Contemporary American Monologues for Men by London Todd;

Author:London, Todd; [London, Todd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Theatre Communications Group

POUNDING NAILS IN THE FLOOR WITH MY FOREHEAD

BY ERIC BOGOSIAN

Rage and paranoia are just two of the emotional states driving the boogeymen who parade through Bogosian’s solo show. In “Rash,” a wealthy man stands at his $3,000 Hammacher-Schlemmer barbecue on his fifteen-acre estate, which is surrounded entirely by barbed-wire-topped fencing, talking to a friend while the children from his most recent marriage run around the pool. He hates to leave his house these days and fantasizes about napalming the Bowery. The title of the sketch refers to the rash he got when a beggar shook his hand in thanks for a twenty-dollar bill and infected him with “some kind of bum disease.” It is America, 1994.

“Rash”

I ever tell you about my friend, George, down on Wall Street? Now, here’s a guy, about three years ago, makes a killing. Shorts some stock, makes fifteen million dollars on one deal. Says to himself: “That’s it, I win.” Gets off the street. Goes down to the South Pacific, buys an island. They’re not that expensive, about two million bucks. Moves his whole family down the island.

I’m talking to him on the phone yesterday, says it’s great down there. Beautiful weather every day. Inexpensive. He’s got a satellite dish, gets a hundred and fifty stations. Gets it all: Seinfeld, the Knicks. No problems with parking, car hijacking, drugs . . . it’s his own island, he’s the king of the island. And I know how he feels . . .

I mean, look, I’m the world’s biggest liberal. But you know I’m watching that CNN, I’m watching those riots in L.A. and I’m thinking to myself: “What if they start doing that around here? What if they start running around like that around here?”

I mean, look at this house, Charlie. You can’t see this house from the road. We’re vulnerable up here. What happens, we’re up here one Sunday, we’re hanging out: reading the paper, eating bagels, grinding coffee beans. I pick up the phone to call my mother: “Oh, the phone is dead!”

I look up, a couple of black guys are at the back door. Breaking down the back door. They don’t even have to be black guys, could be anybody. Then what do I do? What do I do then? “Oh, come on in, would you like a cup of coffee? Maybe you’d like to rape my wife, kill my kids, burn my house down?”

What do I do then, Charlie? What do I do then?

That’s why I have the gun.

I would, I would shoot them, for the kids I would shoot. If they were from the phone company, I would still shoot them.

Anyways, these are ready.

Jeremy, honey, come out of the bushes, Daddy’s not angry anymore, Come on out, we’ll discuss it later. We’re gonna have din-din now. No, no hot dogs, we’ve got fifteen-dollar-a-pound prime sirloin from Dean & DeLuca, now come out of the bush. COME ON! COME IN THE HOUSE!

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