the audition monologue

I am not really wanting to post this, but after 3 requests here it is--the background is that I wrote this for my friend "Murdoch"--she is auditioning for "The Laramie Project". It is a play that was banned over in Surrey--a suburb of Vancouver--but has been done in other Vancouver area schools like Lord Byng. (Trivia fact: Where I used to cut the lawn many years ago)

The play is controversial, not simply because it deals with the issue of gay bashing, but because it has language and sexual content which might offend some.

So I wrote Murdoch a monologue--she is gay herself--and I thought this would be a good piece for her to use. It's not polished, but I'm glad she likes it.


Scene: waiting in the airport--nervous…


Damn--it’s been delayed. I don’t know--maybe this is a sign or something. My horoscope said today would be a good day to stay in bed. I think maybe I should’ve gone with that. I mean, it would be good--just me, my remote control and the video games--and that set of L-word DVDs… Plus there’s that new Chinese place down the street that I order from, so I could stay in my room and stuff myself on almond chicken. Of course--the fortune cookie might contradict my horoscope and then what would I do?

(checks screen again) 40 minutes? I’m gonna have to go plug the parking meter if it’s much later--I mean, she’ll have to get her luggage and…

Who am I kidding? This is going to be a pretty short meeting. I’m going to go up to her and introduce myself and she’s going to run to the nearest ticket booth and head right back to Argentina. What the hell was I thinking? “Hi--I’m Ray,” I’ll say. I DON’T USE RAE-ANNE--EVER! I hate that name. It’s been just Ray since what--maybe sixth grade?

Sixth grade--the last time I wore a party dress. Amber Bennington-Wells’ birthday party. Who’d have thunk a bunch of 11 year olds could turn out to be such complete bitches to another kid? They all laughed when I walked in--I thought it was because my dress was the wrong style, or colour or something--it was only later that somebody told me I just looked like a boy playing dress-up. I went home and cut that dress up into little pieces and promised myself never again.

Funny thing--I met good old Amber a year ago--seems she had just broken off yet another engagement and was three drinks past semiconscious. She made a pass at me. I decided to have a little fun with her--I took her with me to my favorite bar--“Sappho’s Secret” and introduced her to a few of my friends. She’s got a pretty heavy bi-curious thing going on by the time we finished a couple rounds of shooters, and I just made sure my friend Lindsay had a camera. Those pics of good old Amber got emailed to a lot of the old grad class after that weekend was through.

(checks watch) I hate airports. It’s all families meeting up with or saying goodbye to loved ones. My family ain’t all that lovin’, at least not with me. My big sister, on the other hand--she’s perfect--so are her husband and kids. My parents were just relieved that our rich grandmamma died before she could figure out that I was never going to bring a boy home for Christmas dinner. Not that the way things are going lately there’s anyone joining me for any dinners most of the time.

That’s why nobody can judge me for this. It was an honest mistake. I thought I was in the “women seeking women” section of the website--but with half of it in Spanish, how the hell was I supposed to know that I had signed in as a “señor” and not a “señorita”? So I find Raphaela’s profile and see that picture and I was all “damnnn” (could sneak a drink from a pocket flask/mickey here) I mean, she looked good. REALLY good.

So I sent her a little “hello”--from “Ray” in Canada. And I sent her a link to my profile--which has a picture of me. Unfortunately, it also has a picture of my brother, Greg with me--yeah, I coulda put a pic of just me--but I look really good in this pic. I never figured there’d be any problem--but you can guess, right? So sweet little Argentine Catholic Raphaela sends me a message back--her English is pretty good--her parents sent her to school in Florida for sixth months when she was 16--and she says I sound pretty cool.

It didn’t take me long to start obsessing over her. I also realized pretty quickly what my mistake was. I tried to break the news to her, but then she sent me a few more pictures--whoa, I mean, if you could see what she looked like in these…

So fast forward to now. She’s getting off the plane in…(checks) just over 35 minutes. She’s going to see me and think “Oh, it’s Ray’s sister”. At that point, I figure I start the timer. I’m giving myself 48 hours to charm the pants, er, socks of that girl. I am the most charming person I know--so I figure I can do it. I will tell her then--that no, Ray didn’t get called away on business or whatever--I’m Ray. If only she gives me a chance--I’ll be better than any guy she ever met.

Then the way I figure it, either she crosses the street for the first time in her life, or I don’t sober up for about a year. Wish me luck…