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Bad Sex Erik Johnke CHARACTERS: Mother, Father, Susie (age 12), Johnny (age 10), Danny (age 5) SET REQUIREMENTS: No set changes, Kitchen table with 5 chairs, kitchen counter with stove next to it RUNNING TIME: 10 minutes The kitchen of an ordinary home. An ordinary MOTHER is cooking breakfast for her ordinary children, while her ordinary husband, the FATHER, sits at the table reading the newspaper. Their youngest son, DANNY, sits at one end of the table, poking glumly at his bowl of cereal. MOTHER Johnny! Do you want your eggs pussy-side-up or fucked-over? JOHNNY (From offstage) Fucked-over! MOTHER What about you Susie? Do you want yours fucked-over too? SUSIE (Also offstage) No I want mine bitch! MOTHER Next time tell me ahead of time. It takes longer to make them bitch. SUSIE Sorry! (JOHNNY runs in with his backpack, throws it on the floor, takes his place at the table. He has a big smile on his face.) FATHER (lowering his paper) Good morning son. How was Assholes? JOHNNY Good. We learned about fire safety and played capture the fag. FATHER Ah, yes. Capture the fag. I remember it well. You win? JOHNNY No. They cheated. FATHER They were only cheating themselves, son. (JOHNNY rolls his eyes. MOTHER puts his plate in front of him. He starts to eat.) JOHNNY Thanks, Mom. FATHER What about you, Danny, you want to be in Assholes like your big brother? DANNY (his face lighting up) No, I want to be in Motherfuckers! (MOTHER and FATHER look at each other. JOHNNY snickers a little, and DANNY darts him a dirty look.) FATHER Motherfuckers, eh? Well, you know that’s not all fun and games, son. You have to practice every day, get in shape… MOTHER What your father’s trying to say is that if you want us to buy the uniform and all the equipment for Motherfuckers, you have to be willing to stick with it. We don’t want this to be another… DANNY I will! I promise! I wanna play pro! FATHER That’s fine, that’s fine. I would be very proud to have a professional Motherfucker in the family. But you don’t have to do that for us to be proud of you. You could be in Assholes, you could even be in Shitheads… JOHNNY Shitheads is for girls, Dad. Don’t be ridiculous! MOTHER Really, dear. FATHER I’m just trying to make the point that… (SUSIE storms in, throws her backpack on the floor, glares at JOHNNY.) SUSIE (to JOHNNY) You are disgusting! JOHNNY (with mock surprise) What? MOTHER What is it now? Can’t you two ever stop fighting? SUSIE He wrote… (JOHNNY waves his hands wildly in the air to get her to stop.) SUSIE (slowly and loudly, now that she knows she has him) He wrote SHAKESPEARE on the bathroom mirror with soap, and I had to clean it off! (MOTHER drops a plate in shock.) DANNY What’s a shakespeare? MOTHER Danny! Don’t you ever use that word again! Do you hear me? Susie! I’m surprised at you! SUSIE (whining) But I didn’t write it! He did! He’s the one who should be in trouble! FATHER Listen, kids. Some people call it a shakespeare, some call it a milton. The proper name for it is chaucer. JOHNNY Chaucer? Dad, come on. No one says that. FATHER And for a woman, dickinson. DANNY What about keats? MOTHER Danny! Who told you that? DANNY Johnny taught me a song… JOHNNY Shh… (whispering to DANNY) I’ll give you a chocolate bar later. DANNY No, it wasn’t Johnny… It was someone at school. FATHER (unfazed) Keats is poetry too, son. Males have coleridges to go with their chaucers. DANNY Do girls have keats? Sorry, I mean… colleges. FATHER No, col-er-idg-es. DANNY Col-leg-eg-es. FATHER Never mind. JOHNNY No, but when they get older, they get…Brontes! SUSIE MOM!! MAKE HIM STOP! MOTHER That’s enough! I don’t know why we’re talking about poetry and literature parts at the breakfast table, anyway! Good Bob! (MOTHER gives SUSIE her eggs.) FATHER Now darling, just because we’re Bob-fearing Whiskeys doesn’t mean we can’t talk about literature parts. MOTHER At breakfast? FATHER Why not? SUSIE I don’t believe in Bob, anyway, you know…or Martha Stewart. Even our Poop Leader in Shitheads says all those things you read about in the Cable are just stories. FATHER (to SUSIE) No one really believes in Martha Stewart any more, honey. MOTHER But Bob? The whole world believes in Bob! FATHER That’s true. Whiskeys, Scotches, Vodkas, even Kaluas…All the major alcohols believe in Bob. JOHNNY Why do we always end up talking about alcohol, Mom? (The BEEP of a school bus is heard offstage.) MOTHER (relieved) Oh! The bastard’s here! Off to crap! Don’t want to be late for crap, do you? JOHNNY I don’t care. MOTHER Oh, yes, you do. You have an excellent crap and you should be grateful. (CHILDREN pick up their backpacks and line up. MOTHER kisses each one.) MOTHER Off you go! Don’t keep the bastard waiting! CHILDREN Yes, Mom. (CHILDREN exit.) MOTHER My Bob! What are they learning in crap? FATHER Don’t worry, honey. They’re good pricks. MOTHER But I don’t want them using bad sex like that. What will people think? FATHER Darling, there’s no such thing as good sex or bad sex. It’s all just sex. Society just tells us some of it’s bad. It wouldn’t be bad if we didn’t think it were bad. (pointing to his head) It’s all in the piss. (He goes back to reading the paper.) MOTHER Well you’re the only one who thinks that. (after a pause, flirting a little) You’ll have to show me more about those literature parts, later. I’m not sure I understood it all. (FATHER folds up newspaper, stands, hugs her.) FATHER I’ll be sure to do that tonight. MOTHER (looking at clock, then pulling away and giving him his briefcase) All right, time for cunt. FATHER Cunt, cunt, cunt. Sometimes it seems like that’s all there is. I wish I could spend more time with you and the pricks. MOTHER Me too. (They kiss, stay embraced a little longer.) FATHER Listen. Bob or no Bob, you are a great masturbator to those pricks, OK? MOTHER (fighting back a tear) OK. FATHER I’ll be home as soon as I can. (Another quick kiss. FATHER exits. MOTHER goes to the counter, picks up the phone and dials.) MOTHER Judy? Hi, it’s Nancy. Listen, is your son in Motherfuckers? CURTAIN |
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