Paper 4 Requirements: A

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Paper 4 Requirements: A. 1. The work(s) you will analyze. POOF 2. Your line of analysis. What will you argue? Analyze Loureen's psychological response and how her response evolves from the time her husband goes poof until she eats dinner. 3. You’re working thesis. 4. Your working topic sentences. How will you make a case for your thesis? 5. Your tentative support. 6. Post a list of your sources. You need 3-5 for this paper. B. Sources (You need 3 minimum outside sources and 2 primary) C. Outline (Follow the outline on page below) D. Rough Draft Outline I. Introduction (actually type “Introduction”) A. Thesis Statement: Insert complete thesis statement here. 1. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point. b. Quote that supports the point. II. Body (actually type “Body”) A. Topic Sentence: Insert topic sentence for first body paragraph. 1.Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. 2. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. B. Topic Sentence: Insert topic sentence for second body paragraph. 1. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. 2. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. C. Topic Sentence: Insert topic sentence for second body paragraph. 1. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. 2. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. D. Topic Sentence: Insert topic sentence for second body paragraph. 1. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. 2. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. E. Topic Sentence: Insert topic sentence for second body paragraph. 1. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. 2. Supporting point a. Fact from the text that supports the point or a quote. b. Another fact that supports the point. III. Conclusion (actually type “Conclusion”) *There doesn’t have to be 5 topic sentences, just however many is needed. Preferably 3. Each is a new paragraph. POOF! Lynn Nottage (b. 1964) is an American playwright and an activist focused on preventing violence against women. She grew up in New York City and attended Brown University and the Yale School of Drama. She then worked for four years at Amnesty International. Ruined, a play about Congolese women during civil war, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 2009. Nottage’s plays have been performed in dozens of theaters. She has received a Guggenheim Fellowship and a MacArthur Grant. Her latest play is By the Way, Meet Vera Stark (2011). CHARACTERS SAMUEL, Loureen’s husband LOUREEN, a demure housewife, early thirties FLORENCE, Loureen’s best friend, early thirties TIME: The present PLACE: Kitchen A NOTE: Nearly half the women on death row in the United States were convicted of killing abusive husbands. Spontaneous combustion is not recognized as a capital crime. Darkness. SAMUEL (In the darkness): WHEN I COUNT TO TEN I DON’ WANT TO SEE YA! I DON’ WANT TO HEAR YA! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR — LOUREEN (In the darkness): DAMN YOU TO HELL, SAMUEL! A bright flash. Lights rise. A huge pile of smoking ashes rests in the middle of the kitchen. Loureen, a demure housewife in her early thirties, stares down at the ashes incredulously. She bends and lifts a pair of spectacles from the remains. She ever so slowly backs away. Samuel? Uh! (Places the spectacles on the kitchen table) Uh! … Samuel? (Looks around) Don’t fool with me now. I’m not in the mood. (Whispers) Samuel? I didn’t mean it really. I’ll be good if you come back … Come on now, dinner’s waiting. (Chuckles, then stops abruptly) Now stop your foolishness … And let’s sit down. (Examines the spectacles) Uh! (Softly) Don’t be cross with me. Sure I forgot to pick up your shirt for tomorrow. I can wash another, I’ll do it right now. Right now! Sam? … (Cautiously) You hear me! (Awaits a response) Maybe I didn’t ever intend to wash your shirt. (Pulls back as though about to receive a blow; a moment) Uh! (Sits down and dials the telephone) Florence, honey, could you come on down for a moment. There’s been a … little … accident … Quickly please. Uh! Loureen hangs up the phone. She gets a broom and a dust pan. She hesitantly approaches the pile of ashes. She gets down on her hands and knees and takes a closer look. A fatuous grin spreads across her face. She is startled by a sudden knock on the door. She slowly walks across the room like a possessed child. Loureen lets in Florence, her best friend and upstairs neighbor. Florence, also a housewife in her early thirties, wears a floral housecoat and a pair of oversized slippers. Without acknowledgment Loureen proceeds to saunter back across the room. FLORENCE: HEY! LOUREEN (Pointing at the ashes): Uh! … (She struggles to formulate words, which press at the inside of her mouth, not quite realized) Uh!… FLORENCE: You all right? What happened? (Sniffs the air) Smells like you burned something? (Stares at the huge pile of ashes) What the devil is that? LOUREEN (Hushed): Samuel … It’s Samuel, I think. FLORENCE: What’s he done now? LOUREEN: It’s him. It’s him. (Nods her head repeatedly) FLORENCE: Chile, what’s wrong with you? Did he finally drive you out your mind? I knew something was going to happen sooner or later. LOUREEN: Dial 911, Florence! FLORENCE: Why? You’re scaring me! LOUREEN: Dial 911! Florence picks up the telephone and quickly dials. I think I killed him. Florence hangs up the telephone. FLORENCE: What? LOUREEN (Whimpers): I killed him! I killed Samuel! FLORENCE: Come again? … He’s dead dead? Loureen wrings her hands and nods her head twice, mouthing “dead dead.” Florence backs away. No, stop it, I don’t have time for this. I’m going back upstairs. You know how Samuel hates to find me here when he gets home. You’re not going to get me this time. (Louder) Y’all can have your little joke, I’m not part of it! (A moment. She takes a hard look into Loureen’s eyes; she squints) Did you really do it this time? LOUREEN (Hushed): I don’t know how or why it happened, it just did. FLORENCE: Why are you whispering? LOUREEN: I don’t want to talk too loud — something else is liable to disappear. FLORENCE: Where’s his body? LOUREEN (Points to the pile of ashes): There!… FLORENCE: You burned him? LOUREEN: I DON’T KNOW! (Covers her mouth as if to muffle her words; hushed) I think so. FLORENCE: Either you did or you didn’t, what you mean you don’t know? We’re talking murder, Loureen, not oven settings. LOUREEN: You think I’m playing? FLORENCE: How many times have I heard you talk about being rid of him. How many times have we sat at this very table and laughed about the many ways we could do it and how many times have you done it? None. LOUREEN (Lifting the spectacles): A pair of cheap spectacles, that’s all that’s left. And you know how much I hate these. You ever seen him without them, no! … He counted to four and disappeared. I swear to God! FLORENCE: Don’t bring the Lord into this just yet! Sit down now … What you got to sip on? LOUREEN: I don’t know whether to have a stiff shot of scotch or a glass of champagne. Florence takes a bottle of sherry out of the cupboard and pours them each a glass. Loureen downs hers, then holds out her glass for more. He was… FLORENCE: Take your time. LOUREEN: Standing there. FLORENCE: And? LOUREEN: He exploded. FLORENCE: Did that muthafucka hit you again? LOUREEN: No … he exploded. Boom! Right in front of me. He was shouting like he does, being all colored, then he raised up that big crusty hand to hit me, and poof, he was gone … I barely got words out and I’m looking down at a pile of ash. Florence belts back her sherry. She wipes her forehead and pours them both another. FLORENCE: Chile, I’ll give you this, in terms of color you’ve matched my husband Edgar, the story king. He came in at six Sunday morning, talking about he’d hit someone with his car, and had spent all night trying to outrun the police. I felt sorry for him. It turns out he was playing poker with his paycheck no less. You don’t want to know how I found out … But I did. LOUREEN: You think I’m lying? FLORENCE: I certainly hope so, Loureen. For your sake and my heart’s. LOUREEN: Samuel always said if I raised my voice something horrible would happen. And it did. I’m a witch … the devil spawn! FLORENCE: You’ve been watching too much television. LOUREEN: Never seen anything like this on television. Wish I had, then I’d know what to do … There’s no question, I’m a witch. (Looks at her hands with disgust) FLORENCE: Chile, don’t tell me you’ve been messing with them mojo women again? What did I tell ya. Loureen, agitated, stands and sits back down. LOUREEN: He’s not coming back. Oh no, how could he? It would be a miracle! Two in one day … I could be canonized. Worse yet, he could be … All that needs to happen now is for my palms to bleed and I’ll be eternally remembered as Saint Loureen, the patron of battered wives. Women from across the country will make pilgrimages to me, laying pies and pot roast at my feet and asking the good saint to make their husbands turn to dust. How often does a man like Samuel get damned to hell, and go? She breaks down. Florence moves to console her friend, then realizes that Loureen is actually laughing hysterically. FLORENCE: You smoking crack? LOUREEN: Do I look like I am? FLORENCE: Hell, I’ve seen old biddies creeping out of crack houses, talking about they were doing church work. LOUREEN: Florence, please be helpful, I’m very close to the edge! … I don’t know what to do next! Do I sweep him up? Do I call the police? Do I… The phone rings. Oh God. FLORENCE: You gonna let it ring? Loureen reaches for the telephone slowly. LOUREEN: NO! (Holds the receiver without picking it up, paralyzed) What if it’s his mother? … She knows! The phone continues to ring. They sit until it stops. They both breathe a sigh of relief. I should be mourning, I should be praying, I should be thinking of the burial, but all that keeps popping into my mind is what will I wear on television when I share my horrible and wonderful story with a studio audience … (Whimpers) He’s made me a killer, Florence, and you remember what a gentle child I was. (Whispers) I’m a killer, I’m a killer, I’m a killer. FLORENCE: I wouldn’t throw that word about too lightly even in jest. Talk like that gets around. LOUREEN: You think they’ll lock me up? A few misplaced words and I’ll probably get the death penalty, isn’t that what they do with women like me, murderesses? FLORENCE: Folks have done time for less. LOUREEN: Thank you, just what I needed to hear! FLORENCE: What did you expect, that I was going to throw up my arms and congratulate you? Why’d you have to go and lose your mind at this time of day, while I got a pot of rice on the stove and Edgar’s about to walk in the door and wonder where his goddamn food is. (Losing her cool) And he’s going to start in on me about all the nothing I’ve been doing during the day and why I can’t work and then he’ll mention how clean you keep your home. And I don’t know how I’m going to look him in the eye without… LOUREEN: I’m sorry, Florence. Really. It’s out of my hands now. She takes Florence’s hand and squeezes it. FLORENCE (Regaining her composure): You swear on your right tit? LOUREEN (Clutching both breasts): I swear on both of them! FLORENCE: Both your breasts, Loureen! You know what will happen if you’re lying. (Loureen nods; hushed) Both your breasts Loureen? LOUREEN: Yeah! FLORENCE (Examines the pile of ashes, then shakes her head): Oh sweet, sweet Jesus. He must have done something truly terrible. LOUREEN: No more than usual. I just couldn’t take being hit one more time. FLORENCE: You’ve taken a thousand blows from that man, couldn’t you’ve turned the cheek and waited? I’d have helped you pack. Like we talked about. A moment. LOUREEN: Uh! … I could blow on him and he’d disappear across the linoleum. (Snaps her fingers) Just like that. Should I be feeling remorse or regret or some other “R” word? I’m strangely jubilant, like on prom night when Samuel and I first made love. That’s the feeling! (The women lock eyes) Uh! FLORENCE: Is it… LOUREEN: Like a ton of bricks been lifted from my shoulders, yeah. FLORENCE: Really? LOUREEN: Yeah! Florence walks to the other side of the room. FLORENCE: You bitch! LOUREEN: What? FLORENCE: We made a pact. LOUREEN: I know. FLORENCE: You’ve broken it … We agreed that when things got real bad for both of us we’d … you know … together … Do I have to go back upstairs to that? … What next? LOUREEN: I thought you’d tell me! … I don’t know! FLORENCE: I don’t know! LOUREEN: I don’t know! Florence begins to walk around the room, nervously touching objects. Loureen sits, wringing her hands and mumbling softly to herself. FLORENCE: Now you got me, Loureen, I’m truly at a loss for words. LOUREEN: Everybody always told me, “Keep your place, Loureen.” My place, the silent spot on the couch with a wine cooler in my hand and a pleasant smile that warmed the heart. All this time I didn’t know why he was so afraid for me to say anything, to speak up. Poof! … I’ve never been by myself, except for them two weeks when he won the office pool and went to Reno with his cousin Mitchell. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going until I got that postcard with the cowboy smoking a hundred cigarettes … Didn’t Sonny Larkin look good last week at Caroline’s? He looked good, didn’t he… Florence nods. She nervously picks up Samuel’s jacket, which is hanging on the back of the chair. She clutches it unconsciously. NO! No! Don’t wrinkle that, that’s his favorite jacket. He’ll kill me. Put it back! Florence returns the jacket to its perch. Loureen begins to quiver. I’m sorry. (She grabs the jacket and wrinkles it up) There! (She then digs into the coat pockets and pulls out his wallet and a movie stub) Look at that, he said he didn’t go to the movies last night. Working late. (Frantically thumbs through his wallet) Picture of his motorcycle, Social Security card, driver’s license, and look at that from our wedding. (Smiling) I looked good, didn’t I? (She puts the pictures back in the wallet and holds the jacket up to her face) There were some good things. (She then sweeps her hand over the jacket to remove the wrinkles, and folds it ever so carefully, and finally throws it in the garbage) And out of my mouth those words made him disappear. All these years and just words, Florence. That’s all they were. FLORENCE: I’m afraid I won’t ever get those words out. I’ll start resenting you, honey. I’m afraid won’t anything change for me. LOUREEN: I been to that place. FLORENCE: Yeah? But now I wish I could relax these old lines (Touches her forehead) for a minute maybe. Edgar has never done me the way Samuel did you, but he sure did take the better part of my life. LOUREEN: Not yet, Florence. FLORENCE (Nods): I have the children to think of … right? LOUREEN: You can think up a hundred things before… FLORENCE: Then come upstairs with me … we’ll wait together for Edgar and then you can spit out your words and… LOUREEN: I can’t do that. FLORENCE: Yes you can. Come on now. Loureen shakes her head no. Well, I guess my mornings are not going to be any different. LOUREEN: If you can say for certain, then I guess they won’t be. I couldn’t say that. FLORENCE: But you got a broom and a dust pan, you don’t need anything more than that … He was a bastard and nobody will care that he’s gone. LOUREEN: Phone’s gonna start ringing soon, people are gonna start asking soon, and they’ll care. FLORENCE: What’s your crime? Speaking your mind? LOUREEN: Maybe I should mail him to his mother. I owe her that. I feel bad for her, she didn’t understand how it was. I can’t just throw him away and pretend like it didn’t happen. Can I? FLORENCE: I didn’t see anything but a pile of ash. As far as I know you got a little careless and burned a chicken. LOUREEN: He was always threatening not to come back. FLORENCE: I heard him. LOUREEN: It would’ve been me eventually. FLORENCE: Yes. LOUREEN: I should call the police, or someone. FLORENCE: Why? What are you gonna tell them? About all those times they refused to help, about all those nights you slept in my bed ’cause you were afraid to stay down here? About the time he nearly took out your eye ’cause you flipped the television channel? LOUREEN: No. FLORENCE: You’ve got it, girl! LOUREEN: Good-bye to the fatty meats and the salty food. Good-bye to the bourbon and the bologna sandwiches. Good-bye to the smell of his feet, his breath and his bowel movements … (A moment. She closes her eyes and, reliving a horrible memory, she shudders) Good-bye. (Walks over to the pile of ashes) Samuel? … Just checking. FLORENCE: Good-bye Samuel. They both smile. LOUREEN: I’ll let the police know that he’s missing tomorrow… FLORENCE: Why not the next day? LOUREEN: Chicken’s warming in the oven, you’re welcome to stay. FLORENCE: Chile, I got a pot of rice on the stove, kids are probably acting out … and Edgar, well … Listen, I’ll stop in tomorrow. LOUREEN: For dinner? FLORENCE: Edgar wouldn’t stand for that. Cards maybe. LOUREEN: Cards. The women hug for a long moment. Florence exits. Loureen stands over the ashes for a few moments contemplating what to do. She finally decides to sweep them under the carpet, and then proceeds to set the table and sit down to eat her dinner. END OF PLAY [1993]