Act 1-5: A Fictional Narrative

ACT ONE/ SCENE FIVE

[ A up pop tune is playing on the radio as the register rings, we hear the voices of an arguing couple off-stage, about to enter the bar. George, Nathan, Rachel & Alex turn to listen.]

RACHEL: Hey, George – play some Prince.

GEORGE: No.

RACHEL: Why not? Don’t you like Prince?

GEORGE: Got nothing against Prince.

RACHEL: Then why don’t play some Prince?

GEORGE: One, this is not a turntable, it’s a radio. Second -- I never play want my customers want. I control the atmosphere and ambiance. Mellow crowd, mellow music, old crowd – 60s, 70s. Young people, punk rock.

RACHEL: They drink more.

GINA [off-stage]: How was I supposed to know it was going to be a blizzard tonight?!

SAM [off-stage]: Ever watch the weather

I don’t want to go out on Christmas day, Sam. I want to stay home and look at my wonderful gifts you’ve given me.

SAM [off-stage]: Vice versa – By the way, who the hell else I'm going to blame -- the president?!

[The door opens, and a couple enters. Gina and Sam walk to the bar; They’re dressed in formal attire, both wearing long coats, scarfs, hats, and gloves. Sam slowly with a limp and a cane. Alex, behind the bar, still pretending to be the official bartender, greets them.]

ALEX: Good evening folks! Welcome to George’s. What can I get you tonight?

SAM: I need a drink. – a double

George just watches. Alex watches with a smile – he grabs his cell phone – crosses upstage – dials]

ALEX [speaking into his cell phone]: Gloria -- it’s me. -- Can you hear me? No. I can't tell you where I am. No... I'm not with anyone I'm alone -- in a bar... I can't. Don't you understand I don't know what I’m going to do? I have no idea. I just want to be alone and think. Please allow me that privilege. -- And no matter what I do -- understand that is my choice and this is my life! I owe you nothing. I don’t even know why I’m calling you.

[Suddenly he hangs up the cell phone and places it on the table with a bang. The song ends – everyone ambles back to their seats. With that, a powerful gust of wind blows the doors open -- the snow flies in. A loud, thunderous sound of the howling wind shakes the place as the lights suddenly flash on and off. The Satellite radio stops. A stranger dressed in a long black coat all the way to his boots enters. He wears a large black hat that covers most of his face. A scarf covers his mouth. His nationality is uncertain. All eyes are on him or her, hard to tell. For the sake of argument, we assume it’s a man. He stands for a long beat. Finally, he crosses into the bar and sits on a bar stool. There’s something alien about him -- even though it’s snowing outside there is no snow on his long overcoat. The door closes by itself. No one says a word. He sits for a beat as if to