by Sam Shepard
WELCH
: Of course.
EMMA
: Now!
(WELCH goes quickly to counter, grabs his case, and heads for door. EMMA stops him.)
Wait a second. Do you have a card or something? Some kind of identification? A name?
(WELCH stops with his back to her.)
WELCH
: I couldn’t help noticing your flagpole out front.
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: Your flagpole.
EMMA
: What about it?
WELCH
: (
turning to her with a smile
) It’s empty. Barren. Just the raw wind slapping the naked ropes around. Sickening sound.
EMMA
: So what?
WELCH
: Well, Emma, this is Wisconsin, isn’t it? I’m not in Bulgaria or Turkistan or somewhere lost in the Balkans. I’m in Wisconsin. Taxidermy and cheese! Part of the U.S. of A. You told me that yourself.
EMMA
: What are you driving at?
WELCH
: You’d think there would be a flag up or something to that effect. Some sign. Some indication of loyalty and pride.
EMMA
: Loyalty? To Wisconsin?
WELCH
: (
pacing through room
) Nothing in here either. Not even one small token in the home. No miniature Mount Rushmore, Statue of Liberty, no weeping bald eagles clutching arrows. Nothing like that. We could be anywhere.
EMMA
: We’re not anywhere.
WELCH
: Well, you and I know that, Emma, but what about the rest of the world? What about the people driving by—the Everyday Joes? Wouldn’t they like to look up here and be reminded of their proud heritage?
EMMA
: I don’t know about the rest of the world.
WELCH
: What’s that dripping sound?
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: That dripping.
EMMA
: Oh, I just watered the plants. They’re dripping.
WELCH
: I see. You have some sort of empathy with plants, I suppose?
EMMA
: I like them, yes. Especially through the winter.
WELCH
: I imagine it can get pretty grim out here in January.
EMMA
: You have no idea.
(WELCH goes to couch, sets his case down on it, and pops it open.)
WELCH
: Well, there are many ways to brighten a place up, Emma—we have a wide variety of patriotic paraphernalia available.
EMMA
: I wish you wouldn’t call me by my name. It’s very confusing.
WELCH
: Why is that?
EMMA
: Well, it feels as though I should know you, but I don’t know you.
WELCH
: You could know me.
EMMA
: I don’t.
WELCH
: You could get to know me.
EMMA
: I don’t want to get to know you!
WELCH
: Just take a look at what we have here, Emma.
(He pulls out an accordion string of small American flags from his case and holds it up for EMMA.)
A starter kit of your basic grassroots flag and decal ensemble. Five ninety-five for the full set of six. Then, from there, you can move right on up to the Proud Patriot package for twelve fifty, which includes banners, whistles, parade equipment, fireworks—complete with a brand-new remixed CD of Pat Boone singing the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
EMMA
: No! No, thank you!
WELCH
: This also qualifies you for a forty percent discount on a brand-new red, white, and blue bullhorn in three unique sizes.
EMMA
: No!! I am not in the market!
(Pause. WELCH folds up the string of flags and puts it back in case.)
WELCH
: Not in the market. Not in the market. Well—you don’t know how disappointed certain influential parties are going to be about this, Emma. You have no idea.
EMMA
: Who are you, anyway? What is your name? What are you doing in my house?
WELCH
: Your house—yes—did you say six rooms?
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: Here in the house. Six rooms?
EMMA
: Well—including the basement.
WELCH
: Including the basement. That’s right. And you’re sure there’s no one down there?
EMMA
: Yes, I am—sure.
WELCH
: Swear on a stack of bibles?
EMMA
: I don’t have to—
WELCH
: Good-bye, Emma.
(He snaps the case shut and abruptly exits front door.)
EMMA
: What? Wait a minute! Hey!
(She watches WELCH cross past the window outside and disappear off left. She runs out on the porch and rings the old school bell for FRANK. She yells out to FRANK across the frozen fields.)
Frank!! Frank! Come on up here, would ya, Frank!
(She comes back into the house, pauses, and looks around, slightly stunned, trying to figure out the whole encounter with WELCH. She goes back out on porch and rings bell again. Calls out to FRANK.)
Frank!! Come on up here!
(She stops ringing bell and waves vigorously for FRANK to come up to the house. She comes back into the house and crosses to the basement staircase. She yells down to their guest.)
Mr. Haynes! Mr. Haynes, are you up yet? I’m making breakfast, if you’re interested! Bacon. Crispy bacon.
(No answer. She goes to stove and resumes frying up bacon. She calls out again from stove in a singsong voice.)
Oh, Mr. Haynes!
(FRANK appears outside on porch, stomping his feet to get the snow and mud off. EMMA jumps at the sound. FRANK enters.)
FRANK
: (
slightly winded from the hike
) Why’d you ring the bell?
(EMMA turns and crosses to him. She looks out the windows.)
EMMA
: There was a man here. Did you see him?
FRANK
: A man?
EMMA
: Yeah. Did you see him?
FRANK
: I was graining the heifers.
EMMA
: A man came up here to the house. He was wearing a suit—briefcase. You didn’t see him?
FRANK
: I didn’t see any man. Nope. You called me all the way up here to the house—
EMMA
: He was just here. He must’ve gone right past you.
FRANK
: What’d he want?
EMMA
: He just showed up outa the blue. Just walked right in. I thought maybe you had an appointment with him or something.
FRANK
: An appointment?
EMMA
: Yeah.
FRANK
: An appointment.
EMMA
: That’s what I said!
FRANK
: When was the last time you can remember me having an appointment?
(FRANK moves to couch, sits, and removes his boots, then tosses them out on mud porch. He wriggles his toes inside his socks to warm them up.)
I could be down there graining my heifers.
EMMA
: Well, what do you suppose he wanted?
FRANK
: I didn’t see any man.
EMMA
: He knew my name.
FRANK
: Well, what’d he say?
EMMA
: Wanted to know how many rooms there were in the house.
FRANK
/> : This house?
EMMA
: Yes. This house—our house.
FRANK
: Well, what’d you tell him?
EMMA
: Five, I said. Then he corrected me.
FRANK
: He corrected you?
EMMA
: Yeah. He said there was six—including the basement.
FRANK
: Well, that’s true enough, I guess. If you call the basement a room.
EMMA
: Now you’re taking his side.
FRANK
: I don’t even know this guy.
(FRANK gets up and crosses to stove in his stocking feet, moves the bacon around with fork.)
EMMA
: Why would he care about the house? How many rooms there are.
FRANK
: You got me.
EMMA
: Maybe he wants to buy it.
FRANK
: This bacon looks burnt.
EMMA
: You didn’t see him go by on your way back up?
FRANK
: Nope.
EMMA
: I don’t see how you could have missed him. You didn’t see any car?
FRANK
: Yeah, I saw a car.
EMMA
: You did?
FRANK
: (
forking bacon
) Yeah—I saw a couple cars.
EMMA
: Two?
FRANK
: Is Graig up yet?
EMMA
: No—no, I don’t think so. I yelled down to him but—
(FRANK crosses to top of basement stairs and yells down.)
FRANK
: Graig! Graig, get your sorry ass up here if you want some breakfast! This isn’t a boardinghouse! Rise and shine!
(FRANK returns to stove and bacon.)
How’d you manage to burn this bacon, anyway?
EMMA
: Frank—there were two cars?
FRANK
: What?
EMMA
: Two cars out there?
FRANK
: I don’t know, Emma. Two or three. What difference does it make?
EMMA
: Three?
FRANK
: I wasn’t counting!
EMMA
: Where were they?
FRANK
: On the road.
EMMA
: Out front?
FRANK
: Yes! On the road, out front. What’s the matter with you? That’s what cars do. They go up and down on the road, out front. Where else would they go?
EMMA
: Well, so they could’ve just been plain old ordinary everyday cars then, couldn’t they? Just passersby
FRANK
: As opposed to what?
EMMA
: Government cars.
FRANK
: Government cars?
EMMA
: Dark cars. Suspicious. Tinted windows. Unmarked Chevys. Black antennas bowed over. That kind of thing.
FRANK
: Where do you get this stuff?
EMMA
: I know, Frank. I’m not uninformed. I know about this stuff.
FRANK
: I was feeding my heifers. I didn’t notice what cars they were or if their antennas were bowed over.
EMMA
: Did you catch their license plates?
FRANK
: When I’m feeding the heifers, time stands still for me. Nothing else exists.
(HAYNES, their guest, is suddenly standing at the top of the basement stair landing in a plaid bathrobe, rubbing the morning crust out of his eyes.)
HAYNES
: Morning—
(EMMA jumps slightly, turns toward him.)
FRANK
: Get enough sleep?
HAYNES
: Was somebody ringing a bell up here?
(EMMA crosses to HAYNES, enthusiastically.)
EMMA
: Oh, yes, that was me. We have a bell—Frank’s told me so much about you. I was asleep when you came in last night. I’m so sorry I didn’t stay up to meet you.
HAYNES
: Oh, that’s all right.
EMMA
: I’m Emma—
(As EMMA gets closer to HAYNES, he backs up slightly, holding his hand out timidly, and as soon as EMMA touches his hand to shake it, a bright blue flash of light emanates from HAYNES’s fingers. EMMA screams and jumps back. HAYNES shakes his hand violently as though it were severely burned.)
What was that! (to FRANK) Did you see that? What the heck was that?
HAYNES
: Static shock. I’m sorry. I apologize. I never know quite how to explain this.
EMMA
: Static shock?
HAYNES
: Yes. That’s what it is. It gets worse and worse each year. Especially in the winter. Maybe it’s the ozone or something.
EMMA
: Ozone?
HAYNES
: I don’t know. I’m very sorry.
EMMA
: Oh, you don’t have to apologize. You can’t help it, I guess. I’m assuming—
HAYNES
: No, it’s true—I can’t.
EMMA
: I’ve just never seen anything quite like that. I mean, I’ve had static shock before, but—rugs and doorknobs and stuff, but—
FRANK
: Yeah, that’s pretty impressive, Graig. You pick that up out there in Colorado or something?
(FRANK crosses to couch, chewing bacon and carrying coffee.)
EMMA
: Would you like some bacon, Mr. Haynes? And coffee—there’s coffee too. Help yourself.
HAYNES
: Thanks.
(EMMA crosses to stove. FRANK sits on couch with bacon and coffee. FRANK sings a short snatch from an old song.)
FRANK
: (
singing
) “My baby loves bacon
And that’s what I’m makin’
When I’m cookin’ breakfast for the one I love.
I don’t like oatmeal …”
EMMA
: Oh, don’t sing that, Frank. We’ve got company. (
to
HAYNES
) He always sings that when we have company.
FRANK
: We never have company.
EMMA
: That’s not entirely true.
(HAYNES shivers, rubs his arms.)
HAYNES
: How cold is it out there, anyway?
EMMA
: Oh, it’s plenty cold.
FRANK
: Cold enough to stick your tongue to a mailbox.
EMMA
: How cold was it back there in Colorado, Mr. Haynes?
HAYNES
: Graig.
EMMA
: What?
HAYNES
: Call me Graig.
EMMA
: Craig? Oh—all right—Craig.
HAYNES
: No, Graig—with a G.
EMMA
: What?
HAYNES
: Never mind.
EMMA
: Would you like a cup of coffee, Craig?
HAYNES
: Please—yes.
(She pours him a cup)
EMMA
: So, how cold was it back there in Colorado, Craig?
(FRANK stands suddenly from the couch, throwing down his coffee cup. Violent.)
FRANK
: GRAIG! His name is Graig! Didn’t you hear him? Graig with a G, not Craig with a C! GRAIG!!
EMMA
: (
flatly
) Oh, my God.
(EMMA slams down coffeepot and exits out through kitchen archway, stage left. Pause. FRANK picks up his cup off the floor and takes it to the sink. Pause.)
HAYNES
: I didn’t mean to upset her.
/> FRANK
: You didn’t.
HAYNES
: She seemed upset.
FRANK
: She was, but you weren’t the cause of it.
HAYNES
: Oh—
FRANK
: Some man came by, evidently—some stranger. I guess that’s it. Got her shook up.
HAYNES
: A stranger?
FRANK
: That’s what she said. She gets nervous. We hardly ever see anyone out here.
HAYNES
: Well—what did he want?
FRANK
: Who?
HAYNES
: The stranger.
FRANK
: You got me. I didn’t see him. I was down feeding my heifers.
HAYNES
: She didn’t say?
FRANK
: Not really. Just asked her a bunch of strange questions about the house.
HAYNES
: What kind of questions?
FRANK
: Nothing, really. I mean—how many rooms there were. Stuff like that.
HAYNES
: That’s strange, isn’t it?
FRANK
: What?
HAYNES
: A stranger coming by.
FRANK
: Not really. We’re out here in the boondocks. Sitting ducks for solicitors.
HAYNES
: Oh, really?
FRANK
: Yeah, sure. All kinds. They see the house from the road, all exposed like this. They come up. We’re vulnerable.
HAYNES
: Do you mind if I have a piece of bacon? It smells so good.
FRANK
: It’s burnt.
HAYNES
: I don’t mind. I like it crispy.
FRANK
: Help yourself.
(HAYNES goes to stove, takes bacon, sips coffee.)
HAYNES
: Well, what are they soliciting, these solicitors?
FRANK
: Protein lick, calf booster, ivermectin, steroid tags, lactose, dehorners, lice powder—you name it.
HAYNES
: Never occurred to me there’d be salesmen out here.
FRANK
: Why not? There’s salesmen everywhere. Every time you turn around there’s another salesman. Whole country’s made of salesmen.
HAYNES
: Yeah, I guess.
(HAYNES crosses to windows with coffee and bacon, stands in front of plants, looking out.)
Well, I just hope I’m not intruding here. I mean, I didn’t mean to cause any tension.
FRANK
: There’s no tension. What makes you think that?
HAYNES
: I don’t know—
FRANK
: There’s no tension here. We’re in the country here. Everything’s quiet and peaceful.
HAYNES
: Well, I just really appreciate you and your wife letting me stay here, Frank.
FRANK
: You’d do the same for me.
HAYNES
: I would. You bet. The situation back there just got—very complicated.