Vieux Carre

Vieux Carre by Tennessee Williams Read Free Book Online

Book: Vieux Carre by Tennessee Williams Read Free Book Online
Authors: Tennessee Williams
two heavy cartons; he speaks to the writer, who is nearest to him
.]
    TYE : Hey, you, boy?
    WRITER : —Me?
    TYE : Yeh, yeh, you, I dropped one of these packages on th’ steps, so goddam dark I dropped it. And I’d appreciate it if you’d pick it up fo’ me an’ help me git it upstairs.
    WRITER : I’ll be— glad to try to . . .
    [
Tye focuses dimly on Miss Carrie. He blinks several times in disbelief
.]
    TYE : Am I . . . in the right place?
    MRS. WIRE [
shouting
]: Not in your present condition. Go on back out. Sleep it off in the gutter.
    MISS CARRIE [
to Mrs. Wire
]: Tragic for such a nice-looking young man to return to his wife in that condition at night.
    MRS. WIRE : Practically every night.
    [
Miss Carrie and Mary Maude exit
.]
    [
Tye has almost miraculously managed to collect his dropped packages, and he staggers to stage right where the lower steps to the attic are dimly seen. The writer follows
.]
    TYE [
stumbling back against the writer
]: Can you make it? Can you make it, kid?
    [
They slowly mount the steps. The lighted kitchen is dimmed out. There is a brief pause. A soft light is cast on the attic hall
.]
    TYE : Now, kid, can you locate my room key in my pocket?
    WRITER : Which, uh— pocket?
    TYE : Pan’s pocket.
    WRITER : Left pocket or—
    TYE : — Head— spinnin’—money in hip pocket, key in— right— lef’ side. Shit— key befo’ I— fall . . .
    [
The writer’s hand starts to enter a pocket when Tye collapses, spilling the boxes on the floor and sprawling across them
.]
    WRITER : You’re right outside my cubbyhole. I suggest you rest in there before you— wake up your wife . . .
    TYE : M’ole lady, she chews my ass off if I come home this ways . . . [
He struggles heroically to near standing position as the writer guides him into his cubicle
.] . . . This— bed?
    [
There is a soft, ghostly laugh from the adjoining cubicle. A match strikes briefly
.]
    WRITER : Swing your legs the other way, that way’s the pillow— would you, uh, like your wet shoes off?
    TYE : Shoes? Yes, but nothin’ else. Once I—passed out on— Bourbon Street— late night— in a dark doorway— woke up— this guy, was takin’ liberties with me and I don’t go for that stuff—
    WRITER : I don’t take advantages of that kind, I am— going back downstairs, if you’re comfortable now . . .
    TYE : I said to this guy, “Okay, if you wanto blow me, you can pay me one hunnerd dollars— before, not after.”
    [
Tye’s voice dies out. Nightingale becomes visible, rising stealthily in his cubicle and slipping on a robe, as Tye begins to snore
.
    [
The attic lights dim out. The lights on the kitchen come up as the writer re-enters
.]
    MRS. WIRE : Got that bum to bed? Set down, son. Ha! Notice I called you, son. Where do you go nights?
    WRITER : Oh, I walk, I take long solitary walks. Sometimes I . . . I . . .
    MRS. WIRE : Sometimes you what? You can say it’s none of my business, but I, well, I have a sort of a, well you could say I have a sort of a— maternal—concern. You see, I do have a son that I never see no more, but I worry about him so I reckon it’s natural for me to worry about you a little. And get things straight in my head about you— you’ve changed since you’ve been in this house. You know that?
    WRITER : Yes, I know that.
    MRS. WIRE : This I’ll tell you, when you first come to my door, I swear I seen and I recognized a young gentleman in you— shy. Shaky, but . . .
    WRITER : Panicky! Yes! Gentleman? My folks say so. I wonder.
    [
The light narrows and focuses on the writer alone; the speech becomes an interior reflection
.]
    I’ve noticed I do have some troublesome little scruples in my nature that may cause difficulties in my . . . [
He rises and rests his

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