Lacey’s unaware. …Not everyone could have Tom Banks as a dad, much less be his biological offspring. …But Lacey could. Lacey is his daughter. …They look a lot alike. They think alike. They…seem…like father and daughter. …She is his daughter.
That’s his sister’s store. Lacey’s aunt. Who ADORES her.
That’s his house. It’s a nice house. Worth over a million. …He’s an important man. …He really was friends with Joe Kennedy Senior. And Al Capone. And was buddies with Humphrey Bogart.
…But to Lacey…that’s…technically a big deal…and she’d fight you over the meaning of it. But…otherwise he’s just her daddy.
And today…after seducing me…yet again…and reminding me what a fool I was…and making me laugh…and wonder how she can exist in such a fallen world….as she’s an impossibly juicy fruit of sex and mystery and love…on a tree in the Garden of Eden…somehow preserved today…she’d like to ask you all something:
“In reviewing David Pitts’s book…you said that you can see what Lem saw in Jack…but you can’t imagine what Jack saw in Lem! …WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?!? …ARE YOU PEOPLE INSANE!?” says Lacey.
“We didn’t perfectly talk to Vahe. So she’s a little worried. But I’m going to try.” says Lem.
“Jack is…so smart.” says a reader.
“No! He’s really not. …That’s fabrication and presentation.” says Lacey.
“She’s mostly right.” says God.
“Well we didn’t know that!” says the reader.
“What else!?” says Lacey.
“He’s handsome.” she says.
“Not really! Are you kidding me!?! …A tiny pale penis…and a weird, scrawny, diseased body?” says Lacey.
“We fell for his popular image.” says the reader.
“So you’re dumb enough to think you really know what he offered?” says Lacey.
“She’s right. It’s extremely disturbing.” says Saoirse Hill.
“Well…yeah?” says the reader.
“What a perversely shallow analysis. …Do people who take the time to review popular books think deeply at all…or just act like sentient robots?” says Lacey.
She thinks.
“LEM had SO MUCH to offer. …Jack HAD NOTHING!!!” says Lacey. “Fucking him was like shooting yourself in the foot. …I can’t imagine why anyone would fall in love with him…for more than five seconds…unless if they were horrifically mistaken or insane. Temporarily or otherwise.” says Lacey.
“She’s right!” says Emperor Constantine. “I’ve watched what happened between him and Lem…regardless of reincarnation and regardless of whether or not she’s been deceived…and…he sexually and romantically offers NOTHING. …Lem baffles me. But…he has good explanations. …I can’t imagine trying to believe him or understand him from her perspective though. …He seems…impossible.”
“Lacey! …People don’t think that deeply!” says a reader.
“NO! They do.
So…how do none of you know how worthless Jack is!??” says Lacey.
Awkward silence.
“I actually agree.” says a recently dead homeless man.
“They’re like robots!” says Lacey to him.
He thinks.
“Lacey! …He’s JFK.” says a reader.
“But he wasn’t when Lem met him!” says Lacey.
“But he was a very rich young man.” says the reader.
“SO BLOODY WHAT!???” says Lacey.
“I know what she means! …I really do! …The stories of my loneliness are not hyperbole!” says Michael Rockefeller. “And I’d like to take this moment to tell her…that if she’s been deceived…I’m personally not letting it happen. …She’s sleeping with Harold Loeb. Or me. Or possibly Louis. …Which one is it? Well… It could also be a Lem God created just for the situation if he found the original Lem too repulsive. …It’s me. …If it’s not me though. It’s Lem. The first one. …That might sound too complicated to some people but they’re cheap shit intellectuals possibly and…I can’t stand them. …I’m not hurt…if it’s me. I find it…lovable and sad. …And Harold insists it’s him.
It’s just Lem. It really is.
…Lacey…my grandfather…understands. Completely.” says Michael. “Don’t worry!”
“That didn’t come out right.” says God.
“I won’t let you do it!!!” yells JFK’s great grandmother in an Irish accent.
“You don’t have a choice.” says God.
“NO!!!!” she wails.
“Oh, get a grip!!” says Saoirse.
And hearing Saoirse say that…the woman goes into a quiet shock. Thinking.
“We’re in the wrong! Don’t be such a bloody evil bitch!” says Saoirse to her ancestor.
The woman thinks. Blinks.
“She’s happily Scottish. If there’s reincarnation. And possibly otherwise. …We have no moral authority over her. …Over her. …Over Lem? Maybe??? But certainly not over her. …And your inability to understand that makes me want to throw you personally into eternal Hell.” says Saoirse Hill.
“You’ve RUINED US!” says a Hill to the old Irish woman.
“Do you THINK!?” says David Kennedy to the woman. “ARE YOU WHY I DIED!? You DUMB BITCH!”
“She’s on my side.” says JP Kennedy before vomiting in anguish.
“So!
What’s so great about Jack Kennedy?” says Lacey.
“They’re think of the image.” says a reader.
“Did you actually read the book!? At all!?” says Lacey.
“Yes. …Both Louis and David…take huge shortcuts in analyzing Jack Kennedy.” says the reader.
“They just cut and paste the iconic bullshit.” says Daniel Levy.
“Packaged like Mac and Cheese to seem like actual historical analysis?” says Lacey.
“Yes!” says Dan Levy.
“Okay.
But…we know Jack Kennedy was a cheating asshole. …Why doesn’t that factor in in their analysis!??” says Lacey.
“She’s right. It’s creepy.” says Louis Hill Junior’s son.
“Because they’re thinking magically. And they write it off as…being…sage and open-minded.” says F. Scott Fitzgerald. “They genuinely can’t make sense of it if they try. …So they smile and shrug and try to blink enough…and stare off into space enough…to be…able to ‘see the light.’ …And when that doesn’t work…they just shrug again…smile some more…and tell themselves that they’re incapable. …Because people like that worship billionaires. …And believe the money itself is the thing. …Believe that in one generation or two…an entire family can go from dirt poor in IRELAND…to RICHER THAN THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND! …It just takes a bite of the fruit of the vine. The AMERICAN DREAM! …MANIFEST DESTINY!!” says F. Scott Fitzgerald.
“Jack isn’t me.
I slept with prostitutes. …And married twice. But…I genuinely loved. …And tried sincerely to be faithful. …Just not faithful beyond reason, you see.” says Louis Hill Junior.
“Me too!” says King Charles III.
“Faithful beyond reason. …To them that’s gibberish.” says Princess Diana.
“You were faithful beyond reason.” says Lacey to Lem.
“No. …I wasn’t.
I thought of women. Daily.” says Lem.
“SO BLOODY WHAT!? …You gave the appearance of loyal adoring and supportive husband.“ says Lacey.
“I did.” says Lem.
“That matters, Lem.” says Lacey.
“But it wasn’t real.” says Lem.
Lacey thinks.
“What was it you all thought Lem lacked?” says Lacey.
“A job. …Intelligent conversation!” says a reader.
“He had a job! …He was extremely intelligent!” says Lacey.
“Actually he was.” says his mother.
“HOW DUMB ARE YOU!???” Lacey bites at the reader.
“I write cheap shit I took far too seriously.” says Gore Vidal to Lacey, sincerely.
“NO FUCKING SHIT!!!” says Lacey. “You write highfalutin porn.”
“I did.” says Gore Vidal.
“DUH!!!” bites Lacey.
Gore thinks.
“You can’t do better?” says Lacey.
“Can you?” says Gore Vidal.
Lacey laughs. “Not easily. …It’s quite difficult.”
He laughs. “I guess we aren’t all Ernest Hemingway or F. Scott Fitzgerald.”
“How do they do it!?? …It’s…a mess in my head. …All I can think to do is focus on the sexual angle.” says Lacey.
He smiles. “We try to make it significant. …But…it’s…more…just bad writing.”
“It is.” says Lacey.
“Who is good though?” says Gore Vidal. “Because you know they fail too!”
Lacey thinks. “EM Forster. …Graham Greene? …Ordinary English authors.”
“You’re right. …Nevermind.” says Gore Vidal.
“Wasn’t Lem capable of such conversations?” says Lacey.
“No. He was. …He just avoided them.” says Gore Vidal.
“It wasn’t real. …I found him repulsive. …But I told myself…that my repulsion was just…part of being gay. …And that I had to let it go.” says Lem. “Try to be happy.”
Lacey smiles.
Adult content below.
It’s 1963. The White House. …Joe, who didn’t die, has conceded that he’s…not the best politician in his family. He’s a governor of Massachusetts. And that’s the best he can do…for now. Jack is in his third year as a cabinet member in Rocky’s US Presidency. Somehow that man got elected.
Lacey, wearing very little under a mink coat…
“Oh my god! I’ve seen this!” interrupts Vincent Kartheiser, if there’s an Illuminati.
“Indeed.” says Michael Rockefeller.
Walks in to a room where Lem sits. Smoking. On a sofa.
She greets Lem.
“Where’s Joe?” asks Lem.
“He’s ran off.” says Lacey. “Lem…darling…he goes to a mistress. …Doesn’t he.” says Lacey.
Lem blows smoke out of his lips. Closes his eyes.
“My goodness! It’s so damn obvious!” says Lacey. She thinks. Lem furrows his brow…crosses his legs at the ankles. Folds his arms….legs extended forward. Cigarette still in hand.
Suite for Jazz Orchestra by Shostakovich plays.
“He does.” admits Lem in a voice that’s…odd…but genuinely entirely straight.
0:47
“Lem…I’ll just have to get your opinion.” says Lacey. She opens her mink coat to show herself wearing barely anything at all.
“Well!? …What do you think? …I’ve refused to let Joe see me. …We’re not married yet, you know. …But since you’re gay…well…you can be objective about such things.” says Lacey.
3:10
The song ends.
Borodin’s Prince Igor, Act 2, Polovtsian Dances: Part 4 plays.
“Isn’t it…pretty?” says Lacey. “It’s real silk, of course. …I had planned to wear it on our wedding night. …But…now I don’t know.
You know so damn much around here…what’s she look like? …Are my breasts…displayed to their full advantage…in this thing?” says Lacey. She studies Lem. Reading him.
He laughs. Stares her in the eyes. Almost glaring. …She’s completely unfazed.
“Well!??” she says. She goes to lock the door. She returns. Takes off the cost entirely. Turns around. Approaches him.
“Am I bothering you, sweetheart?” says Lacey, displaying her behind under lace.
“No!!” says Lem, laughing nervously.
“So!?” she says walking up to him. “What do you think?” she throws her breasts practically in his face. “Am I busty enough for this…or not? …Is she a very big chested girl?”
He laughs, grinning uncontrollably…and she hasn’t noticed since when. “She’s not that much bigger than you.” he says, shrugging awkwardly.
“But it’s the overall appearance that counts.” says Lacey. She stands back. “Really look at me Lem!” she says.
He does. Rubs his face with his cigarette hand. Extinguishes his cigarette. Leans back. Stares at her, taking her all in.
“Well? …Will I make a fool of myself wearing this?” says Lacey.
1:07
1:42
Lem can’t speak. He sits. Breathing heavily. Mute. Ever so slightly shaking.
Lacey takes off the lingerie entirely.
“See! Sweetie…this is what I look like! NAKED!” says Lacey. “LOOK!”
He does. Grins again, laughs unconditionally.
“This is what I started with. This is my…blank canvas…if you will. My…rudimentary being.” says Lacey. “It’s absolutely necessary I flatter this. …I don’t want to lose his attention!!!” says Lacey.
Lem laughs. Still mute. Still breathing heavily.
“Are you utterly repulsed?” says Lacey.
Lem looks her in the eyes. She smiles. Walks up to him.
The song ends.
Prokofiev plays next.
She straddles him. Touches him. Whispers, “You’re hard!” in his ear.
“Yeah! …I like your breasts.” says Lem, looking her in the eyes.
“Oh no! …YOU CAN’T!!!” she says. “You’re GAY.”
She looks him in the eyes. Up close.
Kisses him on the lips.
“I’d let you use your big, strong body to do whatever you wanted with me…as long as you wanted…except…why…you insist it doesn’t work right!” says Lacey.
Mute, he struggles to speak. Half smiling.
“What’s wrong with your cock?” she says feeling him.
“It’s…not that.” he says, shaking his head no.
“Oh! Okay! …What is it?” says Lacey.
He looks suddenly sad. Then he looks incredibly…baffled.
“Doesn’t it work right?” says Lacey. She undoes his pants. Begins giving him pleasure.
He moans in pleasure. Leans back.
Then suddenly she stops. “What’s wrong with your penis? …It seems wonderful to me!” she says, climbing on top of him like a cat.
“You’re a very beautiful woman. …Any man would be happy to be with you. …It’s not that!” he says, playing with her hair. He licks his lips. Stares into her eyes, with sadness.
“Oh? …I heard from one of my aunt’s gay friends…in Hollywood…that gay men don’t find women arousing. At all! …He claimed to be able to look at Betty Grable naked…and only be focused on the best way to fit her into her dress. …I believe him! …He was so…sincere.” says Lacey.
“Well…” says Lem, looking increasingly intoxicated with desire. Half smiling.
“You seem…well…normal.” says Lacey.
“Sure.” says Lem.
Lacey kisses him. Passionately. Meaningfully.
He kisses her back. She moves seductively. He moans uncontrollably. Winces in pleasure. And yes, it’s quite sincere. Eyes her; intensely meeting her eyes.
“Darling! Why can’t you fuck me!? I need you!” she says, with trembling pleading.
“It isn’t right!” he says, eyes closed, lost in some pleasure.
“Why? Because you’re gay?” she says.
“I’m sorry. …When I was 13…I had my first sexual encounter with a man.” says Lem. “He…forced himself on me. And…I got hard.” says Lem, struggling to restrain himself.
“Oh! …How!?” says Lacey.
Lem stares her in the eyes. Again. “He grabbed…my…dick.”
“And you wanted him to?” says Lacey, confused.
“No! …I didn’t. …But I reacted to it.” says Lem.
“Like you are now?” says Lacey.
“No.” says Lem. “But…it isn’t right.”
“Oh. …So it felt like this?” says Lacey giving him oral sex.
The Nutcracker, “Waltz of the Flowers” plays.
“No. Dear God!!!” says Lem.
“Then what did it feel like?” says Lacey.
“I got hard. And…it felt…” says Lem.
“Like humping a bed?” says Lacey.
“Yeah.” says Lem.
“How IN HELL is that sex? You were molested, you fool.” says Lacey.
He looks stunned. But remains calm, albeit aroused.
“Lem…darling…it doesn’t make any sense!” says Lacey. “Love…it’s nonsense.
*The song ends*
But…I don’t want to assume anything. So…I’ll trust you. …If you insist this *she begins having intercourse with him* isn’t…what you really want…I won’t stop you.” she says. Then she leans over and kisses him, languidly. Slowly. Then gets up.
“I’m just a hot, wet, silky vagina…longing mercilessly for you. …Ready to give up my body to your pleasure…eternally. …In love. But…if that’s not what you want? Fine! …Push your limp dick up Jack Kennedy’s hemorrhoid anus…using petroleum products! …THAT’S SWELL! …GEE!!!
I bleed for you! …Red! …Like the air itself. …It’s all we have! …Air. Water. Blood. …Mere humans. Mere mortals…in a damned world. …But push your limp, dissatisfied dick up his slimy butthole and get shit out. …I’m sure you can make compensatory gay orgasms. And love. Gay love!!! …Well! …That’s…rather dull…isn’t it? Two men? Where’s the mystery or danger in that? You’d have to invent it! …Or enjoy being incredibly lonely. …But…you’re gay! That’s what these Irish-peasant dumbasses INSIST! …And you go along with them like a LEMMING. Lem…THE LEMMING.
No. My ecstasy…which only you can give me…is MEANINGLESS in the face of Jack Kennedy’s pale dick…and hideous body.
You know Lem…I’ve given Joe oral sex. …I have. …And he’s awful. He looks AWFUL naked. …You can’t lie to me.
Listen sweetie…you get yourself off tonight to thoughts of me. Why not? Right? …Or I could let you make love to me. But…I’m sure you know best. And I’m sure…if you say you’re gay…you are.” says Lacey, wearing her mink coat.
Lem crying, wails, “WAIT!!!”
“Oh! Wait!!? …What for!? Wait for WHAT!?” says Lacey. “Your evil? Your…worship of NOTHING…and nobody?”
He stops and looks up at her.
Summa for String Orchestra by Arvo Part plays.
“You’re not nobody. You’re love. …Jack is a nobody. …Money can’t give us…ourselves. And all they have is a lot of money.” says Lacey.
“Lacey…I’ve never experienced that before!” says Lem. “I’ve just gone along with it.”
“With what!?” says Lacey.
“His…ideas. His…ways.” says Lem.
“Lem! Don’t tell me he’s homosexual! I already know. …So did my whole family! …Lem…lots of people in Hollywood know!” says Lacey.
“I don’t come from Hollywood.” says Lem.
“So what!? Everyone knows!” says Lacey, aghast.
“No!!! THEY DO NOT!” says Lem, in an unusually masculine voice for him. “Where are you going!?!” he says, violently.
“Off to Minnesota! …I can’t marry Joe!” says Lacey. “I’m not a FUCKING IDIOT!”
Zorba’s Dance plays.
“Don’t swear!” says Lem, demandingly.
“What difference does it make to you?” says Lacey.
“Lacey!!!” says Lem. “I HAVE NEVER HAD THAT!!!”
“Had what!?” says Lacey.
“SEX!!!” says Lem.
“Then why do you hold him?” says Lacey.
“He asks me to. …Lacey! …It might not be real.” he says.
She thinks.
“You KNOW THAT! …And now you don’t!?” he says.
“It was just a guess.” says Lacey. “But what do I really know??”
“I’ve never…had a woman…do that. Ever.” says Lem. “And certainly not one like you.”
“Jack hangs out with lots of whores.” says Lacey.
“Yes. …But they’ve never done that. Not once.” says Lem.
“Why not!?!” says Lacey.
“I’m not…what they want. They want Jack.” says Lem. “And they patronize me. Just to appease him.”
She thinks.
“And actually…what you just did…was…nothing I’ve seen before. …Where did you…learn all of that!?” says Lem.
“I invented it. …And I’ve dated some extremely experienced men. Joe is one of them.” says Lacey. “…I’m not that experienced. I’m just…me.”
“No. I’m…wrong. …But I’ve never told anyone that. You know?” says Lem.
“About the man who touched you?” says Lacey.
“Yeah. …I…think I made a mistake.” says Lem. “Lacey…I’ve sincerely never experienced this before.” says Lem, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand.
She goes quiet.
“We had sex!” he says to her.
“I suppose.” she says.
“Why…do you care?” he says.
“I’m madly in love with you. …I’ve never met a man quite like you.” says Lacey, very casually.
His eyes grow big. His breathing quickens and he looks extremely upset by something.
“Why are you so casual about it!?” he says. “Oh wait! Don’t tell me. …Because you’ve fallen in love before. …And you’re…skeptical. And sad.”
“Yes.” says Lacey.
“I’m still hard!” says Lem.
“My goodness.” says Lacey.
“How did you get in here!??” says Lem.
“It looks like I’m dressed.” says Lacey.
He thinks.
“And I have a driver.” says Lacey.
“Let’s go to bed!” he says. “If I get you pregnant…it won’t matter anyway.”
“Why?” says Lacey.
“I guess…you’ll just have to marry me. …That’s all.” says Lem.
“Why!?!” says Lacey.
“I can’t let you not marry me! …That’s ABSURD! …Did you hear what you said!?” says Lem.
“Dime a dozen! …People say stuff like that all the time. …I meant it. …But…what does it matter to most people nowadays anyway?” says Lacey.
“You are from Hollywood.” says Lem. “Fine! Well I don’t say stuff like that and not mean it! …And I don’t hear stuff like that…and not take it seriously. …I’m in shock. …Or I’d have a lot more to say.” says Lem.
“Like what!?!” says Lacey, doubtfully.
“You’re possibly pregnant!” says Lem.
Lacey thinks.
“Listen…I’m a…lemming, I guess. In a way. …I went along with Jack Kennedy’s…longings, I guess. …And…I didn’t think I’d do anything wrong if I did. …But…I guess…I was just…a fool. …Lacey…if you want to know the truth though? …If you weren’t here I doubt anyone would have thought that…doing what you just did…would…be wise, much less…something they wanted…to do.” says Lem.
“I adore you!” says Lacey.
He thinks. “I don’t think…you understand. …Lacey…I can tell you…want me. …But…lots of girls don’t. …I made a pass at Jackie once. And…she seemed…bothered by it. …Why…I really doubt…
*He thinks.*
Lacey…let’s go get in bed. …I’ll do anything. I promise. …For you…are…my…soul. …My everything.” says Lem.
“Don’t say that!” says Lacey.
“You’ve said it!” says Lem.
“But I mean it.” says Lacey.
“Men aren’t stupid. …I’ve been in love with you for months. …But people don’t say anything…when…they feel they can’t. …Today when Joe left…for New York…I was considering…what to say. …But…now it’s too late for you to know that.” says Lem.
“What on earth were you going to say?” says Lacey.
“I was going to tell you…that I…had to see you. And then tell you…that…I didn’t think you and Joe would ever be happy. …But that I wanted to see you. Still. …Tell you that I…enjoyed your company. And I’d…miss you.” says Lem.
“Why didn’t you?” says Lacey.
“I was waiting until this evening.” says Lem. “At least…dinner. When I knew you’d be home.”
“That’s not quick enough!” says Lacey.
“Your father means more to you than that!” says Lem. “And you always eat at home! …At least here in Washington.”
“Dammit.” says Lacey.
“Lacey…I told Jackie she had pretty hair! …She looked disturbed. …You just gave me the most pleasure I’ve felt my entire life. …You don’t seem to understand!” says Lem.
“Lem I don’t.” says Lacey.
He sighs. Smiles. “That’s fine. …I’ll try to make you understand…without breaking this beautiful trance you’re in.” says Lem.
“It’s not a trance. …I’ve been in love with you for weeks.” says Lacey.
“What happened?” says Lem, half smiling.
“It was dinner. At Cape Cod. …Rose made fun of your intelligence. …And you’d just said something extraordinary. …Believe me. I know. …All that bourgeois mumbo jumbo those eggheads have? …Some of the greatest minds alive find that sort of talk…obnoxious…and slow. …Because what’s behind it all!? What’s the meaning of it all? Why bother piddling away on nonsense…if nothing means a thing!?” says Lacey. “And you know that. …You know why I care. You know…life. …You know I exist.” says Lacey. “And Joe laughed. …And I saw a look in his eyes…that told me…he didn’t. And maybe wouldn’t…until death. …And they all just laughed at you. …And you laughed with them. …As always. …And it was then that I wanted you.”
“Lacey…I’ve been alone. …Jack keeps me. Essentially. …And I…can’t shake him. …But you can help.” says Lem. “Or we’ll die…trying to get away.”
Lacey looks down.
“Let’s go.” says Lem.
And he rises to embrace her.
“I’d have found some way…I promise.” says Lem. “Come with me; come on.”
She hides herself in his arms. And he makes love to her before they leave.
“Lem…you seriously…want us to believe…that you acted gay…and just went along with Jack? …Because you assumed you were a diseased homosexual!??” says Lady Gaga from 2024…if there’s an Illuminati.
“I don’t expect you. …Anymore. …But…I did not lie. …This blog is the actual truth of what really happened. …It’s hard to believe someone would go that far, but I did. …And there were other straight men who did too. …They’ve rarely been photographed or seen publicly. …Most photos of gay men you see on Instagram in old photos are actually gay. Or bisexual. …Rupert Brooke was bisexual…but he chose men. For similar reasons as I did, except I wasn’t homosexual at all. He was. …Bisexual. …I truly believed I was gay…and I felt it was…only correct and honorable to stay away from women…unless…you were fully able to love them…normally… Unless you…just…had to get married…I guess.
No. It’s extreme. And unusual. But…not impossible. And…it’s what happened. I was…straight.” says Lem.
“Did Bobby know that?” asks a reader.
“Yes. …But I’m not sure he’s ever been honest about it with himself or not.” says Lem. “He’s capable of lying…not just to women…when he cheats…but lying to himself. …He’s…a cheat.”
“So…you were a exceptionally eccentric person.” says Lady Gaga.
“Not that exceptional. …There were other men like me. …But…I guess it seems exceptional.” says Lem.
“How did you not know?!?” says a living gay man in 2024.
“I figured it out…in New York City…in 1981. …At pornography. …Before then…I had to find ways to impersonate gay men. …Like I’ve said. …At first I just impersonated women. …But then I found men to impersonate. …But that’s all it ever was.” says Lem. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you feel let down in some real way. …Even by the thought that I’d ever impersonate someone else so…seemingly unlikely to impersonate. ….Because you know it’s possible…technically…it just feels…unnerving? Yes? …Makes you question things. …But I did. …I faked being gay. Because I didn’t think it was fake.
And you know…there’s evidence to suggest that. My giddiness at Jack’s wedding. The way he looks…idiotically unaware of how odd that is. My drug use as it was…as it’s somehow straight…the way I used drugs. Really. There was something particularly straight about the exact way I did it. …Louis Hill Junior and Lacey know what I mean. …Watch The Ice Storm. …The key party! …There was a particular kind of cowboy-like masculinity…and it was very popular with men who sampled drugs. At parties. …And I started to dress that way. Grow my hair just a bit. …wear boots. On occasion. …And I got the idea from watching straight men who I did drugs with. …I had gay friends. Friends who wore Yves Saint Laurent. And…used coke to stay skinny and dance. …But…at parties…when I was high…I identified with straight men who were…smoking pot…doing mescaline…and…taking acid. And that was one of the things I loved about being high. …When I was high…I felt straight. Because I forgot so much…that I…merely felt things…and my mind was shut down enough…to just…barely matter. And so…I started imitating straight men…far more often…and it felt…comforting. I felt safe from my abuse. Like I’d finally hidden myself away from it. …Because usually I felt guilty acting straight. Like I was fooling people into thinking I was normal when I knew I wasn’t. …But when I was high…I didn’t feel guilty anymore…I just…experienced being straight. …And…I felt free. …And you can see it. It’s how I seem. It’s my manner. …In a lot of later photos I seem more like myself. Not…gay. And…more like me. …It’s the way I did it. It’s the kind of druggie I was. It’s straight culture form the 1970’s and late 60’s.
…I was too happy at Jack’s wedding. It’s impossible unless I was straight and somewhat daft. …Red Fay says I seemed weird, essentially. …Gore Vidal hated me. And it doesn’t entirely make sense. …You know…Jack slept with Red. Often. And Gore got along with him. He wasn’t jealous. …Gore might have slept with Jack. …He hated me…because I scared him. …As an author. He knew something was wrong with my character and he couldn’t put his finger on it…but he knew. …See…as a gay man…I’m one of your worst nightmares. …A secretly mostly straight…or completely straight man…who somehow thinks he’s gay…or is lying about it. …And…Gore made assumptions about me, subconsciously, to make sense of it all. …That I was essentially a huge, fat, over-grown frat boy…from some…snobby WASP family…who just…have oral sex to get by. Because men had the money. …And instead of settling down…and working…I just wanted to look cute…get tan…and lay around. A total mooch. …And along with that…he assumed I was intellectually shallow. …A man who could love…like Jack (he assumed Jack loved Jackie somewhat) but…again, was just too damn lazy to. …Too…shallow to. …And I think he thought I was afflicted…but…not like him. So…it was a choice for me. You know? I’d…somehow gotten the taste for it. And…just…chosen to be gay. …Not been born with it, like him. …You can’t do that…really. You can’t completely repress your sexual desires that way…and that’s sort of an old wives tale. …You can hide them…but you can’t alter them. Not really. …” Lem cuts off. Goes silent. Thinks. “I’m sorry if that’s hard to read.”
Later.
“No. I was straight. And I genuinely just mimicked gay men. …I just acted like a man who was homosexual. I didn’t feel anything homosexual. Ever. …What I felt was….repulsion…and guilt…and…somehow I didn’t feel empathy for Jack. Ever. …Because I always assumed he was too selfish to deserve it. …But yes…he was the one who was truly afflicted.
…He hid his feelings. …Just like Joe.
You know…Lacey really is mine. …Jack wouldn’t have known that. Neither would Joe. Unless we told them. Until we all died. …We’d both have been fully capable of seeming like friends. …Her kids would have looked like me. But…I’m not sure Joe would have known.
Anyway…there were times…when Jack would act put off by my fawning. …Really weirded-out. Like he was tolerating me. In public. …But in private…late at night…he’d get drunk…and say, ‘I’m horny.’ like an absolute idiot. Totally lacking any self-awareness of how dumb he looked or sounded. …He sounded a bit like Barney Fife, except with a thick Boston accent and he was slurring his words and more nasal sounding. …And I’d say, ‘Jack! …We can take care of it!’ And he’d look hurt. …At the time I didn’t register it. But he had read my tone. …Because the way I said it…was as if he was a buffoon and a problem. …And I acted as if I could help. You know? Hire someone. Possibly have to do it myself…although mostly I hired someone because I actually hated doing it myself. But my tone wasn’t of a lover. …And I think he…brushed that under the rug…because he was so narcissistic. Thought I was just hurt. Reacting to him. That kind of thing. …But…I was actually…mean. …And I didn’t even realize it. …I didn’t know that though. …His narcissism was only half registered by me. Ever. …At his wedding I didn’t give a shit that he was marrying someone else. …Because I didn’t care, really. …Red cared. Red looks sad. If you know what to look for. …It’s in his eyes. …Poor Red. …But I look…giddy. …Enormously pleased. And I was! …I was secretly excited to get him off my hands. …And I was…happy for him. …I had always wanted to get married. …But Jack…didn’t realize that. At all. …Maybe he did years later. But at the time…he just assumed he was incredibly lucky. I was…a real…gem! You know? I really understood! Wow! …And when I touched his shoulders he went ballistic. Because I was happy. And I didn’t seem to care one iota. …And…I think he assumed that was how profoundly I loved him. That I just…understood. Unlike all the women he’d get suicidal. He felt…that magically as man…I somehow…was just different. And yes, historians have even assumed as much. Possibly based on his own delusions. …But any normal gay man alive in 2024 will tell you…that seeing their supposed lover and long-term sexual and romantic partner marry someone else…would’ve made them sad. …Even if they’re still men, after all.” says Lem.
“Lem…did he have that delusion often?” says a gay man.
“Yes.
There were many girlfriends who he’d…flaunt in front of me…to harass me. Because he knew I could get aroused by women. …And he knew I was somewhat choosing to live as a gay man. …And he knew how…genuinely lonely I was. Like a priest. …But he…never realized how weird it was that I didn’t try to sleep with any of them…and yet…I didn’t…care. …He’d spend hours with both of us. Often posing us all together. He loved posing people for photographs. And he’d always sexualize ours. Often coming on to me in photos…and…often to my surprise. Often making sexualized images…I…didn’t fully…understand the hidden homosexual meaning of. …I’d go along with it…but…he was making art. …He was…insinuating I was his…boyfriend. And that we were both fully cognizant of it…and…happily committed. But…that’s IMPOSSIBLE. …He never openly accepted or acknowledged his own homosexuality. To anyone. Ever. …In any way. At least not that I’m aware of. …There was no hot, heavy, intense intimacy between us. He just posed photos to create that impression. Partially to fool people…and scare them…using my sexuality and intelligence and Old Money reputation and the shocking nature of homosexual back then…and partially because he may have wanted…to believe…he was secretly living that life. Both to be narcissistic and feel superior to people who would be scared or shocked…or hurt…and because he secretly longed for a gay relationship. …He was completely incapable of monogamy…and honesty…and real intimacy. He was a terrible lover and a awful husband. …But he wanted to believe he was GREAT. …Great at EVERYTHING.
…I…think of…Lacey. Hearing me say, ‘We can take care of it!’ …She’d leave me. Right then and there. …I think of her…posing me for photos…on top of her…to look provocative…to anyone who would find the photos…and…me…walking away…cold…disinterested…and…quiet. Like how I was with Jack. Not…mean…but…distant. She’d…panic. …I think of her marrying someone else and me saying, ‘Hey! We’ll always have Germany. Right?” like I genuinely didn’t give a rip. Which in essence is how I treated Jack at his wedding. …She’d be…enraged. I’d never see her again. …But Jack was pathetic. As a narcissist. And he made me look pathetic.” says Lem.
“So he’d pose you with your arm around some chick. …And then take her to have sex…hours later. And leave you where!?” asks a reader.
“You know…the idea of ‘sharing’ a woman…back then…was to connect with a man. …People didn’t do that to avoid intimacy and commitment. …They didn’t share women…to be polygamous. They did that because they didn’t want to have gay sex. Yet. Or…they were experimenting. …Jack didn’t fully understand that. …He just wanted to sleep around. …And somehow…also…be with me. …Not in a polyamorous manner. No. …In some…truly evil way. …But he didn’t know. Because I acted like I barely cared. And I didn’t.
He’d pose us…yes. And we’d all hang-out, so to speak, for…the afternoon. …And then by 6 or so…he’d take her on a date. And I’d get drunk…and read. Or…chat with his siblings. Or parents. Or read. …And then I’d…think of women. And he knew that…and assumed I was…thinking of him I guess? And the woman he’d gone off with? Or something. …And I corrected him once…and he just ignored it. And then once I realized it was fortunate he didn’t understand. Because he’d always leave me alone. And I didn’t have to worry about servicing him. He’d just…be okay. …So I let him think we were happily having an orgy from a distance. Even though that’s ludicrous. …And he’d just…not notice.
He’d sleep with 50 women…every year. Or so. There were 20 he’d keep on a chain, unhappily. …And…ten men. He’d sleep with. …And despite the impression I possibly gave some people by looking at them funny…I didn’t give a shit. And there’s photographs to prove it…from his wedding and otherwise.
Yeah. I just…didn’t…care.” says Lem. “And he never noticed.”
If there’s an Illuminati Joshua Jackson laughs.
“Yeah. …Listen! …If you thought you should…you’d have convinced them all too.” says Lem.
“What happened…in the White House?” asks Dan Levy if there’s an Illuminati.
“Jack…became friends…with far more genuinely sophisticated people. And several women felt that…something was off about me. They either thought I was asexual or straight or…a spy? Something! …And they told Jack I was weird for not having more interest in him sexually. …So…I tried to find ways to get out of it. …And…it didn’t work. …Before people would assume I was madly in love with Jack and not care. …But when Jack met these new friends…he suddenly became obsessed with the idea that I wasn’t really on the level.” says Lem.
“So…you never gave him the opportunity to feel rejected? If he never notice?” says Lady Gaga.
“Never noticed.” says Lem.
Another man laughs.
“How…did Jack…not…know!??” says Elton John.
“That I wasn’t really into him?” says Lem.
“Yeah! All those years!?!” Elton John.
Lem stifles laughter. “I’m sorry. …I care as a Christian. But right now…
Listen…he noticed partially. And it thrilled him. Especially when I resorted to fawning. …Because he refused to believe fawning wasn’t real departure from one’s actual needs and desires. He believed you had made the person change. If they gave-up. Like brainwashing…but…for real.
But…a part of him…just didn’t get it. And it was mostly rooted in narcissism. But…a part of it was naïveté. …He was raised by parents who were in a bizarre relationship. A father who had severe mental health issues and a mother who had severe mental illnesses. …And personality disorders. And drug addictions. …Joe refused to leave Rose. And Rose both didn’t care…and was constantly ready to commit suicide over Joe. … Why didn’t Joe leave Rose? …Out of hatred. For God. For everyone but Rose. …And Rose…hated everybody in her own way too. Used Joe to harass women. …And yet also knew he was worthless to her really. …And they had a weird sex life. Totally gross and dysfunctional. …Very backward too. …They confused him.” says Lem. “He had no idea what sex really was supposed to be like. Or what it was about. Almost at all. Not that parents should explain…but rather…you can assume what’s normal and not. You know?
So…Rose would be gone…and yet she’d come back…delusional…and insist she had been in Joe’s mind the whole time and even if he was in bed with someone else…she’d ignore it and insist he was faithful. Not just in love with her. Faithful.
Jack used that delusion as his basis for reality. He didn’t understand that it was a delusion. …So…I think he genuinely didn’t understand that I was inherently going to get angry…if I cared in any normal way.” says Lem.
“I’d love to write a scene where we meet him.” says a living gay man.
It’s a party. 1946. Except 2024 1946.
“Jack! Hey man!” says a living gay Gen. Z man from 2024.
“Hey.” says JFK.
“So…let’s meet the fam!” says the Gen. Z man.
Jack nods and leads them to meet people very seriously. “Here’s my mom Rose!” says Jack.
A dazed woman blinks at them. Laughs.
“Hi Rose!” says the Gen. Z man.
She says nothing.
They move on.
“Here’s my pops!” says JFK.
“HEY!” says JP, way too aggressively, desperate for approval or something.
“Hey!” says the Gen. Z man, coolly.
Suddenly it gets awkward.
JFK nods…awkwardly. For no reason other than to cover for the awkwardness.
They move on.
“They’re both drunk!” says JFK, giggling.
“Right!” says the Gen. Z man.
“And this is LEM!” says JFK, hanging on Lem.
“Lemmers!?” says the Gen. Z man.
Jack laughs. Arms around Lem’s neck as he literally hangs on him.
“So…Lem…sick name! Where’s it from?” says a Gen. Z man.
Lem looks very serious suddenly. Thinks. “It’s a way of shortening LeMoyne, which is my middle name.” says Lem.
“Cool. …French.” says the Gen. Z man.
“Yes!!!” says Lem, forcefully laughing and smiling.
Jack suddenly looks distracted. Looks around the room. Eyeing dozens of people. Calculating something.
“So…ahh…what are your hobbies, Lem?” asks the Gen. Z man.
Lem looks confused. Thinks. “Well! Ahh…I like to fish. …Rowing. …I used to collect stamps. …I like dancing.” says Lem.
“What kind of dancing?” he asks.
“Oh. I’m awkward, I guess. …Ahh…oh…a little bit of everything. You know? This and that.” says Lem.
“Like…ballet?” asks the Gen. Z man.
“No!! …Swing dancing. …Ballroom dancing. You name it!” says Lem.
“With women?” asks the Gen. Z man.
“Yes. …Dancing with men is awkward. …Who leads? …No, I grew-up dancing with my sister. And my mom!” says Lem.
“Oh! Because you’re like…so gay!” says the Gen. Z man.
Lem looks stunned. Gets quiet. JFK…still hanging on Lem…looks really bored.
“Jack…are we keeping you from something?” says the Gen. Z man.
“Oh my god! No! …I’m very present!” says Jack. “I just…keep seeing people I know!”
“You shouldn’t let us keep you!” says the Gen. Z man.
“Oh my god! No!” says Jack.
“Lem…who’s the hottest male actor alive today?” says the Gen. Z man.
Lem thinks. Looks awkward. Thinks. “Ahh…I don’t know! I can’t choose. …By hot you mean popular?”
“No! I mean…sexy! Like…arousing.” says the Gen. Z man.
“I guess they all are, in a way!” says Lem.
“Who’s the sexiest female actress?” asks the Gen. Z man.
“Lana Turner!” says Lem.
“Nah! She’s not that great!” says Jack. “RITA HAYWORTH.”
Lem shrugs.
“He’s GAY!” says Jack, really loudly, about Lem. “He’s too stupid to know!” says Jack tapping his head.
“Why do you like Lana Turner, Lem?” asks the Gen. Z man.
Lem looks down. “I guess I don’t know.” he says. He shrugs. “But ahh…her eyes. …Just the way she looks at you.”
Jack rolls his eyes. “What a faggot!” he says, laughing.
“What’s gay about liking her eyes?” asks the actual gay Gen. Z man.
“Who likes a woman’s EYES!?” says JFK. “Men don’t like EYES!”
Lem laughs. Jack let’s go. Glares at him.
“What? Lem you disagree?” says the Gen. Z man.
“I don’t know. …It just seems kinda sexy.” says Lem, shrugging while staring down at the ground.
“What does?” asks the Gen. Z man.
Jack looks confused. Uneasy.
“The thought of staring into a woman’s eyes while…you know…fucking her.” says Lem.
Jack looks repulsed. Snarls. “Man!! That’s not how it is at all! …You don’t want to see some of the ugly looks women give while you make them cum! …The noises they make. It’s…the messy part. …You wanna see…their tits! Their ass! …What’s the point of looking in their eyes?” says Jack, sincerely.
“To connect with their soul!” says Lem, seriously.
Jack looks stunned. “You rarely ever say stuff like this.”
“You never ask!” says Lem. “I’d never just openly talk about this!”
“Man!” says Jack. “Who’d you fuck!?!” spites Jack at Lem.
“Someone who I loved.” says Lem.
Jack looks very serious.
“Like he’s in love with you!?” says the Gen. Z man.
Jack looks stunned again.
“You’re BISEXUAL!!” a Gen. X man yells at JFK, like he’s deaf.
Jack freezes. Staring off into the ether. In a weird trancelike state.
“Lem! …What’s hotter!? …Getting stuck on a desert island with Lana Turner…who’s naked…or…the statue of David…come to life?” asks a Gen. X man.
“Oh! I think that one’s easy! …Every man would pick Lana Turner. And grant you, I’m no different. …But I’m a dud, I tell you. …You don’t want to waste your time with fellas like me. …Jack is right. …He’s just…more to the point than I.” says Lem.
“Why Lana Turner?” asks the Gen. X man.
“I’m not going to talk about that! …It ain’t proper!” says Lem, laughing.
“Why?” says the Gen. Z man.
Lem laughs and shakes his head.
“Do you have any idea what he means?” the Gen. X man asks Jack.
“Why are we on Saturday Night Live?” says JFK. “I feel…weird.”
“Huh.
Like a parody of yourself!?” says the Gen. Z man.
Jack nods. As if in a stupor. “Am I on acid!?”
“No. …We’re dead. …And God did this to us…because you were messing around too much with the living…and God thought it was funny. And so did Chris Farley.” explains Jackie.
“So! …Why Lana Turner?” asks a Gen. X actor.
“Her eyes! …Come on!” says Lem.
“I don’t get it.” says the Gen. X man.
“They’re seducing me.” says Lem. “It’s like…falling asleep. You can’t get out.”
Jack looks bored.
“He’s not gay!” says the Gen. X man to Jack.
Jack looks unaffected.
“Lem…do you like sucking cock?” asks Mario Lopez.
“Who likes that?! …No. But…I’m gay.” says Lem.
“What about giving Lana Turner oral sex!??” says the Gen. Z man.
Lem laughs. “It’s Lana Turner!”
“Right. …What about this chick!?” says the Gen. Z man showing him a glamorous photo of Lacey.
Lem looks at the picture. Stares at it. Keeps staring at it.
“Ain’t she something!?” says Elliott Roosevelt, behind him.
Lem…looks sad, then smirks. “She’s pretty.” he says. “She’s a new actress?”
“No! She’s your wife.” says the living Gen. X man.
Lem looks odd. Glances around. “MY WIFE!??”
“Yeah. …If there’s reincarnation…you had four miscarriages together.” says the Gen. X man.
“Would you like to be on a desert island with her? Or Jack?” asks the Gen. Z man.
“She’s not famous.” says the Gen. X man.
“Her. But…who wouldn’t? She’s…
My wife!?!?” says Lem.
“Let me see her!” says Jack.
Lem holds the photo away.
“Why can’t I see her?” asks Jack.
“She’s probably a man.” says Jackie.
Jack laughs.
“Let’s go sailing.” she says.
“MY GOD!!!!” says Lem looking at the picture.
“Jack…do you ever fuck him?” asks the Gen. Z man.
“No! I’m not gay!” says Jack.
Fast forward to 1961.
Standing in Jack’s closet. I was trying to work with other people before. I’ll write this one.
Chris Farley, Jack Kennedy and Lem stand with David Spade in Jack’s closet. A walk-in closet.
“Man! Sweet!!!” says David Spade, looking around.
Kate Spade laughs.
Jack laughs response, proudly, grinning.
“Jack. Who’s your favorite designer?” asks Chris Farley.
“Oh that’s a tough one! …Let’s see…I get everything tailored. …So… Jackie picks out my suits. …Pierre Cardin. Brooks Brothers. Marx? …Lots of famous names!” says JFK, grinning.
“Oh! Pierre Cardin! FANCY!” says Chris Farley.
“I like…a good suit. …It makes you feel…nice. You know!? Like…James Bond!” says JFK.
“Yes! Sexy man!” says Chris Farley.
JFK laughs.
“So sexy! Who wouldn’t want to suck his balls!?” jokes Chris Farley brilliantly impersonating a gay man, suddenly.
Jack laughs. Shrugs. “Yeah.” he says, disdainfully.
“Do you collect ties!?” says Chris Farley, still impersonating a gay man, very humorously.
“Yeah.” says JFK.
“Oh!! LET US SEE THEM!!!” says Willie Garson.
Jack looks awkward. Debating.
“PLEASE!” says Willie Garson.
Jack looks weird, shaking.
“DIOR!?!” says Willie Garson.
Jack looks serious. “Yes.”
“Let us see the ties!!!” says Chris Farley.
“Okay. Fine!” says JFK. He leads them to his tie collection.
“GET OUT!!!” says Chris Farley.
“It’s just…a few dozen. …I collect them. …Like…souvenirs.” says JFK.
“Like sex souvenirs!?” says Chris Farley.
“Yeah! …It’s just a guy thing!” says Jack, laughing pompously.
“Yeah! SUCH A STRAIGHT GUY THING!” says Chris Farley. “SO HET!”
“Yah.” says JFK, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Dude!!! …Ladies LOVE TIES!” says Chris Farley.
“And underwear!” says Willie Garson.
“Ha!” says JFK.
“Boxers or briefs!?!” says Willie Garson.
“Briefs!” says JFK. “Comfort!”
“Same!” says Willie Garson.
“Can we see your underwear?” says Rock Hudson.
“You wanna see my underwear!?” says JFK.
“YEAH!” says Willie Garson.
Jack laughs. Blushes. “I don’t think we better do that!”
“You’re not that kinda boy!” says Willie Garson.
Jack looks at him.
“Neither am I!!” says Tab Hunter.
“Let’s see your panty drawer!” says Chris Farley.
“You know…I’m not that kind of boy!” says JFK, sincerely.
“Neither are we, sweetie!” says a dead drag queen.
“Well…I don’t know about that!” says Jack.
“Oh! Come on!!! Let’s have FUN!” says Tab Hunter.
“Yeah! Give a guy a break!” says Chris Farley.
“Loosen up, Jack! It’s just underwear! Geez!” says Chris Farley.
“Whatchu wearing? …Silk?” says Yves Saint Laurent.
“Yes. It’s silk. …Sometimes. …Women love silk!” says JFK. “Surely you fellas know that!”
“Women love silk!” says Willie Garson.
And for the next five minutes Jack gives a dead drag queen (not in drag), David Spade, Chris Farley, Willie Garson, Tab Hunter and Rock Hudson a tour of his underwear drawer. Five minutes later,
“Geez! You’re fun!” says Chris Farley.
“Wanna suck my cock?” says Tab Hunter.
“No. …Thank you.” says JFK.
“I’ll take that as a raincheck.” says Tab Hunter.
Jack Kennedy laughs.
The men say their goodbyes. One of them from the 1970’s kisses Jack on the lips.
Then they all leave. The drag queen shaking their hips as they sashay out.
“Awesome perfume! You wore Krigler, No. 4711? And now Tom Ford? And…Bleu!?” says Chris Farley.
“Yes. By Chanel.” says JFK.
“Let’s go see Lem’s closet. In New York.” says Chris Farley, back in his normal voice, mostly.
They stand in a small…messy…dusty closet. Dirty socks shoved into a corner.
“We saw your friend’s closet!” says Dame Edna.
“It’s…nice.” says Chris Farley.
“How old are those socks!?” asks David Spade.
“Five years.” says Lem. “I hate…bothering.”
“Then don’t!” says Chris Farley.
“Yeah. Why bother?” says Lem.
“You’re…depressed?” says Tab Hunter.
Lem stares. “What do you guys want?”
“We’re just here to examine your closet!” says Chris Farley.
“We just saw Jack Kennedy’s!” says Dame Edna. “We wanna see the man behind the man!”
“I’m not with Jack.” says Lem.
“Well! Let’s still see it!” says Willie Garson.
“This is it!” says Lem.
They can’t all fit in it. They all peak in periodically.
“It’s nice too!” says Chris Farley.
“Do you wear perfume?” asks Rock Hudson.
“Sure!” Lem points to a half empty bottle of men’s aftershave from the 1950’s. And one from the 1970’s.
“Oh! That’s…herbal.” says David Spade.
Lem nods.
“You’re such a perfect pair with Jack! You’re so…grumpy and masculine. And…cold…about him. And…yet…not?” says Dame Edna.
“I hate Jack Kennedy.” says Lem.
“Lem! What’s this?” asks David Spade, finding Lem’s Playboy collection.
“Just some magazines!” says Lem.
“Oh! You are obviously trying to keep up with your lover!” says Dame Edna.
“No. …I collect those!” says Lem. “Just for fun.”
Awkward silence.
“What’s so fun about porn!?” jokes Dame Edna.
Lem is silent.
“Man! You have every one! Up until the year you died!” says David Spade.
“DAMN!” says Chris Farley. “In MINT CONDITION!”
“What else do you have in here?” asks Dame Edna.
“Clothes!” says Tab Hunter.
Lem laughs. “Yup!”
“What’s this!?” says Dame Edna, holding a worn plaid shirt.
“Just…a shirt.” says Lem.
“Do you enjoy shopping?” asks Dame Edna.
“Sometimes.” says Lem.
Dame Edna laughs.
“Do you have lube in here?” asks David Spade.
“NO!” says Lem.
“We’re dead…Lem.” says Dame Edna, suddenly and sincerely.
“I’m not. But Kate is…and I travel back to this moment.” explains David Spade.
“I know.” says Lem.
“It’s 1981.” says Dame Edna.
“Dude…you have a depressing closet.” says Chris Farley.
“It’s not that bad.” says Willie Garson.
“No. It’s bad. …I was too depressed to clean.” says Lem.
“I can tell!” says Dame Edna.
“PORN!” says Rock Hudson. “You’ve got a few gay classics…and…this.”
“Have you watched this?” asks Tab Hunter, holding up the gay porn.
“Once.” says Lem.
“What’s THIS!?” says Chris.
Lem grabs it. It’s some 1970’s film.
“Is that straight porn from the 1970’s?” asks David Spade.
Lem refuses to answer.
“Lem! Where’s your Jack memorabilia?” asks David Spade.
“I have lots of that! …There’s his writing. And…a…few albums of photos. …A pair of his shoes. And…a shirt.” says Lem.
“Why’d you keep all that shit?” says David Spade.
“I wanted to think it meant something. But I…” says Lem. He shrugs.
“So you…miss him?” says Dame Edna.
Lem stares. Grimly.
“I’m just glad I’m dead.” says Lem.
David Spade laughs. “Lem…I think you were straight.” he says. “So…why do you collect Playboy?”
Lem smiles. Laughs. Arms shaking. “I never married, you know?”
“But I thought Jack kept you from ever being lonely?” asks Dame Edna.
“Jack Kennedy…is a piece of shit!!” says Lem.
Tab Hunter stifles a laugh.
“Cool porn collection, man!” says Chris Farley.
Lem grunts.
“Well…too bad you never got married!” says Dame Edna.
Lem stares forlornly at the ground.
Tab Hunter stifles another laugh.
“Lem…thank you so much for letting us see your closet.” says Dame Edna.
Lem smiles kindly.
“I’m sure someday you’ll have a wife who will relish the honor of cleaning up after you.” says Dame Edna.
“Yeah!” says Rock Hudson.
“Where is she!?” says Lem.
Awkward silence.
“Did you scare her away? Or do you have to wait?” says Dame Edna.
“All that porn man!” says David Spade.
“NO!! …I’m in HELL!” says Lem.
“No!! You’re not!!!” says David Spade.
“Do you…collect…anything other than Playboy and porn?” asks Willie Garson.
“Antiques. From the US.” says Lem.
“That you like.” says Willie Garson.
Lem thinks. “No.”
“No ties!?” says Tab Hunter.
“I have ties. I just rarely wear them.” says Lem.
“Would you let us see your underwear?” says Willie Garson.
“No!” says Lem.
“Boxers or briefs?” says Willie.
“Briefs.” says Lem.
Awkward silence.
“Why?” says Willie.
“Comfort.” says Lem.
“Lacey prefers you wear boxers.” says Willie.
“LACEY!” says Lem.
“Well…it’s been nice talking with you.” says Dame Edna.
“Sure! Sorry.” says Lem.
“Thank you, Lem!” says Tab.
“Goodnight!” says Lem.
They all leave.
“That was a reference to From Here to Eternity.” says Gore Vidal.
“It was.” says Lem. “Nobody caught it.”
“Lacey did.” says Gore.
“Because she’s Lacey. …Dammit!” says Lem.
“You were too indirect and subtle.” says Gore Vidal.
“I didn’t think people were so shallow. …I assumed they’d know I was making a dark commentary on my own miserable life.” says Lem.
“You were straight! …That’s the problem! You assumed homosexuality was a choice. Like it was for you. And you’d be talking sense. …But you weren’t gay at all!” says Gore Vidal.
“I kept thinking…people would catch on.” says Lem. “Given time.”
“You weren’t that clear.” says Gore. “And you assumed far too much of people.”
“What did I assume?” says Lem.
“That they cared.” says Gore.
Lem thinks. “Yeah!” he says.
And Lacey and Lem leave.
Keen to Cross the Pond 
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