The Hairy Ape by Eugene O’Neill (story reading .TXT) 📕

a clamoring din. Curtain. Scene VI

Night of the following day. A row of cells in the prison on Blackwells Island. The cells extend back diagonally from right front to left rear. They do not stop, but disappear in the dark background as if they ran on, numberless, into infinity. One electric bulb from the low ceiling of the narrow corridor sheds its light through the heavy steel bars of the cell at the extreme front and reveals part of the interior. Yank can be seen within, crouched on the edge of his cot in the attitude of Rodin’s The Thinker. His face is spotted with black and blue bruises. A bloodstained bandage is wrapped around his head.

Yank Suddenly starting as if awakening from a dream, reaches out and shakes the bars⁠—aloud to himself, wonderingly. Steel. Dis is de Zoo, huh? A burst of hard, barking laughter comes from the unseen occupants of the cells, runs back down the tier, and abruptly ceases. Voices Mockingly. The Zoo? That’s a new name for this coop⁠—a damn good name! Steel, eh? You said a mouthful. This is the old iron house. Who is that boob talkin’? He’s the bloke they brung in out of his head. The bulls had beat him up fierce. Yank Dully. I musta been dreamin’. I tought I was in a cage at de Zoo⁠—but de apes don’t talk, do dey? Voices With mocking laughter. You’re in a cage aw right. A coop! A pen! A sty! A kennel! Hard laughter⁠—a pause. Say, guy! Who are you? No, never mind lying. What are you? Yes, tell us your sad story. What’s your game? What did they jug yuh for? Yank Dully. I was a fireman⁠—stokin’ on de liners. Then with sudden rage, rattling his cell bars. I’m a hairy ape, get me? And I’ll bust youse all in de jaw if yuh don’t lay off kiddin’ me. Voices Huh! You’re a hard boiled duck ain’t you! When you spit, it bounces! Laughter. Aw, can it. He’s a regular guy. Ain’t you? What did he say he was⁠—a ape? Yank Defiantly. Sure ting! Ain’t dat what youse all are⁠—apes? A silence. Then a furious rattling of bars from down the corridor. A Voice Thick with rage. I’ll show yuh who’s a ape, yuh bum! Voices Ssshh! Nix! Can de noise! Piano! You’ll have the guard down on us! Yank Scornfully. De guard? Yuh mean de keeper, don’t yuh? Angry exclamations from all the cells. Voice Placatingly. Aw, don’t pay no attention to him. He’s off his nut from the beatin’-up he got. Say, you guy! We’re waitin’ to hear what they landed you for⁠—or ain’t yuh tellin’? Yank Sure, I’ll tell youse. Sure! Why de hell not? On’y⁠—youse won’t get me. Nobody gets me but me, see? I started to tell de Judge and all he says was: “Toity days to tink it over.” Tink it over! Christ, dat’s all I been doin’ for weeks! After a pause. I was tryin’ to git even wit someone, see?⁠—someone dat done me doit. Voices Cynically. De old stuff, I bet. Your goil, huh? Give yuh the double-cross, huh? That’s them every time! Did yuh beat up de odder guy? Yank Disgustedly. Aw, yuh’re all wrong! Sure dere was a skoit in it⁠—but not what youse mean, not dat old tripe. Dis was a new kind of skoit. She was dolled up all in white⁠—in de stokehole. I tought she was a ghost. Sure. A pause. Voices Whispering. Gee, he’s still nutty. Let him rave. It’s fun listenin’. Yank Unheeding⁠—groping in his thoughts. Her hands⁠—dey was skinny and white like dey wasn’t real but painted on somep’n. Dere was a million miles from me to her⁠—twenty-five knots a hour. She was like some dead ting de cat brung in. Sure, dat’s what. She didn’t belong. She belonged in de window of a toy store, or on de top of a garbage can, see! Sure! He breaks out angrily. But would yuh believe it, she had de noive to do me doit. She lamped me like she was seein’ somep’n broke loose from de menagerie. Christ, yuh’d oughter seen her eyes! He rattles the bars of his cell furiously. But I’ll get back at her yet, you watch! And if I can’t find her I’ll take it out on de gang she runs wit. I’m wise to where dey hangs out now. I’ll show her who belongs! I’ll show her who’s in de move and who ain’t. You watch my smoke! Voices Serious and joking. Dat’s de talkin’! Take her for all she’s got! What was this dame, anyway? Who was she, eh? Yank I dunno. First cabin stiff. Her old man’s a millionaire, dey says⁠—name of Douglas. Voices Douglas? That’s the president of the Steel Trust, I bet. Sure. I seen his mug in de papers. He’s filthy with dough. Voice Hey, feller, take a tip from me. If you want to get back at that dame, you better join the Wobblies. You’ll get some action then. Yank Wobblies? What de hell’s dat? Voice Ain’t you ever heard of the I.W.W.? Yank Naw. What is it? Voice A gang of blokes⁠—a tough gang. I been readin’ about ’em today in the paper. The guard give me the Sunday Times. There’s a long spiel about ’em. It’s from a speech made in the Senate by a guy named Senator Queen. He is in the cell next to Yank’s. There is a rustling of paper. Wait’ll I see if I got light enough and I’ll read you. Listen. He reads: “There is a menace existing in this country today which threatens the vitals of our fair Republic⁠—as foul a menace against the very lifeblood of the American Eagle as was the foul conspiracy of Cataline