Athene Numphe (athene) wrote,
Athene Numphe
athene

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Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf - Act 3

Martha: Hey, hey? Where is everybody?? (it is evident she is not bothered) So drop me; pluck me like a goddamn whatever-it-is creeping vine, and throw me over your shoulder like an old shoe? George? (Looks about her) George? (silence) George! What are you doing: Hiding, or something? (silence) GEORGE! (silence) oh, fa Chri? (Goes to the bar, makes herself a drink and amuses herself with the following performance) Deserted! Abandon-ed! Left out in the cold like an old pussycat. Ha! Can I get you a drink, Martha? Why, thank you, George; that's very kind of you. No, Martha, no; why I'd do anything for you. Would you, George? Why, I'd do anything for you, too. Would you, Martha? Why, certainly, George. Martha, I've misjudged you. And I've misjudged you, too, George. WHERE IS EVERYBODY!!! Hump the hostess! (laughs greatly at this, falls into a chair; calms down, looks defeated, says, softly) Fat chance. (even softer) Fat chance. (baby-talk now) Daddy? Daddy? Martha is abandon-ed. Left to her own vices at (Peers at a clock) something o'clock in the old A.M. Daddy Whit-Mouse; do you really have red eyes? Do you? Let me see. Ohhhhh! You do! You do! Daddy, you have red eyes because you cry all the time, don't you, Daddy. Yes; you do. You cry alllll the time. I'LL GIVE ALL YOU BASTARDS FIVE TO COME OUT FROM WHERE YOU'RE HIDING!!! (pause) I cry all the time too, Daddy. I cry allll the time; but deep inside, so no one can see me. I cry all the time. And George cries all the time, too. We both cry all the time, and then what we do, we cry, and we take our tears, and we put 'em in the ice box, in the goddamn ice trays (begins to laugh) until they're all frozen (Laughs even more) and then we put them in our drinks. (More laughter, which is something else too. After sobering silence) Up the drain, down the spout, dead, gone and forgotten? Up the spout, not down the spout; Up the spout: THE POKER NIGHT. Up the spout? (sadly) I've got windshield wipers on my eyes, because I married you baby! Martha, you'll be a song-writer yet. (jiggles the ice in her glass) CLINK! (Does it again) CLINK! (giggles, repeats it several times) CLINK!? CLINK!CLINK!CLINK!
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