This time last year, I wrote a column in which I discussed “The Vagina Monologues.” Specifically, I said I don’t like the play. This was not meant as a political statement. Rather, I was expressing my aesthetic tastes as a theater lover.
Nonetheless, the reader reactions to my column were rife with political overtones. Some even called for my resignation as president of the vagina fan club.
As I was preparing the column last year, I had a conversation with a bright young woman who no longer works for the Emerald. She suggested I write a play about penises. I rejected the idea at the time. Now, however, after seeing the reaction to my column, I have reconsidered this suggestion.
If you cant beat ’em, join ’em, as the saying goes. So here, in the spirit of friendship and inter-gender communication, I offer “The Cock Conversations: A Wretched Play in One Very Short Act.”
Actually, I’ve already started. For you see, the hallmark of a really bad play is that it doesn’t speak for itself. An awful play must be explained, explored and contextualized before it becomes even marginally enjoyable. The message overburdens the medium, which necessitates lengthy introductions, discussion sessions, Q&A panels, etc.
The message of this particular bad play (which is, if I say so myself, particularly bad) is that a human being’s identity is more or less wrapped up in that person’s relationship to his or her genitals. As such, the characters will have no names other than “Penis 1,” “Penis 2,” etc. And now, without further ado –
Penis 1: Ah, the penis. How grand. How mysterious. Think of all its many glories.
Penis 2: What are the many glories? I count two: screwing and peeing.
P1: Don’t forget masturbation.
P2: No one can accuse me of forgetting masturbation. I was just counting that under screwing.
P1: And there you see the many glories. There are many ways to screw, many ways to experience the penis.
P2: There are many ways to pee, as well.
P1: Indeed. Standing up. Sitting down. On a tree. In the snow. While your girlfriend is aiming it. While aiming it at your girlfriend.
P2: Are we really allowed to say that?
P1: Of course. As we learned from that other play [wink, wink], the only thing more empowering than an over-analyzed self-referential play is an over-analyzed self-referential play laced with titillating and gratuitous images designed to incite giggles among the audience and outrage among religious groups that would never see the play anyway. A protest over indecency is the best publicity money can’t buy.
[Enter Penis 3]
Penis 3: Guys! Did you know we can say “cock” in this play?
P2: Seriously?
P3: Seriously. Isn’t that empowering?
P2: Do we have to say “a-doodle-doo” afterward?
P3: No. And we can say “pussy” without “cat,” “dick” without “Tracy,” “douche” without “bag,” and “cunt” without – [Expletive Deleted. Because even Gabe Bradley has to draw the line somewhere. At least until next year when he switches over to satellite radio.]
P2: Wow. I do feel empowered. Except for that horrendously offensive part at the end.
P1: The horrendously offensive part marks the point in our play when we’ve milked all the shock value we can from talking about our junk –
P3: Cock!
P1: -and now we must turn to the heartbreaking stories of the dark side of life with a penis.
P2: [Warning: True Story Ahead] When I was a kid, I had a pair of those footy pajamas with the zipper all the way up the front. One time, I got up to pee in the middle of the night.
P1: Did you aim it at your girlfriend?
P2: I was five. I had neither a girlfriend nor the ability to aim. Anyway, after I had finished peeing, I caught my junk in my zipper.
P3: Like in “There’s Something About Mary”?
P2: It wasn’t that bad. But it was enough to make me cry.
P3: Ha, ha. You pussy.
P1: Hey! We only use the word “pussy” with respect. Not as a pejorative.
P3: Don’t be such a cunt.
P1: Hey!
P2: I think if you got your dick caught in you footy pajamas, you’d cry too.
P1: Did it leave a scar?
P2: Yes, but it’s a really big scar.
[curtain]
So, that’s the play. Though I’ll probably never get another date ever again, I take solace in the fact that there is now one more search result for those who Google “Gabe Bradley vagina.” The proceeds from tonight’s performance will be donated to help prevent violence against women.

[email protected]