Small talk

This week the Blagger is still on the beach, enjoying a spot of fun, tea and bands playing out on the pier as the sun sinks its brassy beams into the florid sea -- so evocative from a distance, don't you think? Anyway, even during this well-earned hi-de-holiday, all you happy campers aka Fobbies (Followers of the Blagger) have not been forgotten. So... (drum roll)... for everyone already back on the chain gang... from behind the sand dunes comes a fictional fancy, nay... a morbidly funny sketch to lighten up your post-holiday blues. Enjoy!

Small talk
A black comedy sketch for two players: Roefke (35) and Joey (21)

Scene: Late evening. An untidy office. A desk lamp throws a cone of light onto ROEFKE sitting with her feet up, reading “Crooked House” by Agatha Christie. The phone rings. Once, twice, four times. ROEFKE sighs and puts down the book.

ROEFKE (answering): Crisis Center, can I help you?
CALLER : Is this the helpline?
ROEFKE : Yes it is. Roefke speaking.
CALLER : Oh I’m glad it’s you.
ROEFKE : Who’s calling please?
CALLER : It’s me, Joe, you know, Joey Clarke. Remember me from last time?
ROEFKE : Oh… hello Joey, how could I forget. What’s up? Why are you calling?
JOE (full of self pity): You should know, you were there last time. It’s the same thing exactly.
ROEFKE : I sincerely doubt that. No, don’t hang up Joey, I’m not dissing you. I mean it can’t be the same, things have changed. Look, you’re older than last time, that’s a change for starters.
JOE : Well it feels just the same.
ROEFKE : What does, Joey? Help me out, please, you’ve got to be specific.
JOE : Damn you, I don’t know why you do this job when you can’t be bothered to listen.
ROEFKE : Cut it out Joey. I can’t read your mind, you have to talk, tell me what the matter is.
JOE : Well, to cut the crap, as you so cuttingly put it...(ponderously) I am going to die.
ROEFKE : So what? So will all of us one day. So what’s the big problem?
JOE : That is the problem. Damn you, you’re playing with me! Look, I’ve got a scalpel here and I’m not scared to use it. I’m gonna slash myself, cross my heart and swear to die.
ROEFKE : There you go, another change. If I remember rightly last time it was a knife.
JOE : Knife, scalpel, what’s the difference, they’re both blades and sharp…
ROEFKE : No, let me finish... Remember last time? You didn’t actually do it, aye Joey?
JOE : No! It’s all systems go this time, I swear. I’m gonna kill myself and you can’t stop me.
ROEFKE : Like I did last time, huh? Well sorry to disappoint you, but as I said, things have changed. You want to die? Fine, be my guest. Go right ahead and do it. Goodbye. (She hangs up, frowning, and turns back to her book.) Now, Mrs Christie, where were we?

ROEFKE continues reading in silence. There is something hard and bulky in her hip pocket. She adjusts whatever it is so that she can lean back in comfort. The phone rings again, once, twice. She lets it ring five times more before marking her place in the book and picking up.

ROEFKE : Crisis Center, can I help you?
JOE : Help me, Roefke. Please, I’m begging you, please! Don’t you want to know why I want to die?
ROEFKE : No.
JOE : Oh.
ROEFKE : Enough of the small talk, Joey. Live or die, what’s it gonna be?
JOE : I suppose, you’re right, as usual. Things have changed. I don’t really want to die.
ROEFKE : So live, Joey. Get a life, and stop wasting my time.
JOE (suddenly cheerful) : Okay Roef, thanks, I’ll do that. You’re always good value, whenever I call. Tell you what, are you on again tomorrow? I’ll call back then and let you know how I’m getting on. Okay? Over and out for now.
ROEFKE : For now? No Joe, no more. I can’t take any more of your nerdy calls, your all talk and no action... man. (Standing up she pulls the thing out of her pocket. It is a gun. She takes careful aim... and bang!) It’s over and out, forever!

ROEFKE smiles in mad triumph at the smoking bits of phone scattered over the desk as the lights fade down to black.

(c) 2002 Ragini Werner