(The lights dim in the vault room and rise upper stage left revealing a circular stairway leading up from the sidewalk to the Moran's apartment: two small bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. It is furnished in Woolworth's plastic modern, shiny furniture, linoleum floors, vases of fake flowers, and Christmas decorations.

(BETTY (BETS) MORAN, wife of Phil, mother of Timmy, forty-five, thin, blonde with the remnants of fine beauty still showing, is seated at the telephone: always an unlit cigarette in one hand, racing form and roasy beads in the other)

Seventy-five cents? ..'cause that's all I got this week! C'mon, Joey. Last week I pissed my paycheck down on the ponies so this week all I can bet's the numbers.. My lucky two three seven, what else? .. No? .. Aw c'mon Joey, you take below buck bets from the colored, why not me? .. I know I owe ya, but .. but I also know on the numbers I can win big from little and make back my paycheck money fast before my husband can smell it's gone with the wind..

Seventy-five cents?.. How can I be so sure? Because I have discovered I own a true sign of luck. I watch the license plates on cars. If two, three, seven or seven, three, two is on, parked or driving, luck is coming. And if I see it more than once, my luck doubles. Today four times, Joey! Four times! .. Aw, c'mon, I'll split my winnings and pay ya back all I owe. How can you lose? Seventy five cents?.. Hoo..k!
 

(The light of sunrise streams though the windows. Bets inhales the unlit cigarette, removes the cap from a quart of whiskey, inhales it deeply and retunrs the cap.

TERESA MORAN, fourteen years old, in a her parochial school uniform with a large suitcase in each hand climbs the staircase, kicks the apartment door open, enters, lets the heavy suitcases hit the floor. They stare at each other for a few seconds.)

Concrete. I'm movin' in.
 

No you ain't! Unless you are a can of paint and I can brush you on the wall! I ain't got no space, Teresa!

Stuff me in the stove. I'll sleep.. so calla cops.

And is Mr. Easy for me. I cry a little, beg a little and he'll say, "Awww.. let her stay."

But your cousin Timmy is jist outa the army, he needs..

Needs nothin'! He's Jesus Christ on toast, everybody's breakbast!.. It's you!

It's me!

It's in here or on the streets. Soldiers, sailors, and marines. Your choice.

Come back here with the money. I'll teach ya how to spend it good.. No!

Yes! .. Aw, Aunt Betty, let me stay. My mother's potato head is still stuck in the old country, but mine is Chicago modern 1945 up and down and all the way. Ya know what she calls it? "The God given duties of a woman to serve men! So I gotta get up fourthirty ice cold mornings making brown bag lunches for that doctor? Lawyer? Scientist? No, for a can't even sign his own paycheck namge CTA bus jockey driving everyday from her to nowhere and back: my father. And my zero brother who if he was a candidate for a mercy killing I'd vote yes .. twice!

Can't the nuns..

At school? Walking sticks of lit dynamite, you never know when they're gonna explode! And after school run home, shop cheap, make a grand supper to please the men, then clean, clean, clean till specks of dirt are as hard to find as diamonds in the gutters of the street!

..a slave for her men and I am not worse. Talker Moran is coming out of the navy and she says he gets my bedroom and I gotta sleep on a cot in the kitchen! "Oh Teresa me darlin' it's gonna be so nice and warm in winter next to the stove! Add stove heat to my heat and you could boil ice! .. That's why I'm here!
 

(Teresa changes to friendly and smiling. She flicks her cigarette lighter attempting to light the cigarette dangling from Bets lips. She quickly pushes Teresa's hand away.)

Are you crazy? Butn 'em and you're burning real money! Suck 'em. Don't smoke 'em!
 

(She inhales the unlit cigarette deeply twice, demonstrating.)

(She removes the cap from the bottle of whiskey, eyes shut, she breaths in deeply twice, then replaces the cap)

Awww Aunt Betty. Wow! You older people got smarts. If only I could stay here you could teach me more about real life than a zillion nuns.

You're pushin.

I'm pullin' Who pays the rent here?

Your uncle.

Then his no is no and his yes is yes.
 

(They glare at each other in silence.

Phil leaves the men in the darkened vault and approaches the stairway to his apartment. Each step up is pain and he climbs slowly. He enters the apartment and is confronted by Bets.)

Where the hell have you been out all goddam night? Six o'clock last night I was supposed to shoot ya foot. Now it's eight o'clock in the mornin' and I gotta go to work! You walked on icy streets? Inna blizzard? Ya could fell and broke the bone! Why? Why?

Why is a crooked letter.

(Bets forcibly removes his overcoat and suit jacket and pushes him into the bedroom.)

Get in there and on the bed.

Teresa. Ice pack and syringe kit, now!
 

(Teresa returns with the medical items. Bets removes his shoes, quickly pulls off his pants, but he grabs one end of his wallet, she the other in a brief tug of war. Finally he wrests it away from her.)

No money for bets!

Me? Maybe you're talkin' to someone else in this room? 'cause I put this hand down hard flat on Timmy's bible day he went to war and promised God Almighty that if he brought my son home safe, I'd never gamble again and I never have. Why don't you believe me?

Well, I guess only maybe 'cause cats can't fly and dogs can't talk.
 

(Bets removes his cast and surgical stocking revealing his injured foot, slightly bleeding, puss sores and a darkening of the skin suggests an early gangrene. She wipes the foot clean, sprinkles on sulfur powder and injects the pain killing contents of the hypodermic syringe. With Teresa's help, she applies the ice pack and binds it.)

Whew! Stinks!

Who is this stranger?

Aw, Uncle Phil. Always the same question.

Go ahead. Say it. He likes it.

(Teresa, hands on hips, feet spread apart in a fighting stance)

I'm Teresa Moran, Sixty-third and Cottage Grove. Hard as the nails in your house and tough as the leather on the bottoms of ya feet! Free advice: when ya meet a Moran, zip your wallet and cross ya legs!

Phil, she wants to stay here, but I don't..

Please, Uncle Phil? You was the first to see and the first to say your brother made a mistake marrying an agricultural girl from the old country. My mother I fight like two hungry cats in a canvas bag. I really want to be just like you, free and moern and now.. Oh, I can't go home! It's here or on the streets! I want to stay a good girl, but on those streets, I won't! Please Uncle Phil! You won't put me out there all alone! Let me stay here with you, please? Please?

Aw, let her stay. I say so.

Who calls her mother?

You do.

Why is everybody afraid of that small woman?

Please dear Aunt Betty, before you leave for work?

Now!

 (Bets exits the bedroom and shuts the door. She sits at the telephone sniffs the bottle of whiskey deeply and then inhales an unlit cigarette and dials.)

Hello Jennings switchboard? Gimme Francis X .. Hell, Frank? .. Sure, I know it's D.A. day, but I'm gonna gotta be late .. No, I got the tip direct from Quinn's office .. so jist move the milk vending machines up front to hide the slots in the back. .. Aw, Frank, it's an eleciton year and the District Attorney's office needs a few rat smiles on the frontpage s'give .. and you tell old man Jennings without me his slot machines would be bathing beauties drowning at the bottom of the lake. Yeah! .. Yeah.. Ya welcome! But it's tip for tat and your tat is cut me a paycheck skipped into next week, O.K.? s'yeah again I'm behind a little bit a crime? .. aw, sweetheart honey, lover, darling, my friend forever, please? .. he said no more. Do I like working here? S'laugh, Frank. If you locked the door I'd kick it in to get to work .. Looka I assemble slots knowin' someone, somewhere, sometime is gonna pull that handle and hear coin river pourin' down that chute. Then and there I'm partner to a winner, unnerstand? 'cause my hand was on that handle once. .. Frank, look over the phone. See I got my hand flat down on my son's bible.

I swear on it, no numbers, ponies, slots or wheels never! .. O.K.? .. Yeah?

Sweetheart, I'm takin' the next rocket bang to work!
 

(Timmy enters. He looks cautiously to the right and left, climbs the stairway slowly and listens at the door. Bets dials again.)

(Timmy enters the apartment. Teresa also enters from Phil's bedroom. Bets passionately embraces Timmy, looking up at his face begging for affection. But his arms hang down and he is emotionless.)

Ow. Tight, Ma.

Honey, lover, darling, sweetheart, perfect Mr. Perfect. I have to hold my body tight against yours to feel the blood and air inside, to believe you're back alive! All that time I believed and still believe my Bible, jist that book, turned harm away. I'm sorry, Love, I have to hold you tight, jist once a day .. to believe?

Hey, don't you have to go to work?

You're the only bet I made myself .. and won.

She's stayin' .. one day only! Get him breakfast whatever he wants.

I worked all night and I'm tired. Let's go to bed and get some sleep.

NOT whatever he wants!
 

(Timmy swiftly grabs her in his arms, kisses her forcibly, puts his hand between her legs then moves it up and rotates it on her breast. She struggles, bites him on the lip and breaks away. He wipes the blood away with his hand.)

Bitch! Ya bit me! I'm bleedin'!

I'm ya cousin, not ya cunt, priest!

What I want, I get!

But you don't want these! All I got is half tits! I'm only fourteen years old!

Going on forty five in the mouth!

I hear you're goin' to Montreal to get your collar. Geez. Some poor nun is gonna get worn down hard. Gonna glue her ass to the mattress and teach her arithmetic? Count alla cracks in your ceiling?

Aw, Teresa. Somebody's gotta be first. Why not me? Keep it in the family, that way nobody knows.

But I know you'd screw a goddam rattlesnake if somebody held its head. And I know what all you holy guys do in the middle of the night with what ya got between ya legs!
 

(They stare at each other in a silent standoff for a few seconds, then Timmy smiles.)

Ya liked it a little didn't ya? Sure, it's natural. Made ya breathe deep, colored your face hot girl red. Ha! Ha! Ha!
 

(Timmy opens the door to his father's bedroom, enters, and closes the door. Teresa unpacks her suitcases in the kitchen.)

Edgar Allan Poe!

Edgar Allan Poe! "The Purloined Letter!"

The Academy Award!
 

(Timmy takes a pint bottle of whiskey from his hip pocket and presents it to Phil.)

(Phil accepts it as an award, drinks. As they empty the bottle, they become slightly drunk.)

Mr. Timothy Moran, on behalf of the Continental Illinois Bank empty, our audience, Mr. Deaf, Mr. Dumb and Mr. Blind, I have the privilege of awarding you this Oscar plus fifteen Million Dollars for best supporting actor in that box office smash: "Boo Hooh! I want my money back, Boo Hooh!"

The part I liked: you banged me up against the wall and accused me of a crime I actually committed, but included them in so they wouldn't, couldn't believe it!

Crime? What crime? All we did was steal from the stealers.
 

Cheated the cheaters! The biggest stealing of money in the history of Chicago and nobody will every know.

'cause they can't tell and we won't!

All done without shooting a bullet or a punching fist! Just your special power. Paulie calls it to .. to the target?

Straight to target center. My magic arrows.
 

(Timmy, suddenly sad and slightly drunk, looks out of the window down to the street.)

My men, walking the streets slowly, like the dead come back, still in their khaki too poor to buy new. All of us born under a bad star at a wrongish time. Went from depression bellies to the thin soup of a soldier's pay. Some furnished a final home inside a zippered bag. My job: sprinkle a few of God's goodbye words over them quickly because the next of the dead was waiting.

I asked the priest is there a special prayer to bless a nameless arm? Another different for a soldier's separated leg? My men down there walking cold morning December streets will never win. They were born under a bad star at a wrongish time.

Not you!

Not me! Never again. My face paycheck padlocked to a boss's ass!
 

(Phil, his hands outstretched, fingers moving in and out like an animal's claws, grabs Timmy's hands)

Not hands. Claws! Tiger, lion, bear, Moran claws! This one went into Chicago city jungle and with its hunting skill tore out a claw full of maf-eye-talian money meat!

Now, this one can spend it all on this world's prettiest. Your life simply will be to search for the pretty and get. That's why we are born with two claws, one to take and the other to take more. We gambled, Timmy, and we won!

Unlike Mother ..

Who never wins!

And must never know. You and she?

Still the same. Like two snakes in love. Never know which one is gonna bite first .. The list?

Three largest banks in Toronto and two in Montreal. Your new name .. my new name and keys .. the foot?

They've tried the sulfur drugs, no they're thinking the new penicillin. But it's much money and hard to get.

In my closet is my army overcoat with money inside the lining. Use it. But be careful. In the lower left corner, marked in pencil is T.A. of J.G. Erase it before you spend it. O.K.? Here's the closet key.

Why didn't they use ink?

Because they do deals and trade each other. So they change marks to keep their money separate.. Any new news?

Snitch says Paul went to the Mosler Safe Company to check the masterkey. I knew he would just like I trained him. Clean?

Clean in. Clean out. I left no puzzle pieces.

Leave early?

I am tonight. I called Montreal. They said they could take me in tomorrow.

(Paul knocks on the bedroom door and enters.)

Money?

I brought your paycheck.

Ouch! I can't cash it 'cause I'm broke at the bank. Can't give it to Betty you know why and Timmy is leaving for Montreal tonight. Paul?

O.K. I'll cash it.

(Phil endorses the check, gives it and his empty wallet to Paul)

So. Fill 'er up!
 

(Paul counts cash and inserts it in Phil's wallet and returns it.)

Now let's see your wallet.

(Quick glances between Phil and Timmy who gives Paul his wallet.)

But as soon as I go through their door, they'll give me all I'll ever need and inside money isn't money.

But Timmy ..

Paul. There isn't any groceries in this house. My Mother bets her paycheck into nothing every week. My Father's foot is getting worse and there is no money to pay the doctor bills. How? How in the name of God can I take money from this man?

Not to worry.

Why? PAUL

Because God loves you e-normously! To the train!
 

(They laugh. Paul puts money into Timmy's wallet and returns it. Obeying the order, Timmy salutes Paul, exits and closes Phil's bedroom door.)

I saw your movie last night.

Yeah?

Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde. You hiding today?

No! I'm leaving here you lucky little bitch! I came close to getting it, 'cause you came close to liking it! I could see!
 

(Timmy closes his bedroom door, locks it and exits the apartment)