GOODBYE AND GOOD LUCK

CHARACTERS:

REBECCA ZARK . . .age 50, Ukrainian-Jewish immigrant.

MORRIS ZARK . . .age 55, her husband; American Jew.

LAURI LAKES . . . . .age 20, upstate New Yorker.

WALTER JAKE . . . age 40, Afro-American.

NOAH ZARK . . . . . . age 27, Morris's American-born son.

MORTON "KNISHY" SLIMMERWITZ . . . .age 27, Manhattanite.

NICHOLAS NICHOLAS . . . .age mid-60s, white American.

MATTEO "MATTY ENGLISH" INGLESE . . age late-60s, New Yorker.

BENITO "BENNY GUNS" SANTACROCE . . .age early-20s, his nephew.

ERNST SEIBENBÖG . . .age mid-70s, Alsatian- German.

TIME:The present; a Monday in late-September.

SCENE:The modular, front portion of a neo-modern beauty salon, specifically its

reception desk, client waiting area and two or three mirrored work stations, situated

in an indoor mall at a Catscan Mountains vacation resort.

Right, entrance from landscaped walkway; beyond, glimpse of boutiques,

swimming pool, etc.

Center, alcove to rest rooms.

Left, passageway to inner module.

ACT ONE

At Rise: 12:30 P.M

REBECCA ZARK sits glumly behind reception desk, wears slacks, open-neck

blouse, gazes far off into space.

After a moment:

MORRIS ZARK

(Enters Right, wears dress shirt, flashy tie,

blazer jacket, leafs through appointments book

situated atop reception desk)

What's cooking, toots?

REBECCA ZARK

The appointments book is all empty spaces, not clients' names. We should have stayed closed for Labor Day like I wanted.

MORRIS

I told you, the phone might ring for an appointment; we might get walk-ins for cash to pocket off the books.

REBECCA

Your willingness to cheat scares me.

MORRIS

Stop looking gloomy. Be my attractive receptionist.

REBECCA

An earthquake would make me smile. You don’t even remember today is. an anniversary of our son's death.

MORRIS

I'll light a candle and say Kaddish tonight. My dear wife for life, I extend to you loving salutations and best wishes on your fiftieth birthday.

REBECCA

That, you remembered!

MORRIS

A sawbuck is all I can afford for a present this time.

(Removes "Jewish bankroll" from pants

pocket, hands her five-dollar bill)

REBECCA

(Takes, inserts bill in her bra)

My life is worth twelve dollars and fifty cents—a quarter a year.

MORRIS

I love you to bits. Which nationality take-out food would you like for a dinner celebration?

REBECCA

I’d rather stuff myself with peanut butter and Ritz crackers. You ate lunch?

MORRIS

I stopped at the roadside stand and ate a corn on the cob.

REBECCA

With how much excess butter and salt?

MORRIS

I drank a can of club soda to aid my digestion.

REBECCA

You’ll suffer hyper-gas in the middle of the night.

MORRIS

Lot in the bible, sprinkled his wife on everything he ate.

(Steps away from reception desk)

REBECCA

Meanwhile, your surviving bastard son telephoned you collect. I refused to accept the call.

MORRIS

I had an uncomfortable hunch that Noah would make one of his sudden appearances. Becky, I feel miserable enough. I heard a business analyst over my car radio: we could be looking at a triple-dip recession. Meanwhile, I stopped by the lobby office: last-week's guest-credit vouchers came to a measly hundred and seventy dollars.

REBECCA

We kill ourselves here for nothing--for three years, since Noah connived us into taking this losing proposition concession. Mo, let's go away for a month or two. Take me--finally in life--to see, and touch, and hear, and smell, and taste the Pacific Ocean.

MORRIS

Becky, we're in hock to our ears, paying high interest to finance this misadventure. Soon, I'll be drawing on our principal.

REBECCA

Since when do you have principles?

MORRIS

What do you want from me?

REBECCA

It’s a question of moral values.

MORRIS

Go shop for a husband with virtue.

REBECCA

We should never have moved from the Bronx.

MORRIS

Why did your parents migrate from Russia?

REBECCA

From Ukrainia! My mother and father--they should rest in

peace-- fled Stalin's pogroms.

MORRIS

Your pogrom nightmares, are why I migrated us from the Bronx.

REBECCA

I thought we moved to the Catskills for a high-tech business venture.

MORRIS

Noah guaranteed me: casino gambling would become legalized any day.

REBECCA

They cater here to Gin Rummy and Pinochle players, private bets on the golf course The big spenders don't patronize this hair styling salon. They wear smart haircuts and use a free blow-drier in each room.

MORRIS

In the meantim, where is my dependable twelve-thirty appointment?

REBECCA

The hotel masseur phoned: he's running late with Ms, Lakes's ice cube massage.

MORRIS

Would I like to watch that mad Russian do his stuff on Lauri Lakes!

REBECCA

I won't dignify your wishful-thinking.

MORRIS

I'm only joking!

REBECCA

Lauri Lakes has some nerve, telephoning you at half past eleven o'clock last night.

MORRIS

She'd just got back from Miami. The spoiled princess whined: "Maurice, you absolutely must do something for my damaged head tomorrow, or I’ll simply die."

REBECCA

You could have white-lied and told her, you simply must enjoy Labor Day alone with your wife.

MORRIS

I figured, while I have her in the intimacy of my private booth, I'd ask her politely to lobby her father, to renegotiate our loan and ease our payments structure.

REBECCA

You can politely file for Chapter Eleven bankruptcy.

MORRIS

(Sees Off Right)

Quiet! Here she comes. Stall her, while I put on my work jacket.

(Exits Left)

LAURI LAKES

(Enters Right, thoroughly suntanned,

wears bikini bathing suit under

short-length terricloth jacket,

high-heeled wooden shoes, hyper-

damaged, aluminum-toned hair appears

broken off in short layers, over-

bleached ultra-light; stretches and

breaks-off individual hairs)

I love me, I love me not, I love me, I love me not.

REBECCA

Lauri! Stop murdering your hair.

LAURI

(During following, examines her

image in several mirrors)

I'm a disaster area!

REBECCA

I see hope.

LAURI

The truth is gross!

REBECCA

They say pain hurts for the better.

LAURI

This wreckage has no positive side. Is his nibs available?

REBECCA

Mister Maurice will be with you in a moment, honey. Have a seat.

LAURI

If looks could kill, I'm dead! My father insists I sit ringside with him for the midnight show in If I were self-righteous and dogmatic, I'd browbeat you for entertaining arson fraud. the Euphoria Room.

REBECCA

It sounds exciting.

LAURI

(Sits in waiting area, sighs)

Ho-hum!

WALTER JAKE

(Enters Right; to REBECCA)

Excuse me, Ma'am, I’m aTriple Lakes Country Club kitchen helper. The chief of security, Mister Nicholas, wants to try me out as a grounds security patrolman. He says I need to shrink my Afro, and recommended Mister Maurice for a razor cut.

REBECCA

(Acknowledges WALTER)

Mister Maurice works by appointment. I can squeeze-you-in later today.

WALTER

Okay. Otherwise, I'd need to hitchhike into South Fallsburg, and risk my head getting butchered.

REBECCA

I’ll talk to my husband—Mister Maurice. Sit a minute in the waiting area.

WALTER

Thanks kindly, Ma'am.

(Sits in waiting area)

LAURI

Rebecca, I'm short on time.

REBECCA

(Presses intercom button)

Mister Maurice to the desk please.

(Releases button)

Lauri,honey, relax and enjoy yourself. You'll apply exotic makeup, slip into an elegant evening dress with exquisite jewelry--you'll look positively lovely.

LAURI

I'm hopelessly ugly!

WALTER

(Smiles; to LAURI)

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

LAURI

(Eyes WALTER; crossly)

You have zilch to say about it, Buster!

WALTER

I beg the young lady's pardon!

LAURI

My father owns this resort. Bug off, or I’ll have you fired.

WALTER

(Rises, crosses to REBECCA)

Ma'am, may I please use your rest room?

REBECCA

(Indicates alcove Center)

Certainly, be my guest.

WALTER

Thanks kindly.

(Exits Center)

MORRIS

(Enters Left, wears maroon hair stylist's jacket

in place of blazer; sees WALTER departing)

Lauri, you look senstational!

LAURI

(Rises

Don’t lie to me, Maurice!

MORRIS

(Carefully examines LAURI's hair and scalp)

Your scalp looks on fire! We can't abuse it with peroxide. My advice is to let me vegetable rinse your hair as close as possible to your natural color. What’s your natural color?

LAURI

Mousy blonde!

MORRIS

I’ll analyze you aux naturelle.

REBECCA

Mister Maurice, would you rather be alone in the salon?

MORRIS

Lauri, excuse me a second. Step into my parlor—my styling booth.

LAURI

Dirty old man.

(Exits Left)

MORRIS

(Crosses closeer to desk; whispers)

Becky, don’t cramp my style. What does the colored guy want?

REBECCA

Nicholas Nicholas recommended you for a razor rcut.

MORRIS

Say, I don’t know how to handle his type of hair.

REBECCA

I’ll be honest, and tell him you’re a racist.

MORRIS

(Hisses)

Shhh!

REBECCA

(Irked)

Don't hiss at me, you would-be snake!

MORRIS

(Bemused)

Say I’ll be with him as soon as I can.

Exits Left)

WALTER

(Enters Center)

Ma'am, I’m sorry if I upset your customer.

REBECCA

Not to worry My husband will be happy to help you as soon as he’s available.

WALTER

Ma'am, how much is a razor cut?

REBECCA

Thirty-nineteen dollars includes a shampoo and conditioner.

WALTER

Whew! The high cost of civilian life hurts.

REBECCA

You were in the army?

WALTER

U.S. Marines, Ma'am.

REBECCA

(Struggles)

My eighteen-year-old son enlisted in the army. He was killed in Iraq.

WALTER

(Sincerely)

I'm very sorry, ma’am.

REBECCA

It’s not your fault. But, thank you for your sympathy. I cry myself to sleep every night.

WALTER

I did a tour in Iraq.

REBECCA

You mother is alive?

WALTER

Yes, ma’am.

REBECCA

I'm happy for her sake: you survived

WALTER

Ma'am, my name is Walter Jake. I’ll phone for an appointment after payday.

REBECCA

Don’t be silly, your credit is good here.

WALTER

I appreciate your trust, ma’am. But, I have to hustle on back to the kitchen and moppity-mop, clean-up slop! Thanks one more once!

(Starts to Exit Right)

NOAH ZARK

            (Enters Right, struggles to carry heavy suitcase;
            wears three piece suit, button down collar shirt,
            thin necktie, unshined shoes; to WALTER, sarcastically)

Thanks for holding open the door for me, guy!

(Limps exaggerately to rests suitcase on floor
behind reception desk; to REBECCA)

Greetings stepmother! How’s by you?

REBECCA

(Not pleased to see him)

I'm not sick and dying! Does that bother you?

NOAH

(Facetiously)

I'm not enthralled to see you either.

MORRIS

(Enters Left, eyes NOAH with disapproval)

Becky, I saturated the client's hair and scalp with an olive oil and soy sauce conditioning treatment. She fell fast asleep from my touch!

NOAH

Bonjour, Papa.

MORRIS

Noey, what do you want from my life this time?

NOAH

The usual: love and affection.

REBECCA

Mo, I'm going for lunch in the snackbar.

MORRIS

Go with my blessings, darling.

REBECCA

Your surviving son the bastard can drop dead and rot in hell with your blessings.

(Collects her purse at reception desk; Exits Right)

MORRIS

(After a moment)

Your friend, Morty Slimmerwitz, bumped into me in the lobby awhile ago.

NOAH

(Feigns surprise)

Morton the Knish is here?

MORRIS

He approached me with a fire insurance and arson job proposition.

NOAH

I swear by all that's holy: I have nothing to do it!

MORRIS

I’m considering it.

NOAH

In that case, Pop, I inspired it for your sake.

MORRIS

The way you call me "Pop," feels like an injection needle in my ears.

NOAH

Pop, I drove a refrigerator truck full of pickled herring and smoked salmon-- lox to you-- all the way down from Nova Scotia, just to touch base with you.

MORRIS

Whose refrigerator truck did you steal?

NOAH

I't’s leased legitimately by my duly licensed, import-export company: Noah Zark Intergalactical, Limited.

MORRIS

What do you know about legitimate anything?

NOAH

I browse the internet, searching for interesting products on consignment. Orders I write, are paid for by the buyer with a guaranteed letter of credit, which converts to legal tender on delivery of whatever. I pay the producers and my net profit is the difference minus expenses.

MORRIS

(Skoffs)

Am I supposed to be impressed, because you’re in the appetizing business?

NOAH

I've seized an opportunity to broker two hundred and twenty tons of twenty-five-pound gold bullion bricks. Sixteen-ounces equals seven thousand grains; times twenty-five equals a hundred and seventy-five thousand grains per brick; divided by four hundred and eighty grains per Troy weight ounce, equals three hundred sixty-four point-five-eight Troy ounces. The market value depends on today's Comex gold closing price— ballpark is five or six hundred an o-z. I've successfully smuggled ten, twenty-five-pound gold bricks from Nova Scotia. My reward is, one sample brick on consignment; worth maybe a million dollars. Sanction your sole surviving son for forty-eight or less hours.

MORRIS

I ought to break every crooked bone in your body!

NOAH

If I were as self-righteous and dogmatic as you are, I'd browbeat you for entertaining arson fraud.

MORRIS

Your once-upon-a-time girlfriend is in my styling booth: the Jewish princess, who was only sixteen years old when you statutory-raped her.

NOAH

Lauri Lakes? Fantastic! Her current lover is "Benny Guns" Santocroce. His brother is the Euphoria Room bouncer, Tony Mechanic" Santocroce. Their uncle is “Matty English” Inglese. I have to influence Lori to promote a sit-down with them, for me to present my wholesale gold distributorship. I’m asking you to sanction me in the salon, so I can make an effective sales presentation to one person, one time.

MORRIS

(At reception desk, picks up telephone receiver,
presses “O” for Operator, waits a moment)

This is Maurice the hairstylist. Put me through to the hotel security chief. Thank you, Operator, I'll try again in a few minutes.

NOAH

Pop, what are you doing?

MORRIS

I won’t be a party to your contraband trafficking conspiracy.

B L A C K O U T

END ACT I

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