A Monologue

TRAVIS
Here I walk alone in the park. Look at me walk. Walk, walk walk. I’m ditching school. I’m at the park. I thought there would be ducks to feed, but there’s not. I would have fed the ducks if there were ducks around, but, look, there are no animals at all. No animals anywhere. Only me, Travis, a boy in the park alone when he should be at school. Just wait until my mother finds out that I didn’t go to school today. I’d like to see her face when she finds out. She’ll never expect it, and then she’ll find out about me, and then her face will look unusual. When she finds out I didn’t go to school, her face will take the form of an expression it does not normally take. There I was at the bus stop, just a few minutes ago. Waiting at the bus stop, looking down the road, waiting for the bus to come. Looking at my watch, looking down the road. Tapping my foot, like this. There I was, at the bus stop. And I just started walking. I walked across the street, through the trees, with branches and leaves all swishing, and then I found this park. Ahh, look, a trash can. (He throws books into a trash can) Goodbye math. Goodbye English. Goodbye science. Goodbye goodbye goodbye. I wonder what my teachers will look like when they find out I threw away my school books. “You put them in a trash can at the park? You naughty boy, you.” “Yes, ma’am, I threw my books away.” What will my teachers’ faces look like? Will they be concerned faces? Will they be faces with a disapproving expression? I wish it was nighttime. I wish I was in the middle of a thickness of darkness, without the sun, or the moon, or even the stars to give their light. I wish I was wearing a trench coat. I wish I had a flashlight in this hand, and a pistol in this hand. Yeah. And then I wish I had enemies, enemies who were lurking in the nighttime, behind trees, in the sewers, behind buildings, lurking, enemies who wore masks, and the fog would shroud us, and we would fight. Why hasn’t that happened to me yet? Why haven’t I battled enemies in a dark mist? I’ve lived for a while now. 17 years. How is it that I’ve never found myself alone under moonlight, sneaking around fighting enemies, or tiptoeing around finding clues? I know why. Mom doesn’t let me have guns. I bet she wouldn’t even get me a trench coat or a flashlight. I’ll bet she wouldn’t give me those things if I asked for those things for Christmas. But if I did have enemies, real enemies, thirsty for my blood, and if it came down to just me and my enemies in the dark, and we all had guns and daggers, and we were fighting in the night, with the fog and the night and the dark all around us, and death nearby, Mother wouldn’t let it happen. She’d put a stop to it. But mother’s not here. Mother? Mother? Answer me now or I’ll assume you’re not here. OK. Mother’s not here. Here I am walking in the park and mother’s not here and I want a trenchcoat, a flashlight, and a pistol. (He yawns.) I’m getting very sleepy all of a sudden. Yes, very tired. This doesn’t feel like any ordinary sleep- this is a spell, a spell from my enemies. But the oncoming sleep feels good as it’s coming on. It will feel even better when it has entirely taken over. I’ll give in to the slumber. Here I go taking a nice nap in this nice park.