Pussy on a Sizzling Iron Skillet

A play in two acts by Tennessee Tuxedo. All rights reserved.

ACT I

A louche bedroom in a mansion in Mississippi or possibly a Ramada Inn. Night. Sometime in the 1950s. Ceiling fans lazily spin, turning in the wrong direction. Flies cry out for mercy in the grip of Shell No-Pest Strips. Agie the Pussy, a throbbing pulsar of pure sexuality, and Cinderblock, an alcoholic former chess master with a broken ankle and gender identification issues, sit on opposite sides of a Sealy Posturpedic mattress. They study each other, each waiting to make the opening move ...

Agie does.

AGIE THE PUSSY: Why, look, Cinderblock. There’s a stain on my dress. (strips off dress) Oh, that’s better. Isn’t that better?

CINDERBLOCK raises glass, grunts.

AGIE: Oh Cinderblock. It’s Large Daddy’s birthday! A celebratory mood would be more appropriate.

CINDERBLOCK: Hip, hip, hooray…

AGIE: Oh, pooh. You just sit there like, I dunno, some form of masonry or something … an inert hunk of building material, I don’t seem to recall the word. There’s a word for everything, isn’t there?

CINDERBLOCK: Cinderblock.

AGGIE: Why that’s it exactly! How come we don’t make love anymore? Ever since Flipper died …

CINDERBLOCK: Stinker …

AGIE: As the case may be. Why, you been moping around something awful.

CINDERBLOCK: (raising glass) Moping and drinking.

LARGE MAMA bursts in through bedroom door.

LARGE MAMA: When you going to give us a baby?

AGIE: Not now Large Mama! (pushing her out)

CINDERBLOCK: Oedipus complex. The one damn problem I ain't got.

AGIE: Oh, Cinderblock. Oh you big hunk of chess-playing man! (kisses him)

CINDERBLOCK: Ew! Girl cooties!

AGIE: (getting up) Fine! Stew in your alcoholic juices for all I care!

CINDERBLOCK: (hooking up IV drip of Southern Comfort) I'm trying, OK?

AGIE: No, it ain't OK! Oh ... be honest with me Cinder! How’d you break your ankle in the first place?

CINDERBLOCK: Ruy Lopez opening.

AGIE: Is that some form of deeply spiritual friendship?

CINDERBLOCK: Chess move. Broke into the high school chess club to see if I still had it in me … and tripped over the damn timer.

POOTER'S ROTTEN CHILDREN burst in.

POOTER'S ROTTEN CHILDREN: Agghh! We’re rotten children! (to Agie) You can’t get pregnant!

AGIE: Get the hell out of here!

She kicks the children out.

AGIE: Oh Cinderblock. Baby sweetie sugarpie. It ain't like I ain't sympathetic.

CINDERBLOCK: So ... wait. (thinking) You are sympathetic?

AGIE: Of course I am! I know you’ve never been the same ever since that day your index finger unaccountably spasmed and you couldn’t participate in the Mississippi vs. Minsk chess tournament.

CINDERBLOCK: No. Had to watch the big game on TV. Watching Stinker … just fall for that lousy discovered attack. That commie queen came outta nowhere and there was nothing I could do! Nothing!

AGIE: It hurt me, too, Cinderblock. That’s how come Stinker and I made love. Sort of.

CINDERBLOCK: Agghh! Crutch to Queen's Bishop 4!

He swings crutch at her head. Falls.

AGIE: Oh make sweet, sweet love to me, Cinderblock!

CINDERBLOCK: Forced … mate. Stale … mate.

Cinderblock falls unconscious. Agie pokes him with her cute little toe. He remains inert.

AGIE: Oh ... goddamn this sexual frustration anyway! (stamps foot) I feel like a pussy on a sizzling iron skillet!

ACT II

The same louche bedroom. Night. Later, I reckon. Summer lightning plays outside the screened-in terrace. Crosses burn in the distance. Now the whole damn decadent Southern family is gathered, I forget what their last name is. They're all clustered around a big old birthday cake waiting for Large Daddy. (Ad lib.) The cake is labeled "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LARGE DADDY," in case some sleepy theater patrons weren't paying attention when this was mentioned in the first act. Large Daddy finally bursts in through the long-suffering door.

LARGE DADDY: I’m Large Daddy and this here’s my birthday! Where’s my goddamn surprise?

BIG MAMA: You ain’t gonna die, Large Daddy. Surprise! Happy birthday!

LARGE DADDY: Crap! Get the hell out!

BIG MAMA: Well… I thought you’d be happy Large Daddy …

LARGE DADDY: I am happy! Just cause I’m angry and hollering, why do you assume I'm unhappy? Now go, you sorryass parasites! And take that goddamn cake with you! Crap!

The family leaves, dragging out the cake. Cinderblock twitches on the floor. Large Daddy looks at him.

LARGE DADDY: Not you, Cinderblock. Crap! You can stay.

CINDERBLOCK: (sprawled helplessly on floor) Thanks, Large Daddy.

Large Daddy walks up to his sprawled son.

LARGE DADDY: Cinderblock?

CINDERBLOCK: Yes, Large Daddy.

LARGE DADDY: Let’s you and me talk.

CINDERBLOCK: Let’s not.

LARGE DADDY: How come?

CINDERBLOCK: Well, sir. On account of you and me talk but we fail to communicate.

LARGE DADDY: Ain't that a line in Cool Hand Luke?

CINDERBLOCK: That ain't the point. You go round and round in circles and you’re kinda boring. That's the damn point!

LARGE DADDY: The hell it is! Crap! Cut the shit, Cinderblock. Crap! I think you got an alcohol problem.

CINDERBLOCK: (raising glass) No problem at all.

LARGE DADDY: Crap! What’s eating you, anyway?

CINDERBLOCK:  Well, sir. I'd always had a beautiful friendship with Stinker of the Platonic and non-Sodomite variety. Stinker’s understanding was a tad different. My wife screwed him silly in an attempt to persuade him otherwise or have a symbolic ménage a trios when I wasn’t actually present ... I never figured it out. The assignation ended badly and Stinker killed himself … or something. It hit me kind of hard.

LARGE DADDY: (opening eyes after nodding off) Sorry, son. I missed that last part. You were saying?

CINDERBLOCK: Surprise!

LARGE DADDY: Surprise?

CINDERBLOCK: You are gonna die, Large Daddy. Happy birthday!

LARGE DADDY: Finally, the truth for once! (sniffing) Ooeee that smell! Can't you smell that smell?

CINDERBLOCK: I think so, Large Daddy. Hey ... ain't that a line from Lynard Skynard?

LARGE DADDY: No. It’s the smell of mendacity, that’s what that is. Crap!

CINDERBLOCK: (sniffing) Actually, I think one of the Pooter’s rotten kids took a dump behind the …

POOTER: (popping up from behind couch) Somebody mention me?

CINDERBLOCK: Inadvertently.

POOTER: Hey, Large Daddy. You never loved me.

LARGE DADDY: Crap! Why do you say that, Pooter?

POOTER: Cause you named me "Pooter," Large Daddy.

LARGE DADDY: Fair enough. Crap! Thanks for concealing my impending death, you little shit.

POOTER: You're welcome, Large Daddy! Well. (whipping out papers from briefcase) Now that you know you’re dying, be so kind as to sign these papers and give me control of your estate.

LARGE DADDY: No. Crap!

POOTER: OK, then. Guess I’ll see myself out.

Pooter starts to leave. Stops. Turns around.

POOTER: Hey. Large Daddy?

LARGE DADDY: What? Crap! Goddamn it, what?

POOTER: Tourettes Syndrome, that's what. You might want to look into it, Large Daddy.

And now he does walk out.

Sound effect: CRACK of thunder.

CINDERBLOCK: A storm’s coming.

LARGE DADDY: How goddamn dramatic. Crap!

Agie and Large Mama pop up from behind couch. Agie has a massive smile on her face. Where else would it be?

LARGE DADDY: (looking at Agie) Where the hell did you come from? And why are you smiling?

AGIE: Cause I’m pregnant, Large Daddy!

BIG MAMA: It’s a miracle!

CINDERBLOCK: It sure as hell is.

Sound effect: CRACK!

The lights go out.