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INTERIORS
A One-Act Play by Dean Barrett
id:
The part of the psyche in which are the inherited instinctive impulses;
dominated by the pleasure principle and impulsive wishing.
"Each of our inner lives is such a jungle of thoughts, feelings,
fantasies and impulses that civilization would be impossible if we expressed
them all, or if we could all read each other's minds."
Thomas Nagel, Professor of Philosophy and Law at New York University - London
Times Literary Supplement
CAST
Amy:
An attractive and proper young woman.
Michael: A good-looking and proper young man.
Amy's id: An attractive, lust-filled young woman.
Michael's
id: A good-looking, lust-filled, young man.
SETTING
A table and four chairs inside a cafe. A young woman is sitting at the
table sipping coffee and reading a book.
There should be no need for actual eating utensils, coffee cups, tray,
etc. The book is fine; all else can most likely be
mimicked.
A man enters the stage with a tray holding coffee and lunch. He looks
around, searching unsuccessfully for a chair. He sees the woman and
approaches her table.
MICHAEL:
Excuse me.
AMY:
(looking up) Yes?
MICHAEL:
The cafe is full. I was wondering if I might . . . (he gestures toward
one of the two empty chairs facing her)
AMY:
Of course.
MICHAEL:
Thank you.
(As
he sits down, the second man [MICHAEL'S id] and second woman [AMY'S
id] enter from off-stage.)
(The woman sits next to but slightly behind Amy. The man sits beside
but slightly behind Michael. The id's do not eat.)
(Michael's id stares at Amy. Amy's id stares at Michael. The ids never
look at each other.)
(Amy returns to reading her book while Michael picks up his fork and takes a
bite of food.)
AMY'S id: Oh, God, he's cute.
MICHAEL'S id: Jesus, what a doll.
AMY'S id: I hope he's not gay.
MICHAEL'S id: And look at the size of those kaboobs.
MICHAEL: Excuse me.
(Amy looks up)
AMY: Yes?
MICHAEL'S id: I would consider it a personal favor if you would disrobe
and allow my lips to explore every inch of your beautiful, curvaceous body.
MICHAEL: Could you pass the salt?
AMY'S id: Jesus, you are so motherfucking cute! How about making a
pass at me instead?
AMY: Certainly. (Amy passes the salt. It spills.)
AMY: Oops! Sorry.
AMY'S id: He looks like he never had a parking ticket in his life. I
wonder if he's a virgin.
(Michael gestures as if righting the spilled salt shaker. He picks up some
salt between thumb and forefinger and holds it out.)
MICHAEL: That's quite all right. But I forgot.
MICHAEL'S id: Her lips are so perfect!
AMY: Forgot what?
MICHAEL'S id: Maybe she's had collagen injections.
AMY'S id: I hope he doesn't mean he forget how to do the nasty.
MICHAEL: Which shoulder do I throw salt over? . . . For good luck, I mean?
AMY: Oh. Is that the custom when salt spills?
MICHAEL'S id: Not my custom, honey. My custom is to pour it all over
your gorgeous, creamy, white, succulent body and slooooowly lick it off.
MICHAEL: I believe so.
MICHAEL'S id: Every last minute grain from every last minute
crevice. (Gestures with his tongue) And then it's time for .
. . the pepper!
(He reaches for the pepper; Michael slaps his hand away. Amy notices nothing
of this.)
AMY: The right one, I imagine.
AMY'S id: Mother did warn me that behind every well- pressed tuxedo is an
undressed libido. But he seems normal enough.
MICHAEL'S id: What is it the Chinese used to call the entrance to the
vagina?
AMY'S id: Not like the last loser who sat here. Nothing on his mind
but sex.
MICHAEL'S id: Oh, yeah, the "jade gate."
AMY: I mean, if you're right-handed.
MICHAEL: I am. OK. The right shoulder it is.
(He throws a pinch of salt over his right shoulder.)
AMY'S id: Is this guy going to make a play for me or just screw around
with the salt? I shouldn't complain; at least he doesn't seem the pervert
type.
MICHAEL'S id: How about we go to my place and I use my tongue to flick
open your jade gate, burrow my way up your passion chamber and not stop until I
reach your fallopian tubes?
(Michael salts and eats some onion rings.)
AMY'S id: Then again, you can't tell with guys these days. He could
be into latex and leather.
MICHAEL'S id: Then I'll wrap my tongue around those gorgeous fallopian
tubes, hold on for dear life, and use them as a chin-up bar to pull myself up
and in.
MICHAEL: These onion rings are delicious. Help yourself.
AMY'S id: Chains and straps and whips and nipple rings.
MICHAEL'S id: In and out. In and out. Three sets of four
repetitions.
AMY: Thank you; I've just eaten. (She continues reading.)
AMY'S id: Nooses and paddles and handcuffs and leashes.
MICHAEL'S id: Or maybe four sets of three repetitions.
(Amy looks up.)
AMY: Well, maybe just one.
AMY'S id: (Starting to like it) Kinky psychodrama and sexual
perversions.
MICHAEL'S id: And when I finish exercising -- surrounded by your sweet,
copious nectar -- I shall place my lips at one end of those magnificent
fallopian tubes and bloooow gently into them.
MICHAEL: Great! Too many here for me to finish.
(Amy takes one.)
AMY'S id: (Liking it) Bondage and cross-dressing and sadism
and masochism.
MICHAEL'S id: I bet it would make a deep, bass, reverberant sound like one
of those really long Tibetan horns. (The actor imitates the sound.)
BluuuuuuuuuuuuuP!
AMY: Thank you. One will do. But they are good.
AMY'S id: In fact, for all I know, he might be wearing women's panties
right now.
MICHAEL: Best onion rings in the East Village.
MICHAEL'S id: Or maybe it would sound more like the mournful fog horns
Eugene O'Neill used to hear on the Thames River in New London,
Connecticut. (The actor imitates the sound.) BrrrrrrrrrrP!
(Amy smiles and continues reading.)
AMY'S id: (Giggles) I bet he'd look cute in lacy red panties and a
boner.
(Amy also giggles. Michael looks at her.)
AMY: Oh, sorry. Just something I was reading.
(Amy returns to her book; Michael eats.)
MICHAEL'S id: Fallopia, Fallopia, wherefore art thou, fair Fallopia?
AMY'S id: His face is so boyish. He almost looks like -- Oh, God,
how do I know he hasn't had a sex change?
MICHAEL'S id: I suppose if I make a play for her she'll turn me down and
if I don't she'll assume I'm a homosexual. Men can't win these days
whatever we do. She's probably the type of woman who sits around babbling
about (actor overacts the following three words) Relationships!
Commitment! Communication! (Actor stands and throws out his arms.)
RELATIONSHIPS! COMMITMENT! COMMUNICATION! The mantra of the
new American religion! Or maybe it's the religion itself! Talk about
the dumbing down of America! (Leans on the table close to Amy, who
notices nothing as she reads.) Did it ever occur to you that the more
someone babbles about RELATIONSHIPS the less they know about them?! . . .
And did it ever occur to you that all those self-help books that you no doubt
spend hours pouring over are a lot of narcissistic bullshit?! Did it?! . .
. Women are from Hunan; men are from Szech'uan -- who WRITES that
shit?! And when you sit around with your friends babbling about
RELATIONSHIPS and how men JUST DON'T GET IT you think you're being sensitive and
perceptive, don't you?! Well, you're not! You're being
self-centered, self- indulgent, self-absorbed, self-pitying and
BOOOOOOOOOORING!!! (He stares at her for a few seconds; gets no reaction;
sighs and sits down)
AMY'S id: I suppose if I suggest we meet again he'll think I'm a brazen
slut and if I don't he'll think I'm a lesbian. Women can't win these days
whatever we do. He's probably the type of man who sits around with his beer-
guzzling buddies watching some stupid baseball game babbling about which jock
has the most runs batted in during a seven-point-one-on-the-Richter-scale earth-
quake; or best earned-run average during a solar eclipse or some such pathetic
garbage. Probably the type of idiot who actually BELIEVES baseball is a
metaphor for America. Talk about the dumbing down of America! (Actress
stands up and leans on the table close to Michael who notices nothing as he
continues eating.) Well, let me tell you something, dudball: Men with
real lives don't have to live vicariously through goddamn sports! "Don't
do drugs; do sports." Oh, yeah? Well, did it ever occur to you
that for most men watching sports IS a drug?! Did it ever occur to
you that the average man who worships sports heroes has an IQ just below the
level of a dying breadfruit tree?! And what about doing LIBRARIES
instead?! Do you ever READ?! Or do you just waste your life watching
overpaid, oversexed half-boy, half-man jocks kick big black balls into nets or
hit little white balls into man-made gopher holes in an otherwise perfectly
green lawn? (Actress overacts the following and speaks moronically;
imitates chewing gum and punching a baseball glove with one fist.)
"Duh, I know we're up against a really good team but coach says if we
practice hard and if we really believe we can do it, we
can do it. So me and da rest of da guys had a meetin' and we decided we is gonna
go in dere and win one for da gipper! Duuuuuuuh!" (Actress
again leans close to Michael who notices nothing as he eats.) News
flash, Numbnuts: You men...are all...MOOOOOOOOOOORONS! (She stares at
him for a few seconds; gets no reaction; sighs and sits down.)
(Michael looks at Amy's book title)
MICHAEL: "Advanced Techniques in Installing Computer Hardware."
Wow! You must really be into computers.
AMY: It's my major. I love computers. They're my hobby as
well, I guess.
MICHAEL: That's great. I'm impressed.
MICHAEL'S id: I wonder if she surfs porn on the web?
AMY: And your major?
MICHAEL'S id: It wouldn't surprise me if the little hussy is a porn star.
MICHAEL: Chinese language studies.
AMY: Wow! Now I'm impressed.
AMY'S id: Oh, no! Not one of those guys who hungers after Oriental women.
Maybe he just sees me as a change-of- pace.
MICHAEL'S id: She's impressed! All right, now's the time to follow
up with some cryptic Chinese quotation. How about, "Where there is no
wind, the grass does not move." But what the hell does it mean?
AMY'S id: Anyway, I should say something intelligent to impress him.
Let's see: Hong Kong went back to China, right? Or was it the other way around?
AMY: Do you have hobbies, too?
MICHAEL'S id: You mean, other than mentally undressing ravishing wenches
like yourself? Well --
MICHAEL: No, not really. I guess my major is my hobby as well.
I mean, there are about one-point-three billion Chinese in the world, so I
thought it would be nice to be able to communicate with them in their own
language.
MICHAEL'S id: Not to mention having an edge in seducing innocent Chinese
women in remote villages with no experience in dealing with horny, oversexed
Western men from big cities.
AMY: Actually, I saw some of them on campus already.
MICHAEL: Excuse me?
AMY: Chinese.
MICHAEL: Oh. Yes, I see.
AMY'S id: Oh God, did I really say something so stupid?!
(Michael gestures toward her book.)
MICHAEL: Well, I've seen a few of them on campus, too.
AMY: Them?
MICHAEL: Computers!
AMY: Oh! Yes, of course.
MICHAEL'S id: Jesus Christ, did I really say something so stupid?!
MICHAEL: So much porn on the web these days.
AMY'S id/MICHAEL'S id: (Immediately addressed to Michael)
You should know!
AMY: I know. It's a shame. Computers can be such wonderful
tools.
MICHAEL'S id: Right you are, child, so how about I use my overheated
web-browser to explore your underused web-site?
MICHAEL: People have to find a way to protect their kids, don't you think?
AMY'S id: People have to find a way to protect themselves from having
kids, don't you think, Dudball?
AMY: Yes. As long as it doesn't smack of censorship.
MICHAEL'S id: How about we cut to the chase and you put those
collagen-filled lips to good use by configuring my toolbar?
MICHAEL: Exactly.
AMY: Because a lot of people use their kids' vulnerability as an excuse to
censor what they themselves don't like.
MICHAEL: I couldn't agree more.
(Amy returns to her book, Michael to his eating.)
MICHAEL'S id: How about I download my hard-drive and we let the Pentium
chips fall where they may? (Chuckles)
(For the first time, Amy's id turns directly to Michael's id.)
AMY'S id: You're not funny!
MICHAEL'S id: (Stunned) Did you say something to me?!
AMY'S id: Yes! I said you're not funny! You're disgusting!
MICHAEL'S id: Are you crazy?! We're not supposed to address each
other. We don't know each other! We can never know each other!
That's the whole point!
AMY'S id: I don't care! You are crude as hell and I hope she sees
the real you.
MICHAEL'S id: You?! Are calling me crude?! What about you?!
AMY'S id: What about me?
MICHAEL'S id: You want it as much as I do. So stop being a
hypocritical bitch.
(AMY's id gets up.)
AMY'S id: What did you call me?!
(MICHAEL'S id gets up.)
MICHAEL'S id: You heard me! You want it as much as I do.
(The id's rush around the table. AMY'S id attacks MICHAEL'S id.
They begin grappling on their knees at the end of the table in front of the
audience.)
(Although they are using all their strength, they move about very little as
they are quite evenly matched.)
(They might bump the table, even knocking something over, but AMY and MICHAEL
notice nothing of this desperate struggle.)
MICHAEL'S id: Listen to me, will you!? There's nothing wrong with us
wanting sex all the time!
AMY'S id: There isn't?
MICHAEL'S id: No! We're not egos or superegos; we're id's, for God
sakes! Having lust-filled sexual fantasies is what we were made for!
AMY'S id: It is?
MICHAEL'S id: Yes! Desire, lust, eroticism, sensuality: all the
things that make life worth living! And that's not only what we're made
for. That's what we're made of.
AMY'S id: So . . . it's not wrong for us to be dominated by the pleasure
principle and to fantasize bizarre sexual encounters and to want to screw our
brains out every second of every day?
MICHAEL'S id: Of course not. It's why we're here. Michael and
Amy couldn't function the way they do unless we function the way we do!
(They stare at each other for several seconds, then suddenly they kiss
passionately and their hands are all over each other.)
(MICHAEL'S id begins undoing AMY'S id's blouse; AMY'S id begins unbuckling
MICHAEL'S id's belt.)
(MICHAEL'S id finishes unbuttoning AMY'S id's blouse and starts taking down
his trousers. AMY's id begins removing her blouse. All of this is
done in the heat of passion and kissing, as furious as was their fighting.)
AMY: (Closing her book) Well, I think I'd better get back.
(The id's stop suddenly; shocked.)
AMY'S id: What?!
MICHAEL'S id: Now?!
(MICHAEL'S
id frantically pulls up and zips up his trousers; AMY's id frantically begins
buttoning her blouse, smoothing down her creased dress, fixing her hair, etc.)
MICHAEL: It's been nice talking with you.
AMY: (Rising) Yes. I've enjoyed it.
MICHAEL'S id: (Angrily) Just once I wish they would say what
they mean!
AMY'S id: (Resignedly) I suppose they can't escape what they
are anymore than we can escape what we are.
MICHAEL'S id: Yes, but just think how boring they would be without us.
AMY'S id: Just think how much fun we could have without them.
(The
ids get up and start to walk toward their respective persons. They turn and look
at one another.)
MICHAEL'S id: I'll never forget you, you luscious, voluptuous, erotic
creature.
AMY'S id: Nor I you, you well-hung sexual fantasy.
(Michael's id again sits in his chair)
(Just as Amy -- followed by Amy's id -- is nearing the door, Michael speaks
up.)
MICHAEL: Um . . .
(They all turn to look at him with hope and expectation.)
AMY: Yes?
MICHAEL: Um . . . have a nice day.
(Both ids hang their head in defeat.)
AMY: Thank you. And you.
(Amy and her id take two or three more steps then all four actors throw back
their heads in resignation.)
AMY/MICHAEL/AMY'S id/MICHAEL'S id: I swear I can't take another day like
this!
BLACKOUT
THE END
Copyright 2000 Dean Barrett
No part of this play may be performed or published without written permission
from the playwright.
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