Happy Birthday, Wanda June Page #7

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SHUTTLE:

(to PAUL)

You ever hear the story about the

boy who carried a calf around the

barn every day?

WOODLY:

He died of a massive rupture.

SHUTTLE:

You think you're so funny. You're

not even funny.

(to PAUL)

Right? Right? You don't hurt

yourself if you start out slow.

WOODLY:

You're preparing him for a career

in the slaughterhouses of Dubuque?

(to PAUL)

Take care of your body, yes! But

don't become a bender of horseshoes

and railroad spikes. Don't become

obsessed by your musculature. Any

one of these poor, dead animals

here was a thousand times the

athlete you can ever hope to be.

Their magic was in their muscles.

Your magic is in your brains!

PENELOPE enters from the bedroom, dressed for the fight.

She wears barbaric jewelry HAROLD gave her years ago, a

jaguar-skin coat over her shoulders.

PENELOPE:

(brightly)

Gentlemen! Is this right for a

fight? It's been so long.

SHUTTLE:

Beautiful! I've never seen that coat.

PENELOPE:

Seven jaguars' skins, I'm told.

Harold shot every one. Shall we go?

WOODLY:

(sick about the slain jaguars)

Oh no! Wear a coat of cotton--wear

a coat of wool.

PENELOPE:

What?

WOODLY:

Wear a coat of domestic mink. For

the love of God, though, Penelope,

don't lightheartedly advertise that

the last of the jaguars died for you.

SHUTTLE:

She's my date tonight. What do you

want her to do--bring the poor old

jaguars back to life with a bicycle

pump? Bugger off! Ask Paul what

he thinks.

(to PAUL)

Your mother looks beautiful--right?

(PAUL pointedly

declines to answer)

Kid?

(PAUL walks away from him)

Doesn't your mother look nice?

(he goes to PAUL,

wondering what is wrong)

Paul?

PAUL:

(smolderingly)

I don't care what she wears.

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