Sunday 24 August 2014

Sabbath

I'm going to freshen things up a bit, by writing this post with a sprig of mint in my USB port.

Hmm. Is "port" funnier than "socket"? I can't decide. I'm usually very good at deciding which of two options are the funniest, but I must be a bit off because it's Sunday.

I'm going to leave Sunday behind, by leaping into a fictional world in which it is a different day of the week.

***

INT. REGGAE-THEMED LOCKSMITH - DAY

Behind the counter, the LOCKSMITH sits, playing with his dreads and wondering if there's some mileage in the fact that 'Chubb' rhymes with 'dub'.

The locksmith is open. It is therefore NOT SUNDAY.

The door opens, and the bell (which sounds like a steel drum or some shit) rings. It's a PRIEST. The PRIEST is elderly and dignified.


LOCKSMITH
Hey mon. How can I 
help you? Sorry, I 
mean how can I 
reggae help you? 

PRIEST
Good afternoon. As 
it is not Sunday, 
I was just having a 
pleasant walk through 
the neighbourhood and 
saw your fine emporium.

LOCKSMITH
Aye. Is "aye" reggae 
slang? I... uh...lockmith. SMITH, 
I mean. With an 's'. 
Do you need a key cut?

PRIEST
Yes. I'm having problem 
getting into the rectory. 
Which - as far as I'm aware - 
is a non-denominational 
dwelling for a man of 
the cloth.

LOCKSMITH
Right, me old... 
jerk-chicken... dude.

There's a long silence. The sounds of Sting featuring Pato Banton play over the shop's sound system.


LOCKSMITH
Listen, father. I'm going 
to come clean here. I 
don't really know much about 
reggae. I just thought 
it would be a weird juxtaposition 
to have a reggae locksmith.

PRIEST
Ah, I see. Perhaps 
you wanted to do a 
"dreadlocksmith" joke?

LOCKSMITH
(BEAT) I never even thought 
of that.

PRIEST
That's OK. To be honest, 
I don't know much about 
the priestery. I was 
just here to hammer home 
the fact that it's definitely 
not Sunday.

LOCKSMITH
Sunday? It couldn't be 
LESS that, father.

PRIEST
Indeed. I suppose I'll 
just have to bust my 
way into the rectory. As 
many priests have done before me.

LOCKSMITH
Is that a joke about child 
abuse in the church?

PRIEST
No. That would be too 
obvious for my tastes.

LOCKSMITH
I know what you mean. 
It would be like me making 
a joke about smoking marijuana.

PRIEST
Yes. Too obvious.

Another awkward pause. The shop's sound system is now playing Big Mountain's cover of 'Baby I Love Your Way'.


PRIEST
(TENTATIVE) So... *have* you 
been smoking marijuana?

LOCKSMITH
(TENTATIVE) Yes. 

PRIEST
Me too. To be honest 
I can't remember why I'm here.

LOCKSMITH
Me neither, actually. I 
have no idea what's going on. 

PRIEST
Ha! How amusing.

LOCKSMITH
But...

PRIEST
But what?

LOCKSMITH
But that might mean...

PRIEST
What?!

LOCKSMITH
That it could possibly be... 
Oh dear god, I hope it's not...

The LOCKSMITH turns to look at his laminated wall-planner. He sees that all of the previous days have been crossed off with a red X. All except the current day: SUNDAY.

The PRIEST drops to his knees.


PRIEST
Nooooooooo!

The PRIEST beats the floor with his fists.


PRIEST
I'm late for work!

The PRIEST beats his knees with his fists.


LOCKSMITH
And *I'm* violating our shop's 
licensing agreement for 
hours of business!

The LOCKSMITH and the PRIEST both turn and directly face the camera.


PRIEST
Don't smoke drugs.

LOCKSMITH
This could happen to you.

Then they both start giggling and stagger into a display of fobs.


***

Gah! You can never escape Sundays. The human imagination isn't strong enough to break that gravitational pull.

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