DAISY.
(Cuddling up to him) Whut would you say, honey?
DAVE.
I’d say dat box was too heavy for me to fool wid. I wouldn’t tote nothing heavier than my hat and I feel like I’m ’busing myself sometime totin’ dat.
DAISY.
(Outraged) Don’t you mean to work none?
DAVE.
Wouldn’t hit a lick at a snake.
DAISY.
I don’t blame you, Dave (Looks down at his feet) cause toting dem feet of yourn is enough to break down your constitution.
JIM.
(Airily) That’s all right ... dem foots done put plenty bread in our moufs.
DAVE.
Not by they selves though ... wid de help of dat box, Jim. When you gits having fits on dat box, boy, my foots has hysterics. Daisy, you marry Jim cause I don’t want to come between y’all. He’s my buddy.
JIM.
Come to think of it, Dave, she was yourn first. You take and handle dat spade for her.
DAVE.
You heard her say it is all I can do to lift up dese feets and put ’em down. Where I’m going to git any time to wrassle wid any hoes and shovels? You kin git round better’n me. You done won Daisy ... I give in. I ain’t going to bite no fren’ of mine in de back.
DAISY.
Both of you niggers can git yo’ hat an’ yo’ heads and git on down de road. Neither one of y’all don’t have to have me. I got a good job and plenty men beggin for yo’ chance.