Class of 29 | Page 8

ask for
anything. No, no, no. They say it as if I were asking for charity instead
of a job. "Nothing for you." "Sorry." "Nothing today."--It makes a
beggar out of you!
[TIPPY enters, carrying tea tray.]
TIPPY. Hello! Where's the rest of the tea party? [Neither answers.]
Well, we'll have double portions, that's nice.
LAURA. Tippy, doesn't your world ever fall out from under you?
TIPPY. Certainly not! [Pause.]
LAURA. [With forced gayety.] I say, where's Martin?
TIPPY. Can it be that you are asking for Martin!
LAURA. Uh-huh. I'm ready for him to turn me into a Communist.
TIPPY. That is news!--Where did Kate go?
LAURA. To make a date with her boss. He's sixty and rich--and
serious.
TIPPY. No kidding?--No, my world doesn't drop out from under me. It
merely turns wrong side out in my hand.--Your tea, Ken. It contains
teaffein, which stimulates the heart but quiets the nerves. Teaffein in
tea is the same as caffein in coffee. But under the profit system we
don't know that yet--because no one has invented a teaffeinless tea.

[KEN accepts sandwich and tea and tries to be a sport and make the
party.]
KEN. I wouldn't need Martin to turn me into a Communist. All I'd have
to do would be to knock out the partition in the middle of my brains
and let the left side mingle with the right.
TIPPY. As if your brains weren't muddled enough already!
[MARTIN bursts in, carrying two Soviet posters. Leaves door ajar.]
MARTIN. Hey, fellows, see what I've got! [He hangs one up while the
others are inspecting the first.]
LAURA. It's ugly.
KEN. I like them. Why can't Americans make ugly things look
beautiful?
TIPPY. [To MARTIN.] Sow your seed now, Soviet sower. The powers
of darkness have been fertilizing the ground.
[TIPPY takes thumb tacks and bottle of red ink and goes to kitchen.]
KEN. A Soviet poster compared to an American lithograph is like a
Soviet film compared with the stuff they grind out in Hollywood.
MARTIN. By God, you're right.--It's the same in all the arts.
LAURA. [Hysterically jovial.] 'Fess up, Ken. Who's been taking you to
American movies?
KEN. I still remember some I saw during Hoover's administration. You
don't mean they've changed them?
MARTIN. Only the revolution will change that tripe.
LAURA. Gently, Martin. I just told Tippy I was all ripe to turn
Communist. But let's enter by the Socialist door. I don't like revolutzia.

It's bloody.
[MARTIN pours himself tea. KEN squints at posters, LAURA
munches sandwich and giggles.] Comrade Martin--bring on your
material dialectics.
[Before MARTIN has chance to answer, TIPPY'S voice sings stridently,
as he comes marching in.]
TIPPY. Belaya armeya chornee barone Snova gotovyat nam tsarskee
trone
[He is now in. A towel is tied about his head with a big blotch of red ink
over Ms temple. He carries a broom as a flagstaff to which a red
bandanna handkerchief is attached as a red flag.]
No ot tigee do bretanskeye morye Armeya krasnaya vsekh seelnaye.
[On chorus, MARTIN'S better voice cuts in strong. He seizes LAURA
by the arm, forcing her to march with TIPPY. And KEN, beating time
with goose step, also sings.]
ALL. Tak poost Zheh krasnaya Shumayet vlasno Svoe shtik
mozoleestoy rookoy Es vse dolshnee mwee Neudersheemo Ette v
poslednee sharkee boy. [This chorus repeats.]
[The BISHOP has appeared in the open doorway; they do not see him
and march and sing lustily, BISHOP HOLDEN stands and watches
them in growing consternation. They see him and stop suddenly. Only
MARTIN'S voice finishes the last line.]
LAURA. Bishop Holden!
BISHOP. What is this?
KEN. Hello, Dad.
TIPPY. Just a bit of fun. [He tosses the broom with its flag into a
corner, but has forgotten to take off bandage. He steps up and offers

his hand to the Bishop.] How are you, sir?
BISHOP. [Shaking hands.] What is the matter with your head?
TIPPY. Oh Jesus! [Yanks off towel.]
BISHOP. Were you rehearsing for a theatrical?
TIPPY. Full dress. My wound was dressed with red ink.
BISHOP. And that song you were singing? I couldn't quite place it.
MARTIN. That's a Red Army song.
BISHOP. Red Army?
MARTIN. Soviet--Russian.
BISHOP. So you were all engaged in a little burlesque? Sorry to have
disturbed you.
MARTIN. Tippy was making it burlesque. He refuses to take anything
seriously.
BISHOP. And the--uh--occasion?
MARTIN. The occasion was that I had just brought home those
posters.
BISHOP. [Looking at the posters.] Ah, I see.
MARTIN. How do you like them?
BISHOP. The lettering has some Greek characters. I take it that is
Russian?
KEN. Of course, dad. They're Soviet posters.--A rather distinctive form
of art.

BISHOP. Ah, it is the unique art and the martial music you find
entertaining--or were you burlesquing a Communist