Woman by Richard Matheson

Max?" Barbara said. He directed an arctic look at her.
     
         David noticed how uneasy
Ganine was. "Maybe we should stop this," he said.
     
         Liz had noticed his look at
Ganine. "The rest of us are interested,
David," she said.
     
         "I know but—"
David started.
     
         "You were saying, Max?" Barbara said in a
cold, demanding tone. My God, David thought, I never knew the two of them were
so completely alienated.
     
         "I was saying," Max responded in a tone
equally cold, "who can blame men for turning queer? Women aren't women
anymore. They're female men."
     
         "So why shouldn't men
become male women, is that it?" Liz asked him.
     
         "That's it, Producer
Lady," Max answered.
     
         "If that's the exchange
you want," Liz said.
     
         "It seems to be the one you want," he replied.
     
         "Balls said the Queen.
If I had them I'd be King," Val broke in.
     
         Liz smiled at her brother.
Not affectionately now. "That idea doesn't bother me either."
     
         "Liz, I know you don't
believe that," David said, torn by ambivalence. On one hand, he wanted all
of them to leave for the awards. (No matter how tense the limo ride might be).
On the other hand, he couldn't just desert the discussion at this point.
     
         "If I have to grow
balls to make it in the 'man's' world, I'll do it," Liz said.
     
         Max's smile at her was
victorious. "You wouldn't be a women then," he said.
     
         "I'd still have won," Liz told him.
     
         The smile broadened on Max's
lips. "I think De Sade said it best."
     
         "You would,"
Barbara said.
     
         "Whip them asses!"
Val contributed.
     
         Max ignored them both.
"Woman is a miserable creature," he said "always inferior to
man, less ingenious, lesswise, a creature sick three-quarters of her life, sour
of disposition, cross-grained, imperious, a tyrant if you give her leave and
base and groveling in captivity but always nasty, always dangerous."
     
          "Hallelujah!" Val crowed with revival meeting fervor.
     
         "What did you do, spend
the last year memorizing that?" Barbara said, scowling.
     
         "No, it just stayed in
my memory, it's so convincing." He cut her off as she started to speak.
"How about a shorter quote then? Richard Burton. 'They should be abolished.'"
     
         Val cackled. "Full
moon! Crazy time!"
     
         "I think we're going
into this little too deeply," David said.
     
         But Max was on a roll now.
"Or as Schopenhauer put it: Most men fall in love with a pretty face and
find themselves bound for life to a hateful stranger, alternating—"
     
         "Well, now we know who
your real target is," Barbara said, trying to disguise the hurt in her
voice.
     
         David raised his hands. "Folks" he said. "This is
supposed to be a fun evening in case you forgot."
     
         Max went on as though David
hadn't spoken. "Consider the tyranny of the non-working wife," he
said. "I don't know who I'm quoting now."
     
         "Your self ?" Barbara said icily.
     
         "Maybe," Max
responded. "The point is this. The non-working wife seeks status by
driving her husband to higher and higher success and, if he fails, she treats him
with contempt and withdraws all sexual reward."
     
          "Who withdraws it?" Barbara snapped.
     
         David sighed. Will we ever
make that limo ride? he thought. It seemed less and less likely.
     
         "This is great!"
Val enthused, "I love it!"
     
         "In case you're not
aware of it, Max," Liz told him. "In the Western world, women are
more than a third of the working force."
     
          "And
the rest of them work at home," Barbara said.
     
         Max laughed scornfully.
"My ass," he replied. "Housesand apartments are so filled with
hired help and labor-saving devices, women never have to lift a goddamn
finger."