LITMIR.BIZ

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You HAG!

      JOE: If this is a bad time—

      ROY: Bad time? This is a good time! (Button) Baby doll, get me— Oh fuck, wait. (Button) Hello? Yah. Sorry to keep you holding, Judge Hollins, I— Oh Mrs. Hollins, sorry dear, deep voice you got. Enjoying your visit? (Hand over mouthpiece again; to Joe) She sounds like a truck driver and he sounds like Kate Smith, very confusing. Nixon appointed him, all the geeks are Nixon appointees. (To Mrs. Hollins) Yeah, yeah right good so how many tickets dear? Seven? For what, Cats, 42nd Street, what? No you wouldn’t like La Cage, trust me, I know. Oh for godsake. Hold. (Hold button, button) Baby doll, seven for Cats or something, anything hard to get, I don’t give a fuck what and neither will they. (Button; to Joe) You see La Cage?

      JOE: No, I—

      ROY: Fabulous. Best thing on Broadway. Maybe ever. (Button) Who? Aw, Jesus H. Christ, Harry, no, Harry, Judge John Francis Grimes, Manhattan Family Court. Do I have to do every goddamn thing myself? Touch the bastard, Harry, and don’t call me on this line again, I told you not to.

      JOE (Starting to get up): Roy, uh, should I wait outside or—

      ROY (To Joe): Oh sit. (To Harry) You hold. I pay you to hold fuck you Harry you jerk. Half-wit dick-brain. (Hold button, then he looks at Joe. A beat, then:)

       I see the universe, Joe, as a kind of sandstorm in outer space with winds of mega-hurricane velocity, but instead of grains of sand it’s shards and splinters of glass. You ever feel that way? Ever have one of those days?

      JOE: I’m not sure I—

      ROY: So how’s life in Appeals? How’s the judge?

      JOE: He sends his best.

      ROY: He’s a good man. Loyal. Not the brightest man on the bench, but he has manners. And a nice head of silver hair.

      JOE: He gives me a lot of responsibility.

      ROY: Yeah, like writing his decisions and signing his name.

      JOE: Well . . .

      ROY: He’s a nice guy. And you cover admirably.

      JOE: Well, thanks, Roy, I—

      ROY (Button): Yah? Who is this? Well who the fuck are you Hold. (Hold button) Harry? Eighty-seven grand, something like that. Fuck him. Eat me. New Jersey, chain of porno film stores in, uh, Weehawken. That’s—Harry, that’s the beauty of the law. (Hold button, button) So, baby doll, what? Cats? Ugh. (Button) Cats! It’s about cats. Singing cats, you’ll love it. Eight o’clock, the theater’s always at eight. (Button) Fucking tourists. (He puts his finger on the button for the line on which Harry is holding; before pushing it, to Joe) Oh live a little, Joe, eat something for Christ sake.

      JOE: Um, Roy, could you—

      ROY: What? (Pushing the button; to Harry) Hold a minute. (Hold button, button) Mrs. Soffer? Mrs.— (Button, to Baby Doll) God-fucking-damnit to hell, where is— (Continue below:)

      JOE: Roy, I’d really appreciate it if—

      ROY (Continuous from above): Well she was here a minute ago, baby doll, see if—

       (The phone starts making three different beeping sounds, all at once.)

      ROY (Smashing buttons): Jesus fuck this goddamn thing! (Continue below:)

      JOE: I really wish you wouldn’t—

      ROY (Continuous from above): Baby doll? Ring the Post get me Suzy see if—

       (The phone starts whistling loudly.)

      ROY: CHRIST!

      JOE: Roy.

      ROY (Into receiver): Hold. (Hold button; to Joe) What?

      JOE: Could you please not take the Lord’s name in vain?

       (Pause.)

      JOE: I’m sorry. But please. At least while I’m . . .

      ROY (Laughs, then): Right. Sorry. Fuck.

       Only in America. (Punches a button) Baby doll, tell ’em all to fuck off. Tell ’em I died. You handle Mrs. Soffer. Tell her it’s on the way. Tell her I’m schtupping the judge. I’ll call her back. I will call her. I know how much I borrowed. She’s got four hundred times that stuffed up her— Yeah, tell her I said that.

       (Button. The phone is silent)

       So Joe.

      JOE: I’m sorry Roy, I just—

      ROY: No no no no, principles count, I respect principles, I’m not religious but I like God and God likes me. Baptist, Catholic?

      JOE: Mormon.

      ROY: Mormon. Delectable. Absolutely. Only in America. So, Joe. Whattya think?

      JOE: It’s . . . well . . .

      ROY: Crazy life.

      JOE: Chaotic.

      ROY: Well but God bless chaos. Right?

      JOE: Ummm . . .

      ROY: Huh. Mormons. I knew Mormons, in, um, Nevada.

      JOE: Utah, mostly.

      ROY: No, these Mormons were in Vegas.

       So. So, how’d you like to go to Washington and work for the Justice Department?

      JOE: Sorry?

      ROY: How’d you like to go to Washington and work for the Justice Department? All I gotta do is pick up the phone, talk to Ed, and you’re in.

      JOE: In . . . what, exactly?

      ROY: Associate Assistant Something Big. Internal Affairs, heart of the woods, something nice with clout.

      JOE: Ed . . .?

      ROY: Meese. The Attorney General.

      JOE: Oh.

      ROY: I just have to pick up the phone . . .

      JOE: I have to think.

      ROY: Of course.

       (Pause)

       It’s a great time to be in Washington, Joe.

      JOE: Roy, it’s incredibly exciting.

      ROY: And it would mean something to me. You understand?

       (Little pause.)

      JOE: I . . . can’t say how much I appreciate this Roy, I’m sort of . . . well, stunned, I mean . . . Thanks, Roy. But I have to give it some thought. I have to ask my wife.

      ROY: Your wife. Of course.

      JOE: But I really appreciate—

      ROY: Of course. Talk to your wife.

       Scene 3

       Same day. Harper at home, alone, as she often is, listening to the radio. She speaks to the audience:

      HARPER: People who are lonely, people left alone, sit talking nonsense to the air, imagining . . . beautiful systems dying, old fixed orders spiraling apart.

       When you look at the ozone layer, from outside, from a spaceship, it looks like a pale blue halo, a gentle, shimmering aureole encircling the atmosphere encircling the earth. Thirty miles above our heads, a thin layer of three-atom oxygen molecules, product of photosynthesis, which explains the fussy vegetable preference for visible light, its rejection of darker rays and emanations. Danger from without. It’s a kind of gift, from God, the crowning touch to the creation of the world: guardian angels, hands linked, make a spherical net, a blue-green nesting

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