Drama in the office

OPINION: My screenplay, por vous, writes Sarah McCarthy in this week's Uptown Girl.

INTERIOR, DAY. A modest home, rather messy and not in a carefree, bohemian way but rather in a slatternly, lazy way. A plumpty woman lies prone on the couch, running her hands through her knotted hair, watching Trisha and shoving chips into her mouth at random intervals. Her cellphone rings.

UPTOWN GIRL: Damn it's work. Hide hide hide. No, it might be something nice ... Hello, Sarah speaking.

VOICE FROM PHONE: Hi Sarah, it's work here. Someone left some baking in an ice cream container for you.

UPTOWN GIRL: Yayness with cream!

VOICE FROM PHONE: No, there's no cream.

UPTOWN GIRL: No, no that's not what I meant. Wow, thanks. Help yourself and then shove them in my mailbox.

UPTOWN GIRL: Yessssssssssssss. Bet it's Christie's Brownies. How kind! Yesssssssssss. Yessssssssssss. Ooh, chippies.

INTERIOR, DAY. Some days later. Uptown Girl's hair is straight, although there appears to be less of it, most being now in the bin after being pulled out on Saturday afternoon by Mr mr while she watched Twilight – pain for pain.

UPTOWN GIRL enters RECEPTION.

UPTOWN GIRL: Brownies Brownies yesssssssssss. Is there an ice cream container with my name on it?

NICE LADY AT RECEPTION: Nope.

UPTOWN GIRL: Nooooooooooo. Someone has Taken my Brownies. Noooooooooooooo.

INTERIOR, DAY, ELEVATOR.

UPTOWN GIRL: Nooooooooooooooooooo.

INTERIOR, DAY. The Office. The proper reporters are having their proper morning meeting.

UPTOWN GIRL: I have something to say that is very important and stuff.

The reporters gaze at her as if she is a talking monkey.

UPTOWN GIRL: Did anyone take my brownies? In an ice cream container? They were mine. Someone has taken them. They must pay.

Reporters shake their heads, shuffle papers, look out the window, pick their noses.

UPTOWN GIRL: As the chief reporter as my witness, I will find who has taken my brownies and I will DESTROY THEM.

She storms into her office, ranting and raving.

UPTOWN GIRL: They were mine! Mine! I don't mind sharing but these were special. They were for me. Oh, these have become slightly too important. Perhaps I have had too much coffee.

OFFICE PAL FANNY: No, I agree! people are terrible! Let's kill them all!!!

Noises off. The boss is next door. UPTOWN GIRL and OFFICE PAL FANNY go quiet and hide under their desks, quaking with fear. UPTOWN GIRL starts to cry.

OFFICE PAL FANNY: Don't worry. Let's go have a ciggie. One day we'll run away from all this and work in an office where all we have to do is stamp envelopes and put stickers on things.

UPTOWN GIRL: I know, pal. Thanks.

BOSS enters.

BOSS: Why are you hiding and crying again?

UPTOWN GIRL: Umm, there was a velociraptor in here but it jumped out the window.

BOSS: Cool. I interviewed one of those once. Here, is this ice cream container yours? It might be a bomb, so you open it.

UPTOWN GIRL: Yaaaaayness with cream! My brownies!

BOSS: There isn't any cream.

End.

» Sarah McCarthy is a Southland Times staff member.

- © Fairfax NZ News