In high school I had the privileged of being introduced to different playwrights and Christopher Durang was the right mix of Catholicism, Freud and Sex.
Beyond Therapy by Christopher Durang
Charlotte: (Through intercom) You may send the next patient in, Marcia. (She arranges
herself at her desk. Smiles in anticipation)
(Enter Bruce. He sits)
Charlotte: (Continued) Hello.
Bruce: Hello. (Pause) Should I just begin?
Charlotte: Would you like to begin?
Bruce: I threw a glass of water at someone in a restaurant.
Charlotte: Did you?
Charlotte: Did they get all wet?
Charlotte: (Points to child’s drawing) Did I show you this drawing?
Bruce: I don’t remember. They all look alike.
Charlotte: It was drawn by an emotionally disturbed three year old. His parents beat
him every morning after breakfast. Orange juice, toast, Special K.
Bruce: Uh huh.
Charlotte: Do you see the point I’m making?
Bruce: Yes, I do, sort of. (Pause) What point are you making?
Charlotte: Well, the point is that when a porpoise first comes to me, it is often
immediately clear…Did I say porpoise? What word do I want? Porpoise.
Pompous. Pom Pom. Paparazzi. Polyester. Pollywog. Olley olley oxen
free. Patient. I’m sorry, I mean patient. Now what was I saying?
Bruce: Something about when a patient comes to you.
Charlotte: (Slightly irritated) Well, give me more of a clue.
Bruce: Something about the child’s drawing and when a patient comes to you?
Charlotte: Yes. No, I need more. Give me more of a hint.
Bruce: I don’t know.
Charlotte: Oh I hate this, when I forget what I’m saying. Oh, damn. Oh damn,
damn, damn. Well, we’ll just have to forge on. You say something for a
while, and I’ll keep trying to remember what I was saying. (She moves
Bruce: (After a bit) Do you want me to talk?
Charlotte: Would you like to talk?
Bruce: I had an answer to the ad I put in.
Bruce: Personal ad.