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"BROKEN FENCES" by Steven Simoncic

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:978-1-63092-102-6

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Free Monologue

Author: Steven Simoncic

Synopsis: In a neighborhood on Chicago's deep West Side, the momentum of gentrification has taken hold and things have begun to change forever. As property taxes rise and demographics shift, Hoody and D struggle to keep the only home they have ever known. But when April and Czar -- a white couple intent on starting a family -- buy their first home and move in next door, the very definition of home is called into question. With unflinching honesty and unapologetic humor, "Broken Fences" examines identity and invisibility, community and security, hope and hostility in a modern American urban village that is at once foreign, and the place these characters call home.

Cast Size: 5 Males, 3 Females

Character: HOODY, African American male. Early thirties.

HOODY: I am invisible. Been invisible all my life. When I was a kid I could go days, weeks without being seen. Throw my hood up over my head, eyes pushed way back deep inside, and poof just disappear. Blend into the street another shadow another shade of black and grey on the stairs by the train. Ain't nobody know my real name and that was fine with me 'cause I didn't need one. And I got used to it too, being invisible. I could flow like air, life blowing through me like a breeze. Like I wasn't there. And it was tight too 'cause when you young and you angry and you invisible, you can fuck with people and they don't even know what hit 'em. Can't catch what you can't see. And for a long time ain't nobody see me... 'til one day this light skinned boy from Pilsen pulls out his nine mil acting all gangsta and shit and - POP! POP! Busts two caps just like that. I musta been real invisible that day 'cause that boy from Pilsen never even saw me. Bullet passed through me like a pit bull, clawing and scratching and biting its way out. Woke up in Cook County Hospital with a red Bulls jersey that used to be white packed into my chest. Don't even know how it got there. That was the day I became a little more in focus. After a while I realized the scars weren't just on me, they were me. And every year, I got more. Earned every cut, every burn, every bruise, and every tattoo the more marked up I got, the more I could be seen. At least here in Garfield Park you ain't had to look hard to see me -- I was everywhere, man -- just connect my dots (Pointing to scars on his arm) and you got me. Least the old me. The fuck you me. The used-to-be me. Now my shit's retired like Jordan. Ham sandwiches and double shifts, that's all I'm pulling these days. Shit I go to Costco. And I like it. Scars are fading... dots are disappearing... trade your bruise and tattoo for some comfortable shoes... and you're left with a whole lot less to connect.

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"BROKEN FENCES" by Steven Simoncic

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