Avenue Q Monologue

Face pale with terror, Adam's shaky hand moved to switch on the bedside lamp. Images of Fire and Brimstone, and writhing figures, - men, women and children all - screaming in pain as flames consumed their bodies, flowed through his mind. Eyeballs exploded, and liquefied flesh oozed into fiery lava pits, leaving nothing but a collapsed pile of charred bones on the ground before moments later the victim's human form was resurrected in its entirety, and subjected to the same agonising fate again. Over and over, ad infinitum.

     The lyrics of songs inspire people to think and do many things. Today, songs expressing the quality of being beautiful and important in society can be found. Songs encouraging love and taking chances within oneself and others are listened to. None the less, there exists songs expressing hatred, anger, sorrow, and feelings of desolation. Lyrics are limitless, they simply express that of the person’s internal emotions. Songs can convey a misunderstanding or an unclear interpretation. Much like the lyrics of today, slave songs conveyed a deep and heart-wrenching message, that to many listeners, were never quite understood. Songs are simply an expression of truth. In an environment which otherwise

I shivered and looked at the gun, and then threw it away from myself, back up on the bank, near the pile of ashes. Eyes filled with dread, I sank to my knees and covered my face with my hands. The wind whipped back and forth but all I could do was stare at the person who once was my friend. Slim’s voice shouted. “George. Where you at George?”

I’m just me. He is everything I’d imagine that “me” could be, if I stepped outside our box and found a plain to release these ideas of everything we’ve ever wanted to be. I’m solitary, mindful, a Garfield, a Seinfeld, least to say extraordinarily nothing special but not quite nothing special at all. I love the smooth sooth of Brazilian jazz music and cool days that paint pictures of fall. Handling thin brush tips that paint pix I could hang on my wall. He’s Los Angeles’s Sunset Blvd in the dark magic hours prior to dawn. Where the spot light rests upon the culprits of the moon randomly moving in unison. I quietly await the storms demise. Many moons have passed since we’ve viewed a frozen stretch of land called home. Where great bodies collide

To begin with, the plot of the show is centered on a teenage boy who encounters an abundant amount of situations with most of them being racist remarks. For example, he attends an all-white school, where he is constantly bullied by his peers and as well as his teachers, yes his teacher a person of authority verbally bullies her student. She makes racist remarks about the African American community by using words such as “Black people” to associate all people of

Has it ever occurred to you that this generation tries to search for the next best thing? Is it like a business man try to look for the next best thing that everyone is buying? I mean if other people do it and there perfectly fine doing it we assume that we could do it and we think we will be just fine as well. Take those examples and try to use it with music. Do you think that what we listen to can affect us in any way or not? Maybe and maybe not, but some of us tend to get influenced by what they put into their heads. Not everything that we see or do can import negative thought or feelings, but listening is a part of that category as well. Therefore, what these artists are trying to do is trying to use a rhetorical device to tell us that

I just can’t take it any more; my life has gone from being careless to living-hell in the span of a few years. My family has fallen apart, leaving two of the people I loved most dead and one dying horrifically slowly. I just want to rid myself of these pains and get on with my life. But I know that I never will. Not really.

The furious winter swindles our space by wearing its spurious faces and sending the echoes of a promising message over the sea. Today they will get the satisfaction they need and tomorrow your doubts shall outstrip the benefits of a prime litany. As for them who distance themselves from failing company expansive time exists although the alimentary rudiments will trigger their senses with false alarm.

I peeped my head out out from the cloth like a curious meerkat, then scooted out from under the table. I grinned inward and glanced at my laced up boots. If I was in heels I would not have been able to do that.

The worker contacted Lacy Starwalt who is a friend and co-worker of Qwana Rowell. Mrs. Starwalt stated “I’ve known Qwana for about 2 years. I met her when I started to work at Walmart. Qwana was already working there and we became friends. From my two years of knowing Qwana she has always taken good care of her daughter Skyler and I’ve never been concerned about Skylar safety while with her mom and I’ve met Cooper Skylar’s dad through Qwana I don’t know a lot about him personally, but I do know he co parents with Qwana when it comes to raising Shayla. They both seem to get along well and work together to raise Skylar.

The best living or dead hands down huh? Less talk more head right now huh? And my eyes more red than the devil is

The next day Lennie and I enter a bunkhouse room with whitewashed walls and unpainted floor. There were about eight bunks, some have blankets some don’t, over each bunk there were these apple box that were made to put in our own personal belongings. There was also little regular daily life’s supplies in the room, including razors, magazines, medicines and all kind of stuff loaded in the shelve, there were even a big table for playing cards. As the old man address Lennie and I into this new work place, he give us instruction to where we will be resting tonight, he told us that the boss was expecting us last night and will be furious if find us there this morning, I walk over the bed and suddenly I see a yellow can on the ground, now I wonder what kind of disgusting bed is he giving us?

Inspector Male, I just wanted to reach out and let you know the amazing efforts of Andrew Crowe and Greg MacArthur on Monday December 28th. Sorry for the long winded e-mail but I think it’s necessary.

Today was the worst day of my life. The boys in the bunkhouse decided that my old girl had lived long enough. They took her from me in the night and put her down. There was utter silence for the longest time and then I heard a shot in the distance. I would have happily taken her spot as this world just doesn’t have a lot to offer for me anymore. I knew she was getting old and had trouble getting around but that was my baby. And they just took her away like she didn’t even matter. The boy’s said I could pick any of Slim’s dog’s to replace my old girl, but I don’t think I have the time or the patience. We got a couple new ranch hands today, George and Lennie they seem nice enough, George is definetly the brains of that duo and what Lennie lacks

The Stockton Civic Theatre’s production of Avenue Q last Thursday night depicts an accurate portrayal of life after graduating from college. The protagonist is a fresh out-of-college puppet named Princeton who is trying to seek a job and housing in the “outer borough of New York City.” After finding a cheap and unoccupied room in an apartment located on Avenue Q, Princeton befriends his neighbors who are made up of both people and puppets. Princeton meets and falls in love with an elementary teacher, Kate Monster. Together they face the same real-life problems couples deal with in present times. Throughout the whole performance, Princeton is constantly troubled about finding his purpose in life.