Two Little Dicky Birds (Early Scriptwriting Piece)

The scene opens into a cell, a cell with grubby walls that were once white. The walls are covered in many stains, some red, some yellow, some brown. There are no windows, just one door that is locked.

In the middle of the cell lies a naked middle aged man -PAUL-, covered in cuts, bruises and scars. His body movements are very twitchy, he is unkempt and looks severly unhealthy.

He is humming a nonsensical tune, whilst the screams of other inmates echo through the room. In his hands he holds a carrot, which he is cradling as if it was the most treasured artifact on earth.

Paul: (To the carrot) Do you hear that Peter? … Our new neighbours are ever so loud, the rest of the neighbourhood isn’t going to take too kindly to that sort of kurfuffle (To the wall) Oi! Do you want to keep it down? some of us are trying to sleep in here …

The screams continue, Paul sighs and sits up, taking a big stretch and letting out a big yawn

Paul: Some people are just so rude, they are lucky its my day off. Peter do you think we should go over and speak to them? Let them know that this is not the kind of village where you can just party on until the dark hours?

Paul gets to his feet and walks over to one of the walls, opens an imaginary wardrobe and begins to dress himself. whislt obviously remaining very naked.

Paul: (Looking over his shoulder, addressing the carrot) Peter! You know I don’t like it when you watch me dress. (Blushing) Now I’ve gone all shy, and forgotten what it was I was getting dressed for … Oh yes … Noisy neighbours …

Paul Walks over to the door, tries the handle, door remains locked

Paul: (Starts off, calm, becomes more and more distressed) Peter? Do you know where your keys are? Silly me, I’ve only gone and lost them, again… Peter, the doors locked, I need the keys … Peter!

Paul tries the handle again and again, getting angrier and angrier before finally he screams and flings himself down on the floor, landing on his hands and knees

Paul: (Muttering quietly to himself) Come on now Paul. Pull yourself together, you’ll dirty your new pants. Can’t let Peter see you laid out on all fours like a wild animal. Then again maybe he’ll like it. Dirty … Dirty … Dirty … Dirty … Dirty.

A hatch opens at the bottom of the door, a red sludgy mess in a bowl is pushed through. The words “Crazy Faggot” are heard muttered before the hatch is rammed shut.

Paul: (Picks up the bowl, sniffs it, thinks against eating it)  Did you hear him Peter? He thinks         me a faggot, me, a married man. (Picks up the carrot once more, presses it against his face) Oh Peter, we are good friends aren’t we. (Looks up to the sky, his eyes glaze over as if he is remembering something) Course you have to be my friend, considering what I pay you to be our butler. Katherine wasn’t very happy at first, said it made us look stuck up, “Who has a butler in this day and age Paul?”. Then again, she hadn’t come from the same background as me. Reckoned its an expense we could do without. Because you are quite expensive arent you Peter? I was used to having  servants since I was born, sorry can’t use that word any more, political correctness is everywhere. (Under his breath) Except in the world of food delivery, faggot indeed. The only thing worse than their manners is their food…

Paul launches the bowl at the wall, it smashes and the contents spill out on the floor, a big red gloopy mess. Paul looks at this, twitches uncomfortably and carries on speaking…

Paul: … Eventually though Katherine got used to the idea of having a butler, gives you a lot less to worry about in life. Plus I think it helps that you are a good looking young man too, it was funny watching her flirt with you and you politely flirt back. Little did Katherine know she was barking up the wrong tree, her radar for men of that persuasion  was always a bit off. (sung, under his breath) “two little dickybirds, sitting on a wall”.

Paul begins to caress the carrot lovingly

Paul: I’d known you for years before being your employer. A friend of the family, young handsome Peter Cross, whose relationships never last, and his family are close to disowning him, and taking his inheritance unless he marries. Sounded similar to me, me and Katherine were pretty much arranged, my first serious girlfriend, met her a handful of times before our wedding. When I’d seen you again that night in … ahem, that bar, you were drowning your sorrows, your family had just disowned you. We had a drink together, talked about old times on my parents estate as young boys, then we parted ways, as I offered you a job as my butler …

Paul twitches and looks hard at the carrot, then sighs

Paul: Okay, Okay Pete. Who am I kidding? Who am I lying to, its only me and you here. The bar, the bar was a gay one, because … I … I am a faggot. Or as you affectionally call it, we are a pair of dicky birds. (sung under his breath) “One named Peter, The other named Paul. So we made an agreement after that night of (Grimace) … yes … yes Peter, I’ll say it, after that night of … passion. You needed money, I needed an outlet for my …. Urges. So you’d move in and work for me in the day, and the nighttime when Katherine had gone to bed.

Paul shakes his head

Paul: Course, I felt bad, I loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her. Course I’m not in love with you either, before you start. (Mumbles) It’s a sin, I love him, it’s a sin, he loves me, it’s a sin, im a queer. But one night, after an awful lot of alchohol, I made the mistake of promising you the world. I promised we would run away together, live our lives as lovers, rather than employer, and exceedingly well paid employee. Then you, you little gay bitch, started to put pressure on me, “you tell Katherine or I will”. Was I not paying you enough? I managed to put it off another 3 months, before you told me, “you have one hour”. So I went to tell Katherine, but just as I went to open my mouth …

Paul claws at his own face

Paul: She’d told me she was pregnant, I couldn’t do it to her, so I rushed to my room packed my stuff and prepared to leave. You were furious, sulked off before I could tell you what had happened. (sung under his breath) “fly away peter, fly away paul”. I’d driven about an hour away when I got the phonecall from you, telling me to come back, you sounded worried … (sung under his breath) “come back Peter, come back Paul”.

Paul is shaking, tears coming down his face

Paul: When I got there … there was so much … (looks at the contents of the bowl on the floor, vomits on himself and the floor) … Shut up Peter! … Fucking Blood okay! … So much fucking blood! … There was so much fucking red fucking blood from where my pregnant wife had took a stanley blade to her wrists.

Paul looks at the carrot, kisses it, then throws it across the room

Paul: You had told her, thinking I was too much of a coward to do it. I couldn’t look at you, my wife, my child, dead, my wife, my child, dead, you hugged me, I grabbed you, my wife, my child, dead, I took the stanley blade,  my wife, my child, dead … my wife, my child, my butler, dead … (sung under his breath) “Fly away Peter”.

Paul curls up in a ball. Reaches for the carrot and cradles it in his arms.

Paul: When they finally got called out, maybe two days after, people were worried about us. I was laying between the two of you. Singing, I’d been singing our song … from the moment you’d died … From the moment I … I … I … “Come back Peter!”

Paul cries, rocks, and sings the song “two little dicky birds”

Two days later Someone screams …

Paul: Do you hear that Peter?

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