A monologue from the play by Dominique Morisseau
FAYE (fifties, African American)
That sound like some sideways and upside down sh*t to me. You better be careful dealing with yo’boy.
Police already arrested two fools last week for stealing plant materials. Happenin’ a whole bunch right now.
Some of those ol’ dusty ghost towns you talk about are getting ransacked. Break-ins at night and all kinda stuff.
Poppy Johnson –the night watchman over at Kemps –got himself shot in the shoulder one night while he was patrolling the grounds.
Said it was two men up in there trying to get off with some shocks. He called after them and they shot at him.
Just a shoulder wound but he was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Didn’t even get no disabilty. Everybody packin’ somethin’ these days.
Can’t go to the corner-store without worryin’ whether the person you blocked in is gonna come gunnin’ at you cuz they got someplace to be in a hurry.
Use to able to offend somebody without losing your life as the cost. Now-can’t. Everybody get just a little bit agitated, they shoot they way into a resolution.
Tensions too high. Everybody handle tension differently.
Some folks see sh*t fallin’ apart and got to join in the destruction. Hands with no use find activity in useless sh*t.
But some folks think on a different plane. Rather be part of the restoration. And some folks just…Smoke a g*ddamn cigarette. (shift) Where my pack?