Topdog / Underdog Read Online Free

around the whole arcade is buzzing and popping. Thuh whirring of thuh duckshoot, baseballs smacking the back wall when someone misses the stack of cans, some woman getting happy cause her fella just won the ring toss. The Boss playing the barker talking up the fake freaks. The smell of the ocean and cotton candy and rat shit. And in thuh middle of all that, I can just sit and let my head go quiet. Make up songs, make plans. Forget.
    (Rest) You should come down again.
     
    Booth
    Once was plenty, but thanks.
    (Rest)
    Yr Best Customer, he come in today?
     
    Lincoln
    Oh, yeah, he was there.

    Booth
    He shoot you?
     
    Lincoln
    He shot Honest Abe, yeah.
     
    Booth
    He talk to you?
     
    Lincoln
    In a whisper. Shoots on the left whispers on the right.
     
    Booth
    Whatd he say this time?
     
    Lincoln
    “Does thuh show stop when no ones watching or does thuh show go on?”
     
    Booth
    Hes getting deep.
     
    Lincoln
    Yeah.
     
    Booth
    Whatd he say, that one time? “Yr only yrself—”
     
    Lincoln
    “—when no ones watching,” yeah.
     
    Booth
    Thats deep shit.
    (Rest)
    Hes a brother, right?
     
    Lincoln
    I think so.
     
    Booth
    He know yr a brother?

    Lincoln
    I dunno.
     
    Booth
    Hes a deep black brother.
     
    Lincoln
    Yeah. He makes the day interesting.
     
    Booth
    (Rest)
    Thats a fucked-up job you got.
     
    Lincoln
    Its a living.
     
    Booth
    But you aint living.
     
    Lincoln
    Im alive aint I?
    (Rest)
    One day I was throwing the cards. Next day Lonny died. Somebody shot him. I knew I was next, so I quit. I saved my life.
    (Rest)
    The arcade gig is the first lucky break Ive ever had. And Ive actually grown to like the work. And now theyre talking about cutting me.
     
    Booth
    You was lucky with thuh cards.
     
    Lincoln
    Lucky? Aint nothing lucky about cards. Cards aint luck. Cards is work. Cards is skill. Aint never nothing lucky about cards.
    (Rest)
    I dont wanna lose my job.

    Booth
    Then you gotta jazz up yr act. Elaborate yr moves, you know. You was always too stiff with it. You cant just sit there! Maybe, when they shoot you, you know, leap up flail yr arms then fall down and wiggle around and shit so they gotta shoot you more than once. Blam Blam Blam! Blam!
     
    Lincoln
    Help me practice. I’ll sit here like I do at work and you be like one of the tourists.
     
    Booth
    No thanks.
     
    Lincoln
    My paychecks on the line, man.
     
    Booth
    I got a date. Practice on yr own.
    (Rest)
    I got a rendezvous with Grace. Shit she so sweet she makes my teeth hurt.
    (Rest)
    Link, uh, howbout slipping me an extra 5 spot. Its the biggest night of my life.
     
    Lincoln
    Booth
     
    Lincoln gives Booth a 5er.
     
    Booth
    Thanks.
     
    Lincoln
    No sweat.
     
    Booth
    Howabout I run through it with you when I get back. Put on yr getup and practice till then.

    Lincoln
    Sure.
     
    Booth leaves. Lincoln stands there alone.
    He takes off his shoes, giving them a shine.
    He takes off his socks and his fancy suit, hanging it neatly over the little wooden chair.
    He takes his getup out of his shopping bag. He puts it on, slowly, like an actor preparing for a great role: frock coat, pants, beard, top hat, necktie.
    He leaves his feet bare. The top hat has an elastic band which he positions securely underneath his chin.
    He picks up the white pancake makeup but decides against it.
    He sits. He pretends to get shot, flings himself on the floor and thrashes around.
    He gets up, considers giving the new moves another try, but instead pours himself a big glass of whiskey and sits there drinking.

Scene Three
    Much later that same Friday evening. The recliner is reclined to its maximum horizontal position and Lincoln lies there asleep.
    He wakes with a start. He is horrific, bleary eyed and hungover, in his full Lincoln regalia.
    He takes a deep breath, realizes where he is and reclines again, going back to sleep.
    Booth comes in full of swagger. He slams the door trying to wake his brother who is dead to the world.
    He opens the door and slams it again.