Little Reminders

Scene 1:

(Ext. Afternoon. Market place next to a pier in Sandakan, Malaysia. Gwen, theatrical Grandmother, 60; Wendy, fitness fanatic Daughter, 40; and Tabitha, terminally ill Granddaughter, 20, on a holiday to Turtle Island.)

SOUND: Three panting women drag suitcases on wheels through a busy Asian seaside market. There’s a hiss from Tabitha’s oxygen tank.

MUSIC: Fast-paced Asian market music.

WENDY:

Oh, God. We’re going to miss the boat.

GWEN:

Here, Tabitha, give me your suitcase, Sugar. Or we’ll miss seeing these turtles lay their eggs tonight.

TABITHA:

Thanks, Gran.

MUSIC: Fades.

SOUND: Boat horn signalling departure and labored breaths.

WENDY:

It’s too late. Oh my, the boat’s left the pier.

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Three Men in a Lift

‘Bloody hot, hey?’

‘What have you got to whinge about? You’re not in a suit.’

‘Good old boardies. Love ’em.’

‘I wish they’d fix the lift. Can the air conditioners reach in here?’

‘Jeez, I’m stuck in here with a couple of girls.’

‘I get claustrophobic. It’s a real condition. I could have a panic attack.’

‘Yeah, mate, didn’t you learn that at fancy suit school?’

‘Least I went to school.’

‘Burn, man. Heartless.’

‘My head hurts. Did the elevator just move? I need some air.’

‘Take it easy now, aren’t you supposed to visualise a safe place or something?’

‘My garage. I think about my garage. I restore old chairs you know. The smell of wood oil helps.’

‘There you go.’

‘You two want to get a room?’

‘You’re not helping. Negativity causes cancer you know.’

‘What a load of rubbish.’

‘Dear me, I think I might throw up.’

‘You better not.’

‘Come on now, take it easy, it wont be much longer.’

‘This is bullshit. I thought this building was new?’

‘It is.’

‘How the fuck would you know? You look like you haven’t worked a day in your life. Let alone stepped into an office.’

‘You’d be surprised, mate.’

‘Extremely surprised actually. Oh dear, I don’t think I should talk, the walls are spinning.’

‘Put you head between your knees. There you go, better?’

‘Mmmm.’

‘I don’t believe this. I’ve got places to be.’

‘Taking your suit for a walk then?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Have it your way.’

‘A job interview. Not that you’d know anything about it.’

‘Really, for what floor?’

‘Eleven.’

‘Interesting.’

‘What’s that stupid look for?’

‘Better leave him alone unless you want vomit for lunch.’

‘It’s alright, the nausea is easing. I wish this lift would move.’

‘Hang in there. So a job, hey?’

‘Like I said, it’s none of your business.’

‘It’s moving, it’s actually moving. It is, isn’t it?’

‘Sure is. Here give me your hand, the doors are opening.’

‘About fucking time.’

‘Mate, don’t bother getting out.’

‘Get stuffed.’

‘No, mate, job’s off the table.’

‘What the —?’

‘It’s my company, mate, and you’re not welcome.’

‘Oh, fresh office air, I feel so much better.’

‘Is this a joke?’

‘I guess they didn’t teach manners at fancy suit school. Don’t bother calling HR.’

‘Look, shit, I didn’t know. It was hot.’

‘Tough titties, mate. Off you go now and I’d take the stairs next time.’

‘But —.’

The End