The Mule-Bone

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. Mrs. Taylor You ain’t nobody’s pretty baby, yo’self. You so ugly I betcha yo’ wife have to spread uh sheet over yo’ head tuh let sleep slip up on yuh. Lindsay Threatening. You better git way from me while you able. I done tole you I don’t wanter break a breath wid you. It’s uh whole heap better tuh walk off on yo’ own legs than it is to be toted off. I’m tired of yo’ achin’ round here. You fool wid me now an’ I’ll knock you into doll rags, Tony or no Tony. Mrs. Taylor Jumping up in his face. Hit me? Hit me! I dare you tuh hit me. If you take dat dare, you’ll steal uh hawg an’ eat his hair. Lindsay Lemme gwan down to dat church befo’ you make me stomp you. He exits, right. Mrs. Taylor You mean you’ll git stomped. Ah’m goin’ to de trial, too. De nex trial gointer be me for kickin’ some uh you Baptist niggers around. A great noise is heard off stage left. The angry and jeering voices of children. Mrs. Taylor looks off left and takes a step or two towards left exit as the noise comes nearer. Voice of One Child Tell her! Tell her! Turn her up and smell her. Yo’ mama ain’t got nothin’ to do wid me. Mrs. Taylor Hollering off left. You lil Baptis’ Haitians leave them chillun alone. If you don’t, you better! Enter about ten children struggling and wrestling in a bunch. Mrs. Taylor looks about on the ground for a stick to strike the children with. Voice of Child Hey! Hey! He’s skeered tuh knock it off. Coward! Mrs. Taylor If y’all don’t git on home! Sassy Little Girl Standing akimbo. I know you better not touch me, do my mama will ’tend to you. Mrs. Taylor Making as if to strike her. Shet up you nasty lil heifer, sassin’ me! You ain’t half raised. The little girl shakes herself at Mrs. Taylor and is joined by two or three others. Mrs. Taylor Walkin’ towards right exit. I’m goin’ on down to de church an’ tell yo’ mammy. But she ain’t been half raised herself. She exits right with several children making faces behind her. One Boy To sassy Girl. Aw, haw! Y’all ol’ Baptis’ ain’t got no bookcase in yo’ chuch. We went there one day an’ I saw uh soda cracker box settin’ up in de corner so I set down on it. Pointing at sassy Girl. Know what ole Mary Ella say? Jeering laughter. Willie, you git up off our library! Haw! Haw! Mary Ella Y’all ole Meth’dis’ ain’t got no window panes in yo’ ole church. Another Girl Takes center of stand, hands akimbo and shakes her hips. I don’t keer whut y’all say, I’m a Meth’dis’ bred an’ uh Meth’dis’ born an’ when I’m dead there’ll be uh Meth’dis’ gone. Mary Ella

Snaps fingers under other girl’s nose and starts singing. Several join her.

Oh Baptis’, Baptis’ is my name
My name’s written on high
I got my lick in de Baptis’ church
Gointer eat up de Meth’dis’ pie.

The Methodist children jeer and make faces. The Baptist camp make faces back; for a full minute there is silence while each camp tries to outdo the other in face making. The Baptist makes the last face. Methodist Boy Come on, less us don’t notice ’em. Less gwan down to de church an’ hear de trial. Mary Ella Y’all ain’t de onliest ones kin go. We goin’, too. Willie Aw, haw! Copy cats! Makes face. Dat’s right. Follow on behind us lak uh puppy dog tail. They start walking toward right exit, switching their clothes behind. Dat’s right. Follow on behind us lak uh puppy dog tail. They start walking toward right exit, switching their clothes behind. Baptist children stage a rush and struggle to get in front of the Methodists. They finally succeed in flinging some of the Methodist children to the ground and some behind them and walk towards right exit haughtily switching their clothes. Willie Whispers to his crowd. Less go round by Mosely’s lot an’ beat ’em there! Others All right! Willie Yellin’ to Baptists. We wouldn’t walk behind no ole Baptists! The Methodists turn and walk off towards left exit, switching their clothes as the Baptists are doing. Slow curtain.

Act III

Setting: A high stretch of railroad track thru a luxurious Florida forest. It is near sundown.

Action: When the curtain rises there is no one on the stage, but there is a tremendous noise and hubbub off stage right. There are yells of derision and shouts of anger. Part of the mob is trying to keep Jim in town, and part is driving him off. After a full minute of this, Jim enters with his guitar hanging around his neck and his coat over his shoulder. The sun is dropping low and red thru the forest. He is looking back angrily and shouting at the mob. A missile is thrown after him. Jim drops his coat and guitar and grabs up a piece of brick, and makes threatening gestures of throwing it.

Jim	Running back the way he came and hurling the brick with all his might. I’ll kill some o’ you old box-ankled niggers. Grabs up another piece of brick. I’m out