We’re not complicated. Actors, men, all we want is a girl who can play the part. Is that too much? Naturally she has to be attractive. Even the ugly parts are played by attractive girls. You know that. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. Not so attractive that it doesn’t read right, you understand. Reasonably attractive, but decidedly more reasonably attractive than we are, and by that I mean a nine, nine-and-a-half tops. I don’t make these rules. Men want to see their wishes fulfilled. Women want to be the better man. I tell you, they’ll go looking for a guy they can stupefy; they’ll ignore his flaws, lavish him with love, and every day go out of their way to stroke his ego by staying with him, and all they ask in return is that the stupid schmuck act lucky. Yeah, I miss her. She had a way of looking at me that felt like applause. Smartest girl I ever got. I never had to dumb-down my material. She misses me, too, of course, but she’d never hurt me by letting on. We talk. She’s helped me grow as an actor and a man. I don’t think I’d be this mature about leaving her if she hadn’t. No, wait, that doesn’t read right. One minute he’s drawing blueprints of the female mind and the next minute he’s a witless fathead? No, it doesn’t scan. It’s unplayable. Maybe if it didn’t transition so quickly. I mean, are you married to this script? I’ll tell you what. You get a re-write and find me a leading lady who doesn’t look like my mother and I’ll come back and maybe audition. The way things stand, what makes you think I’d want this lousy part? Thank you for your time.

Copyright © August 09, 2007 David Hodges

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Two-Minute Monologue by davidbdale is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at davidbdale.wordpress.com.

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