Short monologue – Time traveler

Why am I leaving?

No, I’m not traveling back in time to stop Hitler.

Nope, not Mao either.

Yeah, that whole holocaust thing was a disaster, but that’s not my assignment.

Nope, I’m not allowed to save JFK or MLK, even if I’d love to meet those two.

Yes, stopping slavery earlier would be noble, as would working to prevent the coming climate disaster.

Unfortunately, I’m being paid to go mess with history for one reason and one reason only…to stop the discontinuation of Cap’n Crunch Choco Donuts. Bezos loves his cereal.

One Minute Monologue – Neurotic Writer

Here is another creative writing monologue. This one from the POV of a neurotic writer. BTW, these monologues are NOT about me personally! If you use this monologue for an acting exercise, Tiktok or YouTube video, etc, let me know! I would be thrilled to know these are being used!

“Neurotic Writer”

What a way to start a conversation with a stranger! How did you even know I was a writer? (beat) I’m not sure if I should be offended. I look like a neurotic mess? Well, you might be right, but it’s still a bit rude to thrust such a stereotype onto me without even seeing my good side first.  

What do you mean? How am I supposed to respond to that? You insult my personality and then compliment my boobs? I mean, I guess I appreciate the praise, even if it comes from a creep like you. But I’m not about to let you off the hook now. You fucked up by talking to me. You’ve no idea. Neurotic? That’s for beginners.

One Minute Monologue – Mine Now

I’ve been reading a book of one minute monologues, and it inspired me to try my own hand at writing them. Here is my first try, inspired in part by watching the Netflix series “YOU”.

“Mine Now”

We met at an estate sale. You were selling off the remnants of your grandmother’s 80-something years, and I was looking for some cheap antiques. I bent over to sort through a box of old vinyl records, trying to ignore the smell of cat piss and mustiness that permeated the air.

That’s when I spotted you on the stairs – long black hair pulled back into a pony tail, muscular, tanned arms lugging another box of old junk to the sale room.

Our eyes met as you neared the bottom step. You smiled in recognition, though we had never met before. I decided right then that you were mine now, regardless of whether you wanted to be or not. I hoped you would put up a good fight. It always makes the game feel exciting and new…and the eventual conquest more satisfying.