Drunk At The Get-Together

DRUNK AT THE GET-TOGETHER

CHARACTERS

Lawyer

Doctor

Banker

Drunkard on the sofa

Waiter

Manager

[A luxury cottage at a resort – the type you find on a hill-station. Four inebriated men are in the room. Three men (the lawyer, the doctor and the banker) lie sprawled on the rug around the fire-place, rising only to refill glasses or to reach for nuts and crisps. Their movement is unsteady but the three seem to talk with intact senses even though their speech is loud, thick and slurred. The fourth is lying on the sofa and seems to be in a more inebriated condition.]

DRUNKARD ON THE SOFA

[He turns sideways with a lot of effort, and addresses the three on the floor.]

I have been thinking…counting…do you know how many people would like to kill me now?

[As if exhausted with the effort, he collapses onto his back and slips into a drunken stupor. He can be heard off and on muttering, snoring or shouting numbers. It sounds as if he is counting the number of people out to kill him. The three men on the floor stare at him from various reclined positions. An eerie silence follows for a while.]

BANKER

[Addressing the other two on the floor.]

Doesn’t he have anything better to think about?

DOCTOR

Hmmm…what a pity…I don’t think anyone would bother with me…

BANKER

What are you talking about?

DOCTOR

His question…

BANKER

[Groans.]

God!

DOCTOR

My kids might…

BANKER

With Dads like us, good kids should…when was the last time you saw them?

LAWYER

But…seriously…my rivals might, you know…or their clients, at least…Come to think of it, even some of my clients might want to kill me (smirks)…

DOCTOR

You lawyers! Do you think anyone would really want to kill a doctor like me?

LAWYER

Let’s see…how many patients have you let down…or…is it put down? Honest mistake or gross negligence…or…just not worth the effort or resources…?

DOCTOR

Come on, it is not like that…sure it happens…but we are not God, right? We can’t save everyone…but…we are not the Devil either…

BANKER

Geez! Stop it, you guys…

DOCTOR

How about you finance lot? Anything you do not worth a kill? (laughs)

LAWYER

Investors, certainly…for wasting their money…

DOCTOR

Tax-payers too, probably…for killing their jobs and then, wasting their money…

BANKER

Yeah, yeah…as long as we loan money, everyone’s happy…right?

DOCTOR

And all those products you sell? What’s the fine print: heads you win, tails I lose…right?

BANKER

Caveat emptor…

LAWYER

Listen to him! I feel like killing him now! And, the irony…you used to be a commie!

DOCTOR

Yeah, what happened to that act…in college, weren’t you with that militant Dam Bachao lot?

LAWYER

That must have ended when he got his militant wife…

BANKER

Any wife should do, I would assume…

[The three men laugh together. There is a knock at the door. One of them shouts ‘Come in’. A waiter enters.]

WAITER

Sir, the kitchen is about to close…can I get you anything?

BANKER

Bring a tandoori platter…

DOCTOR

At this time of the night…? Yuck! I think I will have some cheese cucumber sandwiches…

LAWYER

Just crisps for me…and a bottle of the same…

WAITER

Sir, the bar is closed…

LAWYER

Damn!

WAITER

Sir, I told you last time…

DOCTOR

Hey, no problem…I think I have a bottle of Glenfiddich with me…that should last us…

[The waiter exits after confirming their order.]

BANKER

From where did you get that Glenfiddich?

DOCTOR

London conference last week…brought back two bottles…

[Indicating the drunkard on the sofa…]

I met him at the airport...he was there to receive or send someone. He begged for a bottle…gave him one. That’s when we thought of contacting you two for this get-together…

BANKER

For auld lang syne…

LAWYER

How does he manage it every time?

BANKER

What?

LAWYER

Every time we meet, he passes out drunk…but before that, he sets the theme for the night…like his question tonight…

DOCTOR

Do you remember the first time? Just out of school…right…?

LAWYER

God, yes…I was drinking for the first time…he told me to keep on pinching my nose…to gauge my drunkenness (laughs)…

BANKER

And we had a copy of the Satanic Verses…man, he was crazy about Rushdie…O boy, the protest we planned against the fatwa…he wanted a fatwa on The Suitable Boy instead…how could Seth produce that after The Golden Gate…definitely deserved a fatwa (laughs)…Sethanic Verses…isn’t that what he called that monster-book…

DOCTOR

We were so green then…

BANKER

Embarrassingly fresh!

LAWYER

And then the last time we met…? Remember…?

DOCTOR

The only time I saw him without liquor…sipping juice…the last time he must have had a healthy drink (laughs)…and he brought his girlfriend…lovely girl…he kept on drooling over her…

BANKER

Come on, she was a whore…

LAWYER

Who cares which…I remember that day…won my first big battle in court…

BANKER

Isn’t that the one your client was sentenced to death?

LAWYER

The first case my senior allowed me to handle…heady stuff, man…deals with the prosecution and all that…agreed to suppress some evidence…man, there were wheels within wheels…that poor sod never stood a chance…too many bigwigs involved…

DOCTOR

Has he been hanged?

LAWYER

Who knows…must be rotting in some death row?

DOCTOR

That was my final year of post-graduation in Medical College…

BANKER

Yeah, yeah…walking around with Rohypnol…God! On how many did you use that date-rape drug?

DOCTOR

Well, that night, who hit first base with the help of that?

BANKER

I was second…you went first…

LAWYER

And, she was hardly usable after you…what a mess you left (laughs)…

DOCTOR

And he slept through it all…as doped as his girl…

[The three men laugh together. The doctor rises and searches in his suitcase.]

DOCTOR

Oh shit! Where is that bottle? I am sure I had it with me…or did my wife confiscate it while packing? Oh shit!

LAWYER

Damn! Where do we get a bottle now?

BANKER

Hey, check his bag (indicating the drunkard on the sofa)…he rarely goes around without a bottle…though it might be rum or something cheap…

[The doctor searches in the drunkard’s old backpack. He finds a bottle of Glenfiddich.]

 DOCTOR

Did he filch mine or is this his? It’s open. He’s had a peg or two…

LAWYER

Anyway…pour it, man…

[The doctor refills each glass, adds ice and hands over their glasses to his friends. The three men raise a toast, and we can hear them say ‘Cheers’, ‘Bottoms Up’, ‘Up Yours’, laugh together and then drink. For a while, there is a silence. Then we hear strangled hoarse cries from the three as we see them in the throes of a convulsive death. The eerie silence continues interrupted only by the muttering or snoring of the drunkard on the sofa. Then, we hear a persistent knocking on the door. The waiter enters the room. He sees the dead men, drops the tray he is carrying, looks shocked and then runs out. He returns soon with the Manager. The latter surveys the scene.]

MANAGER

Looks like they had a poisoned drink…is that bottle from our bar?

WAITER

No, sir...that is the doctor’s bottle…I heard him say that he has a bottle.

MANAGER

Thank God, it is not from our bar! Let me call the police from the office…you stay here and guard the place. Don’t let anyone in. What a mess!

WAITER

[Pointing at the drunkard on the sofa.]

Sir...what about him?

MANAGER

Let the police come and wake him up. Poor chap…three friends…dead…

WAITER

Why did the doctor poison those two…and himself…?

MANAGER

Who knows what goes on with this type…!

[The manager exits. The waiter guards the three dead men. The drunkard on the sofa continues to mutter and snore. As the lights fade, he gives an exultant shout as if he has found an answer to a long-standing problem ‘Three! Three! Three!’]