Drinks 3

A rainy Saturday at Snark is the Night. Only a few people sit at the bar tonight; midterms are coming up and those with good judgment are studying in their dorms.

Enter VIC and JASON, decidedly not in their dorms. VIC bears a black eye that looks recent. JASON bears VIC, somehow.

JASON: Where do you think olives come from?

VIC: I think the better question is ‘how did you graduate high school?’

JASON: Ooh, ooh! I know that one. My math teacher at the Catholic school I went to forsook her vows to taste some of deez…

JASON points downwards.

JASON: Nutz.

VIC: Yep, that happened with me and my guidance counselor.

JASON: My parents found out when I showed them my hickeys. I thought they’d be proud, but suddenly everyone starts making a big deal out of it. Then people hired lawyers and before the media heard about it, I ended up graduating a few years early. Then we bought a new house.

RENEE enters with a thousand yard stare and a stiff gait.

VIC: Hey. Did you know I slept with my guidance counselor? We were talking about health class and-

RENEE: Not today, Vic. Not today.

JASON: Is your aunt visiting? My sister gets upset when her Aunt Ruby visits. Which is strange, because I never saw Aunt Ruby when she was around. Nor did I even know we even had an Aunt Ruby.

RENEE: I’ll lecture you on human physiology later when I’m in a more mirthful state. As for right now, I need to forget everything about the last few hours. You get that, Kent?

KENT appears from the kitchen.

KENT: I’ll dilute some Everclear.


KENT: Alright, then let me make you a-

RENEE: No, I mean don’t dilute it.

KENT shrugs and pours a glass, sliding it to RENEE.

JASON: Get me a purple drank, Kent.

VIC: I’ll have a Bergenschmitz dark lager.

KENT: What the hell is that?

VIC: Oh, it’s nothing special. Imported from Germany. They’ve been brewing it since the days of the Holy Roman Empire. It has a distinctly ‘Munich’ flavor, though a few would argue that its aftertaste feels very ‘Southern Bavaria.’ It needs to be poured into a chilled glass in order to bring out its Gewäsch.

KENT: You’re getting a Heineken.

KENT digs through the cooler while VIC sulks.

JASON: My favorite foreign beer is PBR. But where is Pabst, anyway? They must have some pretty good taste to give it their blue ribbon like that.

KENT: Actually-

RENEE puts her hand over KENT’s mouth.

RENEE: Shh, shh, shh. It’s funnier this way.

KENT: Don’t touch me. They’ll name me an accessory to grand larceny.

TERRY walks in and RENEE averts her eyes. Noticing this, he sits down at the stool next to hers with a shit-eating grin and a bounce in his step.

TERRY: You may have seen some things today.

RENEE: Stop it.

TERRY: I feel I must remind you, though-

RENEE: I said stop it.

TERRY: -that you were the one who was curious.

RENEE: Jesus, I’m going to vomit.

TERRY: Jesus can’t help you, Renee. If he saw what I did, then he’s probably given up on mankind.

JASON: I wonder…where does God live to get a view of all of our sins? Does he have, like, guys that wander around and take notes?

HE gasps.

JASON: (cont’d) Oh, shit! I bet Kent is one of his guys! Kent, I swear I’ve been good. All that shit I said about my math teacher was a lie. Also, I’m sorry for lying. Can you tell God I’ve been keeping the Sabbath and Kosher and everything? I can pay you. Wait, shit. Forget I said that.

KENT doesn’t even answer. He leans back on the bar and pours himself a soda, giggling to himself.

KENT: Man, I don’t even care that you guys are shitty tippers. Asshole Theater is my favorite part of the week.

VIC: I’m the main character of Asshole Theater, right?

KENT: If I say yes, will you maybe consider 20%?


KENT: I wasn’t asking you.

RENEE: Oh, you weren’t? Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction when people ask for money. You understand.

TERRY: We all understand. You’re a horrible person.

RENEE: Said Lord Frey.

TERRY: I’m offended. Have I not earned a comparison to Lord Bolton?

RENEE thinks about this for a second.

RENEE: Yeah, you actually have.

JASON: Ooh, ooh! Can I be Jojen Reed?

TERRY: Knock yourself out.

JASON: He looks like a kitten.

VIC rolls his eyes and takes a begrudging sip of his beer.

VIC: You people are all nerds.

RENEE: Your Facebook picture is of Firelord Ozai.

VIC: Phoenix King Ozai. It’s easier for people if they have something familiar to use as a comparison before interacting with me. Treat me as you would him.

TERRY: I hope you understand that you just gave me permission to beat you half to death and then do humiliating things to you.

VIC: Why are you like this?

TERRY: I get asked that a lot. It’s not something I think about. Not out of avoidance or anything. I mean, do you think about why you like your favorite food? Sure, because of how it tastes or whatever. But there’s no real reason beyond that. You just do.

JASON: I wonder…

VIC: Oh, here we fucking go.

JASON: Are we, like, born with a favorite food? Is it decided in the womb? Maybe it has to do with what your mom eats.

TERRY: Can’t be. My favorite food is expensive tequila. And since I don’t need a helmet to take a piss, I very much doubt it was a taste I acquired in utero.

RENEE: Why would you ever pay extra to make your gullet hurt?

TERRY: Why would you ever pay extra for anything?

RENEE starts to retort but doesn’t get any further than pointing at TERRY.


VIC: Christ, that was loud.

JASON edges closer to VIC


VIC: I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.

RENEE makes a buzzer noise.

RENEE: What is “Wedding vows of Vic’s future spouse?”

JASON opens his mouth to make a third ‘OOOH’ noise before seeing TERRY calmly shake his head. He settles back down.

TERRY: Marriage.

He takes a sip of his drink.

TERRY (cont’d): That’s something I don’t ever want to think about.

RENEE: Why, afraid you’ll get hungry?

Everyone is very quiet for a minute while TERRY takes another sip.

TERRY: That was a little funny.

VIC: I had a better joke, but I decided now wasn’t the time.

RENEE: I imagine the time will be right when you actually come up with said joke?

VIC: Yeah, I – wait. No. No, I already came up with it. Fuck you.

JASON: The liar lies! Kent, give him a bad report the next time you meet with God.

KENT: Jason, I’m not-

TERRY: Shh, shh, shh. It’s funnier this way.

RENEE: Last week, we convinced him to buy a shit ton of gold.

JASON: Hey, better safe than sorry.

KENT: Impressive.

VIC: I wasn’t there. This is boring. I’m bored now. Let’s talk about something else.

RENEE: Such as…?

VIC: My professor hates me.

TERRY: I hate you. How is this a shock?

VIC: It’s not a shock. It’s a problem. My homeostasis depends on the resentment of those whose opinions matter.

RENEE: Hah, ‘resentment.’ Uh, I mean, what’s the problem?

VIC: He doesn’t resent me. He’s just annoyed by me.

TERRY: Maybe your humility gets on his nerves.

VIC: No, I already ruled that out. It’s not fair. All he’s basing his opinion of me off of is my personality, words, and actions. He’s not interested in seeing the real me at all!

JASON: I’ve been thinking a lot about the real me.

VIC: All I do is tell him why he should admire me and – wait, what?

JASON: It’s just that I’ve never felt comfortable in my own body and I think I know why now.

TERRY gets into a more relaxed position, taking his eyes off his drink long enough for RENEE to steal it.

TERRY: What probably happened is that when you went through puberty, you grew but your skin didn’t. It’s too tight; that’s why you’re uncomfortable.

JASON: Really? I should get that – wait, I’m getting sidetracked. Though thanks for the advice, Terry.

TERRY: It’s why I’m here.

RENEE: As opposed to death row.

TERRY: Don’t hate the player, Renee. Hate the game.

JASON: Anyway, I’ve come to a conclusion about myself. Guys…I’m black.

Dead silence. VIC lost interest a few sentences ago and watches the game on TV. RENEE and KENT have no words. TERRY tries to decide how hard he should be laughing.

RENEE: What?

JASON: Maybe I was born in Florida, but my heart, my soul…it lives in Harlem.

TERRY: This is fucking gold. I can’t even laugh, it’d ruin the moment.

JASON: I discovered this about myself after reading about who I am on Tumblr. We’re called Transethnics. We number about a thousand in the United States alone, and it’s estimated that there are several million of us worldwide.

TERRY (to himself): Nothing will ever be this funny again…

RENEE: Well, the good news is that I’m pretty sure if anyone ever assaulted you, a good lawyer could turn it into a hate crime and you’d be Oprah rich like that.

JASON: This isn’t about getting rich, Renee.

RENEE: Heresy.

JASON: It’s about accepting who I am.

TERRY: It’s about being allowed to say ‘nigga.’

JASON: Hey. I didn’t give you permission to borrow that term, Terry.

VIC: It’s been at least a minute since anyone asked me my opinion.

RENEE: We never ask your opinion.

VIC: I’m a generous man, Renee. I give you my opinion without making you ask for it. This is the generosity of the Victor.

JASON: Hey, weren’t we talking about-

VIC: You were. I wasn’t. That is all that matters.

JASON and RENEE look to TERRY, who shrugs.

RENEE: Okay. You have the floor.

VIC: It’s my opinion that we talk about what had Renee so freaked out when she came in.

RENEE: Jason, please continue.

JASON: Alright. As I was say-

TERRY: Jason, shut up.

JASON: Kent, some Hennessy, please.

KENT: I want to hear the story.

RENEE: There’s no story.

VIC: There’s a story.

RENEE: There. Is. No. Story.

JASON: You’re tearing me apart! You say one thing, he says another, and everybody changes back again!

TERRY: Thank you for the melodrama, Jason, but I think we owe our guests a story.

KENT: Your guests?

RENEE: Only God will forgive what you did, Terry.

TERRY: I didn’t do it to you.

VIC: You will tell us immediately.

TERRY turns his gaze to VIC, who realizes his mistake.

VIC: Sorry.

TERRY: No, no. You want the story? I’ll give it to you. No sugarcoating or anything.

TERRY leans into VIC’s ear and whispers something to him for a few minutes while RENEE finishes her Everclear and JASON flips a coin repeatedly, studying the result each time.

JASON: Okay, I think we’re clear. Causality is still in effect.

RENEE: Well, thank heavens for that.

VIC stands up before TERRY can finish his story.

TERRY: Now don’t you call the cops; it’ll only mean I’ll have to kill them. And if I do that, you’ll have no one to protect you once I come for you for snitching.

JASON: Snitches get stitches.

TERRY: They don’t, actually. You can’t sew up getting beaten to death.

KENT: Do I even want to know?

VIC turns to him with eyes that have seen all nine layers of hell and/or one or two Madonna videos.

VIC: No.

JASON: Oh, is this the Regina thing?

RENEE: I think there are more accurate terms out there than ‘thing.’

VIC: ‘Atrocity’ springs to mind.

TERRY: How about ‘victory?’

JASON: Yay, differing perspectives!

RENEE: I think I’m about done here. Pretty sure I blacked out a while ago, so that’ll be nice.

KENT: If you assholes leave without settling, I’m calling the cops.

TERRY: Why? They have families. I don’t need that on my conscience.

RENEE: ‘Conscience.’

VIC: Jesus, I have two midterms tomorrow.

JASON: My Philosophy of Existentialism midterm is tomorrow. I’m kinda nervous. Does anyone know what a solipsism is?

TERRY: You’ll be fine.


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