Remember the Ellen monologue that I posted awhile ago? Well, it’s part of a play I’m working on called The Boy Who Flew. TBWF is told mostly in monologues—think The Laramie Project mixed with The Vagina Monologues. I’ll be working on it a lot more this summer when I’m at NYU, but so far all I have is that monologue, an outline, and the one I’m about to post now. Now, I’m not exactly sure if I should put this one in the monologue yet, because Eric responds to things people say to him and I don’t know if cutting out those people would make the monologue make any less sense. If you think it’s good just tell me, and I’ll put it in the monologue section! It’s hard for writers to judge their own work; we practically breathe feedback. So, tell me what you think. (ps the formatting is really weird because I copy pasted it from a play template in word…sorry about that) (pss likes don’t count as feedback)
(ERIC REMMERSON enters. ALL look over at him, then immediately back in.)
all (except for Eric and tyler)
(Ad lib. Whispered muttering)
Is that Eric Remmerson? What is he doing here? He was an asshole. What does he know about Alec? (Etc.)
You decided to show up, huh?
You see me standing here, don’t you? (Silence. ERIC sighs, frustrated) Look, I know you’re wondering what I… (getting less apologetic) why I came…you know what? No. Screw this. I’m not gonna stand here and act like I shouldn’t of come. What am I doing here? What do I know about Alec Fischer? What in the goddamn hell do any of YOU assholes know about him? What are YOU doing here? The truth is NONE of us know shit! I don’t see one person here who can tell me the guy’s damn life story, so don’t try acting like I don’t deserve to be here.
I don’t like how I treated him. I was…shit, I was an asshole to the guy. It was just…it was the thing to do. And don’t you give me that look, because you know damn well what I mean. He was the oddball. We weren’t. So. That was that. I never thought he’d snap like he did, until this one day. I was out working on the truck, and I see him walking through my neighborhood. Didn’t look like he was going anywhere, but I wonder—what the hell is he doin’ here, cuz doesn’t this kid live on the other side of town or something? So, I decide to mess with him.
I pick up a big branch from the wood pile, walk up behind him, and start tapping his foot with it as he walks. Trying to trip him, you know. Whenever Alec starts getting upset he like, talks to himself or something. Like he’ll mumble “stopit…stopitstopit” but not really loud enough to make out the words. So, he was doing that for about five minutes while I tapped him with the branch. Then, all of a sudden he just…he snaps, man. I mean he shouts “STOP. JUST STOP.” But it doesn’t even sound like words. Doesn’t even sound human. He ROARS it, man. And he grabs the branch outta my hands, and I’m scared he’s about to glock me with it, but he just grabs it and breaks it in half. For the record, this isn’t a twig or a roastin’ stick, all right? This branch is as thick as my goddamn LEG. And he just breaks the thing in half with his bare hands like it’s a toothpick. Then he just stares at me, right in the eye, not saying anything, fists clenched, breathing heavy. Well, I was scared as shit, so I bolted, man. Went in my house and locked the door. Then, I look out the window at him, and he’s just walking away like nothing happened.
I got to wondering, you know. How did that much come outta such a quiet guy? I’d never heard him speak, and I sure as Hell never heard him shout like a damn banshee. It’s like. He’d just take and take and take and not say anything about anything. It’s like, shit man, he just broke. He just let it out. Everything I’d ever done, and YOU had ever done, and everyone in the whole damn world had ever done to him that he’d just put away and buried one place or another just exploded outta him, man. He just couldn’t take it anymore. None of it.
After that, I left the guy alone. Not cuz I felt bad, just…scared. Sure as hell, I was scared. I was scared that maybe next time it wouldn’t be a branch. Next time it’d be my head. I stayed away from Alec Fischer after that. You bet your ass I did.
So you’re not even sorry.
When the FUCK did I say that? When did I say I wasn’t sorry? And since when are YOU Alec’s best friend? I’ll call your shit right now, Jones. Should I tell them about how you’d always go up and take his lunch just to see if he’d do anything about it? Or how you called him a different name every time you saw him, like it was a joke? Or how you…we would always go “WHAAAAT? Can’t hear you!” any time he tried to say anything in class? Tyler, You were just as bad as I was, but I haven’t told you that you KILLED somebody. See? This is why I didn’t want to come. You all want it to be someone’s fault, and I’m the only one that’s not sobbing all over the place, so you chose me. It’s not my fault. I didn’t tell him to kill himself. I didn’t push him off the ledge. None of us did. For all we know, it was a perfect swan dive down to the bottom. I feel sorry, yeah. I feel like shit. But I don’t feel guilty.
All he’s saying is that maybe if one less person had been so mea—
JESUS CHRIST, WOULD YOU SHUT UP? I told you it’s not my fault! (His face is red, and he’s breathing hard, almost panting. He fights back tears as he shouts.) ALEC FISCHER IS FUCKING GONE, SO JUST SHUT UP. (long silence, so heavy it’s almost tangible) I’m sorry. (He quickly exits)