Scene Seven

A steady suspenseful drum beat fills the theater. A spotlight illuminates ISHMAEL seated downstage right at a tiny desk, writing.
ISHMAEL
Dear Presidente… (Second spotlight picks up ALEJANDRO at dining room table, writing.)
ALEJANDRO
Dear Presidente…

                                                                                 (Third spotlight picks up BLASINA doing the same.)

BLASINA

Dear Presidente’s Wife…

                                                                                  (Fourth spot on ROSA.)

ROSA

Dear Presidente’s Children…

                                                                                   (Fifth on INKEY)

INKEY

Dear Presidente’s Grandchildren…

ALL

There are Communists in Montillano,
And these Communists are all around;
They’re behind the bushes peeping
And at night when you are sleeping,
They go creeping, creeping, creeping
Through the ground.
They do no good work,
They lead to war;
They come through the woodwork
And sometimes the floor.
There are Communists in Montillano,
There are Communists from overseas;
They are rising, rising, rising,
They are also mobilizing
And we’ve started recognizing
Red Chinese!
Dear Presidente,
Please hear our cry:
Flora Ibañez
Loves Chou En-lai!
There are Communists in Montillano
And we will fight them till we die!

                                             (THEY ALL takes a second sheet and begin writing again.)

There are Communists in Montillano,
And these Communists are going forth;
It is really most appalling,
It is shocking, it is galling,
How they’re sprawling and they’re crawling
To the north!
They’re so pernicious
In every town,
They’re spawning like fishes
Both upstream and down!
There are Communists in Montillano,
There are Communists within our reach;
They are slippery and clammy,
And we tell you, Uncle Sammy,
They will soon be in Miami
And Palm Beach!
Dear Presidente,
It’s such a sin!
Jose Ibañez
Loves Ho Chi Minh!
There are Communists in Montillano
And they are here to do us in.
 

(The other spotlights go off, but Ishmael’s remains lit. HE is writing assiduously. ROSA approaches him with a newspaper in her hand.)
ROSA
Oh, Ishmael! You don’t have to write any more letters!

ISHMAEL

What happened?

ROSA

It worked! Our plan worked! They’re sending someone.

ISHMAEL

Who?

ROSA

The President’s own brother-in-law!

ISHMAEL

The President’s own brother-in-law?

ROSA

                                                                                 (spreading the newspaper before him)
Yes, and we didn’t even send him a letter.

ISHMAEL

                                                                                  (reading)
"To arrive on Good Will visit Saturday afternoon in Ciudad Ibañez." His brother-in-law. What’s the matter? Montillano is too unimportant for his brother?

ROSA

Beggars can’t be choosers.

ISHMAEL

Wait. There’s something we didn’t think of.

ROSA

What?

ISHMAEL

We’re only four Escabosas and one Baldomero.

ROSA

So?

ISHMAEL

That’s not much of a vegetabling.

ROSA

Oh, Ishmael, there’ll be loads of others!

ISHMAEL

From where?

ROSA

Why, silly! The University, of course!

                                                                           (The music of "Dear Presidente" builds joyously.)
 
 


BLACKOUT
 
 


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