WEll...wrote this piece last night to make do for today's presentation in 20 minutes flat before bed time. think it might be an interesting idea to explore if i were to write an acting play. or musical for that case. interesting...



Scenario: Late 1920s. Just after the wall street crash. Ellen had invested heavily against Sam’s advice. Had lost her life-savings but still leads a comfortable live with Sam in their double-storey town house.

Characters:

Ellen: A florist. Loves to dress in black. Pregnant. Fading beauty. From a working-class background. Is around her early thirties. Tends to over-react.

Sam: Stock-broker. In his late thirties. Slightly balding. Incline to zone out when his wife starts talking. From an upper-class background.


Script: Scene 1- Preparations for a dinner out.

Ellen: com’on, we’re gonna be late, eh. (ruffles her hair as she walks up to Sam) Tiz black-tie event and Imz wearin me ol’ black dress. Would ya throw on something decent !? (frowns as she stares down at her husband) Quit slouchin all over ze couch. Ya got ye eyes glued solid to ze telly. Itz not called an idiot box for nuthin ya know…. (curses under her breath) ye idiot…(spins around and hurries in the opposite direction towards the kitchen, the television blars the soap advertisement “ think the house and your man needs a scrub? Buy Ajad multi-cleaner – works like a charm”)

Ellen: (grumbling as she paces to and fro, seemingly counting the number of square tiles she needs in order to walk to the kitchen) you lousy louse. All ye eva do is sit there squared on ye pretty fat ass. (starts rhyming randomly) No “thank ya dar…”. No damn ugly flowas or smelly roast-beef dinas, well non, what dumb life have become. Freaking mother’s day, without going to no bay, maybe when mi get me pay. ( there is a single sunflower that has since started to die, its petals have began to fall and scatter on the counter)

Sam: (grunts and hollers across the room where Ellen is seated sulking at the kitchen table) It’s not a party, just a gathering with my mother and father. * pauses * Come on Elle. Don’t get so worked up. Think of the baby…

Ellen: (struts quickly back into the living room, seems to have ignored the topic of her health altogether) What what what! Tiz not juz any gathering yar know. We must dress er….what’s zat word? …. Ze tupid priest was lecturing mi on me looks… presena…presenatable! I’II juz wear me ol black dress, ye wear something fancy with a tie. Ze black-tie dinner ho-kay! (leans over the sofa and screams) Nobody cares whither I wear, nobody can bear to share... (voice trails off) Not yar….nono….not yar…(meanders away towards the staircase and dances upstairs to change).

Sam: But Elle… (turns and sees no one, shrugs and carries on watching television)


Scene 2: *An hour passes uneventful – Sam goes upstairs to look for Ellen *

Sam: ( Climbing the stairs) Ellen dear? We’re going to be late for your black-tie dinner. (Sees clothes strewn all over the top flights of the steps) My goodness. What are you doing Elle?

Ellen: (seating on the ledge of the bed, holding a book closely to her face- so close she could not possibly be reading it. The book is titled “Have you seen a doctor lately?”) Ain’t tiz a lovely day outside? Pretty pretty birds. Singing in a tree. Beautiful beautiful sun. Shiny as can be. (hums to herself as she rocks forward and backwards, tilting her head charmingly to the side as she glances as Sam) Yar want a dance? Practice dance?

Sam: (sigh) You have not dressed yet. Look Ellen, we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry. Remember?

Ellen: Go where? I’mz staying put down here. Sam, the priest was saying on Sunday how Peta was the rock upon which god build his church on. So am I. Juz lidat of a strong little rock. (glazed look in her eyes as she happily smiles at no one)

Sam: (Tries to help her off the ledge and remove the apron off her) Stop struggling. It’s bad for the child I swear Elle…

Ellen: (absentmindedly flings her arms out wildly as in a wild Spanish dance) A child. In a well. Like a bell. (spins around her worn-out husband who tries desperately to restrain her) Some fun. Some fun. Mi need to have sum fun.

Sam: (The phone has been ringing for the past few seconds, he tries to balance picking up the receiver in one hand, with his other arm hooked around Ellen’s waist) Hi? Mother? I’m really sorry but I think we have to cancel. She’s not well again. Yes. She’s not up for visitors yet. (Ellen has ceased to struggle and has flopped over like a lifeless doll, resting her whole weight on Sam’s arm) Hold on mother. She’s become quiet (sets her gently down onto the bed and retreats out of the room) Hello mother. I know. After the incident with the stock crash and the miscarriage… *pause * it’s been hard on her and this baby. (scratches his head as he leans onto the side of the door). *pause * Yes. *pause * And, me too. Sorry mother. Would love to see you too. Give father my regards would you? And… (voice fades away as he walks down the stairs)

Ellen: (opens one eye, then closes and opens the other eye. Alternates her eyes which carries on for five minutes) Dunch ya juz hate his snotty mom and dad? Alwiz looking down on poor old Elle… Poor Elle with her fits. Poor Elle who cant do anything. No real job, no warm cot, no tot. I gotta job! I stick flowas into their beds en pressins. Everyone loves dear old Elle. Even god loves Elle. I who’s rock ye chose. A second child. Think bout zat… (ponders) but why. Why did ye take my first away? All ye pretty chicks. My poor pretty chicks. Mommie’s having a hard day en on Mother’s day summore. No mother’s in ze house ‘cept for mi. No Sam’s mom. (pats her tummy) Ye be good in there. En I will love ye as I loved ya little sista. Alwiz. Ye Know Mommies don’t lie.