HOWARD: An eight?
PHYLLIS: These aren’t my shoes. These are a six. I’m an eight. These are sixes. Bishop, are these your shoes?
BISHOP: God!
PHYLLIS: Bishop, have you been wearing ladies’ shoes? I should never have sent you to a private school. I don’t mean to be judgmental—
BISHOP: THEY ARE NOT MY SHOES!
PHYLLIS: Oh.
HOWARD: Don’t you like them?
PHYLLIS: Are you a transvestite now, Howard?
HOWARD: They’re my mother’s shoes.
PHYLLIS: Your mother died when you were five.
HOWARD: They’re an heirloom.
PHYLLIS: That’s touching.
HOWARD: Won’t you come in now?
PHYLLIS: And they look right up-to-the-minute. Funny how fashion repeats itself.
HOWARD: Someone will get off the elevator. Someone will see you.
BISHOP: I’m going in.
PHYLLIS: Bishop!!!
BISHOP (He rushes into the room and stands center): Look. Look, airbrain—
HOWARD: I don’t think you should call your mother an airbrain.
BISHOP: Shut up.—Look. I’m in. I’m inside and nothing happened. It’s fine. It’s fucking fine. There’s nothing to be afraid of.—What the fuck you staring at?
HOWARD: I don’t understand.
BISHOP: The crudhead’s afraid to come in—
HOWARD: I don’t think you should call your mother a crudhead.
PHYLLIS: I’ll never get out.
HOWARD: What?
PHYLLIS: If I come in. I’ll never get out again. And the room doesn’t look very big. And I don’t recognize the furniture.
HOWARD: It’s new.
PHYLLIS: Oh.
HOWARD: Don’t you like it?
PHYLLIS (Waving at furniture): I don’t even know it. How could I like it?
HOWARD: Bishop likes it. Don’t you, Bishop?
BISHOP: I HATE IT!!!!
PHYLLIS: He forms opinions quickly.
BISHOP: IT’S UGLY!!!
PHYLLIS: Someone’s getting off the elevator! Someone’s coming!
(She runs into the room)
HOWARD: There.
PHYLLIS: I don’t like it here! I don’t like it. I want to go. This isn’t my home. This isn’t my furniture!
BISHOP: Get a hold of yourself, vomithead.
HOWARD: I don’t think you should call your mother vomithead.
PHYLLIS: This isn’t my living room. Everything’s different! This isn’t my chair!
HOWARD: It’s new.
PHYLLIS: I want my chair! Where’s my chair!
HOWARD: It’s gone. You like this one.
PHYLLIS: I don’t! It’s strange. Ooh, ick, I hate this chair.
BISHOP: The chair is fine, bilebrain.
HOWARD: I don’t think you should—
PHYLLIS: I WANT MY OLD CHAIR!
HOWARD: But.
BISHOP: Get her old chair, for Christ’s sake.
PHYLLIS: I WANT IT. I WANT IT.
HOWARD: I threw it out.
PHYLLIS: WHY!!
BISHOP (Threatens): That was stupid.
HOWARD: I redecorated. I just got some new furniture. That’s all.
PHYLLIS: This isn’t my home. Where am I? My home has a wingback chair. Where am I?
HOWARD: You are home.
PHYLLIS: I don’t think so.
BISHOP: You shouldn’ta thrown it out, craphead.
HOWARD: I don’t think you should call me craphead—
BISHOP: Shut up.
PHYLLIS: Wherever I am. I want to leave. Can I leave here? Do you think we could go, Bishop?
BISHOP: We just got here—
PHYLLIS: But I don’t like it.
HOWARD: What’s wrong with her?
BISHOP: She’s nuts, splitbrain—
HOWARD: I don’t think—
PHYLLIS (Hiding her eyes with the shoes, she sinks to the ground): This is not my home.
BISHOP: She’s a dusthead.
PHYLLIS: Is not. Is not. Is not.
BISHOP: Ignore her.
PHYLLIS: Is not. Is not. Is not.
BISHOP: Yeah. She’ll shut up.
HOWARD: Maybe she should lie down.
BISHOP: Do you want to lie down?
PHYLLIS: My feet hurt.
HOWARD: What does that mean?
BISHOP: It means her feet hurt, phlegmhead.
HOWARD: I don’t think you should call me—
BISHOP: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
PHYLLIS: My feet hurt.
HOWARD: Would you like to lie down?
PHYLLIS: These shoes are pretty, but they’re too small.
BISHOP: She doesn’t want to lie down.
PHYLLIS: I think they’re a six.
BISHOP: Ignore her.
PHYLLIS: I’m an eight.
HOWARD: Ignore her?
PHYLLIS: Do you have anything in an eight? A pump?
BISHOP: She’ll shut up. You’ll shut up, won’t you dusthead?
PHYLLIS: Black crocodile, maybe?
HOWARD: Well, sit down, son.
BISHOP: You sit down.
HOWARD (Sitting): All right.
PHYLLIS: Do you have anything in patent leather?
HOWARD: How are you son?
BISHOP: Gee, I’m fine, thanks. And you?
HOWARD: Good, good. I’m good.
BISHOP: That’s good.
HOWARD: I’m fine.
PHYLLIS: I’d like to see this in an eight.
HOWARD: It’s good to have you home.
BISHOP: Mmmmmmm.
HOWARD: It’s good to have you home.
BISHOP: You said that.
HOWARD: Oh. (Reaching out to Bishop) Tell me. Was it terrible. Do you want to talk about it?
BISHOP: Want to make a movie of it?
HOWARD: Well, maybe.
BISHOP: Fuck you.
HOWARD: I don’t think—
PHYLLIS (Out): Excuse me, could someone help me?
HOWARD: What?
PHYLLIS (Out): Could someone—I’d like to try something on.
BISHOP: Ignore her!!
PHYLLIS (Out): Could someone help me?
HOWARD: Well. I guess you’re anxious to get back to school, back to your friends?
BISHOP: What friends?
HOWARD: Your little friends—
BISHOP: I’m not going back.
HOWARD: You have to go to school.
PHYLLIS (To Howard): Could someone help me please?
HOWARD: Everybody goes to school.
BISHOP: Do you?
PHYLLIS (Out): This is a terrible store.
HOWARD: You used to like school.
PHYLLIS (Out): The salespeople hate me.
HOWARD: You used to enjoy it.
BISHOP: That was then.
HOWARD: Well, once you go back—
BISHOP: I’M NOT GOING BACK!
PHYLLIS (To Howard): Could someone please, please help me?
HOWARD: You try it. You go back and give it a try.
PHYLLIS (More desperate): Please, please, please!
BISHOP (To Howard): Fuck you.
HOWARD: Maybe not this week. You rest this week.
PHYLLIS: Please, please, please!
HOWARD: Maybe next week. You’ll go back next week and you’ll see you like it.
BISHOP: It’s summer! You asshole! It’s fucking summer! What will I do at the fucking school when I get there! It’s fucking summer!
HOWARD: Well there is summer school!!! Maybe you’ve heard of summer school!!! It’s school! And they have it in the summer!!
BISHOP: Shut up!
HOWARD: I don’t mean to shout.
BISHOP: Fuck you!
HOWARD: I don’t mean to lose my temper.
BISHOP: Drop dead!
HOWARD: I mean to be a good father!
PHYLLIS (Out; breaking down): All I want—all I want to do, all I want to do is, I want to try, I want to try on some shoes! Shoes! Shoes. And no one will pay any, no one will wait, wait on me! I need some, some, no one will, will, will someone help me, help me, help me, help me—
HOWARD (Going to her): Calm down Phyllis, calm down. It’s all right. I’m here. I’m here.
BISHOP (Almost chanting): DO NOT TOUCH HER! DO NOT TOUCH HER! DO NOT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!!? DO NOT!
PHYLLIS: I—
BISHOP: DO NOT! DO NOT! DO NOT! DO NOT! DO NOT! DO NOT!
(There is a blackout and Howard steps into a
