SMITTY:

BOBBY:

SMITTY:

BOBBY:

SMITTY:

RANSVESTIA

(youngish man, whose shape was seen concealed on floor) Don't get uptight Bob-just me Smitty. Your old buddy-buddy. Figured your disguise rated a whistle.

(with slight but pervading hoarseness from cold) Who...! You... You startled me Mr. Smith! I just was sneaking in to . . . (More angrily now that fright is di- minished). You might at least call me Bobby out of re- spect for my sex!

(Laughing in a superior, tolerant manner) O.K., O.K., but you'd look a little more like a girl if you straightened that wig. Anybody could...

(Muttering softly) Didn't have time and you scared me . . . (Bobby adjusts wig, brushes it out distractedly, building a fullness in the square of hair surrounding the face. Eyes only partly visible, face becomingly clouded by that quickie hairstyling. Bobby walks left to behind sofa a little self-consciously.) Now am I a girl? (switches on floor lamp which sheds a bit more light)

(Watching with a half-smile of bemusement, plomping down in easy chair) Well, more believable. But you're swinging your hips too much. A girl would...

BOBBY: (sharply) How do you know what "a girl would!"

SMITTY:

BOBBY:

SMITTY:

I'm thee world's greatest girl-watcher. If I couldn't tell the real thing by this time. . . But you've done a pretty good put-on. Guess it might fool some. Even maybe it would have fooled me back when we were roommates. and I didn't know you had this . . . insane compulsion to dress like a girl.

From my viewpoint it'd be nuts for me to dress other- wise. I'm still confused . . . what DOES bring you here?

Oh that drunken letter last year-guess you felt you had to confess to somebody. And I was a handy long-time- no-see old friend. Did kinda shake me up-but first time I had a chance to come this way, had to soft-shoe in to

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