SPEAK OF HOLLYWOOD David comes out on stage at a cabaret space. Comedian-esque slaps some hands and kisses someone on the cheek. Each section of this monologue is in a different voice as a sort of spoken word who are the people in your neighborhood... DAVID Speak of Hollywood and people think of stars and shit. The stars in Hollywood are melted into the ground and we walk on _em. I purposefully drag my shoes and scuff up their shining brass. How many places can you walk on the stars? Speak of Hollywood and someone's gunna sing that stupid song. Hurray for whatever. Speak of Hollywood is like a place in theory of theoretical madness.. Like zen crazy ethereal place . a essence. You could never bottle or sell at Macy_s. Even thought it would have a great name. It would be like vapor. A dream. A memory of a dream once dreamt. A...what did you want? Speak of Hollywood yeah I heard of them. They got a new album out shit's the bomb y'all. Speak of Hollywood and it_s like fierce. Just Fierce. Speak of Hollywood carefully. Speak of Hollywood, the free clinic? I love it there? My friend Maureen work there. She cool. Speak of Hollywood is like me. In your face different tattooed pierced fucking bitch. I am in not like you I am out there and crazy. Blah! Speak of Hollywood yes we have that. You're picture with Matt or Ben maybe sexy Pamela yes? No? How about director's slate with your name here? Speak of Hollywood as a mission onto God to celebrate the wonder he has created and he loves you he does. Even though he thinks you're disgusting, He loves you. Can I get an Amen! Speak of Hollywood is an oxymoron. You can't do it because by the time you got to the D, the H is tired. It_s over. That H is three minutes ago it might as well be dead. There's something newer fresher, better, follow the lightening yes, but a different thunder. Speak of Hollywood? No no no no. Speak of Hollywood? Umm are you and agent? Cause I can say it a lot of different ways. You know with color. Speak of Hollywood I_ll speak of Hollywood if you give me a dollar. Speak of Hollywood no way, not with out a disclosure agreement. Speak of Hollywood is like taking my hot tranny pussy. It_ll be cheap for you baby. You ever had asspussy. OO it_s sweet. Don_t you worry, I use FDS so not only will it smell like the real thing, it also stops AIDS so you wont have to use a condom! Speak of Hollywood and you're speakin a load of bullshit to assholes who don't know anything better than how to order a fucking drink. And I'm not bitter just honest. It's last call for happy hour. Speak of Hollywood. The city of sin named a Hollywood in some feeble attempt to tame it? Speak of Hollywood and you speak the language of nightmares, which are just dreams that got away from you. Speak of Hollywood is like trying to be dying, laying it down and pushin the river. Got to do it got a be it. Gotta fucking gotta Speak of Hollywood and it's like trying to catch a rainbow. A really bright rainbow.. Like really bright. You know Owe. Speak of Hollywood? Are you fucking me you fuck? Don't fucking fuck me I'm the fuckest fucker in this fuck fuck fuck. Fuck you. Speak of Hollywood and you're singing. Hollywood's a place of dreams where anything can happen. Speak of Hollywood? Wouldn't you rather speak of inner peace? Are you truly happy? I think I see despair. Let's be friends. Have you ever taken a personality test? L Ron says.... Speak of Hollywood. Well there's this big white sign on this hill over looking the city. It spells Hollywood. Speak of Hollywood is signing a contract. One you hope is with someone who can do somehting for you, more often it's because of what they'll take from you. I'm the same way. Speak of Hollywood and you're speaking Gold lame, pearls diamonds, giant rubies, silver diadems hanging over perfectly plucked eyebrows red carpets and those kleeg light things going around and around, saying hey there a party over here and you ain't invited. Speak of Hollywood and you think you gunna say somethin? Huh? Fuck head? The speak of Hollywood is the sounds of the gutter, the trippin foot of a good man's sole. It's the noise slippin out of a bar like a neon glow it's a scream and a silent beggin for the sun to rise. Speak of Hollywood? To speak of Hollywood you best just shut the fuck up. HEINISHTICKER We are in some ugly beige office with an off center calendar on the wall by a time card machine. Three security guards stare imposingly at a small man in a tank top and jock strap. HIENISHTICKER I shove things up my ass because I am an artist. Not for Razzmatazz or hootspa or shock value. Shoving things up my ass is art. Definitively. By it's nature. I am an artist. I live my art and my canvas is beautiful. It is a flesh stretched 3 dimensional homage to my very being. It is a round and hairy and saggy and white and sometimes spotted, globed, mutable living canvas. When I insert objects into my ass I am not just commenting on common culture and sticking any old thing up there. It takes years too decide what I should shove up my ass. Years! No one just saunters through the produce section and says "hey I wanna shove a carrot up my bung hole" Only an artist gets that kind of inspiration. A true artist living his art in his fullest truest medium. My medium is my ass. My asshole is like a great sculpture that is alive and breathing. It's always with me. I am always an artist. I used to shove dildos up my ass but everyone started doing that it became cliche and once something becomes that mainstream your voice is changed. Changed even though you're saying what you said before the ear drums of a nation have altered and hear it differently. I'm not one of those self-absorbed masturbatory artists who just run around doing weird things and don't care if the audience gets it. I have a message. I have something to say about you and you and you and you better listen. When I stretch my legs it's a reach for truth, when I squat it might be dodging a blow from the hand of a god I can't believe in. When I bend over I succumb to embrace my destiny. And my ass? My ass is a vessel of knowledge. A bowl of soup, Campbell's soup. It just is. Like bad news on the telephone or a horrible story on the television or a 5 dollar psychic in a store front, my ass picks up the waves of truth and I show it to you. I never asked for this power, this gift, this curse. Do you think I went "hey guess I'll shove things up my ass maybe then I'll become the most important artist of the 21st century. No. It was forced into me and upon me. This calling to lead. To show you the ass of life. The anal canal of possibilities. When I shove something up my ass it is a glory of divine proportions. When I shove something up my ass I am at the doorway to consciousness. When I shove something up my ass it is sacred. I am bringing divine energy into the room. Celebrating the wonders of the glory of personkind. Kao toaing to the reality of the moment. Worship with me! Worship the brown winking eye of GOD! As he sheds his wisdom upon us. Bask in the glory of everything you have ever been and realize it is everything you have ever eaten and the way to enter heaven is through the back door. So maybe instead of arresting me you should thank me. I was going to buy those carrots. It's not stealing because I haven't left the store. I was certainly going to tell the clerk I had 4 carrots up my ass. I swear. I'm an artist and we can't lie less we dull the knife with which we cut the truth. You should be on your knees thanking me or on your feet applauding my performance not shackling my voice. You won't stop me. I will shove things up my ass again! I am Henry Heinishticker and I am an artist! ROCKER A young rocker boy, edgy, leather fucked up hair and tats slams his way out of some nondescript warehouse space carrying a guitar case. The kind of empty spaces filled with rehearsal studio which proliferate h-wood. TOMMY is edgy and angry he is screaming at the buildings and at one of the windows in particular. TOMMY FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK YYYYYYYYYOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUU! Just fuck you. You fucking asshole fucks. Fucking die! I'll fucking watch you fucking die. You suck you suck you fuck! He picks up a rock and throws it at the window. TOMMY (continuing) We'll see huh? We'll fucking see Brandon Huh? Yeah we'll fucking see! Hey assholes! I said we'll see. Huh? You are nothing without me. Nothing. You are nothing. You don't even have a name. That's right. You are a no named fuck. The nut busters dot com is mine. I own that shit! I own the name outfucking right. Huh? So have fun inventing another cool name. Yo do that 'cause I will never give you rights to that name NEVER. So you go ahead kick me out kick my ass out go ahead and do it. Go ahead. Nameless dickless fucks! That's your new name assholes! And what what what are the nameless dickless fucks gunna sing? Huh? Purgatory I don't think so. That's my fucking song. Mine. How about frustration? Mine. Integrated humanity? Mine mother fuckers. Mine All mine. You are nameless songless band. Oh what's that band oh they don't have a name ? MINE. Huh you try and play it. Just fucking try. It's mine My song. I own that shit. Yeah? You play the demo for anyone I sue your ass. (sing's ) Becky's tits, Becky's tits. They're the shit. Becky's tits! Becky's skeezy used up dried out nasty ass tits! Yeah you try doing that James D Dean. Stupid fucking named asshole fuck. You even try to sing my genius lyrics just try and I'll kill you I'll kill yo you fucks! Fuck you Brandon Fuck you James D Dean. Fuck you Troy. And Fuck you Becky Just fuck you you fucking whore. I hate you you fucking bitch. Why don't you fuck the rest of the band too. Huh Fuck Troy he ain't ever got laid anyway. Give him crabs Huh That could be your new name the CRABS!!!! The fucking nameless dickless crabs with no fucking music to sing asshole mother fuckers! I am the talent in this band. I am a rock star you just wait assholes. You will regret this! He walks away still screaming. TOMMY (continuing) Fucking talentless fucks. Fuck YOU!!!!! I'm the fucking shit. I'm the fucking man the talent the fucking super star glue that held this shitty band together. Fuck you I don't need you, I do not need you. I don't need anybody you fucks! Tommy gets around the corner and starts to cry where no one can see him. He slowly pulls out his cellphone and dials. It rings. TOMMY (continuing) Mommy? Mommy, it's Tommy...I know it's late...I know.. No I'm not using. I swear. I.. Mom, they the threw me out. The threw me out. They just did it. Becky slept with Brandon. I know I know you knew she was no good. SheÕs a fuckin whore. She gave me the crabs. That's how I found out. I had crabs so I questioned Becky and she says it wasn't from her cheaten, she must have got them from a used clothing store, so I like an asshole believed the fuckin whore but then I see Brandon itchin. And I see the two of them smirk. I lost it Mommy I lost it! I was like you street walking bitch.. No no I didn't use the lord's name in vain I just called her a street walkin fucking whore. So then it all came out. They all ganged up on me. I was so mean I'm an asshole. They said... Everybody hates me. They said I couldn't sing. They said I can't play. I'm the only one who even knows what a barchord is. I'm the only one who can play diminished fifths. I mean Jesus Troy only learned the bass a year ago! Fuck them. Sorry. Mommy they said the meanest stuff. No they meant it. They did. I know. I put the band together, I made it happen. I fliered up and down Hollywood, I booked both gigs we had. I did it all and then now, they kick me out. All my work........ It's not fair. I never never never should have told them I was born again. Never. Ever since I wouldn't say G-damn they all got weird. Like I was a narc or something. Then they pushed it and Becky pushed it. So I told her about my own personal savior. And she freaked on me. Like totally freaked. They kept whispering or making jokes about practice on Sundays. Then Becky starts wearing crucifixes all the time just to piss me off. It's religious intolerance and shit. I can rock out with my cock out and praise Jesus. Right? Why fuckin not. Huh? Jesus was along haired metal band rocker. Don't you think? I mean right? So fuck them right? Right? I 'll just start another band, huh? What do you think? What? What! I ain't coming home? What? What does that mean? Home? Come home like some pussy whipped failure? Forget everything I have working for. Throw it away because some nameless dickless assholes with no music talk shit about me. Fuck them. And fuck you for saying I should stop. I will never stop! I will rock till I drop. Do you hear me woman? I am a fuckin rock star! Sorry. Sorry I yelled. Mommy don't cry. Don't cry, you'll get me all... I'm sorry I didn't mean you fuck you, I just it's an expression. I'm sorry I just just got mad saying I should.. You don't want me to give up do you? You're you're the only one who always believes in me Mommy. Even when I don't. Even when I don't give a fuck I know you do. Yeah.. Well I don't know how to break this to you but I think you're my only fucking fan. Huh? I love you too. Yeah fuck them. I love you. I'm sorry. For whatever. He hangs up his phone. And smiles and sits on a bench. Taking out his guitar he plays a song. TOMMY (continuing) Jesus is my savior and for him I'm on good behavior. He's the shit. And he most definitely hates Becky's tits! BRILLIANT! We dive through a stage into a dressing room. A reporter is taking notes while interviewing a drag performer. We find Bobby applying make up or fixing his tits. Bobby is incredibly effeminate, including but not limited to a lisp. His hands are outstretched like his nails are drying and his eyes are huge! BOBBY Hello Gorgeous! I always have to do that. Gets me into Babs. I am Babs. Well, I'm all of them. Every last one of them. My Joan Crawford knocks 'em dead. I just appear with that coat hanger and everyone screams no wire hangers!!!! I love doing Joan she's so over the top. The key is the shoulders: big big shoulders and you got to work them like a robot sort of. Joan's the most fun. I love them all! Me and my ladies! Babs, Barbara Streisand, is probably the most popular. And we don't have to ask why do we? My secret there are the lips. Shake those lips. Loosely not tweaked up like Mae. Mae's a piss. She can say anything and get away with it. The dirtier the better! My Judy..My Judy is unsurpassed. No one Judy's like I can Judy. My Judy, were Liza in the house she'd but right here..suckling. I am Judy no tricks just Judy. I do Liza too. Liza's a blast to have around I make fun of her a bit you know tease and what not, but she can take it. Once I did a song as Judy Liza and Lorna it was fabulous! The producers said it was too avant-garde for Vegas. Isn't that just me: ahead of my time. True artists are never appreciated in their time. Lord knows Judy wasn't. Babs was, but her icon status almost killed her. Let me tell ya I sing for songbird! No, it's better just to be amazing now and icon later. Like me. I'm under appreciated. Oh I am. And to my face! My wife's family all snicker behind my back. Like preforming is easy or something. I have a gift. A calling! And yes I have a wife. I saw the eye roll. I'm straight. I know I 've heard it all my life! Trust me I tried, I don't like cock. I barely like mine. I love making love to my wife. And she's not one of those butchies by the way. It works for us. She doesn't care I'm a bit effeminate. She gets a kick out of it. Like I do. I've gotten a lot of kicks over the years. It's a lisp, get over it! All those tauntings in school and that meanness. Even by teachers. I was even skinnier then. If you can imagine and so weak. Nerds beat me up. It hasn't been an easy life. And even now, people like you ask me the same questions over and over again. Who does that much self-examination. Look what it did to Shirley McClaine. Yes I'm a sissy boy. Yes you can kick my ass again. Yes, you can point roll your eyes and sneer at how I am. But in a 20 minutes. Lights go on. And you'll sit your fat ass in a seat and pay top dollar to watch this stick of a man fill that stage. And I am Liza with a z! I am Mae. I am Babs. I am Judy! I am every sensational star you have ever wanted to meet; but your pathetic nowhere nothing of a life wouldn't bring you with in miles with in their presences so you beg me to be them so you can feel the divine! In 20 minutes this ugly little geek will be the greatest star the world has ever known. And I will twinkle. I am Bobbie Brilliant, and I am a diva! BITCH An eastside Hollywood hooker is giving head in the back of and SUV to some dude. He grabs her hair. She is a tough fast talking fuck-or-be fucked survivor. She's cool if you understand or can keep up with her. You can't. She sits up fast and gets his hand out of her hair. BITCH You are not touching my weave. This hair ain't no pull toy that'll wind up and say things you want to hear. It's my halo, fuck head. My locks fall like a princess from the tower, falling falling down splat, one dead princess for the crows to eat out. My hair's too long to box with God. My hair is my vanity. It makes me vain. And veins carry blood, my blood. Course through the arteries and streets of Eastside Hollywood. Only they ain't never found a heart it just get pumped like a slut too stupid to charge. I know the score even when I ain't scored. Knowing is knowing how. Mops of locks hiding my big bad ass brain. Ominscient like God but smart like a devil. But stay away from there just look at my hair. My hair which gently falls over my eyes. That's right, I can see you mother fucker. I see your ass and can tell a block away how it's gunna play. I see you when your sleeping because I am always awake. I see you cause you stink. Stink like rottin flesh of a road kill no animal's gunna eat except the tires of a truck: smack down roll and wipe a gut away. Smack down roll and wipe a gut away; there goes a gut. There goes her pretty face embedded in the 7th wheel. Reeeking. I smell you like a dog on an ass. I smell you in a smell-a-rama of disgusting despair. Smell the stench of crotch pounding. It's salty and it stings. But I don't care. I don't give a fuck. Wind blowing ho's like it's sweeping down the plains but tumbleweed getting caught in your teeth. (spits) lick my luscious lips so I can spit in your mouth and leave a piece of myself in there. In you, even when you aren't here. That's right look on down away from the truth. Away from the no bullshit big mouth of me. Look down. Damn. You like looking at my ta-tas. My bodacious maracas say them Latina whores, my jelly pies, my boobies-wanna-titty- fuck-me tatters. My melons of love. My niggers. My mothers milk for a boy who needs a spanking and radio knobs for a dialing fool. Or maybe my saving grace, my bouncers for the rebound helped me out and into all shits of trouble. All my children rippin from my belly. Rippin right outta my guts, the only place IÕd ever feel you mother fucker. Feel my puke. Hot and chunky. A soup of testicles and predictions of every one of you mother fuckers. Now shiiit. You checkin out my business. Hair pie alla jizz mode. You crawl your man worm inside my gave til he spit on me. Go ahead just spit. Get it over. Over in out and around, make no mistakes little boy you can never go home. No matter how afraid you is I am less afraid because I live in fear. Shaking and quaking. My ass rubadub dubing to a heart rate so fast it'd kill a man. My lovely large lands you long to lust. Everything's open for business but everything got a price. Priced on what you want, versus what you say you want, versus what you gunna get versus what you actually gunna do. You grab it hard and dig for blood. Roll it around and name it after your highschool sweetheart, she don't mind and neither do you. You get that girl who broke your heart. You shake that chicky who said no and made you cry. My round ass slapped for being so bad; slapped for being soooooo good. That's it. You keep going down. You descend baby. Look at 'em. Watch these legs. My gams, my sticks, my walkers. My holy shit I can't move another block on this fucking city pavement lay me down in a meadow hurting bad pain in the ass carriers of all my shit and all my shit's shit. Spread them baby. But hold on, 'fore they squeeze your man-ness from every inch of you, cause they know how to run away. Oh yes, I can pedal. All held up by ten toes in 8 inch cocks, you call heels, high heeled, rehab or none clean and sober like a drunk bum on a fly beggin God and celebrating his 10 minutes of pain ridden sobriety just to crush under the gun of my heal. Lifting me up. Closer to the hand of God. Higher than the tallest building that I have never seen. Someplace far away where they build buildings in a fashion I have never seen. A place so far away there ain't even a building, not a city, ain't even a man. Ain't a car driving by mad that they're driving or mad that they're stopping just...away. Tall like the tallest window in a church. The one the sun like. Yes huge as that, one day I will be higher than it all. Making me taller, more of a presence and easier to knock over. Now what are you going to look at? That's it baby, head to toe. The anatomy of a bitch. Lesson Over. She walks away. VINCE Inside a cheap hotel room with a bad yellow stained bedspread and dirty green carpet, enter to figures. VINCE is a large sexy dude kind of guy. He has a basic Jcrew look and is clean shaven. He carries a bottle of tequila in a paper bag. He's a bit drunk but not drunk enough. The other figure is the back of a slender youth with longish blonde hair. He's soft skinny and waif-ish. He's almost androgynous. The kid goes up on his tippy-toes to kiss Vince. Vince stops him and swigs his tequila. VINCE Don't do that. I..um...Look. Um. I'm not gay. Ok. I'm not queer. I'm not a fag. I'm not a straight man who sleeps with guys. I'm not none of that shit. Ok? He swigs. VINCE (continuing) I just. Don't look at me like that. You're cute and all I guess I didn't pick the ugly guy next to you did I. What does that mean? Do I think you're cute did I just say that? Did I fucking say that!?! Fuck! Fuck xxxx ing fuck fuck! I'm NOT gay! I don't like theatre and I hate flowers and shopping sucks. See? I'm not gay. There's no way! The boy leans back on the bed. He takes off his shirt. Vince half smiles and looks down. He swigs again. VINCE (continuing) See ok. I fooled..I did something with this guy at the gym and I'm kind of freaking out over it. Ok? So that's it that's the whole story. Just like that. I mean I was sort of tricked. I didn't like it! Please God don't let me be gay! (he cries) See I was in the fucking sauna. Which I never fucking go into because of the fag factor at my gym, but I was sore from pressing. So I'm in the fucking sauna and the only other guy is the old dude. He's like 90 or something. I mean really really old. And I'm closing my eyes thinking about nothing. And I hear him go "Oh my god!" and I look over and he's sitting there naked with this huge fuckin hard-on. It was huge. I was like great I get a old fag. I'm about to leave when he starts crying. I look at him and he's like, "This hasn't happened in 5 years." 5 Fucking years he tells me. 5 years no wood. I'm like no way! He kind of gets embarrassed and doesn't know what to do. He says, "I wish my wife was here" That just about broke my fuckin heart. So I said man go for I'll keep a look out. So he sort of turns half away and starts pounding right? And I'm looking out the window to make sure no one comes. Well except for this old fucker. So he's huffin and puffin. And doing the arm shake. Like he's getting tired. And he just stops and looks at it. Defeated man. Like when it's forth quarter and there no way in fuckin hell you're making up the points and you just feel like fucking shit. I wasn't gunna let that shit happen. Not on my watch. So I walked over and I grabbed his cock and I jerked it off. I rubbed it up and down. I was tossing him off like a fuckin pro. But he's not cumming. Just moaning. So Did what my girlfriends used to do it highschool before they all became sluts. I spit on it. A little lube or what not. Then he gets real close I can tell because his legs start to straightening and we're so close when bam. It starts to go down. I was losing! I said man what's up. He said "we tried." Tried! Tried. No fucking way. he was cumming and that was that so..so... I sucked him off. I did it for the team. I put my mouth on that old cock and sucked. And he got hard again and two seconds later. Plop one tiny piece of cum spirted onto my hand. This hand. Right there. Right fucking there. He sort of smiled and left. The boys takes off his pants and lies naked before Vince. VINCE (continuing) I felt like a champion. I was the nicest guy in the fuckin world. I'm like a saint and shit. But then, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It kept creeping back in my mind. So I picked up this chick and Saturday night ad I was fucking her hard when she reaches back and grabs my ass and tries to finger my ass. I was like fucking whoa and she's like "guys like it it makes them harder." Fuck, it was like gay day and shit. Then I started noticing Jerry at work. I..I...I noticed...his...ass. I was like fuck Jerry's got a big round ass. What the fuck is wrong with me. I mean in college I got so much tail they called me the butmaster now I'm a...butt pirate! I wasn't actually thinking of packing fudge but it was close. Too close. So I figured it was that old guy. He was fag and I got some gayness rubbed off on me. I bet that was his game. Oh poor me only get hard once every 5 years. I am nobody's sucker. I was gunna kick his ass, old or not. So I went back to the gym and I stalked the sauna. Everyday looking for him. Finally one day, like a week later. He's fucking there in the sauna, alone. I flung open the door. And looked at him. I was like "remember me?" He said "I'm sorry. I told you it hasn't happened in 5 years. You'll have to find someone else." and he leaves the sauna. I was like he thinks I'm a fucking faggot! Fuck. So I collected my shit and left the sauna and I was changing and I saw him talking to some of his old cronies. You know the wrinkle gang that hang at the gym pretending to workout, and they start laughing and looking over at me. They were making fun of me. I had to get the fuck out of there. SO I walked by and one of them says under his breathe "cocksucker." He called me a fucking cocksucker and I couldn't kick his ass because he was right! I am a fucking cocksucker. And I do not want to be gay. Being gay.. Being gay would suck! I would so suck. I like pussy right. I'm really good. I fuck strippers for christ's sake. But I can't figure it out. I keep going in circles. So I have to prove it to myself once and for all that I am not attracted to guys. I figured I'd pick one of yous up and just beat the shit out of him. The boy sits up afraid. VINCE (continuing) Just beat it out of my system. Like a gay punching bag. Because I am so not fucking gay! I mean what'll I tell my Mother? Huh? The boy grabs his jeans and runs for the door. He is easily over powered and thrown onto the bed by Vince. VINCE (continuing) Sit the fuck down. Don't you try to run out you little faggot. You go when I fucking say you go. Now, I'm gunna kick your ass. Ok? Don't take it personally or nothing. It's just what I have to do. You know. I'm sure your a nice guy and..and.. I won't, I won't your face. Ok? You got a really pretty face. Oh Jesus! For a guy you gotta pretty... I'm sorry about this dude, but I gotta kick your ass. Or maybe...maybe I should just fuck you. Yeah I could fuck you and I'd probably hate it. I'd hate it alot I bet. Yeah. I'll fuck you and then I'll know I'm not gay. Right? No that doesn't make any fucking sense if I fuck you I'm a fucking queerass pansymotherfukckingfaggotlimpwristeddickmuncher. Then I'm fucked. If I fuck you I'm fucked. Ok. I'm just kick your ass and be done with it. He swigs. He looks at the boy longingly and grabs his crotch. He swigs again. He throws the tequila against the wall. It smashes. VINCE (continuing) Fuck it. Let's fuck! He walks over to the naked boy on the bed. CORN ROW Grabs a cocktail glass. DRUNK FAG (as he is laughing he turns his head and seems to see a familiar face. He responds with a moment of terror.) Oh my.. I'm sorry dear. I thought you were someone else. So sorry. No one really, just this hairdresser I used to know. Dan or Tom or Phillip something. How odd. But I must say it is uncanny. The resemblance and all. He was hot young stud like you. Ohh. All those muscles and a huge member, like you? You blush. Hard to believe some bitter queen like me could once get his pick at the rodeo? But I could. It was only a few years ago, really. I was pretty then. Cock of the walk in fact. Tight jeans, tighter tanks, although pecs weren't as big back then, my hair slightly feathered and swooped. Damn I was cute. And there he was, you sort of, dear. And I walked right over to him used my most stunning sure fire pick up line. "wanna fuck?" He didn't have to finish his beer. Got back to my place and was I in love! Hmm he just got better and better as I unwrapped him. Kind of like chinaware. He was so hot! He just threw me down. We were really heavy crazy into it and he said "Baby, can I do something to you?" I was like anything! He said "anything?" Anything! Anything? Yeah Anything! I am your slave your willing putty do whatever turns you on. I'm all for it. So dear, he took out his big huge teasing comb and started ratting my hair. Uh. Hot! He ratted and pulled like an animal! I know I should have been more cautious but in the moment he could have redefined split ends. He took out his hairspray and lord! So much hairspray, I'm still not sure if it was the ozone or my ass but we certainly made a hole somewhere! Then he just continued... And I sort of blacked out. So I'm not totally sure of what happened next Until the morning. I awoke. Alone. I was a bit hung dear. I walked into the bathroom and to my horror and shock. My hair was.. Was huge. Like a large triple processed mess of some scary animal which died of fright. And I'm not certain, but I seem to recall tinsel, but that may just be regression therapy. I was in shock, This could not be worse I thought. Dear, naively. For I looked down my body, and my... my... my pubic hair was, cornrowed. I couldn't believe it. Corn Rows! I panicked and tried to untie them, but impossible dear. Then I tried to cut them off with scissor and razors but nothing worked! He was no ordinary foo foo hairdresser he some kind of faerie hairdresser, and I don't mean faerie like you and me, I mean faerie like Faerie God Mother faerie, except without God or a mother.. Like a Heathen bastard faerie! I didn't know what to do? There was nothing to do. I even made a pilgrimage to NY and beat on those sacred red door. "Elizabeth help me!" But there's nothing you can do with corn rowed pubic hair. Well I can tell you, that pretty much took me out of the dating cycle. Guys would approach me and one grab of the crotch and they'd say what the hell is that. They'd go running. "Wait, I'm not a hairdresser!" Ohh, did I get lonely dear. So now, I go to these places. These very dark places, and I'd venture to the darkest part of these dark places and just sort of stand there or kneel there for any takers, and finally I found it easier just to strip and sort of show my backside, keeping all hands fully away from the cornrowed shame, just to be there and touched and a part of something,...for anything, from anyone. I suppose it's not terribly progressive or enlightened of me, but your try feel at ease when your crotch looks like Bo Derek! There is more than pubs I know, there's more to a man than that. Isn't there? I have to be more than just some queen with corn rowed pubic hair. Oops sorry dear. I guess it all comes out with the gin. I've talked your ear off. Why don't you run along and play with your friends. A handsome thing like you can't waste precious moments before last call on someone like me. If you see me around be sure to say hi. Or if you're with your friends at least smile. Dear. JOYCE JOYCE enters a small shoe store on Hollywood Blvd. It is sort of like Tony Shoes. It's completely filled with the sluttiest shows known to womankind. Large stilettos, lucite wedgies and platformed paten leather dominatrix hoofers. Feathered, studded or sparkling these shoes are not for amateurs. These are the tools of hookers and strippers. A quiet Asian couple work there. The man is stocking a pair of blinking heeled plastic 8 inch heels which are larger than his head. The woman is behind the counter counting change. It is probably close up time. Joyce stands motionless. She is pretty but her hair is a mess and her clothes look sort of thrown on and mismatched. She wear no makeup or perhaps traces of earlier makeup ring her eyes. She looks like a Mom. A Mom in search. Something is wrong. She is just standing there seemingly about to cry. She mutters something to herself and looks all around the room. The couple look at each other and back at this wreck of a woman. JOYCE So many. So many shoes. Oh look at these. Oh my! She sort of pets a pair of sequined size 14 pumps. The couple think she's on drugs and do not know what to do. JOYCE (continuing) I didn't think you'd still be open. Driving over I was like "Joyce, it's 11:30 at night, shoe stores are not open at 11:30 at night." But see? You are. You are open and look at these shoes. They're absolutely horrible. I didn't mean that in a disrespectful way. They're just so perfect. Oh I'm dizzy. You must think I'm crazy. So sorry. You must think I'm a crazy lady. I'm not I swear. I'm just.. I don't know I guess this is happy? I woke up today so miserable. So miserable. You don't even know how miserable. And I was about to take my prosaic and maybe kick it in with a viky when I looked in the mirror and thought. "Jesus Joyce, you are miserable." and I was like I know that's why I'm taking these little babies and I popped it in my mouth and then thought "Joyce, you're still miserable." So I spit them out. Right there in the sink. In the sink. I spit them out. What an image. My sink is canary yellow so it was quite visual. And I thought I'm done. I'm through. This is it. Right now. Do it it or don't. Right? Isn't that what you do? Ya do it or don't. The kids are old enough, God knows all they need me for is cash and car-rides. And Bob, Bobby, well I'm pretty sure he's already being taken care of by someone else. Can't blame him. No I take that back I blame him a lot. A lot. Bobby. I know I loved him once. For a couple of days at least and the entire rest of time I keep saying ah ya loved him once it must be you. It is me by the way. I figured ok if it's over it's over. Take today and decide then just be done with it. I gave myself till midnight. I was about to make a list, one of those stupid lists people tell you to make, therapists tell you to make when I said "Joyce, stop doing the same crap over and over. Stop making lists upon lists of things that need to happen. It doesn't make you feel organized it makes you feel overwhelmed. It doesn't work" It doesn't. But then I thought it "Joyce, it works for other people?" So I got sad again. I figured a decision of this magnitude should not be made on the same day you quit your prescriptions. Right? So, I went upstairs to take the pill which was still sitting in the sink. When I heard Lizzy's tv on. Uhg Why can an honor student not remember to turn off her television is beyond me! So I opened the door and there was Kung Fu. The tv show? Remember that. I hadn't seen it in years. I used to love watching Keith Karadine. I thought he was so hot and such a rebel! SO I started watching it. And..... in this episode in one of the flashbacks to when he was a little school boy and the old Asian guy walks around spouting wisdom all the time? Well, this schizophrenic gets caught by the palace guards for stealing a vase. And they bring him before the master. The master looks at him. He takes the vase from the guards and gives it to the schizophrenic guy and then bows to him. And they let him go. He tells the kid, young Keith Karadine, "his life is fragmented, in pieces and when he sees the vase all those pieces come together and he is at peace." So they boy says, "But master why did you bow to him." And he says "Ah Grasshopper, a man at peace should be respected." And I thought that's me! That's me master. I am fragmented and in pieces I need an object to focus on. I need the thing that reverberates my soul into a Zen grasshopper moment. And if I could find this object by midnight I would have a reason to live. So, I started running around the house grabbing everything. I starred at the phone, a fork, the microwave, for a split second I thought the Louisquinze left end table might be doing the trick, but got distracted. I went to a Pier One and grabbed each vase and looked at it with all my energy. I ran through the mall. I panicked. Time was running out! Then digging through the closet I realized it was shoes. SHOES! IÕm not having an Imelda Marcos moment, I donÕt need all the hsoe sin the world. I need one specific pair. And I know just the pair I need. Slut shoes. Like htose suede strappoy shoes that all the cheap girls wore in Junior High. I want shoes like that. I remember thinking "Joyce, Daren Spokes is always looking at the girls who wear those shoes." Oh and he was. He was such a rebel. He was almost kicked out of Our Lady of Christ's Blood in The Tomb for smoking pot. Right outside in front of everyone! He was so cool and I wanted him in ways that would make me still at confession. I saved up my allowance for 2 months. And then My Mother took me into town so I could buy a new pair of shoes. I went right up to those strappy suede slut shoes and brought them to the salesman and said size 5 please. Oh the face. The face my Mother made. She got really quiet and was like "Joyce, you don't want those shoes. Please" But I did. I did want those shoes. I needed them. But the clerk and my Mother exchanged this look. This look that meant bad things about girls who wore shoes like the ones I held in my tiny palm. That look. I felt ashamed. And it was right there. It was that single moment when I denied myself those strappy suedes for pennyloafers, that single moment when I denied my heart. I chose my head over my heart. I closed it right there in a shoe store in Michigan on 3rd Avenue. The store's probably closed by now. Huh? Who would have known that a 14 year old girl had so much power to destroy herself. It was the defining moment in a long string a decisions which created the boring lame excuse for a woman you see before you. Maybe I was supposed to buy those shoes. Maybe I shouldn't have gone to Dartmoth. Maybe I am supposed to be a crackwhore! What if that's what God really wanted for me. Maybe he put that in my heart. Joyce the crackwhore! But no. No. Here am I in pennyloafers! Uhg! Penyloafers being worn by someone destined to be a slut! A slut! No wonder I'm miserable. I'm supposed to be lying prone and drooling in a crackden not over medicated in the suburbs. I'm supposed to have a..a...posse not a carpool. What if I was supposed to be a stripper! Wouldn't that be grand. I would have actually learned to dance! I can't even do the macarena. So I am here. I flew down the 101 as fast as my SUV would fly, and my God, I want to buy a pair of shoes that would embarrass my mother. I want a pair of shoes that would offend Sister Mary Louise. I want a pair of shoes that can in no way ever anywhere be mistaken for sensible. Like... She holds her hands out to a pair of lucite boots with straps and buckles. JOYCE (continuing) like AHHH! Those. I want those. They're terrible. Of my goodness! Oh My badness! Oh! She holds them to her breast. JOYCE (continuing) You know, I wasn't sure if I was completely insane until right now. Up until right now I think in the back of my mind, I was having a nervous breakdown. But. Yes. If this is insanity bring it on. Wow they're really expensive. No wonder prostitutes make so much money. I always wondered what was worth $250 an hour. It's ok. I have charge cards. It's the one major benefit of being predictable and boring. I could probably charge whatever country you're from. And look they're a size 9. This is God's work. I..I don't think I should wear them I'll just hold them and feel better. What would.....Do you hear me? Do you hear me! What would people think? Joyce, that's what started your descent into decency. I'm gunna do it! I'm going to put these shoes on. Right now! You can keep these loafers. And this sweater. I hate this sweater! She puts on these huge shoes. She stands in them as tears stream down her face. JOYCE (continuing; screaming) I'm alive! PICNIC EDDIE Jesus Fucking Christ Steve! In the name of everything fabulous including but limited to my reputation I will destroy you, you will be totally b listed from all future parties, events, soirees and functions. That Horrible Bill and evil little Joel are coming just to criticize me already! I am trying to throw a little 4th of July picnic But NO!!! No I guess I can't can I! I just want to cut off your stupid head and drown you in your own blood! Of course then you wouldn't have a head so how could you drink anything? But that's not really the point now is it! My whole career as a party planners has come to screeching halt. May you and everyone you ever date be damned in eternal Hell. How could you forget the mayonnaise!!! And it's Mayonnaise not MAYNAZE, there's a middle syllable Why won't you say it. You evil fuck, there can't be a forth of July party without Balogna roll-ups It's just like taking special K, you know who your fiends are, Rick, Sweet Rick, you who brought ambrosia salad that is both campy and low in carbs you are my new best friend. Despite the here to ever referred to as Mayonnaise travesty. Bastard! Trying to deluge on my parade? Get out of my face. Back stabbing mayonnaise forgetting slacker. Later loser, Eddie has had enough of you grrl! Rick he did it on purpose! Is it me or is he a total A-hole? Gentlemen, friends, sisters.. We will not be thwarted! For now even now, I have a solution. Whip out your credit cards kids. We're going to Brunch! RUBY CELESTE Inside an old red pleather bar, like the ROOST in Los Feliz but not as tragic-hip. Di's waiting on Charlie a way old guy: plastered. Di's a drinkin' and smokin' type of old broad. Her voice is gruff. Don't fuck with her. DI You need another Charlie? Huh? Charlie shakes his head. A young girl with huge tits comes up to the bar. Di sees her and her eyes grow huge. DI (continuing) Look at those tits! Jesus up in heaven those are some hooters! Joe! Hey Joe look at this chick's tits! They real? In my day they was all real. That was the joy. Where's the pride in a Channel dress if anyone can get it at a drug store. So f'in perky. Do you know you got perky tits? Get away from me already with those perky tits of yours. I haven't seen tits that nice since I used to have a mirror. Used to have. Not so much to look at anymore. Uhg You making me miss my tits! You got Ruby Celeste tits and don't let nobody tell ya different. GIRL WITH BIG TITS Ruby? DI Me? Nah. You crazy? Hey Joe! The bitch with the tits thinks I'm Ruby Celeste. Ring the bell. Joe? Ring the f'in bell. Joe the bell..he's probably takin a leak. Everybody think's I'm Ruby. Everyone, but I'm Di. Call me Di. You can call me D, Di, f'in bitch, cocksucker, just don't call me late for Happy Hour!!!! (coughs) Ruby Celeste? Ruby Celeste is a star. A huge f'in star, what would she be doing in a shithole like this? Ruby Celeste schlepping beer to old farts so f'd up they drool back I into their mugs and I save on refills? Hey Charlie! Huh refills. You gotta be crazy! I wish I wish, I was her. So fancy. So elegant. She had a different dress for every thing she did and a pair a shoes a day. They say. When Ruby shook those mega tits of hers. Traffic went backwards. Right Joe traffic went....JOE!! how long does it take a guy to piss? I mean look at me. Look real hard. Look into me. Do you think for a second I could be Ruby Celeste star of stage and screen? That bitch had more class than a college. She was smart boy I tell you. She played it right. Every man in Hollywood, no everyman into he world wanted to give her the business. A lot of 'em did, between me and your tits. She was.. She was like a beautiful big titted moment captured forever on film. Oh I'm not saying that's all she was. No. No No. No f-me no. Talented, ha-ha! Damn she had talent. Could carry a tune I supposed and what not, sort of danced but...I could tingle. I tingled like nobody's business. I had star quality that M,G and M said about me baby. Star quality. I could make 'em laugh make 'em squeal, sometime make 'em cry, never got too much as a dramatic type. One year my picture was in 28 magazines. 28 that was a lot back then. Back then. Back mother f'in then. When do wake up and everything is back then. Not in two weeks not right now, but then. Call me a so and so. And you know it's not when you turn 60 or 70 or some your so old who gives a shit here's your social security check get out of my face and stop driving age, it can be when you're 25. Shit. A baby. A Baby that something's f'in changed. Wham bam you ain't hot shit no more. Or later when the eyes fade. Just a milipoint, but the camera knows. Or heavens, when your tits sag. Jesus don't get me started on the saggy tit philosophy of me. Trust me Joe doesn't want to hear me drone about the goddamn saggytitted philosophy of me! Do ya Joe! The saggy titted philosophy is this: When your tits fail ya, open a bar and start drinkin'. I know, not terribly f'in clever but it works. And sweetie, your tits will fail ya. Even if you stretch em, silicone 'em, and double brassiere 'em. It all falls. And that f'in day, maybe right after or two days after the "back then" day yer like: it's gone. Great God in heaven it's gone. You go from player to punk, from lover to lunk. What's a stallion who's no longer a stud? Glue. Mother f'in glue. That's all this bar is. A f'in glue factory. Bunch of race horses that should have been shot. (she motions a bullet to charlie) What else you gunna do when everything you got is gone. And God don't give you too much. He only gives you some. And when that some is gone. What the hell are you then? A whore nobody'll pay. A jukebox without no music. And you miss the music.... She gets choked up and holds her hands to her mouth. DI (continuing) Don't you miss the music charlie? (with anger) Enjoy those tits honey. Jesus H enjoy those f'in tits!