(Back at the GILLIGAN flat. The lights are low, Edith Piaf plays on the stereo, and GENERICA sits in Andrew's one easy chair, looking quite stunning. Andrew, however, has a case of the shakes. All Commes de Garcon coats aside, he's nervous. He brings GENERICA a glass of cabernet sauvignon, and then stands in front of her, awkwardly.)

GENERICA

Why, thank you. Will you have a glass, too?

GILLIGAN

A glass, why, um, hold on. (Pouring himself a glass.) So... how do you find my, um, humble home?

GENERICA

Andrew, I've been here a million times.

(Pause.)

GILLIGAN

Oh, ah. The music? Do you find it, is it too loud? Too soft, perhaps?

GENERICA

It's fine.

(Pause.)

GILLIGAN

Good, food. Could you, ah, wait, hold on just a second?

(Grabbing a black rook off of the chess table, Andrew scurries into the bathroom.)

GILLIGAN

(Looking at the ceiling, then at the medicine cabinet, in a hoarse whisper.) Guy de! (He pronounces it "gee dah") Guy de?!? (Putting the rook down on the closed toilet bowl cover.) Damnit, where are you?

GENERICA

(From outside.) Andrew, are you in some difficulty?

GILLIGAN

(With forced jocularity, through the closed door.) No, not at all! Why, why would you ask?

(He turns toward the medicine chest.)

GILLIGAN

Guy de! (Nothing.) What, what the hell am I doing?

(There is a fluttering sound. Andrew turns toward the toilet. He starts at what he sees. The lid flips back, and Guy de Mauppasant RABINOWITZ's head pops through the toilet seat ring. It is dry, and hopping mad.)

GILLIGAN

Holy shit!

RABINOWITZ

(Or, more accurately, RABINOWITZ's head.) Gee-lee-gahn! Why are you een zee bazzroom een ze meedle of a date?

GILLIGAN

I, I, I'm, why are you, I --

RABINOWITZ

Ze French never, never!, go to ze bazzroom een ze meedle of a rendez vous wees a woman. (Stupefied, Andrew just stares. RABINOWITZ surfaces further.) Ze French are too refined, too cultured.

(Stepping completely out of the toilet bowl, RABINOWITZ grabs GILLIGAN's shoulders, turns him around, and pushes him out the bathroom door.)

RABINOWITZ

Now. You must be seductive, you must be sopheesteecated!

(GILLIGAN, pushed by RABINOWITZ, walks up to GENERICA.)

GILLIGAN

Uh, Generica, um, how are you.

RABINOWITZ

Smoother! Sultrier!

GENERICA

I am quite fine.

GILLIGAN

Would, uh, would you like a canape?

RABINOWITZ

Do not ask, Geeleegahn! Say "You weel have..." You weel have a canape.

GILLIGAN

You weel have a... (GILLIGAN begins to laugh. RABINOWITZ covers his face with his hands.) A canape.

GILLIGAN

I'm, I'm sorry. It's just, tension release, I think. (Pause.) Laughter releases tension.

GENERICA

So does sex.

GILLIGAN

Yes, yes. I've been laughing a lot lately.

RABINOWITZ

(Pulling Andrew aside.) Good, good. You are doing well. Now, you must deesplay more confeedence.

GENERICA

If this is going to go any further, could you tell your friend to go away?

GILLIGAN

(Turning to her.) What, what?

GENERICA

Because I don't really go in for group scenes.

GILLIGAN

You can see him?

GENERICA

Of course I can. What do you think this is, magic realism?

GILLIGAN

(To RABINOWITZ.) I don't know, what now? from her, I feel resistance.

RABINOWITZ

(Undaunted.) Zen ze time has come, Geeleegan, for ze piece de resistance. You must geev her: ze French kiss.

GILLIGAN

The French kiss? Now?

GENERICA

Yes. Now.

GILLIGAN

(To RABINOWITZ.) Are you sure?

RABINOWITZ

Ze time eez ripe! Ze time eez ripe!

GILLIGAN

(To himself). Ze time is ripe...

GENERICA

(Irritated.) Well?

GILLIGAN

Oh, yes. Yes.

(He turns to GENERICA, grabs her awkwardly, bends her backward, and gives her a kiss.)

GILLIGAN

Uh, okay. How, how was that?

GENERICA

(Thinking.) Are you sure that was a French kiss?

GILLIGAN

Well, sure. I'm French, remember?

GENERICA

So?

GILLIGAN

So, then, it's a French kiss. Right?

GENERICA

No, I readily acknowledge that that was a French kiss. But it wasn't a French kiss. No, what I mean to say is --

(Footsteps. The apartment doorknob turns. In comes AUNT SHEULIE, talking as she walks. Again, she carries a bag of groceries. RABINOWITZ vanishes.)

AUNT SHEULIE

Hey, hi, hello, it's me, I brought no poppy seeds this time like you asked, and -- (Seeing GILLIGAN.) Andrew, what kind of crazy outfit?

GENERICA

Oh, I, didn't realize you had another woman coming over.

GILLIGAN

How, oh, no, wait, hold on --

AUNT SHEULIE

(Scrutinizing Andrew's moustache.) What the hell is that, how, what's that you got on your head?

GENERICA

(Getting up, and grabbing her jacket.) I don't want to intrude, on what obviously is a more important commitment.

AUNT SHEULIE

It's not right. Is this more of that French stuff?

GILLIGAN

It's a moustache, beret, wait, no Generica, don't go, c'mon.

GENERICA

French stuff?

GILLIGAN

(Moving to cut off GENERICA.) No, this is my aunt, Aunt Sheulie, c'mon, tell her.

AUNT SHEULIE

(Going to shut off the stereo.) Whet is this moan music you're listening to? Since when you like to listen to people moan?

GILLIGAN

It's my aunt. Really.

GENERICA

(Yeah, right.) Good night, Andrew.

(She leaves.)

GILLIGAN

(Calling after her.) Generica, wait, come on, it's raining out -- (Turning back to AUNT SHEULIE.) Look what you've done!

AUNT SHEULIE

What I've done? Consider what you've done!

GILLIGAN

What I've done, I didn't, can't you ever call ahead, what --

AUNT SHEULIE

"Hi, Aunt Sheulie, thanks for the groceries, thanks for thinking of me on a cold and rainy night", sitting up in this apartment, worrying aboiut whether you got anything to eat.

GILLIGAN

I'm fine! I'm fine! As a matter of fact, I was, in the middle of a date, for your information.

AUNT SHEULIE

Well, it didn't look too sizzling red hot to me. Boy she scrammed.

GILLIGAN

That's because you came busting, couldn't you have called? Ahead?

AUNT SHEULIE

I was just in the neighborhood, buying cole slaw, and besides, she probably got one whiff of that cologne and ran for the hills, what the hell is that, it smells like Secaucus, Andrew, take a bath!

GILLIGAN

It's French, it's imported, it's --

AUNT SHEULIE

(Grabbing Andrew's face, by the chin.) French, French, what the hell is this about French? Andrew: you're not French.

GILLIGAN

(Through pinched cheeks.) Why not?

AUNT SHEULIE

How you ever get this crazy idea I don't understand. You were such a good kid.

GILLIGAN

How do you know my father wasn't French? He could have been French!

AUNT SHEULIE

I can't believe you went bad like this. C'mon, take that off you look like Jacques Cousteau, what next, you're scaring me.

GILLIGAN

You're just, you don't want me to explore this side of my identity!, because, um... Jacques Cousteau?

AUNT SHEULIE

It's no side, Andrew, you're Jewish.

GILLIGAN

I look like Jacques Cousteau?

AUNT SHEULIE

Oh, I don't know.

GILLIGAN

Is Jacques Cousteau the only Frenchman you know?

AUNT SHEULIE

No! No! I know others, too.

GILLIGAN

Who?

AUNT SHEULIE

Others!

GILLIGAN

Name one! Name one!

AUNT SHEULIE

(Thinks.) Garry Trudeau?

GILLIGAN

You don't know anything about France! You know nothing about French culture, and class, and --

AUNT SHEULIE

(Honestly very sad.) I don't know why I even come over here. You always do this to me, Andrew Gilligan. You always make me feel stupid. I don't know why you want your aunt to feel stupid, but if that's what you want, that's what you got.

GILLIGAN

I was just trying to, um, make a point.

AUNT SHEULIE

I get your point. Your poing is that you don't need your family, anymore, because you left us all behind, now that you're so smart, you and your game that I could never understand, and you make me feel stupid about that, too. And, you're too smart to go to temple anymore, but you think it's okay to dress up like a clown and pretend you're French.

(Andrew just stands there speechless.)

AUNT SHEULIE

I know when I've been outgrown. I'm going to go on home. To cry.

(AUNT SHEULIE turns to exit.)

GILLIGAN

C'mon. Wait. Wait a second.

AUNT SHEULIE

(Turning to the door, walking down the stairwell, not looking back.) I may not know who the King of France is, but I know better to walk around looking like an idiot, I tell you that much.

GILLIGAN

(Throwing on his jacket, and following her out.) Cut it out, I'm sorry, hey, c'mon. Come back.

(Grove Street. The rain is coming down harder now, but AUNT SHEULIE, who walks straight ahead without turning back, hardly seems to notice. She's cross. Andrew chases after her, never quite getting in front of her.)

GILLIGAN

I apologize. I'm sorry. Just, c'mon.

AUNT SHEULIE

You say I'm sorry, meaning just don't answer any of the things I say, but just shut up and forgive.

GILLIGAN

No! No! I, I'm sorry for what I've done.

AUNT SHEULIE

And what, tell me, what have you done?

GILLIGAN

I, uh, I treated you bad.

AUNT SHEULIE

You don't even know what you're talking about.

GILLIGAN

Yes! Yes I do.

AUNT SHEULIE

And what, you tell me, what are you talking about?

GILLIGAN

I, ugh, sorry, about -- (He stops.) I don't even know!

AUNT SHEULIE

(Stopping.) See?

GILLIGAN

Yeah, I see.

AUNT SHEULIE

And whay, you tell me, you don't even know what you see.

GILLIGAN

I do too!

(They have stopped on the sidewalk, outside the superior halal meat market, next to the Grove Street Chess Club. Andrew is a bit too busy to notice, but there's quite a nice little crowd inside. They're even making a small amount of hubbub. Suddenly, there is a loud roar. The door bursts open, and the two Russian chessplayers hustle outside, followed closely by a wide-eyed BHOPAL.)

BORIS

(Rushing out, head down.) Vat veel zey take over next?

GREBESHNIKOV

Zere weel be notzing leff.

(They careen into the night. However, much of the crowd from the chess club begins to spill over onto the street.)

BHOPAL

Andrew! Andrew! You won't believe it! Thank goodness you're here! (Stops.) That is a very stylish overcoat.

AUNT SHEULIE

Oh, please. Who the hell is this little kid?

GILLIGAN

Bhopal, what's going on?

BHOPAL

It's Klozov. He's been defeated!

GILLIGAN

Defeated?

BHOPAL

Yes! Five times in a row, and handily, Andrew. He's disgraced, he's leaving the country. Look!

(They look. Oliver KLOZOV, disgraced Russian chess champion, flees down Grove Street in the direction of the PATH train station. Lachrymose, he turns toward them.)

KLOZOV

(Calling, as he flees.) Good luck, Andrew Gilligan! You are our only hope!

GILLIGAN

Only hope? What?

AUNT SHEULIE

Is this some kind of weird cult activity?

BHOPAL

Never in all my years have I seen such board vision. Such audacity, such lightning strokes. He eschews pins, he eschews splits, he charges straight ahead with his bishops and rooks. Aggressive, yet cerebral, cool, unnerving, audacious! He shows no fear, Andrew! (Grabbing GILLIGAN's arm.) He will redefine the game.

GILLIGAN

Who? Who?

BHOPAL

(With awe.) Broccoli Rob.

(The small assembled crowd of chess enthusiasts hushes. Stepping from teh club is a young, slight, bespectacled black man, handsome and poised, hardly seventeen, and crowned by an enormous box fade topped by a puffy afro. His hairstyle does, in fact, resemble a large stalk of broccoli. He is flanked by an older black man, who is about three times his size. This is BROCCOLI ROB's cousin, manager, and all-purpose attache.)

THE TOILET BOWL

(Striding out into the rain.) How that Russian mothafucka like my man now? (addressing the crowd, with a hand on BROCCOLI ROB's shoulder.) There's a new champion of this mo fucka tonight!

BROCCOLI ROB

(Accepting the adulation.) Thanks, thanks.

AUNT SHEULIE

(To GILLIGAN, but loud enough so that everybody can hear.) I though that you were the champion, Andrew.

GILLIGAN

Well, actually, it's --

THE TOILET BOWL

(Striding up to Andrew.) Oh, you Andrew Gilligan, huh? Man, you a scrawny lookin, marionette ass mo fucka. What that bullshit you got on your face? Good to see ya, but I wouldn't wanna be ya. You about to get your ass whupped.

BROCCOLI ROB

(Stepping between them.) That really ain't necessary.

THE TOILET BOWL

What are you a French mo fucka? You look like Pierre fuckin Cardan with that mo fuckin pancake on your head.

AUNT SHEULIE

I won't say I told you so.

THE TOILET BOWL

Gilligan, we about to cast your ass away someplace the Professor and Mary Ann and mo fuckin Skipper ain't never gonna find you.

BHOPAL

Oh, don't say that.

GILLIGAN

(Getting tough.) What? I, say anything you want, okay, but there's a certain, television program that, when you refer to, it's really hitting below --

THE TOILET BOWL

I'll refer to whatever the fuck I want. You want to step to me, fuck playing chess, we take it down by the river.

BROCCOLI ROB

Cool it.

THE TOILET BOWL

Now you ready to bring your bleu cheese eating ass inside and take on my man?

GILLIGAN

You mean arrange a match?

BROCCOLI ROB

If you want to put it that way.

GILLIGAN

Well, we have to go through the proper channels, first, the Jersey City chess federation, recreation --

(He is drowned out by a chorus of boos.)

SPECTATOR

He's yellow!

ANOTHER SPECTATOR

Ain't that just like a French guy.

SPECTATOR

Yellow frog!

GILLIGAN

Hey, cut it out, it's been a long night, I'm really tired, and --

(Another, and more ferocious, round of boos.)

THIRD SPECTATOR

Libertine! Rationalist! Free-thinker!

FOURTH SPECTATOR

Cheese-eating surrender monkey!

SPECTATOR

(Giving Andrew the finger.) Voolay voo this, ya chicken.

BHOPAL

People! I am outraged at this behavior. This is not the manner in which chess enthusiasts behave.

SPECTATOR

It isn't?

BHOPAL

Simple propriety dictates that the incumbent champion determines where and when a match with a challenger will take place. Common decency relieves a tired, unprepared competitor from the obligation to accept an immediate challenge. (To THE TOILET BOWL.) And you, you unrepentant brute, should cultivate a demeaner commensurate with the game you claim a stake in.

THE TOILET BOWL

I hope nobody related to this little brat, coz I'ma drop-kick him all the way back to Greenvilee.

BROCCOLI ROB

Look, man, it's cool. (Adeptly employing a toothpick.) Apparently, it's the incumbent champion who decides when the match will be. In these parts. I hear that's simple propriety. (To GILLIGAN.) So what's it gonna be?

GILLIGAN

Um, let me sleep on it.

BROCCOLI ROB

Aiight. Sleep tight.

 

Proceed to Fit #7.

Return to Fit #5.

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