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Oreos - A Monologue
JP
14 Jul 2003
David is in his mid twenties and is talking directly to the audience.
David: Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen, how is everyone tonight? Ah nice to see that. Now, just a little personal question, how many here smoke? You sir, you would call yourself a smoker? And for how many years? Hmm… ___ years, that's a long time.
You see I was a smoker myself. Yep, was right up to about a pack a day. Stress was just eating me up, you know, being an actor and all, and I finally came to the realization that I needed to quit. Well, I was talking with a fellow colleague one day and I asked him how he managed to quit. Well, he said that he quit the death sticks cold turkey, said that all he did was pick up the first thing closest at hand to feed that craving impulse. The nearest thing, he said, was a bag of Oreos. Long story short, that's also how he gained an extra twenty pounds, but anyway, it worked.
So I decided to try this radical new way of kicking the habit, I mean, I wasn't about to do it half-assed by using a patch. So, one idle Tuesday I was sitting at home doing something close to nothing, memorizing a script, Thorton Wilder it was, when I quit. Right there I said 'no more' to lung cancer and shallow breathing. But then that impulse came. It came like a torrent, a tsunami that hit me like a Japanese bullet train. I had to have something, something to curve it, anything. I didn't have any cookies, all I had at the time were canned goods, no good, they take too long, too cold to eat right away, slimy. Then I looked down at my pants and figured 'what the hell…'
Right there I whipped out my trouser snake and beat off like my head was on fire. And the funny thing was that it worked. It calmed me down; I was cool as a cucumber.
After that, every time I had that old craving I would, you know, choke the chicken, flog the bishop, pound the pudding, and so on and so forth. It was all good. Until it got, pardon the expression, out of hand.
I became Pavlov's Dog. Even after the cravings subsided I would smack the weasel for the hell of it. Not just for pleasure, but if I got bored or daydreamed. It became insane to deal with life. Ring the bell and off I'd go. I did it so much my arms would cramp up something awful for long periods of time and I even got caught a few times. You try explaining to your girlfriend's father why you were in his closet with your pants down instead of downstairs at Thanksgiving dinner spooning broth for grandma to gum. But the worst of it was when my girl wanted some of the good old-fashioned romping in zee hay. Well, the foreplay was grand, I'm the auteur par excellance when it came to that, but when it came down to the main attraction, well, the word 'premature' can't even begin to describe it. It was horrible. I mean, everything was lovely dovey up until that point, I mean there were the candles illuminating their soft glow that struck upon her heavenly naked body, and her body felt silky and smooth against my fingertips. The smell of dozens of rose petals hung in the air, sweet melodies of Barry White stirred the soul and she lay there, a seductive angel to behold, beautiful, stunning, words cannot compare…
And right before entry I came, and spoiled the entire damn thing. I came like a bloody rabid, hyperactive dung beetle on crack cocaine. All over her it went in a cascading shower, she shrieked in surprise and disgust………and I hung my head in shame.
Moments later she went to wash her hair of my steaming filth, eat some Haagen-Dazs and watch Letterman. I was left all alone, a broken man with a dong that was so preemie that it could be considered the undeveloped fetus of all dicks.
Well, after that I kicked the nasty habit. How did I do it you ask? Simple, with the help of Mr. Joe Camel here. (Lights up a cig and savors a drag) Mmm… has been three months now, yes sir, no more stained pants for me, no sir. (Coughs. Looks at cigarette thoughtfully)
You know, I never liked Oreos. Anyone in the house got a Fig Newton?
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