The Homeless Monologues

These appear in a book of various comedy monologues, plays, and sketches.

1: Did you know reptile aliens have infiltrated our government? I ain’t just talkin’ ‘bout that show V. I’m talkin’ for real life. They’s been on this planet for years passin’ their bloodline from person to person. Every president is alien. They’s jus’ look like people. But they ain’t people. It ain’t jus’ politic like folk. But that kid Justin Bieb-head. He’s alien too! I swear! I seen him! In concert, his tongue go out like a snake! Sort of like Gene Simmons but forked! You know what they want? For you to be sad! But I ain’t sad nossir. I gots plenty of things been happy about. My can opener, dog eared copy of “Catacha in d’Rye”, giant reptile spottin’ glasses, the unauthorized Bob Dylan bio-graphy, and an ipod, no charger though but musics in the head all the same. What more co’ a person want? Well, other than freedom of the –uman race from been sad. Funny, I was all sad, worrin’ bills, my house payment, workin’ fiddy hours a week, fightin’ w’ everybody. But then I figure the aliens was makin’ me sad. Now I sit in the sun all day and I ain’t sad no more. Funny how aliens change everythin’.

2. A homeless person has a guitar. He/she sings about the people he/she sees. If they have red shoes and they giggle when their song is played, the homeless person incorporates the shoes and the giggle into the song. After two minutes of singing about the watching crowd, the passing rapid ride, etc. the music will crescendo in to a finale. The homeless person will fall asleep happy.

3. It all started in this tent back in the sixties. I saw Jerry Garcia’s head swell up like a big balloon. I knew that Jerry’s head was forever! Back in that tent we all knew what love was. My mom knew love. She named me Biblo Baggins. After her lawn dwarfs. Don’t be making funny of those lawn dwarfs. They were the best brothers and sisters a dollar at the thrift store can buy. I know you rich kids don’t understand. When you’re in the poorhouse, lawn dwarfs is all you’ve got. What’s wrong with thrift stores anyway? My family was living off food from the dumpster and clothes from the thrift store. We even couldn’t afford to give any food to the cat. So the cat ate my brother’s ear. It’s a good thing my momma had duct tape or else I’d have no one to talk too. But now, I have Jerry Garcia and you. Hold me… Oh, you got a little girlie (or boyie) friend. Well, let me tell you something about the girlies. When I saw this pretty girl walking down the street, I wanted to walk right up to her and say hi, but I didn’t. I was too scared, I guess. I felt so bad because she probably thought I was ignoring her, so I followed her home and hid in her trash can with flowers I picked from her bushes. But then the police went and showed up and ruined the whole moment. That’s why you always treasure love. Cause no matter how many restraining orders, no matter how many times you hid in her trash can sniffing her half eaten sandwiches, no matter if she shoots the gift you brought her with a break barrel shotgun, love will always, always bring you back.

4. I killed him. He’s dead. I really tried to be a good parent. You always want the best for your child. The right schools. A good college. A wonderful person to settle down with. Then you will have grandchildren. You’ll spoil the grandchildren… I won’t have any of that now. He passed on in the morning… When I found out, I couldn’t really say anything. It’s like the words were crushed in my stomach and there was this giant pressure on my chest… I couldn’t breathe and I most certainly didn’t want to live. I could have prevented it. Maybe if I said something… Had a talk. I never understood why my father always wanted to talk. I understand now. I never talked. I figure that he’d figure it out, or school would tell him. Like I figured it out. There is nothing I can do now. Only what I could have done…

5. There is seventeen pudding snacks in rows. A homeless guy teaches them. Good morning class… Very good! Now on with… Timmy, you put that away. Today’s lesson is stereotypes. Timmy, I swear to god, I will… thank you. Can anyone tell me the definition of a stereotype… That’s right a generalization of behavior. Can anyone tell me a stereotype about homeless people? No Timmy, they don’t all think they are Jesus. Martha? Crazy! Yes crazy! That is a stereotype. Timmy, if you disrupt class one more time, I will take action. That’s it! The homeless person eats one of the pudding cups. That’s right Timmy. You were a very naughty boy. Now class, can anyone tell me why stereotyping homeless people is wrong? It’s ok Timmy. It will all be over soon. Correct! Not all homeless people are crazy! What should you do if you ever meet a person that stereotypes a homeless person? Timmy… I do this because I care… that’s right class! Wave pointy objects at them! If they don’t get the point! Then what’s the point of proceeding? I mean besides the pudding. Oh Timmy, you are delightful!

6: Don’t worry. You are safe here with me. Most homeless people get a bad rep for being strange and off-putting. People are afraid that they will be mugged or raped or something. They have nothing to fear with me. I rape the rapists so to speak. See this arm. Taps on his arm and makes a fake metal clanking sound. I got this in New York. Central Park didn’t always used to be some fancy wonderland. It was full of rapists. The NYPD needed a hero to clean out all the rapists and that hero was me. I was killing rapists, left and right. I took them out with a couple of power moves. I also picked up some items along the way. Just when I thought I was unstoppable, the boss rapist came to get me. He was a big dude with all sorts of muscles. The fight was epic. He threw punches, kicks, power moves, and minions just kept coming. But I beat him. He took my arm. That’s when I learned life ain’t no video game. Though the mayor is going to have me clean up the trash of this town in my sequel.

7: Duck! Ha! I am just kidding! I always like to make sure people are paying attention. I throw them off guard. It stimulates the synapses. Fuck! Shit! Whore Burger! Nope. I don’t have Aspergers. That’s my new fast food place. The Fuck Shit Whore Burger. Ok, picture this: a family is sitting around the house and the mother says, “Why hello my wonderful spic and span family. What will titillate the senses with most divine glory of true tastesation!” The kids: “The Fuck Shit Whore Burger!” The toys in the kids’ meals are the best part! Free dildos, vibrators, and personal invention of mine the vagina-boob (two of my favorite pieces of anatomy in one (Thanks Chris for this joke!). Don’t give me that look. If you don’t teach kids about sex, they will learn about it from a fucking giant singing Velociraptor. There are plenty of cultures that use the penis as a road sign, why can I make mine a collectable set of five different colored singing and dancing penis toys? They will match my new television series. The Fuck Shit Whore Burgerler and his five different colored singing and dancing vaginas and penises. The Vagina-Boob is a friendly mail carrier. The show celebrates fucking diversity.

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