a monologue for Sam
My friend Sam was looking for a monologue for an audition, so I wrote her one. Unfortunately, she claims it was "too cerebral" and "would be wasted on the judges." I'm not sure I believe her, but whatever.
I was hiking in the woods when I saw a deer. That's "deer" with two e's, as opposed to "dear" like when you begin a letter. I haven't written an honest-to-goodness pen-and-paper letter in forever, you know -- with e-mail these days. We're so lazy, writing our notes on our computers, with our word processors fixing all our mistakes automatically. Does anyone even know how to spell anymore?
Anyway, as I was saying, this deer I encountered -- I froze, admiring it. So innocent, so graceful -- it was everything we've forgotten how to be. I wondered briefly what it would be like to be unencumbered by the idiosyncrasies of our society -- just to be, eating and sleeping when you want, knowing only the fear of predators -- not of inadvertently breaking random social mores invented hundreds of years ago for reasons nobody remembers.
"I'm with you, buddy," I thought, wanting desperately to speak aloud to my would-be friend, but knowing, logically, that it wouldn't understand. I sighed, quietly -- but the sound was audible enough to sensitive ears trained for survival. Startled, my companion looked up, and I tried my best to be still, to maximize my time with the beautiful beast. But it saw me anyway, and quickly turned and ran, bounding off into the thick mass of trees.
I whispered goodbye as it disappeared, and immediately felt the loss. Not just the loss of its physical presence...
I'm going to write it a letter. An honest-to-goodness pen-and-paper letter. I know it can't read, and even if it could, it's not as if I'll ever see it again. But it'll make me feel better.
"Dear Deer," it'll start...and only a civilized human being could appreciate the humor in that.
I was hiking in the woods when I saw a deer. That's "deer" with two e's, as opposed to "dear" like when you begin a letter. I haven't written an honest-to-goodness pen-and-paper letter in forever, you know -- with e-mail these days. We're so lazy, writing our notes on our computers, with our word processors fixing all our mistakes automatically. Does anyone even know how to spell anymore?
Anyway, as I was saying, this deer I encountered -- I froze, admiring it. So innocent, so graceful -- it was everything we've forgotten how to be. I wondered briefly what it would be like to be unencumbered by the idiosyncrasies of our society -- just to be, eating and sleeping when you want, knowing only the fear of predators -- not of inadvertently breaking random social mores invented hundreds of years ago for reasons nobody remembers.
"I'm with you, buddy," I thought, wanting desperately to speak aloud to my would-be friend, but knowing, logically, that it wouldn't understand. I sighed, quietly -- but the sound was audible enough to sensitive ears trained for survival. Startled, my companion looked up, and I tried my best to be still, to maximize my time with the beautiful beast. But it saw me anyway, and quickly turned and ran, bounding off into the thick mass of trees.
I whispered goodbye as it disappeared, and immediately felt the loss. Not just the loss of its physical presence...
I'm going to write it a letter. An honest-to-goodness pen-and-paper letter. I know it can't read, and even if it could, it's not as if I'll ever see it again. But it'll make me feel better.
"Dear Deer," it'll start...and only a civilized human being could appreciate the humor in that.