I’m not an actor.
I don’t pretend to be one. I’m a storyteller.
I don’t pretend to be one.
I’m a storyteller.
I write voice-driven stories, and sometimes I believe in those voices so completely that they stop feeling like characters on a page and start feeling like people sitting across from me.
This birthday, I gave myself an unusual gift.
I took a scene I’d written and reimagined it as a phone call with a mother I’ll never have.
My real mother disowned me for being gay many years ago. That’s part of my life, and I can’t change it. But stories let us imagine different conversations. They let us visit the lives we wish we’d had, if only for a few minutes.
So I picked up an imaginary phone and had a conversation with my reimagined mother.
She’s outrageous. She’s impossible. She’s hilarious. She remembers everyone’s name except the ones that matter. And for a little while, I got to experience something I’ve never had.
I’m not asking anyone to believe it’s real.
I’m simply inviting you into my world.
Please enjoy the story.
Please enjoy the video.
Welcome to Script-Coms™
Script-Coms™ Scene: “The Best Birthday Call”
(Living room. Afternoon. Iced lavender lattes sweating on coasters that probably cost too much. Alta lounges like she invented leisure; Felix sits, concerned, stylish, resigned.)
ALTA
Do you know what? I got the best birthday call today.
FELIX
Mother, it’s not your birthday.
ALTA
I know. But it was still the best birthday call.
FELIX
That doesn’t even make sense.
ALTA
Lorraine called and wished me happy birthday.
FELIX
Who?
ALTA
Exactly what I said! But you know that half-and-half friend of yours—half Jew, half ham magician. He always makes it disappear.
I’ve never seen a man eat so much ham.
(Alta glances around, conspiratorial.)
FELIX
You mean David? Maybe don’t label people like fractions, Mother.
ALTA
Yes! That’s literally David’s own brand, but OK.
Fine. He’s one hundred percent ham.
(savors it)
I sort of adore him. But don’t ever tell him. And if you’re recording this, I’ll disown you.
FELIX
Mother, we all know you adore him. Why can’t you just remember his name?
ALTA
I refuse. I want to rename him. He just doesn’t look like a David. I’m torn between—
FELIX
Mother, please don’t. This is how we ended up with six names and two people delivering the mail.
ALTA
What are those two mailmen’s real names?
FELIX
We may never know.
(beat)
Remember when you wanted to rename me?
ALTA
I still might.
ALTA
Anyway—back to Lorraine. She gives off low-test-score energy, but she’s cheerful. Tried to share a recipe for something called Pig-in-a-Clump.
FELIX
Mom, she once made that for me. The first time I met her was at David’s parents’ house.
I was under the table trying to keep that bug-eyed Pekingese alive and pry that clump out of its mouth.
(pauses)
She must’ve thought I liked it.
ALTA
Have you noticed she always has an alternating smell?
FELIX
Constantly.
ALTA
It’s not B.O.—it’s more like Hamburger Helper and Crystal Light.
FELIX
Yep.
ALTA
Once I leaned in and got a whiff of paprika.
(delighted)
She’s sort of like a Lazy Susan… that smells.
FELIX
Please never say that again.
ALTA
You know I will.
(beat)
ALTA
You can’t out-story me today, son. You’re talking to a woman who got out of a speeding ticket by claiming she was having a Big Mac attack—after doing eighty in a twenty-five—in a candy-apple-red Mustang.
FELIX
Loving this.
(drinks)
I’m ready for the nonsense.
ALTA
She did give me the best gift.
FELIX
Great. We finally got there.
ALTA
She told me she didn’t own nice furniture for twelve years.
FELIX
I’ve been in her house. It looks like early Walmart.
ALTA
Exactly! And now she says it’s eighties Walmart.
But the reason she didn’t have good furniture for twelve years?
Because David spent the first twelve gnawing the enamel off everything.
Like a little beaver!
(wicked smile)
I’m going to use that against him.
God, I love that kid.
(Felix sips, defeated.)
FELIX
This is why I don’t bring people over.
ALTA
Ben and Jerry—that’s the mailmen’s names!
FELIX
No, Mother. That’s ice cream.
(Alta blinks, unfazed. Felix sighs.)
ALTA
Well… I still like them.
FELIX
Mom, David’s real dad is Jewish. He told me he once went to a family wedding, had a great time, felt comfortable, great connection—and came home with a full trial membership.
Sort of like Sam’s Club for the soul.
He thinks as long as he keeps matzo crackers in the house—and they’re not expired—his membership’s still valid.
ALTA
Sometimes I wish I had unlimited money and celebrity friends so I’d know what it feels like to have one connection.
FELIX
Mother, you’re the richest person I know—and I’ve seen the paperwork. You owned Imelda DeMarco’s for two weeks, so you do know famous people.
ALTA
But I had to return her.
FELIX
Then learn to take better care of your celebrities.
ALTA
I fed them.
FELIX
Remember when Jimmy Hoffa lived in my treehouse?
ALTA
Remember when I bought you that Nintendo and you promised we wouldn’t have this conversation anymore?
FELIX
Nobody has seen him since.
ALTA
Anyway—can you have Stephanie check my security cameras?
I had a group of drag queens over, and you know my war room—where I keep my shoes and wigs?
Well, things are missing.
I watched the new Lady Bunny video and I swear she’s wearing a hairpiece that belongs to me.
Now, I’m not mad—that was last season—but if queens are going to start getting my old hairpieces, I need to start a foundation.
A write-off situation. Wigs with purpose. Shoes with destiny. “Something the IRS fears. I want paperwork that makes a man sweat.”
FELIX
I’ll tell her. Maybe she can call it Wigs for Justice.
ALTA
That’s good. I’d fund that.
(satisfied)
If I’m going to be robbed by queens, at least let it be deductible.
FELIX
Apparently, you’ve been funding it.
ALTA
They don’t mind last season wigs and shoes. Drag Queens is the new UNICEF.
ALTA
(Scares herself and screams)
YAHTZEE!
FELIX
What new level of nonsense is this now, Mother?
ALTA
I just remembered the mailmen’s names.
Brooks & Dunn.
The tall one—the one who’d look better as a woman—is Brooks.
The short fluffy one? Dunn.
FELIX
No, Mother.
Those are country singers.
And I am officially done.
See you next week.
ALTA
Call me later.
FELIX
Of course, Mother.
(Lights fade. Manhattan sparkles like it’s in on the joke.)
Fun!