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THE DEALER
A Play by William D. Tucker
Copyright 1999, 2000, 2002, 2007. All rights reserved.
Performance Inquiries: williamdtucker2099@gmail.com

Characters:
FELIX
THE DEALER

Place:
A bench, somewhere in the Big City.

Time:
1990s.


Lights up. The Dealer is sitting on a bench. Enter Felix, the addict.

FELIX:
Hey, man, what's happening?

The Dealer nods at Felix.

FELIX:
You been sittin' here all day?

The Dealer shrugs.

FELIX:
Hey man, that's cool.

Pause.

FELIX:
You mind if I sit down?

The Dealer gives him a look.

FELIX:
I've been walking all day.

The Dealer stares at him.

FELIX:
Hey, look, I'm just tired is all, I just want to sit. But if this is your bench, I won't hassle you.

Felix starts to go.

THE DEALER:
What's your name?

Felix turns, surprised.

FELIX:
What? Did you say something?

THE DEALER:
Yes, I did. You got a problem?

FELIX:
Uhh, no, no, I just . . .was walkin' away. And you spoke. A-and I didn't expect you to say-'cause when I was talking before you didn't say-

THE DEALER:
So you didn't expect me to say anything now. Right?

FELIX:
Yeah. Right.

The Dealer nods and looks away from Felix.

THE DEALER:
Yeah. You can sit.

FELIX:
Thanks.

Felix starts to sit.

THE DEALER:
But you gotta answer my question first.

FELIX:
What?

THE DEALER:
The question I asked you before.

FELIX:
Before . . .?

THE DEALER:
Look, kid, if you're gonna play games with me you can go sit someplace else.

FELIX:
No-games? I was just-

THE DEALER:
Because I don't have time for games.

FELIX:
Yes. I just-

THE DEALER:
So answer the question.

FELIX:
I will.

THE DEALER:
So answer it.

Pause.

FELIX:
What was the question?

The Dealer glares at Felix.

THE DEALER:
Get outta here.

FELIX:
No, what was the question, I'll answer it.

THE DEALER:
Go on home, kid.

FELIX:
No, please, sir, please. If you would just tell me what-

THE DEALER:
I said go home.

FELIX:
No! I can answer you, if you'll just tell me the question, I can-

THE DEALER:
Too late. Had your chance.

FELIX:
Please! I need to sit next to you!

THE DEALER:
Why do you need to sit next to me?

FELIX:
Because you have what I need.

THE DEALER:
Oh! You were paying attention on that one!

FELIX:
Yes! See? I hear you. Now, I need to sit-

THE DEALER:
Kid.

FELIX:
Let me finish!

THE DEALER:
I'd really like to, but I can't.

FELIX:
Why? I listened to you!

THE DEALER:
That's not how this works.

FELIX:
Then how does this work?

THE DEALER:
If you don't answer the first question, then you're not allowed to answer subsequent questions. Them's rules. Play by 'em. Get ahead in life.

FELIX:
Are you kidding?

THE DEALER:
No.

FELIX:

I don't need this bullshit.

THE DEALER:
You gonna answer the first question?

FELIX:
Fuck you, fatherfucker! You goddamn shiteater-I KNOW YOUR KIND! I KNOW YOUR, UH, FUCKING SCUMBAG KIND, YOU BENCH WARMING FAGGOT FUCK DEGENERATE MOTHERHUMPER! YOU WANNA FUCK WITH ME, COCKSUCKER? FUCK ON THIS!

Felix draws a switchblade knife.

FELIX:
THOUGHT I WAS A COCKFUCKING SQUARE, DID YOU? WHO'S GOT THE UPPER DICK, NOW? HUH, MOTHERFUCKER?

THE DEALER:
I don't know what-

FELIX:
I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW! FUCK YOU WITH YOUR I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! YOU SIT HERE LIKE LIKE LIKE-

Felix is overcome with rage. He cannot speak. He clenches his teeth and emits a high pitched keening wail. The Dealer stares at Felix, mouth open. Felix runs out of steam. He closes his eyes very tightly, unclenches his teeth, puts away his knife, takes a deep breath, lets it go. He looks at the Dealer.

FELIX:
You asked me what my name was.

Pause.

FELIX:
My name was-is Felix.

THE DEALER:
Nice to meet you, Felix.

FELIX:
I need something from you.

THE DEALER:
Would you like to sit down?

FELIX:
No.

THE DEALER:
You don't want to sit next to me?

FELIX:
I'm too angry to sit.

THE DEALER:
So . . . whaddya need?

FELIX:
I need to make a purchase.

THE DEALER:
From me?

FELIX:
Yes.

THE DEALER:
What's that?

FELIX:
YOU FU-mmmmmmmm. You-mmm. You know . . . what. You know what it is that everybody wants from you.

THE DEALER:
Uh-
huh.

FELIX:
It's why you're here. It's why . . .people . . . like
you even exist.

THE DEALER:
You . . . uh . . . did not answer my question.

FELIX:
Mmm.

THE DEALER:
Good sir.

FELIX:
You know-

Felix draws knife again.

FELIX:
-I could cut you.

THE DEALER:
You could. You can.

FELIX:
I work out. I'm stronger than you.

THE DEALER:
You're a big man.

FELIX:
Make you beg to die.

THE DEALER:
Sure you could.

FELIX:
But . . . I guess I'm just a square at heart.

Felix puts away knife, sits on bench. Stares into space.

FELIX:
Meaning.

Felix and the Dealer lock eyes.

THE DEALER:
Meaning. You want it. You got it.

FELIX:
I don't want a whole lot. Just enough for the weekend.

THE DEALER:
Sure.

FELIX:
Monday . . . going to a clinic. So, you know.

THE DEALER:
Whatever, kid, it's all good.

FELIX:
And . . . I don't give a fuck if you don't believe me.

THE DEALER:
I didn't think you did.

FELIX:
You're a scumbag, too.

THE DEALER:
Breaking my heart.

FELIX:
Could be cutting your face.

THE DEALER:
And here all I've been is nice to you.

FELIX:
Saw a movie the other night. Guy puts on a mask-

The Dealer pulls a package out of his coat.

FELIX:
-'cause he's sick of all the whores, the scum, the degenerates-

The Dealer unwraps the package.

FELIX:
-this guy goes around-cuts 'em all up with a machete.

The Dealer produces several pairs of thong panties, red, blue, yellow, and green.

THE DEALER:
Sounds like a, uh, a studio classic.

FELIX:
You bet your dick.

THE DEALER:
So this one-

The Dealer holds up the red thong.

THE DEALER:
-is Sheena. Want a sniff?

FELIX:
Yeah. Gimme.

Felix holds the thong to his face, inhales deeply.

FELIX:
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

THE DEALER:
Yeah. Uh, this-

Holds up blue thong.

THE DEALER:
-is Jennifer.

Felix takes red thong off of his face, looks at blue thong.

FELIX:
Yeah. I'll take the lot.

THE DEALER:
What?

FELIX:
I'll take 'em all. Give me the package.

Felix takes out wallet. He gives the Dealer a wad of cash. The Dealer hands Felix the package.

THE DEALER:
Good business.

Felix puts the red and blue thongs back inside the package, wraps it all back up, and then he sits there, staring into space.

THE DEALER:
So that's that.

FELIX:
Yeah.

THE DEALER:
So what happened to your regular guy, you gotta come to me?

FELIX:
Maybe I'm a cop.

THE DEALER:
Oh, yeah?

FELIX:
You with your questions. Don't even ask me if I'm a cop.

THE DEALER:
Yeah, suck my dick.

FELIX:
Mmm.

THE DEALER:
For all you know, I got a gun up in this motherfucker. Fuck you.

Felix stares at the Dealer.

THE DEALER:
You wanna fuck, honey, or what?

Felix spits in his face.

FELIX:
Scumbag.

Felix stands up, package under arm, exits. The Dealer glares after him.

THE DEALER:
Call me a degenerate . . . freak motherfucker. Jesus Christ.

The Dealer wipes the spit off on his sleeve. He laughs.

THE DEALER:
Maybe I
should carry. Shit.

The Dealer laughs.

THE DEALER:
Clinic on Monday-lying ass motherfucker. I'll see you soon, Felix-I'll be waiting. With more meaning.

The Dealer laughs some more.

BLACKOUT. END.


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