by Bryan Reynolds
SCENE 1: PHOTOGRAPHY STUDIO -- AFTERNOON
(Facing the audience, LAURA, a glamour photographer, directs
three models (unseen) as she photographs them. Dance music
enhances the action.)
Yes ... Perfect ... Keep moving ... Don't
stop ... Ginger, keep your head up. Nice.
Excellent Pedro. Marc, you're on fire.
Yes, yes, fabulous.
(Laura continues to shoot.)
The three of you are so hot! Yes. Yes.
It's all good. Go Marc. That's it. Now
Pedro and Ginger move in on Marc. Dance
with him. You're with him ... That's it.
You've got him. He loves it.
(Laura's mobile phone rings, and she pauses to answer it.)
Excuse me. Excuse me everyone.
(The music stops.)
(into the phone)
Hello, this is Laura ... Who? ...
Michael? (Aside.) Fuck.
SCENE 2: STREET OUTSIDE WASABI BAR -- LATE AFTERNOON
(Preoccupied as she walks home, Laura encounters AUTUMN,
Oh, hey, um--
Autumn, you know, your "favorite
bartender" -- at Wasabi.
Yeah, of course, I'm sorry. How's it
Great, groovy -- for you? ... Obviously
not for you. What's up?
Yeah, sort of, but not with Keith -- my
boyfriend -- not yet. My ex-boyfriend is
in town for one night, and wants to have
drinks with me.
Oh, that could be fun, or interesting.
But this bothers you, or Keith?
I don't know.
So, it's you that doesn't want to be, or
wants to be, bothered?
I don't know -- not sure. Seeing Michael
could be really -- um --
No. Really difficult.
I'll tell you what -- bring the ex to
Wasabi. Tonight's slow, so I can keep an
eye on things.
It might be more than just difficult to
see him, but I want to. I feel that I
Then you do.
Yep, you do. Catch you later.
(Autumn walks off.)
See you ... tonight.
SCENE 3: LAURA AND KEITH'S APARTMENT -- LATER
(KEITH, a professor of English literature, sits on the couch.
He rests his feet on a coffee table, on which there are two
red-wine glasses (one is filled with wine), a bottle of red
wine, a bong, a cordless telephone, and a remote control for
the stereo (the stereo is out of sight). He is reading Michel
Foucault's Discipline and Punish. He puts the book down, sips
his wine, picks up the remote, points down stage, and
presses. Soft music comes on (jazz or classical). He takes a
bong hit (or hit off a pipe) and settles comfortably into the
couch. He listens, with great appreciation for the music. He
is waiting for someone.
Suddenly, and somewhat nervously and in a rush, Laura enters.
She begins to remove her clothing immediately as she talks to
Keith, leaving items of clothing strewn about the living
Hi, sorry I'm so late. Today was just
No problem. I've been reading. Just
I'm really sorry I'm late.
I wanted to get home sooner. I wanted to
talk with you about Michael calling me at
(Keith lifts up the remote control and turns down the volume
on the stereo. Laura removes her shirt, etc., and exits out
of sight, where she changes into dressier clothes. She
continues to talk as she does this, but with a louder voice,
as from the other room. While she's speaking, Keith gets up
from the couch, gathers up Laura's clothing, and returns to
the couch, where he neatly folds the clothes before putting
them on the coffee table.)
He's in town for just one night, and he
asked me to have drinks with him.
I felt bad. It's been over a year since
I've seen him. Last time was when I
bumped into him and his wife at Heathrow
Airport. That was really awkward.
You told me.
It was horrible. Anyway, I'd like to go.
You could come too. Would you mind if we
I'm pretty beat. I taught my seminar
today on Marlowe and witchcraft, and
there was this crazy born-again Christian
in the class who claims that George W. is
a modern-day witch hunter, an exorcist
sent by God to rid the world of evil--
Well, would you mind if I went, then?
I'm already running late, so I gotta go
now. I'm sorry. Can you tell me about the
(Laura re-enters, dressed to kill. She notices the folded
clothes, but chooses to ignore them.)
(noticing her attire)
Looks like the plan was already made?
It was, but it's still breakable.
You're ditching me to go on a date with
your old boyfriend?
I'm not ditching you.
So, let me guess, you're meeting him at a
steak house or a sports bar -- aren't
those the kinds of places you guys used
to go to?
We're going to Wasabi. (Keith looks
wounded.) It's no big deal, really. And
he's not that bad. I'd just like to see
him. I was with him for three years,
While he was with his wife, right?
They were separated. They got separated.
So, you're taking him to Wasabi -- to
meet our favorite bartender -- it's
Don't be silly. Look, this is really
nothing. Like I said, you can come -- if
you want. It's not like he doesn't know
I'm with you, living with you. Come
along, if you want.
Sure. It wouldn't matter.
Okay, I'll come.
There's no one else here for me to hang
out with, and I've got nothing else to
You sure? You still have all those papers
The coffee colored ones stuck to the
Oh yeah. But I'd rather meet Michael.
Really? You really want to come?
You'd like to meet Michael?
Since when? Are you joking?
It'll be really nice to him. We can talk
about cigars or golf or football or the
Stop making fun of--
No, really, it'll be great. I promise.
It will be awkward.
(still relaxed on the couch)
Are you retracting your offer?
It'll be fine. It'll definitely be
Well, I'll have to call him at the hotel.
I need to prepare him -- that's only
(picking the phone up and
giving it to her)
Yes. Of course. Call him.
(taking out her mobile phone)
That's okay, I've got the hotel number on
(She calls. Waits.)
Hi. Could I have Michael Grant's room
please? ... No that's okay. (To Keith.)
He left already.
Try his mobile.
(She calls. Waits.)
No answer. I could leave a message?
No. Don't bother.
So, I guess we'll just have to surprise
him, and see what--
Forget it. I'll stay home.
Really? Okay. Well, I'll call you.
Oh, about every hour or so--
No. But I will call you. I just want you
to feel alright, and included, because
I am? Okay, call me. I'll be here.
(leaning to kiss him)
I'll call. Okay?
(getting up, kissing her)
Talk to you soon.
Yes. I love you.
I love you too. See ya. (Just as she
exits.) Have fun!
SCENE 4: WASABI BAR/LAURA AND KEITH'S APARTMENT -- EVENING
(Both locations are visible.
Wasabi's decor is trendy industrial but warm, even romantic.
Lounge music plays quietly in the background. Laura and
MICHAEL are sitting at a table drinking martinis. They've
already had a couple.
Keith is sitting, as before, on the couch, reading Discipline
and Punish. But now he also has a box of cereal on the table
from which he occasionally eats. He also occasionally sips
his wine and, at some point, takes another bong hit.)
Yeah. I'm fine.
You think I don't care about what's going
on in your life.
Pretty much, yep.
I do. I'm listening. You said your job is
going great, and, well, of course I want
to know all about him. Tell me, now that
we've talked about me for awhile.
You don't want us to talk about you
As if you were actually paying attention
to what I was saying.
What are you talking about? Do I look
Just not so present, a little indifferent
-- if you really want to know.
(As Laura and Michael talk, Keith prepares to masturbate,
taking out a porn magazine or putting on a porn film,
changing the lights, etc. Keith is perhaps facing the
audience with a television blocking his crotch.)
So I need to prove to you that I was
listening -- that I'm here. This is just
like old times. How fun.
Sure, prove it. I love it when you get
like this, all ego-invested. It's really
sexy, you know? You're sexiest when
you've got a purpose.
A "purpose"? Alright then, sexy I'll be.
Let's see. You're doing better than ever.
Of course you are.
(Michael stands, taking Laura by the hand, and dances slowly
You got promoted. Ra, ra. You're now one
of the company's many vice presidents.
You made over three-hundred thousand
dollars last year. Woo whoo.
About four-hundred thousand.
Your golf game is topnotch -- handicap of
three. You even beat some pro. How am I
doing? Am I turning you on?
You love Miami. It's the best. And only
the best for you will do.
We bought a new house on the
Right. And your relationship with your
daughter is extraordinary. It's the best
And? Oh, you did the right thing -- you
returned to your horrible marriage with
Jane so that you could be the father you
were supposed to be, the father your
father expected you to be -- but never
was himself. And the bonus. Jane finally
got those breast implants, the ones you
always dreamed of. What a consolation
prize. (Short pause.) So, what are they
like? You must carry a picture of them
around with you. You do. I know you do.
Yes. Can I see them? Please? She was
wearing too much at Heathrow. Come on,
show them to me.
(Laura lets go of Michael and stops dancing.
Michael nonchalantly takes a photograph out of his wallet.)
I knew it.
(Keith focuses on his own porno stimuli.)
(handing the photo to her)
Okay. Here you go. Knock yourself out.
Oh my God! They're gigantic! How in the
world does she lug those things around
with her? Don't tell me, you hired a
human bra, a little Cuban woman that
holds them up from behind, walking behind
her wherever she goes -- to the club,
and, to the club, and -- to the club.
Where else? Oh, the salon. (Short pause.)
How does she sleep with them? And with
you? In the same bed? Do you still need
Okay. That's enough. You freak. You're
right. They're just a little -- okay huge
-- consolation for getting back together
with her. It's true. I admit it.
You're a jerk. Really pathetic. You know,
she had really nice breasts. Aren't you
even the slightest bit embarrassed? Now
she's a spectacle. And you, Michael,
you're a pig. (She laughs.)
Well, if I'm a pig, then you're the most
beautiful pig-fucker I've ever met.
(Pause.) You know, I really miss you.
I miss you too.
(Michael leans into Laura, as if to kiss her. Laura responds
by backing away. She sits back down at the table, taking a
swig from her drink.
Keith continues masturbating.)
So, tell me more about your "beau."
What's his name again -- Theodore?
(Michael sits down at the table.)
Keith. His name is Keith. How many times
do I have to tell you?
I'm not a pig-fucker anymore, even if you
are still a pig. Once a pig-fucker
doesn't mean always a pig-fucker. At
least I'm not a dog-fucker like Jane--
Come on. Let's not go there.
Keith is amazing. You should be happy for
me: I'm in love with him. You probably
wouldn't like him. He's very different
from you, from anyone I've ever met,
really. He's from New York. He's from
this great family -- the nicest people,
all highly-educated. He's Jewish, but not
So what's he do?
He's an English professor. And a poet.
He's a wonderful poet. You'd like his
poetry. And, I swear, he's got insight
into everything, from movies to art to
rock music. He understands and
appreciates me -- as I am. He's not
afraid to give me space.
He doesn't discourage me to pursue my own
interests. He's not afraid of my
What are you talking about? I wasn't
afraid of your femininity.
Yes you were.
Really? What about that time when I used
my menstrual blood to draw lightning
bolts shooting from my vagina down the
inside of my thighs and up my abdomen?
That was when you refused to make dinner;
and you ran around the house screaming,
"My power is in my pussy -- watch out!"
I knew you were afraid. With Keith, I can
do that any time.
I'm sure you can. You know, I'm a poet
too -- remember? I've written lots of
poetry. And I'm writing a novel. So, why
wouldn't I like him?
(with subtle lament)
He's not wild like you: he wouldn't--
I may not be the sharpest knife in the
drawer, but I'm not exactly an idiot. I
was a journalism major, and I do have an
MBA, and not just any MBA--
You're still writing that novel? Sweetie,
I know you're a poet, and a writer. (More
sincerely.) You wrote me beautiful,
romantic poetry, and letters.
I sure did.
After you went back to Jane, I would read
your poems over and over again, trying to
understand how you could say the things
you said and not mean them. How could you
mean them one day and not the next?
Look, I meant every word, Laura, always.
I always meant what I said--
I used to carry your poems and letters
around with me. I read them all the time.
I even memorized some.
You were always memorizing something--
There was one I carried with me until the
paper fell apart.
Laura, come on -- don't be so dramatic.
It goes like this--
You've got to be kidding.
Yeah, I'm just kidding. Like you Michael,
(Laura's crying. She stares at Michael for a moment, hoping
for some kind of verbal or physical response. Michael finally
puts his hands on her, but she immediately walks off,
exiting. Autumn observes this.
Keith cums, enjoyably.
After a few seconds, the bartender Autumn walks over to
Excuse me. Would you like another drink,
or some munchies.
What? Oh yeah, food. Good idea.
You probably want to wait for your
girlfriend. Didja want another--
She's not my girlfriend -- anymore.
(Keith kicks back, relaxing.)
Oh. I'm sorry. You didn't just--
No, we split up two years ago. Tonight,
well, we're just catching up, torturing
each other, you know how it is--
Why would I know?
I, I don't know, I just figured--
Well, I thought -- (Deciding not to
pursue Autumn's line of questioning.)
It's actually very sad. I couldn't be at
two places at once, live two lives. I
have a daughter -- Amy.
And a wife?
It's a matter of economy, isn't it? It's
about the bottom line.
(checking her out)
What do you mean?
(checking him out)
You know, you cut your losses, and do
what's most convenient.
No, I'm not sure I do. Go on. Enlighten
Come on, you're a businessman, aren't
you? (He nods.) Let me guess: You fell in
love with the other woman -- a beautiful
woman. But to be with her, and be truly
happy, you would have to defy convention,
hurt people, and not live up to your role
as husband and dad.
The guilt was too much, and, well, you
didn't have the strength. You were too
much of a coward to get what you wanted.
It takes a lot of courage to choose
Hold on. Back up. I did the right thing.
You think so? Maybe you shouldn't be with
her -- your wife, I mean.(Pointing
towards the restroom.) Do you love her?
Do you love your wife?
Of course I do.
Is everyone happy with the way things
(gesturing towards restroom)
Everything's back to normal. We're all
happy, especially Laura -- she's got
And why couldn't you have had it all?
What do you mean, "have it all"? I tried
Did Laura and your wife get along?
They never met.
What do you mean "how come"? I was having
an affair! I was leaving my wife for
Did they ever say they wanted to meet
each other? They must have some things in
common, other than you.
Yeah, they both said they wanted to meet
each other. But usually only when angry
or joking. (Laughing.) Laura used to make
jokes about a threesome with Jane. But
that's her sick humor. What exactly are
you getting at?
Sorry to be so harsh, man, but it sounds
like you did do the "right thing," since
you had neither the courage nor the
imagination to pursue all options. I'm so
(Laura returns from the restroom. She's obviously feeling
better. She's happy to see Autumn. There is an especially
good vibe between them.)
Hi. (Looking at Autumn, holding eye
contact. To Michael.) Are you ordering
(more to Michael than Laura)
We do have the spicy tuna roll, but you
don't want it because its too hot. (More
to Laura.) Everything else is available.
(Autumn hands them menus. Laura sits down.)
Do you cats want anything else to drink?
I'll have another. (To Laura.) How about
Definitely. Thank you.
(looking at Laura)
Coming right up.
(Autumn walks behind the bar, and fixes their drinks.)
I'm fine now. I just needed a little
I was worried about you. I just had the
weirdest conversation with that
bartender. Probably because I'm so drunk.
I don't know why, but for some reason, I
told her a little about us. And, you know
what she called me? She called me a
"coward." She said I lacked courage
because I didn't try to "have it all."
"Have it all" of what?
Basically, she suggested that I should
have tried to get you and Jane together,
as friends, I guess, but probably as
Really? Go on.
This will sound crazy, but I think she
was suggesting that you and Jane and Amy
and I could have all lived together, as
I don't think she was joking.
Was she coming on to you? Why else would
she suggest something like that?
I don't think she was just coming on to
me. She was serious. And, I'm not sure
about this, but she seemed interested in
you, too -- she called you "beautiful."
Really? Huh. (Pause.) Remember that time
when we made love in the back of the
limousine -- in D.C.? And I was howling
like crazy -- going nuts, kicking the
And then the limousine driver spoke to us
-- afterwards? I was so embarrassed. It
didn't occur to me that she could hear us
through the glass.
Yeah, that was a blast. You were going
bananas. That night was excellent.
Then you asked her to come up with us to
our hotel room. Which was fine with me.
She was pretty hot. But then just when we
were all having a great time massaging
and fondling each other, you fucked her.
Why did you do that?
I thought that's what we were doing.
But you didn't ask me first. And I--
But you implied that it was okay.
I said, "Michael, don't, please -- wait."
You said that?
Don't fuck with me, Michael. I'll leave
I guess I just thought it was the right
thing to do at the time. We were--
It would have been okay with me if you
had asked me first, if I felt we were in
it together -- as we were up until that
moment.(Pause.) Michael, you know, I did
wonder about the possibility of me, you,
and Jane being in a relationship
together, living together. It was obvious
to me that we would get along, even
though we are very different people.
(almost an aside)
At least that's something I fantasized
about. But every time I mustered up the
courage to mention it to you, I would
remember that night with the limo driver,
when you betrayed me. You have no idea
how much you hurt me.
I'm sorry ... "possibility"?... you must
have been on drugs when you had that
fantasy. You didn't really think--? Now
you're fucking with me, right?
Whatever you say. What do you want to
I don't know. Why don't we just order a
shitload -- like old times.
Excellent! I'm starving.
Great! Why don't you order for us. I'm
gonna take a leak.
(Michael exits to the restroom. As he passes Autumn, who is
bringing their drinks, he cuts in front of her.)
(with subordinating sarcasm)
We're ready for "munchies."
(She puts their drinks down on the table.
We see Keith in their apartment picking up the telephone and
Here ya go. I love your hair. So, you're
ready to order?
Yes. (Seductively.) You can touch it if
Are you serious?
(Laura's mobile phone rings. Looking smug, she takes her
mobile phone out of her bag.)
(walking away, softly)
I'll be back.
Hey. How are you?
I'm okay. I thought you were going to
I was gonna call you, but then the
waitress, Autumn, came over. She's so
cute. I miss you.
Oh yeah, say "hi" for me. I miss you too.
So, how's it going? Where's Michael?
He went to pee. It's going alright. A
We still have our issues -- about why he
went back to Jane and--
That's still a problem? Don't you guys
have other things to talk about -- about
your lives now?
You know it's not that easy. What have
you been doing? Have you moved from the
Whatta you think?
You know, actually, Michael should be
back any second. I should go.
You have to get off the phone with me
because Michael's coming back? I don't
get it. I thought you made our
relationship clear to him? That's the
only reason I felt comfortable letting
you go out with him.
What do you mean "letting" me go out with
him? Really, honey, I don't want to make
him feel too uncomfortable. I'll call you
later, okay? Please?
In an hour, right?
Yeah. Okay, an hour. I love you.
(Michael reaches the table, observing her on the phone.)
Is that Keith?
Is that Michael?
Ask him to join us.
(shaking her head to Michael,
but speaking to Keith)
Okay, I'll call you again in a little
Really, ask him to join us. Why not?
What's he saying?
Nothing. (Making a joke out of it.) He
wants you to join us.
Huh. That's okay, just call me later.
(putting his hand on the phone
to take it from her)
Can I talk with him?
Michael wants to--
(taking the phone)
Hi, Keith, this is Michael.
Hey, why don't you come down and join us?
(Autumn returns to the table. This is a flirtatious
interaction that is simultaneous with Keith and Michael's
Can I take your order now?
Um. (Switches attention from Michael to
Autumn.) Sure can.
What do you want?
Oh, a lot of things.
(Laura points at items on the menu and Autumn takes notes on
This, this, and this, and this.
For you, anything.
Thanks. But I've got papers to grade.
Besides, you guys have a lot of catching
up to do.
Nonsense. I'd love to meet you. Laura
can't stop talking about you. So hurry
up. You know, she's quite besotted with
(pretending he doesn't know the
definition of besotted)
That's an unusual word -- kind of
No, not really.
Does it mean something like a combination
of intoxication and infatuation?
Not exactly, but you're on the right
track. So, are you coming?
Sure. I'm on my way. Can you put Laura on
(passing the phone to Laura)
(Autumn starts to walk away.)
Hi. Hang on a second. (To Autumn.)
I forgot. Is the crabmeat real or fake in
the California rolls?
It's real, actually. But, you know, I
like the artificial stuff better. It's
always fresh feeling. Resilient.
I like that too, actually. We'll have eel
You got it.
(Autumn walks away.)
I'm coming, okay? (Short pause.) Hey, can
you hear me?
(into the phone)
Whatja say? Sorry 'bout that--
(looking curiously at Michael)
Alright, if that's what you want.
Bye. (She puts the phone away, and looks
at Michael, who smirks.)
SCENE 5: WASABI BAR -- LATER
(Empty plates, scraps of sushi, and several glasses are on
the table. Much feasting and alcohol consumption has
occurred. Lounge music plays. Michael, Laura, and Keith sit
at the table, in that configuration. There is an extra chair.
Everyone is drunk and laughing.)
... Since you're the hotshot professor,
how about answering an English literature
question for me?
It's sort of a scholarly one, but really
personal; it's been bugging me for
It's actually an American literature
question, if that's alright? Do you know
that stuff too? You must.
Yeah, a little. What is it?
I never cared much for English
literature. American literature just
makes sense to me -- I'm American. I love
Hemingway. No writer captures the soul of
man more earnestly.
Right. Got it.
Keith, I was wondering if anyone, any
scholar, has written about stories where
the father is missing or hidden or
something, like in The Scarlet Letter and
Lolita, two of my favorite novels. You
must know them, right?
Yes -- one's by a Russian. They're among
my favorites too. Laura loves them also.
The way I see it, and I'm not the most
articulate about literature, so please
bear with me -- the main problem in The
Scarlet Letter is that the preacher...
Dimmesdale -- who screws Hester Prynne,
is too chicken-shit to own up to his
fatherhood. He can't admit he's the
(Keith notices that his chair wobbles a bit.)
So everyone suffers, but the one who
suffers most of all is his daughter
Pearl. But we never get her side of the
Right. But we know she's fucked up in the
head because of Dimmesdale's absence.
There are all those descriptions of her
weird behavior. She's a weirdo, and they
ridicule her because she has no father.
Her mother is also tortured by this.
Basically, she's a freak.
Yeah, but what about--
And in Lolita, because that chick's got
no father, she's a freak too. She has no
father to lay down the law, to teach her
(Laura motions to Keith to let Michael continue.)
Yeah, that's right, because of this she
fucks every willing father-figure she
meets -- first her mother's boyfriend
Humbert, then the pervert playwright. She
does this not because she wants to fuck
them or because she loves them, but
because she really wants to hurt them.
I think so.
Don't be so sure.
You see, by fucking them, and getting
them hooked on her -- I mean really
hooked on her so that their lives are
destroyed -- she satisfies her revenge
against her real father for ditching her.
(As he talks, Keith attempts to re-fix/adjust his slightly
wobbly chair. This bugs Michael, because it's distracting.)
He split and she wants to get him back,
anyway she can, by getting somebody,
anybody, like him all fucked up.
Do we know anything about--
I think Nabokov and Hawthorne were really
onto something important. They both cared
more than most writers do about the
effects of a girl not having a father.
(Emphatically, also in response to
Keith's preoccupation with the chair.)
Nobody seems to care about this anymore.
(abandons fixing the chair,
That's really an interesting reading.
Yes, and, who knows more--
I can imagine an important thesis tracing
the trajectory of discourse on the absent
father in the American novel--
--on how his absence influences the
fatherless daughter in a patriarchal
system that depends on the father's
presence for the proper psycho-social
development of the daughter.
Yeah, I'm onto something--
And what do you make of the famous
trajectory of discourse in American
novels in which the daughter is tortured
or raped by her own father? Like in Toni
Morrison's The Bluest Eye?
Stay outta this. You're a photographer.
We're talking literature and fatherhood
here. And I don't think his novels are
that famous, or good.
Really, he's a she, and she won the Nobel
(Laura quickly -- drawing Michael's and Keith's attention to
her -- takes a fancy small camera from her bag, and takes a
picture of Michael, then Keith, then herself.
Michael and Keith stare at her for a moment, then Keith
continues with the conversation.)
You know, there is this theory of the
father's influence, developed by this
famous literary critic named Harold
Come on Keith. He's not going to get
this, or care.
What am I not going to get?
Fine. Go ahead.
Yeah. I want to hear this Bloom thing.
Alright then. I'll try to explain this.
What I was saying is that perhaps I can
tweak Bloom's theory of a poet's
problematic relationship to his
predecessors to apply to what you were
Go on Keith. You've got my undivided
Okay, imagine that everyone, like all
poets in relation to past poets, has
anxiety over their father's influence on
them -- since the father is the main
authority figure, and not the mother.
So, in order to free yourself from this
anxiety and perhaps your real,
problematic connection to your father,
you misread the signs of this influence,
such as in your personality or behavior.
You create the illusion that your
father's influence is really absent, the
illusion that one can individuate free of
So to become yourself you must pretend
you don't have a father? Is that what
Yes. Right. Then it is this illusion of
your father's absence that emancipates us
and gives us license -- in our own minds
- to break the law that you spoke of
before that the father represents -- so
that we can be ourselves. But if you
didn't have a father from whom to
disassociate -- even if only in fantasy --
from whom to set yourself free to be who
you want to be, then maybe you could be
who you want to be from the beginning. In
other words, it seems that the presence
of the father is more dangerously
problematic and constraining for the
child than his absence.
(Keith notices that his chair still wobbles.)
My father was present, sensitive, loving,
compassionate, and attentive -- and so
was my mother. They still are--
Yes. I think what you're saying makes
sense, until the last part, about being
better off without a father. How can that
be? I don't get it.
See. He doesn't get it.
(Again, as he talks, Keith attempts to re-fix/adjust his
slightly wobbly chair.)
The problem isn't just whether or not
there is a father present. The problem is
the whole, traditional configuration of
(Michael points to the fourth chair. Keith switches chairs.
Now the entire family is the problem?
(enjoying the power the new,
stable chair affords)
I'm referring to the binary opposition
set up between father and mother, one
being the authority and the other the
caretaker. It's this binary structure
that encourages such a division of labor
and importance -- the father being the
public figure and the mother the
domestic, in the background--
Yes. You're right on. You got it.
(Laura takes a picture of Keith, who pretends, along with
Michael, that it didn't happen.)
You're losing me Keith. Primary
structures, whatever -- the bottom line
is, everyone needs a father. But that
earlier part about the need to separate
from your father -- well, I can
definitely relate to that. (Short pause.)
Keith, you're a poet, right?
I write poetry too from time to time. I
mean, I'm no son of Shakespeare, but I
can rhyme. Laura's read a lot of my
poems. Right Laura? (She ignores him.)
Can't you recite some for us?
Only in your dreams.
Well, okay, I wrote a poem just the other
day. It's about this father situation
you've been talking about.
Well, it's not directly about it, but
it's related, and has to do with me and
my father. Can I read it to you guys?
No! Nope. How about tomorrow -- over the
(said at the same time as
Sure, go ahead. Laura, why not now?
Why at all?
Fine. Let's hear it. Dazzle us!
(removes a piece of paper from
the folds of his wallet, and
It's called "Father":
(Autumn walks over to the table, but Michael does not see
her. Keith and Laura see her, acknowledge her presence, but
(affected by his intoxication)
When I look at him,
I still get scared,
but not in the same way.
Yes, he's big and there is that same
noxious stench of stale cigars,
scotch, and Polo on him.
No, he no longer enforces the rules, or
fails to back up my mother -- because
No, he no longer drills me, or fails to
mention the dogshit in my path --
because he's not around.
Yet he is still a formidable man.
Now he is illuminated in the sunshine of
The illusion of nobility cast off,
And the horror of desperate humanity
They say that it is inevitable, that
it's just a matter of time;
But I'd choose death rather than
become a reflection of him.
Wow, that was excellent! Powerful man,
powwwerrrful! Dad's can be like broken
mirrors -- the more broke the better.
That's really good, very intense, sad.
You know what I was talking about.
I write poetry too.
You do? What about?
Mostly about my loves and loves lost. I
perform it to jazz music on Sunday nights
at Bar None.
Can we hear one -- cuz we bar none?
Pas problem. This one's a real humdinger.
It's about this real cute, hipster chick
that I had a crush on when I worked at
the Rose Cafe. She was pretty snobby,
like she probably grew up in Bel Air or
some chichi place like that--
I'm from Bel Air!
Great! I love Bel Air. Anyway, the
hipster chick was with this guy that
seemed pretty lame; I mean he like never
smiled at her or touched her. She and I
talked a whole bunch, but it never went
anywhere. So, here's my lament:
(first tapping her foot to
create a beat)
My hamburger hipster armored in bland
buns of impassioned shelter,
Sandwiched without indelicacy, yet
restlessly resting on a sideline
Iceberg lettuce's imposing proximity
keeps the sesame soggy, absent
Sweet fat crusted tenderonie beats
wildly, yet frustrated by lukewarm
cheese that's fickle.
Plate of alabaster ethereal pure made
purer by useless silver spoon.
Succulent tomato transcendent calls out
from oliveoil-basil-mozzarella flying
"Stop festering in glittered fortitude,
let's merlot to the moon!"
Oh hamburger help her! The excited
hipster -- scaredy cat that she was --
asked only for ketchup.
(Laura and Keith clap. Michael hesitantly follows suit.
Autumn bows, playfully.)
That was wonderful! Wow.
Yeah, another lesbo love bites the dust.
I liked it, really.
That was really amazing. I especially
liked the image of you on this delectable
saucer -- perhaps reaching out to your
newfound love with your hand -- hoping to
carry her out of her conventional
quagmire, and up to hitherto unimagined
heights of bliss.
You got it, exactly! Man, you really
That's because Keith's a poet.
Keith, you must be able to recite one for
us too? How about it?
(before Keith can say "yes")
How about another time?
(backing Laura up)
It's okay. You can recite one for me next
time you're in.
(Laura takes a picture of Autumn, who strikes a sexy pose.)
Then I won't get to hear it. Why not just
a short one? Come on.
Okay, a short one.
(throwing it away)
Life is life. Love is magic. It is love
that gives wonder to life. Death ends
life, but it cannot end love. Only love
can destroy love.
That's too short.
That's beautiful! It's true, what you say
about love's destiny.
I still want another. Wilst thou leave us
so unsatisfied, Keith?
No. I'm here to satisfy. Okay. One more.
This one I wrote for Laura:
(looks lovingly at Laura)
Sitting in a tree, just me;
flying on a rock,
eating a date,
looking back at that tree--
nothing left but a clock;
you pass me the tea--
I share with you my date;
the rock becomes a small pond,
couched in pillowy clouds;
we play in the water.
I like it. The time passing stuff, and--
I dig that poem! It's sentimental and
romantic and surreal: flying on a rock.
(With her hands outstretched she pretends
to fly while standing on a rock.) Wow!
We've all done it.
(enchanted with her)
(Laura watches Autumn with admiration too.)
What's so romantic about it?
Everything. It's about an ethereal joy,
And what do you mean by "I share with you
my date" -- is that about a third person?
And what do you mean "we play in the
water"? It all sounds pretty kinky and
perverse to me.
(Laughing self-congratulatorily.) What's
so romantic about threesomes and water
Uh -- lots. I should get back to work--
(abruptly, to Autumn.)
That reminds me. (To Keith.) And this has
nothing to do with your poem -- you know
I love your poem. (To everyone.) I
thought of a very different resolution to
the problem of the absent father in
Lolita. And for The Scarlet Letter.
Okay. (To Autumn.) I don't recall if you
were here for this, but you'll catch on.
Yeah, darling, but I gotta get--
Alright. At first, I figured that if
Lolita's mother had just accepted
Humbert's sexual relationship with her
daughter, then the situation would have
been resolved. She'd have her husband;
he'd have his nymphet Lolita; and Lolita
would "have it all."
(glancing at Autumn)
"Have it all"?
Yes. But then it occurred to me that the
more sensible resolution would be for
Humbert, the playwright Quilty, and
Lolita to be together as a triple, as
opposed to a couple. And I don't mean a
threesome. I mean a long-term
relationship of three.
Certainly Humbert and Quilty --
especially Quilty, who's a swinger --
seem up for it.
And Lolita, well, she is the most radical
of them all. Practically speaking, in
terms of emotions and sexuality, this
makes the most sense. Of course, it helps
that Lolita's mother dies.
That's way sicker than I thought! You're
And what about The Scarlet Letter? Do you
think that Hester, Dimmesdale, and Roger
Chillingworth should be in a triple too?
Yes. What could make more sense? There'd
be three parents to take care of Pearl;
three to make sure that they're all
sexually satisfied; and three to support
Okay, so there are some problems with
this -- in this novel; they'd probably
all be burned at the stake. But it's this
triple idea that's so compelling.
"Compelling" to whom? What man would want
to be in that situation?
Lot's of men. This is about love.
Yes, I think it's a really smart idea. I
see what you're talking about, but have
I can say without doubt that no healthy
man would share his girlfriend or have
sex with another man.
Michael, what the fuck are you talking
Laura, he's just giving--
Oh, I get it, you're thinking of the time
you wanted to fuck my friend Rick. Is
(Autumn, about to leave, changes her mind.)
How dare you! Actually, you wanted me to
fuck Rick, remember, your boss Rick.
We went back with him to his hotel room
because you wanted to, not me. And then
you backed out, not me.
That's because ... I wasn't serious; I
was never serious about--
That's not true. Just when things were
moving along happily -- after we drank
enough champagne and done enough coke, of
course -- and you and I were kissing
passionately, you motioned for Rick to
join in, and when he did, you flipped
out, and stormed out, leaving me in a
really embarrassing spot, totally
humiliated, and compromised. That's what
You wanted to fuck Rick.
What Rick was doing to me felt good. I'm
a sensuous person, Michael, and Rick was
touching me in the right ways. But I
could only enjoy it because you were
there, with me. (Short pause.) I thought
we were in it together.
My reaction just shows how unnatural it
would be for two men to be in a three-way
relationship with a woman, like the ones
I was in a relationship like that for two
years, and it was amazing. It was
friggin' phenomenal! We had boundless
love for each other.
Two men and you?
Eric and Jeff.
Wow! That's so cool, and--
So, you were a kind of fag hag, or just a
lone lesbo living with fags?
Michael, what's wrong with you? You're
not funny. Nothing about saying those
words is funny.
Our relationship was a miracle. It was
exactly like Laura described. There was
just so much more opportunity for
satisfaction and happiness on every
level. Our relationship was soft; it was
spacious; it was warm; it was
inspirational. We loved each other.
That is so great.
That is bullshit. So, what happened? The
two guys dumped you?
No. Jeff died -- he was hit by a car on
his bike. (Starting to cry.) Afterwards,
Eric and I couldn't be together any more.
We were a triple -- never a couple. We
liked to say that, "Always a triple,
never a couple." (Pause.) You cats, I
really gotta get back to work. But don't
fret, I'll be back.
She's so cool.
I don't know about you two, but I wanna
go out for a smoke. Keith, why don't you
come with me? Laura, you man the ship
while we're gone.
I don't smoke cigarettes, but I'll come
She should stay here.
(with irony obvious to Laura)
Yeah Laura, me and Michael should smoke
alone for a bit. You can come out soon.
Okay. Maybe I'll come out after I go to
the little girls' room.
(To Laura.) Have a powder for me too. (To
Michael.) Let's go for a smoke.
(Michael nudges Keith along. Laura takes a picture of their
backsides as they leave. Blackout on the flash of her
SCENE 6: WASABI BAR -- MOMENTS LATER
(Lights up on each locale -- restroom, bar, outside -- as the
action oscillates among them.
Keith and Michael are outside the restaurant.
Laura is in the restroom.
Autumn is in the bar.
Keith and Michael are smoking cigarettes.)
So, how am I doing? Have I got the right
I guess so. One man's fancy is another
man's poison. (Motioning with his
cigarette.) To each his own.
You know, cigarette smoking is a highly
coded activity. I mean, how one holds a
cigarette can reveal a lot about them,
and a lot about their reasons for
smoking. Have you noticed this?
It's true. For instance, most cigarette
holding postures are meant to convey
coolness; but, of course, what's cool for
one group isn't necessarily cool for
another. Analyzing different conceptions
of coolness among social groups might be
the best way to distinguish and
(holding his cigarette between
two slightly bent fingers)
Never thought about it.
(Holding the cigarette to his mouth
between two straightened fingers.) This
classic way suggests a kind of retro
cool, definitely more popular among women
today than men -- for men, the feminizing
effect is less apparent but more
ambiguous, for instance, than when a man
holds his cigarette in this kind of
laisse-faire way.(Hangs the cigarette,
with palm facing up.) How would you
characterize the way you hold it? A bit
of a mix--
I just hold it naturally.
Really? That's interesting. (Doing this.)
One can also dangle it from the side of
their mouth, which demonstrates a kind of
over-determined masculinity, revealing
the smoker's great skill, that he's in
control. Oh yeah, it is especially
impressive if he can work on a car engine
and talk to you without letting the
cigarette fall from his mouth. You may
have noticed that women rarely exhibit
Never noticed. Never cared.
There is always that "hold the cigarette
like a joint" technique. (He does this.)
This implies that this guy has lived a
rather weathered or tough life. This same
guy might also carry the cigarette turned
into his palm, showing that he is not
afraid to burn himself. Women rarely--
Keith, no offense, buddy, but you think
way too much. Normal people don't think
about these things. They just smoke.
Oh yeah. Okay, maybe I'm making too much
(They smoke in awkward silence. Lights out on them.
Lights up on Laura in the restroom. While reapplying
lipstick, she begins talking to herself in the mirror.)
(dancing around sillily,
"Always a triple, never a couple." Two's
a couple, three's a triple. Two's a
couple, three's a company. Jack, Chrissy,
and what's her name? What was her name?
Ah, Janet. (She sings the theme song to
the television show "Three's a Company.")
Come and knock on our door. We've been
waiting for you. Where the kisses are
hers, and hers, and his. Three's company
Second verse:(With more pizzazz.)
Come and knock on our door. Take a step
that is new. Where the kisses are hers,
and hers, and his. Three's company too.
How about an encore? Come on everyone:
(With more pizzazz.)
Come and knock on our door. We've been
waiting for you. Where the kisses are
hers, and hers, and his. Three's company
Two's a couple, three's got more hands.
Three's got more orifices. Three's got
more options. Triple your pleasure with
triplemint gum. It's not about what's
missing, but about being more efficient,
economical, happier. Two's fight a lot:
Tom and Jerry, Tweety and Sylvester,
Roadrunner and Coyote, Abbott and
Costello, Ricky and Lucy, but these
people aren't in romantic relationships.
Well, I guess Ricky and Lucy are. Three's
don't fight? Well, there's...? I can't
think of any three's. Yes. (Miming the
eye poke, nose knock, and ear slap of the
Three Stooges.) They always fought. And
so did Groucho, Harpo and Chico. Keith
and I fight. Everyone fights sometimes.
But with three's there's no need for
consensus, or compromise. Majority rules.
It's more democratic. More American.
It's Christian -- the father, the son,
and the holy ghost. It's a trinity. It's
sacred. (Short pause.) Buy two get one
free -- works for three. No fighting over
the third. Charlie's Angels. (Strikes the
Charlie's Angels' gun pose in all three
directions.) The Three Amigos. The Three
Musketeers: "All for one, one for all."
Three's got more brains. Three's got more
power. Can three fit in the shower?
(Taking a photo of herself in the
(Lights out on the flash of Laura's camera.
Lights up on Michael and Keith outside, still smoking.)
You know Keith, I've got to congratulate
Thanks Michael. But for what?
I haven't been with a chick since Laura
that squirts like her.
Yeah, Keith, she squirts. You mean you
don't know what I'm talking about? You
don't make her squirt?
Wait a sec. By "squirt," you mean
ejaculate, like when having an orgasm?
Exactly. So, you know what I mean? She
squirts for you too.
No, I can't say that she has.
Sorry buddy. I'm sorry to hear it.
I bet you are.
It's all in the technique, you know.
No, I don't know.
(he demonstrates as he
It's like this: You take these two
fingers (Indicating his index and middle
finger.) and you put them in deep, curved
upwards, so that you can rub the G-spot.
You know what that is? Then, with the
same fingers on your other hand, you
press down, just above the landing strip,
so that the fingers of both hands are
pushing against each other, through her
body. And then, with your tongue, getting
in between your hands, you lick away,
really working the knob. Like this (He
demonstrates.) Get it? Never fails.
(They fall silent, resuming smoking.
Lights up on bar. Laura, entering from the restroom,
approaches the table, looking for Michael and Keith. Instead,
she encounters Autumn.)
They're outside. You seem to be hanging
But it's so weird. (Pause.) I just have
to ask you something.
Anything, baby, you know, you can ask me
What was it like with them, with Jeff and
Eric? Did everyone love each other
equally? Did anyone get jealous?
Sure, we had our spats. But most of the
time it was heaven on earth. We were a
harmonious community of three, a family.
That is just the coolest. I can't imagine
what that would be like.
Sure you can. We can imagine anything. It
may not be the same in reality, but we
can imagine it.
Yeah, we can. But I want you to tell me.
How was it, you know, when making love?
I went to sleep in their arms every
night, nestled between them, our arms and
legs so intertwined that we didn't know
whose was whose, and sometimes we would
try to move each other's, and yell,
panicked, and laugh ... They would wake
me with caresses and kisses, and I would
pretend to be asleep for as long as I
could. It became a thing, as if none of
us ever had to be anywhere else, because
we didn't, not really.
That's so awesome--
I loved their bodies. They were soft and
hard, musky and sweet. I loved pleasuring
them, and the way they wanted and kept
wanting me. I never imagined that with my
lips -- with these lips (Puckering,
licking them.) -- I could produce such
Stop, stop, no, keep going, more. Listen
to me. I'm losing it.
No, you're not.
I am, yes.
I didn't even tell you about being the
dynamic conductor through which our
electric passions for each other surged.
That their luscious faces -- so handsome
- would be immersed and saturated in each
other's while I was infused with them, my
steaming body transformed into the gooey
substance that both lubricated and bonded
us all in ecstasy.
Uh, excuse me. I should probably check on
(Lights down as Laura exits, embarrassed.
Lights up on Keith and Michael outside. Michael lights up
another cigarette and offers one to Keith, who declines.)
Have you ever thought about how people
greet each other? There are those people
that shake hands, those that kiss, those
that air-kiss -- as much as four times,
those that hug, and those that hug and
pat on the back. I prefer hugging, if I'm
greeting a friend--
Hand-shaking is fine with me, friend or
no friend. I see no need to hug guys.
Well, here. (He gives Michael a hug.)
Isn't that more friendly, especially in
the way it subverts the more conservative
Next you'll be trying to suck my dick,
telling me that we're just subverting the
"conservative heterosexual regime" or the
"patriarchal power structure."
Then again, what's the difference who's
doing the sucking, right? Man or woman,
as long as I don't have to see 'em, it
probably feels the same. (Noticing
Keith's smirk in response to the
implications to what he just said.) But
sucking dick, in my opinion, is a woman's
I've sucked dick before. (Short pause.)
I've gotten blowjobs by men a few times.
I've given one too. I enjoyed it, and so
did he. He's a good friend of mine, and
it felt good to give him pleasure.
(reeling in his imagination,
Hey, as I said before, to each his own. I
don't give a shit about what people do in
the privacy of their own homes. But I
don't want to see it. You can do what you
want -- in your house, even if I think
it's sick, perverted, and repulsive. It's
a free country.
(Laura walks out to them, stops, and takes their picture.)
Laura, your boyfriend was just telling me
that he likes to give men blowjobs. What
do you think of that?
What are you guys talking about?
Just the pros and cons of dick-sucking, I
(to Keith, ignoring Michael's
Are there cons?
Keith was just telling me he once sucked
a friend's dick.
That's not true. He hasn't.
Yes, I have.
You never told me that.
I thought I did. Yes, I'm sure I did --
when we had that talk at the bagel place.
No. You didn't. You said some of your
friends had given you blowjobs, but that
you never gave one.
If I didn't tell you, it's only because I
wasn't sure how'd you react. You don't
seem to be taking it very well.
Don't look at me. He's your dick-sucking
What's the big deal?
It's just that you didn't tell me the
I'm sorry. But I don't see why you are so
I don't know. Maybe I don't like the
image of you sucking on some guy's dick.
You can't be serious?
Great. Well, I'll have to admit,
Michael's looking a hellava lot better
than you right now.
(Laura exits back into the bar. Lights stay up outside. After
an awkward moment, Michael and Keith continue their talk.)
I can't explain that. I'm sure she was
just hurt that I didn't tell her the
truth to begin with.
Keith, the problem is obvious. She's
disgusted by you, as any natural woman
would be. Her boyfriend just admitted
that he's a cock-sucking gay boy.
(Lights out on Michael and Keith.
Lights up on the bar as Laura enters. She encounters Autumn.
Laura is crying.)
Nothing. I got mad at Keith for ...
nothing. He just never told me about
something ... I don't know, I was
embarrassed ... I really don't care that
he gave a friend a blowjob. Why would I?
I don't know. I can't think of any
reason. Let's sit down.
(Autumn takes Laura by the hand to the table and they sit
down, Laura first, then Autumn.)
I just feel so stupid. I'm sure Michael
was doing something fucked up. I'm just
so embarrassed. I got upset. Michael
wasn't like this before.
You're all really drunk. Keith is
wonderful -- really special. I'm sure he
knows you didn't mean it.
He is wonderful. That hurts too. Michael
isn't wonderful. (Short pause.) Desire is
just the craziest thing.
It is, but sometimes we just have to--
Sometimes I think this is the whole
problem. Michael just doesn't get it.
Keith might not either. We don't desire
because we lack; it's not caused by
appetite, or hunger, or anything -- we
don't give blowjobs because we're hungry.
This is because desire needs no object.
We just desire, feel pure desire, and
then invent an object to explain it. This
is what I do with the camera. (Realizing
she's been rambling.) I'm a photographer.
(returning to her train of
We experience desire, and then the
advertisers come along, well-aware of our
need to explain the phenomenon of desire.
The advertisers know full-well that
humans need explanations as much as they
need food. Unlike desire, needs are
actual requirements: we can't live
without them. So, in most cases -- at
least the more profound ones, almost any
explanation will do. We need explanations
as much as we think. Thinking without
answers leads to paralysis or suicidal
panic. Believe me, I know this.
So, the advertisers -- like preachers,
who exploit our need for answers by
deferring to the absent but always
present God, the particular God that
supports their values, of course -- the
advertisers tell us exactly what we
desire -- a new car, a new computer, a
new beauty product, a new sexual
experience, a new life, even an
That's right, babe.
But what does desire have to do with
love? Not much. Unlike desire, love
requires an object. We love things,
nature, people, ourselves. Love is not
about possession, even if it does involve
absorption. It's simultaneous
selflessness and selfishness. It's the
gift of appreciation, of pure admiration;
it's the gift of giving. (Pause.) I feel
so bad about everything.
You shouldn't. You should feel good.
You're getting resolution, you've figured
out the nature of love, and desire, and
you've got Keith. And, Laura, you're so
(Autumn kisses Laura. Laura then pulls back for a moment.)
You're so beautiful.
(Laura kisses Autumn. They kiss with increasing passion, and
explore other frontiers. Lights down on Laura and Autumn.
Lights up on Michael and Keith outside. A few moments pass as
they stand in silence. Michael is still smoking.)
You know, Keith, its unfortunate that gay
people can't have kids.
Yeah Michael, but they can adopt, use
surrogates, have artificial insemin--
But they never get to have one in their
own image. Still, that's not what most
matters. Keith, have you ever changed a
Have you ever rocked a baby to sleep in
No, I have only--
There's nothing like waking up in the
morning with your own child. When they
are a baby, they wake smiling, bathing in
everything around them -- in every new
experience. Nothing is more special and
life-affirming than watching your child
grow up -- hearing their first words. As
they get older, their wide-eyes only open
wider to your love. You see, there is no
greater purpose and enjoyment than for us
to nourish the lives of our own children.
What do you say we go back in?
(stomping out cigarette)
Fine with me.
SCENE 7: WASABI BAR
(Lights up on the bar. We see Michael and Keith re-enter
before Autumn and Laura. Hearing them enter, Autumn and Laura
separate, holding hands until the last moment.)
I'll be back.
Where's that feisty little waitress going
-- that Keith can't take his eyes off? I
want another drink.
Michael, why'dja say that?
Relax. I wasn't insulting her by calling
her "little." I just want another drink.
Her name's Autumn, and she likes Keith.
You're just jealous.
Was I talking to you?
Why did you call her "little"?
I was referring to her tits.
Michael, will you stop it? You're
How so? I said nothing about the fact
that you won't squirt for Keith.
(Laura, trying to assess where that came from, looks to
Keith, who pretends not to have heard it.)
It was pee Michael -- only ever pee,
I suppose you think Autumn needs breast
Keith, my friend, almost every woman
needs breast implants.
Stop. Will you?
Maybe you're right. It probably has to do
with what my friend Kim was telling me
the other day.
Keith, must you?
My friend Kim is a cultural theorist. And
she explained to me the other day why men
want women to get fake breasts.
Isn't it obvious?
Yes. According to Kim it is. You know how
fake breasts are very firm; they don't
even fall to the side when a woman lays
on her back?
And you know how this firmness works to
accentuate their nipples, making them
appear hard all the time?
(glancing at Laura's chest)
Yeah. Who wants floppy, limp tits? So?
I do. I want them silky and malleable,
Go on, Keith.
Well, according to Kim, men want these
always erect and hard protrusions on
women's chests because they so
demonstratively resemble erect, hard
(putting her hands on their
And women want them because they get to
have two penises. Because two is always
better than one. (With tongue pushing out
cheek.) What about three?
Let Keith continue, please.
The hard breasts satisfy men in two
important ways. First of all, a man with
a partner with fake breasts gets to have
his own virility reflected all the time
on her chest -- he imagines that the
breasts and nipples of his partner are
perpetually hard because of her
unrelenting, uncontrollable attraction to
him. The second way has to do with every
man's homoeroticism and phallocentrism.
Kim says that men are socialized to
worship penises, especially their own,
but also those of other men, even while
they may oppose them, in a kind of
nemesis relationship -- a kind of
infatuation with their competition. The
bigger, the better the competition -- the
bigger, the better they must be to
What kind of wack-job is this friend?
Her theory is taken very seriously. You
can read all about this phenomenon of
what she calls "the penis-breasts
syndrome" in her new book, The Boys
Depend On Us.
Oh God, are you there, its me, Laura?
That's brilliant! So then, these breast
implant "penis breasts" must eliminate
Your friend's theory is possibly the
stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard.
(into the air)
Freud should have been a cosmetic
So, how do you explain it?
Well, I really haven't given it much
thought. I don't need to over think
You know, all breasts can breast feed.
Come on, Michael, give it your best shot.
Okay. Just give me a moment. (Standing
up. Drinking. Pause.) Alright, and this
may make no sense, but I think it's got
everything to do with mothers. We all
know that guys are most loved by their
mothers -- and not their girlfriends.(He
laughs as he continues.) Are we in
agreement so far?
Well, that depends on--
Of course we are -- a mother's love is
unconditional. But this tit issue goes
way beyond that, into the psychology of
the son. You see, the degree to which men
feel loved correlates directly with the
ratio of head to tit. (Laughs.
Now standing on chair.) Let me explain,
as I do in my new book, A Mother's Love
Is Only As Big As Her Tits -- soon to be
featured on Oprah. In my book, I explain
that, because mothers most love their
children when they are small, such as
when they are babies and little kids, men
want to return to this time. Remember
this is a time when their heads are much
smaller in comparison to the size of
their mother's tits. And because we can't
be kids again or be with our mothers --
and we wouldn't want to be -- but we
still want to be loved unconditionally
like only a mother can love us, we need
our girlfriends and wives to have huge
fucking tits. The bigger the tits, the
better we imagine they love us.
So, what you're saying is that the bigger
the tits, the more we imagine we are
loved? Because when we we're children our
mother's tits were much bigger than our
own heads, and this is a time when we
felt the most love?
Exactly. It's our choice. We either get
our heads shrunk or hook up with chicks
with big tits.
That was brilliant! (To Laura.) Did you
Sure did. Yep.
Wasn't that brilliant?
Sure was. Michael "brilliantly" explained
everything. According to his theory, he
went back to Jane because he and I didn't
have the proper "head-to-tit ratio," and
he knew I wouldn't mutilate my body to
become the surrogate mother he needs --
that Jane always wanted to be.
And he wouldn't see a therapist to get
his "head shrunk."(Short pause.) I guess
"The proof is in the silicone pudding,"
right Mike? Come on Michael, how about
showing Keith that picture you carry
around with you of Jane's new head
dwarfing, penis tits? They're real
You've got to be kidding?
Nope. Not at all. Come on, Michael, show
him the picture you showed me.
(after a short pause, taking
the picture out and sliding it
across the table to Keith)
Okay. See for yourself. Here they are.
(looking at the picture as he
pushes it back to Michael)
That's okay. I believe you. I'm sure
they're very big.
Oh yeah, and Michael, how do you explain
the fact that your mother was as flat as
a fucking board? (Smiling.) And, what do
you make of the fact that my mother
sexually abused me when I was a baby: she
forced me to suck on her breasts every
single day. Sick, isn't it? (Looking at
Autumn, who is approaching the table.)
Or, is this why I like to suck on women's
(Autumn arrives at the table.)
(picking the picture up)
Showing pics? (Looking at it.) Wow, this
babe's got behemoth boobs. (To Michael.)
Is this your wife? (Looking closer at the
picture.) Too bad they're fake. Can I get
you cats anything else?
(Laura takes a photograph of her, as she strikes a sexy pose
- different from before.)
I'll have another martini.
Coming right up.
(Autumn walks away. They all watch her depart. Pause.)
She's a freak, alright. I don't want to
imagine what her sex life was like with
her gay-boy buddies.
Do you think one fucked her while the
other fucked him in the ass?
I thought you didn't want to imagine her
sex life, much less discuss it. Michael,
she and her boyfriends were in love. They
loved each other. They were a triple.
Come on, that's as absurd as your
suggestion that you, me, and Jane should
have been in a relationship together.
Keith, did she tell you about this? Sure,
we all could have fooled around together,
If we all loved each other--
People of the same sex can't love each
other like people of the opposite sex.
This is simple logic, baby.
So you're saying that I didn't love
Elizabeth? (To Keith.) We were together
my freshman year of college.
Yes, I remember.
No, you couldn't have been in love,
really, unless you're abnormal.
Unless I'm "abnormal"?
Yes. Love is an emotion that promotes the
future of our species. And if your love
isn't in that interest, then it's
But our love promoted community and
You see, the bottom line is a matter of
anatomy and the need for procreation and
species survival. I'm talking basic
evolutionary biology here. You guys know
Heard it before, yes. Tell me, how do you
account for your own non-procreative
Some things are natural and others aren't
-- weren't meant to be, Laura.
But you're not accounting for--
I am. It's like this: Our sex drive is
mostly unconscious and comes from our
genes, and is ultimately for one purpose
only: procreation. This is why men and
women sleep around, even if they are
Pleeease -- you can't be serious--
Love is the excuse or vehicle we use to
get closer to one another.
It's the emotion we most value because
it's the one that best helps us to get
laid and breed.
You don't believe that. You can't believe
I'd like to ask a question that somewhat
accepts your terms, but only so as to
challenge them and their underlying
Sure. Let's hear it.
Okay then: How do you explain the
efficient use of contraception? If our
sex drive is unconsciously inspired in
order to ensure reproduction of the
species, then wouldn't it make sense that
men and women would avoid or obstruct
contraception, especially when disease
transmission is not an issue? If the
theory you're expounding were correct,
there would be a lot more pregnancies.
Well, there are lots of pregnancies, but
not by better educated, stronger people --
with stronger egos, and stronger wills,
and therefore not by people more likely
to resist the procreative drive because
of their own practical concerns. The poor
and stupid get pregnant more--
What you're saying, Michael, is bullshit.
Everything you say is bullshit. Love is
not a biologically-inspired hallucination
designed to promote heterosexuality.
Children are often conceived out of love,
I don't think so--
As Keith says in his poem, "Love is
magic." Also, people can love each other
without ever having sex, without any
sexual motivation. Sex can be to romantic
love what making dinner together can be
for a loving family.
Yes Laura, and some people have sex for
the strangest reasons. If my memory
serves me correctly, and I know it's been
awhile, a guy's dick is to you what a
thumb is for a baby. You can get as
worked up as you want over our pervert
waitress or Keith's favors for friends.
I'm not your pacifier anymore.
No, you're not.
Nope. Sure ain't.
Michael's right, people do have sex for
strange reasons. But do people love for
strange reasons? (Laura begins to make
occasional "woof" and "whimper" sounds
like a dog.) Can something so common as
love be strange?
I don't think so. Real love can be
different in degree and kind, but because
it's natural it can never be strange.
(Laura continues making dog sounds.) I
think Laura was on to something when she
mentioned hallucinatory love.
(in between dog sounds)
Of course you do.
(Laura gets out of her chair and on all fours, as she
continues to make dog sounds.)
I think perverts conveniently imagine
that they love -- they hallucinate love --
in a desperate and feeble attempt to make
their twisted sex lives seem normal.
(To Laura.) Will you stop it? Will you
shut the fuck up?!
So, Michael, are perversity and love
What about fetishism, which is a kind of
hallucination, can it only occur in
love's absence? (To Laura, who continues
to make dog sounds.) And why are you
making dog sounds?
(ignoring Keith, to Laura)
Yes, they are.
Really? Then how do you explain or accept
the fact that your wife is a dog fucker?
Will you shut up?
That makes you a dog-fucker fucker,
No. (To Keith.) Jane once let our dog
lick whipped cream off her pussy. It's no
"Let?" Like it was the dog's idea? Oh,
and because your dog's female, I guess
your wife's a lesbian, like me, as well
as a dog fucker? No, she's a bitch
Can you both calm down? Can we just
Why? Do you want to share with us another
one of your sick pervert secrets? Perhaps
all this dog-fucking talk is a touchy
subject for you? Huh Keith?
Okay Michael, I'll share with you a
secret. You remember when I got so
impressed by your use of the word
Yeah. So what?
I just pretended not to know what the
word means. So that you'd feel more
comfortable when we finally met, I wanted
to make you feel smart. I didn't want you
to feel like the idiot that you are--
You fucking faggot. You think you're so
smart, Jew boy? I should bash your stupid
cock-sucking face in right now.
Michael, stop! Stop it! What are you
Shut up Laura! (Standing up.) I'm gonna
kick this fucking gay boy's ass.
(acting relatively calm)
Are you saying you want to fight me?
Because I'll fight you if you want.
Oh yeah, pussy shit, come on!
Keith, are you crazy!?
Stay outta this! Let's go gay-boy!
No. It's okay. If he wants to fight, I'll
Let's go butt-fucker, right now!
No! No! This is not happening! Keith!
You want me to stop?
Shut up Laura!
Yes! Please! Keith!
(sitting back down)
Okay. I'll stop.
Thank you. Thanks. (To Michael.) Michael?
Please. Stop it. Please?
Sorry, Keith. Let's just forget it.
Okay, we're leaving now. Let's go!
I'll go pay. You guys wait right here.
(taking out his wallet)
Here, take my wallet. Use my cash.
(Laura walks toward Autumn, who's still watching from the
As she reaches Autumn, Michael walks around to Keith and
reaches his hand out to shake Keith's. Keith shakes hands
No hard feelings, right buddy?
(rising from his seat and
taking Michael's hand)
(Holding Keith's right hand, so that he can't move, Michael
punches him in the face. He then continues to punch Keith,
with at least one more punch. Laura and Autumn run over,
Laura grabbing Michael; Autumn tending to Keith.)
Stop! Stop it!
Stupid fucking faggot kike!
(Michael storms out. The lights go out and the music stops.)
SCENE 8: LAURA AND KEITH'S APARTMENT -- LATER
(Keith enters, with Laura hugging him from behind. They
separate as they enter. He heads for his spot on the couch,
which is center stage. She heads for the cabinet next to the
Tonight was amazing. You're right. For
all the reasons you--
I'm still just so embarrassed.
I know. I mean I understand. That was
I just can't believe that he acted that
way. He didn't used to be like that.
(Taking candles out of the cabinet, and
placing them around.) I don't know what
happened to him.
(turning the stereo on with the
remote; jazz or classical
I never thought he would be that bad. I
was just jealous of him. (Pause.)
You know, I got the sense tonight that
you would like us to be, perhaps, a
little more experimental. And I want you
to know that I support you and would want
to experience things with you. What are
Nothing. Putting candles out.
It's a surprise.
What surprise? What are you talking
You'll find out. Will you grab some
(grabbing candles from the
cabinet and passing them to
Come on, tell me, what surprise?
(Laura begins lighting the candles. With each lit candle, the
lights fade, until the room appears to be lit by only the
Okay. I'm trying to make our place
romantic because, well, "perhaps" this is
our chance to be a little more
What are you talking about?
What if I said that someone really cool --
that we like a lot -- is coming over to
be with us?
Tonight? I'm a little beat -- got papers
to grade -- so I would probably just say
- What exactly are you talking about?
She's coming here? Oh, to "be with us."
(There is a knock at the door. Laura goes and opens it. Keith
stands as they enter, surrounded by eight lit candles. Laura
leads Autumn to Keith by her hand. Keith takes Autumn's and
Laura's free hands as they approach. Keith, Autumn, and Laura
begin a passionate three-way kiss. The kissing continues for
about a minute, then the lights go out.)
SCENE 9: LAURA, AUTUMN, AND KEITH'S APARTMENT -- NEAR FUTURE
(It's early evening. Autumn and Keith are quietly reading,
lovingly serving each other wine and bong hits, as has become
their evening routine. Lounge music plays.)
Would you say that Laura and my
relationship, if it were a glass of wine,
was half-empty or half-full before we met
I wouldn't say either. I don't speak in
What do you speak in?
(wiggling her tongue)
(They begin kissing passionately.
Some moments pass before Laura enters, coming home from
(enjoying the visual)
Please don't stop on my account.
Good evening, darling.
(Laura kisses them both.)
Well, how did it go?
The shoot was fabulous. I'll bring prints
(Autumn pours Laura a glass of wine.)
Michael called me again.
Shucks. Did he yell at you again?
No. This time, with great composure and
restraint, he shared how disgusted he is
by our relationship. I told him not to
call me anymore.
(Laura takes her glass of wine, and, at some point, drinks.)
Are you okay with that?
I don't know. I feel pretty bad -- I'm
just really disappointed. But, I'm also
Would you say that our relationship, if
it were a glass of wine, was half-empty
or half-full before we met Autumn?
Neither. It was full, and now it's
"Overflowing" -- Autumn can't take all
the credit for that. It's Michael we have
to thank for the squirt technique.
And it's you we will be thanking for
I love Wednesdays!
(Laura and Autumn jump on the couch, forcing Keith up. With
the remote, Autumn changes the music to a striptease tune.
Keith gets up on the coffee table and dances and strips to
the music. Autumn and Laura cheer along as Keith removes all
but his underwear. Blackout as his underwear goes down. The
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