Comicon Monologue

The air reeked of alcohol, the intoxicated breaths of young people colliding together over drunken slurs to create one distinct scent. She kept her head low as she made her way through the maze made by the seemingly endless crowd. Full of regrets, she was doing all she could to get out of there, the distraction turning out to be nothing more than a few drinks with people who didn't even know when her birthday was. The song finished abruptly, followed by simultaneous cheering. She kept moving, weaving in and out of people with fierce determination until she walked right into him. She murmured a quick apology and went to continue when the familiarity of the figure in front of her hit. She hesitantly looked up, heart dropping into her stomach at the mere sight of him.

Thornton Wilder, a Wisconsin native, is the writer of the Pulitzer Prize winner play Our Town. In Our Town, Wilder tells the story of a town in Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, and the daily lives of the inhabitants. In the play, the author uses minimal props and scenery as well as including a main character known as the Stage Manager that has the ability to break the fourth wall, allowing him to talk to the audience. This factor of talking to the audience is a major component of making the public a part of the town. Throughout the play, there are many instances in which the Stage Manager uses various cues as well as dialogues to incorporate the audience and develop an intimate relationship to create a true sense of “our town”.

A shrill scream escaped his lips, his eyelids fluttering and threatening unconsciousness. It had been going on so long that he didn't even feel the pain anymore, in its place stood an overwhelming feeling of tiredness. There was a final blow and his tense body slumped to the floor. Officer John Parkson woke with a jolt.

It had been a nice sunny warm weathered day here in Mississippi. It had been for a while now and everyone had been outside working, harvesting, and growing their cotton, it had been a little tough for our family after the depression. Cotton prices had been lowered and it had just been hard for everyone around this town. We are white and I guess we have a little more than most folks especially them colored folks. There is this family the Logan family first things first their black

Hey! Nice to meet you! I am Wendy, a water molecule! Oh! Sorry for the yelling. It is just that I am a very excitable person. I am at the top of the atmosphere for the first time! I was left here by a spaceship. I guess they just forgot….. or else they don’t like water molecules! I never thought of that before, but who cares? I’m still here.

“Oh,” Darlene replied, his meaning not lost. She slipped the card in with her money and lip gloss. She disliked dogs and Daryl’s niece wasn’t going to be the first place she inquired for new work, but it was nice to have a backup option. “Thank you,” she added.

People always have more potential than it looks. That’s because people can have talents that can change the world. Some people look like ordinary people, but they may be more special than you think. Once, I was at the park. Lots of people were there, but one person caught my eye.

In ancient times, the kingdom of Britain was ruled by the wise King Arthur, who presided over the magnificent city of Camelot. Under his leadership, a valiant group of knights known as the Knights of the Round Table were formed. Alongside King Arthur, there was his nephew Gawain, who traversed the land of Camelot in search of a school that could help him become stronger, so he could better protect the king. As a loyal companion to my nephew, I, Sir Gawain, have stood by his side for as long as I can recall.

It has been six months that Jackie arrived in the city to get information from the evil men that plotted the murder of Henry’s family. He had shown Mr Raymond that he can be trusted. He had played the script that he was in the city for business extremely well. He was at the exclusive club one Wednesday evening to push Mr Raymond into telling all about the dirty deals he’s involved.

Harold Bennett lived a rich inner life. He either lived in his head or he did not live at all because that was all that was available to him. If Maggie had suspected he lived inside his head she would have found a way to stop it because Harold was dishonoured. Not having the prerogative of imposing a capital sentence Maggie did the next best thing by making Harold’s life so miserable that he wished he were dead. She forced her husband into the ranks of the unforgiven where he was condemned to remain until he breathed his last.

I love you, Donald Trump. It seemed perfect at the time. The election was fresh from everyone’s mind, everyone is furious and depressed. Why did he win anyways?

If you got summoned to another world, and thrown the title [Hero] and forced to fight for some random people you don’t even know, how would you feel? Well personally, I’d probably kill myself. Why? Simply because one, I no longer had any ties left to the world and two to see the looks on the faces of the fuckers that dragged me there.

The blood in my body stops moving. “They’re not dudes. They’re David,” I get out, praying I won’t sound like a gerbil, praying he won’t turn to later drawings in the pad, drawings done today, when I was spying, drawings of them, rising out of the water, with their surfboards under arm, no wetsuits, no nothing, totally glistening, and, uh: holding hands. I might have taken some artistic license. So they’re going to think . . .

I watched MC wrapped around someone else's arms. I use to hold her that way. I I saw the way MC smiles towards him and laugh at his jokes. The pain was more than I could bear, but I had to be 707, the one who makes jokes, playing pranks and makes her laugh. Not the one suffering.

“Concentrate, Aiden!” He clapped his hands. “Please you really need to focus. This is important. Children have to be careful when they venture into the forest. There’s a pack of wild, voracious wolves with gaping mouths reeling with fangs and forked tongues each as thick as my wrist. They roam the woods, ten feet or more, and then hung in the trees, breathing raggedly tasting your scent, considering how best to devour you. As a matter of fact only, the other day several of them snatched a baby elf out of its sleeping mother’s arms and thrashed the poor little dear to pieces.