Shopping with Dad

Memory: MARTA is 9

MARTA: Dad, I need new shoes.

DAD: What’s wrong with the ones you have now?

MARTA: They’re getting too small and the soles are tearing.

DAD: Can’t you get them fixed?

MARTA: Well, they can fix the sole, but it doesn’t stop my feet from growing.

DAD: Hmm.

MARTA: Please dad, my feet are hurting and the shoes look ugly.

DAD: Why are you so worried about appearances?

MARTA: I’m not! I just need new shoes, can we please go and get some?

DAD: Why didn’t you ask me to get you new shoes earlier?  I could have gotten you some for Christmas.

MARTA: I didn’t need them then, I need them now.  Dad, please, can we go and get new shoes?

DAD: Alright then, let’s go.

MARTA: Finally!

At the shops, MARTA finds a pair of shoes she likes and that fit well and DAD goes to pay for them.

MARTA: Thanks dad.  Can we sit on the bench so I can put them on now?

DAD: (taking the shoes) No, this will be your birthday present.  You can get them then.

NB:  They bought the shoes on Boxing Day, my sister’s birthday is in February.

THE END.

Sharing is caring…

BOY and GIRL, in the beginnings of a relationship, are getting to know one another.

BOY: Tell me something about yourself that no one knows.

GIRL: (after a moment) I can’t really think of anything.

BOY: Rubbish.

GIRL: I’m serious, I can’t really think of anything.  I don’t really have many secrets, not juicy ones anyway, I’m just a relatively open person.

BOY: But even if you don’t have many secrets, you’ve got some secrets.

GIRL: Yeah, well, things that I keep to myself that are sort of hard to talk about with just anyone.

BOY: Like what?

GIRL: (pause) Like, my depression.  That was a pretty hard time—

BOY: I don’t want to know about that, that’s not what I meant.

GIRL: (taken aback) Oh, then, what did you mean?

BOY: You know, like, sexy secrets.

GIRL: Well, I don’t have any.

BOY: Really?  Like you don’t have a special spot?  Or a favourite position?

GIRL:  I don’t know enough about them to have a favourite.

BOY: Hmm. You don’t have any toys?

GIRL: What?

BOY: Toys?  Like dildos, vibrators, and all that?

GIRL: No.

BOY: Yeah you do, where do you keep them.

GIRL: (annoyed) I keep them no where because I don’t have any.

BOY: Fair enough.  I’ll tell you something about me then.

GIRL: You don’t have to.

BOY: Don’t worry, we’re just getting to know each other, and I need to know I can trust you.

GIRL: By telling me a secret?

BOY: If you keep it, I know you’re a good girl.

GIRL: Ok fine.

BOY: Alright, so, when I was 15, I was working in my uncle’s restaurant and this really hot girl walked in who made me really hard–

GIRL: Do I really want to hear this?

BOY: (ignoring her) So I went into the cool room of the kitchen, and had one out.

GIRL: What?

BOY: And then my aunt walked in and caught me.

GIRL: What did you do?

BOY: I finished.

GIRL: Oh my god, that’s disgusting.

BOY: Well I couldn’t help it, men have urges.

GIRL: If you were a dog licking your balls I’d understand, but you’re a human being!  Show some restraint.

BOY: That was mean.

GIRL: Sorry, I’m just being honest.

BOY: Well, you’re frigid.

(GIRL is shocked)

BOY: Just being honest.

GIRL: That was mean.

BOY: I’m sorry, I was only joking.

GIRL: It wasn’t funny.

BOY: Alright, alright.  Come on, let’s go out and see a movie, I’ll make it up to you.

 

6 months later, GIRL is with her FRIENDS sharing a bottle of wine.

GIRL: Hey, can you guys keep a secret?

FRIENDS: No!

GIRL: Fantastic, because I’ve got a story to tell you.

 

THE END.

One of us

Melbourne, 1982

MUM, now two years living in Australia, stands in line at the Pharmacy Board to see what she needs to qualify as a pharmacist in Australia.  She has stood in line for a while, but doesn’t converse with anyone around her.  Her english is still quite limited, and she is quite withdrawn.

Finally, it is her turn, and she approaches the registry to greet  a woman with a frizzy blonde perm, green eye shadow and long hot pink nails.

WOMAN: Hi, how can I help you?

MUM: (in thick Polish accent) Hello, I was wanting to know–

WOMAN: (gasps in shock) Oh no!

MUM: (confused) What?

WOMAN: But you look like one of us!

END.

The things you wish you could have said…

Just to give you a little back story to set the scene, I work in an area that happens to be populated by many asian groceries, restaurants and convenience stores.  These stores and restaurants have been around for years, but I’ve pretty much grown up in the area and remember that before these stores, the area had absolutely nothing going for it.  It was practically dead.  Now, it’s so populated that you struggle to find a car park, nightlife is booming, and basically if you’re in want of a good night out but don’t want to travel too far, then you know that a good dinner and movie is a “hop, skip and a jump” away.

Unfortunately, not everyone shares the same view.  Almost everyday that I work, there’s always some dead shit that comes in, looks you in the eye and says: “Thank goodness, a white person.”

On this particular day, a BLOKE saunters in, and looks around the shop.

BLOKE: DO YOU SPEAK OSSHH-TRAAAAL-IAN? (NB: This was how he pronounced “Australian”)

VERONICA: (stunned) I beg your pardon?

BLOKE: Do you speak Oshtraalian?  Nobody else here seems to speak Oshtraalian.  Do you speak Oshtraalian? (after getting no response he calls to a friend outside) Hey it’s ok, we’ll have lunch here.  These people speak OSSHH-TRAAL-IAN.

The things I wish I could have said instead of “I beg your pardon”.

- No I speak English.

- I wouldn’t know what Australian sounds like, my parents are immigrants.

- What’s Oshtraalian?

- Yes I do, and I’m also fluent in Fuck Off.

NB: This bloke and his mate sat down, had their pie and coffee, and nicked off without paying.

END.

The School Counsellor

SET in the year 1998

VERONICA (15 years old) skips R.E. Class to make an appointment with The School Counsellor.  VERONICA is seated across from the COUNSELLOR in a small room, and a bowl of Minties sit between them.  The COUNSELLOR scribbles on her pad of note paper as VERONICA talks her, and barely looks up from it.

COUNSELLOR: So, tell me Veronica, why have you come to see me today?

VERONICA: I’m having problems at home.

COUNSELLOR: What sort of problems?

VERONICA: Well, my parents have been fighting a lot.  They usually do that anyway, but it’s getting a little bit more full on than usual.

COUNSELLOR: Explain ‘full on’ to me.

VERONICA: Well, they’re accusing each other of having affairs, and they’re always threatening each other with a divorce.

COUNSELLOR: How does that make you feel?

VERONICA: Makes me wish they would just get one already.

COUNSELLOR: Have you told them this?

VERONICA: I don’t really talk to my parents.

COUNSELLOR: Well, it’s important to communicate.

VERONICA: It’s kind of hard with them.

COUNSELLOR: Please explain this further.

VERONICA: Well, they believe that their problems are their business, and they’re none of my concerns.  But it’s kind of hard to believe that when they’re screaming throughout the house.

COUNSELLOR: Hmmmm. Well, I would just keep trying.

(Silence.)

COUNSELLOR: Was there anything else?

VERONICA: Oh.  Well, it’s kind of hard being around my dad of late.

COUNSELLOR: Explain what you mean by that.

VERONICA: Well, he’s become somewhat of a dominant presence, and there’s really no room to move.  He’s extremely invasive on my privacy.

COUNSELLOR: How do you mean?

VERONICA: He has to know everything that I’m doing of every minute of everyday.  I’m not allowed to have the door to my room shut.  I have to get up at a certain time each day every morning, even on weekends and school holidays, and if I don’t he comes in and forces me awake.  He’s extremely controlling, I must eat what he approves, read what he recommends, and if he is going for a walk, I must go with him otherwise I’m forced to wait outside until he comes back.

COUNSELLOR: Hmmm.  And how does that make you feel?

VERONICA: (curtly) Well, you tell me how you would feel in that sort of environment and I guess you’ve got your answer.

(Silence as the COUNSELLOR looks through VERONICA’s file)

COUNSELLOR: What did you say your surname was again?

VERONICA: Cybulski.

COUNSELLOR: Where’s that from?

VERONICA: Poland.

COUNSELLOR: Are your parents migrants?

VERONICA: They’ve lived in Australia for over 20 years, but yes, they are Polish migrants.

COUNSELLOR: That explains it.

VERONICA: Explains what?

COUNSELLOR: Well, it’s very typical of European families to experience volatile environments.  I’m not surprised that this is what you seem to be experiencing.  Also, eastern European men in particular seem to play a rather dominant role within their households and are naturally rather difficult to live with.

VERONICA is stunned to silence.

COUNSELLOR: It’s more common than you think.  I have cases like yours come in through my office regularly. It’s just a cultural thing.  Nothing for it but to get through it, grow up and move out.

VERONICA is still silent.

COUNSELLOR: I don’t think under the circumstances you will need any more sessions with me, but if you feel otherwise, by all means, you are more than welcome to come back.

No answer.

COUNSELLOR: (offers bowl) Mintie?

THE END.