Off The Grid

Setting: the living area of a small house designed to be off the electrical grid. The walls are unpainted wooden planks with insulation in between them.

 

ACT I

Scene I

                                            The lights come up to an empty stage. It is a late spring afternoon. The door opens. Marty                                                        enters  first. She’s smartly dressed in clothes fitting a person prepared for the outdoors. She is                                                carrying a duffel bag, which she drops on the floor after she enters. She looks around.

MARTY:        Oh wow! This is unbelievable. (out the door) Len, you have to see this!

LEN:             (from offstage) Coming.

                                            MARTY exits to the kitchen. A few seconds pass. LEN enters. He’s wearing blue jeans,                                                            sneakers, a tee shirt and a hoodie sweat shirt. He’s carrying a normal suitcase and has a                                                        brochure in his hand. He takes a few steps, stops and drops his suitcase. He’s stunned by what                                              he sees.

LEN:             What in the –

                                           MARTY enters from the kitchen.

MARTY:        Well?

LEN:             This is unbelievable.

MARTY:        I know. It’s something else, isn’t it?

LEN:             Something else is right; it sure isn’t a house.

MARTY:        Of course it’s a house.

LEN:             Depends on your definition of house.

MARTY:        I told you it was rustic.

LEN:             You told me it was finished.

MARTY:        It is finished.

LEN:             The walls aren’t even painted.

MARTY:        That’s part of the experience.

LEN:             If we wanted to experience unpainted walls, we could have spent the week in our basement.

MARTY:        I’m referring to the experience of living off the electrical grid.

LEN:             Okay, our basement with the power off.

MARTY:        It’ll be great. Just think, a week free from TV, internet, cell service…

LEN:             If that’s meant to be a pep talk, it could use some work.

MARTY:        We’re like homesteaders out here. It’ll be a whole new experience for us.

LEN:             For you maybe. I learned all about this way of life watching reruns of Little House on the Prairie.

MARTY:        This is different. We’ll be living a life of simplicity, getting the most out of what’s nearby.

LEN:             Marty, we’re so far from civilization, what’s nearby is nothing. And next to that is more nothing, miles and miles                       of nothing but nothing. That’s what we’ll get out of this … nothing.

MARTY:        You know the first thing you need for this lifestyle? The right attitude.

LEN:             Then I’d say we’re pretty much sunk.

                                                              © John Spurway 2018

 

Off The Grid

Setting: the living area of a small house designed to be off the electrical grid. The walls are unpainted wooden planks with insulation in between them.

 

ACT I

Scene I

                                            The lights come up to an empty stage. It is a late spring afternoon. The door opens. Marty                                                        enters  first. She’s smartly dressed in clothes fitting a person prepared for the outdoors. She is                                                carrying a duffel bag, which she drops on the floor after she enters. She looks around.

MARTY:        Oh wow! This is unbelievable. (out the door) Len, you have to see this!

LEN:             (from offstage) Coming.

                                            MARTY exits to the kitchen. A few seconds pass. LEN enters. He’s wearing blue jeans,                                                            sneakers, a tee shirt and a hoodie sweat shirt. He’s carrying a normal suitcase and has a                                                        brochure in his hand. He takes a few steps, stops and drops his suitcase. He’s stunned by what                                              he sees.

LEN:             What in the –

                                           MARTY enters from the kitchen.

MARTY:        Well?

LEN:             This is unbelievable.

MARTY:        I know. It’s something else, isn’t it?

LEN:             Something else is right; it sure isn’t a house.

MARTY:        Of course it’s a house.

LEN:             Depends on your definition of house.

MARTY:        I told you it was rustic.

LEN:             You told me it was finished.

MARTY:        It is finished.

LEN:             The walls aren’t even painted.

MARTY:        That’s part of the experience.

LEN:             If we wanted to experience unpainted walls, we could have spent the week in our basement.

MARTY:        I’m referring to the experience of living off the electrical grid.

LEN:             Okay, our basement with the power off.

MARTY:        It’ll be great. Just think, a week free from TV, internet, cell service…

LEN:             If that’s meant to be a pep talk, it could use some work.

MARTY:        We’re like homesteaders out here. It’ll be a whole new experience for us.

LEN:             For you maybe. I learned all about this way of life watching reruns of Little House on the Prairie.

MARTY:        This is different. We’ll be living a life of simplicity, getting the most out of what’s nearby.

LEN:             Marty, we’re so far from civilization, what’s nearby is nothing. And next to that is more nothing, miles and miles                       of nothing but nothing. That’s what we’ll get out of this … nothing.

MARTY:        You know the first thing you need for this lifestyle? The right attitude.

LEN:             Then I’d say we’re pretty much sunk.

                                                              © John Spurway 2018

 

The Numbers Game

Setting: a small apartment

ACT I

Scene I

                                    BERNIE enters from the kitchen. She is on the phone.

BERNIE:        That’s right – available immediately. Your share would be 650 a month, plus 125 for utilities … Pets? Not                                 officially, but as long as it’s quiet. … A what? Who in their right mind has a lobster for a pet?  … No, it’s not                             that I don’t like them. I love them, especially with a little melted butter and some coleslaw … hello?

                                   She looks at the phone as if there’s something wrong with it, then puts it back in the cradle.

                                   She exits to the kitchen. There is a knock on the door which causes it to swing open. A few seconds                                       pass, and the door opens a little wider. PHIL sticks his head in.

PHIL:              Hello?

                                  PHIL takes a step in and stops. He is wearing dark dress pants and a white dress shirt. BERNIE                                              enters with a coffee mug in hand. She stops when she sees him.

BERNIE:        Oh, hi. You must be the new super. It’s this way.

                                  BERNIE exits back into the kitchen. PHIL doesn’t move. BERNIE re-enters.

BERNIE:        It’s the kitchen window – right through here.

                                  BERNIE waits; PHIL doesn’t move.

BERNIE:        You’re not the new super, are you?

                                  PHIL shakes his head.

BERNIE:        Then how did you get in the building?

PHIL:             The main door was propped open.

BERNIE:        Oh. Someone must be moving.

PHIL:             And when I knocked, the door opened by itself.

BERNIE:        I guess I forgot to close it when I took out the garbage. So are you a bill collector?

PHIL:             No.

BERNIE:        Repo agent?

PHIL:             No.

BERNIE:        If you’re selling something, I’m not exactly in buying mode.

PHIL:             I’m here about the ad in the paper.

                                    PHIL pulls a newspaper clipping out of his shirt pocket and reads it.

PHIL:             “Roommate wanted, available immediately, call Bernie.” Is he around?

BERNIE:        Keep reading. It says I’m looking for a female roommate.

PHIL:             You’re Bernie?

BERNIE:        I am. How did you even find this place? All I put down was a phone number.

PHIL:             I did a reverse lookup. I thought I should apply in person. I don’t come across as very dynamic over the                                  phone.

BERNIE:        Well, it would appear you’ve wasted your time.

PHIL:             (beat) You look familiar.

BERNIE:        Seriously? That old line?

PHIL:             What old line?

BERNIE:        You look familiar – that’s the oldest line in the book.

PHIL:             What book?

BERNIE:        Look, the ad says female roommate, so –

PHIL:             I’m sure we’ve met. I’ve got a good memory for faces.

BERNIE:        And I’ve got a Louisville Slugger for intruders, so how about you see if that door closes from the outside as                            easily as it opens.

PHIL:             I know; we went to high school together.

BERNIE:        I don’t –

PHIL:             Bernie is short for Bernadette, isn’t it? You’re Bernadette Davis. I mean, who could forget the most popular                              girl in all of Darwin High? You were a cheerleader, and the head of the social committee, and prom queen.                              Everyone knew you. Your locker was on the second floor, outside Mr. Scott’s classroom, third from the left.                              On the inside of the door, you had a poster from the high school production of Grease, and a picture of …                              oh, who was that famous actor …

BERNIE:        Forget who that was, who the hell are you?

PHIL:             James Dean!

BERNIE:        You’re James Dean?

PHIL:             No, I’m Phil Gibson. James Dean was in your locker. Well, a picture of him.

BERNIE:        I don’t remember any Phil Gibson from high school.

PHIL:             You wouldn’t. We travelled in different circles.

BERNIE:        You seem to know a lot about me.

PHIL:             I have a good memory for details. Don’t get the wrong idea; it’s not weird or anything. I mean, it’s not like I                              remember the combination to your locker. But I sure remember you. You were always the centre of                                          attention.

BERNIE:        Gee, I’m sorry I don’t remember meeting you.

PHIL:             We never actually met. About the only thing we had in common were the guys on the football team.

BERNIE:        But I knew all the guys on the football team.

PHIL:             Oh, I wasn’t on the team. I just used to hang around in the locker room … literally. They used to hang me                                by my underwear from a coat hook.

BERNIE:        Wait a minute. Are you Phyllis?

                                   PHIL just nods.

BERNIE:        I heard about you. Did they really hold you upside down and dunk your head in the toilet?

PHIL:             They called it a swirly.

BERNIE:        That’s terrible.

PHIL:             It was harmless enough.

BERNIE:        Harmless!? It was a toilet.

PHIL:             They always flushed it first.

Copyright © John Spurway 2013
 
Jessie’s Landing

ACT I, Scene I

                                     A spot light comes up on HAROLD. He speaks to the audience.

HAROLD:         I’ve always liked numbers. All through school, I was good at math, so it was no surprise I decided to take                               engineering. I studied hard, got my degree, and have been practicing ever since. I don’t mind saying I’m                                 good at it. However, when it comes to being a parent, I have no formal education. I see parenthood as the                             ultimate on-the-job training experience, although as jobs go, being a parent doesn’t have much going for                                 it. I mean, the hours are lousy, there are no holidays, and there’s no pay. And if all that’s not bad enough,                               it’s hard. After twenty-five years on the job, I’d say math is a whole lot simpler.

                                     The spot light on HAROLD goes out. A spot light comes up on JESSIE.

JESSIE:            Question: what do you get when you put an engineer and a lawyer together? It sounds like the first line of                               a joke, doesn’t it? Well, the punch line to this joke is me; the only daughter of Harold and Katherine                                         Hawthorne. Talk around our dinner table addressed intricate highway designs and complex matters of law                               – the stuff of sharp minds. What baffles me is how these same sharp minds can come up with such banal                               advice as “be careful”, or “watch your step”, or my favourite “if you break your leg, don’t come running to                                 me.” Parents! …But what can you do? They’re family. All things considered, I’m amazed at how great I                                   turned out.

                                     The spot light on JESSIE goes out.

                                     The lights come up to an empty stage. HAROLD enters from the kitchen carrying a glass of iced                                             tea. He picks up the phone and speed dials.

HAROLD:         Hi… I just got in, too… TGIF is right. Man, what a week. So, are we still on for tonight?

                                     The doorbell rings.

HAROLD:         Hang on, someone’s at the door. Give some thought to that new place I told you about. I’ll call you back.

                                     HAROLD hangs up. He goes to the door and opens it. He stares in disbelief.

JESSIE:            Hi Dad.

HAROLD:         Jessie? I don’t believe it. Oh, honey!

                                     HAROLD sticks out his arms. They hug.

HAROLD:         I can’t believe it’s you. I didn’t even know you were in the country.

JESSIE:            I just got in.

HAROLD:         This is fantastic. Wow. Come in, come in. Sit down.

                                  JESSIE enters wearing a back pack, which she drops.

HAROLD:         Are you going to be here a while?

JESSIE:            If that’s okay.

HAROLD:         You can stay as long as you like, you know that. I can’t believe you’re actually standing right in front of me.                             How did you get here?

JESSIE:            I spent the last two days on a bus. I walked from the station.

HAROLD:         Why didn’t you call?

JESSIE:            I wanted to surprise you.

HAROLD:         Well, you succeeded. And you’re timing is perfect. A few more minutes and I wouldn’t have been here.

JESSIE:            Oh well, it wouldn’t have been the first time. (beat) Sorry. I didn’t mean that.

HAROLD:         So why are you here? You’re not in any trouble, are you?

JESSIE:            No.

HAROLD:         Are you pregnant?

JESSIE:            Dad!

HAROLD:         I can handle being a grandfather.

JESSIE:            I’m not pregnant.

HAROLD:         Are you sick? You know, the water in some of those countries –

JESSIE:            I’m fine.

HAROLD:         You must need something.

JESSIE:            I don’t need anything. I just wanted to be home.

HAROLD:         After three and a half years?

JESSIE:            I know, it’s been a long time; too long. I just figured it was time we were together.

HAROLD:         No argument here. So what are you going to do? Have you made any plans?

JESSIE:            You know, I’m really dry after two days on a bus. Have you got anything cold?

HAROLD:         There, see? I was right. You do need something.

John Spurway © 2011 
 
Grounded

Act 1

Scene 1
 
Setting: The departure lounge of a large airport.

 

                                  NATHAN is seated. He is wearing a dark suit and has a briefcase with him. He’s reading the paper.                                        ELIZABETH is just sitting there. She starts to read the outside of his paper – the Sports page. As                                            NATHAN turns the page, he notices ELIZABETH. She sees and turns away.

NATHAN:         Would you like a section?

ELIZABETH:    No thanks.

                                  NATHAN goes back to his paper. ELIZABETH starts to read the back page again. He notices.

NATHAN:         Here, I can get another.

                                  NATHAN tries to give her the whole paper.

ELIZABETH:    You don’t need to do that.

NATHAN:         There’s a stand not far from here.

ELIZABETH:    I don’t want to put you out.

NATHAN:         It’s no bother, really.

ELIZABETH:    But you don’t even know me.

NATHAN:         It’s a newspaper, not a marriage proposal.

ELIZABETH:    I appreciate it, but I don’t feel like reading right now.

NATHAN:         I see that.

                                NATHAN goes back to his paper. A few seconds pass. ELIZABETH is sneaking little glances at the                                        back page. NATHAN talks without lowering it.

NATHAN:         How did your team do last night?

ELIZABETH:    Won by 14.

NATHAN:         (lowering his paper) So you’re a sports fan.

ELIZABETH:    Yeah, I love the excitement of sports. I’m Elizabeth.

NATHAN:         …Nathan.

ELIZABETH:    So, Nathan, what section do you read?

NATHAN:         The stock report.

ELIZABETH:    Oh.

NATHAN:         I suppose you find that boring.

ELIZABETH:    They’re endless rows of numbers. I can’t see them being very exciting.

                                NATHAN goes back to his paper.

NATHAN:         Well, I find sports boring, so I guess that makes us even.

ELIZABETH:    That’s interesting.

NATHAN:         It is?

ELIZABETH:    Yes. You felt the need to even the discussion by finding something I enjoy boring. I find that interesting. I’m                             kind of a student of the human condition. Airports are the best places to observe people. You see some                                   hurrying to catch a flight and others just sitting, waiting. You can tell a lot about people by the way they                                   wait for things. Do they occupy themselves by reading or listening to music? Do they engage others in                                   conversation? Or do they just sit there? And if they do, what do they think about? Maybe they’re watching                               other people, and wondering what they’re thinking… so many possibilities. It’s fascinating, don’t you think?

NATHAN:         …I’m sorry, were you talking to me?

ELIZABETH:    I’m disturbing you. Sorry. I guess I’m the type who engages others in conversation.

NATHAN:         Is that what this is, a conversation?

ELIZABETH:    Sure. What would you call it?

NATHAN:         A monologue.

ELIZABETH:    Don’t be silly. For it to be a monologue, one person would have to be doing all the …

                                  NATHAN just looks at her.

ELIZABETH:    Right. What can I say, I’m a people person. How about you? Do you like people?

NATHAN:         When they keep to themselves.

Copyright © John Spurway 2009

 
Between Friends

Act I, Scene I

It is late Friday afternoon. DUNC is standing in front of SOPHIE with his arms folded. SOPHIE is sitting on the couch with her head in her hands. There is a dictionary open face down on the coffee table. Several seconds pass. SOPHIE jumps up.

SOPHIE:        Monarsenous!

DUNC:           I can’t believe it!

SOPHIE:        I’m right, aren’t I?

                                   SOPHIE picks up the dictionary and reads.

SOPHIE:        “Monarsenous: a zoological term that means having only one male to several females.” That’s five nothing.                             If you want to win –

                                   When she looks up, Dunc is waiving a doily.

SOPHIE:        What are you doing?

DUNC:           Surrendering.

SOPHIE:        With a doily?

DUNC:           I surrender to your mastery of the English language and your unmatched beauty. You’ll just have to take                                me prisoner.

                                   He holds his arms out as if to be handcuffed.

SOPHIE:        I don’t take prisoners.

DUNC:           But I can see you have a kind heart. Take pity on me. Please?

                                   Dunc walks towards her.

SOPHIE:        Well, you are kind of cute, and you’ve got a great butt. Maybe I can find a use for you.

DUNC:           I’ll do anything you ask.

SOPHIE:        Anything? But I heard you’re married.

DUNC:           I am, to the most beautiful woman in the world. But if it meant sparing my life, I’m sure she’d understand.

SOPHIE:        Beautiful, is she? What else?

                                  He gets closer as he speaks.

DUNC:           She’s smart, she’s creative. The second you meet her, you’re drawn to her.

SOPHIE:        Sounds awesome.

DUNC:           She is.

SOPHIE:        Then why is she hanging around with the likes of you?

DUNC:           Hey! I was getting warmed up.

SOPHIE:        That’s what I’m worried about. Look – it’s almost six. They’ll be here any second.

                                 DUNC checks his watch.

DUNC:           Really? I lost track of time.

                                 DUNC goes to the front door and looks out.

DUNC:           No sign of them yet. But if I know Bill, they will not be late.

SOPHIE:        Then we wouldn’t want to be occupied when they arrive, although it shouldn’t be surprising. Technically,                                   we’re still on our honeymoon.

DUNC:           You know, you don’t usually hear the words technically and honeymoon in the same sentence.

SOPHIE:        There is a technical side to honeymoons.

DUNC:           There is?

SOPHIE:        The word honeymoon comes from the custom of the newlyweds drinking honeyed wine each day for a                                   month after the wedding. And since this weekend marks the end of the first month of our marriage,                                         technically, we’re still on our honeymoon.

DUNC:           How about that?

SOPHIE:        So instead of playing host this weekend, we should really be enjoying a honeymoon salad.

DUNC:           What’s a honeymoon salad?

SOPHIE:        Lettuce alone with no dressing.

DUNC:           No dressing? Wouldn’t that be a little boring?

SOPHIE:        Trust me, it’s not.

DUNC:           Well, we’ll just have to see, now won’t we?

SOPHIE:        Not this weekend, we won’t.

DUNC:           Why not?

SOPHIE:        With your friends in the next room?

DUNC:           They won’t mind.

SOPHIE:        Duncan!

DUNC:           We’ll be quiet.

SOPHIE:        Really?

DUNC:           Okay, I’ll be quiet.

SOPHIE:        Really?

DUNC:           (beat) Did they say when they were leaving on Sunday?

Copyright © John Spurway 2008
 
The Third Life of Eddie Mann

Act I

         

                                 EDDIE is standing out on the ledge looking down. Several seconds pass. ANGEL sticks his head out                                       the window.

ANGEL:        Hello there.

EDDIE:         Don’t come out here.

ANGEL:        Why would I do that?

EDDIE:         I mean it! Stay back.

ANGEL:        Okay, okay. Is everything alright?

EDDIE:         Oh sure, everything’s peachy.

ANGEL:        It is?

EDDIE:         Couldn’t be better.

ANGEL:        Really? You look jumpy.

EDDIE:         Excuse me?

ANGEL:        You seem on edge. Why are you on this side of the building? The good view is on the other side. This just                                looks over the parking lot; unless you really like cars. Do you really like cars?

EDDIE:         Are you trying to distract me?

ANGEL:        Do you want me to distract you?

EDDIE:         Are you new at this?

ANGEL:        Are you?

EDDIE:         Is one of us going to answer a question rather than ask it?

ANGEL:        I don’t know; are we?

EDDIE:         Knock it off.

ANGEL:        You really shouldn’t be out here. It’s not safe. You could fall.

EDDIE:         That’s kinda the idea, pal.

ANGEL:        Oh, I see.

EDDIE:         That’s right – and nothing you say will stop me.

ANGEL:        A man of conviction; I like that.

EDDIE:         Don’t even try to talk me down.

ANGEL:        Again, why would I do that?

EDDIE:         Because they always send someone to talk people down. Well it won’t work. Anything you say will fall on deaf                       ears. You got that?

ANGEL:        Deaf ears – I got it.

EDDIE:         Good, because you can’t change my mind.

ANGEL:        I wouldn’t dream of trying. I have too much respect for you to do that.

                              EDDIE just looks at ANGEL.

ANGEL:        I know what you’re thinking.

EDDIE:         I doubt that.

ANGEL:        You’re thinking that sounds strange, seeing as we just met. But I think strangers ought to extend the same                              level of respect as long-time friends. I mean, isn’t that what’s wrong with the world? I know it’s not much,                                but I figure if I start to show respect for people I’ve just met, it might catch on, and maybe this world will be                              a better place. So I respect your decision and I won’t try to stop you.

EDDIE:         Oh … well, good. Thank you.

ANGEL:        You’re welcome.

                             There is a short silence, during which ANGEL checks his watch.

ANGEL:        Well?

                                                                                  Copyright © John Spurway 2021

A Mother’s Will

Opening scene – setting is the waiting room of a law office.

                                 When the lights come up, DON and DALLAS are sitting, both reading magazines. DON is well                                                 dressed, which includes high-quality shoes; DALLAS is casually dressed, which includes a pair of                                           sneakers

DON:             Listen to this drivel; it says here that the secret to accumulating wealth is to avoid spending. Well, duh.                                    that’s like saying the secret to living a long life is to avoid dying. They shouldn’t let accountants write                                        business articles; although this one about compound interest is an eye opener. If you can save $100 a                                    week, at 7% interest, it could grow to $300,000 in 25 years. Imagine – thee hundred grand.  I could sure                                use that right now.

DALLAS:       Twenty-five years ago, you were what, 18? If you had a hundred bucks back then, you’d invest it in beer, as                            long as Mum didn’t find out.

DON:             Not just beer. I’d also invest in a new suit, and maybe a new pair of shoes.

DALLAS:       I don’t think a hundred bucks would buy all that, even 25 years ago.

DON:            Then I’d just get the shoes. Shoes are very important in today’s business world. There’s an article in here                               (magazine) that talks about all the things you can tell about a person by his footwear.

                                     DON looks down at the sneakers DALLAS is wearing. DALLAS looks at them, too, then at DON.

DALLAS:       What are you reading?

DON:             Wall Street Journal.

DALLAS:       Where did you get that? All I see here are Law magazines.

DON:             I brought it with me.

DALLAS:       Sure you did.

DON:             I did.

DALLAS:       You’re just saying that to justify taking it when you leave.

DON:             It beats Judicial Monthly. (indicating DALLAS’s magazine) Anything good in that?

DALLAS:       Well, I see an ad in here for a 20% discount on gavels.

DON:             And to think I paid full price for mine.

DALLAS:       There you go; if you saved 20% 25 years ago, by now you’d have … (he thinks)

DON:             I’d probably have a sawbuck.

DALLAS:       What’s a sawbuck?

DON:             Ten bucks.

DALLAS:        It is?

DON:             I think so. It’s an old expression, probably before your time.

DALLAS:       You’re only two years older than I am.

DON:             A lot can happen in two years. I’ll ask Mum, if she ever comes out of there. Do you know what this is about?

DALLAS:       Not really. I got a message to be here at 11 to discuss Mum’s will.

DON:             It must be important to ask you to drive two hours to get here.I thought she wasn’t back until the weekend.

DALLAS:       I guess she came home early.

DON:             Man she’s unpredictable. Two months ago it was a retreat in Katmandu; last month hiking in Nepal. And                                  now an African safari?

                               DON gets up and walks to the door to the office.

DALLAS:       At least she’s keeping busy.

DON:            She’s not the only busy one. If someone doesn’t come out soon, I’m leaving.

DALLAS:       Sure you are.

DON:            I mean it. I’ve got businesses to run. Besides, we don’t even know what’s in this for us.

DALLAS:       Hubert was a wealthy man with no kids. I’m assuming all of his estate went to Mum two years ago.

DON:            That doesn’t mean she’ll still have it all when she‘s gone. Or that we’re even in her will in the first place.

DALLAS:       We’re all she’s got. Who else would be in it?

DON:            Maybe some wacky charity somebody talked her into on one of her trips, like “sweaters for alpacas”. I don’t                           know what’s gotten into her lately. She’s gone all the time.

DALLAS:       Would you please stop pacing?

                                DON stops, stares at Dallas, and sits. They both go back to their magazines. There is a brief pause.  

DALLAS:       So … how are things at home?

DON:             Why? What did you hear?

DALLAS:       Nothing.

DON:            Then why did you ask?

DALLAS:       I was just making conversation, if that’s alright. Is everything okay?

DON:            Oh, ah, yeah, sure.

DALLAS:       Brenda and the girls?

DON:            They’re fine.

DALLAS:       I got a thank you note from Meaghan last month. Brenda must have coached her on that.

DON:            What makes you think I didn’t?

DALLAS:       When it comes to sending thank-you cards, you are 0 (oh) for … well, pick a number.

DON:             It could happen.

DALLAS:       Yeah, and cows could do the cha cha. I know a gift card isn’t very imaginative, but I had no idea what a 16                              year old girl would like.

DON:             It’s usually one of two things: to be driven somewhere, or left alone. Sometimes both.

© John Spurway 2013