By Emily Hageman

Rebecca – 20s, dry and sarcastic
Tim – 20s, sentimental and warm

At Rise
There is a chair in the center of the stage with a sock monkey seated on it. After a beat of the audience just looking at the monkey, TIM enters. He looks occupied–but his gaze softens on the monkey. He sits and tenderly takes it into his hands, stroking its lumpy little head. REBECCA enters, just as distracted as he was.

REBECCA: (picking up from whatever she’d been saying before.) I didn’t even tell you the worst part.  So not only did his breath smell like a toilet, but he had mustard on his shirt.  And it was like–right there.  Like how did he not see that?  Maybe he’s like a vampire and he can’t see himself in mirrors.  Seriously, he is the most disgusting–

(REBECCA stops when she notices he isn’t listening.  She steps closer–and sees him with the monkey.)

REBECCA (cont.): Dude, if I was you, I’d put that thing down.  I’m betting that it is super haunted.

TIM: Who gave this to us?

REBECCA: Somebody who wanted to summon Satan into our house.

TIM: Bec.

REBECCA: What?  That thing is hideous, Tim.

TIM: I think it’s cute.

REBECCA: Yeah, that’s what it wants you to think.  Next thing you know it’s eating your intestines.

TIM: Well, that is thoroughly gross.  Thank you for that.

REBECCA: I’m sorry, I know I’m acting weird, it’s just that–my husband is giving googly eyes to a stuffed monkey.

TIM: Hey.  He came onto me.

REBECCA: So he’s a murderer and a homewrecker.  Should have known.

TIM: Did Stacy send it?

REBECCA: Probably.  Your sister has the tact and subtlety of a menstruating hurricane.

TIM: Charming.  She was trying to be nice.

REBECCA: Yeah, I hope she succeeds next time.

TIM: Okay, okay, lay off.

REBECCA: Here, give it, I’ll put it in the box with the others.

TIM: We don’t have to put it all away, do we?

REBECCA: Come on, babe, there’s plenty of monkeys in the jungle.

TIM: Why don’t we just leave this one out?  For next time.

(A moment.)

REBECCA: I’d rather not.

TIM: Becca.

REBECCA: Sorry.  Jealousy has overwhelmed me.  Give me the skanky monkey.

TIM: When are we going to talk about it?

REBECCA: (clipped) I don’t know.  Sorry, I’m not gonna schedule it.

TIM: Bec.


(REBECCA steps away.  After a beat, TIM sneaks the monkey around her shoulder.)

TIM: (goofy, high-pitched voice that he continues to use) Hey, Rebecca.

REBECCA: This is officially the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

TIM: I love you.

REBECCA: No, just kidding, this is.

TIM: Tim’s sorry that he was being pushy.  We both know what a loser he can be.

REBECCA: Yeah, and his butt did look big in those jeans.

TIM: Good thing Tim didn’t hear you say that.

REBECCA: Right, good thing.

TIM: He doesn’t deserve you, you know.

REBECCA: Mr. Bananas, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?

TIM: Meet me beneath the coconut tree.

REBECCA: I couldn’t possibly.  It’s nothing personal, I just don’t date unevolved guys.

TIM: Darwin is always letting me down.

REBECCA: Sorry that this wasn’t a fairy tail.

TIM: Oh, wow, that really gave me paws.

REBECCA: You’ll get over the rejection.  No need to be a chimp about it.

TIM: Sorry, you’re just a great girl… illa.

REBECCA: That was weak.

TIM: (back to normal voice) I ran out.

REBECCA: It’s okay.  All the puns were driving me bananas anyways.

(They sit and look at the monkey.)

TIM: Let’s name him.

REBECCA: Chauncey McBiggleston, the Earl of the Outhouse.

TIM: Very nice.

REBECCA: I’m not done.  The third.

TIM: (taps her forehead) What is it like up here?

REBECCA: You ever been in a Chuck E. Cheese on a warm June evening?

TIM: Must be exhausting.

REBECCA: You have no idea.

TIM: Shhhh, be quiet, brain.

REBECCA: Stop it, I hate you.

TIM: Why don’t we name him Liam?

(REBECCA is immediately moving away from TIM, angry and closed off.  A moment.)

TIM (cont.)Rebecca.


TIM: Becca, baby–

REBECCA: Nope, shut up.  I need to be extremely pissed off at you for the next minute.

TIM: I didn’t–

REBECCA: Shut up and let me have this

(A moment.)

TIM: I don’t want to push.

REBECCA: Then why are you?

TIM: Because you’re hurting.

REBECCA: I’m always hurting, Tim, it’s nothing new.

TIM: Not like this.

(A moment.)

TIM (cont.): Me too, you know?

REBECCA: We’re not doing this.

TIM: Becca, I wanted him too.  More than anything. Please, just talk to me–

REBECCA: Tim, shut up, you do not want to compare wounds with me.

TIM: Just because I’m not hurting as much as you are doesn’t mean that I’m not in pain too.

REBECCA: I know that, okay?  But our pain has nothing in common–and I’m not ready anyways and you said you would wait until I was ready.

TIM: Yeah, but I didn’t know it was going to be a month.

REBECCA: Oh, I’m so sorry, have I thrown off your grieving calendar?

TIM: Becca, stop it.

REBECCA: Excuse me?  You don’t get to say that to me.

TIM: What, so now I have to earn what I say?

REBECCA: Yeah, you do.  Because I’ve paid for my words in blood.  And there was a lot of it.

(A moment.)

REBECCA (cont.): (suddenly, forcefully) You shouldn’t have told your stupid sister.  Everyone knows you’re not supposed to tell anyone in the first trimester.  And all those freakin’ cards–and they kept coming even after everything–those stupid Hallmark cards with their stupid glitter that got everywhere.  And I didn’t want to throw them away because–if I did that it would mean that he really was–

TIM: I’m so sorry, Bec.

REBECCA: (crying) No, no, I’m sorry, because–well, before I knew, I was drinking coffee and–and I had few drinks–and I know it was my fault because I wasn’t being careful and I–

TIM: Becca, Becca, no, no, no–it wasn’t–no–

REBECCA: Please just say you forgive me.

TIM: It wasn’t your fault, how could you even think–

REBECCA: Please just say you forgive me.  Please.

(A moment passes where TIM is left not knowing what to do.  Eventually, TIM goes to REBECCA and kneels in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist.  He presses a kiss into her stomach.)

TIM: (to her stomach) I forgive you.

(TIM stands and takes her face into his hands.)

TIM (cont.): And I love you.  You know that?  I love you so much, Rebecca.

REBECCA: I killed him.

TIM: No.  He died.

REBECCA: What if I’m broken and I can’t.?

TIM: Then we’ll find another way.

REBECCA: You should be with someone who can.

TIM: Don’t tell me what to do.  It drives me bananas.

REBECCA: (smiles reluctantly through her tears) I already said a banana one.

TIM: Oh, really?  I thought it was vine.

REBECCA: So weak.

TIM: Really?  I thought it was cool.  Kind of sock and roll.

(REBECCA picks up the monkey and holds it up to TIM.)

REBECCA: Look at him.  He’s done with your monkeying around.

TIM: Chauncey’s done?

REBECCA: Liam.  Liam’s done.

(They embrace intimately, the monkey between them.)

TIM: But we aren’t.

REBECCA: We aren’t.


Emily Hageman was born in California, raised in Colorado and now lives in Iowa. Emily’s one acts, short plays, and monologues have primarily been performed in Northwest Iowa, but have also been performed throughout the United States as well as internationally.