I woke up and... and he was... (Pause.) He was practically on top of me. I...View Full Monologue Text
I woke up and... and he was...
He was practically on top of me. I was right next to him. So I panicked and I pushed him off of me. Just 'get the fuck off me' and...
He had maggots crawling around on his eyes. He was cold. Jesus. And he reeked. I don't why I didn't notice it the night before. But he fucking reeked. And for a second I thought that maybe I was dead, too. That both of us had been rotting there for years. And now I was a ghost able to just look down at him and not feel sorry. 'There's death. Isn't that funny?' That's what it looks like for all of us, if you want to dig up all of the pretty brown boxes. And?
His hand. It was wrapped tight around a big silver cross. Praying or something. Jesus, isn't that pathetic? If that's not funny, I don't know what is.
Fish opens up in therapy to Dr. Simon.
Forgive me father because I have sinned. This precious gift you've given me, this...View Full Monologue Text
Forgive me father because I have sinned. This precious gift you've given me, this breath of life, I don't want it anymore. You can have it back. I died two years ago, all right? What's wrong with just crossing your T. Look. Cry for help...
(Drawing a line with her finger across her wrist.)
I want out.
(Drawing a line length-wise down her vine.)
Cry for help... Swift release... Cry for help...
(Her, drawing the two lines on her wrist, face out paint an imaginary cross.)
I've died for my own sins, all right? I'm already a fucking ghost. I don't feel anything anymore. I don't love, I don't hate. Not even those pricks who lock me up in this room so I can have some time alone with my thoughts. Like that's the solution to all of my problems. If I could think my way through this, do you really think I'd still be in here?
(Looking around here.)
The silent room. Perfect solitude. No noise at all except the throbbing of blood pumping through your veins, as if the steady rhythm chants, 'I want out, I want out'. Release me you fucking bitch and I'll release you. There's something about the perfect stillness of this place, the fluorescent, soul-numbing nothingness of it that serves as the perfect waiting room for non-existence. I'm scaring you, aren't I? I'm making you uncomfortable? 'For heavens sake, Marge, I think she means to kill herself.' 'Daft girl, doesn't she know she'll burn in hell?' You're wrong, I would have said. You're so wrong. I'm a fucking ghost already.
Fish talks herself into suicide.
Age Range: 20s - Early, 20s - Late, 30s - Early
Dialects: Standard American
PlayName: School of Jesus Fish
Rating: Contains adult content
Copyright Status: Copyrighted
AuthorName: Rick Robinson
Half the dreams I have nowadays I have my bass in my hands and dope...View Full Monologue Text
Half the dreams I have nowadays I have my bass in my hands and dope running through my veins. And my sister wailing...
'I'm falling in love you say'
I'm a fucking ghost on dope. Watching, talking, playing, fucking but nobody can touch me.
'I'm falling, maybe baby/ but I don't think it's love'
I don't feel anything. And I'm thin. I'm so thin and fucking beautiful with it that I can look at myself in the mirror and not puke. Sober, it's all too real.
'I'm no angel, baby/ I'm no angel, baby'
There's a great wide world out there and I've seen and smelled things as a holy ghost that no one should ever see. Street corners and halfway houses and dirty fucking drug dealer dick, but I can laugh because it wasn't me who did those things. It wasn't me that saw those things. I came home to my lover and said 'nowhere, baby', and it wasn't really a lie.
I've always said to be the best local band in Phoenix is like being the biggest turd in the toilet. You're still just floating and you probably still stink. But even bad music is fucking great as long as someone's giving it a little backbone. But now I can't listen to music because it fucks up my head and can't get any heroin in this place and without them, I'm a liar and a thief and a victim.
'I'm no angel, baby/ and I'm not yours'
Fish describes why music has become painful to her.
Six months later, you're finished. You stand inside the nurses' station. You've never been...View Full Monologue Text
Six months later, you're finished. You stand inside the nurses' station. You've never been allowed in here before. You sign papers and knuckles are white with fear as you brace yourself for what has to be done. You're on a bus. Everyone thinks you're a freak, but fuck them, right? A thousand different ways cross your mind on how it should be done. A thousand different me-murders and only life to lose. A car parked in a garage, and slash down my wrists. I'd hang myself from the nearest tree, If I thought I could manage it. The easiest way, and let's face it for me, that's always been the best, is to find the nearest dealer, take the rest of my cab fare and melt into the fucking streets. Goodbye, midget.
Fish says goodbye to Sam.