Monologues and Dramas
|The Blasé Way by Stephen Eridan||Purchase: $15|
|Comic Monologue for male actor with 6 songs for solo voice, 80 minutes long.||Request Performance Rights|
Everyone wants to laugh – at someone else. Some are so blasé that they can even laugh at themselves. A Menippean satire - so the author says, and since we don’t know what that means we’ll take his word for it – The Blasé Way puts an apple in the mouth of poor old humankind and turns it on the spit. But don’t get mad, the author knows he’s human, all too human too, but oh so blasé. Here he explains the whys and wherefores and whatevers of this state of mind.
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A man, smartly dressed in a sports jacket and slacks (but not overdressed), with two toothpicks, two one-dollar bills and a folded newsclipping in his jacket pocket, sits on a padded high chair, a cognac glass in his hand (half filled with jus de pomme, aka apple juice). A small table on which to rest the glass is to his side.
|I||I’m Blasé, You’re Blasé|
|II||The red carpet is rolling up behind you …|
|IV||You Animal You|
|V||The Land of Nod|
|VI||Wish Upon A Star|
|VII||Education of the conversationally challenged|
|VIII||Those Aching Bones|
|IX||UFO’s or “Honey, who’s knocking at the door?”|
|X||Try and Top That!|
|XI||My Gift to You (and don’t you forget it)|
|XII||The Pinnacle of Femininity|
|XIII||And they lived happily ever after …|
|XIV||Your Natural Self – and how to fake it|
|XV||The 4th Mortal Sin|
|XVI||The end of a very long day|
XII. The Pinnacle of Femininity
The speaker leans forward slightly, adopting a confidential air before speaking.
In my humble opinion, the pinnacle or highest point or top achievement for women is when they become grandmothers. Women may make a fool of me, but not grandmothers, no, no, no. Besides, they're easier to catch because they don't have the foot speed that they once did. That's important, but they have many another useful trait too.
To start with, they make you feel young. "How's my sonny?" a granny says caringly to a gray haired guy with a paunch and an aching back and whether he thinks so or not, he stands a little bit taller and the ache seems not quite so sharp. And no matter how old you are, you can get money from grandmas on your birthday; they always believe that you are younger than them. And they dearly love to feed you. How a grandmother beams with joy to serve you a hearty breakfast, an ample lunch and a supper with bountiful portions spilling over the side. She'll sidle by when you've slumped down into the large living room chair in a post-prandial stupor and ask if you'd like a small snack. She would never think to complain when you nod off on the sofa or go stagger to the bedroom and take a nap. No, her only thought is to get a blanket to put over you so you can slumber more soundly.
She's delighted to hear you talk of the things that you've been doing, trivial though they seem to you. She could have just unpacked her bags, fresh from a grueling guided tour through the depths of Slobovia and the heights of Utopia, white water rafting, taking hikes, living in backward villages, jotting notes on the native rites, and yet she puts all that aside as an unimportant trifle compared to your tribulations with the raccoons knocking over the garbage cans. Though she may nod off helplessly in the course of your oration, it's merely the infirmities of age, not a lack of interest that causes this inattention. When she awakes, it's with an embarrassed quiver, and the first words out of her mouth are " Oh dear, how did that happen. It's so unlike me to do that!"
Curiously, they're as likely to stay up late as to nod off. Do you enjoy a late night snack? They're ever ready to boil up water for a hot pot of tea and then rummage in the pantry, clucking proudly as they retrieve a freshly baked cookie or two. And get this, folks, the smallest piece satisfies them. You sit at the kitchen table, warm and relaxed, munching away on your cookie, sipping your tea, trading placid half-sentences as she smiles benevolently. You have a hunch she would appear just as pleased if you recited the names in the telephone book. When you've finished, you go to clean up your dishes, but she waves you off and insists that it's not a bother for her. And when it's time for bed, you find the sheet corner neatly folded and the pillows all white and plumped. If it's cold and frosty outdoors, then the bedroom is toasty warm. If it's summer, then a cooling breeze wafts its way inside through the open windows.
If you're having women problems, she'll take your side. This is truly worthy of note, not to mention, astonishing. She'll shake her head as you pour forth your tale of woe and then indignantly exclaim, "I don't understand these women. They don't know or care anymore about the need to hold on tight to a good man.", as you sit grinning sheepishly, no longer certain what you are; a cad or a sweet, sensitive, caring and misunderstood guy. (He grins sheepishly at the audience for a few seconds.) And they have no qualms in baring inside information to you. As one grandmother informed me, "If thou seekest true humility, then search thee not amongst young women."
For those who care about such things, the benefits in hanging out with grandmothers includes increased social standing as well as greater self-esteem. Helping a little old lady across the street has a status approaching the proverbial Good Samaritan or Boy Scout. If you try to help some young thing across the street, you'd either get some loud snickers from the on-lookers or a kick in the shins from the young lady. Communities and other groups are constantly encouraging younger volunteers to visit elderly women in their homes and spend an afternoon with them or take them to some nice function. As for those of you good people, whiling away the afternoon, just shacking up, you want a medal or something?
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