Category: Play Role: Carter From: Fat PigCARTER: Dude, I understand. Like, totally. (Beat) I used to walk ahead of her in the mall or, you know, not tell her stuff at school so there wouldn”t be, whatever. My own mom. I mean … I”m fifteen and worried about every little thing, and I”ve got this f – sumo wrestler in a housecoat trailing behind me. That”s about as bad as it can get! I”m not kidding you. And the thing was, I blamed her for it. I mean, it wasn”t like a disease or like some people have, thyroid or that type of deal … she just shoveled shit into her mouth all the time, had a few kids, and, bang, she”s up there at 350, maybe more. It used to seriously piss me off. My dad was always working late … golfing on weekends, and I knew it was because of her. It had to be! How”s he gonna love something that looks like that, get all sexy with her? I”m just a kid at the time, but I can remember thinking that.Yeah, it”s whatever, but … this once, in the grocery store, we”re at Albertsons and we”re pushing four baskets around – you wanna know how humiliating that s – is? – and I”m supposed to be at a game by seven, I”m on JV, and she”s just farting around in the candy isle, picking up bags of “fun size” Snickers and checking out the calories. Yeah. I mean, what is that?! So, I suddenly go off on her, like, this sophomore in high school, but I”m all screaming in her face … “Don”t look at the package, take a look in the mirror, you cow! PUT “EM DOWN!” Holy s -, there”s stock boys – bunch of guys I know, even – are running down the isle. Manager stumbling out of his glass booth there, the works. (Beat) But you know what? She doesn”t say a word about it. Ever. Not about the swearing, the things I called her, nothing. Just this, like, one tear I see … as we”re sitting at a stoplight on the way home. That”s all.I did feel that way, though. Maybe I shouldn”t”ve yelled or . . . but it was true, what I said. You don”t like being fat, there”s a pretty easy remedy, most times. Do-not-jam-so-much-food-in-your-f – gullet. (Beat) It”s not that hard.More Monologues from “Fat Pig”RelatedShareTweetPin
Yeah, it”s whatever, but … this once, in the grocery store, we”re at Albertsons and we”re pushing four baskets around – you wanna know how humiliating that s – is? – and I”m supposed to be at a game by seven, I”m on JV, and she”s just farting around in the candy isle, picking up bags of “fun size” Snickers and checking out the calories. Yeah. I mean, what is that?! So, I suddenly go off on her, like, this sophomore in high school, but I”m all screaming in her face … “Don”t look at the package, take a look in the mirror, you cow! PUT “EM DOWN!” Holy s -, there”s stock boys – bunch of guys I know, even – are running down the isle. Manager stumbling out of his glass booth there, the works. (Beat) But you know what? She doesn”t say a word about it. Ever. Not about the swearing, the things I called her, nothing. Just this, like, one tear I see … as we”re sitting at a stoplight on the way home. That”s all.I did feel that way, though. Maybe I shouldn”t”ve yelled or . . . but it was true, what I said. You don”t like being fat, there”s a pretty easy remedy, most times. Do-not-jam-so-much-food-in-your-f – gullet. (Beat) It”s not that hard.More Monologues from “Fat Pig”RelatedShareTweetPin
I did feel that way, though. Maybe I shouldn”t”ve yelled or . . . but it was true, what I said. You don”t like being fat, there”s a pretty easy remedy, most times. Do-not-jam-so-much-food-in-your-f – gullet. (Beat) It”s not that hard.More Monologues from “Fat Pig”RelatedShareTweetPin
