Part 2: No Ordinary Love
A murder mystery screenplay
This is Part 2 of a three-part screenplay. If you haven’t read the first part yet, click here. Otherwise, keep reading below…
INT — STANLEY’S TINY STUDIO APARTMENT, MORNING
More-or-less typical North Side Chicago studio apartment, basically one room and a bathroom.
MYZTERY MANZFIELD, stunning blonde Mz. USA 1995, sits on a ratty chez, flipping between gameshows and her favorite soap opera on TV.
STANLEY FIELDS, her boyfriend, is in the “kitchen” — recessed area in one wall containing the basics — cooking pasta.
STANLEY FIELDS
By all external signs, Stanley’s a “Nice Jewish Boy,” only he isn’t Jewish, and he isn’t always that nice, either. Like Liddell, and something of a foil to him, Stanley would be “heteropassable,” presumably reinforced by Stanley’s — and not Liddell’s — lingering bisexuality.
MYZTERY
(while watching TV)
Go easy on the garlic, will ya, Daddio?
STANLEY
Thought you liked spice, Sugar.
MYZTERY
Gotta perform tonight, Baby. Don’t want to scare the businessmen and their wives away, do I?
STANLEY, carrying ladel, prances to MYZTERY.
STANLEY
(affected Transylvanian accent)
Yes, and I know dat Vampire’s do not dig garlic at all, either.
MYZTERY
(tasting sauce)
Just a tad can’t hurt them, or me, Sweetie. Mmmm — Just right!
STANLEY
Anything to please a Lady. You know you can count on me, Baby.
MYZTERY
(waving him off)
You’re in my way, I can’t see.
STANLEY feigns snooty look, prances back to stove.
STANLEY
You watch too much TV.
MYZTERY
(watching TV)
Soap operas give continuity to my life. Melrose Place is my favorite. Can you guess who I want to be like, and who I’m in love with?
STANLEY returns, hands on his hips.
STANLEY
Don’t you love me, Mz. Myztery Manzfield?
MYZTERY
(attention on TV)
Sure do, Mr. Stanley Fields — But don’t go telling me that you want to become like me.
STANLEY
(exposing major chest hair)
I’d make a pretty lousy queen, Honey.
MYZTERY
You’d need a wax dip, Baby.
STANLEY
I’d do anything for you.
MYZTERY
Don’t do that, okay?
STANLEY
I love you.
MYZTERY
(waving him out of TV line-of-sight)
I love you too, Sweetie —
(turning to him suddenly)
— even though you’re a freak.
STANLEY
I am not a freak!
MYZTERY
Tell that to your ex-boyfriends, and girlfriends, queenfriends, and currently in-between friends. Pick a nationality, anyone?
STANLEY
Hey!
MYZTERY
Let’s see… He likes ’em like a flight of beers — light, dark, black ’n’ tan —
STANLEY slides onto chez next to MYZTERY.
STANLEY
Okay-okay, so I like, uh, “variety”.
STANLEY hugs MYZTERY, who continues to ignore him.
STANLEY
But you’re my One & Only, Baby Face.
MYZTERY finally gives STANLEY 100% attention.
MYZTERY
And you’re mine, all mine, Sweetie Bird.
STANLEY and MYZTERY hug close.
MYZTERY smiles, turns to TV again.
Pause.
MYZTERY
But you’re still a freak!
STANLEY
Hey!
MYZTERY and STANLEY laugh, but are interrupted by Newsbreak on TV:
ANNOUNCER
…Yet another victim of the Drag Queen Serial Killer was found yesterday evening. After striking all over the country, Chicago’s second mutilated corpse was discovered in, of all places, surprise-surprise, the dressing room of a transvestite club…
CLOSE UP of TV screen, showing BODY underneath a sheet being wheeled out of the CLUB.
ANNOUNCER
…Police are combing the area for suspects, but so far, they are clueless as to who is killing these bizarre freaks of nature…
MYZTERY switches off the TV.
STANLEY
Fucking callous insensitive assholes.
MYZTERY stands, visibly distraught.
MYZTERY
I should get going, Baby.
STANLEY follows her around the tiny apartment as she gets ready.
STANLEY
Missy, hey, uh, I’ve been thinking, you know, about that vacation we were
planning? Going up to Michigan for a while, remember? Well, Roxeanne and some of the other girls are going next —
MYZTERY
I told you before, we just don’t have the money right now. I have to save that prize money for more work — (gestures to her body) — and seeing that you’ve been out of work for —
STANLEY
Don’t start, don’t start that shit again.
MYZTERY
Start? When’s it stopped? I’m tired of supporting your fuckin lazy ass.
STANLEY
Hey!
MYZTERY
“Hey!” fuck you, “hey” — I want a maid, a cook, I’ll fucking hire one. I want a fuck, fuck you, I’ll —
STANLEY
— No need to hire one of those, huh? In fact, why don’t you go get hired, like you “used to”? Why don’t you turn a trick or two again, Baby, let those nice big ol’ titties pay for themselves —
MYZTERY
— They already have, you, you fucking freak.
MYZTERY slaps him, pushes the pot of pasta off stove, which splatters all over floor.
MYZTERY grabs her purse, puts on fake tigerskin coat, and exits, slamming the door behind her.
STANLEY stands there, transfixed.
Pause.
STANLEY shakes his head.
STANLEY
(to himself)
Women.
EXT — HALSTED STREET, HEART OF “BOYSTOWN,” NORTH SIDE CHICAGO
MYZTERY exits foyer of apartment, walks hurriedly down sidewalk. Not anticipating the journey, her make-up and hair are less than perfect.
GAY MEN pass her.
PASSERBY #1
Hey, look, is that Myztery Manzfield, the Super Tranzie?
PASSERBY #2
Sure is! Didn’t know Wonder Woman’s ever out during the day light hours.
MYZTERY continues, trying not to pay attention.
Another pair walk by her.
PASSERBY #3
Hey, baby, leave your pussy at home?
Laughter.
MYZTERY
Fuck you, faggot.
PASSERBY #4
Oh oh. Maybe she’s a lesbian.
More laughter.
MYZTERY continues.
STRAIGHT COUPLE approach her. Both gape at her, smiling, pointing, then after they pass her laughing.
MYZTERY continues.
OLDER STRAIGHT COUPLE approach her. They do a doubletake, point, start arguing amongst themselves.
MYZTERY finally makes it to a non-descript apartment, enters foyer.
INT — FOYER OF APARTMENT
CLOSE UP of names next to buzzer buttons.
MYZTERY’s finger runs from top to bottom. All names typical multi-ethnic Chicago, until her finger stops at buzzer marked “FANTASIA FLAIRE”.
She presses button.
INT — “FEVER” HAIR SALON, SEVERAL BLOCKS UP THE STREET
Mod hair salon decked out with stations, mirrors, framed posters, large plants, waiting area with plastic chairs, magazine racks. Overly loud dance music plays in the background.
TRIXIE is up front with a CLIENT.
DIXIE is in back, making coffee.
TRIXIE
A transgendered person in her late twenties who’s a natural brunette, but dyes her hair blonde. Vivacious, sloppy, slightly heavy and a bit self-conscious about it, she has had no “work” done: no hormones or surgery. Her attitude can succinctly be described as “white trash with style”.
DIXIE
A transgendered person, around twenty, who’s a natural blonde, but dyes her hair brunette. Soft spoken, immaculate, she has had some work: takes hormones, silicone injections, is “under construction”. She speaks with a Southern accent, carries herself like Scarlet O’Hara on extra estrogen.
TRIXIE
(accepting money)
Thank you, darling. Remember — if you don’t come back for a touch-up on those highlights in a week, I’ll cut your balls off.
CLIENT
(giggling)
I know I can always count on you, Trixie.
TRIXIE
Always a pleasure, now tah-tah.
TRIXIE swishes back to her station, joined there by DIXIE.
DIXIE offers TRIXIE some coffee, which TRIXIE denies.
TRIXIE
(performing, a cappella)
Lately I’ve been thinkin anew
Thinkin how much I love you
Can’t sleep at night
If you don’t hold me tight
Tossin and a-turnin
Cryin cauze I be a-yearnin
But now I’ve gotten smart
Maybe it’s time we part
Time for some-body new
All men are pigs, and so are you!
DIXIE
Where do you find these impolite people?
TRIXIE grabs mug of joe after all.
TRIXIE
They’re fags, Dixie, get used to it.
DIXIE
Most of my clientele are lesbians and old Jewish women.
TRIXIE
That’s ’cause they like their little Southern belles.
DIXIE
This all’ll take some getting used to, I suppose. (Exaggerated sigh.)
TRIXIE
Don’t bitch, girl. You’ve been doing fine, ‘specially considering you’ve only been in town a couple months.
DIXIE
But I’m accustomed to being treated like a Lady.
TRIXIE
You’re a drag queen, honey, and this is Chicago, U.S.A. Get accustomed to that reality.
DIXIE
I’m “transgendered”.
TRIXIE
You mean (making air quotes with fingers) “tranny”? —
DIXIE
(affected Southern accent)
— Never, in my whole life, have I ever —
TRIXIE
— “hooker”!
DIXIE does an enormous hair flip, hurls coffee into a garbage can, and chases TRIXIE across the SALON.
CLIENTS sitting in their respective chairs, cheer.
CLIENT #1
(horse racing announcer voice)
Annnnnnnnd, they’re off!
CLIENT #2
I got 3-to-2 odds on the blond.
CLIENT #1
Which one?
INT — FOYER OF APARTMENT
MYZTERY rings bell repeatedly, no answer.
MYZTERY paces the area, getting frantic.
RESIDENT enters foyer, opens his mailbox, fingers through mail, notices MYZTERY waiting.
MYZTERY shrugs, gestures.
MYZTERY
Forgot my key, let me in?
RESIDENT smiles, looks her up-and-down quizzically, opens door, enters.
MYZTERY follows behind him.
INT — “FEVER” HAIR SALON
TRIXIE and DIXIE have calmed down, finished their latest clients, and are now hanging out.
TRIXIE flips through a magazine, filing her fake nails.
DIXIE is pampering herself in front of a station mirror.
TRIXIE
Got anyone on the books this afternoon?
DIXIE
Two haircuts, a perm, one color.
TRIXIE
Cunt.
DIXIE
Jelly?
TRIXIE
Fuck no.
DIXIE
Busy?
TRIXIE
Fuck yes.
DIXIE
Well all-rightie then.
TRIXIE
Hey, listen Miss Transsexualette. I’ve been doing this for a lot longer than you have, and if you pay close attention, you just might learn something from Momma.
DIXIE
Learn what? How to whine like a drunken whore?
TRIXIE
Don’t call me a drunkard. There’s an art to everything, child.
DIXIE
Including whining?
TRIXIE
Especially whining.
INT — HALLWAY OF APARTMENT BUILDING
MYZTERY scurries down the hall, stops in front of apartment door, knocks urgently.
MYZTERY
Fantasia! Fantasia! Oh, Fantasy, honey, you there…?
MYZTERY checks the door. Surprised to find the door unlocked, she opens it slowly, peering inside…
INT — “FEVER” HAIR SALON
DIXIE
You like my hair?
TRIXIE
It’s all right. But your foundation’s a bit, uh, on the lighter side, dontcha think?
DIXIE
(touching her face)
I like it. Makes me look like a China doll.
TRIXIE
You’re from Alabama, girl.
DIXIE
The Ladies who live in those Grand Plantation Mansions, they’re pale as ghosts, Mz. Thing.
TRIXIE
That’s ’cause they are ghosts, Baby.
INT — FANTASIA FLAIRE’S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM
A small one-bedroom, tastefully arranged, with couch, separate kitchen and tiny dining area, etc. A cat meows from a corner.
MYZTERY enters, place seems empty. MYZTERY looks around quickly, strokes cat, goes to bedroom door, opens it…
INT — FANTASIA FLAIRE’S APARTMENT, BEDROOM
Bedroom is laid out as if a prissy sorority girl lives there, aside from the mutilated naked BODY stretched out on the bed.
MYZTERY gasps at the sight of the BODY, and rushes over to it.
Recognizing what once was her friend FANTASIA — now a ghoulish looking boy — MYZTERY screams.
MYZTERY, completely shaken, rushes out of bedroom.
INT — LIVING ROOM
MYZTERY, crying, rushes through and out the front door, leaving it open.
INT — HALLWAY OF APARTMENT BUILDING
MYZTERY runs down the hallway, still balling.
A door opens to her right, and an OLD LADY peers out with a shocked expression.
MYZTERY continues down the hallway, still balling.
Another door opens to her left, and a YOUNG MAN peers out, turns to an unseen companion still inside their apartment, and calls out.
YOUNG MAN
Chad! Call the cops! Sornething’s going on!
MYZTERY runs to the end of hallway, bolts down the stairs.
YOUNG MAN runs up the hallway to Fantasia’s apartment, enters.
YOUNG MAN
Oh, my, GOD!
INT — “FEVER” HAIR SALON
DIXIE
Oh, my, GOD!
TRIXIE
What now?
DIXIE
You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to be treated like a Lady.
TRIXIE
What the fuck you talkin about? I go to the bar, boys buy me drinks. I get taken to benefits. I get CDs, free make-up, reefer, taken to movies, too! And all the dick I be gettin, girl, oooooohohohoh!
DIXIE
That’s not what I mean. A Lady, she’s treated, well, special special.
TRIXIE
Oh, so you think that just ’cause your lips look like Kirn Basinger’s — and for
the same exact reason — and you get S0cc’s of bootleg Mexican estrogen shot into your ass once a week, that you’re automatically “special”?
DIXIE
I do what I have to do to be most like a Woman.
TRIXIE
Well I don’t know any real bitches who get their femininity needled into their butt.
DIXIE
Just one of the many (affected sigh, waving a fan in her own face) sacrifices us girls have to live with.
TRIXIE
Fuck that. I ain’t gettin’ shot for nobody — and I don’t need no chemicals to make me feel or look any different, any more feminine…
TRIXIE, with zero self-awareness or sense of irony, turns and snorts a line of cocaine off a fashion magazine.
DIXIE
You go — girl.
EXT — HALSTED STREET, FRONT OF APARTMENT
MYZTERY races out of apartment foyer, still sobbing. She looks both ways, then runs back toward Stanley’s apartment.
POLICE CAR pulls around corner, lights flashing.
INT — POLICE CAR, MOVING
Police radio static in the background.
MANLIUS
You hear that one?
STRONG
Yup. Sounds like dey just chopped up another one of dem faggots wid tits.
MANLIUS
Liddell and that Okie flake were right: the psycho strikes again —
MANLIUS sees and points to MYZTERY running down the street.
MANLIUS
Yo! Check out the hot blonde sexbomb bolting from the Scene of the Crime!
MANLIUS hits the gas.
STRONG
Dat ain’t no bitch, sweetheart — That’s one of dem fuckin she-he’s!
MANLIUS
(into police radio)
In pursuit of suspect, uh, blonde transsexual on foot, wearing tiger coat, moving north on Halsted corner of Buckingham, over.
POLICE CAR races down the street.
TRACKING shot: MYZTERY running, MANLIUS and STRONG in hot pursuit.
MYZTERY ducks into an alley, runs down it, out through another street, doublebacking to Halsted.
POLICE CAR pulls to end of the alley.
MANLIUS
Where the fuck did she just go?
STRONG
She still have a dick?
MANLIUS
If she does, must have taken it with her…
MANLIUS hits the gas, tries to bring the CAR back around the other side of the alley.
INT — “FEVER” HAIR SALON
DIXIE
I think you’re actually quite jealous because you don’t want to go all the way.
TRIXIE
I can’t be jelly, ’cause I don’t even want any of that, okay? I like who I am, just the way I am. Fuck takin hormones, fuck gettin pumped, fuck gettin boosted titties, my face all carved up.
DIXIE
What do you think about the showgirls?
TRIXIE
Hey, I remember the day when they wouldn’t allow you to even enter one of those tranny beauty pageants if you’d had any work done.
DIXIE
Times change.
TRIXIE shrugs, annoyed.
DIXIE
(leans closer)
So you mean to tell me you’d never want to look like one of those girls?
TRIXIE
I’ve had friends who did it, and let me tell you, girl — No. Thank. You.
DIXIE
Too fake.
TRIXIE
That’s right.
DIXIE
All style, no substance.
TRIXIE
Absolutely correct.
DIXIE
Praise the surgeon, not the girl.
TRIXIE
Too true.
DIXIE
Enough money, anyone could look that good.
TRIXIE
You got it, bitch. Consider Zsa-Zsa —
MYZTERY MANZFIELD bursts into the salon, runs straight up to TRIXIE and DIXIE.
MYZTERY
(frantically)
I’m Myztery Manzfield, and I need help!
TRIXIE
(eyes opening very wide)
Oh, my, GOD! Dixie! Look! It’s Myztery Manzfield! Ohmygod — ohmygod — ohmygod! I love you, girl! You’re the best! I’ve got the video of your pageant! Ohmygod! I can’t believe you’ve come to visit me!
MYZTERY
Please… please…
DIXIE runs to reception desk, pulls out a booklet.
CLOSE UP of Mz. USA 1995 program, with MYZTERY on the cover.
DIXIE rushes back.
DIXIE
Can we have your autograph! Please! Oh pretty please!
MYZTERY
Yes, but please… please… You girls have to help me…
POV through front windows of POLICE CAR, racing by. Sounds of sirens, another squad car screeches by. Still more sirens.
TRIXIE looks at DIXIE, DIXIE looks at TRIXIE, then both girls look at MYZTERY.
TRIXIE
(opening her arms)
Come to Momma, girlfriend!
DIXIE
We got you…
DIXIE grabs MYZTERY, rushes her into the back.
POV of POLICE CAR rolling slowly by street, stopping in front of salon.
TRIXIE sits back down in her chair. Waves to MANLIUS and STRONG, who now approach, entering salon, guns drawn.
CLOSE UP of MANLIUS and STRONG’S faces, with bad police haircuts.
TRIXIE
You boys look like you could use a little work…
TRIXIE stands, throws a towel over the seat of her chair.
TRIXIE
Next!
INT — POLICE STATION, LADIES’ BATHROOM, AFTERNOON
CLOSE UP of SMALLS’ face: stoic though confused expression. A moment later, make-up is being applied.
SMALLS sits on a cheap folding chair in front of a sink and bathroom mirror.
OFFICER MONICA LANG stands next to him, doing the handiwork.
MANLIUS and STRONG stand on either side, immense shiteating grins.
LIDDELL enters ladies’ bathroom.
LIDDELL
What the — ?
MANLIUS
I think he’s gonna look real good as a girl.
STRONG
I’d sho fuck her.
LIDDELL
(to SMALLS)
Kid, I know you’re tryin ta take you’re job seriously, but —
SMALLS
(looking at himself in mirror)
Don’t worry, Boss. Officer M-m-manlius suggested that the only way we’re ever gonna f-f-f-find the missing t-trans-sexual is if I go underc-c-cover.
MANLIUS
Think about it, Ace. Everyone knows who you are, and Eugene here made that guest appearance the other night. So, we do a bit o’ touch-up work, then send Miss Oklahoma here out for an exciting evening on the town!
STRONG
I wanted ta be her date, but da bitch turn me down.
LIDDELL watches for a moment as the procedure continues.
Flustered, LIDDELL shakes himself in disgust and storms out of the bathroom.
SMALLS
What’s wrong with L-l-l-lawrence?
MANLIUS
Jealous son of a bitch, I think.
STRONG
(to SMALLS)
You hear bout his ex-partner, that other butt jockey shit dick, Detective Stone?
SMALLS
N-n-no.
MANLIUS and STRONG look at each other, laugh.
STRONG puts arm on SMALLS’ shoulder, whispers in his ear.
STRONG
That po’ faggot done turn hisself into a queen, Boy! No shit ’n’ no foolin! Had ta kick da force, or get kicked out. Made one ugly fuckin drag queen, too.
MANLIUS and STRONG laugh again.
SMALLS turns around. OFFICER LANG pushes his head back to the mirror.
LANG
You have to hold still, dear.
LANG places long blonde wig on SMALLS. SMALLS winces.
MANLIUS and STRONG “high five,” and burst out laughing a third time.
INT — TRIXIE’S APARTMENT, ABOVE “FEVER” HAIR SALON
TRIXIE’S place is everything you’d expect such a high-strung, high-energy young person’s place to look like: fake leopard skin couch, tons of wall hangings, comic strip posters, dozens of styrofoam heads for wigs, gaudy dresses everywhere, loads of mirrors — and a small horizontal one, which the girls are now using to powder their noses.
MYZTERY sits on a freaky 50s style plastic and metal tubing chair, in front of a full body oval mirror.
TRIXIE and DIXIE stand to either side of her, as DIXIE tries to remove the first layer of make-up from MYZTERY’S face.
MYZTERY
Stop! I can’t stand this any longer.
TRIXIE
Oh, we’ve only just begun, girlfriend.
DIXIE
We’ve gotta do something, dear. If you want to venture outside at all, then you’re going to have to go, shall we say, “UnderCovergirl”?
MYZTERY
You’re going to make me look ugly!
TRIXIE
Not “ugly” girlfriend — let’s just say, uh, less, “obvious”?
DIXIE
Trix is right, Mizzy. You’re pretty well known around here, and even if they don’t recognize you, and even though you still flash serious realnis, they’ll read you for a transie soon enough.
TRIXIE
— And these days, honey, no need to tell you, but that alone could be dangerous.
MYZTERY
But I make my living as a “female impersonator” — remember? I’ve even been on Letterman as a “gender illusionist”!
TRIXIE
Right, Babe, but the shit of it is — Ripley’s Believe It or Not! — the better you look, the quicker they’re gonna clock your action.
DIXIE
It’s a paradox, but it’s true. I mean, they hardly ever clock Trixie.
TRIXIE shows DIXIE her middle finger’s fancy custom nail polish.
DIXIE
(ignoring TRIXIE)
Anyway, I think the best way to hide you is to make you look like a boy again.
MYZTERY
Do you know how much time, money and energy I’ve spend to not look like one?
TRIXIE
You’ll have trouble finding matching mascara in jail, girl.
MYZTERY
But I didn’t do it! I haven’t done anything wrong!
DIXIE
Do you trust the police? Do you think they’re gonna protect you?
TRIXIE
More importantly — Do you trust that asshole queenhater Larry Liddell?
MYZTERY sighs deeply, does a frustrated hairflip, and gestures with her hands.
MYZERTY
I hate you both, but go ahead…
TRIXIE pulls her blonde hair into a bun, places short brunette wig on MYZTERY, who frowns horribly, as if in severe pain.
INT — POLICE MORGUE
CLOSE UP of LIDDELL’S face, grimacing at sight of exposed remains of FANTASIA FLAIRE on a rolling stretcher.
PULL BACK reveals LIDDELL standing next to DOCTOR DREAMBLATT, both leaning over body.
DOCTOR
I thought you might find this particularly interesting…
LIDDELL
I seen the stiff, doc.
DOCTOR
Oh. Then you noticed the difference, as well?
LIDDELL
Huh?
DOCTOR
I apologize, I suppose this isn’t the time or place to make puns. Yes, well, anyway, if you’ll notice here, on this particular victim —
(points to genital area)
— the genitalia have been left completely intact.
LIDDELL
(glancing, reluctantly)
Yeah, you’re right — The killer didn’t chop him up there.
DOCTOR
Not chop, oh no. As these upper wounds indicate, the mutilations to both breasts on this victim, as on all the others, have been performed with, shall we say, surgical skill. Imperfect, but clearly the killer knew what he was doing.
LIDDELL
Looks pretty grisly to me, Doc.
DOCTOR
(Pointing to edge of breast wounds)
Clean incisions, meticulously executed.
LIDDELL stares, rubs his chin.
DOCTOR
And notice, if you will, that, unlike the previous victim from the Club, whose body I have also examined, this female impressionist, “Fantasia Flaire,” was never castrated.
LIDDELL
Excuse me?
DOCTOR
Yes. “Mz. Viva Vitalis,” the prior victim, was previously immasculinated.
LIDDELL
Not by the killer?
DOCTOR
Detective, pardon any impropriety, but are you not aware that many of these “gender specialists,” shall we say, undergo castration as a typical part of their “method”? Presumably, as a part of their transformation from man-to-woman?
LIDDELL
Listen, Doc — Queens disgust me, dead or alive. I’m on this case ’cause I was put on this case. Who they are doesn’t concern me, what they do doesn’t interest me, and how they act makes me fuckin sick.
DOCTOR
Yes, I see…
LIDDELL
Alright. Don’t worry about it. Your point’s well taken. I get it. I suppose what you’re saying is that Mz. Flaire here was left alone “down there” ’cause she left herself alone down there?
DOCTOR packs his stuff up.
DOCTOR
Correct. In summary, this serial killer badly mutilated the genitalia of only those victims who had, in a sense, already “mutilated” themselves.
LIDDELL
So, if I’m hearing you right, what we got here is a serial killer with, what? Maybe some medical experience, and definitely lots of pathological hatred of what these “girls” do to their own bodies? Leaving this Flaire bitch’s piece alone must mean the killer’s got something against not only the queens, but the work that’s being done to them. Whaddaya say?
DOCTOR
A biologist once wrote that it is important for science to sometimes know how to forget the things she is surest of.
LIDDELL
Huh?
DOCTOR turns away, raises white sheet.
LIDDELL
Uh, Doc?
DOCTOR
Yes, “Detective”?
LIDDELL
Whaddaya think makes these people, these men, decide to look, act, become something they’re not? Turn into, of all fuckin things, women?
DOCTOR
Why does anyone end up doing what they do?
LIDDELLS
I dunno. I ask myself that question every fuckin day.
DOCTOR
Not surprising.
DOCTOR turns again.
LIDDELL
And Doc?
DOCTOR looks over at LIDDELL.
LIDDELL
Did ya know that for the first year or so of a Hyena’s life, you can’t tell whether it’s male or female?
Pause.
DOCTOR
Yes. Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I did.
DOCTOR throws sheet over BODY.
DOCTOR exits.
LIDDELL stares at contours of BODY, outlined by the sheet.
INT — INSIDE GAY BAR, NEAR FRONT, EVENING
Chicago area bar, early evening crowd of 25–35 age range.
SMALLS, in rather convincing, though noticeably amateurish drag, breezes through the front door, past DOORMAN, sitting on a stool.
DOORMAN waves, gestures for SMALLS to come back over to him.
DOORMAN
Hi Janet. Got an I.D.?
SMALLS
Oh, w-w-w-well, I-I-I, oh, w-w-w-wait just one s-s-s-second…
SMALLS digs in purse, searching for non-police I.D.
DOORMAN
(looking her up and down)
Don’t be shy, sister. You look pretty good tonight.
SMALLS finds I.D. finally, shows it to DOORMAN.
DOORMAN
(looking at I.D., then SMALLS)
Cuter as a boy, though. Try it sometime.
SMALLS saunters over to a bar area, self-consciously sits down on a stool.
SMALLS overhears three PATRONS, sitting, drinking, and talking trash about him:
PATRON #1
Get a load of Pirscilla.
PATRON #2
Thought they didn’t let queens in here.
PATRON #1
Isn’t Halloween, is it?
PATRON #3
Think she’s a top?
PATRON #2
Know for sure she’s ugly.
PATRON #1
Aw, she ain’t that bad.
PATRON #3
Why don’t you buy her a drink then?
PATRON #1, his friends leering from the side, goes over to SMALLS.
Before he can make his proposition, STANLEY cuts in front of him, takes a seat next to SMALLS.
PATRON #1 gestures to his friends.
PATRON #1
The queenchaser beat me to her, Boys.
PATRON #2
Didn’t you see his “Gone Fishing” sign?
PATRON #3
Must have tucked it into his Surf ’n’ Turf menu.
PATRONS laugh, turn back to their own business.
STANLEY smiles at SMALLS, who, quite nervous, raises his hand for BARTENDER.
STANLEY
No, allow me.
(To BARTENDER)
Can you get —
SMALLS
(taking cue)
V-v-v-veron-n-nica.
STANLEY
— Veronica, yes, get v-v-vivacious Veronica here a drink.
STANLEY winks (“just kidding, I like you”) smiles at SMALLS.
SMALLS, nervously, smiles back, tries to flutter fake eyelashes.
SMALLS
Ha. Oh. Uh…
(to BARTENDER)
Scotch!
BARTENDER
— And water?
SMALLS
Just Scotch.
BARTENDER
— Rocks?
SMALLS
(nodding)
D-d-d-double.
STANLEY
Well, little lady’s a drinker!
STANLEY gestures to BARTENDER “usual,” holds out hand to SMALLS.
STANLEY
Name’s Stan. Stanley Fields.
SMALLS
(blushing)
Hi.
SMALLS and STANLEY hold hands for an instant.
SMALLS quickly pulls away.
STANLEY
Haven’t seen you around here before. New in town?
SMALLS
They usually don’t like queens in here.
STANLEY
You know, Vernonica, you’re right about that. Gay men can be really rude. I don’t understand it. Straight people lump all homos into the same category, and figure a drag queen’s just a fag in a dress, but that’s not true at all. You girls have to take heat from everybody! Believe me, just hanging around the Third World — if you know what I mean — I have to live with that same kind of attitude, like I need a passport or something, even in a place like this.
As if to confirm:
PATRON #1
(sportscaster voice)
“Observe the QueenChaser in action, folks.”
PATRON #2
(excited fan voice)
“Notice how he goes totally apeshit over a cock-in-a-dress!”
PATRON #3
(excited fan voice)
“Will he fuck her, or will she fuck him?”
PATRON #1
(sportscaster voice)
“Tune in next week, folks, and find out who finally fucks who.”
BARTENDER brings drinks to STANLEY and SMALLS.
STANLEY pays, tips, and gestures to SMALLS.
STANLEY
Let’s move over to the other bar…
STEADICAM follow them: Both get up, take drinks, and walk to the bar in back.
PATRONS of various age groups, ethnic backgrounds make way for them — some leering, some pointing, some turning away, some mildly interested.
STANLEY’S FRIENDS are scattered amongst crowd. He waves to some, gives a fake military salute (“We’re Marines, and we’ve got a job to do”) to a few.
General mood is indigenous to such establishments: “Here comes Someone I’ve Had Sex With…” “There goes Someone I’ve Had Sex With, with Someone Else I’ve Had Sex with,” etc.
INT — GAY BAR, BAR IN BACK
STANLEY leads SMALLS to less crowded back bar area.
STANLEY and SMALLS sit, set their drinks down.
TRIXIE is standing in a far corner, sipping a drink, working TRICK #1.
DIXIE is on the other side, doing the same thing with TRICK #2.
STANLEY
A bit quieter back here. More comfortable?
SMALLS
Yes.
STANLEY
Sorry about those assholes reading you for being your own person.
SMALLS
I’m used to it, I g-guess.
STANLEY toasts. SMALLS raises glass.
Clink, clink.
EXT — HALSTED STREET, EVENING
MYZTERY, no make-up, short brunette wig, overcoat covering her body, and wearing combat boots, walks up the street.
Several PEOPLE pass, no one takes any notice of her.
MYZTERY walks near to a second-hand store, looks both ways, then darts into —
EXT — ALLEY BETWEEN BUILDINGS
MYZTERY walks up alley about half-way, stops, looks around, then turns and knocks on a non-descript door.
INTERCOM VOICE
“Who is this?”
MYZTERY
(deep, “manly” voice)
“Mr. Gillis.”
INTERCOM VOICE
“What is this?”
MYZTERY
(in same masculine tone)
“This is my life, always will be. There’s nothing else, just us, the camera, and those wonderful people out there in the dark.”
INTERCOM VOICE
“Time for your close-up.”
Door opens.
MYZTERY enters.
INT — BROTHEL, RECEPTION AREA
Complete with front desk, telephones, a waiting area. Lots of red velvet, poor lighting, incense.
BUBBLEZ, a heavy-set queen, sits at the desk.
BUBBLEZ
(voice from intercom)
Well hello, Mr. Man Requirin’ A Tan — What’ll it be tonight?
MYZTERY
(keeping her voice deep)
Tell Rico that Stanley’s here.
BUBBLEZ
Stanley who, Papi?
MYZTERY
Tell Rico that Stanley’s gonna deliver his bitch back.
BUBBLEZ
You for real?
MYZTERY
Just do it, Orka, ’cause if you don’t, and Rico finds out…
BUBBLEZ gives MYZTERY a savage, still questioning look, but complies.
BUBBLEZ
(to herself)
Crazy bitch would look cuter as a girl.
BUBBLEZ walks through strings of hanging beads, and into back.
MYZTERY picks up a photo album on the waiting room table.
MYZTERY flips through it:
CLOSE UP of album with photos of various transgendered women in suggestive poses, sexy outfits.
BUBBLEZ returns.
MYZTERY closes book.
BUBBLEZ
Rico’s in the office. Know where it’s at?
MYZTERY nods, walks past her.
MYZTERY
Thanks, Bubblez.
BUBBLEZ does a double-take, watches her quizzically as she goes through beads.
BUBBLEZ
What the actual ef?
INT — BROTHEL HALLWAY
Closed doors on either side of long hallway. At the end is another door, the most indescript one.
MYZTERY approaches, knocks.
RICO (OS)
Come on in, QueenChaser.
MYZTERY opens door, enters.
INT — BROTHEL OFFICE
Not your usual office, as this one has a four-poster bed instead of a desk, large cushy couch instead of a filing cabinet.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, talking into a telephone, is RICO, wearing a silk robe and slippers, smoking a cigar.
RICO
(into telephone)
How much does he owe?… No excuse. I don’t care… He’s already a week late… Do what’s necessary, I want my money, honey, comprendes?
RICO clicks off phone, tosses it onto couch, turns to MYZTERY.
Not recognizing “him,” RICO quickly removes a pistol from his robe, points it at her.
RICO
Who the fuck are you?
MYZTERY pulls off her wig, let’s down her hair.
MYZTERY
Long time, Rico.
RICO smiles, replaces pistol, rises and goes to MYZTERY.
MYZTERY extends a hand, RICO bypasses hand and hugs her tightly.
RICO
Long time, sweetheart.
RICO disengages, then slaps her savagely across the face.
RICO
You fucking cunt.
MYZTERY
(rubbing her cheek)
Some things never change, huh Rico?
RICO
Nothing and nobody ever changes, Myztery. Only the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer — and you still owe me ten thousand dollars.
MYZTERY
We’ve argued through that bullshit before, Rico. I can’t owe you for tricks I never turned.
RICO
We had an agreement, and you broke the contract. You owe me at least that much for what I lost on you.
MYZTERY
I told you, if I won that pageant, I was never gonna turn a trick ever again.
RICO
And how do you think you won that pageant? Good will? A carefree fuckin Iowa middle class white trash attitude? You never could have paid for that lovely body of yours without my help.
MYZTERY
You didn’t do me any favors.
RICO
Favors? Fuck favors. Business. We’re talking business. And if you want back in, you’re not making much of an impression, because you look like shit.
MYZTERY
Oh, this (gesturing to anti-drag look). I know. But that’s why I’m here. Listen— I’m in trouble, and I need your help.
RICO
Help? Are you fuckin kidding me? Shit. First you say I didn’t do dick for you, and now you want my “help”? That’s gold.
RICO turns away.
RICO
(to himself, self-pitying)
I got Fantasia dead, the girls all freaked out, now this?
MYZTERY
That’s just it, Rico. I was there, I’m the one that found her. Someone’s tryin to kill us, Rico. I’m afraid.
RICO faces her again.
RICO
That was you who found her? Shit.
MYZTERY starts to cry.
RICO looks at her, then removes a silk hanky, gives it to her.
RICO then goes to the wet bar, grabs a pearing knife, apple.
MYZTERY continues to cry.
RICO sits down on bed, eerily gazing at her, slowly and expertly skinning apple with the blade.
RICO
It’s all right, sister. It’ll be OK. Yeah. I’ll help you out. Don’t you worry about a thing, not a goddamned thing. You help me a little, and I’ll get you some money, drugs, ‘mones, whatever the fuck you want. Don’t worry. No problem, no “problem” at all…
CLOSE UP of RICO using knife, pearing apple — slowly, expertly.
INT — GAY BAR, BACK BAR AREA
CLOSE UP of BACK BARTENDER, cutting a lime.
BACK BARTENDER looks up at TRIXIE and DIXIE at work in their respective corners.
BACK BARTENDER shakes his head, turns to a customer.
BACK BARTENDER
Queens, go figure…
TRIXIE and DIXIE continue to work their trade.
TRICK #1
What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?
TRIXIE
Bitches have a bad reputation in this joint, and I’m goin out of my way to prove you faggots right. Do ya wanna hum my muffin, Big Boy? Do you wanna land my plane? Think — What am I drinking?
TRICK #1
Beats me. What are you drinking?
TRIXIE
Seven & Seven, why thank you very much.
TRICK #1 shrugs, then wanders off to get a drink from BACK BARTENDER, leaving TRIXIE there.
TRIXIE’s eyes wander, and she notices STANLEY and SMALLS sitting at the bar, getting comfy.
TRIXIE waves over to DIXIE, who is working her own potential client.
DIXIE waves “I’m busy” and TRIXIE throws her The Finger.
DIXIE, upset, gestures to TRICK #2.
DIXIE
Be right back…
DIXIE swishes to TRIXIE.
DIXIE
Can’t you see that I’m busy?
TRIXIE
I would have left ya alone if I thought the guy was cute. Meanwhile, look —
TRIXIE points to STANLEY and SMALLS.
DIXIE
(exaggerated gasp)
Men!
TRIXIE
Pigs.
DIXIE
(index finger “tisk, tisk, tisk”)
They should all be killed.
TRIXIE
Fucked first, then killed. Let’s go…
TRIXIE and DIXIE swish over to BAR AREA.
STANLEY
Well, here’s to you, Veronica.
SMALLS
T-to you, Stan.
As STANLEY and SMALLS clink their glasses together again, TRIXIE flings STANLEY off the bar stool.
STANLEY lands square on his back, barstool tumbling.
STANLEY
Ouch!
BACK BARTENDER peers over, non-chalantly turns away to serve another customer.
STANLEY
Whaaaaa?!
TRIXIE
(looking down at him)
You pig. You jerk. You fucked around on me, and now you’re fucking around on Myztery.
SMALLS, witnessing all this, takes acute interest.
SMALLS helps STANLEY get up.
STANLEY brushes himself off, picks up and sits back down on stool, a bit dazed but more pissed off than anything else.
STANLEY
Hey, all’s fair in love and war, Jenny Craig. We worked it, but shit didn’t work out. Remember? Besides, when I dumped you for Myztery, all you did for six months was talk shit about her. And now what? She all of a sudden your best friend? You looking out for her? You queens are all ditzy, ‘specially you blonde ones.
STANLEY ;ooks at SMALLS, gestures.
STANLEY
No offense.
STANLEY turns back to TRIXIE, who hair flips with contempt.
STANLEY
Soooooo — why don’t you mind your own goddamned business?
DIXIE
We are Ladies, and we are tired of being treated this way by you stupid men.
STANLEY
You are two whores, and spoiled rotten, to boot.
TRIXIE
(shrugging, to DIXIE)
A few extracurricular activies never hurt anybody.
DIXIE
It’s all about them coins.
DIXIE and TRIXIE “high five”.
TRIXIE
We might fuck for a buck…
DIXIE
…and act strange for change…
TRIXIE
…But we’re Workin’ Girls, and pay our own way…
DIXIE
(to STANLEY)
…Which is more than some can say.
DIXIE pokes STANLEY in the nose, STANLEY’S hand goes up.
TRIXIE tugs at some of his exposed chest hair.
STANLEY
Hey!
SMALLS
Yes, ladies. Why d-d-don’t you go and mind your own b-b-business?
TRIXIE looks at DIXIE, then pulls wig off SMALLS.
SMALLS
(surprised, everyday voice returns)
Well I’ll be!
STANLEY
(to TRIXIE)
You cunt!
STANLEY tosses his drink at TRIXIE, who ducks, liquid splashing and glass shattering across the floor.
SECURITY GUY rushes over.
SECURITY
What’s going on?
BACK BARTENDER
Stanley here didn’t like his cock or his tail.
SECURITY
Out. Let’s go.
STANLEY
That bitch started it! We were minding our own business, when —
SECURITY
Come on, Stanley. We’ve barred you for this same shit before. Let’s go. Outta here.
STANLEY gestures to SMALLS.
STANLEY
Let’s get out of this dump.
TRIXIE flashes STANLEY a wicked smile.
TRIXIE
(curtseying, waving)
B-b-b-b-bye, g-g-g-girls.
STANLEY and SMALLS, escorted by SECURITY GUY, head for the front doors.
STANLEY lifts his hand, extends middle finger without looking back.
STANLEY and SMALLS exit.
PATRONS, who’ve watched the entire show, APPLAUD.
TRIXIE and DIXIE bow.
INT — BROTHEL OFFICE
RICO and MYZTERY, sitting on bed, passing mirror with cocaine back and forth to each other.
RICO puts mirror aside, puts arm around MYZTERY.
RICO
Even out of drag, you are still a queen.
MYZTERY
(edging away slightly)
Thank you.
RICO
Stay with me? I can protect you. You want to work? We’ll take care of everything.
MYZTERY
(agitated)
Thanks, Rico. But I’m afraid.
RICO
(eerie stare)
You have a place to stay, something, somebody better?
MYZTERY
(some hesitation)
Yes. With friends. Girlfriends .
RICO
Very good for you. I am very happy for you.
RICO gestures to cocaine.
RICO
More?
MYZTERY stands.
MYZTERY
No, no. I really should go.
RICO stands.
RICO
Very good then. But I am worried about you, also. Tell me where you are staying, and the meantime, I will help keep the police away.
MYZTERY
I have your word?
RICO
Of course. The Cubans, they say “Only the Devil tells the truth.”
MYZTERY opens her purse, pulls out a pink business card.
MYZTERY looks at RICO, who looks her in the eyes.
MYZTERY hands card to him.
RICO, not looking at card, puts it into his robe pocket.
RICO nods.
RICO
You know you can trust me.
MYZTERY
Good bye, Rico.
RICO stares at MYZTERY, then blows her a kiss.
RICO opens his fist, revealing a wad of money inside.
RICO
I will see you soon, mi amor. You will remember our “arrangement”?
MYZTERY nods.
MYZTERY
Yes.
MYZTERY looks at RICO, then takes the bills.
RICO looks at her ass as MYZTERY exits.
RICO takes mirror, snorts the rest of the cocaine.
INT — STANLEY’S APARTMENT
SMALLS is seated on ratty chez, wig back on, but slightly askew.
STANLEY is in kitchen area, making coffee.
STANLEY
I’d offer you some choice chow, but my bitch tossed it on the floor this morning.
SMALLS
Oh. That would be M-m-m-myztery, the one the blonde called you on in the bar?
STANLEY sits next to her, gives her mug.
STANLEY
That’s the one, the one and only, none other than the lovely and talented “Mz. Myztery Manzfield”.
SMALLS
W-w-well, if you d-don’t mind me asking — Where is she?
STANLEY
Oh, don’t be jelly. We’ve got an open relationship.
SMALLS
No, of c-c-course not, I mean, sure, doh, but, I know her too, and, w-w-well, I’m a little bit worried about her, to t-t-tell you the truth.
STANLEY
You know Myztery? She never mentioned you. Whatever. Yeah, I’m worried too. All this weird shit going on, huh? She took off this morning, all freaked out. Whenever she freaks for whatever reason, I usually don’t see her for a few days. Then she reappears, and we make up. And so it goes.
Pause.
STANLEY stares ahead contemplatively, then turns to SMALLS.
SMALLS looks down self-consciously.
STANLEY then reaches over, puts an arm around SMALLS.
STANLEY
I thought you were cute as a boy, too.
SMALLS
(pulling away)
Oh. Th-th-thank, thank you.
STANLEY leans over to kiss SMALLS.
SMALLS pushes him away.
SMALLS
I’m sorry. Oh! I’m s-s-sorry.
STANLEY
Never say you’re sorry.
SMALLS
Oh. I knew that.
STANLEY looks at SMALLS, trying to figure her out.
STANLEY
So, I take it that you’re still pretty good friends with Myztery, then?
SMALLS
(fast learner)
Yeah. I can’t dog her like this.
STANLEY
(self-conscious for the first time)
You’re right, I can respect that. I guess you girls are right — I am just a pig.
SMALLS
A cute pig, though.
Slight pause.
STANLEY
(blushing)
Thanks.
SMALLS
You don’t know where I could f-f-find Myztery, do you?
STANLEY
Police asked me that same question this afternoon.
SMALLS
(fake surprise)
They did? Really?
STANLEY
Yeah, That serial killer shit. Can you even believe it? They even told me that Myztery is in very real danger.
SMALLS
(geniunely angered)
Then how could you just, just —
STANLEY
— Try and pick you up tonight? Oh, I guess different people deal with things
differently. I just couldn’t be alone tonight. This mess is really freaking me out, too.
SMALLS
Sometimes I just d-don’t understand men.
STANLEY
Sometimes you queens are just too much!
SMALLS
Just doing the best we c-c-can.
STANLEY
(suddenly sad)
That’s what Myztery used to always say.
SMALLS
I’m sorry.
STANLEY
That’s okay. I guess that sometimes it’s okay to be sorry…
Slight pause.
STANLEY turns to her.
STANLEY
You know, this might sound kind of funny, ‘specially now, but — You’re somehow really different. Even though I just met you, I feel I can confide in you, I feel strangely comfortable with you.
SMALLS
Me t-t-too.
STANLEY
You know what’s even stranger? I don’t talk to Myztery much, you know, talk talk, like really relate to her about where I’m at, or hear what she’s all about.
SMALLS
Lovers can g-get that way.
STANLEY
Yeah, but I think we were always that way. I mean, sometimes my gay friends, even my straight friends, they ask me “what’s it like dating a transgendered person?” and I just kind of shrug, like I never even give it much thought. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, no big deal — and why should it be?
SMALLS sits, listening attentively.
STANLEY
This might sound really weird, but — What’s it like? Seriously, what’s it like
being a queen? Being transgendered? Why do you do it? When’ d you start? How long will you keep doing it? I’ve dated “your kind” for years, turned on, thinking it’s cool, even, but I still can’t wrap my head around the why.
SMALLS
At least you wonder. Most people don’t do that. Most people have only their prejudice, with no curiosity. And most people judge without caring, or knowing anything at all.
STANLEY
Mind if I ask you another question?
SMALLS
Ask me anything.
STANLEY
Has anyone ever told you you look just like Joan Cusack?
SMALLS sits in stunned silence for a second.
STANLEY and SMALL burst out laughing.
SMALLS
Well! As for when I started, you’d probably be very s-surprised — As to when I’ll stop, that d-depends on a lot of things, I guess — And as to why I do it, I don’t know, people do lots of things for lots of r-r-reasons, but when it comes right down to it, we all do what we figure makes us happy, whatever h-h-helps us to survive.
STANLEY
Truer words have never been spoken.
SMALLS
Amen.
STANLEY
You religious?
SMALLS
No.
STANLEY
You believe in God?
SMALLS
Not really. I mean, I don’t really know.
STANLEY
Me, neither.
STANLEY, thinking for a second, slides himself closer to SMALLS, puts an arm around him.
SMALLS this time doesn’t resist.
STANLEY
Since we’ve both figured out it would be tacky to fuck, can we, you know, just kind of “bond”?
SMALLS
Sure.
STANLEY and SMALLS hug.
SMALLS holds back his cringe.
SMALLS
And you?
STANLEY
Me, what? Whaddaya mean?
SMALLS
Now that I’ve t-t-told all, what about you? Why do you like to d-d-date girls like me?
STANLEY
That’s a good question, and like most good questions, it’s tough to answer. Let me put it this way — For me, the greatest thrill in the universe is when I’m with a queen, intimately, and she forgets herself during the passion of the moment…
SMALLS
You like to d-d-dominate?
STANLEY
No, not necessarily — in fact, quite the opposite’s true. I like it when I feel as though I’m making love to a woman, a real woman, you know, and at the height of climax, just before we’re both ready to explode with ecstasy, her boy comes screaming through.
SMALLS shudders, repositions, squirms.
FLASH BACK to CLOSE UP of PHOTOS of victims, the sets of three: An attractive MAN, then transgendered SHOWGIRL, then ghostly MAN again.
STANLEY
You OK?
SMALLS
I’m sorry.
STANLEY
Remember what we said about —
SMALLS
I’m sorry, but I can’t get Myztery out of my mind.
STANLEY
Oh, yeah. Sure. I get it. I’m sorry.
SMALLS
You don’t have any idea where M-m-myztery might be?
STANLEY
No clue. Miss her, huh?
SMALLS nods, flutters fake eyelashes.
SMALLS
What does she usually do when she’s upset? Does she visit any of her friends? Any of the other girls in particular?
STANLEY
Fantasia was her best friend. She’d always go to her if something was up, but you’ve probably heard about that already… Let’s see… Linda LeAmor’s in Vegas now, and Penelope Peaches and her got into it over — Oh, you know what? — Dr. Shelley. That’s right. Doc Shelley! Myztery used to hang with the Doc pretty frequently in the old days.
SMALLS
Oh. Of course. Doc Shelley.
STANLEY
Yeah, all you girls know the Doc. She was the best of the best before she quit the biz. They used to call her “Miss Plasticman” for all the work she dolled out, dolling up the gals.
SMALLS
Yeah. She just disappeared one day.
STANLEY
Oh, she didn’t disappear, Babe, although she probably wished she had.
SMALLS
What really happened? None of the girls ever want to talk about her — after that.
STANLEY
Horrible car accident. Almost wasted her. You know, she was one hot real chick before she got busted up and burned up.
SMALLS
Oh, my God, I didn’t realize.
STANLEY
Really? Was front page news in all the local rags, everyone was talking about it for a week — which is equivalent to a year in fag gossip. Anyway, before that happened, she used to say to all the transies wanting work done, “I’ll keep making you girls beautiful, so long as none of you end up any prettier than me.”
SMALLS
Kind of ironic, considering what finally happened to her?
STANLEY
And literally true, too. One reason her and Myztery lost their friendship was because Myztery turned out so well, looking more real than real, really something else. Then Shelley had her accident… Myztery never admitted it, to me or anyone else, but everybody knew that was the truth.
SMALLS
That their close friendship ended because Myztery was so beautiful, and the Doc was no longer beautiful?
STANLEY
She was wrecked after her wreck.
SMALLS
So… The Doctor was jealous of her own creations?
STANLEY
I never could figure her out. She was always a little creepy, too, if you ask me, even before the wreck. Afterwards, no one could even talk to her anymore, let alone see her. Poof, vanished, she was gone. Everywhere, then nowhere. But I’ve heard all sorts of shit said about me, too, so go figure.
STANLEY stands.
STANLEY
You want more coffee?
SMALLS stands, adjusts her wig, dress.
SMALLS
Thanks, b-b-b-b-but I r-r-r-really have to g-g-g-get g-g-going.
STANLEY
Well, okay. Maybe I’ll see you around?
SMALLS
I hope so!
STANLEY sees her to the door.
STANLEY
Thanks so much for sharing all that. And by the way, and please don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but — You’re really cute when you stutter.
SMALLS
Th-th-th-thank you.
STANLEY
See what I mean?
STANLEY gives SMALLS a kiss on the cheek.
Continued in Part 3…
