Riot Read Online Free PDF
Author: Walter Dean Myers
you for a cup of tea?
ELLEN
(pours the tea)
Against my better judgment.
WHITMAN drinks from the cup and nods appreciatively.
WHITMAN
And if their lives have no meaning, they pray that maybe the color of their skins hold some vestige of a higher truth.
FARLEY
Did you see the way they was looking at me? And I don’t even know them, I don’t.
CLAIRE
They’re the ones who should have been hanged.
ELLEN
My husband thinks they’ll get tired of this violence soon enough.
WHITMAN
It’ll be done when America at last defines itself, by what she sees in her collective mirrors and not by what she sees in her imagined world of snow white angels floating among the clouds of our lofty ideals. Until then, we’ll all be in the streets looking for where we belong.
ELLEN
And if that makes a bit of sense, I’m a three-eyed bullfrog!
There’s a pounding on the door and several shouts of rioters looking for drinks. The pounding continues for a long moment as the group inside is still, then stops as the rioters move on.
ELLEN
(cont’d)
What do you know about violence? I can’t see you as a soldier.
FARLEY
He was in Washington.
WHITMAN
And on the battlefields of Virginia. Treating the wounded of this terrible war. Holding the hands of better men than me and stronger boys as they waited to die. Keeping my sanity by not trying to make sense of it.
CLAIRE
None of this is right. Why should anybody hate me because I’m black?
FARLEY
You don’t look black to me.
ELLEN
I think the rowdies have passed. Perhaps you should go now.
WHITMAN
Farley, the lady wants us to leave because you are black and therefore a danger and I am a man with too many words for so small an establishment. So we will go, and try to keep our hind parts—yours black and mine not capable of a decent defense—off the winding streets of my beloved city.
FARLEY
(to CLAIRE)
How you know you black? You don’t look black to me.
CLAIRE
I look black to me, Mr. Farley. I know what I am and who I am and that’s all that matters.
WHITMAN
And there you have the whole fish, Farley. Head, gills, and tail. With that much wisdom, we can upstream a-breeding go.
CLAIRE
Fish? Is that supposed to make sense? I have no idea what that means, and I don’t want to know.
FARLEY
(as they head toward the door)
I don’t think he knows, either, ma’am.
WHITMAN laughs as he and FARLEY exit .
ELLEN
(locking the front door of the Peacock)
Maybe your father is right. Maybe they’ll just grow tired of this running about and go home.
(hesitates)
I’m thinking maybe we should take turns looking out of the upstairs window in case anyone comes looking for trouble. We’d see them from a distance and be ready for them. What do you think? Though if only one or two came, we’d beat whatever brains they had in their heads till they weren’t more than a pot of mushy peas, wouldn’t we?
(comes closer to her daughter)
Is that a bit of a smile on your lips? Is it worth sharing?
CLAIRE
(in her best Irish brogue)
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a mum such as yourself.
The two embrace briefly, and ELLEN pats CLAIRE on the shoulder.
ELLEN
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a daughter sweet as you. I’ll take a peek through the curtains.
ELLEN exits .
CLAIRE goes to the door and slides her fingers slowly along the black cast-iron bolt. She pushes the bolt open, then quickly closes it. We see a CLOSE-UP of her fingers nervously drumming against the heavy door.
CLAIRE
(voice-over)
Maybe it’s me who should be out there trying to find myself. Trying to discover who I am instead of hiding behind this door wondering who will find me and wondering what they will call me. I am afraid—not that they will hurt me but that they will discover who I am before I do. It would be better if they just hurt me, if they knocked me down in the street. Then I would just be me again, hurting and annoyed and even angry. But here, standing against this door, wondering what is happening on the other side…I am
ELLEN
(pours the tea)
Against my better judgment.
WHITMAN drinks from the cup and nods appreciatively.
WHITMAN
And if their lives have no meaning, they pray that maybe the color of their skins hold some vestige of a higher truth.
FARLEY
Did you see the way they was looking at me? And I don’t even know them, I don’t.
CLAIRE
They’re the ones who should have been hanged.
ELLEN
My husband thinks they’ll get tired of this violence soon enough.
WHITMAN
It’ll be done when America at last defines itself, by what she sees in her collective mirrors and not by what she sees in her imagined world of snow white angels floating among the clouds of our lofty ideals. Until then, we’ll all be in the streets looking for where we belong.
ELLEN
And if that makes a bit of sense, I’m a three-eyed bullfrog!
There’s a pounding on the door and several shouts of rioters looking for drinks. The pounding continues for a long moment as the group inside is still, then stops as the rioters move on.
ELLEN
(cont’d)
What do you know about violence? I can’t see you as a soldier.
FARLEY
He was in Washington.
WHITMAN
And on the battlefields of Virginia. Treating the wounded of this terrible war. Holding the hands of better men than me and stronger boys as they waited to die. Keeping my sanity by not trying to make sense of it.
CLAIRE
None of this is right. Why should anybody hate me because I’m black?
FARLEY
You don’t look black to me.
ELLEN
I think the rowdies have passed. Perhaps you should go now.
WHITMAN
Farley, the lady wants us to leave because you are black and therefore a danger and I am a man with too many words for so small an establishment. So we will go, and try to keep our hind parts—yours black and mine not capable of a decent defense—off the winding streets of my beloved city.
FARLEY
(to CLAIRE)
How you know you black? You don’t look black to me.
CLAIRE
I look black to me, Mr. Farley. I know what I am and who I am and that’s all that matters.
WHITMAN
And there you have the whole fish, Farley. Head, gills, and tail. With that much wisdom, we can upstream a-breeding go.
CLAIRE
Fish? Is that supposed to make sense? I have no idea what that means, and I don’t want to know.
FARLEY
(as they head toward the door)
I don’t think he knows, either, ma’am.
WHITMAN laughs as he and FARLEY exit .
ELLEN
(locking the front door of the Peacock)
Maybe your father is right. Maybe they’ll just grow tired of this running about and go home.
(hesitates)
I’m thinking maybe we should take turns looking out of the upstairs window in case anyone comes looking for trouble. We’d see them from a distance and be ready for them. What do you think? Though if only one or two came, we’d beat whatever brains they had in their heads till they weren’t more than a pot of mushy peas, wouldn’t we?
(comes closer to her daughter)
Is that a bit of a smile on your lips? Is it worth sharing?
CLAIRE
(in her best Irish brogue)
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a mum such as yourself.
The two embrace briefly, and ELLEN pats CLAIRE on the shoulder.
ELLEN
Ay, and it’s happy I am to have a daughter sweet as you. I’ll take a peek through the curtains.
ELLEN exits .
CLAIRE goes to the door and slides her fingers slowly along the black cast-iron bolt. She pushes the bolt open, then quickly closes it. We see a CLOSE-UP of her fingers nervously drumming against the heavy door.
CLAIRE
(voice-over)
Maybe it’s me who should be out there trying to find myself. Trying to discover who I am instead of hiding behind this door wondering who will find me and wondering what they will call me. I am afraid—not that they will hurt me but that they will discover who I am before I do. It would be better if they just hurt me, if they knocked me down in the street. Then I would just be me again, hurting and annoyed and even angry. But here, standing against this door, wondering what is happening on the other side…I am