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Trilby James’s Followers (2)
Trilby James
More books by Trilby James…
“MADDY stands outside a toilet cubicle. The door is slightly ajar. She talks to Joshua who is the other side. While we may hear some audio of Joshua on the toilet, sing-songing, etc. Joshua does not respond to MADDY’s questions. Any pauses come from MADDY’s own thought process rather than a sense that she is hearing a response. Try not to touch under the toilet seat, Joshua. No, no, you’ll need to touch the seat to hold yourself up but try not to touch underneath the seat. It’s just dirtiest under there, my darling. Are you done? Is it a poo? Okay, sweetheart. You take your time. Joshua, when Granny took you out for your tea. And you had pizza and a chocolate rabbit. You went to a loo like this didn’t you. While Granny was paying for the meal. A man brought you to the toilet. Was that… Was he a nice man? No, don’t touch that please. It’s dirty. It’s for dirty things a bit like nappies but for mummies not babies. You went into the boys’ toilet didn’t you, with the man? Like you do with Daddy. How much did the man help you? Or did he stand all the way out here like I’m doing so you can be a big boy and do it all by yourself? Have you finished your poo? Do you want me to come and wipe you? You’re doing it yourself. Okay. That’s right, pull that. You might need more than that little piece. Was there anybody else in the toilets when the man brought you? You don’t need that much toilet paper, do you? Stop now, Joshua. That’s too much. Stop. Okay, good. Just tear a smaller bit off that. It’s trailing all over the floor. Get a smaller bit. Okay. Good boy. Did the man go to the toilet too when you did? Did you see his peepee? Did you touch it? Did you? Joshy, answer Mummy, please. Did you touch each other’s peepees? Why are you covering your ears, sweetie? Is there something you want to tell Mummy? (Desperate now…) Joshy, why are you covering your ears?! A breath. She composes herself. Is Mummy being annoying? Yeah? You’re sick of Mummy asking questions, is that it? Okay, my love. Okay. Let’s get your hands washed and get out of here”
― Contemporary Monologues for Women: Volume 2
― Contemporary Monologues for Women: Volume 2
“You know how people have dogs and they love their dogs and they take photos of them and buy them jumpers and cry when they die and you all have to chip in money at work to buy them flowers even though it was just a fucking Pomeranian. Steve was like a dog. I loved him. I love him. I do. But he was like a Labrador and, in reality, if at the pet shop, I’d gone for a, I don’t know, a King Charles Spaniel, instead, I would have loved that just as much. We loved each other because that’s what people do they love their dogs and their husbands. It’s just the – ease that I miss. I don’t miss him or need him but when I come back to this [empty house]. All I want to do is order a curry. And I don’t know what my favourite curry is. He did the ordering in. He must have had the number memorised or on his phone or – There was this one curry. It’s lamb with this yogurt and it’s just the right kind of spicy. I used to be able to handle vindaloo but after – when I was pregnant, I went completely off it but this one was just right. Not too greasy. And the naan too – not too thick. I tried to order it last week from one of those apps. But it wasn’t the right one. It was all creamy and thick and wrong. I just want to ring him and say ‘Hey, I know you hate me, I know it’s my fault she’s gone but please, which is the good curry house, what’s the curry I like, with the lamb called? Thank you, Steven. Goodnight.’ That’s all I want.”
― Contemporary Monologues for Women: Volume 2
― Contemporary Monologues for Women: Volume 2
“Thank you for coming, Miss Cole, if you’d like to take a seat. The man tells me there’s a scoring system. A drop of sweat
runs down my back.
Is there? I say, A scoring system. I see.
I have to score your answers. He’s sharp.
Nice one.
My voice don’t sound like me.
I want this job.
That’s all it is
Just a job
I wasn’t cultivated for a career
I just want a job
He takes out a tissue and wipes his top lip, leaving remnants
of white fluff over his face.
He tells me whoever scores the highest, goes through to the
next round. There’s a next round? I say.
I’m aware that Samantha’s waiting for me outside Greggs and
she only has an hour.
And nobody said nothing about rounds.
I thought I’d be in and out.
A chat, they said.
He clicks the top of his pen and writes something on a form.
There’s three.
Three?
Like X Factor or something.
I laugh. Too loud. Too big.
For fuck’s sake. Why am I still laughing?
He glares at me from over the top of his glasses.
I’m fucking it up.
And I really want this job.
I need to save my arse. Ask something good. Something that
makes sense.
Can I just ask, this is for the make-up counter?
He sneezes.
Are you telling me you don’t know what job you’ve applied
for?
No. I know. I just. I wanted to ask something. I…
Stop talking Yaz.
I just…
Beg. Try begging.
Look. Please. Um sir. I just wanted to say how much
I really want this.
His disinterest is tangible.
Too much? Not enough? Who knows. I go in hard.
I did a beauty course? Level 2, NVQ in beauty and nail
services? Will that score?
Fuck it. Shit or bust.
I got a paper. A… one of them… it’s square. What’s
it called. A certificate. With NVQ on it… you know
the ones?
A certificate?
Yeah. That’s it. A certificate. Level 2.
Nailed it, Yaz.
He tells me they got girls with degrees lining up for this job. Rats racing to get in the rat pack.
In what? In make-up?
They do degrees in standing all day at a make-up counter?
He looks to the floor. Can’t look me in the eye. That come out
wrong.
Bollocks.
He reshuffles his papers.
This is well and truly blown.
He pulls the tissue back out of his pocket, blows his nose.
Shall we get started?”
― Contemporary Monologues for Women: Volume 2
runs down my back.
Is there? I say, A scoring system. I see.
I have to score your answers. He’s sharp.
Nice one.
My voice don’t sound like me.
I want this job.
That’s all it is
Just a job
I wasn’t cultivated for a career
I just want a job
He takes out a tissue and wipes his top lip, leaving remnants
of white fluff over his face.
He tells me whoever scores the highest, goes through to the
next round. There’s a next round? I say.
I’m aware that Samantha’s waiting for me outside Greggs and
she only has an hour.
And nobody said nothing about rounds.
I thought I’d be in and out.
A chat, they said.
He clicks the top of his pen and writes something on a form.
There’s three.
Three?
Like X Factor or something.
I laugh. Too loud. Too big.
For fuck’s sake. Why am I still laughing?
He glares at me from over the top of his glasses.
I’m fucking it up.
And I really want this job.
I need to save my arse. Ask something good. Something that
makes sense.
Can I just ask, this is for the make-up counter?
He sneezes.
Are you telling me you don’t know what job you’ve applied
for?
No. I know. I just. I wanted to ask something. I…
Stop talking Yaz.
I just…
Beg. Try begging.
Look. Please. Um sir. I just wanted to say how much
I really want this.
His disinterest is tangible.
Too much? Not enough? Who knows. I go in hard.
I did a beauty course? Level 2, NVQ in beauty and nail
services? Will that score?
Fuck it. Shit or bust.
I got a paper. A… one of them… it’s square. What’s
it called. A certificate. With NVQ on it… you know
the ones?
A certificate?
Yeah. That’s it. A certificate. Level 2.
Nailed it, Yaz.
He tells me they got girls with degrees lining up for this job. Rats racing to get in the rat pack.
In what? In make-up?
They do degrees in standing all day at a make-up counter?
He looks to the floor. Can’t look me in the eye. That come out
wrong.
Bollocks.
He reshuffles his papers.
This is well and truly blown.
He pulls the tissue back out of his pocket, blows his nose.
Shall we get started?”
― Contemporary Monologues for Women: Volume 2
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