[Be sure to read Plays No. 49 and 50, Craig Taylor’s other tiny plays about London.]
(Jo and John stand outside a pub in Clapham. Their pints of Stella Artois are almost finished. The night is clear.)
Jo: It’s so weird how your tolerance just goes down so much. Isn’t that weird?
John: You haven’t had anything to drink for ten days?
Jo: Twelve days.
John: Twelve whole days.
Jo: I’ve been a good girl.
John: You have.
Jo: But it’s a Friday, you know?
John: You can’t hold back on Friday night.
Jo: I said to myself: Tonight, John is in town…
John: That’s right.
Jo: He’s taken a train all the way to see me.
John: And the rest of the gang, yeah.
Jo: I’m going to let myself go.
John: Well, we’ve had a few.
Jo: And I’m going to tell him how I feel.
John: You’re feeling good, aren’t you? We’re feeling good. Nice spring night.
Jo: John.
John: What’s the matter? Here. Come over here.
Jo: John. How long have we been friends?
John: I don’t know. Nearly six months I guess.
Jo: No, John. It’s been two years.
John: I met you two years ago.
Jo: And we were friends.
John: Well, not friends right away. Acquaintances. At least at the beginning. I mean, I knew who you were.
Jo: John.
John: Do you want to sit down?
Jo: I’m fine. John.
John: Yes, Jo?
Jo: John. We have been friends for three years. And I have loved you…
(Pause.)
Jo: Whoops.
(Pause.)
Jo: I wasn’t supposed to get to that part until a few minutes later.
(Pause.)
Jo: Do you hate me now that I’ve said that?
John: Now that you’ve said what?
Jo: You know. What I just said.
John: I love you too, Jo. I think you’re great. I think you’re brilliant.
Jo: John.
John: Yes?
Jo: John. I don’t want to sleep with you.
John: Jo, I’m sort of seeing someone up in Manchester. I have a girlfriend.
Jo: Not that I haven’t thought, oh, you know, something like “I wouldn’t mind if he took my bra off.”
John: I’m kind of unavailable Jo.
Jo: I’m just saying.
John: I know.
Jo: I’m just saying.
(Pause.)
Jo: Do you want to see my bra?
John: No. No, I didn’t… no.
Jo: I’m only going to show you a glimpse.
John: Jo, I don’t think that’s the best thing.
Jo: You so do. I can’t believe how bad you are. You’re naughty.
John: Jo.
Jo: It’s a jungle bra.
John: What do you mean it’s a jungle bra?
Jo: If you want to see it so bad you’ll get your chance, John.
(she lifts her shirt up)
Jo: Do you think I have nice breasts?
(Pause.)
Jo: It’s because it’s camouflage that it’s called a jungle bra.
(Pause.)
Jo: You have to look, John. To see it.
John: Jo, maybe we should just be friends right now.
Jo: Military is in you know.
John: Maybe stop showing me, okay?
Jo: What’s her name?
John: Put your shirt down.
Jo: What’s her name?
John: Put your shirt down.
(Jo drops her shirt)
John: It’s Debbie.
Jo: This is your girlfriend?
John: Well, we’re seeing each other.
Jo: So she’s your girlfriend.
John: We’re dating.
Jo: Which makes her your girlfriend.
John: I guess, yeah.
(Pause.)
Jo: It’s a nice name.
John: What’s wrong with Debbie?
Jo: Nothing. It’s a nice name.
John: It’s fine.
Jo: Deb. You can shorten it to Deb, can’t you?
John: Yeah.
Jo: Do you shorten it to Deb?
John: Yeah, sometimes I do.