Moonologues and Scenes for Young Performers 🌙Â
Â
Â
Â
Â
Introduction
Moonologues and Scenes is a project I’ve wanted to do for years. When I was in high school, many ions ago, I was often disappointed in the diversity of monologues and scenes that were available in collections for young performers. I was always looking to challenge myself as a young actor, so that I may grow, but the monologues and scenes that were written for young performers were often the same types of scenarios and characters over and over. I wanted new scenarios, new conflicts, new characters to explore. That often meant hunting the internet for screenplays of movies I knew, which had the kinds of characters and scenarios I was looking for to challenge me.
That’s what this collection is all about. I wanted to give back a collection of monologues and scenes that I felt would be useful to my 16 year old self, and others trapped in that horrible age.
There are some pieces I have collaborated on with others. When that is the case, you will see full credits given beneath the title.
I hope you find some use in these, and if you perform a piece, let me know. I love hearing when a piece gets performed. You do not have to ask to perform these for auditions or educational purposes. But if for some reason you'd like to adapt one of these for an online video or something commercial, please let me know. And since the world has changed a lot since I was in high school, and video production is super easy and affordable now, I strongly encourage young students making short films and such to use these as well. Again, let me know when you do, and send me the finished product. I'd love to watch it.
To navigate the monologues and scenes, you can use the Table of Contents(TOC) on the left side of the page represented by the lines. If you over your mouse over those lines, the TOC will appear. Or tap them with your finger on a mobile device.
(EVA is talking about how she adores, sort of, Drew Johnston who just happens to be the high school star quarterback).
EVA:  Let me tell you a little about Drew Johnston.  He’s the star quarterback for our team, the BlackHawks—though, I think it should be the African-AmericanHawks, but no one ever listens to me.  He’s also like the best looking guy at our school, which isn’t much because we’re pretty small.  We only have 20 seniors this year, and I’m just guessing that only six of those will actually graduate.  Right on, Marion High School, you rock my socks off.  WHOOT!  Seriously, though, back to Drew Johnston—the hottest dude in school.  He’s built just right—not too big, not too small.  Blond hair, perfect bone structure—that’s right, I do notice those things.  But the kicker, no not the field goal kicker—the irony of the situation—is that he’s dumber than a bouquet of #2 pencils.  Maybe it’s steroids.  Maybe he’s popping or drinking things or whatever you do with that stuff.  You have to picture this guy in his natural habitat… let me see if I can conjure up his aroma of personality and lack of charisma.(starts sitting like a dude, sniffs, rubs with her wrist and speaks in a deep voice, manly voice)  “Hey, I’m Drew Johnston, I play football.  I’m the starting quarterback, baby.  That’s right.  I work out five days a week and its all upper body, baby.  Yeah, I know, most people would have to work out their upper body every other day for it to do any good—but not me, baby.  I’m cool like that, tell your friends.  What’s that?  I’m making an F in Geometry?  Suck.  Whatever, dude, it doesn’t bother me—I’ve already got my football scholarship.  I’m set for college, I’m ready for the booze—not that I haven’t been underage drinking, because I have.  Like every weekend.  I got connections, baby.  That’s right.  Oh, how can I be drinking and still be on the football team, you ask?  I borrow urine from some nerd every time they go to test, baby.  And my dad’s on the school board.  That’s right.  Superintendent.  Right on.  Oh, I got connections, baby.  You wanna a drug, baby?  Name it, it’s yours.(snaps fingers)  Like that.  You wanna get it on, baby?  I always have a condom—ultra big.  That’s right.  And you know how they tell you that condoms aren’t safe in those STD assemblies with the dirty pictures?  Pfst… bologna.  I got it covered.  That’s right.  I’m FDA Approved, baby.  Wanna take it to the Power House?  Wanna ride the Freak Train?  All aboard, baby.  That’s right, I’m a caboose.  Huh, what’s that?  Drew Johnston has an STD?  Huh?  Unheard of, baby.  I’m like that movie with Sean Connery and Kevin Costner—untouchable.  That’s right.  I’ve been in a threesome before, and let me tell ya… I got an A+ on that project, baby.  Right on.  Huh, what’s that?  Drew Johnston is gay?  Huh?  Doesn’t compute, baby.  When it comes to gays, I’m like Arnold Schwarzenegger… I’m The Terminator.  Unless their lesbian in which case I’m like Robert De Niro in that Wesley Snipes movie… I’m a fan.  Right on.  Are you a lesbian, baby?  Maybe it’s because you’ve never been with a real man… I’m here to educate, baby.  I’m all about education.  That’s right.  I’m like what president Obama is to the economy when it comes to education… stimulating.  Oh, you’ve had enough of me, huh?  I have that effect on people.  Maybe someday I’ll meet my match, but I doubt it.”(sighs, and undoes her manliness)  It’s like God used up all the resources on his looks and had nothing left over for the brain.  Idiot.  Drew Johnston cannot reproduce.
END SCENE
Get Over It
An excerpt from Get Over It written by Benjamin Little, Laura Patterson, and Nathan Weaver.
(Jack can easily be played as a male or female character. In this monologue, Jack is upset with Martin who has been ignoring him for sometime and is having a bit of a nervous breakdown. They are trapped together in a house in a sort of Big Brother style game show from the 1950s.)
JACK:(upset) I was lonely, okay?  I was sitting around doing nothing, while you slept away over there.  All the time you were smiling, dreaming of who knows.  I can’t take it anymore!  I feel neglected! I stay cooped up in this house all day and for what?  Nothing!  I clean and clean this house and for what?  No one comes!  Where’s the love, Martin?  I need attention, I need some good times, or I know I’m just gonna pop.  We are having a party, okay?  I am inviting all our friends, okay?  That’s the way it is, okay?  You don’t even listen to me!  All this time!  It’s all for you, Martin, and you don’t even care.  I’ve been slaving over this party for you and you don’t even know.  You are so stuck up in sleeping you wouldn’t even know if I left, would you?  Would you?!?  You don’t love me anymore, do you? It’s that waitress girl, isn’t it?  Isn’t it?  I see how you look at her.  You can’t keep your eyes off her.  Are you willing to throw it all away, Martin?  Are you willing to just cast me aside?  Just toss me like an old pair of shoes?  Oh, you wish you could dismiss it all as one, big horrible nightmare, but you can’t!  Can’t be rid of me so easily!  I’m not giving up on us that easily, Martin!  You mean too much to me!  (turns to address book, bright and cheerful)  I better focus on my invites, dear.  It’ll be 7:30 before you know it.
END SCENE
Going to College
EVA: Mom, dad. I know you have had mounting concern over my future as of late, and that’s understandable. I have not been communicating to you my plans for the future following my high school graduation this upcoming spring. And so, I’ve decided that this morning, over breakfast, that I will let you two old farts in on the plan. First, I will graduate, barely, I’m trying desperately to fail as many classes as possible, as you’ve noticed. Why? Because I’m testing the limits of the system. I’m currently enrolled as a“Free and Reduced Lunch” student at the school, as you know, because our income is less than desirable. This has placed me into a number scheme, by which teachers, administrators, and politicians are able to quantify me as a number and use me for the betterment of their program. They will laugh at me, the number, at their conferences as they discuss how to deal with numbers like me. We numbers are so problematic, you know. A recent study showed that we“free and reduced” numbers often struggle in school. Which was a brilliant waste of research money, because of course kids in low-income homes are going to have a harder time than those in higher-income homes. Like, say, the Superintendent’s daughters. No, they don’t understand the struggles we go through, and they don’t have the same struggles we have. They wince at the notion of having to work their way through college, which they won’t do because of scholarships and daddy’s money, not understanding that some of us work our way through high school. Where was I? Oh yes, after high school. Well, as you know, we live in a society where a piece of paper that says“education” on it is more valuable than actual knowledge and experience. So that means, I will be going to college or dying in a ditch. But, we also live in an economy that doesn’t guarantee that one piece of paper with the word“education” on it is sufficient for success. So, I will need at least two papers with the word“education on it. And even then, we live in an economy which still doesn’t guarantee that I will find a job. As you know, I am an artist at heart, but we also live in a society where art isn’t appreciated--at least not financially speaking. Therefore, I will have to puke on my dreams and get some stupid paper with the words“education” and“computer science” or something on it. Not because I wanna do something STEM related, but because I have no choice. Well, unless I wanna live in a ditch. Because she who lives by her dreams, dies by her dreams. And so, I will graduate with multiple pieces of paper in fields I care nothing about. And then, I will enter the job market and strive to get a job, but there’s no guarantee I’ll find anything or that anyone will want me, because it’s still a thing to hire your buddies or your buddy’s son. And, because I’m a woman, I will have an even harder time finding a job. Because. Penis. And then, even if I’m lucky to find a job, I'll be underpaid compared to my male counterparts. And if I complain, I’ll be considered witchy--with a B. And if I want a promotion, and deserve it, some guy who just got hired will be offered it instead. Because. Penis. And then, finally, I’ll realize either something gives or I marry a man with a nice job. Because. Yeah. So, there it is mom and dad. I hope you have appreciated being brought into the loop. My future is so bright. And by bright, I mean bleak. And by bleak I mean, as same as it’s always been. Even for your mom, and grandma too. So the next time you think about asking me about my plans, remember this: my plans don’t count. My plans are meaningless against a sea of bureaucratic filth. Because. Well, you get the point.
Introduction
Monologues: Female 👩🏾Â
Drew Johnston
Get Over It
Going to College
Love is Like