THREE MEN occupy a narrow alleyway. Spread out both arms and touch both sides like. No daylight in daytime like the right bottom of a crevasse. The FIRST and SECOND lean elbows to wall, bent over the THIRD, knees bared and bleeding like a schoolboy’s. Glass shards strewn around him, as if imprisoning him, trapped forever.
FIRST MAN. Poor sap, hasn’t got a clue does he?
SECOND MAN. Not one.
FIRST MAN. He’ll be all right.
SECOND MAN. Right as any.
FIRST MAN. Want to tell him?
SECOND MAN. Nothing he hasn’t heard before.
Fade to black.
The FIRST MAN left hand, the SECOND across, right hand, sit low in a bar, late night, still in overcoats, excessively large. On the table a tall, red candle, lit, the only light, stood up in a hardened pool of itself. As well as two tall and full glasses, flat, to brim, little spills on touching the table. The FIRST furtive, skittish. The SECOND, sluggish, plays with straw wrapper, turn it to a worm, barely there.
FIRST MAN. We need to get up, man I tell you.
SECOND MAN (eyes down). Uh-huh.
FIRST MAN. Can’t stay like this.
SECOND MAN. Hm.
FIRST MAN. Can’t — you’re not hearing me, man.
SECOND MAN. I hear.
FIRST MAN. Right.
SECOND MAN. Right.
FIRST MAN. I got something actually.
SECOND MAN. Do you?
FIRST MAN. Yes.
SECOND MAN. Well?
FIRST MAN. You don’t wanna hear it.
SECOND MAN (ribbing). Ahaw . . . a tease too?
FIRST MAN. What?
SECOND MAN. You’re hot, baby.
FIRST MAN. Forget this, man. (Sits up, runs his pockets until he hears coins.)
SECOND MAN (still eyes down). Hey-ey, you haven’t even had any of your drink.
FIRST MAN. That all you care about?
SECOND MAN (as if pensively). No . . .
FIRST MAN. You have it. Have to hit the liquor store before it close.
SECOND MAN. Your thing?
FIRST MAN (straightening tie). Maybe. Part of.
SECOND MAN. Now you see me . . .
FIRST MAN (shooting daggers). Don’t.
SECOND MAN. But I love you.
FIRST MAN. You bore me.
SECOND MAN (as if hurt). Don’t go.
FIRST MAN. I’m off. Coming?
SECOND MAN (sighing). Bet.
FIRST MAN. Now. Up.
SECOND MAN (not budging). Aye cap’n.
FIRST MAN. Whatever, man. You know what — you know — I ought’a — fuck, man. Come on, man. Let’s get the fuck out of here.
BOTH stand up, like mirror images of each other, each placing a single coin on the table. Exit FIRST MAN right. Exit SECOND MAN left.
Hold.
Blackout.
The alleyway. The THIRD still on the ground, averted eyes, no salt circle. The TWO now with brown paper bags, ostensibly concealing liquor bottles, backs to the wall on either side of the THIRD. The stretch of wall the THIRD hugs cracked.
FIRST MAN. It would’ve been perfect.
SECOND MAN. But we live in reality.
FIRST MAN. Like you don’t have dreams.
SECOND MAN. Not in recent memory.
FIRST MAN. That’ll explain it.
SECOND MAN. Yeah.
FIRST MAN. I don’t know why we’re friends.
SECOND MAN. Don’t say that.
FIRST MAN. Should trade you in for him.
SECOND MAN. Wouldn’t it be nice!
BOTH look at the THIRD thoughtfully.
FIRST MAN. Can’t leave him.
SECOND MAN. Ah?
FIRST MAN. Can’t — oh, can it!
The SECOND MAN grins, like the grave.
FIRST MAN. Gotta do some — he’s — won’t make it. He’s — fuck. Man, look at him. Can’t stay — not on my —
SECOND MAN. Day off?
FIRST MAN. Prick. Life!
The SECOND MAN smiles at his feet.
FIRST MAN (reading his wrist). You’re begging, you know?
SECOND MAN. What can I say, I’m desperate. (Time yet?)
FIRST MAN (shaking head). (Yeah.) Who’ll pick him up?
SECOND MAN. Gee, why I don’t know. You?
FIRST MAN. And catch this man’s cooties? God! I don’t even feel all that great myself. His bad luck’ll fuck my shit right up.
SECOND MAN. I’m out of ideas.
FIRST MAN. Come, let’s get out of here.
As before. Exit FIRST MAN right. Exit SECOND MAN left.
The THIRD swallowed whole into the crack.
Hold.
Fade to black.