The Oral Office


LOCATION Williamsburg

RENT $850 [market]

SQUARE FEET 800 [top floor of three-story house]

OCCUPANTS Daniel Nardicio [event planner]

Do your assistants always work in their underwear? Yes.

You’re preparing for the convention! We’re doing a Republican National Sex Party at 13 Little Devils. There will be the Oral Office. [His phone rings.] I’m going to help Kelly get her bike upstairs. She can’t afford a lock yet. [Kelly, a belly dancer, enters and goes to work on Photoshop on a picture of the vice president penetrating the president.]

Will there be a desk in the Oral Office? Of course—a penholder, maybe a Declaration of Independence. That’s August 29. The Go-Go Boys will be naked as always. I pay them $13 an inch. Dick Slick makes $130 dollars a night. You do the math. The boys in the other room are making a sign for a 70-year-old drag queen in a kissing booth.

I’m pretty excited about those 200 bomb-sniffing dogs coming into town. I wonder where they’re staying. So along with the expected 50,000 conventioneers, 250,000 demonstrators, 15,000 reporters, the Broadway “Mouse Bloc,” the pre- and post-convention protests, the monologues, the puppet shows—your team will join the swell. Is Paul the one in the white underpants? Yes. Chase is in the blue. I’m from Painsville, Ohio. [Kelly] The pain! [Knock at the door] [Daniel] It’s the pizza. Justin Bond [Kiki, of Kiki and Herb] and I used to be roommates. We had an apartment down the street. We moved to New York at the same time, 10 years ago. I came from Berlin, he moved from San Francisco.

Who’s the man in front in the lawn chair—bright yellow cabana shirt, big hands, gold watch? Pete, my landlord.

What does he think with everybody coming in and out? He’s hard of hearing. The other night, I overslept. The people at the bar where I do events sent a kid. The landlord saw him yelling at the window and called the police. Everybody thought I was dead. But I was sleeping in a sarong.

It’s nice how he cares. He worries more about himself than he does me. [To Kelly] I got you a health bar. [Kelly] I was in the cookie gutter and one day I said, I have a lot to do in my life. [He tosses her some underpants.] [Daniel] I used to work in opera in Berlin, Porgy and Bess.

What are Paul and Chase chatting about in the other room? Chase just moved here to be an actor. Paul’s in Short Bus, the John Cameron Mitchell film. [Paul, as he runs in and adjusts his underpants] We’re working on it improvisationally, like Cassavetes. It will involve real sex. [Daniel] I also have land in Nevada, six acres in Elko. My brother left it to me when I was 10. He bought it in the back of a magazine, like $5 an acre. He died of testicular cancer when he was 27. He was like a real hippie, traveled all over. I said to my aunt once, Was my brother gay? She said, Well, he was AC/DC. [We join the boys in the other room while they paint their sign on the floor. Chase is counting a big box full of cash.] Chase, it’s illegal to write on money. [Chase] Like President’s Train money.

What’s President’s Train money? You’d set a quarter down on the track. And it would be run over by the president’s train. Like if there was a train going through town with the president on it. [Daniel] He’s from Ohio. He just graduated from high school. [Chase] I’ve had a boyfriend since I was 14. [Paul] He’s still putting those coins on the track, hoping you come back. [Paul underlines the words on the sign.] [Daniel] Now I want the word Kissing in quotes.

You’re the mad genius and they’re ready to carry it out. I feel like I’m the babysitter—the boys on the floor in their underpants. God, what am I sitting on? Chase’s cell phone. It’s vibrating.

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