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A monologue from the play by John Epperson
MY DEAH (thirties – forties)
This farce is a Southern-fried send-up of Medea. My Deah, a former beauty queen, is on the verge of being dumped by her husband Gator for a pretty young bimbo. Here, she tells some neighbor ladies how she is coping with this misfortune.
Mignon, honey, who do you think you’re kiddin’? The three of you have always looked down on me all smug and namby-pamby because I work. But I’ve lived! I’ve frolicked and I’ve f***ed and I’ve had fun!
And all you could do was watch. Anyway, I don’t care what you think. I just want to lay down and die. Gator was my whole life. And he knows it! Now he’s just like all the other men I know —
except, of course, all your faithful husbands! Face it!! Us women are merely junk in this world. Men’s lust rules the earth. Can’t live without ’em though, so we hook up with one. Don’t know:
Will he turn out to be good or bad? If he turns out bad, we can’t get divorced. That’s not respectable. Not here in the polite hospitality of Jackson, Mississippi! And especially not if you are originally from Louisiana,
the rival football team of the University of the Goddamn State of Mississippi! So, you try and make character with people. Try to make nice. Practically have to know witchcraft to make friends,
but sooner or later, you do find people to socialize with. Make a good home for your husband, try and figure out what he likes. Want to make him happy — in every way. Even on Sunday!
Maybe you and him are livin’ a little beyond your means, but everybody thinks you’re a fine couple and they’re all envious. Course, he’s bound to get restless.
And, yes, I know Gator spent quite a bit of time down at that Tiffany’s Sho-Bar, but that didn’t mean he was lookin’ to set up house with any of that trash. So I just bided my time and kept my mouth shut — and made sure my vibrator was workin’!
