CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Filmed In Front Of A Live Studio AudienceLarry was currently in the small adjacent office he often used in the daytime. He had a rger one for appearances’ sake, closer to the studio, where he kept his Emmys and various kudos on dispy in a mahogany dispy case, beside a walnut desk. But he preferred this office. It allowed him to be close to the writers room, and it was far more practical. Like a lot of things in Hollywood, the ‘show’ was on dispy, while the ‘work’ was done in small offices in cramped quarters.

  He was going over the night’s schedule on the ‘big board’ - a misnomer, it wasn’t actually quite that big, and it was just a bunch of index cards on a corkboard.

  “So, this Jimmy Howard and you, you know each other?” said Maximiliano Ruiz, Larry Zimmel’s sidekick, from the doorway.

  Max had started as Larry’s actual chauffeur, but after coming on the show to fill air time during one of the writer’s strikes, he was a hit and part of the show ever since. He still wore the chauffeur’s uniform, though.

  “Not well, though we’ve traveled in the same circles. I think I beat him out for Outstanding Game Show Host one year at the Emmys, but I doubt he remembers that, that was a long time ago.”

  Larry frowned and looked over at the corkboard where the yout of the show was represented by index cards. He grabbed one beled ‘Limo Talk’ and took it off the board.

  “Max, how upset would you be if we had to bump ‘Limo Talk’? I’ve got it in the 8:45 spot, but I don’t know how much time we are going to want to spend on the guest spot, I think it would be best to move it to the 9:15 block, but if we run over - and I think we will - it might be bumped and we’ll put it back in 8:45 tomorrow.”

  “I mean, I won’t be thrilled. It’s going to be a big TV audience tonight, but I get Mr. Howard is the reason that we’ve got a big audience in the first pce. Just to be sure, is it Mr. Howard, or Ms. Howard?”

  “Well, for the next nine hours,” said a voice from behind Max, “It’s Mr. Howard. When I officially switch over, don’t worry, you’ll be there.”

  Jimmy smiled and waved. “Hello again, Larry.”

  “Jimmy! Great to see you again. I gotta ask, how are you feeling? Everything okay? Oh, Jimmy, this is Max, from the show. Max, this is Jimmy Howard.”

  Handshakes all around.

  “Gotta admit, Larry, I’m nervous as hell. Big day for both of us.”

  “Jimmy, for me, this is a worknight. For you, this is… I can’t even imagine.”

  “It’s weird. Even though I’m publicly going to come out to the world on your show, I’m more worried that I’m stealing Erin’s thunder. This was supposed to be her first time as a guest on the te night circuit, and I kinda stepped on that.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Larry. “We’ve got plenty of questions for her, too, but obviously, we’ve got to rehearse some stuff. You know I’m going to have to ask about your big revetion. And the writers have come up with some bits I want you to look over, see if you’re comfortable with them before we commit them to the cue cards.”

  Jimmy smiled. “I’m sure whatever your team comes up with will be hirious and tasteful. And honestly, even if it’s not tasteful, I can let it slide if it’s still hirious. What’s the first question going to be?”

  “Probably, ‘Jimmy, what the hell?’”

  ***

  “Mrs. Cochran, Ms. Culver, let me show you to your seats,” said the usher. “First row, center stage.”

  “Thank you,” Julia said. “God, I’m so nervous. For both of them.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Sam. “I came prepared.” Sam brought out two small brown paper bags.

  “What are those for?”

  “If either of us start to hyperventite. Or vomit.”

  Julia ughed.

  “If you’re going to do both, make sure you get the order right. Though maybe we should have snuck in booze with those brown bags. I’m so nervous for Erin.”

  “God, you know what Jimmy said before he left the house? He said ‘I really hope I don’t overshadow Erin, this was supposed to be her big night.’ He’s in a nightmare that I can’t even begin to imagine and he’s still thinking about other people.”

  “Erin told me that when you were filming the pilot at the soundstage, Jimmy came over specifically to try to calm her nerves. I think she’s eager to return the favor, to be honest.”

  “I’m gd he’s not going to be alone on that stage,” said Sam. “And I don’t know what Zimmel’s going to be like.”

  “Jimmy said he was a good guy, no?”

  “Yeah, but Larry Zimmel’s job isn’t to make sure that Jimmy is emotionally fine. He’s there to elicit ughs from the audience. I’m worried that he might think it’s easier to go for the rotten ugh. To ugh at Jimmy, rather than with Jimmy. And even if he doesn’t deliberately pitch it that way, I’m worried about whether the audience might ugh at the wrong thing.”

  “It’s out of our hands now, Sam. We just have to trust in our wives.”

  “Yeah,” said Sam.

  It took more than a couple of moments for Sam to truly register what Julia just said.

  “Wait. What?”

  “Oh, come on, Sam. A mere friend wouldn’t be this upset about things.”

  “Yeah, I mean – but Jimmy and I are just friends. Fully ptonic. I mean, Julia, I’m a lesbian.”

  “And so’s Jimmy. Hey, isn’t that great how that works out?”

  “Oh, shit.” said Sam. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I haven’t had time to think of that.”

  Julia giggled.

  “You sure? Because from what I recall you telling me, you went on one date together, and then you immediately moved in with him. You U-Hauled, Sam. Even Erin and I dated for nine months before we even thought about moving in together.”

  “Oh bloody hell,” said Sam. “We have to change the topic, before I have to use the damn brown bags unironically.”

  Julia nodded. “Right. Okay. Do you know who they’re going to get to direct, if Jimmy’s not going to?”

  “The team at Garden has said that, at least to start, they can promote the 1AD to the director’s spot. Terryl Gordon. He’s done mostly commercials up to this point. Nothing big.”

  “One-A-D?”

  “First assistant director. Of course, that just shifts the problem as we don’t have a 1AD anymore, but at least the show isn’t getting shuttered. And if we can find someone to take the director or 1AD spot ter on, we’ll be able to slot them in.”

  The non-VIP audience started filling the seats.

  “Well, here we go.”

  ***

  Jimmy stared at his face in the mirror at the make-up and wardrobe station, frowning.

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” Erin said, in the seat next to him, getting her makeup done first.

  “Oh… what is?”

  “The first couple of days after your egg cracks. I mean, I didn’t particurly like how I looked in the mirror before then, but I also… didn’t know why I didn’t like it. I just felt it was what I had to work with, and that was that. Let me guess, now that you’re starting to realize who you are, you’re starting to realize why you’ve never really liked your face much? Why you have trouble identifying with it?”

  Jimmy frowned, nodding. “Yeah. This happened to you, too?”

  “That. And all the dysphoria. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Jimmy, I’m sorry. Now that you have a name to the feelings you’ve been dealing with your whole life, you’re going to feel it more and more. You can’t un-crack the egg.”

  “How did you deal? When it happened to you?”

  “Well, first thing I did was tell Julia. And she freaked out, of course. It wasn’t that she couldn’t or didn’t love me, it was that she had a whole… her life changed, her future changed, just as much as mine did. But I’m gd I told her and didn’t put it off. So you’re good there. You picked the worst possible time for your egg to crack, but the best possible friends. The next thing I did was start experimenting. Things like nail polish. Girly socks. Unisex clothing. Wearing makeup.”

  The makeup artist moved over to Jimmy, who turned his head towards her, closing his eyes so that she could start working.

  “Well, I’ve been wearing makeup for twenty-odd years.”

  “Yeah, but for work, not for yourself.”

  “That is true,” said Jimmy. “That is very true.”

  Max headed into the makeup area, with a piece of paper and a sharpie pen.

  “Jimmy, good to find you. The props department was running a little te, but they finished it. You just need to sign there - ‘Jimmy Howard’. Then we’ll put it in your inside left coat pocket.”

  Erin tilted her head, as Jimmy signed the small piece of paper.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Oh, I came in early and brainstormed some ideas with Larry and Max in the writer’s room. It’s a bit that Larry’s team came up with.”

  “A bit?”

  “Don’t want to spoil the surprise. But it’s a good bit.”

  ***

  The audience warm up was going in full swing while everyone backstage waited for the clock to tick over to 8:30.

  “Just so you know,” said the warm-up artist, “We are live, but we’re on a sixty second dey, so – and you know I wouldn’t mention this if someone didn’t try it at least once every couple of years, all that streaking will accomplish is getting your naked butt arrested, so if you’re thinking about it, just keep your trench coat on. They film the 11 O’clock news right next door so you’ll have a better chance then.”

  A smattering of ughter from the audience.

  Erin and Jimmy were in the green room, waiting for the introduction, when Larry stopped by, waving.

  “Hey there,” said Jimmy.

  “Hey Jimmy. Hey Erin. Just checking in.”

  “Thanks Larry, but don’t you have to be somewhere right now?” Erin pointed out.

  Larry looked at his watch.

  “Not for another two minutes and forty three seconds. Forty two… forty one… I just came by to tell you that I’m going to try to have your back out there. No low blows. Figured it would be one less thing to worry about.”

  An aide with a headset and clipboard grabbed Larry to get him to his mark.

  “Break a leg, both of you,” said Larry, as he was being dragged off.

  “To you as well, Larry.”

  ***

  Daria, Daryl, Roen and Sheri were at the Garden offices, seated in the big conference room to watch Zimmel’s show as it aired on the big screen.

  Office buildings after hours often reminded Sheri of a medieval tomb, but less whimsical. No sound, no natural light. No movement. No signs of life. Truly soul-crushing. This is not a pce of honor, Sheri thought. No highly esteemed deed is commemorated there. Nothing valued is there. Only a soulless ghoul would not be disquieted.

  “This is fun!” said Roen, offering the popcorn he microwaved to the rest of the guests. “We should have office nights more often.”

  “Where are Chandra and Pranav?” Daryl asked.

  “They decided they’d just stay at their respective homes and watch the show from there,” said Sheri.

  ***

  Chandra leaned back against Pookie, settling into his arms. Pookie, also known as Dr. Pranav Vadekar in more professional settings, reached over to turn up the volume as the intro to Larry Zimmel Live started to py.

  “Do you have any pns for breakfast tomorrow?” said Chandra.

  “Well, if this turns out to be a disaster, I’m probably going to head over to Jimmy’s pce and expin to him that it is not, in fact, medically possible to die of embarrassment. But if it’s a success, I know a pce that makes great crepes. Want to come with?”

  “Better make it brunch, Pookie. I think we might be a bit tired this morning.”

  “Oh, what makes you say that?” said Dr. Pookie, knowing exactly why Chandra said that.

  “Oh, you know why.”

  “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do you think we should tell the others we’ve been dating? We’re getting kind of serious - serious good - and sometimes, y’know, I feel like with all the drama of the show and Jimmy’s revetion and everything, it’d be nice to share some good news, you know?”

  “Well” said Chandra. “On the one hand, I do want to let them know we’re dating. On the other hand, it’s kind of fun to pretend this is an illicit affair I’m having, and I want to see how long the others will be oblivious to it. It’s fun.”

  “Ah, yeah, Jimmy is Captain Oblivious. But I’m surprised Sheri hasn’t picked up on it yet. She’s usually more insightful. I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually though, when we go down to Mexico.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’m really looking forward to doing some swimming. And someone, I won’t mention who, likes drawing little pictures and writing little words like ‘MINE’ on my back with her nails.”

  “You love it though.”

  “Didn’t say I don’t. Ooh, it’s starting!”

  ***

  “From Hollywood, it’s Larry Zimmel Live! Tonight! Erin Cochran! Jimmy Howard! And music from Werewolf Bank Holiday! With Sonny and the After Hours Bandits. And here’s your host! LAARRRY ZIMMMELLLLL!”

  The stage curtain parted, and Larry strutted out on stage as confidently and as surely as he did every night. (Well, four nights a week, anyway.)

  “Thank you!” Larry said, giving a little bow to the audience, who was already on their feet in a standing ovation. “Thank you! Thank you for watching, thank you for joining us, thank you for cpping. A special thanks to the former President for watching, because of course he does…”

  Larry delivered a tight monologue, mostly poking fun at the test idiots in the news.

  With horror, Sam remembered that Jimmy was one of the test idiots in the news, and gripped the armrest so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “We’ve got Erin Cochran and Jimmy Howard as guests tonight, who are here promoting their new reality TV series, ‘Woman Up!’”

  Oh no.

  “Jimmy Howard, if you don’t know this, was doing a press conference promoting the show when he had a little panic attack. Became kind of a viral moment, when he suddenly had a little bit of a freakout. Here, let me py the clip for you.”

  Oh no.

  Larry pyed the clip for the audience.

  The reporter on screen asked the question: “Mr. Howard, Do you consider yourself to be transgender?”

  “No! I mean, I think I’d know if I’m transgender, right? I mean, I would know. I would.”

  At that point, the editors overid Jimmy’s clip with that of the viral video of Stains, the Hypnodog, staring off into space while being told he can’t have the cupcakes held out straight in front of him.

  Surprisingly, Jimmy and Stains’ expressions were quite a good match.

  Uproarious ughter came from the crowd, as Sam just screwed her eyes shut and wished she was somewhere, anywhere else.

  “Max gets the same look in his eyes when he realizes he arrived too te to the breakroom and the st donut is gone, isn’t that right, Maximiliano?”

  The camera cut over to Max, who was staring without blinking at an empty donut box, while the same mysterious music pyed.

  “Of course, gender is in the news in other ways, as the ex-president made this outrageous cim,” continued Jimmy. Another clip, this of the ex-president.

  “Your child. Goes to schuul,” the ex-President slurred. “And they take your child. And they give her a penis. And they got that penis. From your neighbor’s boy. You drop off your boy at schuul. And you take home. A girl. It was a he. And it comes back a she. And they do this, and often without parental consent.”

  Nervous ughter from the audience.

  Back to Larry in the studio, who quipped: “Yes, because famously, elementary schools treat penises like the ‘need a penny take a penny tray’ at the 7-11.”

  Okay, Sam had to admit, letting herself chuckle. That one was good.

  “We’re supposed to believe that the same schools that require you to sign three forms to let your kid have an asthma inhaler are doing gender reassignment surgery behind your back.”

  A few more jokes, of course, to wind down the monologue, and then Larry did the outro to the first commercial break.

  “We got a great show for you tonight, Erin Cochran and Jimmy Howard are here, we’ve got Werewolf Bank Holiday. Take it away, Sonny and the After Hours Bandits!”

  Julia reached an arm around Sam for comfort, pulling her in tight - shocking her. She didn’t realize how tense she was until Julia started to calm her down.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” she said. “They’ll do great at the interview. That’s the part that matters.”

  Larry was setting up behind the desk, getting st minute details looked over. The warm-up comedian expined that they’d be back on air shortly.

  Three minutes. That’s how long a commercial break sted.

  Three minutes to showtime.

  ***

  “Did he have to show that stupid clip again?” asked Daria, rhetorically.

  “I think if he didn’t,” said Daryl, “none of what Jimmy’s about to do would have any impact or make any sense.”

  “I think it was a good thing,” said Sheri. Heads turned to her in confusion. “I mean, obviously not that more people have seen the clip, but Jimmy has to be seen to be able to take the jokes in stride. Has to show that it was just one moment, and that it isn’t that big a deal.”

  “It was,” said Daria. “I mean, it very much is a big deal.”

  “But psychologically, he has to show that he can handle mild teasing. It wasn’t a sustained attack. And it wasn’t an assault on his character. It was at his expense, sure, but what did Zimmel make fun of? Did he make fun of Jimmy being trans? No. Did he make fun of Jimmy being a woman? No. Zimmel made fun of him because he had a silly, stupid look on his face. And we’ve all had those moments in our lives where we realized we had missed something important, it’s just that most of them don’t have them in front of a gaggle of paparazzi.”

  “If there’s one thing I know about Mr. Jimmy Howard,” said Roen, “it is that he is a master at not taking things too seriously. Or, for that matter, the correct amount of seriously. If anything, I find his ck of gravitas deeply disturbing, and worry it will lead to his doom, and the doom of those around him.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little… paranoid?” said Daryl.

  “As my mother once told me when I started kindergarten, ‘if you’re not very careful, you will be hurt, betrayed, and thrown to the wolves. And as you try to climb out of the pit, you find yourself dragging others down with you. Beware false friends and wicked smiles, and always be wary of knives in the dark.’ Solid life advice.”

  “You know, Christopher,” said Daryl. “If you ever decide to leave w as a profession, you would make an excellent school teacher.”

  ***

  “My next guest turned heads on ‘The Vocalist’ and is now the host of the upcoming Garden Alpha reality series, ‘Woman Up!’ Please welcome, Erin Cochran!”

  Erin stepped out to appuse in her blue sequined dress, hair pulled back in a ponytail to better show off her distinctive face, and the dangly gold earrings. Larry got up to greet her with a hug and then walked her over to the guest seat, as the After Hours Bandits pyed a cover of Dolly Parton’s ‘Woman Up (and take it like a man)’ that was changed just enough so that the network wouldn’t have to pay Parton any money.

  “Erin, it’s great to have you on the show.”

  “Thanks Larry, it’s great to be here.”

  “So, tell me, how did you nd the gig hosting your own reality show?”

  “Well, Larry, there were a whole bunch of us, and then they told us the premise, and when all the other candidates for the role ran screaming from the room, they gave me the job!”

  (In the audience, Julia smiled. She helped Erin come up with that one.)

  “But seriously,” continued Erin. “I auditioned for the role, and they simply liked how I handled the scenario of having to deal with a contestant who left the show early. They wanted someone who could empathize with the contestants, you know?”

  “I can imagine that, because the key premise of ‘Woman Up!’ is a little out there, isn’t it?”

  “That’s an understatement!” Erin ughed. “Would you like to see a clip?”

  “You have a clip?”

  “Well, more of a preview. We recorded our first episode here in L.A. and next week we’re going to start shooting the bulk of our programming in Mexico.”

  “Sure! Can we get that cued up?”

  On the television monitors, a highly edited and polished clip from the pilot was shown.

  —

  “The rules are simple. This is an endurance challenge. At any time, and we mean any time, any contestant can choose to leave. They’ll take home half of their share of the pot, and leave the other half for the remaining contestants. The longer you stay in, the more money you win!”

  “Of course,” said Erin. “We don’t intend to make it easy for you. There’s only one way to win the grand prize. And that means you’re going to have to Woman Up!”

  The stage switched to its pink, ‘Lisa Frank-esque’ motif. Then it cut to Erin addressing the camera.

  “Woman Up isn’t just a reality competition show. This is a grand experiment. An endeavor into mad science. Over the next year, our contestants - all of whom identify as male - will do everything that trans women do. All with informed consent. All of whom could walk away at any time.”

  One of the contestants got out of his seat, and ran to the exit, yelling “Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!” in the background.

  —

  Back in Zimmel’s studio, the audience was ughing at the pnt, John, leaving in an undignified manner.

  “I have to admit for legal reasons that we set that one contestant up for illustration purposes, to show the contestants and the audience that when we say ‘walk away at any time’ we mean it.”

  “How many contestants did you have?”

  “Not including that one? One hundred and two contestants. Of those, ninety three of them walked away right away. And the remaining nine could still back out at any time,” expined Erin.

  Larry continued pressing the questions. “So we’re talking real transition? What are we talking about, hormone repcement therapy? Surgery?”

  (Some oohs and nervous muttering from the audience)

  Larry continued with the punchline. “Do you force their eyeballs open like in Clockwork Orange and make them browse Pinterest?”

  (And the nervous muttering turned to ughter.)

  “Our working theory is that we’re trying to illustrate what’s known in the trans community as ‘gender dysphoria.’ These aren’t trans women who will be participating. All of the contestants identify as men, and we believe ‘Woman Up!’ will show gender is innate to the individual - that you can’t make a man, cisgender or transgender - a woman. And you can’t make a woman - cis or trans - a man.”

  “How is this different from conversion therapy?”

  “Well for one, we’re not telling our contestants it’s wrong to be a gender they don’t identify with. Secondly, they’re volunteers. Paid volunteers who can leave any time they’re not comfortable,” said Erin. She continued. “Conversion therapy doesn’t work, Larry, we both know that. But I think our show is a rare opportunity to show people why conversion therapy doesn’t work, why it could never work. And maybe if that means one parent out there reconsiders sending their trans or gay kid to a torture camp run by quacks, maybe we can do some good.”

  (The audience appuded, Sam noticed. It wasn’t a roaring appuse, but it was respectable. At least in the live studio, Zimmel’s crowd got the gist, even if some had reservations.)

  Zimmel turned to the camera. “When we come back, we’ll continue talking to Erin Cochran, and we’ll be joined by Jimmy Howard, co-creator of ‘Woman Up!’. Stay tuned.”

  And they went to the second commercial break.

  ***

  “I thought they were going to come out together,” said Daria.

  Daryl looked stricken. “Oh god, did Jimmy get cold feet and send Erin out alone?”

  “No.” said Sheri assertively. “I don’t think he would do that. This is a guess, but it’s a well informed one. Even terrified, I think Jimmy knows how much is riding on this. I think he maybe wanted to give Erin some time to shine on her own, the big dumb sweetie that he is. Because he knows that as soon as he steps on the stage, it’s not going to be about the show, it’s going to be about him.”

  ***

  An usher came down the aisle and to the front row.

  “Ms. Culver?” said the usher. “Is there a Ms. Culver here?”

  “That’s me,” said Sam. “Is everything okay, did something happen?”

  “I was just told to pass you this note, ma’am.”

  It was a folded paper on Larry Zimmel Live stationary, and had ‘Sam & Julia’ written on it in Jimmy’s handwriting. She opened it up and started reading, letting Julia read over her shoulder.

  “Sam, I know you were expecting me out during the first segment, but Larry, Erin and I called an audible. Let Erin promote the show first, then I’ll come out in the second half. Also keeps people tuning in during the second commercial break. Don’t worry - Larry’s got a pn. – Jimmy.”

  “Oh great,” said Sam. “Last minute changes.”

  “They’ll be fine, Sam,” said Julia.

  “They’ll be fine,” Sam responded. “But my blood pressure is through the bloody roof.”

  ***

  “Sixty seconds, Mr. Howard,” said the page.

  Jimmy stood there in his scks, bowling shirt, and jacket. A far cry from the suits he usually wore for TV appearances, and a suit’s just about as masculine as you can get, and he was more comfortable this morning in a simir outfit… but… going out there in front of a live audience? This was different somehow. In a way he couldn’t put his finger on. He always felt like he was wearing a costume when he was wearing a suit, but that was it. He was an entertainer. Entertainers wear costumes.

  He wondered if he should have gone with a suit. He wondered if he looked ridiculous. And the answer is, no, of course he didn’t look ridiculous. They wouldn’t let him go out there looking ridiculous. But he felt ridiculous. And then he remember what Erin said at the makeup counter about how he was going to experience heightened dysphoria, and how that was going to–

  “Mr. Howard! That’s your cue!”

  Oh shit!

  Jimmy stepped out to the stage, smiling and waving, to appuse from the audience. Erin and Larry stood up to greet him - Larry went for a hug, Jimmy for a handshake, then Jimmy switched to hug, and Larry to a handshake, and then finally, a nice, friendly hug. (Just as they rehearsed that morning.)

  Erin sat down in the second guest seat, and Jimmy took the spot in the first guest seat, when Larry sat down.

  “So. Jimmy,” Larry started.

  “Yes, Larry?”

  “What the hell?”

  (The audience loved that line and it took a while for them to quiet down.)

  “Well, one of the reporters was holding out a pte of cupcakes…”

  (Laughter.)

  “I think we all know what happened,” Jimmy continued. “I happened to realize a major truth about myself in the worst possible time and pce.”

  “Oh sure, we’ve all done that,” said Larry. “When I hosted the Emmys, I was introducing best supporting actor when I realized I didn’t care much for Zydeco music.”

  (“Boo!” said someone from the audience.)

  “Looks like we’ve got someone from the Bayou here tonight, Larry,” Jimmy said.

  (“Aiyee!” said the audience member, eliciting ughter.)

  “But I take it your revetion was a bit different from that.”

  This was it.

  Rip off the bandaid.

  Push through it.

  No hesitation.

  “Yeah, Larry, yeah,” Jimmy said. “Two days ago, in that exact moment you saw on the clip, I realized in front of all those reporters that I was a transgender woman.”

  Jimmy didn’t know what he expected. But he didn’t expect what happened next.

  Zimmer’s audience started appuding. And the appuse got louder. And louder. Until Jimmy was getting a standing ovation.

  Larry patted Jimmy’s hand, and whispered, although the mics still picked it up. “I told you I’d take care of you. They’re the best te-night audience in the world. The absolute best.”

  Jimmy nodded and tried not to tear up, as Larry waited for the appuse to die down. He could break down ter. He had a job to do.

  “So,” Larry said. “Walk me through this. Help me understand exactly what you were feeling, what you were thinking.”

  “Well, obviously the first thing that went through my head was panic! And it took me a while, but I had good friends to help me through it. Erin here, and her wife Julia, my co-creator Sam, my friends Pranav and Sheri - Sheri especially helped me come to grips with it. Julia and Sam are in the audience tonight - Hi Sam!” He waved to them.

  “Hi Julia!” said Erin, also waving, and blowing Julia a kiss.

  “Sam Culver, she was the one who originally came up with the format, yes?”

  “Yes, she did, and then we took it, refined it, pitched it to Garden Alpha, and they gave us the greenlight. We’ve been working on it for three months now.”

  “Three months?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you just figured out you’re a woman two days ago?”

  “Larry, I never said I was a genius.”

  (Laughter.)

  “Because - and forgive me if I’m being stupid - a lot of trans people talk about dressing up in women’s clothing as a child, or that they knew from early on.”

  “Not only did I not know, but every time I had even the slightest inkling, I always buried it deep down. Tried not to think about it. And then I got involved in this project and couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to transition, to be one of the contestants.”

  “So, what happens now?”

  “With me, or with the show?”

  “Both, I guess,” Larry said.

  “Well, originally I was attached to the project as a director, but over the past forty eight hours, we’ve changed that up a bit. Erin talked before about how we’re going to show gender dysphoria by having our contestants, who aren’t transgender–”

  “At least,” interrupted Larry, “as far as you know.”

  “Or maybe even as far as they know!” added Jimmy. “I mean I didn’t know until two days ago! Good point! So - our contestants all identify as male. I’ve just learned that I identify as female, so this presented us with an opportunity. What better way to contrast gender dysphoria with gender euphoria, by going through the same thing the contestants are going through.”

  “You’re going to be a contestant on your own show?”

  “Worked for Walce Shawn, right? You were there.”

  “Jeez, that’s a deep cut from the memory banks,” said Larry.

  “Anyway, I’ll be doing the same things,” Jimmy continued, “but I won’t be eligible for any prize money or competing in any of the challenges. But you’ll basically see the difference.”

  “So you’re going to film your transition for the world to see over the course of the next - what, six months, a year? That - and forgive me - that would terrify me. To be examined like that over something so obviously personal.”

  “Well, Larry, when you put it like that, it sounds like a really bad idea.”

  (Laughter from the audience.)

  “But no, I thought about this. Part of it is that I’d need to do this anyway, and we’re already set up for it, and I’m already a public figure. If I give up a little bit of privacy so that people can see what trans people really go through? I don’t know. Maybe it’ll do some good.”

  “I hope it does, Jimmy. I hope it does. Actually, that brings up a question.”

  “Yes, Larry?”

  “Well, I have to think that now that you’re identifying as a woman, do you have any pns to change your name?”

  “Actually, Larry, it turns out I already have one. Not a lot of people know this but ‘Jimmy Howard’ is a stage name. My original name is Jamie Horowitz. I changed it when I started working in television. I think I’m just going to change it back. ‘Jamie Howard.’”

  “Jamie Howard,” Larry repeated. “She/Her?”

  “She/Her.”

  (Appuse from the crowd.)

  “Congratutions, Ms. Howard.”

  “Thank you, Larry. It means a lot to me.”

  “There is one thing we have to do - and we talked backstage about this.”

  “Oh no.”

  “You brought up the Walce Shawn Challenge, but if you recall, back then I also hosted the ‘Man Cave Hour.’”

  “Yes, you did. With Adam Tercel, if I recall.”

  “Well, as part of that, I was legally assigned as a guardian of the bro code. And that’s an appointment that you get for life.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Really. It’s a real legal thing and not something we just made up.” (Laughter.) “And I’m sorry Jamie. I’m really very sorry to have to do this. I’m going to have to ask you to turn in your man card.”

  Jamie made a pouty face, and then pulled out the little card from her coat pocket.

  Erin, who was unaware that this was going to happen, doubled over in ughter on the couch next to him, as Larry took the card, and showed it to the monitor. It read: ‘Official Man Card. Issued to Jimmy Howard.’ Under that was Jimmy’s signature, and then ‘This card grants the assignee all the privileges of the bro code.’

  “Can everyone see that, on the monitor there?” asked Larry, to the audience. “Right. I’m sorry I have to do this, Jamie.”

  Larry took out a comically rge stamp from the desk, and applied it with a loud ka-chunk to the card. He held up the card to the cameras again, this time with a bright red stamp that read: ‘REVOKED’.

  Finally, he took a sharpie pen, and signed the stamp.

  “And I have to sign this as an official. Jamie, if you’ll sign here on this line to indicate that this is a voluntary surrender… and Erin, if you could go ahead and sign this as a witness?”

  Jamie signed her new (old) name, ‘Jamie Howard’, and then passed the marker to Erin. When they were done, Larry held it up to the camera for the final time.

  “So, this is all official now, Jamie. Kind of a historic moment for you.”

  “Indeed it is, Larry.”

  “Now, we’re going to do something special with this - we’re going to auction this off at ZimmelLive.com/auctions - the address is on the screen, or you can scan the QR code in the corner of your screens right now to get taken directly there, and we’re going to send all the money from the winning bid to the Trevor Project, which works for suicide prevention for LGBTQIA+ youth.”

  Sonny and the After Hours bandits started to py, and Larry started the outro for the third part of the show.

  “When we come back,” said Larry, over the music, “Werewolf Bank Holiday. You don’t want to miss it, stay tuned!”

  ***

  That was it. Well, no, there was still seven whole minutes of air to fill with the musical guest, but the hard part was over. Ms. Jamie Howard had just come out, changed her name, her pronouns, on national, live TV.

  Larry got up from the desk, and addressed the audience.

  “Hey, folks, we’re on a commercial break right now but I wanted to thank you for making Jamie feel welcome here tonight. I promised her that you were the best audience in te night, and you didn’t disappoint. Thank you. And Jamie, I think I speak for everyone on the cast and crew when I say that we’re all rooting for you and honored that you chose our show to do what you did.”

  Another standing ovation. Jamie knew, she knew, that there were going to be trials and tributions. That life, as she had known it, was forever changed. That it would get objectively harder, because she was a woman, and women have always had it objectively harder.

  But in that moment, with an audience appuding her, supporting her, the real her…

  She was no stranger to audiences appuding. But this was the first time that Jamie felt the audience was appuding her. Her eyes teared up, and she took out the handkerchief for just this occasion, dabbing her eyes, trying not to smear her studio makeup - there was still one segment to get through.

  She took a bow.

  And then she thought better of it.

  And took a curtsy.

  ***