Charles Greaves Monologue

ASSUMPTIONS. Why is it that people make assumptions based on my appearance? Do they understand why I did what I did? Charles Greaves was his name. Oh, how I had a deep hatred for Charles! Oh, how I had the deepest aspiration for getting back for pain he has endured upon me.
We both had things in common-that Greaves and I. The passion that we shared for the theatre. Other than the passion for theatre, he irritated me. He had absolutely disregarded the tender feelings of his fellow comrades that he considers his friends. Greaves had a way of deceiving people with his southern charm, and people fell for his trick.
He had a breaking point-this two-faced man. He and his alluring sister were oughly close. She kept him in check, getting him out of all the troubles he has acquired. She’d sweet talk the men that Greaves had insulted. She had been the only white person to ever talk to me. It was unknown, rather shamed upon to talk to a person with the skin darker than the midnight sky. Ah! It was at exact moment that I knew how to finally get my

I couldn’t play Greaves’s game no more. I had stirred up a very special concoction for Greaves. One fairly gloomy summer night in Boston, Greaves had snuck his favorite whisky into the theatre. Greaves had only invited me along to carry the whisky, so I would be the one to blame if I was caught with it. This was the day I knew Charles Greaves would breathe his last breath. The acids within Greaves will boil up inside him, melting his insides with the concoction I had brewed. Everything solid-including his main organs will turn to liquid. The slow process will make Greaves feel pain no man should ever endure. It would be as if an oven were within his body. His suffering will avenge the wrongdoings of his actions toward me. Everything would have gone according to plan, I’d hand Greaves his whisky, he’d drink it, and he’d slowly perish. Unfortunately, I had learned that had not been the