Telling a story with just dialogue - "What A Character!" writing contest entry. |
“How do I look?” “I don’t care” “Oh, come on Hal, you know I have an interview tomorrow!” “Yeah, but it’s not with me, so I don’t bloody care” “For god’s sake you insolent shit, put down that stupid book and look at me when I’m talking to you! This affects both of us in case you’ve forgotten; Money doesn’t grow out of your arm pits... though I reckon it’s one of the few things that doesn’t.” “Call me what you like Donna, but don’t disrespect Macbeth. He kills people you know… gets them when they sleep… If I were you I’d be more careful who I trash talked.” “You can’t be serious! Take a walk in the real world for a change Hal. You’re thirty fucking five… it’s time you got off your ass and did something for a change. Stop dallying in those gibberish fairy stories of yours and get a real job! And stop… calling… me… Donna” “Writing is a real job… Mother. Just because you can’t string two words together that make sense doesn’t mean it’s not possible for me to make it in this business… I just have to figure out the kinks… learn from the masters…I’ll make it big one day I will, just you wait… and when I’m rolling in it, you’ll regret that attitude of yours.” “Make it big?! You’re off your bloody rocker. I don’t know what lies you kids are getting told nowadays, but if you had any sense at all you’d throw that piece of crap book in the fire where it belongs… at least that way we’d have some heat around here. You might have enough body fat to keep you warm for a year, but the rest of us are fucking freezing.” “The rest of us? What are you talking about, the rest of us? It’s just you and me now Mum. Dad and Jillie are gone, in case it somehow slipped your mind… It was kind of a big deal; I don’t know whether you remember...” “Don’t you dare mock me Harold Mason Springsteen! Your father and sister meant the world to me as you well know. How dare you imply that I would take their passing so lightly as to let it slip for even a second from my mind! By golly if your father had lived to see this day! He’d be turning in his grave if he knew what you’d become!” “And just what may I be so bold as to ask… Mother… have I become? I’d be so interested to hear your evaluation I’m sure…” “What’ve you become?! What’ve you become?! I’ll tell you what you’ve become you ungrateful layabout. Abso-bloomin-loutly nothing, that’s what. Thirty fucking five you are, and what’ve you got to show for it? Nothing. You lay around all day, plugged into that useless machine instead of living your real life! Still sponging off your mother at your age, why you should be ashamed. I have a right mind to throw you out on the street, you ungrateful, lowlife fuc…” “Shh! What was that?” “Wha? How dare you shush me yo…” “Mum, Shut up! I can hear footsteps...” “Hello? Is anybody in there?” “Not a word mum, keep still.” “Hello? This is the police department, open up!” "Shit... Mum, quick, get behind the couch and don't move a muscle” “Mr Springsteen? We know you’re in there, now open up, we just want to talk to you” “Yeah, bloody right they just want to talk… no way I’m opening that door. Don’t give me that look mum, everything will be okay. Just stay still.” “Mr Springsteen? That was your final warning. Stand back, we’re coming in” “Oh crap, now what? Just stay still mum… don’t let them see you. And for god’s sake don’t look at me like that.” “Mr Springsteen?” “Mr Springsteen, I can see you there squatting behind that sofa. I’m going to need you to stand up now. Come on, that’s a good man, nobody here wants to hurt you.” “That’s it Mr, just a little closer” “Cuff him Mitch, quick now before I lose my grip!” “Got it! Phew, that takes a load off” “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?! Mum? Help me! Mum?... Mum?!” “Now, now, Mr Springsteen, you need to calm down.” “What do you mean calm down?! How can I calm down with that metal crap digging into my wrists?! They’ll cut off my blood supply they will! Or worse, they’ll slash my veins wide open and I’ll bleed out right in front of you! That’d be a right mess it would… But I guess that’s what you want, you filthy bastards!” “Now Mr Springsteen, there’s no need for that. We’ve come to take you home is all; back to where all your friends are, they’ll be happy to see you. Back to your nice comfy bed see, much nicer than this hideaway you have here. No rats at your home neither, that’ll be nice for you, won’t it Mr Springsteen?” “C’mon Mitch, we’d better get going’. I had Sammy call the hospital and let them know we’re on our way back.” “No worries Jack, I got him. Poor bugger… he’s got no idea where he is. Still thinks he’s at home with his mum I reckon… doesn’t even know she’s dead.” Word Count: 893 |