Soliloquy in H#

Note: This is the opening monologue for a play I’m pitching to my friend, Greg. I’m posting it here so Greg won’t read it. These things need to be handled delicately.



Soliloquy in H#


A bare, dark stage, a single spotlight warms the center. The actor is revealed and begins to speak.


My name is Ted. Actually, it’s Tedious J. Hogspitt but you can call me Ted.


I was born a precocious child; which upset my parents a great deal because they thought we were Latvians. Though both mother and father were imbeciles they treated me well growing up. Every Sunday they took me out for ice cream and we would throw rocks at smart people’s houses. At least we thought they were smart people’s houses. Turns out they were just covered bus stops. We thought only smart people would think to live so close to public transportation.


As I grew up I came to realize that we were, indeed, imbeciles and had never been to Latvia. Fortunately, we lived in Texas and so were considered pillars of the community. Before long, it was my family that was living in covered bus stops. (Ha! Take that, smart people!) I even got used to the Sunday afternoon stone pelting we would receive from our neighbors. I missed the ice cream part, though. But, life is a series of adjustments (Stage direction: Actor begins fidgeting and pulling the seat of his trousers) and I have learned to make these adjustments several times a day. Now, an idiot wouldn’t make these adjustments. That’s what separates idiots from imbeciles. Of course, an idiot would buy the right-size underwear. And underwear is what separates an idiot from his pants. Still, I’m glad to be an imbecile even when I’m going “Indian-style” and wearing wool pants. Now I know why Pocahontas didn’t wear wool pants. She was one smart cookie.


I had a lot of brothers, sisters, mothers, liquor and firearms in my house. I told you I grew up in Texas. This made for a happy home. If somebody got out of hand, we shot them. Then we would drink to their memory. Of course, all that drinking led to more people getting out of hand and made more shootings necessary. Eventually, there was just me and my brother, Pete, left to carry on the family name. Turns out we had a lot in common, we were both crack shots and we could both hold our liquor. We were like brothers, only we decided it was best to go our separate ways and break-up the act. We both had realized it wouldn’t be long before one of us got liquored-up and shot the other one in his sleep. We were imbeciles, not idiots. So, we bade each other a fond farewell and boarded the next bus bound for Hollywood.


Oddly enough, we both arrived in Hollywood at the same time. And on the same bus. What were the odds of that? Both brothers being re-united halfway across the country? Fortunately neither of us had packed a bottle of whiskey, a gun or wool pants — or chances are better than average I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today with full capacity over my motor skills and itchy nuts. No, I would have a far darker tale to tell.


Spotlight dims, leaving a dark stage.


Well, maybe not this dark, but certainly much darker than the one you’re about to hear.


Cue: musical interlude



Explore posts in the same categories: Thoughts & Musings

One Comment on “Soliloquy in H#”

  1. E Says:

    Bravo mon frere, bravo!

    I’d hoped you would work the “beers, steers and queers” line in there, but hey! It worked out great for me anyway! Nice job.

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