Shut up.
MITCH:
I gotta sick mother. She don't go to sleep until I come in at night
STANLEY:
Then why don't you stay home with her?
MITCH:
She says to go out, so I go, but I don't enjoy it. All the while I keep wondering how she is.
STANLEY:
Aw, for the sake of Jesus, go home, then!
PABLO:
What've you got?
STANLEY:
Spade flush.
MITCH:
You all are married. But I'll be alone when she goes.--I'm going to the bathroom.
STANLEY:
Hurry back and well fix you a sugar-tit.
MITCH:
Aw, go rut.
[He crosses through the bedroom into the bathroom.]
STEVE [dealing a hand):
Seven-card stud.
[Telling his joke as he deals]
This ole farmer is out in back of his house sittin' down th'owing corn to the chickens when all at once he hears a loud cackle and this young hen comes lickety split around the side of the house with the rooster right behind her and gaining on her fast.
STANLEY [impatient with the story]:
Deal!
STEVE:
But when the rooster catches sight of the farmer th'owing the corn he puts on the brakes and lets the hen get away and starts pecking corn. And the old farmer says, "Lord God, I hopes I never gits that hongry!"
[Steve and Pablo laugh. The sisters appear around the corner of the building]
STELLA:
The game is still going on.
BLANCHE:
How do I look?
STELLA:
Lovely, Blanche.
BLANCHE:
I feel so hot and frazzled. Wait till I powder before you open the door. Do I look done in?
STELLA:
Why no. You are as fresh as a daisy.
BLANCHE:
One that's been picked a few days.
[Stella opens the door and they enter.]
STELLA:
Well, well, well. I see you boys are still at it!
STANLEY:
Where you been?
STELLA:
Blanche and I took in a show. Blanche, this is Mr. Gonzales and Mr. Hubbell.
BLANCHE:
Please don't get up.
STANLEY:
Nobody's going to get up, so don't be worried.
STELLA:
How much longer is this game going to continue?
STANLEY:
Till we get ready to quit.
BLANCHE:
Poker is so fascinating. Could I kibitz?
STANLEY:
You could not. Why don't you women go up and sit with Eunice?
STELLA:
Because it is nearly two-thirty.
[Blanche crosses into the bedroom and partially closes the portieres]
Couldn't you call it quits after one more hand?
[A chair scrapes. Stanley gives a loud whack of his hand on her thigh.]
STELLA [sharply]:
That's not fun, Stanley.
[The men laugh. Stella goes into the bedroom.]
STELLA:
It makes me so mad when he does that in front of people.
BLANCHE:
I think I will bathe.
STELLA:
Again?
BLANCHE:
My nerves are in knots. Is the bathroom occupied?
STELLA:
I don't know.
[Blanche knocks. Mitch opens the door and comes out, still wiping his hands on a towel.]
BLANCHE:
Oh!--good evening.
MITCH:
Hello.
[He stares at her.]
STELLA:
Blanche, this is Harold Mitchell. My sister, Blanche DuBois.
MITCH [with awkward courtesy]:
How do you do, Miss DuBois?
STELLA:
How is your mother now, Mitch?
MITCH:
About the same, thanks. She appreciated your sending over that custard.--Excuse me, please.
[He crosses slowly back into the kitchen, glancing back at Blanche and coughing a little shyly. He realizes he still has the towel in his hands and with an embarrassed laugh hands it to Stella. Blanche looks after him with a certain interest.]
BLANCHE:
That one seems-superior to the others.
STELLA:
Yes, he is.
BLANCHE:
I thought he had a sort of sensitive look.
STELLA:
His mother is sick.
BLANCHE:
Is he married?
STELLA:
No.
BLANCHE:
Is he a wolf?
STELLA:
Why, Blanche!
[Blanche laughs.]
I don't think he would be.
BLANCHE:
What does--what does he do?
[She is unbuttoning her blouse.]
STELLA:
He's on the precision bench in the spare parts department at the plant Stanley travels for.
BLANCHE:
Is that something much?
STELLA:
No. Stanley's the only one of his crowd that's likely to get anywhere.
BLANCHE:
What makes you think Stanley will?
STELLA:
Look at him.
BLANCHE:
I've looked at him.
STELLA:
Then you should know.
BLANCHE:
I'm sorry, but I haven't noticed the stamp of genius even on Stanley's forehead.
[She takes off the blouse and stands in her pink silk brassiere and white skirt in the light through the portieres. The game has continued in undertones.]
STELLA:
It isn't on his forehead and it isn't genius.
BLANCHE:
Oh. Well, what is it, and where? I would like to know.
STELLA:
It's a drive that he has. You're standing in the light, Blanche!
BLANCHE:
Oh, am I!
[She moves out of the yellow streak of light. Stella has removed her dress and put on a tight blue satin kimono.]
STELLA [with girlish laughter]:
You ought to see their wives.
BLANCHE [laughingly]:
I can imagine. Big, beefy things, I suppose.
STELLA:
You know that one upstairs?
[More laughter]
One time [laughing] the plaster-- [laughing] cracked--
STANLEY:
You hens cut out that conversation in there!
STELLA:
You can't hear us.
STANLEY:
Well, you can hear me and I said to hush up!
STELLA:
This is my house and I'll talk as much as I want to!
BLANCHE:
Stella, don't start a row.
STELLA:
He's half drunk!--I'll be out in a minute.
[She goes into the bathroom. Blanche rises and crosses leisurely to a small white radio and turns it on.]
STANLEY:
Awright, Mitch, you in?
MITCH:
What? Oh!--No, I'm out!
[Blanche moves back into the streak of light. She raises her arms and stretches, as she moves indolently back to the chair. Rhumba music comes over the radio. Mitch rises at the table.]
STANLEY:
Who turned that on in there?
BLANCHE:
I did. Do you mind?
STANLEY:
Turn it off!
STEVE:
Aw, let the girls have their music.
PABLO:
Sure, that's good, leave it on!
STEVE:
Sounds like Xavier Cugat!
[Stanley jumps up and, crossing to the radio, turns it off. He stops short at the sight of Blanche in the chair. She returns his look without flinching. Then he sits again at the poker table. Two of the men have started arguing hotly.]
STEVE: I didn't hear you name it.
PABLO:
Didn't I name it, Mitch?
MITCH:
I wasn't listenin'.
PABLO:
What were you doing, then?
STANLEY:
He was looking through them drapes.
[He jumps up and jerks roughly at curtains to close them.]
Now deal the hand over again and let's play cards or quit. Some people get ants when they win.
[Mitch rises as Stanley returns to his seat.]
STANLEY [yelling]:
Sit down!
MITCH:
I'm going to the "head". Deal me out.
PABLO:
Sure he's got ants now. Seven five-dollar bills in his pants pocket folded as tight as spitballs.
STEVE:
Tomorrow you'll see him at the cashier's window getting them changed into quarters.
STANLEY:
And when he goes home he'll deposit them one by one in a piggy bank his mother give him for Christmas. [Dealing.]
This game is Spit in the Ocean.
[Mitch laughs uncomfortably and continues through the portieres. He stops just inside.]
BLANCHE [softly]:
Hello! The Little Boys' Room is busy right now.
MITCH:
We've--been drinking beer.
BLANCHE:
I hate beer.
MITCH:
It's--a hot weather drink.