Hold Me Closer: The Tiny Cooper Story Read Online Free PDF

):
    You’re
gay
?
    TINY:
    Yeah. I know it’s a shock. But I wanted you to be the first to know. Other than my parents, I mean.
    As Phil continues to mime shock—strike up the band! The music begins.
    [“DUDE, YOU COULDN’T BE GAYER”]
    PHIL ( singing now ):
    You’re gay?
    Next you’re gonna tell me the sky is blue,
    that you use girl shampoo,
    that critics don’t appreciate Blink-182. Oh, next you’re gonna tell me the Pope is Catholic,
    that hookers turn tricks,
    that Elton John sucks HEY!
    Tiny has shoved him playfully, and the song turns into a call-and-response. The choreography should have them dancing around the Pride parade, not unlike Ewan and Nicole dancing on top of the elephant in
Moulin Rouge
! At some point, you might want to have the background Pridesters form a Rockettian kickline.
    TINY:
    But I’m a football player!
    PHIL:
    Dude, you couldn’t be gayer.
    TINY:
    I thought my straight-acting deserved Tonys.
    PHIL:
    You own a thousand My Little Ponies!
    TINY:
    Is it really so obvious?
    PHIL:
    Only in the same way that
    the sun rises in the east,
    The Lion King
vilifies the wildebeest,
    Harry Potter has a lightning scar,
    and Republican politicians can be found sneaking
    into every gay bar.
    TINY:
    I’m gay!
    PHIL:
    Hey hey hey!
    TINY:
    Gayer than a three-dollar bill.
    PHIL:
    Gayer than
The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
.
    TINY:
    Gayer than a Fire Island share.
    PHIL:
    Gayer than bleach-blond hair.
    TINY:
    I couldn’t be gayer . . .
    PHIL:
    . . . if you memorized all seven seasons of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
!
    TINY:
    I couldn’t have a more homo strut . . .
    PHIL:
    . . . if Neil Patrick Harris was up your WHOA!
    TINY:
    And you don’t mind?
    PHIL:
    No more than I mind
    the sun setting in the west,
    Dolly Parton’s immortal chest,
    puffy shirts at a Renaissance Fest,
    or little birds chirping cutely in a nest.
    You don’t want me, do you?
    TINY:
    I would prefer a kangaroo!
    PHIL:
    Phew!
    TINY:
    True!
    PHIL:
    So can you abide
    me showing some Tiny Cooper pride?
    TINY:
    No matter which direction I’m facin’ . . .
    I’m with Phil Wrayson!
    Phil gives Tiny the straight-boy version of a hug, and Tiny engulfs him in response, as the Pridesters cheer and the number ends.

ACT I, SCENE 9
    Tiny comes downstage again, as the Pride parade is turned into a locker room.
    I will leave the stage directions of the following scene up to your discretion. I know certain members of certain musical societies who like to produce
Damn Yankees
year after year just so they can have a gratuitous locker-room scene. You know, all the hot chorus members in towels and—whoops—maybe one of them falls a little. Especially if it’s Broadway. There the towels fall a lot. Now, I am not suggesting you pander to the female and gay audience, even if those two demographics make up—what?—98 percent of all musical theatergoers? You decide what Lola wants in this case. And that’s what she’ll get.
    TINY:
    Persuading Phil Wrayson and my parents to be on my side wasn’t the biggest challenge. Nor were my friends anything less than accepting. There was only one group that I was really worried about—the football team.
    It was freshman year, but I was already varsity, on account of my size. These guys barely knew me. And I didn’t know how they’d feel about a gay boy in their midst.
    I decided to confront them at the source of their fears: the locker room. It’s something I don’t get at all—almost every homophobic guy’s worst-case scenario is being naked in a locker room with a gay guy. I mean, what’s up with that? After I’ve just scrimmaged my ass off, the last thing I’m looking for is a quickie in the shower stall—with, incidentally, everyone else watching. I mean, come on. Get over your floppy self. If I’m going to ever fall for you, I’m going to do it the
right
way. I’ll ask you out on a date, not run away with your towel.
    Now, the trick was—how to get this across to them all? I