Bottom

Willy Hudson

• Editorial: Oberon Books
• Año: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781786827395
• Edición: 1
• Categoría: Sozialwissenschaften
• Categoría: LGBT-Studien

A QUEER COMING-OF-AGE REMIX Locked in his bathroom during a tragic third date, Willy Hudson asks: are you a Top or a Bottom? Bottom is about bums, Beyoncé and burnt fish fingers. Join Willy for a queer coming-of-age remix, as he questions if 'bottom' in the bedroom means 'bottom' in life – and whether Beyoncé can help put his love on top. With a cracking soundtrack, Willy's funny, honest and open-hearted storytelling yanks the lid off the queer experience. This is for anyone who hates making the first move. Anyone who thinks they are unlovable. Anyone that's ever tried to be someone they're not.

Scene 1

Present Day.

Ideally the stage is in traverse, although the show can be adapted for alternative configurations. Leopard print pants, a Beyoncé T-shirt and a pair of pink shorts are scattered around the audience, under the seats. A pink block with the bottom half of a mannequin, the bum facing towards the audience, is at one end of the stage. It is covered by pink, glittery, fabulous fabric. At the opposite end there is a larger pink block (there’s enough room for two people to sit). Behind it, on the wall, is another pink glittery piece of fabric. It’s a little bit tacky.

The stage is empty as the audience arrives. LUCY is operating the show from the tech box. Early era Beyoncé songs are playing (‘Me Myself and I’, ‘Baby Boy’ etc).

WILLY enters. The music cuts. He is wearing nothing but a pink towel, animal print socks and white trainers. He clutches the towel around his waist to cover himself. He is carrying a pink bucket of props in one hand, and his pink phone in the other. He has just got out of the shower and obviously late to do the show. He checks his phone intermittently.

He finds his leopard print pants and asks the audience to hold his towel up for him so he can put them on. Once they’re on, he gives them his phone. He tells them that he is waiting for a text, and that they should let him know if it comes.

He waits.

He begins to make an anxiety gesture. He repeats it a few times, transforming it into a dance move.

He stops.

WILLY:

Lucy, there’s meant to be music in the opening bit.

‘Love on Top’ by Beyoncé (an upbeat dance remix) plays loudly. He directs the anxiety dance move at the person with the phone, continuing to check if he’s got a text. He hasn’t. He gives up on that person. He finds his t-shirt under another chair and gets the audience to help him put it on. He gives them the phone, asking them to tell him if there’s a text. He builds another anxiety gesture which turns into a dance move, adding it to the first move to establish a routine. The text doesn’t come, he gives up on that person. He repeats this sequence of getting dressed/hold phone/dance move to put his shorts on. He now has a full routine.

The music abruptly cuts. He is interrupted by the Mannequin world. Here the music is not like Beyoncé at all. It is classical and foreboding. There is haze and blue lasers. It is ethereal and mythic. WILLY stares at the mannequin, taken off guard and slightly embarrassed.

This quickly disappears. The Beyoncé dance remix comes back and he continues his game with the audience. Faster, harder, more desperate for the text.

The phone dings, cutting the music. WILLY grabs it from the audience.

FUCK.

Oh, it’s my mum.

I’m waiting for a text. Not from my mum.

Beat.

Lucy can you hold this and tell me if he texts please.

WILLY gives the phone to LUCY.

It’s quite embarrassing actually because –

Last night was the first –

Beat.

Scene 2

Date.

WILLY is at the large block. This is the Date. It is bright and warm. There is a light underlying beat to this world, giving it drive, urgency and pace. This world is direct and performative.

I apologise.

‘I’m sorry’

I say, ‘It’s never happened before.’

‘It’s never happened before.’

I excuse myself, and I go through the kitchen into the bathroom.

He makes his way to the bathroom which is stupid because it’s such a small space.

I’m naked on this journey – which is risky, I know.

I lock the door.

Sound of door locking.

I turn on the tap.

Sound of tap being turned on and water running.

– so it sounds like I’m having a wee – and I look in the mirror at my floppy, flaccid, shrivelled…asleep…willy.

Beat.

Thank you for letting me down.

Thank you for making me look like an absolute mug.

And THANK YOU for being a wimp I mean it’s a hole, it’s a fucking hole.

Beat.

I stroke it gently to coax some life back into it. I splash some water on it to try and wake it up. I pull it a little bit, then I pull it down hard. I shake it. I pump it. I spit on it – and I want to fuck-ing smack it.

For a moment it looks like the spit is actually the kiss of life my willy needs, as it slowly rises to attention – like a happy turtle who is just waking up.

Yes. Good morning. About bloody time.

I turn off the tap.

Sound of tap being turned off.

I flush the toilet.

Sound of toilet flushing.

I go to run back into my room and say, ‘Ooh I was just warming up…’

But it’s a false alarm.

I flush the t...