The Bootlegger Blues Read Free

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