Free 27 Wagons Full of Cotton and Other Plays by Tennessee Williams Page B

come?
    M R. C HARLIE: Stomach! Perforated!
    H ARPER: Ulcers? ( Mr. Charlie grunts. He bends with difficulty and heaves a sample case onto the bed. )I had ulcers once.
    M R. C HARLIE: Ev’ry drinkin’ man has ulcers once. Some twice.
    H ARPER: You’ve fallen off some, ain’t you?
    M R. C HARLIE: ( opening the sample case )Twenty-seven pounds I lost since August. ( Harper whistles. Mr. Charlie is fishing among his samples. )Yay -ep! Twenty-seven pounds I lost since August. ( He pulls out an oxford which he regards disdainfully. )Hmmm . . . A waste of cow-hide! ( He throws it back in and continues fishing. )A man of my age an’ constitution, Bob—he oughtn’t to carry so much of that—adipose tissue! It’s— ( He straightens up, red in the face and puffing. )—a terrible strain—on the heart! Hand me that other sample—over yonder. I wan’t’ show you a little eyeful of queenly footwear in our new spring line! Some people say that the Cosmopolitan’s not abreast of the times! That is an allegation which I deny and which I intend to disprove by the simple display of one little calf-skin slipper! ( opening up the second case )Here we are, Son! ( fishing among the samples )You knew ole “Marblehead” Langner in Friar’s Point, Mississippi.
    H ARPER: Ole “Marblehead” Langner? Sure.

    M R. C HARLIE: They found him dead in his bath-tub a week ago Satiddy night. Here’s what I’m lookin’ faw!
    H ARPER: “ Marblehead"? Dead?
    M R. C HARLIE: Buried! Had a Masonic funeral. I helped carry th’ casket. Bob, I want you t’ look at this Cuban-heel, shawl-tongue, perforated toe, calf-skin Misses’ sport-oxford! ( He elevates it worshipfully. )I want you to look at this shoe—and tell me what you think of it in plain language! ( Harper whistles and bugs his eyes. )Ain’t that a piece of real merchandise, you squirrel? Well, suh, I want you t’ know—!
    H ARPER: Charlie, that certainly is a piece of merchandise there!
    M R. C HARLIE: Bob, that piece of merchandise is only a small indication—of what our spring line consists of! You don’t have to pick up a piece of merchandise like that—with I.S.C. branded on it!—and examine it with the microscope t’ find out if it’s quality stuff as well as quality looks! This ain’t a shoe that Mrs. Jones of Hattiesburg, Mississippi, is going to throw back in your face a couple or three weeks later because it come to pieces like card- board in th’ first rain! No, suh—I want you to know! We got some pretty fast-movers in our spring line—I’m layin’ my samples out down there in th’ lobby first thing in th’ mornin’—I’ll pack ‘em up an’ be gone out of town by noon — But by the Almighty Jehovah I bet you I’ll have to wire the office to mail me a bunch of brand- new order-books at my next stopping- off place, Bob! Hot cakes! That’s what I’m sellin’! ( He returns exhaustedly to the sample case and tosses the shoe back in, somewhat disheartened by Harper’s vaguely benevolent contemplation of the brass light-fixture. He remembers a time when people’s attention could be more securely riveted by talk. He slams the case shut and glances irritably at Harper who is staring very sadly at the brown carpet. )Well, suh— ( He fours a shot of whisky. )It was a mighty shocking piece of news I received this afternoon.

    H ARPER: ( blowing a smoke ring )What piece of news was that?
    M R. C HARLIE: The news about ole Gus Hamma—one of the old war-horses from way back, Bob. He and me an’ this boy’s daddy, C. C., used t’ play poker ev’ry time we hit town together in this here self-same room! Well, suh, I want you t’ know—
    H ARPER: ( screwing up his forehead )I think I heard about that. Didn’t he have a stroke or something a few months ago?
    M R. C HARLIE: He did. An’ partly recovered.
    H ARPER: Yeah? Last I heard he had t’ be fed with a spoon.
    M R. C HARLIE: ( quickly )He did an’ he partly recovered! He’s been goin’ round,