God help them all if they have to make the trek to New Vegas with a bitchy Dean making snide remarks about their “overblown lesbian tales of woe” every half mile.
‘Hey. I’m hip to it. Old Dean’s very open-minded. Very much so. I knew some lesbians once before the war, of course. Several. Always a fun crowd.’
‘Well, I worked in showbiz. Oh you know, you meet people from all walks. Musicians, stage tech, dancers. I never really took to the dramatic arts myself, but for whatever reason, I was always surrounded by those lesbians.’
‘Lesbians everywhere! Lesbians doing Stoppard, Williams, a scene from Simon here, an act from Inge there…I knew two lesbians once who performed a minimalist staging of Children of a Lesser God, all by themselves after smearing their totally nude bodies with green paint and cornflakes for some reason. Instead of sign language, they did interpretive dance and painted words all over the stage. Made a huge mess. Completely destroyed the mikes. My god, theater could get weird sometimes. But very moving, I’ll say. The audience was really moving it towards the exit.’
‘And not even trying to be all sneaky about it, either, the way you’re supposed to do it when you have two naked lesbians onstage trying to kick-ball-change their deepest emotions.’
‘Look, it’s never a good idea to offend someone carrying a gallon bucket of green paint. That goes double for lesbians.’
‘Right, thesp—. … …wait, what did I say?’