Pam needs a secret ...
Hi All
Great to see everyone on Saturday - I didn't get much further with my elephant poem after you'd left the Gardens - too many squeaking kids around. This is the other bit of writing I need help with - come on, get yer thinking caps on! This carries on from my piece about the lady doing the ironing, missing her departed husband, gazing into the garden.
Exercise * find out, or try to tell a secret
Watch pace/tone/rhythm.
A knock at the door. Monica comes in carrying a package, sits down, kettle goes on.
Monica: Thought you'd like some company.
Mrs Griffiths: Not really. I'm OK.
M: Well, anyway. Was just passing an*.
Mrs G: I'm FINE. I'm used to being on my own.
M: Oh, errr, yes. Yes of course you are but*.
Mrs G: Why do you think I need company?
M: Well, errr, actually I errrr. Oh hell! Take this! (pushes the packet she's brought across the table)
Mrs G: What is it?
M: Something I should have given you some time ago.
Mrs G: What?
M: For Christ's sake woman. Take the bloody thing. Open it. I think you know what's in it. I think you've known a long time it would eventually come back to you. Take it! Open it!
Mrs G: I don't want to. I don't want to! Don't do this to me. Take it away. Take it away from here*..
M: Ha. You coward. You miserable coward. Go on * open it! Let me see your face! I've waited a long time for this. A - very - long - time. Evan has given me that chance. Good old Evan. Perfect little Evan. Nine-to-five-and-an-hour-for-lunch-Evan. Now perfect little Evan has done the perfect thing * he's DIED*.
Mrs G: Shut up! Oh shut up you bitch!
M: Not likely sweetheart. What was it God said? Oh yes, 'vengeance is mine'. Open the package Eleanor. Let the moths out, let the sickening rancid smell out Eleanor, open the Pandora's box*. Go on, do it!
Mrs G: How can you be like this? After all this time, all these years*.
M: Yes, all these years Eleanor. Festering, seething, boiling, awaiting the moment. I'm going to enjoy this SO much. Come on, don't play the stricken wife, snivelling and crying for her beloved husband. Open the bloody packet! (pause) Or * I * will*
Mrs G: NO! (grabs the package, just as a crash of thunder and a flash of lightening illuminates the room)
M: See, Evan's watching! HE wants to see you open the parcel too! (laughs) won't HE be surprised*.!
Great to see everyone on Saturday - I didn't get much further with my elephant poem after you'd left the Gardens - too many squeaking kids around. This is the other bit of writing I need help with - come on, get yer thinking caps on! This carries on from my piece about the lady doing the ironing, missing her departed husband, gazing into the garden.
Exercise * find out, or try to tell a secret
Watch pace/tone/rhythm.
A knock at the door. Monica comes in carrying a package, sits down, kettle goes on.
Monica: Thought you'd like some company.
Mrs Griffiths: Not really. I'm OK.
M: Well, anyway. Was just passing an*.
Mrs G: I'm FINE. I'm used to being on my own.
M: Oh, errr, yes. Yes of course you are but*.
Mrs G: Why do you think I need company?
M: Well, errr, actually I errrr. Oh hell! Take this! (pushes the packet she's brought across the table)
Mrs G: What is it?
M: Something I should have given you some time ago.
Mrs G: What?
M: For Christ's sake woman. Take the bloody thing. Open it. I think you know what's in it. I think you've known a long time it would eventually come back to you. Take it! Open it!
Mrs G: I don't want to. I don't want to! Don't do this to me. Take it away. Take it away from here*..
M: Ha. You coward. You miserable coward. Go on * open it! Let me see your face! I've waited a long time for this. A - very - long - time. Evan has given me that chance. Good old Evan. Perfect little Evan. Nine-to-five-and-an-hour-for-lunch-Evan. Now perfect little Evan has done the perfect thing * he's DIED*.
Mrs G: Shut up! Oh shut up you bitch!
M: Not likely sweetheart. What was it God said? Oh yes, 'vengeance is mine'. Open the package Eleanor. Let the moths out, let the sickening rancid smell out Eleanor, open the Pandora's box*. Go on, do it!
Mrs G: How can you be like this? After all this time, all these years*.
M: Yes, all these years Eleanor. Festering, seething, boiling, awaiting the moment. I'm going to enjoy this SO much. Come on, don't play the stricken wife, snivelling and crying for her beloved husband. Open the bloody packet! (pause) Or * I * will*
Mrs G: NO! (grabs the package, just as a crash of thunder and a flash of lightening illuminates the room)
M: See, Evan's watching! HE wants to see you open the parcel too! (laughs) won't HE be surprised*.!
posted by Vergil | 2:09 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home