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PORTLAND BLOOD SLAM
A monologue from the play by Nick Zagone
download the complete text of Portland Blood Slam
| NOTE: This monologue is reprinted with the author's permission. All inquiries should be directed to the author at: nickzagone@msn.com |
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- YOUNG MAN: Ran her debit card for purchase
- Flaming haired young thing
- tats on the side of her face
- and spikes up and down her ears
- Ran her debit card for the purchase
- Her books: Ditta Von Teese
- and the newest young adult Twilight schlock
- I’m unfazed, how Portland ubiquitous
- Ran her debit card for purchase
- Thin waif, seemed tall but must have been the heels,
- pale against her black tank top
- Ran her debit card for purchase
- Pretty tough but pretty and the look seemed to fit her
- and she was comfortable in it― Some aren’t
- The confidence might be what made her… well…
- “Please enter your PIN”
- (Not your PIN number―that would be Personal Identification Number-Number BTW)
- She leans over the counter now close, into my… area
- Holding the pad (not many do)
- Mentions (like many do) that the keypad was unusually loud
- (It does have an annoying little “beep!”)
- There’s reason for that:
- And I give her my patent one liner:
- “Yeah, but during Christmas in here?
- You can’t even hear it.”
- She looks at me quizzically, lets that sink in,
- I smile, she coyly volleys a smile back:
- And. There. They. Were.
- Full reveal, there they were:
- Fangs
- She had Fangs
- Pearly white and brilliant against blood red lipstick
- She had Fangs
- Made her entire mouth gleam red and full
- She had Fangs
- About a half an inch long. Bicuspids. Canines?
- I don’t know I’m not a dentist,
- And I wasn’t about to go Google it either because I was too busy
- being stunned into zombie like silence.
- Fangs. This is new.
- Of all the tats spikes henna piercing scarring branding and kidyounot
- even devil horns,
- Of all the book stores in the city your insecure show-your-
- independence-body-mutilation had to come into Powell’s
- Forget that. Of course she would whatwasIthinking
- In the seconds seemed like minutes seemed like hours—
- I was trying to think… fake or grinded or implanted? Or maybe…?
- Now starting to, really becoming conscious of how:
- “Stirred” I was.
- Stirred was I.
- Deepdown. Deeep doowwn
- Abdomen. Thighs. Loins.
- Seen women with Fangs in the movies hundreds of times
- but see real ones Grotesquely beautiful ones up close
- You suddenly realize the allure
- I was turned on and off simultaneously
- My Catholic physiognomy simultaneously made me believe yet
- crushed my instinct Yin yet Yang
- Simultaneously
- I don’t really know what I’m saying.
- Basically, to be base, my John Thomas didn’t know whether to pull a
- Frampton Comes Alive or shriek and shrink into my pelvis: “Closed… But Please, please, please, call again.”
- Because frankly what if her mouth came anywhere near my…
- Oh god:
- And She knew it: What she was doing
- She’d seen it before And she liked it. What she was doing:
- She had fangs.
- I guess that’s why you’d get Fangs.
- And like a zombie automaton mouth agape, staring, I put the receipt
- in the books the books in the bag put the bag in her hand and then
- stopped, we played a little tug of war, she raised an eyebrow and I
- said:
- “I’m sure you’ve um.
- Been asked. But… um,
- I guess what I want to inquire is um—
- Why?”
- “Why?” She says “Why? That’s new. Usually I get ‘how?’”
- No, I’m just like, ya know… Why?
- And she says “Well, I guess, so I can do this:
- [He hisses, loud, like cat, teeth bared and evil.]
- Oh. And I let go of the bag.
- And she smiles again.
- And as she leaves, as she struts, as she moves across the store
- she keeps her eyes on me… all the way, out… the door.
- And then… in the window, because I’m still watching, she pauses and
- she does…
- [with index finger, a come hither motion]
- …this.
- Well, I’m on the clock, working, but hey I also got a girlfriend and
- that didn’t stop my ass either.
MORE MONOLOGUES BY NICK ZAGONE
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