Dark Comedy Monologue

This is a very dark comedy monologue that I wrote. It is fictional. It is rated at least NC-17. If you would like to use it for an audition piece, please feel free, but please email me to let me know you're using it.

You will not believe the shit my sister pulled last night. So she crawls through our bathroom window at, like, 3 AM. I was actually in there already taking a bath, except I was fully clothed. Because I was wasted. Because I was celebrating Tuesday and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway, Savannah ambles through the window, bawling her eyes out, mascara running all over the place like some sort of Courtney Love disaster, and I'm like "What is this?"

She sobs, "I totalled Zoom-Zoomie!" Zoom-Zoomie is her Oldsmobile Alero. She says, "I loved that car, so much! I really don't think I can handle this. I'm really not very well at dealing with loss."

And I was like, "You're not very well at speaking English either."

And she doesn't get it. She's goes, "What are you talking about? I am seriously upset and you are exasperating the problem. Daddy's really gonna go down on me hard for this one." And I crack up, because that sentence is fucking hilarious on 18 different levels, the grossest one being that our Dad has been sexually abusive since we started growing muffs, and also because he is such a selfish bastard that he would never go down on anyone. But she has no idea anything she just said is funny and my laughing just serves to amp up her histrionics.
She keeps going on about how, for reals, she can't live without Zoom-Zoomie because she lost her v-card in the backseat to Mike Sandifer and how she'll for sure miss all the good parties now because we live in the middle of nowhere and she will have no Zoom-Zoomie.

I mean, Savannah has always been vapid and superficial. When I got preggers, instead of freaking out with me because, umm... I was a knocked up 16 year old! She grabbed my boobs and said "I can totally tell that your boobs are way bigger. I wish my boobs would get that big." so...

Oh yeah, back to the bathroom, then she suddenly takes a deep breath, looks at me and then climbs back out the window. And I know exactly where she's going. Cause whenever Savannah is in crisis she threatens to commit suicide. And I happen to remember that her runaway boyfriend Chris, who we were harboring in our tree-house for a while, left his girly Derringer handgun under a bush in the side yard. I'm not even sure you can effectively kill yourself very well with a gun that small, but I decide not to take any chances. So I follow her out the window and as you might remember I was fully clothed in the bathtub, so now I am outside in the dead of winter wearing a saturated winter ensemble.

And I know you're supposed to be real delicate with people threatening suicide, but suicide is a touchy subject in my family. When I was 10, my grandmother killed herself with carbon monoxide fumes in the garage, but the garage was attached to the house and the fumes traveled upstairs and killed my grandfather too. So when I get to her I'm as delicate as I can possibly be-I grab her and start shaking her and say "You silly bitch! How could you even consider this! You know what this does! No, it's a great idea! It's fine, really. We're on the verge of having enough money to get out of here together and now you're going to kill yourself and I can't make it without you. I'm 17 with a baby and no marketable skills." And she just keeps crying and so I slap her and say, "And your gonna kill yourself over a fake sports car that's covered with cheesy bumper stickers that say shit like 'I'm A Princess' and 'Rockstar'? Really? I mean for fuck's sake if you're gonna do it, do it over something noble like the fact that your daddy is who you really lost your "V-card" to or that your grandmother ripped our family apart and our mom has been vacant ever since. Oh, those things didn't do you in? Well then I have a feeling you can probably make it through your precious skankmobile going to junkyard heaven."

She then starts freaking out because I'm being noisy. Yeah. That's actually how I got her to hand over the gun. She wanted me to shut up because I was causing a scene and people might hear. Nevermind that she was about to blow her brains out in the cul-de-sac. Clearly, I was the one making a scene...

So she runs back inside and locks herself in her bedroom and I go hide the gun under the baby's crib mattress-Oh, we're out of time? Ok, well I feel like this is really helping. I think, like, I'm finally looking at my issues much more seriously, ya know? Um, 'kay, I guess I'll see you next week.