A cowboy sings for his beer and a girl just wants her song. It's time for a one act play...

A Song for a Simple Beer

By Pete Schulte

SETTING: 

A dive bar on the edge of town. 

TIME: 

The present.

SCENE 1: 

A middle-aged woman approaches the table closest to a make-shift stage, opposite from the near empty bar. She carries a beer in each hand. She sees a slim, middle-aged man wearing a cowboy hat. He is seated by himself. She approaches him.

Woman: Hey, cowboy. You remember me?

Cowboy: (Squinting up at her face) Why sure I remember you, darlin. How could I forget such a pretty face? Please sit down. Take a load off.

Woman: (Sitting down) Thank you. 

Cowboy: The pleasure’s all mine.

Woman: Remember you were going to write a song for me? You were going to write a song and I was going to buy you a beer.

Cowboy: Of course I remember. I remember everything that involves  beer. 

Woman: Well then, here’s your beer. Now let’s hear my song.

Cowboy: (Reaching for the beer) Of course, of course. Your song.

Woman: You sure you remember? It was just last night. 

Cowbow: Okay now…Okay, I think I got it. I know your song.

(He sings) 
Put a cork in it, Nadine.
Put a cork in it, Nadine.
We’re gonna sail this vessel home,
Because we ain’t got no time to roam,
So put a cork in it, Nadine. 

Woman: Okay…Is that it? That’s my song?

Cowboy: No, no. It’s got another verse. Hang on now. It gets better. 

(He sings)
Stuff a sock in it, Nadine.
Stuff a sock in it, Nadine.
My pillow’s very soft,
But we’ve got to get off this raft.
So stuff a sock in it, Nadine.

Woman: That’s good, I guess, in a misogynistic kind of way.

Cowboy: Hey now, I don’t know that word, and I don’t write songs with any of those high and mighty ideas. I write about real folks. 

Woman: Really? 

Cowboy: Really.

Woman: And I see you’ve managed to rhyme soft with raft. I don’t know how but you did. 

Cowboy: I do know my rhymes. Some people know taxes and some know how to be a dentist. But I know my rhymes.

Woman: But do you know what’s the worst part about your song?

Cowboy: Worst part? There is no worst part. I don’t write worse parts.

Woman: Oh yes there is a worst part.

Cowboy: What?

Woman: My name’s not Nadine. 

Cowboy: It’s not. You sure?

Woman: It’s Gina. I’m sure. 

Cowboy: Wilma you say.

Woman: Gina. My name is Gina, you rube. Gina.  

Cowboy: Gina, huh? You don’t say. Well, I’ve got your back. I do. I’ve got a Gina song in here somewhere. (Pulls out a tattered notepad) 

Gina: Oh, I feel so very special.

Cowboy: Wait. Here’s one especially for you. 

(He sings)
Your booty, your booty, your booty’s on fire…Oh Gina, your booty…

Gina: (Rising from her seat) Okay, stop right there. That’s it, I’m done. You got your beer. My booty’s on fire? Really?

Cowboy: No, wait. I got a better one. I do. You’ll see.

Gina: (Sitting back down) Let’s hear it then, cowboy. Nothin’ about my booty though.

Cowboy: No, this one’s got a soft sound, more intimate. You’ll like it. Now listen here. 

(He sings…softly)
I’m gonna live in Gina’s house.
Yes, I’m a gonna live in Gina’s house.
She’s got a big kitchen
Where she’ll do all my stitchin.‘
Yes, I’m a gonna live in Gina’s house.

Gina: Well, at least you’re not wanting to put a cork in it, or my rear end being on fire. How about the second verse?

Cowboy: You think you can handle the second verse?

Gina: Lay it on me, cowboy.

Cowboy: 

(He sings)

I’m gonna play in Gina’s yard.
Yes, I’m gonna play in Gina’s yard.
The grass is much greener
And I’ve got a spleener.
Oh, I’m gonna play in Gina’s yard.

Gina: All right, I’ll bite. What the hell is a spleener?

Cowboy: Oh, it’s just a figure of speech is all. If something comes from the heart, it comes from the spleen. You know?

Gina: Since when does anything come from the spleen?

Cowboy: Since it does. Hey, I know my figure of speeches. I’ve been around this country from end to back…

Just then, a man’s voice over a microphone announces the next act.

Voice: Friends, we welcome you to Freddy’s Last Chance Saloon. We’ve got someone special taking the stage tonight. And if he’s not special, well, at least he showed up. So now, coming to you from parts unknown, here he is, the one -- and only -- Romulus Roadkill Maguire!

Romulus (Cowboy) rises up from his seat and grabs his guitar. He takes the small stage.

Romulus: This song’s for a little lady named Gina.

(He sings)
I’m gonna swim in Gina’s pool.
Yes, I’m gonna swim in Gina’s pool.
She’s got roller skates on and the kids are gone.
Yes, I’m gonna swim in Gina’s pool…

The end.