EMMA
: There’s just a few of us left.
WELCH
: Who?
EMMA
: Dairy—dairy people.
WELCH
: Well, where’d they go? Where’d they move away to?
EMMA
: Out west. Agribusiness. Big corporations.
WELCH
: Fascinating.
EMMA
: Look, if you’d like me to call my husband, I can just ring the bell and he’ll come up.
(She moves toward door.)
WELCH
: No! No need for that. I wouldn’t want to take him away from his chores. Good to see a man carrying out simple, traditional farm chores these days, without complaint. Almost as a sense of duty. It would certainly cut down on our dependency for foreigners, wouldn’t it?
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: More men like your husband. Willing and able.
EMMA
: What exactly do you want? What are you doing here?
WELCH
: We’re on a kind of a survey of sorts.
EMMA
: We?
WELCH
: Yes—a survey and a—search, let’s say.
EMMA
: Who’s “we”?
WELCH
: Well, I’m not really allowed to reveal my affiliations exactly. Let’s just say we’re on a kind of a talent search for solid citizens who own their own land outright. Are you sure you’re not interested in a cookie?
EMMA
: I’m positive.
WELCH
: Plenty more in my attaché case.
EMMA
: No.
WELCH
: Suit yourself. We’ve targeted certain outlying areas we feel might have potential—
EMMA
: Targeted?
WELCH
: Yes, that’s right. This house, for instance—
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: Your house—the farm—
EMMA
: It’s not mine alone. It belongs to me and my husband. We’re partners.
WELCH
: Of course you are. That’s well understood. How many rooms?
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: In the house.
EMMA
: Oh—five—with the den. I think.
WELCH
: Five?
EMMA
: Yes. Why?
WELCH
: No basement?
EMMA
: Well—yes.
WELCH
: Then six. With the basement.
EMMA
: Well, if you want to call the basement a room.
WELCH
: What else would you call it?
EMMA
: A basement.
WELCH
: Yes. Well, let’s just say six then.
EMMA
: With the basement?
WELCH
: That’s right. Anyone down there?
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: In the basement. Anyone down there now in the basement?
EMMA
: No—why would there be?
WELCH
: Well, it’s not my house, Emma. How am I supposed to know who’s down there in your basement or why they would be?
EMMA
: There’s nobody down in my basement and how do you know my name?
(WELCH moves toward basement stairs.)
WELCH
: You’re sure there’s no one down there? Right now, as we speak?
EMMA
: I would like you to leave, please! I would like you to get the heck out of my house! You’re making me very nervous.
(WELCH stops abruptly, turns to her, and smiles.)
WELCH
: Of course.
EMMA
: Now!
(WELCH goes quickly to counter, grabs his case, and heads for door. EMMA stops him.)
Wait a second. Do you have a card or something? Some kind of identification? A name?
(WELCH stops with his back to her.)
WELCH
: I couldn’t help noticing your flagpole out front.
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: Your flagpole.
EMMA
: What about it?
WELCH
: (
turning to her with a smile
) It’s empty. Barren. Just the raw wind slapping the naked ropes around. Sickening sound.
EMMA
: So what?
WELCH
: Well, Emma, this is Wisconsin, isn’t it? I’m not in Bulgaria or Turkistan or somewhere lost in the Balkans. I’m in Wisconsin. Taxidermy and cheese! Part of the U.S. of A. You told me that yourself.
EMMA
: What are you driving at?
WELCH
: You’d think there would be a flag up or something to that effect. Some sign. Some indication of loyalty and pride.
EMMA
: Loyalty? To Wisconsin?
WELCH
: (
pacing through room
) Nothing in here either. Not even one small token in the home. No miniature Mount Rushmore, Statue of Liberty, no weeping bald eagles clutching arrows. Nothing like that. We could be anywhere.
EMMA
: We’re not anywhere.
WELCH
: Well, you and I know that, Emma, but what about the rest of the world? What about the people driving by—the Everyday Joes? Wouldn’t they like to look up here and be reminded of their proud heritage?
EMMA
: I don’t know about the rest of the world.
WELCH
: What’s that dripping sound?
EMMA
: What?
WELCH
: That dripping.
EMMA
: Oh, I just watered the plants. They’re dripping.
WELCH
: I see. You have some sort of empathy with plants, I suppose?
EMMA
: I like them, yes. Especially through the winter.
WELCH
: I imagine it can get pretty grim out here in January.
EMMA
: You have no idea.
(WELCH goes to couch, sets his case down on it, and pops it open.)
WELCH
: Well, there are many ways to brighten a place up, Emma—we have a wide variety of patriotic paraphernalia available.
EMMA
: I wish you wouldn’t call me by my name. It’s very confusing.
WELCH
: Why is that?
EMMA
: Well, it feels as though I should know you, but I don’t know you.
WELCH
: You could know me.
EMMA
: I don’t.
WELCH
: You could get to know me.
EMMA
: I don’t want to get to know you!
WELCH
: Just take a look at what we have here, Emma.
(He pulls out an accordion string of small American flags from his case and holds it up for EMMA.)
A starter kit of your basic grassroots flag and decal ensemble. Five ninety-five for the full set of six. Then, from there, you can move right on up to the Proud Patriot package for twelve fifty, which includes banners, whistles, parade equipment, fireworks—complete with a brand-new remixed CD of Pat Boone singing the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
EMMA
: No! No, thank you!
WELCH
: This also qualifies you for a forty percent discount on a brand-new red, white, and blue bullhorn in three unique sizes.
EMMA
: No!! I am not in the market!
(Pause. WELCH folds up the string of flags and puts it back in case.)
WELCH
: Not in the market. Not in the market. Well—you don’t know how disappointed certain influential parties are going to be about this, Emma. You have no idea.
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