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!
Blanche:
Jane!
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!
