PHIL:

I’m here.

TINY:

Yeah, well, you don’t count.

PHIL:

It’s not all about romance, Tiny. There are other kinds of love.

TINY (covering ears):

I CAN’T HEAR YOU.

Ex-boyfriend #9 comes sauntering across the stage. DEVON CHANG. Oh, man, Devon Chang. Sometime over the summer, he went from geek to god, and became The Boy Who Launched a Thousand Texts.

Tiny is distracted from Phil as he and Devon make eye contact. There is some wordless flirtation. Devon starts to walk off the stage.

TINY (TO PHIL):

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I’ll be right back.

Tiny runs after Ex-boyfriend #9, leaving Phil alone onstage. (Don’t judge. Real friends understand.)

ACT II, SCENE 7

PHIL

(looking offstage, then turning to the audience):

We can only wish them the best. Let’s see how it went.

At this point, DJANE comes out. (In a former incarnation of this musical, she was Janey, but I think Djane fits her personality better.) I hope Phil and Djane don’t mind me saying this in the stage directions, but Djane is the girl that Phil Wrayson should really be going out with. It would have happened long ago, if they didn’t keep getting in its way.

Djane shakes her head.

PHIL:

No luck?

DJANE:

All of the clovers had three leaves.

PHIL (thinks for a second):

Oh, I see what you did there.

DJANE:

All he found at the end of the rainbow was a pot of—

PHIL:

Stop! This is a family show.

DJANE (deadpan):

In what way is this a family show?

Phil just looks at her.

DJANE:

What?

PHIL:

It’s just that . . . I don’t know . . . you look nice?

Djane gazes at him strangely.

DJANE:

Now, why would you do that?

PHIL:

Because you look nice-ish?

DJANE:

Oh, now it’s nice-ish.

PHIL:

My head is starting to hurt from contemplating all the possible ways I could offend you.

DJANE:

Why would you choose now, of all times, to tell me I look nice-ish?

TINY (offstage):

I’m ready for the next number!

DJANE:

I’ve got to go make sure Oscar Wilde knows his lines.

Djane exits.

PHIL (flustered, calling after her):

Now, don’t get too Wilde now, you hear? That man could win an Oscar for his Wilde-ness! (to audience) Lord, did I just say that? I guess it all goes to show—I’m making a transition here—that love sometimes causes you to do stupid things. And even when the lessons are clear to everyone else around you, sometimes you have a hard time seeing them yourself. When people say love is blind, they act like that’s a good thing. But some people find their way around in the darkness a little better than others.

Tiny is wheeled onto stage in a bed (if a rolling bed is readily available). He is wearing a pair of silk pajamas. At first it looks like he is asleep. But then he is illuminated by a cell-phone glow, and it’s clear that he’s texting.

PHIL:

Even if someone told Tiny it was over, he wanted to believe it wasn’t. Perhaps because it was easy to see him coming, he didn’t make it a habit of chasing people down IRL. But a phone—a phone couldn’t run away. It would just keep receiving text after text after text. So he kept sending text after text after text.

As Tiny falls asleep, Ex-boyfriends #9, 13, 15, and 17 appear on the side of the stage and sing the following in a round, to the tune of “Row Row Row Your Boat.” #9 sings a full verse first, then repeats, and the others chime in, in a round.

EX-BOYFRIEND #9:

Text text text your heart all across the screen,

scarily scarily scarily scarily, love’s not meant to be.

Text text text your heart all across the screen,

scarily scarily scarily scarily, love’s not meant to be.

EX-BOYFRIEND #13:

Text text text your heart all across the screen,

scarily scarily scarily scarily, love’s not meant to be.

EX-BOYFRIEND #15:

Text text text your heart all across the screen,

scarily scarily scarily scarily, love’s not meant to be.

EX-BOYFRIEND #17:

Text text text your heart all across the screen,

scarily scarily scarily scarily, love’s not meant to be.

TINY wakes with a start as soon as they’re done. Phil Wrayson has left the stage. In his place is The Ghost of Oscar Wilde. (Bonus points if you can make his appearance a surprise.)

TINY:

Who are you?

THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

Why, I’m the ghost of Oscar Wilde, making a visitation to you while you sleep.

TINY:

Because of my singular promise as a dramatist?

THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

More because of your disappointing love life and the behavior that results from it. I have seen your manic LOLs, and I’m not laughing. No. This is an intervention. Put the phone down.

Tiny will not relinquish the phone. He surreptitiously tries to finish a text.

THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE

(unaccountably shrill):

STEP AWAY FROM THE PHONE! PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND STEP AWAY FROM THE PHONE!

Tiny, not ready for such shrillness, especially from an Irish theatrical legend, drops his phone onto the bed. The Ghost of Oscar Wilde picks it up and powers it off.

THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE (back to politeness):

Good. Now please, allow me to share some hard-won wisdom, from one green-carnation wearer to another.

Music begins.




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