Reality, Self Delusion and You: A Play

the reality, self delusion, religion, tithing, tithe, bible, irony, absurd, theatre, theater
featuring: Reality, an overworked woman in her late 30s, with frizzy, greying brown hair and sad brown eyes



Self Delusion: viewed differently by every member of the audience as their sexual fantasy, with occasional glimpses of something corrupt and twisted.



You: well, there you are.



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You, in a room with Self Delusion. Self Delusion pats your arm and whispers soothing nothings about prayer and god. You feel the urge to swat the slime off your arm, though you can't imagine how it got there.



Enter Reality.



"Sorry I'm late, I just got back from a conference on abstinence only edu--Oh, now what is going on here? And why weren't you at the conference?"



Self Delusion smirks and flicks a mucous-encrusted tail that isn't there. "Well, dear, I knew I wasn't winning that one, so I decided to get to our next appointment a little early."



Reality opens her battered messenger bag and immediately drops what appears to be at least one billion sheets of paper on the floor. She starts sorting through the papers. "Which one is this? The abusive relationship? The dying child? The foreclosure? Oh, yeah, this is the foreclosure, isn't it?" Reality triumphantly pulls a crumpled sheet of paper from the pile, which then disappears. She scans the page, then smiles. "This one is easy." Reality turns to You and says, "Just stop tithing to the church, and you'll have enough money to pay your mortgage."



Self Delusion snickers and gestures for You to speak. "I can't stop tithing," You reply.



Reality, who had been in the process of fading off to some other appointment, brings herself back. "What do you mean, you can't? Of course you can. Stop handing over the money."



You glance over at Self Delusion, who nods encouragement, and seems to have grown fangs. "But the Bible says . . ."



Reality snorts and pushes frizzy curls out of her face. "The Bible says to give everything away to the poor. Of course, if everyone did that, everyone would simultaneously become poor and not poor, and anyway," She roots around in her bag and withdraws another crumpled paper. "Your church is doing . . . quite well. They won't miss your money."



Self Delusion laughs. "Oh, Reality, you are so naive." He turns to You. "Go on, dear."



"I'm a good Christian. I can't stop tithing."



"Look, I'm late for two virgins getting married so they can screw. Your church is using your money to build a bigger, better church. Do I need to get Irony over here to explain to you exactly what losing your home so your church can have a bigger, better one is?"



Self Delusion giggles and rubs his claws, no hands, together. "Please, please tell her!"



You stand up straight and declare, "God will provide."



"Oh, fuck me." Reality sits on a chair that appears a bare moment before she touches it. She scrubs her hands across her face and fixes You with a sad-eyed glare. "No, god will not provide. God doesn't provide. God lets little children starve to death and die of treatable, even preventable, illnesses. God allows war and famine and plague, and doesn't give a shit if a tornado destroys your house and kills your whole family.



"God helps those who help themselves. That was me! I came up with that so that credulous fucktards like you would stop waiting for divine help. May as well pray for rain in the desert, you stupid snot! I am so sick of having to smack you morons in the face because you don't have the sense to see the train comin' down on you!"



Reality walks over, grabs You by your collar and gives You a hard shake. You can't help thinking that she hardly looks strong enough for that. Her grip is like iron and her eyes have taken on a distinctly reddish cast. "I'm going to speak slowly so you can understand me. Self Delusion is a really good-looking beast, but I. always. win. in. the. end. Always."



"Oh, but you lose so much along the way," purrs Self Delusion, licking his perfectly arched eyebrow with a serpentine tongue.



Reality lets go of your collar and starts to fade again. Oddly her eyes remain clearly visible. "Do what you want. In the end, you still have to deal with me." She spares an exasperated glance at Self Delusion. "C'mon, you need to go convince two virgins that the awkward, nervous sex they have on their wedding night is the best they could ever have. And totally worth skipping college for."