Monday, 4 July 2011

Fly's in the buttermilk, Shoo, fly, shoo


INT. A DIMLY LIT ROOM.

A light bulb flickers. A shaft of dusty light enters from an open area at one end. The light is mainly obscured by a steep pile of building rubble.

There's discarded sinks, doors, a wardrobe, several piles from remnants of MDF furniture.

A gentle hum from ancient electronics, cables snaking through the debris. Spiders, scuttling sounds from the roof.

Our hero enters.

SOUND FX. A metallic scraping. Heavy chains.

Our hero smiles.

The skip has arrived. Now he can reclaim the space.

MONTAGE. (acc. busy music)
Manual labour. Mugs of tea. A flurry of polystyrene packaging caught in the wind. Dust. Cans of beer. Bicycles falling over. A bright orange lawnmower. More tea.

EXT. DRIVEWAY.
Zoom onto metal container. 8 cubic yards. Full.

Hero is dialling on phone "Send another."

FADE TO WHITE.

2 comments:

Imaginography said...

Clearout perchance? It's something on my list too. Last time I did a car boot sale to get rid of some items but ended up feeling violated. A skip might be the answer for the things I can't give to charity.

rashbre said...

Imaginography: You are partly right. This first skip was used to clear enough space so that I can arrange things in order to have a clear-out. If you know what I mean. Tourists visit this part of rashbre central to marvel at the installation quality arrangement of rubble. Maybe I should have offered it to the Tate?