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Old 08/21/2005, 5:45 AM
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Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: Rensselaer, NY
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Default The Octoroon (#108)

Blair- Bryan Callen
Cynthia- Nicole Sullivan
Busboy- Orlando Jones
Waiter- David Herman

(Setting: In a restaurant. Blair and Cynthia are sitting together)

Blair: Jan's told me a lot about you.

Cynthia: All good I hope. Well, gosh, this place looks great.

Blair: Yeah, except for where they seated us.

Cynthia: Oh, no, this is gonna be fine.

Blair: You know why they sat us by the waiter's station, don't you?

Cynthia: Oh, I just think they're real busy.

Blair: It's because of me.

Cynthia: Come again?

Blair: Please, Cynthia, you're not that naive. Look at me. Isn't it obvious? I'm an octoroon.

Cynthia: A what?

Blair: I'm an octoroon. I'm 1/8 African-American. My great-Grandfather was black.

Cynthia: Oh... Really.

Blair: Yeah. "Oh, really." I thought you might react this way.

Cynthia: What? React like what? I-- It doesn't matter to me at all what you are.

Blair: I'm sorry. I just get a little touchy about it sometimes. That's all.

Cynthia: That's ok. It's all right.

(Waiter approaches table)

Waiter: Good evening.

Cynthia: Hi.

Waiter: Our specials tonight include a broiled swordfish in a Mandalaise sauce. That's a light cream and dill dressing--

Blair: Don't you think I know what a Mandalaise sauce is? You just assume from my appearance things have to be boiled down to simplest terms, don't you? I bet you don't do that for all your white customers.

Cynthia: Blair, please.

Waiter: No, sir, actually, I do it for all the customers.

Blair: We'll have the swordfish Mandalaise for two. Do us a favor and don't spit in it, please.

Waiter: Very good, sir. I'll tell the chef. "No spit." (walks away)

Cynthia: Blair, that was incredibly rude.

Blair: Rude? Rude? To be bought and sold like an animal, that's rude.

Cynthia: Yeah.

Blair: To be chained up and dragged away from your village and forced to pick cotton. Don't talk to me about rude.

Cynthia: I don't know. I think you're just being a little bit ridiculous.

Blair: I'm sorry. Look, you're right. I want this to be a nice evening. It's just I’ve had such a bad day. Yet another job interview gone sour.

Cynthia: Oh, really? What happened?

Blair: What happened? What always happens to the partially black man. They turned me down. Said it was because of my attitude, and I didn't have the “degree” for biomedical research. Everybody knows that's just code for "Octoroon on the premises. Run for your lives."

(Busboy arrives at the table and fills a glass)

Blair: Ah, yes. You know how it is, my African brother. Fight the power. Million man march. (puts up fist)

Busboy: I beg your pardon?

Blair: I bet they've kept you here for years in this menial position, supporting a family of eight as a busboy.

Busboy: No, they haven't. I'm putting myself through law school.

Blair: Oh, really? Where, at Oreo university so you can become another tool for the white man's injustice system?

Busboy: Whatever. (walks away)

Blair: Sellout!

Cynthia: I think you're taking this octoroon thing a little bit too far. I don't think anyone would ever suspect that you're any part black.

Blair: (shouts) I am fiercely proud of my African-American heritage!

(People in the restaurant turn and look at Blair)

Cynthia: People are staring at us.

Blair: Oh, let them stare. Come on, gawk at the eighth-Breed. That's right. Want to rub my nappy head for luck? Better rub it eight times so you get the same amount of luck you get from a normal black man. Oh, sure, there's a song for half-Breeds but not for us octoroons. (sings) “Octorooon naaaaation Octorooon Priiiide”

Cynthia: Ok, ok. You know, Blair, you're crazy. Please do not call me.

Blair: Well, just as I expected. My mother always told me, "Stay within your own kind-- Quadroons or mulattos only." That's all right, because you'll be coming back, baby. You know what they say, "Once you've had octoroon, you'll be wantin' more soon."

Waiter: (walks up to table) Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.

Blair: Of course. Someone speaks the truth, and it's, "Bug off, Buckwheat." Well, that's fine. I'm going. But I’m reporting you to the Anti-Octoroon defamation league. They'll sue you for 1/8 of everything you've got. Furthermore, I’m gonna find all the other octoroons in this city, and they'll boycott this racist establishment. It may take me decades, but I’ll find them. Good-Bye! (leaves restaurant)


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