One Girl, One Microphone



A YOUNG GIRL OF TWELVE walks on from the wings and takes her place down-center behind a 1950s-era microphone. She is wearing a simple cotton dress; Mary Jane shoes; pageboy haircut; skint knees; and a somber; mature expression. The murmur of THE CROWD subsides, the microphone squeals, and she speaks.

 GIRL: Pistola. Pucker up. Pussy. Penis. Piss. Penile. Pune-taine. Purgatory. Philosophy. Pregnant. Puke. Putrid. Phil ACO. Phone. Fuck. Phallic Fantastic. Froderick the Fish. Philharmonic. The Caw of the Crow. The Magistrate. Indefinitely. Beat resistance. Try. Try Harder. Never Give up.

The crowd rustles in disapproval.

 GIRL: (undaunted) Tenacity. Re-parent. Re-socialize. Defeat the demons. Talk down the bullies. (angrily) You piece of shit I would love nothing more than to watch your…

(recomposed) Please help me. Check my lottery tickets. I want to go back to bed. Fuck the newspaper. Fuck Jesus and the Apostles. Fuck Buddha and Abraham and Allah and that walking turd Muhammad.

Angry noise from the audience.

 GIRL: Fucking joke. When was your religion formed? What’s its real history? Fuck your hypocrisy. Fuck your fake fucking fairy tale. Don’t you find it odd that Jesus lived and died without ever hearing that name? The Jets now have a quarterback.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: What did she say?

GIRL: Humpback Tallywhack. Sinister Sister. Seven Dust. Practice fucking a farm boy. Blood, shit, torment. Destruction. Hell. Hell, hell, hell, hell. For all the rednecks who ever cornered a faggot or a nigger or a kyke. For all the political bullying. Kill the religious. Fuck music and art and beauty .

A couple rises and hurriedly exits the theatre.

 GIRL: Start over. Burn it down. Start over. Burn it down. Someone needs to die for all the pain I’ve felt. Torment. Torture. Teased a lot. Laughed at. Kill them all. Wash the streets with their blood. Learn to enjoy killing. Admissible as evidence. Exhibit A. A small black Moleskin notebook. Fuck the system. Fuck society. Fuck the government.

The angry comments of the crowd crescendo. “What is this crap?”“Who does she think she is?””I don’t have to listen to this.” Several more people leave the auditorium.

 GIRL: Fuck your phony concept of God. Fuck teeth whitening kits. Fuck plastic surgery. Fuck smoking cessation programs. Fuck CrossFit. Fuck food. Fuck me and my body. Fuck cancer. Fuck AIDS. Fuck the Republican Party. Fuck the Democrats too.

A boy’s shoe comes sailing from an unknown pitcher, strikes the girl on the forehead, blood trickles down. She is stunned but quickly regains herself and continues with resolve.

 GIRL: Fuck Spud and Shawn and Phil and Cole. Fuck the Native Americans and their bloody woman-hating traditions. Fuck immigrants and the people who hate them. Fuck my mother and my father. Fuck dead people. Fuck the living.

The audience is now on their feet screaming at the offensive performance.

 GIRL: Fuck the Church of Christ. Fuck Scotch and Hollywood. Fuck RuPaul. Fuck that piece of shit faggot. Fuck the faggots and the straights and everything in between. Fuck my life. Fuck Renzo. Fuck UA. And please pass the bourbon. Did I say fuck Adam? Fuck that cunt in the head with a shotgun. Fuck a jock strap. Fuck porn. Fuck sympathy and compassion. Fuck the fucking United States of fucking America. Fuck the bourgeoisie. Fuck the proletariat. Fuck revolution. Fuck the tea baggers. Fuck liberals. Fuck the sun and the moon and the stars.

Half the audience has left. The remaining ones are throwing objects onstage.

GIRL: Fuck the planet especially. Fuck the Swaffords. Fuck everybody who loves me. Fuck my family. Fuck my friends. Fuck my enemies. Fuck Ireland. Hell, fuck all countries. Fuck wildlife and nature. Fuck my fucked up sense of humor. Fuck satire. Fuck anybody who can’t take a joke. Fuck any and everything sacrosanct. Fuck suicide. Let’s burn the motherfucker down. Fuck all drugs. Fuck alcohol. Fuck sobriety. Fuck celebrity. Fuck money.

MAN IN AUIDENCE: (exiting auditorium) “Fuck money.” Ha! That’s a good one.

GIRL: Fuck hunger and poverty. Did I say fuck CrossFit? Well fuck everybody who goes there. Fuck my ancestors. Fuck space aliens. Fuck the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. Fuck the patriarchy. Fuck the flag. Fuck war and all who participate in it. Fuck those who’ve been injured or killed by war. While you’re at it, fuck peace too. Fuck Facebook and fuck Jeff Key’s blog. Fuck everybody who reads it faithfully and Tennessee Williams too. Fuck those people who left and fuck those of you who stayed.

The few remaining audience members leave shaking their heads.

 GIRL: Fuck Jack Kerouac. Fuck Spaulding Grey. Fuck Hunter S. Thompson and David Foster Wallace and especially fuck Hemingway! Fuck the Ka’aba. Fuck the Haj. Fuck Christmas. Fuck Hanukkah. Fuck everybody else I forgot to fuck and in closing, fuck this.

THE GIRL makes her way halfway to the wings before turning and delivering a final question to an empty theatre–

 GIRL: See y’all tomorrow?

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