Last Night Tonight
One Act Play
Stage is completely dark. A voice is heard:
CORMAC: Can I get a drink over here?
Lights up. It’s a small place, in the middle of nowhere. The kind of bar bikers and hitchhikers used to fill up in the sixties and the seventies, when running away from home and seeing the country was an obligatory ritual. Now the tables look like they haven’t been cleaned in years, the lights in the back aren’t even lit, all that exists is the bar, polished wood reflecting the beer bottles and old faces, cheap whiskey and miserable looks.
Two men sit at the bar. ROBERT and TOMMY. The barman is an angry looking guy named FRED.
Robert is drinking, happy, already a bit drunk. Tommy sits without saying a word, looking at absolutely nothing, lost in his own thoughts. Fred pours whiskey, cleans glasses.
Cormac is entering the bar.
FRED: No service tonight, boy. You gonna have to get your drink at some other place.
CORMAC: What do you mean? The place is open.
FRED: It means what it means. Go get your drink somewhere else.
Cormac hesitates for a while. He wasn’t expecting this. Robert is amused by all this, he stares at the Cormac, curious.
CORMAC: What—? Come on, man. It’s cold out there, I just need something for the road. I’ve been driving for hours. It’s cold out there, just something to warm me up.
FRED: No service tonight, boy. I told you.
CORMAC: That’s some bullshit, man. I mean— What about these two? What…? Come on.
FRED: These two are alcoholics. They need their booze.
Robert and Fred laugh, very loudly, wheezing, shaking. Tommy doesn’t. Cormac just stares at them, really desperate.
ROBERT (still chuckling): Come on, Fred. Just give the kid a drink, will you?
FRED: Are you sure, Robbie? It’s your night.
ROBERT: Do I stutter—? Yes, I’m sure. Just give the kid a drink and he’ll be on his way. Won’t you, boy?
CORMAC (sitting down before they change their mind, excited): Yeah, man. Yeah, sure thing.
FRED (to Robert, pouring whiskey into a glass): You of all people should know that it’s never one drink, Robert.
ROBERT: Yeah.
FRED (to Cormac): We only got the cheap whiskey, boy. I don’t want you complaining ‘bout it. It is what it is.
Cormac takes a sip from the glass. It’s disgusting. He is sitting next to Robert, who puts his arm around his neck, as if they were old friends, and starts talking to him.
ROBERT: What’s your name, kid?
CORMAC: Eh… Cormac, it’s— I’m Cormac.
ROBERT: How’s that?
CORMAC: Cormac, like… Cormac McCarthy. My grandfather, his name was Cormac so that’s why they… You know.
FRED: Don’t go apologizing for what your name is, boy.
CORMAC (apologizing): No, I’m not, it’s just because some people find it weird or whatever… My grandfather, he died in WW Two.
ROBERT: Where?
CORMAC: World War II, man.
ROBERT: Right. Well, Fred here was in Vietnam. I didn’t go, I wanted to but I had some other… business to take care of. But Freddy here, he was in Vietnam. Saw some pretty fucked up things there, didn’t you, Fred?
FRED (to Cormac, ominous): They used to coat their knives with feces. That way, we’d get tetanus when they shived us.
ROBERT (laughing, to himself): Feces. That’s right. Crazy.
Robert downs his glass of whiskey. Cormac is still working his. Tommy hasn’t said anything or moved once since the beginning of the play.
ROBERT (to Fred): Pour me another, will you?
FRED (pouring whiskey into the glass): It’s your night.
ROBERT: You keep saying that. It’s our night.
They both drink. Robert from the glass, Fred from the bottle.
There’s silence. It’s not awkward for anybody but Cormac. There’s a dialogue going on, one where he’s not included.
He breaks the silence, by asking something.
CORMAC (to Robert): What does he mean, though…? Your night. What is it, like your birthday or something?
Robert and Fred laugh, softly.
ROBERT: No, not my birthday, boy. Something else. And it’s like I said, it’s not just my night. It’s our night, our last night. They’re closing this place tomorrow.
CORMAC (feigning disappointment): That’s a fucking shame.
FRED (to Cormac): Not that you give a shit, but yeah. It is.
ROBERT: Could you believe that there was a time that this place was filled to the brim with pussy? They came from everywhere, kid, I’m telling you. You got your white pussy, your black pussy, you got your yellow pussy. You came here, chances were that you left with third degree burns on your cock.
Everybody laughs but Tommy.
CORMAC: So. What happened?
ROBERT: Oh, I don’t know. I used to own the place, but I got into some pretty bad debts with the wrong people… So then Fred here bought the place, but… You know, everything was already so fucked up by then that it had to go down the shitter sometime.
CORMAC: Yeah. So… You all gonna drink till you puke, is that the idea? Go with a bang, that sort of thing?
ROBERT: That and then some, kid. That and then some.
Tommy moves for the first time. He turns towards Robert, looks at him, worried, like he’s said something he shouldn’t have said.
Fred notices this too.
FRED (to Cormac): You gonna finish that drink or what, boy? Come on. We don’t got all night.
ROBERT (annoyed): Ah, let him drink at his own pace, will you? You can’t rush a man when he’s drinking. He’ll get there, but he’ll get there when he feels like getting there. That’s the secret, that’s the way it’s done. I like the kid, let him drink how he wants.
FRED (a little bit passive aggressive): It’s your night, Robbie—
ROBERT (angry now): And stop giving me that bullshit! It’s our night. Ours, alright? You’re making it sound like it was my idea— We all agreed it would go down like this. (to Tom) And you! Tom, stop it with the fucking moping. You keep it up and I swear I’ll beat the shit out of you. I ain’t kidding. Seriously, stop it. It’s our last night. Have you no fucking respect?
TOMMY: I’m sorry, Robbie. It’s just that— It’s just that I don’t want to do this, I… I really don’t— I don’t want to do this, Robert.
ROBERT (calmer): I know you don’t. Nobody wants to do this, Tom, but that’s why we’re paying you the money. It’s a lot of money, alright? Now just forget about it for a while. We still got some time left, right?
Cormac looks confused, uncomfortable. Robert starts talking to him.
ROBERT: You ever seen someone get shot with a rifle? Hell of a way to die. Pretty nasty, but it’s got some beauty to it. Freddy here was in Vietnam, he can tell you all about it. Ain’t that right, Fred? Certain beauty to it?
FRED: Hell of a way to die, Robbie.
Tom looks like he’s about to cry.
TOMMY (pleading, moaning): What if we just don’t do it, Robbie? Would it be so crazy—? I mean, you never know what the future’ll bring, isn’t that what they always say? I mean— Right? And there’s always other things to see. Other things to do. I don’t know, I just think that it wouldn’t be so crazy not to do it— I just… I don’t know.
Robert and Fred ignore him. Cormac doesn’t know what to say, Robert still has his hand around him. Tommy returns to his earlier, catatonic position. Fred has also lost his previous grumpy man cool. He’s seems annoyed at Cormac’s presence.
ROBERT: Where you from, Cormac?
CORMAC: New York.
ROBERT: The Big Apple. That’s nice. I’ve never been there.
FRED: You ain’t missing shit. Coked up whores running around, niggers with guns. Not much else.
ROBERT (to Cormac): Is that right, boy? Bunch of coked up whores running around?
CORMAC: Well, that’s… That’s one aspect of it. But there’s another, softer side to the city that… That I think is pretty welcoming.
FRED: Bunch of coked up fucking whores.
ROBERT: You know where I’ve lived the last couple of years?
Cormac doesn’t. Fred and Tommy look at each other. Is he really gonna say this?
ROBERT (pointing outside of the stage): Right there. Behind the bar. All these years… Freddy here, and Tom were kind enough to let me stay here even after they bought the place. And now they’re taking it away, just… You know, Fred has a house a couple of blocks from here. And… And Tommy lives with his daughter. How old is that daughter of yours, Tommy?
Tommy doesn’t answer.
ROBERT: Tommy, your daughter.
TOMMY: Thirty-one.
ROBERT (to Cormac): How old are you, boy?
CORMAC: Twenty-six.
ROBERT: Maybe we can fix you up.
Fred sighs.
FRED: If we’re going to do this, Robbie, let’s just cut all the fucking… drama, alright? Stop it with this nonsense. Let’s kick the kid out, drink, talk for a while and just get it over with.
TOMMY (actually crying now): “Get it over with”.
FRED: Well, what the fuck do you want me to say?
TOMMY (sobbing, to himself): I wanna get out of here, I don’t want to be here…
Fred keeps talking to Cormac, who obviously wants to leave.
ROBERT: I’m sorry about these guys. They’re usually much better company, you know…? It’s just that Tommy’s a bit sentimental and Freddy… Well, he used to be a boxer. He used to be a prizefighter, so he’s got that boxing temper.
CORMAC: That’s alright, I… I better get going.
ROBERT: What—? Why?
CORMAC: No, it’s just that I have to get going. Keep driving. I can’t drink so much.
ROBERT: But, hell… The town is only twenty minutes away.
CORMAC: Still, I wouldn’t want to interrupt such a… I don’t know— Such a special night. I don’t want to… interrupt anything.
ROBERT: You’re not interrupting shit. I like you, boy.
CORMAC: It’s just that I don’t want any part in… whatever it is that’s happening here.
ROBERT (offended): What do you mean?
CORMAC: I don’t know.
ROBERT: No, no, that meant something. What did you mean by that? There’s nothing going on here, alright? And what’s going on here is my and my friends’ business, alright? Not yours, not anybody’s. And… And I want you to stay here, because I want you to settle something for us.
Fred interrupts them. Tommy has buried his face in his arms, he’s sobbing uncontrollably.
FRED: Kid, get the hell up. Get up and get out.
CORMAC: Yeah, I—
ROBERT: No, no, sit down, come on. We’re just talking here, right? We’re just talking here.
FRED (to Robert): Robbie, stop it. If we’re doing this, let’s do it like we agreed to do it. Stop fucking around, you asshole.
ROBERT: I just want to talk to the man.
CORMAC: Alright, alright.
ROBERT: See? He says he’s alright. (to Cormac) You see, Fred and I… We were going to buy this place together, yeah? But Freddy here, he had no money. So… So he convinced me to get a loan. From this guy, this real nice guy called Jimmy Egan. And Jimmy… He didn’t fuck around, so when Freddy stopped boxing and enrolled in the fucking Corps, and I couldn’t pay up… He broke my legs. And then my fingers. And… And by the time Freddy came back from ‘Nam, and started boxing again, and made it big, and had enough money to… buy this place back from Jimmy, because now it was him who owned the place, he… He bought the place alone. And he told me that we were in it together, that… I don’t know, that it was still my joint too, so… So it came very much as a fucking surprise for me to find out a couple of months ago that he’s selling the place. Now, isn’t that fucked up? Isn’t that… Just… Just a stab in the back, Cormac? Because that’s what we’ve been trying to figure out for the last couple of weeks.
CORMAC: I don’t know.
FRED: Don’t do this, Robbie.
ROBERT (exploding): Shut the fuck up, Fred! Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Alright? You fucked me! You fucked me! You fucked me! You fucked me! Shut the fuck up!
Everybody’s quiet for a while. Cormac is scared to death. Tommy is sobbing.
ROBERT: I don’t have anything. I… It wasn’t even my idea. I wanted to enlist. I wanted to be a soldier. Now I don’t have anything. So… So now we’re doing this.
CORMAC (less curious than scared): What are you doing exactly…?
FRED: Nothing.
ROBERT: We’ve hired Tommy to blow my brains out.
FRED: Fuck, Robbie! Fuck!
ROBERT: What? What? It’s not like he hasn’t figured it out yet, right?
FRED: How the hell was he gonna figure it out?
ROBERT: I don’t know. He seems smart.
CORMAC: This is so fucked up. This is so fucked up, man.
Robert stands up. Ready.
ROBERT: I guess, then, that… It’s as good a time as any to do this.
Fred eyes Cormac. Sighs. Walks out of the bar.
Nods.
Tommy doesn’t want to movie. Cormac is watching, mesmerized.
TOMMY: No. No. I don’t want to. No.
ROBERT: Move, Tom. Move it before I lose my patience.
TOMMY: No, I can’t, I thought I could, but I can’t, I really can’t…
Robert grabs him, and pulls him out of the seat. Tommy falls to the ground. Robert pulls him up, and starts dragging him out of the stage. Fred follows.
Cormac stays. Minutes pass.
One gunshot, followed by another. Cormac jumps, scared to death.
A pause.
Two other gunshots. Minutes pass.
Only Tommy returns to the stage, covered in blood, sobbing.
TOMMY: He paid me… He paid me more on the side, he said… He said we had a deal, it was a… He paid me more on the side. He paid me. I just needed the money, he paid me. I don’t… Oh, God.
Tommy walks towards the bar. Sits down. Sobs.
Cormac looks around. Then runs out of the stage. A few seconds later we fade to black.
THE END.
