HAWK.
My mama’s sick.
HEN.
Let her die.
HAWK.
Chickie!
HEN.
My chicken’s sleep.
(HAWK darts quickly around the hen and grabs a chicken and leads him off and places his captive on his knees at the store porch. After a brief bit of dancing he catches another, then a third, etc.)
HAMBO.
(At the checker board, his voice rising above the noise of the playing children, slapping his sides jubilantly) Ha! Ha! I got you now. Go ahead on and move, Joe Clark … jus’ go ahead on and move.
LOUNGERS.
(Standing around two checker players) Ol’ Deacon’s got you now.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Don’t see how he can beat the Mayor like that.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Got him in the Louisville loop. (These remarks are drowned by the laughter of the playing children directly in front of the porch. MAYOR JOE CLARK disturbed in his concentration on the checkers and peeved at being beaten suddenly turns toward the children, throwing up his hands.)
CLARK.
Get on ’way from here, you limbs of Satan, making all that racket so a man can’t hear his ears. Go on, go on!