The start of a play about two people stuck on island together. Charlie and Maurice.
Maurice: Fun-loving, slobbish, adorable, and charming. Also extremely conservative.
Charlie: Up-tight, liberal ass-hole.
Maurice and Charlie’s plane has just crashed on an island. They are the only two left alive.
Maurice: You should boil that first.
Charlie: It’s water isn’t it?
Maurice: You don’t know where that’s been, that shit could be infected!
Charlie: Do you really think it matters at this point?
Maurice: Go ahead, but if you die on me and I’m stuck on this shit hole alone I will be bitter.
Charlie: It’s fine.
Maurice: (Opens a beer can) Now you see, this is what the smart man drinks.
Charlie: Wha- where the hell did you get that?
Maurice: There’s a huge thing of drinks in the plane’s galley. You see, I’m smarter than to just drink that shit. I’m not gonna go get some giardia or shit.
Charlie: But you are gonna get dehydrated. (Pours beer on ground).
Maurice: Now, hold on. You didn’t just do that-
Charlie: The water is fine.
Maurice: Wait, wait, I wasn’t talking about the water.
Charlie: The water is fine. The water is fucking fine!
Maurice: Jeez, chill man. I’ll drink the water.
Charlie: This is terrific. This is just terrific. I’m stuck on a- do you know what I was supposed to be doing right now? I was coming for a White Stripes concert in the perfect location. An island resort. Well I got the island. Now all I have to do is find a damn resort!
Maurice: Now, now hold on. The White Stripes?
Maurice: You flew all the way down here for a White Stripes concert.
Maurice: (laughs) Well it’s your travel money.
Charlie: Thanks, you know what? If that’s such a terrible reason; what are you here for?
Maurice: Drive By Truckers concert.
Charlie: Of course.
Maurice: Hey I tell you, you match up any northern band, the White Stripes, Green Day and match them up against any southern band, Drive By Truckers, Lynyrd Skynyrd. No contest.
Charlie: Are you telling me that location is the sole basis for a band’s success?
Maurice: Of course, have you name me one great rocker from the north.
Charlie: Are you serious? Ah, Jimi Hendrix was from Seattle.
Maurice: He doesn’t classify as a rocker.
Charlie: What? He’s the greatest guitarist of all time! Ah- it doesn’t matter! Have you noticed we’re still stuck on an island in the middle of the ocean.
Charlie: “Yep” what?
Maurice: Well, we are stuck here on an island.
Charlie: Does that not concern you?
Maurice: Yes. Very much so.
Charlie: Well, I’m glad you’re worried.
Maurice: Hey, you’re the one who’s talking about the White Stripes.