Why are bacon and eggs good. Because Toasters are silver

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What would a prostitute do if she was given a million dollars? She would probably diversify her portfolio. First, she would pay her rent. She would buy some groceries and a present for her mother. She would then invest it in stocks and low-yield bonds. She would they buy a vehicle. This win might not affect her continuance in her job.

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Donald trump walks into the whitehouse. He's there for a business meeting with the new president.

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A man and a woman meet on a roof, fall in love and get married. The ceremony was rubbish but the reception was brilliant

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A man walks into a bar, Esept it wasn't a bar and he was running.

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What do your friends and a tree have in common? They both die if you set them on fire.

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So, there's a man crawling through the desert. He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that'll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him - if he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he's getting woozy enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers any more or if he's hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure any more. He's not even sure how long he's been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon - it seems like it's been too long since he started out. He walks through the sand. After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad. But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up - he'll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape - shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough. Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it's dark - darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can't tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. He's going to have to go down there and look. He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble - he's not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling. He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it. So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance. He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the dark area. His eyes won't quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling. Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it - a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area. His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface. Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he'll know he's gone. He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling. It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?" He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time. Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle. And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him. He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to move from this spot. Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes. Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn't rattled yet - that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn't going to die of snake bite after all. He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here because he thought he'd heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didn't have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didn't look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and that's why it wasn't biting. He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he's going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't good. He doesn't have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out. He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now. He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?" He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?" He turns his head, back towards the snake. That's where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help. "Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be thirsty any more. I've been a long time without water. Can you help me?" Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up." A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him. He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder again - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture holes - they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake. "It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy any more. And more importantly, he's not thirsty any more - at all! "Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?" "Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine." "You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?" "No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works - it's what I do. I bite. I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here." The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst. "I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it." "Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little. "That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs. "But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously. "By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake. "Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Jack Samson. "Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the poison...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that's how you work?" "That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets wider. "Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert. You've been changed. "For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin. "As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell you." "Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd have to kill me?" "I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious. "Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?" "They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?" "Yeah, they do," said Jack. "I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence. Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?" Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back. "Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?" "Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him. "Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me." "Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not really a change to me?" "Right," nodded Nate. "Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully. "That takes two requests, Jack." "Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?" "Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either. You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it." "Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?" "Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had shoulders. "Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?" "No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that's how it works - the poison, you know," Nate said apologetically. Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy. "Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, "is that someone else coming up over there?" Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food? Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate... Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans... Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to hoodwink me like that." "I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you - especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you'd heal quickly now." "Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or something instead?" "More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second." "Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear," answered Jack. "Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?" "Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food." "We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like," answered Nate. "Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up. "What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours. "I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to. "Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk." "Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start looking at me as food. Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. "You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden." Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically. "Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose. Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving. Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky. Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh! Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going to have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to." "It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack." Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?" "Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a 'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while." "Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?" "No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands of years, at least." "So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Jack. "Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can't remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a 'temptation', though I've rarely had refusals." "Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?" asked Jack. "Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've been here ever since. "What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?" "Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way. "You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate. "Why not?" asked Jack. "I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate. "Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it that way, and it would move in the slot." "Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate. "What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?" "Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it 'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned. Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?" "Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought the voice I used was funny, didn't you?" Nate continued to grin. "A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?" "Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I didn't think to ask back when I started here." "Rules? What rules?" asked Jack. "The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate. Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now? You'd let me end humanity?" "Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do you want to, Jack?" "Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldn't it?" "Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too." "Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Nate. "Any of those bound to secrecy, that is?" "Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more. Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?" "That seems to be it," agreed Nate. "What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?" "Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed to know." "But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel horrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?" protested Jack. Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to try your best, Jack." Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail. Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the one bound to this before me?" "Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago." "Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?" "Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like you're doing." "What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack. "He asked me about the third request," replied Nate. "Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?" "I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack." "Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while. Nate watched him, waiting. "Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with his third request?" Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, "Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him." "Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it to me. Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?" "Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?" "He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about." "Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up. Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now, Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both. "You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position. "Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice. "And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?" "Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there. With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it. Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock. Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been recently bitten. Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that he was still awake. Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around. "Nate, do accidents count?" Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?" Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?" "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement. A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack. "That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate. "No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?" "Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared." "Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky. "Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?" asked Jack. "Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack." "Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?" "He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat sad. Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight. Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway. "His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn't stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me he'd had enough. It was his time." "And then he just died?" asked Jack. Nate shook his head a little. "He made his forth request, Jack. There's only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite. After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had. After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise." Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Jack's breathing evened out into sleep. Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat. So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made it back easily. Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate's lever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it. Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see Nate. Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of, and shouldn't really raise suspicions. Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but that he had things to do first. Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite. After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year. After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he 'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile any more. Jack went back to school. Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings. But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally. On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's silence, sat down and waited. After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to." Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy? "No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son." Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!" Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever. "Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake. "Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I assume?" Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been. "He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?" Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was something more. Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight. Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement." Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?" Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die." Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said was, "What do you want me to do?" Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here and take over. Two - give me the fourth request. "I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be able to die. And I need you to kill me. "I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword. Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. "I'd say an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me. "You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack. "Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that." Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy! Jack's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack." Jack didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Sammy following. Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general. When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Jack was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Jack probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances. So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and told Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate. When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert. When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those years ago when he'd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn't really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark. As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight. Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert. Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Jack didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he'd decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Jack's driving. As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side. Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumped the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster. Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for it. If Jack didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity. Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn't working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away. Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn just right. The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something else that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side. Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy realized the same thing. Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, "BETTER NATE THAN LEVER," he ran over the snake.

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what are you eating under there? oh a sandwich, its actually really good.... want a bite? yea thanks! yum yum

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How do you help a chronic drug addict? Buy him or her more drugs. They NEED it.

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What is the way to a man's heart? Through his stomach. With a knife. Then then go up a little.

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Knock,Knock Whos there ? Hola Holo who ? Holocaust Hahahaha

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Women

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What did god say when he made the first african american? "I got about 3 more humans to go and about 400,000,000 more insects and plants"..

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What did one duck say to the other? "Quack!"

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whos the most unprodutive person ever not hitler her helped over populatin and got rid of the jew they multiply like jews anyways

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A man and a bird are on the edge of a cliff. The man falls off and dies and the bird flies away because birds can fly and people can't.

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LORRAIN HANSBERR E Y A Raisin in the Sun Characters RUTH YOUNGER GEORGE MURCHISON TRAVIS YOUNGER MRS. JOHNSON WALTER LEE YOUNGER (BROTHER) KARL LINDNER BENEATHA YOUNGER BOBO LENA YOUNGER (MAMA) MOVIN ME G N JOSEPH ASAGAI The action of the play is set in Chicago's South side, sometime between World War II and the present. Act I Scene I Friday morning. Scene II The following morning. Act II Scene I Later, the same day. Scene II Friday night, a feweeks w later. Scene III Moving day, on week e later. Act III An hour later. ACT I SCEN IE The YOUNGER living room would be comfortable a an well- d ordered room if it were not for a number of indestructible contradictions to this state of being. Its furnishings typical are and un- 486 Lorraine Hansberry distinguished and their primary feature now is that they have clearly had to accommodate the living of too many people for too many years—and they are tired. Still, we can see that at some time, a time probably no longer remembered by the family (except perhaps for MAMA) the , furnishings of this room were actually selected with care and love and even hope—and brought to this apartment and arranged with taste and pride. That was a long time ago. Now the once loved pattern of the couch upholstery has to fight to show itself from under aces of crocheted doilies and couch covers which have themselves finally come to be more important than the upholstery. And here a table or a chair has been moved to disguise the worn places in the carpet; but the carpet has fought back by showing its weariness, with depressing uniformity, elsewhere on surface. its Weariness has, in fact, won in this room. Everything has been polished, washed, sat on, used, scrubbed too often. All pretenses but living itself have long since vanished from the very atmosphere of this room. Moreover, a section of this room, for it is reallynot a room unto itself, though the landlord's lease would make it seem so, slopes backward to provide a small kitchen area, where family the prepares the meals that are eaten in the living room proper, which must also serve as dining room. The single window that has been provided for these "two" rooms is located in this kitchen area. The sole natural light the family may enjoy in the course of a day is only that which fights it way through this little window. At left, a door leads to a bedroom which MAM is shared A by and her daughter, BENEATHA A. t right, opposite, is a second room (which in the beginning life of of the this apartment was probably the breakfast room) which serves as a WALTE bedroom an fo R dr his wife, RUTH. Time Sometime between World War II and the present. Place Chicago's South side. At rise It is morning dark in the living TRAVI asleep room. iSs on the make-down bed at center. An alarm clock sounds from within the bedroom at right, and RUT presently H enters from that room and closes the door behind her. She crosses slepily toward 487 A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act Scene I the window. As she passes her sleeping son she reaches down and shakes him a little. At the window she raises the shade and a dusky Southside morning light comes infeebly. fills She a pot with water and puts it on to boil. She calls to the boy, between yawns, in a slightly muffled voice. RUTH is about thirty. We can see that she was a pretty girl, even exceptionally so, but now it is apparent life has that been little that she expected, and disappointment has already begun to hang in her face. In a few years, before thirty-five even, she will be known among her people as a "settled woman." She crosses to her son and gives him a good, final, rousing shake. RUTH: Come on now, boy, it's seven thirty! (Her so sits n up at last, in a stupor of sleepiness.) I say hurr upy Travis , Yo! u ain't the only person in the world got to use a bathroom! (The child, a sturdy, handsome little boy of ten or eleven, drags himself out of the bed and almost blindly takes his towels and "today's clothes" from drawers and a closet and goes out to the bathroom, which is in an outside hall and which is hared by another family or families on the same RUT floor. H crosses to th bed- e room door at right and opens it and calls in to her husband.) Walter Lee! . . . It' afte s r seven thirty! Lemme see you d som o e waking up in there now! (She waits.) Yo bette u ger fro t upm there, man! It' afte s r seven thirt Iy tell you. (She waits again.) All right, yo jus u t go ahead and lay ther an e nex d t thin yo g u know Travis be finished and Mr Johnson'l . bl e i ther n e and you'll be fussing and cussing round here lik ae madman An ! d be late too! (She waits, at the end o patience.) f Walter Leeit's time for you to GET UP! She waits another second and then starts to go into the bedroom, but is apparently satisfied that her husband has begun to get up. She stops, pulls the door to, and returns to the kitchen area. She wipes her face with a moist cloth and runs her fingers through er sleep-disheveled hair in effort a vain and ties an apron around her housecoat. The bedroom door at right opens and her husband stands in the doorway in his pajamas, which are rumpled and mismated. He is a lean, intense young man in his middle thirties, inclined to quick nervous movements and erratic speech habits— and always in his voice there is a quality of indictment. 488 Lorraine Hansberry WALTER: Is he out yet? RUTH: What you mean out? He ain't hardly got in there good yet. WALTER (wandering in, still more oriented to sleep than to a new day): Well, what was you doing all that yelling for if I can't even get in there yet? (Stopping and thinking.) Check coming today? RUTH: They said Saturday and this is just Friday and I hopes to God you ain't going to get up here first thing this morning and start talking to me 'bout no money—'cause I 'bout don't want to hear it. WALTER: Something the matter with you this morning? RUTH: No—I'm just sleepy as the devil. What kind of eggs you want? WALTER: Not scrambled (RUT. H starts to scramble eggs.) Paper come? (RUTH points impatiently to the rolled up Tribune on the table, and he gets it and spreads it out and vaguely reads the front page.) Set off another bomb yesterday. RUTH (maximum indifference): Did they? WALTER (looking up): What's the matter wit you h ? RUTH: Ain't nothing the matter with me. And don't keep asking me that this morning. WALTER: Ain't nobody bothering you. (reading the news of the day absently again) Say Colonel McCormick is sick. RUTH (affecting tea-party interest): Is he now? Poor thing. WALTER (sighing and looking at his watch): Oh, me. (He waits.) Now what is that boy doing in that bathroom all thi time s ? He just going to have to start getting up earlier. I can't be being late to work on account of him fooling around in there. RUTH (turning on him): Oh, no he ain't going to be getting up no earlier no such thing! It ain't his fault that he can't get to bed no earlier nights 'cause he got a bunch of crazy good-for-nothing clowns sitting up running their mouths in what is supposed to be his bedroom after ten o'clock at night. . . WALTER: That's what you mad about, ain't it? The things I want to talk about with my friend jus s t couldn't be important in your mind, could they? He rises and finds a cigarette in her handbag on the table and 489 A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I crosses to the little window and looks out, smoking deeply and enjoying this first one. RUTH (almost matter o factly, f a complaint to automatic o to deserve emphasis): Why you alway go s t t smok o e befor yoe u eat in the morning? WALTER (at the window): Just look a 'et m down there . . Runnin . g and racing to work . . . (He turns faces an wife d hi ans watches d her a moment at the stove, and then, suddenly) Yo loo u k young this morning, baby. RUTH (indifferently): Yeah? WALTER: Jus fo t r a second—stirrin the g m eggs. Jus fotr asecond it was—you looked real young again (H. reaches e fo her; r she crosses away. Then, drily) It's gon now—yo e loo u k like yourself again! RUTH: Man, if you don' shu t ut p an leav d me alone e . WALTER (looking out to th street e again): First thin ag ma ough n t to learn i lif n e is not to make love to n colore o d woman first thing in the morning Yo . u al soml e eeeevil peopl ae eigh t t o'clock in the morning. TRAVIS appears in the hall doorway, almost fully dressed and quite wide awake now, his towels and pajamas across his shoulders. He opens the door and signals for his father to make the bathroom in a hurry.) TRAVIS (watching the bathroom): Daddy, com one ! WALTER gets his bathroom utensils flies an oudt to the bathroom. RUTH: Sit down and have your breakfast, Travis. TRAVIS: Mama, thi is Friday s (gleefully) , Check coming tomorrow, huh? RUTH: You get your min of d mone f anyd ea you t r breakfast. TRAVIS (eating): Thi iss the mornin wg suppose e t brin od thge fifty cents to school. RUTH: Well, I ain't got no fifty cents this morning. TRAVIS: Teache sa r y we hav toe . RUTH: I don't care what teacher say Iain' . got t it. Ea you t r breakfast, Travis. TRAVIS I : am eating. RUTH: Hush up now an jus d eat t ! 490 Lorraine Hansberry The boy gives her an exasperated look for her lack of understanding, and eats grudgingly. TRAVIS: You think Grandmama would hav ite? RUTH: No! And I want you to stop asking your grandmother for money, you hear me? TRAVIS (outraged): Gaaaleee I! don' as t k her sh, jus e t gimm iet sometimes! RUTH: Travis Willard Younger—I got too much on me this morning to be— TRAVIS: Mabe Dadd —y RUTH: Travisl The boy hushes abruptly. They are both quiet and tense for several seconds. TRAVIS (presently): Could I mayb geo carry some grocerie fron ins t of the supermarket for a little whil afte e r school then? RUTH: Just hush, I said. (Travis jabs his spoon into hi cereal s bowl viciously, and rests his head in anger upon his fists.) If you through eating, you can get over there and make your bed. The boy obeys stiffly and crosses the room, almost mechanically, to the bed and more or less folds the bedding into a heap, then angrily gets his books and cap. TRAVIS (sulking and standing apart from her unnaturally): I'm gone. RUTH (looking up from the stove to inspect him automatically): Come here. (He crosses to her and she studies his head.) If you don't take this comb and fix this here head (TRAVI , you better S ! puts down his books with a great sigh of oppression, and crosses to the mirror. His mother mutters under her breath about his "slubbornness.") 'Bout to march out of here with that head looking just like chickens slept in it! jus I t don't know where you get your stubborn ways . . . And get your jacket, too. Looks chilly out this morning. TRAVIS (with conspicuously brushed hair and jacket): I'm gone. RUTH: Get carfare and milk mone — (waving y one finger —and ) not a single penny for no caps, you hear me? TRAVIS (with sullen politeness): Yes'm. He turns in outrage to leave. His mother watches after him as in 491 A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act IScene I his frustration he approaches the door almost comically. When she speaks to him, her voice has become very a gentle tease. RUTH (mocking, as she thinks he would say it): Oh, Mama makes me so mad sometimes, I don't know what to do! (She waits and continues to his back as he stands stock-still in front of he door.) I wouldn't kiss that woman good-bye for nothing in this world this morning! (The boy finally turns around and rolls his eyes at her, knowing the mood has changed and he is vindicated; he does not, however, move toward her yet.) Not for nothing in this world! (She finally laughs aloud at him and holds out her arms to him and we see that it is a way between them, very old and practiced. He crosses to her and allows her to embrace him warmly but keeps his face fixed with masculine rigidity. She holds him back from her presently and looks at him and runs her fingers over the features of his face. With utter gentleness—) Now—whose little old angry man ar you e ? TRAVIS (the masculinity an gruffness d start fade o a last.): t Aw gaalee—Mama . . . RUTH (mimicking): Aw—gaaaaalleeeee, Mama! (She pushes him, with rough playfulness and finality, toward the door.) Get on out of here or you going to be late. TRAVIS (in the face of love, new aggressiveness): Mama, coul Id please go carry groceries? RUTH: Honey, it's starting to get so cold evenings. WALTER (coming in from the bathroom and drawing a makebelieve gun from a make-believe holster and shooting at his son): What is it he wants to do? RUTH: Go carry grocerie afte s r school at the supermarket. WALTER: Well, let him go ... TRAVIS (quickly, to th ally): e I have —sh to e won't gimme the fifty cents . . . WALTER (to hi wife s only): Why not? RUTH (simply, and with flavor): 'Cause we don't have it. WALTER (t RUT o H only): Wha yo t u tel thl e boy things like that for? (Reaching down into his pants with a rather important gesture) Here so , —n (He hands the boy the coin, but his eyes are directed to wife's. his TRAVIS takes the money happily.) 492, Lorraine Hansberry TRAVIS: Thanks, Daddy. He starts out. RUTH watches both of them with murder in her eyes. WALTER stands and stares back at her with defiance, and suddenly reaches into his pocket again on an afterthought. WALTER (without even looking at his son, still staring hard at his wife): In fact, here's another fifty cents . . . Buy yourself some fruit today—or take a taxicab to school or something! TRAVIS: Whoope —e He leaps up and clasps his father around the middle with his legs, and they face each other in mutual appreciation; WALTE slowly R LEE peeks around the boy to catch the violent rays from wife's his eyes and draws his head back as if shot. WALTER: You better get dow now—an n d get to school, man. TRAVIS (at the door): O.K. Good-bye (H. e exits.) WALTE (after R him, pointing with pride): That' ms y boy. (She looks at him in disgust and turns back to her work.) You know what I was thinking 'bout in the bathroom this morning? RUTH: No. WALTER: How come you always try to be so pleasant! RUTH: What is there to be pleasant 'bout! WALTER: You want to know what I was thinking 'bout in the bathroom or not! RUTH: I know what you thinking 'bout. WALTER (ignoring her): 'Bout wha mt e and Willy Harri wa s s talking about last night. RUTH (immediately—a refrain): Willy Harri iss a good-for-nothing loudmouth. WALTER: Anybody who talks to me has got to be a good-fornothing loudmouth, ain't he? And what you know about who is just a good-for-nothing loudmouth? Charlie Atkin wa s s just a "good-for-nothing loudmouth" too, wasn't he! When he wanted me to go in the dry-cleaning business with him. And now—he's grossing a hundred thousand a year. A hundred thousand dollars a year! You still call him a loudmouth! RUTH (bitterly): Oh, Walter Lee . . . She folds her head on her arms over the table. WALTER (rising and coming to her and standing over her): You tired, ain't you? Tired of everything. Me, the boy, the way we 493 A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I I live—this beat-u hole—everything p Ain' . yout ? (She doesn't look up, doesn't answer.) S tired—moanin o an g d groanin al g l the time, but you wouldn't do nothing to help woul , youd ? You couldn't be on my side that long for nothing, coul youd? RUTH: Walter, please leav me e alone. WALTER: A man needs a woman to back him up ... RUTH: Walte —r WALTER: Mama would listen to you Yo . u know she liste tno you more than she do me and Bennie Sh. e think mor oe you f Al . l you have to do i jus s t sit down with her whe yo n u drinking your coffee one morning and talking 'bou thing t s lik yoe and u d—o (He sits down beside her and demonstrates graphically what he thinks her methods and tone should be.)— jus you sit p your coffee, see, and say easy like tha yo t u been thinking 'bou tha t t deal Walter Lee is so interested in, 'bou tht e stor an e d all an, d sip some mor coffee e , like wha yo t u saying ain't really that important to you—And the next thing you know sh , e be listening good and asking you questions and when I com home— e caI n tel hel r the details. This ain't no fly-by-nigh proposition t , baby I. mean we figured it out, me and Willy and Bobo. RUTH (with a frown): Bobo? WALTER: Yeah Yo . u see, this little liquor stor we e got in mind cost seventy-five thousand and we figured the initial investmen otn the place be 'bout thirty thousand, see. Tha bt e ten thousand each. Course, there's a couple of hundred you got to pay so's you don't spend you lif jus re t waitin fo g r them clown tso let your license ge approved t — RUTH Yo : u mea graft n ? WALTER (frowning impatiently): Don't cal i that tl Se. e there, that just goes to show you what women understand abou tht world e . Baby, don't nothing happen for you in this world 'les yos u pay somebody off! RUTH: Walter, leav me e alone! (She raises her head and stares at him vigorously—then says, more quietly.) Ea you t r eggs, they gonna be cold. WALTER (straightening up from her an off): d looking That' i.s There you are. Man say to his woman I: got me a dream Hi . s woman say: Eat your eggs (Sadly, . bu gaining t in power.) Man say: I got to take hold of this here world, baby An ! d a woman 494 Lorraine Hansberry will say: Eat your eggs and go to work (Passionately . now.) Man say: I got to change m lifey , I'm choking to death, baby! And his woman sa — (iyn utter anguish as he brings his fists down on his thighs)— Your eggs is getting cold! RUTH (softly): Walter, that ain't none of our money. WALTER (not listening at all or even looking her): at This morning, I was lookin' in the mirror and thinking about it... I'm thirtyfive years old; I been married eleven years and I got a boy who sleeps in the living room —(very, very quietly) —and all I got to give him is stories about how rich white peopl ive e . . . RUTH: Eat your eggs, Walter. WALTER (slams the table and jumps up): —DAM MN —Y EGGS DAMN ALL THE EGGS THAT EVER WAS! RUTH: Then go to work. WALTER (looking up at her): Se —I' e m trying to talk to you 'bout myself— (shaking his head with the repetition) —and all you can say is eat them eggs and go to work. RUTH (wearily): Honey, you never say nothing new I. liste tno you every day, every night and every morning, and you never say nothing new (shrugging) . So you would rather be Mr. Arnold than be his chauffeur So—. I would rather be living in Buckingham Palace. WALTER: That is just what is wrong with the colored woman in this world . . . Don't understand about building their men up and making 'em feel like they somebody. Like they can do something. RUTH (drily, but to hurt): There are colored men who do things. WALTER: No thanks to the colored woman. RUTH: Well, being a colored woman I, guess I can't hel mysel p f none. She rises and gets the ironing board and sets it up and attacks a huge pile of rough-dried clothes, sprinkling them in preparation for the ironing and then rolling them into tight fat balls. WALTER (mumbling): We one group of men tied to a race of women with small minds! His sister BENEATHA enters. She is about twenty, as slim and intense as her brother. She is not as pretty as her sister-in-law, but her lean, almost intellectual face has a handsomeness of its own. She 495 A RAISI IN N THE SUN Act Scene I wears a bright-red flannel nightie, and her thick hair stands wildly about her head. Her speech is a mixture of many things; it is different from the rest of the family's insofar as education has permeated her sense of English—and perhaps the Midwest rather than the South has finally—at last—won out in her inflection; but not altogether, because over all of it soft is slurring a and transformed use of vowels which is the decided influence of the Southside. She passes through the room without looking at either RUTH o WALTE r R and goes to th outside e door and looks, alittle blindly, out to the bathroom. She sees that it has been lost to the Johnsons. She closes the door with a sleepy vengeance and crosses to the table and sits down a little defeated. BENEATHA: I am going to start timing those people. WALTER Yo : u shoul ge d t up earlier. BENEATHA (Her face in he hands. r She i still s fighting th urge e to go back to bed.): Really—would yo sugges u t dawn? Where's the paper? WALTER (pushing the paper across th table e to her as h studies e her almost clinically, as though he has never seen before): her You a horrible-looking chick a thi t s hour. BENEATH (drily): A Good morning, everybody. WALTER (senselessly): How is schoo coming l ? BENEATHA (in the same spirit): Lovely. Lovely An. d you know, biology is the greatest (looking , up a him) t I dissected something that looke jus d lik t e you yesterday. WALTER I: just wondere id you'v f e mad ue you p r min and every d - thing. BENEATHA (gaining in sharpness an impatience): d An wha d ditd I answer yesterda morning—an y thd e da befor y e that? RUTH (from the ironing board, like someone disinterested an old): d Don't be so nasty, Bennie. BENEATHA (still to her brother): And the da befor y e tha ant d the day before that! WALTER (defensively): I'm intereste id you n . Something wrong with that? Ain't many girl wh s decide o — WALTER an BENEATH d (i A n unison): —"t beo a doctor. (silence) " WALTER: Have we figured out ye jus t t exactl hoy muc w h medical school is going to cost? 496 Lorraine Hansberry RUTH: Walter Lee, why don't you leave the girl alone and get out of here to work? BENEATHA (exits to the bathroom and bangs on the door): Come on out of there, please! (She comes back into the room.) WALTER (looking at his sister intently): You know the check is coming tomorrow. BENEATHA (turning on him with a sharpness all her own): That money belongs to Mama, Walter, and it's for her to decide how she wants to use it. I don't care if she wants to buy a house or a rocket ship or just nail it up somewhere and look at it. It's hers. Not ours—hers. WALTER (bitterly): Now ain't that fine! You just got your mother's interest at heart, ain't you, girl? You such a nice girl—but if Mama got that money she can always take a few thousand and help you through school too —can't she? BENEATHA: I have never asked anyone around here to do anything for me! WALTER: No! And the line between asking and just accepting when the time comes is big and wide —ain't it! BENEATHA (with fury): What do you want from me, Brother—that I quit school or just drop dead, which! WALTER: I don't want nothing but for you to stop acting holy 'round here. Me and Ruth done made some sacrifices for you— why can't you do something for the family? RUTH: Walter, don't be dragging me in it. WALTER: You are in it—Don't you get up and go work in somebody's kitchen for the last three years to help put clothes on her back? RUTH: Oh, Walter—that's not fair . . . WALTER: It ain't that nobody expects you to get on your knees and say thank you, Brother; thank you, Ruth; thank you, Mama —and thank you, Travis, for wearing the same pair of shoes for two semesters — BENEATHA (dropping to her knees): Well—I do —all right?—thank everybody! And forgive me for ever wanting to be anything at all! (pursuing him on her knees across the floor) FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE ME! RUTH: Please stop it! Your mama'll hear you. WALTER: Who the hell told you you had to be a doctor? If you so 497 A RAISI INN THE SUN Act Scene I I crazy 'bout messing 'round with sic people—the k n go be anurse like other women—o jus r t ge marrie t d and be quiet. . . BENEATHA Well—yo : u finally got i sai t d ... It took yo thre u e years but you finally got it said. Walter giv , e up leav ; e m alone—it' e s Mama's money. WALTER: He was my father, too! BENEATHA: So what? He was mine —anto, o Travis d ' grandfather—but the insurance money belongs t Mama o . Picking on me is not going to make her give it to you t inves o it n an liquo y r stores —(underbreath, dropping into chair) —and I for on say e , God bless Mama for that! WALTER (t RUTHJ o See—di : yod u hear Di?d yo hear u ! RUTH: Honey, please go to work. WALTER: Nobody in this hous ie eve s r going t understan o me d . BENEATHA: Because you'r ae nut. WALTER: Who' as nut? BENEATHA You—yo : ar u e a nut. The ie mad s , boy. WALTER (looking at hi wifes and hi sister s from the door, very sadly): The world's most backward race o people f an , d that's a fact. BENEATHA (turning slowly in he chair): r An the d n ther aree all those prophets who would lea uds out o (WAL f th wildernes e- — s TER slams out of the house.)—into th swamps e ! RUTH: Bennie, why you always gott ba pickin e o' you n r brother? Can't you be a little sweeter sometimes? (Door WALTE opens. R walks in. He fumbles with his cap, starts to speak, clears throat, looks everywhere bu RUTH t at Finally:) . WALTER (t RUTH,) o I: need some mone foy carfare r . RUTH (looks at him, then warms; teasing, bu tenderly): t Fifty cents? (She goes to her bag and gets money.) Here—tak ae taxi! WALTER exits. MAMA enters. She is a woman in early her sixties, full-bodied and strong. She is one of those women of a certain grace and beauty who wear it so unobtrusively that it akes a while to notice. Her dark-brown face is surrounded by the total whiteness of her hair, and, being a woman who has adjusted to many things life n and overcome many more, fullface of isher strength. She has, we can see, wit and faith of a kind that keep her 498 Lorraine Hansberry eyes lit and full of interest and expectancy. She is, in a word, a beautiful woman. Her bearing is perhaps most like the noble bearing of the women of the Hereros of Southwest Africa—rather as if she imagines that as she walks she still bears a basket or a vessel upon her head. Her speech, on the other hand, is as careless as her carriage is precise—she is inclined to slur everything—but her voice is perhaps not so much quiet as simply soft. MAMA: Who that 'round here slamming doors at this hour? She crosses through the room, goes to the window, opens it, and brings in a feeble little plant growing doggedly in a small pot on the window sill. She feels the dirt and puts it back out. RUTH: That was Walter Lee. He and Bennie was at it again. MAMA: My children and they tempers. Lord, if this little old plant don't get more sun than it's been getting it ain't never going to see spring again. (She turns from the window.) What's the matter with you this morning, Ruth? You looks right peaked. You aiming to iron all them things? Leave some for me. I'll get to 'em this afternoon. Bennie honey, it's too drafty for you to be sitting 'round half dressed. Where's your robe? BENEATHA: In the cleaners. MAMA: Well, go get mine and put it on. BENEATHA: I'm not cold, Mama, honest. MAMA: I know—but you so thin . . . BENEATHA (irritably): Mama, I'm not cold. MAMA (seeing the make-down bed as TRAVIS has left it): Lord have mercy, look at that poor bed. Bless his heart—he tries, don't he? She moves to the bed TRAVIS has sloppily made up. RUTH: No—he don't half try at all 'cause he knows you going to come along behind him and fix everything. That's just how come he don't know how to do nothing right now—you done spoiled that boy so. MAMA (folding bedding): Well—he's a little boy. Ain't supposed to know 'bout housekeeping. My baby, that's what he is. What you fix for his breakfast this morning? RUTH (angrily): I feed my son, Lena! MAMA: I ain't meddling— (underbreath; busy-bodyish) I just noticed all last week he had cold cereal, and when it starts getting 499 A RAISI INN THE SUN Act Scene I I this chilly in th fal e l a child ought to have some ho grit t s or something when he goes out in coldthe — RUTH (furious)-. I gav hi e m ho oats—i t s tha alt right l ! MAMA: I ain't meddling (pause) , Put a lot o nic f e butte orn it? (RUTH shoots her an angry look and does reply.) not He likes lots of butter. RUTH (exasperated): Lena— MAMA (T BENEATHA o . MAM iAs inclined to wander conversationally sometimes.): What was you and your brothe fussin r g 'bou thi t s morning? BENEATHA: It's not important. Mama. She gets up and goes to look out at the bathroom, which is apparently free, and she picks up her towels and rushes out. MAMA: Wha wa t s the fightin y g about? RUTH: Now you know as wel al s I do. MAMA (shaking he head): r Brother still worrying hisself sick about that money? RUTH: You know he is. MAMA Yo : u ha breakfast d ? RUTH: Som coffee e . MAMA: Girl, you better start eatin an g d lookin afteg yoursel r f better. You almost thin as Travis. RUTH: Len —a MAMA: Un-hunh? RUTH: What are you going to do wit it h ? MAMA: Now don't you start, child. It's too early in th mornin e g to be talking about money. It ain' Christian t . RUTH: It's just that he got his hear se t t on thastoret — MAMA: You mean that liquor store that Willy Harris wan hi t m to invest in? RUTH Ye : s — MAMA: We ain't no business people, Ruth W jus . e plai t n working folks. RUTH: Ain't nobody business people till the gy o into business. Walter Lee say colored people ain't never going to start getting ahead till they start gambling on som differen e kind t os thing f s in the world—investments and things. 500 Lorraine Hansberry MAMA: What done got into you, girl? Walter Lee done finally sold you on investing. RUTH: No. Mama, something is happening between Walter and me. I don't know what it is—but he needs something—something I can't give him any more. He needs this chance, Lena. MAMA (frowning deeply): But liquor, honey — RUTH: Well—like Walter say—I spec people going to always be drinking themselves some liquor. MAMA: Well—whether they drinks it or not ain't none of my business. But whether I go into business selling it to 'em is, and I don't want that on my ledger this late in life, (stopping suddenly and studying her daughter-in-law) Ruth Younger, what's the matter with you today? You look like you could fall over right there. RUTH: I'm tired. MAMA: Then you better stay home from work today. RUTH: I can't stay home. She'd be calling up the agency and screaming at them, "My girl didn't come in today —send me somebody! My girl didn't come in!" Oh, she just have a fit... MAMA: Well, let her have it. I'll just call her up and say you got the fluRUTH (laughing): Why the flu? MAMA: 'Cause it sounds respectable to 'em. Something white people get, too. They know 'bout the flu. Otherwise they think you been cut up or something when you tell 'em you sick. RUTH: I got to go in. We need the money. MAMA: Somebody would of thought my children done all but starved to death the way they talk about money here late. Child, we got a great big old check coming tomorrow. RUTH (sincerely, but also self-righteously): Now that's your money. It ain't got nothing to do with me. We all feel like that— Walter and Bennie and me—even Travis. MAMA (thoughtfully, and suddenly very far away): Ten thousand dollars — RUTH: Sure is wonderful. MAMA: Ten thousand dollars. RUTH: You know what you should do, Miss Lena? You should take yourself a trip somewhere. To Europe or South America or someplace — 501 A RAISIN IN THE SUN Act I Scene I MAMA (throwing up her hands at the thought): Oh, child! RUTH: I'm serious. Just pack up and leave! Go on away and enjoy yourself some. Forget about the family and have yourself a ball for once in your life— MAMA (drily): You sound like I'm just about ready to die. Who'd go with me? What I look like wandering 'round Europe by myself? RUTH: Shoot—these here rich white women do it all the time. They don't think nothing of packing up they suitcases and piling on one of them big steamships and—swoosh!—they gone, child. MAMA: Something always told me I wasn't no rich white woman. RUTH: Well—what are you going to do with it then? MAMA: I ain't rightly decided. (Thinking. She speaks now with emphasis.) Some of it got to be put away for Beneatha and her schoolin' —and ain't nothing going to touch that part of it. Nothing. (She waits several seconds, trying to make up her mind about something, and looks at RUTH a little tentatively before going on.) Been thinking that we maybe could meet the notes on a little old two-story somewhere, with a yard where Travis could play in the summertime, if we use part of the insurance for a down payment and everybody kind of pitch in. I could maybe take on a little day work again, few days a week— RUTH (studying her mother-in-law furtively and concentrating on her ironing, anxious to encourage without seeming to): Well, Lord knows, we've put enough rent into this here rat trap to pay for four houses by now . . . MAMA (looking up at the words "rat trap9' and then looking around and leaning back and sighing—in a suddenly reflective mood—): "Rat trap"—yes, that's all it is. (smiling) I remember just as well the day me and Big Walter moved in here. Hadn't been married but two weeks and wasn't planning on living here no more than a year. (She shakes her head at the dissolved dream.) We was going to set away, little by little, don't you know, and buy a little place out in Morgan Park. We had even picked out the house, (chuckling a little) Looks right dumpy today. But Lord, child, you should know all the dreams I had 'bout buying that house and fixing it up and making me a little garden in the back— (She waits and stops smiling.) And didn't none of it happen, (dropping her hands in a futile gesture) 502, Lorraine Hansberry RUTH (keeps her head down, ironing): Yes, life can be a barrel of disappointments, sometimes. MAMA: Honey, Big Walter would come in here some nights back then and slump down on that couch there and just look at the rug, and look at me and look at the rug and then back at me— and I'd know he was down then . . . really down. (After a second very long and thoughtful pause; she is seeing back to times that only she can see.) And then, Lord, when I lost that baby—little Claude—I almost thought I was going to lose Big Walter too. Oh, that man grieved hisself! He was one man to love his children. RUTH: Ain't nothin' can tear at you like losin' your baby. MAMA: I guess that's how come that man finally worked hisself to death like he done. Like he was fighting his own war with this here world that took his baby from him. RUTH: He sure was a fine man, all right. I always liked Mr. Younger. MAMA: Crazy 'bout his children! God knows there was plenty wrong with Walter Younger—hard-headed, mean, kind of wild with women—plenty wrong with him. But he sure loved his children. Always wanted them to have something—be something. That's where Brother gets all these notions, I reckon. Big Walter used to say, he'd get right wet in the eyes sometimes, lean his head back with the water standing in his eyes and say, "Seem like God didn't see fit to give the black man nothing but dreams —but He did give us children to make them dreams seem worth while." (She smiles.) He could talk like that, don't you know. RUTH: Yes, he sure could. He was a good man, Mr. Younger. MAMA: Yes, a fine man—just couldn't never catch up with his dreams, that's all. BENEATHA comes in, brushing her hair and looking up to the ceiling, where the sound of a vacuum cleaner has started up. BENEATHA: What could be so dirty on that woman's rugs that she has to vacuum them every single day? RUTH: I wish certain young women 'round here who I could name would take inspiration about certain rugs in a certain apartment I could also mention. 503 A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act Scene I I BENEATHA (shrugging): How much cleanin cag n a house need fo,r Christ's sakes. MAMA (not liking the Lord's name used thus): Bennie! RUTH: Just listen ther—jus o listen t ! BENEATHA O: h God! MAMA: If you use the Lord's name jus ont mor e time— BENEATH (aA bit of a whine): Oh Mama , — RUTH Fresh—jus : fres t ah s salt, this girl! BENEATH (drily): A Well—i thf e salt lose savor its — MAMA: Now that will do. jus I ain' t t going t hav o yo e u 'round here reciting the scripture vain—yo is n u hea me r ? BENEATHA: How did I manag te o get on everybody's wrong side by just walking into a room? RUTH I : f you weren' fresh sto — BENEATHA: Ruth I' , m twenty years old. MAMA: What time you be hom froe m school today? BENEATHA: Kind of late (with , enthusiasm) Madelin i goin se tog start my guitar lessons today. (MAMA and RUTH look up with the same expression.) MAMA: Your what kin od f lessons? BENEATHA: Guitar. RUTH: Oh, Father! MAMA: How come you done taken it in your min td lear o tn pla o y the guitar? BENEATHA: I just wan to t , that's all. MAMA (smiling): Lord, child, don' yot u know wha tto ge tire t odf this now—like you got tired o tha f t littl de o wit yourself h Ho ? w long it going to be before you play-acting grou yo p joine u d last year? (looking RUTH at An ) d wha wa t s it th yea e r before that? RUTH: The horseback-riding clu fob whic r shh bough e t tha fifty t - five-dollar riding habit that's been hangin i g n th close e t ever since! MAMA (t BENEATHA) o Wh : y you got to fli fro t s on om thin e tog another baby , ? BENEATH (sharply): A I jus wan t to lear tno pla thy guitar e I ther s. e anything wrong with that? MAMA: Ain't nobody trying to stop you jus I. wonder t s sometimes why you has to flit s fro o m one thing to anothe al r l th time e . 504 Lorraine Hansberry You ain't never done nothing with all that camera equipment you brought hom —e BENEATHA I : don' flit —t II! experiment wit differen h form t ofs expression— RUTH: Like riding a horse? BENEATHA —Peopl : e have to express themselves one way or another. MAMA: What is it you want to express? BENEATHA (angrily): (MAM e RUT ! an A Hd look at each other and burst into raucous laughter.} Don' worry— t I don't expect you to understand. MAMA (to change th subject): e Who you going out with tomorrow night? BENEATHA (with displeasure): George Murchison again. MAMA (pleased): Oh—you gettin ag little swee o him tn ? RUTH: You ask me, this child ain't swee ot n nobod herself y but— (underbreath) Express herself! (They laugh.) BENEATHA Oh— : I like George all right, Mama I. mea In lik hi e m enough to go out with him an stuff d but, — RUTH (for devilment): What doe stuff ans mean d ? BENEATHA: Mind your own business. MAMA: Stop picking at her now, Ruth. (She chuckles—then a suspicious sudden look at her daughter as she turns in her chair for emphasis.) What DOES it mean? BENEATHA (wearily): Oh, I just mea In couldn't ever reall bye serious about George. He's—he's so shallow. RUTH: Shallow—what do you mean he's shallow? He's Rich! MAMA: Hush, Ruth. BENEATHA: I know he's rich. He knows he's rich, too. RUTH: Well—what other qualities a man got to hav satisf e to y you, little girl? BENEATHA: You wouldn't even begin to understand. Anybody who married Walter could not possibly understand. MAMA (outraged): What kind of way is that to talk about your brother? BENEATHA: Brothe irs a flip—let' fac s it e . MAMA (t RUTH o helplessly): , What' a flip s ? 505 A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act I Scene I RUTH (glad to add kindling): She's saying he's crazy. BENEATHA: Not crazy. Brother isn't really yet—-he—he' crazy as n elaborate neurotic. MAMA: Hush your mouth! BENEATHA: As for George. Well. George look good—he' s s got a beautiful car and he takes me to nice places and, as my sisterin-law says, he is probably the richest boy I will ever get to know and I even like him sometime —bu s it f the Younger ar s e sitting around waiting to see if their little Bennie is going to tie up the family with the Murchisons, they are wasting their time. RUTH: You mean you wouldn't marry George Murchison if he asked you someday? That pretty, rich thing? Honey, I knew you was odd— BENEATHA: No I would not marry him if al fell I fot r him was what I feel now. Besides, George' famil s y wouldn't really like it. MAMA: Why not? BENEATHA: Oh, Mama—The Murchisons are honest-to-God-reallive-rich colored people, and the only people in the world who are more snobbish than rich white people are rich colored people. I thought everybody knew that. I've met Mrs. Murchison. She's a scene! MAMA: You must not dislike people 'cause they well off, honey. BENEATHA: Why not? It makes just as much sense as disliking people 'cause they are poor, and lots of people do that. RUTH (A wisdom-of-the-ages manner. MAMA.J To : Well, she'l gel t over some of thi —s BENEATHA: Get over it? What are you talking about Ruth , ? Listen, I'm going to be a doctor. I'm not worried about who I'm going to marry yet—if I ever get married. MAMA an RUTH d If!: MAMA: Now, Benni —e BENEATHA: Oh, I probably will. . . but first I'm going to be a doctor, and George, for one, still thinks that's prett funny y . I couldn't be bothered with that. I am going to be a doctor and everybody around here better understand that! MAMA (kindly): 'Course you going to be a doctor, honey, God willing. BENEATHA (drily): God hasn't got a thing to do with it. 506 Lorraine Hansberry MAMA: Beneatha—that just wasn't necessary. BENEATHA: Well—neithe ir s God I. get sic ok f hearing about God. MAMA: Beneatha! BENEATHA: I mean it! I'm just tired of hearing abou Go t d all the time. What has He got to do with anything? Does he pa tuition y ? MAMA: You 'bout to get you fresh little jaw slapped! RUTH: That's just what she needs, all right! BENEATHA: Why? Why can't I say what I want to around here, like everybody else? MAMA: It don't sound nice for a young gir tl o say thing that s lik—e you wasn't brought up that way. Me and your father went to trouble to get you and Brother to church every Sunday. BENEATHA: Mama, you don't understand. It's all a matter of ideas, and God is just one idea I don't accept. It's not important. I am not going out and be immoral or commit crimes because I don't believe in God. I don't even think about it. It's just that I get tired of Him getting credit for all the things the human race achieves through its own stubbor effort n . There simply is no blasted God—there is only man and it is he who makes miracles! MAMA absorbs this speech, studies her daughter and rises slowly and crosses BENEATH to A an slaps d her powerfully across face. the After, there is only silence and the daughter drops her eyes from her mother's face, MAM and A is very tall before her. MAMA: Now—you say after me, in my mother's house there is still God. (There is a long pause BENEATH and A stares at the floor wordlessly. MAMA repeats the phrase with precision and cool emotion.) In my mother's house there is still God. BENEATHA: In my mother's house ther ies still God (. a long pause) MAMA (walking away BENEATHA from to, o disturbed for triumphant posture. Stopping and turning back to her daughter.): There are some ideas we ain't going to have in this house. Not as long as I am at the head of thi family s . BENEATHA: Yes, ma'am (MAM. A walks out of the room.) RUTH (almost gently, with profound understanding): You think you a woman, Benni —bu e t you still a little girl. What you did was childis —s h o you got treated like a child. BENEATHA: I see (quietly) . I also see that everybody thinks it' al s l 507 A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I right for Mama to be a tyrant Bu . t all th tyrann e iyn th worl e d will never put a God in the heavens! (She picks up her books and goes out. Pause.) RUTH (goes t MAMA' o door): S She sai shd e wa sorry s . MAMA (coming out, going to he plant): r They frighten mes Ruth , . My children. RUTH: You got good children, Lena. The jus a littl yt ofe some f - times—but they're good. MAMA: No—there's something come down betwee mne an the d m that don't let us understand each other and I don' kno t w what it is. One done almost los hi t s mind thinking 'bou mone t al y l the time and the other done commence t tal o k about thing Is can't seem to understand in no form o fashion r . Wha its it that's changing, Ruth? RUTH (soothingly, older than he years): r Now . . . yo takin u g it all too seriously. Yo jus u t go strong-wille t d childre an n d i take as strong woman like you to keep 'em in hand. MAMA (looking at her plant and sprinkling a little water o it): n They spirited all right, my children. Got t admi o t they got spirit—Bennie and Walter. Like this littl ol e plan d t that ain't never had enough sunshine o nothing—an r look d at it.. . She has her back RUTH to wh , o has had to stop ironing an lean d against something and put the back of her hand to her forehead. RUTH (trying to keep MAMA from noticing): You . . .sure . . . loves that little old thing, don' you t ? . . . MAMA: Well I, always wante md e a garden lik Iuse e tdo se some e - times at the back of the houses down home. This plan it clos s e as I ever got to having one. (She looks out of the window as she replaces the plant.) Lord, ain't nothin ag drear s ays th vie e w from this window on a dreary day i, there s Wh ? ain' y yot u singing this morning, Ruth? Sing that "N Way o s Tired. Tha " t song alway lift s ms e up s —(She o turns a last t RUT to seH that e has slipped quietly to the floor, in a state of semiconsciousness.) Ruth! Ruth honey—what's the matter with you . . . Ruth! 508 SCEN I E I It is the following morning; a Saturday morning, and house cleaning is in progress a YOUNGERS t the Furniture . ha been s shoved hither and yon MAMA and is giving the kitchen-area walls a washing down. BENEATHA i , n dungarees, with a handkerchief tied around her face, is spraying insecticide into the cracks in the walls. As they work, the radio is on and a Southside disk-jockey program is inappropriately filling the house with a rather exotic saxophone blues. TRAVIS, the sole idle one, is leaning on his arms, looking out of the window. TRAVIS: Grandmama, tha stuft Benni f i usin se g smells awful Can. I go downstairs, please? MAMA: Did you get al the l m chores done already I? ain' see t yon u doing much. TRAVIS: Yes' —finishe m d early. Wher di e d Mam ga thi o s morning? MAMA (looking BENEATHA,) at Sh : e had to go on a little errand. The phone rings. BENEATHA runs to answer it an reaches d before it WALTER, who has entered from bedroom. TRAVIS: Where? MAMA: To tend to her business. BENEATHA: Haylo . . . (disappointed) Yes, he is. (She tosses the phone t WALTER o , who barely catches it.) It's Willie Harris again. WALTER (as privately as possible MAMA' under gaze): S Hello, Willie. Did you get the papers from the lawyer? . . . No, no yet. t I told you the mailman doesn't ge her t e till ten-thirty . . . No I'l, l come there . . . Yeah! Right away. (H hangs e up an goes d for his coat.) BENEATHA: Brother, wher di e d Rut go h ? WALTER (as he exits): How shoul I know d ! TRAVIS: Aw come on Grandma , Ca . n I g outside o ? MAMA: Oh, I guess so. You stay righ it n fron ot f th house e , though, and keep a good lookout for the postman. TRAVIS: Yes'm (H . e darts into bedroom fo stickball r and bat, reenters, and sees BENEATH oA n he knees r spraying sofa under with behind upraised. He dges closer to the target, takes aim, and lets her have it. She screams.) Leave them poo littl r e cock- 509 A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene It II roaches alone, they ain't botherin yog none u (H! runs e as she swings th spray e gun at him viciously playfully.) and Grandma! Grandma! MAMA: Look ou there t , girl befor , yoe u b spillin e g som o tha fe t stuff on that child! TRAVI (safely S behind th bastion e MAMA): of That' right—loo s k out, now! (He exits.) BENEATH (drily): A I can't imagine tha i woul tt d him—i hur ha t ts never hurt the roaches. MAMA: Well, little boys' hides ain' a toug ts a Southside hs roaches. You better get over there behin thd bureau e see I . onn marchin e g out of there like Napoleon yesterday. BENEATHA There's : really onl on y e way to get rid o them f , Mama— MAMA: How? BENEATHA: Set fire to this building! Mama, wher di Rut ed goh? MAMA (looking at he with r meaning): To the doctor think I , . BENEATHA Th : e doctor? What' ths matter e (They ? exchange glances.) You don' think t — MAMA (with her sense odrama): f Now I ain't saying wha think I t . But I ain't never been wrong 'bou awoma t n neither. (The phone rings.) BENEATHA (at the phone): Hay-lo (pause, . an . d a moment of recognition.) Well—when did you ge back t ! . . . And how was it? ... Of course I've misse you—i d n my way . . Thi . s morning? No . . . house cleaning and al tha l t an Mam d a hates it if I let people come over when th hous e e i liks e this . . . Yo have? u Well, that's different.. Wha . i it—Oh t s wha , tht hell e , com oe n over .. . Right, see you then. Arrividerci. (She hangs up.) MAMA (who has listened vigorously, as is habit): he Wh r o is that you inviting over here with this house looking lik this e ? You ain't got the pride you was born with! BENEATHA Asaga : i doesn't care how houses look Mama—he's an intellectual. MAMA: Who? BENEATHA Asagai : — Joseph Asagai He' . s a Africa n n boy I met on campus. He's been studying in Canada all summer. MAMA: What's hi name s ? BENEATHA: Asagai, Joseph Ah-sah-gu . y . . . He's from Nigeria. 510 Lorraine Hansberry MAMA: Oh, that's the little country that was founded by slaves way back . . . BENEATHA: No, Mama—that's Liberia. MAMA: I don't think I neve me r t n Africa o n before. BENEATHA: Well, do me a favor and don't ask him a whole lot of ignorant questions about Africans. I mean, do they wear clothes and all that— MAMA: Well, now, I guess if you think we so ignorant 'round here maybe you shouldn't bring you friend r —s here BENEATHA: It' jus s t that people ask such crazy things Al . l anyone seems to know about when it come Afric s to i a —s Tarzan MAMA (indignantly): Why shoul Id know anything abou Africat ? BENEATHA: Why do you give money at church for the missionary work? MAMA: Well, that's to help save people. BENEATHA Yo : u mean save them from heathenism — MAMA (innocently): Yes. BENEATHA: I'm afraid they need more salvatio fron th m Britis e h and the French. RUTH comes in forlornly an of d hepulls f r coat with dejection. They both turn to look at her. RUTH (dispiritedly): Well I, gues fros al m l the happ faces—every y - body knows. BENEATHA Yo : u pregnant? MAMA: Lord have mercy, I sure hope it's a little old girl. Travis ought to have a sister. BENEATHA an RUT d H give her a hopeless look for this grandmotherly enthusiasm. BENEATHA: How far alon ar g e you? RUTH: Two months. BENEATHA: Did you mean to? I mean did you plan it or was it an accident? MAMA: What do you know about planning or not planning? BENEATHA: Oh, Mama. RUTH (wearily): She's twenty years old, Lena. BENEATHA: Did you plan it, Ruth? RUTH: Mind your own business. BENEATHA: It is my business—wher i e s he goin tg o live o, n the A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act I Scene II roof? (There is silence following the remark as the three women react to the sense of it.) Gee—I didn't mean that, Ruth, honest. Gee, I don' fee t l like that a I—t allI. think it is wonderful. RUTH (dully): Wonderful. BENEATHA Yes—really : . MAMA (looking RUTH at , worried): Docto sa r y everything goin tgo be all right? RUTH (far away): Yes—she says everything is going to be fine . . . MAMA (immediately suspicious): "She"—What doctor you went to? RUTH folds over, near hysteria. MAMA (worriedly hovering RUTH) over : Ruth honey—what' thse matter with you—yo sick u ? RUTH has her fists clenched on her thighs and is fighting hard to suppress a scream that seems to be rising in her. BENEATHA: What's the matter with her, Mama? MAMA (working he fingers r RUTH' in S shoulders to relax her): She be all right. Women gets right depressed sometimes when they get her way (speaking . softly, expertly, rapidly) Now you just relax. That's right. . jus . t lean back, don't think 'bout nothing at all... nothing all at— RUTH: I'm all right. . . The glassy-eyed look melts and then she collapses into a of it heavy sobbing. The bell rings. BENEATHA: Oh, my God—that mus bt e Asagai. MAMA (t RUTH) o : Come on now, honey Yo . u nee t d o lie down and rest awhile . . . then have some nice hot food. They exit, RUTH'S weight on her mother-in-law. BENEATHA herself , profoundly disturbed, opens the door to admit a rather dramaticlooking young man with largea package. ASAGAI: Hello, Alaiy — o BENEATHA (holding the door open and regarding him with pleasure): Hello . . . (long pause) Well—come in. And please excuse everything. My mother was very upset about my letting anyone come here with the place like this. ASAGAI (coming into the room): You look disturbed too ... Is something wrong? 512 Lorraine Hansberry BENEATHA (still : at the door, absently): Yes . . . we've all got acute ghetto-itus. (She smiles and comes toward him, finding ciga- a rette and sitting.) So—sit down! No! Wait! (She whips the spraygun off sofa where she left had it and puts the cushions back. At last perches on arm sofa.of He sits.) So, how was Canada? ASAGA (I a sophisticate): Canadian. BENEATHA (looking at him): Asagai I' , m very glad you are back. ASAGAI (looking back at her in turn): Are yo really u ? BENEATHA Yes—very : . ASAGAI Why?—yo : u were quite glad when I went away. What happened? BENEATHA: You went away. ASAGAI: Ahhhhhhhh. BENEATHA Before—yo : u wanted to be so seriou befor s e ther wa e s time. ASAGAI: How much time must there b befor e e one knows what one feels? BENEATHA (Stalling this particular conversation. Her hands pressed together, in a deliberately childish gesture.): What did you bring me? ASAGAI (handing her the package): Open it and see. BENEATHA (eagerly opening the package and drawing out some records and th colorful e robes of a Nigerian woman): Oh, Asagai! . . . You got them for me! . . . Ho beautiful w . . . and the records too! (She lifts out the robes and runs to the mirror with them and holds the drapery up in front herself.) of ASAGAI (coming to her at the mirror): I shall have to teach you how to drape it properly. (H flings e the material about her for the moment and stands back to look at her.) Ah —Oh-pay-gay - day, oh-gbah-mu-shay. (a Yoruba exclamation for admiration) You wear it well. . . very well. . . mutilated hair and all. BENEATHA (turning suddenly): M hair—what' y s wrong wit mh y hair? ASAGAI (shrugging): Were you born wit iht like that? BENEATHA (reaching up to touch it): No ... of course not. (She looks back to the mirror, disturbed.) ASAGAI (smiling): How then? A RAISI INN THE SUN Ac Scene t I II BENEATHA: You know perfectly well how.. a. crinkl s a y s yours . . . that's how. ASAGAI An : d it is ugl tyo you tha way t ? BENEATHA (quickly): Oh no—no , ugl t y . . . (more slowly, apologetically) But it's so hard to manage when it's well—raw , . ASAGAI: And so to accommodat hat—yo e mutilat u i ever t y week? BENEATHA: It's no mutilation t ! ASAGAI (laughing aloud at he seriousness): r Oh . . . please! I am only teasing you because you are s ver o y serious about these things. (He stands back from her an folds d hi arms s across his chest as he watches her pulling at her hair and frowning in the mirror.) Do you remember the firs timt e you met me at school? . . . (He laughs.) You came up to me an said d yo—u and I thought you were the most serious little thin Ig ha eve d r seen—you said (H : e imitates her.) "Mr Asagai— . wan I t very much to talk with you. Abou Africa t Yo . see u Mr , Asagai . I, am looking for my identity!" (H laughs.) e BENEATHA (turning to him, no laughing): t — Ye (Her . face iss quizzical, profoundly disturbed.) ASAGA (still I teasing and reaching out an taking d face hein hi r s hands and turning he profile r to him): Well.. i.t i trus e that this is not so much aprofil oe f a Hollywood quee an perhap s s a queen of th Nile e — (a mock dismissal of th importance e of the question) Bu wha t t doe is matter t ? Assimilationis ims so popular in your country. BENEATHA (wheeling, passionately, sharply): I am not a assimi n - lationist! ASAGAI (the protest hangs in the room for ASAGA a moment I and studies her, his laughter fading): Suc ah serious one. (There is a pause.) So—you lik the robes e Yo ? mus u t take excellent care of them—they ar fro e m my sister's personal wardrobe. BENEATHA (with incredulity): You—yo sen u all th t e — wa hom y e for me? ASAGAI (with charm): Fo you—r woul I d d muc o h more . . . Well, that is what I came for I. mus got . BENEATHA: Wil yol u cal ml e Monday? ASAGAI: Yes . . . We have a great deal t tal o k about. mea I n about identity and time and all that. Lorraine Hansberry BENEATHA: Time? ASAGAI: Yes. About how much time one needs to know what one feels. BENEATHA: You see! You never understood that ther ies more than one kind of feeling which can exist between a man and a woman —or, at least, there should be. ASAGAI (shaking his head negatively but gently): No. Between a man and a woman there need be only one kind feeling of I. have that for you . . . Now even . . . right this moment. . . BENEATHA: I know—an itself—i d by t won' dot . I can find that anywhere. ASAGAI: For a woman it should be enough. BENEATHA: I know—because that's what it says in all the novels that men write. But it isn't. Go ahead and laug —buht I'm not interested in being someone's little episode in America or—(with feminine vengeance) —one o (ASAGA f them! ha I s burst into laughter again.) That' funn s y as hell, huh! ASAGAI: It's just tha ever t y American gir Il have know ha n s said that to me. Whit —black—i e n this you are all the same. And the same speech, too! BENEATHA (angrily): Yuk, yuk, yuk! ASAGAI: It's how you can be sure that the world's most liberated women are not liberated at all. You all talk about it too much! MAMA enters and is immediately all social charm because of the presence of a guest. BENEATHA: Oh—Mam —thi a iss Mr. Asagai. MAMA: How do you do? ASAGAI (total politeness to a elder): n How do you do, Mrs. Younger. Please forgive me for coming at such an outrageous hour on a Saturday. MAMA: Well, you are quite welcome jus I. t hope you understand that our house don't always look like this, (chatterish) You must come again. I would love to hear al about l — (not sure of the name)—your country. I think it's so sad the way our American Negroes don't know nothing abou Afric t a 'cept Tarzan and all that. And all that money they pour into these churches when they ought to be helping you people over there drive out them French and Englishmen done taken away your land. A RAISI I N N THE SUN Act SceneI II The mother flashes a slightly superior look at her daughter upon completion of the recitation. ASAGAI (taken aback by this sudden and acutely unrelated expression of sympathy): Yes . . . yes . . . MAMA (smiling at him suddenly and relaxing and looking him over): How many miles is ifrot m here to where you com frome ? ASAGAI: Many thousands. MAMA (looking at him as sh WALTERJ e would I: bet you don't half look after yourself, being awa fro y m your mama either I. spec you better come 'round her fro e m time to time to get yourself some decent home-cooked meals . . . ASAGAI (moved): Thank you. Than yo k ver u y much. (They are all quiet, then—) Well... I must go. I will call you Monday, Alaiyo. MAMA: What's that he call you? ASAGAI: Oh—"Alaiyo." I hope you don't mind I. t is wha yo t u would call a nickname, I think. It is a Yoruba word. I am a Yoruba. MAMA (looking BENEATHAJ at I—:I though hte wafrom— s (uncertain) ASAGAI (understanding): Nigeri ias my country. Yorub isa my tribal origin— BENEATHA: You didn't tell us what Alaiyo means ... for all I know, you might be calling me Little Idiot or something . . . ASAGAI: Well... let me see ... I do not know ho jus w t to explain it.. . The sense of a thing can be differen so t when it changes languages. BENEATHA: You're evading. ASAGAI: No—really it difficult is . . . (thinking) It means ... it means One for Whom Brea —Foo d —I No s d t Enough (H. e looks at her.) Is that al right l ? BENEATHA (understanding, softly): Thank you. MAMA (looking from one to the other and not understanding any of it): Well. . . that's nice . . . You must come se again e us— Mr. ASAGAI: Ah-sah-guy . . . MAMA: Yes . . . Do come again. ASAGAI: Good-bye (R . e exits.) 516 Lorraine Hansberry MAMA (after him): Lord, that's a pretty thin jusg t wen ou t t here! (insinuatingly, to her daughter) Yes, I guess I see why we done commence to get so interested i Afric n a 'round here. Missionaries my aunt Jenny! (She exits.) BENEATHA: Oh, Mama! . . . She picks up the Nigerian dress and holds it up to her in front of the mirror again. She sets the headdress on haphazardly and then notices her hair again and clutches at it and then replaces the headdress and frowns at herself. Then she starts to wriggle in front of the mirror as she thinks a Nigerian woman TRAVIS might. enters and stands regarding her. TRAVIS: What's the matter girl yo , u crackin up g ? BENEATHA: Shut Up. She pulls the headdress off and looks herself at in the mirror and clutches at her hair again and squinches her eyes as if trying to imagine something. Then, suddenly, she gets her raincoat and kerchief and hurriedly prepares for going out. MAMA (coming back into the room): She's resting now. Travis, baby, run next door and ask Miss Johnson to please let me have a little kitchen cleanser. This here can is empty as Jacob's kettle. TRAVIS: I just cam in e . MAMA: Do as you told. (He exits and she looks at her daughter.) Where you going? BENEATHA (halting at the door): To become a queen of the Nile! She exits in a breathless blaze o RUT f glory. appears H in the bedroom doorway. MAMA: Who told you to get up? RUTH: Ain't nothing wrong with me to be lying in no bed for. Where did Bennie go? MAMA (drumming he fingers): r Far as I could mak out—t e o Egypt. (RUTH just looks at her.) What time is it getting to? RUTH: Ten twenty. And the mailman going to ring that bell this morning just like he done every morning for the last umpteen years. TRAVIS comes in with the cleanser can. TRAVIS: She say to tell you that she don't have much. MAMA (angrily): Lord, some peopl I e could name sur ies tight- A RAISI IN N THE SUN Ac Scene t I II fisted! (directing her grandson) Mar tw k o can os cleanse f r down on the list there I. f she that hard up fo kitche r n cleanser, I sure don't want to forget to get her none! RUTH: Lena—mayb the e woma jusins shor t cleanser otn — MAMA (not listening): —Much baking powde ar s she done borrowed from me all these years sh, e could o don f e gone int tho e baking business! The bell sounds suddenly and sharply and all three are stunned—serious and silent—mid-speech. In spite of all the other conversations and distractions of the morning, this is what they have been waiting for, TRAVIS even wh , o looks helplessly from his mother to his grandmother. RUTH is the firs life t to come to again. RUTH (t TRAVIS,) o Ge : t down them steps, (TRAVI boy!S snaps to life and flies out to get the mail.) MAMA (her eyes wide, her hand to he breast): r You mea i don nt e really come? RUTH (excited): Oh, Miss Lena! MAMA (collecting herself): Well.. I. don' kno t w wha wt e all so excited about 'round here for. We known it wa comin s g for months. RUTH: That's a whole lo differen t frot m havin ig com t ane d being able to hold it in your hands ... a piece o pape f r worth ten thousand dollars (TRAVI . . . S bursts back into the room. He holds the envelope high above his head, like a little dancer, his face is radiant and he is breathless. He moves to his grandmother with sudden slow ceremony and puts the envelope into her hands. She accepts it, and then merely holds it and looks at it.) Come on! Open it.. . Lord have mercy, I wish Walter Lee was here! TRAVIS: Open it, Grandmama! MAMA (staring at it): Now you all be quiet. jusIt' a check t . RUTH: Open it... MAMA (still staring it): at Now don't ac sillt y . . . We ain't never been no people to ac sill t y 'bou money t no — RUTH (swiftly): We ain't neve had r non before—OPE e IT! N MAMA finally makes a good strong tear and pulls out the thin blue 518 Lorraine Hansberry slice of paper and inspects it closely. The boy and his mother study it raptly over MAMA'S shoulders. MAMA: Travis! (She is counting off with doubt.) Is tha the righ t t number of zeros? TRAVIS: Yes'm . . . ten thousand dollars. Gaalee, Grandmama, you rich. MAMA (She holds the check away from her, still looking at it. Slowly h

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Boy, do I love chicken strips. Sometimes, when I’m home alone, I’ll take some chicken strips fresh out of the oven and rub them in my scalp. It doesn’t do much for my hair health, but I like the way they feel running through my strands of hair. The flakey coating, smooth white meat, and warmth. Yum.

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Your mom is so fat, she had a heart attack and died. It was very sad and she will be missed.

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A man walks into a bar and orders a water. He then drinks his water and leaves. The following day he returns to the bar and again orders a water. He repeats this for many days until finally one day the bartender asks him why he comes every day to just drink water. The man replies, "Water is free. I got laid off from my job last week. Rough economy, you know." The bartender starts charging him for water, and the man becomes homeless.

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Im batman...suck it losers

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What did the muffin, say to the other muffin? Nothing. Because muffin's are inanimate objects, therefore incapable of speech, or any other sentient action. They baked quietly until the man who was baking them came to the conclusion they were fit for consumption, devoured them, and went on with his day.

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Why did FiddleBob Joe chuck a stick of butter out the window? Because he wanted to see a butter fly

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What do Gay horses eat? Cheese.

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Anti Joke

What are Antijokes? Anti Jokes (or Anti Humor) is a type of comedy in which the uses is set up to expect a typical joke setup however the joke ends with such anticlimax that it becomes funny in its own right. The lack of punchline is the punchline.

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The Anti Joke Book


NEW ANTI-JOKE BOOK!  Now that we've resolved the printing issues with our publisher, check out the BRAND SPANKING NEW Anti-Joke Book!

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Anti-Joke Chicken

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