By Todd London
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Additional info for Contemporary American Monologues for Women
Mostly recipes—that’s all they wanted really was mostly recipes and shopping hints. (Beat) My speech was entitled BE CAREFUL. Simply BE CAREFUL. I say this to them and I mean it, I want to help. “Be careful of spending too much time alone. Learn the language—whatever you do—learn the language fast. ” I smile. A sister. “Look. I’m gonna level with you,”—now I know I’m really hitting my stride, doing a sort of a midwife routine—”they say it’s an adventure and it is. But it’s also a sacrifice. You’re giving up things here and when you come back, it’ll never be the same—make sure your husband understands this.
I hear them kill the nurse, quietly and efficiently. She makes one low sound. I lie in my bed, sweating, staring at the door. I hear the leaves rustling outside the screened window—the night is humming, alive with cicadas chirping and clicking. It is unbearably hot, even in the middle of the night. I am unable to move, sweating under my thin blanket. I hear soft movements in the next room. They are coming for me, I am sure of it. I go over the movie again and again, the movie I call My Father’s House.
Trying to stop the massive hemorrhage with my little hands, with my prayers. But it didn’t work and I knew if I didn’t do something soon, it would be too late. I called a meeting. And I urged the Heavenly Hierarchies—the Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Principalities, Powers, Virtues, Archangels and Angels—to vote to stop the universal ruin . . by slaughtering our senile God. And they did. Listen well, Marisol: angels are going to kill the King of Heaven and restore the vitality of the universe with His blood.
Contemporary American Monologues for Women by Todd London