Pinned Butterflies

from Burn This

by Lanford Wilson

Anna:Robbie's funeral... I had to give the eulogy. In about eight seconds I know they have no idea that Robbie's gay. And they never saw him dance...

I couldn't believe it. All the men are goregous, of course. They look like Robbie, except in that kind of blue-collar, working-at-the-steel-mill kind of way. And drink? God, could they knock it back.

So then it's midnight and the last bus has left at ten, which his family knew, I'm sure, damn them, and I hadn't checked, like an idiot. So I have to spend the night in Robbie's little nephew's room in the attic. He's been collecting butterflies all day, and they're pinned around the room to the walls -- a pin in each wing, right?

So. I get to sleep by about two. I've got them to promise to get me up at six-thirty for the seven-something bus. I wake up, it's not quite light, really; you can't see in the room much -- but there's something in there. There's this intermittent, soft flutter sound.  I think, "What the hell?" Oh, Lord, the walls are pulsating. All those butterflies are alive! They're all beating their bodies against the walls -- all around me!! The kid put them in alcohol; he thought he'd killed them, but they'd only just passed out.

I started scraming hysterically. I got the bedsheet around me, ran down to the kitchen; I've never felt so naked in my life. Of course I was naked -- a sheet wrapped around me!

An older brother had to go get my clothes.  He unpinned the butterflies; who knows if they lived. I got the whispering sister to drop me off at the bus station. I was an hour and a half early, I didn't care. I drank about twenty cups of that vending-machine coffee. Black; the cream and sugar buttons didn't work. There's these two bag ladies yelling at each other. Apparently they're rivals.

I fit right in.