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THAT FIRST NIGHT
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A monologue from the play by Walter Wykes
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Copyright © 2011 by Walter Wykes
CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that That First Night is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional and amateur stage performing, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound taping, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved.
Inquiries concerning all rights should be addressed to the author at sandmaster@aol.com
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KAREN: Look, I’m not a thief. Okay? I’m not like this. This isn’t me. I just … I needed a few dollars to make rent. That’s all. I’m a little short. I didn’t know what else to do. I got laid off a few months ago. I didn’t have any savings. I mean, I was living hand to mouth anyway. Right? So when they let me go, everything just fell apart. I got on with this temp agency, but it took a while, and I don’t work every day, the economy, you know, it’s pretty bad, not enough jobs to go around, so the bills just started piling up, I fell further and further behind, and now I’m about to be evicted. I’m going to lose my apartment. I don’t have anywhere to go. No family. My dad died when I was sixteen, and my mom passed away last November. Cancer. Both of them. When things got tough, the few friends I had disappeared. Just vanished into thin air. I’ve been a wreck, an absolute disaster, and then I got laid off, and I just couldn’t deal, you know. I shut down. There were whole days where I didn’t get out of bed. I’d just lie there. Eating chocolate. Watching soap operas. Pretending everything would just work itself out somehow, magically, without any effort on my part, you know, but if I don’t get the money by noon tomorrow, I get evicted. I’ll actually be living on the street. Out of my car. Nellie. I call her Nellie. I’m trying to coax a few more years out of her. But she’s on her last legs. I mean, she can’t last much longer. And then what? Then I’m living under a bridge somewhere. Building houses out of newspaper. This was stupid. I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve never stolen anything before in my life. I really haven’t. I was desperate. I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll apologize to Dave. Introduce me. This is the chick who just stole your wallet. Believe me, a little public humiliation will cure me forever. Just … please don’t call the cops. Please.
[Pause.]
I'll do anything.
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