A customer arrives. Before entering, she takes a final drag of her cigarette. The customer stands in front of the bar.
Owner – What can I get for you?
Customer – I don’t know… I don’t fancy anything…
Owner – Nothing? Sorry, that’s not on the menu.
Customer – I just feel like throwing myself under a train.
Owner – This isn’t the right place for that. This isn’t a train station, love. So if you want to stay, you’ll have to order something.
Customer – Fine, what do you recommend?
Owner – If you fancy it, I have house sangria.
Customer – I’m not sure… What else do you have?
Owner – A while ago, you didn’t know what to have, and now you find there’s not enough choice?
Customer – Well then I’ll have… a beer. When you have suicidal thoughts, beer seems quite appropriate, doesn’t it?
Owner – What kind of beer?
Customer – Death & Taxes
Owner – I don’t do craft beer.
Customer – What do you have?
Owner – Draught beer.
Customer – What kind of draught beer?
Owner – Regular draught…
Customer – Is that all?
Owner – A moment ago, you didn’t know what to have, and now you think there’s not enough choice?
Customer – A regular draught will be just fine.
Owner – What people come looking for here isn’t beer, you know. They have beer at home in the fridge.
Customer – You’re right. They probably come here looking for a bit of human warmth…
Owner – Doesn’t matter how it’s served, as long as it hits.
Customer – A half-pint then. No, two…
The owner serves her two half-pints.
Owner – Here you go… Two halves…
Customer – Two halves. That makes a whole… At least that’s what I learned in school…
Owner – You’re a funny one, aren’t you… Are you waiting for someone?
Customer – If I were waiting for my other half, I’d go sit at one of those tables and fix myself up. I wouldn’t be here, standing, dishevelled, talking to myself.
Owner – Thanks.
The customer pushes the second half-pint towards the owner.
Customer – You’re different. (They clink glasses.) A bar owner’s like a shrink, a priest or a prostitute. You can tell them everything, but you can’t ask them anything. Especially not if they have issues with their mother, or if they also have dark thoughts sometimes…
Owner – Do you have issues with your mother?
Customer – Do you ever have dark thoughts?
Owner – That’s none of your business!
Customer – Ah, you see…
Owner – Did you come here looking for trouble?
Customer – I came looking for inspiration.
Owner – Oh really…?
Customer – Poets often go to bars to find inspiration. Didn’t you know?
Owner (ironically) – Yes, of course. All my customers are poets.
Customer – They say that every day in this country, two bars close down. It was in the paper this morning.
Owner – I don’t read newspapers.
Customer – But you sell them!
Owner – I sell pipes too. And I don’t smoke.
Customer – Where will poets go for inspiration when all the bars have been replaced by McDonald’s?
Owner – Let them go to hell.
Customer – Believe me, when fast food takes over every corner, poets will be left writing airport fiction.
Owner – Is that why you want to throw yourself under a train?
Customer – Or maybe because I’m afraid I won’t find inspiration.
Owner – Do you really think it’s here that you’ll find something to tell?
Customer – If counters could talk, they’d have plenty to say, wouldn’t they?
Owner – Sure… But I don’t know who would be interested.
Customer – You know, it was in a bar like this one that I found out my exam results.
Owner – No kidding…
Customer – Exams… They’re milestones in life, aren’t they? Rites of passage…
Owner – I don’t know… I don’t even have a driver’s license. I think the only licence I’ll ever get is a burial one.
Customer – I could tell my life story… Or yours…?
Owner – Can you make money telling your life story? All my customers do that for free…
Customer – Money? Not much…
Owner – Peanuts?
Customer – Yes, more or less.
Owner – No, I mean… Do you want peanuts? With your two halves…
Black.

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A sketch from the collection At the Bar Counter
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

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L’article Two Halves est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.