Mike and Darlene

Mike and Darlene. A front porch, ideally a swing. The south. They’re married. They call each other “mama” and “pops” as terms of endearment.

DARLENE

I don’ know what ya see in alla that preppin’ stuff Mikey, I jus’ don’t.

MIKE

Mama, I’ma take care of us’n you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout it.

DARLENE

Honey I ain’t worried.

My time ta go’s my time ta go.

MIKE

Yer time ta go’s over my dead body.

DARLENE

Don’t be foolish.

MIKE

I’m a fool fer you, mama bear.

He kisses her cheek. She touches he cheek.

DARLENE

Sit with me, pops.

They sit. Long warm comfortable pause.

DARLENE

Git that gun outta the bedroom.

MIKE

What gun?

DARLENE

You know what gun Michael Andrew.

MIKE

We’re gonna need it, Darlene.

If we’re ready, we’re safe.

DARLENE (fierce)

I don’t wanna see our gran-babies getting’ shot cuz pop-pop got a pretty gun-toy under the bed.

You’ll git that gun outta the bed-room ‘n locked up or I’ll be sleepin’ out here in the breeze.

(a little gentler)

Give the neighbors a show.

MIKE

Mama…

DARLENE (gently)

You know I ain’t askin’.

Pause.

MIKE

A’rright, baby.

DARLENE

Thank you, sweet.

She leans her head on his shoulder. They rock.

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