The Bootlegger Blues (2 page)

SCENE 2

Angie is standing by the bleachers watching the powwow Angie is a beautiful 22 years old, and is new to the reserve. She's eating something when she notices Andrew walking in the distance. She recognizes him and is impressed. Wanting to make a good impression, she tries to get rid of the food. She bends over the railing, exposing her behind. Andrew walks over and can't help but notice Angie's position.

ANDREW:

Well, hello there. I don't believe I recognize you.

Angie, embarrassed, turns around.

ANGIE:

Uh, excuse me?

ANDREW:

(
Sees her face
) Now I'm sure of it. Don't think I've ever seen you around here. I would have remembered you. What's your name?

ANGIE:

Who wants to know?

ANDREW:

I do.

ANGIE:

And who are you?

ANDREW:

Who would you like me to be?

ANGIE:

Somebody six foot four, biceps that could crack walnuts, money enough to buy me all the horses in the world, and every time he comes over to spend the night, he has to bring a shoehorn, if you know what I mean? That's the big requirement?

Andrew is deflated.

ANDREW:

Good luck.

ANGIE:

Don't tell me you give up so quick? What do they call you around here, one shot Blue?

ANDREW:

Just Blue. How'd you know my name?

ANGIE:

(
Smiles mischievously
) And I can tell you how you got your nickname.

ANDREW:

I don't think so.

ANGIE:

One hot summer you were in quite a rush to go play baseball. In your hurry to do up your pants, you accidently caught a certain part of your anatomy in the zipper of your blue jeans. Pajogeen in the odjee.

ANDREW:

(
Weakly
) P'jogan.

ANGIE:

By the time they unjammed it, you were blue, and a nickname was born.

ANDREW:

It was either that or "Stubby."

ANGIE:

And when you were 14, there was that little inci- dent with the magazines under your bed. I believe you were caught …

ANDREW:

What are you? A witch or something? How do you know this stuff?

ANGIE:

Doesn't everyone?

ANDREW:

Oh god, I hope not. Come on, you bribing my relatives or something? You with the DIA?

ANGIE:

ANGIE:

ANDREW:

I'm not paranoid. Who are you?

ANGIE:

I'm a friend of your sisters.

ANDREW:

Marianne? She dies. You don't look like her normal type of friend. No tattoos. Does she owe you money or something?

ANGIE:

Nothing like that. A couple months ago this guy with no front teeth was hustling me at one of the reserve dances. He pissed me off and I started yelling at him for a good five minutes.

ANDREW:

What happened?

ANGIE:

I found out he was deaf in one ear. Then suddenly the famous Marianne who I'd heard so much about was standing at my side.

ANDREW:

I bet he pissed his pants.

ANGIE:

ANDREW:

Angie? Angie White?

ANGIE:

(
Surprised
) Yeah.

ANDREW:

As in Bill C-31 Angie White?

ANGIE:

Yeah.

ANDREW:

As in Angie White, age 22. Five feet, five inches, weight normally 120 pounds but rose to 133 since arrival on reserve. Blames lack of proper exercise facilities, but in actual fact due to the introduction of a higher cholesterol diet and a devotion to her Aunt Julia's strawberry pies. Born July 2nd weighing in at seven pounds, two ounces. Very intelligent but for some reason has a fondness for romance novels. Bra size 34 C …

ANGIE:

Sorry to disappoint you but it's 34 B.

ANDREW:

Damn!

SCENE 3

Marianne is sitting in the kitchen at one end of the stage staring dully at the typewriter.

MARIANNE:

(
Singing
) A B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-J, I could sure use a Jay about now. I never noticed how some keys remind me of certain people's faces.

She stabs at some keys vengefully.

MARIANNE:

Ah Frankie, you'd look great with an X across your face. And David, don't get T'd off. (Pause) To work or not to work, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or go on pogy. Damn that Frankie and David, making me work on a holiday. I'm sick and tired of blisters on my fingertips and calluses on my ass. Just because of a tiny little accident with a $6,000 computer. It was insured. Somewhere out there, women are having fun. Ten years ago I was out there dancing. I was 24, making a fortune renting out my I. D. Ten years, David, the drum's the same but we aren't. We shouldn't have quit the powwow circuit. We lost too much. Look at me, I'm cleaning, cooking, doing reports. I should be out there kicking up dirt, not writing it.

I wonder if Frankie is at the powwow. "It's a charming cultural event, and it might generate some much-needed revenue." It's amazing how a man with such a big neck and head can have no brains.

SCENE 4

Lights come up to illuminate the bleachers as Marianne continues to type. Angie and Andrew listen to the announcer on the loudspeaker.

ANNOUNCER:

Would all contestants for the men's Fancy Dance Competition please move to the dancing area.

ANGIE:

Oh good, more dancing. Just look at all this. Have you ever seen so many Indians in all your life? And they're all dancing and singing.

ANDREW:

You'll find that at powwows occasionally.

Noble enters in his Fancy Dancing outfit. He is 34 and looks quite impressive. He bends over to adjust his leggings.

ANGIE:

Nice buns.

ANDREW:

You like that type?

ANGIE:

He's colorful.

ANDREW:

So's an infected finger.

Noble stands, ready to dance. Marianne works on her report, miserably typing away in the kitchen. After a couple of seconds the sound of the typewriter keys begins to sound like the drum thumping. Then the actual drum comes up and Noble starts to dance. With the first few thumps of the drum, he trembles. The drum song starts up in earnest, and so does Noble. He starts slowly but gradually he's moving faster and faster, with feathers flying. He is in full flight. The music seems to invade Marianne. She looks down at her typewriter. Her face tightens, she stands up, grabs the typewriter, lifts it up, swings it off the desk, then drops it with a loud crash. She smiles a self-satisfied smile. Happily she goes off to see the powwow. She waves to Angie and Andrew. Angie points to Noble and shouts something. Marianne sees Noble dancing and is mesmerized. She watches him for a moment then hesitantly goes to him when the music stops. She touches his shoulder gently, he turns around and she gingerly offers him her pop. He accepts it with a grateful smile. Their hands briefly touch.

MARIANNE:

Thirsty?

NOBLE:

Dryer than a camel's fart.

Noble winks at her. Marianne is almost embarrassed.

MARIANNE:

My friend thinks you have nice buns.

NOBLE:

Oh yeah, tell her to take a number.

MARIANNE:

You're a very good dancer, you know.

NOBLE:

Tell that to the judges. Out there sweating to beat hell for nothing. Barely made gas money to the next powwow. People say I'm past my prime, (
Glances at Marianne
) for dancing that is. I remember you, you used to be a good dancer. How come you quit?

MARIANNE:

My life got stuck. So where are you off to next?

NOBLE:

First thing tomorrow, there's a convoy boogeying its way down to Michigan. Wanna come?

MARIANNE:

I already have a man, so to speak.

NOBLE:

Will he be in Michigan?

MARIANNE:

No.

NOBLE:

So what's your problem?

MARIANNE:

It's not that easy.

NOBLE:

But I am.

Noble grabs Marianne's hand and quickly leads her off stage. She laughs in surprise and delight.

SCENE 5

Angie and Andrew, in love but trying to hide it, are walking down a street, talking.

ANDREW:

So why'd you move here in the first place?

ANGIE:

Curiosity—about this side of my life. So voilà, here I am in pick-up truck city. Boy I hate country music.

ANDREW:

I love it.

ANGIE:

How can you love music about falling off bar stools and (
In a twang
) cheatin' on your woman?

ANDREW:

You've got a lot to learn about reserve life, Angie White.

ANGIE:

Tell me about it. I've been here all day watching the dancers strutting their stuff. Only I'm not quite sure what stuff it is that they're strutting. They don't show this kind of dancing on "Much Music." I don't know anything about this stuff — I wouldn't know a snake dance if it bit me. And a round dance, what the hell is that?

ANDREW:

(
Teasing
) That's when everybody who's around dances.

ANGIE:

Oh, and why do the drummers drum on the ground?

ANDREW:

Because they can't fly.

ANGIE:

You're making fun of me. Quit it. It's hard enough around here without you teasing me.

ANDREW:

Listen, I'll give you some advice. The entire philosophy of this whole reserve can be boiled down into three letters of the alphabet, B.L.T.

ANGIE:

B.L.T.?

ANDREW:

Bingo, liquor, and tournaments.

Uttering a brief scream, Angie darts into Andrew's arms.

ANDREW:

It's only a snake.

ANGIE:

I know that. I watched "Wild Kingdom." I just hate these bush things. They scare me to death. And all the noises, you should see me at night sometime. I'm walking down the roads and I'll hear a bush rustle or a tree creak. Bang, I'm in the nearest doorway so fast I'd run over rabbits.

ANDREW:

I noticed your legs. Well, here's your house. I used to play in your backyard when I was young.

ANGIE:

I bet you'd still like to.

ANDREW:

Uh, so do you want to get together later and do something? The reserve doesn't have to be as boring as you may think.

ANGIE:

Sounds great. (Pause) Oh I can't, not tonight. My mother has some friends staying over from the powwow. I have to hang around, cook, entertain, all that sort of stuff.

ANDREW:

No way of getting out of it?

ANGIE:

Can't. Promised my mom.

ANDREW:

Later?

ANGIE:

Sorry.

ANDREW:

When?

ANGIE:

Tomorrow?

ANDREW:

Tomorrow?!

ANGIE:

Yep.

ANDREW:

Okay.

ANGIE:

When?

ANDREW:

Breakfast?

ANGIE:

Yum.

ANDREW:

Tomorrow.

ANGIE:

Bye.

ANDREW:

Bye.

They walk backwards a bit, not wanting to go. Then they turn to leave.

ANDREW:

And it's not even my birthday.

ANGIE:

And suddenly it's Christmas.

He walks off singing 'Angie" by the Rolling Stones.

SCENE 6

Martha walks into the kitchen in her house. The kitchen is quite homey and clean, a kitchen a mother could be proud of (and she is). On the table is a bunch of receipts along with a cash box. Martha storms across the room, obviously not too happy. She sits down at the table and looks through all the bills and receipts.

MARTHA:

That'll teach me! Yep, it surely will. Never again will I use the Devil's tools to profit the Lord. (Sadly) I'll even give up bingo.

Andrew comes in the room loudly announcing his presence.

ANDREW:

What's on the stove, Mom? I'm hungry enough to eat a Mohawk, funny haircut and all.

MARTHA:

Oh behave you, I brought some food home from the Center. Mudbin. [Sit down.] Fix yourself something.

Andrew grabs a sandwich from a box on the table.

ANDREW:

Thanks Mom, worked up quite the appetite.

MARTHA:

Doing what?

ANDREW:

Walking with Angie. Angie White.

MARTHA:

That's nice. Cousins should get to know each other.

ANDREW:

Cousins!! We're cousins?!

MARTHA:

Uh huh.

ANDREW:

You sure?

MARTHA:

Oh yes, you see my uncle on my mother's side used to be married to a certain Wilhimena George before she went crazy and tried to eat her cat. They had a child, I believe his name was Celestin. He was well known for his fondness for ladies and he ended up fathering a child out of wedlock with a young lady named Clyde.

ANDREW:

Clyde?!

MARTHA:

Her father had a peculiar sense of humor. Any-ways, they didn't last long and if I remember correctly, Angie had a great-cousin, I think on her father's side, named Ben but everybody called him Boney, because the man was a living rack of bones. You could play "Amazing Grace" on his ribs. Come to think of it, Boney was also related to Angie's mother, twice removed from her grandfather's cousin. So these two met, Boney and Clyde, and god forbid if they didn't raise a whole batch of kids, one of whom was James.

ANDREW:

Wait a minute, wait a minute, that was Angie's father?

MARTHA:

He was no relation. Pay attention, Blue. He was adopted by Boney and Clyde cause his family couldn't take care of him. Now this was your father's cousin. So James ended up staying with Boney and Clyde and he eventually fell in love with Maggie and married her. Now Maggie is the aunt of Angie. See? Simple.

ANDREW:

(
Rubbing his temples
) We got any Tylenol?

MARTHA:

Bathroom, top shelf in the mirror.

ANDREW:

(
Dejected
) Cousins.

MARTHA:

Of course that's just the short version of the story.

ANDREW:

Oh well, it's back to the magazines.

MARTHA:

Pardon?

ANDREW:

Nothing, just a dream going up in smoke.

MARTHA:

That's nice, dear.

There's a knock at the door.

MARTHA:

Biingen. [Come in.]

David enters looking upset but perfectly dapper, as usual, in his designer jogging outfit.

DAVID:

(
Breathing deeply
) Martha …

MARTHA:

That's a very nice outfit, David. You always look so good.

DAVID:

It's my new jogging outfit. I bought one for Marianne too, if I can ever find her. I want her to try it on before I remove the tags. You see, Martha, image is everything. That daughter of yours doesn't seem to understand that. Nor does she realize the effects her emotional problems toward machines will have on my relationship with the band manager.

Marianne enters the room, almost floating in.

MARIANNE:

Hello everybody.

Do you mind telling me where you've been all this time? Huh? Do you?

MARIANNE:

Oh David, you're here. Nice outfit. Let me guess, you got me one too?

DAVID:

Can you guess where I've just been?

MARIANNE:

(
Looks at David's suit
) The circus?

DAVID:

The community center, Marianne. And do you know what I found there?

MARIANNE:

A dead body draped over the stove, with a knife deep in its back, and a cryptic message scrawled in blood.

DAVID:

A broken typewriter. The band's broken typewriter.

MARIANNE:

Maybe the dead guy was holding it when he was stabbed.

DAVID:

You, Marianne, will be the death of me yet.

ANDREW:

Lighten up, David, nobody dies from a broken typewriter.

DAVID:

They do when it's band property. Remember what happened to Fabian last year?

MARIANNE:

But that's different. You just don't decide to party in a cement mixer. That's stupid.

ANDREW:

He did end up as a damn good war memorial though. Where were you anyways?

Martha slaps his arm urging him to be quiet and inconspicuous.

MARTHA:

Bzaanyaan. [Be quiet.]

DAVID:

Marianne, I think you need professional help. The band manager …

MARIANNE:

Professional help?! Hell, David, you need some serious partying help. Try singing a song or doing a dance once, you might like it. Do you know what your problem is, David? You need to live on the wild side for a while. Go crazy, put the pedal to the metal, go skinny dipping, try seeing a movie without reading two reviews first, or even, if you dare, try calling the band manager Frankie.

DAVID:

I did. Once.

MARIANNE:

When?

DAVID:

Remember last February when I got sent to Moose Factory for three weeks? Just before then.

Marianne and Andrew laugh.

DAVID:

That's enough of this. Marianne Elizabeth, I demand to know who you were with.

MARIANNE:

I went for a drive.

DAVID:

But I had the car.

MARIANNE:

(
Dreamily
) Other people drive cars too, you know. Cars with balls, that still have a speedometer in miles, and seats that go down.

DAVID:

Do these people have names?

MARIANNE:

A friend named Noble.

DAVID:

Noble?! What kind of name is Noble?

MARIANNE:

He told me it's short for Noble Savage.

DAVID:

Noble Savage! How amusing. It's time to go home now, Marianne. I've invited the band manager over for dinner to better explain your problem with machines.

MARIANNE:

Maybe I don't wanna go home.

DAVID:

(
Wearily
) Now Marianne …

MARIANNE:

Maybe I want to spend some time with my little brother.

She grabs and hugs Andrew, almost smothering and crushing him.

MARIANNE:

Maybe I want to stay here with my family, people I love and respect.

DAVID:

No, Marianne!

MARIANNE:

Yes, David. Read my lips. Yes meaning I'm not going home with you, but yes I'm staying here. Try and move me.

She glares defiantly into David's eyes.

DAVID:

You want to stay here? Fine, then stay here. Maybe I should cook anyways. The band manager is allergic to Klik.

David slams his fist on the table as he leaves. He is halfway across the floor before he stops.

DAVID:

Sorry about hitting your table, Martha.

MARTHA:

No problem, David.

David leaves.

MARTHA:

What in God's great mercy is the matter with you two?

MARIANNE:

Oh it's David. He's going through one of his jerk phases. It happens occasionally. Women have periods, men have jerk phases.

ANDREW:

I hope this car ride of yours was worth it.

MARIANNE:

It was like reliving a dream. A girl's allowed to dream, isn't she, Mom?

MARTHA:

Oh don't be silly, I haven't dreamed in 40 years, and I'm just jim dandy.

ANDREW:

Who's Jim Dandy?

MARTHA :

And don't start up with me either, I've got too many things on my mind right now to bother with you two.

ANDREW:

Problems, Mom?

MARTHA:

Now don't you worry about that. You just go settle down and get used to your home again.

ANDREW:

Okay, you're the boss.

He starts moving toward his room.

MARIANNE:

Maybe me and Blue can help?

MARTHA:

I'll figure this out myself.

As Andrew approaches his room, atmosphere music slowly comes up. It should have the same feel as "Chariots Of Fire" or "2001: A Space Odyssey." The room is suddenly flooded with light revealing an awesome sight to Andrew. An entire wall of his bedroom is covered with 143 cases of beer, stacked in neat rows. He shakes his head to clear it and looks again. He runs to it in slow motion. He reaches out gingerly and touches one of the cases to see if it's really there. He looks to the heavens.

ANDREW:

Thank you! They're all here, all of them.

Andrew shakes a case of Canadian, creating the telltale sound of bottles rattling.

ANDREW:

The national anthem!!

He reaches out to grab one when he hears his mother's voice.

MARTHA:

Blue! Don't you dare touch that beer. Your room is the only place I could find to store it. It belongs to the committee.

Crestfallen, Andrew looks back upwards.

ANDREW:

(
Disgusted
) Thanks. I'll never be able to sleep.

Back in the kitchen, Marianne sits down beside Martha.

MARIANNE:

So that's where you put it. I told you if you wanted you could store the stuff at my place.

MARTHA:

Iizan-gonaa! [As if!]

Andrew walks in, looking stunned.

MARTHA:

Blue, are you all right?

ANDREW:

There must be over 100 cases of beer in there.

MARTHA:

One hundred and forty-three to be exact. (
She bursts into tears
) And it's all that crazy old Marjorie's fault. I bet she did this all so she could become president of the committee. They're gonna burn me at the stake and Marjorie will be buying the gasoline.

MARIANNE:

How much have you sold already?

MARTHA:

Twenty-two.

MARIANNE:

(
Shocked
) Only 22 cases?!

MARTHA:

Twenty-two bottles! (
She starts crying again
) Not even a full case. And every last one of them was bought by Crazy Fiddler, bless his beer-soaked little heart. I'm doomed, doomed.

MARIANNE:

Well, what do you think we should do?

ANDREW:

Get our skates.

MARIANNE:

What?

ANDREW:

Hell has got to be freezing over.