Eddie Arana, Rick Thibodeau, & Chris Bakunas San Diego, Ca. March 2012

Eddie Arana, Rick Thibodeau, & Chris Bakunas San Diego, Ca. March 2012
Eddie Arana, Rick Thibodeau, & Chris Bakunas at Luche Libre Taco Shop in San Diego, March 2012

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Eightball In The Corner Pocket


Scene: A dive bar, the kind all good Film Noir movies have at least one scene set in. Time: 1:38am on a Friday night.
   At the bar sit five people, two women, Sharon and Diane, and three men, Stan (there's always a Stan), Alan, and Phil. All of them are sipping or stirring their respective drinks nonchalantly. The bartender is stage right, out of the audience line of sight. A sappy country and western ballad can be heard emanating from a mono jukebox.

Diane: Well damn, I figured one of you would at least be a gentleman and buy a girl a last drink for the night! 

Phil: (Looking down at his drink) Buy your own damn drink Diane, it's not like you got anything anybody here wants.

Diane: (Angrily) Screw you Phil, I'm the best thing you've ever had a shot at!

Sharon: (Stirring her drink, looking towards the door, back to the bar) Huh! Not at this bar.

Diane: (With a hint of a sneer) Don't be writin' checks your mouth can't cash Shar, everyone knows you're a dead fish in the sack

Sharon: Up yours Di, at least I don't leave a man hangin'

The three men all turn and face the two women, and Sharon turns toward them. Alan lifts his beer in a toast motion, his action signaling the other two men to raise their glasses and touch his.

Alan: (With a half laugh) Yeah, she's got you there Di, not a man you ever been with hasn't complained about you leavin' 'em with blue balls.

Diane: (With a hint of contempt) Yeah, I like to leave 'em for your queer ass to finish off Al, you oughta be paying me for that.

Phil: Damn, another Friday night and I'm hanging out with you clowns again. I gotta sell that crap farm my Daddy left me and get my ass down to Baton Rouge. At least there I can get some fishin' in.

Stan: Yup, that's what you oughta do, suppose.

Diane: You'd lose your ass the hour after you got there Phil, those casinos would suck every dollar out of your wallet quicker than either Tina or Linda ever could!

Stan: Yup, she's right about that Phil.

Suddenly the door to the bar slams open, causing all five of them to jump. Two scruffy looking young men storm in, both of them waving shotguns.

Bad Guy #1: (Waving his shotgun threateningly) Nobody move! Anybody move and I'll shoot you! Everybody put their hands on the bar where we can see 'em!

All five of the bar patrons look at the two scruffy men nervously while putting their hands on the bar.

Bad Guy #2 (Pointing his shotgun towards the ceiling) Where the hell's the bartender! Hey bartender, get your ass out here or you're goin' have a bloody mess to clean up!

From stage right the bartender, a large-ish man in his forties, appears. He is drying a beer glass with a bar towel as he walks towards the center of the bar.

Bad Guy #1 (Pointing his gun towards the register behind the bar) The money! Give us the damn money!

Bartender: (His eyes size up both of the scruffy men calmly) You two sure about what you're doing? Do you know who owns this bar?

Bad Guy #2: (Looking about nervously) Shut the fcuk up! Fcuk who owns the bar! Just give us the money! Now!

Bartender: Alright, no problem (Puts down the beer mug and towel, opens the register, starts removing all the bills)

Bad Guy #1: (Scornful, but curious) Whaddya mean? Why should we give a fcuk who owns this fcukin' bar?

Bartender: (With a hint of sinister warning) This bar belongs to the Angels man, they're probably not going to be very happy with it being robbed.

Bad Guy #2: (Looking nervously at his co-hort in crime, both notice all the biker paraphernalia on the walls) What? What the fcuk are you talkin' 'bout? The Angels? Fcuk Gary, we can't rob this place.

Bad Guy #1 (Angry) Fcuk! Okay, okay, don't give us that money! C'mon' Ron, let's go, C'mon'!

Both of the scruffy men turn tail and run out of the bar. The five customers all turn toward the bartender. 

Phil: What the hell Bernie, that was ballsy as all get out. Everybody in town knows O'Reilly left this dump to Catholic Social Services to fund the orphanage!

Bartender (Bernie): Yep. Owned by the Angels. I gotta call the Sheriff and get him the DVD of those clowns before they hurt somebody. You guys want another beer, Alan's gotta pour. Don't leave 'cause Ty will probably want statements.

Bernie heads off stage, the sound of a phone being dialed can be heard over the jukebox. Alan walks behind the bar and starts re-filling everybody's mugs. Phil shifts his seat so that he's sitting next to Diane. Sharon and Stan move next to each other. Lights fade as the sound of a police siren is heard in the background. 




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