Monologues

All The Sudden (Dramatic)

DOG SEES GOD
by BERT V. ROYAL

BEETHOVEN: Well, it's just that you haven't spoken to me in years. Except to call me "faggot" or to dislocate my shoulder and all of a sudden get a stream-of-consciousness monologue about your dead dog while I'm trying to spend the only moments of my day that don't truly SUCK. And, you see, there's some missing component to this conversation other than an attentive listener. A segue, I suppose? Forgive my bluntness. Please don't hit me. But I could care less about you or your vacant mind or your morbid curiosities or your dead f-----g dog, so why don't you just leave?
Screw you! I'd rather you say "we beat the crap out of you because we can't stand you" than to say you're just "messing" with me! I haven't had lunch in the cafeteria in two and a half years for fear of going home with some part of it smeared across my shirt. I haven't been in a bathroom on campus since the time my head got slammed into the wall. I believe you were there.
Yeah, well you didn't stop it either! And the faculty doesn't care. You know what I'm so sick of hearing? "They only pick on you because of their own insecurities" The classic guidance counselor line. "Oh Geez, Mrs. Blank, since you put it that way, my head doesn't hurt so much anymore!" And what really kills me is that everybody wonders why kids bring guns to school and shoot you down. Maybe you're not the bully, but you stand idly by and watch. In my eyes that makes you even worse. So — Please. Just. Go.