by Katy Wix
Oh sorry – I haven’t said what the thing was, have I?
I saw a gold bug.
This was only a couple of weeks ago. I’d upgraded to first – weekend upgrade mind – only fifteen pounds – feel special for a few hours – unlimited, to a point, teas and coffees – speaking of which – has Brian been pushed from the train or something, haha!? Anyway, I’d just sat down, reached into my bag for my laptop, when this golden bug just marched across my hand. It wasn’t a bee. It wasn’t a wasp. It wasn’t a hornet. It wasn’t a moth. It wasn’t a leaf! It certainly wasn’t a mayfly or a mosquito. This was Cumbria, remember – so what’s a mosquito doing there?
Wasn’t an aphid. Wasn’t a midge, wasn’t some bulging gnat, wasn’t a pea weevil. What was it? It was nothing! Nothing I’d ever seen before, at least. Inspector came round, did his thing, I looked back and the bug was gone. I was stressed at the time, but you know it was as real as the mustard in your sandwich.
Oh good – Brian’s back! Oh … oh … with an expression that screams I am without the frothy coffee!!
BULLDOZER
I’ve really missed you this past week. I kept turning around and expecting to see you there like a shadow! I didn’t mean to insult you. I just meant that I couldn’t imagine you camping. If I had known, well, how it was going to be received, I certainly wouldn’t have said it. I only meant that, well, you’re urban aren’t you? You like wearing black and a lot of mascara. But not too much! I think you wear just the right amount of mascara – for you – for your face – which is lucky because you have your face.
Let’s not have a fight. Come on! I could tell from ten paces away that you were in a mood. So, I can’t imagine you camping and I think you wear too much mascara, who cares what I think?! Haha.
Christ knows what you think of me!? Haha, you probably slag me off all the time!? You don’t do you? No! Don’t answer that. If you can’t slag off your best friend, you know then, well, that’s – well, that’s not democracy. But I bet you do …
You probably think, well, it no doubt annoys you that I’m always going on expensive holidays. I’m sure that’s true. It must jar to see one’s friends so well. I can’t help it if my dad is supremely good with numbers. Yes, I know, we always used to holiday together, but we’re too old for that now – perhaps that makes it all the more harder to bear, I don’t know.
You can’t be jealous of my nose! HAHA. It’s like a conch! But, you have to admit – I do have a terrific sense of smell, and an old boyfriend once described it as majestic! Turns out he was right … no, literally, I mean – daddy recently found out that we’re direct descendants of The House of Lancaster. You remember from school – the Plantagenets and all that mob, Henry III. We did do it. Oh maybe that’s when you had glandular fever. Oh my god – shall we get really drunk tonight!? I haven’t done that in ages. I know what you’re like … hollow legs, I can’t keep up with you though – you’re like a massive container. That’s another reason to hate me! You’re always doing really healthy things and I do literally nothing but people still think I, like, make this huge effort to stay healthy, which is really weird. I’m like an Olsen twin – in every photo of them, they are just munching on junk food. How do they stay in shape!?
So, how was the camping trip? I just can’t imagine you hammering in tent pegs with your – and you’d be the first to agree here – famously weak wrists. And as for you and creepy-crawlies: lots of opportunities for hysterics there, I should imagine! Oh dear. No, I just can’t see it, I’m afraid.
CAMEL
Aw, no, that’s my old email. You wanna get my DJ address. You got a pen, yeah? Ok, so it’s djbassbump, all little letters, but it’s an underscore between ‘bass’ and ‘bump’ @hotmail.co.uk. Cool, so yeah, just basically I can do whatever you want, I can play big rooms. I can play small rooms. The important thing is, I can really get a crowd moving, you know. So, as soon as my manager gets out of prison, I’ll get him to call you. They can only hold him for 24 hours, so it will either be tomorrow or the day after, but he’ll defo call you and then we can talk numbers, yeah. He’s been stalking someone, his ex-wife I think, and they gotta lock him up overnight, so he can like, contemplate. But he’s a really top guy.
I’m not gonna lie: Tuesday nights are slow. I dunno if you’re gunna get big numbers, but we could always just lie and say it’s a Thursday and hope people don’t notice, you know.
But I’ll get the word out, that there’s an event going down … see, there are a lot of misconceptions about DJs, okay. People think it’s easy. But let me tell you, as a DJ, you gotta be your own producer, mixer, promoter … you gotta do the lot. I’m pushing the name all the time, you know ‘DJ Bass Bump’. I don’t ever have a day off.
And especially being a girl – not many of us around. But, like I always say to people, ‘Ears are blind!’ you know? ‘Ears are blind.’ You come to one of my nights, you listen; you tell me. And I’ll ask you, ‘Was that a girl or a boy?’ up there tonight and you’ll be like, ‘I don’t care, but whoever it was, IT WAS SIC!’ That’s the main thing. I play originals too. Not everyone does that. Like people can be so judgemental: the other day, I was in a petrol station and I had all my hair scraped back and I’m in this little velour tracksuit and I swear the security guard starts following me around and he’s watching me pick up the cornflakes, so then, when I’m at the till, I give them loads of pennies instead of breaking into a fiver, which really annoyed them.
D’you know DJ Dead Camel? Well, we were at a club last week and he complimented me on my track selection and I nearly lost my mind! He’s where I wanna be in five years time, he’s a real artist you know and he’s got half a beard, it’s like his thing and now everyone’s doing the whole half a beard thing. He told me that he was DJing for top fashion shows as well for extra money and that he gets ten percent off beach wear. He’s really cool. So when people try and come with a comment, just because I’m a girl, I’m like ‘Don’t come with a comment, cos DJ Dead Camel has got my back’.
Ok, so, I’ll see you on Tuesday, yeah. Also, I don’t do requests.
Cool, cool. Oh also, do you have like some kitchen towel? I just noticed I got toothpaste on my top from this morning. Oh and can you make sure you spell my name right on the flyer? Cool cheers.
COMMUNION
Dear God, I know I haven’t really spoken to you since I was a little bud, but I didn’t have a credit card bill as long as a novel back then, did I? Are you punishing me for being in so much debt? Is it a sin? Do you find the use of credit cards insulting because it denies you the opportunity to provide, is that it? Well, if borrowing money goes against your Commandments, then you need to spell that out more clearly.
Job-wise, it’s not looking good. Why didn’t you intervene at NatWest when they agreed to give me the stupid card? Why didn’t you make a burning bush appear in the middle of the branch or something? Perhaps suffering is part of your higher plan for me. But God, if I could just get this job, if I could get this job today, then I promise that I will never, ever ask anything from you again. I swear. Can I just have this one thing and then I’ll shut up. That’s all I want. Just a little job and I’ll give a huge sum of money to charity, actually, no, I can’t afford to do that. I’ll do random acts of kindness every day, for a month. I’ll move the cartons of milk with the marginally later sell-by dates to the front for the other shoppers to see. I’ll even carry extra umbrellas just in case I see a stranger getting drenched and I’ll hand out socks to the homeless and write five-star reviews, at random, on Amazon.
Being alive is difficult. I just need this job today. You owe me one, God. Without your help, there’s no way in hell I’m going to get it. Sorry, just then when I mentioned hell – I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. All I’m saying is – it will take a miracle to get hired, and you’re quite well known for doing miracles aren’t you, that’s kind of your thing, hence why I’m talking to you now, boss.
Ok, God, if you heard all that then please send me
a sign …
Pause.
God, did I ever tell you that I once saw the face of the Virgin Mary in 27 kilos of Cheddar?
Just do something like that again …
Pause.
Ok, well no pressure. You can just send a sign in your own time.
There must be people out there worse off than me, who deserve less? I just need to get this job. I can’t get into any more debt, you see. You won’t let that happen, will you though? Don’t let that happen. Don’t, don’t, don’t.
Honestly, I will be a changed person: cautious, careful, easy and pleasant.
I hope you understand – this was a big deal for me today. I don’t usually like asking for help, so you know …
I feel vulnerable. Feel like I’m on sand. I could sink any minute. Nothing is solid. I just need to get this job. So, I’ll leave it with you, yeah?
COUNTRY MATTERS
Excuse me, but I don’t agree and I would like to say something.
You say that, ‘Semiotically, I am not an English rose’ and therefore not suited to the part, but I think that is erroneous and out-of-date.
I have seen Hamlet, ‘the student Prince’ played by chubby men in their mid- to late-thirties, so I actually think it’s very sexist what you’ve said. I think I would make an excellent Ophelia, because she, like me, was also a victim of patriarchy.
Do you think that the audience won’t believe that our own Hamlet would believably fall for me, that the audience will be giving each other a sly nudge in the stalls and whispering ‘She’s not in Hamlet’s league’?
Because, attraction is a lot more than just looks, you know. Despite the fact that Ophelia is, and let’s be honest here, rather one-dimensional, compared to ol’ Ham, I’d still rather hang out with her than him any night of the week. Never mind how pure or naive she is, at least she’s not a boring narcissist like Hamlet. He probably doesn’t even care about what she looks like. He’s only going out with her because she’s attentive to his every need.
My looks may not be routinely dazzling but, if we are to believe the old adage that ‘beauty is truth, truth beauty’, accepting the fact that I look like most women and therefore am ‘real’, I must also be truthful, ergo, I am beautiful.
And my beauty is free of prejudice.
Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but I would have thought the most important thing you need is someone who can act, and that I can do! If you’re looking for a living, breathing, unpredictable and complex Ophelia, then you’ve come to the right girl.
Well, that’s my feeling. I bet I’m fired. I’m fired aren’t I?
Well, I am anxious to know your opinion. Do you agree?
CREDIT
I’ve got to pee. I always need to go pee when I get excited!
So don’t you piss on my parade! Because I haven’t been this excited since … since I found out there was going to be a spin-off of Breaking Bad – so I’m going to have to be a little bit protective here.
This is real. This isn’t a dream. I’ve just got a good feeling about it. I’m a great believer in instinct. What else is there? I’m like a hungry rat when it comes to money! Sniff sniff!
You like reason and intelligence and boring things like facts, whereas I respect emotions, senses, impulses and the funny feelings that I get. Have you read The Secret? No, actually, you’d hate it, but it’s been proven correct now. Even the psychologists agree. You create your own reality. And that’s all I’m doing – creating our own reality for us, I’m designing it, building and shaping it, like … like a master chocolatier. We’re not being victims of our circumstance. This has come along at exactly the right time for you and me and it is going to make us money.
I’ll be honest, I know I’m not always, but I have hated this last year – listening to you sigh as you leave for work because you hate your job so much. I wake up in the night thinking we’ve been robbed and then I remember that we sold all our stuff on eBay. My bum is so offended by the economy loo paper. I found a grey hair last night. I’m young. Well, if that’s not stress I don’t know what is. Come on! This could be it.
You’ve always been uncomfortable when I express passion for something. You like it when we act like we’re dead on the inside and as if we’ve already given up.
All we have to do is pay three thousand pounds investment money and then we just have to find eight other people who will invest as well, so that’s my sister, both your cousins, me and you, three more and we’re sorted. Then, they said that in a few days, we will get £23,000 pounds back on our investment! The woman who runs it is like, in her sixties, well spoken and she said she used to be vice president of the Rotary Club. I said that I didn’t really know what that was but that it sounded very impressive. She’s really nice and said that they were being very selective about who they asked to invest. Yeah.
Oh and she said that it definitely definitely definitely wasn’t a pyramid scheme.
CURIO
Well, you know, I took so many drugs that I ended up thinking I was Mary, the Virgin Mary. Yeah, I totally believed it. And life as the Virgin Mary was pretty pretty good. It was no different really, it was just that I was the Madonna and child, but without the child. Like I say, I was tripping, massively, tripping off my face, you know, but this went on for about a week afterwards as well, but it was manageable, you know. I was working in a shop at the time and we sold, like, knick-knacks and what-nots. Gift shop really.
It wasn’t a strong dose or anything but I was feeling, maybe a little more receptive than usual. A face appeared to me that looked very much like the Virgin Mary. That floated around a bit and I was just getting comfortable with that and then she spoke and she says:
‘You alright?’
and I says, ‘Yeah’.
and then she goes, ‘You know – you’re just like me?’
and I go ‘Yeah?’
And she goes, ‘Yeah’.
I just thought it was normal, a natural part of reality. Believed she was real, definitely, because my first thought was – oh great, finally – someone wise to talk to – someone who’s lived a bit – been around a while.
It was euphoric actually, at the time.
I went home, still high. Went to sleep, woke up the next morning and I thought, ‘Oh yeah – I’m the Virgin Mary’. They were a bit freaked out in the shop because I turned up with a blue scarf draped over my head and like I didn’t really reference it all day, so they didn’t say anything. I think it would’ve been fine, you know, because it’s quite a trendy part of town and I think they just would have thought – oh well, it’s probably a new fashion thing or whatever. I made it worse though cos, and I don’t totally remember this but I asked my boss for the rest of the week off? And she said, Oh why, are you unwell? And I said, no, I’ve got to give birth to Jesus.
And of course, I was sent home. Which, looking back, was stupid because I needed the money.
Nothing bad happened, I basically spent the week in a headscarf taking pregnancy tests. I read a bit of the Bible, stuff about the second coming and you know all that stuff about the last judgement and the sea throwing up its dead.
Anyway, it only lasted a few days and then I was back to normal. I wentback to work on the following Monday, back to the gift shop. I walked in, and they’d had a new delivery of novelty Jesus soaps. They weren’t selling.
DOLLY
How long have I been a writer? Oo, about …
(She looks at her watch.)
… twenty minutes.
You want to speak to my sister – she’s the brainy one really. I’m the one who got the sparkly toys. There’s more chance of a rich-tea biscuit going to university my dad used to say – but don’t worry because you’re a dolly, you’re a flower, you’re a beauty – you don’t need maths when you’ve got a nice face.
I haven’t told my sister I’m here today – I don’t know what she’d think. She’s the writer really, not me. She was going to come but she’s having acupuncture.
Now there’s a cruel thing, not the acupuncture – I mean nature! She got all the brains, but she’s a timid little thing, you know – shit scared of everything, whereas I’m hardly shy – I’ll kick off at anything to be honest with you – I’m always on the bounce about something, but I never read the papers – I’m more into Cosmo.
The only time I ever took an interest in immigration was when the woman who does my nails got sent back to her own country – I was gutted – for the both of us.
(She looks at her nails and then notices.)
Shit! One of my nails has come off. Shit!
(She starts looking around for it.)
Sorry about this – I’d better find it … shit! They’re expensive – Korean – real nail as well, apparently.
(She gives up looking.)
This is the first thing I’ve ever written … where I’ve really tried I mean.
I thought, no – I’m not gong to listen to all those negative voices in my head. Arsehole FM I call it! It’s like there’s an absolute arsehole living inside my head saying:
– You can’t write!
– You didn’t go to university!
– You didn’t even get GCSE R.E. and everyone knows that’s the easiest one!
But this time, I turned the dial down a bit, bought a new desk tidy and just sat and wrote.
My dad used to say – there are two types of people in this world: talkers and writers. Your sister’s the writer – guess which one you are? But I love stories. I thought well, what’s the difference? I talk in my head and then I write it down. If you slashed open my head right now and turned me upside down then all these stories would fall out.
(She spots something. She bends down and picks up her nail.)
Oo! Found it!
DROWNING
I was thinking about my daughter. I don’t have one. My imaginary daughter I mean, and if I would make a good mother.