PLAY #170: SPILT (MAY 27)

Pithole, USA.

1859, the moment after all the oil has dried up.

 

WILL, a young oil executive, sits in a deserted bar.

NATASHA, a young prostitute, sits beside them.

Tables and chairs on the floor, the general appearance of disarray.

 

WILL goes behind the bar, checks for alcohol: nothing.

 

WILL

Gone.

 

NATASHA

Just like that.

 

WILL

Didn’t think it possible.

 

NATASHA

Believe it.

 

WILL

So much there and then…

 

NATASHA

No point crying over it.

 

WILL

No.

 

NATASHA

It’s the way of fluids. They’re not made for staying put. And best not to hold onto them either: gives a bad taste.

 

WILL

You’d know.

 

NATASHA

Truth.

 

Pause.

 

WILL

What’ll you do now?

 

NATASHA

Find the next town to tap into. You know what they say: where there’s oil…

 

WILL

There’s a lot of lonely men looking for some loving.

 

NATASHA

Where there’s oil there’s money.

 

WILL

Until it’s gone.

 

NATASHA

Truth.

 

Pause.

 

WILL

What kept you here?

 

NATASHA

You want me to say ‘you’?

 

WILL

If it’s the truth.

 

NATASHA

Depends on how much you got.

 

WILL

Ha. I’m tapped out, baby.

 

NATASHA

Then I’m out, baby.

 

WILL

Figures.

 

WILL looks down at his empty drink.

 

WILL

Funny how it works out. Thought this town would be the life of me. The place to throw ball to a young one. Nice house. Seat on some important committees.

 

NATASHA

Maybe a statue in a few years?

 

WILL

Something simple. Nothing too ostentatious.

 

NATASHA

Plaque on a bench or two. School named after you.

 

WILL

Preach, baby, preach.

 

Pause.

WILL looks at his drink.

 

WILL

Funny. To imagine this place a month ago. This time.

 

NATASHA

Packed.

 

WILL

The smell of the oil.

 

NATASHA

Smell of the men.

 

WILL

Money, liqour, laughs…a flow to it all…

 

Pause.

 

NATASHA

You want some advice?

 

WILL

Depends on what you’re charging.

 

NATASHA

Free.

 

WILL

Sounds like the kind I can’t avoid anyway.

 

NATASHA

Dreams are the worst kind of fuel. They’ll take you far, power you halfway across this fine country, but then they evaporate when you least expect it. You can’t be relying on them.

 

WILL

Think I preferred it when we didn’t talk.

 

NATASHA

Wish’ll come true soon.

 

WILL

Truth.

 

Pause.

 

NATASHA

I’ll be off so.

 

WILL

So.

 

NATASHA doesn’t leave though, stays sitting at the bar with WILL, the sun setting behind them.

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