CRYPTID

A monologue by C.L. Thomas

Any gender, 20s/30s

Have you ever just wanted to go out into the forest and become a cryptid? I’m not talking like Chupacabra cryptid, I’m talking Big Foot. Loch Ness Monster. Mothman. You know? Just go live out in the woods and wear foliage and avoid everyone and everything. People would only see glimpses of me over the years. They’d start to make up legends, kids would tell the stories of mysterious sightings, and I’d make sure they spread the idea that if you left an offering of Gushers and Doritos in the woods, you’d have safe passage. Free Gushers and Doritos for life. You could see me as a cryptid, right? Yeah, I mean there’s the whole ‘actually learning how to survive in the woods with no outside resources’ thing, but… Man, I’m just tired. You know? Tired of bills and working day after day after day after day and living paycheck to paycheck and never being able to build up a savings account because the second I do, my car breaks down or my phone kicks the bucket or there’s another vet bill and I just can’t, I can’t! There’s all this pressure and even if I get a raise or a promotion, nothing would really change because it’s just more working and working and working until I maybe have the chance to retire or just straight up die! 

But then I look into your eyes, and man. There’s just something in there that seems to speak to my soul and tell me it’ll be okay. You’re just so… so certain. Or oblivious, maybe, but still… It calms me down. What would I do without you, Mr. Whiskers?