Latest Update

1,595 See all
Loading..

The_last_man_on_earth_2x04 đŸŽ¯ Must Try

Do you think they can hear me? New Phil. Melissa. Todd. Todd used to be my best friend. Now he looks at me like I’m a piece of expired cheese. And honestly, I don't blame him. I was a jerk. A Grade-A, certified, grass-fed turkey jerk.

(He sighs deeply, resting his chin as much as the wooden board allows.) The_last_man_on_earth_2x04

(He chuckles nervously, but the laugh cuts short into a pained wince as he shifts his neck, nearly triggering the collar.) Do you think they can hear me

(The scene is pitch black. The sound of crickets and crashing ocean waves fills the background. A tight spotlight illuminates a wooden stockade. Tandy's head and hands are locked in place. Around his neck is a glowing shock collar. He is sweaty, exhausted, and desperately trying to maintain his trademark false optimism.) And honestly, I don't blame him

But I’m trying to change! I’m a new Tandy. I’m the reformed Tandy. I agreed to five weeks in this dog house instead of one! That’s how committed I am to showing them that the old, lying, ball-pool-diving Phil Miller is dead and buried. I just want to sit at the table again. I want to share a block of government-issue apocalypse cheese without feeling like I need to lie about who ate the last slice.

Below is an original, creative dramatic monologue written from Tandy's perspective during his long, isolated night in the stockade before the fire breaks out. The Monologue: "C to the T"

I did that crime, I gotta do that time. C to the T. Classic Tandy.

Authors

Do you think they can hear me? New Phil. Melissa. Todd. Todd used to be my best friend. Now he looks at me like I’m a piece of expired cheese. And honestly, I don't blame him. I was a jerk. A Grade-A, certified, grass-fed turkey jerk.

(He sighs deeply, resting his chin as much as the wooden board allows.)

(He chuckles nervously, but the laugh cuts short into a pained wince as he shifts his neck, nearly triggering the collar.)

(The scene is pitch black. The sound of crickets and crashing ocean waves fills the background. A tight spotlight illuminates a wooden stockade. Tandy's head and hands are locked in place. Around his neck is a glowing shock collar. He is sweaty, exhausted, and desperately trying to maintain his trademark false optimism.)

But I’m trying to change! I’m a new Tandy. I’m the reformed Tandy. I agreed to five weeks in this dog house instead of one! That’s how committed I am to showing them that the old, lying, ball-pool-diving Phil Miller is dead and buried. I just want to sit at the table again. I want to share a block of government-issue apocalypse cheese without feeling like I need to lie about who ate the last slice.

Below is an original, creative dramatic monologue written from Tandy's perspective during his long, isolated night in the stockade before the fire breaks out. The Monologue: "C to the T"

I did that crime, I gotta do that time. C to the T. Classic Tandy.