It’s mid-morning on Bleeker Street. About 930. We join Blanche looking out her favourite window onto the front yard.
Blanche: Jane! Oh Jane. Come quick!
Jane: Why? ~puff, puff~ is Jack Nicholson standing on our lawn in his gonchies?
Blanche: No Jane, of course not.
Jane: Then, what’s yer F*ck** rush ~puff, drag, puff, cough~ Besides I’m busy.
Blanche: Really? Doing what?
Jane: Reading my women’s magazine.
Blanche: You mean porn! Come here and look.
Jane: What? ~puff, puff~
Blanche: There’s that nice Mr. Finnigan walking along the street picking up trash again.
Jane: Yes! That’s because he’s nuts! Gone Lulu! Bonkers!
Blanche: Jane! Really! I think he’s a very nice man and look what he’s doing for the community and our neighbourhood.
Jane: Of fer Christs sake Blanche, all yer doing in starring at his ass!
Blanche: What? Starring at his ass? Nonsense!
Jane: Then why’s yer cheeks and neck all red? ~puff, drag, puff~
Blanche: Why is my…er…what…they are?
Jane: Hot Diggity they are! Why don’t ya take yourself out that front door and roll yerself down yer ramp and say hello. You jist might get lucky. Hah!
Jane: ‘Course you’d probably ferget what to do with it- even if ya had the chance.
Blanche: Really Jane. Sometimes you are just so mean spirited.
Jane: All in a day’s work Blanche Dear! ~puff, puff, puff~ All in a day’s work!