© Chris Port, 2004
- AND BECOMES THE CROW.
An’ that crow was me! I was fixin’ to steal some fish from the kitchen. I’m partial to herring if you wanna dish out rewards and the like. Think this stranger was your main man Kay?
It sounds like Kay. The cool arrogance. The cold intelligence. It must be Kay. Oh Mr Crow! I must find him. Even if he doesn’t love me any more, I must find him! Will you take me to the palace?
Easier said than done, girl. You a wingless wonder. And you ain’t got no herring. They ain’t gonna look once at a bony little fish-head like you.
GERDA BEGINS TO WEEP.
Hey. Don’ rain on my parade, honey. Ain’t my problem if you can’t keep your man.
GERDA WEEPS EVEN MORE.
RELUCTANTLY TAKING HER UNDER HIS WING.
Okay, honey. Okay. Us crows is bad but we ain’t that bad. Tell you what I do, sweetheart.
My lady crow so fine
she blow my mind,
know a stairway behind,
you can sneak in tonight.
HUGS CROW THEN LOOKS AROUND.
It is night.
Then what we waitin’ for, girl? There’s the palace. There’s the back door. Now, let’s go do that voodoo that I do so well.
GERDA CAUTIOUSLY OPENS THE BACK DOOR TO THE PALACE. IT IS DEAD OF NIGHT AND PITCH BLACK. SHE MIMES LIGHTING A CANDLE. SHE TIPTOES ALONG ECHOING PASSAGEWAYS. CROW TIPTOES BEHIND HER.
WHISPERING TO CROW BEHIND HER.
Oh, it’s so dark. I can hardly see my hand in front of my face. Why is there never a moon when you need one?
WHISPERING TO GERDA IN FRONT OF HIM BUT TRYING TO LOOK BEHIND HIM.
I doan’ need no moon. I got the eyes of a hawk.
GERDA STOPS SUDDENLY. CROW BUMPS INTO HER. SHE SCREAMS. CROW SCREAMS.
Doan’ go screaming like that, girl. You’ll turn my feathers white with fright.
I see shadows. Moving. Rushing by me. Horses with flying manes. Men and women on their backs.
They is jus’ dreams. The dreams of great people out huntin’ small furry animals and the like. Hey! I is a small furry animal!
Feathered. You’re a small feathered animal.
Without no word or shout of fear
This doubtful bird is outta here!
HE SLINKS OFF.