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Marjorie Keeps Her Own Counsel

Assignment #3- Dialogue by Kathleen Clarke

Marjorie Keeps Her Own Counsel

I can’t see the little darlins’.  But , oh, can I hear them. Here we go again.

 The tall white pines provide a blissful barrier for Marjorie’s eyes. This gives her some privacy to eavesdrop from her lodge balcony.

            “Toby, come!” the little girl says. A dog barks and rustles around in the bushes.

            She`s young and ‘geesus loud. Probably 4 years old. Who`s watching her? Careless. She could drown. Although , it might be more peaceful around here. Oh, that’s mean.  I’ll burn in hell for that one.


            Toby must be the dog. Why doesn’t the dog come over here? Rich people probably have an electric fence to shock the hell out of the dog. Awful. My Uncle Bob would have said that dog deserved a good case of lead poisoning. Farmers can be so cold.

            “Did you pee in there?”  the little girl asks.

            “Shut up!” says the boy. The dog keeps barking.

            Typical older brother.  I wish she and the dog would shut up too. Where’s her parents?… Don’t think about anyone but yourselves, rich arseholes. Yeah I travelled three hours up North so I can listen to your spoiled brat and obnoxious barking dog. The spoiled little princess will eventually disappoint you and run off with a motorcycle gang member and you’ll sink all your money into wrecking other people’s lives to save her now self –entitled rescue- me- Daddy spoiled ass. .. Only person that ever rescued me was me. We’d never go whining and crying back to our parents. We were taught to stand on our own two feet. ‘Course , maybe that’s why I ‘m alone.  Maybe if I was needy, like so many other women I see, I might have somebody to keep me company in my old age. Ah bastard ‘ d probably cheat on me anyway. God I gotta’ calm down. I’m on vacation.

            “Mommy said no adventure pees. Pee in the house!” the girl says.

            “Shut up or I’ll shit on you!” the boy says.

          “I’m telling.”

            Nice language you polluting little dickwad. Maybe I’ll get five minutes peace from that kid and the blasted dog. It never comes when they call it. How can people with so much money be so stupid? Kids and dogs badly behaved.  Thank god I can close my balcony door. But I’m paying $200 a night for this place. I should get a discount.  Hope she stays inside.

            “William! Can I talk to you for a minute,” the father says.

            “Yeah,” says the boy.

            Finally, some parental supervision.  Now maybe I can enjoy some peace and quiet and watch those whatch-ma-call-its… oh yeah Goldfinches. They are so beautiful…

            “Toby! Come, Toby! Come, here!”

            Oh damn …

Keeping her own counsel, Marjorie gets up, goes inside, and slams the balcony door. Hard.


Introducing Batter Up Bess

Character Assignment # 2— Character
Introducing Batter Up Bess!
by Kathleen Clarke Haliburton School of Art Creative Writing Class July 2nd, 2013
“I’m cold,” she whispered.
“Well I’m hot. Put on more clothes,” Bill grumbled and drifted back to an untroubled and selfish sleep.
Freezing, Bess grasped in the dark searching for their wedding quilt. Mother had spent hours making it, embroidering rings of roses in the shapes of hearts. Bess realized it was probably on the floor on his side. Damn him. As she slipped on her fuzzy moccasins creeping around the bedroom with arthritic knees, she calculated in her head. 28 years times 365 nights not including leap years, round up to 30 ( hell might as well be 50) . That’s 10,850! “Selfish bastard,” she mumbled.
“Humph?,” he said. Then Bill turned to snore in a different key more obnoxious than the first.
10,850 nights of freezing to death. 10,850 nights of practically going deaf. Bess shook her head and wondered when the hate had begun. She used to hang on his every word, thrill at his physicality, and be in awe of his achievements. She just was happy pleasing him. This night Bess felt as if she was being taken over by something or someone new. The new Bess reached out and sharply jabbed at Bill in his self-centred chest.
“What’s the matter?” he said. He reached for his baseball bat.
“Give me that!” yelled Bess. She grabbed the bat and with new found strength bounded onto the bed like a gymnast.
“Bess, what the hell are you doing?” he said annoyed.
She raised the bat and Bill cowered. Bill cowered. She slammed the bat beside him and he jumped.
“Get out!” she screamed.
“What the …Who are you?” cried Bill.
“I‘m Batter Up Bess!” she declared. “Introducing your living nightmare …yeah, me, your wife who is going to put herself first for a change. Now get out. For the first time in 10,850 nights, I am going to get a warm, quiet good night’s sleep.”
“Now Bess is this about the dinner you burnt? I said it was okay, Sweetie” he said.
Batter Up Bess wound up the bat and Bill hightailed it out the door.
“Don’t let the door hit your selfish arse on the way out!” she laughed triumphantly.
Batter Up Bess dropped the bat on her side of the bed. She plopped down on both pillows gathering up her wedding quilt. And happily giggled herself to sleep.
The End