As Dreams Kill Patrick Kelley
(Curtain Opens. The stage is bare accept for a small bar and two stools. A man, around fifty years old, sits at the bar, his elbows pressed down against the surface. A glass is within his right hand, moving about in slow circles. A small amount of scotch is still within the glass, playing with the three cubes of ice still in the drink. The man is tired, quiet, and drunk. He wears a wrinkled dress shirt and dress pants without a belt. His tie is loose. A song is barely audible in the background. From off stage, the bartender crosses over to the bar and begins to clean two empty glasses next to the man.)
Bartender You want another?
Joe (Looks up from his daze, searching for clarity. He sees the Bartender and thinks about his question.) What?
Bartender The drink. (Points at the glass.) Do you want me to start making you another? Straight scotch right? On the rocks?
Joe (Nods his head.) Yeah. I guess. (Thinks about his decision.) Yes, but no ice.
Bartender (Nods and reaches under the bar for another glass, filling it up in front of the man.) your fourth.
Joe
It’s