The Mule-Bone | Page 2

and God. (General laughter--LIGE joins in as well. Cane chewing keeps up. Silence for a moment.)
(Off stage a high shrill voice can be heard calling:)
VOICE: Sister Mosely, Oh, Sister Mosely! (A pause) Miz Mosely! (Very irritated) Oh, Sister Mattie! You hear me out here--you just won't answer!
VOICE OF MRS. MOSELY: Whoo-ee ... somebody calling me?
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Angrily) Never mind now--you couldn't come when I called you. I don't want yo' lil ole weasley turnip greens. (Silence)
MATT BRAZZLE: Sister Roberts is en town agin! If she was mine, I'll be hen-fired if I wouldn't break her down in de lines (loins)--good as dat man is to her!
HAMBO: I wish she was mine jes' one day--de first time she open her mouf to beg anybody, I'd lam her wid lightning.
JOE CLARK: I God, Jake Roberts buys mo' rations out dis store than any man in dis town. I don't see to my Maker whut she do wid it all.... Here she come....
(ENTER MRS. JAKE ROBERTS, a heavy light brown woman with a basket on her arm. A boy about ten walks beside her carrying a small child about a year old straddle of his back. Her skirts are sweeping the ground. She walks up to the step, puts one foot upon the steps and looks forlornly at all the men, then fixes her look on JOE CLARK.)
MRS. ROBERTS: Evenin', Brother Mayor.
CLARK: Howdy do, Mrs. Roberts. How's yo' husband?
MRS. ROBERTS: (Beginning her professional whine): He ain't much and I ain't much and my chillun is poly. We ain't got 'nough to eat! Lawd, Mr. Clark, gimme a lil piece of side meat to cook us a pot of greens.
CLARK: Aw gwan, Sister Roberts. You got plenty bacon home. Last week Jake bought....
MRS. ROBERTS: (Frantically) Lawd, Mist' Clark, how long you think dat lil piece of meat last me an' my chillun? Lawd, me and my chillun is hongry! God knows, Jake don't fee-eed me!
(MR. CLARK sits unmoved. MRS. ROBERTS advances upon him)
Mist' Clark!
CLARK: I God, woman, don't keep on after me! Every time I look, youse round here beggin' for everything you see.
LIGE: And whut she don't see she whoops for it just de same.
MRS. ROBERTS: (In dramatic begging pose) Mist' Clark! Ain't you boin' do nuthin' for me? And you see me and my poor chillun is starvin'....
CLARK: (Exasperated rises) I God, woman, a man can't git no peace wid somebody like you in town. (He goes angrily into the store followed by MRS. ROBERTS. The boy sits down on the edge of the porch sucking the baby's thumb.)
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: A piece 'bout dis wide....
VOICE OF CLARK: I God, naw! Yo' husband done bought you plenty meat, nohow.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (In great anguish) Ow! Mist' Clark! Don't you cut dat lil tee-ninchy piece of meat for me and my chillun! (Sound of running feet inside the store.) I ain't a going to tetch it!
VOICE OF CLARK: Well, don't touch it then. That's all you'll git outa me.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Calmer) Well, hand it chear den. Lawd, me and my chillun is so hongry.... Jake don't fee-eed me. (She re-enters by door of store with the slab of meat in her hand and an outraged look on her face. She gazes all about her for sympathy.) Lawd, me and my poor chillun is so hongry ... and some folks has everything and they's so stingy and gripin'.... Lawd knows, Jake don't fee-eed me! (She exits right on this line followed by the boy with the baby on his back.)
(All the men gaze behind her, then at each other and shake their heads.)
HAMBO: Poor Jak.... I'm really sorry for dat man. If she was mine I'd beat her till her ears hung down like a Georgy mule.
WALTER THOMAS: I'd beat her till she smell like onions.
LIGE: I'd romp on her till she slack like lime.
NIXON: I'd stomp her till she rope like okra.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Off stage right) Lawd, Miz Lewis, you goin' give me dat lil han'ful of greens for me and my chillun. Why dat ain't a eye-full. I ought not to take 'em ... but me and my chillun is so hongry.... Some folks is so stingy and gripin'! Lawd knows, Tony don't feed me!
(The noise of cane-chewing is heard again. Enter JOE LINDSAY left with a gun over his shoulder and the large leg bone of a mule in the other hand. He approaches the step wearily.)
HAMBO: Well, did you git any partridges, Joe?
JOE: (Resting his gun and seating himself) Nope, but I made de feathers fly.
HAMBO: I don't see no birds.
JOE: Oh, the feathers flew off on de birds.
LIGE: I don't see nothin' but dat bone. Look lak you done kilt a cow and et 'im raw out in de woods.
JOE: Don't