Cast[]
- Dave Foley - Brian
- Scott Thompson - Fran
- Bruce McCulloch - Gordon
- Mark McKinney - Attila
Transcript[]
[Setting. The front porch. Bruce is sitting in an armchair under a clothesline with laundry.]
[Dave walks out the front door, looks hesitatingly at Bruce, and begins to walk off. Scott walks out the front door with a basket of laundry and calls to Dave.]
Fran: Brian? Be back in time for dinner?
Brian: Mom, we just ate dinner.
Fran: I don't mind, I'll put a plate in the oven.
Brian: [Annoyed] Mom, don't, we just ate.
Fran: Brian, I don't mind!
Brian: Gotta go, mom. [runs offscreen]
Fran: Well don't blame me if it's all dried out!
[Scott walks forward and stands next to Bruce, taking laundry off the line.]
Fran: Well, I must admit that I was completely floored when my middle son Brian dropped his bombshell on my husband Gordon and I the other night. We were sitting around the kitchen table having a lovely cup of coffee, [cut to close-up of Scott] and uh, I just asked Brian whether or not he wanted some more sugar, and why he wasn't married. Well, he looked at me for the longest time and then he said, "Mum, I want you to think of your very worst nightmare." So, of course, I imagined losing my family in a fire. Well, that wasn't good enough for him. He continued to stare at me in an almost, well, psychotic manner. And then he said, "Mom, no, make it worse." So, of course, I imagined setting the fire that killed my family. So, when Brian finally told Gordon and I that he was a [hesitatingly] ho- ahem, a ho. . . that he was shy, I was almost relieved. Better that than killing my family in a fire for no apparent reason. I suppose it's more difficult on the men, you know, because they wonder where they went wrong - question their own sexuality, their own manhood, blame themselves. Of course, Gordon has found a way to blame me.
[cut to close-up of Bruce sitting in the armchair, staring forward blankly, silent.]
[cut back to close-up of Scott]
Fran: He says that I smothered Brian with too much affection. Well, if too much love is a sin then I guess I'm going to hell. At least Brian'll have some company there! I told Brian that I don't want him to change now that he's uh, well, you know. . . in show business. 'Cause I don't know what I'd ever do if I came home and found him in a dress. There isn't enough volunteer work on earth to help a mother through that.
[cut to medium shot of both Bruce and Scott]
Fran: You know, it's just that, well, I. . . I just hope that he's practicing [pause] no sex, [Scott begins rubbing Bruce's head comfortingly, running his fingers through his hair.] like his father.
[cut back to close-up of Scott]
Fran: It's not that I'm judging Brian, I'm not, it's just that I didn't know any of, you know, them, when I was growing up. I had a good Christian girlhood. I didn't even know Christ was a Jew until I was twenty-one. The most exotic people in our neighborhood was a Dutch family. My mother called them n*****s. [looks down at Bruce] I wonder what Gordon is thinking now. . . .
[cut to short close-up of Bruce staring off, then cut to a smoke-filled alley behind a bar. Dave is running, looking lost, and stops. Mark, in leather jacket and no shirt, approaches from behind him and places his hands over Dave's eyes.]
Brian: Is that you, Attila?
Mark: [with strong German accent] Yes, Brian. Brian, I have an idea. Tonight, I dress you up like a woman, BUT—I make love to you like a man. [Mark removes his hands from Dave's eyes.]
Brian: Excellent! Hey, I've got my dad's car. It's a Cordoba, come on! [Dave begins running back into the alley, Mark turns to follow.]
[cut back to close-up of Bruce, still silent and staring, then cut to medium shot of Bruce and Scott.]
Fran: Oh, I wish I drank. [cut back to close-up of Scott] I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish I was one of those bingo women, you know. One of those bingo women with the bleached-blonde hair, unfiltered cigarettes, hockey jacket and a welfare scam. And all day long I'd play bingo. And I'd call it out too, wherever I was, even when I wasn't playing. Bingo, I'd say! Bingo! Hello, Mrs. Morton, bingo to ya! That was a lovely sermon, Reverend Wilson, bingo to you and your family. Bingo, bingo, bingo. I'd start to talk in a southern accent. They'd call me that crazy lady, the one with the bachelor son. And the neighbors would throw rocks at me as I shuffled down the street in my filthy bathrobe, clutching coupons for crackers and soap and hacking up blood. Oh, Gordon would leave me for a younger woman. . . or man. And I'd end up living in a shopping cart at the end of the block where the fields begin. I'd rub cherries on my lips and cheeks to feel pretty, and wear sausages in a link around my neck, on Saturday night when my son Brian came to visit with his...traveling companion.
[cut to medium shot of Bruce and Scott]
Fran: It's Gordon I worry about though, he is obsessed with this thing. He's like a dog worrying[?] a bone. Penny for your thoughts, dear?
[Cut to close-up of Bruce, who turns to look at Scott, then cut to the alley again. Dave and Mark emerge from the alley]
Brian and Attila: [singing] Somewhere over the rainbow, la, la, la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Brian: You know, Attila?
Attila Yes, Brian?
Brian: You remind me of my father. [Mark grabs Dave in a passionate kiss.]
[cut back to close-up of Bruce]
Gordon: [screams] Aaaaaaaah!