SUMMER OF THE MILKSNAKE
A two act direct-narration play
Ramon Collins

STAGING:
Three stage entrances: Down stage right, to the driveway. Up stage
right, to the basement house. Down stage left, to the back field.

SET:
Up stage right. A weathered, wooden garden lounge and kitchen chair. To
the left, a wooden lattice with grape leaves. Center stage, a fruit
tree. Down stage left, the edge of a weathered shed, with a stack of
graying lumber (3 ft.) toward center stage, left.

LIGHTING:
Spot on the narrator, down stage right. Overhead floods, with dimmers,
running on an angle from up stage, right, to down stage, left. Three
lighting scenes are: Up stage right, center stage and down stage left.
Lighting control will give the set a feeling of depth.

CAST:
THE NARRATOR. Early twenties, dressed casually. This actor will play the
voice of the father off-stage and will be Pat as a grown-up in act two.

AUNT RUBY. Stout, middle-aged woman, slightly gray hair pulled back in a
bun, cotton print dress with a field apron, sensible shoes.

THE BROTHERS:
MOE - Ten years old.
BEN - Seven years old.
PAT - Five years old.
All wear worn bib-overalls; they are sun-tanned with no shirts, bare
foot. The overalls are in various stages of wear: Moe's overalls are
slightly bleached-out , Ben's are bleached, large and Pat's are
well-worn, patched, too large with pant legs rolled up. The two younger
brothers wear "hand-me-downs".

Suggested theater music: Bluegrass or old Hank Williams tapes.
_______________________________________________________

ACT ONE: Scene one

Music and house lights fade. Spot light, down stage right comes up as
the narrator strolls on stage; casually, hands in pockets.

NARRATOR:
Good evening. My family's story takes place in a rural community in
1936, the middle of the Great Depression. The slogan during the the
prior decade, the Roarin' 20's, was "Let the good times roll!". Does
that slogan remind you of the 1990's? The good times rolled right into
October 29th, 1929, then blew out all four tires.

The 1930's was a decade of despair and survival. And quiet courage.
Unemployment was very high. President Franklin D. Roosevelt, America's
hero, formed the Works Progress Administration during the Great
Depression, giving workers the opportunity to, at least, earn a dollar a
day. My father was lucky and got a job with the WPA.

Widows like my Aunt Ruby had very little public assistance. But she did
have five acres of good sandy-loam soil, in a warm-to-hot climate and
irrigation water. Perfect conditions for asparagus crops, her main means
of subsistence. Asparagus at that time was always called "grass"- so the
grass in this story was long before the word became a popular indoor
sport in the 1960's and 70's. Her ranch also had fruit trees, grapes and
a vegetable garden. She could survive.
It's a hot, late afternoon. I can hear my big brothers talking-

The spot light focused on the narrator fades and overhead lights come
up, on right up stage. Pat, the youngest brother is lying on a worn pad
on the garden lounge, reading a tattered comic book. His two older
brothers are talking on the other side of the lattice. They point at
Pat, cover their mouths and snicker. Their voices are indistinguishable,
but get louder.

MOE: I tell you it's a big one, all right--

BEN: Bigger'n the one we saw inna magazine, swallerin' a pig?

MOE: Lots bigger!

BEN: Boy! That must be some SNAKE!

Pat looks up, drops his comic book and moves left, around the lattice,
to where his brothers are standing.

PAT:(excitedly)  What snake?-- Where?

MOE: He lives under the old cow shed an' it's the biggest,
meanest-lookin' snake in the whole world. Me'n Bennie are goin' down to
see him--

BEN: Yah, he comes out 'bout now. He's huge! (holds his arms up and
forms a circle)

PAT: Can I go, too?

BEN: Naw, yer just a baby-- you'd get scart, start bawlin' and pee yer
pants.

PAT: NO I WON'T !-- can I go see it, Moe?

MOE: Well, okay this time, but we gotta sneak down Injun file so's he
don't hear us comin'.

BEN: Me'n Moe saw a movie once where the Injuns were sneakin' up on a
campsite--

MOE: You gotta walk like this.

Moe demonstrates: Hunched-over, placing one foot carefully in front of
the other. Ben falls in behind Moe. They stop, come back to Pat.

MOE: Do you think you can do that?

PAT: Sure I can!

BEN: Don't get scart, baby.

MOE: Let's go-- an' be quiet.

They start slowly, in a line and close together, toward the tree, center
stage: Moe first, followed by Ben and Pat brings up the rear, carefully
watching his feet. At the tree Ben stops and turns toward Pat. (Overhead
lights dim, stage right, come up center stage)

BEN: You ain't walkin' like no Injun!

PAT: I am, too!

BEN: NO YOU AIN'T!

PAT: AIN'T I, MOE?

MOE:(Looks over his shoulder, finger to his lips, stage whisper)
Sh-e-e-sh! Be quiet- Do wanna wake it up? He gets mighty mad when kids
disturb him. Now we gotta crawl behind the lumber pile- Stay low!

They continue toward the shed, still walking Indian file. At the old
lumber pile Moe pushes his brothers forward behind the pile. Pat crawls
first, followed by Ben and Moe.

(all stage whispers)

MOE: There he is! I told you he was huge!

BEN: Sure is-- It's the hugest snake I ever saw!

PAT:(peeks over the pile)  What's he doin' with his mouth?

BEN: That's his tongue, dummy-- One stick with that an' you'd be
deader'n a doornail.

PAT:(ducks down)  I- I- I'm goin' back!

MOE: No you ain't-- You wouldn't get ten feet an' he'd catch you, throw
a loop around yer neck an' swaller you head-first!

BEN: Then he'd bite yer little pickle clean off!

A truck horn sounds, off stage right. Moe and Ben stand up, Pat is still
ducking behind the lumber pile.

MOE:(out loud) It's okay now-- He ain't lookin'. When I say go, jump
down and run like hell. GO!
Moe and Ben move toward the tree, giggling. They stop at and look back.
Pat crawls from behind the pile and starts walking Indian style. Moe and
Ben hold their sides in laughter, then hurry toward Aunt Ruby who is
coming from the driveway, down stage right.

Moe and Ben hurry up, still giggling. Ruby points to the driveway.

RUBY: Your folks are waiting in the car. Pat, you're staying with me for
a few days.

Pat walks up, still looking over his shoulder toward the shed. He goes
to the garden lounge, sits down, and picks up the comic book.

RUBY: What were you boys doing down by the shed? Your brothers seemed to
be having a grand old time.

PAT: We were lookin' at the snake-- He's HUGE! (holds arms up, forming a
circle) An' he's got a poison tongue that goes like this! (points two
fingers out in a "V" and moves his hand back and forth)

RUBY: That ol' milksnake? Why, he's been under the shed a long time. He
isn't poisonous and never bothers anybody.

PAT:(excitedly)  Oh, yes he will-- (blurts out like one word)  If I try
to run he'll catch up an' throw a loop around my neck an' stick me with
his poison tongue an' he can swaller a kid like me head-first an' that
ain't all--

RUBY: Pat, your brothers are teasing you-- they're a pain. Land sakes--
When I had old Bossy I'd be out milking' in the evening and that
milksnake would crawl right over my shoe. Give a body a start all right,
but I'd brush him aside with a shoe (moves foot sideways) and say,
"Shoo!" go on about your business.

RUBY:(stands up) We have time to cut the grass on the back field before
evening.

Pat gets up and follows Indian file, keeping his aunt between him and
the shed. Ruby stops, looks back at him.

RUBY: Why are you walking like that ? Got a sliver in your foot ?

PAT: No, ma'm-- this how Injuns walk when they're sneakin' up on
something. I don't want to disturb the snake. He gets mighty mad when
kids bother him.

RUBY: Have mercy ! You and your imagination ! All right, you wait here,
I'll get the grass carriers out of the shed.

Pat turns, goes behind the tree and peeks out. A rusty hinge squeaks on
the shed door and there is the sound of Ruby thumping around . Pat ducks
back behind the tree. Ruby comes out of the shed and looks for him.

RUBY: Pat ? Pat-- Oh, there you are.

Ruby goes back to Pat and kneels down in front of him.

RUBY: Are you still worried about that milksnake? Now, Pat, there are
things that look good and are bad in this world. Remember the time you
wanted a root beer popsicle because it looked good? You ate one half and
it was so good you wanted the other half, and the popsicle made you
sick? That was bad. There are things that look bad, but are good. That
ol' milksnake may look bad, but I tell you he's good. No field mice or
rats in the shed while he lives here. He earns his keep.(pause)
Sometimes it gets lonely around the ranch- (she glances toward the old
lumber pile) I bet the milksnake gets lonely and could use a good
friend. And I bet you could be that friend.

PAT: Do you really think so, Aunt Ruby? Cross yer heart? (makes an "X"
on the top of his bib overalls)

RUBY: I really do think so. Cross my heart. (makes an "X" on top of her
apron and hugs him)

Ruby stands, walks toward the exit, down stage left. Pat follows,
keeping her between him and the shed., then lingers back, looks toward
the bottom of the shed, raises his hand slowly and waves. Turns and
hurries off-stage. Lights fade to dark. Spotlight comes up on narrator,
down stage right.
NARRATOR:
My mother was Aunt Ruby's best friend and you can see that Aunt Ruby was
my best friend. She didn't get along with my brothers, but I was the son
she never had. I loved going to the ranch. Oh, we ate a lot of
asparagus-- boiled and fried asparagus, asparagus soup and on Sunday
there would be a dollop of mayonnaise on the asparagus. We didn't eat
the asparagus from the field; that was all accounted for. We cut
volunteer grass along the irrigation flume for our supper. Aunt Ruby
always said volunteer grass was the best. We go back to the ranch, days
later.

SCENE TWO (no set change)

Spotlight fades and overhead lights come up on up stage, right. Pat is
lying on the garden lounge, asleep. Muffled voices, Ruby's and a man's
deeper voice can be heard coming from the basement house, off-stage
right. Pat wakes up, yawns and rubs his eyes. Aunt Ruby enters up stage
right. She is carrying a white handkerchief in her hand, stops and daubs
her eyes.

PAT: Is dad here? Mom and him usually come on the weekend.

RUBY: Your dad's downstairs. He had to make a special trip today. Pat,
there's a dime and a nickel tied in the corner of this hanky. Put it in
your pocket and don't lose it. I want you to go downtown to the
Pollyanna Ice Cream Parlor and buy yourself a nickel cone. Wash your
hands good in the restroom, then go to the Rexall Drugstore and buy a
new comic book. Mr Thompson doesn't like kids handling the comic books
with sticky hands.

PAT:(excitedly)  Oh, boy! I'll cut through the back field and take the
secret shortcut to town--

RUBY: No! I want you to go out the front, turn on Cemetery Road, then go
up to Main Street and walk on the sidewalk to town. You know the way;
we've done it a hundred times. Walk slow-- I don't want you getting too
hot on a day like this.

PAT: Yes ma'm-- I know the way.

RUBY: And be careful. You hear me?

PAT: I will, Aunt Ruby.

Overhead lights fade to dark as Pat exits down stage right. Ruby exits,
slowly, up stage right. Stage is dark momentarily, then overheads come
back up as Pat enters from down stage right. Ruby sits on the kitchen
chair drying her hands on her apron. Pat is carrying a new comic book.

PAT: Did dad leave already?
RUBY: Yes, he had to get back before dark. He's having trouble with the
headlights on the car.

PAT: Why are yer eyes all red, Aunt Ruby?

RUBY: My allergies must be flarin' up-- it's ragweed season.

Pat goes to the garden lounge, sits, and opens his new comic book.

RUBY: Pat-- I don't want you or your brothers to play by the cow shed
for awhile.

PAT: Yes, ma'm. (pause) Can I play behind the lumber pile?

RUBY: NO! You heard me! I don't want you to go to the shed unless I'm
with you. Do you understand me?

PAT:(looks at the comic book) Yes, ma'm. (pause)  Why are you so mad,
Aunt Ruby?

RUBY: I'm not mad at you, Pat, but you must mind me. And my allergies
always give me a headache.

PAT:(pause)  What about the milksnake?

RUBY:(sternly) HUSH !

Overhead lights dim slowly. Spotlight, down stage right, comes up and
the narrator appears.

NARRATOR:
In 1941 the nation geared up for World War Two. Unemployment and the
Great Depression were over. My dad was hired at a naval shipyard and we
moved to the coast, 200 miles away. Moe quit school in '43 and joined
the Navy, serving in four major South Pacific invasions. Ben was drafted
during the Korean Conflict and was stationed in California. I joined the
Army in '51 and volunteered for Korea. I won't do that again.

We'll take a break in the story, now. You'll have time to rest your
rooms, and if you have a cell-phone you can go outside, way outside,
call your broker and see if the good times are still rolling. You may be
a millionaire-
The spotlight fades, the narrator exits right.

Curtain.
_________________________________________

MILKSNAKE- Act two
SET:

Standing wall, stage right. A small porch roof on the wall, right.
Center stage and stage left a living room with picture window, up stage.
The room is simply furnished: An old padded rocking chair and an easy
chair sit, at a slight down stage angle, parallel to the window. An end
table with lace doilies is between the chairs. Various framed photos on
the up stage wall, left.

LIGHTING:

Spot light on the narrator, down stage, right. The living room is softly
lighted. The scene out the picture window is of rounded, rolling,
purple-gray hills. The sky is deep blue, with brighter lighting on the
skyline. (A “Maxfield Parrish” landscape.) As the scene moves on, the
lighting in the window grows dimmer, suggesting evening.

CAST:

RUBY:  Older with glasses, gray hair in bun. Plain cotton-print dress.
Slippers.

PAT (Narrator):  Now 21. Dressed casually, but wearing a well-worn Army
fatigue jacket with darker areas where the sergeant stripes and Division
shoulder patch has been removed. Matching Army fatigue cap.

Suggested intermission theater music: The Best of Glen Miller
____________________________________

House lights and music fade as the narrator (Pat) steps into spot light,
hands in pockets, down stage right, and speaks directly to the audience:

NARRATOR:

I told you my father landed a job in a Naval Shipyard in the spring of
1941, and we moved to the west coast. It was a traumatic time for the
country and for my family. Quite a change; moving from a poor, rural,
agricultural society to relatively secure, wealthy society that hung on
the Uncle Sam’s coattails, and anything else they could get a hold of,
throughout the Great Depression.

Now we were rich! I remember my mother storing Government pay checks in
a mortar box in the root cellar- she was afraid to cash them. Moe quit
school and joined the Navy in ‘43. He was in four major amphibious
invasions in the South Pacific Theater. When he came home he wasn’t old
enough to vote or buy a beer.

After the war, in the late 40’s, a Recession hit that scared the wee out
of Depression survivors, like my parents. Not a pleasant time to be a
teenager.

Ben was drafted during the Korean Conflict of the early 50’s and did
duty in California. I joined the Army in ‘51 and volunteered for Korea.
Figured that was safer than being in California.

Aunt Ruby sold the ranch to a developer in 1949. She wrote one letter
while I was in Korea, telling me to be careful- underlined three times.
When I came home, the first thing I did was visit Aunt Ruby-

Spotlight dims as the narrator turns and walks to the the front porch
and rings the doorbell. Lights come up in the living room as Ruby gets
up, slowly, from the old rocking chair. She goes to the door and opens
it.

RUBY:   Pat !  Mercy! Your mother told me you were on the way.

They embrace like old friends. Ruby leads him, by the hand, to the easy
chair, stage left. Pat takes off fatigue cap.  She turns and settles in
the rocking chair, opposite him.

RUBY:   Let me look at you- Land sakes, it’s been a long time. How was
it, over there?

PAT:      Not bad, Aunt Ruby- Oh, it got noisy sometimes.

RUBY:   Your mother told me you won a medal- What was it for?

PAT:      The hundred-yard dash.

RUBY:    What’s that?

PAT:       An old Army joke-(Looks out window and changes subject)   Man
!  You have a real view of those hills!

RUBY:    After living down in that basement for twenty-five years I
wanted a view.

PAT:       Lots of changes around here. I got off the Greyhound bus at
the old Pollyanna Ice Cream Parlor. We used to walk to town on hot days
and there’d be no extra money, but I’d stand by the front door of the
Pollyanna and smell the ice cream. I see it’s a real estate office now.
I took the secret shortcut from town, a main street now, then walked
through the ranch- I saw a new street running right down the old lane,
past the cow shed, to what was the back asparagus field.  There must be
thirty new houses on your land- each one has a picture window and a
carport.

RUBY:   The developer gave me my choice of house and pays the utilities.
I can leave the bathroom light on all night, if I feel like it.  And I
never owned a flush-toilet before. Most important, I wanted to be able
to see the hills.  And I can recall when you were a little tyke out in
that asparagus field- you could cut grass just right, not too much
stalk, run up to the water sump and open the flood gate into the flume.
Why, you could even plug the flumes.
(pause)

RUBY:     You really don’t want to talk about the war, do you?

PAT:         There’s not much to say. You go, you’re there, you come
home to find out nobody knows where there is.

RUBY:       Your mother and I had two older brothers who joined the Army
and went to France in World War One. They were gassed in the trenches.
They came back and never talked about it.

PAT:          I remember a day, before we moved to the coast, the
mailman brought a telegram. My mother started crying and told us her
brother was dead. I never saw her cry before.

RUBY:       Our brothers were never right when they came home. Both had
terrible problems breathing. One Sunday, at a family picnic in a park by
the river, our oldest brother started swimming out toward the middle of
the river. The current was swift there and we all shouted to him to turn
back. He just kept going. The last we saw was a hand above the water
like he was waving good bye. When our other brother died I got a
telegram, too. He went out in the orchard with a shotgun and blew his
head off by a cherry tree.

PAT:        Mom didn’t tell us the details.

RUBY:    Do you want coffee?

PAT:      Can I help?

RUBY:   No, you sit yourself.

Ruby gets up slowly and exits down stage, left. Pat rises and looks at
the framed photos on the wall, up stage left. Ruby enters the room
carrying two coffee cups on saucers. She and Pat sit down.

PAT:     The sepia photo on the wall. You used to keep it on your
dresser- said it was Uncle Bob, but you never talked about him.

RUBY:   He died in an auto accident, before you were born, right up
there on Cemetery Road. (She points to the left side of the window.)

PAT:       How did it happen?

RUBY:    A man on the hill tore down a barn and gave the lumber to Bob
for carting it off. He would take the truck up every evening and haul a
load down. He planned on using the lumber to build a house over the
basement. Bob left a little late one evening and on the way down the
hill a car tried to pass him. A car coming up the hill, without lights,
forced the man who was passing to swerve back in. The driver hit the
back of the load and drove a plank into the back of Bob’s neck. He died
instantly.

PAT:       Was the lumber piled by the shed where we used to play?

RUBY:    Yes-(Pause)   I was married young to a mean man in Illinois.
When I couldn’t take his meanness anymore I said I was going to run
away, as far as I could get. Bob was my cousin and he said he would come
with me. Running away with my cousin was a family scandal.  In fact,
your mother was the only family member who’d speak to me, and there were
ten of us. The 20’s were good times and Bob and I had enough money to
buy these five acres. I talked your folks into moving west during the
Depression. If we had to, we could survive on the ranch. But I didn’t
get along with your dad--

PAT:       You, too? I never got along with him- my high school years
were a constant argument. He was certain there’d be another Depression
after the war. I think he wanted me out of the house.

RUBY:    We were all afraid of another Depression- it was still fresh in
our minds.

PAT:        When I came home from Korea, the first thing he wanted to
know was if I had to serve with niggers. I had to remind the dumb
bastard that President Truman ordered the Armed Services integrated in
1948. We had Negro troops and colored troops in Korea- no niggers. Then
he told me he and grandpa were proud members of the Ku Klux Klan. Then
it really hit the fan. He may be proud of his Klan background, but I’m
embarrassed. I had a friend in Korea who was colored- damn good soldier.

RUBY:   Lots of people belonged to the Klan in the 20’s and 30’s. Why,
this whole town was Klan. Nobody talked about it.

PAT:      I have an idea it still is. I reminded him Negro troops died
in Korea so he could be free to enjoy the philosophy of the Ku Klux
Klan. Like the Captain told us the first day on line, “Everybody’s blood
is red in a battle”.  I don’t know why, but the old man and I never did
get along.

RUBY:    You were born in the first of the Depression. Another mouth to
feed was a real worry. Besides, he already had two sons. You were
supposed to be a girl. Your mom told me he was so upset when you were
born your dad didn’t even visit her in the hospital. You two got off to
a bad start. But, then, I never got along with the man, either.
(pause)  I thought about you when the bulldozer knocked the cow shed
down, Pat.  Remember that hot summer you stayed with me? The milksnake
who scared the wits out of you is under a ton of dirt, now.

PAT:        I made friends with the snake, Aunt Ruby.  But the summer
has always been on my mind.  I know I was very small, but at the time I
knew something was wrong. Sometimes kids know more than grown-ups think
they do. What went on that summer?

RUBY:     Well, it was the summer of 1936. Your mother was pregnant and
I took care of you to help your folks out. They didn’t have money for
doctors and hospitals.  Your mom had been through child-birth three
times. She thought a neighbor lady could help her out, but the baby boy
was stillborn. There was no money for funerals, either.  When your dad
heard it could cost as much as a hundred dollars he brought the body to
the ranch. He and I buried him in an asparagus crate beside the shed--

PAT: (interrupts)  A hundred bucks?

Pat stands up, thrusts hands in his pockets and looks out the window
toward the hills.

RUBY:     That was a lot of money in those days. Maybe half a year’s
rent. Your mother could feed a family of five for a half-year with a
hundred dollars.

PAT:         Was it the day dad showed up unexpectedly?  You gave me
money for a new comic book and told me to take the long way to town?

RUBY:      That was the day.

PAT:        Who else knew what happened? Did my brothers know?

RUBY:     No- the only ones that knew were your folks, the mid-wife and
I. It was something people, at that time, didn’t talk about. Private
property burial was against the law, but it went on all the time. The
living were more important than the dead.

Pat sits down and leans toward Ruby. The lighting on the hills has
dimmed, suggesting evening.

PAT:       Seems like a hellofa lot went on in those days people didn’t
talk about.

RUBY:    True- it was a different time. They still don’t want to talk
about it.

PAT:        Why didn’t you tell me? You always told me the truth.

RUBY:     Why should you know? I told you now, and what good does it do?

PAT:       Maybe spending time in a combat zone makes me more sensitive
about death. I don’t like to hear I have a brother under somebody’s
damned carport.

RUBY:     But before you get too down on your father, remember this: He
kept the family together. Many men went down to railroad yard and jumped
the first freight train on its way to anywhere. Your dad didn’t. He
worked on a WPA job digging irrigation ditches across the prairies that
were one hundred and twenty-five degrees in the summer and twenty below
in the winter. He even drove the crew bus an hour before work and and an
hour after work because it paid him an extra fifty cents a day. He held
your family together.

PAT:        My mother had to hold him together

Pat stands, puts on his fatigue cap, and moves toward Ruby, who rises
slowly. They embrace.

RUBY:     I wish you didn’t have to rush off.

PAT:        I have get back. I have a job waiting for me.

Pat moves to the door, opens it, turns back toward Ruby.

RUBY:     Pat- I hope our talk didn’t upset you.

PAT:        Remember the lecture you gave me, when I was afraid of the
snake, about good and bad? How some things look bad and are good? Some
things look good and are bad? I never forgot what you told me. Sometimes
marching with an Army unit felt good- bands, flags, the sound of boots
hitting in unison on the pavement made me feel good, but I knew it was
bad- men would die. When I got to Korea I realized more civilians died
in the war than soldiers. And that was bad.

Turns back to the door, hesitates.

PAT:        Maybe my brother’s burial was a good thing that just looks
bad.

RUBY:     I think so. The truth is, we don’t really know who’s buried
under somebody’s carport.

PAT:       Yes we do- you told me. The milksnake is under there. Good
bye, Aunt Ruby.

Ruby returns to the rocking chair as stage lights fade. Pat leaves,
closes door and stops under the spotlight, down stage right. He turns
and speaks to the audience:

NARRATOR:    .

Well, that’s my story. It’s a simple story about a complex theme:
Survival.  And it was quite an afternoon’s conversation for me: Aunt
Ruby’s cousin Bob, uncles committing suicide, the Ku Klux Klan and a
brother I never knew I had. Not a story that’ll send a shudder through
Wall Street and a black-tie committee probably won’t come on stage with
a Tony Award, but it has importance. There are thousands of Depression
stories like this, but people don’t want to talk about them- remember ?

I never saw Aunt Ruby again. Shortly after my visit, she had a massive
stroke and died in a nursing home. My mother knew she was my best friend
when I was young and asked me not to see her. It would be too sad.

The people depicted in this story were strong, and disparate. I wonder
if today’s population could go through another Great Depression ?

Maybe we could, if we had to.

Narrator starts off stage, hesitates and turns.

By the way- If my brother is anything like me, he wouldn’t like to lie
around in some park full of gloomy gravestones. He’s much happier with
the milksnake-

Lights fade.

CURTAIN
____________________________

Ramon Collins
ncollins@ix.netcom.com