Free Audition Monologues for Men

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Monologues collected below by play title, separated by Comedic or Dramatic as appropriate.

All monologues on this page are the exclusive property of the author  Copyright © Todd McGinnis


(scroll down for dramatic monologues)


HARRISON: Look, who’s kiddin’ who here? The lawyer told us how much we’re getting. And it wasn’t much, was it? It wasn’t nearly what I figured the old guy had to be worth. Now I don’t know what Old Scrooge did with the rest of it but I’m hoping that by the end of this fiasco I’m gonna find out that he had a huge stash hidden away in a Swiss bank account or something. I’m here for the same reason as you guys: to find out what I might get out it! Or if there is anything left to get. So you can lay off with the “respecting our dear-old-sainted- father’s-final-wishes” crap. He was a pushy, controlling old jerk. Now, maybe you’ve got nothing to complain about ’cause after all you got the farm handed to you on a silver platter – [OH! I know. I know. You “bought and paid for that place”, right?] Yeah. And the value of the real estate alone has practically… what? Doubled? Tripled? …In the last fifteen years? So I guess that was a real hardship wasn’t it? But neither of us ever had the chance to “buy” our share of the pie. We just have to wait and see if the old man left us any more crumbs. That is if there is anything left, after six months a year in Vegas for the last five years. Hey! Who’s to say we’re not gonna go through all this crap only to find out that dear old Daddy didn’t have a penny left?


HARRISON: (Laughs derisively, giving up.) “One last wish.” Ha. Yeah. Sure. Fine. Why not? It’s not like we haven’t all spent our lives jumping through hoops for Dear Old Dad. So what’s one more? [I mean] come on, Pete. Don’t you get what all this “final wish” crap is really all about…? Isn’t it obvious? This whole setup… it’s a “control” thing. It’s the old man trying to show us he’s still in charge. No, no! Think about it: A man dies. He’s a widower so he only has three sons to leave everything to anyway… But, before they can collect their inheritance, they have to go fishing for cryin’ out loud. Why? When was the last time either of you went fishing? (He gets no answer.) [There! You see?] Exactly! And he always knew I hated fishing. And the only reason to make someone do something you know they’ll hate is to prove that you still have power over them.


PETER: [(Sneering, mimicking.)”I need to check my voice mail”] I don’t believe it. It’s four in the morning, we’re in the middle of a lake miles from nowhere and I still can’t get away from people with those friggin’ phones. (Muttering.) “I need to check my voice-mail.” I am getting so sick of hearing people say that. What is it with everybody these days and their stupid beepers and pagers and voice-mail and e-mail. You got somethin’ to say? Wait until the next time you’re in the room with the person and say it. [Of course, everyone always says they just “can’t afford to be out of touch that long.”And] You know, I might buy that argument if we were talking about a world leader, or a surgeon, or even – I don’t know – a volunteer fire-fighter who’s on-call or something. But we’re not. It’s always some stupid, snotty teenager who just has to take a phone call in the middle of the movie at the movie theater. Or it’s the stupid blonde bimbo who’s always sitting ahead of you at the stoplight – smacking her friggin’ bubble-gum and twirling her hair or doing her make-up – gossiping-away with some other airhead even though the bloody light’s been green for almost a minute. OR… it’s some idiot, nerd, moron who wants everyone to know he’s got the latest annoying musical tune for his cell-phone playing it over and over again at the loudest volume possible while you’re stuck waiting in line with him somewhere you have to be – like a bank or a grocery store – so you can’t just leave and you can’t even kill the stupid fart because there’s too many witnesses!


HARRISON: Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll tell you. I won’t go into all the details because –
(Beat. Waiting impatiently.) Hey! Do you guys wanna know or don’t you? (Beat.) Okay then. What I was going to say was, I can’t go into details. They’re confidential. But basically, I’m in a bit of a bind. My company’s going to squeeze me out. It’s not official yet but I know it’s coming. One of the owners has been fast-tracking her own kid up through the ranks and the next stop is in my office. Only, there’s no more room in my office so somebody’s gonna have to get the chop and I’m pretty sure she’s planning on giving the kid my desk. The other guys in my area are all either family members or have way more seniority than me, so it looks like it’s gonna be me. Sure. [I could complain, but] it wouldn’t do any good. That’s not the way the world works. Basically, she hasn’t done anything wrong yet – that anybody can prove – and by the time she does, well, I won’t be around to complain. [But that] isn’t the point [anyway]. I can look after myself. The trick is: knowing when to move on. You overstay your welcome somewhere and everybody’ll know it forever after. They can smell it on you. It’s like the… perfume of defeat. And once people smell it on you… you can’t get arrested. So I’m looking to get out now, when I’m pretty much the only one who knows what’s coming down the line and I’m still a whiz-kid so far as everyone else is concerned. I’ve got feelers out to a few other houses that have shown more than a little interest in my numbers over the years. A couple have already shown… more active interest, which is good. But the one I want, the big one I’m holding out for is still on the fence. They’re waiting to see how a deal I’ve got going right now is gonna go down. It’s the biggest one I’ve ever put together and there’s a lot riding on it. If it goes down the way I think it’s going to, I’ll have my choice of top-floor corner-offices before the week’s out and everybody’s happy. Especially the woman who’s looking to see me out the door, ’cause then she doesn’t have to get her hands even a little dusty. – That’s also good ’cause she’s a heavy player and much better to have on your side than against you. And as long as I get out soon enough, she’ll be on my side. – So anyway… the long and short is, the deal’s going down this weekend, it touches four continents and at last check it was a lock… which is the only reason I still agreed to come on this weekend. I wasn’t supposed to hear another thing about it until the news breaks Monday morning that I’m a genius. No one concerned was supposed to call me for any reason. At all. Unless something was wrong. So when my phone rings and it’s Rick Yohama, my guy in Tokyo, and he’s in on the deal and the only words I can make out are “…getting KILLED”, can you understand why I might be a little stressed-out here?


HARRISON: I got lost. (Beat.) Well I haven’t been here in almost ten [years], have I? Besides… It looks different at night. [Stupid rental car didn’t have a map. And BEFORE YOU SAY IT: Yes! I DID ask for directions.] I stopped at a gas-station and asked directions from some young “Jethro”. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? That’s what women always complain about isn’t it? That men never ask directions? Well, I did. And you know what I found out? I found out that, with someone else’s “help” it was possible to get even more lost than I already was! I spent forever driving around looking for the unmistakable landmarks of the “Henderson’s big red barn” at which I was supposed to turn left, and “the Jacob’s white picket fence”, at which I was supposed to turn right. The only problem with these helpful travel tips were… that the Henderson’s “big red barn” is actually nothing more than a pile of rocks overgrown with grass and weeds, and the Jacobs would seem to have disposed of their white picket fence some time ago! Apparently, people who live in the sticks only seem to know how to give directions in reference to landmarks that aren’t there anymore! […Fortunately], I had a chance to discuss my little theory with young “Jethro”, whose “directions” had just been oh-SO-helpful… when I arrived BACK at his gas-station an hour later because apparently I had just been driving around in circles the whole time. I was beginning to expect Rod Serling to step out from behind a hedge and welcome me to the Twilight Zone!


HARRISON: I’m not a freak. I just don’t – I don’t like being treated like I’m four years old and not allowed to tie my own shoes or cross the street by myself. Sounds to me like she’s just showing she cares about you. Oh yeah. Women are great at caring. Unfortunately, it’s a very short trip from caring to mothering and most women just love to make that little journey as soon as they can. It’s like… you’ve gone on three dates and all of a sudden they’re fussing all over you, fixing stuff that doesn’t need fixing just so they can send you the message. The message that it’s a good thing they came along to take care of you because clearly there’s all this stuff you don’t know how to do. Oh, they make it look all cutesy and thoughtful when they straighten your tie – even though it’s already straight – or fix your hair – even though it looked just fine before – but what they’re really saying is: Look how much fixing up you need. It’s a wonder you survived this long without them. That kind of help I don’t need. I got enough of that crap from the old man. Look, I don’t like people trying to control me, that’s all. It’s like Amy with her tie-straightening, or Dad always pushing me to join some stupid club or sports team. I hate being mothered, alright? I had a mother. She was nice – even if she was a bit of a hippie-flake – but I don’t need to repeat the experience. Now you wanna fish? Let’s fish.

COMEDIC MONOLOGUES edited/excerpted from “POINT OF VIEWING” by Todd McGinnis

(Presented here complete with stage directions for clarity’s sake.)

BRAD “YOU’RE KILLING ME, MYRON!” (Opening Monologue)

BRAD: (Entering a TV studio at the start of the day.) Jeez-us! Welcome to the fridge. (He takes a swig of his coffee and calls out over the audience to the booth, as he crosses towards the table extreme down left.) Hey! Somebody up there wanna fire up some show-lights? It’s colder than my ex-wife’s lawyer in here. (Setting down his food, and clipboard he spends a moment looking around the table for something that seems to be missing. “SHOW” LIGHTS COME UP, replacing the harsh, overhead glare of the work-lights, with something a little more pleasant. Then, noticing that the stools from the interviews are still in place, he quickly sets about clearing them from the stage, calling out to someone in the booth at the back of the house as he does so. Crossing to clear the center-most stool.) Hey! Anybody up there seen the ladies’ sheets? (Crosses back left, gathering up the stage left stool as he goes. He pauses before exiting.) Hello…? (Sighs, exasperated.) …Okay. Fine. Ignore me.

(He exits left and reenters without the stools, crossing right to clear the remaining ne.) Hello? Anybody home?  (Stops when he reaches center and planting his hands on his hips glares up at the booth.) Myron. I can see you hiding up there. Now, did you booth-guys scoop the ladies’ sheets or what? (Beat.) “What?” What do you mean “what?” “What” you can’t hear me? Or “what?” I can’t hear you? (Beat. Then, cupping a hand behind one ear and yelling.) WHAT? (Listens for a moment, straining to hear and then gives up.) I can’t read lips, Myron! (Beat.) NO! Don’t give me the hand-behind-the-ear-thing you idiot. If you can’t hear me it’s ’cause you’ve got the house mic turned off! (Beat, then, to himself, waiting) C’mon, Myron. Figure it out. (Beat.) Oh for cryin’ out… (Fed up, Brad EXITS, clearing the stage right stool as he goes.)

(Brad REENTERS a moment later putting on a set of Clear-com style headphones that cover both ears and hitting the “Call” button on his belt pack.) Earth to Myron! Earth to Myron! (Beat.) Ah! There you are. You know you’d find it a lot easier to hear me if you turned your mic on! (Beat.) Oh? Well, if it’s on why didn’t you answer me the first time, huh? (Beat.) No you didn’t. (Beat.) No, you didn’t. (Beat.) No you didn’t! (Beat.) Oh. You did. Well then, you forgot to turn on the house speakers, ’cause I didn’t hear you. (Beat.) No… it’s because you didn’t have the speakers on. (Beat.) No you didn’t. (Beat.) No you didn’t. (Beat.) No you didn’t! (Beat.) Well, are you using them now? (Beat.) Well, try them. Say something. (Beat.) No wait! Hang on! (Beat.) …Because I can’t tell if I’m listening to you in the house or on the headset, that’s why. (Uncovers one ear to be sure whether or not the voice he’s hearing is audible on the house speakers.) Okay, go ahead. (Listens, nothing.) Go ahead… (Listens, nothing. Puts headset back on.) Ummmm, Myron? Did you put it up to full volume? (Beat.)You did, huh? Oh. Well. That’s not good. (Beat.) Because I didn’t hear anything that’s why. (Starts looking around and appears to discover the problem’s source somewhere high overhead.) Uh… Myron? I think I found the problem. (Beat.) Uh… No, no… I’m sure the speakers are plugged in… (Beat.) The problem is they’re not plugged in here. (Beat.) They’re gone. (Beat.) What do you mean “what do I mean gone”? They’re gone! Gone, as in “not here anymore”. (Beat.) “Uh-oh”? What do you mean “Uh-oh”? Uh-oh doesn’t sound good, my friend. “Uh-oh” actually scares the crap out of me, to be honest. (Beat.) You “forgot who took them”? You knew about this? (Beat.) How could you lend them to Prescott? What were you thinking? We need them here! In case you haven’t noticed we’re setting up for a live television broadcast here, Myron. I’m pretty sure the director’s going to want the freedom to communicate with the studio directly during rehearsal and you’re telling me you just loaned out the speakers that enable him to do that. (Beat.) Oh… You rented them, huh?(Crossing his arms, with exaggerated patience.) And just how much did you “rent” them for? (Beat.) Great. So you’ve got beer money for the weekend and we have no speakers in the studio. Are we renting anything else today, Myron? (Beat.) We are? What? (Beat.) The teleprompter!?! Oh GOD! You’re killing me, here! (Brad heaves a heavy sigh and heads for the chair closest to center.)
(Resigned, without any real venom.) You’re a cheap man, Myron. A cheap, cheap, rotten little man. (Beat.) (Annoyed.) I know we weren’t supposed to be here today. I’m also pretty sure the guys in post-production weren’t supposed to destroy POV’s Tenth Anniversary special less than twenty-four hours before it was supposed to air either. But there you go. (Beat, thinking.) Can we get any of this stuff back in time for tonight? (Beat.) Of course, not. (Brad drops into the chair with a heavy, defeated sigh.) Well, I guess we’ll have to make do… (with a pointed look at the booth) won’t we? Nigel’s just going to have to relay everything he wants to say through me. (Beat.)(Laughing derisively, Brad gets up, and over this next section, crosses down to retrieve his coffee and doughnut.) Oh no, my friend. You get to tell him that joyous little bit of news. (Beat.) No. I won’t rat to Nigel about your little side-rental business. I’ll be very Sgt. Schultz about the whole thing. (Impersonating John Banner’s character from the 60’s tv series “Hogan’s Heroes”.) “I’ll see nothing. I’ll hear nothing. I’ll. Know. NUH-THING.”




ERRONYUS: I’m Erronyus, Erronyus Miscellaneous… Temporarily the Acting God of Love. Normally, I’m the God of “Voice-Mail” and um… uh… something else… I can’t quite… YES! That’s it! Of course! God of Forgetfulness! That’s me! Must remember that. I’ll bet you didn’t even know there was a God of Forgetfulness. Even if you did you probably wouldn’t remember. I’m a pretty powerful god in that respect. Oh yes. I may only have one temple down there BUT… Every one of MY people has a perfect record of NON-attendance.(Boasting.) Perfect records across the board …And they don’t just forget to go. Oh no. Most of them have even forgotten how to get there and what the temple was even built for in the first place! Talk about devotion! Oh I am so proud. Well… when I remember to be. But important as forgetfulness is, my real passion lies with the cutting edge stuff. I like leading the wave, new territories, pushing the envelope. I mean, Voice-Mail’s good: I get to be both a Good AND Evil god depending on whether you’re the Call-ee or the Call-er. But the latest thing? (Leans in, confiding.) Awkward Silences. Like when two passing acquaintances meet up and feel compelled to say “hi” to one another, but don’t know what to say next. Their greeting is followed by… an Awkward Silence. Not really a lot of call for that at the moment. Down in the world right now things are still pretty much at the I-Either-Know-You-Really-Well-Or-I’ll-Have-To-Kill-You stage. But believe me, this is a growth field. I’m going to be HUGE in elevators. Of course, they haven’t been invented yet. They’re little boxes that open on one side and there’s numbers over the door on the inside. So what happens is: people go inside this box and as soon as the door closes everybody races to see who can stare at those numbers longer than anybody else without saying anything. [And why?] Because they’re terrified of breaking the Awkward Silence!


MONOLOGUES from “SELF-HELP BY DUMMIEZ” by T. Gregory Argall and Todd McGinnis


MYRON CALL #1 (Stressed-out Self-Help Guru MICHAEL SAGE counsels Myron —his most frustrating client—by cell phone.) Edited and excerpted.

MICHAEL: Hello Myron. (Beat, listening.) …Well, did you try talking to her? (Beat.) Now Myron… I need you to find your Inner Circle of Calm. Can you do that for me? (Beat.) That’s right, I wrote it all down in my book Centred Mind, Centred Self. (Beat.) I know you bought the tapes, Myron. The lessons are the same. Just apply steps seven-though-nine. Can you do that for me now? (Beat.) Good. Now, let’s start again. (A few beats, listening.) Okay. Now we’ve been over this before, haven’t we Myron? You said that you felt that Sophie was ignoring you, that she wasn’t as invested in the relationship as you were, that she wasn’t making an equal contribution to your shared happiness. (Beat.) Now do you remember what I advised in my book The 22 Crucial Elements for Positive Relationship-Building? (Beat.)That’s right, the chapter on Developing a Nest of Nurturing. And did you try expressing your feelings in order to get beyond your Resentment Wall? (Beat.) Good, good. And what was her response? (Beat.) ….She just walked away. (Beat.) Uh-huh. Well, Myron, maybe she just needed some space and you have to respect that. And another important thing to bear in mind here, Myron, is that… Sophie is a cat. (Long beat.) Well… I don’t know, Myron, why don’t you get her one of those squeaky mouse-toys with a bell inside it and see how she responds. (Beat.) I know that isn’t it the book, Myron. That’s a special insight that I’ve been saving for the second edition. Okay. ‘Bye.

MYRON CALL #2 (Stressed-out Self-Help Guru MICHAEL SAGE counsels Myron —his most frustrating client—by cell phone.)

MICHAEL: Hello, Myron… (Beat, listening.) Okay, Myron. I think an important first step here is just to calm down. (Beat.) Well, calming down is very important, Myron. (Beat.) Yes. I suppose, Navigating the Sea of Self-Awareness is one example. After all, if we want to… sail with Captain Conundrum towards the Isle of Resolution, who do we have to watch out for…? (Beat.) That’s right: Peter Panic. …What?(Beat.) Oh yes. The Pirates of Paralysis. You’ll want to watch for them too. Now you— What? (Beat.) Well, I don’t think you need to concern yourself with the Mermaids of Misunderstanding at this point, Myron. (Beat.) Well, because you’re still waiting on the Dock of Dilemma, aren’t you? Which, of course, means that you haven’t even boarded the Ship of Self-Determination yet. So maybe, if you were to— What? (Beat.) What Dolphins? …The “Tuna of” what? Myron, let’s not get too hung up on the nautical metaphors, okay? Maybe Sally and Stevie Set Sail on the Seven Seas of Self-Awareness isn’t the most appropriate tool at this point— (Beat.) Well, I’m flattered you think it’s an insightful book, Myron, but it was written for children ten and under. Grown-up issues like yours tend to be a lot more complex. Now, why don’t you just try telling me what the problem is. (Beat.) …um… as opposed to what, Myron? (Beat.) Uh-huh. Well. In that case, I’d say, go with pants. (Beat.) You’re welcome, Myron.

MYRON CALL #5 – MICHAEL SAGE FINALLY SNAPS (Stressed-out Self-Help Guru MICHAEL SAGE counsels Myron—his most frustrating client—by cell phone.)

MICHAEL: Yes Myron? (Beat.) Then suddenly, concerned.) Who is this? (Beat.) Well, where’s Myron? Is he alright? (Beat.) He’s right there? Well, why isn’t he— (Beat.)  “He doesn’t know know what to order for lunch”? Okay… And why are you calling? (Beat.) “He didn’t know whether he should bother me with this.” (Snaps.) Alright! That’s it! Put Myron on the phone right now! Put him on!  (Beat.)Myron? Why was I just talking to your waitress? What hell are you— What? (Beat.)  Yes, Myron. I am a little upset. (Beat.)  Why? Well, let’s recap shall we, Myron? ‘Cause basically you’re the paradigm of my career up to this point, and I want you to see that. In many ways, Myron, you are the embodiment of everyone who has purchased my books over the years. NOW… once upon a time I wrote the Twenty-Five Things You Need To Know For A Successful Life. It was very successful. (Beat.) Yes, I know you have a signed copy, Myron. I signed it. After that book, I came up with Seventeen, The Magic Number for Personal Prosperity. Then, along came the whole “Twelve Step” fad, so I wrote: Twelve Truths For Today And Tomorrow. Then Top Ten Lists were big. And after that, for awhile, everybody seemed to want things in “sevens”. Eventually, I tried to simplify everything by distilling all that I’d learned into The Five Steps for Finding Fulfillment. Apparently… (yelling at the phone. He’s lost it.) still too complicated for some! So then came my most recent work… in which I painstakingly define the most basic, fundamental principles of ALL Problem-Solving, boiled down into THREE points, so simple and easy-to-remember that even a chimp could understand them! Yet STILL, somehow, it’s beyond your grasp. So I’ll tell you what Myron…. I got a ONE STEP program just for you! You think you can handle that!?! Good! Here it is: Make a friggin’ decision! (He hangs up and screams in frustration.)


JERRY: Well, everything was fine, or at least it seemed fine. You know, we had bills like everybody else. We had to buy groceries, keep the apartment clean. We were saving to buy a house but we both worked so we were doing alright. It was an ordinary life, you know? We liked the same things. We liked going to movies, bowling once a week, hanging out with our friends and family. And then, one night, over dinner, Donna just suddenly says she thinks we should get counselling for our problems. I didn’t even know we had any problems. So I said, What problems? She couldn’t name one. But then she said she was worried that we might have an unhealthy marriage. She said she kept hearing on all these talk shows and reading in magazines about how even the most healthy marriages still have problems that need to be worked out. Well, I couldn’t quite follow the logic there… But I figured, hey, she’s worried about it. She thinks we should talk to somebody. What harm can it do? It’s just talk. Maybe we’ll even learn something. So I said yeah, of course I’ll go. (Beat.) …The next thing I know, I’ve identified dozens of problems in my life that I didn’t even know were there. I have intimacy issues, issues about “personal space”, issues with “communication”, issues with sharing, issues with not sharing. I have issues of unresolved anger and resentment towards my parents and I didn’t even know I was mad at them! Suddenly, I’m going to counselling once a week with Donna and three times a week on my own. The more I try to solve my problems the more problems I seem to have. I can’t sleep ’cause I’m worrying about all my problems. My work starts to slide because I’m not getting any sleep and I have all these friggin’ appointments. The next thing I know, I get fired from my job. I work for my Dad! It’s a family business and suddenly, no one in my family is even talking to me anymore. Then the bomb drops: Donna leaves me… for our counsellor. And as if that isn’t bad enough, I have to get a new counsellor. He says he can’t see me anymore because apparently now there’s a conflict-of-interest! So he refers me to another doctor, Dr. Rogers, who immediately goes on sabbatical! I never even get to see him. So then I get bumped to the waiting list of Dr. Enbridge, the guy who’s filling for him. And you know what he does when I finally get an appointment? He reschedules on me. Five times. Two of those times he didn’t get around to “rescheduling” me until after I’d been sitting here for an hour and a half. That’s why I decided that today, no matter what, he was going to have to make time for me.




MATT: I laid it all on the line for a woman once. Well, okay she wasn’t exactly a woman. I was thirteen and there was this girl in my class… Michelle. God, she was beautiful. I had the biggest crush on her. Of course, so did almost every other guy. I knew I’d never have a chance with her but I went to the grade eight dance anyway with only one purpose in mind. Get Michelle to slow-dance with me. I figured if I could just dance with her once, even if it was just that one time, well… Anyway, I went, figuring I’d have to fight my way through a line of guys just to get close to her. But when I got there… I couldn’t believe it. Nobody was asking anybody to dance. The guys were all on one side of the gym, combing their hair and checking their watches and trying not to look like they were watching the girls. The girls were all on the other side of the gym, huddled in little groups, whispering to each other and pretending not to care if the guys were watching them or not. And there was Michelle. She was sitting there listening to some friends of hers. She looked nervous and vulnerable, kind of lonely and just… irresistibly beautiful. And that was when I realized, this was my chance. All the other guys who were looking at her the same way I was, were all too nervous to go near her. So I took a deep breath, walked right over to her and asked her to dance. And she said, “No.” Nothing else. Just no. I’ve never felt so many different things at one time. It was like a kick to the stomach, but also like a cold fist crushing my heart. I felt like I had a fever, like my skin was on fire, but at the same time I felt frozen inside. My heart was broken. My pride was shattered. And that was when I realized I was going to throw up… and that somehow I had to make it back across the gym before that happened. So I turned and started walking away. God, I felt awful. I knew it would be impossible to ever feel worse than I did at that moment. And then I heard Michelle… laughing at me.