But Mostly Because it's Raining by David Mauriello


This Play is the copyright of the Author and must NOT be Performed without the Author's PRIOR consent


TOM laughs, switches off a lamp

MIKE scurries across and turns the lamp back on

TOM : Oh, you're the kind that likes to watch ... to see everything.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a pocketknife

He clicks the blade open and with a rush pins MIKE to the wall, knife at MIKE's

MIKES freezes, eyes shut

TOM runs the knife against MIKE's throat, then down his chest

Without MIKE knowing it TOM switches hands, pushing a finger down MIKE's
chest while holding the knife safely away from MIKE

Enjoying his game, TOM makes a phony growling sound, then - as he menacingly
pushes his hand down towards MIKE's crotch - he says “tick, tick, tick…”

And then exultantly grabs at MIKE's crotch, laughing at MIKE's shock and confusion

MIKE, seeing he has been the butt of a joke makes a move to TOM

The two confront each other

There is a standoff

Then TOM steps back and sets the knife on the coffee table

TOM: Adds a little edge. You can grab for it as well as I can. Time
to stop dabblin old man. Dabble here, dabble there, like people who
send care packages, they care enough just to the point where their
hands don't get dirty. Like big brothers, takin orphans home for a
weekend, breathin a sigh of relief when the old bitch from the “home”
comes to pick the kid up Sunday afternoon. Then they bring back out
all the good china, take the slip covers off the furniture. Dabble,
dabble. Old hens trottin around the barnyard shittin liquid shit all
over the place cause there's nothin solid inside. Why you lookin at
the knife? Don't just look, go for it. DO SOMETHING! MAKE A DECISION!
DO SOMETHIN! Look at me! Touch me! You want to. Don't be like all
the rest who never do what they want. They just keep playin the game.
Just say "I want to eat this guy's ass." There's nothing
fuckin wrong with it. (he leans to MIKE and kisses him on the neck)
Like havin God come down and make love to you. (MIKE stands stiffly,
then in a rush of desire embraces TOM hungrily, then pushes away)

MIKE: I've got to make choices. Right choices. We can't just indulge. I'm just not sure.

TOM: Fuck, you're sure.

MIKE: Not about what to do.

TOM: You wanna wake up tomorrow where you are right now? Running in
place. You ain't tellin me you're for real. Real don't pick up bums in
a gay bar and take them home. Hey! I'm just doin what I get paid
for. Somebody's gotta pitch, somebody's gotta catch. YOU THINK I
LIKE THIS SHIT? (tiredly) Gimme somebody real, like that rain out
there - it comes down, wet and cold, but ya know what it is, ya know
what it fuckin is. I(tries another tactic but with little energy)
Hey, maybe you want me to play, what's the big word, passive? Huh?
That it? (curls up on the sofa, in falsetto voice) Oh don't hurt me
big man. Oh please be gentle. (gets up, angry) I've seen hundreds,
thousands like you just poppin off the conveyor belt. And life's so
easy for them they invent problems. They play games. But when the
chips are down they don't DO anything. SO WHAT NEXT FUCKER? MOTHER
FUCKER! Heeyyy, maybe that's your problem - you're old man got wise
to you fuckin your mother.

MIKE slaps TOM's face. TOM grabs MIKE's wrist in a vise-like hold.

MIKE: You're stronger than me. Pick up the knife, use it. You'd win.
Your instincts are all jungle. But I've already won. I don't want
you. OK yes, I saw you in the bar, something went click, yes. But now
that I know what's under that fancy exterior, no way. I don't want
you. Has anyone ever wanted you? If someone had you might have a
little respect for yourself.

TOM: Who the fuck cares. That's my worry right. I owe you for the
money you spent and the food.

MIKE: You think I'd touch you? You've probably got fungus on your
teeth and who knows what exotic little things crawl on your body.

TOM: I got to a clinic once a month. You can check the records. I
wouldn't pass on any germs.

MIKE: Aren't we a noble. Now are you ready to leave?

TOM: Hey! It's a new ballgame. Tits are out. Cocks are in. All those
fag designers and photographers and movie stars, what a field day.
We're the sex symbols. J'ever notice in the moves, the cigarette
ads? CROTCH CLOSEUP. Cock and balls, cock and balls. And then
there's you, movin from home, twenty fuckin miles - pardon me,
twenty-two was it? In his apartment three months, can't finish paintin
a wall, never made it with a guy. Hey, gimme a break. I thought I made
a sale. Look at us you trottin around like an old hen, coffee and
eggs. Can you see it my way? Can you? Jesus…YOU PICKED ME UP! (takes
knife out) What if I had used this? You can't take chances like that!
Shit. Don't you read the papers? Guys found strangled with their own
neckties, smothered in plastic bags. You lucked out. I'm selling but
it's a straight deal. Ok, ok, I'll go. But there's no way for me to
pay you back. (he tucks his shirt inside his pants) Ya want some
advice baby - Go back to Mama and Papa. This way you're doin nobody no
good. Nobody. Or else hire a painter. That's my advice and that's how
I pay ya back. (he pauses at door) Just answer me one thing, just one
simple thing, OK? Person to person, animal to animal, whatever. One
thing. (they stare) What are you go in do the minute this door closes
behind me?

There is silence. The rain is louder.

MIKE: I didn't finish painting the wall because I couldn't move. Like
you laying there on the sidewalk and the rain coming down. Your eyes
were closed but they still blinked every time the rain hit them and I
knew you couldn't move either (hunches over, barely breathing the
words) I was so lonely.

TOM: Ya' never did it?

MIKE: Not with a man. I could have with Brete, he works with me. We
work at a bank. He, I told him how confused I was and he started
taking me out so I could get my bearings but…

TOM: But you must've known years and years ago.

MIKE: Will you stop saying years and years.

TOM: I just meant you must've known.

MIKE: When there's hot apple pie on the table and you're told it's for
the church supper you don't touch, you wait. And life becomes waiting.
You're alive but not one hundred percent. You're always outside the
playing field, never making contact, just drifting from high school,
college, doing what's expected, dating girls, hobbies, work, but
everything is mechanical, nothing joyful. So one day I make this
miserable attempt to take control. I get just so far and then I can't
finish painting a wall. I fill up with doubt and guilt, the dominoes
start falling, you don't invite parents over because they represent
a past you trying to get away from, you can't meet people, your range
of activity grows more and more narrow. Suddenly, you're older and you
wake up at night filled with terror, the terror of never being loved
and you realize that there's nothing between you and destruction but
God and the one thing you want, he disapproves of. So you get
“prissy” you'd call it. Making special coffee, keeping a diary, “today
is a blue day, my fourth in a row. ''

TOM: I liked your coffee, you need a little work on the eggs but I
liked your coffee.

MIKE: Yes that was fun.

TOM: Why don't you just say it? I'm gay. Go ahead say it.

MIKE: Why don't you get a job. Start working towards something. A
goal. Give yourself a goal.

TOM: Hey. fuck you. I'm doin fine. It's you who is all clogged up
with this shit in your system.

MIKE: Don't be crude. Don't you know your language affects your
thoughts. AND YOU ARE NOT DOING FINE you stupid street-walking fool
(stiffens, moves towards bathroom) I can't say it. I CAN'T SAY IT!
(exits into bathroom on the run)

TOM: HEY! (crosses to bathroom door) You sick?? Shit. Then OK. If you
can't say it puke it out. (He listens) Jesus he's puking, he is
actually puking. (shrugs, walks aimlessly but hovering near bathroom)
Hey ya' know who cares if the customers don't want me right. I
don't want them, just their money. But someone wanted me. My old man
see. But he was like you. Didn't DO anything. So when the judge asked
him if he wanted his son my old man just stayed quiet and other people
decided for him. See that's what happens
MIKE suddenly exits bathroom, scurries to bedroom door, slams door
closed behind him.

HEY! (crosses to bedroom door, listens, paces, listens at door again)
Looks like I'm leavin' (he crosses to front door, glancing back at
bedroom door now and then, grabs for knob of front door) Ah fuck.

MIKE: (bursts from bedroom, a towel at his mouth) Where are you going?

TOM: What?

MIKE: Where are you going?

TOM: Hey like I'm leavin man.

MIKE: That was a simple interrogative.

TOM: Inter…what?

MIKE: Question. I didn't ask what are you doing. I can see that. What is your

TOM: Wherever my work ends me up.

MIKE: Oh is that so? You want me to say it but you just continue on
your merry old way

TOM: Hey get off my ass. You' re just backin' away from being

MIKE: And you're not? Stay here tonight.

TOM: Huh?

MIKE: Yes or no.

TOM: Yuh, now you're makin' sense.

MIKE: You can take a shower but don't be long. I get up early (turns
to bedroom, TOM follows, MIKE stops and turns, they collide) Where are
you going?

TOM: Whattayamean? In there.

MIKE: OH no. I'm getting some blankets. (he goes to bedroom, returns
with blankets) You sleep on the sofa.

TOM: I sleep where?

MIKE: Sofa…couchsofa.

TOM: Hey look Meeky

MIKE: WHAT? What did you call me?

TOM: Meeky. Ya' know Mike, Meeky.

TOM: No, NO Meeky. And you sleep there.

TOM: I sleep in there or I go (turns to door. They stare at each
other, then TOM shrugs) See ya' Meeky.

MIKE: How do you know your Father would've said yes?

TOM: What? (approaches MIKE threateningly, MIKE holds his ground)

MIKE: When the judge asked him if he wanted you. Sometimes when things
are too painful, people remain silent but he might have said no.

MIKE drops the blankets onto the sofa. TOM starts to cross to front
door, MIKE to bedroom door. They stop and look at each other, continue
to cross. Now TOM is at front door, MIKE at bedroom door, they look at
each other. MIKE exits. TOM stares into space as lights come down.


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