SMITTY:

BOBBY:

SMITTY:

much.

a cold you've had every time you go out in drag?

Can't a girl have a cold!!?

Me-thinks the ludicrous lady doth protest too damn

BOBBY: You're insulting! You just don't buy my costume, do you!

SMITTY: Frankly, no. Any man with genes can tell a boy from a girl. And frankly it makes me sick to see my ol' buddy in this nance put-on!

VOICE: (That of youngish man, rising business-executive type, entering from hall-door) What's this—an encounter group!? Just be- cause I left the door unlocked . . . Hi, Jane . . .

JANE (or "BOBBY"): I just wandered in, thought I'd try your that wig on. And this dope was hiding in here!

VOICE: (That of a youngish man, rising business-executive type, entering from hall-door) What's this an encounter group!? Just be-

―

cause I left the door unlocked . . . Hi. Jane ...

SMITTY: (Looking with pathetic bewilderment from Jane to

the newcomer) (softly) Bob . . . ? Bob!? You're Bob!! Jane there's not

•

Bobby? (Jane has taken off wig, is fluffing out her urchin haircut. Her exquisite facial features now revealed, reason for that brief hairdo is evident.)

BOB: You thought that neat little chick was me!? . . . after I wrote that letter in my cups!? Man, Smitty, you must think I can be a smash- er of a girl when I put my mind to it. You got more faith in me than 1 have!

SMITTY:

Uh... yeh. (Looking sheepishly, knowingly at imp- pishly grinning Jane) I knew my ol' buddy Bob would be perfect at anything he tried. (Pause-then in a flat, dull voice) Ladies and gen- tlemen, will you excuse me now? I just remembered an appointment to shoot some acid, trip out on methedrene and then get passing-out drunk.

(He starts to exit, as though escaping from hungry lions, as

CURTAIN COMES DOWN (fast!)

.)

90