Immediately below is the script for a radio scene I wrote while on the BBC Scotland writer's lab. I had no idea what I was going to write for five days and then inspiration struck as two words collided in my imagination: Inappropriate Dad. The result was Sweet and Sour Sixteen, which appears below. It features some fruity language, but hopefully also has some laughs, twists and turns. The Enjoy!
SWEET AND SOUR SIXTEEN • by David Bishop
SCENE 1: INT. A HOTEL CORRIDOR.
DAD:
Nearly there, Jamie.
JAMIE:
Nearly where?
DAD:
I told you, son, it’s a surprise.
JAMIE:
Can’t I just—
DAD:
Hey, no peeking! You promised!
JAMIE:
Alright, alright.
DAD:
Here we are: Room six thirteen!
KEY TURNS IN A LOCK AND DOOR OPENS.
JAMIE:
(INHALING) Smells like rotten fruit in there.
DAD:
That’s perfume, Jamie. Dead classy.
JAMIE:
More like dead animal.
SCENE 2: INT. HOTEL ROOM 613.
DAD:
Okay, you can look now.
CHLOE:
Ta-daa!!!
JAMIE:
(BEAT) Oh no.
DAD:
Happy birthday, son!
CHLOE:
You must be Jamie. I’m a present from your dad.
JAMIE:
Oh, God.
CHLOE:
(CLOSE) Call me Chloe.
DAD:
Now that’s what I call a sweet sixteen. And she’s all yours, son!
JAMIE:
All mine?
DAD:
Until four thirty - benefits only stretch so far, eh? ‘sides, I doubt you’ll take that long, what with it being your first time and all.
CHLOE:
(CLOSE) Don’t worry, Jamie - I’ll be gentle with you.
A ZIP SLIDES SALACIOUSLY DOWNWARDS.
JAMIE:
Oh, Christ.
DAD:
Least now your cow of a mother can’t complain I never give you nothing.
JAMIE:
(AFTER A GULP) I… don’t know what to say.
DAD:
Thank you’s traditional.
JAMIE:
Traditional? You’ve hired a prostitute for my birthday! (BEAT) No offence, Chloe.
CHLOE:
None taken, love.
DAD:
My brother did the same for me when I turned 16.
JAMIE:
Uncle Billy’s hardly a role model, Dad - he’s been in prison since 1995.
DAD:
We all make mistakes, Jamie.
JAMIE:
Yeah, and this is one of them! (BEAT) Look, umm...
CHLOE:
Chloe.
JAMIE:
Chloe. Right. Could you give my dad and me a minute alone here?
CHLOE:
Alright darling, I'll step out.
JAMIE:
Thanks.
A ZIPPER IS PULLED SHUT.
CHLOE:
But the meter’s running, if you catch my drift.
RECEDING ECHO OF STILETTO HEELS ON WOODEN FLOOR.
DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES AS CHLOE EXITS.
DAD:
(CLOSE) You’ll like her, son - Chloe’s very good at her job.
JAMIE:
I don’t care if—(BEAT) How d’you know she’s very good at—(BEAT) Oh, no. Tell me you didn’t…
DAD:
I couldn’t hire any old slapper for my boy, could I? ‘sides, you’re one of her specialities.
JAMIE:
Specialities?
DAD:
Being handicapped and all that.
JAMIE:
You thought that because I’m in a wheelchair I’d need the help of a prostitute to lose my virginity?
DAD:
Well... yeah.
JAMIE:
You haven’t got a fucking clue, have you?
DAD:
Mind your language! I’m still your fucking dad, y’know!
JAMIE:
I’ve seen you three times in the last four years, Dad. Bloody Santa comes round our place more often than you!
DAD:
I’m trying to make up for that!
JAMIE:
By paying some tart to give me a quick fumble on my birthday?
DAD:
It’s a start, innit?
JAMIE:
No, it’s the bloody finish. You’re not my dad, not anymore.
DAD:
Don’t be like that, Jamie—
JAMIE:
Like what? Like my “cow of a mother”? Least she stuck around after the accident!
DAD: That wasn’t my fault, son—
JAMIE: Oh, piss off! (BEAT) I said piss off!
AWKWARD SILENCE.
DAD:
Right. Well. I’ll be going then. (BEAT) Look, if Chloe’s not your type, d’you mind if I...?
JAMIE:
(SIGHING) Fine. Take her with you. Do what you want. You always do.
DAD:
(GOING) Thanks, son - you’re a diamond. See you next year, alright?
JAMIE:
Can’t wait!
RECEDING FOOTSTEPS ON THE WOODEN FLOOR.
DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES AS DAD EXITS.
JAMIE:
Happy bloody birthday to me.
ENDS.
3 comments:
Oooh, I like it! Very funny and tragic in equal measures, and the reveal that Jamie is in a wheel-chair is inspired.
Good luck with TAPS! Will you post about it here?
I like it too... reminds me of why I love plays... I read scripts for fun... oh dear I need a life.... *wombles off to get one......*
Did you consider an up ending? (No pun intended)
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