WHAT A DIFFERENCE A GAY MAKES
by Chris Okiishi
(Two chairs sitting side
by side form the front seats of a car. Chris is driving.
Woman is the passenger.)
WOMAN (this is non-stop,
but intelligible-just no pauses to allow a break): I really
can't remember the last time I was so drunk, except maybe that time
at my mother's second wedding, the one we don't talk about because
none of us liked the groom. He was cute, but so stupid.
Not Arkansas Stupid or Public School System Stupid-more like Missouri
Stupid-kinda slack jawed and ignorant. Like people from Cedar
Rapids. So the only way I could make it through that was to drink.
And my sister, god rest her soul, kept filling up hands with cocktails.
I'm usually a Dewers girl, but this time, I was all about the Stoli-can
you imagine! I can hardly believe I only threw up twice. Once
in my purse, which was a gift from someone I hate, so that's no loss,
and once on my sister's father's ex-girlfriend. I think.
Or was it the minister's wife? They both had that generic dyke-y
thing going on that I hate so I can't be sure. In either case,
my puke actually improved their appearance. I'm serious.
Now that's drunk, right? Am I right? (She
hits Chris' arm and continues silently.)
CHRIS: Morally and politically
I'm strongly opposed to the private ownership and use of handguns,
but if anyone has one with them, could they please shoot me?
WOMAN (mid-story, the sound
comes back on): ...mother, I said, if it's that small, you're
gonna need to buy a strap on and let him be the girl! Who knew
she'd take me seriously? But I guess some things aren't meant
to be. Have you ever tried the strap on thing, what with you being
Asian and all. (Sound off)
CHRIS: I'm working
a new job in a clinic about an hour away and one of my office mates
works there too, and in fact, she kinda negotiated the deal. It's
pretty killer, actually-I'll make more tonight than...well...let's
just say it's a good deal. She's good with the money thing,
which is why she suggested we car pool to save even more-she worked
in a mileage clause for each of us and figures we can double our take
this way. Again, killer cash. Except I'd forgotten how
exhausting she can be.
WOMAN (sound on):
...but then that was before I wised up and hired a Mennonite housekeeper.
They are the very best-work like little dogs and won't even make
eye contact. And they won't take tips-I think it's against
their religion. I can't believe in God or anything, Christ knows,
but I'll gladly praise whatever if it's gonna save me 10%.
Besides, I never really know how to tip that kind of servant-it's
not like it's a restaurant where you start at 10% and knock off a
buck for every mistake they make. I make sure they know how much
their loosing, damn straight. Sometimes, I even make a little
pile of ones and quarters, and let them watch it dwindle as the night
goes on. (Sound off)
CHRIS: It's an hour
over and an hour back. I figured-how bad could it be?
I try to zone off, just keep my eyes on the road and let hypnosis kick
WOMAN (sound on):
...an actual grasshopper, right there in my salad! Could not believe
it, though I think I'd already eaten its head. But the worst
service-the worst, has to be in Haiti. No one is lazy like the
Haitians-not the Mexicans, not the black people...don't look at
me like that-not black people from around here, no, up here at least
they work-I mean black people from the south-that kind of lazy...(Sound
CHRIS: She did not just
WOMAN (sound on):
...and he wouldn't move his ass if it were on fire. Which is
why they're all so fat! Just lazy and fat and ugly-and there's
no ugly like FAT ugly...no offense...(Sound off)
CHRIS: You know what
I said about the handgun? I've changed my mind-don't shoot
me, shoot her. I really don't know how people stand to be around
her. But that's what's funny-guys are lining up to ask her
out, falling over her every word-handsome, build linebacker types
giggling over her jokes. Give her a minute, and I'm sure you'll
get the gory details of her sex life...
WOMAN (fast on):
...and that was the second...no, third...no, second time I got Chlamydia...only
this time, it only got really puss-y along my gum line... (Sound
CHRIS: There you go.
I don't get it. She's got a nice face, good body, dresses
well, and, okay, pretty fabulous hair...but let's face it, she doesn't
have the whole...package...now does she? I wonder if that's
the problem-that my lack of desire allows my ears to work too well.
I mean, would I be more forgiving if it were coming out of a mouth with
some sexy 5:00 stubble?
WOMAN (sound on, over the
next bit, she stands and moves off stage as MAN enters and the line
is "handed off". Some overlap is desirable.): ...but
then he actually never knew the difference between a domestic car and
something good. He was really retarded about such things.
Man (sits where the WOMAN
used to be) I mean, every day I thank god for Nazi German
engineering-if it means a bunch of Jews had to get all crispy for
me to drive my Mercedes-I say, shalom, bitches! But that's
not the half of it... (Sound off, animated silence continues.)
(CHRIS stares at
MAN for a bit, then turns to audience.)
CHRIS (blinking, bewildered,
then smiling): Huh. (Pause, shrug) Better.
(SLOW FADE. Chris' arm goes around Man at some point. BLACKOUT.)THIS SCRIPT IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR