This is a monologue I have been wanting to write for a while. Ideally, it was going to be in a script I was writing for a 2-person show called, "Lava Me Tender," In which two roommates realize they can't be friends anymore, and then a volcano erupts, trapping them inside their apartment where they must die together. Clearly, it's a dark comedy.
Male, 30-40's
Approx. 2 min
I think the exact moment I realized I was a workaholic was when I couldn't masturbate at work anymore. I remember my first job, at a movie theater. When I started, all I really did was sweep up popcorn. It couldn't have been an easier gig. After about a month, I realized I didn't like standing around, waiting for popcorn to fall, so I filled my time by going into the family bathroom and masturbating. I didn't have to worry about someone looking through the cracks in the door to see me crouched over a toilet. The only thing that could get into that room were the vibrations of the sub woofers. I got off on the idea that I was, currently, getting paid to masturbate. Even with my frequent private sessions, I still managed to impress the managers enough for them to promote me. But the higher up I got into management, the more I loved responsibility. Eventually, When I finally returned to my family bathroom, I became ridden with anxiety. I was more nervous about customers not getting proper service than I was about giving myself proper service. Suddenly, I was unable to do the one thing I loved. I pretend I love working and the responsibility... but in all honesty... I just miss masturbating at work.
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