The Regular

Act I, Scene I.

INT. A small bar. The room is made of dark wood and all sorts of things are hanging from the walls: pictures, road signs, netting, model boats, maps, paintings, lobster traps, etc. There are 5 rotating stools at the bar, attached to the floor. There's a door at each side of the bar, the bathroom on stage right, the exit on stage left. Next to the exit is a large window that takes up the whole wall, with "Murphy's Tavern" printed on, intended to be read from the outside. On stage right, next to the bathroom door, but behind the bar, is another; it leads to the back room, where FRANK MURPHY, the owner, bartender, and sole employee, brews his beer. It is this brew, light and dark, that he serves out front. It's wildly popular, and is the lifeblood of the bar, and hence the only beverage he serves. It's raining heavily, and lightning occasionally brightens the room. There's a black phone on the wall behind the bar, with a rotary dial. A man, ARTHUR CONRAD, is sitting at the center stool, writing. He has on square, frameless glasses and a baseball cap high on his head. He's in his early twenties, still a boy, and his clothes look well-worn, though not to the point of raggedness. He has a notepad and a few sheets of paper set out in front of him, and he is hunched over them, speedily jotting down his work. FRANK is wiping down the far end of the counter with a rag, possibly an old shirt. He has a pencil behind his ear and is wearing a green unbuttoned button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up. He has on a plain black shirt underneath and jean pants. He's in his mid to late 30's, has slightly styled short hair, and is fit enough. He hasn't shaved in a day or so. ARTHUR stops and looks up as FRANK speaks.

FRANK MURPHY: Finally getting started, huh?

He futilely tries to scrub off a stain on the counter as he waits for a response.

ARTHUR CONRAD: If I'm lucky. Writer's block is infamous for coming back just as suddenly as it goes away.

He looks back down at the papers aligned in front of him. As he stares, FRANK moves past him on the countertop. After a few moments, ARTHUR drops his pen.

ARTHUR CONRAD (amicably): Are you planning to serve me, or what? Just because I'm a regular doesn't mean I don't want service.

FRANK MURPHY: Well, why don't you tell me what it is you want, Arthur? Then, maybe I could serve you.

ARTHUR CONRAD: The regular, Frank.

FRANK chuckles as he opens a fridge under the counter at the end of the bar closest to the audience/camera.

FRANK MURPHY (smiling): "The regular." You always say that. You're just too embarrassed to come into a bar and ask for a glass of milk.

FRANK is pouring the milk into a glass as he says this. He leaves the jug on the counter, uncapped, and walks over to ARTHUR, saying "The regular" to himself, amused. He places the glass gently in front of him.

FRANK MURPHY: There you go, one tall glass of milk for big boy Arthur.

ARTHUR CONRAD (sarcastically): Thank you.

FRANK leans on his elbows on the counter next to ARTHUR. He looks over at the jug of milk. ARTHUR slowly takes a sip from his glass as he looks at his work.

FRANK MURPHY: Kidding aside, you're lucky you like milk.

FRANK walks over to the jug and puts another glass on the counter.

ARTHUR CONRAD: How so?

FRANK MURPHY (motioning to the dark and light taps behind the bar): Bloody things are broken.

ARTHUR is drinking as FRANK says this. He brings down his glass and stares at him for a second.

ARTHUR CONRAD: The tap's broken?

FRANK MURPHY: Didn't I just say that?

Arthur nods as FRANK pours himself a glass of milk.

ARTHUR CONRAD: Well, I'm just in disbelief. You can't have much of a bar with no tap. You won't be able to serve your brew.

FRANK MURPHY: Why, thank you for informing me, I wouldn't have been able to make that observation on my own. I'm glad I have a resident genius such as yourself to tell me these things.

FRANK puts the jug of milk away as he says this.

ARTHUR CONRAD: Are you getting it fixed?

FRANK MURPHY: The guy's supposed to be here in 10 minutes. But with weather like this, it could be ages.

Lightning flashes, punctuating his statement. FRANK sighs. He looks towards the audience, out the window, drinking his milk, leaning on the stage left end of the bar.

FRANK MURPHY: It's absolutely rotten luck. Besides the fact that you're probably the only customer I can serve at the moment, (he looks back towards ARTHUR) as most of my patrons prefer more. grown-up drinks than yourself, (He smiles, momentarily) the guy's probably going to charge a fortune, which I certainly don't have. And, compounding my dilemma, another fellow, Mr. Gratch, is supposed to come by soon looking into investing in my brew, and I need that money bad, but what kind of damn fool would invest in a beer he hasn't tasted?

ARTHUR CONRAD: The kind of fool with a lot of money, if you have any luck.

FRANK MURPHY: I have plenty of luck. Only problem is, all of it's bad.

ARTHUR CONRAD C'mon, be positive. (Pauses) Why don't you just tell him the tap's broken?

FRANK MURPHY Hah. You obviously don't know the "Mr. Gratch" type. He's an investor, plain and simple. He doesn't know anything about beer or brews, just like he doesn't know anything about anything else he's invested in. (Frank starts pacing, occasionally pausing to in his "speech" to sip his milk.) What he does know, however, is what makes a good businessman in his field. Someone who always is on time for their meetings, someone who always makes sure things are planned out and working fine. Someone with good "business" practices, you know? Nothing to do with brewing beer. Nonsense, you know? And if the taps are broken, and I know when he's coming, I should have it fixed by the time he's here. He'll see it as a slight against him. Now, even then, it wouldn't be a problem, you know? He'd be losing out just as much as me, if he was a small-time investor. But this guy, Mr. Gratch, is one of the biggest investors around- to him, I'm just a chance for quick, easy money. Fact is, the guy thinks alcohol's deplorable, and his immense greed is the only reason he's even giving me shot. But if this doesn't go smoothly the first time around, I wouldn't be surprised if he totally dismisses me. Then again, the slime'll probably crawl back in a couple weeks, irresistibly drawn to the money, right? But by then.
FRANK trails off, shaking his head. He then gulps down the rest of his milk. He looks at ARTHUR's glass, which is still ¾ full, and shrugs. He walks over to the sink against the wall behind the bar and starts to wash the glass.

FRANK MURPHY: I need that money bad, you know. Between rent, materials for the beer, all these bills, (He holds up a stack of papers and envelopes from next to the cash register) my mom's medical payments and insurance dues, I'm strapped for cash. Thing is, I know the brew will sell if I can just stay afloat and give it a chance, you know? (His eyes brighten, and he looks back at ARTHUR.)

ARTHUR CONRAD: At least the water works alright.

FRANK MURPHY (laughs tightly): Yeah. Whoop-dee-doo.

ARTHUR CONRAD: You've gotta look on the bright side, Frank. That's your problem, you're too negative.

There's a huge crash as a bolt of lightning strikes much closer than usual. This shocks FRANK, and he drops the glass.

FRANK MURPHY: Shit. (He looks over his shoulder at ARTHUR) No. My problem is that too much bad stuff happens to me.

ARTHUR shrugs and sips his milk. FRANK gets out a dust bin and brush and starts to gather the broken glass.

ARTHUR CONRAD Do you mind if I write a bit, now? (Resumes writing)

FRANK MURPHY Ah, geez. I'm sorry. Don't let me keep you. Don't know when that writer's block is going to come back again, huh

ARTHUR stops writing and glares at FRANK

ARTHUR CONRAD Don't jinx me, you unlucky bastard!

FRANK laughs from behind the counter where he's sweeping up the glass. He stands up and looks at ARTHUR.

FRANK MUPHY Aha! You admit it!

ARTHUR CONRAD Yes, but only for the want of getting some work done.

FRANK MURPHY An admission is an admission, no ifs, ands, or buts.

ARTHUR CONRAD (shaking head, smiling) Excuse me, I'm trying to create, here.

FRANK holds his hands up in a "Don't let me stop you" gesture. He finishes sweeping the broken glass into the dust pan, which he carries over to the trashcan at the far end of the bar. He steps on the lever to open the lid, empties the pan, and lifts his foot. He looks at ARTHUR, who is hard at work. He looks up at a clock hanging at the far end of the bar.

FRANK MURPHY Hey, I've gotta take a leak, if the repair guy comes in, do me a favor and tell him I'll be right out?

ARTHUR nods quickly, not looking up from his papers. A siren is heard in the distance. Soon, an older black man in a grey suit comes through the door, holding his valise over his head as shelter from the rain. His grey fedora is soaked with rain; he removes it and shakes it off outside the door. His hair is grey with some black, curly, but cut short. He shakes his head and wipes his hair with his hand. (Think Morgan Freeman.) ARTHUR looks over his glasses at him, hunched over his work.

REGINALD BRUCE Jesus. Some weather we're having, huh?

ARTHUR CONRAD Beautiful.

REGINALD walks over to the end of the bar and places his valise of the floor.

REGINALD BRUCE Where's Frank?

ARTHUR CONRAD (motions with his head towards the bathroom) Bathroom.

REGINALD BRUCE (nods.) Ah. And how are you, my friend, Arthur the author? (There's a hint of mocking in his voice, but his tone is friendly, overall.)

REGINALD takes off his jacket, folds it in half, and places it over the case. ARTHUR offers REGINALD a tight-lipped smile.

ARTHUR CONRAD You're never going to stop calling me that, are you, old man?

REGINALD gives ARTHUR a wounded look.

REGINALD BRUCE Old man? Come now, no need to be hurtful. And you are an author, aren't you, Arthur? (amused)

ARTHUR CONRAD I'm trying to be, but I keep being interrupted. He stares at REGINALD, starting to get annoyed.

REGINALD BRUCE (Smiling) Then, maybe, (pause) you shouldn't try to write in a bar.

FRANK comes out of the bathroom and hurries back behind the counter.

FRANK MURPHY Hey there, I'm sorry to keep you- (He recognizes REGINALD) Oh, it's just you, Reginald, you bastard. How've you been? How was Florida?

REGINALD BRUCE Better all the time, Frank. It was real nice. Much better than this. (gestures out window)

FRANK MURPHY That's great.

REGINALD BRUCE And yourself?

FRANK MURPHY Not that great, but I'm managing.

REGINALD BRUCE Well, aren't you gonna ask me if I want anything to drink?

FRANK MURPHY (humoring him) Do you want anything to drink? ARTHUR looks up at him, curiously.

REGINALD BRUCE Why, yes, I'd love a refreshment.

(Pause.)

FRANK MURPHY What'd it be that you want, then?

REGINALD BRUCE The regular.

ARTHUR breaks out in laughter, to FRANK's obvious displeasure.

FRANK MURPHY Ah, for Christ's sake, why are you saying it now? This is your fault, and you goddamn know it. (Points at ARTHUR, how I having difficulty containing his laughter. REGINALD is bewildered. FRANK shakes his head and looks back at REGINALD.) Well, I'm sorry, the tap's broken.

REGINALD BRUCE The tap's broken? Then why'd you ask me if I wanted a drink?

FRANK MURPHY Because you asked me to. And who am I to deny my dear, close, friend Reginald Bruce a brew? (Reginald isn't satisfied with this answer.) Besides, I was sort of hoping you'd ask for milk. (REGINALD continues to stare at him, unsatisfied.) It expired yesterday, (Frank glances at Arthur, who pauses mid-sip, looks at the milk, shrugs, and continues drinking.) but at the rate this guy drinks, (Motions at ARTHUR, who still has ¼ glass left of milk) I'm not going to be able to get rid of it this century.

REGINALD BRUCE Frank, can't I leave you alone, just once, and not have to worry about you driving this place into the ground? And what is it going to take for me to convince you to mix drinks back there?

FRANK MURPHY Mix drinks? What do I look like to you, a bartender?

REGINALD BRUCE No. You look like a cocky, arrogant, moron with no beer.

ARTHUR CONRAD That sounds about right. To me, anyways. (nodding)

FRANK MURPHY (Imitating ARTHUR) That sounds about right to me, anyways. (reverts to his voice) Shut-up and write, Arthur the Author.

ARTHUR sneers at him and goes back to his work, again.

REGINALD BRUCE But seriously, Frank, you can't have much of a bar with no tap.

FRANK looks at him and ARTHUR wryly. ARTHUR looks up at him.

ARTHUR CONRAD See, I told you so, Frank.

FRANK MURPHY (Frustrated) I never denied you!

ARTHUR CONRAD How come I get a verbal beating and Reginald gets off scot-free?

FRANK MURPHY Because I don't like authors. (Smiles widely, clearly in jest)

REGINALD has taken a newspaper out of his valise and laid it on the bar. He removes a glasses case from his pocket and carefully opens it, removes his glasses, puts them on, and begins reading. As he does this, FRANK moves over to ARTHUR and leans on bar, trying to look at his papers. ARTHUR turns and covers his work protectively and FRANK rolls his eyes.

REGINALD BRUCE (Reading from paper, contemplatively) Tuesday, August the 22nd. (Looks up to Frank) Hey, ain't that fellow supposed to come by about your brew today?

FRANK MURPHY (Nodding) It's the devil's luck, yes. Kicker is, he's ready to agree, based purely on its popularity, but he says he still needs to taste it himself. Says it's a goddamn mercantile principle. But I'm telling ya', this guy wouldn't know a decent brew from that piss they serve at Clarke's. So, he's coming by any time now, but with the tap broken, the only brew I have access to is in the back. (Pause.) Unfinished.

ARTHUR CONRAD Aw, geez, Frank, it's worse than I thought.

FRANK MURPHY (feigning disappointment) And you're supposed to be looking on the bright side for me.

REGINALD laughs and goes back to reading the paper.

REGINALD BRUCE Why don't you just ask him to wait?

FRANK MURPHY As I already explained to Arthur, he isn't the kinda guy to take something like this lightly. Besides, it's a matter of pride, you know? (Reginald nods.) I don't want any pity or mercy from this guy; I just need his money. I hate money-grubbers like him, and I'm ashamed enough that I have to go to him for money, and having to ask him another favor liable to break me. (Reginald nods again and grunts in agreement.)
REGINALD BRUCE But what choice do you have?

FRANK MURPHY None, it seems. Swallowing my pride and begging seems about the only option. (He furrows his brow and clenches his jaw, thinking.) Now, where's that damn Repairman?

ARTHUR finishes his milk and places it back on the counter.

FRANK MURPHY Hey, maybe I will get rid of this milk before it solidifies. Another glass?

ARTHUR shrugs, and then nods. FRANK smiles and heads back towards the refrigerator. The phone rings, and FRANK picks it up.

FRANK MURPHY Hello? Murphy's Tavern, home of "Murphy's Fantastic Superbly Wonderful Excellently Delicious Light and Dark Brews," what can I do you for? Yeah, I know you're running late. (covers mouthpiece of phone and holds it at his chest and speaks excitedly to Arthur) It's the Repairman. (Holds phone back to his ear) What's the delay, the weather? Where are you calling from? What? What the hell are you doing at Clarke's Bar? Yeah, drinking, obviously. What I should say, wise ass, is why aren't you here? I know its raining. Borrow an umbrella. (Pause) God-damn it, I need you over here and fixing these taps, now. Don't apologize, get yourself over here and apologize in person. Good. Bye. (Hangs up phone.) He was at Clarke's-bloody- bar, drinking that piss he tries to pass off as beer.

REGINALD BRUCE Hey, Clarke's brew isn't that bad y'know-

FRANK MURPHY (cutting him off) That's enough from you, old man.

REGINALD laughs loudly and sharply.

ARTHUR CONRAD He's allowed to call you old man? You guys are conspiring against me, it's not fair, it's diabolical, it's cruel, and you know it.

REGINALD BRUCE Now, Arthur, it's noting personal, you know that.

ARTHUR CONRAD (flatly) Yeah, its just authors, I know.

REGINALD BRUCE Don't be silly. We just don't like morons.

Arthur sneers at him.

REGINALD BRUCE Well, I'm mighty thirsty, and I'm afraid I need a beverage with a little more kick to it than milk. You mind if I go to McKenna's Grocery and pick something up?

FRANK MURPHY Of course not. I wouldn't mind having a drink either.

REGINALD BRUCE Right, I'll bring back a 6-pack, then. Back in a bit, fellas, hold my seat for me.

He leaves his valise and newspaper at the bar and puts is coat and hat back on before venturing back out into the storm. Frank looks over at Arthur, who's writing. He goes over to the till and opens it, counting the meager contents. Shortly, a man walks in out of the rain. He's rather portly and balding, and is unpleased to be out in the storm.

FRANK MURPHY Hey Marv. The tap's broken.

MARVIN KLEIN You're kidding.

FRANK MURPHY Nope. The repair guy should be here any second, though.

MARVIN KLEIN (Grunts) I'll be back in a bit, then.

Marv leaves. Almost as soon as the door closes, it re-opens, and the Repairman comes in, carrying a box of tools.

FRANK MURPHY Finally. (The Repairman starts to speak, but Frank cuts him off.) I don't want to hear it. We don't have a lot of time, we need the tap fixed, pronto.

The Repairman starts to speak, then thinks better of it, shrugs, and begins to work on the tap. Frank is standing behind the bar, watching him. The telephone rings, and he picks it up.

FRANK MURPHY Murphy's bar, home of "Murphy's Fantastic Superbly Wonderful Excellently Delicious Light and Dark Brews", how can I help you? Pardon? Ah, Mr. Gratch, great to hear from you. Are you still going to stop by today? (He crosses his fingers) Oh. That's great. (Unenthusiastically.) Are you planning to be here soon? What? Oh, you're on your cell phone. You'll be here in how many minutes? Two minutes? (Looks at ceiling and shakes fist) Hold on a sec, Mr. Gratch. (Pause) I know you're a busy man, but- (long pause) Fine. (he clenches his jaw, restraining himself from snapping at him.) Bye-bye. See you soon. (Frank roughly hangs up the phone and slams his palm on the bar, drawing an odd stare from the Repairman.) God-dammit. I was just gonna ask him if he could wait just a little bit, and it's like he knew, the bastard. He said he's got an appointment and he doesn't have any time to spare. The jerk had such disdain in his voice, like I was purposefully trying to delay him, like I'm a lesser person just because I'm not in such a bloody hurry. (He shakes his head, looking down.) There goes appealing to his common sense, not to mention his sense of decency. What the hell am I going to do now?

ARTHUR CONRAD Frank, chill. (His voice has a calm, but firm, strong, and inspiring tone that is quite different from his usual. He speaks it not like a father talking to a child, but rather a child speaking to a father, the determination and optimism that inevitably diminish with age still strong within him.) You're just going to have to delay him, somehow. You're not gonna let this asshole be the end of you, are you? You've never let anyone stop you before. Just think for a second, you'll figure it out, I know it. (Frank looks at him for a moment, a slight smile on his face, and then chuckles slightly.)

FRANK MURPHY You sound like me. I used to always talk like that to my dad, when times got really bad. (A contemplative look crosses his face, and Arthur looks embarrassed. He thinks of Frank as a father, but he doesn't know how Frank thinks of him, and he's afraid of Frank knowing how he feels, afraid of rejection. This'll be shown later to the audience, but this must be known by the actor for him to play it properly, so I figured I'd put it in.)

ARTHUR CONRAD Concentrate. (Partly to prevent Frank from pursuing the line of thought, and partly because they really don't have any time to waste)

FRANK MURPHY Right. (Looks to Repairman.) How much more time do you need?

REPAIRMAN 15 more minutes, probably. You're lucky, it's a pretty minor problem.

FRANK MURPHY Well, we've got less than two.

REPAIRMAN (looks at the taps) Not happening, man.

FRANK MURPHY Agh. Alright, then hide.

REPAIRMAN What?

FRANK MURPHY Are you deaf? He's gonna be here any second, and I can't have him knowing that the taps are broken.

The REPAIRMAN stares at him. Frank sighs heavily and takes out a 10 bill from his pocket and hands it to him.

REPAIRMAN (Feigning revelation) Oooh. Hide. Why didn't you just say so?

FRANK smiles and nods sarcastically as he ducks behind the bar, out of view.

FRANK MURPHY Arthur, when Reginald gets back, tell him that he needs to storm out, but don't let Mr. Gratch know it. Ok?

ARTHUR CONRAD (bewildered) Wh-

Lightning flashes as the door opens and MR GRATCH enters, sopping wet. He has on a long grey coat, which he removes and hangs on a rack by the door.

FRANK MURPHY Mr. Gratch! Hello!

MR GRATCH turns to face him.

MR GRATCH Hello, Mr. Murphy. Pardon me, I've been stuck in this horrendous weather for over an hour, and I have to use the bathroom. (points to bathroom) Is that it?

FRANK MURPHY Uh, yeah. Of- of course.

MR GRATCH nods and heads to the bathroom. As soon as the door closes behind him, Arthur begins to speak.

ARTHUR CONRAD Now, Frank, explain to me what the heck you're planning.

FRANK MURPHY (glances at bathroom, then back at Arthur) Alright. I need to get him out of here for just another 5 minutes so he can finish up. So, Reginald's gonna be back any second with a 6 pack from McKenna's Grocery, and when he comes in-

MR GRATCH walks out of the bathroom and FRANK stops talking abruptly and stares at him, surprised.

FRANK MURPHY Jesus, Mr. Gratch! I thought you had to go to the bathroom.

MR GRATCH (deadpan) I did. And while I was in there, I noticed that it was rather dirty. I hope you are more tidy in your distilling.

FRANK MURPHY (incredulous) Dirty? You've gotta be kidding me. (He looks ready to hit GRATCH)

ARTHUR CONRAD (turns to face Mr Gratch, who walks by him without turning to face him) I think the bathroom's rather clean, actu-

MR GRATCH (Cutting off and ignoring Arthur) Now, Mr. Murphy, about your brew.

FRANK MURPHY Yeah, about the brew.

Pause.

MR GRATCH I need to taste it, yes?

FRANK MURPHY Uh, yeah, of course.

Frank moves very slowly to go get a glass, and then slowly grabs it, nearly shaking with nervousness.

ARTHUR CONRAD So, Mr. Gratch, you're a pretty successful guy, huh?

MR GRATCH (contemptuously) Yes. And you, from the looks of it, aren't. What are you, a writer?

ARTHUR CONRAD (nodding, thin-lipped smile) An author.

MR GRATCH I see.

As they speak, FRANK drops the glass, there's a flash of lightning, but no crash. A hand holds the glass up, and FRANK takes it, shocked. Luckily for FRANK, MR GRATCH was looking at ARTHUR, and didn't notice. He places the glass on the counter, and REGINALD enters, wet, and holding a 6 pack. MR GRATCH turns to face him, his back towards ARTHUR.

FRANK MURPHY Hey, Mr. Bruce.

REGINALD BRUCE (hesitantly) Hey. Frank.

MR GRATCH (to FRANK, disbelievingly) What, exactly, are you doing? Letting this man bring beer from a competitor into your establishment? That's hardly an intelligent business practice.

FRANK MURPHY Insulting a long-time, loyal costumer, isn't either.

ARTHUR scribbles a note on his pad and holds it up for REGINALD to read. REGINALD squints.

MR GRATCH (shocked) But he is drinking a competitor's beer. In your bar. It's very unwise, Mr. Murphy. If this man was a long-time, loyal customer, as you say, he'd be drinking your beer.

REGINALD can't read it. He takes his glasses case out, holding the 6- pack under his arm, and puts them on. REGINALD is confused.

FRANK MURPHY You're walking a fine line here, Mister. You're insulting both me and Mr. Bruce. (Lightning flashes) And I'd appreciate it if you apologize. (Ominously)

MR GRATCH Now, Mr. Murphy, if I were you, I'd keep in mind that you (gestures to FRANK) are trying to get me (gestures to himself) to give you (gestures to FRANK again) money, and you should tread carefully.

ARTHUR rips the top sheet off the pad. MR GRATCH spins around and stares at him coldly. ARTHUR pretends not to notice. MR GRATCH turns back to FRANK, and ARTHUR hastily scribbles a new note.

FRANK MURPHY And you, Mr. Gratch, should keep in mind that I'm the one with the best crew in the county, and I'm doing you a god-damned favor by letting (motions to MR GRATCH) you support me (gestures to himself.)

MR GRATCH (Aghast) Now, watch your tone with me, Mr. Murphy. Now matter how good your brew is, I still deserve some respect.

FRANK MURPHY As does Mr. Bruce.

MR GRATCH (Bewildered) I'm afraid I do not understand your logic, Mr. Murphy. Why tolerate this from such, (pauses) scum?

REGINALD tenses.

FRANK MURPHY And I don't understand your problem. Now, apologize to Mr. Bruce, or get out.

REGINALD BRUCE Now, Frank, don't be a fo-

ARTHUR coughs, cutting him off. REGINALD looks at him, and he's holding up a new piece of paper. His eyes widen and he quickly closes his mouth.

FRANK MURPHY Well?

MR GRATCH is staring at REGINALD, and he sees his gaze going behind him. He begins to turn, when REGINALD shouts his next line to prevent MR GRATCH from seeing ARTHUR holding up his note.

REGINALD BRUCE (speaking with a slight, faked slur.) Forget it, Frank! I'm outta here, I don't gotta stand for this, I'm going to Clarke's.

REGINALD rips a can off of the 6 pack, opens is roughly, and takes a big swig as he storms out back into the storm.

FRANK MURPHY (his demeanor is noticeably softer) Ah, for Christ's sake, you've gone and lost me a loyal customer, Mr. Gratch. And to Clarke's, my main competitor, no less.

MR GRATCH I don't know what you're talking about. He wasn't loy-

FRANK MURPHY This doesn't happen often. (Apologetically) Mr. Gratch, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, and I sincerely apologize. However, Mr. Bruce is one of my best customers, he's a raging alcoholic, you see, and it'll be terrible if I lose him. I don't mean to put your back up against a wall, but unless you can go apologize to him and get him back here, I'm afraid I can't do business with you. (He holds his hands up, palms up, as if to say that it's beyond his control.)

MR GRATCH (Begins to protest, but halts. Lightning flashes again.) Very well, I'll go apologize to this alcoholic of yours, but when I get back here with him, and I will, I'm tasting your beer, and if it isn't the best brew I've ever tasted, believe me, you'll regret it.

FRANK MURPHY Good man. No worries, then.

MR GRATCH puts on his coat and hat and rushes out after REGINALD. The moment the door closes behind him, ARTHUR and FRANK sigh deeply, as if they had been holding their breath the entire time MR GRATCH was present.

ARTHUR CONRAD Jesus, Frank, how'd you know he'd fold?

FRANK MURPHY How'd I know he'd fold? How'd I know he'd fold? Have you ever even tasted my brew? (He smiles broadly. He looks down at the Repairman.) What're you doing down there? That bought us ten minutes, if we're lucky.

Curtain falls. End Scene 1.

Act I, Scene II.

Later, still in the bar. Reginald and Arthur are present, seated at the middle seats. The storm is over and the tap is fixed, now. There's a mess of papers near the cash register, an open vanilla folder with Frank's pencil on top. Arthur has a laptop on the counter now, in addition to his papers. He's wearing a different hat and nicer clothes- he's obviously had some degree of success since we've last seen him. Frank is also wearing different clothes; a button down shirt in the same fashion, however, this is a black one with "Murphy's Tavern" embroidered on the back, and "Frank" embroidered on his right breast. He's now wearing a white shirt underneath, and jean shorts. Reginald is significantly dressed down compared to before; he's now wearing a Hawaiian shirt, blue, with assorted tropical colors, and shorts. A white fedora is hanging on the rack, his. As the lights come up, they're all laughing. The cause of their mirth is a crude joke Reginald made at Frank's expense, the details unimportant. Arthur half-heartedly, engrossed in his writing. Frank is filling a stein with beer from the tap.

FRANK MURPHY Yeah? Well, look at you! You're the only man I know who gets more dressed up when he goes on vacation than when he's on the job.

REGINALD BRUCE Ha! Shut up and give my beer, will ya'? You're a dirty scoundrel, you know that?

Frank slides the stein down to Reginald, who adeptly stops it and brings it to his lips. He takes a sip and then a strange look crosses his face, and he brings the glass back down.

REGINALD BRUCE Ahem. 4 glasses of beer, I shoulda known this was gonna happen. (Reginald gets up and hurriedly walks into the bathroom.)

ARTHUR CONRAD What was that all about? (He trails off.)

FRANK MURPHY I dunno. He's getting old; I think it's his bladder or prostate or something.

ARTHUR CONRAD Oh. Fun stuff. (His distaste is obvious.)

FRANK MURPHY Yeah. From what he tells me, it's like a party. In his pants. He smiles, satisfied with his puerile comment. Arthur stares at him for a few moments, holding a straight face, before they both break out in laughter.

ARTHUR CONRAD Speaking of trouser parties, how's your mom doing these days? Arthur smiles wryly, but Frank pretends not to notice.

FRANK MURPHY A lot better. She's just lucky I was able to get that money from Gratch, or else. Frank shrugs his shoulders.

Frank looks idly around, filling another stein and drinking from it. He fiddles through the papers near the register for a few moments, before quickly becoming bored with their contents.

FRANK MURPHY Got anything for me to read?

Arthur looks at Frank and nods, then grabs his bag from the floor. He rummages through it, pulling out various papers and books, making a small pile on the counter. As he searches through the bag, a ring box tumbles out, and they both freeze and stare at it, Frank in mid-sip.

FRANK MURPHY(Cup still up to his mouth, his line is unintelligible) Is that what I think it is?

ARTHUR CONRAD (Avoiding making eye contact with Frank) What?

FRANK MURPHY(He takes down the stein.) That. Is it what I think it is? (He says this very sternly, and Arthur is visibly shaken.)

ARTHUR CONRAD Y-y-yeah.

Frank smiles broadly, laughing and tussling Arthur's hair. Arthur smiles as well, obviously greatly relieved.

FRANK MURPHY So, who's the lucky girl? Do I know 'er?

ARTHUR CONRAD Well, you know Reggie's daughter, , right?

FRANK MURPHY Yeah, 'course I do. You're marrying a friend of hers? Small world, ain't it.

ARTHUR CONRAD Yeah, small world. But I'm not marrying a friend of-

Reginald walks in and Arthur stops his sentence suddenly. Arthur hastily grabs the ring-box and stuffs it back in his bag. Frank gives him and odd look, and Arthur quickly shakes his head and "shh's" him. Frank, knowing that if Arthur doesn't want Reggie to know, there's a reason. Reginald notices that something's off; as they both try and awkwardly re- start conversation, and he looks at them, then sits down, resuming the consumption of his beer. He calmly looks at the two of them, who are busy trying to make themselves look busy.

REGINALD BRUCE I didn't miss nothing, did I?

FRANK MURPHY Oh, nothing interesting. Arthur the author here was just making fun of your bladder.

Reginald scowls at him, shakes his head, picks up his beer, and walks over to a wall, looking at a picture of a sailboat on the ocean. Arthur gives a look to Frank.

ARTHUR CONRAD (talking softly) What gives?

FRANK MURPHY I could ask the same from you. Now, however, you should go apologize to the old man, you've hurt his feelings. (Frank obviously just wants to put him in an awkward position.)

ARTHUR CONRAD For what? I didn't even do anything. (Frank gives him an "Oh really?" look.)

FRANK MURPHY Maybe so, but I think that I know a secret that he might be interested in. (Arthur just looks at him, shocked.) Well? Get going. (Frank smiles evilly)

ARTHUR CONRAD (as he starts to walk over to Reginald) I can't believe it. He's blackmailing me. Complete, total, heartless bastard. (To Reginald) Hey, Reggie. I'm sorry. I was just feeling bitter. (His back is to Frank, at this point.)

REGINALD BRUCE Oh, hey, it's nothing, don't worr- (Frank, behind the counter, shakes his head and winks at Reginald, who gets the point) I mean, that's not cool, Arthur. (Arthur's expression changes from one of relief and satisfaction to one of abject fear.) You're just an upstart little punk, you know that? (Reginald seems to be getting progressively angrier, and Arthur progressively more horrified. As he continues, Reginald is advancing on Arthur, pointing at him and being generally aggressive.) And I'm tired of all your shit.

ARTHUR CONRAD My shit? But-

REGINALD BRUCE Shut up. I don't want to hear it. Just take your shit off the counter and get out. (Arthur is pressed back against the counter now, and he's mortified. A smile slowly spreads across Reginald's face. Frank proceeds to laugh heartily, as does Reginald, both doubling over and slamming their palms on the counter at the hilarity of it.)

ARTHUR CONRAD (Shocked and disbelieving.) Oh, you guys are asses.

This provokes more laughter from the pair. They finally regain their composure; they wipe their eyes, tearing from laughing so hard, and try to keep a straight face. Arthur just shakes his head, forlornly, sits down, and sighs heavily. Frank chuckles slightly.

FRANK MURPHY Hey, don't be so glum. You've got an exciting announcement to make, don't you?

ARTHUR CONRAD Exciting announcement? What? (He looks at Reggie, than adamantly shakes his head.) No.

REGINALD BRUCE Announcement? About what?

ARTHUR CONRAD Don't say it, Frank.

Frank looks at Arthur, smiles widely, and focuses his attention back on Reginald.

ARTHUR CONRAD (Holding his hands up, eyes wide, to no on in particular.) I can't believe this.

REGINALD BRUCE Believe what? What's the big secret? (Getting suspicious.)

FRANK MURPHY Well, you see, Arthur the author, here-

ARTHUR CONRAD (Shocked and scared) I can't be here for this. I'm going to the bathroom. (He gets up and starts to walk towards the bathroom.)

FRANK MURPHY Well, while you were in the bathroom, Arthur told me that (He pauses for effect, Arthur looks at the ground and shakes his head.) he's made a lot of headway in his new book.

Arthur stops dead in his tracks. He turns his head to look at Frank, as the joke dawns on him.

REGINALD BRUCE That's what you didn't want to tell me? Why the heck not? (He laughs, relieved. Something occurs to him.) Hey, you know that I'm just kidding about all that "Arthur the author" stuff, right? I think you're a great writer; you don't have to be afraid to tell me about this kind of stuff.

Arthur realizes that he has to play along. He looks at the ground, saying "Aw, shucks." With his body language.

ARTHUR CONRAD Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm sorry, I'm just. sensitive about my work.

REGINALD BRUCE You know what? As an apology for my rudeness, I'm going to treat you to a drink.

FRANK MURPHY Oh, ha ha, very funny, you freeloading bastard. You're probably half the reason I needed that investor in the first place. What he means is, I'll treat you to a drink on his behalf. (Reginald laughs.)

REGINALD BRUCE No, no, I'll really cover this one.

Frank looks at him, amazed. he gets the drink and sets it down at Arthur's seat. Arthur sits down and looks at the beer with a mix of disgust and confusion. He then looks back up to Frank.

FRANK MURPHY Oh, for god's sake, he can't treat you to a glass of milk. That's. unheard of. (Arthur just stares at him, not accepting any answer reaction but the one he wants. Frank throws his hands up in the air, places the beer next to his papers.

REGINALD BRUCE How much's milk?

FRANK MURPHY How should I know? I don't sell milk. (He gets out the milk. Reginald takes change out of his pocket, and he drops it and then gets on the floor to pick it up. Arthur gets down to help him ) Unbelievable. (To himself.) I mean, the kid's getting married and he still won't drink anything but milk.

Reginald gets up quickly, knocking his head on the lip of the counter.

REGINALD BRUCE Ow. (He rubs the back of his head.) What did you just say?

Frank looks at him and realizes that he spoke aloud. He looks at Reginald blankly for a second, pouring the milk.

FRANK MURPHY I said, uh, I said that the kid's getting to that age where you get married and he still won't drink anything but milk. (Frank looks at him for a tense moment and Reginald laughs. Frank sighs and replaces the milk in the fridge. )

REGINALD BRUCE How could you expect anything else?

He shakes his head, chuckling, and gets back to picking up the change. Arthur and Reginald soon rise and sit back down. Reginald flips a nickel to Arthur, who catches it awkwardly.

REGINALD BRUCE (Smiling widely) For your troubles.

ARTHUR CONRAD (With mock graciousness) Why, thanks so much.

REGINALD BRUCE No, thank you.

ARTHUR CONRAD No, no, thank you.

While they argue, Frank moves back to the stack of paper and begins examining them.

REGINALD BRUCE No, no, no, thank you.

ARTHUR CONRAD No, no, no, no, thank you.

REGINALD BRUCE No, no, no, no, thank you.

ARTHUR CONRAD No, no, no, no, no, thank you.

REGINALD BRUCE No, no, no, no, no, no, no-

FRANK MURPHY (Looking over his shoulder at them, wryly) Man, I've seen kids in utero that are more mature than you two.

REGINALD BRUCE Oh, yeah, this coming from Mr. Maturity, himself.

FRANK MURPHY (Arrogantly, with a false air of maturity) Hey, hey, I'm doing my taxes, here.

ARTHUR CONRAD Taxes? It's May.

FRANK MURPHY I like to get a head start. (Making it up as he goes.) It's called, uh. reverse procrastination. It's a well-known, well-documented sign of maturity.

Arthur and Regiinald laugh heartily, and Frank looks back to his taxes, pretending not to hear them.

REGINALD BRUCE Well, the science journals I read say that doing your taxes in May is a well-known, well-documented sign of stupidity.

Arthur begins to take a sip of his milk.

FRANK MURPHY Yeah, well. The magazines that I read say that you're a well-documented idiot.

Reginald and Arthur look at him, stunned by his lameness. Arthur brings his milk down and sets it on the table, loudly, and stares at Frank. He blinks a few times.

ARTHUR CONRAD Well, Frank, you should be glad to hear that that is by far the most moronic thing I've ever heard. And, considering that I hang out with you two oafs all the time, that's saying a lot.

Frank goes back to looking through the papers, and quickly looks bewildered. Frank is behind the counter, flipping through a thick stack of papers. He looks entirely confused and bewildered.

FRANK MURPHY Hey, Arthur, do you know anything about this stuff?

Arthur shakes his and begins to answer when Reggie cuts him off.

REGINALD BRUCE "Hey Arthur?" You ask the author before you ask me?

FRANK MURPHY Why? Do you know something I don't about this stuff? (He motions to the papers.)

REGINALD BRUCE (Smugly) Matter of fact, I do. I knew a guy who told me, "The best thing to do with your taxes is not pay them."

FRANK MURPHY Well, isn't that some sage advice.

ARTHUR CONRAD What's he doing now? Picking up trash on the side of the highway?

REGINALD BRUCE He works for the IRS.

FRANK MURPHY Ironic.

Reginald sips his beer.

REGINALD BRUCE It wasn't so much irony as it was entrapment. Turns out that the IRS offers a reward for any information leading to the apprehension of a tax offender.

FRANK MURPHY So, what are you telling me?

REGINALD BRUCE The best thing to do with your taxes is not pay them. (He smiles)

FRANK MURPHY Ass. (He tries to go over the papers again but shortly gives up.)