MRS. BLUNT.
Just as sho as you snore. An’ they better leave Daisy’s name outa dis, too. I done told her and told her to come straight home from her work. Naw, she had to stop by dat store and skin her gums back wid dem trashy niggers. She better not leave them white folks today to come traipsin’over here scornin’her name all up wid dis nigger mess. Do, I’ll kill her. No daughter of mine ain’t goin’to do as she please, long as she live under de sound of my voice. (She crosses to right.)
MRS. THOMAS.
That’s right, Sister Blunt. I glory in yo’ spunk. Lord, I better go put on my supper.
(As MRS. BLUNT exits, right, REV. CHILDERS enters left with DAVE and DEACON LINDSAY and SISTER LEWIS. Very hostile glances from SISTERS THOMAS and TAYLOR toward the others.)
CHILDERS.
Good evenin’, folks.
(SISTERS THOMAS and TAYLOR just grunt. MRS. THOMAS moves a step or two towards exit. Flirts her skirts and exits.)
LINDSAY.
(Angrily) Whut’s de matter, y’all? Cat got yo’ tongue?
MRS. TAYLOR.
More matter than you kin scatter all over Cincinnatti.
LINDSAY.
Go ’head on, Lucy Taylor. Go ’head on. You know a very little of yo’ sugar sweetens my coffee. Go ’head on. Everytime you lift yo’ arm you smell like a nest of yellow hammers.
MRS. TAYLOR.
Go ’head on yo’self. Yo’ head look like it done wore out three bodies. Talkin’’ bout me smellin’—you smell lak a nest of grand daddies yo’self.
LINDSAY.
Aw rock on down de road, ’oman. Ah, don’t wantuh change words wid yuh. Youse too ugly.