, , , , , , , , , , ,

Out of the closet

(Phil opens a can of worms by asking Peter

how he feels about homosexuality.

All this while Jeff and Joey hide

in the executive washroom as Richard

awaits for Phil to return

to the couch in the anteroom)


Hmm. Dick finds himself in so many legends.

Let’s hear yours and see how it compares.


He found me first when I was fifteen.

We were hunting. It was nearly dark.

I fell, and hit my head on a rock.

I woke to Dick touching me.

He asked me if I loved him.

“Philip, do you love me?”

And I told him, “yes.”

Do you know why I told him yes?

So that one day I could tell you all about it.

You cannot imagine what that “yes” cost.

Imagine snuggling to a chancrous whore…

and puckering your lips into something like a smile,

saying, “yes, I love you, and I find you beautiful.”

I don’t know how I did it.


(Dick charges out from his

hiding place in the anteroom)


No! It wasn’t like that!


But it was.


You loved me.




(Dick speaks directly to Peter)


Get out. Please.

I don’t want you here.


It’s no great pleasure to be here.


So the switch hitting CEO

finds me twisted,

does he?


I’ll go tell your step-mother. He’ll be pleased.


He knows. He sent me.


How completely his you are.


You’ve had four sons.

Who do you claim?


You never claimed my buried brother.


But that monument to muck,

that epic idiot.

Why him?

Why always him and never me?


He was the neediest.


Christ, Peter, is that all?


You went with Eli.


You never called me.

You never said my name.

I’d have walked.

I’d have crawled.

I’d have done anything.


It’s not my fault.

I won’t be blamed.


I only wanted you.


No, my CEO chair.

You want my corporation.


Cram your corporation.


Nice talk.

That I will.


I hope it kills you.


Thank God I have another son.

Thank God for Joey.


(Jeff lunges out from the executive washroom

and speaks directly to Peter)


And who shall we thank for Jeff?

You don’t think much of me.



I don’t think of you at all.


My baby sitter used to say

I had your roaming hands.

I might have had more of you.

Try seeing me.

I haven’t Richard’s stock broker skills,

but he was here betraying you, not I.

I haven’t Joey’s… whatever…

God knows what you see in Joey…

and he’s betrayed you, too.


You think I’d ever make you CEO?


You’ll make me CEO because I’m all you’ve got.

I was to be his Dick’s Chief Financial Officer.

Ask him why.


I’ve heard enough.


Yes, to understand Joey

was plotting against you.


I don’t doubt he offered,

I don’t doubt you tried,

and I don’t doubt Joey loves me.


Like a glutton loves his lunch.


(Jeff reaches into the executive washroom

and pulls Joey out from it)


You turd.


Well, Joey?


It isn’t what you think.


What do I think?


What Jeff said.

I wouldn’t plot against you,



I know; you’re a good boy.


Can I go now, please?

It’s late. I ought to be in bed.


Why couldn’t you have waited?

Couldn’t you trust me?

It was all yours.

Couldn’t you believe that?


Will you listen to my side of the story?


Who do you think I built this corporation for?



Daddy did it all for me?

When can I have it, daddy?

Not until we bury you?


I loved you.


You’re a cold and heartless bastard, you are.

You don’t love anything.


I’m it, I’m all that’s left.

Here, Father.

Here I am.


My biography, when it is written,

will read better than it lived.

Peter Fitz-Gibbons,

first digital corporate magnate,

a CEO at twenty-one,

the most able stock broker of an able time.

He led men well, he cared for justice when he could…

and ruled his corporation for thirty years,

a corporation as great as Rockefeller’s.

He married, for richer – – – not poorer,

a woman out of Massachusetts.

Not in Albany or SanFrancisco or Chicago

has there been such a queen.

She bore him four children,

one died,

but no sons.

Peter Fitz-Gibbons had no sons.

He had three whiskered THINGS,

so he disowned them.

You’re not mine! We’re not connected!

I deny you! None of you will get my corporation.

I leave you nothing! And I wish you disease!

May all your children,

if any of you are capable of such a feat,

breech and die!



(Peter stumbles towards the door)


My boys are gone. I’ve lost my boys.

You dare to damn me, do you?

W ell, I’ll damn you back. God damn you!

My boys are gone. I’ve lost my boys.

Oh, Jesus, all my boys.


(Peter leaves Phil’s office and heads home.

Peter enters the bedroom

where Pretty Boy is sleeping.)




(Peter considers his intentions,

has second thoughts,

and leaves the room)