*AWARD WINNER* Death Before Decaf

DEATH BEFORE DECAF


A play in ten minutes


One of the six finalists for the Theater Odyssey Student Ten Minute Playwrighting Festival, to be performed live at the State College of Florida David and Ann Howard Theater on January 17th, 2014.



CHARACTERS

 WALLY  Early 20s, female. Coffee-fueled hipster; a tad inconsiderate.

 BART  Early 20s, male. Going nowhere fast, but proud of it. Easy-going.

 ROBBER  Hoodlum. He may unpredictably start to yell in THE MIDDLE OF SENTENCES.

 LADY  Innocent bystander

 POLICEMAN  Useless. Honestly.



SETTING
Interior of a seedy convenience store/gas station

TIME
Evening, present day

AUTHOR’S NOTES
A slash (/) indicates overlapping dialogue. Wherever the slash appears, the next line begins.
     
 
SCENES

Scene 1   The Gas Station   Early evening
Scene 2   The Gas Station   Half an hour later



SCENE 1

(A gas station, early evening. BART has his feet propped up on the cashier’s counter. He’s talking into a phone balanced on his shoulder as he fiddles with something in his hands—perhaps a Chinese finger trap, handheld video game, or bouncy ball. The LADY is shopping.)

BART. (On  phone) Why would I care if you’re late for work? I’m just saying, I can’t cover for you forever. You better have a real good excuse this time, like, frozen in an iceberg, or, captured by aboriginals. And for the love of God, dude, if you come in high again…

(WALLY enters, bopping along to a song from headphones around her neck. BART does not initially look up.)

Good evening, welcome to—shit, it’s you.

(WALLY pulls up short, terribly offended.)

WALLY. Hell-o.

BART. (On phone) Gotta go. (He now addresses the biggest threat: WALLY.) Okay, chick, hi. We’ve got a problem. The last ten thousand times you’ve been in here, you left the coffee counter looking like Mt. Vesuvius just erupted, we had coffee cups all over, half and half a mess—could ya please give a guy a break?

WALLY. Um, I’m sorry, I thought that was what customer service was for. Fine, I’ll get out of your hair, all I want is my coffee, and I’ve got a concert / to conduct, so—

BART. Uuuuugh. As if I haven’t heard more about your fruity arts school than I ever wanted, always talking on the phone, always getting on my nerves.

(Mocking: )

‘Kafka absolutely must be read in the original German’, ‘The Avengers was just made to win awards and make money, can’t deciiiiide which is worse’, ‘I just found the most amazing tutorial on how to knit a satchel out of pubic hair and wheatgrass’—

WALLY. Hey!

BART. I’m just saying. My boss is breathing down my neck about the whole thing, so, you could make my job a little easier. After all, I actually have a job. Of the two of us. That’s all I’m saying.

(He grins broadly.)

WALLY. And when are you finishing your degree?

BART. What?

WALLY. Your rocket science degree. I wouldn’t be caught dead behind that counter unless my Harvard degree depended on it, so, I was wondering what you’re suffering for. I’m sure it’s something most impressive.

BART. Eight fifty an hour, baby.

(The ROBBER dawdles onstage, shopping; meanwhile, there’s a problem: the coffee machine doesn’t seem to be functioning.)

WALLY. What the hell? / No, no, no, no, no—

BART. Hey, I know it’s not great, but—

WALLY. The machine’s broken!

BART. It’s not broke, it’s out of beans. We go through three bags a day; you should see the back room.

(Beat)

Seriously?! You’re already over there!

(The ROBBER approaches BART.)

ROBBER. I need you to open the cash register.

BART. Sorry?

(The ROBBER pulls out a gun.)

/ Holy shit!

WALLY. / Oh my God!

ROBBER. Cash register! NOW!

(He fires three shots at the ceiling. SFX and three flashes of stage light simulate gunshot. One of the stage lights may remain out or flickering for the rest of the performance, as a ceiling light has been “shot out”. A fire alarm goes off, softer than the lines of course. BART, WALLY, and the LADY all react.)

BART. I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Ju-just… relax.

(BART edges toward the smiling ROBBER, despite the gun pointed at his chest.)

Please, put down the gun! I-I’m Bart, I’m Bartholomew, and that’s—

WALLY. Wally.

BART. —another friend, Wally; we’re all friends here—just please, please, give me the—

ROBBER. Stay back!

(The ROBBER feints at him. BART seizes a jumbo package of toilet paper as a shield.)

BART. / —GOD NO I’M TOO YOUNG—

WALLY. Don’t get hasty!

(The ROBBER points the gun at WALLY.)

ROBBER. You stay still!

WALLY. Don’t shoot me, shoot him!

LADY. Shoot me! I’m a bad person!

BART. EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!

ROBBER. Open the damn register; pick it up!

BART. I’ll do it, I’ll do it!

(The fire alarm ceases. BART fumbles with the cash register; when it springs open, the ROBBER is displeased.)

ROBBER. What? No.

(He rifles through the money.)

Is this all? …IS / THIS ALL?

BART. I’m sorry! We don’t have more than thirty dollars in the store after six!

(Visibly flustered, the ROBBER paces, quite careless with the gun, which causes BART and WALLY to wince; he scratches his neck with it and even mindlessly gestures it at his own head.)

ROBBER. But it’s not enough! I—I—

(With a flash of inspiration, he points at BART with his gun.)

You!

BART. Ahh! …What?!

ROBBER. There’s some kind of back room, yeah? Storage? Equipment?

BART. Yes—

ROBBER. WHERE?

BART. (Ironically) In the back!

(Grinning broadly, the ROBBER shoves past, and before going offstage, brandishes his gun; thinking he’s about to shoot, WALLY cringes back, and BART instinctively steps in front of her, arms out.)

ROBBER. Don’t you pull anything funny!

(He exits. BART and WALLY stare at each other in frozen, awkward silence, broken by the LADY letting out a sob. WALLY heads for the front doors.)

WALLY. Run!

(BART, bleakly, doesn’t move. WALLY finds that the door doesn’t budge. If the set does not allow for physical doors, the next lines can come from offstage.)

WALLY. What? They’re locked!

BART. The alarm went off. The police’ll be here soon, but…

LADY. (Whispering) Our Father Who art in heaven—

WALLY. Shh, shh. We’re gonna be fine.

(The LADY continues to whisper the Lord’s Prayer unobtrusively beneath their lines.)

BART. Why’d I have to be stuck here with you?

WALLY. (Scathing) ‘Bartholomew’?

BART. ‘Wally’?

WALLY. I’m freaking out right now. (beat) And for your information, I liked The Avengers! Sometimes you just gotta indulge in the McChicken.

BART. Seriously? Seriously? We’re in the middle of this life-and-death situation and you’re hung up on that? What about me? My boss is going to strangle me! I hope I DIE! I hope the robber SHOOTS me before she gets to me!

(WALLY gives him a derisive look.)

I’m serious! (A beat. Then, ashamed: ) She threw a jug of milk at my head.

WALLY. There has to be somebody coming for us. What about that other guy who works here? Shouldn’t his shift start soon?

BART. He keeps texting me videos of his fish swimming in his bathtub so I think it’s safe to say he’s back on weed.

LADY. I’m gonna be sick!

(She flees the room; BART calls after her: )

BART. Toilet! First door on the left!

WALLY. Alright, let’s be logical here. I don’t have coffee. We’re being robbed. He has a gun… He almost shot you back there, / and the coffee’s still out! God!

BART. Look, it’s sweet of you for being concerned, but, I had the situation under control—

WALLY. “God no, I’m too young”?

(BART seems to make a decision.)

BART. The police won’t get here in time. Find me a weapon!

WALLY. Bart—

BART. I’m gonna take him down! I need something to bludgeon with—can you brain someone with a box of Wheaties?

WALLY. Bart—

BART. Ooh! Coffee machine!

WALLY. Don’t you freaking dare!

BART. Well, what else am I gonna do? Sit around? Watch? This sucks.

(Suddenly very depressed, he sits. WALLY manages to get a word in edgewise: )

WALLY. You’re bleeding.

BART. Freaking—where?! Where?!

WALLY. It’s just a cut, brave guy. Probably when you were flailing around like an idiot. Here.

(She fetches a box of Band-Aids and sits, offering them out. After a beat, BART takes them, though he struggles to open it.)

BART. Frick, how do you…?

(WALLY’s head drops into her lap.)

Whoa. You okay?

WALLY. This is just my luck.

BART. I know. I doubt I’m getting overtime for this.

WALLY. Tonight was going to be special. And now I didn’t even get my coffee. You know?

BART. Nothing’s waiting for me at home but X-Box Live and a leaning tower of pizza boxes.

WALLY. I was finally conducting a concert over on campus. That I composed. My own band shell, my own orchestra, all my own music! That I composed! Not a lot of freshmen get to do that! Gosh, it was going to awesome, I was excited! The park, a crowd, the band, the cool night air—

(Beat.)

And now.

BART. Ahh.

WALLY. Hence, coffee. It’s how I get my hands not to shake. Caffeine, baby.

(She mimes conducting.)

BART. What kind of music do you do?

WALLY. It’s kind of like Bono meets Weezer? But it’s just some wind chimes and forty-two ukuleles.

(BART’s struggle with the Band-Aids has reached a point of ridiculousness. WALLY notices him making a fool of himself.)

Alright, hand it over, tiger.

(She unpeels a Band-Aid and puts it on his arm.)

BART. Hey, you can smile!

WALLY. I’m not Satan incarnate. (Beat.) I mean, close, but…

BART. He’s not going to get away with this, Wally, look—there are cameras all around, on the ceiling and / hidden in the desk and—

WALLY. (Glibly) Oh, because I’m so sure they’re gonna ID a black hood—

BART. You’re so smart, oh, what am I gonna do—well duh, but I can try to pull the hood down, and they’ll get it all on tape! Candid camera!

WALLY. Are you serious?

BART. (Un-serious) Serious as a heart attack, serious as a, a gas station robbery.

WALLY. Bart! I was kidding about you getting shot! Let him steal all the Ho-Ho’s and scratch cards he wants; it’s a gas station, not Fort Knox!

BART. Haven’t you ever dreamed of intercepting a robbery, being a hero?

(Beat)

Well. I have. I don’t know, maybe it’s weird, but I’ve imagined it a billion times sitting back there, what I would do when a robber stormed through those doors, how I’d be so clever, talk em down, get em arrested. Y’know. With my wit. I mean, front-page stuff. I’d be coo-ool. Then when an actual robber waltzes in, what do I do?

(Beat)

I shit my pants.

WALLY. (Teasingly) Don’t worry, this’ll be front page, all right... how you fended him off with your toilet / paper rolls—

BART. (Laughing) Hey!

WALLY. You’re fine. Really. Look, I’m absolving you from your guilt, the terrible sin of having too much imagination. Here’s the sign of the cross, there’s some holy water… boom, all better.

BART. Just like that, huh? Boom?

WALLY. Boom. May I enjoy a cupcake while evil is being unleashed upon us?

BART. It’s on the house.

WALLY. (Unwrapping a packaged cupcake.) Thanks… wonder what my parents would think about all this.

BART. Oh, probably the usual. Lots of flipping out, kissing, hair-stroking, smothering.

WALLY. My parents don’t exactly… approve of me. I haven’t seen them in a year.

BART. I saw mine this morning.

WALLY. You’re lucky.

BART. I live with them.

WALLY. The bastards.

(The ROBBER storms back in, dragging the LADY; WALLY and BART both jump up; BART grabs WALLY’s hand.)

LADY. (Hysterical) Please, please…!

BART. Let her go!

ROBBER. Now if you stand back, nobody will get hurt, and I’ll just be going on my—

(As he goes towards the door, the LADY jerks away, in the process tearing the backpack from his back. Bags of coffee beans scatter across the ground.)

WALLY. / Coffee beans?! No!

BART. Coffee!

(WALLY tackles the ROBBER, who shoves her violently against the counter. She cries out and falls to the ground, but, seeing the coffee beans—and WALLY in peril—BART finds his courage. He has to rescue WALLY—and her coffee. He leaps at the ROBBER while the LADY screams, but the ROBBER hits BART across the face with the pistol, and the stage goes to blackout as… literally… BART blacks out.)

SCENE 2
(The gas station, now nighttime and completely wrecked, but the police are on the scene. The LADY talks on her cell phone on the side of the stage. WALLY and BART, who has a bandaged head, sit on the counter, blankets on their shoulders. The POLICEMAN is finishing their interview and writing in a notepad.)

POLICEMAN. Well. Close, kids, but no cigar. You did your best… what a mess, though.

WALLY. But you’ll get him, right?

POLICEMAN: (Long sigh) I wouldn’t bank on it. We can’t really prevent robberies like this, but, the point is, no one got hurt. Isn’t that all that matters?

(He walks away, leaving BART and WALLY alone.)

WALLY. Nobody got hurt?

BART. Really, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad.

WALLY. That guy really hit you, Bart! You could’ve died, you could’ve…

BART. I’m serious. (beat) Serious as a gas station robbery.

(They look at each other—is a kiss in store?—but BART fluffs it and looks away.)

Uh. I’m sorry you missed your concert.

WALLY. Oh… it’s fine… I know I’ll have other chances. I’ll find a way.

BART. No, really. I’m sorry.

WALLY. Thanks. It’s not your fault. We were both pretty useless.

BART. Gracious ‘we’, there.

WALLY. Oh, come off it. I was totally frozen; I thought my chest was gonna explode. You would’ve bludgeoned him with a roll of toilet paper, for Pete’s sakes, you…

BART. Yeah.

WALLY. Yeah.

(Awkwardness.)

So…

BART. Right.

POLICEMAN: (Approaching with WALLY’s purse.) Ma’am, is this yours?

WALLY. Oh, hallelujah!

(She clutches it gratefully. He leaves. She looks at her cell phone.)

Ohhh em gee. Twenty voicemails. “Where are you”… “Walda Jefferson, where the hell are you”… “I’m gonna hunt you down”, oh geez.

(A beat, then: )

Think he’s mad?

BART. Well, comparing your professor to my boss—

WALLY. At least he never chucked a jug of milk.

BART. I really disappointed everyone back there.

WALLY. Yeah, but. (Leaning on his shoulder) You’re a reliable disappointment.

BART. Is that a good thing?

WALLY. Mmm.

POLICEMAN. Walda?

WALLY. (She jumps up.) Yes?

POLICEMAN. You’re free to go; we have everything we need. You have a ride waiting.

(A car horn beeps.)

WALLY. That’s my roommate. Well, Bart, um… see you for coffee.

(beat)

BART. Wait—

(He took just too long. She exits. BART sighs.)

POLICEMAN. You really must be crazy, kid. Why else would you risk your life for coffee?

(He and the LADY both exit. BART stands alone on the stage. Then: )

BART. Wally!

(He races after her. Fade to black.)

***