Pause while they all look at BRO asleep.

GRANDMA: Redding!

MARCY: At the Fantasia Fair. It cost all my money, but it was sure worth it.

Pause.

GRANDMA: How did you find this place?

MARCY: Robert knew where it was. I showed him my notepad. (Opening the drawstring purse:) It’s got the address and phone number of every person I’ve ever met. If they would like to give it to me. Not everybody likes to give you their address and their phone number. (Hands the notebook to GRANDMA.)

GRANDMA: What on earth do you mean for me to do with this? I don’t need to call anybody.

MARCY: Would you like to give me yours? Your address and your phone number?

GRANDMA: Well it must be in here, for you to be here. Or else you just exploded from a magic hat out in the front yard. Good Lord. I’ve never seen anything like you. Where’d you get my address? I never gave it to you. I wouldn’t do that. You might visit me. (Reading a page:) It’s the last one in here.

MARCY: This is Bro’s home address. Right? His full name is Luke Cassandra.

GRANDMA: Luke! Did Luke give out this address?

MARCY: He gave it to me.

GRANDMA: When?

MARCY: When he left.

GRANDMA: Left where?

MARCY: Where we live. The land. I own it.

Pause. GRANDMA looks MARCY over, sniffing.

GRANDMA: You smell kind of nice. I might as well compliment you on that much.

MARCY: You know what’s making me smell like this? It’s called spikenard. Ointment of spikenard from the Fantasia Fair. I think it smells like different spices. What do you think it smells like?

GRANDMA: Whatever you want to say it does. That’s fine with me.

MARCY: Spices it is, then. Spices. Well, well! Here comes a little dog. Whose little dog are you?

GRANDMA: Shoo! Shoo! She don’t know whose dog she is. Bro! Wake up now. Look alive. Bro!

BRO wakes up in the recliner and sees MARCY bending to pet the little dog.

He finds a smoke and lights it.

Pause.

BRO: Jesus Christ.

MARCY: Hi, Bro. Is this your little dog? (BRO just stares.) Or whose dog is it? (To MARIGOLD:) Your dog?

MARIGOLD: No…Nope…

BRO: Jesus H. Elvis Presley goddamn Christ.

MARCY: I was at the Fantasia Fair. Then I said where you were and a man gave me a ride.

BRO: All the way from Redding?

MARCY: Yes. From the Fantasia Fair.

BRO: A man?

MARCY: A man at the Fantasia Fair.

BRO: Jesus Christ.

MARCY: No…His name was Robert Aiken.

BRO: I bet he was achin’. What’d he do to you?

MARCY: He gave me a ride. From the Fantasia Fair.

BRO: Jesus Christ.

GRANDMA: Jesus Christ Jesus Christ Jesus Christ. With you it’s always somebody’s name in vain or you can’t be satisfied! (To MARCY:) What do you want, darlin’?

MARCY: Nothing.

GRANDMA: Are you hungry? Did you eat?

MARCY: Can I have some of the popcorn?