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Snide, issue 2, February 1941
Page 26
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KLAXIN: Make it schizophrenia, straight. No ice. STEPHANIE: No dice. Hey, Beelzebub, throw up two rickeys? (One of the corpses looks up and says blankly, 'huh?') KLAXIN: Never mind the stiffs. That looks like a dive down the street. Come on. Scene II: Interior of sleazy, lowdown-at-the-heels saloon. Air thick with tobacco smoke. Bar to L. Bartender leans on it, rolling dice with three bums and a policeman. Tables scattered about, at which sits low-class clientele. A juke-box plays very loudly at R. When a record has been played a little old man in a white beard and black skull cap gets to his feet slowly, hobbles over, and inserts another nickel. In the back is a dust-covered window, un-curtained. (Klaxin and Stephanie wander in and take seats at a table.) KLAXIN: Hey George! (Waiter wanders over, slaps at cloth with napkin boredly.) Two beers. STEPHANIE (wearing a cape, sandals, and a red loin cloth about the southern torrid zone): And two daquiries. (Shaggy dog enters L., shakes off fleas, cockroaches, and mothballs, then exits R. Bald-headed man scoops up mothballs, crushes them to powder, drops them in his beer.) KLAXIN: Who's that guy? STEPHANIE: I dunno. They call him Pohl; he's a screwball. (Bald-headed man drops to hands and knees and starts biting the fleas.) KLAXIN: I suppose that's news. They have floor-shows here? 26
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KLAXIN: Make it schizophrenia, straight. No ice. STEPHANIE: No dice. Hey, Beelzebub, throw up two rickeys? (One of the corpses looks up and says blankly, 'huh?') KLAXIN: Never mind the stiffs. That looks like a dive down the street. Come on. Scene II: Interior of sleazy, lowdown-at-the-heels saloon. Air thick with tobacco smoke. Bar to L. Bartender leans on it, rolling dice with three bums and a policeman. Tables scattered about, at which sits low-class clientele. A juke-box plays very loudly at R. When a record has been played a little old man in a white beard and black skull cap gets to his feet slowly, hobbles over, and inserts another nickel. In the back is a dust-covered window, un-curtained. (Klaxin and Stephanie wander in and take seats at a table.) KLAXIN: Hey George! (Waiter wanders over, slaps at cloth with napkin boredly.) Two beers. STEPHANIE (wearing a cape, sandals, and a red loin cloth about the southern torrid zone): And two daquiries. (Shaggy dog enters L., shakes off fleas, cockroaches, and mothballs, then exits R. Bald-headed man scoops up mothballs, crushes them to powder, drops them in his beer.) KLAXIN: Who's that guy? STEPHANIE: I dunno. They call him Pohl; he's a screwball. (Bald-headed man drops to hands and knees and starts biting the fleas.) KLAXIN: I suppose that's news. They have floor-shows here? 26
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