Chapter 2: The Monologue
Continuation of Sunny and Ahmed
I put up a short struggle as Brit and Ahmed lift me up by my arms. The crowd begins to chant: “We want Sunny! We want Sunny!” over and over again.
Ahmed says, “Just go tell a few stories. Have fun.”
“Yeah,” Brit adds, “Tell them about your daddy’s church—or sing one of your made-up songs. That’ll make ‘em laugh.”
I’m shaking all over. My knees wobble, but I find my way up the stage steps and over to the microphone.
There’s a lot of people out there, and they’re all waitin’ for me to say somethin’.
“Hi everybody!” I say into the mic. The sound of my own voice coming out so loud makes me jump back a step.
The people in the audience roar. I never realized how easy it is to make people laugh.
"So yeah. My name’s Sunshine Day. People call me Sunny Day.”
Why are they laughing? Did I say something funny?
“I guess you’re thinking I was born to be a weather girl.”
More laughter. I keep going.
I put my hands out to the side like I’m the weather girl on the evening news. “Tomorrow will be another Sunny Day.”
I pause ‘cuz people are laughing.
“Anyway, my daddy’s the preacher at the Lighthouse Church, and he said I brought the light of God into our family, just like a sunny day. Not sure why they couldn’t call me something normal, like Ellie or Jane.
Maybe they named me that because they knew from the get-go I’m no ordinary person.
Wasn’t a day went by that Mommy and Daddy didn’t remind me of my differences.”
The audience can’t seem to stop laughing, and I’m not even trying to be funny.
“I live in a little town not far from here that none of you probably ever heard of—Citrus Grove.” I pause for effect.
“Yep, you guessed it—we’re home to the largest lemon ever cultivated.
You can see a picture of it in the Guinness Book of World Records, right next to the lady with the longest fingernails and the guy who ate a plane.
No kidding. That lemon was as big as a watermelon.”
I think I’m losing their interest, so I search my brain for something that might reel them back in.
“You might be wonderin’ what someone as special as me does in a town like Citrus Grove.
I work stockin’ shelves at the Fruit Basket Grocery Store. I love my job because it’s so creative.” I roll my eyes.
“For example, I like to arrange the shelves by colors.
Just yesterday, I organized all the canned fruit into a rainbow.
My boss got real mad—said it was against God. Since when did God stop lovin’ rainbows? I asked.
He told me rainbows have been canceled, if you can believe that.”
She gets her biggest laugh yet. A few people clap.
“Some of you guys—and girls—out there probably wanna know if I have a special someone. I do. FYI: I’m unavailable.
My special guy’s named Charlie.” (I’m lyin’, of course. A boy’s never looked my way far as I know.)
“He weren’t able to come tonight. He’s real religious, you see. Told me he was busy doing some discernment thing over at Daddy’s church.
He’s big on that discernment stuff. Says I should always pray with my eyes open, so I can discern when people are tryin’ to trick me into doin’ silly things in public—like gettin’ up in front of a crowd at a comedy club and makin’ a fool of myself.”
I look straight at Brit. She shrinks into her seat.
There’s so much laughter, I have to wait before sayin’ my next thing. I don’t rightly know what I’m gonna say next, but I feel like my time’s up, so I do my closing out.
“Anyway. This has been real nice. You all have been so kind.
Here I thought God would strike me down with lightnin’ the second I got on this stage, but here I am—still standin’ and breathin’.”
I pause while people laugh. I can’t believe they think I’m funny.
“So either God’s not mad... or He’s just real into comedy.
I like to think it’s a bit of both.
Keep on smilin’, friends, and thanks for listenin’.”
The room erupts. Everyone’s clapping, and a bunch of people are hootin’ and standin’ up.
I guess I did okay. An incredible new feeling fills up my emptiness, somethin’ I never felt before—being liked for being me. I wave at the audience as I leave the stage.
The announcer says as he passes me, “I sure hope you’ll come back.”
“Thanks,” I say.
When I get back to the table, Ahmed stands up and high fives me. “You killed it up there—you’re a natural, then he does something that really surprises me—gives me a great big hug. He smells real good, like cinnamon and vanilla. I’m tingling all over, feeling things in places I’m not supposed to. Good things.
Brit’s just sittin’ like a lump. “Yeah, Sunny, good job. Way to throw me under the bus.”
She’s still upset that I called her out for playing a mean trick. “Aw, come on Brit, just sayin’ it like it is.”
Ahmed says, “Got to give her props for that!”
I turn to Ahmed, “Are you goin’ up there?”
“I went up before you guys got here. Bombed bad. Glad you didn’t have to see it!”
“Probably not.”
“I did. And, ‘cause of you, I know why.”
“How’s that?”
“Tryin’ too hard. Not being myself, like you were.”
“Not sure who else I’d be,” I say.
Ahmed laughs. “Like I said, you’re a natural.”
Note: this is a draft. If you see anything that isn’t working or something amiss, please direct message me to let me know. I always appreciate reader input!