Bathroom Confessional

a short play

dustin hansen

by Dustin Hansen

dustin@silentmouth.com

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AT RISE:

(A WOMAN in robe, hair wrapped up in towel
turban. Stares at audience as
though into a mirror. Has just
finished brushing her teeth, is rinsing and gargling and spitting, rinsing and
gargling and spitting . . . [This
spitting should be revolting–more like tubercular hacking–and this business
should continue for a very long time.])

(During this spitting, MAN enters, in boxer
shorts. Stands close to her,
looking into mirror [at audience]. Begins struggling to put on a tie; [he wears no shirt, however.])

(The WOMAN leans in closer to “mirror,” pulls skin
down away from her eyes, examines her face, her eyes, her wrinkles, etc. Leans away, looks.)

(The two look at one another. Pause. They look away, into mirror.)

(Long silence–as uncomfortable as possible.)

(The MAN turns on a radio. **Creative license should be taken with
this: very strange music, ads, a
newscaster announcing Nixon’s plan to run for reelection, and various and
sundry comic attrocities, etc.)

WOMAN

I
hate that.

MAN

What?

WOMAN

I
said I hate this.

(MAN changes radio station.)

(WOMAN looks at him, shakes her head.)

(MAN begins brushing teeth–preferably with an
electric toothbrush.)

(Pause. MAN turns, studies WOMAN. Begins a lengthy monologue [directed at WOMAN], brushing his teeth all
the while so that scarcely a word is intelligible, gesturing with other
hand. [This goes on for some
time. The WOMAN eventually
realizes he is talking to her but pays little attention and clearly cannot
understand him but does not much mind.])

(MAN finally stops talking, spits, gargles, rinses,
etc.–mainly gargles.)

MAN

Well?

(Pause. WOMAN removes towel from her head.)

WOMAN

What
do you want me to say?

MAN

Anything.

(Long pause. MAN begins shaving his face with an electric razor–the louder the
better. [**In fact, a barber’s
hair clipper would be preferable.])

WOMAN

Well,
if you want to know the truth, I never actually . . .

(WOMAN begins drying her hair with an electric hair
fdryer–the louder the better. Her
words drown out. She continues a
long monologue directed at MAN–but looking out [into mirror] rather than at
him, for the most part.)

(WOMAN turns off hairdryer. Still just beneath sound of MAN’s razor:)

But
that’s just me. I mean, I hope I’m
not being . . . I don’t want you to think that– . . .

(MAN shuts off razor.)

(Pause. Silence but for radio.)

MAN

What?

(Pause.)

WOMAN

Nothing.

(Pause.)

(MAN nods. WOMAN nods, feigns a smile. MAN checks nonexistent watch.)

MAN

We’re
going to be–

WOMAN

Yeah,
we better . . .

(WOMAN throws on a fur. MAN puts on a false moustache. They both put on gloves and hats. The MAN dons a stylish cane, the WOMAN a purse.)

(They feign smiles at one another [into “mirror,”
then perhaps at one another directly. Exit arm in arm, quite dignified and very sullen.)

(BLACKOUT)

(END
OF PLAY)