Clifford Roberts Monologue

I gaze up at the golden moon. It is rare to see a night like this. Perhaps I should continue moving. It would be foolish for me to stop here.

The man smiled at me. “Fine, then. We won’t change your image; we’ll just enhance it. I need to polish you up a bit, but your aversion to all things fake might just be your greatest asset here. Hold on to that, honey.” He patted me on the back and walked away, sending a group of women swarming my way.”

Marcus creeps up, slowly dribbling the ball looking at me like I’m his prey. He shoots.

“Thanks daddy,” Kayla expressed as she walked out of my office. Once I caught my breath, I relaxed in my chair. I can’t believe I allowed myself to be so weak. I told myself from day one I wasn’t going to fuck with her, but she be looking fine as hell, with those low cut shirts and short ass skirts she be wearing.

Earlier yesterday I received a message from a beautiful 22 year-old girl who also has Treacher Collins Syndrome - a craniofacial disorder. She writes me and says: "Hi Cynthia, I hope you are doing well; I would like to know if you think that men really pay attention to the details of a girl's history of intimate partners; I guess that I am really asking if you think a man would mind that I have never been in relationship?"

I pushed the arm in front of me even deeper into the guy’s throat. It was much harder than it had been the first time and I felt his Adam's apple push into my skin.

I watched helplessly as Dean Moxley, the infamous Kronosville Killer, shoots him in the head. “Oopsies!” he yells. Enraged, I grab my gun off the floor and shoot him. He grabs his leg as he falls down. I rush over to the body and call for backup. It’s finally over. But at a great cost.

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.

Killing must feel good to god too… he does it all the time. Without hesitation, without a scratch of a though against his head he lets it happen and he lets the action run its course again and again and again.

As she gets on that plane she knows it’s going to be a long trip from home.

My name is Mayella Ewell. I belong to the lowest of the low amongst the whites in Maycomb. I grew up in a poor family and never received any proper education. The only I have is probably being white. My dad and I want to have a better life, but dad doesn’t want to put any effort into doing so. My mom died when I was young and I became a surrogate wife for my dad. I wish I could have gone to school, but I have to take care of my children. My dad loves to go out and drink for the whole day. When he comes home, he often drunk and this is when he would rape me.

“What do you think of it, Mr. Jennison?” An about fifty-year-old neighbor, Mr. Lawrence, spoke to me as he looked around the suddenly empty storage room.

Epilogue The time has come. The last day of school has arrived. 4 years of uncertainty and uneasiness.

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.

“Dear Evan Hansen, today is going to be a good day and here’s wh-” “We’ve been stuck on this island for how long?! And you’re still singing those stupid songs?” There she goes again, always yelling at me for singing my songs. That’s Kaylin. I know she means well, in her defense we have been stuck here for 288 days and not being able to listen to new music can really make a girl upset. Anyways, i stick my tongue out at her and we laugh. “Why are you guys just sitting there? We’ve got drinks to carry!” There goes emily again, She’s always the one telling us what to do. In a loving way of course, i mean we probably wouldn’t have survived this long without her keeping us calm, cool, and collected. Me and Kaylin go to help Emily carry the coconuts