Good Black
Yeah and if she don't git, she keep right on whoopin'. B'lieve
I wants a drink of water. Wisht I knowed where I could slip
up on me a drink.
Cliff Aw man, come on back here and move. Yo' doin' everythin' but playin' checkers. You'd ruther move a mountain wid a pry bar than to move (Points) dat man.
Good Black
(Seats himself)
Lemme hurry up and beat dis game befo' yo' bust yo' britches.
(He wags his finger to indicate moves,
scratches his head, but doesn't move.
Several men enter and group around the
players. All offer suggestions. One
says, "you got him Cliffert. He's
locked up just as tight as a keyhole".
Another: "Aw, man he kin break out!"
Another: "Yeah, but it'll cost him
plenty to git out of dat trap".)
Cliff
Police! Police! He won't move!
Another Voice
Aw, leave go de checkers and less shoot some crap.
(Enter a WOMAN in a house dress, head
rag on, run down house shoes. She goes
to the edge of the porch and calls
inside)
Woman
Him there Bertha, what yo' doin'.
Woman Inside Still bumpin' de white folks clothes—hittin' for de sundown man. Come on in and have some sit down.
Outside Woman Ain't got time. Got a house full of company. I took a minute to see if yo' could let me have a little skeeting garret.
Inside Woman
How come yo' didn't git yo'self some snuff whilst yo' was at de store?
De man ast yo' what else. I ain't no Piggly Wiggly. Reckon I kin spare
yo' a dip tho.
(She hands out the box and the outside
woman fills her lip and hands it back)