Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

A Monologue.

Creedence, a middle aged man, walks into a spotlight carrying a large duffel bag. He sets it down. In the background of the lit area a worktable can be seen. On the worktable are assortments of wooden dowels, spools of string, and miniature wooden limbs such as arms, legs, etc. A coffee table is sitting next to the worktable with mail scattered on it and a phone next to the pile of mail. Outside of the light sits a chair with a person sitting in it. Both can hardly be seen except for an outline.


Hey sweetie, you wouldn’t guess the crap that happened today while I was performing. So I was outside of Masson’s café doing my routine, and after I was finished and the onlookers departed, I decided to go inside and purchase a strawberry scone. I walked inside and the first thing I noticed was that Masson seemed a little flustered. So As I handed him my money I asked him if anything was wrong. He told me about some kid who came in just a while ago and ordered a cappuccino, and as soon as Masson turned around to make it, the little juvenile grabbed the tip jar and ran off. He went on for quite awhile about “The audacity of some kids” and how “the youth of Quebec aren’t being disciplined like they used too” and how “If that kid’s parents would of beat him instead of being so pacifistic then maybe he wouldn’t be such a filthy little thief.” I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I went outside I noticed all of MY tips were gone and so was my favorite hat that I kept them in. It probably was that same damn kid too! So I’m very sorry honey, but I didn’t have enough money to get us dinner at the deli tonight, looks like we just have to eat what we have.

(A long pause as Creedence sits down at his workstation and starts to fiddle with some string. He turns back around and face the chair where Joanevette is seated.)

Come on Evette, don’t punish me with your silence. (Pause) Please, I can feel your cold glass eyes burning a whole in my back; I already told you that you have no reason to be jealous of Selma. She’s an old friend, we both went to St. Francis high, and I promise we weren’t even lovers or anything. I liked her for about a month when we were only sophomores, and she never even found out about it. I built her a wooden heart shaped box for Valentines Day filled with carnations, because she didn’t care for roses, and when I saw her that day her arms were rapped around this George Lureaux fellow who was a senior at the time and on the hockey team. He had given her a box of chocolates and a bouquet of carnations. Before she looked in my direction I threw my present in a trash can because I knew I couldn’t compete with a guy like him. See darling, it was a foolish infatuation that she doesn’t even know about, and it happened many years before I met you. Trust me, it was an old flame put out years ago as soon as I laid eyes on you.(Pause) Look Joanevette, if you really feel so opposed to it, I will call Selma right this instant and tell her It was a foolish idea in the first place.

(Creedence walks towards the phone and picks it up. He begins to dial a number then turns back to Joanevette and then stares at the phone in his hand. He puts it back down on the receiver and runs to the opposite end of the light and points his finger accusingly into the darkness.)

Look here Evette, you are acting childish. When we got married I made a promise to be faithful and you should be able to trust me. How could you be so cold to me when I’ve been so honest these last 15 years of marriage? I’ve never done you wrong and you have no reason to be suspicious or punish me with your accusing silence. Don’t you remember who was by your side every minute of every day after the crash. You almost died sweetheart and I know the accident was my fault, but in all modesty, I have been the greatest husband ever since. I have showed you never ending love and compassion, and this is how you treat me. I just want to be a great husband okay? It hurts me when you do this kind of stuff Evette. Look, I am going to dinner with Selma and I promise you with every fiber of honesty that I won’t desecrate the sanctity of our marriage. I am a loyal lover and this is in no way an action that should dissuade you of it. I am not doing this to be stubborn or to evoke your jealousy; I am doing this because you need to learn to trust me sweetheart.

(pause. Creedence turns and walks toward the door, when he reaches it he turns around, tears running down his face, He wraps his fingers slowly around the doorknob and looks down. He whimpers)

I love you Joanevette, I will always love you. I wish I could bring you with me and show Selma what a lovely women you are, but she would think I’m a monster.

(He opens the door and steps out. As the door slowly closes a light comes up on the chair to reveal a life size wooden puppet seated in it.)

Lights Fade, Show ends.


Building Nothing Out of Something

Paul stared into the fire until he could feel his eyes become glossy. His vision became blurry and unfocused, but so much was on his mind he didn’t seem to notice. He wished he was simple. He wished he didn’t have to consider as much as he had during the last 3 years. He wished he didn’t have such silly thoughts. He shut his eyes and the liquid that was gathering up poured over the edge of his eyelid and he could feel the warm stream flow down his cheak until it dried up. He knew he wasn’t crying, he knew it was just the fire.

“You think to much; Have faith in Jesus”

When she said that he shuddered. One year has past and he still shudered.

Deciding it was time to sleep, Paul stood up, wiped his eyes and grabed the bottle of sleeping pills off the mantle. He noticed how everything he owned didn’t satisfy him; the pills would make it better, they always did. He twisted off the cap and popped it in his mouth and felt the plastic glide over his tounge and rigid side portion brush against his cheek. Restlessly he went to a chair in the kitchen and counted out 3 of the pills from the bottle. He shuffled the pills in his hand. He shifted the cap in his mouth. He thought of the chalky taste of the pills. He felt the cap go down his throat. He thought of her. He thought of all his things and how they didn’t make him happy. He fell from the chair. The pills bounced in diffrent directions on his tile floor. What would she think when they found him? He thought of how it didn’t matter anymore. He had no faith in Jesus, but he hoped and hoped that Jesus was real as his eyes shut tight. The crackling of the fire was so peaceful sounding to Paul.