Lively plays for live people

by Thomas S. Denison

A DUDE IN A CYCLONE.

Scene—Cyclone cellar in Texas. One door R., blank walls, bench back, all characters discovered, as curtain rises, in state of confusion, some holding lighted candles; footlights out, stage dark.

Townsley. Is everybody in? (Closing door and barring it.)

Mrs. T. Oh John, I’m afraid they’re not all in. Jack are you there, an’ Tootsie?

Jack. I’m O.K. maw, Tootsie, too.

Sol. I. Boot me down O.K. (O gay) too. I set my ziglone alarm, greatest invention of the age. Wendt off an hour ago. Macher, I’ll sell you some stock; 50 per zent down, balance—

Mrs. T. Where’s Pattie Baggs?

Mrs. B. I’m here, Mrs. Townsley. And I’m dyin’ o’ fright. Oh, I wish John was here!

Mrs. T. Do you want him here to be blown to fiddle-strings in the cyclone?

Mrs. B. But he’s on the cyars and it may blow the train off the track.

Sol. I. Tear laty, regomment him to my ziglone ogsident bolicy!

Mrs. B. Oh, I shall faint if you go on that way.

Adolph. Deah me, is the stom so vewy violent as that?

Jim F. Well, I should say, Puterbaugh! Last cyclone there was an old goose on a nest under the barn. It blew those goose eggs, would you believe it, right through the brick chimney. Holes in the brickwork looked as if there had been a cannonade.

Adolph. Dweadful! I’m sowwy (sorry) I evah left New Yawk!

Sol. I. Mine frent, Nye Yorick vas a great blace, but it ish not in it gombared to Dexas.

Jim F. That’s what, Isaacstein. A cyclone’s not bad. It’s a little exciting, but rather enjoyable when you get used to it.

Adolph. Weally, you don’t say! It must be vewy twyin’ on the nerves.

Mrs. T. Townsley, is the door barred securely?

Town. Yes, my dear.

Mrs. T. John, put something more against it. (A pause.) You men lean against it.

Town. Let the door alone, can’t you!

Mrs. B. Oh my nerves, they’re twitchin’ forty ways for Sunday.

Mrs. T. Pattie Baggs, can’t you keep still? This is a serious time.

Sol. I. Mine frent, vat becomes of dot goose?

Jim F. Oh the goose, that was the strangest thing ever heard of. The cyclone blew that barn all to fliggets and scattered it over half the county and it actooally left that old goose settin’ on the same spot with not a feather on her, an’ nary an egg under her.

Adolph. Did you evah heah the like?

Mrs. T. (To Pattie.) Jim Funk couldn’t stop tellin’ stories if old Nick was at the back door; he had ought to be ashamed of himself.

Sol. I. (Taking out note book to write.) Dot was a stranche (strange) phenomenon. I will write dem insurance gombanies to stop wridin’ bolicies on parns oont wride dem on gooses. Der gombany safes monies oont I get a gommission.

Jim F. A capital idea! Why, it blew so hard last time—

Mrs. T. (Petulantly.) Major Townsley, can’t you men stop talkin’. It’s a solemn occasion.

Town. Madam, I haven’t said a word.

Mrs. T. But Dizzie Jim an’ that Jew—

Town. My dear, they are guests of the hotel. I can’t tell ’em what to say. Jim Funk, this is a serious matter.

Jim F. You bet it is, major.

Mrs. B. Oh my nerves—is it comin’? (Bright flash of lightning.)

Town. (Peeps at crack in door.) Dark as Egypt and roarin’ like Tophet.

Mrs. B. Oh! oh! I shall smother.

Mrs. T. Pattie Baggs, keep quiet. Hollerin’ aint goin’ to stop it. My land, where’s Bridget an’ Susan. (Looks round.) They aint in; Townsley, do go an’ fetch them.

Town. It’s too late now. I guess they have run out the back way and got in Smith’s cellar.

Mrs. T. But maybe they haven’t an’ they’ll be killed sure.

Mrs. B. Oh goodness! If you talk of killing, you’ll kill me dead, and John—

Town. (Severely.) Mrs. Townsley, who is talking now?

Mrs. T. But you don’t do anything. You just stand there as unconcerned.

Town. What can I do?

Mrs. T. I wish I was a man.

Adolph. This is puffickly dwedful!

Sol. I. If you blease, macher, a little petter light. (Getting closer to candle.) I wrides dem ogsident gombanies to put a goupon on der bolicy, “Not good unless der barty vas in der zellar.” Dem gombanies safes monies oont I get a gommission.

Mrs. T. (Suddenly.) Where’s Tootsie?

Tootsie. I’m here all right, maw.

Jack T. Yes, I fetched her, you bet. (Jack goes to door to peep out. Lightning and fierce crash of thunder. Mrs. T. and Mrs. B. scream in concert. Adolph starts and stumbles, falling, drops candle.)

Jim F. Hello there, Puterbaugh. (Helps him up.) Lightning strike you?

Adolph. Weally I cawn’t say. I feel so shook up. (Feels his arms.)

Jim F. You’re all right. That ain’t a marker to what we’ll get. Why, last cyclone the lightning fell in great balls, as big as your head, that danced round the ground among the hailstones and melted away slowly—them that didn’t explode. (Lightning and another crash of thunder.) I saw a chunk of it in the chimley corner next day.

Adolph. (Jumping.) Weally, I cawn’t stand that, don’t you know. I wish I’d nevah left New Yawk.

Sol. I. Mine frent, you was nerfous. Haf you an ogsident bolicy? I’ll write you up. You vas a goot risk, seein’ you was in der zellar.

Adolph. Weally, my fwend, you aw impawtunate. I have me insurance, don’t you know, always cawy it same as me cane.

Sol. I. Dot Nye Yorick insurance vas no goot in Dexas. It hasn’t got der ziglone goupon.

Jack. (Going to door.) Oh Tootsie, come an’ look. It’s just splendid. Black as ink, an’ way off yellow as can be. (Tootsie runs to door.)

Tootsie. Aint that just tip top?

Mrs. T. (Severely.) Major Townsley, do you see those children?

Town. My dear, I see them.

Mrs. T. Do you want them killed?

Town. Fiddlesticks! Keep still, can’t you.

Mrs. T. Send them away from that door—if anything happens!

Town. (Goes to door.) Go, my dears, back to the far corner! (Looks out.) Something will happen! It’s a grand sight! It’s coming like a race-horse!

Mrs. B. Oh, Major Townsley, do you want to frighten us all to death!

Mrs. T. (Sarcastically.) It’s no use trying to keep men still.

Jim F. I hope it wont blow this cyclone cellar out of root. (Fearful hissing of wind with lightning.)

Adolph. Gwacious! do you think it’ll do that?

Jim F. No tellin’! Last cyclone—

Mrs. T. (Severely.) Jim Funk, can’t you keep still?

Jim F. Why yes, if it is the wish of the company. (Sits on bench back.)

Adolph. I cawn’t keep still, I say now!

Sol. I. Dot gomes from hafin no insurance! Bedder dake a ziglone bolicy. Dot helps der nerfs bedder.

Adolph. (Scornfully.) Go away, fellah, weally you annoy me. I’m used to pwivacy.

Sol. I. (Puts up note book.) Zome beoples always stands in der vay of der own lidght. (Taking out book suddenly.) Say, lantlort! (No reply.) Macher Downsley, dis zellar vas boorly lidghted, vy ton’t you but in elegdrick lidghts? (Increased roaring of wind.) He toesn’t hear. (Goes to T. who is near door, speaks very loud in his ear.) Macher Downsley!

Town. What are you yelling about?

Sol. I. I’ll dake a gondract to lidght dis zellar from basement to addig mit elegdrick lidghts. (Aside.) I can get a small gommission from der gompany. (Clap of thunder.) He gan’t hear. It vas a drifle noisy for peesness.

Town. Isaacstein, you had better sit down. (I. sits on bench back.)

Mrs. T. Townsley, how does it look outside?

Town. Roaring like all the fiends. The roof of the hotel will go in a minute. There goes the chimneys now!

Jack. (Runs to door.) Oh paw, let me see!

Tootsie. An’ me, too! (Going.)

Jack. Go back, Tootsie! (Pushes her away.) It aint fur girls.

Tootsie. (Pushing.) Paw, Jack’s pushin’ me.

Mrs. T. (Severely.) Come here, both of you. Major Townsley, do you see those children? And at such a time! Humph, you aint fit to be the father of a family! No more government than a cat—(clap of thunder.) Oh! oh!

Mrs. B. Save me! save me!

Mrs. T. I guess ye aint gone yet.

Town. (To children.) Run back dears, to the far corner. (They go L., holding hands.)

Tootsie. Jack, I’m afraid.

Jack. Don’t be skart, Tootsie. Paw an’ me’s here.

Adolph. (Who will not sit down, suddenly.) Oh, I say, majah, say, don’t you know! (Goes to Town.) He cawn’t heah. Majah!

Town. Speak louder!

Adolph. (Shouting in T.’s ear) Me twunk!

Town. (Gruffly.) What’s the matter now?

Adolph. I fohgot me twunk, don’t you know.

Town. Trunk! What on earth do you want with your trunk?

Adolph. It contains all me linen and things. Let me out! I must have it! (Looks at watch.) It’s the houah to change me tie.

Town. (Restraining him.) Mr. Puterbaugh, you can’t go out in that storm. Hear the roaring. (Groaning of the wind loudly.)

Adolph. But I change me linen twice a day, don’t you know.

Jim F. (Jumping up.) I’ll loan you a shirt!

Adolph. Thanks awfully, but I nevah weah flannel, besides what would you do, I say now?

Jim F. Do you think I have only one shirt!

Sol. I. (Jumping up.) Mine frent, my vardrobe vas limited, but it is at your disbosal.

Adolph. Thanks, awfully, but I cawn’t weah percale, it’s two dweadful! (To Town.) Don’t you think I could dwag me twunk into this cave? (At door.)

Town. (Pushing him away.) Why, you lunatic! you wouldn’t risk your life for a trunk would you?

Adolph. (Hopping round.) I’m dwedfully nervous! I haven’t been so excited since the day I thweatened to cane Gawge Bowkah in the Manhattan Club. Insulted me, the cad! They had to westwain me, and all that. Adolphus Putehbaugh was the hero of the houah. Got hauled up befoah the diwectahs and all that. Made me a weputation as a dangewous man, don’t you know—(Clap of thunder.) Gwacious! that’s comin’ it stwong!

Sol. I. (Rushes forward.) Mine frent, vil you dake dot bolicy now? No dime like der bresent. Telay is tangerous. I tell you vot I’ll do. (Whispers in his ear.) Half der gommission! (Begins writing.) Gristian name Adolphus—Age?

Town. (At door.) There goes the roof! (All jump up.)

Mrs. B. Land sakes, I’m goin’, too!

Mrs. T. (Jerking her back on seat.) No you aint! Patty Baggs, don’t be a fool.

Mrs. B. Oh, if John were only here!

Sol. I. My tear laty, in dis case distance vas der pest bolicy—exzepting always der ziglone bolicy.

Mrs. T. If the roof is gone how will we manage for dinner, I’d like to know?

Town. (Snorting.) Dinner! That’s like a woman.

Mrs. T. Yes, and it’s like a man to say nothing till he’s hungry as a wolf, and then he expects it in two minutes.

Jim F. Never mind, Mrs. Townsley, we’ll get along somehow.

Mrs. T. Humph! There aint a man in the county that has a better appetite than you have.

Jack. Maw al’ays said ’at Dizzy Jim was a dandy to eat!

Town. Boy, keep still there.

Sol. I. (Peering out.) Macher Downsley, dot roof was gone sure enough. Say, I’ll dake a gondragt to repuild dot hotel on a scale of magnifizence suitable to dis greadt state of Dexas.

Town. You a contractor, too? I thought your line was insurance.

Sol. I. Haf you not my gardt alretty? (Gets card.) Read dot gardt. “Solomon Isaacstein, Bromoter.” I bromotes eferyding from ziglone bolicies to hodels oont shtock gombanies. Wherefer dere was gommissions dere was Isaacstein retty for peesness.

Town. Wait till we find out the damages.

Sol. I. Mine frent, der bresent is der only dime. Der bast was brotested oont der future disgounted. I’ll figger on dot gondragt now oont have an esdimate ven der ziglone subsites. (Adolph drops his candle.) Dem gandles vasn’t equal to such an occasion as der bresent. Macher, haf you consiteret dot broposition for elegdrick lights in dis ziglone zellar? (Tremendous flash and splitting thunder.)

Adolph. (Who was nervously trying to light his candle drops it panic stricken.) I say now this is gettin’ to be a beastly boah.

Sol. I. Frent Puterbaugh, allow me. (Lights match.) You vas standin’ in your own lighdt, my tear sir.

Adolph. I should say that I’m standing in me own dark. (Laughs.) Aw, wathaw good joke that, best I’ve made since I left New Yawk. You cawn’t make a good joke in this blawsted country. Climate so vewy depwessing. We’re an awfully witty lot of chaps in the Manhattan Club.

Jim F. (At door.) How is it outside, major? (Jim and T. look out intently.)

Sol. I. (Lighting A.’s candle after some trouble.) Der glimate vas hart on matches in Dexas. Mine frent, a goot shoke is ter best donic for te nerfs excebt a ziglone bolicy—

Adolph. I say now Mistah—ah, I cawn’t quite wecall youah name.

Sol. I. Solomon Isaacstein, Bromoter, Nye Yorick oont San Franzisco. (Confidentially.) Let me make a broposition, der macher vas a little slow.

Adolph. He keeps a beastly place heah, don’t you know.

Sol. I. (Enthusiastically with the Jew gestures of the comic papers.) Ogzactly, ogzactly, but petter oxpressed dan I could oxpress it. Dis blace vas not up mit der dimes even for Dexas. It needs elegdrick lights (suddenly struck by idea) oont, py chorge, (slaps A.’s shoulder till latter staggers) vat you say to pilliarts in dis zellar?

Adolph. By Jove! Good idea, don’t you know.

Sol. I. Sugchest it to Macher Downsley. My prudder Abe Isaacstein makes pilliart dables. He gives a tiscount of dwenty per zent to der drade, put I makes Abe gif me sefenty-fife per zent. I’ll tifide dot gommission. (Crash of thunder, lightning.) Himmel, vat a noise.

Mrs. B. I know we’ll all be killed.

Mrs. T. Pattie Baggs, are you hankering to be killed?

Mrs. B. Oh Mrs. Townsley, how can you talk so?

Mrs. T. Keep still, then. (Aside.) That poor dude’s nearly scared to death already.

Jim F. (At door.) There she goes.

Mrs. T. The hotel?

Jim F. No, the stable. (Enthusiastically.) Look at that!

Chorus. What is it?

Jack. (Runs.) Lemme see.

Town. Sit down, will you, boy.

Jim F. Aint that great! Aint it?

Mrs. B. Do tell us, Jim. (Pause.)

Jim F. Why, that old brindle mule. When the stable went it riled him so he’s got his grit up an’, dumme, if he aint just kickin’ the cyclone to strings right an’ left; he’s splittin’ it wide open.

Adolph. Gwacious me!

Jim F. But it’ll git the better of ’im, I ’low. He’s gittin old an’ short-winded an’ that cyclone holds a full hand. There goes a cabin. Look at it, major. Why, I’ll be shot if there aint three coon skins nailed on the door an’ a nigger smokin’ a pipe, as cool as patent ice.

Adolph. Gwacious, my twunk!

Sol. I. Oont no inzurance? No? I’ll write an emerchency bolicy for fifty per zent extra.

Town. Jim, you’ve a good eye to see coon skins in that light.

Jim F. (Looks again.) Hanged, if I wasn’t mistaken. It’s fox skins. Might a knowed that by the rings on the tails. Old Brindle’s knocked out! No, he isn’t. He’s taken a hitch round an apple tree with his tail. There goes the tree, roots an’ all, an’ the mule holdin’ on by his tail. The cabin’s out o’ sight now.

Mrs. B. Mercy me, Jim, d’ye see any cyars? John’s in the cyars.

Jim F. No, Mrs. Baggs, I don’t see no cyars, but if there doesn’t go half a mile o’ track sailin’ along over the tree tops.

Mrs. B. Mercy on us! I’ll bet the cyars is wrecked an’ John’s hurt. Oh Jim—

Jim. Don’t be skeared, mom! The cyars didn’t get into the cyclone, only the locomotive. It’s still runnin’ nateral as life. The fireman’s heavin’ in coal.

Adolph. I weally cawn’t get back to New Yawk without me twunk.

Sol. I. Ton’t co pack py Nye Yorick yet, mine frent. You haf not seen half ter peauties of dis great gountry alretty.

Jim. T. There it’s about over now. Major Townsley, I’ll bet three to one that old mule doesn’t get back inside three days. It took him two days last time an’ he’s gittin’ old an’ stiff. (Gets lighter.)

Sol. I. (To Adolph.) Mine frent, dot was a coot pet. We’ll make up a little zindigate oont dry it. Jim, I dakes ten tollars vort of dot pet, hants town. (Gets daylight again.)

Mrs. T. Townsley, is the hotel gone?

Town. (Unbarring door.) No, only the roof and the chimneys. Jim has been exaggerating slightly.

Sol. I. I suspected oxacheration. I’ve pin dere pefore. (Struck with idea.) Py cracious, I’ll ket up an oxacheration bolicy for dis gountry. It would be a vortune broperly hantled. (T. opens door.)

Mrs. T. (Going toward door.) Roof gone and dinner ruined.

Adolph. And my twunk gone to the bow wows, an’ it’s half an howah pawst the time to change me linen. (All going R., Sol. last, making notes.)

Sol. I. (Calls.) Mr. Bewterpaugh! Mr. Bewterpaugh! (Overtakes A.) I’ll find dot drunk for a slighdt atvance, cash town.

Quick Curtain.

It’s All in the Pay-Streak

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

By T. S. DENISON

Author of
Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash, Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice, The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter, Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider, The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society, Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected, Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak, The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.

Also the Novels,
The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc.

CHICAGO:
T. S. DENISON, Publisher,
163 Randolph Street.