Happy Birthday, Wanda June Page #16

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PENELOPE:

It's so--so stark.

HAROLD:

You used to like it stark!

PENELOPE:

Just--bang--we have a honeymoon.

HAROLD:

(beginning to stalk

her cunningly)

I'm not going to strike you. I am

going to be as gentle as pie--as

lemon meringue pie. You mustn't

run away now. This is your loving

husband approaching. I'm your

husband. Society approves!

PENELOPE wants to run, but doesn't.

HAROLD:

Good! You held your ground.

HAROLD is very close now, but not touching her.

HAROLD:

Now--turn around, if you would.

PENELOPE:

Turn around?

HAROLD:

(laughing)

I'm not about to introduce to you a

jungle novelty. What I have in

mind is massage--a perfectly decent

massage. Turn around, turn around.

PENELOPE obeys.

HAROLD:

I'm going to touch your shoulders

very gently now. You mustn't

scream.

(touches her

shoulders gently, expertly)

So tense, so tense.

PENELOPE:

You shouldn't have talked to

Norbert that way.

HAROLD:

You're thinking with your brain

instead of your body. That's why

you're so tense! Forget Norbert.

Relax. It's body time.

PENELOPE:

I have a brain.

HAROLD:

We all do. But now it's body time.

Relax. Ideally, the body of a

woman should feel like a hot water

bottle filled with Devonshire cream.

You feel like a paper bag crammed

with curtain rods. Think of your

muscles one by one. Let them go

slack. Relax. Let the brain go

blank. Relax. That's the idea--

that's my girl. Now the small of

the back. Let those knots over

those kidneys unsnarl.

PAUL:

(entering, dressed to

go out and play)

Dad--

HAROLD:

(hanging on to

PENELOPE, but knowing

the mood has been broken)

Couldn't you have vanished quietly

out the back door?

PAUL:

A hundred dollars for breakfast?

HAROLD:

Leave a tip.

PENELOPE:

(suddenly twisting

away, having been

nearly hypnotized)

I have some change!

HAROLD:

Ram it up your ass!

He realizes at once that his violent side has severely

damaged the side of him which is the great seducer.

PENELOPE and PAUL are straight as ramrods.

HAROLD:

I do beg your pardon.

(sincerely)

Those words were illy chosen.

There is tension in all of us here.

Something you must both understand,

however, is that the head of this

household is home, and he is Harold

Ryan, and people do what he says

when he says it. That's the way

this particular clock is constructed.

Lion doorbell roars.

HAROLD:

Sometimes even I hate that thing.

PAUL goes reeling to the door in terror, admits LOOSELEAF,

who has also been sleeping in his clothes.

LOOSELEAF:

(walking right in)

I've been looking at motorcycles.

HAROLD:

Go home!

LOOSELEAF:

You ever own a motorcycle?

HAROLD:

(to PENELOPE)

You're right! We'll take a trip.

A trip is what we'll take.

(to LOOSELEAF)

I don't want to talk about

motorcycles. I don't want to talk

about tits. Go home!

LOOSELEAF:

Haven't got one.

PENELOPE:

(to LOOSELEAF)

And you went home unannounced, too?

LOOSELEAF:

I dunno. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! I did.

HAROLD:

And how were things?

LOOSELEAF:

Let's talk about something else.

PENELOPE:

(to HAROLD)

Alice got married again.

LOOSELEAF:

She did?

PENELOPE:

You didn't even find that out?

LOOSELEAF:

There was so much going on.

PENELOPE:

She married an accountant named

Stanley Kestenbaum.

LOOSELEAF:

So that's it! "Kestenbaum,

Kestenbaum." Everybody was yelling

"Kestenbaum, Kestenbaum." I thought

it was some foreign language.

HAROLD:

Otherwise, how are things?

LOOSELEAF:

I sure didn't expect her to drop dead.

PENELOPE:

Dead!

LOOSELEAF:

Jesus.

PENELOPE:

(sick)

Alice is dead?

LOOSELEAF:

No, no--sh*t no.

(stops short)

Excuse me, Penelope.

PENELOPE:

For what?

LOOSELEAF:

For saying "sh*t." Or is that okay

now?

PENELOPE:

(shrilly)

Who's dead?

LOOSELEAF:

My mother-in-law. Fire engines,

pulmotors, doctors, cops, coroners--

PENELOPE:

What happened?

LOOSELEAF:

Well--I walked up to the front door.

I was still alive. Big surprise.

I rang the doorbell, and old Mrs.

Wheeler answered. She had her

Goddamn knitting. I said, "Guess

who?" She conked right out.

PENELOPE:

How horrible.

LOOSELEAF:

Yeah--cripes. I never did get any

sense out of Alice. She found me

holding up the old lady, dead as a

mackerel. It was a b*tch. You

know--maybe Mrs. Wheeler was going

to die then and there anyway, even

if I'd been the paper boy. Maybe

not. I dunno, boy. That's

civilian life for you. Who knows

what kills anybody?

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