GAY LIKE ME

a play by

Callen Harty

He who is less than just is less than man.

--Plato

In the neon night of downtown

I walk in ecstasy.

My ass, your ass, I ask

Are you gay like me?

--from Variations on a Dream Landscape, Interlude in the Screaming Darkness

by Lange Stone Hughes

ã 1998, 1999 Callen Harty

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE ONE

(Lights come up on Griffin watching television news, his back to the audience; the television will be actors behind a frame)

T. V. Anchor:

A homosexual man was murdered today by another man who was apparently displeased with the victim’s free interchange of pronouns. Witnesses at the scene told police . . .

(Griffin changes channels and finds a talk show)

T. V. Host:

So you believe that because a person is gay they should not be able to legally marry? Is that correct?

T. V. Guest:

That’s right. It’s an abomination.

T. V. Host:

Marriage?

T. V. Guest:

That’s right. No, no. Ho-mo-sex-ual marriage. Not marriage.

(Griffin changes channels and finds a baseball game)

T. V. Sportscaster:

Wow! He’s safe at first! The third baseman threw that ball like a sissy, like a three-dollar bill blowing in the infield, if you know what I mean.

(Griffin changes channels and finds another talk show)

T. V. Guest 2 (obviously a man):

I’m in love with you, and the secret is I’m a man.

T. V. Guest 3 (another man):

You son of a bitch!

(Guest 3 starts to attack as Griffin changes channels and finds another news show)

T. V. Newscaster:

Saying he doesn’t believe the homosexual movement has anything in common with the fight for African-American equality, the football star insisted he will continue to fight for God, family, and the team.

Griffin (shutting the television off):

Honey! Honey! Mary, come here!

Mary:

What is it? What’s wrong?

Griffin:

I was watching T. V. And this horrible realization came over me. Something that never occurred to me before.

Mary:

What? What is it?

Griffin:

I was watching reports. This is . . . I can’t believe I . . . I have friends . . . but I never . . . Homosexual people are discriminated against. Even here. In this country. I was watching the news and everything and it was all over. I just never noticed. I didn’t see it before.

Mary:

Oh, Griffin, they’re always crying about something. Were they on there talking about how they should be allowed to marry? Or adopt, that’s the other big one.

Griffin:

No, they’re being murdered, beaten, things like that. It’s not just la-la, everything’s fine in West Hollywood out there. At least I think it’s West Hollywood. Anyway, I . . . I just noticed.

Mary:

I think you’re overreacting. Murdered. They say women are oppressed too and you don’t see me complaining, do you? Now, come on. Forget about it. Dinner’s almost ready. I’m sorry it’s late, but by the time I got back from stopping at the grocery store after work and then got the clothes out of the dryer and ironed, I barely had time to get all the food in the oven and get out and pull weeds before the sun went down. You know how it is.

Griffin:

Yeah, Hon, sure. I do know how it is. What’s for dinner?

Mary:

It’s Hot Dog Leftover Shake and Help. Come on. Kids! It’s dinnertime!

(They exit; kids enter opposite and run across the stage; Griffin and Mary re-enter; kids run in behind them and run back across the stage and out)

Griffin:

Thanks, Hon.

Mary (to the kids):

Make sure you wash up, kids!

Griffin:

I wonder . . .

Mary:

What dear?

Griffin:

What it would be like.

Mary:

You’re not still thinking about that.

Griffin:

Yes. I mean, to be that way. To be a homosexual, or have those urges, urges that you have no control over—they just are—and have people hate you because of it.

Mary:

Honey, you’re not . . . you’re not . . . you’re all man.

Griffin:

I am. What I am . . .

Mary:

And . . . what?

Griffin:

I am.

Mary:

Needs no excuses. You’re all man.

Griffin:

Yes, I am. But I wonder . . . from a purely sociological perspective, you know, what it must be like.

Mary:

Honey, you’re making me nervous. Let’s do the nasty or something before I completely freak out.

Griffin:

How ‘bout the funky chicken?

Mary:

Doesn’t that have some kind of queer meaning? I want you to be straight.

Griffin:

I am.

Mary:

Well, you have me worried.

Griffin:

What, you think I could be . . . gay? Oh, and it is . . . gay . . . not queer. (Pause) You shouldn’t say queer. They don’t like queer. Or didn’t. Maybe they do now. I’m not sure. Gay. I think gay is better. Is that how you say it? (Trying it a number of ways) Gay. Gay. Gay. Gay. I don’t know.

Mary:

What do you care how it’s said? When did it become so personal to you?

Griffin:

Do you really think I could be that way? After three kids and ten years of marriage, you think I’m not 100 % All-American man-meat? You think I could . . . That’s it!

Mary:

I’m afraid. What’s it? What’s what?

Griffin:

You just gave me the answer. If I want to know what the oppression is about, if I want to see if it is real, if I want to know what it’s like to be a gay, then I have to be that way.

Mary:

Ten years. You said it yourself. Ten years and suddenly you’re not the heterosexual man I married?

Griffin:

Yes, of course I am. But if you could maybe believe that I might not be, then others might too, and if I can convince people that I am homosexual, then I can see what it’s like from that perspective, from the inside, and report back to the world. Don’t you see? Nobody’s ever going to take them seriously, unless someone from the heterosexual majority becomes one of them, goes into their world, and then comes back and tells about it. One of them murdered? Nobody really notices. Their own stories are told in their own circles, and they keep coming around to the same listeners. They need an ally and I have an idea.

Mary:

No.

Griffin:

I need to pursue it and I need your support.

(Pause)

Mary:

Promise me you’re straight.

Griffin:

I am. I promise.

Mary:

And that you won’t become one of them.

Griffin:

I promise.

Mary:

Take me before you leave me.

Griffin:

That one’s easy.

Mary:

Then I’ll support you in whatever you need to do.

Griffin:

Good. Thank you. (They kiss) I’m going to become a homosexual for a while. (They kiss again) Just to see what it’s like.

Mary:

Promise me you won’t wear dresses.

Griffin:

Sometimes people have to do all sorts of awful things to get to the truth. (They kiss again) But the truth is always worth the price.

Mary:

But how? Where will you go?

Griffin:

I don’t know. Any ideas?

Mary:

I don’t know. Maybe New Orleans? I’ve seen pictures of all sorts of men dressed like women there.

Griffin:

Honey, they don’t all wear dresses. I don’t think. You know, one of my college buds lives there. Bob. I could stay with him. It would be easier than the Holiday Inn. I mean I can foresee “all sorts of difficulties staying in a hotel while I turn into a” homosexual.

Mary:

I can foresee difficulties regardless. Let’s go to bed. Please.

(They exit; lights down)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE TWO

(Lights up on a doctor’s office as a pregnant woman is leaving; the doctor presses an intercom button; there are phones ringing in the background during this entire scene)

Dr. Quackenbush:

Nurse, send the next patient in, please.

(Griffin enters)

Griffin:

Good afternoon.

Dr. Quackenbush:

You’re a man.

Griffin:

Yes, and I want to be gay. I thought you could help.

Dr. Quackenbush:

I’m a woman. Maybe you didn’t notice. If you want to be gay, you’ve come to the wrong place. Okay? Goodbye.

Griffin:

I don’t know where to turn.

Dr. Quackenbush:

How about around? Thank you very much.

Griffin:

I need your help. I have in mind this great experiment, this incredible . . .

Dr. Quackenbush:

Excuse me! Excuse me! This is a women’s clinic. Did you notice? The sign over the door with the words “women’s clinic”? We specialize in women’s issues. Pregnancy. P.M.S. Hormones. That kind of thing. Jock itch is across town by the ballpark. Okay? Impotence is down the road and off the cliff. Okay? Thank you and goodbye.

Griffin:

But you’re not listening to me.

Dr. Quackenbush:

Unfortunately I am. Five minutes after I asked you to leave.

Griffin:

Please, just listen.

(Pause)

Dr. Quackenbush:

Look, mister, if you think a woman suffering from P.M.S. can be a bitch, spend five more minutes with the person who has to treat a few hundred of them a week and you’ll see what a bitch really is. Test my limits.

(She looks at her watch and glares at him)

Griffin:

I need you to give me some hormones that will make me gay, and then I’ll go away. Feminine things. Estrogen. Let the woman out of me. That kind of thing. Pheromones and advice on attractive scents. Help me out here. I’m desperate.

Dr. Quackenbush (handing him many bottles):

Here, just to get rid of you. Take all of these. But I tell you you’re making a mistake.

Griffin:

What makes you think so?

Dr. Quackenbush:

Gay men are nothing special. They’re just straight men who like dick. But they’re vicious. They destroy themselves and each other. They’ll cut open their own friends’ throats with sharp tongues. Just to be the queens’ Queen. You’ll see. Now, get out of my office. I can’t stand the sight of you.

Griffin:

How much do I owe?

Dr. Quackenbush:

You don’t owe anything. You don’t know anything. Just go. You’ll be sorry. Leave.

Griffin (taking the pills from her; talking to himself as he exits):

Wow. “To get from the straight world into the homosexual world is a complex matter”.

(She glares at him as he leaves; she presses the intercom)

Dr. Quackenbush:

Nurse, send the next one in please. Also, I’ll need more placebos, right away. And for God’s sake get someone to help with the phones. Okay?

(The pregnant woman re-enters)

Dr. Quackenbush:

I already saw you.

Pregnant Woman:

But I’m having twins.

(Blackout)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE THREE

(Lights up on Griffin walking in New Orleans’ French Quarter; Dixieland jazz can be heard coming from one of the bars)

Barker:

Show’s about ta start! Come on in! Girls! Girls! Girls! No cover charge! No cover! Two drink minimum. Whet yer whistle and yer eyes! Get wet what you will! Come on in! No cover! G-strings galore! See the girls! See the pole dance live! Two drink minimum. Come on in! Hey, Son! You!

Griffin:

Me?

(A woman enters opposite during the following; she carries a sign that reads “Free All Women from the servitude of Eve”)

Barker:

Yeah, you. What’s a stud like you doin’ walkin’ by the door? Can’t ya see the cracks through the crack? Take a free peek, then step on in. Two drink minimum. No cover. It’s worth the price.

Griffin:

Of admission or a drink?

Barker:

You wanna see the boobies or not? Babes are hot, I swear.

Griffin:

I can’t. And that’s no way to talk about a woman.

Barker:

What are ya, queer or somethin’?

Griffin:

No, I . . . I have places to go. I’m sorry, what did you say?

Barker:

I said are ya a faggot? Why wouldn’t a young stud wanna look at free snatch? Unless’n his girl’s standin’ right beside him or he was a faggot. The dyke with the sign there has more interest than you.

(She makes an obscene gesture at the barker)

Griffin:

I’m not a faggot. You’re a faggot. You’re the one standing out here when you could be watching. And it’s not faggot. Or dyke. It’s human.

Barker:

Oh, Jesus. Human. That’s original. Methinks ya protest more than ya should.

Griffin (in disgust):

Too much.

Barker:

It’s free.

Griffin:

And I’m not. I have to go. Thanks.

Barker:

Drag bar’s down the street on the left.

Griffin:

This bar’s a drag.

(Griffin crosses as the barker starts his banter again; a person enters opposite, carrying a sign that reads “God hates you! Love God!”, then exits)

Barker:

Girls! Girls! Girls! Not a penny to watch! Free of charge! Free admission! Two drink minimum. Girls! At your service! Girls! In your face! Come, come, come and see the show! Just about to start!

(Barker goes in; woman stops Griffin)

Silver:

Not bad for a straight man.

Griffin:

What makes you so sure I’m straight?

Silver:

Honey, no self-respecting gay man would have said, “It’s not faggot or dyke. It’s human.” He was right. That was really lame. But the gallantry of your defense was not, and it’s appreciated. It’s nice to have allies.

Griffin:

Yes, it is. My name’s Griffin.

Silver:

Griffin. Not Chuck or Bob, but Griffin. With a name like that you should be gay.

Griffin:

And you are?

Silver:

Yes. And proud. The name’s Silver. Silver Eagle.

Griffin:

With a name like that you must be a lesbian.

Silver:

Oooh. Very good. Maybe we can convert you yet. And yes I am.

Griffin:

It’s a nice name. Except that it sounds like a car. I didn’t mean anything by it.

Silver:

I know, thanks. But for your information, I was given my name after doing a sweat lodge at the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival. I had a vision that changed me permanently. In it, my life story was laid out on placards that were so heavy I could barely hold them up. I won many battles in the visions, and each time I did, a silver eagle swooped down from the clouds and took the burden from my hands. And here I am. (Pause) Anyway, thanks again for the support. We don’t get enough of that from straights, especially straight men. You just took another of those burdens from me.

Griffin:

You’re welcome. Any time.

Silver:

I’m here every night. You could come and join my protest.

Griffin:

Every night? Thanks, but . . . Methinks thou doth protest too much. I mean, really, what kind of protest is this? One person. One bar. One city. One moment. Why waste the time?

Silver:

Because I am one person. It’s what I can do. Instead of wasting time.

Griffin:

I will come back. But now I do have to find my host. Have a good night.

Silver:

I will. You too.

(Griffin exits; the other sign carrier re-enters and has a little battle of wills with Silver as she walks slowly back and forth in front of the bar; lights go to black)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE FOUR

(Lights up on Griffin in front of a mirror—the mirror can be mimed; it is not necessary to put a real mirror or even frame on stage—he is looking at himself, primping, etc.; he is dressed in very tight shorts and a flashy shirt; there is a knock at the door; during this scene, Griffin must be constantly going back and forth between extremely masculine and feminine behaviors, including gradations in between)

Bob:

Griffin, it’s Bob. Can I come in? You’ve been locked in there for a week. Please, I’m worried about you.

Griffin:

Okay, I’ll be right there.

(He takes one more look in the mirror, crosses stage right, opens the door, and then steps back)

Bob:

Thank you.

Griffin:

Well, what do you think?

Bob:

I think you’re acting very weird. When I said you could stay with me for a while, I didn’t know you were going to be so incognito. What have you been doing in here?

Griffin:

Taking drugs, what do you think? By the way, what do you think? You didn’t answer. How do I look?

Bob:

Fine. Why?

Griffin:

Fine? Just fine? Or divine? Which which which?

Bob:

What? Fine, I guess. Fine is fine.

Griffin:

Oh, fine. You don’t think I’m pretty!

Bob:

I hadn’t . . . thought of you . . . in that way. Before.

Griffin:

What way? What the hell are you saying? What the hell kind of friend are you?

Bob:

Griffin, I . . .

Griffin:

This room is drab, don’t you think? I think it needs lacy curtains. And a work bench. Hammer the damn curtains. Screw everything in sight. Don’t you? Do you? I know! Football posters on the wall, like a locker room. Right above the divan that we’ll put over there. In that spot. Spot. Nice Spot. Good doggy. A dog is a man ‘s . . . no, a cat. A cat. I like that. And flowers. I like flowers. Cut flowers. Cut and bleeding—bloody flowers stink up a room. Make it sissy. That’s no way to brighten it. Just open the shades. Get a telescope, that’s it! To watch the woman across the street as she undresses. Undress me Bob. Please help me. Do it.

Bob:

What!?!

Griffin:

Do it now! Do it! Buy a telescope! Put in a weight machine! Make this room manly. Yes, but I like it too. Musky. And I really like it too. I want to watch that woman across the street. You know . . . like “Rear Window”. Like . . . Rear . . . Like rear. I like rear. I do. It’s working! Bob, it’s working! I’m turning. Give me five, Bob. Give me some ass, Bob. Hey, Bob, how would you like to fuck me up the ass? You say yes to that bud and I’ll kill you. I’m getting tired. I need some beauty sleep. Leave me alone. I vant to be alone.

Bob:

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m worried”.

Griffin:

It’s a gutsy, tough experiment, Bob, something I have to do. And I think it’ll turn out just fabulous, don’t you? But I can’t tell you the details. Queen for a day! Girls, he’s feeling homosexual—“even into the depths of his entrails”. That would be my entrails. Oops. Gone too far. Maybe shouldn’t have said that.

Bob:

No, you shouldn’t have. I think I’ll leave now.

Griffin:

Thanks, Bob. Hey, some day, after I’ve explained it all to you, we’ll look back and laugh at this day.

Bob:

No, no we won’t. I don’t think I ever want to see you again. In fact, I think you should leave tonight. Goodbye.

(Bob exits stage left; Griffin looks at the door for a moment, then speaks)

Griffin:

Bob . . . Bob, I’m sorry. Bob, you just went into the closet. Did I make you that nervous? Really, I’m sorry.

(Bob comes back out and walks over to the exit)

Bob:

This is a guestroom. And I don’t want you to be one any more. Good night. Be gone by midnight.

(He exits stage right; Griffin looks at the door for a moment, then turns back to the mirror)

Griffin:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the queerest of them all? (In another voice) Why you are, of course. (In his own voice) And who am I? (Back in the other voice) You have been sleeping, beauty, and now you are awake. (Quietly, in his own voice) Indeed, who am I? I have to ask myself. I’ve been in this body my whole life and I don’t recognize this person in the mirror. I reflect upon my reflection and see a ghost in the shape of a man. I see an image blurred at the edges, a crack in the armor of the handsome prince. (Pause) My God, am I being melodramatic. I am turning into an old queen. I think I’ve had enough of the drugs. It’s time to start the real experiment.

(Blackout)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE FIVE

(In the French Quarter again, at the same bar; Silver is carrying a sign that reads “Down With Erections”)

Barker:

Come one, come all! Watch the girls, girls, girls! Girls! Girls! Girls!

(Griffin enters; he is wearing an extremely large button that says “GAY”; Barker stops his spiel when he notices Griffin)

Griffin:

Aren’t you going to ask me in tonight?

Barker:

Sure as hell ain’t gonna ask ya out tonight. Whatdya want in there for?

Griffin:

To see if they’re as good as my wife.

Barker (laughing):

You’re some weird homo, man. That’s funny. So, you wanna dance? The fag bar’s down the street. Dance your fanny off.

Griffin:

It worked! You think I’m . . . you really think . . . woo-hoo-hoo . . . I could just kiss you!

Barker:

Not if ya wanna keep the same face.

Griffin:

Methinks you protest more than you should.

Barker:

Get outta here!

Griffin:

Too much.

(Griffin sneaks a peck on the barker’s cheek, then walks away, toward Silver; the barker takes a few steps after him)

Barker:

Faggot! Get outta here. (Another man enters; barker steps back to entrance) Girls! Girls! Girls! If you’re straight, don’t be late! Come in and see! No charge! No cover! Two drink minimum. Biggest breasts on the Mississippi! Gotta see ‘em to believe ‘em.

Silver:

That took balls. Nicely done.

Griffin:

Biggest balls on the Mississippi. Gotta see ‘em to believe ‘em.

Silver:

No thanks. I’ll bet he’s never been kissed by another man in public before. In public being the operative words.

Griffin:

I’m sure he’s not the only one.

Silver:

It’s funny. He said the same thing to some straight guy a couple weeks ago.

Griffin:

What?

Silver:

The exact thing you said to him tonight. About protesting too much.

Griffin:

I remembered. That’s why I said it.

Silver:

No, I’m talking about a week or so ago. There wasn’t anyone else here that night. No one else heard it. (Pause) Have we met? Did I tell you that story?

Griffin:

No, you didn’t, but, yes, we have met. My name is Griffin.

Silver:

Wait. This is a very weird cosmic coincidence. That was the name of the straight guy who got into it with him the night I was just talking about. You have the same name.

Griffin:

And the same body.

Silver:

The build is similar. Sorry, but I don’t pay much attention. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m . . .

Griffin:

Silver Eagle. Lillith Fair or Michigan Womyn’s Festival, I don’t remember exactly. You did a sweat lodge. You had a sign about equality and Eve. I’m an ally. Griffin. The straight guy.

Silver:

Honey, if you’re straight . . .

Griffin:

Straight as an arrow.

Silver:

Marking a U-turn.

Griffin:

No. No U-turn. I turn. Into a gay man. I’m Griffin, the straight guy.

Silver:

If you’re the straight guy I have no jokes.

Griffin:

No, I am. Or was. I was what I was. But now I’m a different same me. I am what I’m not.

(A person enters with a sign that reads “God hates those who are true to themselves”, then exits)

Silver:

What?

Griffin:

What makes you think I’m gay?

Silver:

You’re wearing a button that says you’re gay. Would you be wearing that button if you were straight?

Griffin:

If I wanted to be gay.

Silver:

One button does not a queen’s blouse make.

Griffin:

Exactly. Except to you.

Silver:

I believe in signs.

Griffin:

Okay, I’ll prove it. Ask me something about that night Griffin came by. Test me.

Silver:

I don’t know. I don’t remember. But I do know he was straight, and you’re not.

Griffin:

Go ahead.

Silver:

Okay, where was he going?

Griffin:

To find his host. Right?

Silver:

Right, but anyone in a city could be looking for that.

Griffin:

And he, I, asked you, why do you bother with this protest, night after night, when it’s just one bar in one town, blah, blah, blah.

Silver:

He did.

Griffin:

And your answer was eloquent. That’s why I came back. Because I felt I could trust you. You said something along the lines of, “because it’s what I can do”.

Silver:

Wow, that is elegant . . .

Griffin:

Eloquent.

Silver:

. . . I must be a poet.

Griffin:

Words don’t have to be grandiose to hold deep truths. You said something about doing what you can do.

Silver:

It is what I can do. It’s all I can do. I’m one person.

Griffin:

And after that I told you I’d be back. Here I am.

Silver:

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m lost. (Pause) What the fuck are you talking about!?!

Griffin:

I’m going to tell you something that you can’t tell anyone else. Okay? It’s a big secret. Do you promise?

Silver:

I promise.

Griffin:

I’m experimenting.

(Pause)

Silver:

Hon, whatever you want to call it. Like the man said, the gay bar is down the street.

Griffin:

No, I mean a real experiment, a sociological study.

Silver:

Why are you telling me this? You should be telling the guys at the bar. “I’m doing research.” Like nobody’s ever said that before. “I only want to have sex with you as an experiment. It’s for a class.” That’s a hoot.

Griffin:

I came to you because I thought I could trust you.

Silver:

Trust me for what?

Griffin:

I need to know how to be gay. I need all the secrets, so I can pass.

Silver:

All the secrets?

Griffin:

Yeah, like how do you recognize each other?

Silver:

It’s a thing called gaydar, that you can’t get at K-Mart. You just have it.

Griffin:

Why Judy Garland?

Silver:

What?

Griffin:

Why is Judy Garland such an icon?

Silver:

Are you serious? (Beat) Because years ago we were really pathetic. She was our role model.

Griffin:

Why lavender?

Silver:

You’re shittin’ me.

Griffin:

No.

Silver:

Because it’s gay.

Griffin:

But why is it gay?

Silver:

It’s lavender, for God’s sake. What else could it be?

Griffin:

I’m serious.

Silver:

Believe it or not, so am I. If you’re going to ask questions, why not ask real questions, like why is the gay teen suicide rate higher than the general population? Why do we live in a culture where hate crimes aren’t even blinked at? Why are there places like this strip joint? If you’re straight, why do you care who I love, and want to stop me?

Griffin:

I don’t. At least I try not to. That’s why I’m doing this experiment. I’m on your side.

Silver:

Sorry, I get a little uptight about these things. Not even everyone on my side is on my side. Griffin, if you want to know about the gay life, go live it. Don’t ask silly questions that only have surface answers. Just be. If that’s who you are. Then you’ll see. Immerse yourself in whatever you think is the gay culture, though there is no such thing, and you’ll see. I can’t give you answers because I am only one person, as we mentioned before. I can’t speak for the queens or the leather dykes or the “I want to figure out how to keep God in my life” crowd—I really can’t speak for them—or the lovers of twenty years. I can only speak for the lesbian in front of you, whose girlfriend strips for straight guys in order to put food on the table.

(Pause)

Griffin:

Oh, I am so sorry. There?

Silver:

The pisser is she makes a damn good living. (A woman comes out of the strip bar) Hey, look, the show’s over. It’s time for me to go.

Griffin:

She’s pretty.

Silver:

You should see her naked. No you shouldn’t. Good luck.

Griffin:

Hey, one more thing. Do you know of any cheap places to stay?

Silver:

Try the Y. Two blocks down, one over.

Griffin:

Thanks. I’ll see you around.

(She walks over to her girlfriend and they exit; Griffin exits; lights out)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE SIX

(Lights up on the silhouette of a man in a shower; another man is sitting in front of the shower curtain with a towel wrapped around himself; he is reading The David Kopay Story; Griffin enters and steps over to a urinal; the man in the shower is singing Village People’s YMCA as he showers; we can see the silhouette of him forming the letters as he sings)

Man In Shower (singing):

“Y. M. C. A. It’s fun to stay at the Y. M . C. A. . . .”

Griffin (to the man on the floor):

Good evening. How are you?

Man On Bench:

Things are hard.

Griffin:

Are you gay?

Man On Bench:

What, straight men don’t have hard times?

Griffin:

No, I mean. Well, this is the Y.

Man On Bench:

And?

Griffin:

I’m gay. Newly gay.

Man In Shower:

What?

Man On Bench:

Another guy out here. Says he’s gay.

Man In Shower:

I’ll be right out.

Griffin:

Oh, God. I don’t think I’m ready.

Man On Bench (to Man In Shower):

That’s okay. He doesn’t need it.

Man In Shower:

Oh, good, I’m not really ready to come out.

(Uncomfortable silence)

Man On Bench:

Is your room comfortable?

Griffin:

I don’t know. I haven’t turned anything on. Yet. Nothing turned on. I’m . . . I’m sorry. This being gay thing is really confusing to me.

(Awkward pause)

Man On Bench:

Are you sure you don’t want a shower?

Griffin:

No, thanks, I just need to wash my hands.

(He steps toward a sink)

Man On Bench:

Doesn’t work. Old pipe. The old drain’s not working very well. We usually just use the shower to take care of ourselves. (Yelling to Man In Shower) Hey, can this guy just stick his hands in for a minute?

Man In Shower:

Sure.

Man On Bench:

He just needs the showerhead for a moment.

Man In Shower:

No problem. Put your hands in here and I’ll guide you.

Griffin:

Oh, I . . . No, I couldn’t . . . I just need . . . just . . . wash my hands, is all. Say, you must be freezing there. I mean with being naked under that towel and all. I mean, I presume . . . I’m imagining that you’re . . . Well, I’m not really imagining. I’m . . . I’ll just shut up now.

Man On Bench (to Man In Shower):

Drop the soap and open up. Let him in.

Griffin:

Really, I can wait. I’m new. I mean I just came out of my room. Just now came . . . He was already . . .

Man On Bench:

You’re nuts.

Griffin:

Excuse me?

Man On Bench:

Do it. Just shut up and do it.

Man In Shower:

Sure, go ahead. Just stick your hands through the curtain and do it. I really don’t mind.

Griffin:

Really, I don’t need to do it now.

Man On Bench:

You want to be dirty?

Griffin:

Yes! I mean, no. No, I don’t. I don’t need to do this. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.

Man In Shower (popping his head out):

Really, I don’t mind. I’m a nice guy.

(Man On Bench gets up and gently puts his hand on Griffin’s shoulders, guiding him toward the shower curtain)

Man On Bench:

It’s okay. Just put your hands through and do it. He’s not going to hurt you.

(Griffin puts his hands through the curtain, then screams)

Griffin:

Oh, God! Oh, God! What’s that!?! Oh, God!

(He pulls his hands out and runs out of the room, wiping his hands on his clothes as he goes)

Man On Bench:

What the hell was that about?

Man In Shower:

I don’t know. His fingers got a little water on them and he freaked.

Man On Bench:

Next time we go somewhere on business, let’s splurge a little and stay somewhere else. Some place where there aren’t so many of these gay people. They can be weird.

Man In Shower:

Sounds good to me. (Beat) I’ll be done with the shower in a minute.

Man On Bench (sitting back down):

Great. I just want to shower and go get some sleep.

Man In Shower:

Me too. (Singing): “In the Navy, you can sail the seven seas . . . “

(Lights fade to black as he continues singing)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE SEVEN

(In the French Quarter again; at the same strip joint; Silver is carrying a sign that reads, “God created all men equal. Let women in the club”; Griffin enters)

Griffin:

Hi.

Silver:

Not you again.

Griffin:

I had an experience.

Silver:

Congratulations. Are you out now?

Griffin:

No, nothing happened.

Silver:

Some experience. Do share.

Griffin:

Two guys at the Y tried to pick me up. Are gay people really as promiscuous as everyone says?

Silver:

Did you do it?

Griffin:

No.

Silver:

And you’re gay now, right? You tell me.

Griffin:

But I’m not really gay. I’m just taking gay drugs. It’s only temporary. Then I can go back to my wife and kids.

Silver:

Wife and kids. Gay drugs. Something besides poppers? Ecstasy?

Griffin:

I’ve had Ecstasy.

Silver:

Maybe at a church revival.

Griffin:

Not gay drugs, but drugs that make you gay.

Silver:

Oh, for God’s sake. Genetic, environmental, or drug-induced? How drugs make your child gay. This week in Time. Haven’t seen that article yet.

Griffin:

Has anyone ever told you you’re really negative?

Silver:

No.

Griffin:

Well, you are.

Silver (sarcastically):

Nooo. Goodbye.

Griffin:

I need your help. I’m starting to worry. I sort of wanted to do it with those guys. But I couldn’t. Now, I feel like I want a woman. Just to prove myself, you know? But I’m married and I want to be faithful. I’m feeling lonely and horny and all sorts of new sensations. I want to be faithful.

Silver:

Typical man. Old Faithful spurting his geyser all over the big city while the old lady’s at home crying over post cards from a distant husband. What the hell does your wife think you’re doing here?

Griffin:

I have no idea, but I wish I could see her.

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE SEVEN-A

(Scene and lights change to Griffin and Mary’s house; Mary is talking with her sister, Anne)

Mary:

Anne, I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Anne:

When my sister calls, I’m there for her. What’s wrong?

Mary: It’s Griffin. He went to New Orleans. To see what it’s like to be homosexual.

Anne: Oh. When you said on the phone it had do with sex I thought you meant real sex. This is different.

Mary: Very.

Anne: Well, this might help. I brought along a book I’ve kept hidden from my husband for over 25 years. I thought it might help. Everything you could possibly want to know about sex is in it. Of course, I’ve never read the homosexual parts, not having an interest. But we can look at them together and see what kind of adventure he’s on.

Mary: Oh, I couldn’t . . .

Anne: You’re afraid to ask aren’t you? See, that’s why the doctor wrote this book. He wanted to help people who were raised to be afraid of sex. He wanted to give them real, honest answers to all their questions. And he’s a real doctor. He’ll give us real answers. Come on, let’s look up homosexuality. It’s indexed.

Mary: Anne, this is so modern of you. I’m feeling a little embarrassed.

Anne: We can go right to the pages that talk about the things he might be doing and then you’ll know. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m sure it’s all okay.

Mary: I’m not so sure I want to do this.

Anne: Why?

Mary: Well, I’ve heard the word for years. I’ve heard about those people, but I’ve never really thought about it. I’m not sure I want to know what he’s doing. I know it has to be disgusting. He said it might be, but he also said it’s for a good reason.

Anne: If it’s for a good reason, then I’m sure it’s okay. Let’s look.

Mary: Okay.

Anne: F. G. H. Ho. Homo. Sexuality. Homosexuality. Page 128. Through 151. That’s a full, let me see, 23 pages. It must be pretty exhaustive. Here. 128. Oh, it’s done like a question and answer sort of thing. I had forgotten. There it is. “What is male homosexuality?”

Mary: I don’t know. That’s why I called you.

Anne: No, dear, that’s one of the questions.

Mary: What’s the answer? Unless it’s bad.

Anne: It’s . . . here it is . . . “a condition in which men have a driving emotional and sexual interest in other men”. Blah, blah, blah. “They don women’s clothes . . . “ Blah, blah, blah. Most of them “act out some aspect of the female role”.

Mary: That’s what I was afraid of.

Anne: That doesn’t sound so bad. That could mean anything.

Mary: I don’t know. (Starting to cry) I don’t know what he’s doing.

Anne: Well, according to this, he’s most likely doing mutual masturbation.

Mary: All this time?

Anne: Apparently not. Listen. “Three to five minutes should be enough for the entire operation.” Oh, then it talks about oral sex. I like that. Meeting in public toilets. Well, that’s sort of weird. Blah, blah, blah. “No feeling, no sentiment, no nothing”. That’s what it says.

Mary (crying): No nothing? No feelings? I don’t believe it. It can’t be that bad. It just can’t.

Anne: “Most . . . are much more impersonal . . . No names, no faces, no emotions.” Then it goes on to talk about S’s and M’s. I don’t know what that means. They don’t do letters by themselves unless they mean something.

Mary (crying): Griffin! Oh, my Griffin!

Anne: I didn’t know this. “Homosexuals thrive on danger.” Blah, blah, blah. “Sometimes things go wrong.” Blah, blah, blah. “Murder is exceptional.” Blah, blah, blah. Wow.

Mary (yelling and crying): Stop!

Anne: “Sadistic.”

Mary (sobbing): Stop! Stop!

Anne: “. . . trapping them, and torturing them.” Blah, blah, blah. “. . . giggled nervously.” (Mary cries) Blah, blah, blah. “. . . giggled again.” (Mary cries) Blah, blah, blah. “More nervous giggles.” (Mary cries) Blah, blah, blah. “. . . real hard erection . . .”

Mary (still sobbing): Put it down. I don’t want to hear more.

Anne: “Boy, was that the wrong thing to say . . . ” Blah, blah, blah. “. . . razor . . . “, Blah, blah. “Now I’m going to make a woman out of you for good!” Blah, blah. Oh, this is just disgusting. And then they say, “Gary’s experience was typical. Terror, intimidation, gratification . . . " Blah, blah. “ . . . mutilation, castration, and death.” Wow. Then the summary. “Sadly, that’s all part of the homosexual game.” Doesn’t sound like much of a game if you ask me.

Mary (screaming): I said stop it, you bitch!

(Pause)

Anne: Excuse me for sharing the truth about the lifestyle your husband has decided to explore. Excuse me for trying to help. Excuse me, but I’m not the one putting my penis in people’s poopholes. It talks about that too, if you want to hear it.

Mary: I’m sorry. I couldn’t take any more. Please don’t talk like that.

Anne: Oh, Mary, I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll skip the bad stuff. There must be good parts about that lifestyle too. Don’t you think?

Mary: I doubt it.

Anne: Well, let me check.

Mary: Don’t bother.

Anne: Blah, blah. Oh, see! Look. He talks about “the sardonically poetic language of the gay world.” And he even calls it “gay” this time. I think that’s good. What does sardonic mean?

Mary: I don’t know. Why do smart people always have to use words that you can’t understand? Just because he’s a doctor doesn’t mean that I am. Why can’t writers just use normal language that we can all understand? Just because he knows words doesn’t mean I do.

Anne: It doesn’t matter. I think it means bitchy or something. The point is he says that they have a poetic language. Isn’t that nice?

Mary: A poetic, bitchy language? Like what? The word “gay” is poetic? They have a language of their own?

Anne: I think I saw some definitions back here. Yes, here we go. Page 145. A little glossary. How cute. Here’s some of their words. This is sort of fun. Drag. Queen. Fish. Fishwife.

Mary: Fishwife?

Anne: “A male homosexual’s real wife”.

Mary (starting to cry again): Fishwife? I’m a temporary fishwife?

Anne: Seafood. Chicken.

Mary: Chicken? I knew it.

Anne: “Young homosexual”.

Mary: No! Is ‘do the funky chicken in there’? Dear God, no, please.

Anne: No. “Do for trade.” Meat. Buns.

Mary: Why so much food?

Anne: I don’t know. Let me see. Blah, blah, blah. Oh, here. Here’s an explanation. “Food seems to have a mysterious fascination for homosexuals. Many of the world’s greatest chefs have been homosexuals. Some of the country’s best restaurants are run by homosexuals. Some of the fattest people are homosexuals.” Blah, blah, blah. “Carrots and cucumbers . . .” Oops. He’s not talking about eating any more. Let me see if I can find something else.

Mary: I think I’ve heard enough.

Anne: Here. Here’s a good question. “But all homosexuals aren’t like that, are they?”

Mary: That’s what I’d like to know.

Anne: Well, there’s an answer. And remember, it’s from a doctor and in a book. That tells you something.

Mary: Okay, what? Let’s hear it. What was the question again?

Anne: They’re not all like that. “Unfortunately, they are just like that. One of the main features of homosexuality is promiscuity.” Blah, blah, blah. “Homosexuals are trying the impossible: solving the problem with only half the pieces. They say they want sexual gratification and love but they eliminate, right from the start, the most obvious source of love and gratification—woman.” Isn’t that sweet? This doctor likes his women. There’s more. “The homosexual must constantly search for the one man, the one penis, the one experience, that will satisfy him.” I don’t know about Griffin, but replace the word penis with vagina and that sounds like my man when the lights are out. Oh, but here’s the difference. “Tragically there is no possibility of satisfaction because the formula is wrong. One penis plus one penis equals nothing.” New math, I guess. Still more. “There is no substitute for heterosex—penis and vagina. Disappointed, stubborn, discouraged, defiant, the homosexual keeps trying. He is the sexual Diogenes, always looking for the penis that pleases.” Who’s Diogenes?

Mary: I don’t know. I think he’s the guy who went searching for the truth. Like Griffin.

Anne: With the lantern.

Mary: That’s the one. (She chuckles) Griffin. Sexual Diogenes. (She starts to laugh) Thank you, Anne. Thanks for coming over tonight.

Anne: Let me finish this paragraph.

Mary (taking the book from her hands; she closes it and gives it back): Finish it at home. I’m okay now. You’ve helped a lot, but I don’t want to hear any more.

Anne: You’re amazingly calm. All this stuff would have upset me.

Mary (walking Anne to the door): I trust Griffin. You reminded me of who he is.

Anne: And? Who is he?

Mary: Well, let’s just say he’s not a sexual Diogenes. He’s just Griffin. Good night.

(She walks Anne out the door)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE SEVEN, CONCLUSION

(Scene shifts back to the French Quarter in New Orleans)

Griffin: She’s probably forgotten me. She probably forgot I exist.

(A drag queen enters opposite and stands for a moment, posing; Griffin looks at her, transfixed)

Silver: She’s probably pining for you now.

Griffin: Do you think so? She’s beautiful.

Silver (noticing the drag queen): You’re not talking about your wife anymore.

Griffin: If she can forget me for a bit, I can forget her.

Silver: Now you’re not talking about that one.

Griffin: I’m a man. I have urges. And that is about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Silver: Are you an idiot? That’s a drag . . .

Griffin: What, are you jealous?

Silver: I’m trying to tell you that’s a queen.

Griffin: At the very least, a princess.

Silver: Yes, Princess Phony. Do you like her that much? Do you want to meet her? Do you really think she’s a beautiful woman?

Griffin: I’d love to, but I can’t just go up to her and . . .

Silver: Hey, you raving bitch, come over here!

Contessa: Don’t you be talkin’ to me like that!

Griffin: You can’t talk to strangers that way. Especially if she’s royalty.

Silver: Well, you can, but she’s not a stranger. She works with the same people as my girlfriend. (To Contessa) You want to meet this stud muffin or not?

Contessa: Be right there, dear.

Griffin: She’s a stripper?

Silver: Different bar.

Griffin: What does she do?

Silver: She’s a royal pain in the ass. And not just when she’s feeling butch.

Griffin: She’s coming. What do I say?

Silver: Either kiss me or hello. Take your choice.

Griffin: Hello.

Silver: Maybe when she gets here would be better.

(Contessa is now up to them)

Griffin: Hello.

Contessa (holding her hand out to Griffin): Hello. Thank you, Silver. Occasionally, you do perform miracles. This one’s hot.

Silver: And hot for you.

Griffin: Oh, excuse me, I didn’t . . .

Contessa: Honey, do you see the hand? It’s not there to stop an updraft. Would you kiss the damn thing?

(Griffin takes her hand and kisses it)

Griffin: I’m sorry. Silver said you were a queen. Are you a queen?

Contessa: Am I a queen? Am I a queen, he asks. You could say that, but no. I am a Contessa. Contessa Di Gressa. You may call me Di.

Silver: Di.

Griffin: Contessa. What is that, exactly?

Silver: Di. Di, Contessa, Di.

Contessa: Silver, dear, I hear the dildo beat of militant lesbians. Don’t you have to join them?

Silver (to Griffin): You get what you deserve. I’ll see you around. (To Contessa) Bye, dear. May the good Lord hold your breasts in the cup of his hands.

Contessa (to Silver, as she exits): What the hell does that mean? Why can’t you dykes just be bitchy instead of obscure? (Beat) Besides, if the good Lord is holding my breasts, then his cup runneth over. (Looking at Griffin) And I hope this one’s does too.

Griffin: I’m lost.

Contessa: Honey, if you’re lost, I’m found. Together, we can . . .

Griffin: Together we’re lost and found.

Contessa: That’s as original as sin.

Griffin: You said it first. I just thought . . .

Contessa: You shouldn’t. Just be pretty. Like a model in a liquor ad. You don’t have to think to drink in my beauty.

Griffin: You don’t want to talk?

Contessa: Yes. I don’t want you to talk. I want to look at you. And maybe touch. If I wanted to talk I’d find a phone.

Griffin: I think relationships are built on more than looks.

Contessa: Yes, they are, but sex isn’t.

Griffin: Is that what this is about?

Contessa: Honey, as I said, please don’t talk. Your attractiveness is divisible by your words.

Griffin: I don’t like this. You’re a cruel woman.

Contessa: There’s a difference between cruelty and benevolent realism.

Griffin: I don’t see it.

Contessa: And love and sex.

Griffin: I don’t see that either.

Contessa: What do you see? Oh, Jesus, you have us talking. What do you see? Do you like what you see?

Griffin: I see a cruel and beautiful woman.

Contessa: Then you don’t know me. Sardonic, yes. Cruel, no. Beautiful, definitely. If you want to, kiss these cruel lips and make the cruelty stop. You will unleash a passion beyond cruelty, beyond beauty, beyond beyond. And you’ll never be the same again.

(They kiss passionately)

Griffin: That was beyond . . .

Contessa: Shhh.

(Contessa drops to her knees in front of Griffin, with his back to the audience; they freeze in place and the lights start to pulse; suddenly she stops and the lights return to normal)

Griffin: What’s wrong. Why did you stop? That was feeling pretty good.

Contessa: I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

(She gets up and walks away)

Griffin: Wait. What are you . . . ? Where are you going? I’m all . . .

Contessa: Goodbye.

Griffin: My God, you are cruel, aren’t you?

Gay Man (entering): Worked up? Horny?

Griffin: Well, actually, yes.

Gay Man: She does that to all the guys. Rarely finishes it off.

Griffin: You know her?

Gay Man: Him, actually. That was a guy.

Griffin: A guy? I kissed a guy? I got . . . you know . . . a . . . a . . . you know . . . excited . . . over a guy?

Gay Man: Why not? Listen, if you need it, I can finish it.

Griffin: But you’re a guy.

Gay Man: So what? You already started with a guy. What the hell difference does it make now?

(Gay Man drops to his knees in front of Griffin; Griffin’s back is to the audience; they freeze in place; the lights start to pulsate, picking up tempo; suddenly Griffin yells and pushes the other man away)

Griffin: Stop! I can’t. I’m not . . . not . . . that way . . . not really. It feels good, but I’m not . . .

Gay Man (getting up): Yeah, right. Fuck you. Get yourself off.

(Gay Man exits; a Woman enters opposite)

Woman: Hey, I’ve been watching this whole thing. Got me hot.

Griffin: I can’t . . . I’m not . . .

Woman: I’m a woman. All woman. I’ll finish it for you.

Griffin: No, I . . .

Woman: Don’t say a word. Just feel it. I am a real woman. Straight woman. You’ll feel the difference.

(She drops to her knees in front of him, his back to the audience; they freeze in place; lights start to pulsate again, picking up tempo until an explosive flash of light; they unfreeze and Griffin drops to the floor next to her)

Griffin: Oh, my God.

Woman: Did I tell you that you’d feel it? I’m all woman. Didn’t that feel great?

Griffin: It did. What’s your name?

Woman: Wasn’t it the best you’ve ever had?

Griffin: Who are you?

Woman: Wasn’t it the best ever? Wasn’t it?

Griffin: Well, actually, no. I mean, I think, maybe, you know, psychologically, yes, it could have been. But actually, those other two . . . the previous, uh . . . both of them . . . well, physically, they were . . . damn . . . I mean, they knew what they were doing. (Pause) I just couldn’t, you know, with the guy . . . well, I guess they were both guys . . . but I’m glad you came along to finish it off, because . . . wow . . . I mean, that whole thing was . . .

Woman: Fuck you.

(She gets up and storms off; he gets up, yelling after her)

Griffin: Hey, what’s your name? You never even told me your name! Come on, I didn’t mean anything! (Pause) Aaaahh, what the hell do I care? (Pause) Really, what? (Pause) Mary, I am so sorry. I was thinking of you. Honest. I love you.

(He exits)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE EIGHT

(Late at night somewhere in New Orleans; Griffin is out for a walk; the streets are dimly lit; Griffin enters up stage right and begins slowly making an arc around the stage; he is deep in thought; two young guys enter and begin following him; he exits up stage left; he re-enters down stage left with the two guys closer behind; he crosses up stage and exits up stage right; he re-enters down stage right and crosses straight across and exits down stage left; he re-enters up stage left and crosses diagonally toward down stage right; two women holding hands enter down stage left and start crossing diagonally toward up stage right; they pass center stage just after Griffin; the two young guys see them and start following them; Griffin exits down stage right)

Young Guy 1: Dyke.

(The women stop and turn)

Young Guy 2: Lesbo homo.

Lesbian: Please leave us alone. We didn’t do anything to you.

Young Guy 1: You’re a dyke.

Young Guy 2: The end is coming for you queers.

(The two young guys start attacking the women and beat them up)

Young Guy 1: Fuckin’ dykes. Shoulda raped them first.

Young Guy 2: The end is coming.

Young Guy 1: Homo dykes.

Young Guy 2: The end is coming.

(A siren is heard; Young Guys reach into their back pockets and pull out Boy Scout hats, which they put on)

Young Guy 1: Dyke bitches.

Young Guy 2: Be prepared.

(They exit up stage right; police officer enters down stage left and crosses over, looks over the scene and then gets on the radio)

Police Officer: Charlie 2 here. Charlie 2. Code 27. We have a possible 4 or 23. Two bodies down. Probable standard assault. We’ll check it out, then 43. Over.

(Lights to black)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE NINE

(Lights up on a gay bar/disco in downtown New Orleans; Griffin enters with a can of beer; there are two men and two women dancing; the song ends and they all split apart and go lean on different walls or stand in different areas; Griffin poses until one of the men comes up to speak with him)

Dancer: Hi.

Griffin: Hi.

Dancer: What’s your name?

Griffin: Griffin. What’s your name?

Dancer: They call me Dancer. It’s what I do. On the floor and in the bed. I’m hot.

Griffin: You look it.

Dancer: Thank you. What do you do?

Griffin: I’m a journalist and a sociologist. I study people.

Dancer: Don’t tell me. You’re studying gay people.

Griffin: No, I’ve become gay.

Dancer: You mean you’ve come out recently?

Griffin: No, I recently became gay.

Dancer: You don’t become gay. You are or you’re not. Now, whether you accept yourself is another story.

Griffin: I accept who I temporarily am. Fully and without question. I love myself for the gay man I am at this moment. Next week, when the straight man inside of me has come back out of his closet, I’ll love him too.

Dancer: You have an inner straight child?

Griffin: And an inner gay child. And in inner girl, the feminine side of me. I’m accepting it all.

Dancer: Do you have an inner tube? Do you have an inner voice that says, “Let us out of here! We don’t want to inhabit this body any more?!?”

Griffin: You’re not taking me seriously.

Dancer: I’m afraid I am. Oh, listen, my absolute favorite song has been playing and I didn’t even notice. Time to do my thing. Dancing. It’s what I do.

(He moves to the corner and dances with himself; Griffin moves toward the two women)

Griffin: Hi. (Pause) I said hi.

Lesbian 1: Hi.

Lesbian 2: Go away. We suffer enough male oppression out in the real world, without having to come to a gay bar and have patriarchy thrown in our faces.

Griffin: I think I was just saying hi.

Lesbian 2: Power move. Control with a greeting. If we ignore him, we look rude and moronic. If we acknowledge him, he‘s established control by forcing us to deal with him. It’s a lose-lose situation.

Griffin: Maybe you could win by making a new friend.

Lesbian 1: Maybe you could let us win by leaving us alone. It’s nothing against you personally. You seem like a nice enough guy. But as a guy you are a living symbol of our daily oppression.

Griffin: That’s what I’m looking for is oppression. I want to experience it first hand.

Lesbian 1: You are gay, right?

Griffin: Technically, at the moment, yes.

Lesbian 1: Then you are a victim of oppression on a daily basis. Simple things in the world around you. Commercials, books, ads, things all over that tell you that you are less than others, not quite as worthy.

Lesbian 2: Dumb shit, how could you not see it?

Lesbian 1: Daily.

Lesbian 2: Are you fucking hearing impaired, speech challenged, and sightless? Are you mentally unbalanced? What the fuck is the deal?

Griffin: Why are you yelling at me?

Lesbian 2: I’m not yelling. And don’t even dare think I’m being a bitch just because I’m being a little forceful here.

Lesbian 1: She gets a little upset when people don’t see the truth.

Lesbian 2: Don’t patronize me.

Lesbian 1 (to Lesbian 2): I think we should go. (To Griffin) It was nice meeting you. Good luck with whatever you’re searching for today. I hope you find it.

(They continue talking as they walk away)

Lesbian 2: Fucking moron.

Lesbian 1: Don’t use that term.

Lesbian 2: I can say fuck if I want to.

Lesbian 1: No, the other one. It’s not nice.

Lesbian 2: What other one? What did I say?

Lesbian 1: You said moron. It’s not nice.

Lesbian 2: I’m sorry. Let’s get the fuck outta here.

(They exit; a man comes up to Griffin)

Avery: Evening.

Griffin: Hi.

Avery: Looks like you’re having a rough night.

Griffin: A bit. What’s your name?

Avery: Avery.

Griffin: Gay man?

Avery: Aren’t we all?

Griffin: Not necessarily. Are you?

Avery: If you must know, yes. I was keeping that a secret. And you?

Griffin: Yes and no.

Avery: Bi?

Griffin: Don’t leave.

Avery: No, are you bisexual?

Griffin: Oh, no, not really. (Beat) I’m straight and gay.

Avery: Better than straight and narrow, I guess.

Griffin: I’m really straight. Married. Three kids. Etc. But I became gay for a while to see what it’s like, to find oppression.

Avery: And no luck? In that case you’re either looking for hate in all the wrong places or you’re too straight to really get it.

Griffin: You’ve been oppressed?

Avery: Oppressed, repressed, impressed, pre-pressed.

Griffin: Really. Tell me, what’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?

Avery: I’d say the pre-pressed.

Griffin: No, I’m serious. What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?

Avery: As a gay man or human being?

Griffin: I don’t know.

Avery: I don’t either. For me, life has been like a game of cow plop bingo, with me and my friends always on the square that gets called. I’ve seen a lot of shit in my time. The amazing thing is not how much we’ve suffered but how much we’ve laughed. That’s the one thing you have to give us queer people is the ability to laugh at our own circumstances, to see the humor in the worst of times. (Pause) I remember . . .

Griffin: What?

Avery: I was just thinking. Trying to explain it. The first guy I knew to die of AIDS. Over ten years ago already. He had just been given his diagnosis, which at that time was like a death sentence, and the doctor was being all serious and trying to get important information. The doctor asked him, “How many sexual partners have you had? Would you say a hundred? A thousand?” Which is, of course, a completely stupid and insensitive thing to be asking at that moment. So my friend looked him in the eyes and said, “What, you mean so far this year, or all of last?” He tells me this as his way of telling me he has AIDS and we’re sitting there laughing our asses off. What else can you do?

Griffin: You could cry. That’s what I’d do.

Avery: Believe me, we did our share of that too. But damn it, it didn’t stop us from dancing.

Griffin: Well, life is for living.

Avery: Another. My best friend who committed suicide—one of the funniest people I ever met. Guess he was hiding his pain, but boy did he make me laugh. I had laughing jags with him that I thought would cause me a heart attack. And then he killed himself. Guess he stopped finding things funny. That one still hurts. Another friend who was stabbed 17 times, when I came into the hospital room, he couldn’t say a word because of the tubes and everything in his throat—he smiled. Cut all over, can’t talk, eyes half shut, and he smiles at my goofy ass coming through the door with a single wilting rose that was all I could afford to bring him. He’s dead now, too. I still smile when I think of him. Me, I can be funny too, though most of my friends tell me I’m too serious. I do like to laugh, I do. (Pause) I think it’s the thing that they hate the most. We’ve got rhythm and we laugh. No matter how much hatred, no matter how much pain, no matter what, we dance, and we laugh; we celebrate life; we see and we enjoy the absurdity of it all.

Griffin: I’m not sure what to say.

Avery: How about, “You’re cute, would you like to come back to my hotel?” Even if you don’t really mean it.

Griffin: I . . . I’m not really . . . I’m sorry. You’re a nice guy, but not my type.

Avery: That’s right. I forgot. You’re straight. And I forgot my vagina tonight. Next time I’m here I’ll bring it, I swear. Usually keep it in my back pocket, but I have different jeans tonight. (Beat) Ah, I had to try. Didn’t mean to unsettle you. Good night. Good luck.

Griffin: Yeah, you too. Hey, hey, before you go—you never told me the worst thing that ever happened to you. You told me all these things about your friends, but you skipped yourself.

Avery: No, I didn’t. Good night.

(Avery exits; Lesbian 1 re-enters and goes up to Griffin)

Lesbian 1: Okay, my girlfriend doesn’t know where I’m at right now, but I wanted to show you this. If you want to see oppression, I’ll show you oppression. But you have to promise me you can’t look at it with straight eyes. You have to see it with gay eyes or it won’t be meaningful. Okay?

Griffin: Sure, where are we going?

Lesbian 1: You’ll see.

(She takes his hand and they exit as the lights go to black)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE TEN

(Lights up on a crowd around a billboard that reads GAY PEOPLE SUCK and underneath that, “Brought to you by Western Christians United”; a Preacher is speaking as Lesbian 1 and Griffin enter; others are gathered around)

Preacher: I say to you that by welcoming the homosexual into our community . . .

Man In Crowd: You’re not even from New Orleans! What do you mean, “our community”?

Preacher: That is true. The man speaks the truth. I am not from here. I am from Monroe, Louisiana, right down the road. But we are all members of the community of God. You are inviting the wrath of God. By accepting the homosexual as your neighbor, you are inviting hurricanes and floods and typhoons.

Woman In Crowd: But if we’re all members of the community of God we should accept all the neighbors in the community, don’t you think?

Preacher: You are asking for the fury of God. You might even be bringing a meteor to your own hometown.

Man In Crowd: There are less veggies in a meteor hometown!

Preacher: God says to hate the homosexual. Love the sinner no more. Do not ask for meteor showers.

Woman In Crowd: Ask for hot lava bubble bath.

Preacher: I swear to you . . .

Lesbian 1: Sinner! Quit swearing in front of children.

Preacher: Do not bring on the hour of death. Sin no more and love no more. The end is near. The end is near.

Man In Crowd: About time. When does the band start?

Preacher: All homos die! God hates fags!

Man In Crowd: God hates hypocrites!

(Woman In Crowd turns on a boom box and a funky song starts playing; the people start dancing to the song; Griffin and Lesbian 1 watch them dance for a bit; Preacher’s Son enters and watches for a bit, looking a little nervous; Preacher sees him)

Preacher: My son, my son! Let him through!

(The people part; he crosses to center, then starts to dance)

Woman In Crowd: You work it, girl!

Preacher: He is a man, unlike you who lie with each other.

Man: We lie? Look at him.

Preacher: Stop it, Son. Dancing is a sin. Wait til your father hears about this!

Preacher’s Son: My father’s dead.

Preacher: What are you saying?

Preacher’s Son: He disowned me. He kicked me out. He said to go join the homos at the billboard demonstration, so I did.

Preacher: Your father would never tell you to join the homos. You will not do it. Quit dancing! I said quit dancing!

Preacher’s Son: I don’t have to join them, Mother! I am one! I’m gay! I’m queer!

Preacher: You are no such thing! No son of mine is going to be that way!

Preacher’s Son: I am!

Preacher: Your father was right to kick you out. You have no father or mother.

(Preacher storms off stage; Woman In Crowd stops the boom box)

Woman In Crowd: I knew this music would scare her away. (To Preacher’s Son) Are you okay?

Preacher’s Son: Yeah, that went really well. Much better than I expected. I was expecting actual thunder and lightning.

Man In Crowd: Your mother just disowned you.

Preacher’s Son: My parents disowned me when they supposedly found the Lord. All their energy went from loving me and each other to hating everyone who didn’t see the love of God.

Woman In Crowd: Are you sure you’re okay?

Preacher’s Son: I’ve never felt better. I’m so relieved. You don’t know how often I’ve wondered how this was going to happen, how much energy I’ve expended worrying about it. This is great! I proclaimed myself, in public no less, and reclaimed my soul.

Lesbian 1 (to Preacher’s Son): Congratulations. Can I give you a hug?

Preacher’s Son: That would be nice.

(They hug; Woman In Crowd starts the boom box again)

Woman In Crowd: Time to dance, kids! It’s my party, and you’ll dance if I want you to.

(Crowd starts dancing again; Preacher’s Son slowly starts to dance again, picking up rhythm and enjoying it more as he continues)

Lesbian 1 (to Griffin): Would you like to dance?

Griffin: I’m a man.

Lesbian 1: Yeah?

Griffin: A straight man.

Lesbian 1: And?

Griffin: And you’re a lesbian.

Lesbian 1: So?

Griffin: Why do you want to dance? I thought you didn’t like men.

Lesbian 1: Maybe some lesbians—like my girlfriend—don’t like men, but believe it or not, some of us have even slept with men, or married them, or had children by them.

Griffin: I never thought of that.

Lesbian 1: I like men, unless they’re totally heterosexist, chauvinist pigs. But you know what? The number of those are really as few and far between as the number of us who hate all men. Now, that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you, but we can dance, and enjoy each other’s company.

Griffin: Okay, let’s do it.

(They start dancing; after a bit, Griffin really starts getting into it)

Woman In Crowd: You work it, girl!

Griffin: Hey, she called me girl. I sort of like all this. If I wasn’t straight, I could be gay.

(All of them continue dancing as the lights fade to black)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE ELEVEN

(Lights up; Griffin enters to flashing red lights; a fireman enters)

Griffin: What’s going on?

Fireman: Y. M. C. A. It’s burning down.

Griffin: Oh, my God. That’s terrible.

Fireman: Oh, I don’t know.

Griffin: What do you mean, “Oh, I don’t know”?

Fireman: I never really liked the place. Lots of homos stay here.

Griffin: You’re a fireman!

Fireman: Your point?

Griffin: You’re not doing anything!

Fireman: I’m off duty. Do you voluntarily work on your day off?

Griffin: No, but I’m a journalist. You do important work. You should be doing something if you’re going to be here anyway.

Fireman: I am doing something. I’m passing out campaign literature. On Election Day, don’t forget me.

(He hands Griffin a paper, then starts walking away)

Griffin: Believe me, I won’t.

Fireman: Thank you.

Griffin: Hey, is it all burning? If I have a room, am I going to be able to stay here?

Fireman: Are you a homosexual?

Griffin: It’s none of your business, really, but no, I’m not.

Fireman: Okay, ‘cause I was going to say that if you were you could probably stay in the fire and get used to it, because that’s what you’d be doing for an eternity. (He laughs) But being as you’re not, I don’t know. I’d say wait til it dies down and see what’s left.

Griffin: Okay. Hey! Do your brochures say the same kind of things as you were just saying?

Fireman: Yeah, more or less.

Griffin: Why don’t you give me a bunch? I know a really good place to spread the word about you.

Fireman: Sure. Take a handful. Spread the word. Remember me on Election Day.

Griffin: Like I said, I will. Good night. Enjoy the fire.

(Fireman turns to talk to some bystanders; Griffin takes brochures, crumples a couple and throws them into the burning building)

Child (off stage, near fire): Daddy! Let’s go!

(Fireman waves toward children; keeps campaigning; Griffin crumples a couple more brochures and throws them into the fire)

Child (off stage, near fire): Daddy, come on!

Fireman: Just a couple minutes. I’ll be right there.

(Griffin crumples more brochures and throws them into fire as lights go to black)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE TWELVE

(Lights up on the French Quarter, in front of the strip joint; Silver is there with a sign that reads, “PROUD”; the Sign Reader and Barker are also already on stage; Griffin enters)

Sign Reader: The sign says, “PROUD.” “PROUD”.

Griffin (to Silver): Hi.

Silver: Hello again.

Barker: Pay no attention to the lesbian. Come see the real women here. Step right up. Step on in. T. & A. Free today. Come on in. Whad’ya say?

Griffin: Shut up.

Barker: Oh, you. Stay on out. We don’t want your kind in here.

Griffin: Thank you. That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all night.

Barker: You poor sucker. You’ll never be as close to a woman as I’ll be tonight. And you don’t even know what you’re missing.

(He goes into the club; a woman enters with a sign that reads, “Pride is another deadly sin”)

Sign Reader: The sign says, “Pride is another deadly sin. Pride is . . .”

Silver (to the Sign Reader and Woman): Out! Now!

(Sign Reader and Woman exit)

Griffin: Guess what?

Silver: I don’t play games. What?

Griffin: No, guess. Guess what I did.

Silver: Don’t tell me. You found the gay life. You went to a club, danced your ass off, got drunk, got lucky and woke up in the morning with an emotional hangover.

Griffin: Nope.

(Long pause)

Silver: What!

Griffin: Guess.

Silver: I told you I don’t play games. Especially with men. What? If you want me to care, tell me what. Now.

Griffin: I protested.

Silver: Okay, what the hell are you talking about?

Griffin: At the sign.

Silver: I didn’t hear you say a word. I told them to get out of here.

Griffin: No, not that sign. The sign.

Silver: The sign? Meaning . . . what? Of our times? Of the cross? What? What are you talking about?

Griffin: You know, the big one. The, uh, billboard, the one about gay people, from the Christians. I went and sang songs and heard speeches and everything. I danced. It was great. You should have been there. You should dance.

Silver: Honey, these boots were made for kicking ass. I’m not a dancer.

Griffin: That’s too bad.

Silver: No, it isn’t. Some people dance, some like me carry signs, some wear dresses and some wear nothing but an attitude. We all do what we have to do.

Griffin: I did what I had to do.

Silver: Good for you.

Griffin: I think I know what it’s like to be gay now.

Silver: Oh, for God’s sake, one blow job does not a fag make.

Griffin: No, it wasn’t that, though I guess that could be part of it. And you’re right, it doesn’t, I know. By the way, it wasn’t just one.

Silver: Slut.

Griffin: Anyway, I could get that from my wife. (Pause) Okay, actually, maybe not from my wife, but I could get it outside the gay world. It’s not just gays who like, you know, the oral thing.

Silver: Well, you could have fashion without the gay world too, but not very much. And it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.

Griffin: I wasn’t talking about clothes.

Silver: Neither was I.

Griffin: That guy with women’s clothes was right . . .

Silver: Drag queen. Now you’re talking about clothes.

Griffin: . . . you lesbian women are obscure. Anyway, I saw the oppression. I saw the billboard. I know what it’s like. I can go home now.

Silver: Wait a minute, how long were you supposedly gay?

Griffin: For a few weeks already.

Silver: And you’re done? You’re going back to the wife and kids now?

Griffin: Yep. And I think I’m going to write a book about it. From the inside. I’ve experienced it first hand.

Silver: You’re serious?

Griffin: Yes.

Silver: So in three weeks you’ve had a lifetime of oppression. You’ve struggled with coming out, you’ve had people beat you up, you’ve lost your job or family or friends for being what you are, you’ve had people call you names, maybe you were murdered or denied the chance to visit a dying lover in the hospital. Give me a break. You’ve seen a sign, one sign, and you know what it’s all about now.

Griffin: No, that’s not it. You said it yourself. There is no gay community. It’s not all one experience. Let me ask you, have all those things happened to you, or even to people you’ve known personally? Maybe, maybe not. The point is, I can’t experience it all, but I experienced some of it. And I made friends. I heard stories that people told me with full and honest hearts. When was the last time you sat at the bedside of someone dying of AIDS instead of out here fighting your fight? Or listened to some old queen whose lover just dumped her? Stood by a young man coming out to his mother? I did that. When was the last time you experienced anything?

(Pause)

Silver: So I take it you’re going back. Your job is complete?

Griffin: As complete as it can be. I really am a straight man. I really do love my wife and children.

Silver: Don’t say that as if I don’t.

Griffin: I certainly didn’t mean to. I fully believe that you do. We’re really very much alike, you know. Very. That’s why I like you so much, and why I wanted to come and say good-bye. You’ve been a big help to me.

Silver: I don’t know how, but thanks. And you to me, I guess. Go write your book, and take some more of my burdens from me.

Griffin: Okay.

(Griffin puts his hand out to her; she hugs him instead)

Silver: And you damn well better bring me a free signed copy when it gets published.

Griffin: Okay, I will. Good-bye.

Silver: Good-bye.

(A man enters with a sign that reads HATE, followed by the Sign Reader)

Sign Reader: The signs says, “HATE.” “HATE.”

Griffin (holding his hand out, as if asking to see the sign): Do you mind if I protest?

Man With Sign: Not at all. Thanks.

Griffin (taking sign from him): No, thank you.

(Griffin starts to exit)

Man With Sign: Hey, where are you going?

Griffin: Home.

Man With Sign: Give me the sign back. You said you wanted to join my protest.

Griffin: No, I said, “Do you mind if I protest?” (He winks at Silver) Methinks I protest not enough. Good night.

(Griffin exits, with Man With Sign and Sign Reader following)

Man With Sign (off stage): You jerk! I said give me the sign. Now!

(A loud noise is heard; Man With Sign re-enters with the placard around his neck as if it was slammed onto his head; the Sign Reader re-enters)

Sign Reader: The sign says . . . (Trying to crane his neck to look up at it) . . . “HA”. (Standing back up) “HA.”

(Blackout)

GAY LIKE ME, SCENE THIRTEEN

(Back at Griffin and Mary’s house; Griffin enters)

Griffin: Honey, I’m home!

(Mary and children enter)

Children: Daddy! Daddy!

(They hug him)

Mary: Okay, children, time to run up to your bedroom now. Mommy has to talk with Daddy for a little bit.

(They hug him again)

Children: Bye, Daddy! Good night, Daddy!

Griffin: Good night.

(Children exit)

Mary: Welcome back. I’m so glad you’re home. We’ve missed you.

Griffin: I’ve missed you too.

(They kiss)

Mary: You’re my man.

Griffin: I can’t wait to tell you everything I experienced. It was amazing. I’m really glad I went and did it.

Mary: I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear it. It’s almost time to eat. It’s Tuna Leftover Shake And Help.

Griffin: I learned so much.

Mary: I’m sure you did, but I don’t want to know, and I’m sure nobody else does either. Besides, I know what you were doing.

Griffin: What do you mean?

Mary: I know.

Griffin: How could you?

Mary: Anne brought me a book. I read some horrible things. But it also reminded me of some things. I have to talk to you about it.

Griffin: What?

Mary: I want you to know I’m going to be in the newspaper, all across the country.

Griffin: You are? Congratulations. How? Why?

Mary: My church—our church—has decided to take a stand against homosexuality. They’ve declared a new Holy War and I decided to enlist after seeing the things you were doing and after being reminded of certain things.

Griffin: What are you talking about?

Mary: My picture is going to be on a full-page ad in The New York Times. It’s going to talk about my life as a former lesbian.

Griffin: A what?

Mary: A recovered lesbian.

Griffin: You’re a lesbian? My wife is a lesbian? The Singing Nun I can believe, but you, a lesbian? I don’t think so.

Mary: No, I said former lesbian. I’m cured. Just like you’re an ex-gay now that you’re back. You did it by taking drugs. Mine’s a different story. I think, when I was in college, my cafeteria milk must have been laced, or I wouldn’t have . . . well, when I was in college, I had a best friend who I did everything with. We were like Siamese twins, only they’re joined together and we weren’t, and they would be siblings and we were friends. But because we were so close, one day, without thinking about it, I kissed her, to show her how much I thought of her. Right on the cheek. I found out later that she was a lesbian.

Griffin: That doesn’t make you a lesbian.

Mary: And when I was a little girl, a boy touched me. In that place. I hated him. You know all lesbians hate men.

Griffin: That’s not true either.

Mary: It happened. Why do people doubt that?

Griffin: Not that part.

Mary: And I had sexual dreams about her. In one of the dreams I touched her breasts. I told all of this to my church and they told the ad writers and they wrote a whole story based on my experience. It’s going to be in the paper. I prayed to God for deliverance from sin back then and He delivered me. Now, I’m only subservient to my man and my God.

Griffin: I thought you just said you hate men.

Mary: I said I hated men. God cured me. He introduced me to another former lesbian, who was a Christian therapist, and she led me away from my unnatural desires. Then I met you. I abandoned my ho-mo-sexuality and you and God came along and filled all my emptiness. And now, through me, the truth will set others free.

Griffin: And this is all going to be in the paper?

Mary: Yes, but it’s not only me. It’s very exciting. There’s some sports star that they wrote another one for, and at least one other person. We all just said write our stories and tell them the truth. They picked three of us they thought would be good to use.

Griffin: Mary, this is stupid.

Mary: What?

Griffin: Your experience, whatever it was, is only one experience. How can you tell the whole world something’s evil just because it wasn’t right for you? Just because you couldn’t deal with it? What if one of our children turn out to be gay? What will you tell them?

Mary: That won’t happen. I won’t allow it.

Griffin: I learned a lot while I was gone, Mary, and it was about love, not this judgmental thing.

Mary: Don’t tell me you’re a gay now. Don’t tell me you’re walking out of the closet door.

Griffin: It’s coming out. Of the closet.

Mary: You are. They turned you queer.

Griffin: You don’t turn queer. Or straight. And no, I’m not, I was just explaining the language.

Mary: Oh, I know all about their language. I’ll be a fishwife no more.

Griffin: A what?

Mary: A fishwife. I know what the gays call people like me.

Griffin: I have no idea what you’re . . . anyway, it’s coming out of the closet for those who do it. And I’m not doing that. I’m coming home, but I’m not coming out. I’m not gay and I don’t want to be. I love you.

Mary: Oh, thank you. Thank you. The Lord answered my prayers again. I’ll go get the casserole finished.

Griffin (as she’s exiting): Mary!

(No response; Griffin turns on the T. V.; a news show is on; Mary re-enters)

Announcer: An Arab man was beaten in the New York subway today. Witnesses said four attackers screamed, “Die, Iraqi, die”, as they bludgeoned him. The man, a Kuwaiti national, is in critical condition at St. Mary’s hospital.

(Griffin changes channels; a comedy show)

Character: So, Towel-Head, you thought you were going to kill our President!?!

(Griffin changes channels; another news show)

Newscaster: A man who lives in a house with five other Muslims allegedly robbed a convenience store downtown yesterday.

(Griffin turns the television off)

Griffin: Mary! Mary! Come here! (He turns and sees her) Oh, I didn’t know you were standing there. Did you see that? I think that . . . I may be wrong . . . but it sure seems like . . . it’s as if it’s okay to hate Arabs right now. They’re some kind of enemy, and we’re being taught to hate them.

Mary: Well, they’re all insane. They’re all terrorists. Don’t you pay attention to the world around you? Don’t tell me you want to become an Arab now.

Griffin: Mary, I think I have to go.

Mary: You can’t. Talk about stupid. I was an Arab once. I lived in Jordan when I was in the Peace Corps. But now I’m All-American.

Griffin: Mary, you don’t know what it means to be an American. You don’t know what it means to be a Christian. Mary, I have loved you, but I have to leave you. I do love you, but I can’t live with you any more.

Mary: You are queer! I knew it!

Griffin: It might be better if you could console yourself with that.

Mary: Are you saying you’re not? The drugs wore off? It’s because I used to be a lesbian, isn’t it? You really hate the homos too.

Griffin: It’s because you used to be a loving and caring person. It’s because we’ve both changed, but in different directions.

Mary: It’s those homo people. They ruin everything they touch. Sexual lepers, that’s what they are.

Griffin: Mary!

Mary: I told you I’d support you in whatever you had to do. And I did. You should support me now.

Griffin: I can’t. I have to go.

Mary: If you leave, don’t come back. Become a gay. Become a towelhead. Just don’t come back. (Pause) You’re really going, aren’t you?

Griffin: Yes.

(He kisses her cheek and starts to exit)

Mary: I’ll pray for you.

Griffin: Mary, after I leave, go look in the mirror, look deeply at your reflection, day after day if you have to, and then decide whether I need your prayers.

Mary: That’s the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.

Griffin: No, the most honest.

(He exits; she walks to the corner and looks in the mirror as the lights fade to black)

THE END