Monologues

ALEXA

(In this scene, Alexa is talking to Dylan and Harlan. Alexa is conflicted because she’s proud of her mother’s dedication and success as a Broadway actress but Alexa also wishes her mother had been around to like a regular mom.)

I used to go with my mom to her rehearsals when I was little. I’d play with the make-up and dress up in the glittery costumes. But one day it all stopped. Mom’s parts got bigger and I wasn’t allowed to play backstage anymore. I’m not even mad at her for pursuing her dream. I’m fucking proud of her. What pisses me off is that she thinks she’s some great parent because she supports Dad and me financially, but after the age of five, she was an absent parent. I wish she’d just acknowledge that truth. You know? If it wasn’t for this school I’d be drowning in Prozac. This school became my surrogate family. I thought adults were meant to have their shit together but they’re as messed up as we are.

ANGELA

(This scene is the inciting incident of why the parents take over the talent show. Everything Angela has planned for her son, Harlan, is now in jeopardy if the school closes. In her mind, this school is the key for her son going to an Ivy League school—what she believes will make him safe. She lost her husband in a tragic accident and she’s afraid a similar fate awaits Harlan if he doesn’t have the right path to success.)

Stop everything. We have an emergency. I’ve just come from a meeting with several members of the school board and they plan to close one of the charter schools. They’re holding the vote next month and Verity High is top of the list.

(Gasps and murmurs.)

The board should never have put this arts program in Poortown. Cities always think it’s a great idea but then when they turn hip, gentrification rears its ugly head. Art is a hobby. Not a career. And I should know. I’m an accountant. Do you know how many artist clients I have? None. Because you don’t need an accountant to manage $5. I’ve convinced the board to come to the talent show. We need to scrap all the kids’ acts. It’s time for the parents to take charge.

DYLAN

(Angela has announced that she is withdrawing her son, Harlan, from Verity High and Dylan is pleading with her to let Harlan stay. Dylan knows this school is a safe place for Harlan and doesn’t want Angela to rip that away from him because she’s scared. The scene goes into a fun, big number, Be Your Own Queen.)

Angela, what were the 90’s for if not to have this moment of free creative expression for all? You obviously loved My So-Called Life. You changed your name because of it. Channel your inner Angela Chase. She was brave. Scared, but brave. That bitch died her hair bright red, hung out with the bad girl, and was besties with a gay boy when it was social suicide. Let Harlan be brave. Look at Luis. He had to fight to be his true self and now he’s about to live his Golden Girls era in peace because of it. We won’t be canceled. The kids deserve to have this talent show their way. We can’t cancel ourselves because we’re scared. Don’t cancel your son because you’re scared. Luis, let’s show them. Verna, hit it.

HARLAN 

(In this scene, Harlan finally finds his voice and the courage to stand up and tell his mom what he wants. He loves his mom and he knows she’s terrified to lose him. His father died following his dreams. But Harlan has had enough of her fear ruling his life.)

Mom! Stop. Not everyone wants a traditional 90’s lifestyle. I want to stay and finish out this year with my friends. I don’t have to go to college. I don’t have to get married and have 2.5 kids. I don’t need the house in the suburbs with a gas guzzling car in the driveway. I don’t want dial-up or grungy jeans or to binge Beaver and Butt-Head. I don’t want to be you. I want to be me. Stop blaming the arts for what happened to Dad! Dad died because of a freak accident. All you care about is that I go to the right school. You never ask what I want.

SUTTON

(Sutton just overheard her daughter saying that she’s proud of her mom. This leads to Sutton telling Alexa that her worst fears are coming true. Sutton is raw and honest for the first time—but she’s also still Sutton—the lovable, self-centered, diva.)

I have a confession. It may shock you. I’m irrelevant. The real reason I’m not in New York is because my agent called about that show I was meant to headline. They gave me the geriatric role. It’s one foot in the Broadway grave. What’s next, the woman with the big dress in the Nutcracker with all the midgets coming out of it? Who am I without the stage? Everything ends. Everyone leaves. You and Daddy left me long before you moved up here. You used to come backstage and sit in the front row on opening night. And then one day, you weren’t there. I leave tickets for you and Daddy at every show. And at every show the seats are empty. You left me long before I left you.

COACH

(This scene is toward the end of the show. Everyone just found out that the board pulled the funding and Verity High will close—no talent show will save it. Coach is trying to boost his child, Dylan’s, spirits, who was directing the talent show to save the school. Coach doesn’t want his child to ever feel like they’re a failure. Coach always believes the glass is half full and is the greatest cheerleader for his child.)

That’s right son, uh, daughter, uh gender queer fluid child. Stay positive. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat, brush off your jockstraps and sports bras, and wait for the next season to start. Directing is like coaching but with more sequins and emotional breakdowns. You think I knew what I was doing when I started? Hell no. But I made those kids get back up when they fell. You’ve got the talent. You’ve got the heart. And you care about these kids. You meet them where they’re at. That’s what makes you special. That’s what makes you a leader. So don’t let the chaos get to you. Own the room. Call the plays. Now go out there. Be brave. And hydrate. Always hydrate.

VERNA

(The students and parents just discovered that Verna could be the key to saving their school and just asked her to help. She has a choice to make. Sell it to the developers for big money or continue to rent it to the city for less money so the kids can have a safe place to create. This monologue leads into her big fun old-school Broadway number called, People Suck.)

Not so fast, minions. Technically, it’s my property.  What are the odds of me receiving another round of millions of dollars? My parents can only die once and this developer payout is the only way I can get out of this mess. I tried supporting the arts the first time and look how I’ve ended up. I’ve got debts to pay. I owe the casino. I owe my dealer.  And those llamas do not feed themselves. I can’t just give you this property. I used to be like you. But after my parents took a ride to the bottom of the ocean, I learned real fast that dreams don’t pay the bills. The only truth I know is the house always wins and people suck.

LUIS

(Luis is trying to help Angela let loose and let go of her controlling hold on her son, Harlan. Luis raised twins but he’s recently an empty nester, living his best life. Luis’s joy is infectious and he wants Angela to find her joy. This is his plea to her and leads into a big, fun song, Be Your Own Queen.)

You spend enough years organizing paintbrushes and lunch schedules, and when they move out, the silence hits. And you’re like, “Is this it? Is this when I start baking with almond flour and talking to my husband’s houseplants?” No, thank you. I went and got my Zumba teaching certification on MasterClass. That’s right. I am legally qualified to shake it. So now I salsa in my living room. I finger paint in the nude. I make shadow puppets with my air fryer. It’s a lifestyle.

Angela, you need a creative outlet. And I’m gonna show you how. (snatches her into a dance hold) ¡Vámonos! Five, six, seven—don’t think, feel! Loosen the knees! Pretend you're a churro in a warm breeze! We’re not here to blend in, cariño. We are here to turn these kids into a full-blown, rhinestoned revolution of themselves. And I brought maracas.