From the published play "The Bullied, Bungled and Botched"
Eyes" Monologue by D. M. Larson
(Rob Amun is sitting by a museum display of a mummy
sarcophagus of a young woman. Her belongings are in displays around her)
I'm so glad I found you. You're the only one I can talk
to. Definitely the only girl I've ever talked to. But I feel so
comfortable with you.
No one listens to me. I talk. They change the subject. It's not that I
feel like I have something better to say. I don't know if I have much to
say at all. I've never had a chance to try.
But I found you... Here in this museum. Alone with no one to talk to. Like me.
Like each other. Pushed back in a corner and forgotten. But we
aren't alone anymore.
The minute I saw you here, I knew you were special. There was something
magical about your eyes. I know they aren't your actual eyes, but the
eyes they painted you... Mystical eyes that gazed upon me and held me here. Did
the artist capture your true eyes? If so they are the most amazing ones I
have ever seen.
You're so pretty. Such a beautiful princess... Didn't your people believe
you were a goddess if you were royalty? I could worship you. I hope you
don't mind me saying that.
What's it like to be worshiped? Not that I want to be.
there are down sides. Like Princess Diana... Don't be jealous. I
never met the woman... But she was killed by the people who loved her
too much. I guess it possible to love something too much. Like
and the rabbit... Hugging and squeezing the life out of what you love
so much. I hope your people didn't do that to you.
It's important to love just enough. Just enough to know you are loved
without hurting the object of your affection.
But you died so young. It's not fair. No one should have such a short life.
Egyptians believed in immortally or some such thing. You live on,
remembered but no one to talk to. Never getting to say anything.
I guess I was a mummy before I met you. There ...but
not being heard.
I wish I could give you what you've given me... A voice. A chance to
exist. A chance to be real.
So much of life is fake. It would be wonderful to be real.. To be real
together... A real life for the two of us.
What would we do first? Good question. What does one do for a
Do princesses like picnics? I know a nice place where we could go.
It's a meadow near a creek. The sound of water drowns out the world
around you. You only hear the birds and the wind through the
leaves. You watch the clouds and dream.
Did you ever watch the clouds and dream them in to something? I create
the most amazing pictures in the clouds. I would love to show you how.
I would teach you. Teach you the way to dream beautiful pictures in the sky.
What is my favorite dream? A Phoenix. Rising from the ashes and
burning brighter than the sun.
Does it sound nice? You want to hear more? What else would we do?
We'd watch the sunset fires burn away the day and hold hands as the colors
dazzle us and burn away the worries of today.
Then as the fire dies, the embers float above us and turn to stars.
The stars sparkling down on us like a crown worthy of a princess.
We'd get closer until I was holding you and then you'd fall asleep in my arms,
but I couldn't sleep. I wouldn't want to miss any moment with you.
Holding you, feeling your body close to my own... that would be better than any
Would you like that? Me too. More than anything.
That's my wish. The wish for the princess of Giza.
Giza? That where you are from isn't it? Does that make you a
geezer? Sorry. Couldn't resist.
I better go. What's that? A gift? You don't need to give me
anything. Being with you is enough. I can't take your ring.
Please don't cry. I would if I could but the museum... I know it's yours
Shh... it's alright... I will take it. Really, I
(He nervously looks around and crawls over a barrier.
He carefully opens a container and is happy when an alarm doesn't go off.
He picks up the ring and shows her)
This one? It's beautiful. Your fingers are so
tiny. You must have the most beautiful hands.
(He crawls out of barrier and looks around, happy he didn't
I will cherish this. This means a lot to me. I've never
been given anything by a girl before. I will keep it with me always so I can
dream about you... Dream we were made for each other ... I for you and you
saved for me.
I love it...
And I love you.
END OF MONOLOGUE
From the published play "The Bullied, Bungled and Botched" by D. M. Larson available on Amazon.com:
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