Hold Me Closer: The Tiny Cooper Story
Page 11
TINY:
So that was it. I had fully emerged from my big gay chrysalis and was now a big gay butterfly. I spread my wings. I flew around. It felt gooooood.
I had great friends. I had a supportive family. I had football. I should have felt complete.
And yet I didn’t.
The piano begins. Tiny looks around the stage, as if he’s just stepped outside the shtetl and is about to ask the immortal question, “Papa, can you hear me?” Only it’s not his dead father he’s addressing. For one, his father isn’t dead. For two, that’s already been done, like, a thousand times.
Tiny should remain in the spotlight throughout. The other characters should emerge from the darkness and then get spotlights of their own.
[“WHAT IS MISSING? (LOVE IS MISSING)”]
TINY:
Something’s missing.
What is missing?
It’s like a sense I’ve never used.
A place I’ve never been.
A chord I’ve never heard.
A shiver I’ve never felt.
Lynda, the lesbian babysitter, emerges from the darkness.
LYNDA:
Something’s missing?
What is missing?
It’s a thought you’ve never mused.
A harmony in the din.
The height of the absurd.
A card you’ll soon be dealt.
TINY:
Something’s missing?
What is missing?
The Ghost of Oscar Wilde emerges and completes the trinity.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
It’s the heart of the accused.
The fight you dare not win.
The sounds that make a word.
The unfastening of the belt.
TINY:
What is it?
What am I missing?
It’s like a sense I’ve never used.
LYNDA:
It’s a thought you’ve never mused.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
It’s the heart of the accused.
TINY:
A place I’ve never been.
LYNDA:
A harmony in the din.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The fight you dare not win.
TINY:
A chord I’ve never heard.
LYNDA:
The height of the absurd.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The sounds that make a word.
TINY:
A shiver I’ve never felt.
LYNDA:
A card you’ll soon be dealt.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The unfastening of the belt.
LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
Something’s missing.
What is missing?
TINY (spoken):
It’s love, isn’t it?
Lynda and The Ghost of Oscar Wilde nod, then resume singing.
LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
If act one in life is about finding yourself,
then act two is about finding everyone else.
TINY:
And love?
LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
And love.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The pure and simple truth
is rarely pure and never simple.
What’s a boy to do
when lies and truth are both considered
sinful?
Now it’s Tiny’s turn to nod.
TINY:
I was born this way,
and this is the way I’ve managed to stay.
Now I embark on the search for love.
Yes, now I embark on the search for love!
END OF ACT I
ACT II
ACT II, SCENE 1
Just in case you think, heading into Act II, that this is going to be one of those boy-meets-boy, boy-loses-boy, boy-gets-boy-back stories . . . the playwright must now point out the comedy of your error. Believe me, he had those notions at the start. He thought all he had to do was send love out into the universe and it would come back to him in the form of a perfect guy. A match. A soul mate. Remember the lesson Lynda gave him early on about halves? In the years since, he’s forgotten it. It’s not enough for him to be gay. He has to have a boyfriend. A you-are-my-everything boyfriend.
This is the dangerous thing about musicals. Most of them assume that as soon as you find your voice, you’ll use it to sing to someone else. That way, you can get your enchanted evening, your seasons of love, your tale as old as time, your Camembert, your edelweiss.
The thing is, in musicals there’s not a whole lot of looking (except in the case of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella.) In musicals, things happen that throw you into love, whether it’s gang warfare on the West Side, or a Nazi invasion, or needing a neighbor to light your candle.
Real life doesn’t provide quite so many openings. No, in real life, you’ve got to work a little harder to get to love.
I was willing to do the work. I was willing to look high and low for the perfect harmony.
I looked everywhere. I dated a lot of boys.
And what did I get out of it?
I got . . .
The Parade of Ex-boyfriends.
Yes, this second act has a pretty strange structure (although maybe not as strange as the second act of Follies, right?). Here we’re going to trace my progression as a person through my progression of breakups, because honestly at the time I couldn’t tell the difference between the two. We’re going to lose the Age button now and just go with the high school years as one entity. Because I’m sure that’s going to be how they’ll feel when they’re over. Assuming they ever end.
The next number calls for nineteen parts (including Tiny). I know that’s a lot to ask of any production. So feel free to double- or triple-cast. Also feel free to give every ex a number somewhere on his costume, like this is the deli counter from dating hell. Whatever works. And, duh, the boyfriends can be played by girls dressed as boys. But you knew that already, I’m sure.
So that was it. I had fully emerged from my big gay chrysalis and was now a big gay butterfly. I spread my wings. I flew around. It felt gooooood.
I had great friends. I had a supportive family. I had football. I should have felt complete.
And yet I didn’t.
The piano begins. Tiny looks around the stage, as if he’s just stepped outside the shtetl and is about to ask the immortal question, “Papa, can you hear me?” Only it’s not his dead father he’s addressing. For one, his father isn’t dead. For two, that’s already been done, like, a thousand times.
Tiny should remain in the spotlight throughout. The other characters should emerge from the darkness and then get spotlights of their own.
[“WHAT IS MISSING? (LOVE IS MISSING)”]
TINY:
Something’s missing.
What is missing?
It’s like a sense I’ve never used.
A place I’ve never been.
A chord I’ve never heard.
A shiver I’ve never felt.
Lynda, the lesbian babysitter, emerges from the darkness.
LYNDA:
Something’s missing?
What is missing?
It’s a thought you’ve never mused.
A harmony in the din.
The height of the absurd.
A card you’ll soon be dealt.
TINY:
Something’s missing?
What is missing?
The Ghost of Oscar Wilde emerges and completes the trinity.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
It’s the heart of the accused.
The fight you dare not win.
The sounds that make a word.
The unfastening of the belt.
TINY:
What is it?
What am I missing?
It’s like a sense I’ve never used.
LYNDA:
It’s a thought you’ve never mused.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
It’s the heart of the accused.
TINY:
A place I’ve never been.
LYNDA:
A harmony in the din.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The fight you dare not win.
TINY:
A chord I’ve never heard.
LYNDA:
The height of the absurd.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The sounds that make a word.
TINY:
A shiver I’ve never felt.
LYNDA:
A card you’ll soon be dealt.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The unfastening of the belt.
LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
Something’s missing.
What is missing?
TINY (spoken):
It’s love, isn’t it?
Lynda and The Ghost of Oscar Wilde nod, then resume singing.
LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
If act one in life is about finding yourself,
then act two is about finding everyone else.
TINY:
And love?
LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
And love.
THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:
The pure and simple truth
is rarely pure and never simple.
What’s a boy to do
when lies and truth are both considered
sinful?
Now it’s Tiny’s turn to nod.
TINY:
I was born this way,
and this is the way I’ve managed to stay.
Now I embark on the search for love.
Yes, now I embark on the search for love!
END OF ACT I
ACT II
ACT II, SCENE 1
Just in case you think, heading into Act II, that this is going to be one of those boy-meets-boy, boy-loses-boy, boy-gets-boy-back stories . . . the playwright must now point out the comedy of your error. Believe me, he had those notions at the start. He thought all he had to do was send love out into the universe and it would come back to him in the form of a perfect guy. A match. A soul mate. Remember the lesson Lynda gave him early on about halves? In the years since, he’s forgotten it. It’s not enough for him to be gay. He has to have a boyfriend. A you-are-my-everything boyfriend.
This is the dangerous thing about musicals. Most of them assume that as soon as you find your voice, you’ll use it to sing to someone else. That way, you can get your enchanted evening, your seasons of love, your tale as old as time, your Camembert, your edelweiss.
The thing is, in musicals there’s not a whole lot of looking (except in the case of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella.) In musicals, things happen that throw you into love, whether it’s gang warfare on the West Side, or a Nazi invasion, or needing a neighbor to light your candle.
Real life doesn’t provide quite so many openings. No, in real life, you’ve got to work a little harder to get to love.
I was willing to do the work. I was willing to look high and low for the perfect harmony.
I looked everywhere. I dated a lot of boys.
And what did I get out of it?
I got . . .
The Parade of Ex-boyfriends.
Yes, this second act has a pretty strange structure (although maybe not as strange as the second act of Follies, right?). Here we’re going to trace my progression as a person through my progression of breakups, because honestly at the time I couldn’t tell the difference between the two. We’re going to lose the Age button now and just go with the high school years as one entity. Because I’m sure that’s going to be how they’ll feel when they’re over. Assuming they ever end.
The next number calls for nineteen parts (including Tiny). I know that’s a lot to ask of any production. So feel free to double- or triple-cast. Also feel free to give every ex a number somewhere on his costume, like this is the deli counter from dating hell. Whatever works. And, duh, the boyfriends can be played by girls dressed as boys. But you knew that already, I’m sure.
