A Swim in the Laughing Soup
THIRSTY
Sell my left nut for a taste.
MAGS (carelessly)
Deal.
(As MAGS extends an arm toward THIRSTY, HE retreats into his box.)
MAGS
Oh, I see. Not serious.
(Laughs.)
Just a figure of speech, eh?
(To Nojo.)
You thirsty? Takes the chill off.
(NOJO shrugs.)
MAGS
?ngel, some spirits for our new friend.
(Bows.)
For you, no charge.
(Laughs.)
Give you a chance to try before you buy.
(?NGEL, angry, squats to unzip the bag. HUNGRY and THIRSTY unpack themselves. GENE AUTRY walks his shopping cart forward. ?NGEL opens a fifth of Conquistador whiskey and drinks with eyes fixed on NOJO.)
?NGEL
¡Me cago en la leche de tu puta madre!
(HUNGRY has trouble standing up. SHE makes it on the third try but only with help from THIRSTY.)
THIRSTY
What’d he say?
MAGS
He shits in the milk of my whore mother.
(Extends her hand for the bottle.)
So to speak.
?NGEL
¡Coño!
(MAGS wiggles her fingers; ?NGEL give her the bottle. SHE lets HUNGRY have the first drink. HUNGRY is very shaky until SHE drinks, then SHE steadies. The bottle makes its way around the fire. There is a sacramental air to the drinking. NOJO is the last.)
NOJO
(Reads the label.)
Says here it’s a Preferred Blend and has A Tradition of Excellence Since 1931. This Conquistador is on horseback; he wears armor the color of an old spoon. He has ridden a long way, over mountains and deserts and bar codes, in his quest for strong drink.
(Drinks, then speaks to the audience.)
Here’s the deal. The whiskey vaporizes in your mouth and whistles down your throat like steam. It changes as it settles in your gut, becomes a kind of glow, only it carries a weight and the bitter fragrance of newly-split oak. The fragrance curls into your blood, streams to your head. Then your vision blurs and for one short, infinitely sweet moment, things stop being like other things. They simply are. The bridge becomes the bridge, your shoe is itself only. You can no longer hear the world whisper of secret and insidious connections. Leaves cease to conspire with branches. The ground does not rise up to meet you. You have chosen wisely; you have become that dull and happy stranger who has nothing magic about him.
