Audition Arsenal for Women in their 20's

by Janet B Milstein

  Bridewell

  By Charles Evered

  Kristen: twenty, a student, obsessed with her weight

  Seriocomic

  The play takes place in the main living room of a women’s sorority house on the campus of a small liberal arts college. Kristen commiserates with her sorority sisters about men and tries to console Amanda’s broken heart by explaining how she would cope with it.

  KRISTEN: Look, just be glad you’re not me. If you were me you’d be on your second box of Twinkies by now. I love food at a time like this. I wish I could eat for you now. Come to think of it, I probably will later. I remember when … I can’t say the name … but when “a certain someone” RIPPED MY HEART OUT. It was my total low point. I was going to those Overeaters Anonymous meetings with my mother — which is kind of ironic, because she’s the person who used to shove food in my face all the time anyway. So, this “certain someone” DUMPS me and as my mother is driving us home it’s like; what do ya know, she just happens to stop at a Rite Aid and out she comes with a ten-pound box of candy and all I remember after that was seeing our twenty pudgy little fingers pulling and twisting and gouging out the candies and me just shoving them into my mouth and that’s when I got this great idea; “I won’t eat them,” I thought. I’ll just chew them. If I chew them without swallowing, then I never will have eaten them at all. And all of this will have been nothing but a bad dream. So I put like fourteen of them in my mouth and I just chomped, but without swallowing, feeling all the chocolaty juices sliding down my throat and my brain flooding with endorphins and after about eight minutes I hacked out this huge ball of nougat and caramel and deftly wrapped it up in a napkin and calmly put it on the dashboard and repeated the process over and over until all the candy was gone. So, I’m sitting there, candy wrappers all over me and sweat pouring down my forehead and my mom turns to me and says, “Ya know what Pudgy-Poo, we can freeze those hacked up balls. No use wasting good candy.”

  LOST/CONFUSED/TRYING TO MAKE SENSE

  Robertson & Kyle

  By Adam Simon

  Mackenzie: female, early twenties

  Dramatic

  As their mother gets ill and eventually passes away two sisters begin to unravel. In this scene Mackenzie enters a Church of Scientology looking for some answers to the recent death of her mother. An employee of the church has just asked “How can I help you?”

  MACKENZIE: (Quietly.) Um, hi. I’m here for uh, services … or a consultation. I’m not sure what terms you use for your worship … Sorry, for your dialogue. I just saw John Travolta on TV a little while ago, that’s how I found out about the church, and he and his wife just seemed so at peace and I happen to be in a bit of a bind and figured it was a time for a change — I make it sound like I have a hangnail or something. Uh, I’m here — to be more accurate — because of my mom. See, she’s dying and quick and it could have been … There’s this doctor that she saw, that we saw, forever and she wasn’t feeling well for a while (a couple years maybe) and he couldn’t figure it out and she asked if she should get a second opinion and he said “They’ll just tell you what I’m telling you.” And so she didn’t do anything. And of course it was cancer, I mean you knew that was how the story was going to go right? Well, I’m here because I can’t seem to strike up an interest in going to church like I used to, and I need to know something. I need to know what the Church of Scientology would have me say to this man, this doctor. Because I know I need to tell him something, but I need to make sure it’s right. So what would the church say about that?

  Gray

  By Tom Smith

  Laura: late twenties, a take-charge advertising executive

  Dramatic

  Laura, in her late 20s, discusses her pregnancy with her longtime boyfriend, Matt. Matt has been secretly carrying on with a young street hustler, Pack.

  LAURA: (Laughing.) I wish I had a camera right now! I tell you that Shauna wants to throw me a baby shower and you look like you’re about to throw up. (Beat.) If you’re scared you can say so. It’s OK. I am, sometimes. Actually, I am a lot. It’s just that I see my friends with their kids, and they all seem so content, so at peace. But me? I’m just restless all the time. It finally occurred to me that no matter how successful my business gets, or how great my apartment looks, it’s never going to be more important than having a child. I never thought I’d feel that way. Ever. And I’m terrified because I think I’m going to be a horrible mother. I’m not what you’d call warm and cuddly. I’ve purposely chosen to focus on my career. When this happened two years ago, I didn’t give a second thought to not having it. But now … Oh, God, I just need this in my life right now! I don’t know why, but I do. And I hate that I feel like a failure for wanting to be a mother.

  (She breaks into tears.)

  I can’t believe I’m freaking out like this. I hope to God this is just the hormones talking. (Beat.)

  Matt, I want you to be really honest. Even if you think it’s going to hurt me. Should we have this baby? Even though we’re both freaked out about it? Matt?

  Gray

  By Tom Smith

  Laura: late twenties, a take-charge advertising executive

  Dramatic

  Matt, who considers himself heterosexual, has been struggling with his growing attraction to Pack, a charismatic street hustler. Wanting to end this attraction, Matt drunkenly attacks Pack and runs off. Pack has just visited Laura, Matt’s pregnant long time girlfriend in her late twenties, and tells her about the attack. In the monologue below, Laura confronts Matt.

  LAURA: I left you three messages on your cell. You didn’t call me back. Where were you? (Beat.) Matt, what’s happening to you? Is it me? Am I making you feel this way? Is it the baby? Please, Matt, talk to me … Pack came by here tonight. He told me what happened. (Beat.) How long have you been seeing him? How many times have you lied to me about going to meetings or grading papers when you were really seeing Pack? Is this why we’re not married? Because …? You’ve humiliated me. All these years, just thinking that you were too much of a commitment-phobe to — Who else, Matt? What other guys have you kissed? Or screwed? You don’t expect me to believe that Pack of all people …? I don’t know if it’s a midlife crisis that’s come ten years too early, or something you’ve been repressing, or because you’re too scared to be a father, or — I just know I don’t trust you anymore. I can’t forgive you, Matt. I don’t even feel safe around you anymore. I don’t want to see you for a while. Not until you’ve decided what you really want. Who you really want. But you’d better make up your mind pretty soon because I am having this baby and I need to know whether or not it’s going to have a father.

  Women in Heat

  By Rich Orloff

  Marge: twenties

  Comic

  While vacationing in Key West, Marge, a conservative woman from Ohio, advises a friend who is considering a sexual adventure.

  MARGE: It’s — I just, I just think we live in a time when everybody’s looking in the wrong direction for happiness. If you’re not happy, pierce your navel and tattoo your back. And when the happiness fades, pierce your eyebrow and tattoo your butt. And when that happiness fades, pierce your tongue and tattoo your arm. Pierce this, tattoo that; pierce this, tattoo that. And one morning you wake up and you’re still not happy, but your body looks like Swiss cheese with decals. My point is, I’ve tried things. Lots of things.

  But when Barry and I broke up, I didn’t think, well, “At least I’ve had adventures.” I thought, “I’m no closer to happiness than I’ve ever been.” And, and then I looked at the chocolate sauce on my linens, and the scratch marks on the bedpost, and I thought about all the money we spent on rope and licorice, and, and I wondered what’s the point? And then I watched the videotapes and … I hate this generation. I hate the pressures, the expectations. I’m so sick of having to be part of “The Young and the Horny.”

  Sky Lines

  By David-Matthew Barnes

  Venita: twenty-one


  Dramatic

  In 1965, Venita, who is black, has been ostracized by her family and friends for marrying a white man, George. Here she tells her neighbor and best friend, Maggie, what she expected out of marriage.

  VENITA: I imagined my life differently when I was a girl. Perhaps I’m just a fool, but I expected flowers and poetry and weekend getaways to the country. A drive in a convertible with the wind in your hair. Something special, magic. Don’t get me wrong. George and I had a very romantic courtship. He was the perfect gentleman. I felt so lucky when we met. Never in my life had someone paid so much attention to me. He’s handsome and smart and he comes from a good family. (Pause.) Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’ve gone crazy. It’s quite possible that insanity is running in my veins. My grandmother went crazy a few years ago. One day, she started to sing. It was a song from church, one of her favorites. At first, we all thought that she was just expressing her faith for the Lord. But, she wouldn’t stop singing. Even when the doctor came. She sang so much, her throat went dry and she coughed up blood. A few days later, they took her to a hospital. I’ve never seen her since. (Pause.) I’m a newlywed. I should be the happiest woman in the world. But I can’t stop having these crazy thoughts. Maggie, it’s almost too much to bear. I feel like a prisoner in this apartment. I sit here all day long filling up my recipe box and making shopping lists and ironing baskets of clothes. I wait with anticipation for the phone to ring because I find myself craving conversation. Anything to kill the silence. I hate the silence. It’s as if someone has died and we’re not allowed to speak. That’s what my days are like. Deathly quiet and still. Maggie, I can’t quit school. It would be the end of me. I want to finish and get my degree. I’m sure I could find work. In an office. In a museum. Even a restaurant. Anything to get out of this apartment, this coffin that I’m trapped in. It’s choking me.

  Southland

  By Allan Staples

  Abbey: late twenties to thirties

  Seriocomic

  Abbey is talking to her ex-boyfriend.

  ABBEY: The other day I was out driving around and I went up to the Griffith Park Observatory. And as I’m looking down on the city, I had this really odd thought. I could go out to the bar, eat a Burrito and have sex with a midget and, odds are, chances are someone else out there probably had the exact same day. And I know a lot of people live here but I felt so unimportant and totally irrelevant. I felt like shit. But not the day-to-day shit feeling, but this “Big Picture” shit feeling. And I didn’t know what to do. I started to freak out. I felt like jumping. But instead I sat down and made a list, you know how much I love making lists, I made a list of what has made me feel not like that. What, in life, has made me feel good. And it kills me to say this Monty, but you were the only person on my list. I realized the only time when I’ve felt different or the least bit special was the time when we were a couple. And maybe that’s not love but I do know that I will not ignore how I feel because … I’m scared or whatever it is I am.

  Twin Towers

  By Ira Brodsky and Barbara Lhota

  Janice: late twenties to thirties

  Dramatic

  Several years ago, Janice’s husband died in the World Trade Center attack, and six months later, her best friend, Rose, adopted a child in Russia. Now Rose has come to New York to ask Janice if she would be the child’s legal guardian in case of Rose’s death. However, Janice is afraid of taking on this responsibility.

  JANICE: You asked me if I wanted to be Lola’s guardian in case of your death. And a million thoughts went through my head right that second. God, I would love to be a mom. God, Lola is an adorable child. Could I do it? I think I could. Would I be OK at it? I think so. But, Ro, I want my own life too. I like going to the movies and restaurants and the gym. I like going out with my girlfriends. I may want to get married again and have kids of my own. What I’m saying is that I’m not Supermom. Sometimes I’m short-tempered. Sometimes I’m preoccupied with silly stuff. Sometimes I get really busy with my life and I’m not available to get together. Sometimes I am so blue I can barely get out of bed. I think about my husband and that plane and the pain he felt. And I will never know if he is one of the ones who jumped — (She clears her throat to stave off tears.) Oh boy, oh boy.

  Bread and Circuses

  By Jo J. Adamson

  Nellie Bly: twenty-nine, petite woman with reddish hair

  Dramatic

  Nellie Bly, pioneer newspaper reporter for the New York World, gained world fame when she beat Jules Verne’s fictional character Phileas Fogg’s record for traveling around the world in eighty days. Now, nearly thirty years old and still a newspaper reporter, she’s on a bus heading home after a grueling interview. She meets an older man, Robert Seaman (a man she will marry) and explains to him why she’s no longer the crusading firebrand reporter she once was.

  NELLIE BLY: I was seventeen when I dreaded the thought of being supported by well-meaning friends and relatives. In a few short months I’ll be thirty. The age when a woman becomes a joke. A pathetic burden on society. No, the thought of being supported is no longer odious. Perhaps I’ve reached a saturation point. I’m sick to death of meeting deadlines, running after trains, sleeping in strange hotel rooms. I’m tired of interviewing men who dislike me merely because I’m not of their gender. Of the women who feel I betray them because I’m uncomfortable with a tea cup in my hand. I’m sick of the pressures of the job; of feeling like a machine that grinds out words to feed a stunt-hungry public. This morning I asked myself a question that had been nagging me for the past year. What are you doing here Nellie Bly? I had no answer. I knew only that I didn’t want to be in a railroad station in the cold dawn light. I wished for all the world to be back in my mother’s house. I wanted her to feel my head for a fever and ask where it hurt. I wanted her to call me Pinky once more.

  Sally Sees the Light

  By Barbara Lindsay

  Sally: twenties, is an office worker with no great ambitions beyond finding a good husband and being in style. She’s sweet and nice and maybe a little shallow. She has never been, never wanted to be, particularly deep thinking. Until now.

  Comic

  Sally and Jennifer are having lunch after a shopping expedition. Everything seems perfectly normal. They’ve been talking about boys, lipstick, clothes, all the girlie-girl topics they relish. But somehow, for no reason she can explain, everything has started to look just a little bit clearer to Sally. Suddenly, normal looks disturbingly askew.

  SALLY: Jeffy gave me this dress. Does that seem weird to you? I don’t know, I just can’t imagine buying him a shirt or a jacket or anything, especially if he’s not there to try it on. A tie, maybe. Ties are safe. Ties are sort of strange, though, don’t you think? This little flap of fabric hanging down a guy’s shirt. You know what I mean? All knotted up around his neck and then just sort of — hanging there. I mean, if you think about it, it’s really a bizarre thing. What’s the purpose? How did it get started, men wearing these cloth things around their necks? It had to start somehow, but I’ll bet not one man in a thousand has any idea, or even thinks to wonder about it. Do you see what I’m saying? They just knot this thing around their necks every morning and go to work, and now they’re all walking around with these colored strips flapping and nobody even notices. Actually, the whole idea of clothes is just, it’s just, strange. I mean, who do we think we’re fooling? We’re all naked underneath. Everybody’s got basically the same equipment, B for boy, G for girl, but we cover it all up as if it’s not there or it’s bad or we don’t want to know about it. Even though everybody’s got them, and they’re really the, the source of life even, we say they’re nasty and then we cover them up and pretend not to notice. Except it’s all anybody really thinks about, really. I mean, my God, all anybody really thinks about is sex! It’s in songs, it’s in commercials, it’s in movies, it’s the first thing you think of when you meet a guy, but have you ever watched it? It’s nothing! It’s ludicrous! It’s
pushing and sweating for maybe an hour at the very, very most and then it’s over! It’s gone! It’s meaningless! What do you get? Orgasm! But what is that? You throb for ten seconds. My God, think about it!

  SEXUAL/FLIRTATIOUS

  Water Pressure

  By Darren Callahan

  Ashley: twenty-one, a wealthy New York socialite

  Dramatic

  Ashley’s father died in 1939. Now, in 1959, she and her three friends slowly discover all their fathers were involved in a secret time-travel club. In the context of the play, the monologue is spoken to the audience, presumably to a boyfriend.

  ASHLEY: See these? (Ashley shows off her legs.) Pretty trim, huh? The boys like my legs. “Ashley,” they say, and whistle sometimes, “you got legs that go for miles.” I tell Ginger that hers are better, but it’s a lie. It’s these. Rawwwwr. Do you want to touch them? I’m not wearing any hose. I gave that up in early ’58. Pride and joy, these pipes. One day they’ll get me a husband, who’ll whistle and stop in his car — I like European cars — and take me for a ride down Park Avenue. And we’ll neck. I’m a good kisser. Second best quality to the legs. These. Them. Film-star legs. Luxury legs, as my father might say, he who liked things luxurious. (Pause.)

  One night last year, I came out to my brand-new car — European — and I found a note. Want me to read it? I keep it in a drawer, but I brought it tonight for you to see.

  (Shows note to audience.)

  Fifteen words.

  (Counting on fingers while reading.)

  “Don’t go driving. You will crash and your legs will be amputated. I know this.”