The Mule-Bone

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 lines1⁠—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. Mrs. Roberts 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 Jake.⁠ ⁠… 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 eyeful. 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 y’all know dat hock-bone? Walter How you reckon we gointer know every hock-bone in Orange County sight unseen? Joe Standing the bone up on the floor of the porch. Dis is a hock-bone of Brazzle’s ole yaller mule. General pleased interest. Everybody wants to touch it. Brazzle Coming forward. Well, sir! Takes bone in both hands and looks up and down the length of it. If ’tain’t my ole mule! This sho was one hell of a mule, too. He’d fight every inch in front of de plow⁠ ⁠… he’d turn over de mowing machine⁠ ⁠… run away wid de wagon⁠ ⁠… and you better not look like you wanter ride ’im! Lindsay Laughing. Yeah, I ’member seein’ you comin’ down de road just so⁠ ⁠… he limps wid one hand on his buttocks one day. Brazzle Dis mule was so evil he used to try to bite and kick when I’d go in de stable to feed ’im. Walter He was too mean to git fat. He was so skinny you could do a week’s washing on his ribs for a washboard and hang ’em up on his hipbones to dry. Lige I ’member one day, Brazzle, you sent yo’ boy to Winter Park after some groceries wid a basket. So here he went down de road ridin’ dis mule wid dis basket on his arm.⁠ ⁠… Whut you reckon dat ole contrary mule