The Toxic Vagina: The Final Act


Gekko – A penis, in his sixties. Weathered yet resilient. Paul Reubens still won’t return our calls. We won’t return Corey Feldman’s. Pauly Shore has expressed an interest in the role, which we’re semi-excited about.

Tramell – A vagina, slightly past its use-by date but still of some intrinsic value. Prone to mood swings and violent outbursts with icepicks. We are in talks with Sandra Bernhard’s agent, and negotiations are ongoing . Tramell is currently self-employed as a clinical psychologist.


San Francisco, California, U.S.A.. A tastefully decorated office in the Pacific Heights area.


Parallel Universe, Vector 9B.


The set is intended as a performance space. There is a couch, as well as a few plush chairs and a solid oak desk imported from Italy or New Jersey. Costumes and props are always visible. The basic costumes are the ones worn by the company of actors. Costumes to portray the actors should be simple yet elegant: a shirt, some designer prescription eyewear, possibly a headpiece of some description. The goal is to suggest, not to recreate. With this in mind, this is a character-driven piece.


NARRATOR: Colton passed in the night on Wednesday of last week. The service, which was yesterday, was well-attended and appropriately touching whilst retaining an air of dignified grace becoming of a highly respected gentleman such as Colton. Gekko spoke at the wake and there was nary a dry eye in the house. He tugged on some heart-strings with his poignant and beautiful words. That cock really brought the noise, so to speak, paying tribute to a loyal friend, sending him off into the great unknown in a manner befitting his stature. We join Gekko as he meets with Tramell, an old confidant of his as well as a psychologist of high repute. Their session is in progress.

TRAMELL: How did your friend’s death make you feel, Curran?

GEKKO: Did you just call me Curran?

TRAMELL: Yes, I did. Does that strike you as unusual?

GEKKO: It does, in so much as it isn’t my name.

TRAMELL: Seriously?

GEKKO: As a heart attack.

TRAMELL: What kind of fool am I? I’ve been calling you Curran this whole time! How stupid do I feel?

GEKKO: It’s alright, really. I am a face that wears many masks.

TRAMELL: Even so, there’s egg on my face. I graduated magna cum laude from Berkeley in ’83, double major in psychology and lit. I’m better than this and I need to show that now.

GEKKO: Never mind. Chalk it up as a rookie mistake and move on.

TRAMELL: All those years of tutelage under the watchful eye of Doctor Glass for nothing. All wasted time.

GEKKO: You’re being too hard on yourself, Tramell.

Tramell shifts in her seat, uncrosses her legs in a cinematic fashion and re-crosses them. Gekko looks over at her and can’t help but notice that she is bereft of undergarments. Her pubic thatch is closely cropped and inviting in appearance, in spite of the advanced age of its owner.

GEKKO: I killed my friend, Tramell.

TRAMELL: Should I alert the authorities?

GEKKO: No! I didn’t kill him directly, I didn’t murder him, but my actions certainly contributed to the illness that ultimately killed him.

TRAMELL: Because you are aware that if you have transgressed, or are thinking of transgressing in the future I have to alert the authorities.

GEKKO: I haven’t transgressed, Tramell.

TRAMELL: Alright then. Please, go on.

GEKKO: Right. I think my addiction killed Colton.

TRAMELL: What are you addicted to, Curran?

GEKKO: It’s Gekko. You did it again. My name is Gekko.


GEKKO: You called me Curran again.

TRAMELL: No I didn’t.

GEKKO: Fine. Anyway, I’m addicted to sex. I’m a sex addict.

Tramell doubles over with laughter.  

GEKKO: Not the response I was hoping for, I gotta tell you.

Tramell composes herself.

TRAMELL: You’ve got to be shitting me.


TRAMELL: You’re addicted to sex.

GEKKO: Is that a question or a statement?

TRAMELL: Neither. Let’s call it a declaration.

GEKKO: Should I leave?

TRAMELL: No. I want to bill you for a full session.

GEKKO: Right.

TRAMELL: You’re not addicted to sex, Curran. No more than me or anyone else is.

GEKKO: But I am! And my addiction – my inability to control myself – killed my friend.

TRAMELL: Stop being so fucking dramatic. You thespians are all the same. The world doesn’t begin and end with your words and actions. Overcome your ego. You’re a human thing and you experience feelings of arousal and you act out those feelings. That’s all it is.

GEKKO: But my greed for female company lead to his downfall. And now my friend is dead.

TRAMELL: Balls. Greed is good, Curran. Don’t forget that.

GEKKO: I’ll try to remember. It’s Gekko by the way.

Tramell hands a book to Gekko.

GEKKO: What’s this?

TRAMELL: It’s a copy of my latest book, Love Hurts 2: Look Who’s Hurting.

GEKKO: Oh. Thanks, I guess.

TRAMELL: You’re welcome. I’ll add it your bill for today’s session.

GEKKO: Right.

TRAMELL: I think we’re making real progress here, Curran. I feel good about the direction you’re headed in. Same time again next week?

The curtain falls.