Rosalie (Copyright Unlistedmuse, 2009)
*blows smoke*
Youth…what bullshit.
It doesn’t matter what age you are now, really.
Because you can always buy a younger face.
They name the price,
I can pay it.
*sips from her wine*
I was your age once.
And I bet I did it better than you.
These days it’s about sex.
I’ll let you in on a little secret…
It always is.
You want to know why his marriage is ending? (points to someone in the audience)
Sex, I’m telling you.
Either too much, not enough, or with the wrong chick.
I remember the first time.
I kind of wish I didn’t.
It’s never like the shows on TV
Movie stars don’t sweat.
Don’t deny it- we all know this.
He was 19
I was 17. They said I was a smart girl
I just knew how to play the system.
Wear your skirt the right length
and turn in your papers.
Anyone can do that.
Everyone had two sides-
the one we showed to our parents at dinner
and the after hours, side of the building, talking to the tight t-shirt james dean hair, smoke rings in your face
sideways smirk and upfront suggestions.
He had a yellow car.
Slick and smooth on the inside, all leather and hot.
Let me tell you, sometimes when a guy asks you-
do you wanna see the gear shift, it could mean anything.
It always ends the same though.
Skirt around your neck, hair touseled in your ears,
and sore legs in the morning.
*sips from wine*
You want tidy? Get a sandwich from the automat.
I loved those. Little square packets, like babies fresh from the hospital.
They never tasted like the ones your mother made.
My mother burnt everything she ever touched.
Figures.
We all turned out like shit. No wonder Denys is divorced.
I wonder if anyone expected Margret to be having an affair.
She always the goody two shoes.
That brat.
We all knew it’d end this way for me, not that they’d ever say it.
For broads like us- it’s not the age that really…
snatches your life away.
It’s the realisation that you’re all alone now,
you were alone then, really.
And that when you die, it’s just you and that bastard in the suit, waiting for you
to go, so he can sign the papers and start the next job.
A homeless man said to me once, “Hey Lady. Life’s a bitch. Spare a smoke?”
And I said, “I’ll give you a bitch- Get lost.”
You. There in the front row. Yeah, that’s right. Look away. Don’t make eyecontact with me. No- Squeeze the hand of the girl next to you. Her? You don’t know her. Well, the other one then. You’ll leave her in two months for her best friend.
She let go of your hand, didn’t she.
That’s life kiddo.
Them’s the break.
Because like I said,
It always comes down to that one thing.
Back to that one thing.
Sex.
That’s the real bitch.
You know in those reader digest books- they say “who would you like to meet, dead or alive.”
I want to meet Darwin. I want to meet him.
So I can punch that sucker.
Right in the dick.
A.N: Another one in my monologue series. Rosalie was originally an improvved character for a video-taped spur of the moment monologue. I was intrigued by her though, so I came back and decided to see how far I could take her.
Love,
Muse
From The Diary of An Unlisted Muse 