The Art of Wittering

EPISODE 4
THE ART OF WITTERING

INTRO:

SCENE 1

HELEN
Oh, come on, Joey.
What you doing?
Come on, haven't got all day.
Oh, yes, I have. I've got all day. What's my problem?

Oh, Joey, you caught me.

JOEY
I.. what..

HELEN
you caught me. I was wittering.

JOEY
Oh, you were withering, were you? Well, that's good. Go on, with us some more. I want to hear you wittering.

HELEN
I can't remember what I was withering about. Well, just witter on about anything. Come on, what are you doing?

JOEY
I'm just hanging around, really. Basically, what to do, what to do, what to do? What are you doing?

HELEN
I asked first.

HELEN
Oh no, well, I've been going to Susie's writing class.

JOEY
So, are you writing? You're writing something. Should I be interested? 
HELEN

Well, it depends on how retired you are. Are you retired yet?

JOEY
Oh, that's right. I keep forgetting. Yes, I'm retired. How about you? You retired yet?

HELEN
Yeah, I guess... You know what I've decided. Retired means not actively looking for paid work. Does that work? 
JOEY
Oh, well, works for me. I'm not actively looking for paid work.

I just, you know, old habits die hard when I'm that somebody mentions anything about writing. I think, should I be publishing that?

HELEN
And should you?
JOEY
 probably not. It's too much rubbish. Anyway, it's all self-publishing. Nobody needs me anymore.
They don't need the company, they don't need a publisher, they do need a damn good editor, I tell you... some of the things I've been trying to read lately.
Oh, yes, and you were a damn good editor, yeah, but it's not the same for yourself, is it? 
HELEN

Oh, no, no, not at all.

JOEY
So, what are you writing?

HELEN
Well, I'm just doing little silly little poems at the moment. It's all I can think of.

Everybody's writing horror stories. It's all about horror. Horror, why do they do that?

Why do people go out of their way to frighten themselves. I have enough nightmares without that.

JOEY
Oh, yeah, I know what you mean, but still, if you don't like them, you don't read them. Maybe you should write one. How about that? There's a challenge. 
HELEN

Are you challenging me? 
JOEY
Sure, I am. You write me a nice little horror story. 
HELEN

Yeah, but you're not going to publish it, are you? 
JOEY

No, no, of course not.

HELEN
Right? Horror story. What? What would be a horror story?

Oh, we had a horror story in one of Susie's classes when this young lassie brought in something she said she'd written, but it was all AI.

JOEY
Oh, she didn't, 
HELEN

and Susie spotted it. Yeah, we both spotted it. 
JOEY

Well, what did she do?

HELEN
Well, she, she handed in the plot of Janie's last novel, you know, the one about the boy looking for the blue star, and and it spat out like a really boring version of it. It was quite horrible.

JOEY
Oh, I'm sure it was. Well, you don't need to do that. Come on, come on. 
HELEN

What? 
JOEY

Tell me, what you're going to.. your horror story. What? What's it going to be about?

HELEN
Wow, I don't know.
I mean, anything I can think of, you know, that fills me with horror is just the state of the world as it is, and I know it could get worse. That's that's the, that's the fear, that's the fear, it's going to get worse.

JOEY
Yes. Well, I think you're probably right. There has to get worse before it can get better. Think about that.

Write something that's really horrible, and then it gets better.

HELEN
I don't know, people who read horror stories would be, think that was a good thing to do.

JOEY
Well, don't write it for them, write it for yourself. 
HELEN
Oh yeah, of course. Well, that's all I ever do, anyway, isn't it? 
JOEY
Well, it's all any decent writer does, far as I'm concerned.
Write what you want to read, 
HELEN

Okay, I'll give it a go, and
JOEY

then come back here and read it to me.
Don't send it to me, read it to me. I want to hear it. I don't want to. I don't want to have to read it. 
HELEN

Why not?
JOEY

Oh, you know, eyes old aging degenerating eyes.
HELEN
I know what you mean, but you're right about that thing. About reading, reading it out loud makes it, does make a difference, makes such a difference. I can't, I can't imagine a poem of mine, but I have to hear it. 
JOEY

No, hearing it is what makes it. I never did understand poets who say they just write their stuff to be written.
HELEN
It's because they're terrified at the sounds of their own voices. 
JOEY
That's sad, isn't it? 
HELEN

You're telling me it's very sad. All writing should be written to be read out loud. I have a deep regret for the fact that we lost the ability to read out loud back in the day. I don't know how many- Do you know?

JOEY
couple of hundred years maybe.
HELEN
I wonder if... here's a thought.

Do you think that people stopped reading out loud about the same time that they stopped just singing for fun, and you had to, you know, you could only sing if you're a really good singer, you couldn't just, you know, sit around the piano or around the campfire and just sing, but people have to tell you you can't sing

round about Mozart's time, I think that's when they started,

I could be wrong, I could be making it up, I often do,

MUSIC

SCENE 2

JANEY
And did you? 
HELEN
Did I what? 
JANEY
Did you write a horror story? 
HELEN
Well, I've started. I've got about halfway through. 
JANEY

And is it terribly horrible? 
HELEN
Yeah, well, I think so. I found a good way to start and I found something pretty horrible to happen. Yes. I just have no idea at the moment where it's going. 
JANEY

So what are you going to do? 
HELEN

I don't know. 
JANEY

Well, you should read it to her. You should read her the half that you've written. 
HELEN

Oh, I suppose I could, yes. Maybe she'll have an idea of where it's going. Oh. Oh. Taking someone else's ideas and writing them. How? I don't know that I'm up for that. 
JANEY

Oh, but we take ideas from other people and other experiences all the time. 
HELEN

Do I? 
JANEY
Yes, of course you do, Mum. You know you do. I know I do.
HELEN

Really? 
JANEY

Well, of course we do. We take our inspiration where we find it, don't you? Your ideas don't just come out of. Out of the blue, do they? From nowhere. 
HELEN

Oh, no, you're right, of course. No, no, no, no, no, they don't. Someone says something, or I hear something on the radio or I read something and it makes me angry, so I have to write about it.
JANEY

Only angry? 
HELEN
Well, these days, yes. It's exhausting, Janey. 
JANEY

Yes, I know, Mum, but that's why we have to keep, you know, fighting the good fight and being creative, as they say. You know that. 
HELEN

Yeah, you're right. Okay. I'll call Joey. All right. Take care, darling. 
JANEY

Bye. Bye, Mom.

MUSIC

SCENE 3

HELEN
You do know we're having a heat wave at the moment.
JOEY
Yes, I did hear that. What's that got to do with the price of apples?
HELEN
Nothing that I know of. Are you sure that's the right question?
JOEY
Not at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure 'apples' is not what I should be saying. But I cannot for the life of me remember the whole saying. As it used to be. So it's apples for the moment.  Until I have a better idea. Do you have a better idea?
HELEN
I do not. I'm incapable of having a single idea in this heat. This is one of the reasons why I don't live in Australia. I've no idea how you've survived it.
JOEY
Well I grew up in it, remember. New York gets heatwaves every year. It's called summer. 
HELEN
Yes, well I grew up in it too. But I can't handle it any more. Last time I went back to Rocky, must have been 20 years ago, when Mum passed away. I thought I was going to die. Every day. For the whole 3 weeks that I was there. I am so happy to live in a country where it is cold more often than it is hot. It suits me fine.
JOEY
Alright, now you're just trying to make me jealous. And you are procrastinating.  Come on. Read me what you've got. 
HELEN
I don't want to
JOEY
I don't care. Read it.
HELEN
But
JOEY
Read it. Read it. Read it. Read it.
HELEN
Oh alright. Hang on. 
(pause. clicking of keys)
Oh for goodness sake, where's the bloomin' thing gone now? Oh. Got it.
(sigh)
Ok. Are you sitting comfortably?
JOEY
I sure am
HELEN
Then I'll begin.

The Blessing
A Horrible Story
To his surprise, it was the quiet that was the most unsettling aspect of it all. After the cries of astonishment, confusion, outright rage had died down. After the shouting down the phone - in vain of course, because the phones weren’t working either. After the footsteps clattering around the office, banging of doors, throwing of things. Oh yes, people were so enraged, they began to throw anything they could find at each other, over the walls of their stalls, at each other. A small group of younger men briefly turned it into a game of volley ball. Their laughter brought a hint of sanity to the space. Then the women walked out, together, on a mission to see if the kitchen still functioned.
It took a while, but eventually, it began to settle down. People either stared in disbelief at their blanked out screens, swearing quietly. A few looked out of the windows. Someone called out ‘Look!  There’s a bird!’ and several people rushed over to see. ‘Birds still fly in the sky,’ he thought. So that was something.
The women returned with cups of hot drinks. The electricity still functioned apparently. This surprised him. He’d assumed that every kind of machine in the world was now connected to the internet in some way. But apparently not.
Maybe it was just communication devices. Computers, laptops, mobile phones.
People gathered around the women, lifting mugs off the trays they had carried in. They gathered into their closer work comrade groups and began to share ideas about what might be happening. Or not happening in this case. 
How could it be?
Someone had the idea of opening a window and shouting down to the street.
‘Hey! Have you got any internet? Are you still connected?’
Nobody responded. They were running by, heading for … wherever they could find some answers. The traffic sounds were strangely muted, as if further away than usual.
He walked to the large plate glass window, and looked to see the offices across the street. It was obviously the same over there. People rushing around like headless chickens. He’d never seen a headless chicken, but he’d been told as a child that the chicken’s body still functions for some time after its head has been cut off. So it runs around aimlessly, possibly in search of its head.
JOEY
(laughs out loud)
HELEN
Oh you like that, do you?
JOEY
I do.  Go on.
HELEN
The thought amused him. For a brief moment.  Perhaps it was true. But then again, perhaps not.In any case, it wasn't all that funny.
JOEY
(MUTTERS)
Yes it was.
HELEN
He returned to his desk, sat down, and began to tap the desk with the fingers of his right hand. It was an old habit, from school days when he was nervously waiting to hear his name called out by the teacher, convinced he would not remember the answer, even though he’d been up till the early hours learning, revising, practising. But he had never before noticed the sound that it made.
Drrrraappity tappity tap. Tap tap tap. Drrrrrappity tap.
That was when he noticed the absolute quiet in the rest of the room.
Why?  Why was nobody speaking? Was there something else happening that he had failed to notice? Had the bosses walked into the room? No. He’d have heard the fuss that would have caused.  Which made him wonder why they hadn't.
He stood up suddenly, pushing the chair back. He heard it scrape across the floor and clatter into the desk behind.
He opened his mouth to speak. 
And nothing happened. No sound. 
He pushed air   from his lungs, trying to manipulate his vocal folds, but they jammed together. They had two positions, open and closed. They would not vibrate. He could not speak. He moved slowly into the corridor between the rows of desks, and saw his colleagues clutching their throats, opening and closing their mouths, waving their hands around, their eyes wide and their faces full of fear.
He moved towards the large whiteboard in the corner of the room. Several others obviously had the same idea, because they arrived there simultaneously, grabbing at the marker pens.
‘Why can’t we speak?’ wrote the first one.
‘No idea.” wrote the second.
‘Let’s get out of here’ wrote the third.
‘Where shall we go?’ wrote the first.
He took the pen from the third writer, and wrote in huge capitals, so that the rest of the office could see.
‘GO HOME. TAKE CARE OF YOUR FAMILIES’
And he left the room.
PAUSE
JOEY
And?
HELEN
That's it.
JOEY
What? That's the end of the story?
HELEN
No. That's as far as I've got. I told you I was only half way through. Janey said I should read you the half.
JOEY
Well that's just cruel. You can't leave me hanging like that! What happens next?
HELEN
I have no idea
JOEY
Really?  
HELEN
Really.
JOEY
None at all?
HELEN
Absolutely none. You said you wanted me to write a horror story, so I started with an idea, you know the internet
JOEY
The internet going down, yes, well some of us would consider that a good idea, as in kill the monster. That's like Godzilla wanders into the city, and starts to hand out food parcels. As in, you begin with the happily every after. 
HELEN
Yes, but then comes the real, actual horror, where we can't use our voices.
JOEY
Oh yes, that's quite clever really, now I think about it. But how? Why? Is it a fast acting virus? Oh Oh! I know! It's the trauma, the psychological shock from not having the internet! Is that it?
HELEN
Don't ask me. Probably. Now that you mention it. It is probably the only logical explanation. 
JOEY
Alright. So are you going to write the rest of it now?
HELEN
No point, is there? 
JOEY
What do you mean?
HELEN
Well, if that's what it is, then they'll recover, quite soon, and somebody will fix whatever when wrong with the internet, and everything will go back to how it was before. Hey!!!  That's it!  That's the REAL horror. There is no way out. We're all doomed. 
JOEY
Oh dear, I think you might have something there. That is the most horribly depressing thing I've ever heard all day. There is no way out. We're all doomed.
HELEN
... on the other hand...
JOEY
Yes?
HELEN
Well, it just occurs to me, that in the real world, the one you and I live in, now, in real time. We know, don't we - please tell me you agree - that not everyone is a greedy selfish money-grabbing so and so. We are not alone in thinking that the current state of affairs is unsustainable, that there must be a way to finally regulate big tech, and persuade enough people to get off their stupid phones to actually communicate with each other face to face? 
JOEY
Oh I like that
HELEN
Which bit?
JOEY
Stupid phones. Whoever thought they should be called 'smart' phones was not very smart. Because they are indeed Stupid, and they are designed to make us all Stupid. And we must resist. 
HELEN
Ah me.  Bring back the boycott, eh? Remember?
JOEY
I do.And it did help. Didn't it? A bit?
HELEN
It did. It helped. And that is pretty much all we can do, ain't it so?
JOEY
You said it.
HELEN
So can I let this horrible story thing go now? I'm really not designed to write horror stories.
JOEY
No my darling you are not. You go back to writing about flowers, and trees, and birds
HELEN
And bees. Yikes!
JOEY
What is it?
HELEN
There's one in the room!  I've got all the windows open, and now there a sad little bee banging into the walls. I'll have to get it out.
JOEY
You do!  Good luck!  Call me back to let me know you both survived
HELEN
Sure. Bye.  Hey, you! Come on my beauty. Come on, you don't want to be in here. Look! There the window! Off you go. Ah!
END

That was "The Art of Wittering", Episode 4 of Season 13. I admit, I thought of the title when I was writing Scene 1, and then it took off in an entirely different direction, but I haven't been able to let go of that title. Let me know if you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it.
This episode was written, performed and produced by me Flloyd Kennedy. 
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