Paddy

Fade-in:the family homestead of Paddy Pastafazul and his sisters and his cousins and his aunts, a typical average lower-middle-class American family of Irish-Italian origins who live in an old stage-set of Clifford Odets' Awake and Sing which they got cheap from the Group Theatre when it disbanded. Extension cords crisscross the living room, resembling the work of a mammoth spider. Paddy's mama, known as Mama, wrapped in a ratty old chenille bathrobe, is looking out the window at film clips of the New York blizzard of 1947 and one of the better Florida hurricanes.

Mama

Isn't the weather awful. (It is not a question.)

Paddy

Wha'?

Mama

Isn't the weather awful.

Paddy

Mama, by you is always awful, the weather.

Mama

Lay off the Yiddish dialect, you Irish-Italian bum. Who do you think you are, Rod Steiger?

Paddy

Che dice? Ehi! Che cosa dice, Mama!

Mama

So from The Rose Tattoo he gives me. Have a piece of fruit.

Paddy

Mama, leave me alone, willya? Willya leave me alone, Mama? That's all I hear from you, day and night, seven days a week...

Mama

(Pleading)

And why shouldn't you hear it from me? Paddy, you're not so young anymore. You're gonna be Thirty-Five Years Old come next Epiphany. Thirty-five years old you're gonna be come next Epiphany, Paddy. That's not so young. A fellow like you, a nice clean fellow like you with spaces between his teeth shouldn't be sitting around folding ravioli for his mama in the evenings when all the other fellows are not folding ravioli in the evenings for their mamas. Paddy, Paddy me boy (Mamarepresents the Irish side of the family). it's of your own happiness I'm thinkin', entirely. In your old age, when you're sitting by yourself in a proprocker and having trouble with your digestion, you'll wish you had kept your alimentary canal open when you had the chance and soaked up all them precious vitamins and minerals so necessary for strong bones and sparkling teeth. Paddy, I beg of you: have a piece of fruit!

Paddy

I don't wanna hear no more! I suffered enough. Don't you think I got feelings? I don't wanna be hurt no more. Peaches I had, and swallowed the pits; apples I had, and got a stomach-ache becuz they wuz green; raspberries I had, and got the seeds between my teeth so I looked like a jerk when I smiled. So leave me alone, Mama, willya?

Mama

Ah, ye ungrateful spalpeen, ye! Your own Uncle Giulio who dandled you on his good knee when you wuz a wee slip of a boy, and paid for the very braces on your teeth...

Paddy

Some braces! I didn't have gaps between my teeth before the braces!

Mama

...Uncle Giulio, who practically cornered the fruit market all by himself and who deserves a little consideration...(she loses the syntax)... Paddy, attention, Attention must finally be paid to Uncle Giulio!

Paddy

Lay off the Arthur Miller dialect, Mama. Who do you think you are, Mildred Dunnock?

Mama

I'll listen to no disrespect toward your Aunt Mildred. Her what dandled you--

Paddy

Awright-awright, Mama! Anything to keep peace in the family! (He gnaws on a pineapple.)

The phone rings. You think it's a nice modern cradle-phone like every other lower-middle-class family has? Not a chance! It's one of those old tall jobs with the receiver hanging on a hook at the side. Uncle Giulio waddles in to answer it. He is wearing trousers only, the suspenders outlined in bold relief against his bare chest. He has five o'clock shadow all the way down to the waist.

Uncle Giulio

(on phone)

Pronto. Giulio qui. Bene, bene. Come sla? (Stops abruptly, hands phone to Paddy in disgust.) Is-a for you.

Mama

A phone call for Paddy! A real phone call for my Paddy! Giulio, put on a shirt.

Uncle Guilio

Shudda you face.

Paddy

(on phone)

Yeh. Yeh. Yeh. Yeh. OK. OK. Sure, Stinky. You bet. I'll be there.

Fade-Out,

Fade-In: Walgreen's. Stinky is seated at the fountain, sipping a Green River and reading a copy of Midriff Comics. Enter Paddy.

Paddy

So how's everything?

Stinky

Gee, look here: the Queen of the planet Kreplach--

Paddy

Which one is her?

Stinky

The one with the glass eye in her belly-button.

Paddy

Oh. So what about her?

Stinky

(indignant)

So she's got a glass eye in her belly-button! What more d'ya want?

Paddy

(scoffs wordlessly)

Stinky

(after a moment's silent exasperation)

How many broads you know got glass eyes in their belly-buttons?

Paddy

(starts to talk, is interrupted)

Stinky

Name one! Just one! Go ahead!

Paddy

Uh--

Stinky

I double-dare ya!

Paddy

Knock it off, Stinky. I come here for a good time. I don't come here lookin' for a hard time. (Long pause.) I come here lookin' for a good time and you give me a hard time.

Stinky

You come here lookin' for a good time and I give you a hard time?! Listen, I don't give nobody no hard time. (Longer pause.) I'm lookin' for a good time. You give me a hard time.

Paddy

I give you a--

Soda Jerk

(wrapped in a ratty old chenille bathrobe)

I Can't stand It!! Order already, Paddy, yeah?

Stinky

Yeah, order, Paddy, already. Have a Green River.

Paddy

Naw.

Stinky

Have a root beer.

Paddy

Naw.

Stinky

Have a cuppa coffee.

Paddy

Naw.

Soda Jerk

Have a piece of fruit.

Paddy

(throttling Soda Jerk)

Stinky, listen. Are ya listenin', Stinky? Listen. I'm in trouble.

Stinky

Gee, Paddy, I'm sorry to hear that.

Paddy

Maybe you could advise me, like.

Stinky

Sure. Open a vein.

Paddy

You ain't even heard me yet!

Stinky

Talk.

Paddy

It's like this-here: my mother. She's always after me to get married. That's all I hear from her until I think I'll go off my rocker. Get married, Paddy. Go by the church and get married. Have a catered affair. All your brothers are married, so why ain't you? You oughta be ashamed of yourself. Paddy, she says, marry that poor girl and make an honest woman of her, willya?

Stinky

If I had a old lady like that, I'd clobber her.

Paddy

You got a old lady like that.

Stinky

I clobber her! So go on: what's your problem?

Paddy

What's my problem? My problem is my old lady she don't understand good. I tell her: Mama, I tell her, Gruba and me are happy just the way we are. We don't want no catered affair. All we want is an affair. But this don't cut no ice with Mama. I might as well be talkin' to the garbage can. Sometimes I find myself talkin' to the garbage can, she's drivin' me so nutty. Stinky, what am I gonna do?

Stinky

Open a vein.

Paddy

Mama's?

Stinky

(hedging)

Uh...

Paddy

(hopelessly)

Well, thanks anyway, Stinky. I guess I'll just have to work it out somehow. (But Stinky has returned to his comic book. Paddy leaves, his knuckles scraping the floor.)

Fade-Out.

Fade-In:the Pastafazul flat again. Paddy, wrapped in Mama's ratty old chenille bathrobe, is sitting in the best armchair in the house, opening beer cans with his teeth and lapping up the brew with relish.Gruba Gatki,an opulent item with much to recommend her, is seated on his lap, chewing bubble gum and reading a copy ofGroin Comics,also with relish. The relish is in a little bottle on the end-table.

Gruba

Paddy, how come the Queen of the Planet Crisco is got a cocktail onion in her belly-button?

Paddy

(making a funny)

Maybe she's – a Gibson Girl!Har-har-har! Say, pardon me, honey, I gotta make a phone call. Just sit right here and don't go 'way.(On phone) H'lo, Stinky? Howza boy? Say, I just thought you'd like to know my troubles are over. Mama won't give me no hard time no more. Huh? Well, you know all these-here extension cords we got hangin' around the place? Well, when I got home, I found Mama swingin' from one of 'em. Accident. Walked right into it throat first, I guess. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Yeah. Well, just thought you'd like to know. So long, Stinky, see y'around.

He hangs up and turns his attention to Gruba. Conscious of his scrutiny, she shivers with expectation, her left and right breasts rising and falling alternately. At this point, and while we still have time for the closing commercial, we leavePaddyandGruba to enjoy their simple pleasures, much like any other average lower-middle-class couple who are living in sin. They forget, of course, that Uncle Giuliois yet to be reckoned with, but we won't remind them. Since this is a high-type one-shot drama, not a cheap, sleazy serial, don't tune in next week to find out what happens. Another play will be on then. There's this average lower-middle-class daughter, see, who would be almost as pretty as Debbie Reynolds if she wore make-up but who doesn't wear make-up because then she might be mistaken for an upper-middle-class daughter, see, and all she wants is a very simple wedding, but her mother ... Luckily, they have extension cords, too.

Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that, in this from,this play is addressed solely to the reading public and may only be performed by theatrical, film or television companies, I should live so lonf, upon payment of royalty and a promise to hire Ernest Borg-nine for the title role.

– The Author