gladys – A Monologue

Kelsey Knoedler, 2010

        (LIGHTS UP on GLADYS sitting on a stool in her kitchen. ROB is sitting in a desk chair in the attached den, bleeding profusely from the leg and barely conscious. GLADYS holds a gun, a bag of pork rinds and a cordless telephone. She wears tight stone-washed jeans, an oversized sweatshirt with a teddy bear, and pink wedged heels. Her bleach-blond hair is in a tall bouffant, and she wears no make-up except pink frosted lipstick. Chairs are overturned in the room, the doors to the china cabinet are open, and papers are lying all over the floor. A broken rocking chair sits down stage right.) GLADYS

        Where have you been? Do you know I have called you every five minutes for the last half hour? Jeez, am I steamed. I mean it, I am really jazzed right now, Sally. You’ll never believe what happened to me tonight. I mean it, you’ll never believe it. So I get home from work, and I got home late, by the way, because some dickwad on 63 smashed into the side of the 7/11 and there was a big crowd of cop cars there with the road all blocked off so it took me about an hour and a half to get home. So I get home late from the nail salon, and I go to unlock the door to the motor home, and what do you know? It’s already open. So I walk through the door, and I see this man standing there with this red handkerchief tied around his neck like he’s some kind of John Wayne robber looking to steal some horses or maybe a bottle of whiskey. And I see all these chairs overturned including my rocker that my granny left me and one leg is broken off so I am steamed. And the drawers to my china cabinet are all open and everything that was inside of it is laying on the floor, all broken up. So I look at this guy, and he’s got this big ugly mug with some kind of rash all over it like he just stuck his head in a pot of marinara, and he’s got this long greasy hair that looked like I could probably wring it out and get enough oil to deep fry some pickled eggs with and he’s just sitting in my desk chair in the den shuffling through a bunch of papers. And as soon as I walk through the door, this dumb fuck stands up. I see him look at the counter next to me, and so my eyes go to where he was looking and I see his gun—right there on the counter next to me like it was sitting around waiting for the bus. And I can tell this guy is spooked, right? ‘Cause here he is caught red handed with his gun out of reach and he knows he’s balls deep. Oh, Sally, you better believe I grabbed that man’s gun and went ahead and shot him right in the foot. So this asshole falls to the ground and starts going apeshit and screaming like he was a newborn kid and I had just slapped him on the ass. So I start screaming right back at him—saying he had some nerve coming into my motor home like a mean twister making a big old mess of my things and looking for something he had no business looking for anyway. So I point the gun right at this shit head’s ugly nose and I tell him he better sit down in that desk chair and stop crying like a little pussy. Then I see this jerk’s got a big role of rope on his belt, like he was planning on hanging someone from a tree. So I tell the knobby shit to throw me the rope or I’m gonna blow his brains out. The guy throws me the rope, and I knew dating that sailor in ’85 would come in handy some day ‘cause he taught me all these knots so I could tie him up real good to the bed like he liked when I boned him. So the guy throws me the rope and I tie him up real good but the thought of boning him makes me sick to my stomach and there I go blowing chunks all over granny’s broken rocker. So I sit down on my stool and call up one of them cops down at the 7/11 and tell him I had a greasy goon tied up ‘cause he broke into my motor home. Well, apparently those Barneys with baked beans for brains didn’t think that some broad in a motor home is worth saving and they were more concerned with the dickwad that rammed into the side of the 7/11. So here I am sitting on a stool in my kitchen trying to stay alive on an old bag of stale pork rinds that I had in the cupboard. I’ve been meaning to go shopping, see, but it’s been late nights at the salon and by the time I get out of there I just about have enough energy to pick up some Chinese from Ling’s and eat it on the bus on the way home. And now I’m sitting here looking at this big ugly rash tied to my desk chair and I am steamed and I’m starving my balls off. So I’m asking you, Sally, if you would kindly go down to the 7/11 and get me one of them pre-made hamburgers that they keep under the heating lamps all day. And while you’re down there, could you let those dumb fucks know they better hurry on up down to my motor home ‘cause this guy’s foot is bleeding pretty bad?

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All Information Copywright by Chimes Publication, Saint Mary's College 2010