LIGHTS FADE UP ON
An empty apartment. Aside from some furniture, of course.
WOMAN (V.O.) Tom?
The front door to the apartment slowly opens. A WOMAN in a costume, that we will later learn is that of Ginger, from Gilligan’s Island, walks through the door. This is JERRY.
JERRY: Tom?
TOM: (O.S.) Jerry?
JERRY: Baby, your door was open.
Jerry starts to look around the apartment.
TOM: (O.S.) I know. I left it open for you.
JERRY: Well, what if I was a crazy person?
TOM: (O.S.) Then I’d fight you.
JERRY: What if I was stronger than you and I had a gun?
TOM: (O.S.) Then I’d stay in here.
JERRY: You should just keep the door locked.
TOM: (O.S.) It’s fine! We’re not in Compton… I knew you were coming.
JERRY: Well, maybe you should just give me a key.
Jerry picks up a piece of paper.
JERRY: Tom?
TOM: Yeah.
JERRY: Did you hear what I said?
Tom walks onstage wearing a Popeye costume.
TOM: What?
JERRY: I said that you should just… What the hell is that?
Tom looks around.
TOM: What the hell is what?
JERRY: That! What you’re wearing.
TOM: Oh, it’s my costume. You like it?
JERRY: Do I like it?
TOM: I’m Popeye!
JERRY: I can see that.
TOM: Yeah! I wore it last year… I had it from last year… You don’t like Popeye?
JERRY: Umm…it’s not anything really against Popeye in general.
TOM: Well, what’s the problem, then?
JERRY: Well, what happened to Gilligan?
TOM: Oh, Gilligan! Right! Well, honey, you know I thought about it a little bit and I just decided I didn’t want to be Gilligan.
JERRY: When? When did you decide this?
TOM: I don’t know. Today? Why? What’s the problem?
JERRY: What’s the problem? I don’t know. Look at me! I’m wearing the problem, Tom. I’m Ginger.
TOM: Yeah, you look great.
JERRY: Well, I’m glad you think so, but we still have a problem.
TOM: Why? What’s the problem? You look great! I look great. At least, I think so anyway.
JERRY: I think you look fine. It’s not that.
TOM: Then what is it? What’s the big deal?
JERRY: The big deal is this. You’re popeye, everyone knows who you are. Without Gilligan, who the hell am I? I’m the what-do-you-think-she-is costume all night. Everyone is going to be like, who are you?
TOM: So, you tell them. Or wear a sign. I don’t know. What’s the big deal?
JERRY: Wear a sign? Did you just tell me to wear a sign?
TOM: I was kidding. Why are you freaking out?
JERRY: I didn’t want to have to tell people what I am, Tom… Sort of kills it for me. See, that’s why you’re Gilligan. It just makes sense. They go together.
TOM: I know, but I didn’t like it.
JERRY: You didn’t like it? All of a sudden you didn’t like it. I talked to you last night. You liked it. You liked it last night! Why are you doing this to me now?
TOM: Well, to be perfectly honest, honey, I didn’t really think it was that big of a deal.
JERRY: Well, it is. It is that big of a deal, Tom. I don’t get it. I just don’t understand why you would do this to me now. Why would you wait till now?
TOM: As opposed to when? When should I have told you? Yesterday you said that you would be Ginger, and that it would be cute if I was Gilligan. I said we’ll see. I woke up, had a normal day, thought about it, I don’t want to be Gilligan.
JERRY: That’s great. That’s just great. Are you aware of the work I had to put forth piecing my Ginger together?
TOM: All’s not lost! Be Ginger!
JERRY: I don’t want to be Ginger without Gilligan.
TOM: And I don’t want to be Gilligan.
JERRY: Why are you doing this to me?
TOM: Why am I doing this to you? What the hell am I doing? Why do I have to be Gilligan? I don’t want to be Gilligan. Why is that not okay? Gilligan’s an asshole.
JERRY: He is? He wasn’t an asshole last night.
TOM: Sure, he was.
JERRY: Besides…it’s Halloween, Tom! Who cares if you’re an asshole?
TOM: Well, I sort of do… And besides, honey, it’s really not that big of a deal to me. If I would have known how seriously you were gonna take this, I would have just been Gilligan.
JERRY: Really?
TOM: Yes, really. Come on.
JERRY: Then be Gilligan.
TOM: I can’t… I don’t have time to… Piece it together.
Jerry walks offstage.
TOM: What are you doing?
JERRY: (O.S.) I’m helping you.
TOM: With what?
JERRY: (O.S.) FOUND IT!
Jerry comes back on stage holding a red shirt with a white collar.
JERRY: How’s this? Change that to this and you’re all pieced.
Tom just stares at the exact replica of the Gilligan’s Island shirt Jerry is holding in her hand.
TOM: You know, I don’t really think that fits. Where was that?
JERRY: In the hamper.
TOM: Really?
JERRY: Put it on. Same hat, same pants, shoes are good too. You’re all set.
TOM: Was that really in the hamper? The trash can is hamper adjacent, you know. I think I threw it away because it didn’t fit.
JERRY: Whatever, Tom!
Jerry throws the shirt in Tom’s face.
TOM: Whoa, whoa, whoa! We don’t throw things at each other. We don’t throw things in people’s faces.
JERRY: Don’t talk to me like I’m five, okay?
TOM: Well, stop acting like it.
JERRY: Put the shirt on.
TOM: What?
JERRY: Put the shirt on right now.
TOM: It doesn’t fit.
JERRY: Tom!
TOM: It’s dirty.
JERRY: TOM!
TOM: All right! I’m not gonna be Gilligan. Bottom line! Are you happy? You got me. I don’t wanna be Gilligan, I wanna be Popeye! I’m Popeye. I said it before, it obviously wasn’t good enough.
JERRY: So, you lied?
TOM: I didn’t lie! I just moved around the details a little bit.
JERRY: Why? Why did you move around the details?
TOM: So that you wouldn’t think I was trying to sabotage your Halloween. All I said was that it wasn’t that big of a deal to me. The truth? It really isn’t. So I didn’t lie.
JERRY: Then put it on. If it’s not that big of a deal, put the dirty, oversized, red shirt on.
TOM: It is not that big of a deal, I would just rather be Popeye! Okay?
JERRY: Then be Popeye, Popeye! I’ll be the idiot with the what-are-you-costume all night, but that’s fine. I don’t even care anymore. I know what this is about. Aye aye, Popeye! Read you loud and clear.
TOM: Read me loud and clear about what?
JERRY: The whole point of us having matching costumes is that we are together. We are a couple. GIlligan goes with Ginger, Mickey and Minnie, Chachie loves Joanie. Do you see what I am saying?
TOM: No, I don’t.
JERRY: Chachie doesn’t love Joanie. That’s what I’m saying.
TOM: Do you want me to be Chachie? ’Cause I’ll be Chachie. At least Chachie’s not an asshole.
JERRY: I don’t want you to be Chachie, you moron. I want you to be Gilligan.
TOM: Moron? Did you just call me a moron?
JERRY: Gilligan loves Ginger. Chachie loves Joanie. Do you get it? He loves Joanie. Not Ginger. Not Chachie and Ginger. Not Joanie and Gilligan. Not Joanie and Popeye. Not Popeye and Ginger. Because Popeye doesn’t love Ginger. It’s Ginger and Gilligan. THEY’RE IN LOVE. Is it clear, Tom?
TOM: Yeah, really clear. You’re fucking crazy.
JERRY: I want you to listen to me. And I’ll try to speak slowly so that you can understand. I know what this is about. This is not about a costume. You don’t want to be seen as a couple. You don’t want to be attached. You want to be Popeye. Why? ’Cause Popeye’s a man. A ladies’ man. He’s a stud, right? That’s what you want to be seen as. You don’t want to be Gilligan. ’Cause what does that mean? What’s Gilligan? Sweet, passive, lonely, loyal, needs a woman like Ginger. Dying to get married. Dying to marry the woman of his dreams. A woman like Ginger. And you, Popeye, don’t want that.
TOM: First of all, you just insulted me. A lot. But more importantly than that, simultaneously, while insulting, I think, in just a few simple sentences, you’ve managed to make me question your mental stability. As a whole. Almost a year now, and in just a few simple words, all of a sudden, I think you’re fucking crazy.
JERRY: Oh, now I’m crazy?
TOM: Yes. And don’t call me a moron, ever.
JERRY: Am I out of my mind, Tom?
TOM: Well, that was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life. Did you even hear yourself? I can’t even imagine the method, the steps it would take, in which your brain could come up with something like that. It’s actually pretty amazing. If you take out the crazy part, it’s incredible; so you know what? Let me join you. I got an idea! Why don’t you be Olive Oyl?
JERRY: I don’t want to be Olive Oyl, Tom. But tell me, what’s soooo crazy?
TOM: I apologize, you’re completely sane. Let’s move on. Why not Olive Oyl? I got the socks. We could stop at the rag store and get a fucked-up dress. Put your hair back. We’ll be a hit.
JERRY: I’m not going to be Olive Oyl!
TOM: Why not?
JERRY: Well, shit, Tom. I don’t know. I mean, she’s just so goddamn sexy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I should be beating down the fucking door to be Olive Oyl so I can look flat-out atrocious. She’s ugly, Tom. I’d like to be cute.
TOM: But it’s Halloween. Who cares?
JERRY: Okay, Tom you made a point. A stupid point, but I guess that still counts. Ten points for Tom. Good work! Are you done now?
TOM: You are unbelievable, you know that?
JERRY: No, you’re right. I’ll change my costume. Let’s either, a) have you search your entire apartment for some white, knee-high stockings while I do my hair and re-do my makeup, then drive all over Los Angeles at ten o’clock at night to try to find me a new dress. Or, b) you could change your shirt.
TOM: The point is this, honey. The reason I don’t wanna be Gilligan the loser is the same exact reason that you don’t wanna be Olive Oyl, the not-sexy, ugly person. It has nothing to do with me wanting to be thought of as not attached. We are going to the party together. We’re going to walk in together. We are going to leave together. I’m Popeye, you’re Ginger. Fuck Chachie and fuck Joanie, okay? Fuck ’em, they have nothing to do with anything. This whole thing is absurd and I would like it dropped now. Please. Can we just go?
JERRY: No! My point has obviously not been made.
TOM: Oh, no, it’s been made. Made and shut down, but made.
JERRY: Okay? Let’s say you go to the bathroom. Some cute girl, let’s say Cinderella, is waiting in line to go. She has to tinkle.
TOM: Wait. Where are we now?
JERRY: At the party, Tom!
TOM: Great.
JERRY: She says, “Hey, Popeye. Where’s your date?” Maybe she’s pushing her tits up. Now if you’re Gilligan, she doesn’t say that. Nor does she put her tits in your face. “NO!” she says, to herself, it’s a shame that Gilligan is here with a Ginger. Oh, well. Guess I better move on. Do you see my point? She knows better! Cinderella knows you are here with me, Ginger.
TOM: First of all, that shit never happens.
JERRY: Sure, it doesn’t!
TOM: Second of all, if it did, I say my date is fucking Ginger.
JERRY: Great! Then she says, “Who’s that?”
TOM: Oh, Jesus Christ!
JERRY: My point is this, Tom! Cinderella knows you are alone, and that’s what you want. Admit it.
TOM: That’s… That’s just… I can’t… BE FUCKING OLIVE OYL!
JERRY: I’m not gonna be Olive Oyl!
TOM: And I’m not gonna be fucking Gilligan. That’s it! It’s over! We just ended this. It’s over! I will no longer let my desire to not go to a party dressed like a fucking bozo take up space in my life. You don’t want to go to a party with Popeye? Fine. Then don’t go.
Jerry studies him.
JERRY: Why are you doing this?
TOM: I’m not doing anything. I wanna go to a party and get drunk. It seems to me, and I can only speak for myself, so from my side of things, I feel like you’re trying to pick a fight.
JERRY: I’m not trying to pick a fight.
TOM: Then why are we fighting? We don’t fight. We never fight! I didn’t start it. I know that for sure. So I ask you, why are we fighting?
JERRY: You’re not gonna like my answer.
TOM: So what? I’ll take it anyway.
JERRY: Will you put that shirt on?
TOM: No, I won’t.
JERRY: Then that’s why we’re fighting.
TOM: Well, that’s just plain fucking goofy. And I want you to know that I am well aware I hold the power to end this.
JERRY: Yes, you do.
TOM: Sure! Just put the shirt on, right? But I can’t. Just on general principles alone. I don’t have it in me to put that shirt on. I don’t have what it takes to put that shirt on. I don’t have the strength in my muscles to make that move. (Pointing to his heart) I just don’t have it in here.
JERRY: No, I guess you don’t…have it in here! I really wanted to believe that you did, though. I wanted to believe it so much And to tell you the truth, I thought you did. But I guess I was wrong.
TOM: Wait a minute. Are we talking about the same thing here?
JERRY: It does not have to be like this.
TOM: No shit!
JERRY: I don’t mind issues, Tom. Issues are to be dealt with. I can deal with issues. I mind denial. You want to talk, let’s talk. But you don’t want to talk. You don’t want to be real with me. You wanna hide behind a costume.
TOM: I’m not hiding behind a costume.
JERRY: You don’t want to talk. I guess I understand.
TOM: About what? Where’s the issues? What am I in denial about? Jerry, you’re losing it. This isn’t fair, honey. You’ve made a judgement on me. Let’s put aside that it’s a judgement based on fictional characters. But nonetheless, it’s still a judgement. You think we have something to talk about? I say here’s a good place. Let’s start with the fact that you’re making things up all of a sudden. You’re just creating a problem when one clearly doesn’t exist.
JERRY: Am I?
TOM: Clearly.
JERRY: Okay…do you love me, Tom?
TOM: What?
JERRY: It’s a simple question. Do you love me?
TOM: I got the question. I just want to know where it’s coming from.
JERRY: Okay, I’ll get to that. But first, I just want to be clear about where I’m coming from. Here’s where I am! Fuck the party. Frankly, fuck Halloween. We’re done with that. I’m pissed now.
TOM: Honey.
JERRY: Don’t honey me. I want to be clear about how I’m creating something that clearly doesn’t exist. We’ve been dating, dating which is the word you have been using for almost a year now. When are we actually together? Boyfriend girlfriend. That’s the first question.
TOM: It’s just a figure of speech.
JERRY: Forget that one. I have been spending about half of my life here at your house since we started “dating.” Where’s my shit?
TOM: Excuse me?
JERRY: Where do I get to keep my stuff?
TOM: In the drawer.
JERRY: In the drawer. That’s right, I have a drawer. I share the drawer with old socks that you, for some reason or another, do not throw away, but my entire wardrobe fits in a one-by-one foot drawer… That I share with some old socks.
TOM: You want more drawers, I’ll give you more drawers. You just have to ask.
JERRY: I don’t want to ask. But let’s move on. Where do my parents live?
TOM: You’re asking me where your parents live?
JERRY: I’m not asking because I don’t know. I’m setting you up for something. This is a whole thing.
TOM: Oh, well, in that case.
JERRY: Just play along, Tom. Think of it as exercising out my insanity.
TOM: Honey.
JERRY: If you call me honey one more time, I’m going to throw up all over Popeye… Now answer the question. Where do my parents live?
TOM: Umm…close? They live close.
JERRY: How close?
TOM: This is really, really stupid.
JERRY: Three blocks away. My parents live three blocks away.
TOM: Give or take a couple… Yeah, a few blocks. So what?
JERRY: What does my mom look like?
TOM: What?
JERRY: Anybody that says “what” can hear, Tom. Explain to me what my mom looks like.
TOM: I would say something like you. But older.
JERRY: Specifically. What does my mom look like?
TOM: I don’t know.
JERRY: That’s probably because you’ve never met her. Do you see what I’m getting at? Why have you never met my mom?
TOM: Look, just for the record, by that same rational, why do I know where your parents live? Because I have been to their house. I went there and spoke to your father. I went into his home. We spoke. Your mother just happened to be out. Where’s the effort on her part?
JERRY: I’m not even going to humor that.
TOM: Okay, you wanna play. You wanna play, but offense only. Defense isn’t your thing, I get it.
JERRY: Is any of this making an impact on you? At all? I mean, even a little?
TOM: Sure! You’re attacking me. Out of the blue! An apparent, pent-up attack on your part. Drawers, parents, what do they look like. Not to mention that you’re speaking to me like I’m a child. But what else tonight? Keys to my apartment, the words I chose to use…
JERRY: Whoa, whoa, whoa!
TOM: What?
JERRY: Keys to your apartment? Did I ask you for keys to your apartment?
TOM: Oh, whatever… You said it when you got here and I pretended not to hear you. You caught me! Fine! You get my point, though!
Jerry starts to gather her things.
TOM: What are you doing?
JERRY: I’m leaving. I don’t want to be around you right now.
TOM: Jerry?
Jerry drops her things.
JERRY: I don’t want to talk anymore, Tom. But I am going to give you one more chance, because I do love you. And for the record, “me, too” isn’t going to cut it anymore. We can talk about that later. But for now, this is your last chance! We can start over right now… I’m ready to grow with you. I will accept what you were, and hopefully I can become part of what you change into. I’m praying you make the right choice… Put the shirt on!
Tom looks down at the shirt.
TOM: Or what?
JERRY: Or it’s over!
TOM: Are you serious?
Jerry walks offstage and returns with a drawer full of clothes in her hands.
JERRY: How do I look, Tom? You have a decision to make. That’s all there is to it. This is how relationships work. You meet, you’re happy. Then things come up. You either talk about them or you don’t. When you choose not to talk about them, they rest. They don’t go away, they rest. They sleep, underneath the following year or so of false happiness, they sleep. They’re like bears. They’re hibernating. And when they wake up, they’re pissed off and hungry. You and I are the world. And our feelings are sleepy, little grizzly bears. And you know what? They just woke up. This is what happens. One day, inevitably, there’s an explosion. Where all the problems and issues, that were just happily napping, wake up. And that’s what’s happening. It may sound stupid to you but our explosion is a costume. Just a minor holiday, Tom! Now I’m not blaming you. In fact, it’s my fault for not speaking up earlier, but, nonetheless, this is where we are. This is the point of no return. The bears are up. What are you gonna do? Sleep time is over. You wanna take it to the next level or not. I say I’m worth it. I say it’s time to give Popeye a rest. A long one. In fact, kill him. He no longer has a place in your life. It’s time to be a real man. A real man named Gilligan.
TOM: I don’t know what to say… You’ve just made it so black and white! I mean, to be really honest with you, if you wanna know the truth, I have some sleepy bears, too.
JERRY: What are your sleepy bears, Tom?
TOM: Well, to start with, I really hate ultimatums. And that’s what you’re giving me. This is clearly, clearly a controlling… Controlling ultimatum.
JERRY: I’m leaving, Tom.
TOM: Wait a minute.
JERRY: What?
TOM: What do you want?
JERRY: In general.
TOM: Yes.
JERRY: I want more, Tom. I want more than what I’m getting.
TOM: So, then what you are saying is that I am not good enough.
JERRY: If that’s how you want to take it.
TOM: That’s what you said, basically.
JERRY: No, that’s not what I said.
TOM: Then what are you saying?
JERRY: That I want more.
TOM: More than me?
JERRY: More than what you are giving.
TOM: Well, I’m doing my best.
JERRY: It’s not good enough.
TOM: Well, that’s a bummer. ’Cause I am what I am.
JERRY: Yes, you are… Happy Halloween, Tom.
Jerry heads for the door.
TOM: Wait, wait, wait! I just wanna know one thing.
JERRY: What?
TOM: Did we just break up because of a costume?
Jerry looks around the apartment, then looks at Tom.
JERRY: No!
Jerry walks offstage leaving Tom alone.
THE END