under the fable
Issue 9, June 2017
This issue includes prose, poetry and plays.
Content Page
Poetry 4- Inner Speech, Barry Robson. 5- From Sadness to Happiness, Doc Wallace. 6- The Degloving of thy hand, Paddy Clarke. 7- Hidden Picture, Barry Woods. 8 Quantum Echo, Ollie Percivall. 9- Hot Lost Lips, Kezzabelle Ambler. 10- Terraces, Charlie Jones. 11- Polie à Deux, Sean Broadhurst. 12- Just Next Door One Morning in 1980, Johnny O’Hanlon. 13- Appetities, Marissa Glover. 14- Growing Old, Ghazal Choudary. 15- 1. Jana Abou Shakra. Plays & Prose 16-23 -Journey, Matthew Gardner. 24-33 -Honor Thy Father & Mother, Steve Slavin 34-35 -Beneath, Alec Sillifant. 36 -The Mother of All Universes, Gordon Pinckhead. 37-48 -Lazerbeams, Hayden Robinson.
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3 months have been and gone, now it’s summer! Issue 9 is here to help you relax in the sun, catch some rays or just hide away in some dark room like I will be doing, with Larry the cat on my lap. Still have this amazing team of editors, who work in the office at all hours of the night, but looking for some new media wizards if anyone is interested. The cover is a bit random, but so are these submissions, had a bit of a change round in the issue and hope the content page helps.... Enjoy the issue, we are trying something a bit different and have also included two plays within these bindings. Once again the offer is always here to sumbit your own work to the next issue. All the best! See you again in 3 months time!
g e M
Editor In Chief Under The Fable
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Note from the Editor
What has happened to the time!
Inner Speech There I was your reminder of resentment and waste. You drank to remember. You survived on anger and hate. Sentimental love songs. Fucking screaming outbursts! Everyday life for a mind without insight; my mother/ his wife. Hours of silence, years of rage, days filled with nothing, coming of age in another time and another place. Could she say something nice just once for a change?
Barry Robson
As your end came did you entertain regret? Did you feel sorrow as I felt for you? There I was apologising, at your last breath. There you were, being you right to the death.
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From Sadness to Happiness Ponder upon the pessimism that drowns those in despair and then step back, look upon those feelings with sober care. Imagine hungry piranha swimming in a shallow stream. If one decides it will be okay to jump in the midst of them, then one is overcome with pain the last brief seconds of their life. It’s just like that when we deal with despair, disdain, and despite. Now imagine happy people laughing, smiling through their life: free from negativity within, unaffected by another group’s strife. If you feel happiness is dead to you who are you hanging with? Are you among the piranhas of life or the ones smiling with bliss?
To have any chance at happiness, you have to change your stream from the evil ones you despise, to join the happy as your new team.
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Doc Wallace
If you feel the latter group is somehow beneath your intelligent contempt, then realize now you won’t overcome the disdain of an escape attempt.
The Degloving of Thy Hand ‘I was tangled in thy beauty’s web, / And snared by the ungloving of thy hand’ – from Keat’s poem ‘To—’, written after a woman he saw for mere moments in Vauxhall. ‘Degloving’ is a type of injury by which an extensive section of skin is forcibly removed from the underlying tissue.
Paddy Clarke
There she stood-eth, making eyes-eth at me-eth, and I stood staring, whilst working, aghast as she suggested I get back to my machine-eth. With a voice somehow soft as she fought against the howl of the Vauxhall factory floor, her hair still looked great despite mandatory ear muffs, then, she dropped her pen in the machine that makes doors. An opportunity rose, to show her what I was composed of, and I did so. With one revolution of brutal machinery my hand lay presented like no other budding flower in all of its avulsions, sinews, and seams, and bones leaping out finally meeting their owners. She plucked out my skin, only to slap me with it, then in my fond ear-muff whispered, don’t be a tit.
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HIDDEN PICTURE (The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, 1891) I was painted once. I wasn’t sure about the face; it seemed too long. He got parts of me right though the smile was cheated rushed for effect. My portrait had Wilde’s curse. After dark I’d strip from my canvas roam underworld of flesh toned oils; every sin brushed with vodka. Horror cracked the surface, soul wept warning through. I was superficial, supernatural stinking of maggots, stumbling on rats.
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Barry Woods
I chose not to see artwork of disease and low self-esteem, instead admired the gilded frame around it.
QUANTUM ECHO What am I? Where am I? When am I? Which answer is more important to you? What if I said I am none of these but all of them at once? Like a spinning coin that is neither heads nor tails but both and none. Would you believe me? Should I care if you don’t? I am here.
Ollie Percivall
Patiently waiting for you to catch up.
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Hope Lost Lips Hard edged, cracked and wind torn lips, bleeding tears of neglect and harsh realities. Longing for a love balm to heal and restore them to their former glory, soft, full with anticipation, hope.
Kezzabelle Ambler
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Terraces Pretty bubbles in the air; you’ll never walk alone, all the lads and lasses there without a love of my own.
Charlie Jones
Wear your blue and see us through; some things are meant to be, there’ll be joys and sorrows too I’ll see you in my dreams.
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Folie à Deux It was our place. Our secret world hidden in the trees. A world of dreams, where time seemed to stop for us, where we could hide from judging eyes and feel free. We watched the real-world ripple on the breeze like it was another dimension drifting in and out of focus on waves of green. We kissed under the canopy made love all summer under shimmering heavens until the leaves crinkled, fell, and left the trees bare until the sky was unzipped by a skein of geese. The end was abrupt, as though the world was getting even but the changing of the season wasn’t our saboteur I was the only one dreaming, and I had love on lease. You said you didn’t mean to be unkind, and I’d like to believe, but now I know better, you always meant to leave.
Sean Broadhurst
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Johnny O’Hanlon
Just Next Door One Morning in 1980 Some time ago...a while ago, I as a young man and poor... I observed upon the garden next door Of unwanted nettles and weeding lawn: A family of five - self-contained - Father all set to yawn. In this house -number-seven - of an inner-city plot I watched in drowsy disbelief as The Father hand-picked his spot spat on abrasive hands and dug thick tufts of sludged-mud with corroded shovel and a stained fork he slayed the ground with a thud... He dug – along with Mother and Daughter and two Sons in the morning shimmer All looking on and on and on without the slightest glimmer Until a yawning hollow of equal depths of despair opened up - awaiting with a hopeful glare – then... a murky metal grating trundling on the tufts of fen waiting to be concealed in the callous grave earth of a suburban plot A child’s buggy - vacant. Empty of life or soul. Remote. Not hot. Lowered gently but surely into the fractured dark soil. Only next door...was it not? From this family of five, that used to be a mixed family of six. As I glimpsed discreetly this scene from my window then, some years ago now maybe ten as a young man but no more a child.
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APPETITES I did not want the plum until I saw her eating it. Close enough to hear the muted breaking of its skin as her teeth punctured the tender flesh, my mouth aches for the sweet tang her mouth now tastes— Even though after one bite, I’d ache to spit it out.
Marissa Glover
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Ghazal Choudary
growing old why did you let go of the wind and the leaves that fell through autumn? why not hold on to the raindrops that fell on to all your screens? they live on your sleeve now, where I used to be. they cuddled close to you but you blow dried them away and sat on your own at the kitchen table, with your unburnt toast and just-right tea. no more muddy footprints on your pretty tiled floors. i hope you like the thunder now the way it cackles in the night. don’t worry though, it’s just the witch from Hansel and Gretel, she only likes the taste of children and you grew up a lot faster than the rest of us, you forgot how to chase the wind and breathe life into autumn leaves, you never licked the raindrops and you never asked me not to go No you’re all grown up now
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1. the grief i can’t control holds me by the neck digs its flames inside my palms and settles right near my heart and if i could start all over again and choose i would untie this strained noose i would crush the flames and break loose and let the wind take me away
Jana Abou Shakra
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Journey. Unnamed lines should be split between actors. Each line should be spoken by another actor and should feed in to the next. Lines in italic can be spoken but don’t have to be. This piece, if possible, should be performed with music. B speaks the underlined lines. When stated, A, Ellie and B lines should be spoken by one actor each. Act One. Scene One: A: It was an accident, a mistake, Ellie, come on. You know what he. Ellie: That doesn’t excuse what he.
Matthew Gardner
A: Ellie, He. Ellie: Did you hear. Did you hear him say what he said? Did you hear him. Did you! I can’t. not. You need to know that this isn’t. this isn’t about what he. has. Alex. How he. This isn’t. He. He crossed the line, Alex. He need to. It doesn’t matter that he has, what he has, Alex. He crossed the line and he. He needs to know, he needs to know that he has to. apologise, ok. This isn’t about what he has. ok. It isn’t about, That, that. It is about what he said wasn’t ok. To say what he said, wasn’t ok. ok? she breathes out. Turns to B. now, Are you gonna, or what/ Beat. B: Ellie. I. B stands. Ellie, Please. I’m. I am. I am. Please. I am. Snap to Black out before he can say ‘Sorry’. Scene Two: Fade up. B is in his bed. B cannot sleep. B closes his eyes again. B still cannot sleep. B reruns the conversation. The conversation that is stuck in his. That is like a record stuck on a loop. B sees the stars in his. He can see them twist. He can see them turn. He can see them.
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Scene Three: B’s day has now started and he is. B is walking. B is placing foot after foot in front of him. Where is he going? What is his destination? Is he. Yes. He looks up and feels the cold wind. Feels the hot sun. It is May and winter still hasn’t let go. He feels the black ‘tar’ burning under his feet. Under the sole of his. He/ You ever walk in to somewhere and immediately feel like you don’t belong.
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Matthew Gardner
He can see them .. explode in to million. and explode with hopes and desires and futures and pasts that he wishes for and un-wishes for all at the same time. Beat. The sharp sound of ringing (possibly an alarm clock). B has a headache. B can hear shouting. B can hear screaming. He can hear the loud voices in his head from when it. from when he. At him. Next to him. With him. From in that place, from when he said. Beat. A tear drops from B’s. It rolls down his. Down his. Yes. He is. B is. B is trying to sleep. again. He cannot/ He can feel the streetlights leaking through his curtains on to his skin demanding him to stay awake. Beat. The world around B is too. loud. too extreme. For him. for his mind. to settle. to sleep. He is so tired though. so tired. and yet. and yet. He cannot. and yet. he cannot. And yet sleep still cannot find him.
Matthew Gardner
Yeah, That’s how I. Yeah, that’s how he. Yeah. Feels. That is how B feels right now. In his world. In his. eyes. He closes his eyes and suddenly feels like everyone has noticed him. Beat. Even though they really haven’t. Even though they really didn’t. He closes his eyes, and feels his face go red, from when everyone went. from when everyone went silent from when he said. He closes his eyes and feels like he wants to be pulled in to the cool earth. Feels like he wants to be pulled into the cool earth and disappear. Beat. He opens his eyes and. and B sits down, He sits down with a coffee that cost too much, but tastes like a, but tastes like a perfect powered milkshake. He takes the world in, the people moving about rushing about, looking like if they don’t do the next thing they have to do, the next world panic will. B feels like. He feels like. Like he has to move forward and do something. Scene Four: B stands up again, throws away his coffee cup and carries on walking. He is unsure about what to do next. He might get some food. / B is still out walking. B can see the scene again in his. . Still re-playing in his head of when he said of when he said. of what he now knows of, when he said, of what he shouldn’t have of said. of when he said. of what he thought was ok to say. B thinks
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B knows where he is now, but he doesn’t know where he wants to, can go, next. He stands, and wonders. Am I mad to think like I do? He asks. We’re all mad around here. They reply. Right. He says. B sits down again. B is lost. B is confused. B is upset. What has he done wrong to cause the.
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Matthew Gardner
was I really wrong to say what I. / B might meet someone today. B might get drunk. B might get a drink. B gets the tube home. / A man brought a moth onto the train today. It was caught between his legs and as he sat down. And as he sat down. He. He released it. He released it and it. It flew. It escaped and it flew. It escaped and it flew straight back out the doors again. It escaped and flew. It escaped and flew alive but panicked So. So. Panicked. / B is walking up the street he lives and he sees. and he sees her again. He see’s Ellie again. on his street. for real this time and He. B panics and walks away from Ellie at speed. Beat. B is lost again. He gets out his phone. He looks at a map on the street. He sits on his laptop for a bit. Listens to YouTube and iTunes. He reads articles about: art, wonder, the meaning of life. and he reads about the current political climate.
Has he wronged the city? Has the city wronged him? He does not know. He is. He is. Yes. B is looking at the sky again. He is speaking, thinking, He is praying to god. ‘There are a million and one answers to your problems right now, and none of them are right or wrong.’ Right. How is that going to.
Matthew Gardner
He is praying to a god. ‘There is a million and one answers to your problems right now, and none of them have to right or wrong. Right. yes. I. ‘There are a million and one answers to your problems right now, and none of them are right or wrong.’ Right, No, I got that, I. No, I got that. Why the fuck is he praying to a god? He doesn’t believe in that sort of thing. Does he? The smell of London is a mixture of shit and petrol. And he fucking loves it. B moves upwards. B moves downwards. Yes. You. Does it matter?/ What. Does what matter? /No, No, Not really, No. I. Then why on earth does the world care? Then why on earth do we care? I. I really. I. I really don’t know anymore. Right. Then, Then.
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Then what’s stopping you from doing what you want to do? I. Pause. B thinks he has reached a point where he wants to go today, Or the more likely scenario is: B has reached the point where he feels like he has done enough for today. Where he has done some work, and completed as much as he could without feeling like. without feeling like. Without feeling like the world will end if he carried on.
Ellie appears. Ellie: Mark! Snap to Silence. Scene Six: B leaves the party. B goes home. B falls asleep after drinking a pint of water. B goes for a walk. B has dinner with his friends. B watches Doctor Who with friends and feels. He feels. disappointed. B goes for a walk again. Scene Seven: You ever feel like you’ve got million ants running up your back all at once. Like you’ve got this massive itch that you just can’t scratch. Like even if you clawed off your skin, you would still feel the ants inside you, gnawing at your bones. Like you can’t sit still because you can still feel them in your bones, inside at the, that fills your, inside your, eating away at your, To feel it constantly, constantly eating away at your, with the feeling of nothing, of nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to plan, nothing is actually working,
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Matthew Gardner
Scene Five: Sudden spike in noise. Everyone is dancing. B is dancing. A party. B has let go of everything. B is fucking ecstatic that he doesn’t feel. That he doesn’t feel outside of it all like he usually does. B is finally happy that everything is loud and wonderful for once, That he can and does feel it and be part of it for once. That everything seems like it, it couldn’t, it shouldn’t, end for B. Why. Why. Why shouldn’t it? What could make this all stop? What could make B feel like his life could end?
Matthew Gardner
that nothing is just clicking in to place. And that’s when I just want to scream and shout, at the earth because I can’t just. For five minutes, I can’t just. Be on my. But. But. But. I know that’s not what I. I know that’s just. just what I carry in. I just know that. and I know that. And I know that. and I just want more. But also know that I can’t just. Control. and I just know that I just can’t control everything, that’s out of my. and it’s that when I feel that, them, and that’s when I know, And that’s when I know that I’ll feel them again. Feel them inside my. And that’s when I know, that’s when I’d just want to scream again. And that’s when I know, that, that, that’s I just can’t. Scene Eight: B is walking home again. B is on the Southbank again. B is by the river again. B is listening to the. B is wishing to the. B is praying to the. Oh Jesus Christ. What do I. B is stood behind the Scoop. How did I say that, that was so, How could I have said that, that was so. B is in the city. B is stood in the city. Oh. God. I feel. like I’m. B is by the river. I just want for it. to just. be. Please. Christ. Fuck sake. B wants to be the river. wanting to. What do I just do, to just. To just. B just wants drive himself towards coast. pushing himself to the. Why can’t I just. Drink up the. Why can’t I just. B see’s the big wheel. B see’s the big ben. B see’s the lights and the. and he feel like he wants to. Like I fucking hate this place. Like I fucking love this place. Like I just want to understand this place. Like I just to understand this place enough to just. to just. to just get my head around it and get my head around the people in it.
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Scene Nine: B is walking up the high street. B is walking near. B is walking right next to. B is in the pub again, where he. Where it happened. Where it keeps happening in his. B meets Ellie again. Scene Ten: Ellie: Mark. B: Yeah.
B: I’m fine. Ellie: Are you. B: I’m fine. It’s fine, Ellie, it’s fine. ok. I’ve moved on. It’s fine. Ok. I get it. I. get it. ok. I get it. ok. ok? END.
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Matthew Gardner
Ellie: Are you. Are we. Are we ok, right. You what I. mean with the. I just needed space, you know, I. You know where I was coming from, right. I didn’t mean to. Are you.
Steve Slavin
Honor Thy Father and Mother 1 Growing up in a Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn during the 1950s, you didn’t have to be religious to know the basic rules. You made at least some effort to keep kosher at home, go to shul on the high holy days, and to not date shiksas (girls who weren’t Jewish). But being a truly observant Jew was a full-time job. In addition to the Ten Commandments, there were hundreds of other rules that needed to be strictly followed. Like nearly all of my friends, I did the bare minimum. David was the first person I knew who was “orthodox.” We met in high school and hung out a lot on Kings Highway, the main shopping drag in the neighborhood. I was surprised that he was willing to eat at Bella Donna’s, which happened to have perhaps the best pizza I had ever tasted. “David, how can you eat here?” “What are you talking about? They have great pizza!” “Yeah, but it isn’t kosher.” “Can you prove to me that it isn’t kosher?” David had gone to a yeshiva for years, and he was clearly trying to use Talmudic logic to prove a point. But there was no way any truly observant Jew would be caught dead in this place. “David, you know and I know that you can’t mix milk and meat.” “Agreed. But you’ve noticed that I don’t order sausage or pepperoni pizza. I have just regular pizza, which has cheese, but no meat.” “True, but the pan that your pizza was baked in must have been used to make a pepperoni or sausage pizza!” “OK, Jerry. Prove that to me.” “Do you agree that about half the pies they bake here contain meat?” “That sounds about right.” “And would you agree that if the pan they used to bake your pizza was ever used to bake a sausage and pepperoni pizza, then the pizza you ate is not kosher?” “OK, for the sake of argument, I’ll accept that.” “David, would you also agree that the pan in which your pizza was baked had previously been used to bake hundreds of other pies?” “Again, for the sake of argument, yes, I’ll agree.” “Then do you agree that that odds against your slice of pizza being kosher is maybe a thousand to one?” “So?” “So there is virtually no chance that the slice you are now eating is kosher.” “Jerry, everything you said is true. But you still haven’t proven that it’s not kosher. There remains some very small chance that it is kosher. So will you please let me eat in peace?” 2 David and I and a bunch of other guys played ball and hung out together. By the time we were in college, we decided to rent a basement clubhouse to have parties. But we couldn’t find anything in the neighborhood. So when we heard about a place in Coney Island, we decided to take a look at it. Coney Island was not an ideal location. It was a pretty run down area, about five miles from where we lived. One Saturday afternoon, we had made an
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appointment to see the place. Although it was April, there was a hurricane that day. There were very heavy rains, and our umbrellas were useless. I was surprised that David wanted to go, considering that it was Shabbos, and if you were religious, then you weren’t allowed to ride. But when he said that he planned to walk, I told him he was nuts. Then, when I thought about it, I had to admire him. Despite his rationalization about the kosher pizza, he really did have principles. I called him and said I would walk with him. It took us over two hours, and by the time we got to the clubhouse, all the other guys were there. They laughed when we walked in. We were so soaked that we left puddles wherever we stood. The place was OK, but the neighborhood looked terrible. No girls would come to our parties. And that would be even before they saw the neighborhood. The landlady seemed very nice, but we had to tell her we couldn’t rent her basement. I still remember her name, Mrs. Wasserman. That’s because in Health Ed we had just learned about the Wasserman test for syphilis. Was that some kind of omen? Perhaps we would soon find out. When it got dark, David and I were able to take a bus and subway home. Shabbos was over, and it had even stopped raining.
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Steve Slavin
3 A week later, six of us went on another quest. Alan had somehow gotten the phone number of a prostitute named Terry. She lived on the Lower East Side, and she and her friend would be happy to provide us with their services. Two of the guys had already been initiated by other prostitutes, and for the rest of us, it would be a learning experience. We met on the Kings Highway subway station platform, and an hour later we were just down the block from our destination. As we walked eastward, the streets looked more and more scuzzy. There were piles of garbage, and hundreds, or maybe thousands of beer cans on the sidewalks of each block. “This looks like a great place to get mugged,” observed Mike. We nodded our heads in agreement. This neighborhood made Coney Island look good. When we got to Terry’s block, we saw a couple of guys sitting on a stoop drinking beer. “Hey, gringos! You like Puerto Ricans?” Chuck called back to them in Spanish, “We love Puerto Ricans!” The guys laughed and lifted their beer cans in salute. “Viva Puerto Rico!” “Viva Puerto Rico!” we shouted back. Then Chuck said to us, “You see, I told you to take Spanish in high school. Those guys don’t know any French.” We called Terry from a candy store. She said to come on up. We decided that we would break up into three pairs. The first pair would go upstairs, the second would wait in the hallway outside the door, and the third would wait in front of the building. That would lessen the chances of our all getting robbed. And if the two guys downstairs saw the police coming, they could warn the others to clear out. Because Alan and Mike were the only ones with any sexual experience, they
Steve Slavin
got the honor of going first. After they had taken their turns, maybe the prostitutes would think that the rest of us might have some clue as to what we were supposed to do. Bob and I, both utterly inexperienced but eager to learn, would wait five minutes, then go upstairs and wait outside Terry’s door. Chuck and David would wait downstairs, keeping an eye out for the police. As Bob and I climbed the stairs, we could hear people inside their apartments talking, watching television, and living seemingly normal lives. If any of them was at all aware of our illegal – and perhaps even immoral – mission, no one let on. After climbing four flights, we stood outside Terry’s door. We didn’t have long to wait. Alan came out and Bob and I both asked, “How was it?” “You know. The usual.” Yeah, but what is the usual? Anyway, I would just be part of the assembly line. Maybe Terry – or the other prostitute – wouldn’t notice my profound lack of experience. But now there was something else to worry about. Chuck and David had edged up the stairs. And both had decided that they could not go through with it. This could be a problem. We were a package deal – six of us at five dollars a man. If the two of them backed out, would we still have to pay thirty dollars? Chuck, at least, seemed persuadable. His biggest fear was catching something. Clearly, Mrs. Wasserman had left a strong impression. My argument that syphilis and gonorrhea were easily curable had no discernable impact. So, I appealed to his literary bent. “Chuck, fifty years from now, we’ll be telling this story to our grandchildren. But this great adventure will lose some of its luster if we didn’t actually get laid.” “Yeah,” added David. “Think of all the times your grandchildren will ask you to tell them about the time you first got laid. “I hate to admit this,” I said, “but David actually has a point. Chuck, this could be a great story: The first time you got laid. This sure beats getting it in the back of a car.” I could tell by his expression, that Chuck was thinking about this. Then I closed the sale: “Fifty years from now, when you publish your autobiography, we’ll all be there to bear witness to this great event!” I knew I had him when he said, “I was thinking more along the lines of a novel.” Just then, Mike came out of the apartment. When we asked how it was, his answer was about as helpful as Alan’s. Bob was already inside, eager to lose his virginity and I would be next. But then I had an inspiration. I’d let Chuck go ahead of me before he changed his mind. And that would give me more time to work on David. In the meanwhile, Mike headed down the stairs. All he said was, “I gotta take a leak.” “Why didn’t he go in the apartment?” asked David. “Good question. I mean, he just went to bed with this woman. I guess he was too shy to ask. Go figure.” “Yeah, maybe he was afraid he’d catch something in there.” “That must have been it! Anyway, how come you’re backing out?” “To tell you the truth, Jerry, I was never that in.” “So why the fuck did you come with us?” “I’m not sure. Maybe for the fun of it.”
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“Well, do you want to get laid or not?” “Trust me, Jerry. I’m as horny as the rest of you.” “But?” “My mother.” “What does your mother have to do with getting laid?” “Well, what will I tell her if she finds out?” “How is she going to find out? She knows Terry?” “Look, you don’t know my mother. First of all, I don’t want to hurt her. And secondly, she would be on my case for the rest of her life.” “I like your mother, even if she calls me a pascoonie.” “The word is paskudnyak (Yiddish term meaning a revolting, corrupt person). And you know she calls you that with affection.” “Look, David. If you don’t go through with this, you’ll be letting all of us down.” “I understand that, and I am very sorry. And you’re right: I never should have come.” Now he had me feeling bad. “OK, let’s drop it. By the way, what’s taking Mike so long?” I hoped nothing had happened to him. Just then, we heard someone slowly climbing up the stairs. It was Mike. “Hey Mike, your fly’s open.” “Fuck you, David!” ‘If only,’ I thought to myself.
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Steve Slavin
4 Now it was my turn to go inside the apartment. There were three rooms. I sat down at the kitchen table and nodded to the woman sitting across from me. She glanced at me and then went back to filing her nails. She would be the first woman I would ever “do it” with. I later learned that she was not Terry. She would forever be known as “the other one.” They took turns, and now Terry was inside the bedroom with Chuck. I could hear his panting through the door. I saw a balding middle-aged guy sitting in the living room. He was watching a movie on television. It was “Shark River.” He would forever be known as “the pimp.” If any of us were ever on Jeopardy and were asked, “What was ‘the pimp’ watching?” we’d answer without hesitation. Then I heard the panting stop. A minute or two later I heard Chuck saying “Thank you.” Ever the gentleman, he then emerged holding a well filled prophylactic out in front of him. He smiled proudly. When he got home, he would probably hang it over his bed. Then Terry came out of the bedroom. “How many after you? “I’m the last.” “I thought there was one more.” “There was.” “He chickened out?” “Yeah.” She shook her head and smiled. I liked her. But now it was my turn with “the other one.” Without a word between us, we walked into the bedroom. She removed her robe and lay down on the bed. I quickly took off my clothes and climbed on top of her. She casually took my penis in her hand and inserted it into her vagina.
Steve Slavin
That was easy! I congratulated myself on my great historic feat and immediately went to work. I was surprised at how smooth everything was going. I was determined not to cum too quickly. She seemed to have other ideas. She wrapped her legs around me and started screaming out in Spanish. Sorry, lady. I took French. But it sounds good! I must be doing something right! I knew I couldn’t hold off cumming for more than another few seconds. Then, as soon as I had shot my load, she began to push me off her. I remembered to place a couple of fingers on my prophylactic and had what might be termed “an orderly withdrawal.” I paid her, thanked her, put on my clothes, and said good night to Terry. “You come back and see us again.” “We will.” As I left, “the pimp” was too engrossed in the movie to say good night. 5 A couple of weeks later, David’s mother threw him a surprise eighteenth birthday party. I helped her with the shopping. She had a thick European accent and seemed pretty old. When I mentioned this to Chuck he said, “David’s mother looks old because she is old.” “I mean, she looks kind of too old to be his mother.” “You think he’s adopted?” “I don’t know what I think.” I told Chuck that when we went shopping together, she hondled [Yiddish for haggling over prices] at each store. I think she managed to get away paying less than five bucks for the entire party, including a nice cake she picked up at Netell’s bakery. David’s father looked almost as old as his mother, and also spoke with a thick accent. But while she was kind of bent over, he always held himself erect. David told me that his father had been a world-class gymnast in Germany, who had left soon after Hitler came to power. I began to understand David’s fear of having his mother learn that he had gone to a prostitute. Chuck and I alerted the other guys not to say a word at the party about our little adventure. 6 A few weeks later we managed to find a basement for our clubhouse just down the block from Bob. We would end up staying there for five or six years until we had all moved away, gotten married, or at least entered into serious relationships. David, Bob, and I stayed in touch, but soon after, David fell by the wayside. He had married a woman who grew up in a very troubled family. The few times that I visited, her father would be screaming at the TV, perhaps the only person on the planet who believed that professional wrestling matches were for real. Joannie’s two younger brothers were depressed, and I suspected that her father hit her mother. Joannie might well have married David just to get out of that house. And then one day, maybe ten years after I had last heard from him, there was David’s voice on the phone. We quickly decided to get together for dinner later in the week. He laughed when I suggested an Italian restaurant and said that he loved Italian food. “You’ll see that I’ve gone through some changes.”
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29
Steve Slavin
7 As we sat talking over dinner, it was as if just a few days – and not ten years – had gone by since we had last seen each other. He told me that he and Joannie had three kids, but their marriage had fallen apart several years ago. This didn’t exactly shock me. Her father had left her mother, somehow hid his money from her, and then disappeared. One of her brothers was living in a mental institution. The other brother, who was also depressed, now lived with Joannie and the kids, managing to help with the childcare while she went back to college to finish her teaching degree. But he waited until dessert to give me the big news. “Jerry, I’m glad you’re sitting down for this. Are you ready?” I was. “Would you believe I’m not even Jewish?” “What?” I screamed. Other customers were looking at us. Our waiter came rushing over. “Gentlemen, is everything alright?” My recovery was excellent. “I’m sorry, but my friend here just gave me some unexpected news. He’s pregnant.” The waiter hurried off and returned with two wine glasses and a bottle and opened it. “Congratulations! Compliments of the house!” He then shook our hands and walked off. I guess our happy news was a first at this restaurant. “David, I think that I would have been no more surprised if you had told me that you were pregnant.” “Let’s drink to that!” We clinked glasses. And then he began his tale. “Soon after the divorce, I got a call from my mother. She wanted me to come to Shabbos dinner that Friday. Oh, and yes, I’ve been riding the subway for years on Shabbos.” “I wish you had been riding the subway way back you know when.” “Yes! It was really nice of you to walk with me through that hurricane.” “Don’t mention it.” “So, when I got home, I asked where my father was. My mother said he was resting, and that she needed to talk to me. I asked her what about and she said, ‘Your father is dying.’” “Shit! I mean, your father always seemed so strong.” “His health had deteriorated very quickly. And he was almost eighty. On the other hand, my mother, who had never been in great shape, was still hanging in there. And she was three or four years older than he was.” “I am so sorry to hear about your father. I know he loved you so very much.” “Well, why not? I’m his son!” That just didn’t sound right. But I couldn’t figure out why it didn’t. David continued. “So, then I went into my parents’ bedroom. My father looked shrunken. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of months. He motioned for me to sit by the bed.” I waited. David’s eyes were welling up. Then he continued. “David, I need to tell you something. Better it comes from me.”Again I waited. “’David, you are my son.’ Then he pointed toward the kitchen. But she is not your real mother.’” I was shocked. And then again, maybe I wasn’t. That poor bent-over old woman was too old to be David’s mother. Chuck was right. “She looks old because she is old.”
Steve Slavin
David went on to tell me that his parents had been married for six or eight years when he started seeing an Italian-American woman who lived just a few blocks away. They fell in love. She got pregnant. She wanted him to leave his wife and marry her. But it was complicated. Her family would never accept him, and he didn’t want to abandon his wife. “Who would want her? Who would support her?” The situation was still not fully resolved when David was born. His father took his new-born son directly from the hospital home to his wife. He vowed to her that he would never see the other woman again. And his wife agreed to raise David as her own son. Then his father handed him a piece of paper. On it was his birth mother’s name and address. When David returned to the kitchen, his mother told him he was not her son, and that she was not his mother. David didn’t know what to say. She told him to get out and never to come back. When he hesitated, she started screaming at him, “Get out! Get out!” When he called, she hung up on him. A few weeks later he got a call from his parents’ rabbi. His father had passed away that afternoon. The funeral would be tomorrow at the shul across the street from their home. There were only a couple of dozen mourners; his mother was not among them. In fact, he didn’t recognize even one face. He drove alone to the cemetery, and immediately after the burial, he asked the rabbi if he could have a few words with him. The rabbi explained that his mother had been growing quite erratic over the last year or so and definitely needed to move into an assisted living facility. The only problem was money. Would David be able to contribute to her support? “Well, after alimony and child support payments, I can manage about a thousand a month.” “That’s it?” “For now, yes.” “OK, let me see what I can do.” “There’s another thing, rabbi. She refuses to talk to me.” “I’m really not surprised. You know that deep down she has always been a very angry person. But I think that when she reconciles to the loss of her husband and moves into a more suitable living environment, she’ll be happy to see you and her grandchildren.” As David drove home, he felt like a huge load had been removed from his shoulders. He smiled as he thought, “I wonder if the rabbi knew about his birth mother? And that since she wasn’t Jewish, then neither was he.” Under Jewish law, you can be born a Jew only if your birth mother is Jewish. 8 “So, did you ever try to find your birth mother?” “Sort of.” I walked by her home several times, but I never got up the guts to ring the bell. One day, when I stood looking at her house, a pretty young woman walked up to me and asked if I was looking for someone.” “Do you live here?” I asked. “Yes. In fact, I’ve lived here all my life. Have we met before?” “No. I think I’d remember a woman as beautiful as you.” She laughed. “I was just admiring your house. I must have passed here many times when I was a kid. I grew up not far from here.”
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9 Still sitting in the restaurant, David and I ordered dessert and coffee and pondered his predicament. “You’re still single, Jerry?” “More or less.”
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Steve Slavin
“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s something familiar about you, like maybe we met in another life.” “You think?” “Yeah. Say, would you like to come in? I’ll show you around. Then, if we decide to sell the house, maybe you’ll be interested.” “Maybe I shouldn’t.” “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” Then she took him by the hand, and led him inside. “My mom should be home any minute and you can meet her.” As they entered the house, it suddenly dawned on David that this lovely young woman must be his half-sister. She took him from room to room, and he tried to imagine what it would have to like growing up here instead of in that dreary apartment on Ocean Avenue. And having a different mother. “We lived down here. My father died a few years ago.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. He was a real bastard.” “I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” “My grandparents lived upstairs. They lived here almost sixty years. They were like a second set of parents.” “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” “No. Now it’s just me and my mom. I want you to meet her. I think you’ll really like her.” My, David was thinking. I’m afraid this is moving along way to fast. He had formulated a plan that he would get to know his mother through his half-sister. But what if she was getting a crush on him? If his father and birth mother faced a dilemma thirty years ago, this one could turn out being even more complicated. When his birth mother arrived, she was very surprised to see David. “Maria, how many times have I told you – no boys in the house when I’m not here!” But David caught her wink. “David isn’t a boy, mom! He’s thinking of buying the house.” “Well, it’s not for sale.” Another wink. “But I insist that you stay for dinner. You like Italian?” David laughed. His heritage seemed to be catching up with him. On the other hand, how would the Talmudists have considered his situation? How many laws could he be breaking? He wondered if she recognized him. Perhaps she caught a glimpse of him walking along Kings Highway with his father. Maybe he had sent her photos. And come to think of it, David did look like her daughter. But there was another problem. If his half-sister was attracted to him, when she found out who he was, she might not take it well. Shit! She might never talk to him again. And he would never get to know his mother. He knew he should have been completely upfront as soon as he met her. But he never could deal with actual facts. Like kosher pizza at Bella Donna’s. Or going to a prostitute with no intention of actually “doing it.” And that’s when he decided to give his old friend Jerry a call.
Steve Slavin
“Meaning?” “My last girlfriend recently left me.” “Want another girlfriend?” “Don’t tell me….” “Whassa-matta, my sista ain’t good enuff?” “David, you’re only half Italian. And you still sound like you were brought up in a religious Jewish immigrant household. But just to be polite, what does she look like?”He showed me a picture. “She looks like you.” “Is that good or bad?” “That depends on your eye-sight.”He reached across the table and gave me a good jab in the ribs. “OK, you think that if I go out with her, you can get her off your back and onto mine.” “Look, if I fix her up with my old friend, whatever idea she had about starting up with me will be nipped in the bud.” “You really have a way with words.” “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” “A very conditional ‘yes.’ Before you say anything about me to your sister, I want you to tell them both the truth about everything.” “You drive a hard bargain, Jerry.” “Only with the goyim.” 10 Six years have passed since then. David and his three children, Maria, her mother and I have an annual ritual. We go to Bella Donna’s anniversary celebration. The store is about twice the size it was back in the old days – and they charge a lot more than fifteen cents a slice. This time, when we arrived, there was a line extending halfway down the block. The store was said to serve the best pizza in Brooklyn, a claim made by more than a dozen other pizzerias. Vito, the original owner, always excited to see us, has us seated at a special table that is reserved for his original customers. David and I are treated like royalty, but my daughter, Donna, who is four and a half, is given the seat of honor. “Young lady, did you know that this pizzeria is named after you?” “Is that true?” she asks me. “Well honey, let’s see what it says on the menu. You see where I’m pointing?” She nods. “Point to your name.” “There.” “Good. Now can you spell out the word in front of your name?” “B…E…L…L…A.” “Good! Now try to sound it out?” “Bella!” “Excellent! All of us started clapping.” Donna beamed with pride. Then Vito asked her, “Do you know what bella means?” “Pretty?” “Not just pretty! It means beautiful!” “Really?” “Of course! Because you are the most beautiful girl in all of Brooklyn, Bella
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Donna pizzeria is named after you!” Donna looked up at her mommy. “Is the man telling the truth?” Maria nodded “yes” very emphatically. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She had never been so happy. I reached across the table and dabbed my wife’s eyes with a tissue. Then she took the tissue from me and wiped my eyes.
Steve Slavin
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Alec Sillifant
Beneath Mary sucked in air and shivered at the touch of the water on her feet. Even after the decades of swimming this lake three times a week, the cold still bit her flesh anew each time. Walking forward, her feet rolling at the pinch of the pebbles, the water soon reached her knees and the chill began to abate. She sniffed and noted the smell of algae in the air was fainter this time; autumn always brought a fresher perfume. The cooling weather was purifying the waters and at the same time turning what Mary called ‘Sunday swimmers’ back to their centrally heated homes. The lake was hers alone once more, until the days when the sun rose higher in the sky. As the water reached her waist, Mary shivered again and her mind made the link with her life to this calm body of water. She had learned to swim here, almost before she could walk; as if she had swapped the womb for this body of water. Here she felt safe, supported; surrounded by a barrier that kept the world and its harms away from her. A floating out of body experience where she could flow with her thoughts; her dreams unhindered by the physical world. It had been with her throughout all of her life’s big moments. As each of her parents died, she came here to swim rather than stand in a church to weep; here she could scream at the sky and thrash at the water. The lake understood her pain; took it in, diluted it, and finally, washed it away. In the early hours of the morning of her wedding day, she had swam to near exhaustion as she wrestled with doubt and thoughts of, ‘What the hell is love, anyway?’ before staggering ashore, as the dawn broke over the trees, knowing for certain that Dan was the man for her. The water was at her chest now and Mary ploughed on, a small wake bubbling around her torso. It was here she had given birth, despite Dan’s pleas to let him drive her to the hospital as arranged. Mary smiled, that had only been arranged in his mind, for her there had never been any doubt where her child would be born. Her blood in the water had made her connection to the lake spiritual and at that moment of life she had decided where her place of rest would be. The lake lapped against her shoulders and as the chill water splashed her face, Mary recalled the first time she saw fear on John’s small features. He would not let go of her hand, but he resisted following, and soon his sobbing turned into howls of anguish. ‘It’s only water,’ Mary had said, but her child could not get his feet out and dry quickly enough. She tried on many occasions to get John into the water but the result was always the same and as time passed, Mary gave up. While she swam, Dan and John would stay on the shore, playing catch or reading books and as the years went by ‘her boys’ stopped coming and Mary was alone in the lake again. The water was at Mary’s neck when she stopped. At this depth she and the lake were equals, looking each other in the eye. Its darkness, peaked with silver tips, studied Mary from all directions. She and it understood each other. The darkest night of her life was spent in the lake; swimming and thinking and crying. Why had she decided to spy on him; what right did she have to be suspicious of her own child? How could she think so badly of him? But she had been right and now she was scared and confused and angry and shameful. How had her little boy become this twisted man? All she knew was that the
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lake would hold the answer. If only she hadn’t seen the video on John’s laptop; not seen the images that no amount of swimming would erase from her mind…her heart. Why had he done it? Who was the little girl that sobbed so much while she promised not to tell anyone if he let her go? In the end the lake had given her the answer, told her what to do. How she could make things right. The taste of the lake was in Mary’s mouth, her body being rocked gently, balanced only on her toes. It had been easy holding him under the water. Getting his unconscious body from the car to the edge of the lake had been the hard work. Once the lake got hold of him, it and Mary worked together to take him away from the shore. Away from the world. Mary had looked into his face, given a yellowed hue by the water, as the bubbles from his nostrils grew fewer and smaller. At the last second of life his eyes opened, they mirrored the terror Mary had seen in the little girl’s eyes. John had thrust out a hand to reach for help but Mary had withdrawn hers and she had let the lake take him into its care. Mary pitched forward and struck out on her swim. She smiled at the support of the water and glided with ease in her element. Yes, when the end came, she would rest here with her little boy and then she would teach him how to swim. How to find peace and forgiveness in the water that had always held her afloat.
Alec Sillifant
35
Gordon Pinckheard
The Mother Of All Universes A long time ago, in the multiverse far far away, a Junior Intelligent Designer created a universe. The Mentor wasn’t pleased; there is a career path to be followed, and creating universes is a long way from the simple creation of moons. He knew the Boss wasn’t going to be happy either. It wasn’t in dispute that Junior knew her moons, but she had gone too far. Universes can be created easily - that’s why there are so many in the multiverse - but getting all the pieces to work together successfully is tricky. Junior had assembled some ideas into a draft architecture and then, without telling her Mentor, had executed the build. The Big Bang was the first he knew of her universe’s birth. There was no going back. Once the build had been started, it had to be made to work. After the Big Bang, the moons, planets, and stars were taking shape. Junior did know her moons. But the galaxies were a problem. They weren’t orbiting evenly. The Mentor added dark matter. He knew it was a kludge. And then Junior insisted her universe was to expand forever, speeding up. If this one didn’t, she threatened to build another. Reluctantly the Mentor added dark energy. He checked his figures; 4.9% ordinary matter, 26.8% dark matter and 68.3% dark energy. He’d had to do some serious fixing! This mustn’t happen again; who would expect a builder of moons to birth a universe? Junior studied her newborn universe. “Let there be light,” she instructed. The Mentor sought an explanation. “Light?” he asked nervously. “It’s so you can see,” explained Junior. “It’s an electromagnetic wave, and it behaves like both a particle and a wave at the same time. It always goes at the same relative speed, even if you’re moving. Nothing goes faster than light. Super cool.” The Mentor’s curiosity got the better of him. “How can it go at the same relative speed all the time?” he asked. “Time changes,” she answered. He blanched. How had it come to this? What did Junior think she was doing? This universe was a nightmare! Who would ever understand it? “Oh, and light is bent by gravity,” she added proudly. “Well - strictly - gravity distorts space-time, and light is travelling along a geodesic.” There were tears in the Mentor’s eyes. “How are we going to explain this to the Boss?” he asked. “How did you come up with these ideas?” “Well, I had so many and I had to choose just a few. I rolled dice,” she replied. “We can’t tell him that,” exclaimed the Mentor, starting to panic. “Okay,” said Junior. “Tell him I work in mysterious ways.”
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Laserbeams CHARACTERS LEWIS: Mid-twenties, student, cameraman, depressed. GEORGINA: Late-teens, student, poet, performer, autistic. SHAILENE: Mid-twenties, employed, yoga leader, stern. NIGE: Late-twenties, unemployed, poet, performer, narcissistic. ANDY: Mid-thirties, employed, manager, firm. ACT ONE
SCENE 1
A film camera, lighting and a chair are set up in the centre of the stage. A man covered in tattoos, NIGE JOLSEN, sits on the chair. The cameraman, LEWIS GREEN, stands by the camera. He checks over a few things and starts filming. LEWIS:
Okay, Nige Jolson poem. And…action!
LEWIS Sound. NIGE
First steps to making a statement, mate. This will make an impact. My art will bring down the system.
LEWIS
Yeah man. (pause) Nige, do y’ really think pills ain’t good?
NIGE What’s that?
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Hayden Robinson
NIGE: We are a generation left behind By corporate fuckers who are blind To the needs of many To the wants of us all They screw up and we hold the bomb That stems from their inability To mask insecurities, uncomfortable With the developing subject Of man helping man, for they have A master plan to make A master race fuelled by Medical pills that control the mind, Making it think it’s better than it was Because it’s insulting to them How we are the new generation Without corporate ties With no possessions, no do we deny The faults of mankind, so let us Break the mould created by Corrupt overlords LEWIS stops.
LEWIS When you said about ‘medical pills’ – ya sounded like you were makin’ out they weren’t good for you? NIGE
Well, they’re not.
LEWIS
So y’ believe that people should get off ‘em?
NIGE
They fuck with your mind. (pause) This establish ment that censors us, that controls us, we have to take it down, Lewis.
LEWIS Okay. SCENE 2 A small flat, fancy but affordable. LEWIS is reading. His girlfriend, SHAILENE LOEWENDAHL, runs on. SHAILENE
Eh up, babe!
Hayden Robinson
LEWIS Alright. SHAILENE
God, I’m shattered! I ran all the way round Liverpool!
She slumps on the sofa and takes her shoes off. LEWIS
Did yoga go okay?
SHAILENE It was sound, yeah. All lads today. They were really good. LEWIS Oh. SHAILENE
One of them was talking about his time in prison.
LEWIS Prison? SHAILENE
Yeah. He took part in a robbery. Said that it was stupid of him to do and he’s still paying for it. He said he had confidence issues.
LEWIS
Oh yeah.
SHAILENE
There’s loads who come and say they have confidence is sues. It’s amazing when yoga helps them. Like just stretching your body in new ways and squeezin’ out ya worries.
LEWIS Mm-hm. SHAILENE
Just one session, and he said it helped him.
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LEWIS Good. Silence. SHAILENE
Giz a cuppa tea, will ya, baby?
LEWIS Okay. He goes to make the tea. SHAILENE follows. Have ya taken your citalopram?
LEWIS
Not yet.
SHAILENE
Okay. (beat) How come?
LEWIS
I feel better without them.
SHAILENE
Ya say that now, but tomorrow if you don’t take them---
LEWIS
I get dizzy and I can’t see properly.
SHAILENE
But aren’t those the side effects?
LEWIS
Yeah, but…Christ…
Silence.
I don’t feel any different from takin’ them.
SHAILENE
Okay.
Silence. LEWIS finishes making the tea. He hands a cup to SHAILENE and kisses her. Thank you, love. (pause) Someone was shouting at a Muslim woman today. In the middle of the street. They were saying to go back to their country and get bombed. You’d think these people had never thought for a second that the woman was British. LEWIS
People are pricks.
SHAILENE
This prick was a priest.
LEWIS What? SHAILENE Yep. Faith and blindness go hand-in-hand. (sips her tea) Smashin’ cuppa! LEWIS smiles. He looks away and drinks his tea. SHAILENE stands up and cuddles him.
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Hayden Robinson
SHAILENE
Cupcake star! LEWIS
Astro brownie!
She hugs him tightly and kisses his cheek. She then picks him up. He yells. She puts him down. They laugh. LEWIS
Youse a strong ‘un!
SHAILENE
See if you’re any stronger!
He tries to lift her, but it only lasts a few seconds. She picks him up and carries him to the sofa. She drops him on it before jumping on him. They laugh and kiss. They get up. LEWIS
Have youse got any more of that smoothie?
SHAILENE
Hands off! That’s mine! Make your own!
Hayden Robinson
LEWIS Fine. (pause) I’ll forget about that dinner this week end then. SHAILENE
What?
LEWIS
Oh, I booked a dinner for us this Saturday. Seven o’clock at the Olive Heaven. Fancy Italian food, candles, dressin’ like kings and---
SHAILENE
I have work on Saturday.
They stare at each other.
Shit! I’m sorry, baby.
LEWIS Okay. SHAILENE
It was so lovely of you. (pause) Tell you what – I’ll do a swap. I’ll ring my place up and---
LEWIS
No it’s fine. I’ll cancel the booking.
SHAILENE
Honestly, I can---
LEWIS
Forget it. It’s fine.
SHAILENE
Baby, it’s---
LEWIS
I said it’s fine!
They stare again.
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Clearly, work is important to ya.
SHAILENE
You’re more important though!
LEWIS
Am I?
SHAILENE
Yes!
LEWIS
So y’ would give up a day at work just fo’ me?
SHAILENE
Yes!
LEWIS
Would you give up work altogether fo’ me?
SHAILENE
(under her breath) Oh for fuck’s sake.
LEWIS
Y’ might just be sayin’ all this to calm me down.
SHAILENE
You’re seriously putting me on the spot here.
LEWIS
Just answer my question.
SHAILENE
You cannot tell me to give up work just for you! If it comes down to it and if it was serious, then yes! But there has not been a fatal situation like that!
Pause. LEWIS
I’m sorry.
SHAILENE
It’s fine.
LEWIS
I just…I just…
SHAILENE
Y’ just what?
LEWIS Nothin’. SCENE 3 The library. LEWIS sits at a computer, typing away. A camera bag and a book are by his side. He takes out a camera and films himself. He tries to speak, but nothing is said. He slams it in back in his bag. NIGE walks over. NIGE
The library – the home of enquiring minds.
LEWIS stares up at him. I come in here throughout the week. Finding poetry, bibles, biographies.
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Hayden Robinson
LEWIS Sound. NIGE
How’s the video coming along?
LEWIS essay.
It should be done soon. (beat) I’ve been writin’ me
NIGE Essay? LEWIS
Yeah. It’s due on Friday.
NIGE Oh yeah – seeking a good mark from the lecturers then! LEWIS
Well yeah.
NIGE
An education. Is it by choice?
Hayden Robinson
LEWIS Sorry? NIGE
Are you there by choice?
LEWIS
At university? Yeah, course I am.
NIGE Really? There’s always a choice. Of course, it’s sometimes due to others reason. Like avoiding Poundland. LEWIS
I want to work in film. That’s the only reason I need.
Silence. NIGE You are lost. The system failed you. The system has got you working your fingers to the bone, being put down, spending thousands for a degree that may not get you anywhere. LEWIS
I feel down a lot of the time.
NIGE
You want something more.
LEWIS
I want to be happy.
NIGE
You want something to believe in.
LEWIS
I want to believe in myself.
NIGE
You want something to fight for.
LEWIS
I want to make sure I’ll be alive in future.
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NIGE
I can help you, man, to find all the things you have been looking for. Seven o’clock at the Bluebridge. We’ll change the future. You and me.
NIGE steps back and bows before walking away. LEWIS sits silently. SCENE 4 SHAILENE is sitting on her bed, chatting on the phone. It just gets worse, Mum. I always try to be positive and to just be the best person I can be for him, but it gets me down. (pause) Of course, I do. It’s his mind that’s the problem right now. I seriously thought I could help him get over that cheatin’ prick, but Lewis seems more down than ever. (pause) He obviously feels like I’m not putting in time to spend with him. I want to, but it’s not like I can go up to my boss and say “I’m quittin’ today because my boyfriend is depressed”. (pause) I’ve swapped this Saturday anyway. (pause) He’s gone out tonight. I don’t know where. He wouldn’t tell me. I hope he’s alright. He’s vulnerable. (pause) You say he can take care of himself, but you haven’t lived with him lately, have you.
SCENE 5 The Bluebridge auditorium, littered with chairs facing a small stage. Tea and biscuits are being served. Sounds of a small crowd. LEWIS sits silently, reading. A man with long hair and tattoos, ANDY, walks over. ANDY
Hey, Lewis! You alright, man?
LEWIS
Andy. Hey, yeah, mate. Long time no see.
ANDY
Yeah, you come to see the show tonight?
LEWIS
I have.
ANDY
Well, hoping it goes well.
LEWIS
Nige invited me.
ANDY
He did? I told him to leave advertising to me!
LEWIS
You’re not fond of him?
ANDY
He’s a friend and I’m giving him a platform for his ‘poetry’, but – fuck man! I wish I could just shut him
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Hayden Robinson
SHAILENE
up. LEWIS Why? ANDY You’ll see. Anyway, I best get on. Grab yourself a cuppa. Over there. LEWIS
Yeah, I will.
ANDY leaves. LEWIS gets up and walks to the table. A young girl GEORGINA MORETZ is standing there, slowly picking the biscuits and preparing her tea. On her arm, GEORGINA sports a semicolon tattoo and between it are the words ‘My story isn’t over’. LEWIS
You alright there, love?
Hayden Robinson
GEORGINA (not giving eye contact) Oh! Yeah, yeah I am. (pause) I’m making a cup of tea. LEWIS
Takin’ ya time aren’t ya.
GEORGINA
I’m making sure it’s just right.
LEWIS
Makin’ a cuppa tea isn’t that hard.
GEORGINA
Only if you don’t mind your tea being weak and disgusting. I like mine strong. I hate it when people don’t let it brew. I don’t hold it against them. I just find that they’re rubbish at making cups of tea.
LEWIS
I see. (pause) You’re not from around here, are ya?
GEORGINA
Stafford.
LEWIS
Y’ visitin’?
GEORGINA
Staying here for college.
LEWIS Ah. (pause) Are y’ here to see Nige as well? GEORGINA Nige Jolsen. He asked me to come. LEWIS
Same here.
GEORGINA
Oh! So does he think you’re stupid too?
LEWIS What? GEORGINA
He invited me because he thinks I’m stupid.
LEWIS (flabbergasted) I – don’t –
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GEORGINA
He called me naïve and said that I needed to know the truth in the world.
LEWIS
Maybe he just feels like getting his message out there.
GEORGINA
Yeah.
LEWIS
I’m sure he doesn’t think you’re stupid.
GEORGINA
Yeah.
Silence. Excuse me askin’, but am I makin’ ya feel uneasy?
GEORGINA
No.
LEWIS
Ya not lookin’ at me.
GEORGINA
Oh. That’s just me.
LEWIS
Just you?
GEORGINA I never give anyone eye contact. Lots of people like me do it. LEWIS
People like you?
GEORGINA
People who are autistic.
LEWIS
Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise!
GEORGINA
That’s okay.
LEWIS
I hope I haven’t offended you.
GEORGINA
You haven’t called me stupid.
LEWIS No. GEORGINA
Yeah. (pause) I’m scared that I’ve offended you.
LEWIS Why? GEORGINA
I don’t know. Probably because I’m not looking at you.
LEWIS
It’s fine. I’m – well – I haven’t been that round much lately. I’ve had a lot of trouble.
GEORGINA
Trouble? Are you on the run?
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Hayden Robinson
LEWIS
LEWIS
Not that kind of trouble!
GEORGINA
You could be an evil bank robber. Or maybe you have a plan to break Ian Watkins out of prison.
LEWIS Who? GEORGINA
Ian Watkins. Lead singer of Lostprophets.
LEWIS
Oh right. What’s he down for?
GEORGINA
Touching kids.
Hayden Robinson
LEWIS Right… GEORGINA
That made you uncomfortable. I know it.
LEWIS
Don’t worry about it. (pause) What’s your name?
GEORGINA
Would you like to know?
LEWIS
That’s why I’ve asked.
GEORGINA
It’s Georgina.
LEWIS Lewis. GEORGINA
No, Georgina.
LEWIS
No, my name is Lewis.
GEORGINA
Oh. (pause) Hello, Lewis.
LEWIS (chuckles) Hi Georgina. Ya tea’s getting cold, y’know. GEORGINA Oh yeah. She picks up her cup of tea. She sips it. That’s lovely! She joyfully wiggles.
Biscuits are just right! (counts them) One, two, three, four, five – yep!
LEWIS
I’m goin’ back to my seat.
GEORGINA Okay. (gives him one of her biscuits) You can have this one.
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LEWIS
It’s okay, I’m not---
GEORGINA
No, no, no, no, no! I’m giving you a biscuit. It’s up to you if you want to eat it.
LEWIS
Oh okay. (pause) Thank you.
GEORGINA nods, then shyly walks to her seat. LEWIS watches before returning to his own. ANDY talks into the microphone on the platform. ANDY
Okay, guys! Give it up for our first act tonight – the talented Nige Jolsen!
NIGE walks onto the platform. Friends! Family! Fellow rebels! I am here tonight to throw out the truth, erase lies, to give you what is yours. I am an anarchist, but not in the way you know it. I fuck up the system. I fuck up the establishment. Look up my video on my Facebook page to join the fight. Camerawork provided by my good friend, Lewis Green! Is he here? He is! I see you, little man! Ready to hear some kickass poetry? Yeah! Here we go!
He gets out a notebook and starts reading. We are censored Manipulated Called stupid Named scum Titled robots But no more will I Allow my pride to Be ripped like paper By hypocritical teachers Fucking the preachers And the seekers to Make us believe her When she says that Everything is just fine! No! Fuck it all! Fuck this shit! Fuck the system that Criminalises cocaine, Let’s the insane roam free and Bleeds out the ones eating Bacon and eggs on Sundays As Sydney beats Liverpool because The Welsh fuck so well! Let’s stand together now
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Hayden Robinson
NIGE
Hayden Robinson
To do away with the pretence To wipe away all these liars Who try and make life complicated For the common man! Let us fight for a good life! Let us fight for a decent country! Let us fight for what is right And like kings we dance in The night! Homeless kings Sleeping on the streets! Let us fight! Our days are dark but Will become bright when The night shudders under God’s unholy wrath! Let us fight now! Let us rise! Together! Scene 6
To Be Continued in the next issue...
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Don’t forget to sumbit your own work for the next issue. We are also starting to organise the poetry tour for 2018! 49
Thanks for reading!