JAIMIE: Come on, Rita Joe . . . you’re s...

The Ecstasy of Rita Joe

Rita Joe Jaimie Paul

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JAIMIE: Come on, Rita Joe . . . you’re slow.

RITA: (happy in her memories, not wishing to forget too soon, hesitates) How much rent . . . for a place where you can keep babies?

JAIMIE: I don’t know . . . maybe eighty dollars a month.

RITA: That’s a lot of money.

[... … …] Again, they laugh in merriment at the idea of such a demonstration with the knife. JAIMIE continues with his story, gesturing with his hands.

JAIMIE: Chop . . . chop . . . chop . . . A potful of shoes in no time! What’s a guy gonna do with a potful of shoes? Cook them? (They continue laughing and lie together again. Then JAIMIE sobers. He rises from the bed and walks around it. Offers his hand to RITA JOE, who also rises.)

JAIMIE: (Drily) Come on. This is a lousy room!

Ryga, George, The Ecstasy of Rita Joe,

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