SCENE I

[Looking into bathroom mirror]

[V.O] Is my hairline receding? I mean it’s definitely receding. I’ve been asking myself this question for the 3,527 consecutive days, but it’s getting undeniable. 

Look at that. Like, it feels smooth here, it didn’t used to feel smooth here. Well, let’s do the topographic analysis.

[Measures forehead with calipers]

That’s 4.2 centimeters by 2.8. Consult the records!

[opening book, flipping through an insane number of pages of recorded measurements]

Yeah. The measurements show a 50% areal increase in temporal recession over the last five years. The numbers don’t lie, girl, the numbers don’t lie.

[Green screen, dressed as Anita Sarkeesian] [stares at camera for too long, music continues]

ANITA: The Norwood-Hamilton scale is the generally accepted measure of the extent of androgenetic alopecia, more commonly known as “male pattern baldness.” 
The first indication of inevitable and irreversible hair loss is Norwood-Hamilton stage II, characterized by a 50% areal increase in temporal recession over the course of about five years.
Once Norwood-Hamilton stage II is complete, the balding process will continue until you die, when your corpse will rot in the ground and worms will eat your eyeballs.
Doctors agree that men who allow themselves to reach this stage can never become real women, have no value, and will never be loved—never be loved—never be loved—

[back to mirror]

Well, that’s it. It’s over for me. 

At this point the only sensible option isssss suicide. Just put a bullet to the brainstem. I mean, that’s the only responsible way to go about this. If you go in through the mouth you should be able to nail the medulla right in the center. Shouldn’t take more than a couple seconds.

Bit of a mess though, a mess that someone else is gonna have to clean up, and that’s not a very nice thing to do to someone. So, I guess I am stuck being alive. Goddamn it.

God you’re ugly. And old! Can we talk about how old you’re getting? What are these lines!

Ah, how do I get out of this, how do I opt out of my own consciousness. 

Well, how about this, I change my name, take ten Ambiens, bash myself over the head and pass out on the next plane to the Dominican Republic.

Oh my God, you cannot just run away to a Caribbean island and escape all your problems. These are not physical problems. These are problems of the mind.

I mean, am I even actually balding? Am I just a lunatic? Are these real measurements, or are these the psychotic scribbles of a delusional transvestite?

You know what? I don’t know and I don’t care. 

How can I have spent so much time thinking about this? This is nothing but vanity. Don’t you have anything more important to think about? You shallow bitch, you shallow bitch!

Oh but that’s a lie, and you know it’s a lie. The human mind is trash. Hair is what really matters.

Sigh.

Is my hairline receding?

Scene II

[establishing shot of hospital]

[Patient sitting on exam chair] [Doctor enters with clipboard]

DOC: So, I hear you’re having some problems with your… genitals.

PATIENT: [nods].

DOC: Well we’d better take a look. Could you just remove your—hm?

[removes panties]

DOC: [w/ flashlight] Alright, let’s see what we have here.

[horror shot of moving squid tentacles between legs]

DOC: My god. It’s—it’s not even human!

PATIENT: Well, what’s wrong with it?

DOC: [shining light in patient’s eyes] Sigh. Have you taken any recent trips to the outer solar system?

PATIENT: What? No!

DOC: Well, we can’t entirely rule out Cronenberg’s Disease, but I’d say it’s most likely that you have what we in the medical profession call Xenomorphic Gender Parasitosis.

PATIENT: What does that mean?

DOC: It means a parasite from outer space has infected your gender [banana], and is eating away at it from the inside. Let’s watch an instructional video to learn more. Oh, [at camera] and, try to pay attention.

[Instructional video][Standard width, VHS][drone for announcer, jazz for dinner]

 [Text overlaid on images of disaster/violence]

There is still no cure for Xenomorphic Gender Parasitosis. 

And it’s on the increase.

You can’t tell by looking who’s infected.

Everyone’s gender is vulnerable. Even yours.

Each exposure to Tumblr increases your risk.

Drugs are a lot of fun, but MTV can be just as dangerous.

XGP leads to cuckoldry.

Could the Jews be reponsible?

No one knows.

But they probably are.

PATIENT: Well, that certainly cleared things up.

DOC: Indeed. Now while there is no cure for XGP, there are a range of treatment options available.

PATIENT: So you’re saying I need surgery to affirm the woman I’ve always truly been?

DOC: No I’m saying we’re going to make a man out of you.

PATIENT: How are you gonna make me a man?

DOC: Simple. Testosterone gas. Oh, also I’m going to play you Wagner and show you films of manly men until your perversion goes into remission.

PATIENT: Wait, hold on, I don’t consent to that!

DOC: [Pushing gas mask toward camera] Shhhhhhh. You’ll soon be fixed. Fritz, the music please!

[Wagner]

[Horrified patient w/ gas mask]

[Doctor with TV, the Golden One videos]

SCENE III

[lipstick lips in front of microphone]

I don’t know how to talk like a girl. Every time I try all that comes out is the voice of an annoying white bitch.

[girly voice] This mimosa doesn’t have enough booze in it.

Is this buttplug 100% silicone?

Can I speak with the manager?

Maybe that’s just who I am deep inside: an annoying white bitch. But of course I inevitably end up slipping back into the creepy crossdresser voice that I actually have.

Let’s go to the club and meet some boys. [hypermasculine voice] So we can fuck them.

Goddamn it. How do real women talk? How do real men talk? How does anybody talk? What are these horrible noises coming out of my mouth? Socrates, what is talking?

Ugh, what am I gonna do about this baritone voice of mine? Well, I guess the same thing I do about everything.

[blues piano riff][opening a beer]

I woke up this morning and got myself a beer

Well I woke up this morning and got myself a beer

The future’s uncertain, the end is always near.

Let it roll baby roll, etc.

[piano solo, harmonica solo]

Last harmonica note goes on too long, transitions…

Scene 4

[bathroom]

[close-ups of hair on body][touching body hair]

[VO] Why do I have hair here? 

Ugh, disgusting. It’s not even human hair. It’s like insect hair…

[Close-ups of flies on body]

[Fly sounds escalate to transition]

[back in hospital]

[shot from patient’s POV]

DOC: Well, how do you feel?

PATIENT: Well, I don’t feel like a man, but I think I’m into dudes now.

DOC: The problem is with your attitude. If you won’t act like a man, you can’t think like a man, and if you can’t think like a man you can’t feel like a man.

PATIENT: Well, I don’t want to feel like a man.

DOC: Why can’t you just be a man?—be a man?—be a man?

[transition]

SCENE V

[at mirror, trying on clothes]

This looks good, if I don’t move my arms.

Is there a way to smash my ribs in?

I’ll smash ‘em in, I’ll smash the shit out of em.

These shoes are cute, and I’ll finally be able to hit my head on the tops of door frames.

Would you fuck me? I wouldn’t.

SCENE VI

[symmetrical shot of couple in bed]

CIS: Why won’t you fuck me?

TRANS: I don’t wanna.

CIS: Why not?

TRANS: It makes me feel like a man.

CIS: You are a man.

TRANS: Well I don’t wanna be.

CIS: What does it even mean to feel like a man?

TRANS: Well, don’t you feel like a woman?

CIS: No, I feel like myself.

TRANS: Well, exactly.

CIS: Are you sure you’re not just gay?

TRANS: Yeah, I’m gay. That is what this is. I’m very gay.

CIS: Alright. Well, I’m leaving. Bye

[Cis leaves]

[Trans cries]

[trans gets up, tries on dress][classical music]

[opens champagne, gets in shower, pours on head]