Notes from New Sodom

... rantings, ravings and ramblings of strange fiction writer, THE.... Sodomite Hal Duncan!!

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Nowhere Town: Act ONE Scene V

Act ONE Scene V: The Streets of Nowhere

Fade to black.

When the lights come up we're outside a Music Shop – the platform, with the band's musical instruments on it now in place of the recordshop display stand. The OWNER enters, props up an electric guitar at the front of the stage, as if on display, places a Sale sign on it. Enter JACK, stage-left, walking towards the front of the stage. Enter JOEY and the other BAND MEMBERS behind him, following on and deep in their own conversation. JOEY jumps JACK and grabs him in a headlock.

JOEY: Yo, fag-boy!

JACK wrestles him off, shoves his shoulder in a mosh-pit buddy way.

JACK: Hey, it’s the Three Chord Boy Wonder!

JOEY: Three chords. That’s fucking prog rock, mate. Screw that.

JACK: You know there is such a thing as melody.

JOEY: Homo.

JACK: Breeder.

JOEY: So, you ready to fucking rock, tonight?

JACK: Fuck, yeah!

JOEY: Hey, check this out. [pulls JACK stage-left, where they stand in front of the platform. JOEY admires the electric guitar] Is that not beautiful?

JACK [sarcastic]: A guitar. Mmm. Lovely.

JOEY: Philistine.

JACK: Sorry. Just doesn’t do it for me. Now your brother, on the other hand –

JOEY: He’s straight.

JACK: Ah, there’s no justice in the world. I mean, with that ass -

JOEY: Oi! That’s my brother you’re talking about.

JACK [laughing]: Alright, alright.

JOEY: Come on. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me try it out.

JACK: … Just let me know if he starts buying Madonna albums, right?

JACK and JOEY walk into the Music Shop. The other BAND MEMBERS follow and disperse around the shop, to check out the instruments on display.

Enter PUCK stage-left followed by a group of YOBs. One of the YOBs points at PUCK while whispering to one of the others, then comes forward to get in his way.

YOB 1: Alright. So are you one of those metalheads, then? You into Iron Maiden and all that shit.

PUCK: Fuck off.

YOB 2 [to YOB 1]: Dickhead! He’s a punk, man.

YOB: Right, yeah. That punk music, then? Is that some Sex Pistols, eh? [singing badly] I am an anarchist!

PUCK [trying to get past him]: No.

YOB: Let’s see, then. [grabs one of the records]

PUCK: It’s the New York Dolls… [aside] twat.

YOB: Hey, there’s a bunch of trannies on this.

Inside the shop, JOEY has slung the guitar over his shoulder. He starts the opening chords of Dicks, Pricks and Fucking Hicks.

PUCK moves towards the YOBs, but making as little show of concern as possible. The YOB takes the album back to show his mates and it gets handed round. PUCK follows it, but doesn’t try to get it back or even ask for it. Tries to remain casual, knowing that they are winding him up. One of them lets the record slip out of the sleeve and PUCK turns away from the YOBS, furious, mouthing the word “fuck”, just as the lyrics kick in.

SONG: Dicks, Pricks and Fucking Hicks


Plain old-fashioned Ramones-style punk

JACK:

My town is a very shit town.
It’s designed to bring you down
And keep you down.
I hate my town.
Nothing to do to get your kicks,
Just dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

Fuck ‘em all. Kill ‘em all.
Screw ‘em all. They are all
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

The YOBs start trying to get the other record off of PUCK. PUCK tries to get away but is surrounded. Meanwhile, in the Music Shop the band are playing in true punk fashion, with much jumping about and general disregard for the shop.

Growing up on a housing scheme.
It’s designed to make you scream
Or make you dream.
Of gasoline,
Burnt-out cars and heads on sticks,
Dead dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

Fuck ‘em all. Kill ‘em all.
Screw ‘em all. They are all
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

The YOBs jostle PUCK until one of them manages to snatch the other record from his hand. They throw it between them, PUCK trying to catch it, getting shoved. The OWNER starts gesticulating to the band, getting more and more irate as they ignore him.

It’s so fucking civilised here.
God, it’s great to be a queer
And live in fear.
Pass me a beer.
I wanna drink cause I am sick,
Of dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

Fuck ‘em all. Kill ‘em all.
Screw ‘em all. They are all
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

PUCK loses patience and starts shoving back. JACK walks to the doorway, stands in it, looking out as he sings. The OWNER is remonstrating with JOEY, but drowned out by the music.

My town is a very shit town.
If I lost the plot and shot
The fuckers down
Would anyone frown?
Don’t know why anyone would cry
For dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

JACK sees PUCK being pushed around by the thugs, comes outside.

Fuck ‘em all. Kill ‘em all.
Screw ‘em all. They are all
Dicks, pricks and fucking hicks

JACK sees what’s going on and goes careening towards the YOBs, slams one of them across the stage, dodges another. Slamming like a wild man, he quickly scatters them and they leg it.

JACK: Hey. Come on. What happened to the mosh pit? Fucking pussies.

The music finishes and JOEY hands the guitar back to the owner – who looks less than happy, points in a get-out-of-my-shop way - comes to join JACK and PUCK, who is picking up what’s left of his records.

JACK: Fucking bastards.

PUCK: Thanks [looks up at him] … thanks.

JACK: No problem. Nice hair, by the way.

PUCK [smiles]: It’s my camouflage.

JACK: Green doesn’t work too well against… [waves a hand to encompass their surroundings] concrete. You want grey hair.

PUCK: If I have to live in this shithole any longer, I will have.

JOEY: What’s up?

JACK [crouching to pick up an album cover]: Fuckers jumped the boy here.

JOEY: So Jack Flash to the rescue, eh?

JACK [grins at PUCK, turning on the charm]: Yer knight in filthy armour.

JACK hands PUCK the cover, holds on to it for just too long to be quite comfortable. PUCK looks away, obviously embarrassed.

JOEY [looking down at the record sleeve]: Fun House. Man, those bastards deserve to die.

PUCK [sliding the record out of the sleeve]: It’s OK.

JACK: Cool. That’s got to be my all-time favourite album.

JOEY: TV Eye. Best song in the world. Ever. What's better than TV Eye, Jack?

JACK/ JOEY: TV Eye... twice!

PUCK: So… so was that you guys playing there?

JACK: Yeah. Impromptu gig.

JOEY: Oh, by the way. We’re barred from the shop.

JACK: How many’s that now?

JOEY: Who’s counting?

PUCK: You… you in a band or what.

JACK: Fuck, yeah. We’re playing tonight. At the Lost And Found [digging into his pocket] Got a free pass, here somewhere… yeah, here.

PUCK [takes it, looks at it]: Clipper or Moondog?

JACK: Well… actually, neither… we’re kind of filling in for Clipper. Apparently the drummer’s not speaking to the singer cause he caught the guy eating a burger.

JOEY: Straight-edgers.

JACK: Fuck that shit. Meat is gooood.

JOEY: Yeah, we all know you like your meat.

JACK flashes him a shut-the-fuck-up look.

PUCK: So what are you guys called?

JACK: Fagsmoke.

PUCK: Fagsmoke.

JACK [mock naïve and just slightly arch]: Where I’m from ‘fag’ means ‘cigarette’.

PUCK [looks embarrassed]: Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there. [backing away] Sounds cool.

JACK: Yeah. I think you might like it – hope so, anyway.

PUCK: Yeah, I’ve gotta go. I’ll maybe see you there. [exits]

JACK turns to JOEY and whacks him on the arm.

JACK: Fucking “meat”, ya bastard.

JOEY [laughs]: So is that your type, then?

JACK: Damn straight.

JOEY: The startled bunny rabbit. The deer in headlights look.

JACK: Ah. He was just awestruck by my charm and charisma.

PUCK: Or he thought you were gonna jump his bones.

JACK: He wanted me. Just too afraid to admit it.

JOEY shakes his head.

JOEY: Christ, it’s gonna be one of those gigs, isn’t it?

JACK [looking offstage after PUCK]: Damn straight. Flame on, motherfucker. Flame on.

***

Tomorrow: Love found and lost at The Lost And Found! What made JACK the man he is today. CHORUS sings his big number. All this and more in another installment of...

NOWHERE TOWN: A Punk-Ass Musical

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