Sunday, March 04, 2018
I Love Dialogue from Love on the Catwalk by Dellani
I know it's not my usual day, but I was reading this scene, and I got such a laugh out of it, I had to share it. I didn't want to wait for a regular day, because I won't be laughing as hard then. Miranda works part time at a theatre downtown. Her boss, Brent, and his wife, Shaine, own the building. She writes plays, he directs. The city is in the midst of a nasty blizzard. Since their power went out, Brent and Shaine went to the theatre to stay – they have apartments upstairs, where some of their staff live. He gives Miranda a call, for one or two reasons....
My phone ringing interrupted us. It was Brent.
"Hallo, guv!" I replied.
"Is what's his cheeks there?"
"Yes, Jeff is here."
"Excellent. May I bend his ear a wee bit?"
"Have you been drinking?" Brent isn't usually this cheerful.
"Not for the last half hour," he drawled. "Prior to, quite a bit. Had some good news."
"Yes! Two bits, actually. First of all It's a girl Huzzah!"
"Really? Shaine had the baby? Isn't it a little early?"
"Brought on by weather, so they tell us. Colt, with the able assistance of the lads, and his lovely bride, delivered her at the theatre, as we were snowed in."
"That's so exciting! Congratulations! And what's bit number two?"
"Full funding for the film, in the bank, luxuriating. Between me, and a few filthy rich, though generous, friends we are completely funded, and ready to rock this spring. One thing, though. She's decided motherhood is more important than stardom and she's offering you the part."
"What? Me? Oh, my God! Really?"
"I wouldn't be calling in my semi-sober, passably inebriated state, otherwise. You and your lad, what's-his-diddle. We want you both. Can that be arranged? Oh, can the bugger act?"
"I'll ask what's-his-diddle, and you can see for yourself, when we get together with you this week. He's anxious to meet with you."
"Excellent. When I am my usual sober, sedate self, we shall speak—oh, list, list!" I heard the phone clatter. "Oh, fuck," he grumbled. Fumbling and rattling, another fall or two. I hoped Brent was at home where he couldn't hurt himself. "Got it! I got it," he gasped. "Slippery fucker. Yes. When I am less—" He burped and hiccuped. "In me cups, we shall chat. Sally will call. She's sober and sedate as we speak."
"Is she with you?"
"Yes. She was kind enough to take me home so I can sober up before I join my lovely wife, and pink swaddled bundle at hospital. I shall not introduce my wee daughter to the ravages of alcohol at her tender age." I heard the phone fall again. "Fuck balls," he grumbled.
© 2018 Dellani Oakes
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