The Skin of Our Teeth

The Skin of Our Teeth by Thornton Wilder Page B

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Authors: Thornton Wilder
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right, George. I’m glad to know there are such superior girls in the Bingo Parlors.—Henry, what’s that?
    Pointing at the storm signal, which has one black disk.
    HENRY:
    What is it, Papa?
    ANTROBUS:
    What? Oh, that’s the storm signal. One of those black disks means bad weather; two means storm; three means hurricane; and four means the end of the world.
    As they watch it a second black disk rolls into place.
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Goodness! I’m going this very minute to buy you all some raincoats.
    GLADYS:
    Putting her cheek against her father’s shoulder.
    Mama, don’t go yet. I like sitting this way. And the ocean coming in and coming in. Papa, don’t you like it?
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Well, there’s only one thing I lack to make me a perfectly happy woman: I’d like to see a whale.
    HENRY:
    Mama, we saw two. Right out there. They’re delegates to the convention. I’ll find you one.
    GLADYS:
    Papa, ask me something. Ask me a question.
    ANTROBUS:
    Well . . . how big’s the ocean?
    GLADYS:
    Papa, you’re teasing me. It’s—three-hundred and sixty million square-miles—and—it—covers—three-fourths—of—the— earth’s—surface—and—its—deepest-place—is—five—and—a—half—miles—deep—and—its—average—depth—is—twelve—thousand—feet. No, Papa, ask me something hard, real hard.
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Rising.
    Now I’m going off to buy those raincoats. I think that bad weather’s going to get worse and worse. I hope it doesn’t come before your broadcast. I should think we have about an hour or so.
    HENRY:
    I hope it comes and zzzzzz everything before it. I hope it—
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Henry!—George, I think . . . maybe, it’s one of those storms that are just as bad on land as on the sea. When you’re just as safe and safer in a good stout boat.
    HENRY:
    There’s a boat out at the end of the pier.
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Well, keep your eye on it. George, you shut your eyes and get a good rest before the broadcast.
    ANTROBUS:
    Thundering Judas, do I have to be told when to open and shut my eyes? Go and buy your raincoats.
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Now, children, you have ten minutes to walk around. Ten minutes. And, Henry: control yourself. Gladys, stick by your brother and don’t get lost.
    They run off.
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Will you be all right, George?
    CONVEENERS suddenly stick their heads out of the Bingo Parlor and Salt Water Taffy store, and voices rise from the orchestra pit.
    CONVEENERS:
    George. Geo-r-r-rge! George! Leave the old hen-coop at home, George. Do-mes-ticated Georgie!
    MRS. ANTROBUS:
    Shaking her umbrella.
    Low common oafs! That’s what they are. Guess a man has a right to bring his wife to a convention, if he wants to.
    She starts off.
    What’s the matter with a family, I’d like to know. What else have they got to offer?
    Exit. ANTROBUS has closed his eyes. The FORTUNE TELLER comes out of her shop and goes over to the left proscenium. She leans against it watching SABINA quizzically.
    FORTUNE TELLER:
    Heh! Here she comes!
    SABINA:
    Loud whisper.
    What’s he doing?
    FORTUNE TELLER:
    Oh, he’s ready for you. Bite your lips, dear, take a long breath and come on up.
    SABINA:
    I’m nervous. My whole future depends on this. I’m nervous.
    FORTUNE TELLER:
    Don’t be a fool. What more could you want? He’s forty-five. His head’s a little dizzy. He’s just been elected president. He’s never known any other woman than his wife. Whenever he looks at her he realizes that she knows every foolish thing he’s ever done.
    SABINA:
    Still whispering.
    I don’t know why it is, but every time I start one of these I’m nervous.
    The FORTUNE TELLER stands in the center of the stage watching the following:
    FORTUNE TELLER:
    You make me tired.
    SABINA:
    First tell me my fortune.
    The

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