Hold Me Closer: The Tiny Cooper Story (4 page)

Tiny comes downstage again, to allow for the scenery to change.

TINY:

Next up was Phil Wrayson. In order to come out to him, I invited him to the Gay Pride Parade in Boystown. For those of you not from the Chicago area, Boystown is, well, the place in town where boys who like boys go to be boys who like boys and see other boys who like boys. You would think that this destination alone would have been my coming-out statement, but such is the logic of a boy coming out to his best friend that even at a Gay Pride Parade, the conversation needed to be had, no matter how nervous-making it was.

As Tiny is talking, the stage transforms into a Pride parade, complete with drag queens, leather daddies, gay parents, and (if you can fit them onstage) Dykes on Bikes. Phil Wrayson is right there with them, looking out of place, but not self-consciously so.

PHIL
(
coming up to Tiny
):

I’m trying to imagine what the straight equivalent of this would look like.

TINY:

The morning commute?

PHIL:

I was just asked by a drag queen if I was into otters. I’m hoping she didn’t mean that literally. That has to be a nickname for something, right?

TINY
(
nervously
):

Phil, there’s a reason I brought you here.

PHIL
(
not getting it
):

I hope it’s not to pimp me out to otters. Truly, I’m not into otters.

TINY:

Phil, I’m gay.

PHIL
(
mock-stunned
):

No!

TINY
(
in earnest
):

It’s true.

PHIL:

You mean, like, you’re happy.

TINY:

No, I mean, like, that guy is hot.

He points to a hot guy in a skintight yellow tank top—or some such article of clothing. You know, the kind where the guy looks more naked than if he were actually naked?

TINY:

And if I talked to him for a while and he had a good personality and respected me as a person I would let him kiss me on the mouth.

PHIL
(
appearing not to comprehend
):

You’re
gay
?

TINY:

Yeah. I know it’s a shock. But I wanted you to be the first to know. Other than my parents, I mean.

As Phil continues to mime shock—strike up the band! The music begins.

[“DUDE, YOU COULDN’T BE GAYER”]

PHIL
(
singing now
):

You’re gay?

Next you’re gonna tell me the sky is blue,

that you use girl shampoo,

that critics don’t appreciate Blink-182. Oh, next you’re gonna tell me the Pope is Catholic,

that hookers turn tricks,

that Elton John sucks HEY!

Tiny has shoved him playfully, and the song turns into a call-and-response. The choreography should have them dancing around the Pride parade, not unlike Ewan and Nicole dancing on top of the elephant in
Moulin Rouge
! At some point, you might want to have the background Pridesters form a Rockettian kickline.

TINY:

But I’m a football player!

PHIL:

Dude, you couldn’t be gayer.

TINY:

I thought my straight-acting deserved Tonys.

PHIL:

You own a thousand My Little Ponies!

TINY:

Is it really so obvious?

PHIL:

Only in the same way that

the sun rises in the east,

The Lion King
vilifies the wildebeest,

Harry Potter has a lightning scar,

and Republican politicians can be found sneaking

into every gay bar.

TINY:

I’m gay!

PHIL:

Hey hey hey!

TINY:

Gayer than a three-dollar bill.

PHIL:

Gayer than
The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
.

TINY:

Gayer than a Fire Island share.

PHIL:

Gayer than bleach-blond hair.

TINY:

I couldn’t be gayer . . .

PHIL:

. . . if you memorized all seven seasons of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
!

TINY:

I couldn’t have a more homo strut . . .

PHIL:

. . . if Neil Patrick Harris was up your WHOA!

TINY:

And you don’t mind?

PHIL:

No more than I mind

the sun setting in the west,

Dolly Parton’s immortal chest,

puffy shirts at a Renaissance Fest,

or little birds chirping cutely in a nest.

You don’t want me, do you?

TINY:

I would prefer a kangaroo!

PHIL:

Phew!

TINY:

True!

PHIL:

So can you abide

me showing some Tiny Cooper pride?

TINY:

No matter which direction I’m facin’ . . .

I’m with Phil Wrayson!

Phil gives Tiny the straight-boy version of a hug, and Tiny engulfs him in response, as the Pridesters cheer and the number ends.

Tiny comes downstage again, as the Pride parade is turned into a locker room.

I will leave the stage directions of the following scene up to your discretion. I know certain members of certain musical societies who like to produce
Damn Yankees
year after year just so they can have a gratuitous locker-room scene. You know, all the hot chorus members in towels and—whoops—maybe one of them falls a little. Especially if it’s Broadway. There the towels fall a lot. Now, I am not suggesting you pander to the female and gay audience, even if those two demographics make up—what?—98 percent of all musical theatergoers? You decide what Lola wants in this case. And that’s what she’ll get.

TINY:

Persuading Phil Wrayson and my parents to be on my side wasn’t the biggest challenge. Nor were my friends anything less than accepting. There was only one group that I was really worried about—the football team.

It was freshman year, but I was already varsity, on account of my size. These guys barely knew me. And I didn’t know how they’d feel about a gay boy in their midst.

I decided to confront them at the source of their fears: the locker room. It’s something I don’t get at all—almost every homophobic guy’s worst-case scenario is being naked in a locker room with a gay guy. I mean, what’s up with that? After I’ve just scrimmaged my ass off, the last thing I’m looking for is a quickie in the shower stall—with, incidentally, everyone else watching. I mean, come on. Get over your floppy self. If I’m going to ever fall for you, I’m going to do it the
right
way. I’ll ask you out on a date, not run away with your towel.

Now, the trick was—how to get this across to them all? I wish I could say I thought it all out ahead of time . . . but I don’t really plan my revelations. So it happened when I wasn’t fully expecting it.

The guys—again, wearing whatever you want them to be wearing—have gathered in the locker room, doing locker room things. (Bully #1 and Bully #2 have returned from the baseball scene. I won’t dignify them by giving them names.)

(Note: Phil Wrayson is NOT a member of the football team. We want this to be believable.)

Tiny comes walking into the scene, toweling his hair, singing:

TINY
(
singing
):

I’m going to wash that boy right into my hair

I’m going to wash that boy right into my hair

I’m going to wash that boy right into my hair . . .

(
speaking
)

Oh, hi, guys.

There’s silence for a moment. Then the bullies go into full attack mode.

[“THE NOSE TACKLE (LIKES TIGHT ENDS)”]

BULLY #1:

The nose tackle likes tight ends!

BULLY #2:

Don’t drop the soap, boys!

Don’t drop the soap!

BULLY #1:

He’ll penetrate your end zone unless you guard it!

BULLY #2:

Don’t drop the soap, boys!

Don’t drop the soap!

TINY:

Is that it?

Your biggest fear?

That all of a sudden

I’m after your rear?

The locker room isn’t porn for me

because you’re all so goddamn pimple-y.

I want touchdowns, man,

not to touch you there.

And if you have a problem with that

I can’t say I care!

BULLY #1:

The nose tackle likes tight ends!

BULLY #2:

Don’t drop the soap, boys!

Don’t drop the soap!

BULLY #1:

He’s aiming between your goalposts!

BULLY #2:

Don’t drop the soap, boys!

Don’t drop the soap!

TINY:

First of all, the soap is liquid,

so your warning makes no sense.

And for someone who’s so straight and such

I think you doth protest too much.

You can keep in it your strap

’cause you ain’t got nothing I want to tap.

I’ve come to win the game—

and hope you want the same.

BULLY #1:

The nose tackle likes tight ends!

TEAM (EXCEPT FOR BULLIES
):

Who cares, boys?

Who cares?

BULLY #2:

He wants you to go
long
and catch his pass!

TEAM (EXCEPT FOR BULLIES
):

Who cares, boys?

Who cares?

We joined this team so we could play,

not to hound you if you are gay.

Welcome, Tiny—ignore the haters.

They’re just inexpert masturbators!

Our nose tackle likes tight ends!

If you attack him, we will defend!

Our nose tackle keeps his eyes on the balls!

Take him on, you take on us all!

Big dance number with the team protecting Tiny and ostracizing the bullies, perhaps with some towel action in homage to the towel number in the 2008 Lincoln Center revival of
South Pacific.

At the end, Tiny looks relieved and grateful, proud to be gay and proud to be a part of this team.

TINY
(
spoken
):

Thanks, guys.

The football players leave the stage, and Tiny revels in the security of being part of a team. As we head for the last scene in the first act, we feel he’s in a pretty good place.

A dark stage. Tiny once more in the spotlight.

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