Poyzun_Ivy

I wrote this one-person show based solely off of personal experiences. I turned it in for a grade in my advanced playwriting class, it was well-recieved by my classmates, and the professor seemed to enjoy it. Three of them, professor not included, know that these stories actually took place.

The piece came up for possible production and was not chosen, at which point the directing class professor stared me down and told me how "it needs a lot of work... a whole lot of work... but don't get discouraged... it just needs something... new! This kind of thing is SO over-done...."

Please read and give feedback... I'm a bit upset over the whole ordeal. :/ Any suggestions to make it more "new"? Specifically, I want to know what *YOU* think happened to her in her final monologue... that seemed to be perfectly clear to the women in the class, and extremely vague to the men... Thanks!

-+ Ivy +-
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Seven
A Solo Piece By Heathyr Hoffman

BAILEY
No, oh god… I can’t answer that. That’s not a fair question! I mean, it’s more than one question in the same question! No, give me a dare instead… Come on, please? Jesus, why not?? For the love of… fine, fine. Pass me that bottle, will you?

(She takes a swig, and then pauses for the “burn”
in her throat.)

Well, as for virginity… I lost my virginity when I was thirteen. Yes, thirteen… why, when did you start? Not your question, I know, I know… Thirteen. With my boyfriend, on his brother’s bed in the family’s basement. What a moment to cherish…

(She laughs.)

No, didn’t get caught… guess we were lucky, huh? He was fourteen and really thought pretty highly of himself. He had a lot of Scottish blood in him… told me “Scotsmen had the biggest ones”… Just a word of warning: when a man tells you he has a big one? He’s either telling the truth or hasn’t seen very many others.

(She pauses, taking on a slightly more somber tone.)

We got engaged… twice. Two rings. One cost him eight bucks at a city arts festival. The other was fifteen at Wal-Mart. I sold the second one for fifty cents and a ride home from college in my freshman year, about eight months after he slept with one of my friends. I can still remember him holding it up to me, down on his knees, that massive rock… I put it on my finger, and it fit so nice. I looked down and went to kiss him and he blurts out, “Don’t get excited, it’s not real.” Talk about a true romantic. You do a lot of shit when you’re young and dumb.

(She takes another swig from the bottle.)

Ugh, what is this stuff anyways? It tastes like rubbing alcohol and it burns like a mother… Shit, don’t make me go on… God… okay, second was some guy I dated from downtown. He was my first phone-sex encounter, too. I never really got into it, but he sure seemed to… Do you know what it’s like to hear a guy huffing and jacking it on the phone? Boring. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl… and he was a pencil-dick anyways.

(She laughs and holds the bottle up, peering into
it before passing it on.)

Thought he was really hot shit, too… but then again, don’t they always? His mother made me spend the night at their house after some school dance he took me to… they lived too far away to drive me home or something, I don’t remember… we played video games until two in the morning, and his mom comes in and tells us it’s time for bed. So she ushers me into HER bedroom and sets me up in there. She’s about to leave when she hands me a can of mace. A fucking can of MACE! Tells me to use it on her son if he tries to come in during the night. She actually wanted me to mace her own son. I’m serious! Then, just to be extra careful, she slept in the hallway that linked the two rooms together. No lie.

(She reaches out, taking the bottle back.)

He tried to make me feel bad after we broke up. And it was a good while after, too… over a year… He went and found this Asian chick to fuck with. Then he calls me up and says something like, “Well, Chun-Li says it’s huge!” What can you expect from a four-and-a-half foot tall bitch with a quarter-inch twat? Oh… excuse me… I’m… I didn’t mean to say that…

(She takes another swig from the bottle and holds it
in her lap.)

Next was… what do you mean ‘how many’?! Enough, okay? God… you’re ruthless!! Seven… seven, got it? OH, don’t you go calling me a slut… I know at least two of you’ve had more than four in one NIGHT, and don’t try denying it!! Right, right… next was my kindergarten sweetheart. He was damn cute in kindergarten… disgusting by the time we were eighteen. He was one of those rebound mistakes that you have to remember for the rest of your life.

(She goes to take a drink and almost spits it out, excited.)

Ohmygod… I remember the first time I spent the night at his house. We’d been out dancing or bowling or something that night, and I didn’t want to go home. I mean, I’d just graduated high school, I was playing with my newfound freedoms and emancipation and all that shit… So we cuddled up in his bed and passed out. His mom came in to wake him up the next morning and saw me… Exactly! You’d expect a scream-fest, right? No! The psycho bitch runs over, gives him a kiss on the forehead, gives ME a kiss on the forehead, and tells us to go back to sleep.

(She looks down into her lap, notices the bottle,
and passes it on.)

She ran off and called all of his relatives to tell them about it… and they were all so excited. They all came over to see me after we woke up. See, they all lived on the same street. Total hicks… they probably thought he was gay up until then… He got married a little while ago. And I say good for him. At least it’s not me.

(She reaches out to accept the bottle again.)

Is that enough? … Damnit, why are you doing this to me!? You guys are my friends, not the Inquisition. You could at least give me a break he—

(A bright light hits her face from a front-side
angle.)

Very funny. Now shut it off… C’mon, I said shut it off!!

(The light goes out.)

Then… then it was some guy from my… history class? His name? J… John? … Jason? … Shit… I don’t remember; I was drunk. Very, very drunk. I ran into him at a frat party, one thing led to another… The DD took us to his place and he presented me with a full bottle of Jack before heading back to mine. Trust me, before him? I needed it. He thought he was a damn porn star! I mean, yeah, I was drunk… but I was still paying a little attention! Have you guys ever had that happen? It was… it was hilarious in a way, but it was just… god! … The guy puts his hands on the back of your head and makes really loud, obscene grunting noises? Seriously. This guy went as far as to lean over and he says to me, “Ooh yeah, suck it bitch!” It was sort of the last straw, you know? I snapped.

(She holds the bottle up and shakes it.)

Do we have another one of these? Good. Pop that baby open.

(She empties the current bottle in one drink and
sets it to the side.)

I actually shoved him away and told him to get the hell out… and you know, I have NEVER seen a man beg for anything as pitifully as he did. “Please don’t kick me out, I’m so sorry, oh god I am so, so sorry! Don’t make me go home yet!”… Well sure, I let him stay… nobody wants to be alone, right?

(Beat; she shrugs.)

He did it again later.

(Beat.)

I walked him down to the dorm lobby, he gave me his phone number, and I never spoke to him again. Almost nice, that… no strings, no bullshit… I don’t usually tell people about that one, so you guys better feel pretty damn special.

(She accepts the ‘new’ bottle and takes a long
drink.)

The next one was a guy I was actually dating. His mother hated me. She hated me like… like god-only-knows-what… and we never really knew why, either. I met her for the first time on his eighteenth birthday… by now? I was nineteen. See, not that bad… anyway, when she met me I didn’t ask her how she was doing… Something like that… And she asked me if she could take my coat, and I said, “No, I wear it all the time... I don’t really take it off.” And I laughed. And she hated me for it! She absolutely hated me with all her heart. I think it was because I was his first girlfriend… I was that a lot… it’s sad. I kind of liked her… and his dad… and his sister… and his ferrets. He had the cutest little ferrets and we’d fling them across his kitchen floor and sort of ‘bowl’ with them, knock them into some pillows we’d set up… they really liked it… what? Jeezuz… he had a small dick, too, okay? The sex was pitiful.

(She takes the bottle and chugs another few gulps.)

And then there’s my boyfriend. You all know everything about that anyways, so there’s no need to repeat it. Right? Good…

(She points out into the audience.)

Your turn, truth or dare… what do you mean I’m not done, truth or dare? I did too finish the question. You asked me how I lost my virginity, how many guys I had after, give detail. Ta da, I did it. I told you all about it, now please just gimme and answer: truth or dare?

(She looks visibly upset.)

I did not leave one out. There was my virginity, pencil-dick, scary redneck, frat mistake, evil mom, and boyfriend. Six. Right? Good.

(Indignant.)

I did not say seven. There weren’t seven. There were six. Why would I say seven if there were six… I swear, there were only six!! No… No, there were six. I’m absolutely certain that I told you six. You must’ve heard me wrong… or maybe she said seven…

(She points into the audience.)

Trying to make me sound like a slut or something…

(She fingers the bottle nervously.)

Fine. Fine! There were seven, but I don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of your business, leave me alone! I don’t want to talk about it! I told you, it’s none of your damn business, I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it… I don’t care WHO’S shit this is, I’m not telling you!

(She begins to curl into herself, ‘hiding’.)

Jesus Christ almighty FINE!!!

(She looks, wild eyed, obviously upset/enraged.)
Some guy in my lit class really liked me, and he would always ask if he could drive me back to the dorm. He was really sweet, a really nice guy. So I’d let him give me a ride over, even though it was a two-minute walk, maybe even less. He’d give me a few cigarettes when I didn’t have them, change for a soda, whatever I needed that wasn’t asking for too much. So he finally asks me for my phone number and I pass it over, and he already knows what dorm I live in. That’s when he started calling. He’d call me just to talk. He’d leave me messages during class. He’d call me from the lobby and tell me he was already there, to come let him in. When he figured out what room he’d just waltz right past building security to my door… I didn’t want to be a bitch. I didn’t want to be a nasty person; I like having friends. Thanksgiving rolls around, my parents are leaving for break to go stay with my grandmother or one of those relatives I don’t really care for. They leave me at home, and I’m not even back yet when I start arranging the party. Bob’s bringing the pot, I’m bringing the chips, Matt brings the booze, and everybody brings friends. I needed to get home, and the only person I thought I could really ask was him. So he gives me a lift home and I’m telling him about the party and he asks for an invite. He can bring booze for it, he tells me. He can bring homemade strawberry wine and a big bag of weed. Who am I to pass on free booze, and a free bag of pot… for nothing. I don’t have to give anything… He drops me off at home and promises to be back the next night with the stuff. He shows up at the party, the place is already in full swing… He brought the pot, all right… but they didn’t have any wine left at his house, he said… brought some nasty bottle of grenadine to make up for it. It didn’t matter to me; I’d had enough to drink already, but the last thing I needed in my system was more pot. I smoked anyway. Sat around my bedroom in the basement, passing four bowls around at once… I was so drunk; I was shot gunning hits to a guy friend of mine… I’d have been better of sitting in the basement all night doing that. I came upstairs, everybody wanted to play spin the bottle… spin the bottle… spin the fucking bottle… I like to kiss. I’ve always liked to kiss. When the game was over, he and I were still kissing… everybody left the room, they all scattered in the house to sleep… the room was so empty. Only me, and him, and the sound of my heart… the reek of vodka stenching through the entire place… I remember he got on top of me… I remember he was heavy… really heavy… and hot. I… I blacked out… I woke up, and he was just rolling off and onto the floor…

(She peers at the bottle in her hand.)

And that’s when I quit drinking…

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She's pretty as a daisy
But look out man she's crazy
She'll really do you in
If you let her get under your skin

vonstalhein

Having taken the time to read it, i thought it pretty entertaining, amusing, and that it would probably work pretty well on stage. Bit sex-orientated for my tastes though. Guess i'm a pussy.

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No Win No Fee