The Day That Henry 'Left Us...'

[Male monologue. Ages: from young teen-ager to adult of any age. This monologue has the mangled syntax that is a challenge to perform with realism. Reading it can be difficult. I recommend that you first read it out loud. As you do so - the rhythm and pace of it will become clear to you. This gives you a chance to show your thought process and emotions as you re-live a traumatic moment.]


I was working on a tree-house – hammerin’ – when I heard a ‘pop.’ It was that kind of muffled sound you hear – that sound where you know it’s inside somewhere and it musta been real loud but by the time it escaped the walls of ‘wherever’ it went off, it got dull.

I knew it came from over near Henry’s Greenhouse. So, I dropped from my tree, hit the ground and ran through the old orchard to Henry’s yard.

Henry’s greenhouse was locked, so I ran up to the farmhouse an’ knocked. That’s when Henry’s old friend – Mr. Parker drove in the yard. He’d come to visit Henry who was in a lot of pain.. He wasn’t doing so well with that --- that uh – ‘prostrate’ is it? Y’uh know – that prozth-- whatever – that cancer thing only guys get?

“Mr. Parker?” I told him, “I heard a noise! Like a dull ‘pop’ coming from here. I just ran over here but no one’s answering.

He looks at me and this real funny look hits his face. “You heard a ‘pop’ from clear across the orchard? he asked…his voice sounded really odd…

An – then – God, I’ll never forget it – then he quickly pushed by me an’ opened the door to the kitchen. An’ then you could hear him clear to the center of town -- ‘Oh my Christ Henry!!!” he’s shoutin’ – “What the hell have you done?!”

But there was no answer -- no sound at all.

I stepped into the kitchen an tried to peek around – but Mr. Parker blocked my way. An’ just then I felt something warm drip on my hair. I reached up an’ rubbed it. Then I saw on my fingers – it was something red and thick and liquid – and warm…I’ll never forget it being warm…..very warm.

I looked up an’ saw the ceiling was all red streaks – an’ everywhere there were these dents and holes from little “b-b’s.” [an’ I knew it was birdshot – an ‘ I knew it was from a shotgun an’ I knew for sure, then what the ‘pop’ was… It was, like Mr. Parker said – the ‘pop’ was – well, it was when Henry left us…[sigh]

There’s still a couple of old boards from the treehouse left up in the branches of the Oak Tree where I was buildin’ it. Whenever I happened to notice ‘em, for some damned reason, I hear that dull ‘pop’ in my mind.

And then I think of the day that Henry left us. An’ I just try to think of somethin’ else, anything else – as quick as I can.

The Thanksgiving Day Knife

[Male role, any age.]

My father was a drunk, a sadist and a Minister of the Congregational Church. And my mother had a love/hate relationship with him.

The first Thanksgiving after my brother got married, him and his wife and her folks came for dinner. My brother and sister were there too. The new in-laws had never seen the Reverend Dad when he was in the bag and we didn’t want to miss the performance.

We didn’t have long to wait.

Dad said Grace and then, a minute later, makes like he accidentally dropped his fork. Off he goes to the pantry for a clean one. While he’s there he sneaks a couple of toots from a pint bottle he’s stashed in a fondue pot on the back shelf. He comes back. Within two minutes he’s dropped his knife. Off he goes for a clean one and a couple of more shots of booze.

By the time we get to the turkey, the old man’s dropped every friggin’ piece of silverware he had. The funny thing is – he’s so damned drunk that no matter what he’s dropped, he’s come back and replaced it with a spoon.

So – now he’s sitting there an’ his head’s half hangin’ off his neck – he’s got a slab of turkey on his plate and all the fixings – an’ he’s sitting there staring at these six spoons and wonderin’ which one is the knife.

My new sister-in-law an’ her parents are just starin’ at him. She starts tryin’ to distract everyone by talking about anything she can think about. And, since she’s not too bright – it wasn’t long before that well went dry.

Finally she says, “Oh! Did you hear about this Python in Florida that ate a six-foot alligator an’ then exploded?”

“I’m gonna be sick” – says my sister –

“Too much information, dear -” says my brother –

“Fasss-inn-ay-tinnn-“ mumbles the old man…and by now he’s doin’ origami with the turkey - trying to fold a hunk into a little square he can jam in his mouth.

He’s startin’ to shake an’ mom knows if he doesn’t get a couple of more shots in him, things are gonna start to get ugly.

“Excuse me -- ” says my mother. “Bob?” she says to my old man.

Dead silence. Everyone stares at her like they’re drownin’ and she’s a life preserver.

She picks up her knife -- glances at dad and then she says “Whoops!” Just like that – “Whoops!"

And with that – she drops her knife smack on the floor.

“Oh Bob, honey – could you be a dear and get me a clean knife from the pantry? – Oh, and while you’re at it, why don’t you get one for yourself? I forgot to put out the serrated spoons.”

Ol’ dad got the message. He scoops up the knife, weaves his way to the pantry -- knocks back some booze and returns with the two knives.

Like I say – she had a love/hate relationship with the old man – yup - that she did -- but that was the first time I saw her sorta lovin' and sorta hatin' him at the same time.