Free Monologues - The Wrestler

From Yard Wars

Christian Connors, aka The Wrestler, looks back on his backyard wrestling career and the events leading up to it. While I list it under teen monologues, it could be performed by an actor anywhere from his mid-teens to his mid-twenties, perhaps even older. Part of the one-man show, Yard Wars. [Note: if you need a longer monologue to perform, if you're very nice to me, I might be persuaded to send you a bigger chunk from this play.]

(Warning: Using this monologue without permission is illegal, as is reproducing it on a website or in print in any way.)

Most important thing in wrestling isn’t the bell. It’s the names. The names and the gimmicks. Jimmy Double T’s got a big advantage, on account of his fucked up last name,
(pronounced TAH-LAH-TEE-FEE-ERREE)
Talatifierre. First time I met Jimmy I couldn’t pronounce it right—‘cause I’m not Italian, and I said Tala-tee-fairy. I wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass, I just couldn’t say the last “I,” and he looks like he’s gonna’ cry, only he doesn’t. And then it starts: first his pants get all wet ‘round his crotch, and then the stream goes down his leg. Then he starts crying, and he tells his Mom, and his Mom calls my Mom, and my Mom starts yelling at me, and pretty soon I’m crying, and she drags me over to Jimmy’s.
And when we get there he’s standing in the bathtub—‘cause I don’t know where he’s gettin’ it from but he just keeps pissin’ and cryin’—and I’m trying to give him stuff to make him stop. So I’m giving him gum and stickers and whatever else I have in my pockets, and finally I’m like trying to give him my Air Jordans if he’ll just stop pissin’ and cryin’. But he keeps going, and I’m trying to reach into the tub and put the Jordans in his hand. He says “leave me alone,” but I don’t know what else to do, so I’m still pushing the Jordans at him, and finally he yells, “Stop it!” And I’m thinking it’s about to get worse, and my Mom, who’s in the other room trying to explain to his Mom that I’m not the spawn of Satan, is going to drop me at the bus station—she was always threatening to put me on a bus when I was little. This time she’s going to do it for real. But then a weird thing happens. He stops pissing and crying and says, “thanks, but you don’t have to give me your sneakers. You say it Ta-la-tee-fee-erree.” I say, “Can I just say Double T? I’m scared I might mess it up, and I don’t want you to piss anymore.” He thinks about it for a few seconds, then he says OK, and do I want to be best friends and play in the backyard. That was when we were six. Funny how not much has changed since we were six.

you may substitute “screwed up last name” in place of “fucked up last name” at the opening of the monologue.
Co-Chair of the Alliance of Los Angeles
, member of The Dramatists Guild of America, and life member of the Philadelphia Dramatists Center.

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