they's got to be plenty good runnin' before dis fight comes off.

Man All right now. Yo' leave me alone and I'm a good man. I'm just like an old shoe. If yo' rain on me and cool me off I'm soft! If yo' shine on me and git me hot, I'm hard. (He drops the stick and exits)

(Cliff is shaking all over. He looks after the Man to be sure he is gone)

Good Black Kah, kah, kah. Whut yo' so scarred about? De way yo' was talkin' I though yo' was mad enough to fight.

Cliff I was. I gits hot real quick! But I'm very easy cooled when de man I'm mad wid is bigger'n me. (He drops into his seat, wiping his face) Man did yo' see how he grabbed up dat check? He done skeered me into a three-week's spasm!

Good Black's Wife
Good Black, dese clothes is still waiting.

Good Black Well, let 'em wait on, I done tole yo' once. Yo' kind run yo' mouf but yo' can't run my business.

                             (Enter a PRETTY GIRL. She strolls
                             happily across without stopping. Good
                             Black pretends to cough)

Good Black
Who is dat?

Girl
                             (Turns and glares at him)
My old man got something for dat cough yo' got.

Cliff Dat's right, tell dese old mullet hear married men to mind they own business. Now, take me for instance. I'm a much-right man. (Gets up and approaches her flirtatiously) I didn't quite git yo' name straight. Yo' better tell it to me again.

Girl
My name is Bee Ethel, turned round to Jones.

Cliff
                             (Flirtatiously)
Yo' pretty lil ole ground angel yo'? Where did yo' come from?

Bee Ethel
Detroit. Yo' like me?

Cliff Do I lak yo'? I love yo' just lak God loves Gabriel, and dat's his best angel. Go 'head and say somethin'. I jus' love to hear yo' talk.

Bee Ethel
Gimme five dollars. I need some stockings.

Cliff Now Mama, dis ain't Gimme, Ga. Dis is Waycross. I'm just lak de cemetery. I takes in but never no put out. I ain't puttin' out nothin' but old folks eyes—and I don't do that till they's dead. Run long, mama. (The girl exits and he resumes his seat)

Cliff
Come on, Good Black, lemme wrap dis checker roun yo' neck.

Good Black
Gimme time, gimme time! Don't try to rush me.
                             (He begins same business of figuring
                             out moves and scratching his head)

                             (Enter two or three girls and fellows.
                             The girls are dressed in cool summer
                             dresses, but nothing elaborate)

Lonnie
I know I'm gointer play something now.
                             (He tunes and plays "Cold Rainy Day".
                             He begins to sing and the others join
                             in. Not all. But all start to dancing.
                             They couple off as far as possible and
                             Lindy. The men unmated do hot solo
                             steps. The men cry out in ecstacy)

1. Shimmy! If you can't shimmy, shake your head.

2. Look, baby, look! Throw it in de alley

3. Look, if you can't look, stick out, and if you can't stick
out, git out.
                             (At the end of the son and dance, one
                             of the girls exclaim)

Girl
Aw, we got to go. Mama's looking for us.
                             (The three girls exit, walking
                             happily. The men watch them go)

Cliff
Oh boy, look at 'em! Switching it and looking back at it.
                             (He imitates the girl's walk)

Good Black
Yeah Lawd, ain't they specifyin'! They handles a lot of traffic.

Cliff
                             (Seating himself again)
Yeah, but dat don't play no checkers. Come on here, Good Black
and lemme finish wearing your ant.

Good Black's Wife
Good Black, yo' better come git dese clothes.

Lonnie
Good Black, yo' wife kin cold whoop for what she want.

Good Black
Yeah and if she don't git, she keep right on whoopin'. B'lieve
I wants a drink of water. Wisht I knowed where I could slip
up on me a drink.

Cliff Aw man, come on back here and move. Yo' doin' everythin' but playin' checkers. You'd ruther move a mountain wid a pry bar than to move (Points) dat man.

Good Black
                             (Seats himself)
Lemme hurry up and beat dis game befo' yo' bust yo' britches.
                             (He wags his finger to indicate moves,
                             scratches his head, but doesn't move.
                             Several men enter and group around the
                             players. All offer suggestions. One
                             says, "you got him Cliffert. He's
                             locked up just as tight as a keyhole".
                             Another: "Aw, man he kin break out!"
                             Another: "Yeah, but it'll cost him
                             plenty to git out of dat trap".)

Cliff
Police! Police! He won't move!

Another Voice
Aw, leave go de checkers and less shoot some crap.

(Enter a WOMAN in a house dress, head rag on, run down house shoes. She goes to the edge of the porch and calls inside)

Woman
Him there Bertha, what yo' doin'.

Woman Inside Still bumpin' de white folks clothes—hittin' for de sundown man. Come on in and have some sit down.

Outside Woman Ain't got time. Got a house full of company. I took a minute to see if yo' could let me have a little skeeting garret.

Inside Woman
How