Drama Auditions

Suggested Audition Monologues-


From ROOSTERS, by Milcha Sanchez-Scott 

ANGELA: There is no pit in this peach. It is hollow. Instead of the pit, there is a whole little world, a little blue-green crystal-clear ocean, with little schools of tiny darting silver fish. On a tiny rock sitsa mermaid with little teenie-weenie kinky yellow hair. A tiny sun is being pulled across a little china-blue sky by teenie-weenie white horses with itty-bitty wings. There is an island with tiny palm trees and a tiny thatched hut. Next to the hut stands a tiny man and woman. She is wearing flowers and leaves. He is wearing one single leaf. On their heads are little bitty halos. In their arms is a little bitsy baby. He isn’t wearing anything. 

From THE BLIZZARD, by David Ives 

JENNY: You know what it is about murder mysteries? No, listen. I think the reason people like murder mysteries is that, in a murder mystery, everything is significant. The people in murder mysteries are living in a significant world. A world where everything is there for a reason. Even before the murder’s happened, you know that one is going to happen and you know that everything is a clue. Or rather, you know that some things are clues and some things are just obfuscation, they’re snow. And you know that everybody has a secret of some kind. A secret that’s like a soul. Murder mysteries are religious, in a way. Don’t laugh. They’re like the way you feel when you’re in love. When everything’s in a special light. They’re a couple of hours of everything meaning something, for God’s sake. And then they’re over and you’re back to your old life, to real life. To mortgages and pork loin and potatoes and making rhubarb pie.

From YOU’RE A GOOD MAN, CHARLIE BROWN, based on the comic strip PEANUTS by Charles M. Schulz, book by Clark Gesner

SALLY: A ‘C’? A ‘C’? I got a ‘C’ on my coat-hanger sculpture? How could anyone get a ‘C’ in coathanger sculpture? May I ask a question? Was I judged on the piece of sculpture itself? If so, is it not true that time alone can judge a work of art? Or was I judged on my talent? If so, is it fair that I be judged on a part of my life over which I have no control? If I was judged on my effort, then I was judged unfairly, for I tried as hard as I could! Was I judged on what I had learned about this project? If so, then were not you, my teacher, also being judged on your ability to transmit your knowledge to me? Are you willing to share my ‘C’? Perhaps I was being judged on the quality of coat-hanger itself out of which my creation was made… now is this not also unfair? Am I to be judged by the quality of coat-hangers that are used by the dry-cleaning establishment that returns our garments? Is that not the responsibility of my parents? Should they not share my ‘C’? (Beat. As if the teacher is responding.) Thank you, Miss Othmar. (To audience.) The squeaky wheel gets the grease! 

Suggested Monologues -Continued

From YOU’RE A GOOD MAN, CHARLIE BROWN, based on the comic strip PEANUTS by Charles M. Schulz, book by Clark Gesner 

CHARLIE BROWN: I think lunchtime is about the worst time of day for me. Always having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes, mornings aren’t so pleasant either. Waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed. Then there’s the night, too. Lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I’ve done during the day. And all those hours in between when I do all those stupid things…. There’s that cute little redheaded girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what she would do if I went over and asked her if I could sit and have lunch with her?…She’d probably laugh right in my face…it’s hard on a face when it gets laughed in. There’s an empty place next to her on the bench. There’s no reason why I couldn’t just go over and sit there. I could do that right now. All I have to do is stand up…I’m standing up!…I’m sitting down. I’m a coward. I’m so much of a coward, she wouldn’t even think of looking at me. She hardly ever does look at me. In fact, I can’t remember her ever looking at me. Why shouldn’t she look at me? Is there any reason in the world why she shouldn’t look at me? Is she so great, and I’m so small, that she can’t spare one little moment?…SHE’S LOOKING AT ME!! SHE’S LOOKING AT ME!! 

 From OUR TOWN, by Thornton Wilder

GEORGE: Hello, Emily, I just wanted to say you made a fine speech in class. Gee, it’s funny, Emily. From my window up there, I can just see your head at nights when you’re doing your homework over in your room. You certainly do stick to it, Emily. I don’t see how you can sit still that long. I guess you like school… Emily, what do you think? We might work out a kinda telegraph from your window to mine; and once in a while you could give me a hint or two about one of those algebra problems. I don’t mean the answers, Emily, of course not…just some kinda hint… Anyway it was nice talking to ya. Goodbye.