Me: Misogyny. Men hating women. Why is there a need for such a word? Is it just to give us a label for a few disturbed deviants? Or is there more to it? We'll find out tonight as three men who have been charged with offences against women take the couch and confess their secrets to a psychiatrist while under hypnosis. And let's start by introducing you to the psychiatrist, Doctor Sheila Blackpoole!
(Applause. Zoom out to show Blackpoole sitting beside me in the guest chair. She nods to the audience.)
Me: Thank you for loaning us this real psychiatrist's couch for our show. I can see what your patients like about it. Once you lie down in it, you never want to get back up.
Blackpoole: Not only that, but it relaxes the mind along with the body. I bet you're feeling very comfortable about opening up and sharing your innermost secrets right now.
Me: Come to think of it, I am feeling pretty relaxed. And I suppose I don't have anything to hide.
Blackpoole: Not even from your childhood?
Me: It was as innocent as the next person's.
Blackpoole: And that must have been when you first developed your dislike of women.
Me: What do you mean? I stick up for women all the time.
Blackpoole: Why else would you make misogyny the focus of tonight's show? (soothing tones) It's all right, David. Lots of grown men still bear childhood trauma. The key is to get it out in the open. Think back to when the girls were bigger than the boys. Was there anyone who may have mistreated you?
Me: In what way?
Blackpoole: Oh, you know, kid stuff: name calling, bullying...
Me: My mind is a blank.
Blackpoole: Maybe someone took your milk money?
Me: (after releasing a long, plaintive howl) CHRISTINE! I HAD NOTHING TO WASH DOWN THAT PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH WITH! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME? (I burst into tears.)
Blackpoole: That's very good, David. Now we just need to find your happy place-
(Commercial.)
(I am at my desk. Doctor Blackpoole sits beside me in the guest chair.)
Me: Our first guest allegedly uttered death threats to a woman. Let's get him out here. Tom Wordsworth, ladies and gentlemen!
(Applause. Enter Wordsworth. He is guided to the couch and instructed to lie down.)
Me: He's all yours, Doctor.
Blackpoole: Thank you. How are you feeling, Tom?
Wordsworth: I don't know why I'm here. I didn't say nothin'.
Blackpoole: Now, Tom, I can tell you are upset. I need you to let go of your anger. Take a deep breath. (Wordsworth complies.) Do you feel the warm comfort of the couch? Do you feel its leathery fingers massaging your back?
Wordsworth: I sorta feel somethin'.
Blackpoole: And now the soothing sensation is working its way up to the back of your neck, loosening up those tense muscles. And now it has penetrated your skull. Do you feel it wringing out all the anger in there? Letting it all fall to the floor as great drops of leftover booze? Tom? (Tom has slipped into a trance.) Are you still with us, Tom?
Wordsworth: (in a monotone) I - am - with - you.
Blackpoole: I need you to go back to the night of the crime.
Wordsworth: No - crime. -- Bitch - had - it - coming.
Blackpoole: What makes you say that?
Wordsworth: Bitch - stole - my - beer - money.
Me: She what? She stole his beer money? Well no wonder he was so upset.
Blackpoole: That's still no excuse.
Wordsworth: COME - BACK - HERE!
Blackpoole: Tom, I need you to calm down.
Wordsworth: GIMME - BACK - MY - MONEY! I'LL - KILL - YOU! KILL - YOU - YOU - BITCH!
Me: Doctor, if she stole his beer money-
Blackpoole: David, please stay out of this!
Wordsworth: KILL - YOOOU! -- NEEEEED - BEEEEEEEEER! (His hands reach up slowly, as if to choke an imaginary neck.)
Me: (to camera) Sorry, folks. This may take more time than we thought, but I'm sure we'll get it all straightened out during the commercial break. Tom Wordsworth! (Applause.)
*********************************************
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(Grandma's kitchen.)
Grandma: Did you like the casserole, Billy?
Billy: Can we have chocolate cake for dessert?
Mother: Billy! That juice has more than enough sugar for you!
Grandma: No, he's right. But that cake mix is just so darned expensive.
Announcer: Looking for a break in your grocery bill? Research shows that a considerable portion of human waste is recyclable. That's why we developed Econo-flush, the amazing new bathroom accessory that collects edible proteins from your droppings.
(Product installation shot.)
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(Grandma's kitchen.)
Grandma: How do you like your chocolate cake, Billy?
Billy: It tastes like shit!
Mother: Billy!
Announcer: Stop flushing your grocery dollars down the drain with the Econo-flush food recycler. Available at the following outlets...
*********************************************
(The couch has been cleared.)
Me: Our next guest assaulted a woman in front of as many as seventeen witnesses at a night club. Mister Sparky Short!
(Applause. Enter Short. He lies down on the couch next to Doctor Blackpoole.)
Blackpoole: Hello, Sparky. Are you all ready to open up to the world?
Short: I got nothin' to hide.
Blackpoole: I still detect some hostility in your voice. I need you to take a deep breath. (He complies.) That's right. Just close your eyes and let the couch take you away. You're not in the studio any more. You're lying on an air mattress, adrift in a vast sea.
Short: Adrift - in - a - vast - sea.
Blackpoole: You can feel the warm ripples gently pass under you. You haven't a care in the world. Are you still with us, Sparky?
Short: I - am - with - you.
Blackpoole: Good. Go back to the night club where you were arrested. Can you see the girl you assaulted?
Short: See - the - girl.
Blackpoole: What is she doing?
Short: Smoking - cigarette.
Blackpoole: And what are you doing?
Short: Telling - her - no - smoking - allowed - in - club.
Blackpoole: Breaking club rules is no excuse for assault, Sparky. And now what is she doing?
Short: Butting - cigarette - on - my - head. - Ah! - Pain! (He puts his hand on his forehead.)
Me: She put out the cigarette on his head?
Short: You - drunken - little - TRAMP! -- GRAB - YOU - BY - THE - HAIR!
Blackpoole: Sparky, that's not how we solve problems.
Me: Doctor, it sounds like she assaulted him first.
Blackpoole: Never mind what it sounds like.
Short: GRAB - YOU - BY - THE - HAIR! -- MAKE - YOU - PAY! (He lurches forward, causing Blackpoole to recoil with a whimper of fear.)
Me: Are you all right?
Blackpoole: Yes, I'm fine. Maybe you should go to a commercial.
Me: (to camera) Oh well. You heard the lady. We'll be right back after this. Sparky Short, everyone!
Short: MAKE - HER - PAY! LET - GO - OF - ME! -
(Applause. Commercial.)
(The couch is vacant. Blackpoole's blouse has been torn and her hair has been tousled.)
Me: Topping off our guest list tonight is a man who actually set fire to a woman's apartment while she was in the act of lovemaking. Boy! This kind of crime takes a real psycho. Would you please welcome Mick Carson!
(Applause. Enter Carson. He smiles and waves to the audience as he lies down on the couch.)
Blackpoole: Are you relaxed enough to speak openly?
Carson: Sure.
Blackpoole: Good. Because we're not having much luck with the hypnosis tonight. Now it says here on your record that you are an artist and a song writer.
Carson: I am.
Blackpoole: That's normally a very sweet, gentle personality type. How did you find it within yourself to commit such a violent act?
Carson: I just lost it. I just thought of all the women who betrayed me in my life.
Blackpoole: How many women betrayed you?
Carson: They must number in the millions.
Blackpoole: Now you're talking nonsense.
Carson: Oh yeah? Ever hear that hit song, Praise?
Blackpoole: Yes. So?
Carson: So, I wrote that.
Blackpoole: Oh, right. I recognize your face now. You're the one who had his hit song stolen.
Carson: And the guy who stole it went out of his way to bang every woman in earshot of me. I can still hear the upstairs girl from my old building crying out his name in bed, waking me up in the middle of the night. Of course, the business gave him the money to do this to me.
Blackpoole: But everyone knows it's your song now.
Carson: Yeah, great, now that I hate everyone. Now that I've gone broke to focus on my music and now that I've been left to get bounced around like a toy by the same women who went to that thief on their knees. But this one chick had me thinking she might help me get over it. It was just the way she smiled at me, you know? So I finally let down my guard and let her know I was interested. And what did I get? 'Oh, you'll just have to wait in line as I make this other guy feel like a man and leave you to listen to it by yourself like a helpless little girl!' I just lost it. All women want to do is use their pussies to stab at my heart! I tell you, I wish to God I'd never shared my music on the internet! I wish I could find the where-with-all to fucking KILL MYSELF!
Me: Doctor-
Blackpoole: I know, David. Please let a professional make the ruling on this matter. Derrick, you could have killed those people.
Me: No one was hurt.
Blackpoole: David, STAY OUT OF THIS!
Carson: So what? Just another phony-ass couple, pretending they're in love! The man looks at the woman and thinks 'she's my slave' at the same time as the woman looks at the man and thinks 'he's my slave'!
Me: Right! There's no love! No sacrifice! It's all just a vicious power struggle!
Blackpoole: Now just calm down, both of you!
Carson: What do you know about it, you tight-assed prude? All you need to do for sex is go find almost any man out there and spread your legs.
Blackpoole: How dare you!
Me: Actually, he may have a point there.
Blackpoole: David!
Me: But we won't know for sure tonight because we're all out of guest time. Thank you all for being here. And thank you at home for joining us. Back with a song after these important messages.
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