Title: "Adulting is Just a Scam We Fell For"
(Lights up. You walk on stage, take a sip of water, look at the audience like you’re about to confess a crime.)
YOU:
Hey, how’s everybody doing? Good? Great. Because I need you all to be in a good mood for this next part, where I explain why being an adult is just a elaborate prank played on us by our future selves.
(Pause. Sip water again. Deadpan.)
No, seriously. Think about it. When you were a kid, adults were these mysterious, all-knowing beings who could do anything. They drove cars! They stayed up late! They ate dessert before dinner and called it “brunch”! And we were like, “One day, I’m gonna be just like them. I’m gonna be free.”
(Mimic kid voice.) “Mom, when I grow up, I’m gonna have ice cream for breakfast and never go to bed!”
And now here we are. And what do we eat for breakfast? Oatmeal. Because our doctor said so. And what time do we go to bed? 9:30. Because if we don’t, we turn into a pumpkin. A pumpkin that also has to pay taxes.
(Beat. Shake head.)
And the worst part? We knew this was gonna happen. Remember when you were 18 and some adult would say, “Enjoy your freedom now, because adulthood is just bills and disappointment”? And we were like, “Pfft, not me. I’m gonna be different. I’m gonna thrive.”
(Mimic 18-year-old you.) “I don’t need sleep! I don’t need money! I’m invincible!”
(Back to normal.) And now? Now I set three alarms just to make sure I don’t sleep through my own existential dread.
(Pause. Look at phone.)
Speaking of alarms—why do we even have them? Like, who decided that waking up to a sound that mimics a fire alarm is the best way to start the day? “Good morning! Time to be a functional member of society! BEEP BEEP BEEP—oh wait, no, that’s just my soul leaving my body.”
(Mimic hitting snooze. Then stop.)
And don’t even get me started on “adult responsibilities.” Like, who came up with the idea that we should have to remember to do things? “Oh, you forgot to pay your electric bill? Well, now you get to live like a pioneer! Candlelight dinners every night!”
(Pause. Sigh.)
And the real kicker? The second you finally get your life together—you know, you’ve got a savings account, you meal prep, you floss without being asked—that’s when life goes, “Oh, you think you’re in control? Hold my beer.”
(Mimic life.) “Here’s a global pandemic. Here’s a housing crisis. Here’s a mysterious rash. Good luck, champ.”
(Back to you. Shrug.)
But you know what? I think we’re all just out here doing our best. And if your best today is eating cold pizza for breakfast and pretending it’s a “charcuterie board,” then damn it, you’re winning.
(Raise imaginary slice of pizza.)
So here’s to us—the people who were promised jetpacks and got student loan debt instead. The people who thought we’d be CEOs by 25 and are now just trying to remember where we left our keys.
(Pause. Smile.)
Thanks, you’ve been a great crowd. Drive safe, tip your bartenders, and for the love of God, floss.
(Walk off to applause.)
Notes for Delivery:
- Pacing: Start slow and build energy. The bit about alarms and responsibilities should feel like a rant, but the ending should land as a warm, relatable closer.
- Physicality: Use exaggerated facial expressions (e.g., horror at oatmeal, resignation at the alarm) to sell the absurdity.
- Audience Work: If the crowd is responsive, you can riff on someone’s visible exhaustion or ask, “Who here also set an alarm for ‘take a nap’ today?”
This routine avoids puns and leans into observational humor with a mix of frustration and affection for the chaos of adulthood. Hope it works for you!
