27 Wagons Full of Cotton and Other Plays Read Online Free PDF

across the prostrate fields of the Delta.
    The front porch of the Meighans is empty.
    After a moment the screen door is pushed slowly open and Flora Meighan emerges gradually. Her appearance is ravaged. Her eyes have a vacant limpidity in the moonlight, her lip are slightly apart. She moves with her hands stretched gropingly before her till she has reached a pillar of the porch. There she stops and stands moaning a little. Her hair hangs loose and disordered. The upper part of her body is unclothed except for a torn pink band about her breasts. Dark streaks are visible on the bare shoulders and arms and there is a large discoloration along one cheek. A dark trickle, now congealed, descends from one corner of her mouth. These more apparent tokens she covers with one hand when Jake comes up on the porch. He is now heard approaching, singing to himself.
    J AKE: By the light—by the light—by the light—Of the sil-very mo-o-on! ( Instinctively Flora draws back into the sharply etched shadow from the porch roof. Jake is too tired and triumphant to notice her appearance. )How’s a baby? ( Flora utters a moaning grunt. )Tired? Too tired t’ talk? Well, that’s how I feel. Too tired t’ talk. Too goddam tired t’ speak a friggin’ word! ( He lets himself down on the steps, groaning and without giving Flora more than a glance. )Twenty-seven wagons full of cotton. That’s how much I’ve ginned since ten this mawnin’. A man-size job.
    F LORA: ( huskily )Uh-huh. . . . A man-size—job. . . .
    J AKE: Twen-ty-sev-en wa-gons full of cot -ton!
    F LORA: ( senselessly repeating ) Twen-ty sev-en wa-gons full of cot -ton! ( A dog howls. Flora utters a breathless laugh. )
    J AKE: What’re you laughin’ at, honey? Not at me, I hope.
    F LORA: No . . . .
    J AKE: That’s good. The job that I’ve turned out is nothing to laugh at. I drove that pack of niggers like a mule-skinner. They don’t have a brain in their bodies. All they got is bodies. You got to drive, drive, drive. I don’t even see how niggers eat without somebody to tell them to put the food in their moufs! ( She laughs again, like water spilling out of her mouth. )Huh! You got a laugh like a— Christ. A terrific day’s work I finished.
    F LORA: ( slowly )I would’n’ brag—about it. . . .
    J AKE: I’m not braggin’ about it, I’m just sayin’ I done a big day’s work, I’m all wo’n out an’ I want a little appreciation, not cross speeches. Honey. . . .
    F LORA: I’m not—( She laughs again. )—makin’ cross speeches.
    J AKE: To take on a big piece of work an’ finish it up an’ mention the fack that it’s finished I wouldn’t call braggin’.
    F LORA: You’re not the only one’s—done a big day’s—work.
    J AKE: Who else that you know of? ( There is a pause. )
    F LORA: Maybe you think that I had an easy time. ( Her laughter spills out again. )
    J AKE: You’re laughin’ like you been on a goddam jag. ( Flora laughs. )What did you get pissed on? Roach poison or citronella? I think I make it pretty easy for you, workin’ like a mule-skinner so you can hire you a nigger to do the wash an’ take the house-work on. An. elephant woman who acks as frail as a kitten, that’s the kind of a woman I got on m’ hands.
    F LORA: Sure. . . . ( She laughs. )You make it easy!
    J AKE: I’ve yet t’ see you lift a little finger. Even gotten too lazy t’ put you’ things on. Round the house ha’f naked all th’ time. Y’ live in a cloud. All you can think of is “Give me a Coca-Cola!” Well, you better look out. They got a new bureau in the guvamint files. It’s called U.W. Stands for Useless Wimmen. Tha’s secret plans on foot t’ have ‘em shot! ( He laughs at his joke. ) FLORA: Secret—plans—on foot?
    J AKE: T’ have ‘em shot.
    F LORA: That’s good. I’m glad t’ hear it. ( She laughs again. )
    J AKE: I come home tired an’ you cain’t wait t’ peck at me. What ‘re you cross about now?
    F LORA: I think it was a mistake.
    J AKE: