Got Change for a Two?
Here is the beginning of Got Change for a Two? the one-act play co-written by myself and
performance rights. All producers are required to include the author's name on any
programs or advertising in which the title of the play appears. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy
the show!! :O)    -Daniel Guyton

Got Change for a Two?
A Play in One Act by Daniel Guyton & Spencer Temkin ©2002

--Produced at
SUNY Albany in Albany, NY, 1999
--Published in
The Twisted Mind of Daniel Guyton (Poetry & Plays), 2009

Authors holds all copyrights. For performance or production information, please contact
author at:
click here to email.


CHARLIE – a 20 year old college student who can't get laid
JIMMY – a 20 year old college student who gets laid more than Charlie, but not by much
SKIP – a 60-somewhat year old bartender
HEATHER – an attractive 18 year old female
APRIL – an even more attractive 18 year old female

SKIP’s Bar. A seedy college bar in Anytown, USA. The lights are dim, the Mahogany
furniture is faded, and the once popular juke joint has slowly degenerated into a dank,
oppressive haven for the lonely and the desolate. The once proud owner has been
reduced to a bitter and sarcastic man, a mere shadow of the tavern titan that he once was.
The two boys sit at the bar on splintered wooden barstools. They are alone. They are
unwatched. But, they are not afraid. Despite the empty void engulfing the two young men
and their surrounding environment, there is an inescapable air of familiarity. Of comfort.
Routine is the name of the game, and the boys play it well. The tattered Mahogany bar at
which they are sitting is up center stage, with four or five stools in front of it. There is a
dusty, but working, jukebox down stage left. There is at least one table with chairs down
stage right. An old-fashioned electric clock is visible, with the time set to 10:50 PM. The
front door is mid stage left, with the slogan “Skip’s Bar” and an “Open” sign hanging onto
it. There is a storage room behind the bar and a bathroom mid-stage right. JIMMY and
CHARLIE are sitting next to each other, facing downstage with drinks in hand. JIMMY is
wearing a nice brown sweater with khakis, nothing bright. CHARLIE is wearing a t-shirt
with an unbuttoned flannel, faded blue jeans, and a backwards baseball cap. JIMMY has a
pint of beer. CHARLIE has a large strawberry daiquiri, complete with umbrella, swizzle
stick, fruit wedge, and the works. The play begins in silence. A long silence. JIMMY is very
relaxed, very calm, very Humphrey Bogart. He casually drinks from his pint. CHARLIE, on
the other hand, waits in anticipation for something to happen. He tries to act cool like
JIMMY but fails. CHARLIE noisily slurps at his Daiquiri, disturbing the tranquil quietude of
the bar. JIMMY looks at him.

CHARLIE: It’s kinda… silent here, don’t you think?

JIMMY: Yeah.

(JIMMY drinks. CHARLIE drinks. Silence.)

CHARLIE: It’s kinda… dead here, don’t you think?

JIMMY: Yeah.

(JIMMY drinks. CHARLIE drinks. Silence.)

CHARLIE: It’s kinda…

JIMMY: Shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ you’re getting on my nerves! Just because it’s quiet
doesn’t  mean you should go flappin’ yer gums! “Jeez, it’s kinda quiet! Jeez, it’s kinda
dead!” Jeez, you’re kinda dumb!

CHARLIE: I was just saying, “It’s quiet,” is all…

JIMMY: What? Twelve times? It’s eleven o’clock! What the hell do you expect?

(CHARLIE looks at the clock.)

CHARLIE: Really? It seems like it’s later.

JIMMY: Well… it’s not.

(JIMMY drinks.)

CHARLIE: Ok. (CHARLIE drinks.) It’ll pick up soon, right?

JIMMY: Of course it’ll pick up soon, we come here every fuckin night! You should know this
by now!

CHARLIE: I never pay attention to the clock, dude.

JIMMY: What do you pay attention to?

CHARLIE: The wi-men!

JIMMY: Yeah? Well, too bad they don’t pay attention to you.

CHARLIE: Oh yeah? Well, when was the last time you got some, Casanova?

JIMMY: Last night with your mom, dick!

CHARLIE: Oh, is that where she got the itchy snitchy?

JIMMY: The itchy snitchy?

CHARLIE: You know, the scratchy snatchy?

JIMMY: The scratchy snatchy?

CHARLIE: The puss-ey pussy?

JIMMY: The puss – oh man! That’s disgusting! That’s your own mother, dude!

(CHARLIE stands.)

CHARLIE: Yeah, well, you fucked her!

JIMMY: I didn’t fuck your mother, dude.

CHARLIE: Why not? Everyone else has.

JIMMY: Dude, you’re insulting your own mother here.

CHARLIE: Oh right. (CHARLIE sits.) Oops...

(CHARLIE drinks.)

JIMMY: An-nyway, in answer to your query, I got with that one chick two weeks ago,

CHARLIE: Two weeks ago?

JIMMY: Yeah, you remember. Not this past Saturday, but the Saturday before that? The
blonde chick? The night after we went bowling?

CHARLIE: Bowling?

JIMMY: Remember? You bowled a 68?

CHARLIE: Oh yeah! That was two weeks ago already?

JIMMY: You have no concept of time, do you?

CHARLIE: Man, I don’t pay attention to that shit!

JIMMY: What do you pay attention to?

CHARLIE: The wi-men!

JIMMY: Jesus Christ! I asked for that one, didn’t I?

CHARLIE: (Gleefully) Yup. (CHARLIE drinks. JIMMY drinks.) So, why’d you hook up with
Blondie anyway? She wasn’t very good-looking.

JIMMY: All right, so she had a bit of an overbite…

CHARLIE: Dude, she looked like Mr. Ed!

JIMMY: Dude, she may have looked like Mr. Ed, but she howled like fucking Lassie!

CHARLIE: Yeah, but Lassie had less facial hair.

JIMMY: You are so damn shallow! Haven’t you ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the

(CHARLIE searches JIMMY’s face for a hint of sarcasm. He finds none.)

CHARLIE: Oh. You’re right, dude. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you thought that way.

JIMMY: Besides, my “beholder” was getting a bit rowdy, if you know what I mean!

CHARLIE: Your… “beholder?” Aw, man, that’s just wrong!

JIMMY: You know, “In the eye of the beholder?” Well, my beholder’s only got one eye, and
what he saw looked fan-tastic!

CHARLIE: Yeah, but you got two eyes, and they had to look at the rest of her!

JIMMY: Nah, man, you don’t look at the mantle when you’re poking the fire!


CHARLIE: I just don’t get you.

JIMMY: You know, the mantle, fire, poking it…?

CHARLIE: No, I get that, jerk! What I don’t get is how you can just hook up with these
random women and… and…

JIMMY: And what?

CHARLIE: And, like, you don’t even find them attractive?

JIMMY: No, man, I didn’t say that. I find them attractive, or else I wouldn’t be able to get it up.

CHARLIE: No, I’m being serious.

JIMMY: I know you’re being serious. And I’m being serious in return. I mean, I know it
doesn’t sound poetic or anything. But, there’s just something inherently attractive about
women. It’s like the Prince video.

CHARLIE: You mean, the Artist Formerly Known As…?

JIMMY: No, I think this is when he was known as!


JIMMY: Anyway, so it’s like in the video. What was it? Oh yeah, “The Most Beautiful Girl In
The World.”

CHARLIE: Never saw it.

JIMMY: Well, in the video, he just had these random women. They, like, picked them
without even looking at ‘em. So, they’re all different, and they’re all not even that good
looking. And, here’s Prince singing to all of them about how they’re all the “most beautiful
girl in the world.”

CHARLIE: But Prince is a faggot.

JIMMY: Shut up, man! Prince got mad nookie!

CHARLIE: Yeah, that whole symbol thing was a great chick magnet. “Hi, my name’s…
Wait! Let me write it down for you!”

JIMMY: You asked me a question. Do you want me to finish, or not?

CHARLIE: All right, fine.

JIMMY: All right, fine?!? Dude, if you’re not interested, I’m not gonna’ waste my time. My
beer’s getting flat.

CHARLIE: All right, all right. I’m interested.

JIMMY: Ok. So, Prince has this video…

CHARLIE: And that’s another thing. How are they all the most beautiful woman in the
world, if there's a bunch of them?

JIMMY: First of all, it’s “girl,” not “woman,” and second of all… I don’t really know. But the
point is: here’s all these girls who are not beautiful, some of them not even decent, some
of them, in fact, repulsive. And yet, they were all the most beautiful girl in the world to

CHARLIE: Yeah, but they’re not the most beautiful girl in the world to you, so what the fuck?

JIMMY: That’s the thing. Maybe they are. Maybe for, like, one brief shining moment, this girl
is the most beautiful girl in the world to me.

CHARLIE: Yeah, after like ten beers!


JIMMY: It was five, but that’s besides the point. What I’m saying is that just being with the
girl is the most beautiful thing, and it’s not a matter of whether she’s beautiful or not, or
whether being with that particular girl is a beautiful thing or not, because it’s always a
beautiful thing. Most guys just don’t get that.

CHARLIE: Wow, that… that’s pretty deep. I’m impressed.

JIMMY: Plus, she had big tits.

(JIMMY drinks.)

CHARLIE: My respect for you just plummeted, like, fifty stories, dude.

JIMMY: Was it that high?

CHARLIE: Yeah. After that speech? That was good stuff, dude.

JIMMY: Yeah. I’m the bullshit master.

CHARLIE: So, it was all bullshit.

JIMMY: Yeah, man, ugly chicks are ugly. You know that, I know that, even the goddamned
ugly chicks know that!

(JIMMY drinks.)

CHARLIE: So, why do you hook up with them?

JIMMY: No, listen up, dude. I don’t hook up with ugly chicks. I have never hooked up with an
ugly chick. I have been known, on occasion, to hook up with non-attractive chicks, but there
is a big difference between being non-attractive and being actively ugly.

CHARLIE: Yeah, like the one two weeks ago. (Impersonating Mr. Ed.) “Wilbur!”

JIMMY: No, man, she was just non-attractive.

CHARLIE: Right. And for a brief, shining moment, there, she was the most beautiful girl in
the world.

JIMMY: Yes, Charlie. She was. Why are you joking about it?

CHARLIE: I thought that was all bullshit?

JIMMY: No, man, I was just bullshitting about the bullshit.

CHARLIE: Man, you are full of shit!

JIMMY: I’ll drink to that!

(JIMMY drinks. CHARLIE drinks.)