Doris Kenyon was born in Syracuse, NY on September 5, 1897. Doris died in Beverly Hills on September 1, 1979. Doris Kenyon was a popular actress of motion pictures and television.
3 Monologues by Doris Kenyon
THE NEWLY-WEDS GO FISHING
(Mrs. Herbert Hanover speaking.)
My ! this is such a pretty brook !
(Takes powder-puff from neck of dress and pow-
ders nose while looking in brook,)
And I can see in it real well considering it’s only a
brook,
(Replaces puff and points at stream,)
Is that the spot I’m going to fish in? Mercy, Herbie,
it looks too black. I don’t think any fish would stay in
such a gloomy place as that.
(Looks in brook,)
Well, I can’t see any. What? Why no, of course
I didn’t expect them to come up and bite me. But I
did think I would be able to see one or two, so I would
know just where to drop my hook. Well, give me my
pole, Herbie.
(Reaches out hand, seats herself and places pole
between knees.)
My! this is so thrilling! It was so sweet and dear
of you to bring me, darling, I’ve got little shivvers all
up and down my spine.
(Holds out hand towards Herbie.)
Now give me the little bug to put on the hook. Oh yes,
I mean worm. Oh, mercy no! Vm not afraid to bait
it, the way most women are ! You see — just as you’ve
said yourself, Herbie — Fm different.
{Tries to bait hook.)
I can’t get it in the end of him, he wiggles so ! Ugh !
stop squirming, you slimy thing! Oh dear! Here
Herbie, you do it, I don’t like to mistreat the little
thing.
(Watches a moment.)
Why, Herbie Hanover, youVe cracked him right in
two pieces. Now I Well, I’m glad that spasm is over.
{Removes pole from between knees.)
I expect that worm will catch at least half a dozen.
{Casts line into brook.)
Now for the heavenly moment when I land one!
{Fishes and feels flies on neck.)
There seem to be so many little bugs tickling my neck !
{Slaps at mosquito on ankle.)
I should die of shame if I got a mosquito bite !
{Yawns, lets pole sink into water.)
Oh ! must I keep the end of my pole out of the water ?
{Tilts up pole.)
No, 1 don’t s’pose fish would bite the end of the pole.
Fishes are such cowards!
{Yawns and looks bored. Slaps mosquito on
ankle again.)
Haven’t any fish bitten you yet, Herbie? No, I
can’t stop talking. It’s bad enough to sit still and
wear one’s patience out; but as for not talking — ^not
for me. The sound of one’s own sweet voice always
keeps one interested.
(Suddenly looks about with startled eyes.)
I hope there are no wild animals in these woods. You
didn’t bring your gun, did you?
(Startled by tug at line,)
Oh, Herbie, something wiggled. Huh ! well I am let-
ting him have the bait — ^he can have all he wants. Oh,
Herbie, I do believe that fish has fastened himself on
that hook. Oh, I saw him then, he’s beautiful. Here,
you take the pole and get him in. Well, all right, but
what’ll I do? Snap him up? All right — ^here goes.
(She gives a quick jerk and line with tiny fish
catches on limb of tree,)
Oh, Herbie, there now, he’s caught on a branch of that
tree! How unfortunate! Do you suppose you can
climb up and untangle him. Just think, all this work
over such a disgustingly tiny thing as that. But,
Herbie, now that I’ve got him, that far, you might just
as well climb up and get him down and finish the af-
fair. Suppose you just climb up and try anyway.
(Watches anxiously as Herbie starts to climb
tree.)
Heavens! Herbie, don’t fall. Oh, did you hurt your
leg?
(Gasps.)
Oh, you’ve torn your socks, and they are’nt paid for
yet ? Look out — ^there, you’ve reached him !
(Suddenly startled as fish drops off and splashes
into water,)
Why, Herbie, youVe made him drop off — Think of
losing him after all my exhausting work, too!
(Throzvs down pole and starts to cry.)
I feel dreadful — my nerves are all unstrung and my
whole day is spoiled.
(Searches for handkerchief, then turns on Her-
bie.)
Stop gaping up there like a monkey and come down
out of that tree and take me home. You’re the most
inconsiderate human Tve ever known. IVe threat-
ened so many times to leave you and go home to
Mama and I certainly am tempted again! That one
fish would have been enough for our dinner. You
could have had the head part and Td have had the
rest. Come on, let’s go home.
(Feels nose.)
I feel some freckles coming and I knew my neck
would blister. But let me tell you one thing, Herbert
Hanover, it will be many a long day before you get
me to go fishing with you again.
(Gasps, astonished at Herbif.)
Why, Herbie, you said “Hell” and I haven’t said one
thing to make you mad. Besides, I had all the work
of catching the fish and just think it was —
(Measures with two hands,)
Oh, I don’t know — ^but — but — it was easily that long.
(Stretches hands out about four feet.)
DAISY’S DISAPPOINTMENT
(Daisy Dean, high kicker in a burlesque shoitf.
Comes out of stage entrance. Speaking to an-
other chorine.)
Oh dear, Vm glad that show’s over, ain’t you, Lucy?
That audience just seemed to feel it in their bones
that the leadin’-loidy had a bad corn. Ain’t it a damn
shame. I can’t have a chanct to knock Broadway cold
in her part? Gee, I wasted a lot of white wash on
my neck and shoulders today. I don’t usually clean
’em so good but I thought I vamped a regular devil
down in the front row.
(Looking up and down.)
I don’t see him holdin’ up any lamp post around here.
(Shrugs shoulders.)
Guess he didn’t care for fishing, or else he ain’t got
no bait.
( Confidentially. )
Lucy, you can’t trust the men. I went out with a
hardware drummer the other night — ‘Wore my new
eighteen dollar satin and expected to get hiked about
in a taxi. I climbed up in a tin lizzie and what da’
ya think he said?
(Imitating man.)
“Come on, kid, get right down offen’ the cushions and
walk.
(Startled,)
Shush! Wliat d’ ya think? here conies cutey of the
front row. Just pipe the tip I’m handing him.
(Strolling flirtatiously up to Hayseed Harold,
hand on hip and winking one eye,)
Are ya down for a Summer or just passin’ through?
Where’s the stage door?
(Disgustedly,)
If anybody ‘d trip ya’ ya’d be there.
(Aside to Lucy,)
My Gawd, what it takes to make me happy it’s a cinch
he ain’t got, and he sure is an aeroplane rooster — he
needs some meat on his wings.
(Haughtily to Harold.)
Am I the leady loidy? Well, I may not be lead-
ing, but understand, I am a loidy and if you doubt it
I’m going to take this here umbrella and wrap it
around yer neck like it was a number thirteen collar.
(Aside to Lucy,)
Gee, Luce, he’s dead from the neck up. If rain makes
ever)rthing beautiful— why didn’t it rain on him. Look
at that face! His mother must of loved children to
have let him lived.
(Interrupted by Harold.)
Huh ? Sure we’ll dine with ya.
(Apolegetically to Lucy.)
We gotta eat, so we might as well chaw a sandwich
with him.
(Eyeing Harold.)
But he’ll never get nothing past that adam’s apple.
(Looking about,)
Let’s go in here. I’m all het up fer some tripe and a
glass of champagne.
(To Harold.)
By the way, kid, what’s your regular nommy de
plummy? Harold! Some apex, eh? Well, mine’s
Daisy Dean and her’s is Lucy LeCote. She’s French
but her language is of the eyes, eh, Lucy?
(Rolling eyes from side to side. Seating herself.)
Pass me the a la carty.
(Glancing over menu,)
Waiter, bring me some viny blank. That’s French,
old top, but calm yourself and keep your seat, we’ll
quit spoutin’ it. Now, let’s see what I can mangey.
Waiter, bring me Adam and Eve on a raft and some
canned goldfish. Huh?
( Exasperatedly, )
That’s poached eggs on toast and some salmon. Now
wise up to that and sing it low.
(At Harold^s suggestion,)
Desert? Sure, bring me some bisquette on the tor-
tonies. Well, they’re — they’re —
(Tries to explain what they are, but does not
know,)
Aw say, kid, yer too young and innocent, it ‘ud be too
bad to tdl you.
(Gasps,)
Clams and Coney Island?
(Sorrowfully.)
Why didn’t you mention that before? Gotta get back
to the opening chorus now. When are you going to
ask us again — Tomorrow? Fine — awright — come on,
Luce.
(To Harold, waving hand.)
Thanks for the lay-out, old top. Bevo.
(Walking out of restaurant. To Lucy.)
If I had-a knowed I could-a rode I would-a went
to Coney tonight but even if I had-a went I couldn’t-a
et nothing.
(Sighs,)
Well, he wasn’t no regular devil.
(Jerking hand toward Harold.)
But he wasn’t exactly a false alarm !
A SIDEWALK CONTROVERSY
IN THE GHETTO
(Mrs. Einstein seating herself in a chair and
gasping.)
My Gawd ! Papa, but dis heat iss terrible, ‘s terrible ! I
ain’t sveat so much since I vashed Mrs. Rosenblum’s
bed quvilts und done up de front vindow curtains last
Fourth from July.
(Stopping suddenly and shouting.)
Rosie, I say No — If you take vun more dem dam ice
cream cones I svat yer setting-down place.
(Excitedly.)
Papa, Papa, tell Rosie to quvit. Our childer run vild
on dese streets !
(Pleadingly to Jakey in gutter.)
Jakey, I vish you vould squvat down und fan your
Mama.
(Shaking finger at him.)
She stood up for vun hour baking you dat apple cake
for supper und den you never even say, “Dank you” —
(Sharply.)
Jakey, vere are your shoes und stockings?
(Disgustedly.)
Look, Papa, look at him run off vith dem fellers sving-
ing dem tin cans.
(Sighs,)
Vind on de legs ain’t healthful for nobody.
( Threateningly. )
He needs he shall get hit off by some vun.
(Vaiims and smUes broadly.)
Good evening, Mrs. Cohen. Ain’t it hot, uh? No, I
ain’t vashed my dishes neither. I make Sadie do ’em
tomorrow.
(Stares across street, throws up both hands.)
Oi, Mrs. Cohen look at dat terrible dress Yetta Ler-
kowitz is vearing.
(Illustrating her zvords.)
The top of it meets the bottom with notting ‘betweens.
By me, I tell Ikey Morris’ Mama vat kind of voman
he makes lofe to.
(Startled, looking up, hand over one eye.)
Veil, vat do you tink of dat now? I get vun drips
right in de eye from Mrs. Bernstein’s pant leg. By
me, I get tired from having to squvat under her vash
efery day. She gets notting like dat by me. I vash
vun time de month und hang Papa’s pants by the win-
dow.
Rosie —
(Beckoning to her.)
Mama say cum now und squvat down und get cool.
Dere,
(Patting her head.)
lean against your mama’s knee.
(Scrutinising Rosie’s face.)
Vat’s eating you now vith dat terrible look you got?
(Furiotts.)
Eva Kindansky said ve ain’t got noddings? Ve ain’t
have by us no monies? Vat you care vat she tinks:
Next time Eva comes I svat her.
(Settling back into chair and sighing,)
Papa, vouldn’t it be vunderfu’l ven ve get prespera-
tions to have a team of horses und a carriage und
drive tru de cool mountains, me driving und you in
de back seat vith de kids ? Ven ve get going good —
(Interrupted by Rosie.)
No, Rosie, you can’t sit by the front seat. You sit
back vith your Papa
(Continuing,)
Und ven I say “Giddap” to dem horses, Papa No,
Rosie, I say no, I got all I can do vatching dem svift
curves. You sit vith your Papa.
(Continuing,)
Ven ve get running real good —
(More excitedly.)
Rosie, I say No, don’t ask me again !
(Continuing,)
Dem horses get running —
(Right on edge,)
I told you No, — you can’t — Rosie! just for dat get
right down out of dat carriage !
(Collecting herself,)
Veil, vat do you tink of my imaginations. Papa? Ve
ain’t got no horses but I got the villies. Vat? Sure
ve go to de movies if I ain’t sveat so much I stick
by his chair.