Attention monologue

PAY ATTENTION

INT: A BARE STAGE.

A teenage actor paces back and forth along the stage, holding a cellphone.

ACTOR

(Staring at the screen, not looking up)

No one comes to the theater anymore. Wanna to know why?

(Glances up briefly, grins)

Because it isn't 1925. We have cellphones now. You used to have to sit in waiting rooms and grocery lines and dark theaters and just think your thoughts. Know what you can do now?

(Waves the phone)

Candy Crush. Farmville. Whatever.

(Seems to realize the atmosphere and lowers the phone.
Peers out into the dark. Thoughtfully)

Hm. This probably isn't my best audition. I don't even want to be in Peter Pan, actually. I just wanted to make a point. That no one has the attention span for this stuff anymore. And why should they? Any given person seeing a play is thinking, "I paid thirty bucks for this, but I'd pay forty if it were an hour and a half shorter."

(Gets a text and turns back to phone.)

I'm not saying it's a bad thing! What's the problem with having no attention span, really?

(Paces perilously close to the edge, stops a few inches short, oblivious)

Today I went to math class for forty minutes and then followed it right up with Social Studies and then AP English and that was all before lunchtime. I never do anything for longer than an hour. One day I'll end up with a job where I multitask all day long and my boss will still say I'm not getting enough done.

(It looks like the actor might sway or step right off now.
Still absorbed with the phone)

So, no, I'm not going to get involved in artsy nostalgia that even old folks don't really want to watch. It's the 21st century, people.

(Before toppling off the edge, the actor instead snaps the phone shut,
pockets it, and starts walking away.)

I mean, seriously, isn't anyone paying attention anymore?