Cliff Man, this ain't no fighting weather. Ha, ha, ha! Did yo' think I was mad sho' nuff? Yo' can't fight me. They's got to be runnin' before fightin' and 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)