STORY GALLERY - DECEMBER2023

The Scene: 

Four women sitting around a table - (playing cards, mah-jong, scrabble or crocheting, knitting etc) (could be a posh restaurant, lounge-room, up-market retirement village).   

Suitable music could be playing. 

Table depicts after lunch or dinner setting, with wine and glasses evident. 

Cast: 

Elsie, Maudie, Mavis, Ada 

Script: 

ELSIE: Now that’s what I call yummy. That’s the nicest serving of pan-fried barramundi I have ever tasted.  Compliments to the chef. 

MAUDIE: Nothing like a good glass of Wolf Blass to wash it down with, eh? 

MAVIS: You’re right there, Maudie. 

ADA: Who would have thought sixty years ago, we would all be sitting here, licking our chops, and sipping on a fine Pinot Grigio. 

ELSIE: In them days, we was glad to have the price of a cup of tea. 

ADA: A cold cup of tea. 

ELSIE: Without milk or sugar. 

MAVIS: Or tea! 

MAUDIE: In a cracked cup … if we was lucky. 

MAVIS: Oh, we never had a cup. We had to drink out of a piece of rolled up newspaper. 

ADA: The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth. Sometimes that would be one of Dad’s old socks. 

ELSIE: But you know, we were happy in those days, even if we were poor. 

ADA: Because we were poor. My old Mum used to say to me, “Money isn’t everything. It doesn’t buy you happiness. It’s not the most important thing in the world.” 

MAUDIE: And she was right. But, whatever was running second to it, was a fair way behind. 

ADA: Wise old girl, my Mum. 

MAVIS: I was happy then, and I had nothin’. We used to live in this tiny old house, with great big holes in the roof. 

ELSIE: House! You were lucky to live in a house. We used to live in one room – all sixteen of us. Half the floor boards was missing, and we all huddled together, in one corner, for fear of falling. 

MAUDIE: You were lucky to have a room. We had to live in a narrow corridor. 

ADA: Oh, we used to dream of living in a corridor! That would have been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank, at the rubbish tip. We was woken up, every morning, by having a load of rotten fish dumped, all over us.  House?  Huh! 

MAVIS: Well, when I say “house”, it was only a hole on the ground, covered by cotton bales with big holes in them. But, it was a house to us. 

ELSIE: We was evicted from our house. We had to go and live in a chook pen – all sixteen of us. 

MAUDIE: You were lucky to have a chook pen!  We lived beside dozens of other families, in cardboard shoe boxes, which Mum and Dad sewed together with baling twine. 

ADA: Cardboard? 

MAUDIE: Yeah.  Cardboard. 

ADA: You was lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag, in a septic tank. We used to get out of bed at five o’clock in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work clearing prickly pear ‘til dark, for sixpence a week. When we got paid, Dad used to take our sixpences and spend it on grog.  Then he’d thrash us to sleep, with his belt. 

ELSIE: Luxury. We used to get out of bed at half-past four; clean all the feathers and chook poop off the chook pen floor; eat a handful of grit; pick cotton by hand for tuppence a month; come home and Dad would thrash us with a broken bottle … if we was lucky. 

MAUDIE: Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to have to get out of  our shoebox, at midnight, and scrub the road clean with a toothbrush.  We’d get two lumps of cold gravel to eat, and pull burrs all day, for sixpence every birthday. When we got home, our parents would put us in a chaff bag, and hang us on a barb-wire fence and throw cold water over us. We shivered ourselves to sleep. 

MAVIS: Right! We had to get up in the morning, at ten o’clock at night, half an hour before we went to bed; drink a mug of Castor Oil; work twenty-five hours a day, in the sewage pit, and scavenge from the rubbish tip to pay the council for permission to come to work. We didn’t go home, because our parents would have killed us, and danced on our graves, singing, “For we are jolly good fellows!” 

ELSIE: And you try and tell THAT to the young people, today … they wouldn’t believe you! 

ALL:   They wouldn’t! 

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STICK IN THE MUD by Malcolm W

As children in the 1960’s we had no computers, no X Boxes, no videos or DVD’s, no iPods or mobile phones. We had to make our own amusement, and that meant getting out of doors. One day two mates and I were slouched against our bikes in our garden, wondering where to go, when my mum appeared at the back door with a basket of washing.

“Where are you boys off to?”

“Nowhere in particular, just going for a bike ride.”

“Well don’t you go cycling into the New Forest again; you were out so late we almost rang the police last time to say you were missing.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve no intention of going that far again, we just took a wrong turn last time.”

“Good, and don’t you go near that river, where that poor boy drowned. He got tangled up in one of those craters left by the German bombers”.

“No mum, we haven’t got our swimming togs anyway.”

“Good, well you enjoy your ride; but make sure you don’t go near that old disused quarry either, it’s too dangerous.”

“We can’t, they’ve fenced it off; and they’ve got security guards patrolling the place.”

“Good, well enjoy your ride, and make sure you’re back by tea-time.”

“Yes mum. Come on lads, let’s go”.

“Where are we going?”

“The quarry of course Trev, I’d forgotten all about that place.”

The quarry was surrounded by a menacing 6-foot-high wire fence, topped by barbed wire. A big sign warned ‘Danger do not enter. Trespassers will be prosecuted.’

“Bloody hell, we’ll never get over that, we might as well turn round.”

“Open your eyes Trev, someone’s cut a hole in the fence for us over there.”

“Yea, but look at that sign, if they catch us in there we might get into big trouble.”

“Don’t be a wus, there don’t seem to be any security guards around. I reckon they just put signs up to frighten people like you, isn’t that right Col.”

“Yeah, what the sign should say is ‘Come and look at the mess we made of your backyard. I reckon we have every right to go in there.”

We squeezed through the hole; and wandered across to the huge pit with a rough dirt road that wound down around the perimeter. The bottom half of the pit was filled with coffee coloured water.

“Let’s grab some pebbles and go play Ducks & Drakes.”

“Now you’re getting into the swing of it Trev, lead the way.”

“Why me”

“It was your idea. Go on, there’s nothing to be scared of. If they took trucks up and down this road I’m sure it can take your scrawny little body.”

After a bit of a trek we reached the water.

“Go on then Trev, let’s see how many skips you can do.”

“I..I,..can’t do it.”

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“Look at me, I’m stuck in the mud, I can’t move my legs.”

“Bloody hell, he’s sinking. It must be quicksand.”

“Don’t be a dickhead, we don’t have quicksand in England”

“Well look at his legs, his shoes have disappeared and it’s almost up to his knees.”

I grabbed an arm and tried to pull him out, but he didn’t budge.”

“Okay, don’t panic mate, we’ll go and get help.”

“You can’t do that Mal, you know how it works. If you go away and come back, all that will be left of me is my hat; just like in the films.”

“He’s got a point.”

“No he hasn’t, he’s not even wearing a hat.”

“Well I still reckon he’s sinking. I hate to say it Trev old mate, but I reckon me and Mal will just have to leave you and save ourselves. We’re going to be deep in another kind of shit if anyone finds out we were here. If you go under there’ll be no evidence we were here.”

“You bastard, you can’t just leave me, you don’t deserve your mates.”

“Steady on Trev, he was just having a lend of you. We’ll grab an arm each and that should do it. Come on Col, put some effort into it.”

A bit of grunt, a few screams from poor old Trev, and he was out of the mud.

“Come on then, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“What about my shoes? They’re still stuck in the mud and my mum will kill me if I go home without them.”

“Sorry mate, they’re a goner, even if you do dig them out they’ll be caked in mud and your mum will ask some awkward questions. Just be glad we saved your life.”

“Yeah, just be grateful like Mal said. Tell your mum you met a couple of gypsies and they beat you up and stole your shoes. Pinch anything them buggers will.”

“But I don’t have any bruises Col.”

“Carry on like this and you soon will have. Now let’s get the hell of this place."

Back at the bikes, we watched Trev trying to pedal his bike in his socks as he cycled away muttering about us as he went.

“You do know he wouldn’t have really sunk don’t you? That was just a patch of very sticky clay, not quicksand.”

“Yeah, of course I do, but it was fun watching him squirm.”

“But if it had been quicksand, you wouldn’t have really left him to die would you?”

“You’ll never know will you.”

(TWO MALE VOICES. THE DIALOGUE IS DELIVERED IN HUSHED AND URGENT TONES.)

Adam: Bloody boot’s caught in the mud again ... Ah. Got it.

Justin: Quick. Down! Get down.

Adam: Why? What?

Justin: VC. Get down! Near the ridge … five of ‘em.  

Adam: Shit! Incoming grenade.

Justin: Get down there. Quick. Stay low. Quick.

Adam: Bloody hell. That was close.

Justin: Too close.

Adam: Did they see us?

Justin: Of course they saw us. That grenade was coming straight at us. And that firing … right in our direction. But I think they’ve lost us now. Rain’s too heavy. Keep still. Shh. I haven’t seen any movement. You?

Adam: There’s five of em. We can take ‘em.

Justin: Shh. There they are. Just a bit longer. They don’t know where we are.

Adam: Let’s fire on the bastards.

Justin: Put it away. If you wanna get outa here alive, just be quiet.  Our squad is up on the hill. We need to make our way up there.

Adam: Yea. Right. Let’s go.

Justin: There’s a bloody great field between us and them! We’ll be sittin’ ducks if we go that way. We’ll stay under cover of the jungle and then go down to the river. No VC down there. Then we can circle around the back of the hill … and approach it from there ... meet up with the squad.

Adam: Long bloody way.

Justin: Should take us an hour or so in this rain. Stay low. And keep quiet.

[LOW SOUNDS OF LEAVES, RAIN AND WIND]

Adam: [WHISPERS LOUDLY] My boots. Both bloody stuck in the mud.

Justin: So much fucken rain. Ya right mate? Here I’ll give you a hand. Keep your voice down. On the count of three … one, two, three.

Adam: [GRUNTS -FROM THE EFFORT OF GETTING OUT OF THE MUD] Aggh.

Justin: (URGENTLY) Keep it down! Not far to the river now.

Adam: Thank God!

Justin: Down! Down! Snipers to the left.

Adam: Bastards! (SOUNDS OF SHOOTING.)

Justin: Jeez Adam! Run.

[SOUNDS OF PANTING / HEAVY BREATHING]

Justin: We’ve lost 'em.

[SOUNDS OF WALKING, LEAVES UNDERFOOT AND THEN A GENTLE RIVER.]

Justin: The river. We’ll follow it round the bend there. Move fast. Be quiet. We can take a rest in a few minutes when we’re near the hill. Catch our breath.  

[SOUNDS OF PANTING / HEAVY BREATHING]

Justin: Looks clear. Let’s rest.

Adam: Glad to be off ma feet for a minute … Here. Want half?

Justin: [LOW LAUGH] A bloody Wagon Wheel. Mate, I love ‘em. The biscuit. The marshmallow.

Adam: The jam.

Justin: [VOICE STILL LOW] That hit the spot. Come on. We have to keep going. … [LOUDLY] Ah. Crap!

Adam: [PANICKING] What is it? I can’t see the VC.

Justin: [TONE IS CALMER NOW – STILL QUITE LOUD] Nah, it’s after 6 ... Mum said I had to be home for dinner by 6. I’m in trouble big time!

Adam: Oh. Okay. Wanna play again tomorrow? Same time?

Justin: Yea. Aaron and Jack are comin’ tomorrow too.

Adam: Sick as!

Justin: Gotta run. See you here at 11 tomorrow.

Adam: Catchya!

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PARK DWELLERS by Ron D

The scene: Park bench in a park where a number of homeless people live.

Cast: 

Bob: rangy old guy in castoff clothing

Newcomer: young guy in torn jeans and floppy jumper

Script: 

BOB: Eh! Whatchadoin on my bench? 

NEWCOMER: Your bench? I didn’t see your name on this bench.

BOB: Don’t be daft. Everyone knows I sleep here.

NEWCOMER: Everyone but me. I’ve only just come down here to find somewhere to sleep.

BOB: So, you’re a newby, are ya? See this piece of green ribbon tied to the end of the bench? That’s my mark. Everyone has their own mark, but you’re in luck. That bench just along there is free. Trot over and tie your mark to it and it’s yours. Then come back and I’ll teach you the rules.

NEWCOMER: The rules? There are rules down here?

BOB: Course there are. Break the rules and you’ll be banned from lots of things, like food and toilets and somewhere to sleep. You don’t want that. Grab your bench, then come back and I’ll give you a lesson.

NEWCOMER: Lessons like in school?

BOB: Yea, young fella, this is the School of Hard Knocks. Hurry along before someone else grabs that bench.

NEWCOMER: [BREATHING HARD AFTER HURRYING BACK] I’ve grabbed it. 

BOB: Good. Sit down next to me. Close your mouth and open your ears.

NEWCOMER: [SOUNDS EAGER] I’m listening for the first lesson. 

BOB: We eat five times a week. Tomorrow morning it’s the Salvos. I’ll take you.

NEWCOMER: Why are you helping me?

BOB: It’s a sad story, but my best mate was set upon by young hoodlums with knives last week. They killed him then ran off before the cops got here. We looked after each other. I like the look of you so I’m taking you on as my new best mate.’

NEWCOMER: What if I didn’t want to?

BOB: You’d be stupid and possibly be dead in a very short time.

NEWCOMER: Oh! In that case, I accept. Can I ask why you live here?

BOB: Wife took up with her boss and kicked me out. I got home one day and found my clothes and stuff on the footpath. A note said, “Get lost, loser.” So, I got lost and ended up here. What about you?

NEWCOMER: Similar story. I ran a hairdressing salon. A scammer cleaned out my bank accounts so I couldn’t pay the wages or the rent. The owner kicked me out and locked the door. I lived above the shop so I couldn’t get back there either.

BOB: [SOUNDS SURPRISED] You’re a sheila? I just took you to be a skinny young guy with long hair. We betta keep that a secret. You don’t want anyone else to know. Rule one: You never tell that story again down here. You say you ran a Barber’s shop. Rule two: You always use the male toilets. I’ll

call you Stan.

NEWCOMER: The newcomer smiles. Stan. I like that. What do I call you?

BOB: Bob’ll do. I bob up here and bob up there. Everyone calls me Bob.

STAN: Tell me about sleeping, Bob. Do you have any blankets to keep warm?

BOB: Blankets? That’ll be the day! See that rubbish bin over there? Check it out for newspapers. A few sheets of newspaper over you will keep you as snug as a bug in a rug. And you can read the news in your new blankets to put you to sleep.

STAN: Newspapers, eh? Never heard of that before.

BOB: Take them with you when you walk up to the toilet at the entrance to the park. Leave them behind and some other tramp will steal them. They are more important to us than money. During the day, fold them and stick them in your trousers. They’ll make a cushion when you sit on these hard wooden seats.

STAN: [EXCITEMENT IN 'HIS' VOICE AND A SMILE ACROSS HIS FACE] Okay, Bob. I’m off to find my blankets. See you in the morning.

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ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE by Cindi B

PETE:  We look right Charlies here, you know. Big boat stuck on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere, and three fit, good-looking guys making themselves at home, looking real nonchalant with three camp chairs under three separate little trees. Don’t you think we look suspicious?

MARK: Hell no, we look interesting, but they probably see this sort of thing once a month. Might think we are richer than we are, but thinking, but for the grace of God, etc. One woman waved at me. We are good looking. Well, one of us is! Don’t know about you.

PETE: My girl thinks I’m pretty hot and she should know. Anyway I guess it’s the best we could do. One little rock into the windscreen and we were blind. I just closed my eyes and braced. Boy, it was a miracle we only broke the screen, our old Jon did well. I walked back and saw the gully he missed and the old tree. Really made me sweat, I tell yer.

MARK: Yea, and pretty good that it took less than two hours for the tow truck to arrive. Hell of a long way to come. All Jonny has to do is get a new screen fitted and drive back. Not much shade here though and the boat is like an oven. Hope the owner cops up for the extra costs. What did you think of him? Bit patronising?

PETE: I thought he was overfed and overconfident, real pushy bastard. Still it gets us paid to go where we want to go fishing, and that works for me. I can be polite when I need to. The food’s still on the boat isn’t it? We’ve got almost as much beer as water. Want one? They’ll still be cold. Is Lee, or whatever his name is, OK? We need him, he’s the only one with the owner’s contact.

MARK: He looks green still after that shock stop. Bit of a sook. Don’t offer him a beer yet, just can’t stop himself, so the little shit gets pissed easy.

PETE: Jonny did take his credit card with him didn’t he? Awkward situation without it. He might be a real charmer but no-one is going to let him drive off after fitting a new screen he hasn’t paid for.

MARK: Yea, no, but they might. He comes over real genuine. Yep he took all his gear with him, not stupid. Hey, Pete, don’t like the look of that Lee, you don’t think there is something iffy about him, do you?

PETE: Not a good thought at the start of our fishing trip. Must be the sun getting to you? He must have nipped off for a pee.

MARK: Oh no! Empty chair and a cop car slowing to see if we need assistance …