FireQuill Publications
The Short Stories, Plays and Bible Studies
of Kathy Kearney
Pride
PRIDE
By Kathy Kearney © 1992
By Kathy Kearney © 1992
A 3 person Monologue (Based on Luke 15:11-24)
We used two girls and a guy for this one. Our male prodigal character, had been just that in his own life. He had just renewed his commitment to the Lord, and his dad was in the audience the Sunday morning we presented this. When the son did his last lines, he had real tears in his voice. I’m sure Dad did too.
The only props are a phone and a stand.
#1
(Yelling to someone off stage) You don't understand me, Mom. You never try to see my point of view. And you sure don't understand my friends, and you especially don't understand Eddie. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. (Listens) Oh don't give me that, 'I'm your mother, I'm older, and I love you and only want the best for you' routine. You just hate Eddie because you've never tried to understand him -- or me.
(Listens. Rolls eyes in exasperation) Mo-o-om, not that pathetic, "He's not a Christian" topic. I've explained to you that I am witnessing to Eddie. On every date I ask him to church. And he's going to come when he gets his life straightened out. You just wait, mom, you just don't understand. It's not like I'm going to marry him, we're just dating. And don't quote that verse from Corinthians about being unequally yoked. That's your interpretation not mine. "
#2
(Listening to voice off stage opposite of Leslie's) Listen, Dad. I'm seventeen, not a baby. I should be able to pick my own friends, and decide where go and how I spend my weekends. (Listens) Don't tell me about the youth group at church, they're boring. My friends are fun and I do witness to them, Dad. (Listens) Well now, I don't talk about Christ, I just live my life in front of them. And I know as soon as they get their lives straightened out, they'll come to church. And now I've met this great girl, she's really sophisticated, the kids at church would never understand her, but I do. I know what I'm doing, Dad.
#3
(Listening to voice offstage, center back) I don't want to finish high school, Mrs. Schaeffer. I know lots of people who haven't and they're making plenty of money. They can introduce me to people that can help me get started. Why should I even stay in school to study for two more years when I can have it all now.
(Listens) You're just giving me a hard time because you like to control people's lives and tell them what to do. Well, I have my own plans, and I don't need your advice. Besides what do you know about anything, you're just a Sunday school teacher. The only thing you know about is all that God and Jesus stuff. Well, I don't need them either.
What's that? Call you if I ever need help. Not likely. I've got it made.
#1
(Turns back to audience) Another night, home alone -- just me and kids. Eddy’s time with his buddies is more important to him than time with me or our kids. Mom invited me to church again, but I can't go. Eddie doesn't want our kids exposed to that "religious hokum" as he calls it. He wants our kids to grow up free-thinking without organized religion's interference. Just like he did, he says. He's free-thinking alright. He's thinks that he's free and that I'm his slave.
Mom was right, only I can't tell her that. She would probably love to hear that. Not that she would say "I told you so." She would just pray for me and go right on loving me and the kids and even Eddie. I should have listened to her. But no, I had it all figured out. I wonder if it's too late to tell her so. Just call her up and say, "Mom, you were right. That Bible verse was right. I was wrong." Of course, not that it would be news to her. Yeah, Mom, you were right, God was right and I'm all so wrong now.
#2
(Turns back to audience) Look if that's the way you feel about it, tough! I've already loaned you more than I should have, and you haven't even paid that back. Yeah, you got your nerve talking about friendship. Friendship to you is a one-way street -- from my wallet to yours. Well, no more, now get out of here.
Some friend. I haven't had a friend -- a real friend since I was seventeen.
Dad was right. These people were never good for me. But I can't tell him that -- not that he needs a brick to fall on him to show him he's been right all along. But I wish one had fallen on me. I finally figure it out two divorces later and a kid who thinks I'm a jerk. Two thousand miles from home, and seven years later I've really hit it big. Just like I told dad. I should have listened.
#3
(
Turns to audience) What a night. What a job. Slopping beer and dodging pinches all night. (Looks up) Mrs. Schaeffer, you were right. Dropping out of high school was the dumbest thing I ever did. Mrs. Schaeffer I got a big fat hole in my resume -- the same size as the one in my head. And now I got two kids to support, no husband, no education and no future. That's what my smart decision got me. You were right, Mrs. Schaeffer. Remember my smart friends, Mrs. Schaeffer. Well, they aren't any better off than me. We have one thing in common, we graduated from dumdum University! And God? He's a million miles away. I really blew it, Mrs. Schaeffer. I had it all, and I threw it away.
#1
(Walks to telephone on table in front) Oh, Mom. I wish I could call you, I wish I could show the tears I shed in secret. No, I can't let her see that. I couldn't bear to have her pity me or say, I told you so. After all I have my pride.
#2
(Walks to phone) After all these years I still have Mrs. Schaeffer’s phone number. Odd the things you hang onto, I thought for sure I'd thrown it out. She said to call her if I ever needed her. But how would that sound. Me baring my heart to her, boy wouldn't she gloat. No way, I may not be much, but I still have my pride.
#3
(Walks to phone)
I wonder if Dad could help me figure a way back to what I've lost. If I could get control of my life, I could at least begin to be some sort of a father to my kid. (thinks hard) Nah, I just couldn't come crawling back like -- I still got my pride.
(Walks away, stops, comes back.) Seems to me my pride is the thing that got me into this mess. I walked away from so much. It may take a lot of work to get out of this mess, or at least to undo some of the damage I've done, and I don't think pride will help me do that. No, I was wrong, W R O N G, wrong, there's nothing to be proud of in that.
(Picks up phone, dials) Hi dad, remember me, your long lost son—the idiot who didn't believe you? Oh dad, I've really botched things. If you have time, can I tell you about it? I don't know what you can do, but I sure would appreciate it if you could just hear me out, I've been such a fool.
(Pause) Can I come over for coffee? Well, I have just enough money left for a bus ticket home, dad. I'll be there in three days, keep the coffee hot, and keep it coming, I've so much to ask you starting with, "Will you forgive me for hurting you."
(Pause) Thank you, Dad. I'll see you soon. (Pause) I know you do, Dad. And Dad, I love you too.
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