Bouncers – An Audition Script

Below is a script written for a day-player audition.

SCENE: Two men are stood, arms folded, either side of a door. They look a little bored.

Bouncer 2: Is it normally this quiet?

Bouncer 1: Can be. Especially on Thursdays, it’s the in-between day of students and weekenders.

B2: Should pick up tomorrow then?

B1: Yeah, you’ll get the ones straight from the office, can always tell them cause they’re in their smarts. They either leave after one or become a problem. Then will go quiet again till around 8 when folks have had their dinner.

B2: No students then?

B1: Oh no, you’ll get…hold on.

A punter approaches

B1: ID please. 

He inspects the ID, glancing at it then back to the punter before seeming satisfied.

B1: Alright. 

He moves to allow them in.

B1: What was I saying?

B2: Students?

B1: Right, yeah, you’ll get students still but there are no special deals, so not as many as your actual student nights.

B2: What days are they?

B1: Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Normal folk wouldn’t want to come then so you’ve gotta encourage the students. Here you go, your turn.

Two more punters arrive. B2 stands in the way.

B2: IDs please. 

He inspects both before nodding and moving out of the way.

B1: And you know we’re shut Sunday, Monday yeah?

B2: Yeah, yeah. Jules mentioned that.

B1: Oh met jules have you? 

B2: Yeah she’s…alright.

B1: Scary, right?

B2: Terrifying. Should just put her on the door.

B1: Never get anyone in then.

They both smirk and fall into comfortable silence.

B1: Ah right here we go, this one ent getting in. Already drunk and definitely not 18. Want your first refusal?

B2 nods eagerly and steps forward 

B2: ID please.

UNDERAGE fumbles with their card holder, mumbling under their breath. Eventually flourishes an ID. B2 glances back and forth, shows it to B1 and is clearly milking it and relishing the moment.

B2: What’s your name?

UNDERAGE: Charlie brown.

B2: Date of birth? 

UNDERAGE: 15th March 2005.

B2: 2005?

UNDERAGE: No, I said 2003.

B2 clearly knows they’re lying but humours them.

B2: Address?

UNDERAGE: Oh its uh, number uh, number 4? Yeah 4, uh, fish Avenue? No uh, trout Avenue?

B2 shakes his head and hands back the ID 

B2: Not a chance mate.

UNDERAGE sulks off. B2 and B1 chuckle.

B1: You don’t have to ask all the questions if they’re literally a different race to their ID.

B2: funny though. Fish Avenue, ha.

B1: What was the address?

B2: River cottage.

They both smirk.

B1: Kids.

B2: Bet you’ve seen some in your time

B1: Shit yeah. Once had a 13 year old try and get in with his brother’s ID. His brother was 32. Only know he was 13 cause he was dragged back here to apologise once his brother realised his ID was missing.

B2: Man. I thought I was dumb when I was that age.

B1: Takes all sorts. Hopefully my kids won’t turn out like that anyway.

B2: You got kids?

B1: In 2 months I will. Wife’s about to pop. Twins.

B2: Nice. Oh, hey, what happens if we get someone who wants a fight?

B1: Ah, we’ve got a panic button, I’ll show you once Martin comes. It alerts the police. But you know how to take them down, right?

B2: Yeah, I used to be an officer. I can restrain them no worries.

B1: Ideal. Here comes some more.

What She Did – A Poem

A sting cracks open her heart.

A pool of guilt spills over the ruined carpet.

New worlds flash into her eyes,

Dark shadows linger high on the ceiling,

That she once thought were angels.

Now she sees they were a mistake.

A catalyst of danger,

The trouble of a creature lurking deep.

And the pain eases,

But the tears do not.

They will stain her always.

A mark of the shock.

That her mother

Can hurt her.

Into the Air – A Prologue

This is the prologue to my second novel, Into the Air. I may post further chapters on here so stay tuned and do comment if you wish to read more!

The man, coated in grey, wept ceaselessly as he flicked through the pages. A woman in yellow had handed him a fire licked book and said she had been clutching it. They were taking her away. For how long, they couldn’t say. He gazed up at an orange glow that erupted into an otherwise peaceful sky, all he loved was now floating in the air. The waves crashed but they were too far away to put out the heat. He heard her scream and wail and it beat at his heart. He flicked back and forth tenderly through the burnt pages and saw how it had all played out. He wondered then if it was his fault after all, and how long it would be until the hot, heavy giant was put out, and the village was returned to a glowing lustre of stars looking down in want of eternity.

The Bar – A Script

Below is another script for a friend’s day player audition.

BARTENDER (B) is speaking to a customer as PATRON (P) walks to the bar in the background, pauses to look at the other customers then turns to order. B doesn’t notice P immediately as he is deep in conversation with a regular. P waits and fiddles with the beer mats, clearing their throat a couple of times before pretending to make a phone call.

B: No matter how many times you come in mate, you aren’t getting a discount. I’ve asked Lucy and she’s said no. Look, if this were my place you know I’d give you as many free drinks as you wanted as long as you don’t start acting like a complete d – 

P: (Loud, into phone) Hiya, I’m just at the pub, I think it’s called The Lion. Do you want me to order for you?

B finally notices P and meanders up to them, looking nonplussed, if not a little annoyed, at the distraction.

P: No, no that’s fine. Yep. Yeah, see you later. (to B) Sorry, sorry, just my friend who I…

B: (interrupting) No worries, what can I get you, mate?

P seems a little taken aback by the interruption.

P: I’ll just have a tonic, please.

B: Pint or half?

P: Oh, go on, make it a double!

B: (chuckles) A what now?

P: (sheepish) G & T, I’ll have a double G & T please.

B: Ice and a slice?

P: Please.

B turns to make the order. P reaches into their bag and gets out a large envelope.

P: Oh shit, dammit.

B returns with the drink.

B: All OK?

P: No, oh sorry, no I can pay. I just forgot a pen. I don’t suppose you have one…?

B: Sure, no problem. (He offers a pen from his pocket)

P: Thanks, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t…(shakes head) How much do I owe you?

B: £5.40 please.

P: Here, don’t worry about the 10.

B: Oh, cheers.

B smiles and notices something bothering P

B: Can I help you with anything else?

P: (clearly anxious) No, no thank you, I’ll be…I suppose, it’s fine.

B: (gently) You sure there’s nothing?

P: It’s just…You haven’t seen a bald guy have you? About this tall, chubby, kinda looks like that Gregg guy from masterchef?

B: I don’t watch masterchef.

P: No, right, but you haven’t seen anyone?

B: There are alot of folk that come in here I’m afraid. I don’t remember everyone, but if I see anyone I’ll let you know. Can I get you anything else?

P: No, thanks. (Pause) Are you sure you haven’t seen him? It’s just really important that I meet him today.

B: Hmmm. Bald and chubby, fat controller type? (he leans in with a smile) Between you and me, that describes 70 percent of my customers.

P: (thinking pause) He’s a lawyer? Oh, and his names Robin.

B: Hmmm Robin the lawyer. Wait, you don’t mean Rob the lawyer? Usually wears a grey suit? Has a tattoo on one of his arms you can just about see if he rolls his sleeves up?

P: Yes! Yeah that’s him! Do you know him?

B: He comes in from time to time, nice bloke, always tips so I like him. 

P: Have you seen him today?

B: Nah, not today I’m afraid. But if he comes in it’s usually around…(he checks the time) Yeah around nowish.

P: Yeah, that’s what I heard. I guess I can wait a couple of hours. Do you serve food here?

B: Hours? That’s a long wait for someone who might not show up. Is he really worth the wait?

P shrugs.

B: You can leave your number here if you want, I can let him know you came?

P: Oh no, thank you, I really don’t want him to know I was here unless I see him.

B: No worries, if you change your mind…Did you want a food menu?

P nods and B hands them one.

B: Don’t get the fish.

B watches P glance at the menu.

B: Who is Robert…

P: Robin

B: Right, Robin, sorry. Who is he to you anyway?

P: Oh, well, uh…

B: You don’t have to tell me, just nosy.

P: No, it’s…(sighs) I’ve just never said it out loud before.

B: Right?

They lock eyes

P: Well he…he might be my Dad.

T-Shirt and a Sausage Roll – A writing exercise

Below is a writing exercise I practice where I ask my partner for a prompt word and write something based off that. Today was a t-shirt and a sausage roll.

The faded blue lit up into black as the t-shirt embered its way into the past. She held in her hand the remnants of the paper that had carried the heat down, down and into a burst of acceptance that had warmed the fibers, and left more than ash now glistening on her fingers, unfelt. The chill that had progressed deep into her ears was now blending artfully with each lilt of fire. The radiating orange revealing a line of trees and the sad sag of an unloved shed. The top yelled its protest before settling into a gentle crackle, wooden fuel being added when it felt it had no more to give. She reached into her bag and retrieved the puddle warm sausage roll she had been saving to celebrate the passing, but she found her stomach full of cotton, unable to process the salty pastry without retching.

Train – A Poem

Fuzzed up blackening blue seats crane eagerly at windows  

of green and grey whirling into each other. 

Vibrations confirm the world 

is 

passing 

by.

A head of oaky coloured strands 

tickling unseen ears weighs a bare neck down

towards the chalk of a resin table, 

eager eyes caressing words that remind them of how they

used 

to

be.