Thorn
Sits on a rustic bench at a simple wooden dinner table, in a
rather dimly lit kitchen/dining area at night.
Prospero’s Speech by Loreena McKennitt is playing in the background,
seemingly from a large stereo down the hallway. The music is not loud enough for the audience to notice that the
short song is on a loop. We see that
the light is coming from a hurricane lamp on the table. The scene then switches to the bathroom.
Rosie
Is taking a steamy shower, and begins to sing along with the
song.
Thorn
At first staring off into space, breathes a very quick, quiet
sigh, then rises and wanders over to the counter. He looks at the objects, there, and carefully but playfully picks
up a red polyethylene ketchup squeeze-bottle in his left hand and a white
rubber-bladed cake spatula in the other.
He then begins to crouch, moving toward the bathroom, stabbing at the air
with the spatula and holding the bottle as if preparing to shoot a stream of
ketchup. The scene shifts back to
inside the bathroom. Hey, is it okay if I
come in there just a sec and grab something?
Rosie
(Descending a bit from her shower reverie) Mm? I guess!
Thorn
Is seen fuzzily through the matte clear shower curtain, as the
door slowly opens. He stalkingly
approaches Rosie whose is facing 120 degrees away from the door. He is no longer holding the items from the
kitchen, but reaches into the shower and, with a low chortle, tickles Rosie’s
back near the bottom rib, then gracefully makes a quick exit. As he goes back to the kitchen, he laughs a
quiet, gnomish He-he-he...
Rosie
Seems mildly flabbergasted, mouth open with only an
animal-like snort or two. Then smiles
as if musing on some mischievous revenge.
The scene then seems to close, temporarily, as if to suggest the passage
of time.
Thorn
Comes out of the shower,
dry body, wet hair, in briefs. Rosie sneaks up and gives him a wedgie and then
a surprisingly mature, gentle pinch. He jumps a bit and says, What's
your problem?
Rosie
Places her thumb under her chin and her forefinger against her
nose, occasionally tapping it in a noticeably contemplative manner. Silence for
a moment, then, A friend of mine told me that most boys as cute as you smell
like night blooming jasmine, down there; at least; when they’re clean. She then inhales briskly through the nose,
flares her nostrils and bats her eyes in a deeply focused and placidly lustful
manner, as if about to quietly chuckle in gentle torment.
Thorn
Well, that’s really deep!
Who told you that, your old maid aunt?
Rosie
Smiling with tongue pointed out in a somewhat triumphantly
taunting grimace: No, your old bachelor
uncle: the one with the cabin in the
woods!
Thorn
Looks downward at about a 45-degree angle. He slowly draws in a breath, then as slowly
releases it, through the nose, as if to control a deep exasperation. He is motionless, for a little while, except
for knitting movements of the eyebrows and pursing of the lips, as if searching
his imagination for an appropriate retort.
He then smiles very widely (almost fiendishly), as his eyes open with confidence
of a clever idea. He then goes over to
Rosie’s chest of drawers and begins opening them and browsing through them in a
rather staged-looking perusal.
Rosie
So, what are you doing?
Thorn
I wanted to be able to tell the guys that I got into your
drawers!
Rosie
What are you looking for, my crystal ball?
Thorn
No, your Hogwart’s diploma.
I figure that it’ll be rolled up inside your pointy black hat! He continues to browse through the
clothes, though in an unfocused manner, as if to imply an apology for doing
something impolite. His hands begin to
slow down, as if he were trying to prevent them from trembling. He closes his eyes as if to conceal
something sorrowful descending upon him.
Rosie
Okay; what are you really looking for? She walks out of the room, for a moment, and returns with a
white bathrobe, embroidered with a fleur de lis hotel logo.
Thorn
I was just wondering if you’re nice to me because you’re
considering me for a mate, or if you’ve got some herbal gerbil that you want to
sell door-to-door in Sausalito, and think I’d come in handy.
Rosie
Places the robe around Thorn’s shoulders, and grasps them in a
motion for him to rise. You
mean you’ve got a tender heart to go with those brass balls of yours? Your Dad wasn’t around to teach you how to
be an asshole, so you need a non-threatening female? After he gets up, she puts a hand on his shoulder, and guides
him over to the bed. She glides her
hand down his arm until she can grasp his, then sits beside him. He looks at her in a somewhat puppy-dog
fashion, closes his eyes, and slowly rests his head on her shoulder. She looks back across the room at the chest
of drawers. She then smiles as
if she’s thought of something else to goad him with. With a hint of wickedness, she says, The Japanese comic books
are in the bottom drawer!
Thorn
Opens eyes suddenly, then shifts them from side to side. Aha! Hard evidence!
Rosie
Tilts her head and gaze very slowly downward toward Thorn. Then she sneakily reaches down so that she
can lift up part of the robe for an inspection. With a smile of confirmation, she says slowly and from the back
of her throat, Aw huh... Then, with
a sudden single motion, she sits up on one knee, puts the foot of her other leg
on the floor, takes Thorn’s ankle in her hand, and hoists it up over his
shoulder onto hers. Then, she lunges
forward, throwing most of her weight onto him and says, Now, hand it over!
Thorn
The viewer cannot see who does it, but someone turns off the
lamp on the nightstand. The light
coming from other sources is dim, but general outlines are visible. After a long moment, we hear the whirring of
a small electric motor.
Aaahh! What the hell is
that!
Rosie
(Laughing with hearty self-satisfaction): Calm down.
Can’t you take a joke?
Thorn
(Rattled but not angry): No, not one that’s bigger than I am! Besides, if you wanted me to be down with your sense of funny on
this one, I’m about six shots of tequila shy.
Then, more calmly: If you
want to go all samurai romance on me, I get to be Riku, and you can be
Sora. He touches his nose to hers.
Rosie
Chuckles until she has enjoyed the exchange, then: That’s my ambiguously straight Thorn!
Thorn
Why do you call me that?
Rosie
Because I don’t get the feeling that you’d do something cowardly just to
impress me.
Thorn
I’m glad you don’t think of me as some kind of messed up kid.
Rosie
I’m not too worried about messed up kids, except maybe the ones
who think they’re not because they took some short cuts.
Thorn
Have you been watching too much Oprah?
Rosie
Not really. I just think
I notice some things about guys that most of them don’t.
Thorn
You mean how most of us feel safer acting like a prick than
trying to understand ourselves? I mean,
it usually works better in an iffy situation, especially where females are
involved.
Rosie
Yeah, I know. But in the
end, those guys may get over, but they never become anyone’s hero, unless you
live in Iraq or somewhere. O.J.’s girl
friend might disagree, but I don’t care.
Thorn
If I’d decide I want to be your hero, I might ask you some
things; well, a lot of things. But, you
know I’m probably going to want to handle most of ‘em my way. Even if I started to feel like I couldn’t
live without you, I’d need you respect me enough to understand... even if we
turned out to be Father Earth and Mother Sky...
Rosie
You took Mythology, too?
Thorn
Well, if you call reading around in alternative religion
websites that.
Rosie
Father Earth and Mother Sky are Egyptian gods, but Riku
is Japanese for land and Sora means sky. I’m impressed. It reminds
me of something an Egyptian friend once told me, that the men in her country
were not too into talking about love, but pretty good at showing it.
Thorn
(Singing from the Peter Gabriel song): Sing through the land, land sings through
me/ sky blue, sky blue...
Rosie
Looks down at Thorn’s face.
The light has now adjusted to show her features more clearly. Her eyes are as full of tears as they can be
without allowing a stream to fall. In India, the girls pray to Lord Shiva to send them the right
man. Pause. What a responsibility that must be, to
believe a prayer like that can really be answered, huh?
Thorn
Maybe not. Shiva is the
destroyer. All a husband can honestly
guarantee is that he’ll make a complete shambles out of his life, and then
die. He grins and opens his eyes
widely, as if to suggest a bit of divine madness and ironic comedy, then begins
to guffaw with quiet laughter.
Rosie
Closes her eyes.
Smiling, slowly and rather dramatically slides downward and to the
floor. She stands at the foot of the
bed and holds her hands in a salute: You’ve
got the stuff, Man! Then, she walks
backwards, cheeks wet but still smiling, out of the room.
Thorn
Comes into the den where Rosie is lying on the couch. He lifts her feet, sits down, and puts them
into his lap. You know, just because
you get drunk enough one time to let some guy...(silent stammer)...go
down on you doesn’t make you a…dedicated follower of fashion.
Rosie
I know. Did I ask you
for the "low down" on your "down low"?
Thorn
Looks a bit wounded and misunderstood. Starts to get up.
Rosie
I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I
didn’t mean to be harsh.
Thorn
How come I get the feeling that I’m going to be painting your
toenails in order to prove my masculinity?
Isn’t that an oxymoron?
Rosie
Mm... Because you think
so highly of yourself? Pause. That’s okay. I think highly of you, too.
Pause. Then, in a more throaty
tone, Is there some reason I shouldn’t?
Thorn
Well, there’s the time I came home to find a couple of squad
cars pulled up in front of my next-door neighbor’s house. My friend’s mom had totally freaked over a
threatening post card that came in the mail, that day.
Rosie
I don’t mean to raise too many taxing questions. Giggles in a friendly fashion.
Thorn
It had a stick figure kind of reaching out like this (demonstrates
by stretching arms upward and outward, cocking head to side, and making a goofy
face), and it said in crayon, "I’M NOT DEAD".
Rosie
So, where’d it come from?
(Seems very amused.)
Thorn
Looks down, folds hands together in a manly way, smiles, then
peeks from under his brows with a beaming blend of guilt and innocence, hair
dangling in front of eyes. Thorn’s
expression seems at once both self-validating and yet searching for
support. After a long moment, the smile
tightens into a frustrated frown.
Rosie
Well, at least, when you’re the instigator, we laugh with you,
not at you, if we laugh at all. What’s
the matter?
Thorn
There’s a pair of headlights coming up the driveway.
Rosie
Gets up with a start, but doesn’t exit. She then pulls up her nightshirt and tugs it
down over Thorn, forcing his face against her chest. She kisses the top of his head through the cloth and then raises
the shirt again, releasing him. I’ll be thinking highly of you.
Runs back to her room.
Thorn
Seems noticeably stressed.
(In a low voice to himself): Did I just get fucked?
Then, he unfolds a blanket that was lying on the couch, throws it over
himself, and nestles into the pillow. Begins
to play possum, as sound of approaching car grows louder. The listener can faintly detect that Thorn’s
breathing is touched by a depressed labor.
Rosie
It’s good to be the smart ass, or in his case, the cute
ass. Smiles.
Thorn
The music has stopped.
The sources of light in the room have changed. Thorn’s sleepy face and posture on the couch have shifted to
suggest that it is some time later. A
cell phone begins a muffled ring to the tune of The Addams Family. He reaches into a backpack set close by and
pulls out the phone. Hello?
Rosie
Y‘ know, some folks think trying to butter your bread on both
sides is a good way to let life slip through your fingers.
Thorn
Pause. Searches for a
focus to his thought. Seems to fight an
impulse to roll his eyes. Yeah,
John Rechy called them “fascists“, even though he was totally gay. But, anyway, none of them better lay a
finger on my Butterfinger. Pause. So, why the interest? You looking for a guy who talks fancy like
Randy Harrison and has no pointy plan with the babes?
Rosie
Ooh… a book-reading
boy. That makes my nipples hard. Well, my right one, anyway.
Thorn
Would I be flattering myself if I got the impression you have an
idea to put me one of those posters of the latest Corvette, lying down naked on
the hood?
Rosie
That’s a pretty hot idea; but I kind of prefer your
poster-boy-for-Covenant House look.
Thorn
If anybody else’d said that, I’d have thought they were aiming
to hurt me.
Rosie
I guess a lot of it has to do with aim. But, if you‘re playing Pin the Tail on the
Donkey, it‘s best to keep your eyes open unless you‘re the one wandering around
blindfolded with the pin.
Thorn
So, if you’re just shooting in the dark when it comes to sweet
talk, you’d probably better be playing with a paper jackass instead of a real
live one, so you don’t get the sugar kicked out of you, right? But you’re the smart ass. I mean, you could probably even sit on a
jellybean and tell me what flavor it was; and I’d probably swallow it, but I
won’t urge you to start passing them around.
Rosie
Thorn, I don’t want to get you too upset. I suppose I sound like I’m trying to see how
much of you is Harry Pothead and how much might be Harry Poofter, but I have to
tell you that it doesn’t matter, because I like them both.
Thorn
Well, if I were a billy goat you were going to bring me home
from the SPCA, you wouldn’t want to vivisect me, would you? Well, I’m not going to go get an axial scan
of my preoptic hypothalamus, because my curiosity doesn’t work that way.
Rosie
Wow. I’m unmasked as
your future ex-court jester, huh?
Thorn
I’m sorry. It’s your
castle, princess. Maybe I just want to
be in the doghouse with you so that I’ll at least feel that I’m welcome on the
grounds. If I can be this up front with
myself and with you about it, I guess I can feel like I’ve achieved some
pathetic level of security. But, I
don’t know if my answers are the right ones.
I am starting to feel like, with the probing you’ve been doing, I’d
rather take my chances with your oversized joy buzzer. Where did you get that thing, anyway? Don’t you have to be grown up before they’ll
sell you one of those?
Rosie
Well, I didn’t actually steal it, but, there has to have been someone
a few minutes later who said, "Help, I’ve fallen on Bourbon Street and I
can’t find the sex toys I just bought!"
Thorn, are you homophobic?
Thorn
Why does everybody always want to bring fear into a question of
taste? Some people don’t like to get
into airplanes, so their friends go, "Oh, you have a fear of
flying!" The truth is, it’s really
about the crashing that makes you think twice.
Rosie
So, you wanna crash in here?
Thorn
Oh, are you ready for a shotgun wedding?
Rosie
Thorn, how come there are so few homosexuals in the
Appalachians?
Thorn
I’m guessing because shotgun weddings work a bit differently if
you’re gay, right?
Rosie
Yeah, but since I’m a girl…oh, who am I kidding? Sometimes, safe sex is just a matter of who
finds out.
Thorn
Gets up and goes into Rosie‘s room. Rosie, I have a theory.
Rosie
Yes?
Thorn
On days when I feel that I haven’t given you any reason to be
unhappy with me, all kinds of people give me this look like I’m someone
important and beautiful, especially if they’re the kind with that clean, aware
look in their eyes.
Rosie
I have a similar theory.
I look at guys, and they always seem to fall into two categories: Thorn and not-Thorn.
Thorn
You’re trying to get me killed, huh? Slides into the bed. Oh
well, what a way to go!
Rosie
Are we in love?
Thorn
Takes her hand, closes his eyes. Mr. Pointy thinks so.
Rosie
Places her ear to his chest.
What about Mr. Thumpy?
Thorn
Begins to look a bit glazed.
What does he say? His
eyes slowly close.
Rosie
He seems to be wondering how well the lock on my door
works.
Thorn
Uh, he seems to be doing the thinking for both of us.
Rosie
Pulls back a bit, takes him by the shoulder, and rolls him onto
his side, facing away from her, then snuggles closely and possessively. Camera view shifts to the door. The knob turns and the door swings slowly
open, revealing nothing but a pitch-dark doorway. As light adjusts, we see the silhouette of an old woman holding a
shotgun. (Whispering): Think of something, quick!
Thorn
(Whispering): I
can’t! You go first!
Rosie
Hey, Thorn, how come the mob can’t use gays?
Thorn
How come?
Rosie
Too many loose ends!
Thorn
Whatever, Baby! Give it
to me big time with that groove thing of yours! When we get to Heaven, you’re the only angel I want to wake up
and find in my end zone!
Rosie
(Looking toward the door):
Ah, the tragedy of being male!
While girls just want to have fun, boys desperately need to!
Thorn
(Looking toward the door with a manic grimace): Like she said! Continues with his forced grin until the
silhouette lowers the gun. A series of
gusty, unvoiced chuckles is heard from the figure in the doorway, whose
shoulders jitter with the quiet laughter.
The door then slowly closes.
Silence for a long moment. You’ve
got a good head on your shoulders.
Rosie
Wouldn’t you like to find out?
Thorn
Well, maybe if you learn to control your nag reflex.
Rosie
You bitch!
Thorn
Quiet for a few breaths.
Rosie, please, watch the heart:
broken in several places… Buries face in pillow.
Rosie
Oh. Is that why you want
to play "Doctor"?
Thorn
What would you prescribe, Dr. Schittersplitter?
Rosie
Gets up, goes over to the door.
Locks it. He-he-he!
Thorn
Is lying on his stomach, face partially buried in the fluffy
pillow, as if drawn in by some unusually comforting quality. His eyes are closed, but he opens one and
looks back at Rosie. His eye widens in
slight amazement as his brow rises.
(Slowly, with a hint of awe or innocence:) As seen on TV?
Rosie
Showtime!
Thorn
Face rises a bit from the pillow. He breathes in with a bit of feigned horror. Eyes roll upward as if entranced, he gasps a
bit more loudly as if pleasantly but genuinely shocked. Camera remains on Thorn’s arms and
head.
Rosie
Thorn, you tell anyone about this, and you will see that gun,
again.
Thorn
Yes, Ma’am. Pause. Gasps again with an almost silent
shriek. Camera view moves out window
toward a dark but clear horizon with very visible stars. Love To Be Loved by Peter Gabriel begins to
play. Scene fades to a very dark shade
of rose.
Rosie
Scene reopens. She walks
over to the closet with a Crown Royal bag that seems to contain her toy. She opens the door, and on the inside we see
a near-life-sized poster of Elizabeth II.
You know, Thorn, if your girlfriend KNOWS, that’s bisexual. If she doesn’t know...
Thorn
So, what’d you know? If
you’re like my mom, not much. She’s the
kind of person who, if she thinks her son has tendencies, is more likely to
start keeping track of the cucumbers in the fridge than the tranquilizers in
the medicine cabinet.
Rosie
Looks down with a frown, perhaps a bit ashamed of her lack of
compassion. She reaches back into the
closet and pulls out a couple of long pillows, throws one to Thorn. She grasps hers tightly, steps over, and
whacks him lightly over the head with it.
So, tell me about your mom.
Thorn
One day I had a friend over who I think was gay. He wasn’t sissy or anything, but he kind of
had that overly handsome and optimistic thing going on. She came in and started chastising at will,
as she normally does, and he appeared really offended for me. He got this amazed look on his face while
she was going on and on. When she’d run
out of breath, he told her, (gleefully) "Go BACK to Hell!" Rolls
eyes from side to side.
Rosie
I don’t guess his visit lasted long.
Thorn
No, but it felt good to have someone take up for me, for a
change. So, later, she starts in with,
"You hate women!" So, I say,
"I only hate women who remind me of YOU!"
Rosie
I bet that made her happy!
Pause. Rosie pushes out her
cheek a bit with a wiggle of the tongue, inside her mouth. So then you went to stay with friends for a
while, right? Pause. So, do I remind you of her?
Thorn
Lurches dexterously forward and reaches his hand lightly around
Rosie’s waist, draws her close and touches his forehead to hers, then pulls
back. Looks off,
quizzically. Remind me of
whom? Thorn’s smile looks forced, as
if he were in some kind of pain.
Rosie
What’s the matter, honey pud?
Thorn
Did guys suddenly start telling people what’s the matter?
Rosie
Okay. I’ll try my Miss
Cleo powers. Closes her eyes.
Thorn
Miss Cleo was discredited.
Rosie
Shut up. I like
her. Since when did card readers start
guaranteeing their work? Like Lorne
said on Angel, magic is annoyingly unreliable; especially when you go
public with it. (Seems to
concentrate.) I see you, like some
other boys, carrying a cross, waiting to find that plug-in patch that’ll let
you run your favorite old Windows 98 game on the new XP system.
Thorn
Well, at least it distinguishes me bit in a world of Elbonians
who expect to be humored for reasons unknown except the rest of us like to make
it home without getting pissed on.
Rosie
I think I get it, now.
If your friends or family or anyone is sympathetic enough to ask you
where it hurts, you feel patronized.
Thorn
Every man has weaknesses.
The more people know about them, the more they can drag you down. It would be nice if trust were a thing other
humans could honorably win from you, but if they try that, it usually turns out
to be some kind of scam, or they have good intentions but they’re skimpy on
skill.
Rosie
So, they just grab for the nearest fuck and take their chances
that things will work out, one more time, like Russian Roulette.
Thorn
That’s not how I want to be, though. I want there to be some honor in my life, something that will
outlive me.
Rosie
But a boy still needs love, so a girl has to be a mind
reader.
Thorn
Well, I think every sane boy hopes to find someone who knows all
there is to know about him, but won’t let it out into the street. If there were a miracle mate, she would be
patient enough to wait until there’s an obvious way to lift her guy up. I mean, we always have to work around girls’
mood swings during their periods; or at any other surprise moment.
Rosie
That’s pretty sharp. Maybe
a little too sharp. So, what can we
do? Find some way to read each other’s
thoughts? Wouldn’t you have to smooth
out some of those rough edges for hocus pocus like that to work? Takes her pillow and begins to buff him
like a shoe.
Thorn
Um, I guess that means a good guy would give his lady his trust,
but that brings us back to uncertainty all over, again.
Rosie
So the only thing I can do to try to keep you on the straight
and narrow is to just be my irresistible self?
Thorn
Shrugs. It
might be too late. My will is so free;
I don’t even seem to have control over it.
Rosie
Then, we’re actually getting nowhere?
Thorn
We just came from somewhere.
(Begins to intone like Groucho Marx:) And I hope we can go there, again!
Rosie
Oh, true love has no agenda, as such.
Thorn
A spiral agenda, maybe, not a linear one.
Rosie
If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich? Smiles.
Thorn
(Playfully:) If
you were as smart as I am, you’d know!
Rosie
Muses for a bit, then, Now who’s the smart ass?
Thorn
I’ve been trying to get that trophy away from you, I
suppose.
Rosie
I guess I should be happy you’re such a jerk; otherwise I’d have
a lot of competition. (In stagy male
voice:) No, no one else may have
you! She takes her pillow and begins
a pretended smothering.
Thorn
After a pretense of struggling, goes limp and feigns
unconsciousness.
Rosie
Gets up and returns with a red stocking of the kind hung from
the mantel at Christmas, and fits it onto Thorn’s foot.
Thorn
Removes pillow from face. I’m afraid to ask what this means...
Rosie
I had done some praying to Santa Claus, you know, the patron god
of pagan holidays disguised as Christian ones.
I said, “You live at the North Pole, why don’t you bring me one of those
bipolar teddy bears down along when you come!”
Thorn
And since he’s a pagan you figured he’d bring you one with all
working parts, not like those neutered ones in the stores.
Rosie
Well, the mouth seems to work fine.
Thorn
Hey, if you want to be an ass-wipe, I’ve got a special
ass-wiping tool, right here! Bats
eyebrows. And mine’s standard.
Rosie
I love you.
Thorn
I love you, too. Pause. There’ll probably never be a worse time to
say this, but, you know I don’t need one of those women who always tells you
how much she loves you and then shows you how much she doesn’t, because, you
know... (Covers face with pillow.)
Rosie
I know. You have a
mother.
Thorn
I guess I’m not exactly doing my part if I want to be rescued
from a life of sinful hitchhiking, huh?
Rosie
Eyes are slightly downcast.
A look of thoughtfulness, then protective sympathy comes to her face. It has come to my knowledge that; in
America, when parents tell a boy, "It’s my way or the highway," all
roads generally lead to Hershey. Looks
up, with an upset expression.
Thorn
I was starting to think I’m the only one who noticed. How did you?
Rosie
I’m exceptionally bright.
What’s your excuse? Bares teeth
in wide, satirical smile.
Thorn
Doctors and lawyers always want to buy me booze and get me high
so that I’ll be agreeable when they tell me all about how important they
are. It expands my horizons.
Rosie
Is that all that gets expanded?
Thorn
Aw, that’s cold, Baby.
Don’t worry; I’m not hooked up with any serious creeps.
Rosie
But a guy’s got to spin the old wheel of fortune, eh?
Thorn
I can’t say all of my experiments turn out the way I want them
to. I guess this time I should have thought
more about the outcome than the fun of watching the chemicals in the test tube
fizzle.
Rosie
I hear that just a few years ago, there was a whole underground
world where bad boys could hide, in the care of dirty old men who sometimes
weren’t that dirty or old, if their parents kicked them out.
Thorn
That enchanted forest is a paved-over parking lot, now. You could take up with a fairly mellow sex
offender who’d never been caught, instead of being thrown into booty camp with
a hardened bunch who had.
Rosie
What happened?
Thorn
Well, for hundreds of years, it seems, a lot of guys around the
country were pretty easy about giving drifters a new home for a while. I guess that most of them weren’t so much
perverts as just lonely for a little brother or something. If you got into trouble on some minor shit,
hitting the road ‘til you hooked up with one of them was often a cooler option
than "the cooler".
Rosie
A couple of my friends commented about that, that those men seem
to have disappeared, almost overnight.
Thorn
It’s a lot like how you can leave your doors unlocked in a
sleepy town, one day, then some troublemakers find their way in, and everything
changes. Those guys are usually like
the drifters, they can take or leave the sex, but if it comes down to trouble,
they start locking their doors.
Rosie
What’s gone down, then?
What’s the trouble? Are they
finally starting to worry about getting sick?
Twenty years ago, they didn’t really have to, that much.
Thorn
That might be part of it, but it’s more of a social crapola
thing. Boys have often become wanderers
because they went off in search of something they weren’t quite sure of. Now, you’ve got abandoned buildings in Los
Angeles full of homeless kids who ran away with big plans of making it as TV
stars. There’s a difference between
running off alone in search of yourself and running off alone just to grab a
bigger slice of the pie. At least a
James Dean type kid is looking somehow to deepen himself as an individual, and
I think that’s something that the gods never really minded helping us with,
when they could.
Rosie
So, the glitter of it all has started getting to people. Grab a rifle and be part of the big
adventure. "I want it all, and I
want it now." But, how did this
new confusion between fantasy and reality affect the Hershey bar highway?
Thorn
Some people standing up too tall for rights that others don’t
feel that they deserve, I guess.
President Clinton thought that the armed forces should be a "don’t
ask, don’t tell" arrangement.
Nobody should get kicked out for cock smoking unless they make a big
fuss like Corporal Klinger. Sounds fair
to me. The family can be like that,
too, though.
Rosie
Speaking slowly, searching carefully for her words: Especially a rich family or one from the
country. Members tend to keep quiet
about things that might rock the stability of their unit. But, with a tightening economy, working
mothers, and the raising of children turned over more and more to Barney and
other incarnations of Big Brother, the average family is losing its private
formulas for success. You know, in the
old country, family had deep roots.
People took tribe and religion seriously because it helped hold society
together and give its people support.
Now it looks like a lot of families just wonder if what they’re doing is
getting them anywhere. We see some of
the leftover pieces, from time to time, making noise on Jerry Springer. But, that’s about as much as you can find
out in Civics class about this problem.
What’s the rest of the story?
Thorn
Squints, rubs chin, and looks pleased. You can tell a woman is on your side when
her agreeableness sounds like somebody in a Plato dialogue. But, anyway, maybe it’s that religion isn’t
fun, anymore. Maybe the Information Age
makes some people insecure about what they grow up with, never
challenging. But it’s that same numb
attitude that makes it so easy to embrace something else just as
worthless. Being Baptist didn’t get me
the attention I wanted, so I’ll join Gay Liberation! You don’t even have to get dressed up to get onto the
internet. What could be more
convenient?
Rosie
You don’t have a lot of pity for the simple-minded, do you? So now I think I’ve heard enough to make a
guess: raging hormones plus a lot of
pep talk from strangers equals the new "out and proud" gay
teenager.
Thorn
Well, the new "out of my house" gay teenager,
anyway. Of course, a lot of these guys
don’t have the inspiration of a rebel who becomes one for other reasons than
fitting in.
Rosie
In other words, "don’t try this at home."
Thorn
Unless you want to join a project of gene pool cleansing. My friends tell me there’s a whole new breed
of street kids who are little more than post-modern prostitutes. The old soft-core, smooth trade johns don’t
want anything to do with them, and there isn’t as big a market for what they
have to offer, which is sex with a stranger, then ripping him off.
Rosie
So the men who used to take in the troubled boys have been
scared off by a new breed, like people who enjoy feeding wild doves, but one
day finds they’ve all been replaced by sickly-looking pigeons. And, if you are a wild dove, the sanctuaries
are suddenly overrun by flying poop machines.
Thorn
If a guy in search of himself made some screw-up in the past, he
could maybe make a break for it and end up part of someone’s life. Now there’s no net between the tightrope and
the ground.
Rosie
This deepens my concern for you, but you may understand how it
doesn’t exactly make me feel more special.
Thorn
You think I’d rather have a sugar daddy than another dove? His eyes begin to become glassy and
wet.
Rosie
Boys like you should never leave the gene pool. Smiles with deep affection. A knock is heard at the door. Go away, no cause for alarm. Necking and petting going on, nothing
else! Bye, now!
Thorn
You think our kids could find a cure for cancer?
Rosie
If we can keep them under the radar of people who freak because
you talk at on 12th grade level, and you’re only in 12th
grade.
Thorn
(In a Hindi accent:) We shall teach them wisdom!
Rosie
Looks puzzled, as if inviting more explanation.
Thorn
You can always tell what a nerd is into.
Rosie
Raises brows, makes an O with her mouth. A clever girl has things going on that don’t
always come oozing out. She can keep
people guessing.
Thorn
But a clueless one can have “that talk about our relationship”
every night, and things only get worse.
So, live by principles, or live by wits, but if you live by
expectations, you usually end up living by ones borrowed from folks who
couldn’t make theirs work.
Rosie
You’ve painted a pretty cold picture of the world. I hope you’re in the mood to make up for it
by keeping me warm. She flips the
wall switch, and light level goes down to that of bedside table lamp. She then lies down next to Thorn, pulls
up the covers, and snuggles close.
Sweetie, what do you think about these men who like boys?
Thorn
Well, I like puppies, but not for a midnight snack!
Rosie
So, men aren’t all the same?
Thorn
God, I hope not. I’m
supposed to be one, soon. (Gestures
dramatically in the air with hands and expressive finger movements:) It would really suck if that initiation
consisted of being ritualistically led by tribal elders into a torch lit room,
only to come face to face with one of those pods from Invasion of the Booty
Snatchers.
Rosie
You’ve given this matter a great deal of thought.
Thorn
With your help, thank you.
But it doesn’t stay on my mind the way getting a decent income
does. I don’t want your family calling
you a "hobo sexual".
Rosie
Pause. What’s that?
Thorn
A girl who’s only attracted to bums!
Rosie
Pause, with suggestion of quiet laughter. Aw, I only have eyes for your bum. Reaches around and takes his hand from
below, places her chin over his shoulder.
So, Thorn, do you like boys?
Thorn
It’s so great how you always look for the common ground between
us. (Snorts.) One day when I about five years old, I
was watching MTV. My grandfather walked
into the room, looked at all the long, flowing hair, and said, "Bunch o’
queers!" This was my new word for
the day, so later; I asked my mom what it meant.
Rosie
What did she say?
Thorn
"That’s a boy who likes boys!"
Rosie
So, what did you say?
Thorn
"I like boys!"
I thought she’d explain, but she just told me that, no, I didn’t. So, I said, "Yes, I do!" Pause. We just went on like that back and forth for a while until she
left the room.
Rosie
I gotcha; little souls wandering around who want to become sons
are going to look for fathers who can cherish them as they are, rather than
someone who constantly has to be imitated for them to get fed.
Thorn
St. Paul said that, when he became a man, he put away childish
things. I don’t think that he would
have made a very good father. A boy is
definitely a childish thing. But, he
never had kids. He made it his business
to teach religion to young adults.
Rosie
So, men should like boys?
Thorn
Good men have always liked boys, and vice versa. They don’t get too carried away with it,
though. In the old days, if a man called
you a prince, it meant that he wanted to place his sword at your disposal. Now, it just seems to mean he wants to place
his wand in your disposal.
Rosie
Well, our culture is pretty superficial. Maybe if you keep sharing your wisdom with
the world, you’ll eventually find the knights who’ll rally to your cause.
Thorn
A band of Mary men? I
can see it now, a bunch of gay Wiccans with me as their high priest, and we can
all greet each other with "Mary meat!"
Rosie
Well, if that’s the best you can do. Just keep your feet on the ground and inspire them to do great
things.
Thorn
Or, my heels on the mattress, eh? You want exclusive rights, huh?
Rosie
Damn right. I saw you
first, anyway. Pause. But, Thorn, brotherly love is important
to you, isn’t it? Haven’t you ever
daydreamed of being swept off your feet by Superboy?
Thorn
Haven’t you? Hasn’t
everyone with a heart? That doesn’t
mean I want to be manhandled in the middle of the night by some fellow with his
own methadrine lab and who makes puppy chow out of real puppies.
Rosie
I see. So, what do you
want?
Thorn
Raises his hands in front of him, makes a frame with L-shapes of
the fingers, squints one eye, cocks his head to the side, and looks at
Rosie.
Rosie
The only thing I can add to appearances is that I’m not out to
get you; I mean like being cruel on purpose just to feel powerful and all
that. I am out to make you my love
slave, of course. Her expression
stretches into a delightfully demented smile.
Thorn
I’m not calling in sick on you.
Expression becomes a bit stoically downcast, as if mood has changed,
decisively.
Rosie
You’re going to get all quiet and inward, like Heero from Gundam
Wing, now, aren’t you?
Thorn
He always seems fond of his friend’s really long pigtail. Maybe it’s really the intestine of some
slain enemy.
Rosie
Maybe it says something about having guts, even if you wear
someone else’s, hanging from a coonskin cap?
Thorn
Or the guts to take it up the zook from your best friend?
Rosie
Well, they’re fighter pilots.
They face death every day. I
guess in a world where you get drafted at age fifteen, you’re more aware of
your need for love, especially if that world is so advanced that spaceships are
easier to come by than adults.
Thorn
I guess in their world, isolation means an even quicker
death. But it’s clearer who the enemy
is. In ours, doubt is everywhere. There’s no room for it in theirs.
Rosie
There’s no doubt that sticking together is the way to go, for
them.
Thorn
I don’t doubt the way to go, I just don’t have a master plan of
how to go about it. The wars they fight
are on a clear front. The enemies of
love seem to be everywhere.
Rosie
As long as they aren’t inside of us, I think we stand a
chance.
Thorn
Smiles as if experiencing an epiphany of sorts. Oh, were you thinking about
digging them out of me, somehow?
Rosie
Am I driving you nuts with all of this?
Thorn
It’s cool, Cara Mia; if you read that I tried to hold up The
Comedy Store with a banana, I won’t try to blame it all on bad
girlfriending. Makes a crazy face.
Rosie
Okay, okay; I don’t want the cops to find you. I can hear them now on the evening
news: "Yeah, all we and the dogs
had to do was follow the smell of grilled chicken to the home of Rosie’s
aunt!"
Thorn
Well, I’m probably done to tender perfection, now. Why not have another taste?
Rosie
Thorn, are you like me?
Thorn
How’s that?
Rosie
Bisexual.
Thorn
Remember when Madonna said that she was a gay man trapped in the
body of a woman? I thought, "Oh,
well, that’s pretty darned convenient!"
Anyway, I guess I’d have to describe myself as a lesbian. Camera zooms in on his left ear as he
pushes the lobe forward with his forefinger.
Two small earrings are situated there:
both are shaped in the symbol of the planet Venus.
Rosie
Why?
Thorn
For one thing, because I’ve never actually done things to shame
my family (in that area); for another because I feel that there has to be a
Fortress of Solitude in a man’s own mind.
And, also because, if you let people get their foot in the door calling
you that, behind your back they’re going to go, "Oh, yeah, right,
bisexual: he likes men AND boys!"
Rosie
Remember in junior high, when we thought that we could tell the
gay boys because they always seemed like they were looking for somewhere to put
their hands? Makes insecure-looking,
limp-wrested gestures in the air.
Thorn
Yeah, and when we got to high school, we found out who the gay
boys were because they always seemed to be looking for somewhere to put their
hands! Bats his eyebrows at Rosie
and makes spider-like gestures with his hands as they crawl affectionately up
her arms. He rapidly taps one arm as if
it were a musical keyboard.
Rosie
You can play me like a piano, huh?
Thorn
No, Baby. Truth is
stranger than fiction. I’m being
honest. Trouble is, I’m even honest
with people who hate me. I keep trying
to give them a piece of my mind so they can see what I think is a better way;
and that’s a great way to get into hot water, whether you’re humble like Abel
or haughty like Joseph.
Rosie
So, none of this is bullshit?
Thorn
In The Buddha of Suburbia, Bowie says, "Can’t tell
the bullshit from the lies." It
made me think about the difference. At
least bullshit can be a little sincere:
I could be saving someone else’s feelings, or my own ass. With lies, though, you know you’re dealing
with someone who doesn’t want to be connected in a fair way; they just want to
take what they can. If you let me have
my own sacred space of silence, from time to time, I think I’ll never have to
hand you any bullshit.
Rosie
That’s a lot to ask of an American girl, you know. Even one with the heart-beatle-mania I have
for you.
Thorn
I know, but I’m a fairly tenderhearted guy.
Rosie
I’ll give you that.
Something tells me I’d cramp your style if I asked you to wear a T-shirt
that says, "Huggery, Not Buggery", though.
Thorn
No, that’s far too lame and sappy. How about one that says, "Hag Fag"?
Rosie
That’s antisocial enough, I guess. You’d probably need a Mohawk and a couple of nose rings to get
away with wearing it, though.
Thorn
Places thumb and forefinger to bottom lip, arches brow, and
looks upward, as if contemplating some rude escapade.
Rosie
All right; the persecution rests. Winks at Thorn. Reaches
out with both hands, grasps him behind the head, and smooches him on the mouth. Reaches over and turns out table
lamp. Some moments of darkness, then,
the projection of a red light is seen sweeping the wall opposite the windows. Oh, shit:
gentlemen callers; and something tells me that they’re not here to
invite us to Baba Bob’s Hum Drum Meditation.