Mom and Dad can no more make me straight than they can make me short. There’s this thing called biology, and it’s calling the shots. Mom and Dad realize this. Others do not.
The tune here is an old-fashioned town-crowd melody—kind of like how the people from the town in The Music Man might sound if Harold Hill had brought an infant homosexual to town instead of wind instruments.
[“OH! WHAT A BIG GAY BABY!”]
CROWD:
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
He must weigh twenty pounds.
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
Why is he making those sounds?
TINY
(makes baby disco sounds, sort of like a gay dance club has opened on Sesame Street)
CROWD:
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
Feeding him must be such work!
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
He only falls asleep to Björk!
MOM AND DAD:
Possibly maybe . . .
Possibly maybe . . .
CROWD:
He prefers hot male nurses
and cries at ugly purses.
Has a booty and knows to shake it.
Has a pacifier and loves to take it.
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
Bedazzle the diapers and order them large!
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
Pimp his crib the size of a barge!
MOM AND DAD:
Look at this Big Gay Baby of ours—
not something you read about in Dr. Spock.
Look at our Big Gay Baby—
not what we were expecting when we were
expecting.
Hello, dear Big Gay Baby,
you might have to run before you can walk.
CROWD:
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
We’re not really sure how we feel.
MEN IN CROWD:
Be a man, boy! Be a man!
WOMEN IN CROWD:
That’s our plan, boy! That’s our plan!
CROWD:
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
Already the size of a giant T. rex.
Oh! What a Big Gay Baby!
So unimpressed by the opposite sex.
He dances to show tunes
and has cheeks round as full moons.
We wish he’d show some respect,
but with a Big Gay Baby, what can you ex—
MOM AND DAD (spoken):
Shhh! He’s sleeping!
CROWD
(turning it into a lullaby):
Goodnight Sondheim, goodnight June.
Goodnight faggot, goodnight room.
Welcome, Big Gay Baby!
You’re going to find . . .
it’s a helluva world!
ACT I, SCENE 2
Now Tiny is four. (If he’s wearing a button, change it to AGE: 4.) The carriage is wheeled offstage, and Mom and Dad return carrying a pew-like bench. They sit down on it, with Tiny in the middle. The chorus arranges itself behind them, in the formation of a church choir.
Tiny looks a little uncomfortable between his parents.
TINY:
It wasn’t very long before my parents introduced me to their religion. I was four, so I didn’t know there was any possibility of questioning it. Plus, I wanted so much to fit in. I know that’s the story of our whole lives, but it all starts here. More than anything else, we want to fit into our own families.
DAD:
Son, it’s very important to me that you take this seriously.
TINY:
Yes, Dad.
MOM:
It’s not to be questioned. This is how we were raised, and it’s how we are going to raise you. It is very important to us.
TINY:
I understand, Mom.
MOM AND DAD:
Good.
The music for “RELIGION” should be . . . well . . . religious. Hymnlike and intense, as if sung by a true church choir. It must be sung very seriously, as if we’re in a house of worship. I mean, not in a Sister Act, gospel-choir sense—these are NOT nuns led by Whoopi Goldberg. They are from Illinois. And not the gospel parts of Illinois. We are deep in the suburbs here.
Tiny looks slightly uncomfortable in the pew.
[“RELIGION”]
DAD, MOM, AND CHORUS:
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
is our day
for religion.
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
we congregate
and pray.
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
is a
visitation.
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
Every Sunday
we watch
them play.
A television is wheeled out in front of the Cooper family. Dad turns it on. They are basked in the glow of the game. All the chorus members take out Chicago Bears banners and foam #1 fingers and begin to wave them in a synchronized, still church-like way.
As the song goes on, we should see Tiny getting more and more into it.
DAD, MOM, AND CHORUS:
Hail Mary
Hail Mary
Hail Mary . . .
Pass!
Godspeed
Godspeed
Godspeed . . .
To the end zone!
(Hymnlike, the chorus now splits into men and women, echoing each other.)
WOMEN:
Remember the Super Bowl Shuffle.
MEN:
Remember the Super Bowl Shuffle.
WOMEN:
In this land of plenty—
MEN:
In this land of plenty—
WOMEN:
—we won Super Bowl Twenty.
MEN:
—we won Super Bowl Twenty.
WOMEN AND MEN TOGETHER (in crescendo):
Ditka!
Ditka!
Ditka!
(For those of you who prefer to avoid sports at all costs, Mike Ditka was not only a player when the Chicago Bears won the national championship in 1963, he was the head coach when they won in 1985. This is like Bernadette Peters winning a Tony for Song & Dance in 1985 and then coming back in 2007 and winning for directing a revival of it. Which didn’t happen, but I wish it had.)