Midweek Shop [Short Story]

Dave!

Hey guys,

Just sat down and wrote this now! Following on from an exercise we did on a writing class I'm taking. It's supposed to focus on dialogue, and a specific brief/scenario was given. This is the first dialogue-heavy piece I've done really, and I've not done a whole lot of writing in general anyway.

Hopefully the Dublin pronunciation isn't too off-putting.

Let me know what you think

Thanks

Dave

Midweek Shop

“—and Anto –the pr*ck–said that he’ll be able to throw me the odd day here and there, so with the dole and the few quid I get deliverin’ dem leaflets, we should be grand! You know I couldn’t stand that f*ckin’ job anyway, it does me head in drivin’ around all day talkin’ sh*te; I’m better wi’ me hands, amn’t I?” Tommy rubbed his girlfriend’s wrist and smirked playfully; an eyeroll, the response.

“Mammy, can I have these sweets?” Sarah started to add an item to the trolley.

“Take them out. Go get 2 litres of milk.” The child slumped off disappointedly.

“Plus if I’m at home more then it means that I can mind Sarah, and maybe you can get a few hours in the shop or somethin’. I mean, we’ll hardly starve – sure the folks will throw us a few quid even, if it comes to tha’! Sure weredn’t you always moanin’ about how I was home late and you never got to see me?”

“‘cause you were in the pub” she sniped, taking another item from the shelf and adding it to the pile.

“Ahh don’t start, I’d only go once or twice during the week, and I can’t exactly just tell the lads to f*ck off, I’ve to go home to me missus – I’d never hear the end of it! And we’d just have a quiet few pints and watch a match, not doin’ an’in’ mad like.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than he could feel her eyes penetrate him. His face blushed, and he looked at the opposite shelf as he mouthed obscenities to himself, recalling that lapse in fidelity.

“Ma, they have loads of milk, which ones do I get?”

Tommy’s relief was apparent as he ran to grab his saviour and lift her into the air.

“Da! Stop! Put me down!” she giggled, as her father continued the assault. Mary couldn’t help but smile as she looked on at them. Tommy’s tight haircut, smooth face, and navy tracksuit ensemble betrayed his youth and inexperience, but whatever else about him, he really did love Sarah. That much was clear to Mary.

“Anyway, we should be tryin’ to be positive here” he said, taking control of the trolley. “We’re still young, we love each other, we’ve got a decent fla’, a healthy daughter, and another on the way. Most people would kill for all tha’! Yeah, it’s no’ perfect, but we’ll soldier through.”

“Have ye been down to FÁS yet?” Mary asked, recovering control of the trolley from her bewildered boyfriend. “I told ye they’ll sort ye ou’ wi’ some’n, or at least stick ye on a training course.”

“You know I wouldn’t be able for dem courses, you’re not wi’ me for me bleedin’ brains, are ye?”

“It’s a poxy forklift drivin’ course, not astro-Jayzus-physics.”

He looked at his runners as they walked silently.

“How was school today, luv?” He looked to Sarah to lift his spirits again.

“Mrs. Nevin helped us make cards for Valentine’s Day. Mine has a big heart on the front, and kisses on the inside”, she beamed.

“You’ll have to show me tha’ later.”

“Maybe my da can ge’ you a job wi’ him.”

“As a f*ckin’ postman?!” he balked incredulously, before scrambling to return the words to his mouth. “Well I mean, maybe he can ge’ me a job inside instead, sortin’ stuff or coun’in’ or sum’in. I know I’m no genius, but I did alrigh’ in Maths.”

“You did Foundation in the Leavin’.”

“Yeah, bu’ I go’ a C, which is an Honour!” he boasted.

Another eyeroll, as Mary began moving items from the trolley to the conveyor belt.

“Here, wha’ if we got married?” he blurted speculatively.

“If you’re thinkin’ they’ll pay you to do the ceremony: you have to be a priest for tha’.”
“That’s not what I mean…”
“You gonna drive the limo?”
“No…”
“Then how will tha’ help wi’ an’thin’?” she asked with a headshake, not skipping a beat as she unloaded the trolley.
“Isn’t there tax benefits an’ all tha’?”
“That’s not a good enough reason to get married.”
“Well I mean, I do love ye” he announced with some frustration. “We wanna spend the rest of our lives together anyway don’ we? We’ve a baby, another on the way; we should be married already, righ’?”
“Will ye stop…” Mary snickered.
“No I’m deadly serious! Heeyor--” He looked around the checkout area for inspiration. Glancing down at his daughter, and then double-taking, he couldn’t help but smile broadly with satisfaction at his ingenuity. He reached down and took one of Sarah’s modest golden hoops from her ear.

“You’re no’ f*ckin’ serious…” Mary’s face grew red, and she looked at the growing crowd as Tommy lowered himself awkwardly to one knee.
“Mary--”
“Get up ye bleedin’ eeji’!”
“Mary, ehh… I’m no’ good wi’ words like you are” he mumbled apologetically. “And I know this probably isn’t where you imagined this happenin’. But I really couldn’t imagine meself wi’ anyone else. I want to marry you. What do ye tink?”

As Mary looked down at him, through her tear-filled eyes she saw the vulnerability and clumsy sentimentality that she fell for in the first place, and which kept her smitten with him for so long. She looked off to the side, then back at Sarah, who was giddily holding her closed hands to her mouth and giggling. The crowd held their breaths and the excruciation and humiliation was apparent on Tommy’s face.

“Jayzus luv, put the chap ou’ of his misery will ye” chirped the till attendant.

“G’wan den” she surrendered, her fiancée rising to his feet. Cheers and hoots echoed around the store as the couple embraced and kissed.

“Wait ‘til I tell the lads – they’re gonna slag the sh*te outta me!”

dazzler454

Think that's a talented piece of writing. Would you mind if I reeled off a story that's been getting at me for weeks? Thanks

Timmyctc

Good grasp of dialogue heavy writing there. Keep at it good sir.

dazzler454

dazzler454 wrote: »

Think that's a talented piece of writing. Would you mind if I reeled off a story that's been getting at me for weeks? Thanks

Rick wasn't a popular lad, never fitted in or felt at home. Even at home. He always talked to his friends, of which he had none, about weird things such as bricks and glass. Why glass you ask? I havn't a bounce but neither did he. That's the thing you see, he never quite got what he was about, what he wanted to do or what made him shout. He didn't hate anything, never felt that painful sting. A normal lad would have called him a c u n t, Rick just didn't notice those fat runts. What did his family do with him? Nothing at all, not a ****in thing. His brother rejected him, just called him 'that thing'. So where's this going, this tale of no end, no meaning at all, its a roundabout bend. But that's where it ends, you have to see, around that bend, it's not you it's me. It's a weird enough existence, this inanimate lad, no one knew him, not even his dad. That's yet another story behind this man, his dad left a while ago, his mum said he ran. Confused now I see, the audience becomes, but what you must do, is think of his sons. This plain, blank man that doesn't exist, but he does you see, he's got skinny wrists. It's an odd one I know, this cold, dark story. But what you must see, it's all allegory. Think now why you know , and the think more. Gaze down the room, don't stare at the floor. Rick was his name, remember that. I know you will, and his brown, checkered hat. A simple man, dull as can be, is now sailing safely out to sea. You see? But that's not where it ends, it's in fact the beginning. So lets not take this tale any further, ill leave it up to you to direct the rudder. What's a rudder , it's that thing on a boat, you know those things that keep you afloat. A lifesaver you say? Well not at all, if it wasn't for boats no one would fall? Overboard into the sea.

alfa beta

well written - I can't read it without doing the accent

that's a good sign!


always found the same when I read anything by roddy doyle

...and he won the booker prize!!

pickarooney

I don't like the apostrophes for the glottal stops, it makes it read like Glaswegian in places. Other than that it's not bad at all.

Dave!

Cheers all

pickarooney, what would you suggest instead of apostrophes? That's the only way I'm familiar with for doing that.

pickarooney

I think just include the Ts. I like phonetic dialogue but find it a bit of a chore when it's every second word. It's a bit of a slippery slope as you can then get into modifying the vowels and you end up with something hard to read whereas you want dialogue to zip.
In your head, if you know the accent you'll 'hear' it the right way.

Dave!

I guess that's a personal preference thing really. Someone referred to Roddy Doyle earlier, which is what we were reading/discussing (The Commitments) before going off and doing the exercises. He drops the Ts a lot to reflect the pronunciation, and I think it works well. If I didn't include the accent, I'm not so sure it would be clear who the characters are, where it's set, etc.

pickarooney

The second word in the extract tells me everything I need to know

Yeah, it's very much a personal preference, best to go with your gut.

alfa beta

Hey dave - sometimes I find it's worth 'pushing' an accent at the start of a piece of dialogue - you know - by using apostrophes, dropping letters, throwing in a bit of slang etc - but then once the accent is established, lightening off a bit on changing spellings, words etc (my hope is that after a few lines a character and an accent will have been set up and the reader will automatically 'do' the accent in their own heads when reading - without having to be forced all the way by the author)

Now you mightn't like that idea as it does mean writing slightly inconsistently. But sometimes I find reams of 'accented' dialogue can be hard for the reader to wade through - and they may just need a hint every now and again instead.