The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays

  CORNELIUS: Set down, Em.

  EMERSON: My clo’se are damp.

  CORNELIUS: Never mind. Nothin’ in here to hurt.

  EMERSON: I’ll get into this—

  CORNELIUS: Trench coat of Charlie’s. Wow, imagine! —She’s fryin’ up more food. I tell you, Bella thinks that eating’ll solve ev’ry problem. Y’know I got to drive her to the Kwik-Chek and follow behind her and the food cart—have to put back on the shelves half of what she takes off ’em. —Em? Em?

  EMERSON: Hmmm? Yeah, you know we’ve got to ignore these little irritations in life. Got to live with them, Corney.

  CORNELIUS: I hones’ly think that woman is gone in her haid. Before I married her, 35 years ago, I was warned that mental troubles—her family was shot through with mental, emotional problems. Why did I ignore this warnin’ I don’t know now. She then appeared to be normal. Nothin’ more deceptive than appearance in youth. Huh? Em?

  EMERSON: Yes, it’s a problem. I know, but you got to live with it though.

  CORNELIUS: Now, for example, I never seen such a spectacle in my life as what she ate on the plane to the burial of Chips. I thought she’d founder herself. Ate ev’rything on her plate and most of mine.

  EMERSON: No shit.

  CORNELIUS: And for dessert? Huge scoop of ice cream with two sauces on it.

  EMERSON: Two sauces?

  CORNELIUS: I swear she had both sauces, butterscotch and hot fudge, topped off with whipped cream, nuts and a cherry. When she was served that, I got up to puke in the tawlit.

  CHARLIE [returning with beers]: You know what Doc Crane said about Mom’s over-eatin’.

  CORNELIUS: Told her to quit or accept the consequences, such as—lookin’ like a side-show exhibit.

  CHARLIE: You want a beer, Mr. Sykes?

  CORNELIUS: He wants it opened first, Charlie.

  CHARLIE: Opener’s in the kitchen. I’ll go git it.

  CORNELIUS: Yais, that’s a brilliant idea . . .

  CHARLIE: Mom, got a bottle opener in there?

  [Bella comes huffing back again as Charlie enters kitchen door.]

  BELLA [from offstage]: Bottle opener? Yeah, yeah. [A crash is heard from kitchen.]

  CHARLIE: Watch it. Didja hurt yourself, Mom?

  BELLA: Bottle opener?

  CHARLIE: ’Sall right, Mom. I got it.

  BELLA: Charlie, don’t eat both bottles.

  CHARLIE: They’re for Mr. Sykes, Mom.

  BELLA: Good, good. Glad to hear that!

  CORNELIUS: Eat! Bottles! Jesus!

  CHARLIE: Doc Crane says she eats because of anxiety feelings.

  CORNELIUS: Anxiety over what there is to eat next?

  CHARLIE: Mom was thin an’ beautiful in her weddin’ picture, and I bet that she ate light till she discovered your secret attitude toward us all was total indifference—if not worse.

  EMERSON [overlapping and rising]: I think I better—

  CHARLIE [overlapping]: Disappointment, anxiety an’ depression is what makes her stuff.

  EMERSON [overlapping]: Leave you all till this family dispute is—

  STACEY: Charlie?

  [They all turn to observe her for the first time on the landing. Emerson Sykes shakes his head and slips out the front door.]

  CHARLIE [With nervous heartiness]: Come on down here, Stacey.

  STACEY: My clo’se are still drenched.

  CHARLIE: We walked here from the bus station in the rain.

  STACEY: Wasn’t a cab at the depot. Lent my raincoat to a friend who left town with it, ha ha!

  CHARLIE: I’ll light the gas-logs in the fireplace.

  STACEY: Good, good. I’d appreciate that. [She hitches up her skirt on the landing to adjust her pantyhose.]

  CORNELIUS: Tell her not to come down till she’s completed dressing.

  STACEY: My pantyhose just don’t fit right.

  CORNELIUS: Jesus.

  STACEY: I never did like these things, preferred to wear regular garters but they’re hard to get now, seem to’ve gone out of style.

  CORNELIUS: What’s she tawkin’ about?

  STACEY: Awright, got it fixed now.

  [She comes downstairs, her face beaming nervously.]

  CHARLIE: This is Stacey, Pop.

  STACEY: Hi, Pop.

  CORNELIUS: Excuse me for not gettin’ up.

  CHARLIE: Pop’s got arthritis, Stacey.

  STACEY: That’s all right. My Granddaddy’s got that, too. I know all about that.

  BELLA: Here’s eggs. [Bella enters the living room with a tray bearing a moist and frowsy-looking omelet.]

  CHARLIE: Mom, this is Stacey.

  BELLA [To Stacey]: Why, how d’you do. [Noticing her stomach.] How d’ you do. I thought you all might be hungry so I—

  CORNELIUS: My wife thinks everyone’s hungry.

  STACEY: Well, I happen to be. —Hello, Mom.

  BELLA: Hello. What’s your name, honey?

  STACEY: Stacey, it’s a family name they give me as a first name.

  CORNELIUS: Why?

  STACEY: That’s a lo-oong, long story, Pop. You see, my uncle—

  CORNELIUS: Don’t tell it right now, huh?

  STACEY: Could I, could we—have something t’ drink, Mom?

  BELLA: Y’know we been up in Memphis for several days. I was gonna make you some cocoa or hot milk but the milk’s gone sour. [Charlie takes a pint bottle of whiskey out of his trench-coat pocket. Bella gasps.] No, no, not whiskey, son! Charlie’s older brother just died of— [She sobs.]

  CORNELIUS: —Terminal—alcoholism, at thirty-one!

  CHARLIE: Pop, don’t shout it like that. You’ve upset Mom. Sit down, Mom.

  STACEY: Let’s talk about it tomorrow, not tonight.

  CORNELIUS: I’m a believer in talkin’ all things out that can be talked out as quick as possible, Miss.

  CHARLIE: Stacey.

  CORNELIUS: Stacey what?

  CHARLIE: T’morrow she is gonna be Stacey McCorkle.

  CORNELIUS: Is she?!

  CHARLIE: Bright and early tomorrow her last name will be mine.

  BELLA: —Oh . . .

  CORNELIUS: What d’ya make of that, Bella? Something or nothing?

  BELLA: Oh, I’m delighted about that.

  CHARLIE: Yes.

  STACEY [Crying a little]: Yes. So happy I could die! —Just dieee!

  CORNELIUS: I think we could use a little more light in here. [He attempts to turn on light from the over-stuffed chair, topples back and overturns the floor lamp behind him. It hits Bella on the head.]

  STACEY: Oh, my! Did that hurtcha, Mom?

  BELLA: What?

  CHARLIE: Floor lamp hit your haid.

  BELLA: —Did it? —No. —No. —I’ll tell you something. A big hurt like we got up there in Memphis, it, it—sort of numbs you to anything else for a while.

  CORNELIUS: I expected it sooner. Quart of scotch and a fifth of bourbon a day. Not satisfied with that so he spent his nights out at bars. —I know what kind of bars, I was infawmed of that right here in Pascagoola. —’Swhy I sent him to Memphis.

  BELLA: I must’ve done something wrong in his upbringin’.

  CHARLIE: Don’t blame yourself all the time. When I had to pick him up and take him home from those bars, well, I didn’t know that scene but I sure did recognize it.

  CORNELIUS: So you can see and hear and draw deductions from—

  BELLA: Yais, brought Chips up wrong, somehow.

  CHARLIE: Mom, Chips had two parents.

  CORNELIUS: I made that comment, remember?

  CHARLIE [flaring]: Me remember? Nothin’ from you but ridicule and abuse, you mean ole bastard! —Never felt nothin’ for no one under this roof and you know it as well as we did.

  CORNELIUS: Git th’ hell out of here with your bright-and-early-bride-to-be tonight!

  BELLA: No. —No. —I—

  CORNELIUS: I happen to own this house and—

  STACEY: I never stay a place where I ain’t welcome. Lucky we didn’t
unpack.

  CORNELIUS: Cause you couldn’t wait to get back at it again.

  BELLA: Cornelius, please!

  CORNELIUS: Please what? —Your worthless son and this pregnant tramp here? I want them out. I say out!

  BELLA: Don’t mind what he says. Cornelius is sufferin’ more than he knows from our loss.

  CORNELIUS: No loss to me. —A relief! Relief to him and t’ me! Deliverance.

  BELLA: Oh, God, don’t say that, that’s—

  CHARLIE: Like him, Mom.

  BELLA: No, no. Your daddy cared about your brother, I know he cared for Chips, for, for—Chipton deeply, very deeply, so deeply he couldn’t touch food on the plane home from Memphis.

  STACEY [Picks up framed table photograph]: Is this—?

  BELLA: Yes, yes.

  BELLA: —Chips. —Chipton. —Chipton McCorkle, the second, named after his granddaddy. —Cornelius just didn’t—

  CORNELIUS: Didn’t what?

  BELLA: Understand.

  CORNELIUS: Understood too much!

  STACEY [taking photograph]: Very good-lookin’ young man.

  CORNELIUS: Not good-lookin’ but pretty like a girl!

  BELLA: Don’t.

  CHARLIE: No, don’t Pop!

  STACEY: Don’t. I know boys like this.

  CORNELIUS: Still looked pretty as a girl laid out in his casket. So you know his kind huh?

  STACEY: Yes, I know boys like this. They used to flock to the Goose and Gander, an after-hour place where I was employed as waitress befo’ my engagement to Charlie. Yais, boys like this come there when the bars closed for our fifty-nine cent breakfast of aigs, sausage, and grits, and biscuits, horse biscuits with sawmill gravy and with chicory coffee.

  BELLA: Well, now. She cooks.

  STACEY: I made acquaintances with them, sympathized with their problems, and gave them advice.

  CORNELIUS: What advice?

  STACEY: I always advised the couples to stick together, not—

  CORNELIUS: Sashay around?

  STACEY: No, settle, make homes together.

  CORNELIUS: Promiscuous relations is what they live for.

  STACEY: Only some, not all. I know of some had permanent arrangements. And I brought some to Jesus. I’m a bawn-again Christian.

  CORNELIUS: You are a what did she say?

  CHARLIE: Stacey’s a born-again Christian.

  STACEY: LET’S PRAY TOGETHER! WE ARE LOST SHEEP, ERRED AND STRAYED FROM THY WAYS, BROKEN YOUR HOLY COMMANDMENTS, ENGAGED IN FORNICATION, HAVE MERCY UPON US, FORGIVE US OUR CARNAL DESIRES AND LEAD US BACK TO THE FOLD. MERCY, HAVE MERCY UPON US THAT YIELDED TO THE TEMPTATIONS OF THE FLESH, YES, JESUS, WE IMPLORE THY FORGIVENESS! THY DIVINE MERCY, CHRIST! MAKE US FIT FOR SALVATION! DESERVING OF LIFE ETERNAL, LAWD, LAWD, SHOW US THE WAYYYYYYYYYYY!

  CORNELIUS: Shudderup, goddam it, help me outa this chair.

  BELLA: Honey, let’s pray QUIETLY together.

  CHARLIE: Stacey, Mom says quietly.

  BELLA: It don’t have to be quite so loud!

  STACEY: OH, IT IS COMIN’ ON ME! WAIT, IT’S COMING, I FEEL IT, THE GIFT OF TONGUES! WHAHOOOOOOOOOOO! BE-BE, YAIS, BAH! OH, BLESSED! BE, BE, BE, BE, LIEVE! ALL, ALL, ALL COME FORTH! BAH! BOW! WALLAH, YAIS, WALLAH! SALVAREDEMPTION IN ME, DEEP, DEEP SALVAREDEPMTPION, GLORY IN ME, AH, GLORY, GO DEEP IN ME IN GLORY, AH, AH, GAH, WALLAH, WOMB! WOMB I WOMB. . . . [As if arrived at orgasm, she falls back onto the carpet.]

  BELLA: Charlie, think she’s in labor, hope she don’t drop the baby. Excuse me honey. [Steps over Stacey’s head.] Cornelius, call the hospital.

  CORNELIUS: I’m callin’ the POLICE! [He is on the phone.]

  BELLA: Wha’s your father say, Charlie?

  CHARLIE: Pop! Whacha doin?

  CORNELIUS [on the phone]: POLICE! QUICK! SEVENTEEN SOUTH ELMA!

  [No further sound from Stacey as she lies as if in post-orgasmic exhaustion. Charlie wrests the phone from Cornelius.]

  CHARLIE: Police? Ignore that call. My Dad is— [He jiggles the hook.]

  CORNELIUS: Is what? Say it. I want to hear it!

  CHARLIE: Vicious, crazy ole man!

  [Cornelius plunges toward him but falls to the floor. Stacey, already on the floor, writhes about like a snake.]

  CORNELIUS: Said it! —Confounded—!

  BELLA: Cornelius, he didn’ mean it!

  CHARLIE: I did mean it, Mom! —How can you conterdict me? In this house all these years? Destroyed a son, a daughter! Persecuted us all!

  STACEY: Amen.

  BELLA: Charlie, be still! Cornelius is your father!

  [A relative quiet descends. Stacey lies spread-eagle on her back.]

  CHARLIE: —Stacey, can you get up?

  STACEY [moans]: Nooo.

  BELLA: How long is she been—?

  CHARLIE: Seven months.

  BELLA: I better make her some cocoa.

  CHARLIE: You said the milk’s gone sour, Mom.

  BELLA [inspired]: Call the Moose Lodge and ask for one to come over. Several if—

  CHARLIE: The police had hung up before!—

  BELLA: The Moose Lodge will come over. Cornelius belongs, is a Moose.

  [Soft yap and scratch of dog at the door is unheeded. It pushes its way in and slinks warily to its basket. Stacey has noticed only the opening of the door, she is repossessed by rapture.]

  STACEY [springing up, arms aloft]: CHRIST COME IN THE DOOR! Enter this—

  CHARLIE: Stacey, no, just the yard dawg!

  STACEY: BLESSED SAVIOUR HAS VISITED THIS HOUSE! Where, where, where? [Etc.]

  CORNELIUS: Shudder up!

  [Stacey rushes blindly downstage. Charlie clutches her just before she falls into the pit.]

  BELLA: Son, set her down somewhere—comf’table.

  CHARLIE: Tryin’ t’ hold her, Mom.

  BELLA: Careful, don’t hurt the baby! What’s her name?

  CHARLIE [struggling to restrain her]: Stacey! [He wrestles her to the carpet and straddles her swollen belly.]

  [From outside, sound of motor approaching, screeching to halt in front of the house. A car door slams. This activates Cornelius. He stumbles over Charlie and Stacey in his arthritic charge out the door.]

  BELLA: Cornelius, where are you goin’, what is Cornelius up to? [She rushes, panting to door]

  POLICE OFFICER [offstage]: Okay. What’s goin’ on?

  BELLA: Officer? Officer! It was all a mistake, everything is all right here.

  CORNELIUS [offstage]: Yais, I’ll tell you the problem! We’d just got back from a fam’ly fun’ral in Memphis when we discover the other one, Charlie, had brought a pregnant lunatic here in our absence, that’s the—

  [Charlie charges out. The following dialogue takes place outside]

  CHARLIE [offstage]: Wait a minute! That ain’t the problem a-tall, I’ll tell you the problem! This sick, crazy ole—

  CORNELIUS [offstage]: You goddam whelp with your whore. Intends to marry a pregnant demented prostitute. In the—

  CHARLIE [offstage]: He’s talkin’ about my fiansay who was respectably employed at—

  POLICE OFFICER [offstage]: Awright, all in the car, can’t wake up the whole neighborhood.

  EMERSON [offstage]: Officer, I am Mr. Emerson Sykes, President of the Night-a-Glory Motel Chain on the coast. This is Cornelius McCorkle, once candidate for Mayor.

  POLICE OFFICER [offstage]: Yeh, yeh, get your names at the station.

  EMERSON [offstage]: Officer, Captain James would not want Mr. McCorkle involved in a scandal so—

  CORNELIUS [offstage]: Be Goddam if I get in a police car with a Jesus-freak of a whore!

  CHARLIE [offstage]: SAID THAT TOO OFTEN!

  [There is the sound of a blow, followed by Cornelius’ yell of pain]

  EMERSON [offstage]: Why’d you do that, boy?

  CORNELIUS [offstage]: Broke my dentures!

  POLICE OFFICER [offstage]: Into the car, I said!

  CORNELIUS [offstage]: NAWWWWWWWWW!

  EMERSON [offstage]: Easy, Corney, just
goin’ to the Moose Lodge!

  STACEY: Keep praying! Pray! Jesussss!

  [The offstage sounds subside with the departing squad car. During entire rhubarb on the sidewalk Bella has executed a slow, bemused and tottering return to sofa, eyes on the unfinished omelet.]

  BELLA: CHIPS? SO HAPPY THAT YOU—COME—HOME. SON? SON? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN FOR SO LONG? WHAT? STAWM IS SO LOUD CAN’T HEAR YOU! CHIPS? CHIPS? LOOK IN THE ICE-BOX, HONEY, YOU MUST BE HUNGRY. I COULD EAT SOMETHING, TOO. [Pause. She has a slow realization. Shuts her eyes tight.] Oh . . . no! No . . . [She rises slowly and maneuvers passage to the phone.] Jessie Sykes, please. Jessie, Jessie, Emerson Sykes wife . . . [Pause.] Jessie, is that you, Jessie? Chips is back from—Jessie? Terrible stawm blown the door open and everybody’s gone out. —What? Oh, good. God love you, Jessie, yes, do. . . . come over?

  [The phone drops from her hand. Slowly, slowly she totters back to the sofa, takes letter out of her purse, and resumes admiration of the remnant of omelet. Jessie appears at the door, a lanky woman of sixty, hair in metal curlers, wearing a flannel wrapper, and fluffy flip-flops on feet.]

  JESSIE: Bella?

  BELLA: Chips!

  JESSIE: Bella? —Jessie! —Now, Bella, it’s all right. Emerson has persuaded the officer to dismiss all charges. Can you hear me, Bella?

  BELLA: STAWM! AWFUL!

  JESSIE [crossing to sofa and shouting in Bella’s ear]: THEY’RE GOING TO TALK EVERYTHING OVER AND GET IT ALL STRAIGHTENED OUT AT THE MOOSE LODGE, BELLA!

  BELLA: Moose?

  JESSIE: Lodge, yes. So you just rest on the sofa. How are you feeling, Bella? What happened in Memphis must have been a shock to you. Mary Louise says it was suicide, Bella. Suicide is awful, it’s worse than death. I do hope it wasn’t that, Bella, but, anyhow, whatever—What’s that you got in your hand?

  BELLA: Something was in the mailbox when we got back from Memphis. Recognized Joanie’s handwriting. Hid it from Cornelius.

  JESSIE: Why’d you hide it from—?

  BELLA: He would’ve torn it right up. You know our little Joanie? Remember our little Joanie?

  JESSIE: Oh, yes, her. Who could forget her?

  BELLA: Scared to open it. See here in the corner of the envelope, Jessie? State Hospital Number Three? Stamped on the envelope, Jessie?