Guy and Dude are Broke

A very short play By Tom Rowan

Draft Two August, 2009

Characters: GUY (Michael Fulvio): An Account Coordinator in an office; also

an aspiring performance artist. DUDE (Daniel Loeser): A Blogger; Guy’s roommate

Director: Ivan Lopez SETTING: Guy and Dude’s New York apartment

(It’s six o’clock in the evening. GUY, wearing a tie, arrives home from work, where he finds DUDE typing on a laptop.)

DUDE Hey, Guy. How was your day in Corporate America?

GUY It relatively sucked. In fact, I… (Beat) Dude, did you even get dressed today? You are such a slacker.

DUDE I’m not a slacker; I’m a blogger. And I’m going out later.

GUY Dude, you know what day this is?

DUDE Egyptian New Year? National Dental Floss Week? Take-Your-Roommate-Out-For-Pizza Day?

GUY No, Dumbshit. It’s the first day of the month.

DUDE Uh-huh.

GUY Which means the rent is due.

DUDE  Oh yeah. About that, Guy–

GUY Fuck. Here it comes again.

DUDE Guy, you gotta spot me another couple weeks.

DUDE. Guy–

GUY I gave you money last month!

GUY This isn’t a… I can’t keep doing this, Dude. No more loans.

DUDE I wish you wouldn’t think of it as a “loan.” That word is so–

GUY What would you call it then?

DUDE I prefer “Stimulus Plan.”

GUY Stimu—what What??

DUDE  It’s like, you know: with Obama and the banks and the car companies? You dig Barack, right? So you can emulate! Follow his inspiring example.

GUY Dude, I fail to see the resemblance between you and a bank. You are the opposite of a bank. Have you even been looking for a job?

DUDE Hey, I keep myself busy. You know how much I’ve got on my plate.

GUY I’m aware that you spend all morning at the gym and all afternoon on the computer.

DUDE Which is why you would be prudent to invest in my continued viability. Look at it this way, Guy. It’s because I have time to go to the gym every day that I happen to have this bod. And it’s because I have this bod that hot babes happen to gravitate towards me. And some of said hot babes have semi-hot friends who are on occasion willing and available to hang out with you so the four of us can all do something together. Which if you play your cards right could potentially lead to your getting (concept!) an actual date, which might then lead to marriage and later children and the continuation of your family name. My point being, that this Stimulus Package could be vital to the survival of our very way of life, our very species.

GUY You are so utterly full of shit. I hold the lease to this apartment. And when you moved in the plan was not for me to be supporting you. The plan was for you to help me save some money by paying half of the rent. Which you need to start doing, tonight.

DUDE But what I’m saying, Guy, the point I’m making, is that a Stimulus Plan can be key to the insurance of later profitability. In fact, you’re already benefiting from my endeavors in ways you fail to acknowledge.

GUY Is that so? Explain this.

DUDE Gladly. I am, as you know, a blogger. I blog daily. I am becoming a presence in the blogosphere, and it’s percolating; it’s expanding. And I use that influence to promote and nurture artistic events in which I believe and which I choose to support. You, I might add, are not just an account coordinator, you are an aspiring, and already quite an accomplished, performance artist on the downtown scene. And when you have gigs scheduled, like your upcoming solo show at Dixon Place, I promote them assiduously on my blog.

GUY Yeah, which is read by exactly how many people?

DUDE I’m up to almost twenty hits a week! So do the math. If even ten percent of the people who read the blog buy tickets to your show, taking advantage of the half-price discount, that could add up to–well okay, bad example. But the point I’m trying to make is that–

GUY The point you’re making is that you’re an asshole. You’re what in ancient times was called a parasite. And the rent on this place is eighteen hundred dollars a month. So if you don’t come up with nine hundred, plus the seven hundred you owe me from last month, by eight o’clock tomorrow morning so I can turn in the rent check before I go to work, you’d better hope one of the hot chicks that wants to hang out with you, or one of the twenty people who read your blog, is looking for a roommate–or else you are officially going to become a homeless person as of tomorrow.


GUY Dude, that’s it. I’m sorry. That’s all there is.

DUDE Guy, all I need is another few weeks. This whole blogging thing, I can feel it picking up steam. I can see it leading someplace big. The mainstream media are starting to pay attention. And I’m saying things nobody else is saying; people are beginning to realize that. With your support I can make it happen faster, but one way or another I see myself becoming a significant voice in the cultural debate.

GUY And I see myself beating some significant crap outta you. Get outta here and sell an organ or something. And don’t come back without the money.

(DUDE starts to pack up the laptop to leave.)

GUY Dude! I think you’re forgetting something.

DUDE Which is what?

GUY That’s my fuckin’ computer!

DUDE Oh, yeah. (Beat) Guy, you’ve been my best bro since college. I got you into the Delta Epsilons even though some of the guys thought you might be gay. I gave you that term paper that got an A-minus! A friendship like ours; you can’t put a number on that.

GUY Dude! You sold me that paper!!

(They yell at each other, uncontrollably and simultaneously, for a full ten seconds. Then they glare at each other in silence for five.)

DUDE (Finally) A Stimulus Plan, Guy; that’s all I’m asking for. It’s the economy, all right? The whole country’s fucked up right now; it’s insane. But when times are tough, I would like to believe that you and I can still come through for each other.

GUY Wishful thinking, Dude.

(DUDE leaves the apartment. GUY thinks for a moment, then angrily pulls off his necktie, sits down, and dials his phone.)

GUY Hello, Dad? Guess who!. … I know it’s been a while. … Not too bad, kinda humid. How’s the weather there? … Listen, Dad. You know the economy’s been… I got laid off today. Two more weeks, and then… And my roommate is–shit, I don’t even want to go there, Dad. I’m sorry but I think I’m gonna need some help. … Oh, Dad, please–do you have to–do we have to use that word? Couldn’t we try thinking of it as more like a… like a “Stimulus Plan”?