Superior Donuts (TCG Edition)

Tracy Letts

• Publisher: Theatre Communications Group
• Year: 2010
• Print ISBN: 9781559363617
• eBook ISBN: 9781559366670
• Topic: Letteratura
• Subtopic: Teatro americano

“It is a meditation on Chicago’s old soul . . . a witty, seductive, live-wire and greatly entertaining dark comedy that you just don’t want to end.” –Chicago Tribune

“Superior Donuts is a soulful play, full of humor and humanity… drawn with deep affection. Letts is a writer whose words are alive with poignancy and wit.” – David Rooney, Variety

“A source of comic bliss.” – Charles McNulty, Los Angeles Times

Superior Donuts takes place in the historic Uptown neighborhood of Chicago, where Arthur Przybyszewski runs the donut shop that has been in his family for sixty years. Franco Wicks, a young black man and Arthur's only employee, wants to modernize the shop, while Arthur is more content to spend the day smoking weed and reminiscing about his Polish immigrant father. This provocative comedy, set in the heart of one of Chicago's most diverse communities, explores the challenges of embracing the past and the redemptive power of friendship.


Tracy Letts was awarded the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for Drama and Tony Award for Best Play for August: Osage County, which premiered at Steppenwolf Theatre Company in 2007 before playing Broadway, London's National Theatre, and a forty-week US tour. Other plays include Pulitzer Prize finalist Man from Nebraska; Killer Joe, which was adapted into a critically acclaimed film; and Bug, which has played in New York, Chicago, and London and was adapted into a film. Letts is an ensemble member of Steppenwolf Theatre Company and garnered a Tony Award for his performance in the Broadway revival of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Act One

At rise:

The donut shop.

The glass front door and display case have been shattered. One wall has been spray-painted with a single word: PUSSY.

Randy Osteen (female), a uniformed cop, listens to Max Tarasov and fills out paperwork. James Bailey, another uniformed cop, walks around the store, inspects the graffiti, surveys the damage.

MAX: A real fucking shame, y’know? Little son-of-a-bitches trash my store, too, just next door, twice in three years. Now I got more locks than they got in White House, and so they come torture this poor man. Why they do this to this man? Must we all live behind bars?

RANDY: I want to hear all this, Max, but let’s start with your name.

MAX: You know my name. You just now say my name.

RANDY: Your full name. Your last name—

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MAX: I am not the person who has done this, this is not my store,

I do not know why my name is all so important as—JAMES: Answer the question.

(Lady Boyle, an elderly, homeless woman, enters. James deals with her.)

RANDY: You made the call. I just need it for my report.

LADY: What happened?

MAX: Max Tarasov.	JAMES: Nothing, Lady, you got to move on—
RANDY: Oops, all right, spell that.	LADY: Where’s Arthur? Is Arthur okay?
MAX: M-A-X T-A-R-A-S-O-V.	JAMES: Arthur’s okay, but you got to move on.
RANDY: Like it sounds.	LADY: Can I get a donut?
MAX: Like it sound, yes.	JAMES: Come back later for your donut, but for now—
RANDY: And you run the video store next door.	LADY: You want me to go.
MAX: How many times you come in my store?	JAMES: Yes, ma’am.
RANDY: C’mon.	LADY: I’m goin’.

(Lady exits.)

MAX: Uptown International DVD Rental, right next door, ten-nineteen. You want me to spell DVD?

RANDY: And you think you know who did this?

MAX: I see the little black son-of-a-bitches every day, no offense. They run in my store smelling like the pot. They are ripping off my DVDs, they break in my store and write their paints on my walls, twice in three years. Have you not heard me or not?

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JAMES: Calm down.

MAX: Is anyone paying attention in America? Our neighborhood needs help. They put in Starbuck and you think they do not sell drugs on corner still? What, you think Starbuck stop drugs? These black son-of-a-bitches don’t care about Starbuck. No offense.

JAMES: These guys you say did this, you can name them?

MAX: I do not know names but come back tonight and I will point them out to you. James, you know who they are! They are same ones who do all crime on this street!

JAMES: How is it a man who runs a DVD store shows up to his place of work before a man who sells donuts?

MAX: I do not—

JAMES: Lot of people anxious to rent DVDs at six in the morning?

MAX: I do not “run” DVD store. I own DVD store; I am the proprietor. ’Kay? I am here early because I expanse my store and a lot of work needs to be done. I have three workers here from Nizhny, just arrived, do not speak the language, and they have red necks, so I will not allow them to work unsupervise. I see Arthur’s shop is smashed and so I call you police because I am a good citizen. I am guilty of nothing other than working hard. I am guilty only of living American Dream. And why Arthur is not here is not my business. Some day Arthur does not show up at all. Why he treat his shop in such lazy fashion is not for me to say.

RANDY: Arthur’s been closed a lot lately.

MAX: You know his wife die.

RANDY: Arthur’s not married.

MAX: No. Yes. His former wife.

RANDY: He’s not married.

MAX: Not now. She’s dead.

RANDY: But he was married before she died.

MAX: He was married, then he was divorced, then she die.

JAMES: How’d she die?

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MAX: He does not tell me these things. I find that out from douchebag who work here some days, that Ray. But no, since she die, Arthur has not been so much on his balls.

JAMES: “On the ball.”

MAX: Yes, not so much.

RANDY: He doesn’t talk to you?

MAX: We talk every day. “Hello, how are you, can I have a donut.” I know Arthur eleven years, since I first come to America, since I open my store. All my life I try to buy his shop from him but he will not sell. I give him good price, is very frustrating. But Arthur always help me when I ask, help me with language and give me free everything. But he is private man. He is not natural . . . no, how do you say this? He is not in nature a man who wants to talk.

RANDY: It’s not in his nature.

MAX: Yes. Thank you. It is not in his nature. He is a good man, Arthur, I think, and I call him my friend, but no, he does not want to be pulled into light, so I do not pull.

(Arthur enters. His clothes are unwashed, wrinkled; his hair is a greasy gray tangle tied in a ponytail; he sports a scraggly beard; he is half asleep, maybe stoned; he is a mess. No one speaks as he surveys the damage.)

ARTHUR: I’ll make some coffee.

MAX: It’s a goddamn fucking shame, Arthur.

ARTHUR: Yeah . . .

MAX: A goddamn fucking shame.

ARTHUR: Anybody want coffee? Randy? Coffee?

RANDY: Yes.

JAMES: Yeah.

MAX: Please, coffee. Arthur. I show up this morning and see your store is smashed so I call police. I hope you don’t mind.

ARTHUR: What day is it?

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RANDY: Tuesday.

ARTHUR: You sure?

RANDY: Yeah.

ARTHUR: My coffee guy comes Mondays. Sure it’s not Monday?

MAX: Monday was yesterday, Arthur. You were not here yesterday.

ARTHUR: I think I missed my coffee guy.

(Beat.)

I missed my coffee guy.

(Beat.)

I don’t have any coffee.

(Digs for wallet) Anybody want Starbucks?

JAMES: Arthur, who did this to your store?

ARTHUR: I don’t know.

JAMES: Got a theory?

ARTHUR: No.

MAX: I have theory, if anyone is interested. Little black son-ofa-bitches sell drugs on corner smash up. How is that for theory? Arthur, you know this is true.

ARTHUR: I’m going to Starbucks.

MAX: I am more angry than he is. They smash his store, and I am more angry than he is. Why are you ...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• BOOKS BY TRACY LETTS AVAILABLE FROM TCG
• Dedication
• Acknowledgments
• PRODUCTION HISTORY
• CHARACTERS
• Epigraph
• Act One
• Act Two
• Copyright Page