Dialogue in a bar.

Agnes and Petrus

A One-Beer Story

for readers’ theater

August 2008 :: by Bob Komives :: draft August 3 :: Fort Collins © 2008

Cast of  Readers

NARRATOR  :: Bartender

AHGNESH :: A woman whose true name is Sally and whose false name should be  written "Agnes" but is pronounced AHGnesh. She has no real accent, but her too-mannerly speech does sound a bit foreign in this environment.

PETRUS :: A guy who is really Steve

:: :: :: :: :: ::

NARRATOR

OK, one more beer coming up. New to the neighborhood? That is my name on the door. This is indeed my bar. Yes, I do most of the bartending, and the sweeping up, the plumbing and most everything else. No, I don’t know that odd couple over in the corner, but I do get my share of entertainment from the folks who come in. Since you just ordered another beer, and I haven’t yet inflicted one of my stories on you, let me tell you a one-beer story. A love story, no less.

I believe it was 2005, about this time of year. It was a slow night. In fact, the place was empty. I was thinking of closing early. Then, in come a couple of young women—late 20s early 30s. They sat down here at the bar. You’d think one of them just got a raise ’cause she was in a good mood and doing all the talking. She takes the stool right in front of me. Her friend sits two stools away—the one you’re on. There’s nothing so odd about that. I guess some folks want to save me the work of having to wait tables when the bar is near empty. But they want to turn and talk privately as if I’m not here. So they leave a vacant stool between them to talk across.

AHGNESH

(barely audible small talk)--

NARRATOR/bartender

--Good evening, ladies.

AHGNESH

Hello, two’s a good number today. Please, draft us a couple of pints from whatever you got there coming from below the blue handle second from the left. Yes, that one.

NARRATOR

I serve them their beers, and in come two guys about the same age as the ladies. They’ve been in before, and I know I’ve got only one beer they like. One of the guys looks like he had a bad day. I don’t say a thing, but I’ve got their pints waiting on the bar for them. I swear I wasn’t trying to play cupid or nothing, but when they sit down at their beers, there they are: the dejected guy facing his buddy, and he is almost back to back with this talkative, attractive young lady.

PETRUS

(Loud laugh)

NARRATOR

Well it didn’t take but two sips of beer for the guys to be in just as good a mood as the ladies. But, as far as I could see, they were oblivious to the fact that a couple of possible eligibles were sitting at the bar with them. That is until the guy appears a little embarrassed by his loud laugh and leans toward his buddy to say something. Then the fun starts. As he leans forward—you try it. What happens? Your right elbow goes backward, right? Well, he gave that lady behind him a pretty good poke in the back. But, he’s the one who grimaces. I think he was embarrassed, because he smiles and then finishes whatever point he was making with his friend. The young lady, however, turns around. You know the way you might do if you think somebody you know snuck up and tapped you on the back. Of course, all she sees is the guy’s back, so she gives me a puzzled look and turns back to her conversation with her friend. Of course, I knew what was going to happen next. It finally dawned on the guy with the elbow that the person behind him might be more interesting than his friend. So, now he turns and taps her on the back --right where he had hit her. He starts to apologize before she’s half turned around.

PETRUS

Did I just hit you with my elbow?

AHGNESH

Yes. But that’s OK, the bruise will be gone in six months?

PETRUS

Perhaps we should call an ambulance.

AHGNESH

Or the police.

PETRUS

Or I can report it to my insurance agent.

AHGNESH

Good idea, less hassle.

PETRUS

Who should I say I injured.

AHGNESH

Whom should you say you injured? Me.

PETRUS

I’ll have to give him a name—I have to tell him whom suffered.

AHGNESH

When you tell him who suffered, tell him it was Ahgnesh.

PETRUS

Ah! My grandmother’s name. But you are much sweeter than my grandmother.

AHGNESH

Truly? Your grandmother? She said her name as I say my name? Hungarian?

PETRUS

Not exactly. She never said her name. At least I don’t think I ever heard her say it. I didn’t understand a thing she said—in English or Hungarian. But, my dad said her name was like yours, “AGnesh,” I mean “AHGnesh.” And, she was, in fact, Hungarian. It’s also a fact that you are much sweeter than she was.

AHGNESH

That is not a pretty thing to say about your sweet father’s sweet mother—even if you say it to be nice to me.

PETRUS

No, I mean it. I mean I mean that you do seem sweet. I am sure my mom would agree. She hated my grandmother. Excuse me, my “sweet mother” would agree. You always say that in Hungarian; don’t you? That’s how my dad—my sweet father— always says it—in English. He drives my mom crazy. He says, “My sweet mother … something … ,” and mom jumps in: “Sweet mother, hell! At best she’s a sourpuss and a pain in the you-know-what!” [laughs] She has nothing good to say about her mother-in-law. … Wait. Let’s start over. My name is Steve. I hate the name “Agnes,” but I love the name “AHGnesh.” Aunt AHGnesh is my favorite Aunt.

AHGNESH

Hello, Steve. … Istvan [pronounced EESHtvahn]. I hate the name Istvan. He was my first boyfriend.

PETRUS

Actually, only people who know me call me Steve. With women from Hungary I usually go by “Petrus.” It’s the name I almost took for confirmation.

AHGNESH

“Petrus,” that is a very nice name, Steve—especially if you are an ancient Roman. I am very pleased to meet you, Petrus. My name is AHGnesh. The name “Agnes,” neither do I like it. [she laughs and tries to improve her phrasing] I do not like the name either … neither? I do not like it even if it is the name nice people want to call me and the sweet mother of your sweet father. And Petrus, thank you for the nice compliment.

PETRUS

Compliment?

AHGNESH

You do not remember? You said I was sweet.

PETRUS

Yes, Yuh, I did, and you are sweet. Nobody has ever been so nice to me while she says, “Go to hell!”

AHGNESH

Petrus, I could not tell you to go to hell—at least  not until I know you better.

PETRUS

See what I mean! That’s so sweet of you. How long?

AHGNESH

How long?

PETRUS

How long before you know me well enough to tell me to go to hell?

AHGNESH

Not long, Steve. Perhaps five minutes.

PETRUS

AHGnesh! Give me a chance here. I’ve hardly said anything.

AHGNESH

You are correct, Petrus. You have talked now… How many minutes have we talked? You seem interested in my breasts, but show to me no interest in my Harvard degree, my swimming medals, my escape from the Nazis, nor my work as an attorney.

PETRUS

OK, OK. I think I understand. Wait here while I go around the block.

NARRATOR

(muffled cough) By this time I was laughing so hard to myself I had to cough to cover it up. So, this Steve-Petrus guy revolves clockwise slowly on his stool, gives this “what do I do now?” look to his friend who just smiles. The friend is enjoying it as much as I am. What they don’t see is that sweet Ahgnesh’s friend has this huge grin and elbows Ahgnesh almost right off her stool. But, by the time Petrus completes his 180 degree turn on his stool, she’s ready for him. So, they start this pantomime in which Petrus starts counting on his fingers, while she smiles and shakes her head, “no.” When he gets to number five, however, his eyes light up with confidence.

PETRUS

Yes, I understand. You are pefectly correct. For the second time in our brief life together, I apologize. ... Is that a good start?

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

Now, please tell me. How did you escape the Nazis?

AHGNESH

It was quite simple, Petrus. I hid in my sweet mother’s womb until the Nazi’s had been gone for thirty years.

NARRATOR

Now our poor Petrus is rolling his eyes in utter humiliation, that is until:

AGHNESH

By the way, Steve. I like you.

NARRATOR

Now, should Petrus be pleased, humiliated, or just confused? Well, he takes two more spins on his stool while he tries to figure it out. When he’s done he manages to get a sympathetic smile from sweet Ahgnesh.

PETRUS

Let’s just see what we know here for sure, Ahgnesh. What we know for certain here, Ahgnesh, is that: you did not go to Harvard, I am stupid, you might be sweet, and you like me. Correct?

AHGNESH

Yes, correct ...  Except I am sweet.

PETRUS

Now you admit it.

AHGNESH

Steve, I just do not want you to take back such a pretty compliment—even if it does not reflect well on your grandmother. I am afraid you are in a fix. Fix? You are in a difficult situation, Petrus. Either you decide in your heart that I am absolutely, positively sweet, or I must cancel our wedding.

PETRUS

[pause] Yes, Yes! I’ll drink to that, sweet AHGnesh.

NARRATOR

Did I forget to tell you that while all this was going on, the two silent friends made eye contact, toasted each other, downed their beers and finished by downing the pints of Ahgnesh and Petrus? Well, anyway, when our couple turns to toast their wedding their glasses are empty. Of course, I join their friends in feigning ignorance when they look to us for an explanation. Ahgnesh, now, hands me her empty glass, takes her drink coaster and writes something on it.

PETRUS

Well, would you drink to that: to my proclamation of your sweetness, and to our wedding, if we had something to drink?

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

You have lived in this country a long time, haven’t you.

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

Do you have a last name?

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

That’s very good. Do you have an email address?

AHGNESH

Yes.

NARRATOR

Now, you can guess what Ahgnesh wrote on the coaster; she hands it to Petrus.

PETRUS

That’s very very good! Now, would you like to know more about me and my career as a sponge diver?

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

Good. I’ll send you my resume. Don’t you think we should exchange resumes before we get married?

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

That’s it, then. A resume exchange. Then, next Tuesday we do coffee

at Java Java?

5pm?

to work out the details.

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

You are sweet. Did I already say that?

AHGNESH

Yes.

PETRUS

Can we seal this contract with a kiss?

NARRATOR

Ahgnesh sees that I am eager to hear her answer, so she looks to me for an opinion. I play dumb, of course, and shrug my shoulders. Then she turns to her friend who smiles and shakes her head with a definite, “no.”

PETRUS

On the cheek!                                                                                              

AHGNESH

Yes ... that would be sweet.

NARRATOR

Well, by this time the friends of our love birds are antsy to leave. They’ve already paid for the drinks. So, as Petrus gives his dear Ahgnesh a peck on the cheek he is being pulled to the door by his buddy. He salutes Ahgnesh with the coaster on the way out the door.

PETRUS

Goodbye, sweet Ahgnesh.

NARRATOR

Now here’s the good part. Ahgnesh’s friend goes to the door, stands with her hands on her hips, shaking her head and smiling as Ahgnesh gropes in her pocket for her portable phone.

AHGNESH

Yes. Yes. [her voice takes on a more contemporary quality as she continues]
Yah! Yeh! Definitely! We’ll leave. But first, I gotta call my mom. I gotta apologize to my sweet, sweet mom. I gotta admit I finally believe her. When I wanted to go to Paris for a year during college? You know. Well, she refused. I told her she was thinking about her pocketbook instead of me. She forced me to take a cheaper alternative. “Sally,” she said. She must have said it twenty-five times. “Sally, you’ll get much more out of a semester in Budapest than a year in Paris.”

NARRATOR

A semester in Budapest. Better than Paris. Ahgnesh, Petrus, Petrus, Ahgnesh, Steve, Sally, an elbow in the back. I swear on my sweet grandmother’s grave, it’s a true story. And it gets better. But that’s for another night. Have a safe walk home. I hope to see you again.

END