Happy Birthday, Wanda June Page #7

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HAROLD:

(fed up with LOOSELEAF)

I suppose.

LOOSELEAF:

(making no move to leave)

Must have changed that law.

Silence, while HAROLD attempts to be alone, even though

LOOSELEAF is still present.

HAROLD:

(thoughtfully hefting

a broadsword,

admiring its balance

and strength)

Home.

LOOSELEAF:

You know what gets me?

HAROLD does not respond.

LOOSELEAF:

You know what gets me?

HAROLD:

(to himself)

Oh, sh*t.

LOOSELEAF:

(finding enough

encouragement in this)

How everybody says "f***" and

"sh*t" all the time. I used to be

scared shitless I'd say "f***" or

"sh*t" in public, by accident. Now

everybody says "f***" and "sh*t,"

"f***" and "sh*t" all the time.

Something very big must have

happened while we were out of the

country.

HAROLD:

(flatly)

Looseleaf--will you get the hell home?

LOOSELEAF:

At least we found the diamonds.

HAROLD:

At least!

LOOSELEAF:

I'd really feel stupid if we didn't

bring anything back home.

HAROLD:

It's enough that you've brought

yourself home!

LOOSELEAF:

I wish you'd tell Alice that. And

that Goddamn Mrs. Wheeler.

HAROLD:

(hotly)

Tell them yourself!

LOOSELEAF:

You don't know my mother-in-law, boy.

HAROLD:

After eight years in the jungle

with you, I know Mrs. Wheeler

better than I know anybody in the

universe!

LOOSELEAF:

I didn't tell you everything.

HAROLD:

The time we were in a tree for

fourteen days, you certainly tried

to tell me everything about Mrs.

Wheeler.

LOOSELEAF:

I didn't even scratch the surface.

You're lucky, boy. You come home,

and nobody's here. When I go home,

everybody's going to be there.

HAROLD:

This room is full of ghosts.

LOOSELEAF:

You're lucky, boy. My house is

gonna be filled with people.

HAROLD ignores this, attempts to savor the ghosts in the room.

LOOSELEAF:

You know what gets me?

HAROLD:

Go home!

LOOSELEAF:

Thank God we found the f***ing

diamonds!

HAROLD:

The hell with the diamonds!

LOOSELEAF:

You were rich before. This is the

first time I was ever rich.

HAROLD:

Go home! Show them how rich you

are for a change!

LOOSELEAF:

Can I have the Cadillac?

HAROLD:

Take the Cadillac and drive it off

a cliff, for all I care.

LOOSELEAF:

What'll you do for transportation?

HAROLD:

I'll buy a hundred more Cadillacs.

Go home!

LOOSELEAF:

You know what gets me about that

Cadillac?

HAROLD:

Go home!

LOOSELEAF:

When I drive it, I feel like I'm in

the middle of a great big wad of

bubblegum. I don't hear anything,

I don't feel anything. I figure

somebody else is driving. It's a

b*tch.

HAROLD:

Go home.

LOOSELEAF:

I'm liable to find anything!

HAROLD:

That's the point! Walk in there

and find whatever there is to

find--before Alice can cover it up.

LOOSELEAF:

I know, I know. I dunno. At least

she's in the same house. Sure was

spooky, looking in the window

there, and there she was.

HAROLD:

So long, Colonel.

LOOSELEAF:

You know what gets me?

HAROLD:

(taking hold of

LOOSELEAF and

steering him to the

front door)

Let's talk about it some other time.

LOOSELEAF:

How short the skirts are.

HAROLD:

(opening the door)

Good night, Colonel. It's been

beautiful.

LOOSELEAF:

Something very important about sex

must have happened while we were gone.

HAROLD shoves him out of the apartment and shuts the door.

HAROLD starts to roam the room again, but the lion doorbell

roars.

HAROLD:

(going to the door)

Hell!

HAROLD opens the door. LOOSELEAF comes in.

LOOSELEAF:

You know what gets me? Those guys

who went to the moon! To the moon,

boy!

HAROLD:

Leave me alone! After eight years

of horrendously close association,

the time has come to part! I crave

solitude and time for reflection--

and then a reunion in privacy with

my own flesh and blood. You and I

may not meet again for months!

LOOSELEAF:

Months?

HAROLD:

I'm certainly not going to come

horning back into your life

tomorrow, and I will not welcome

your horning back into mine. A

chapter has ended. We are old

comrades--at a parting of the ways.

LOOSELEAF:

(bleakly, shrugging)

I'm lonesome already.

He exits.

HAROLD:

(roaming the room again)

The moon. The new heroism--put a

village idiot into a pressure

cooker, seal it up tight, and shoot

him at the moon.

(to his portrait)

Hello there, young man. In case

you're wondering, I could beat the

sh*t out of you. And any woman

choosing between us--sorry, kid,

she'd choose me.

(pleased with the room)

I must say, this room is very much

as I left it.

(sees the cake)

What's this? A cake? "Happy

Birthday, Wanda June"? Who the

hell is Wanda June?

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