The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays (26 page)

CORNELIUS
: Chips insisted! You hear that?

BELLA
: Always such a sweet boy. [
Picks up a large, leather framed, hand-tinted photo of Chips, hair blond in ringlets, long neck, wide baby-blue eyes
.] Remember how he was voted the handsomest boy at Pascagoola High?

CORNELIUS
: I remember how he was voted the prettiest girl at Pascagoola High. That I remember clearly.

CHARLIE
: Pop, you know the,
the—editor
of the class-annual just,
he—got
it mixed up,
a—accidental
mix-up.

CORNELIUS
: A very peculiar and embarrassing mix-up
and—

CHARLIE
: I spoke to the editor of that fifteen year ago class-annual, Pop. He assured me it was a terrible mix-up, completely accidental, and he apologized to me for it. Oh, I was pretty pissed off, kicked his
ass an’ blacked both eyes and he apologized for it, swore it was just a mix-up.

BELLA
: What’s that, Chips? I didn’ unnerstand that.

CORNELIUS
[
slowly and loudly
]: Bella, do you realize you’re talkin’ to Charlie, not Chips whose funeral we attended a day ago in Memphis? [
Slight pause
.]

BELLA
: Charlie? Not Chips?
—Tragedy
, long trip.

CHARLIE
: Confused you a little, Mom.

BELLA
: I only know I got two wonderful sons to thank God faw. Oh, the om’lette could scawch!

CHARLIE
: Lemme take care of it, Mama.

BELLA
[
staggering up from sofa
]: Not sure I put all ingredients in it. Onions, yais, but not the bacon an’
cheese—an’
should have some ketchup on it. Om’lette’s got to be
watched—scawch
quick—not
sure
if—

CORNELIUS
: Charlie, you reckon you could get her back to the kitchen where she seems to be headed?
—Did
you hear me, Charlie?

CHARLIE
: You know I think we need somebody to help her out,
a—a
able-bodied young woman
to—

CORNELIUS
: What people need and what people can afford are two diff’rent things.

CHARLIE
: Well, if I got married, for
instance—

CORNELIUS
: Unemployed?
—First
get you a job you can hold, then think about matrimony.

CHARLIE
: Pop, I know your retirement pay was adequate when you received it, but hasn’t kept pace with this run-away inflation.

CORNELIUS
: Shit, what could keep pace with it except a hawss that won the Kentucky Derby by ten lengths?

CHARLIE
: Some people think we’re haided into depression. ’Sthat your opinion?

CORNELIUS
: Opinion, no, conviction, yais. It’s not the President’s fault but the fault of the system which don’t adjust to the population increase, here and world-over, too many stomachs to feed. Why, I read somewhere that by the year 2030 which you might survive to enjoy, world population will have doubled. Starvation, pestilence, war after war after war, that’s what you’ll live to enjoy. I’m glad I’ll be departed. Oh, they tole me when I run for Mayor of Pascagoola on the independent ticket, I hadn’t the chance of a fart in a wind-stawm with a radical opinion such as that but I don’t compromise with principles and convictions and so got only ten votes out of two hundred at the Moose Lodge, why, even your Mom said she couldn’t git to the polls though offered transportation and still in reasonable health.

CHARLIE
: Ten votes only for Mayor of Pascagoola? Sorry about that, Pop.

CORNELIUS
: I don’t regret it. Who needs political office in times like this? Only crooks that line their pockets with bribes.

CHARLIE
: Might of been profitable to you. However this house is a piece of Gulf property, Pop.

CORNELIUS
: This house is held up, why it’s literally supported by termites!

CHARLIE
: House, maybe, but not the grounds. What would it be worth if we was obliged to sell it when you, if you
ever—after
you’ve—

CORNELIUS
:
Departed?—Why
are you so int’rested in my value as a cadaver?

CHARLIE
: You misunderstand me completely. It just seems to
me—

CORNELIUS
[
cutting in sharply
]:
—What
are your plans for employment?

CHARLIE
: Why, anything good that comes up.

CORNELIUS
: That don’t require any effort?
—Emerson
Sykes, at the Moose Lodge, my closest friend among ’em, is branchin’ out.

CHARLIE
: Which way?

CORNELIUS
: Tole me las’ week he was openin’ a small motel in Gulfport. You reckon you could pass out room keys in a motel and put money in a cashbox when they check out? Would that be too complicated and require too much effort? Huh?

CHARLIE
: How definite is it? This offer?

CORNELIUS
:
—Not
yet been offered.
—I
could get you the job, Emerson bein’ my closest friend at the Lodge.
—But
could you keep it?
—Charlie
?

CHARLIE
: Huh?

CORNELIUS
: Go answer the door. Ev’ry move I make
is—

[
Cornelius eyes fall shut. Charlie exchanges signals with Stacey, advising her to remain in obscurity yet a while. The door, which was left ajar by the dog, swings open on Emerson Sykes. He is in hip length boots and hunting clothes
]

CORNELIUS
[
struggling painfully out of chair
]: Well, if it ain’t Em!

EMERSON
: Yeah, Corney. It’s me.

CORNELIUS
: I’d just mentioned your name! Been huntin’ in this weather?

EMERSON
: Naw, naw, naw. Used it as a pretext
to—y’know
. Stag movies at the Lodge tonight. [
Winks
.] So. I just got back when I noticed the lights over here and figured you must be home. Jessie’s takin’ a sitz-bath or she’d come over, too.

CORNELIUS
: Takin’ a what kinda bath?

EMERSON
: Sitz bath is a hot bath that relieves her hemorrhoids,
a—
[
Shakes his head with assumed air of commiseration
.]
—temporary
relief since the hemorrhoids is just a local sign of a more serious condition in the intestine.

CORNELIUS
: I know, Em, you tole me.

EMERSON
: She hollered out the bathroom door to be sure and express the sympathies for us both. Could you share me some of that beer?

CORNELIUS
: Sure, sure. First why don’t you remove them wet boots.

EMERSON
: Aw. Sorry. Yeh.

CORNELIUS
: Charlie, give Em a hand with the boots. HEY, CHARLIE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?

CHARLIE
: For Chrissake, yeah, I’m right here in the room, ain’t I?

CORNELIUS
: Well, in that case, take a chair over to Em and help him pull his boots off.

Not
that over-stuff chair. A light dining-room chair. [
He gestures toward dining room. There is the business of getting to the chair, getting off the boot
.]

EMERSON
: It must of been a terrible shock for you folks.

CORNELIUS
[
somewhat cheered
]: Naw, naw, it was expected.

CHARLIE
: Wow!

CORNELIUS
: If a fool’s hell bent on destruction, no reason to regret his making it, Em.

CHARLIE
: Pop, let up on Chips now that he’s daid, huh?

CORNELIUS
:
—This
is the younger one, Charlie.

EMERSON
: Sure, sure. I recognized Charlie, ain’t been that long a
time—

CORNELIUS
: Just time enough for him to make out with some female he’s got upstairs
and—

EMERSON
: Ow, ’s that right, unnerstandable, boys will be boys, huh, Corn?

CORNELIUS
: Except when they will be girls!

CHARLIE
: Pop, I said to let Chips lie in rest! Goddam it, can’t you even lay off his mem’ry now that he’s daid?

CORNELIUS
: Em Sykes knows all about it. We’ve discussed your brother’s conduct when I was at my wit’s end how to deal with it and it was Em that said, Git him somewhere outa the New Awleuns influence. However it was good advice wasted. Apparently that influence is extended up the river, least as far as Memphis if
not—

BELLA
[
opens kitchen door to call out
]: Lucky I discovered more eggs in the icebox since I burnt the first batch. Is that Emerson Sykes in there?

EMERSON
: Bella, Jessie coudn’t come over but ast me to
express—

BELLA
: Scuse me, got eggs frying, I’ll call her later. [
She returns to kitchen
.]

EMERSON
:
—sympathies
of us both . . .

CORNELIUS
: Probably devoured that first om’lette herself. You hungry, Em?

EMERSON
: Naw, naw, had a big barbecue supper, I could use a beer though.

CORNELIUS
: Charlie, go get a coupla cold beers from the fridge.

CORNELIUS
: Set down, Em.

EMERSON
: My clo’se are damp.

CORNELIUS
: Never mind. Nothin’ in here to hurt.

EMERSON
: I’ll get into
this—

CORNELIUS
: Trench coat of Charlie’s. Wow, imagine!
—She
’s fryin’ up more food. I tell you, Bella thinks that eating’ll solve ev’ry problem. Y’know I got to drive her to the Kwik-Chek and follow behind her and the food
cart—have
to put back on the shelves half of what she takes off ’em.
—Em
? Em?

EMERSON
: Hmmm? Yeah, you know we’ve got to ignore these little irritations in life. Got to live with them, Corney.

CORNELIUS
: I hones’ly think that woman is gone in her haid. Before I married her, 35 years ago, I was warned that mental
troubles—her
family was shot through with mental, emotional problems. Why did I ignore this warnin’ I don’t know now. She then appeared to be normal. Nothin’ more deceptive than appearance in youth. Huh? Em?

EMERSON
: Yes, it’s a problem. I know, but you got to live with it though.

CORNELIUS
: Now, for example, I never seen such a spectacle in my life as what she ate on the plane to the burial of Chips. I thought she’d founder herself. Ate ev’rything on her plate and most of mine.

EMERSON
: No shit.

CORNELIUS
: And for dessert? Huge scoop of ice cream with two sauces on it.

EMERSON
: Two sauces?

CORNELIUS
: I swear she had both sauces, butterscotch and hot fudge, topped off with whipped cream, nuts and a cherry. When she was served that, I got up to puke in the tawlit.

CHARLIE
[
returning with beers
]: You know what Doc Crane said about Mom’s over-eatin’.

CORNELIUS
: Told her to quit or accept the consequences, such
as—lookin’
like a side-show exhibit.

CHARLIE
: You want a beer, Mr. Sykes?

CORNELIUS
: He wants it opened first, Charlie.

CHARLIE
: Opener’s in the kitchen. I’ll go git it.

CORNELIUS
: Yais, that’s a brilliant idea . . .

CHARLIE
: Mom, got a bottle opener in there?

BELLA
[
from offstage
]: Bottle opener? Yeah, yeah. [
A crash is heard from kitchen
.]

CHARLIE
: Watch it. Didja hurt yourself, Mom?

BELLA
: Bottle opener?

CHARLIE
: ’Sall right, Mom. I got it.

BELLA
: Charlie, don’t eat both bottles.

CHARLIE
: They’re for Mr. Sykes, Mom.

BELLA
: Good, good. Glad to hear
that
!

CORNELIUS
: Eat! Bottles! Jesus!

CHARLIE
: Doc Crane says she eats because of anxiety feelings.

CORNELIUS
: Anxiety over what there is to eat next?

CHARLIE
: Mom was thin an’ beautiful in her weddin’ picture, and I bet that she ate light till she discovered your secret attitude toward us all was total
indifference—if
not worse.