Read Online Remembrance and Pantomime by Derek Walcott - Free Book Online Page B

that this pre-colonial parrot have the wrong idea.
    HARRY
         It’s his accent, Jackson. He’s a Creole parrot. What can I do?
    JACKSON
         Well, I am not saying not to give the bird a fair trial, but I see nothing wrong in taking him out the cage at dawn, blindfolding the bitch, giving him a last cigarette if he want it, lining him up against the garden wall, and perforating his arse by firing squad.
    HARRY
         The war’s over, Jackson! And how can a bloody parrot be prejudiced?
    JACKSON
         The same damn way they corrupt a child. By their upbringing. That parrot survive from a pre-colonial epoch, Mr. Trewe, and if it want to last in Trinidad and Tobago, then it go have to adjust.
    ( Long pause )
    HARRY
    ( Leaping up )
         Do you think we could work him into the panto? Give him something to do? Crusoe had a parrot, didn’t he? You’re right, Jackson, let’s drop him from the show.
    JACKSON
         Mr. Trewe, you are a truly, truly stubborn man. I am not putting that old goatskin hat on my head and making an ass of myself for a million dollars, and I have said so already.
    HARRY
         You got it wrong. I put the hat on, I’m … Wait, wait a minute. Cut! Cut! You know what would be a heavy twist, heavy with irony?
    JACKSON
         What, Mr. Trewe?
    HARRY
         We reverse it.
    ( Pause )
    JACKSON
         You mean you prepared to walk round naked as your mother make you, in your jockstrap, playing a white cannibal in front of your own people? You’re a real actor! And you got balls, too, excuse me, Mr. Trewe, to even consider doing a thing like that! Good. Joke finish. Breakfast now, eh? Because I ha’ to fix the sun deck since the carpenter ain’t reach.
    HARRY
         All right, breakfast. Just heat it a little.
    JACKSON
         Right, sir. The coffee must be warm still. But I best do some brand-new scramble eggs.
    HARRY
         Never mind the eggs, then. Slip in some toast, butter, and jam.
    JACKSON
         How long you in this hotel business, sir? No butter. Marge. No sugar. Big strike. Island-wide shortage. We down to half a bag.
    HARRY
         Don’t forget I’ve heard you sing calypsos, Jackson. Right back there in the kitchen.
    JACKSON
         Mr. Trewe, every day I keep begging you to stop trying to make a entertainer out of me. I finish with show business. I finish with Trinidad. I come to Tobago for peace and quiet. I quite satisfy. If you ain’t want me to resign, best drop the topic.
    ( Exits. HARRY sits at the table, staring out to sea. He is reciting softly to himself, then more audibly )
    HARRY
         “Alone, alone, all, all alone,
           Alone on a wide wide sea …
           I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
           And cried, A sail! a sail!”
    ( He removes the hat, then his shirt, rolls up his trousers, removes them, puts them back on, removes them again )
         Mastah … Mastah … Friday sorry. Friday never do it again. Master.
    ( JACKSON enters with breakfast tray, groans, turns to leave. Returns )
    JACKSON
         Mr. Trewe, what it is going on on this blessed Sunday morning, if I may ask?
    HARRY
         I was feeling what it was like to be Friday.
    JACKSON
         Well, Mr. Trewe, you ain’t mind putting back on your pants?
    HARRY
         Why can’t I eat breakfast like this?
    JACKSON
         Because I am here. I happen to be here. I am the one serving you, Mr. Trewe.
    HARRY
         There’s nobody here.
    JACKSON
         Mr. Harry, you putting on back your pants?
    HARRY
         You’re frightened of something?
    JACKSON
         You putting on back your pants?
    HARRY
         What’re you afraid of? Think I’m bent? That’s such a corny interpretation of the Crusoe-Friday relationship, boy. My son’s been dead three years, Jackson, and I’vn’t had much interest in women since, but I haven’t gone queer, either. And to be a flasher, you need an