Wednesday, May 29, 2013

The Royal Itch by Nemat Sadat (Radio Drama)

What are your thoughts about "The Royal Itch" a short fiction based on a true story I was inspired to write in my Oxford Radio Drama class?

Characters: Bashir, a musician, and Mukhtar, an INGO consultant, are upper-class Afghan professionals in their late-20's who reside in the artsy Qala-i-Fatullah district of Kabul; they are an engaged couple expected to get married soon in Paris, France as it is now legal for them to do so. Enjoy!

Bashir: Oh no, here we go again.
Mukhtar: What now?
Bashir: It's the royal itch.
Mukhtar: Oh dear, is it flaring up for the umpteenth time?
Bashir: Oh yeah.
Mukhtar: You finished all the baby wipes. Fiber drinks with your dinner didn't work.
Bashir: I know.
Mukhtar: Aren't you tired of washing your bum after every #2? And you shoved how many stool softener bullets up your ass hole?
Bashir: I know. I know.
Mukhtar: Stop that. You actually don't know.
Bashir: Are you mocking me?
Mukhtar: No. That's it. It's time to go to the doctor.
Bashir: Oh hell no. Embarrassing!
Mukhtar: But how long are you going to keep your bum out of business?
Bashir: Out of business? You make it sound like I'm a bitch or some random tramp.
Mukhtar: Okay, out of order.
Bashir: Oh stop it. You're not going there.
Mukhtar: I sure you want to. Badly. It's been a while.
Bashir: I bet.
Mukhtar: You know, they say if you penetrated it with a dick, the problem would just go away.
Bashir: Are you crazy?
Mukhtar: Oh dahling, just give it a try.
Bashir: Bath tissue is painful. Your fully erect tool would be the kiss of death.
Mukhtar: Well, then you need to stop the booze--you are a heavy drinker? No more trips to the Macroyan liquor store.
Bashir: Look, who is talking, the Mr. Whino himself.
Mukhtar: And for God's sake, stop all the spicy food. The midnight snacks you grub on hot Indian curry. No wonder you keep aggravating it.
Bashir: I guess I just need to overcome my denial and tolerate the embarrassment.
Mukhtar: Isn't more embarrassing when you have your bloody runs, when you are in the middle of work or in the gym?
Bashir: I suppose you are right.
Mukhtar: Look, if you don't cure yourself, I'm going to call of the wedding. We are not going to fly out next Saturday?
Bashir: What? Are you serious? You wouldn't? After all the trouble you went through to get our French visas.
Mukhtar: Oh, you think I'm kidding. I've been faithful to you but if your body is out of commission what good are you?
Bashir: Bastard.
Mukhtar: It really not a big deal, but your making matters worse?
Bashir: You're right it's a tiny deal but a monstrous itch.
Mukhtar: Well, if you don't get treatment, I'm going to cancel our Paris wedding and honeymoon. No French kiss on the Eiffel Tower and no dinners on the Seine if your bum is still a unholy mess.
Bashir: Oh wow. You wouldn't leave me?
Mukhtar: Wanna bet? I'm serious Bashir. If I don't have sex three times per week, I go crazy. I haven't tasted it for half a year now.
Bashir:  I guess if I just overcame my phobia and let loose.
Mukhtar: You haven't ever had a problem loosening up for in the five years we've been playing together!
Bashir: Well, you are not a stranger probing my ass hole. You're my lover. My partner and soon to be  husband.
Mukhtar: Give me a break, not if you don't fix the hurricane in your ass. Do you want me to make the call?
Bashir: Yes, ask Dr.
Chattopadhyay at the German Clinic for his first available appointment. On second thought, shall we just fly do Dubai for treatment?
Mukhtar: Stop stalling. We can go to Sheikh Zayed Road and you'll probably end up with another Indian doctor. I'm sure Dr. Chattopadhyay has the experience and proper tools to treat hemorrhoids.
Bashir: Okay, okay. You are probably right.
Mukhtar: You just watch. He's going to zap those triple bulges and minutes later you will be in relief.
Bashir: Oh God! The triple bulges blistering out of my ass hole. Seriously, man's worst friend!
Mukhtar: Drama-queen! That's why I'm madly in love with you.

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