(Spotlight on stage left. The scene is a college dorm room, and it can be decorated as much or as little as seen appropriate, but it should include a standing mirror and a small sculpture on a desk or table or shelf and a chair. In the spotlight is Reg, trying on a graduation robe. He eventually faces the audience in cap and gown.)

REG
I’m a business major. (A pause) Not because I like it. I, um, I kinda don’t. You should have seen the light in my dad’s eyes, though, when I told him I’d major in business. “My son, the CEO.” Mom thought it was fine, more practical than some of my other ideas for what I’d do with my life. See, I…kind of want to be an artist – don’t laugh! It’s not funny! (He gently and gingerly picks the bust off the table, displaying it) See this? I’m damn good, I did this! It’s Grandma, it was a birthday thing, I dunno, it was kind of stupid…but the sculpture is good, real art critics and everything have said so. (He puts it back down) My roommate wanted to use it for potshot practice and I beat the shit out of him when he tried to take it. (He begins to take off his graduation garb) I’m not just doing business for my dad! That’s impractical. I knew from a very early age with fingerpaint that art just wasn’t going to work. And I’ll tell you why. (A pause) You know that old Disney movie Beauty and the Beast? Tale as old as time and whatever? Little girls saw that movie and got the message that beauty is on the inside, except the gold dress. That’s on the outside, and they were okay with that. Little boys saw that movie and agreed it doesn’t matter what you look like so long as you can pay for that gold dress and huge house and serving staff. Oh God, that was a hit to every future man’s ‘nads everywhere. And it’s true! Gaston was the hot village creep, Belle went for the money, the whole “turning into a handsome prince,” thing was just a bonus. She didn’t know that would happen; he was a freakin’ lion…dog…thing, for Christ’s sake. (He slows smoothly back to the point) So it’s practical. I’m not saying that I’m a heartless cynic when it comes to love, after all, I have the heart of a true artiste. I’ve thought about this good and hard and long, and I’ve stacked up the evidence. Like, I had this girlfriend, end of high school, who…you know, I kinda liked (He clearly more than kind of liked this girl, and this should be communicated to the audience) And I asked her – “Would you want to be with me if I didn’t have a penny to my name?” And I guess to her credit she tried to say yes – but she didn’t, because she was practical, too, and who with a practical head is going to say yes to something like that? She tried to say it, but she didn’t, and it doesn’t take too long to figure that out. (Reg picks the sculpture back up again and handles it thoughtfully) My mom likes my art. Always has. She wallpapered the fridge with my stuff until I got good enough to frame. “Regie,” she’d say – she calls me Regie – “Regie, you are such a special boy, you have such a special talent.” Yeah, thanks, Mom. She’d try to show me every romantic novel ever where women fall passionately in love with tortured, brooding artists. You know, the sexually starved women with busts just heaving from pure desire and adoration. Yeah, right, Mom, as if. I don’t see Jessica Alba picking up guys at the art museum. (A beat) I don’t figure on marrying for love. No, seems kind of overrated – or at least unlikely. I don’t think it happens as often as it does in the movies. See, I have reasonable, semi-low expectations – I just want some pleasant company later in life. Maybe some kids. I mean, cynic and all, I like kids okay, I’m not adverse to the idea. And I’d try. I’d try and be a good dad and support whatever it was they wanted in life, because I know how much it hurts to have a dad who doesn’t…well, forget that. That’s dumb to talk about. Anyway, I don’t want to have to call a sex hotline the whole rest of life to get some. And with a business major, I won’t have to! Heck, if I land the good life, I can get a smokin’ hot fox that puts to shame the women in those dumb books my mom showed me. I mean, love and art – they aren’t everything. They’re really not. It’s like I’ve been saying the whole time, it’s like my business major has taught me: life is about practicality. It’s about compromise. It’s about getting rid of the pretty little illusions you learned with those before mentioned Disney films. Alright, fine, it’s not going to be ideal, but hey, it’s real life. Not college. (A short pause) But you don’t have to start throwing pity at me just yet, okay? I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. See, I’m an art minor. Dad doesn’t know yet, I decided two years ago and just never told him. (Taps his skull) Always thinking up here, you see? Wheels are always turning. Business major definitely paid off. I’ll make a great CEO. See, art minor’s pure genius. I could be an art dealer, make tons of cash, rake it in – and still be around art! It’s always going to be around me, even if it’s never for very long…And, alright, so it’s not everything I want. So it’s not making my own, but it’s something. You have to settle in life, you have to bargain, I’ve learned that in college, and dealing with my dad and when I used to deal with that girlfriend. And I’m going to have a damn good life. (He puts his cap back on and grins) Dad doesn’t know yet. I’m going to let him find out when he reads the program at my graduation. Should prove interesting.