O'd
- or -
A Tin Roof Named Desire
Cast:
Brick
Stanley
Setting: Two highback Victorian wing chairs, in a very feminine living room.
(Lights up, Brick sits uncomfortably in one of the chairs, enter Stanley.)
Brick: (mumbling as he squirms about in the chair, unable to get comfortable, like he can't quite figure out the chair at all) Shit... shit... ahhh...
Stanley: What the hell? Look at this place! Brick, you got problems.
Brick: I recognize that, Stanley.
S: You marry for a bit, woman tears your life up. What did you give up here?
B: Not much...
S: Comfort, your recliners, tactful window treatments.
B: No. (still squirming) Sit down.
S: (with disdain, looking at the chair) I'll stand.
B: Suit yourself.
S: Your dignity. Where's that, Brick?
B: I got dignity.
S: You a man?
B: Yeah. Debbie's just trying different looks... it's her place too now.
S: Maybe so, but she's late to the game... you run the store here, Brick.
B: Yeah, Stan, no question there.
S: Then what's this? It's all gone. You a man?
B: Yeah, Stan.
S: You a man?
B: Yes!
S: A man does this? For his girl?
B: Yeah, I guess I did, Stan.
S: Girl wants to be told what to do. Don't let them sneak you outta being a man.
B: I tell her what to do.
S: You tell nothing.
B: I tell. I order and command.
S: You order nothing. You tell her what she wants to hear.
B: It's not even her fault.
S: It's your fault, Brick. You lost out, you're half a man.
B: It's not my fault.
S: Who gets the blame around here, Brick. I see the man what's supposed to be in charge.
B: I'm in charge!
S: Supposed to be in charge.
B: It's that damn television and that Oprah thing.
S: Blame the teevee? Sound like a man to you?
B: She's watching that Oprah TV all morning most days.
S: You not strong enough for Oprah?
B: It reorganizes the mind.
S: You not strong enough to fight it?
B: It wears you down.
S: You not able to beat a teevee person?
B: I had that broken leg for so long.
S: Broken leg don't stop men. Men fight. Broken leg's nothing for a man.
B: It weakened me.
S: Your mind's weak.
B: The TV made her wear me down.
S: You soft?
B: Not soft, Stan?
S: You soft, Brick?
B: It's reorganized her mind is all.
S: You change her back.
B: I try. I don't even understand what she says anymore.
S: She speaking a foreign tongue?
B: Maybe... we used to talk, now she says we should "engage in mutual verbal understanding."
S: What you do...
B: We used to have sex, now we "exchange consensual physical and emotional intimacies."
S: You have to stop this.
B: Oprah says express your true self, and I don't get pot roast for a month!
S: What you do is you...
B: Oprah tells the women to free themselves of the chains of repressive relationships, and I got a thousand bucks charged on the Visa from some fancy day spa.
S: This is still in your control... there's hope.
B: The house lit up with candles that have funny names, and she's sitting cross-legged with her eyes closed while the curtain catches fire.
S: One chance...
B: I come in from work, there's a thing called arugula on my plate... and that's all!
S: No beer... it's bad... Brick, listen! You got one chance to get back to where you belong. Beat this Oprah trash out the door.
B: What do I gotta do, Stanley?
S: Here it is: Does she got a sister?
B: Debbie?
S: Like an older sister what's all messy in the head... maybe one could come live with you for a while.
B: Why?
S: You take charge! You control the sister, and I mean control like only a man can to a woman. You control the sister; you control the wife. Then, maybe, you send the sister to the nuthouse; your wife gets the hint.
B: Really?
S: Oprah don't seem so important no more. It works.
B: Ahh... she hasn't got a sister.
S: Nothing?
B: She has this brother...
S: Brothers don't work in this situation.
B: ...he's kind of cute.
S: What?
B: Nothing.
(lights out)
(end)
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