Emily Franklin & Debris – Commission Show 4th Draft

22 Feb

Length Approx: 8min

Poetry

Lyrics

Technical/production/staging annotations

Toy Mothers & Crocodiles

 

Lights: blue wash and spotlight center stage on two chairs facing the audience. Rest of stage can only be seen in shadow.

 

Tech: Guitar Amp and two mics on stands in front of chairs.

 

Set: Tables and chairs in prison visiting room format.

Emily walks in and sits on one of the two chairs.

 

Percussion rhythm played out by Emily.

 

Deborah walks in (potentially in a prison outfit) and sits next to Emily – patting stops momentarily.

 

Your mum was…

It wasn’t my…

We really tried to…

Your mum

–      was a lot like a crocodile.

 

 

My mother bought my father a toy boat when I was younger, younger,

My mother bought my father a toy boat when I was younger, younger,

Patting continues throughout.

Which is funny because…

When I am in prison,

I have this recurring dream

about shagging with  a crocodile.

Definitely a crocodile

not an alligator. Because

she had teeth in her lower jaw – that’s important.

I think….


It looked just like the one, he had wanted when he was myyyyy age.

This dream actually provides a fascinating opportunity to look into our past –

Something I’m not usually good at. Making love to this crocodile

My … you know… they feel empowered: I’m a living relic of prehistoric times.

The boat sat on my mother’s dressing table

It had an adjustable mizzen mast,

adjustable mizzen mast

adjustable mizzen mast

mizzen mast

Crocadiles mate in shallow water,

sometimes in a threshing frenzy,

at this part in the dream,

I often think your mother,

Or my own…

 When I wondered out of the closet

Looking for my birthday presents

Finding only sexual lubricants

I saw…

The red lamp shade make everything my favourite colour

The crocodile hauls herself

onto the bank and digs. There is a large crack –

it’s my confidence falling out of my arse,

It’s the consistency of Nesquik

and it smells off and  it falls

around our one precious egg.

 Screams came from the kitchen sometimes

mummy and daddy playing love crimes

Once hatched, the young is tossed into the air

(this is my favorite part of the dream)

 Gimme a bit of baby love

gimme a bit of baby love

We crawl and claw into each others love

And I can still smell the blood

  I sat watching cartoons

Mama sat smoking in the kitchen

We begin to argue:

 Gimme a bit of baby love

gimme a bit of baby love

She blames me for not digging the egg deep enough in the mud.

She tells me the baby is our future and I don’t believe her.

I don’t really know

where my hands should go

when I die, when I die.

I’ve been thinking kinda recently

I should try and live a better life.

In Africa, the Nile crocodile accounts

for more human deaths than any other carnivore.

Seizing its prey at the shallow waters edge.

Gripping and rotating its body

to tear off huge chunks of flesh.

At this point I think of our mums again.

Or maybe the sex at the beginning of the dream.

 I want you to eat me like a hamster eats its babies

Its’s babies

I want you to eat me like a hamster eats its babies

It’s babies

I want you to tie me up

I don’t give a flying duck about me

About me

You don’t understand –

sometimes my lovers attacks me.

I am dead –

 

wedged underwater on a ledge

or tree trunk to rot for days.

Help me baby help me, I don’t think I can die alone

Help me baby help me, I don’t think I can die alone

A crocodile eats all its prey;

bones, hooves and antlers.

It swallows pebbles deliberately

To mash and digest the food.

No man I have ever met has been

So tactical or considerate. Have you?

 (I look at you weirdly)

Why are you looking at me like that?

Like I’m trying to shag your freezer,

or a daffodil, or your mum? Didn’t you know?

Help me baby help me, I don’t think I can die alone

Help me baby help me, I don’t think I can die alone

Oh, Ohhhhh mmmm.

My mamma got kissed by a flying fist

Crocadiles are the closest living relatives to birds,

chicks, women, whatever you want to call them

Patting stops.

They are all primitively terrifying in appearance

And I want them back.

Emily & Debris look at each other for 10 seconds.

Lights: fade.

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