NOTE: If the actor chooses to play all three characters live and not on tape, he can change his head position for each character. He would look to the right when playing the Mother then turn his head to the left when playing Freddy. Body language is also important for the actor. The Mother could always have her hand on her hip and be fluffing her hair. Marcello would have a deeper voice than Freddy and could be licking his finger and smoothing his brow, in a very vain gesture, as he speaks.
 

(Lights up. We see a man sitting in a chair. Beside him is a telephone on top of a small wooden table. The table is covered with purple velvet. He addresses the audience, wistfully.)

 
FREDDY: Body language. Sexual obsession. The language of his body. Can I read him? I just don't know. I'm really scared to call this guy. He barely knows me, anyway. (Pause. He sighs.) Isn't life wonderful?! (He rises.) He has no idea how I feel about him. All these wild fantasies I've been having. I want his body so badly I can taste it. God, I wish I could taste him!!

(A female voice comes over the sound system.)

MOTHER: Freddy! Don't use any dirty language, dear. Remember, you want to send this script to the Canada Council to get a grant. These are very repressive times, lovey! So don't say "fuck" or "cock" or "eat ass" or "bumfuck". And whatever you do, don't say "cocksucker". That'll really upset them!
FREDDY: Alright, mother. I promise not to say "bumfuck". Okay? (He speaks to the audience once more.) Don't mind her. She's dead. Now where was I? Oh, yes, sexual obsession! If this guy were my lover, my life would be complete. (Pause.) I hope! But, let's face it, we're not talking reality here. I mean, what if we finally make love and he farts when he comes?! What if he has bad breath!? What if he's an alcoholic!?  Then what do I do? All I end up with is a real person, for christ sake! Who wants that?! (He's almost on the verge of tears.) Oh no, maybe I'm really just out of my god-damned fucking mind!!

(Mother's voice comes over the sound system.)

MOTHER: I think you hit the nail on the head, dear!
FREDDY: Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. (He takes a long look at the phone. After a pause, he sits down and picks up the receiver.) Fuck it! Here goes. I have to be strong. Courageous. I have to ask him for a date. (Pause.) Yes! I'll do it! (He pushes ten buttons on the phone.) Christ, I can't! (He hangs up the phone. Looks at audience.) Okay, so I'm a coward. I'll call him again in ten minutes. (Pause.) Or maybe tomorrow. (Said in a soft, weak voice.) Or the next day. I promise. (Pause. He stands up.) Body language!! Can he read mine? It says, "Rip off my clothes, baby, I'm yours!" Oh, he has the most perfect body! (Pause.) I think. To tell the truth, I've never even seen him naked! Jesus, what if his dick looks like a clitoris? What if he lost it in a motorcycle accident? What if it's 10 inches but he can't get it up?! Then what'll I do? Well, (pause) thinking about another obsession I once had, (pause) nothing ever happened. I never got to kiss the guy, never even saw his bare ass let alone the "family jewels". I used to paint pictures of him using (he really lays it on thick here, putting his hand sensuously on his chest) soft, creamy, acrylic skin tones. Those paintings never stunk up the bathroom or had dandruff. They always smelled like incense, for christ sake. The incense I burned when I painted them. Then the real world reared its ugly head. And the "body" I thought I once loved is dead and buried, another victim of AIDS. May you rest in peace, my beautiful fantasy lover. What would've happened if we'd actually done all those wonderful things I dreamed of? My tongue and fingers in succulent places. Perhaps it actually happened in an alternate reality. And we lived happily ever after!

(Mother's voice again comes over the sound system.)

MOTHER: Oh, please!!
FREDDY: (Looks at the ceiling.) Fuck off, mother. (He looks at the phone.) Okay, this time I'm really going to do it. And I mean it! (He sits down and picks up the phone and again punches in seven numbers.) Oh my God, it's ringing! I don't believe it! Number 3. Number 4. Number.... (he hangs up, again.) Shit, I can't go through with it. (Pause.) Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will really do it. Okay?! (He stands up, once more.) Let's face it, sexual obsession is better than reality. No one night stands or blowing strangers in backroom bars. No siree!! It's a language all to itself. (Pause.) My very own universe.

(The lights change to a "special". He is bathed in a glowing red light.)

FREDDY: The doorbell rings. There he is: standing stark naked in the hall, with an enormous throbbing erection, holding a sterling silver platter with a million bucks on it! Soft, thick, tantalizing lips. Smooth rosy cheeks. I'm licking his hard, bulging, hairless chest. He whispers in my ear, "I love you forever. You're perfect!", while Joni Mitchell croons softly in the background. After the best fuck of my life, I tell him all my secrets as we cuddle between the sheets. (Said with ecstasy mixed with sadness.) Oh, God!!

(The lighting changes back to normal.)

FREDDY: (Said with jubilant glee.) Yes, body language!!!!! My body says, "Wow! You're the greatest lover on earth!!" Oh, isn't obsession wonderful?! It's better than a Julia Roberts movie, for christ sake. (He reaches a crescendo of emotion as if he were almost about to come. His hands rise up in the air as he looks to the heavens.) Oh, God!!! What a rush!! (Pause.) Jesus, I feel all this energy gushing through me. (He looks at the phone.) I'm gonna do it. What the hell! All he can do is say "no". That won't exactly kill me. (He sits down and picks up the phone and punches in the numbers.) It's ringing. (He waits.) Someone's picking it up. My God!

(A male voice comes over the sound system.)

MARCELLO: Hello, this is Marcello. I can't come to the phone right now. But if you leave a message, I'll call you back as soon as I can. Wait for the beep. Bye.

(A beep comes over the sound system.)
 
FREDDY: (Said meekly but with an undercurrent of confidence.) Hello, Marcello. This is Freddy from our assertiveness training class. I'm trying to take charge of my life so I just wanna say, (pause) that I think you're fabulous and I'd love to have dinner with you sometime. My number is 416-638-5452. Please give me a call. Bye. (He hangs up the phone. He is almost hysterically happy. He stands up.) Christ, that was bold! I did it! I don't believe it! I did it! I fucking well did it! (He thinks for a minute.) Oh, no! What if the guy's straight?! I never thought about that. Momma Mia!! (Pause.) Oh, well. I guess the worst that can happen is a punch in the nose. (Wistfully.) Oh, God! He's so beautiful. He really is!

(Mother's voice comes over the sound system.)

MOTHER: Oh, Freddy! I'm so proud of you. He sounds like a nice boy. I've always wanted you to settle down. Now if only you'd get a real job and give up this acting nonsense.
FREDDY: Oh, Mother!
 
(The telephone rings.)

FREDDY: (He looks at the number on the Ident-a-Call.) Oh, my God! It's him! I can't answer it. I'm not ready! No, I have to pick it up. Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

(Slowly, hesitantly, with a tinge of terror etched on his face, he picks up the phone.)

FREDDY: Hello.
 
(Marcello's voice comes over the sound system.)

MARCELLO: Hi! Is this Freddy?
FREDDY: Yes.
MARCELLO: This is Marcello. I was in the bathroom when you called. Listen, are you free tomorrow night?
FREDDY: Sure I am.
MARCELLO: Would you like to come over for dinner?
FREDDY: Why I'd love to!
MARCELLO: Great. (Pause.) Freddy?
FREDDY: Yes.
MARCELLO: I really like you, too.
FREDDY: Thanks, Marcello.
MARCELLO: Well, I'll see you tomorrow around 7. I live at 300   Church Street, apartment 604. Okay? Bye.
FREDDY: Bye. (He hangs up the phone and speaks to the   audience.) Oh, God, don't you just love theatre!? It's   so much better than real life.

(Mother's voice comes over the sound system.)

MOTHER: Now, don't forget the condoms, darling. And, Freddy, don't stay out all night. You have to go to your telemarketing job in the morning. Okay, lovey?
 

 BLACKOUT
 

 THE END