American Buffalo (2 page)

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. He is peeling down the alley in a black and yellow Ford.”

Folk Tune.

American Buffalo

THE CHARACTERS

THE SCENE

Don’s Resale Shop. A junkshop.

THE TIME

One Friday. Act One takes place in the morning; Act Two starts around 11:00 that night.

ACT I

Don’s Resale Shop. Morning,
DON
and
BOB
are sitting.

DON
: So?

Pause.

So what, Bob?

Pause.

BOB
: I’m sorry, Donny.

Pause.

DON
: All right.

BOB
: I’m sorry, Donny.

Pause.

DON
: Yeah.

BOB
: Maybe he’s still in there.

DON
: If you think that, Bob, how come you’re here?

BOB
: I came in.

Pause.

DON
: You don’t come in, Bob. You don’t come in until you do a thing.

BOB
: He didn’t come out.

DON
: What do I care, Bob, if he came out or not? You’re s’posed to watch the guy, you watch him. Am I wrong?

BOB
: I just went to the back.

DON
: Why?

Pause.

Why did you do that?

BOB
: ‘Cause he wasn’t coming out the front.

DON
: Well, Bob, I’m sorry, but this isn’t good enough. If you want to do business . . . if we got a business deal, it isn’t good enough. I want you to remember this.

BOB
: I do.

DON
: Yeah,
now
. . . but later, what?

Pause.

Just one thing, Bob. Action counts.

Pause.

Action talks and bullshit walks.

BOB
: I only went around to see he’s coming out the back.

DON
: No, don’t go fuck yourself around with these excuses.

Pause.

BOB
: I’m sorry.

DON
: Don’t tell me that you’re sorry. I’m not mad at you.

BOB
: You’re not?

DON
(Pause):
Let’s clean up here.

BOB
starts to clean up the debris around the poker table.

The only thing I’m trying to teach you something here.

BOB
: Okay.

DON
: Now lookit Fletcher.

BOB
: Fletch?

DON
: Now, Fletcher is a standup guy.

BOB
: Yeah.

DON
: I don’t
give
a shit. He is a fellow stands for something—

BOB
: Yeah.

DON
: You take him and you put him down in some strange town with just a nickel in his pocket, and by nightfall he’ll have that town by the balls. This is not talk, Bob, this is action.

Pause.

BOB
: He’s a real good card player.

DON
: You’re fucking A he is, Bob, and this is what I’m getting at Skill. Skill and talent and the balls to arrive at your own
conclusions.

The fucker won four hundred bucks last night.

BOB
: Yeah?

DON
:
Oh
yeah.

BOB
: And who was playing?

DON
:
Me . . .

BOB
: Uh-huh . . .

DON
: And
Teach . . .

BOB
: (How’d Teach do?)
*

DON
: (Not too good.)

BOB
: (No, huh?)

DON
: (No.) . . . and Earl was here . . .

BOB
: Uh-huh . . .

DON
: And Fletcher.

BOB
:
How’d
he do?

DON
: He won four hundred bucks.

BOB
: And who else won?

DON
: Ruthie, she won.

BOB
: She won, huh?

DON
: Yeah.

BOB
: She does okay.

DON
:
Oh
yeah . . .

BOB
: She’s an okay card player.

DON
: Yes, she is.

BOB
: I like her.

DON
: Fuck, I like her, too. (There’s nothing wrong in that.)

BOB
: (No.)

DON
: I mean, she treats you right.

BOB
: Uh-huh. How’d she do?

DON
: She did okay.

Pause.

BOB
: You win?

DON
: I did all right.

BOB
: Yeah?

DON
: Yeah. I did okay. Not like
Fletch . . .

BOB
: No, huh?

DON
: I mean, Fletcher, he plays
cards.

BOB
: He’s real sharp.

DON
: You’re goddamn right he is.

BOB
: I know it.

DON
: Was he born that way?

BOB
: Huh?

DON
: I’m saying was he born that way or do you think he had to learn it?

BOB
: Learn it.

DON
: Goddamn right he did, and don’t forget it.

Everything, Bobby: it’s going to happen to you, it’s
not
going to happen to you, the important thing is can you deal with it, and can you
learn
from it.

Pause.

And this is why I’m telling you to stand up. It’s no different with you than with anyone else. Everything that I or Fletcher know we picked up on the street. That’s all business is . . . common sense, experience, and talent.

BOB
: Like when he jewed Ruthie out that pig iron.

DON
: What pig iron?

BOB
: That he got off her that time.

DON
: When was this?

BOB
: On the back of her truck.

DON
: That wasn’t, I don’t think, her pig iron.

BOB
: No?

DON
: That was
his
pig iron, Bob.

BOB
: Yeah?

DON
: Yeah. He bought it off her.

Pause.

BOB
: Well, she was real mad at him.

DON
: She was.

BOB
: Yup.

DON
: She was mad at him?

BOB
: Yeah. That he stole her pig iron.

DON
: He didn’t steal it, Bob.

BOB
: No?

DON
: No.

BOB
: She was
mad
at him . . .

DON
: Well, that very well may be, Bob, but the fact remains that it was
business.
That’s what business
is
.

BOB
: What?

DON
: People taking
care
of themselves. Huh?

BOB
: No.

DON
: ‘Cause there’s business and there’s friendship, Bobby . . . there are many things, and when you walk around you
hear
a lot of things, and what you got to do is keep clear who your friends are, and who treated you like what. Or
else the rest is garbage, Bob, because I want to tell you something.

BOB
: Okay.

DON
: Things are not always what they seem to be.

BOB
: I know.

Pause.

DON
: There’s lotsa people on this street, Bob, they want this and they want that. Do anything to get it. You don’t have
friends
this life. . . . You want some breakfast?

BOB
: I’m not hungry.

Pause.

DON
:
Never
skip breakfast, Bob.

BOB
: Why?

DON
: Breakfast . . . is the most important meal of the day.

BOB
: I’m not hungry.

DON
: It makes no earthly difference in the world. You know how much nutritive benefits they got in coffee? Zero. Not one thing. The stuff eats
you
up. You can’t live on coffee, Bobby. (And I’ve told you this before.) You cannot live on cigarettes. You may feel
good,
you may feel
fine,
but something’s getting overworked, and you are going to pay for it.

Now: What do you see me eat when I come in here every day?

BOB
: Coffee.

DON
: Come on, Bob, don’t fuck with me. I
drink
a little coffee . . . but what do I
eat?

BOB
: Yogurt.

DON
: Why?

BOB
: Because it’s good for you.

DON
: You’re goddamn right. And it wouldn’t kill you to take a vitamin.

BOB
: They’re too expensive.

DON
: Don’t worry about it. You should just take ‘em.

BOB
: I can’t afford ‘em.

DON
: Don’t worry about it.

BOB
: You’ll buy some for me?

DON
: Do you need ‘em?

BOB
:
Yeah.

DON
: Well, then, I’ll get you some. What do you
think?

BOB
: Thanks, Donny.

DON
: It’s for your own good. Don’t thank
me
. . .

BOB
: Okay.

DON
: I just can’t use you in here like a zombie.

BOB
: I just went around the back.

DON
: I don’t care. Do you see? Do you see what I’m getting at?

Pause.

BOB
: Yeah.

Pause.

DON
: Well, we’ll see.

BOB
: I’m sorry, Donny.

DON
: Well, we’ll see.

TEACH
(appears in the doorway and enters the store)
: Good morning.

BOB
: Morning, Teach.

TEACH
(walks around the store a bit in silence):
Fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie, fuckin’ Ruthie.

DON
: What?

TEACH
: Fuckin‘
Ruthie . . .

DON
: . . . yeah?

TEACH
: I come into the Riverside to get a cup of
coffee,
right? I sit down at the table Grace and Ruthie.

DON
: Yeah.

TEACH
: I’m gonna order just a cup of coffee.

DON
: Right.

TEACH
: So Grace and Ruthie’s having breakfast, and they’re done.
Plates . . . crusts
of stuff all over . . . So we’ll shoot the shit.

DON
: Yeah.

TEACH
: Talk about the
game . . .

DON
: . . . yeah.

TEACH
: . . .
so
on. Down I sit. “Hi, hi.” I take a piece of toast off Grace’s plate . . .

DON
: . . . uh-huh . . .

TEACH
: . . . and she goes “Help yourself.”

Help myself.

I should help myself to half a piece of toast it’s four slices for a quarter. I should have a nickel every time we’re over at the game, I pop for coffee . . . cigarettes . . . a
sweet roll,
never say word.

“Bobby, see who wants what.” Huh? A fucking
roast-beef
sandwich.
(To
BOB
) Am I right?
(To
DON
) Ahh, shit. We’re sitting down, how many times do I pick up the check? But (No!) because I never go and make a big
thing
out of it—it’s no big thing—and flaunt like “This one’s on me” like some bust-out asshole, but I naturally assume that I’m with friends, and don’t forget who’s who when someone gets
behind
a half a yard or needs some help with (huh?) some fucking rent, or drops enormous piles of money at the track, or someone’s
sick
or something . . .

DON
(to
BOB)
: This is what I’m talking about.

TEACH
: Only (and I tell you this, Don). Only, and I’m not, I don’t think, casting anything on anyone: from the mouth of
a Southern bulldyke asshole ingrate of a vicious nowhere cunt can this trash come.
(To
BOB
) And I take nothing back, and I know you’re close with them.

BOB
: With Grace and Ruthie?

TEACH
: Yes.

BOB
: (I like ‘em.)

TEACH
: I have always treated everybody more than fair, and never gone around complaining. Is this true, Don?

DON
: Yup.

TEACH
: Someone is
against
me, that’s their problem . . . I can look out for myself, and I don’t got to fuck around behind somebody’s back, I don’t like the way they’re treating me. (Or pray some brick
safe
falls and hits them on the head, they’re walking down the street.)

But to have that shithead turn, in one breath, every fucking sweet roll that I ever ate with them into
ground glass
(I’m wondering were they eating it and thinking “This guy’s an idiot to blow a fucking
quarter
on his friends” . . .)

. . . this hurts me, Don.

This hurts me in a way I don’t know what the fuck to do.

Pause.

DON
: You’re probably just upset.

TEACH
: You’re fuckin’ A I’m upset I am
very
upset, Don.