SUBJECT NO: 50168.
WRITING FOR PERFORMANCE.
ASSIGNMENT 3,
June 4 ’03.
JAN CORNELL.
NED McCANN. 96132612.
TEL’ 95557307.
adarblue@yahoo.com












SMOKO

CAST.
JOANN IS THIRTYISH. SHE HAS FLAMING RED FRIZZY HAIR WHICH SEEMS TO BE STANDING ON END, AS IF SHE HAD PUT A WET FINGER INTO A LIGHT SOCKET. HER EYES, WIDE AND STARING, ARE A STARTLING CORNFLOWER BLUE. SLIGHTLY BUILT, SHE IS WEARING DENIM CULLOTS AND SENSIBLE CLOGS.


THE ACTION TAKES PLACE IN A BIG,COMFY, COUNTRY KITCHEN. FROM A WOOD FIRED STOVE, YOU CAN ALMOST SMELL THE SMELL OF BAKING BREAD WAFTING THROUGH THE GOOD CHINA ON THE WELSH DRESSER WHERE WEDDING PHOTOS AND OTHER ACCOUTREMENTS OF FAMILY ARE DISPLAYED, WITH OVERSPILL OF AGRICULTURAL RIBBONS PINNED TO THE CREAM PAINTED WALLS.
THERE ARE TWO DOORS IN THE ROOM. THE DOOR TO THE LEFT IS CLOSED. THE DOOR TO THE RIGHT IS OPEN, WITH ITS SCREEN IN PLACE.
THERE IS A RIP ALONG THE BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN DOOR.
HENS PECK AT THIS RIP, MAKING IT LARGER.

THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM IS TAKEN UP BY A LONG DINING TABLE. THE TABLE HAS BENCHES ON EITHER SIDE,SUBSTANTIAL CHAIRS AT EITHER END, AND A BABY CHAIR WITH A CRY BABY DOLL SITTING IN IT.
ABOVE, A CEILING LAMP WITH A WIDE OPAQUE SHADE SHOWS A PACKET OF TOBACCO, A BAG OF DOPE, PAPERS AND MATCHES LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TABLE. TO THE SIDE OF THE TABLE IS THE SMOKO BASKET.
ON EITHER SIDE OF THE HUGE SINK ARE BENCHES CONTAINING KITCHEN PARAPHANAELIA, IN PARTICULAR A MINCER. HANGING FROM THE CEILING NEARBY ARE LOOPS OF SAUSAGES.
NEAR THE SINK IS A LARGE FRIDGE WITH PHOTOS AND POSTCARDS MAGNETTED TO IT WITH A WHIMSY OF FOREST CREATURES AND DOLPHINS.
ABOVE THE SINK THERE IS A WIDE WINDOW.
ACROSS THE WINDOW THERE ARE SHELVES.
ON THE SHELVES ARE JARS OF PRESERVES, AND PICKLES OF ONION, GHERKIN, AND CUCUMBER. THE LIGHT SHINING THROUGH THEM MAKES THEM SEEM TO THROB-PULSATE.
ACTION PROCEEDING, PLOT UNFOLDING, JOANN PACES BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS;PICKING THINGS UP LAYING THEM DOWN, ROLLING JOINTS, PUFFING THE SMOKE OUT LIKE BETTE DAVIS, AND, LIKE DAVIS, ALL THE TIME PACING.
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INTERIOR.GLOOMY DAY.
SMOKE SPIRALS RISE UP,OVER AND THROUGH TITLE.
SMOKO.

.PAN DOWN SPIRALS OF SMOKE TO JOANN. STANDING BY THE WINDOW, SHE IS SMOKING A JOINT.
.JOANN. TURNING TO CAMERA.
I ‘ve never liked the country.
CUT TO PICTURE POSTCARD ON FRIDGE; THE COUNTRY, COWS GRAZING.
.JOANN ASHES JOINT IN SINK.
I’m a city girl born and bred.
PUFFS. BLOWS SMOKE DOWN NOSTRILS.
I never sleep well here.
SMOKE FLOWS TOWARDS WINDOW AND WREATHS AROUND THE BACK LIT PRESERVE JARS.
.JOANN. There is something malevolent about the country.
CLOSE UP ON JARS.
I hate the trees.
.BEYOND THE JARS ARE TREES. IT IS RAINING AND THE BRANCHES ARE LEAFLESS AND DRIPPING.
I don’t like the way they rub their limbs together on a windy day.
CUT TO-LIVE ACTION TREES ON A WINDY DAY.
Some say its the trees waving their branches about that causes the wind.
CUT TO-LIVE ACTION TREE BRANCH WITH A SOLITARY LEAF.THE LEAF FALLS.
I don’t like the sneaky way they drop their branches on people.
CUT TO-PHOTO OF PRIZE SANTA GERTRUDIS, WITH RIBBON AROUND NECK, STANDING UNDER TREE.
The amount of people, some of them quite respectable, really, killed by branches falling from trees in the country each and every year beggars belief.
CUT TO, AND ANIMATE PHOTO, SO THAT TREE BRANCH FALLS ON COW’S HEAD.COW MOOS AND FALLS DOWN. SFX. BOING OF FALLING BRANCH, MOO, CRASH.
Nights are the worst.
CUT TO-HOOTIE OWL FRIDGE MAGNET.SFX SOFT HOOTING.
The noise is horrendous.
CUT TO-CUTE BUNNY RABBITS FRIDGE MAGNET.
The screams of dying things.
RED FILTER. SFX SCREAMING OVER.
And the screams of those other things … killing.
CUT TO-FOX FRIDGE MAGNET.
Goes on the whole night long.
CUT TO BLACK.
.And just when you are about to fall asleep…
SLIVER OF SUNRISE DELINIATES MOUNTAIN RIDGE FROM BLACK SKY. SFX. OPENING BARS OF THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA OVER.
CUT TO-LIVE ACTION.ANACONDA. SFX.SNAKE RATTLE.(I know anacondas don’t rattle, but it conveys menace.)
CUT TO-LIVE ACTION TERRIFIED MOUSE. SFX. SQUEEK.
The sun screams up…
VENETIAN BLIND RATTLES OPEN TO BRILLIANT SUN SHINING THROUGH JARS.
CUT TO- MONTAGE OF HENS’ HEADS BEING CHOPPED OFF. SOMETHING’S ENTRAILS BEING PULLED OUT.
.And it starts all over again with the crowing,
SHE KICKS AT THE CHICKENS PECKING AT THE DOOR. THEY SCATTER.
and snorting of those who have survived.
CUT TO-LIVE ACTION PIGS ROOTING IN TROUGH.
And I hate country men.
CUT TO-ANIMATED MARLBORO MAN TIPPING HAT.
Hate the way they tip their hat as they brush past you.
They’re always brushing past you. in their big boots, thick sweaty socks.,and those tight, little shorts they wear.
Miles of room in the bloody country, and they must brush past you. All only after the one thing.
Not that city men are any different.
STOPS BEFORE A FRAMED PRINT OF LOWRIE’S SPENCER STREET AT RUSH HOUR.
They’re all tarred with the same feather.
In the city, one needn’t come in contact with them.
There, one can live and be mutually… nurtured, by women of like mind; away from the brutes with their bellies and those thingies sticking from the front of their shorts.
THUMBS THROUGH PETER JAMES CALENDER OF BLOND SURFER BOYS WITH BUTTOCKS BOBBING FROM THE BACK, AND THINGIES STICKING FROM THE FRONT OF THEIR SPEEDOS.
There should be a law against that.
There used to be.
SHE CLOSES CALENDAR. COVER SHOWS GROUP OF BONDI SURFERS CIRCA 1940
.Once men were required to wear modesty aprons on the front of their swimmers.
Even then it was visible.
And as for those tight jeans some of them used to wear. It was so visible you could tell its religion. Thank God the fashion has changed and most of them are now wearing looser garments.
CUT TO-LIVE ACTION MALE MODEL ON CATWALK BACK TO CAMERA. WEARING INDIAN PANTS OF THE FINEST COTTON, CLINGING TO THE CONTOURS OF HIS BUNS.
But, in the right light, it is still discernible.
CUT TO-MALE MODEL WEARING INDIAN PANTS OF THE FINEST COTTON STRIDING DOWN CATWALK TO CAMERA WITH SHLONG LIKE A SWINGING PENDULUM.
And the way some of them thrust their pelvical regions forward while drinking those beers, it is unmistakable.
STOPPING BY THE FRIDGE, SHE FINGERS HOLIDAY POSTCARDS MAGNETTED THERE. THERE’S ONE OF A KILTIE, AND ANOTHER OF MOUSTACHIOD GREEK SOLDIER IN TRADITIONAL DRESS.
The Scotch and Greek women had the right idea when they made their men wear those skirts and tutus.
Although I find the pom poms on the greek’s shoes a tad…suggestive?
And anyway underneath the aprons, skirts, and kilts their thingies would still be sticking out.
Can’t help themselves.
SHE PICKS UP WEDDING PHOTO FROM SIDEBOARD.
I only came up here was because my sister, Jayne, wanted me to be godmother to her latest…a girl…at long last.
C/U-WEDDING PHOTO.
Jayne married a man, Wayne.
CUT TO- STILL OF WAYNE IN FOOTY GEAR BEING TACKLED.
I suppose someone has to make the sacrifice for the propogation of the species.
CUT TO-STILL OF WAYNE KICKING BALL.SF/X; UP ROAR OF CROWD OVER. "Goal!"
And had Duane. SFX ROAR.
And Shane. SFX ROAR.
I don’t know why some women have this urge to give into the so called maternal instinct. PICKS UP ANOTHER PHOTO.
CUT TO-HAPPY YOUNG MUM IN BED, HOLDING CHILD.
A myth engendered and encouraged by the patriarchs.
CUT TO-PHOTO OF GROUP OF OLD MEN SMOKING PIPES AT TABLE LITTERED WITH BEER MUGS.
And the girls fall for it. They chase every Tom and Harry, until they get to Dick.And when they get the dick, they get the guilts and have to have a baby.
If they were true mothers, they could by pass Dick and have in vitro fertilisation.
CUT TO-STILL OF PIPPETTE HOVERING ABOVE OVARY. SFX.SUCKING SOUND OVER.
But, as my friend, Yvonne, points out, ‘with IVF, the donors are anonymous. So God knows who’s muck they’re pumping into you.’
CUT TO-TURBINES. AND CHURNING WATER.
Better the devil you know I suppose.
JOANN IS NOW STANDING BY THE SINK. THERE IS A BASIN OF WATER WITH A LADLE IN IT SITTING ON THE DRAINING BOARD.
It started this morning. Soon’s I had my bath.
She’s never off my back, our Jayne.
‘Oh, we just have quick showers here, Joann,.’ she says. ’ The drought.’
Well I know there’s a drought on. It wouldn’t be the country if there wasn’t a drought on. And I wasn’t having a bath as such. What I did was fill a bucket, and bathed Balinese style. Problem?
SHE LADLES WATER FROM BASIN.
There’s a ritual in the country. Its called,’ smoko.’Smoko, I ask you. Why do they have to make such a big thing at 10 of a morning about having a smoke when all they seem to do all day is roll little fags and smoke them. It’s a wonder there’s any work done.After the breakfast things are washed and put away. Full breakfast by the way, sausage, bacon, eggs, muffins and tea.There’s a cake gotta be baked for this smoko thing.
‘Be a dear, ‘Jayne says.
Bake a cake?
‘For their smoko.’
Do you do this every day?
‘Oh yes,’ she says.
I think, Every day?
So we’re in the kitchen. Flour-check, sugar-check. Butter-check. Eggs?
‘Oh, don’t I have any?’
Nope.
‘You’ll have to go down to the hen run. Would you mind?’
Well the thongs were a big mistake.
Talk about primal. Mud and shit everywhere. Definitely not thong territory. And the smell.
Honestly, I don’t think that can be good for the baby.
You’ve gotta lift the hens up,feel underneath them, and take the eggs.
MOUTH TURNS DOWN IN DISTASTE AS SHE REPLICATES THE ACTION WITH TEA POT IN COZY.
As I said, primal. We have ours delivered. Free range; guaurenteed unfertilised.
As I’m coming out the hen house, this very big hen has a go at me.
Jumping up and pecking me.
I gave it such a swipe and then threw eggs at it until it went away. And I’d no sooner stepped out the gate when the bloody dog has a go; shagging my leg… I could feel it soaking through my stocking.
After my second bath of the day. Fuck the bloody drought. A proper bath this time . with lots of Dettol. Dabbed on where the hen bit me and the dog shagged me.
I heard a terrible story once about a girl who became pregnant when she had a bath, after her brother, in the water he had just … LOWERS VOICE AND RELUCTANTLY SAYS masturbated in. …THINKS. No. I used lots of Dettol.
I told Jayne about my adventures.
‘Oh yes’,she said. ‘ I should have warned you about Roosevelt.. Roosters are very territorial’.
Lump out my leg the size of your fist and all she can say is, ’Oh yes I should have warned you about Roosevelt.’
Anyway I start the cake while Jayne puts the baby down and starts on lunch. Honestly its unending.
All men do is eat three times a day. And, after the third eating, demand their right to…that.
HER PACING HAS BROUGHT HER TO THE WORK BENCH.SHE PUTS CARROT THROUGH MINCER.
I grate a big carrot through the cakemix.
‘Oh I don’t know if they’ll like that,’ Jayne says.
Well fuckem, I said, and started on the icing.
I usually put, ‘I love you, Wayne’, in hundreds and thousands and silver balls on my icing, Jayne said.
‘Well I don’t, on mine,’ I said.
I take the cake with the tea in the smoko basket down to the shed where Wayne and his mate, Drongo, are making pig’s feed on the big mincer.
Now the routine is that you whoop like an Indian when you approach them.
Typical animals, they don’t like to be startled, or come upon by surprise.
You’re supposed to cooee. It’s the country thing.So I cooes, and, soon’s I does, Roosevelt ,the rooster, comes rushing out and starts to savage me again.
I’d forgot to close the hen run gate when I got the eggs, hadn’t I?
‘Number one rule in the country, always close the gate behind you.’ Yes, Jayne.
Anyway, bugger the thongs. I’m wearing me clogs now, and I give Roosevelt such a kick in the slats he ended up the other end of the hen run.
It, Wayne, is posing beside the mincer.JOANNE RUNS HER FINGER AROUND THE KITCHEN MINCER’S RIM. One of those industrial numbers-all chopping blades and whirling dicers.
He‘s pouring tripes, offals, and other disgustings into the hopper and poking them down with a stick.
MOUTH OF KITCHEN MINCER WITH OUTPOURINGS.
His mate, Drongo, is catching the spew in a bucket, and feeding it to the pigs.
STILL PHOTO OF CHAMPION PIG WITH RIBBON.
JOANNE BEGINS TO UNPACK BASKET SITTING ON TABLE.
I spread a clean cloth on the bench. Lay out the mugs, the teapot, and the cake.
All that icing can’t be good for teeth.
‘Smoko , Drongo,’ Wayne slashed at his throat for Drongo to turn off the mincer.
‘Goodonyaluv,’ he said and slapped me on the BTM.
Now no one slaps me on the BTM, ever. I’ve even had my falling outs with Yvonne about that.
Soon’s he did, something snapped.
SHE SNAPS SPRING ONION IN TWO.
Calling on my regain the night training, I caught his fingers and locked them back to his wrist.
SHE DEMONSTRATES WITH OWN HANDS.
Grabbing his elbow, exactly as displayed in the manual, I deflected his momentum with my shoulder, and back flipped him into the mincer. THE HANDLE OF THE KITCHEN MINCER IS TURNING BY ITSELF AS SAUSAGES ARE FED INTO IT.
Drongo panicked.
Instead of switching off, he lunged at me.Kneeling, I took his lunge with open arms, and spun him on his momentum into the hopper where Wayne’s long legs were being diced into pig bite chunks.CARROT SLICES ,BRUSSEL SPROUTS AND BABY BEETROOT GOING THROUGH MINCER. HANDLE STILL WHIRLING UNAIDED.
Wayne hadn’t known what hit him on account of going in head first.. But Drongo, when I flipped him into the hopper, did a lot of squeeling when he landed on the blades feet first.
The mincer played up a bit when it came to his hips. But I helped him down with a stick.
JOANNE POKES SKEWER INTO HOPPER.
HERE, THE SIDE WALLS START TO MOVE IN TOWARDS THE CENTRE OF THE ROOM WHERE JOANNE IS NOW SITTING AT THE TABLE STILL SMOKING.At least Drongo waved as he went down.
More’n Wayne did.
As I came back up the padock, that fucking dog of Wayne’s made to shag at my leg again.I Karate chopped him just above the nose, and heard a snap, so I guess I must have broken something.
Now its yowling.
I had to tell Jayne what I’d done.Hadn’t I?
AS WELL AS THE SIDE WALLS SLIDING CLOSER, THE CEILING LAMP IS DESCENDING UNTIL IT SITS ABOVE JOANN’S HEAD LIKE AN ELECTRIC CHAIR DEATH CAP.
Now she’s yowling.
CUT TO-CRYBABY DOLL SITTING IN BABY CHAIR.
The baby’s yowling.
And somewhere in the distance…
POLICE SIREN OVER.
As I said in the beginning, ‘I’ve never liked the country.’
WALLS HAVE NOW COME IN AS FAR AS THEY CAN.
OVERHEAD LIGHT IS FLICKING LIKE FLASH BULBS.
JOANN, WINCING AT EACH FLASH, SITS RIGID WITH HER HANDS CLUTCHING THE ARMS OF THE CHAIR.
CUT TO BLACK.
ENDS.