Setup: Clark and James stand at a table cluttered with papers and letters, both have a bottle of beer and they're both looking agitated.
Clark: Bills, bills, bills. There's nothin' but fuckin' bills and there's no money left to pay em'
James: What happened to the paycheck from last week?
Clark: Went to last weeks fuckin' bills
James: Stop swearing mate, it's not like you
Clark: I can swear as much as I fuckin' want, it's my house and my bills and my paycheck
James: Clark calm down, we'll figure it out, we just have to think about it
Clark throws his bottle to the ground, smashing it, James jumps back
Clark (yelling): IT WOULD'VE BEEN A LOT FUCKIN' EASIER IF YOU HADN'T GOTTEN FUCKIN' FIRED
James: It wasn't my fault, and you know that
Clark: WELL WHO'S FUCKING FAULT WAS IT THEN, MINE? ALL I'VE BEEN DOING IS WORKING MY ASS OFF AT THE BREWERY, WHILE YOU'VE BEEN SLACKIN' OFF DOIN' NOTHIN'
James: The company got new machines, they fired hundreds of workers, there was nothing I could've done about it
Clark: LOOK AT ME JAMES, TAKE A GOOD FUCKIN' LOOK AT ME MATE. DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A SHIT, DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE ABOUT YOUR BULLSHIT EXCUSES? DIDN'T FUCKIN' THINK SO, NOW LEAVE MY FUCKIN HOUSE AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU HAVE SOMETHIN' TO SHOW FOR IT
As he talks Clark leans on the table, but slips and falls to the ground, obviously drunk. He quickly starts snoring after he hits the ground. James sighs, picks him up and drags him to the side, before covering him with a blanket. He then goes back to the table, and starts cleaning up after the smashed bottle. When he's done opens a drawer and takes out a book, he places it on the table and sits down. He then withdraws a pen from his jacket, and starts to write. What he writes is read aloud by a narrative voice.
Narrator (James voice): Journal entry number 7, January 25. 1885.
It has been a while since I wrote here last, and things have been getting worse. Clark had another fit today, just minutes ago, he is getting worse by the day, and I'm not sure how long I can continue keeping this mess afloat. Clark's paycheck isn't covering our expenses, and my lack of income is becoming Clark's reason for all our trouble. Although the money I inherited, is the only thing that kept us alive, for as long as we have. Not that I would ever tell Clark that his less than adequate paycheck, wouldn't even pay for food. I cant tell him about the money I have, for he will surely use what little there's left on his seemingly constant abuse of alcohol. I am out of options, and I have to come up with something, or we will be thrown out before the end of February. For now I'll take my leave, Clark doesn't need more of a reason to get upset, but I'll return tomorrow. Hopefully with a plan
Signed James Gillean.
James puts down the pen and closes the book, he puts it back in the drawer and turns to leave. He stops for a second, before he leaves and the light turns out and the scene is over.