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A cutting from Tanker & Slug by Wes Chick
Copyright 1994 Unpublished work Wes Chick
Wwindship@yahoo.com
Setting:
The front of a large, old farmhouse. A porch runs across the length of the house.
The trunks of two large Oak trees stand downstage right and left. A variety
of
chairs sit on the porch. A large wire spool sits next to a leather armchair
for use
as a table. An old wooden porch swing dangles from one chain at one end of
the porch. The other chain is piled in a lump on the floor. A rifle leans against
the wall to the left of the door. At the extreme end of the porch, opposite
the
swing, a sheet of plywood stands up against the porch railing. On it hangs a
dart
board.
At Rise:
It is about Eleven O'clock on a autumn Sunday morning. The sound of birds in
the trees grows louder and louder. SLUG lies flat on his back on the lawn
downstage of the porch. TANKER is playing darts on the porch. He throws
three darts at the board. He walks over, takes the darts out of the board, and
turns to go back to the line. He stops in front of the table. One by one he
picks
up beer cans, feels their weight, and tosses them off the porch. He finds a
full
one and drinks from it. SLUG begins coughing loudly. He sounds as though
he is having trouble breathing. TANKER goes to kneel next to him.)
TANKER
Hey, how ya doin'?
TANKER (Continued)
(Placing his hand on SLUG's chest.) You're still breathing.
Why don't ya roll over? (Pause.) Come on, Brother. Roll over.
(He helps SLUG roll over on his stomach.)
That's it. Wouldn't want you to drown in your own puke. Not yet anyway.
(TANKER goes back to playing darts. The sound of the birds grows
louder.
Suddenly we hear shouting from inside the house. A window is slammed open .
. . )
NOBLE (Off -Yelling.)
Tryin' to get some damn sleep . . .
(We hear the sound of a shot fired. The sound of birds erupting in flight.)
NOBLE
. . . Get the hell out of here . . .
(Another shot.)
NOBLE
. . . I'm cuttin' down these trees . . .
(Another shot.)
NOBLE
You hear me? I'm cuttin' all these fuckers down today. All of 'em. You hear
me!
(Another shot.)
TANKER
(Mumbling.) wastin' ammo.
(Another shot.)
NOBLE (Off)
What?
TANKER
Waste of ammo.
(Another shot.)
NOBLE
Fuck you.
(Another shot.)
TANKER (Yelling.)
Don't use the whole clip.
(Pause. A window slams shut. SLUG struggles to his hands and
knees.
He lurches forward. TANKER throws a dart which lands in SLUG's
path. SLUG stops.)
TANKER
Go back to sleep.
(SLUG collapses to the ground.)
TANKER
Gimme the dart.
(Without looking, SLUG finds the dart and flings it back toward
the porch .
TANKER retrieves it. He goes back to his dart game. NOBLE bursts through
the front door. He is wearing only a pair of jeans.)
NOBLE
We got a chain saw?
TANKER
Do I look like a lumber jack?
NOBLE
Huh? I bet there's a chain saw around here someplace.
TANKER
Check the barns.
NOBLE
I'm gonna rent one.
TANKER
You ain't cuttin' down these trees.
NOBLE
Fuckin' birds.
TANKER
They're not your trees.
NOBLE
I'm gettin' rid of 'em.
TANKER
Call the Landlord.
NOBLE
Cute. Real cute. There must be some kind a poison or something. Bird repellent.
TANKER
Tired of buying' you ammo.
NOBLE
What? You have to pay for it? Any beer?
TANKER
Asshole at the store is eyeballin' me. Hell, I buy you a box of .45's every
week.
NOBLE
With your own money?
TANKER
No. With your money. So you go get 'em.
NOBLE It's on your way to work. Beer?
TANKER
Find one.
NOBLE
Shit.
(NOBLE starts checking beer cans. He looks into one.)
NOBLE
God damn it. Using beer cans for ash trays.
TANKER
Don't drink it.
NOBLE
Fuck you.
TANKER
Fuck yourself.
NOBLE
What the hell is your problem? (TANKER points at SLUG.)
NOBLE
Shit. Ain't my fault.
TANKER
Shut up.
NOBLE
Can't trust the little punk.
(Moving toward SLUG.)
TANKER
He's awake.
NOBLE
Bull. Who cares. Where's Lavon?
TANKER
With Shrink.
NOBLE
Kim? (He stares down at SLUG.)
TANKER
She's a Shrink.
NOBLE
You know what she's doin'.
TANKER
Yeah.
NOBLE
We don't care.
TANKER
What?
NOBLE
You don't like it. We don't care.
TANKER
You wanna be called Noble?
NOBLE
Beats "Frenchie".
(NOBLE gently uses his foot to roll SLUG over on his back.)
TANKER
Just leave him alone.
NOBLE
He's botherin' me.
TANKER
You'd trust a Shrink before you'd trust a punk kid? Just leave him, okay?
NOBLE (To SLUG.)
You been flyin' cars again, kid?
SLUG
I'm gonna . . . damn.
NOBLE
What?
SLUG
Call all your - (He coughs.)
NOBLE (To TANKER)
Could at least teach him how to drink.
TANKER
Been tryin'.
NOBLE
Not much luck, huh? (To SLUG) What? You're gonna what?
SLUG
Call all your blue-haired old ladies. Tell em you shoot birds. In the morning.
NOBLE
Oh, yeah?
SLUG With a forty-five.
(Pause.)
NOBLE
He's right. I should use the thirty.
SLUG A what?
NOBLE
Thirty. Thirty-ought-six.
SLUG
Oh.
NOBLE (To TANKER)
Prick doesn't know guns from his asshole.
TANKER
Leave him alone.
NOBLE
What?
TANKER
I'll take care of him. Just leave him alone.
NOBLE
Nothin' else to do.
TANKER
Play me a game.
NOBLE
Nah. Gotta find something to eat.
TANKER
Some chips left.
NOBLE
Shit.
(NOBEL puts a toe in SLUG's ribs, prodding him.)
TANKER
God damn it! Frenchie!
NOBLE
(Pointing to himself.) Noble! I like Kim's idea, okay? Nicknames are negating.
TANKER "Negating"? Jesus Christ.
(TANKER grabs a beer and moves quickly down to SLUG.)
TANKER
Get him up.
(They kneel on either side of SLUG. NOBLE pulls SLUG by his collar into a sitting position.)
NOBLE
(Laughing) I like this. Yeah. I like this.
TANKER
Least maybe he'll be able to run away from you. Come on kid. Take a drink.
(TANKER places the beer to SLUG's lips and slowly tips the can up.)
NOBLE
Breakfast time. Here we go.