Woods, Lakeboat, Edmond Read online

  COLLINS: Skippy wants a sandwich.

  JOE: . . . I just came on.

  COLLINS: Get him a sandwich, will you?

  JOE: I just came on. . . .

  COLLINS: It'll take you a minute.

  JOE: Uh.

  COLLINS: Huh?

  JOE: What about the nightman?

  COLLINS: He got mugged.

  JOE: Yeah? By who?

  COLLINS: Now, how the fuck should I know?

  JOE: You got a cigarette?

  (Pause.)

  COLLINS: Yeah.

  JOE: Thanks.

  (PIERMAN enters galley.)

  PIERMAN: Hot.

  COLLINS: Can we speed this up at all?

  PIERMAN: You'll be out by about two.

  COLLINS: You think?

  PIERMAN: Two, three. Got time for a cup?

  COLLINS: Yeah. Joe, go see what kind of sandwich Skippy wants, huh?

  JOE: Yeah. (Exits.)

  PIERMAN: Any chance of something to eat?

  COLLINS: Lost the nightman.

  PIERMAN: Oh yeah . . .. Sorry.

  COLLINS (pause): Cook's up the street. (Pause.) You want some pie?

  PIERMAN: Yeah.

  COLLINS: Any special kind?

  PIERMAN: Yeah, blueberry. What you got?

  COLLINS: We got some.

  PIERMAN: It's a bitch in here.

  COLLINS: Yeah.

  PIERMAN: Cooler on the dock.

  COLLINS: Yeah.

  PIERMAN: What's the next trip, Arthur?

  COLLINS: Duluth.

  PIERMAN: Yeah? Cool up there.

  (JOE enters.)

  COLLINS (to JOE): What'd he want?

  JOE: Egg on white bread.

  PIERMAN: Any guys on break out there, you notice?

  JOE: I didn't notice.

  PIERMAN: Uh.

  JOE: I was thinking about my sandwich. We gonna have a new nightman, Mr. Collins?

  COLLINS: Huh?

  JOE: Nightman.

  COLLINS: Yeah, sure. Crender said we'll have him this trip.

  JOE: That's good. I don't want to make these sandwiches all the way to Canada. If you know what I mean. Not that I mind it. I just fucking hate making sandwiches. For other people to eat.

  COLLINS: Don't worry.

  JOE: I don't mind cooking for myself, though.

  COLLINS: Wrap it in wax paper, will you?

  JOE: Yeah, sure.

  COLLINS (leaving the galley): And make sure you get those boats clean today, huh?

  JOE: Right as rain.

  Scene 5

  Fire and Evacuation Drills

  SKIPPY, making a tour of the boat, runs into DALE.

  SKIPPY: That's right, assholes. Fuck off on your fire and evacuation drills and your ass is going to be in a big sling when we have to drill for the Coast Guard. You!

  DALE: Yes sir.

  SKIPPY: What's your number?

  DALE: What number, sir?

  SKIPPY: F and E. (Pause.) F and E, boy—

  DALE: I don't know what that means, sir.

  SKIPPY: Fire. Fire and evacuation.

  DALE: I . . . don't think I have one.

  SKIPPY: How long have you been on this ship?

  DALE: About three minutes, sir.

  SKIPPY: Yeah. Well, check out your fire and evacuation number, for God's sake, will you? Your F and E number, will you?

  DALE: Yessir. Who do I check it out with?

  SKIPPY: I do not know. Ask Joe Litko. You know him?

  DALE: I can find him, sir.

  SKIPPY: Good for you. Well, find him and listen hard.

  DALE: Yessir.

  SKIPPY: Bunch of children.

  Scene 6

  The Illusion of Motion

  SKIPPY continues back to the bridge, where he finds COLLINS.

  SKIPPY: Where's my sandwich?

  COLLINS: Litko's getting it.

  SKIPPY: He's not in Stewards. Where's the nightman?

  COLLINS: Got mugged. He's in the hospital.

  SKIPPY: What's the number in Stewards?

  COLLINS: 2—3.

  SKIPPY: Call for me on that sandwich.

  COLLINS (on the intercom): Stewards? Collins calling on that sandwich for Skippy. Well, who is there? Where's Litko? Well, get him.

  (Pause.)

  This is Collins, Second . . . (to SKIPPY:) they hung up. (He spies LITKO on the deck.) There's Litko. LITKO! GO PICK UP THE DECK PHONE. NO! DON'T COME HERE, PICK UP THE PHONE.

  (STAN and FRED passing by.)

  STAN: This boat is becoming a bureaucracy.

  FRED: Tell me. (They continue off. Phone rings.)

  COLLINS (into phone): Bridge, Collins. Litko, I've been trying to get you. What the fuck happened on Skippy's egg? Where have you been? Boatdeck? What about that sandwich. (To SKIPPY:) New nightman showed up.

  SKIPPY: Book him. Forget Litko.

  COLLINS (into phone): Litko, forget it. G o back to the boats. Yeah. No. Forget it. (He hangs up.)

  SKIPPY: What's he doing on the boatdeck?

  COLLINS: Reading.

  SKIPPY: What's he reading? See if you can find out.

  (STAN and FRED stroll off.)

  STAN (to FRED): Who was the most grotesque girl you ever fucked?

  FRED: I'd have to think about that.

  SKIPPY: I'd like to know.

  Scene 7

  The New Man

  COLLINS returns to the galley and encounters DALE.

  COLLINS: You the new man?

  DALE: I guess.

  COLLINS: You're going to be the new nightman. Nightcook. You ever cooked before?

  DALE: No, a little.

  COLLINS: Well, we're going to book you nightman, what's your name?

  DALE: Katzman, Dale.

  COLLINS: Alright. We're going to book you. Then you're off until 10 P.M. tonight. You work ten till six-thirty straight shift. Half-hour for lunch. Your work should take you about four, five hours.

  (Phone rings.)

  Get that.

  DALE: Hello, kitchen. Wait a minute. He wants the Mate.

  COLLINS: Gimme that. Collins. Yo. They're off. He got mugged. We got one. What kind? Fuck you.

  Okay. (To DALE:) You know how to make a sandwich?

  DALE: Sure.

  COLLINS: Make one for the First. The First Mate. And then make one for the Fireman.

  DALE: Right. What kind?

  COLLINS: For the First, an egg . . . and for the Fireman, how the fuck should I know? Make him an egg. Alright?

  DALE: Sure.

  COLLINS: Good.

  Scene 8

  Woploving

  The FIREMAN, JOE, and STAN are shooting the breeze in the engine room.

  FIREMAN: So, the way I hear it: she told him she was divorced. How about that.

  JOE: So what?

  FIREMAN: I'm divorced.

  JOE: Sorry.

  FIREMAN: So they started to get really blind.

  JOE: My mother is blind.

  (Pause.)

  FIREMAN: And could he spare her some change, twenty for the kids, a saw for some groceries, you know.

  JOE: Yeah.

  FIREMAN: And all of the time she's drinking this rum with coke and lime.

  JOE: Coke and lime?

  FIREMAN: That's what I heard.

  JOE: That's how they drink it in Italy.

  FIREMAN: You never been to Italy.

  JOE: Now how the FUCK do you know?

  FIREMAN: I . . .

  JOE: How the everlasting cocksucking FUCK do you know I never been to Italy?

  FIREMAN: Jesus.

  JOE: Don't do shit all day and tells me where I never been.

  (Exits.)

  FIREMAN (to Stan): So, Collins tells me, she'd have a drink . . .

  STAN: Yeah.

  FIREMAN: He'd have a drink.

  STAN: Yeah.

  FIREMAN: But pretty soon he's getting up knocking over tables and he's staggering ready to die and she's walking in a straight line. Say, I
wonder what's the matter with Joe?

  STAN: Why do you say something's the matter with him?

  FIREMAN: I only . . .

  STAN: Who the hell are you?

  FIREMAN: I only meant . . .

  STAN: Twenty-some years on the boats watching a little dial and you know about what's “wrong with Joe?”

  FIREMAN: Lookit . . .

  STAN: Just listen to me. The man has done more shit in his life than you'll ever forget.

  FIREMAN: I only said . . .

  STAN: Just remember that, Mr. Wiseass. He's been more places in his life than you ever been.

  FIREMAN: He's never been to Italy.

  STAN: What kind of woploving bullshit is that?

  FIREMAN: I'm fucking Italian, don't talk to me, Fred.

  DALE (enters the engine room; generally): Hi.

  STAN: Hi.

  (Pause.)

  Dale: How are you?

  STAN: Fine.

  DALE: That's good.

  STAN: In the sense that I feel like shit. Been to Italy.

  (He exits.)

  DALE: You want a sandwich?

  FIREMAN: Yeah. You the new nightman?

  DALE: Yes. Do you like egg?

  FIREMAN: I don't give a fuck.

  Scene 9

  Gauges

  Dale: What do you do down here?

  FIREMAN: Down here? I read.

  DALE: How can you read and do your job?

  FIREMAN: I'm not answerable to you. I'm answerable to the Chief.

  DALE: I was just asking.

  FIREMAN: I do my job okay.

  DALE: I know that.

  FIREMAN: I do it okay. I keep busy. . . . I read a bit. . . .

  DALE: It doesn't get in your way, the reading?

  FIREMAN: Nooo. I mean, I gotta watch the two gauges. Four actually. We got the two main, they're the two you gotta watch, and the two auxiliary.

  DALE: Uh huh.

  FIREMAN: But you gotta keep your eye on those two main, because if they go, well . . .

  DALE: Oh, yeah.

  FIREMAN: I mean if that main goes, if she goes redline, you're fucking fucked.

  DALE: You switch over to the auxiliary?

  FIREMAN: I don't do nothing! I don't do a damn nothing. I'm not supposed to touch a thing. I shut down whichever blows, larboard or starboard. I shut down and I call the bridge and I call in the Chief, in that order.

  DALE: And then you watch the auxiliary?

  FIREMAN: Nothing to watch. The engine's shut down and the gauges is dead.

  DALE: Well, what's the point of having an auxiliary gauge?

  FIREMAN: For a standby. You gotta have a standby. . . .

  DALE: Oh.

  FIREMAN: You don't have a standby, with that automatic oil feed! You don't have a standby and the main goes, you're fucking fucked. You know what I mean.

  DALE: Oh yeah.

  (Pause.)

  And you keep an eye on them, huh?

  FIREMAN: What do you mean, “keep an eye on them?” I'm watching ‘em constantly. That's my job.

  DALE: I see that.

  FIREMAN: Of course, I read a bit. I mean, when you get down to it. What is there to do? Watching two gauges for four hours a clip?

  DALE: Uh huh.

  FIREMAN: That's eight hours a day watching two gauges. If you don't read, do something, you'd go insane.

  Scene 10

  No Pussy

  DALE climbs up out of the engine room and is accosted by FRED.

  FRED: You the new man?

  DALE: Yep. Dale. Dale Katzman.

  FRED: Jewish, huh?

  DALE: Yeah.

  FRED: No offense.

  DALE: Thanks.

  (Pause.)

  FRED: Well, Dale . . . Coming on like this out of nowhere you got a thing or two to find out. Now, the main thing about the boats, other than their primary importance in the Steel Industry, is that you don't get any pussy. You got that?

  DALE: Yes.

  FRED: Except when we tie up. This is important to know because it precludes your whole life on the boats. This is why everyone says “fuck” all the time.

  DALE: Why?

  FRED: They say “fuck” in direct proportion to how bored they are. Huh?

  DALE: Yeah.

  FRED: Now, from the prospect of not getting any . . . you know about sex?

  DALE: I know it all.

  FRED: I see you mean that facetiously.

  DALE: Yeah.

  FRED: Because there sure is a hell of a lot to find out. I'm not going to offend you, am I?

  DALE: I don't know.

  FRED: Okay.

  (Pause.)

  You know, I didn't find out about sex until late in life, judging from my age of puberty, you gotta go on watch?

  DALE: Not until ten.

  FRED: . . . which came quite early, who can say why? Huh?

  DALE: Yeah.

  FRED: Around eight. What did I know then, right? Stroke books, jacking off with a few choice friends, you know. Am I right?

  DALE: You're right.

  FRED: For years. Until I'm in high school and I fall for this girl. Same old story, right? She's beautiful, she's smart, and I dig her. I take her out, right? So, times are different then (this was a few years ago) and after the movies we're dryhumping in the living room. The father is asleep upstairs, the mother is dead, same old story, right?

  DALE: Right.

  FRED: And all of a sudden the whole thing becomes clear to me. I mean in a flash all this horseshit about the Universe becomes clear to me, and I perceive meaning in life: I WANT TO FUCK. I want to stick it inside of her. Screw dryhumping. I want to get it wet. I want to become one with the ages of men and women before me down into eternity and goo in the muck from whence we sprung . . . you know what I mean?

  DALE: I know.

  FRED: And I'm on fire. I'm going OOOOOOOOOoh and AAAAAAAAAAAAaaah and like that and trying to undo her brassiere. (This girl had tits.) I don't even bother anymore. You know what I say? “You do it,” I say. The joy is gone, you know? So, anyway. We're still humping and bumping and I'm trying to undo the brassiere and my knee, as if it had a mind of its own, and never a word spoken, had inserted itself between her legs and she's gyrating like crazy and saying . . . What do you think she is saying?

  DALE: “I love you?”

  FRED: “No,” she is saying, “Oh, Fred, please don't.”

  DALE: So?

  FRED: So, like a dope, I don't. We look sheepish for a minute. She gets all straightened out and says she had a wonderful time, Freddy, and out I go. So, to make a long story short, after this happened another time, two times, I begin to get wise something is not as it should be. Also, I can't walk in the mornings. But my uncle, who is over, is conversing with me one night and, as men will do, we start talking about sex. He tells a story, I tell my story. This takes him aback. “What?” he says. “ The way to get laid is to treat them like shit.” Now, you just stop for a moment and think on that. You've heard it before and you'll hear it again but there is more to it than meets the eye. Listen: THE WAY TO GET LAID IS TO TREAT THEM LIKE SHIT. Truer words have never been spoken. And this has been tested by better men than you or me. So, I thought it out a bit and decided to put it into action. I'm going out with Janice. Movies, walk home, couch, dryhumping, no . . . I hit her in the mouth. I don't mean slap, Dale, this is important. I mean hit, I fucking pasted her. She didn't know nothing. She is so surprised she didn't even bleed. Not a word did I speak, but off with her dress, panties, and my pants. I didn't wear any underwear. A lot of women find that attractive, did you know that?

  DALE: No.

  FRED: Well, I've only since found that out. Anyway. Smacko, spread the old chops and I humped the shit out of her. She's yelling: OOOOh. Don't, OOOOH, yesssssssss, OOOOooooh don't, Freddy, Yes, it's so goooooooood, my father'll hear oooooooh. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEIT. Zingo. So I got dressed and she's lying there on the couch spent, I mean, spent and wet and everything. (She looked beautiful.
) And I go over to the door. “Not another word out of you, cunt,” I say. “Ever.”

  DALE: What about her father?

  FRED: He was a boilermaker. So. After that it's handjobs in the assembly hall, fucking under the bleachers, the whole thing, man. She's buying presents and asking me to the prom (I'd left school). And to this day. I mean to this day, I want a piece, I call her up and tell her, not ask her, tell Daley, I tell her where and when, and she's there. And she's married. So remember . . .. I know, I know, I was a shy kid too. But you gotta remember, the way to a woman's cunt is right through her cunt. That's the only way. Fershtay?

  DALE: Uh huh.

  FRED: Let's get something to eat.

  DALE: I gotta make up the First's cabin.

  FRED: Okay. I'm gonna see you later.

  (JOE and STAN pass. Part of their conversation can be heard.)

  JOE: Guy can't take care of himself he oughta stay out of East Chicago. Huh?

  STAN: Yeah.

  (Pause.)

  JOE: They aren't in business for their health. . . .

  Scene 11

  Mugged

  FRED, alone by the rail, soliloquizes.

  FRED: Mugged. Yeah. Poor son of bitch. In East Chicago. That's a lousy town. By some whore, no less. Drugged the shit out of him, I guess. Met her in a bar. Who knows. He was a fanatic, you know? I knew him. Not overly well, but I knew him. He was a gambling degenerate. Played the ponies. How did he do I don't know. But I had my suspicions that he gave it all away. So who knows. Maybe the Maf got him. I mean, somebody got him. Maybe the whore, huh? So maybe it's the Murphy man, but I don't think so. It looks like the Outfit. Not that they care for the few C's they took. But you know how they are. You can't get behind. When you're into them that's it. Am I right? No. It doesn't figure. Unless it was the Outfit. Or some freak occurrence. It was probably some Outfit guys got him. Assuming he was into them. It doesn't look like he just got rolled. Beat the living fuck out of him. Left him-for dead. Huh? Can you feature it? Flies in his face. Fucking ear stuck to the sidewalk with blood. Ruptured man, he'll never perform again. Ribs, back. The back. Hit him in the back. Left him for dead.

  (Pause.)

  It doesn't figure. The only way it adds up, if it was the Outfit. A very property-oriented group. Poor sucker.

  Scene 12

  Fred Busted at the Track

  FRED wanders into the galley, where he meets STAN.

  STAN: Boy, did I get laid last night.