Scene

 

I’m not really having conversations with figments of my imaginations while I work. Or well, if I am, it’s only to try to get an idea of this character that is constantly eluding me.  12907426_442464042590772_423012964_n


WRITING ROOM. THIS AFTERNOON. CLOUDY OUTSIDE. VOLBEAT PLAYING. HE IS STANDING BEHIND THE WRITER. THE WRITER HAS HER HANDS ON THE KEYBOARD BUT ISN’T TYPING.

Me
(Turns her chair around)
You! Can’t you tell me exactly where you come from?

He
Can you tell ME exactly where YOU come from? How long would that take?

Me 
Point taken. But a hint?

He
Can’t you give me some clothes? You handed me a gunnysack. I threw it away. Rightly so. You’re a bitch!

Me
Sorry.
(Grinning)
It seemed like the right thing to do, until it didn’t.

He
Admit it, you enjoy the fact that I have to prance around in the nude.

Me
Well, this is written word, it’s not like your thing is going to be in anyones face. Besides, it fits the story.

He
HA! That’s easy for you to say! I have to fight giant crabs buck naked.

Me
I’m sorry.

He
Can’t you fix it? Give me something to wear. Anything?

Me
Well if you tell me exactly where you come from I might find something fitting.

He
You’re doing this on purpose.

Me
Maybe.

He
You’re not going to make me trudge through this entire story without any clothes, are you?

Me
No. Well you tell me… it’s your story.

He
(Laughs)

Me 
What’s so funny?

He
You know there isn’t any grand scheme, no god in the woodworks telling you what to write…? You know you made me up, I didn’t just pop into existence and lead this odd life, you know that? Right?

Me
Are you mocking me? Belittling my mind?

He
(Smirking)
I wouldn’t dream of it.

Me
You would! I know you, I made you.

He
You don’t even know where I come from!
(Scratches his head)
Lets make a deal, shall we?

Me
What deal? I’m not sure I want to make any deals with you.

He
You bring me clothes and I will tell you exactly where I come from.

Me
You threw the gunnysack away!

He
Only because you made me.

Me
I did not. You didn’t want it.

He
No, that’s right. It was a bloody gunnysack! Give me proper clothes.

Me
And what would that be? Leather pants? Skirt? Kimono?

He
Yes.

Me
You’re being deliberately difficult…!

He
Yes.

Me
Go away. I don’t have time for this.

He
And then how are you going to get anything done?

Me
Dammit!

He
(Laughs)

Me
If I promise you’ll get clothes later on, can we then get on with this?

He
(Sighs)
I guess.

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