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Audition Monologues: 46 Short Pieces
A good audition monologue is short, self contained, close to your age and type, and built on one clear want. Aim for about a minute unless the notice says otherwise. Below are 46 original short monologues of about one minute each, ready to learn, plus how to pick and prepare one.
12 writers opened this page this week
Written and reviewed by ScriptLix Editorial
Short audition monologues, about a minute each
Showing 46 of 46. All original, written for ScriptLix. Running times are estimates at 140 spoken words a minute. Time yourself out loud.
- ComedicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Some Assembly Required
Darnell, 30s, sitting on the floor of a new apartment, to his partner, who has offered to read the instructions. He wants to finish the bookshelf himself.
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No. Put the booklet down. Put it down. I don't need the booklet. The booklet is for people who don't believe in themselves.
I have assembled this bookshelf in my mind several times. I know its heart.
Yes, there is one screw left over. That happens. That's a bonus screw. They throw that in to make you feel rich.
What do you mean it's leaning? It's not leaning. It's relaxed. It's a relaxed bookshelf. We're relaxed people. It fits our energy.
Okay, it's leaning a little.
Here's what you need to understand. When I was a kid, my father built our entire back porch with no plans, no help and one hammer. He talked about it for twenty years. "I built that porch." Every barbecue. Every holiday. The porch was his whole personality.
I just want one thing. One small wooden thing in this apartment that I can point to at a party and say, I made that.
Hand me the booklet. Don't watch.
164 words, about 1 min 10 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Gerald the Fern
Marjorie, 60s, at the returns counter of a garden center, to a young employee. She wants a refund on a fern she is convinced disapproves of her.
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I'd like to return this fern. His name is Gerald. Don't write that down, that's not important. That's just what I've been calling him.
No, he's not dead. That's the problem. He's thriving. Look at him. He's never looked better.
He just doesn't like me.
You think I'm joking. Every morning I come into the kitchen, and he's leaning away. Toward the window. Away from me. I turned him around. Next day, leaning away again. I turned him around again. He leaned harder. That is not botany, young man. That is a statement.
My husband says it's the light. My husband talks to the lawnmower. I don't take his opinions on the natural world.
I've had plants my whole life. My mother grew orchids in a bathroom with no window. I am not a beginner. And I will not live in my own house with a fern that judges what I eat for breakfast.
I'd like store credit. I'd like something friendlier. A cactus, maybe. Something that knows it isn't perfect either.
172 words, about 1 min 14 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Eleven Casseroles
Joan, 70s, a recent widow, at her front door, to a neighbor holding yet another casserole. Joan wants the neighbor to stop bringing food and come inside to sit with her.
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Oh, Barbara. Another one. That's lovely. What is it? Tuna. Of course it's tuna.
Barbara, I want you to come see my refrigerator. No, come in. Look. That's eleven casseroles. Eleven. I've labeled them. That one's from the Pattersons. That one's from church. That one I think is from a stranger. I don't know who that is. It has olives.
I'm one woman. I eat like a bird. Frank was the eater. Frank would have had all of these gone by Wednesday and then asked what was for dessert.
Here's what I don't have. Anyone to sit at the table. Everyone drops off a dish at the door and runs, like I'm contagious. Like grief is catching.
So I'm going to heat this up. Your tuna. And you're going to sit in Frank's chair and tell me something boring about your gutters.
That's all I want. Somebody boring at the table.
151 words, about 1 min 5 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Custody of the Dog
Greg, 30s, in a divorce mediator's office, to the mediator, with his soon to be ex wife sitting across the table. He has agreed to everything except the dog, and wants the dog.
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She can have the house. I said that already. She can have the car, the good blender, the couch we fought about for three weekends at the furniture store. Take it. All of it.
But not Waffles.
I know he was technically her birthday present. I know that. But who walks him at six in the morning? Me. Who sat with him on the kitchen floor during the Fourth of July fireworks for two hours while he shook like a leaf? Me. Who knows that he only eats the dry food if you say "good boy" in a British accent? Me. She doesn't even know about the accent.
Look. I'm not trying to win. We stopped trying to win a while ago, she and I. We're just tired.
But when I come home to that apartment, I need one thing to be happy to see me.
Just one. Please. He doesn't care about the blender.
155 words, about 1 min 6 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicAny gender20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Full Disclosure
Robin, 30s, on a first date at a restaurant, to the person across the table who has just mentioned they might skip dessert. Robin wants them to stay a little longer.
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Before you ask for the check, can I say something? It's a little honest. You can leave after.
I almost didn't come tonight. I sat in my car outside for twenty minutes. I practiced being a person who goes on dates. I said "Hi, nice to meet you" to my rearview mirror nine times. A man walking his dog saw me.
The last time I did this was four years ago, and it went very well, and then it went very badly, and I've been sort of sitting out the game since then. On the bench. With a snack.
And then you showed up, and you were nice to the waiter, and you laughed at my joke about the bread basket, which was not a good joke.
So I'm just saying. They have a chocolate thing on the menu. It's for two people. It says so. It would be a waste of a menu item not to.
Stay for dessert. That's all. Low stakes. Just cake.
166 words, about 1 min 11 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicMale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Dad's Pancakes
Phil, 40s, a single father, at the kitchen stove on a Saturday morning, to his teenage daughter, who has barely spoken in a week. He wants her to tell him what's wrong.
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Morning. I made pancakes. Shaped like Mickey Mouse. I know you're sixteen. I know. But your mother used to make them like this and I thought maybe the ears would help.
They did not come out like Mickey Mouse. That one looks like a potato with ambitions.
So. Big week. You've said, I counted, eleven words to me since Monday. Four of them were "fine." Two were "whatever." One was "Dad," but in the voice that means "please stop existing."
I'm not going to make you talk. I read a book. Well, I read the back of a book. It said to give teenagers space. So here's your space. It's next to the syrup.
But I'm also going to stand right here and flip pancakes until you're ready. I have flour for, I'd say, three more days.
Whatever it is, I'm on your side. Even if it's my fault. Especially if it's my fault.
Eat a potato.
157 words, about 1 min 7 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicAny gender40s plusAbout 1 minute
Ronald
Pat, 50s, alone in a quiet house a month after their spouse moved out, to the robot vacuum cleaner, which keeps bumping into the same chair. Pat wants it to stop leaving too.
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Ronald. Ronald, look at me. You hit that chair four times. It's the same chair. It's always been there. It's not new. You know the chair.
I named you Ronald because Diane said it was silly to name a vacuum. I said everything with a schedule deserves a name. She rolled her eyes. That was when we still rolled our eyes at each other in a nice way.
You know what's strange? You're the only thing in this house that still does what it did before. Every morning at nine you wake up and go around the kitchen and under the table and you get stuck on the rug in the hall, and I come and rescue you. And it's the best part of my day.
That's sad. I know that's sad. Don't beep at me.
I'm going to move the chair. There. Now you're free.
Don't go too far, Ronald. Come back when you're done.
156 words, about 1 min 7 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicFemale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Bangs
Leah, 20s, in a salon chair, to her hairdresser, who is holding the scissors. She has asked for bangs the day before a big job interview and now wants to explain why.
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Wait. Before you cut. I need to tell you why I want the bangs.
No, it's not a breakup. Everyone thinks it's a breakup. It's not a breakup. Well, it's a breakup with my old job, technically, but I'm the one who left, so it's a good breakup.
I have an interview tomorrow. At ten. For a job I really, really want. Art director. My own team. My own office with a door.
And I have looked exactly the same since high school. Same ponytail. Same face. Like I'm waiting for someone to tell me I'm allowed to grow up.
So I want the bangs. I want to walk in there looking like someone who makes bold choices.
Is this a terrible idea? You can tell me. Your face is telling me. You're making the face my mother makes.
Okay. Small bangs. Brave, but small. Like me.
Go. Cut before I change my mind.
154 words, about 1 min 6 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicAny gender20s to 30sAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Have You Seen This Dog?
Dana, any age, at a bus stop, to a stranger who has just politely refused a lost dog flyer. Dana wants them to take the flyer and actually look at it.
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No, please, just take one. You don't have to do anything with it. Just look at his face for three seconds. That's all I ask.
His name is Moose. He's small. I know the name doesn't match. He was supposed to grow, and he didn't, and we'd already told everyone.
He got out on Tuesday when the mail carrier left the gate open. Not her fault. He's fast. He's built low to the ground, like a little sports car.
I've put up two hundred and twelve of these. I've talked to the guy at the hardware store, the lady at the laundromat, three kids on scooters. One kid said he saw Moose eating a pizza crust behind the library. That's my best lead.
So if you see him, don't chase him. He thinks it's a game. Just sit down on the sidewalk and say "cheese." He'll come right to you.
Cheese. That's the password. Please remember it.
157 words, about 1 min 7 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Thirty One Years
Doris, 60s, at her retirement party in an office break room, to her coworkers. She wants to say something true instead of the speech she was given.
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Thank you. Thank you. Please put the cake down, Steven, there'll be time for cake.
Human resources gave me a speech to read. It's very nice. It says I was a "valued team member" and that I "brought energy to every quarterly cycle." I did not write that. I don't know what a quarterly cycle is, and I've been here thirty one years.
Here's what I actually want to say.
I started here when the computers were the size of refrigerators. I've had nine bosses. Four were good. I won't say which four. They know.
I'm not going to miss the work. I'm going to miss the people. I'm going to miss Raymond's terrible jokes at the copier and the way Linda hums when she's angry.
And I'll miss walking in here at eight every morning and knowing exactly who I was.
Now I have to figure that out at home. Wish me luck.
Steven, now you can have the cake.
161 words, about 1 min 9 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Attic Box
Kevin, 30s, in his late parents' attic, to his sister, who is ruthlessly sorting everything into keep and donate piles. Kevin wants to keep a box of ridiculous things.
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You can't donate that. Put it down. That's the bird lamp. You don't donate the bird lamp.
Yes, I know it's ugly. It's horrifying. It's a ceramic pelican with a light bulb in its mouth. But Dad won it at the county fair throwing rings at bottles, and he carried it to the car like it was a newborn. Mom made him keep it in the garage for ten years. And then one Christmas she put it on the mantel with a bow on it, and he cried. Real tears. Over a pelican.
I know what you're doing. You're being practical. You're going fast because if you go slow you'll fall apart. I know because you've done it since we were kids.
But I want this box. The pelican. The bowling trophy. Mom's terrible puzzle with three pieces missing.
Give me the box, Jen. Go slow with me. Just for this one.
152 words, about 1 min 5 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicMale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Grandpa Learns to Text
Walter, 80s, on the couch, to his college age grandson, who is visiting for the weekend. Walter has just learned to text and wants his grandson to text him back more often.
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Sit down. Sit. I want to show you something. Look at this. Look at my phone.
I sent you a message on Tuesday. See? "Hello grandson stop how is school stop." Your grandmother said I don't need to write "stop." I like the stop. It's very clear.
And you sent back a little yellow face with the tongue out. That's it. What does that mean? Is that good? Are you sick?
I've been learning. Your cousin Annie showed me the little pictures. I can do the thumbs up now. I can do the cake. I sent your aunt a cake for her birthday and she called me crying.
Here's my point. I'm eighty one. I don't need a phone call. I know you're busy. You've got your girlfriend and your exams and your band.
Just send me something. Once a week. A picture of your lunch. A word.
I'll send back the thumbs. I'm very good at the thumbs.
159 words, about 1 min 8 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicFemale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Thirty Ninth Application
Ivy, 30s, on the phone with a hiring manager at a small observatory, who has called to say the position has been filled. Ivy wants a chance anyway.
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No, I understand. Filled. That makes sense. Somebody wonderful got it, I'm sure. I'm sure they're very tall and very qualified and have their own telescope.
Can I just say one thing before you hang up? I'll be fast.
This is my thirty ninth application. I keep a spreadsheet. It's color coded. Red is no. It's a very red spreadsheet. From far away it looks like a sunset.
But you're the first one who called. Everyone else sends an email that says "we've decided to move forward with other candidates," like I'm a car they drove past.
You called. You said my cover letter made you laugh. The part about naming my houseplants after moons.
So I'm not asking for the job. I'm asking you to keep my name. On a sticky note. If the tall person doesn't work out. If someone needs to answer phones. Anything.
I'll bring my own snacks. I'm very low maintenance.
156 words, about 1 min 7 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicFemaleTeenAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
The Locker Combination
Maya, 14, on the first day of high school, to an older student at the next locker. Maya cannot open her locker and wants help without looking like she needs help.
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Hi. No, I'm fine. I'm totally fine. I'm just, you know, taking a moment with my locker. Getting to know it. We're still in the early stages.
The combination is 32, 14, 7. I know that. I've known that since August. My mom wrote it on my hand. You can still see it. Look. It's faded, but it's there.
The problem is the spinning. You go right, then left past it once, or twice? Then right? Who designed this? Was it a spy? It feels like a spy designed it.
I've been here eleven minutes. The bell rings in four. I have biology, which I'm told has a teacher who locks the door at the bell, like it's a vault.
So, hypothetically, if a person were very cool and did not need help, but needed the locker open, what would you do?
Just show me once. I'll pretend I knew. You can pretend too.
154 words, about 1 min 6 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemaleTeenAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Understudy
Ava, 15, in an empty school auditorium, to her drama teacher, after the cast list went up and she was named understudy for the lead. She wants to know what she did wrong.
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Can I ask you something? You don't have to look at the list. I've read it. I've read it enough for both of us.
Understudy. I know what it means. It means I learn every line and every song and every step, and then I stand in the wings and watch someone else do it, and hope she gets a cold. Which I would never actually hope for. Mostly.
I'm not here to complain. I'm here because I want to get better, and I don't know what better means.
Was it the song? I went flat on the high part. I heard it. I wanted to stop and start again but you're not supposed to stop.
Or was it something else? Because if it's something I can fix, I'll fix it. If it's something about me, I need to know that too.
Just tell me the truth. Please. I can take it. I think I can take it.
158 words, about 1 min 8 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicMaleTeenAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
The Permission Slip
Noah, 14, at the kitchen table, to his mother, who has just been handed a permission slip for an overnight class trip to a science museum. He wants her to sign it without asking a single question.
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Okay, so before you read it, I want to say that it's educational. That's the main thing. Very educational. The word "science" is in the title.
It's one night. At the science museum. We sleep under the dinosaur. Under it, Mom. Not on it. They're very clear about that.
Yes, there's a fee. It's forty dollars. But that includes dinner, breakfast and a flashlight tour, which is basically a class. It's like forty dollars for a class.
I know what you're going to say. You're going to say "remember the last trip." The aquarium was not my fault. That penguin was already out when I got there.
I've done all my homework. I took out the trash without being asked. Twice. I folded towels. I folded them wrong, but I folded them.
Please just sign it. Right there. Where it says "parent." You're a parent. You're the best parent.
Thank you. I love you. Don't call Mr. Hughes.
158 words, about 1 min 8 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Spare Key
Daniel, 30s, on the front step of an apartment, to his ex partner, who has opened the door but not stepped aside. Daniel has come to return his spare key and wants to say one honest thing.
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I'm not coming in. Don't worry. I just came to give you this. The key. The spare. It was still on my ring with the green tag you put on it so I'd stop losing it.
I kept forgetting to take it off. That's not true. I kept not taking it off. There's a difference.
I'm not here to fix anything. I know that's done. You were right about most of it. I was working too much and calling it a plan. I kept saying "next year," and next year kept moving.
I just wanted to say one thing to your face and not in a text.
You made that apartment feel like somewhere I wanted to come home to. Nobody ever did that before. I didn't know how to say it while it was happening.
That's all. That's the whole speech. It was longer in the car.
Here. Take it. Be well.
153 words, about 1 min 6 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicAny gender20s to 30sAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Name on the Cup
Jamie, 20s, a barista, to a customer who is holding up a coffee cup with their name spelled wrong. Jamie wants the customer to accept the cup and move on before the line riots.
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I see it. I know. It's wrong. You said "Siobhan," and I wrote "Shivon." In my defense, that's how it sounds. Your name is a trick. Your name is a trap for baristas.
Here's what I want you to understand. There are twenty two people in that line. I have made forty drinks in the last hour. One of them was for a man who wanted "a latte, but make it a little sad." I don't know what that means. I gave him oat milk.
I could remake the cup. I could take out a new cup and write your name correctly, with all of its secret letters. But your drink would get cold, and the twenty two people would turn into an angry mob.
Or you could take this cup, which is perfect inside, and know that I tried. With love. And bad spelling.
Thank you. Have a great day, Shivon.
Sorry. Siobhan.
154 words, about 1 min 6 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Six Chirps
Luis, 30s, standing on a kitchen chair at three in the morning, to the smoke detector chirping for a new battery. He has no battery, and he wants a ceasefire until the hardware store opens.
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Okay. I hear you. Everybody in the building hears you.
Here's where we are. It's three in the morning. I don't have a nine volt battery. Nobody has a nine volt battery. I have double A's. I have a watch battery from a car key. I have the battery out of the TV remote, which I'm holding up to you right now as a sign of respect.
You chirp every forty seconds. I counted. I've been on this chair for six chirps.
So here's my offer. You stop until seven. At seven, I walk to the hardware store in my pajamas and buy you the nicest battery they sell. Name brand. Gold top.
Deal? You're thinking about it. I respect that.
Thirty eight. Thirty nine.
No. Come on.
128 words, about 55 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicMale40s plusAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Ninety One Minutes
Walter, 60s, on the phone with his internet company, after ninety one minutes on hold, to the first human who picks up. He wants a technician at his house today, and he has a reason.
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Hello? A person. You're a person. Say something only a person would say. Okay, that's good enough.
Ma'am, I've been on hold ninety one minutes. I know the hold music better than my wedding song. It's a flute. The same eight seconds of flute. Around minute forty I started harmonizing. My wife left the room.
I've turned the router off and on. I've turned it off and on angrily. I unplugged the gray cable, the white cable, and a cable I now think belongs to the lamp.
Here's the situation. My granddaughter has a dance recital tonight in Phoenix. They're streaming it. She's a tree. She has one line. The tree says "Behold."
I need to see the tree say behold.
So I don't need a ticket number. I need a man in a van. Today.
And if you put me back on hold, I'll know that flute is laughing at me.
152 words, about 1 min 5 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Bathroom Membership
Kevin, 30s, at the front desk of a gym, to the young staff member, trying to cancel a membership he has paid for twenty six months and used twice. He wants out, with his dignity.
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Hi. I'd like to cancel my membership. No, I don't need to talk to Trent. I've talked to Trent. Trent is very convincing. That's why I'm still a member.
Let me save us both some time. I've been a member for twenty six months. I've been inside this building twice. Once for the tour. Once to use the bathroom during a parade.
I've paid you eight hundred and eleven dollars. That's a very expensive bathroom.
I know what you're going to say. There's a summer special. You'll throw in a free smoothie. I don't want the smoothie. Every smoothie here tastes like a lawn.
I'm not a gym person. I'm a guy who walks to the mailbox and feels proud of himself.
So hand me the form. I'll sign it. And you can tell Trent I was strong. Tell him I was so strong.
144 words, about 1 min 2 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicMaleTeenAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Group Chat Admin
Noah, 15, in the driveway, to his mom, who has just announced phones stay home for the family camping weekend. He wants to keep his phone, for the good of thirty one people.
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Mom. I hear you. Phones stay home. Family time. Nature. I love nature.
But you don't understand my position. I'm the admin of the group chat. Thirty one people. If I'm gone for three days, nobody can add anybody. Nobody can stop anybody renaming it. Somebody already tried to rename it "Noah's Mom Drives Like a Grandma" while I was in the shower. In the shower, Mom. I had four minutes.
You don't know what these people are capable of.
So here's my offer. The phone stays in the tent. I check it twice a day. Morning and night. Like medicine.
And I'll do all the dishes. In the lake. With a sponge.
Wait, you can't wash dishes in a lake? See, I didn't know that. If I had my phone, I could look it up.
136 words, about 58 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Which Knee
Dev, late 20s, in his living room, to his roommate Femi, who is standing in for Dev's girlfriend while Dev rehearses his marriage proposal. He wants Femi to take it seriously.
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Okay, you're Anika. Stand there. No, Anika doesn't slouch. Anika has posture. Good.
So she walks in. I'm by the window. I turn around slowly, and I say "Anika." Don't laugh. If you laugh, I laugh, and if I laugh on the night, she'll think it's a prank.
Then I say the thing about the bus. When we met, she was on the wrong bus, and I told her, and she said "I know," and stayed on it anyway. Got off at my stop. Walked six blocks the wrong way just to keep talking.
Then I kneel. Which knee? It doesn't matter? It matters, Femi. One knee is proposing and the other knee is tying a shoe.
Then the ring. Where's the ring. It was in my hand. It was in my hand.
Nobody move. Nobody move. It's under the couch. Okay. From the top.
145 words, about 1 min 2 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicMale40s plusAbout 1 minute
The Dent
Ray, 60s, at a backyard cookout, to his son in law, who has just wheeled in an expensive new smoker that connects to an app. Ray wants it known who runs this grill. Then he wants to know how the app works.
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So that's the new smoker. It's very big. Does it have Wi-Fi? Of course it does. Mine has a lid.
Thirty four years I've stood at this grill. I've cooked through two hurricanes and a christening. I know where the hot spot is. Back left, by the dent from when Carol's brother backed into it.
And now you show up with a machine that texts you when the brisket's ready. A brisket shouldn't text. A brisket should make you wait and suffer.
I'm not upset. I'm curious. In a hostile way.
What's it say now? "Internal temperature one sixty five." It tells you the inside? Without cutting it open?
Huh.
Okay. Show me the app. Not because I'm switching. I'm looking. Don't tell Carol I asked. And move the cooler. You're blocking my dent.
134 words, about 57 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Brian Scarf
Jonah, 20s, in the kitchen during Sunday dinner, to his girlfriend's grandmother, who has called him Brian for two years. Tonight he has decided to correct her.
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Mrs. Kowalski, can I have a minute? Before dessert?
I've been coming to Sunday dinner for two years. You've been very kind. You always give me the corner piece of lasagna. You knitted me a scarf. It says Brian on it.
My name is Jonah.
I know. I should have said something the first night. But you said "Brian, sit by me," and you looked so happy, and I thought, fine, one dinner. Then it was Easter. Then Christmas. Then your sister started calling me Brian. Then the priest.
Who is Brian? Was there a Brian? Your first husband. Oh. Oh no.
He was a good dancer? And he made you laugh. And he fixed the porch.
Okay. You know what. I'll take a look at the porch.
Brian will take a look at the porch.
136 words, about 58 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Pass
Tamsin, 30s, a sous chef, in the restaurant kitchen after close, to the head chef, who just gave the promotion she was promised to someone else. She wants the reason, to her face.
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Don't wipe the counter. I'll wipe the counter. I've wiped this counter every night for six years. Look at me instead.
You gave it to Paolo. Fine. Paolo is fast. Paolo also hid in the walk in fridge in August when the fish order was late, and I ran his station and mine.
I'm not here to trash him. I'm here because when you told the room, you looked at the floor. You don't look at the floor. You see a tired basil leaf from across the pass.
So say it. If it's my food, I'll fix my food. If it's that I talk back, I'll keep talking back, but at least I'll know.
If you'd rather lose me than promote me, say that too.
I'll still finish the stock. But I'm done guessing.
134 words, about 57 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Three Steps
Denise, 50s, a high school basketball referee, in the parking lot after a game, to a father who followed her to her car shouting. She wants him to go home.
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Sir, take one step back. Thank you.
I made the call. I'd make it again. Your son traveled. Three steps. He takes three steps every game, and nobody calls it, because he's good and the gym is loud.
I called it because one day a referee at a college will call it in front of eight thousand people, and he won't know why.
I've done this twenty two years. I make forty dollars a game. I've been called things in this parking lot I wouldn't say to a dog. I don't do it for the forty dollars.
So keep yelling, and it goes in my report, and your son can read it. Or go home, take him to the park tomorrow, and count his steps.
My keys are out. I'm leaving either way.
133 words, about 57 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemaleTeenAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
One Second
Kiara, 16, in the school hallway, to her best friend, the day before she announces she's transferring to their rival school for its swim program. She wants her friend to understand, even if she can't forgive.
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I wanted to tell you before the email goes out. Coach is announcing it at practice. He's going to say it like I died.
I'm going to Westbrook. For the pool. They have eight lanes and a coach who swam at nationals and a bus that leaves at five in the morning, and I'll be on it every day for two years.
I'm not asking you to be happy. I know you'll be in the stands on the other side now. You'll have to cheer against me. I'd do it too. I'd be loud about it.
But it's not about us. It's about one second. I'm one second off the times colleges look at. One second. I can't find it here. I've looked. I've looked every morning since eighth grade.
So be mad. Be mad at Westbrook. Just don't be mad at the one second.
145 words, about 1 min 2 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
The Eleventh of April
Ruth, 70s, back at the open house of the home she has just put up for sale, to the young couple about to make an offer. She has one thing to ask them before they do.
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I'm not supposed to be here. The agent told me to go to a coffee shop. I went. I had a coffee. I came back.
You're the ones with the twins? I saw them on the stairs. They counted all fourteen. Everyone counts the stairs.
I'll be quick. The furnace is fine. The roof is newish. The third step squeaks, and you'll love that, because you'll always know who's coming down at night.
But the apple tree. Out back, by the fence. It looks like it's dying. It isn't. It does that every March. It looks dead until about the eleventh of April, and then all at once it isn't.
Every buyer so far wanted it gone. Room for a patio.
Don't. Give it one April. If it doesn't come back, cut it down, and I'll never know.
But it will. It always has.
144 words, about 1 min 2 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Halftime
Coach Yolanda, 30s, in the locker room at halftime of a state final, her team down three goals, to her players. She wants them to stop playing not to lose.
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Sit down. Everybody sit. Drink something. Not you, Abby, you've had four. Breathe.
Three to nothing. Say it. Out loud. Three to nothing. Good. Now it's said. It's a number. It's not chasing you anymore.
I watched that first half. You weren't bad. You were careful. Every pass sideways. Every time somebody had a lane, she looked for someone safer to give it to. You played like you were carrying something you might drop.
Here's what you're carrying. Nothing. The version of this game where we win easy is gone. So stop protecting it.
I want ugly. I want shots from stupid places. I want Lena taking on two defenders and losing it and taking them on again.
If we lose four to nothing swinging, I'll buy pizza for a year.
If we lose three to nothing tiptoeing, I'll never forget it.
Go.
143 words, about 1 min 1 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Before I Cut
Marisol, 50s, a seamstress, in her shop, pinning the hem of a wedding dress on a bride who has gone very quiet. She wants the truth before the scissors come out.
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Stand still. Arms out. There.
Thirty years I've done this, mija. I can feel it through the fabric. Your shoulders go up every time your phone buzzes. There. Again.
Brides lose a little weight before a wedding. You've lost eleven pounds in five weeks. That's not nerves. That's not eating.
I'm not your mother. I'm the woman with pins in her mouth. Tell me anything, I forget it by Friday.
So before I cut this hem, I'll ask once. Because once I cut, it's cut. The fabric doesn't come back.
Are we hemming this dress?
You don't have to say it. Nod, or don't.
Okay. Okay. Step down. Careful of the pins. We'll get you a sandwich first.
118 words, about 51 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticFemale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Off the Record
Jess, 20s, in her car in a parking garage, on the phone with an employer calling for a reference on Carmen, the former friend who walked out on Jess's interior design studio and took clients with her. Jess has decided what to say.
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Hi, yes, this is Jess. Yes, I worked with Carmen for three years. Sorry, I'm in a parking garage. Can you hear me? Good.
You want to know if she's reliable.
Honestly? I almost didn't take this call. Carmen and I don't speak. She left my studio last spring and took two of my clients with her. One of them was my mother's best friend. My mother still brings it up at dinner.
So I could tell you a lot of things right now.
But you asked about her work. And her work is the best I've ever seen. She looks at a room for ten seconds and knows where the light should go. I learned more from her than from school. I still steal her trick with the mirrors.
Hire her. You'd be stupid not to.
And if she asks who gave the reference, say someone from the old studio. She'll know.
153 words, about 1 min 6 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicFemale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Room B
Bea, 30s, at the lectern of a funeral home, halfway through a heartfelt eulogy, to a room of mourners who look puzzled. She is realizing she is at the wrong service, and wants to leave with some grace.
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And Harold always said, life is short, buy the boat. And he bought the boat.
The boat? Nobody? Harold. The Lady Marjorie.
Okay. I'm getting some looks.
Is this the Abernathy service? This is the Chen service. This is Room B. I'm supposed to be in Room A.
I am so sorry. It's a beautiful room. Better flowers. And I'm sure Mr. Chen was wonderful. The photo is lovely. He has a kind face. A kind, specific face that is not Harold's.
I'm going to walk backwards out the door now.
Actually, could I sign the book? I feel like I owe him that. I've been here eleven minutes. I cried at the slideshow.
Okay. Room A. God bless.
119 words, about 51 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicAny gender40s plusAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
The Goat
Pat, 50s, a driving instructor, in the passenger seat, to a teenage student who has just driven up onto the curb and frozen. Pat wants the student to breathe and try again.
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Okay. We're on the curb. That's fine. The car's fine. The mailbox is mostly fine.
Hands off the wheel a second. Shake them out. You've been holding it like it owes you money.
Want to know a secret? I hit a goat on my driving test. Not hard. The goat walked off like nothing happened. And I passed, because I stopped, I checked my mirrors, and I apologized to the goat.
That's all driving is. Not being perfect. Noticing.
So. Gentle on the gas. Look over your shoulder, not at me. I'm not traffic.
Little more. Little more. There you go. Off the curb. On the road.
See? Nobody got hurt. Not even the goat.
115 words, about 49 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Last Ferry
Tomas, 30s, a deckhand on a small island, at the ferry ramp at night, to his younger brother, who is leaving for a job in the city and can't make himself step aboard. Tomas wants him to go.
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Ramp goes up in two minutes. Get on.
No, I'm not coming to visit. Who'd fix Mrs. Leary's gutters? Who'd tell the tourists the lighthouse isn't haunted, it's just Dad's old radio?
Listen. Dad wanted one of us to stay and one of us to go. He never said it. He didn't say things. But he bought you a suitcase when you were twelve. He bought me a toolbox.
That wasn't an accident.
So go. Wear the bad suit. Answer when Mom calls, even at work.
And when you're homesick, don't come back. Not for a year. Call me. I'll hold the phone up to the water.
Ramp's going up. Go on.
112 words, about 48 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicAny genderTeenAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
The Lost and Found
Casey, 14, at the school intercom during morning announcements, to the whole school. Casey wants people to come get their stuff, especially whoever owns the trumpet.
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Good morning, Lincoln Middle. This is Casey with an update from the lost and found.
The lost and found is full. It's not a box anymore. It's a room. It has a smell. It has weather.
We have forty one water bottles. Nineteen hoodies, all gray. One retainer, and if it's yours, please, you've been eating without a retainer for three weeks.
We also have a trumpet. How do you lose a trumpet? It's loud. It's gold. You carry it with both hands.
Anything not claimed by Friday goes to donation. Except the trumpet. Mr. Ruiz says the trumpet stays until somebody admits it.
Check your lockers. Check your hearts. Casey out.
112 words, about 48 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticMale40s plusAbout 1 minute
End of the Line
Lionel, 60s, a city bus driver at the end of his last shift before retirement, to a teenage regular who rides the night route every night and never gets off. Lionel wants to leave him something before he goes.
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End of the line, son. Same as every night.
You know you don't have to get off. You never do. You ride it out and you ride it back. Eleven months now. I see you in the mirror.
I never asked. Not my business. A bus is a place you can be where nobody asks.
But tomorrow's not me. Tomorrow's a young guy named Petrov. He's nice. But he'll ask. Or he won't notice you at all. I don't know which is worse.
So here. That's my number on the transfer slip. I'm going to be home a lot now. My wife says I'll be in her way.
You call it if the night's long. You don't have to say why. Just tell me which stop. I know all of them.
Go on. I'll wait till you're across the street.
140 words, about 1 min spoken (estimate)
- ComedicFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
The Map at the Front
Linda, 60s, hosting her book club in her living room, to the group, before anyone can start discussing the book. She has a confession, and she wants to stay in the club.
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Before we start, I have a confession, and I want to do it before the wine.
I didn't read it.
I bought it. I opened it. There's a map at the front. I don't trust a book with a map. If I need a map, I'm not relaxing.
I read the last page, so I know she ends up on the boat. With the brother. Not the first brother. The other one. Which, good for her.
But I want to stay. You're my favorite people. Deb brings the good crackers.
So you talk. I'll nod. I'm a wonderful nodder. If anyone asks me, I'll say "the symbolism" and look out the window.
Next month I'll read it. Unless it has a map.
122 words, about 52 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicAny gender20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
The Freezer Bit
Quinn, 20s, at an open mic, bombing badly with two minutes left, to the nearly empty bar. Quinn wants one real laugh before the light blinks.
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So that's my bit about the dentist. Nothing? Nobody's been to a dentist. Great. Healthy room. Bad teeth.
I have two minutes. The light hasn't even blinked. I could leave. The bartender's already wiping my table.
But I took two buses to get here. I wrote these jokes on my lunch break in a walk in freezer. I work in a walk in freezer. That's not a joke. You're laughing at that? Sir. That's my actual job.
Okay. He's laughing at the freezer.
New plan. The freezer. Eight hours a day. Two coats. I talk to the shrimp. The shrimp are a better crowd than you. They're frozen solid and they still listen.
There it is. There it is.
I'm keeping the freezer. Thank you, you've been forty percent of an audience.
132 words, about 57 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticMaleTeenAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Till Friday
Andre, 16, at his kitchen table at ten at night, on a video call with his English teacher, about the essay he hasn't turned in. He wants an extension, not pity.
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I know it's late. I'm not making an excuse. I'm going to tell you my Tuesday, and you decide.
School till three. Bus to the restaurant. Dishes till seven. Pick up my brothers from my aunt's. Dinner, baths, the little one's reading log, because if I don't sign it, nobody does. My mom gets home at nine forty.
Then it's me and this table.
I don't want you to feel bad. I hate when teachers feel bad. They get soft voices and stop giving real grades.
I want a real grade. I want until Friday, and then I want you to grade it like I had all the time in the world. It's going to be good. I've been writing it in my head at the sink.
Friday. Please. Then be as hard as you want.
136 words, about 58 sec spoken (estimate)
- ComedicFemale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Happy Retirement Phil
Gloria, 30s, on the sidewalk, holding a large sheet cake, to a parking officer who is writing her a ticket. She doesn't want to fight the ticket. She wants help with the cake.
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No, no. Please. Look at me. Look at what I'm holding.
This is a cake. It says Happy Retirement Phil. Phil worked at the water department thirty six years. In four minutes they turn off the lights in that building and yell surprise.
I was gone eleven minutes. The bakery had a line. A man in front of me was ordering a cake shaped like his boat. He had photos. He had angles.
Write the ticket. I understand. Phil would respect that. Phil loves a rule.
But could you hold the cake while you write it? My arms are shaking, and if I drop it, there's no Phil. There's just "Retire."
Thank you. Gently. It's a sheet cake. It bends.
120 words, about 51 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicFemale40s plusAbout 1 minute
Say Next
Bernice, 70s, on a pickleball court between points, to her new doubles partner, who keeps apologizing for every miss. Bernice wants her to stop saying sorry and start playing.
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Stop apologizing. That's four times. Every miss, you say sorry like you stepped on my foot.
Honey, I'm seventy six. I missed three balls this morning, and one was in my own kitchen.
You know why I asked you to be my partner? Not because you're good. You're not good yet. It's because you came back. Two weeks ago Marjorie hit you in the shin with a serve, and you came back the next day with a bruise like a plum and said "again."
That's the whole game. Again.
So no more sorry. When you miss, you say "next." Say it. Louder. There. That's a woman who's going to win.
Now. Marjorie's serving. Aim for her backhand. She doesn't have one.
121 words, about 52 sec spoken (estimate)
- SeriocomicMale20s to 30sAbout 1 minute
Drop Off
Sean, 30s, at daycare on his daughter's first morning, to her new teacher. His daughter has run off happily to play, and Sean can't quite leave.
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Okay. She's in. She didn't even look back. That's good. That's healthy.
Just a few things. She calls water "wa." She calls the dog "wa" too. You'll figure it out from context.
She naps on her left side. On her right, she wakes up angry, like a tiny landlord.
Her bunny is Mister Bunny. Not Bunny. Mister. She knows the difference.
If she cries, call me. I'm ten minutes away. I can be here in six.
She's not crying. She's built a tower. She's knocked it over onto that kid. Okay. That's her mother's side.
I'm going. I'm walking to the car.
Can I watch through the window for one minute? Just one. I won't wave.
116 words, about 50 sec spoken (estimate)
- DramaticAny gender40s plusAbout 1 minute
One More Hour
Morgan, 50s, the jury foreperson, in the deliberation room on a Friday afternoon, to eleven tired jurors ready to vote guilty. Morgan is the only holdout, and wants one more hour.
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Sit down for one minute. I'm not going to make a speech. I'm going to ask for an hour.
I know. It's Friday. Dennis has a flight. Somebody's kid has a recital. I have a dog who's been alone since eight and will tell my rug all about it.
We're eleven to one. The one is me. And I'm not even sure I'm right. That's what bothers me. I'm just not sure, and I don't think you are either. I think you're tired.
So here's the hour. We go through the timeline once more. Ten forty to eleven fifteen. Show me where he is in those thirty five minutes, and I'll vote with you and carry Dennis's bag to the cab.
If you can't, we stay.
That man goes home tonight or he doesn't. One hour. I'll buy the coffee.
140 words, about 1 min spoken (estimate)
- ComedicAny gender20s to 30sAbout 1 minuteGood for teens
Count the Feathers
Jamie, 20s, inside an escape room with eleven minutes left, to four friends who have ignored every idea Jamie has had. Jamie wants them to listen, just once.
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Everyone stop touching things. Stop. Put the lamp down, Derek.
We've been in here forty nine minutes. We've solved one puzzle, and it was the bathroom door, which wasn't locked.
I've said the same thing for half an hour. The painting has four birds. The lock has four numbers. Count the feathers.
Nobody listens to me. I'm a project manager. I get paid to be ignored. I did not pay thirty five dollars to be ignored on a Saturday.
Fine. Keep shaking the bookshelf, Derek. Maybe a key falls out.
Three. Seven. Two. Five.
It opened. It opened. Nobody talk to me. I need a moment.
Okay. Next room. Listen to me this time.
114 words, about 49 sec spoken (estimate)
How to use it
- 1
Read the casting notice for the time limit, tone and any rule about published plays.
- 2
Pick a piece close to your age and type, with a clear want and a turn, that you can do in under the limit.
- 3
Learn it cold, rehearse it to a real person, and prepare a one line introduction with your name and the title.
How long should an audition monologue be?
Follow the notice first. If it gives no limit, about one minute is a safe target, and very few rooms want more than two. Short pieces leave time for the director to give you a note and see you adjust, which is often what they are really testing. The pieces on this page are about a minute each at a typical speaking pace.
How do you pick a monologue for an audition?
Match the project. A comedy wants to see timing, a drama wants to see depth, a musical often wants a short comic or seriocomic piece. Then match yourself: a character you could be cast as today, speaking words you can say without strain.
Avoid pieces that need a long explanation, pieces that only work with props, and the speeches everyone else is doing. An original piece solves the last problem.
What should a one minute monologue include?
A clear listener, a want, one turn and a button ending. In a minute there is no room for backstory. The first line should drop us into the middle of the situation, and the last line should land so cleanly that the room knows you are done without you saying thank you.
How do you introduce an audition monologue?
Briefly. Say your name, the title of the piece, and that it is an original contemporary monologue if asked. Then take a breath, find your listener, and begin. When you finish, hold for a moment before you drop out of character.
Should I use an original monologue or one from a published play?
Check the notice. Some auditions, especially for drama schools, ask for monologues from published plays so they can judge your work on a known text. When there is no such rule, an original piece means the panel hears it fresh, with no comparison to a famous performance.
Questions writers ask
What is the best length for an audition monologue?
Whatever the notice asks for. With no limit given, about one minute is a safe choice, and under two minutes almost always.
Are short monologues taken less seriously?
No. A short piece done well shows more than a long piece that loses the room. Panels often prefer short pieces.
How many monologues should an actor have ready?
Many actors keep at least two contrasting pieces, one comedic and one dramatic, so they can respond to any request.
Do I look at the casting director during my monologue?
Usually not. Place your imaginary listener just above or beside their eye line, unless they ask you to speak to them.
Are these short monologues good for teens?
Many are. Use the Good for teens only filter, or see the teen monologues page for every piece that suits teen actors.