Sexual Perversity in Chicago and the Duck Variations Read online

  JOAN: I'll live.

  BERNIE: All kidding aside . . . lookit, I'm a fucking professional, huh? My life is a bunch of having to make split-second decisions. Life or death fucking decisions. So that's what it is, so okay. I work hard, I play hard. Comes I got a day off I wanna relax a bit . . . I wander—quite by accident—into this bar. I have a drink or two . . . perhaps a drop too much. Perhaps I get too loose (it's been known to happen).* So what do I see? A nice young woman sitting by herself . . .

  JOAN: We've done this one.

  BERNIE: So just who the fuck do you think you are, God's gift to Women? I mean where do you fucking get off with this shit. You don't want to get come on to, go enroll in a convent. You think I don't have better things to do? I don't have better ways to spend my off hours than to listen to some nowhere cunt try out cute bits on me? I mean why don't you just clean your fucking act up, Missy. You're living in a city in 1976. (Pause.) Am I getting through to you?

  JOAN: I think I'd like to be left alone.

  BERNIE: Ah, you're breaking my heart. My fucking heart is pumping pisswater for you. You're torturing me with your pain and aloofness. You know that?

  JOAN: I'm terribly sorry.

  BERNIE: Sorry don't mean shit. You're a grown woman, behave like it for chrissakes. Huh? I mean, what the fuck do you think society is, just a bunch of rules strung together for your personal pleasure?

  JOAN: Sometimes I think I'm not a very nice person.

  BERNIE: You flatter yourself, (JOAN rises.) So where are you going now?

  JOAN: My little boy is sick, and I really should be getting home.

  BERNIE: Cockteaser.

  JOAN: I beg your pardon?

  BERNIE: You heard me.

  JOAN: I have never been called that in my life.

  BERNIE: Well, you just lost your cherry.

  JOAN: I . . . I find that very insulting.

  BERNIE: Go get a lawyer, bitch. Go get a writ, you got yourself a case.

  (Pause.)

  JOAN (sits down again): I . . . I'm . . . I'm sorry if I was being rude to you.

  BERNIE: Oh, you're sorry if you were being rude to me.

  JOAN: Yes.

  BERNIE: You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. (Rises, calls for check, exits.)

  At work, DAN and BERNARD are at work. They are filing.

  BERNIE: The main thing, Dan . . .

  DANNY: Yes?

  BERNIE: The main thing about broads . . .

  DANNY: Yes?

  BERNIE: Is two things. One: The Way to Get Laid is to Treat ‘Em Like Shit . . .

  DANNY: Yeah . . .

  BERNIE: . . . and Two: Nothing . . . nothing makes you so attractive to the opposite sex as getting your rocks off on a regular basis.

  The Library, DEB is seated, working, DAN cruises her and so on.

  DANNY: Hi.

  DEBORAH: Hello.

  DANNY: I saw you at the Art Institute.

  DEBORAH: Uh huh.

  DANNY: I remembered your hair.

  DEBORAH: Hair memory.

  DANNY: You were in the Impressionists room. (Pause.) Monet . . . (Pause.)

  DEBORAH: Uh huh.

  DANNY: You're very attractive. I like the way you look. (Pause.) You were drawing in charcoal. It was nice. (Pause.) Are you a student at the Art Institute?

  DEBORAH: No, I work.

  DANNY: Work, huh? . . . work. (Pause.) I'll bet you're good at it. (Pause.) Is someone taking up a lot of your time these days?

  DEBORAH: You mean a man?

  DANNY: Yes, a man.

  DEBORAH: I'm a Lesbian. (Pause.)

  DANNY: As a physical preference, or from political beliefs?

  BERNARD'S apartment. BERNARD is seated in front of the television at three in the morning.

  TV: When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. If, on the other hand, you apply for a personal loan, all sorts of circumstantial evidence is required. I wonder if any mathematician has done serious research on the efficacity of prayer. For example: you're walking down the street thinking “God, if I don't get laid tonight, I don't know what all!” (A common form of prayer) And all of a sudden, WHAM! (Pause.) Perhaps you do get laid, or perhaps you get hit by a cab, or perhaps you meet the man or woman of your persuasion. But the prayer is uttered—yes it is—solely as a lamentation, and with no real belief in its causal properties.

  When you don't get laid, tomorrow's prayer has the extra added oomph of involuntary continence. But if you do get laid—think on that a moment, will you? If you do manage to moisten the old wick, how many people would stop, before, during or after, and give thanks to a just creator?

  DAN and DEB are in bed at his apartment.

  DANNY: Well.

  DEBORAH: Well.

  DANNY: Yeah, well, hey . . . uh . . . (Pause.) I feel great. (Pause.) You?

  DEBORAH: Uh huh.

  DANNY: Yup. (Pause.) You, uh, you have to go to work (you work, right?) (DEB nods.) You have to go to work tomorrow?

  DEBORAH: Yes. Well . . .

  DANNY: You're going home?

  DEBORAH: Do you want me to?

  DANNY: Only if you want to. Do you want to?

  DEBORAH: Do you want me to stay? I don't know if it's such a good idea that I stay here tonight.

  DANNY: Why? (Pause.) I'd like you to stay. If you'd like to.

  DEB nods.

  DANNY: Well, then, all right, then. Huh? (Pause.)

  DEBORAH: I like your apartment.

  DANNY: Yeah? I'm glad.

  DEBORAH: I like it here.

  DANNY: So, look, so tell me. How would you like to eat dinner with me tomorrow. If you're not doing anything. If you're not too busy. If you're busy it's not important.

  DEBORAH: I'd love to eat dinner with you tomorrow.

  DANNY: You would, huh?

  DEBORAH: Yes.

  DANNY: Well, okay, that's nice. That's very nice. I'm going to look forward to that.

  DEBORAH: I could come over here and cook.

  DANNY: You could.

  DEBORAH: Yes.

  DANNY: You could come over here and cook dinner, you'd like to do that?

  DEBORAH: Yes.

  DANNY: We could do that . . .

  DEBORAH: Sure.

  DANNY: Yeah. We could do that. (Pause.) Let's do that.

  DEBORAH: Okay. (Pause.) I'm not really a Lesbian.

  DANNY: No?

  DEBORAH: But I have had some Lesbianic experiences.

  DANNY: What, like going to bed with other women?

  DEBORAH: . . . and I enjoyed them.

  DANNY (pause): Well, sure. (Pause.) You going to sleep?

  DEBORAH (sleepily): Yes.

  DANNY (Pause): You having a good time?

  DEBORAH (sleepily): Yes.

  DANNY: That's good. (Pause.) Goodnight.

  DEBORAH: Goodnight.

  Pause.

  DANNY: See you in the morning.

  The next morning, DEB and JOAN at their apartment. DEB enters.

  JOAN: So what's he like?

  DEBORAH: Who?

  JOAN: Whoever you haven't been home, I haven't seen you in two days that you've been seeing.

  DEBORAH: Did you miss me?

  JOAN: No. Your plants died. (Pause.) I'm kidding. What's his name.

  DEBORAH: Danny.

  JOAN: What's he do?

  DEBORAH: He works in the Loop.

  JOAN: How wonderful for him.

  DEBORAH: He's an Assistant Office Manager.

  JOAN: That's nice, a job with a little upward mobility.

  DEBORAH: Don't be like that, Joan.

  JOAN: I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me.

  DEBORAH: How are things at school?

  JOAN: Swell. Life in the Primary Grades is a real picnic. The other kindergarten teacher got raped Tuesday.

  DEBORAH: How terrible.

  JOAN: What?

  DEBORAH: How terrible for her.

  JOAN: Well, of course it was terrible for her. Good Christ, Deborah, y
ou really amaze me sometimes, you know that?

  A bar. BERNARD is seated at the bar; he is waiting.

  BERNIE: What do you have to do to get a drink in this place, come on a cracker?

  DAN and DEB appear at the entrance to the bar.

  DANNY: You're going to like Bernie, you're going to like him a lot. Ah! Ask him to tell you about Korea, he has got some stories you are not going to believe.

  BERNARD spots them.

  BERNIE: Yo! Siddown, siddown, so what are you having?

  They all sit down at a table.

  DANNY: Deborah?

  DEBORAH: Jack Daniels on the Rocks.

  BERNIE: So she knows what she's talking about, huh? (To DEB) Black or Green?

  DEBORAH: Black.

  BERNIE: Okay. And you?

  DANNY: The same.

  BERNIE: Right back. (He goes to bar.)

  DANNY: Well, that's Bernie.

  DEBORAH: Seems like a nice enough sort of fellow.

  DANNY: Hell of a guy.

  DEBORAH: Is he coming with us to the movies?

  BERNARD comes back with drinks.

  BERNIE: So, actually, I'm Bernard Litko; friend and associate of your pal, Danny. And you're Deborah.

  DEBORAH: Deborah Soloman.

  BERNIE: Danny's been telling me a lot about you.

  DEBORAH: We only met Wednesday.

  BERNIE: He talks about you constantly.

  DEBORAH: No!

  BERNIE: Yes.

  DEBORAH: What does he say?

  BERNIE: All the usual things.

  Pause.

  DANNY: Bernie was in Korea.

  DEBORAH : Really?

  BERNIE: Yeah. You see M*A*S*H on TV? (Pause.) It all looks like that. There isn't one square inch of Korea that doesn't look like that. (Pause.) I'm not kidding. (Pause.)

  DEBORAH: When were you there?

  BERNIE: ‘67.

  DEBORAH: Really? What were you doing in Korea in 1967?

  Pause.

  BERNIE: I'm really not at liberty to talk about it.

  Pause.

  So what do you do?

  DEBORAH: I'm an illustrator.

  BERNIE: Commercial artist, huh?

  DEBORAH: Yes.

  BERNIE: Lots of money in that. I mean, that's a hell of a field for a girl.

  DANNY: She's very good at it.

  BERNIE: I don't doubt it for a second. I mean, look at her for chrissakes. You're a very attractive woman. Anybody ever tell you that? (Pause.) Huh? (Pause.) So okay, so what sign are you?

  DEBORAH: Scorpio.

  BERNIE: Scorpio, huh? . . . Scorpio . . . how about that.

  DEBORAH: What sign are you?

  BERNIE: Scorpio.

  DEBORAH: How about that. Danny's a Scorpio.

  BERNIE: You a Scorpio, Dan?

  DANNY: Yes. (Pause.)

  BERNIE: Well, I don't want to say it, but it's a small fucking world. (Pause.) So you guys are hitting it off, huh? The two of you, you're hitting it on/off?

  DEBORAH: Well . . .

  BERNIE: What the hell, it's early. (To DAN) You don't even know if she's a keeper yet, for chrissakes. You're young. What the hell. (To DEB) How old are you?

  DANNY: Bernie, you know you're not supposed to ask a woman her age.

  BERNIE: Dan, Dan, these are modern times. What do you think this is, the past? Women are liberated. You got a right to be what age you are, and so do I, and so does Deborah. (To DEB) Right?

  DEBORAH: Oh, I suppose so.

  BERNIE: So what are you? Eighteen . . . nineteen.

  DEBORAH: Actually, I'm twenty-three.

  BERNIE: Well, you don't look it. (Pause.) You know, you're a lucky guy, Dan. And I think you know what I'm talking about. You are one lucky guy. Yes sir, you are one fortunate son of a bitch. And I think I know what I'm talking about.

  DAN and BERNARD are filing at the office.

  BERNIE: One thing, and I want to tell you that if everybody thought of this, Dan, we could do away with income tax (hand me one of those 12-12's, will ya?), there would be no more war (thanks), and you and I could dwell in Earthly Paradise today. (Pause.)

  DANNY: What?

  BERNIE: Just this:

  DANNY: Yeah?

  BERNIE: That when she's on her back, her legs are in the air, she's coming like a choo-choo and she's screaming “don't stop” . . .

  DANNY: Yeah?

  BERNIE: I want you to remember . . .

  DANNY: . . . yeah? . . .

  BERNIE: That power . . . (Pause.) . . . that power means responsibility. (Pause.) Remember that.

  DANNY: I will.

  Pause.

  BERNIE: Good.

  Outside DEB and JOAN ‘s apartment, JOAN is leaving the apartment, DAN runs into her in the hall.

  DANNY: Hi.

  JOAN: Hello.

  DANNY: I'm looking for Deborah.

  JOAN: She's not here now.

  DANNY: Oh. What is she, out?

  JOAN: She's out.

  DANNY: I'm supposed to meet her here.

  JOAN: Well, she's not here now. (Pause.)

  DANNY: Well, perhaps we could stand out here and tell each other funny stories until she got back. What do you think?

  JOAN: Was she expecting you?

  DANNY: I'm supposed to meet her here.

  JOAN: You were supposed to meet her here when?

  DANNY: Now.

  JOAN: What time did she say?

  DANNY: Around seven.

  JOAN: Well, I'll tell her you stopped by.

  DANNY: Wait. Wait. . . . what? Could I have a chair or something? I'll be glad to wait outside the door. Maybe if you just have a stool and a copy of Boy's Life or something I could read. (Pause.) Why are you being so hostile?

  JOAN: I don't like your attitude. (Pause.)

  DANNY: My name is Danny Shapiro.

  JOAN: I know who you are.

  DAN and BERNARD‘S office. They are filing.

  DANNY: You ever do it in a plane?

  BERNIE: Yup.

  DANNY: Underwater?

  BERNIE: Yup.

  DANNY: You ever do it in a movie?

  BERNIE: Yes I have, Dan. I believe I have, yes. (Pause.) You know what some of ‘em like? They like you to get a trifle off the beaten track, if you know what I mean. I had this one chick, she used to have me wrap her in a bicycle chain and lock her to the radiator before she'd let me do it.

  DANNY: Yeah?

  BERNIE: Spent five happy months with that broad before it got cold. A lot of them. They like you to get off the beaten track.

  DANNY: Yeah?

  BERNIE: Oh yeah. Read your history. The Ancient Greeks . . . the French . . . you heard of King Farouk?

  DANNY: Yeah.

  BERNIE: King Farouk, now one of the shots, I read, he'd pull into some small town, Dubuque, Peoria . . . he'd go put the make on some waitress.

  DANNY: Yeah.

  BERNIE: So after work, they'd all go back to her place and start making it.

  DANNY: Uh huh.

  BERNIE: The shot of it was this: now secretly, while she was still at work, his men would go divert the local railroad . . .

  DANNY: Yeah . . .

  BERNIE: . . . and lay the tracks so they went right through this chick's house. Right by the headboard of her bed and out again on the main line.

  DANNY: Uh huh.

  BERNIE: So just as she's ready to come . . .

  DANNY: Yeah.

  BERNIE: The King gives a signal, his men run a locomotive right through the broad's bedroom.

  DANNY: No.

  BERNIE: Yeah. The broads loved it. The thing of it was this:

  DANNY: Yeah.

  BERNIE: King Farouk was a bit kinky. Right?

  DANNY: Right.

  BERNIE: So get this: There they're humping and bumping . . . the chick's about to come. . . .

  DANNY: Yeah.

  BERNIE: She hears “Chugga chugga chugga,” and then wham, the house caves in.

  DANNY: Uh huh.
<
br />   BERNIE: So she sits up in bed, she says “What's that?”, the King goes “That, my dear, is a choo-choo” . . .

  DANNY: Uh huh.

  BERNIE: Then he whacks her on the forehead with a ball-peen hammer.

  DANNY: No shit.

  BERNIE: Yeah.

  Pause.

  DANNY: How'd he get away with it?

  BERNIE: You shitting me? The King had emissaries all over the country, they'd fix it up so it looked like the chick had got hit by a train.

  Pause.

  He'd take care of their families, though.

  DANNY: The girls’ families.

  BERNIE: Yeah. He'd send them a couple g's. A g or two in savings bonds.

  Pause.

  DANNY: He could afford it.

  BERNIE: Are you shitting me? The man was king of Egypt. (Pause.) A huge fucking country.

  DANNY: Yeah.

  BERNIE: An ancient land.

  DANNY: Yeah.

  Pause.

  BERNIE: So tell me.

  DANNY: What?

  BERNIE: How are you getting along with that girl?

  DANNY: What girl?

  BERNIE: You introduced me to.

  DANNY: Deborah?

  BERNIE: Deborah, Betty, whatever.

  DANNY: Her name's Deborah.

  BERNIE: I don't know that? I know what her name is, I'm asking you how you're getting on.

  DANNY: We're getting on just fine. (Pause.)

  BERNIE: That's okay. (Pause.) You don't want to talk about it, we won't think about it.

  DANNY: I didn't say I didn't want to talk about it.

  Pause.

  BERNIE: Does she give head?

  DANNY: What?

  BERNIE: To you, I'm saying. Does she give head to you.

  Pause.

  Forget it.

  DANNY: You want me to do these 12-12's?

  BERNIE: Yeah, do'em. Do'em. (Pause.)

  DANNY: You ever make it with an Oriental?

  BERNIE: No. I spent eighteen months in Korea jacking off. Do the 12-12's, huh?

  JOAN and DEB'S apartment. The evening. They are sitting around.

  JOAN: I don't know, I don't know. I don't know, I don't know. I don't know. (Pause.)

  DEBORAH: You don't know what?

  JOAN: I don't know anything, Deborah, I swear to god, the older I get the less I know. (Pause.) It's a puzzle. Our efforts at coming to grips with ourselves . . . in an attempt to become “more human” (which, in itself, is an interesting concept). It has to do with an increased ability to recognize clues . . . and the control of energy in the form of lust . . . and desire (And also in the form of hope) . . .