December 17, 2003

N.B.: This post was made simultaneously here and at Upside-down Hippopotamus. We are everywhere.

For Thanksgiving, my dog A. and I went to the middle of nowhere in western Maryland with this man, his dog Goblin, his boyfriend Rob, and his boyfriend's sister Rindy. Rob and Rindy did virtually all the cooking, with two exceptions, and were also obsessive-compulsive enough to do all the cleaning up before David and I could get to it. On Thanksgiving Day, however, they exacted a price. "We'll cook Thanksgiving dinner," they said, "but you two and the dogs have to put on a Thanksgiving play."

We presented the play in the form of a puppet show, in which the dogs were the puppets and we manipulated them as we crouched behind the couch that was our stage (after covering it with green blankets to represent the fertile bounty of an unsullied new land); we spoke the dogs' lines in eerie, Talky-Tina-from-the-Twilight-Zone-like falsettos. A. and Goblin made their stage débuts to great acclaim, and David's and my performance as puppeteers was such as to make me think we have bright futures ahead of us as high-ranking members of the Republican cabinet.

Here are two photographs of the stars, in different attitudes.

The girls look off artistically into the middle distance.

The girls express their true feelings for each other.

And so here, without further ado, is a reconstruction of the script we developed. (Unfortunately, we didn't write it down, but we agree that this is fairly close, with one notable exception.)

A Thanksgiving Play in Three Scenes
starring A. and Goblin

Scene 1

A.: Hello. Iím an indigenous person.

GOBLIN: And Iím a pilgrim.

A.: Letís have Thanksgiving.


A.: Great. Hereís some maize.

GOBLIN: Thanks. Hereís some firewater and some smallpox-infested blankets*.

A.: Thanks.

(SHE begins to die, loudly.)

Argh! Iím dying from the smallpox-infested blankets! Argh!

(SHE dies.)

Scene 2

A.: Hello. Iím an indigenous person.

GOBLIN: And Iím a fat, greedy, rich American capitalist.

A.: You killed my people with your smallpox-infested blankets and then took all our land and then forced us all to run casinos. We want our land back!

GOBLIN: No. And now Iím going to win lots of money in your casino.

A.: Argh!

Scene 3

A.: Hello. Iím an indigenous person.

GOBLIN: And Iím still a fat, greedy, rich American capitalist.

A.: With all the money I made from the casinos you forced me to run, Iíve become a billionaire and taken over the world and also developed superpowers!


A.: Now Iím going to kill you!


(SHE dies.)

A.: I win!

GOBLIN: And Iím a ghost.


With material like this, how can I fail to become a star?

*David insists that this line was actually "I bring you firewater and smallpox-infested blankets," but I believe my own version.

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10 Responses to N.B.: This post was made

  1. Nick says:

    I love the photos, but I have to ask: What the hell were you doing in a room with (what appears to be) billiard-table-art on the wall?

    If it weren’t middle-of-nowhere western Maryland, your gay card would be dangerously close to revocation.

  2. phil says:

    You can’t actually infest a blanket with smallpox.

    I wouldn’t put it past the white devils to try, but you can’t actually do it.

  3. Nick, the house belongs to David’s parents, both of whom are heterosexual; also, there’s a pool table that’s not in the picture, so the billiard-table art isn’t completely out of nowhere. Phil, the white devil certainly tried, as detailed here. And the native Americans certainly ended up being infected by the variola virus. But does your superior knowledge of epidemiology mean that our revisionist history of the settling of America has to be revised again?

  4. Jeff says:

    My, the heights of creativity you can reach when you’re feeling hemmed in. And those two doggies are destined for stardom, baby.

  5. orbicon says:

    I am in tears! Joy and sadness all rolled into one doggie spectacle.
    Ok, so not much the joy thing.

  6. ginger says:

    bravo! *claps wildly*

  7. Zac says:

    All right, that’s it. I’ve had it. I stuck with this blog when it stopped being about any sort of search for love. I dutifully read the entries about sock-knitting and pound-gaining and park-dancing. God help me, I even remained loyal through those dark days when gay cheerleading seemed Dr. F’s sole preoccupation. But at doggie puppet shows I draw the line. “Faustus is gone; regard his hellish fall….” He hath practiced “more than heavenly power permits.” The heavenly power, in this case, being me. So long.

  8. Ouch.

  9. Wayne says:

    I love the show. I mean, the dogs are so cute 😉 Suuh Cute, make me wanna snuggle and cuddle and hug and squeeze them both at the same time into many little tiny pieces.

  10. sherry says:

    it was done phil.
    anyway as mentioned in u.d.h’s comments: too cute.


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