ransvestia

BOBBY:

SMITTY:

BOBBY:

SMITTY:

catch you unaware. To believe you did this sort of thing, I guess.

(darkly) Been doing "this sort of thing ever since I re- member"...

Don't people catch on? I mean that super-sexy way you walk, your fruity gestures, that askew wig, that too- throaty voice?

(protectively) I've got a cold.

...

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

BOBBY: Can't a girl have a cold?

SMITTY:

BOBBY:

SMITTY:

VOICE:

Me-thinks the ludicrous lady doth protest too damn much.

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

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!

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

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

VOICE:

SMITTY:

that wig on.

(Doubtfully, ready to get angry at intrusion) Who the hell are . . . well, I'll be damned, Smitty! Haven't seen you since graduation!

(looking with pathetic bewilderment from Jane to the newcomer) (softly) Bob? . . . Bob? YOU're Bob!! Jane that'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.)

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