Henry Louis Gates: Oh, my! What a terrific luncheon! You can’t beat a delicious asparagus frittata AND a spirited discussion of Joe Christmas’ potential biracial identity crisis in “Light in August” with fellow Harvard scholars of international repute! A simply splendid affair. Now, to retire home and compose my letters.
(tries door, is locked)
(looks under welcome mat, which is a brilliant weave of green, yellow, and red)
Oh, my goodness.
Oh, you can’t be serious. Gates, how could you be so absent-minded! I don’t believe it. Here I am, a distinguished Harvard scholar, and I’ve gone and locked myself out! Talk about irony! Hmm. I wonder if the Worthingtons are home. I remember giving Prissy a key not but a year ago.
(knocks on neighbor’s door)
Oh, dear. Hmm. Well, you know, I always keep that side window open. Perhaps if I were to simply open it up and try shimmying through it, I could manage to get in without causing myself much inconvenience. Okay, Skippy. Time to show the world you’ve got that baller’s mentality!
(opens window, slides through)
Ah. There. Home at last. Well, I can assure you, I’ll never leave home without my WEB DuBois bottle opener keychain again!
What is that noise?
(door flies open)
Tommy: THEY-AH HE IS, OFFISAHS! THAT’S THE DAHKIE I SAW!
Gates: Excuse me?
Tommy: Don’t play smaht with me, dahkie! You’ve been cawt ashy-handed! HOW DAY-UH YOU TRY TO BREAK INTO THE HOME OF SOMEONE IN THE LEGENDARY BOSAWX NATION?!!! You must fancy your-ahself quite the burglahhhh! NOW GO BACK TO RAWXBURY, YOU FACK!
Gates: This is MY home.
Tommy: Sure it is, dahkie! That’s what they-ah teach you in Africah! Just take anything you want! WELL THIS IS NAWT HOW IT WORKS IN FACKIN’ RED SAWX NATION! We WORK far ow-uh houses hee-ah! How day-uh you try and pull a stunt like this JUST AS THOSE NEW YARK FAGGOTS HAVE TAKEN FARST PLACE! HAVE YOU NO SENSE OF DECENCY, DAHKIE?! Now yar gawnna get a little taste of a PR-twenty-fahhhh!
Gates: This is all a terrible misunderstanding. Look! Look at all the pictures on the wall. There’s me with Dr. Cornel West.
Tommy: Oooh, a dahkie and a dahkie! COLAH ME IMPRESSED!
Gates: I have the deed to the house in my study. My name is Henry Louis Gates, and I am a professor at Harvard.
Tommy: Oooh! You hee-ah that, boys? THEY GAWT DAHKIES TEACHING AT HAHVAHHHHHD NOW! You teach the fackin’ bawx and one? Cause that’s what’s gonna happen to you! ONE DAHKIE IN THE BAWX! And what’s with the nice clothes? GAWT A CART DATE?!
Gates: I think I’ve had just about enough of this.
(door flies open)
Garrett: Mmm. Yes. Indeed. This is a house of fine pedigree. Pity that it would be sullied by such a fearsome mongrel.
Gates: Who are you?
Garrett: Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. Leave it to a child of Harvard to fail to recognize the aura of a Princeton degree. This is why we’ve beaten you in squash seven of the last eleven years, my ebony companion! Whenever someone from your little preparatory academy runs afoul of the law, rest assured there will always be a Princeton alum ready to pounce! And remind you of your natural inferiority with a touch of light-hearted mockery! Chuckle ho, crumb bum!
Tommy: HE SAID FACK AWFF, DAHKIE! This is clearly the home of a prawminent white citizen, and you ahhh dahhkin’ it up with your-ah dahk skin! THIS COULD EVEN BE PEDROIA’S HOUSE! PEDROIA!!!!!!!!
Garrett: Or it could be the home of a Harvard professor that has a chance of being taken seriously, such as Harvey Randlesnatch, Doctor of Phrenology!
Gates: Okay, I’m serious now. You people need to leave. I’m beginning to get very angry.
Tommy: Oh, that’s just what you wawnt, isn’t it, dahkie?! You’ve always wanted to have an excuse to rip awff yar suit and staht jumpin’ around like the dahkie you really ahhhh! Well, come awn, Hahhhvahhhd boy! Go full dahkie on me!
Gates: I have too much dignity for that. Let it be known that you all are making a terrible mistake.
Tommy: You the only mistake hee-ah is you tryin’ to break into Pedroia’s house during a pennant race! YANKEES SACK! YANKEES SACK!
Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. Jolly fun.
(door flies open)
Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman b sukkn dem titays dry wen he get da foncall sayn dere b a pizzay up n dis bitch. An Pacman say O SHIT B ON.
U gt da party, u gt da Pacman reddy ta gobbl. ABABABABABABA. Pacman say he gon shine. O HELLZ YEZ. He gon shine. He gon bust dat puzzy lik a fire hydran. He gon BITE DAT BITCH. Chew dat azz lik Bubbl Yum afta he get dem powr pellets. And Pacman gon drank. O HE GON DRANK. YOU THANK HE AIN’T GON DRANK? He gon drank Harvard style, all classy an shit. He gon bust out da Henn an fly. WE GON FUK O WAT?
Tommy: I knew it! HE HAS DAHKIE FRIENDS! Even if you see just one dahkie, they-ahs always more-ah layin’ around!
Gates: I hate this fucking town.