Monologue # Nine - Bobby

Monologue # Nine - Bobby

The Bus stopped outside Jenny's house. As Jenny grabbed her bag and stood up in her seat. She thanked the Bus driver, running down the steps, and ran onto the grassy foot path that lead to her door.

Despite her anger before, she could not Wait to tell her parents about Madame Lola's latest abuse. Though it has been simple in it's form, again it had been hurtful, but she had bit her tongue and succeeded with her first ever poem.

She unlocked the door with enthusiasm, throwing her bag on the hallway tiles and ran into the kitchen , expecting to see her mother making her afternoon tea. "God mum wait till you hear...

she stopped talking, as a solid man turned around and smiled, holding a hot teabag in his hand.

It was hot and quickly burned his hand and it wasn't long before he dropped it to the ground, shaking his hand.

Jenny walked over to the sink, grabbing the dishcloth and wiped up the mess as the man picked the teabag up,, throwing it into the bin.

Once she'd cleaned up the mess Jenny rinsed the dishcloth and stood back, scanning the man.

Aware that her eyes were scanning his body, turning around he smiled again under a mustache and extended his hand "Hello I'm Bobby and you must be Mr Morley's daughter Jenny".

Jenny politely shook his hand feeling his soft fingers touch hers.  She nodded looking into his eyes, feeling friendliness, almost and instant comfort.

"So your the guy who's dad's just had a stroke, I'm sorry about that, my dad say's he's gonna be fine".

Bobby nodded "Yeah that's what everyones saying except him, he thinks he's on the last stretch of the road, he told me he didn't think he would even make it to Christmas".

Jenny's heart sank, trying not to think of how she would feel in Bobby's situation. She pulled up a seat, ushering him to sit down "Make yourself at home I mean don't mind me, after all I usually just bum around after writers college".

Bobby sipped on his tea checking Jenny out. She was pretty, a different kind of pretty, not skinny but not overly solid like himself, just different and he liked that in a women.

"Yeah your dad told me you where in writing school how is that going".

Jenny shrugged "My teachers a hag, who is on bitch pills and my classmates all stare at me like their all retarded, but besides that it's okay, I mean I wrote my first poem today so I'm pretty stoked about that".

Bobby raised his eyes under his black rimmed glasses "Oh cool, do you mind if I were to read it, I'm quiet into poetry and what not , not so much novels though they take to long to read and my eyes get sore".

Jenny thought about it, her dream was to capture an audience, to make people feel. Their was something about Bobby that made his question so appealing, to share with him seemed appealing, yet she didn't understand this comfort.

She nodded "I guess so, I mean that's the whole point of writing to have readers, can you wait here while I get it out of my bag, oh and by the way is my mum home or is she sleeping".

He nodded "Yeah I'll just sit here sipping on my tea, self confessed tea addict I am, and you mums asleep, she said she would be down for a few hours".

Jenny nodded, smiling and ran towards the hallway. She unzipped her bag, pulling out her notebook and ran back into the kitchen.

Bobby leaned back in his chair, sipping on his tea, his smile still remaining on his face.

Jenny placed her notebook on the table in front of him and took a seat.

Bobby opened the notebook, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Do you mind If I read it aloud, I kinda always read poems aloud and it sometimes annoys people, so I would understand if you don't want me to".

Jenny shook her head "No go for it, if it helps I mean".

He nodded and took one last of tea before reading her poem aloud.

Monologue by Jenny Morley

Deep within a ridden soul
Lives anger , yet you can't control
Some people have the goal of manipulation
Treasured by their distant reputation
Sew their mouths to keep them shut
Sadly that's when it gets to much
I wrote a song, but lost the words
It pained to much to write the verse
To a dream deep inside of me
Where passion lays hard to see
To the ones where hearts content
Pray alone to have it felt
So the words they must rain like gold
To set them straight my passions sold
A Monologue to base upon my name
Well this begins the blood shed game
where I will stand and I won't fall
I will fight, with my rights to defeat them all

Bobby closed the book on the table, he let it sit their.

Jenny watched him in anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

He rubbed his mustache and leaned back in his chair "Your Seventeen".

She nodded " Is their something wrong" she asked beginning to feel criticism coming along, she was ready.

He shook his head leaning forward "Not at all I'm... I'm just speechless Jenny, I'm speechless".