DOMESTIC
CHARACTERS
LON SMITH
AUDREY SMITH
JAY SMITH
WATER TAXI DRIVER Doubled by actor playing JAY
CHARITY AUCTIONEER Doubled by actor playing JAY
ESTATE AGENT Doubled by actor playing JAY
ACT 1
Scene 1
Night. The façade of a large two-storey house.
The configuration of lit windows, door, and other features
cause the façade to resemble a face. Windows for eyes, the
door a nose..
LON enters in dishevelled suit, pushing a shopping trolley
containing numerous books, a bent golf club, a petrol can,
and bottle of wine and glass.
He limps, is sleep-deprived and has been drinking. Amongst
other things. He downs a glass of wine. Stares at the house.
LON
Are you looking at me? Are you
looking at me?
He raises his arms above his head and bows - deeply,
ritualistically - to the house.
Before pouring himself another glass of wine, slugging it,
and selecting a book..
LON (CONT'D)
Freud.
..from which he tears pages, scrunches them into balls and
begins to build a paper pyre against the wall of the house.
LON (CONT'D)
Jung.
He adds pages torn from other books in his collection.
LON (CONT'D)
Adler.
Whole paperbacks.
LON (CONT'D)
Father. Son. Holy Ghost. B.F.
Skinner. R.D. Laing. Pavlov.
Bandura. Dr Moe. Dr Larry. Dr
Curly.
And other texts, deemed flammable as is.
LON (CONT'D)
Piaget. Rorschach. Kinsey. Sex
Therapy. Steady, Lon. Focus.
Gestalt Therapy. Cognitive
Behavioural Therapy. Electro
Convulsive Therapy.
Shove A Fork In The Toaster And
You'll Be Fine, Madam. The Identity
Crisis. The Midlife Crisis. The
Incontinent Old Goat Crisis. A
Bottle In Front Of Me or A Frontal
Lobotomy? Self Self Self. More Self
Self Self. Further Explorations in
Self Self Self. Self Self Self For
Dummies. Id, Ego, SuperEgo and The
Jetski Rider. Parenting Little
Shits. The Inferiority Complex. The
Oedipus Complex. The Electra
Complex. The Westfield Shopping
Complex. Parking Problems And
Incandescent Rage In The Mature
Adult Male. Road Rage. Two Wheeled
Bourgeois Twats In Lurid Lycra
Rage. Toenail Clipping On Public
Transport Rage.
He douses the pyre in petrol.
LON (CONT'D)
Flat Pack Assembly Rage. Lost
Remote Rage. Call Centre Rage.
Mumbai Rage. Fucketty fucketty.
Facebook Rage. Twitter Rage. Selfie
Rage.
Searches his pockets and locates a disposable lighter.
LON (CONT'D)
Birth Rage. School Rage. Work Rage.
Marriage Rage. Divorce Rage.
Centrelink Rage. Meals On Wheels
Rage. Morphine Drip Rage. Flatline
Rage. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeep..
Which refuses to function.
LON (CONT'D)
The Wind Blew My Ashes Back In My
Children's Faces Rage.
Repeatedly.
LON (CONT'D)
Disposable fucking cigarette
lighter rage. Light, you shonkey
Chinese bastard! Light!
He continues clicking the lighter. In vain.
LON (CONT'D)
Are you angry, Lon?
By way of answer, he attacks the trolley with the golf club.
AUDREY enters, returning home, in expensive dress, heels,
jewellery and trimmings, bearing a monster bunch of flowers.
She watches LON'S continuing tantrum.
Abandoning the golf club, LON searches his pockets, locates a
blister pack of pills and downs a couple with wine.
Before noticing AUDREY. He resumes clicking the lighter.
LON (CONT'D)
Burning down the house.
AUDREY
Are you angry, Lon?
LON
New gown. You look stunning.
AUDREY
For a good cause.
LON
Pricks. Ungrateful pricks. I over
prescribed for every single bastard
on that committee. Who saved all
their marriages? Me. Who got all
their children off charges? Me. Who
helped them understand self-harming
was a cry for help? Who enlightened
them to the self-serving hypothesis
that there was no such thing as
normal? Or if there was, they were
it? Pricks. I'm uploading their
confidential files onto the net.
AUDREY
Lon, my sweet. You love them. And
they love you. Or they did love
you. Making house calls in a g
string with the centreboard of a
windsurfer tucked under your arm.
You were renowned for your
discretion.
LON
Did whatsisname - Fuckface The Slug
- give you the flowers?
AUDREY enters the house.
LON listens - with familiarity - as AUDREY, once inside,
locks the door, severally.
After which LON waits for the house interior to light up.
Then locates a particularly weighty tome in the trolley.
LON (CONT'D)
Audrey!? Auds!?
AUDREY opens an upper floor window. LON brandishes the book.
LON (CONT'D)
"Sexual Behaviour In The Human
Male". Page turner.
AUDREY
Overwritten.
LON
Lend me some matches?
AUDREY hurls out a bundle of clothes, which land on top of
LON, before she slams the window shut.
LON (CONT'D)
Running out of Audreys, Unds.
Running out of undies, Auds.
He resumes flicking the lighter, in vain.
LON (CONT'D)
I miss them, Audrey. I miss them
all. Especially my poor depressos:
"Don't worry, be happy!" And my
schizos: "The voices are all in
your head, dear heart!" My
anorexos: "Just eat!" And/or "Not
in my toilet, you don't!" My
fatsos: "Just don't eat! And/or
"Yes, your arse does look big in
that." My aggressives: "Back off!".
Retentives: "Let go!" Passives: "Do
something." Obsessives: "Stop doing
it!" Manics: "Slow down!"
Hysterics: "Get a grip!" Phobics:
"Get down off that chair!"
Paranoids: "There's nothing behind
there, you fool!" Deviants: "Well,
what's wrong with that?" Fluffy-dog
wielding heiresses with canine
husband displacement disorder and
Sleeping Beauty issues. Cross
dressing Sydney to Hobart tycoons
with White Pants Anxiety and Hello
Sailor Syndrome. Botched
faceliftees who see their sad
stretched visage exploding in an
inkblot. I miss them all.
Post-liposuction depressives,
breast-implanted suicidals, triple
bypassed colon-blocked bead
kneading share-trading neurotics
trailing substance-abusing closet
vomiting face-stuffing stomach
banding self-harming offspring. I
miss their spectacular parties.
The window opens again.
AUDREY
Did you say something?
LON
You'll be pleased to know I'm
staying at the eleventh hole. In a
deep comfy bunker with north east
aspect and water views. Position
position position.
He empties a pocket full of sand. As AUDREY goes.
LON (CONT'D)
At night polo shirts striped like
licorice allsorts glide about the
clubhouse in complete denial of
clinical depression.
AUDREY reappears in the window, with a golf bag and clubs.
AUDREY
You'll need these.
LON
Audrey, my love - no! Just drop
them gently!
AUDREY does not drop the bag and clubs gently.
LON (CONT'D)
Ah! Ah! Always put your clubs in
your wife's name or you'll lose
them.
As LON stows the golf gear in the trolley, he remembers a
half-full bottle of vodka concealed in the bag. He drinks.
LON (CONT'D)
Oh, Mother Russia. I will love thee
till I die. Russians pray with
their eyes open. Did you know I
come here every night, Auds? Catch
the last train up, stay all night,
catch the first train back.
Circumstance has reduced me to the
status of commuter. I'm not
stalking you.
I'm stalking the house. Do
housefronts resemble the faces of
their owners? You know, like dogs -
He topples over, unconscious.
AUDREY
Lon?
LON does not move.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
You shit!
AUDREY comes downstairs, exits the house, approaches LON.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
Lon?
Wary, she directs a test kick at LON'S head, stopping just
short of contact. LON does not flinch.
AUDREY crouches beside LON as she dials her mobile.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
Ambulance -
LON seizes her wrist. AUDREY struggles. LON holds on.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
I'll scream.
LON
They've heard it before.
AUDREY screams. Long and loud. To no response.
LON (CONT'D)
They've heard it before.
As LON continues to hang onto AUDREY'S wrist.
LON (CONT'D)
Any word from Jay?
AUDREY
Clean. Working on a farm.
LON
Oh yes. What do they grow on this
farm?
AUDREY
That's the spirit.
LON
Where is this farm?
AUDREY
They don't allow family. For
obvious reasons. Are you having an
episode?
LON
Is what's-his-name - Fuckface The
Slug - moving in?
AUDREY
Please don't call David that.
AUDREY manages to engage her mobile with her free hand.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
(to mobile)
Please forget the ambulance. I want
the police - !
LON seizes AUDREY'S other wrist, causing her to drop the
mobile. LON kicks it away.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
I have no idea why I married you.
LON
A statistically significant
majority of teenage girls marry
their psychiatrist these days.
AUDREY
I was insane. I was. I was fucked
up.
LON
And I fixed you.
She frees a hand and slaps him, hard.
LON (CONT'D)
Psychiatry 101. Never tell a woman
the truth.
AUDREY
You will get the house back over my
dead body.
LON suddenly remembers something else: he hurls the
malfunctioning lighter away. Unzips a pocket in the golf bag.
Rummages. Extracts a gold lighter.
LON
Yes! The 24 carat gold Zippo!
The Zippo works. LON adjusts the plume of flame to maximum.
He approaches the pyre..
AUDREY
Go on then. Burn it down. Burn down
the house, Lon. Burn it.
LON
(sings)
Smoke on the water, fire in the
sky..
..and activates a shrieking smoke alarm.
LON hurriedly loads the clothing, golf bag, vodka, into the
trolley.
As AUDREY laughs, retrieves her mobile..
..and laughs even more when the smoke alarm is joined by the
siren of a fire engine..
..followed by the siren of an approaching police car.
LON scuttles off with the trolley.
Scene 2
The sound of waves crashing on rock.
LON enters, with trolley. He moves downstage..
..to the edge of an ocean-facing clifftop, The Gap. A
traditional suicide locale.
He looks over the edge, down, toward the base of the cliff.
LON (CONT'D)
Proximity to The Gap is important.
A vertiginous clifftop within
walking distance of the unfit is a
mandatory feature of any residence
worth its inflated price tag.
He washes down another pill with vodka.
LON (CONT'D)
I wiped a steamed-up peak hour bus
window in mid-winter and lo! There
it was. Atop a hill, on the far
side of a mist-shrouded valley, lit
up like Pope Liberace's wedding
cake. I dreamed of the house that
night. Ten years after graduation I
owned it.
Pause.
LON (CONT'D)
I saw people on that hill too.
People who didn't need to save.
People who dressed well. Who were
at ease with the finer things.
Whose parties made the papers.
Whose much selfied-and-posted
mouths were always wide open,
enjoying life! Ha! HA! I discovered
they were faking it. These people
were depressed! Further research -
covert - revealed depression to be
skyrocketing among the well-to-do!
The elite were more depressed than
the herd! I thought it through. And
it became crystal clear. How could
Winners not be depressed? Winners
are left with no excuse for
unhappiness. I told no-one. I saw
an opening. I went for it.
Positioned myself within the
milieu, worked like a dog, married
up, partied right, opened wide for
the camera, didn't sleep for a
decade and won my Dream House. With
every inclusion I ever wanted, one
of which was Audrey. Does that
answer your question?
Scene 3
Darkness. Outside the Dream House.
LON enters, golf club in one hand, bottle in the other. He
slowly makes his way down the side of the house, and
disappears.
The sound of breaking glass.
The house façade/face ascends or otherwise disappears from
sight.
LON is now inside. Inside where?
In darkness, he trips over an object on the floor. He plunges
forward. Cannons into a wall.
LON (CONT'D)
Shit!
He locates a light switch. In the revealed room/s, something
is not right. Skewiff perspective? A touch of de Chirico
surrealism? Windows framing strange scenery?
Together with the "face" exterior, the room indicates that if
LON is inside a house, the house may be inside his head.
A sofa. Two chairs. Several large flower arrangements in
designer vases.
The object over which he tripped is AUDREY'S dead body.
LON (CONT'D)
Aud?
He drops the golf club.
LON (CONT'D)
I didn't do it.
He sits, befuddled, slugs at the liquor bottle..then falls
unconscious once more.
AUDREY rises from the dead.
She shakes LON awake.
Seeing AUDREY, LON screams and falls unconscious again.
AUDREY waits.
LON wakes, rises, washes his face, combs his hair,
straightens and dusts off clothing, locates a new jacket..
..and so transforms into the approximation of a cleaner,
tidier, pre-homeless LON.
He sits opposite AUDREY. Or lies with AUDREY seated behind,
in Freudian mode.
In a form of psycho-analytic transference, Audrey has become
Lon's psychiatrist. Or vice versa.
Pause.
AUDREY
(professionally)
Are you angry, Lon?
LON
Of course I'm fucking angry!
AUDREY
Would you like to tell me about
that?
LON
I feel unappreciated. Deeply
unappreciated.
(laughs)
A terrible mistake has been made!
Shocking! Shocking! Shocking!
AUDREY
I see. Deeply unappreciated by
whom?
LON
Everybody. Or everybody who is
anybody. Or anyone who is somebody.
Or whoever is whatever. They
dropped me immediately upon
erroneously detecting what they
took to be the Acrid Scent Of Loser
tingling in their hand-sculpted
nostrils. How could they not see it
was a simple cry for help?
AUDREY
I see. What was a simple cry for
help?
LON
Everything!
He laughs himself into deep-lunged wheezing.
LON (CONT'D)
The atrocities. The atrocities! The
atrocities! Shocking! Shocking!
AUDREY
I see. Would you like to tell me
about 'the atrocities'?
LON
No. Of course I want to tell you
about the fucking atrocities! I'm
proud of the atrocities! The
atrocities were magnificent! The
atrocities were breathtaking in
their offence! I was in awe of
myself for arousing such intense,
hissy-fitty-spitty social outrage.
The atrocity that finally and
permanently got me crossed off The
Lists was transcendental in its
abomination. Context: the portfolio
had become worthless overnight,
Audrey was screwing my broker, my
son was a junkie thief and I hadn't
slept for five days. Fortunately,
at that stage I still had a
prescription pad. On the sixth day,
I garnered a ponytail wig, strode
into the Armani Emporium, selected
an eight thousand dollar suit, two
thousand dollar shoes, assorted
gold and silken accessories, and
did a well-dressed runner.
He dons a ponytail wig and designer sunglasses.
LON (CONT'D)
D & G. Fell into a pocket of the
suit as I hastened past. I located
the Opera House at speed and
approached a resting water taxi.
JAY enters, in the outward form of a WATER TAXI DRIVER.
LON (CONT'D)
Take me to Palm Beach.
WATER TAXI DRIVER
Palm Beach?
LON
Out the heads and turn left?
WATER TAXI DRIVER
I'm afraid this craft is not
licenced to venture beyond the
heads, sir.
LON pulls a knife.
LON
This is an emergency. The Black and
White Ball Committee are holding a
Children's Hospital Fundraising
Auction. Drive. Sail. Whatever.
The WATER TAXI DRIVER and LON head 'east'..
LON (CONT'D)
We motor into a stiff south
easterly on a rising swell. It is a
bumpy ride.
..before - bumpily - turning northward.
LON (CONT'D)
Beyond the heads, it becomes
bumpier.
WATER TAXI DRIVER
I'm feeling seasick, sir.
LON
However, with the gale now behind
us, we go like the clappers.
WATER TAXI DRIVER
I am definitely feeling seasick,
sir.
LON
Watch out for that whale! Give me
the wheel, you aquatic fool.
LON laughs, wheezes, as the WATER TAXI DRIVER vomits over the
side.
LON (CONT'D)
I beach the vessel in the dark,
occy-strap the driver to a heritage
bollard..
He octopus-straps the WATER TAXI DRIVER.
LON (CONT'D)
..slip past security while they're
preoccupied in frisking a babe, get
up to speed in the bathroom..
He snorts a line of cocaine.
LON (CONT'D (CONT'D)
..emerge like Superman, up up and
away into the heavily fragrant
crowd and bid high, baby, high.
High. Higher. Highest.
JAY becomes the CHARITY AUCTIONEER.
CHARITY AUCTIONEER
Ladies and Gentlemen. Item number
one. Degustation for two at
Tetsuya's, plus a case of Bollinger
Blanc de Noirs. What am I bid?
LON
Ten thousand! Twelve! Fifteen!
Twenty!
CHARITY AUCTIONEER
Sold! The Bang and Olufsen home
theatre system.
LON
Fifteen thousand! Twenty! Anything
for the children. Anything. Twenty
five!
CHARITY AUCTIONEER
Sold! Three weeks all expenses paid
villa holiday, with cruising yacht,
on the Amalfi coast.
LON
Thirty thousand! Forty! Fifty! Go
on, bid against me, I dare you.
Don't you like children?
CHARITY AUCTIONEER
And now, ladies and gentlemen, the
big ticket item: the BMW 909 Luxury
Sports with warranty, service, and
Premium 98 octane for a lifetime,
yours or that of the vehicle,
whichever terminates first.
LON
The auctioneer is a clown. They're
all clowns. I am surrounded by
clowns in the guise of former
patients, or vice versa, all
cheering on the handsome pony
tailed stranger in the Armani suit
with bottomless philanthropic
pockets. Beware the wounded shrink,
ye neurotic quisling socialites!
Lon Smith is writing his memoirs:
"Struck Off. Professional
Confidentiality No Longer Applies".
Or possibly, "Adventures In The
Fruit Trade". Or "Me, Mad? What
About Them?" Or "Honey I Shrunk The
Rich And Famous"..
He laughs/wheezes, almost fit-like, to point of sweating.
When he calms, he stares, seems lost.
AUDREY
Lon?
LON
Sorry.
He takes out his blister pack of pills, with intent.
AUDREY
I don't think that's a good idea.
LON
One more won't hurt.
He refrains.
LON (CONT'D)
What was the question again?
AUDREY
Would you like to finish your
account of the atrocities?
LON
I win all the big stuff. I win it
all and can't pay for any of it.
Well, that shows them, doesn't it?
I demonstrate I am far smarter than
they whilst simultaneously
enhancing my already shockingly
poor reputation. My photo is all
over both social and front pages of
every rag in town before the shelf
company cheque bounces. I am
brilliant. Quite quite brilliant.
AUDREY
How aware were you of what you were
doing?
LON
I am hyper-aware at any particular
moment in time, but the moment has
no connection with the moments
which precede it, nor those which
follow. The thing is, I am a
walking cocktail shaker replete
with every mood shifter and
painkiller I can possibly
prescribe, so I have numerous
personalities operating at the one
time, each following a different
imperative with obsessive
compulsive zeal.
AUDREY
Was that confusing for you?
LON
Not at all. And I am pain free. So
pain free, doctor, I am truly in
the moment. Truly in the moment.
In. The. Moment. Oh, how often do
we not heed our own professional
advice? Stay in the moment, Lon. I
stay in the moment until Audrey
feels compelled in the moment to
introduce herself in the moment
to the newest and brightest
ponytailed philanthropic star in
her gold-rattling over-cosmeticised
firmament.
AUDREY leaps up.
AUDREY
You!? You!? It's you!
LON seizes AUDREY and places the knife to her throat.
LON
Don't try anything silly,
thrillseekers. Continue designer
mortification, by all means, but
please, keep it impotent.
He backs away with hostage AUDREY, frees the WATER TAXI
DRIVER, and the three head 'north'.
LON (CONT'D)
At high speed we head for the south
of Spain.
Sirens.
LON (CONT'D)
The water police catch our taxi off
Caves Beach. On the Central Coast.
Just south of Newcastle. Beautiful
spot. Poor Auds.
He releases AUDREY. She returns to the psychiatrist role.
AUDREY
Why do you say that?
LON
Why do I say what?
AUDREY
Poor Auds.
LON
I don't know.
AUDREY
Tell me about your ex wife.
LON
She was my patient. When she was
fifteen. She was out of control.
Scene 4
AUDREY removes her designer glasses, changes her hairstyle,
becomes teenage AUDREY. LON removes wig and sunglasses, to
become thirty-something LON.
Young AUDREY and thirty-something LON stare into each other's
eyes. A mutual impulse takes hold. They kiss passionately,
tear at each others clothes, manoeuvre to couple on the sofa.
AUDREY
I told my parents about us.
Coupling is interrupted.
LON
Jesus! Are you insane!?
AUDREY
What sort of question is that,
Doctor?
LON
Jesus! Why? What did you tell them?
AUDREY
I told them we were in love.
LON
Audrey. That's illegal.
AUDREY
I'm joking. I'm joking? Love is
crap. All I told them was, we were
having great sex on your desk. So
this time their money isn't going
to waste.
She embraces him.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
Aren't we? So having great sex on
your desk? Great psycho-sex.
LON
Wait wait wait wait wait wait.
AUDREY
Why why why why why why?
LON
Stop! Stop! Shit. Shit shit shit.
Do your parents know you're here
now?
AUDREY
I think so. Elizabeth dropped me
off. Mother.
LON
Shit. What's she up to? Is this a
set-up? Is this whole shrink thing
a setup? It is, isn't it? Christ.
You're in on it! Get out! Get out
now! Don't touch me!
AUDREY
Are you having an episode, Doctor?
How many of those pills of yours
did you take?
LON
I want you to leave. I want you to
leave right now. Get out! Get out!
AUDREY
Don't be silly. Mother has gone
shopping. She's happy for me.
Father is happy for me too. They
think you're money well spent,
Doctor Smith. They are dying to
meet you.
LON
It's a little early for that.
AUDREY
They admire you, Doctor Smith. You
fixed me. I'm not depressed any
more. But I will be if you don't
fuck me on your desk very soon.
She embraces him, feels his groin.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
Oh. Where's Mr Python gone?
LON
He's in shock.
AUDREY
I know how to fix him.
LON
No. Let's just talk today.
AUDREY
Do we have to? Talk?
LON
There will be other times. Let's
just talk today.
AUDREY
What about?
LON
Would you like to talk about your
depression?
AUDREY
What about it? I told you, I'm not
depressed any more.
She sits, rolls a joint from a packet of Drum.
LON
So..you feel the management regime
is working out, Audrey?
AUDREY
Oh yeah. I'm like so not depressed
I'm going back to school.
And I don't joyride or shoplift or
deal drugs any more.
LON
Well that is terrific, Audrey. That
is progress.
She lights up, draws deeply.
AUDREY
It was like you said. I was trying
to outrun the pain. Not assessing
the impulse before reacting. I now
know my thoughts and feelings are
not me. They are transient shards
deployed by the mind to haunt, cow,
and manipulate me. I now know my
mind is not my friend. My mind is a
dark prankster. My mind is a thug.
My mind lies. It criticises. It
blackmails. It flatters. It
seduces. My mind will so do
whatever it takes to so drive me
and it so round the bend. Yes, I'm
like so ticking all the boxes now,
Doc.
She offers him the rolled joint.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
It'll relax you.
LON demurs.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
Did I tell you my charges were
dropped?
LON
No, you didn't. That is good news.
AUDREY
I would've so had his guts for
garters in court. I had fifty
hotties with big tits lined up to
say he was always finding an excuse
to bust into the gym and perve on
our boobs. I'll bash him again if
he keeps trying to confiscate my
weed.
She offers the joint again.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
Go on. It'll free your mind.
LON warily accepts the offer. Inhales. Holds.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
You're invited to dinner with my
parents on saturday night.
LON exhales with a certain alarm.
Scene 5
Patient LON, psychiatrist AUDREY, in transference, again.
LON
I'm being punished.
AUDREY
I see. What do you think you are
being punished for?
LON
For dreaming. I'm being punished
for daring to dream.
AUDREY
I see. What do you dare to dream
about?
LON
The house. My house.
AUDREY
I see. Might the house be a
metaphor?
LON
Ha! Excuse me? Freud? The house as
metaphor for the father? Really?
Freud!? Ha! When in doubt, fall
back on the Old Necromancer. Wrap
yourself in the woolly blather of
the Old Obscurantist. The Old
Obfuscator whose singular
achievement - to be simultaneously
opaque, prolix, and devoid of
genuine empirical evidence - allows
any charlatan with a framed
parchment to hide behind what the
Old Witchdoctor laughably called
analysis. Analysis? I laugh. Ha!
Surely, madame, surely you are not
a Freudian? And thus, a Charlatan?
AUDREY
The Old Misogynist did have some
useful insights. Mostly about men.
LON
The house is not a metaphor for my
father, nor anything else. It's a
house.
AUDREY
Would you like to talk about your
father?
LON
My father was a good man. He was a
panel beater.
Pause.
LON (CONT'D)
A dodgey panel beater. I loved him.
So did my revhead mates. He'd bog
up a billycart for rego. The RTA
caught up with him. He was never
the same. He drank himself to
death.
AUDREY
Was that painful for you?
LON
I'd left home by then. But yes, it
was painful for me. More painful
for him. And mum. I'm getting a
cramp. Do you mind if I walk about?
I have not been able to sit still
in the absence of barbiturates
since primary school. Why don't you
walk about with me?
AUDREY
When you think about your
upbringing, your family, what sort
of feelings arise?
LON
Affection. Amusement. Pride. I wish
they hadn't named me after a
skiffle singer. Lonnie Donegan? "My
Old Man's A Dustman"? My parents
were good people trapped by
circumstance. Dad worked, mum fed
us and kept house. They wanted me
to have a better life. They
supported me. Even when I did
things they didn't understand. Like
become a shrink. Shrink was what
happened to clothes and income.
LON is becoming physically agitated.
AUDREY
Is your mother still alive?
LON
She lives with her sister in a
retirement village in Woollahra. I
lie. In St. George's Basin. I don't
know why I can't say Woollahra with
a straight face any more. When it
comes to pretence I have no staying
power. Am I a choker, doc? A
classic and chronic case of Chokeur
de Hauteur Syndrome? Or is it
Chokeur à Hauteur? What do you
think?
AUDREY
What do you think?
LON
Their generation didn't need
shrinks. They just got on with it.
AUDREY
Do you have a theory as to why that
is? Or was?
LON
They didn't have time on their
hands. They didn't have idle minds.
And they didn't think they were
important.
AUDREY
Do you think you're important?
LON
If the house is a metaphor, it most
likely is a metaphor for me.
AUDREY
Tell me about the house.
LON
What about the house?
AUDREY
You said you dream about it?
LON
Constantly. I dreamt about it on
the night I first saw it. I dreamt
about it every night thereafter,
until I bought it. After which I
continued to dream about it, in its
evolving state of enlargement,
until I lost it.
In the wake of which I dream about
it more than ever, and will
continue to do so, even though my
ex-wife has tasked an interior
decorator with obliterating in the
Tuscan style any and all trace of
my occupancy, from fishpond
fountain to toilet seats.
AUDREY
Do you dream about any particular
aspect of the house?
LON
I dream about every feature, from
atrium to attic, from tiles to
tapware, from garden to garages.
The Dream House Dream is chronic,
doc.
AUDREY
Is there anything more you'd like
to tell me about the house?
LON
The house is beautiful. Beauty is
what we all seek. Don't you think?
AUDREY
What do you think?
LON
As soon as the barbarian gets
inside the gates, he surrounds
himself with beautiful things. Once
inside the palace, Stalin didn't
shop at Bestsky & Lessky. He also
whacked in a monster picture window
so the less fortunate could peer
in. Live in envy, die in despair,
peasant! Status is all about
revenge, isn't it?
AUDREY
Is it?
LON
Isn't it?
AUDREY
Prior to obtaining the house, did
you therefore see yourself as a
barbarian?
LON
I was crap. Audrey taught me about
beauty.
At the end of each day I speculate
on what might have transpired had
Audrey not been the over-indulged
daughter of wealthy parents, sought
professional help and so become my
patient, underage sexual partner,
and tutor in beauty. The furniture
would be crap and the neighbours
would look down their noses at me.
Trust me. I was crap.
LON'S legs give way beneath him.
Scene 6
Outside the Dream House. The façade/face has reappeared.
Off: the sound of a high-end automobile going through the
gears. At high-end speed.
AUDREY - visibly pregnant - waits outside, as an ESTATE AGENT
(JAY) hovers nearby.
AUDREY
I'm sorry. My husband shouldn't be
long now.
The ESTATE AGENT goes inside.
Off: the sound of squealing tyres.
Pause.
Off: followed by a violent crash.
Pause.
LON enters, hurrying, but with difficulty: in pain from an
injured back, limping. And somewhat manic.
LON
So? Do you love it? I love it. Do
you? Love it?
Pause. As AUDREY, impassive, stares at LON.
LON (CONT'D)
I stacked the status symbol. A
humbling experience. Or is it an
humbling experience. Well? Do you
love it?
Pause.
LON (CONT'D)
I had a little brush with the law.
And I tried to outrun them.
DB is taking care of it. DB's good,
isn't he? Old boyfriend? He
recommends I garner myself a
portfolio. I was in a hurry, ok? Is
that ok, Audrey?
AUDREY
It's my fault, is it?
LON
Not at all, sweetheart. You know I
love to hurry. I hurried from the
womb and have not stopped hurrying
since. Hurry is me. Shall we hurry
inside?
AUDREY
Are you having an episode?
LON
In my hurry I buggered my back,
giving me no choice but to
hurriedly prescribe myself
painkillers, hurriedly seek out a
compliant chemist, and hurriedly
consume the product.
AUDREY
How many did you take?
LON
I feel strangely un-hurried. So?
What do you think of the Dream
House? Do you love it?
AUDREY
How much is it?
LON
Only three point two. Do you love
it? It'll be worth double in two
years. Triple in five, according to
DB. He said if we weren't close
friends, he'd buy it himself.
AUDREY
Three point two. We don't need a
big house, Lon.
LON
You didn't grow up in a small
house. Auds. Auds. Auds. We worked
through this guilt thing of yours
when you were fifteen. Remember? We
concluded there is nothing
intrinsically evil in privilege.
Let's not fight over the size of a
house.
The ESTATE AGENT returns.
LON (CONT'D)
Lead on, McDuff. That's an
expression. McDuff was a famous
Shakespearean real estate agent.
McDuff sold Elsinore to Hamlet.
Love this front door. You'd need an
elephant to kick this in.
The façade/face disappears.
They enter the Dream House.
LON's mood heightens - becomes more "up" - considerably so -
as the inspection proceeds.
ESTATE AGENT
Spacious entry and reception room.
AUDREY
It's..huge.
LON
It's huge, mate. Not spacious.
Huge. Say it. Huge.
ESTATE AGENT
I agree. It is huge.
LON
The old double-fronted fibro would
fit inside here. Why don't we do
just that, Auds? Plonk it in here
as an installation. Or an antique.
Or both. That'll show them.
AUDREY
Shut up, Lon.
LON
I could sleep in the old joint
after we fight. Beats sleeping
upright in a repro Tutankhamen
casket.
AUDREY
Let the man do his job, Lon.
ESTATE AGENT
Spacious - huge - living room.
LON
Hand crafted marble tiling. With
sub-floor heating. Hot marble,
baby. Take off your shoes. Take off
your shoes.
LON removes his shoes.
LON (CONT'D)
Where's the remote? Have you got
the remote? Where's the remote? Who
used it last?
The REAL ESTATE AGENT indicates a control panel on a wall.
LON (CONT'D)
This is Houston Control. Adjusting
floor temperature to maximum now.
You haven't taken off your shoes,
Audrey.
AUDREY
I'll take your word that it works.
Let's move on.
LON
Who would think this wee panel
gives the user total environmental
control? Lighting!
LON turns lights on and off, in a strobe-like display..
LON (CONT'D)
Disco! Woo! Reach for the lasers!
..before running the gamut of environmental settings..
LON (CONT'D)
Air conditioning! From equatorial
heatwave..to arctic gale!
..climaxing in a loud freezing-cold gale-like effect.
LON (CONT'D (CONT'D)
Activate high-speed drainage of
pool, high-pressure clean, and
saltwater refill, now!
Off: a loud gurgling, rushing water sound.
LON (CONT'D)
Reset security alarm system to
latest local crime statistics!
He activates the alarm system.
AUDREY drags him away from the panel. The ESTATE AGENT -
after effort - manages to bring the system under control.
LON (CONT'D)
Please take off your shoes.
AUDREY removes her shoes.
LON (CONT'D (CONT'D)
Feel it? Hot marble.
AUDREY
Yes. It feels wonderful. Let's move
on?
LON
No, wait. Take it all off.
AUDREY
My husband is a comedian. He can't
help himself.
LON
Let's take it all off. Can we? All
three of us. Let's take off our
clothes and lie on the floor.
Audrey and I used to do that when
we were young. We'd stay stuck
together on the floor for hours.
ESTATE AGENT
The living room opens onto a north
facing sunroom, gym, and expansive -
huge - deck and entertainment
precinct.
LON
Held in the glorious embrace of a
two hundred and seventy degree
harbour view which can never be
built out until the Chinese take
over and reclaim the harbour for a
McMissile base.
ESTATE AGENT
Flanked by the soft-edged lap pool.
LON
I am disappointed in the pool. The
pool is the wrong shape, mate. I
want a moat. Moat, mate? Moat: a
deep wide water-filled trench,
usually surrounding a castle or
similar fortification.
He strides, at pace, around the house.
LON (CONT'D)
A heated moat. A heated chlorinated
moat. A heated chlorinated lap
moat. Renovation project numero
uno! I have several depressed
swimming pool installers as
patients. A competitive tender
process should liven them up.
I intend to aquatically
circumnavigate my dream house every
day to the benefit of my health and
the envy of morbidly obese
neighbours.
ESTATE AGENT
The master bedroom.
LON
Those arches have got to go. Or get
bigger. In the Moorish style. The
ceiling is too low. Or the floor is
too high. Another renovation
project.
ESTATE AGENT
Ensuite master bathroom.
LON
Gold, Audrey. Hand-crafted by Papal
Alchemists.
He strides through the house, at pace, visiting bathrooms.
LON (CONT'D)
More gold bathrooms than
Versailles. Audrey's bathroom.
Audrey's other bathroom. Audrey's
girlfriend's bathroom. Audrey's
girlfriend's other bathroom. Trick
cycling 101: Women love bathrooms.
Women will kill for exclusive use
of a huge bathroom. Particularly a
huge gold bathroom with floor-to
ceiling glass and views of nature,
where they may attend to their
toilette in the knowledge that the
young gardener supposedly trimming
the topiary is observing Madame's
ablutions with binoculars. So, my
little property-bubbling friend,
where is my huge bathroom? Ah! Of
course! Renovation project! Design,
construct and occupy until wrinkly
a bathroom conducive to
masculinity.
ESTATE AGENT
The kitchen.
LON comes running.
LON
Huge. A spectrum of functional
surfaces. Audrey doesn't cook.
Audrey barely eats. Audrey binge
diets.
The ESTATE AGENT attempts to finish the tour as quickly as
possible, as LON hounds him..
LON (CONT'D)
I love to cook. When I have time.
Who has time to cook?
AUDREY
I've seen enough.
AUDREY exits and waits outside.
ESTATE AGENT
Bedroom. Bedroom. Bedroom. Bedroom.
Bedroom.
LON
I love it. The house. I love it.
But it needs work. Is the price
negotiable? It's a huge project.
I'll need to draw on assistance
from an architect patient. And a
patient in the council planning
department.
ESTATE AGENT
Triple garage over wine cellar.
LON
And a builder patient. And a
plumber patient. And an electrician
patient. And a bank manager
patient. And a solicitor patient.
They're all depressed. Employment
on a huge scale will boost their
self-esteem. Are you familiar with
Smith's Reno-Manic Syndrome? Are we
lost?
The ESTATE AGENT thrust a brochure at LON..
ESTATE AGENT
It's all in here. I'm on leave as
of tomorrow. My partner will be
happy to assist you further.
LON
What is this? Where are we? Who are
you?
..and scuttles off.
LON rejoins AUDREY.
AUDREY
He was only doing his job. Why do
you need to torment?
LON
Displacement. Unintended
consequence of medication. Nerves.
I shall call him and apologise to
point of abasement. I shall grovel
and explain I behaved abominably
because I love the house and I am
simply terrified of missing out.
AUDREY
Three point two million?
LON
Daddy will bail us out if we get
into trouble.
AUDREY slaps him.
AUDREY
My father doesn't like you that
much.
LON
What about his grandson?
AUDREY
How do you know it's a boy?
LON
Whatever. I want my child to have
what I didn't. That's how it works.
AUDREY
It is a boy.
LON embraces AUDREY.
LON
Is he strong?
AUDREY
He is. I'm not. You know my
history.
LON
Colourful. And very public. You had
poor judgement in men. Then you met
me.
AUDREY
Not funny. This is my last shot,
Lon. The tubes can't take any more.
Can we wait? For the house? I don't
want stress.
LON
If we wait, we miss out. No-one
waits any more. We've talked about
this.
AUDREY
I don't want to lose this baby.
LON
You won't lose this baby. You
won't. Ergo, this baby needs
somewhere to live. Thus explaining
my selection of a residence so
patently a nipper's paradise.
AUDREY
Three point two million?
LON
DB's sorted the loan. He's good,
isn't he? He's helping me put
together an investment portfolio.
Three point two is nothing.
Nothing. Trust me. Depression is a
boom market.
AUDREY
What if it's a bubble? And it
bursts?
LON
What? The population suddenly
attains peace of mind? Is suddenly
content with its lot? You can not
be serious. The numbers of the
morose swell even as we speak. I am
mounting a giant digital counter on
the clinic roof. Two million sad
sacks and counting!
Pause. AUDREY is tearful.
AUDREY
I wanted a little girl. Just a
little girl. And a flower garden
for her to run in.
LON
We'll get the lad a dress. If he
develops problems, he can talk to
me.
AUDREY stalks out. LON deploys his mobile.
LON (CONT'D)
DB. She loves it. How much are they
asking? Offer them four.
Scene 7
Still inside the Dream House.
Patient LON, psychiatrist AUDREY, in transference, again.
LON (CONT'D)
Before we start. As you know, I'm
in the fruitcake game myself and
having studied my own case over a
number of years, in complete albeit
painful honesty, have come to the
firm conclusion that I am not
depressed. I am simply stressed by
Audrey, you, and everyone else
telling me I'm depressed when I'm
not depressed.
AUDREY smiles and hands LON a clipboard of diagnostic forms
and a pen. LON riffles through the documents.
LON (CONT'D)
Ah. Yes. DASS. BD1. X10. LSAS.
Gibberish. I'm familiar with the
forms. Gibberish. I don't trust
these things for one minute but on
the other hand I do see a patient
every forty five minutes and thus
need every form I can get to
facilitate traffic flow so I
encourage my psychopunters to fill
out as many pages of gibberish as
they can in the waiting room which
also economises on magazines and
Condé Nast is not happy but I am.
Gibberish.
He tries to return the clipboard. AUDREY resists taking it.
AUDREY
For this relationship to work you
need to let me conduct our
sessions.
LON
Afraid I will trick-cycle you while
you're trick-cycling me? This isn't
going to work. I know the subtext
of every question.
AUDREY
What makes you think there is a
subtext?
LON
There is always a subtext. To
everything. There is a subtext to
life. Death. Nice try, but this
isn't going to work. I know how
many points I need to score to be
depressed. I know how many points I
need to go into remission. I know
how many points I need to be seen
to be living in perfect and
perpetual bliss. I find the
temptation to cheat overwhelming.
AUDREY
What would be the point of
cheating, as you call it?
LON
Cheating is its own reward.
(reads)
"During the last thirty days, how
often did you feel worthless? None
of the time, a little, some, most,
or all of the time?" None of the
time. "How often did you feel
depressed?" None of the time.
"Hopeless?" None of the time. "So
sad nothing could cheer you up?"
None of the time. "So restless you
could not sit still?" None. Of.
The. Time. I just need a holiday.
Write that down. A nice long
holiday in the psychotropics. I
find filling out diagnostic forms
highly stressful.
He again tries to return the clipboard. Again AUDREY resists.
LON then fills in the top form at high speed.
LON (CONT'D)
I also know all the strategies.
CBT, REBT, MBCBT, ACT, EIEIO, POQ
and DCB. Turning off the tape,
challenging negative thought,
defusing automatic response, living
in the moment. All the spooky shit,
too. Primal screaming, past life
regression, hypnosis, acupuncture,
meditation, religion, sport and
getting a hobby.
He rapidly adds up his "score".
LON (CONT'D)
Voila. My card. Depression: par.
Anxiety: bogie. But only one over.
Within statistical margin for
error. Stress: eleven over par! Out
of bounds. Lost ball. Club in water
hazard. Assault on caddy.
Membership suspended. The numbers
don't lie. I'm only here because I
promised Audrey. Let's try another
tack. Ask me if I'm sleeping. Ha! I
don't sleep. I've never slept. Not
even in the cot. Whizzz! I was born
ON. I can't stand to miss a single
second of life. How can I sleep
while a world of mentally ill
people cries out for help?
AUDREY
What do you do when you don't
sleep?
LON
Stay awake. Boom boom. In a state
of agitated lethargy. Thinking.
Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.
AUDREY
What do you think about?
LON
Thinking. I think about the house.
I think about renovations. I think
about extensions. I think about
alterations. I think about
additions. To stop thinking I
pester Audrey for sex. Not every
night. Routinely every six months.
It's the key to marriage. I've
never strayed. Not even with
attractive patients who are under
my spell. Except for Audrey
herself. And that was different. Is
there a statute of limitations on
professional misconduct? Sometimes
I check Jay's room to see if he's
accidentally come home. Before I
resume thinking about the house.
He jumps to his feet.
LON (CONT'D)
I have to go. I have an RA meeting
to attend. Home renovation is an
obsessive compulsive disorder.
My name is Lon Smith and I am
addicted to renovation, extension,
alteration, addition, inclusion,
accessorisation, featuredom,
aggrandisement, upgrading and more
garages and bathrooms than you can
poke a stick at. Anything to show
the bastards. Too much will never
be enough. Sorry?
AUDREY
Sorry?
LON
Where were we?
AUDREY
Thinking.
LON
I think about how happy I am now I
have everything I ever wanted. I
think about how, even if I am
depressed, which I am not, I am
still happy, which I am. Ergo, I am
not depressed. On the other hand,
depression and happiness are not
incompatible. In my professional
opinion. Not when facilitated by
the appropriate medication. And now
we're finally, finally getting
somewhere, Doc.
AUDREY
And where is that?
LON
The crucial role played by
chemistry. I have an internal
chemical imbalance due to childhood
poisoning by exhaust fumes and
panelbeater's bog. All I require to
combat this imbalance is the
appropriate medication, which
hitherto I have been able to
prescribe myself, thus avoiding the
need to knock over a chemist, which
would not look good for one in my
professional position.
AUDREY
Would you like to tell me about
your medication?
LON
In detail?
AUDREY
It might be useful.
LON
Well! Lately I'm finding two or
even three Rohypnol insufficient to
shut out the cries for help. That
can only be good, don't you think?
For those crying out?
AUDREY
Are you taking any other
medication?
LON
Assorted pick me ups when I need a
lift. One more won't hurt. That's
my motto. Morphine. For the back.
And the leg. Car crash. You'd think
a morphine and Roey cocktail would
finesse a little nap, wouldn't you?
Washed down with a booming 14.5 per
cent McLaren Vale shiraz? No way.
LON'S mobile rings. Ringtone: "Don't Worry, Be Happy".
LON (CONT'D)
I have to take this. This is Dr
Smith.
LON listens. At length.
LON (CONT'D)
Fuck off.
He hangs up.
LON (CONT'D)
Deregistration procedures have been
commenced against me.
AUDREY
Would you like to talk about that?
Pause.
LON
One more won't hurt.
LON searches his pockets.
AUDREY
I'm sorry?
LON
Sorry? What was the question again?
AUDREY
Would you like to talk about your
deregistration?
LON locates a blister pack, extracts a pill.
LON
What this is really about, is, I
showed the bastards and they didn't
like it. So they had to bring me
down. It all makes perfect sense.
AUDREY
I'm not sure I understand.
LON
Jesus Mary and Joseph. If you don't
understand, how am I supposed to?
Fortunately, I do. Understand.
AUDREY
Would you like to elaborate on
that?
LON
The bastards - not those bastards
but the other bastards - or maybe
they are the same bastards - I
should look into that - they invent
new ways to fail every day. Every
day, a million new ways to fail.
Jesus wept. Are you driving that?
Are you wearing that? Are you
eating and drinking that? Are you
living in that? Who are you anyway?
Are you good enough? Show us you're
good enough. So I did. I showed the
bastards. And I kept showing them.
Can you imagine the pressure? I
kept on keeping on showing them
until I couldn't keep on keeping on
showing them any more. And I
choked. Choked. Dazzling young
clinician Lon Smith gave success a
good shot but in the end could not
dazzle when it mattered. Or perhaps
where. Or maybe both. I choked. I
failed. I lost. What's the Latin
for "One more won't hurt"? A family
coat of arms will boost the
credibility of a comeback attempt.
AUDREY
Would you like to tell me why you
promised Audrey you would consult a
psychiatrist?
LON
No. I think the catalyst was when I
said I'd kill her. That'd do it,
wouldn't you think? She threatened
to divorce me. I said I was
comfortable with that as long as I
kept the house. To which she
replied: "Over her dead body."
AUDREY falls, lies on the floor again.
LON (CONT'D)
What did she expect?
LON'S mobile rings: "Don't Worry, Be Happy".
LON (CONT'D)
My name is Lon Smith and I am
addicted to showing the bastards.
He answers the mobile.
LON (CONT'D)
Fuck off.
END of ACT 1
ACT 2
Scene 1
Outside the Dream House. The house façade/face has
reappeared. The interior lights are out.
A loud, distorted "Smoke On The Water" plays, off.
LON enters. Now the complete homeless derelict. Wild sticky
hair, blotchy skin, dirty ill-fitting clothes, flapping
runners. Gripping a bottle in a paper bag. Voice like gargled
gravel, becoming, under duress, deep-lunged wheezing.
He pushes a battered shopping trolley containing stuffed
plastic bags, golf club, ricketty fold-out chair, tattered
notebook, half loaf of white sliced bread..
..topped by an ancient outsized boom box blaring the
distorted "Smoke On The Water".
A tatty handwritten cardboard sign hangs from the trolley:
"Psychiatry is an Evil".
He parks the trolley in the shadows, turns off the boom box,
with difficulty.
LON (CONT'D)
(to house)
Whatreyoufugginstarinat?
He raises his arms, bows deeply to the House Idol.
Then ducks an imaginary creature, flying low overhead.
LON (CONT'D)
Argefugged! Gefugged! Gefugg -
Wrestles open the foldout chair.
LON (CONT'D)
(to chair)
Gefugged! You! You! Gefugged!
Positions it, in shadow, but with a view of the house.
Retrieves the tattered notebook. Locates a pencil. Sits,
stares at the house, shakily scribbles in the notebook.
Waves the notebook at the house.
LON (CONT'D)
'S allin 'ere. Haa! Yorallfugged,
you'ba'tards! 'S allin 'ere! 'S
allin 'ere - wha - ?
He thinks he hears something. What? He listens. Silence.
LON (CONT'D)
Argefugged.
He returns to scribbling in the notebook.
LON (CONT'D)
Gotcha ya bastar's. 'S allin 'ere!
Showyouse bastar's. Yourallfugged.
Again hears something? Taking golf club from the trolley..
LON (CONT'D)
Fug! Fug! Ge'ou'of't ya ba'tar's!
..he flays wildly at invisible creatures seemingly diving at
him..before swigging at the bottle..which is now empty.
LON (CONT'D)
Argefugged. Yorallfugged
Scrabbling in the trolley, he finds only empty bottles.
LON (CONT'D)
Fug! Fug!
He slumps in the chair, gazes at the house..
LON (CONT'D)
(to house)
Whatreyoufugginstarinat?
..swigs at the empty bottle..stares at the house..rises..
..staggers toward the house..vacillates..heads back to the
chair..vacillates..staggers back to the house..finally
disappears into the darkness down the side.
Scene 2
The sound of breaking glass.
The house façade/face disappears. LON is now inside. In
darkness.
He trips over an object on the floor. Plunges forward. Hits a
wall.
LON (CONT'D)
Fug! Argefugged!
With difficulty..
LON (CONT'D)
Fug! Fug!
..he locates a light switch.
The object over which he tripped is JAY'S dead body. Thin,
ratty dreadlocks..
AUDREY'S body lies nearby.
LON (CONT'D)
Jay..
LON sits. Befuddled. Before toppling over, unconscious.
Pause.
JAY rises from the dead.
Unhurried, he peruses the contents of the house. Aware of -
but giving scant notice to - the bodies of LON and AUDREY.
JAY exits.
Pause.
JAY returns. Bearing a bulging backpack.
He approaches AUDREY'S body.
JAY
Mum?
No response. JAY quickly searches AUDREY'S pockets. Finds a
purse. Removes cash and cards. As he starts to go..
..LON seizes him by the ankle. JAY kicks, tries to free
himself. LON hangs on.
JAY (CONT'D)
It wasn't me! She was already dead!
LON
Where've you been?
LON has recovered the power of speech.
Physical struggle continues, in fits and starts, as:
JAY
Did you kill her?
LON
No, of course I didn't kill her!
JAY
You did, didn't you?
LON
Just tell me where you've been.
JAY
Let me go, dad.
LON
I want to know where you've been!
You've been gone for weeks!
JAY
I've been gone for eighteen months.
LON
Why are you back?
LON'S mobile rings. Ringtone: "Don't Worry, Be Happy".
JAY
That's yours.
The mobile continues ringing.
LON
I want to talk, son. We need to
talk.
The mobile continues ringing.
JAY
What if it's a psychiatric
emergency?
The mobile continues ringing.
JAY (CONT'D)
What if it's a cry for help? From
The Gap?
The mobile stops ringing.
JAY (CONT'D)
They jumped. They jumped, dad. And
it's your fault.
LON
Have you been to school? At all?
What are you on?
JAY struggles to release himself.
JAY
Did you kill her?
LON
No. I don't think so. Did you?
JAY
I don't think so.
The mobile rings again. "Don't Worry, Be Happy".
JAY (CONT'D)
That'll be another cry for help.
There was always another cry for
help. There is always another cry
for help. There always will be
another cry for help. I know. I
know. I do understand, dad.
The mobile continues to ring.
JAY (CONT'D)
Someone's expensive car's been
scratched so they're in a locked
garage idling the disfigured Merc
with a hose jammed up its arse.
The mobile continues to ring.
LON
This is an emergency too. Us, Jay.
We're an emergency.
The mobile continues to ring.
JAY
They're winding up the tinted
windows. They're breathing deeply.
They're dropping off to Pachelbel's
Canon streaming live from
Nuremberg.
LON
I don't have patients any more. I'm
deregistered.
The mobile stops ringing.
JAY
They're gone. Sad. What did you do?
LON
We found the used needles under the
mattress, Jay.
JAY
Ancient history. That's all over
now. I'm clean.
LON
Have you burgled the place again?
Couldn't you restrict yourself to
just friends and neighbours to fund
your habit?
JAY
They haven't got nearly as much
stuff as you. There's an awful lot
here to steal, dad.
LON
I came off a low base.
JAY
Anyway, why shouldn't you continue
to fund my habit? I acquired my
habit at the best school your money
could buy.
LON
Shit! Shit shit shit. Did you kill
your mother for the inheritance?
For the house? Will you have to
kill me now?
JAY
I told you, I'm clean. I left home
to get clean. I couldn't get clean
here.
LON
What makes life with your mother
and father so bad?
JAY
You both make me sick. I'm an
anarchist. Property is theft. The
neighbours are grotesque. I thought
mum would've kicked you out by now.
LON
Your mother is a very understanding
woman.
JAY
I'm living in a tree house. On a
detox farm beside a National Park.
I've got a girlfriend.
LON
That's great, son. What's her name?
What's she like?
JAY
Her name's Madonna. She's cool.
She's sweet.
LON
She makes you happy. I can see. I'm
glad.
JAY
She's having a baby. It's not mine.
But good as.
LON
I'd like to meet her.
JAY
She's not meeting you, no way.
The mobile rings again. "Don't Worry, Be Happy".
LON
Jesus wept!
JAY
Answer it.
LON
I want to keep talking to you. I
want us to keep talking.
JAY
So do I.
LON
You do?
JAY
It's about time.
The mobile keeps ringing.
LON
You'll wait? You promise to wait?
JAY
I promise.
LON slowly releases grip on JAY. Answers the mobile.
LON
DB. What gives - ?
JAY runs out.
LON (CONT'D)
Jay! You come back here! Jay! Shit.
(to DB)
What is it?..What? Since when?..
Fucking hell, David..That's your
job. Is there some reason you
didn't warn me?
The sound of a car driving off at speed, outside.
LON (CONT'D)
Christ! The car! Audrey! The car!
(to DB)
You should've warned me sooner!
Christ!
LON checks the contents of the house as he and DB talk.
LON (CONT'D)
Christ! Audrey! Audrey!
(to DB)
My fucking son has stolen our
widescreen plasma tv. Audrey!
(to DB)
Just find the money..So go to
Russia! Do whatever it takes!..All
right, fuck it, sell the bloody
building. It's an eyesore anyway.
Sell it! Sell them all! Sell sell
sell, DB!..I don't care! Just do
your fucking job!
He hangs up.
LON (CONT'D)
Audrey! Jay's stolen the
television!
He inspects more closely.
LON (CONT'D)
The set top box and the dvd player
have gone too. My god, the entire
home theatre system has gone! Jesus
wept. Check your jewellery. All
right, I'll check your jewellery.
He exits, to continue inspection.
LON (OFF) (CONT'D)
Christ! No! No! He's gone through
the place like a locust! How much
stuff do kids need these days? He
always did consume like octuplets.
Jesus. I made my own stuff when I
was a kid. Then again, I had an
unhappy childhood.
Pause.
LON (OFF) (CONT'D)
He's taken the Clifford Possum!
LON returns.
LON (CONT'D)
He's taken the Clifford Possum!
I've had enough of this.
He jabs his mobile keypad.
LON (CONT'D)
Police. Police!
AUDREY rises. She wrestles LON for the phone.
AUDREY
Lon. No. Please.
LON
He's crossed the line. Hello? I'd
like to report a robbery.
AUDREY kicks LON in the shins..
LON (CONT'D)
Shit!
..seizes the phone and ends the call.
AUDREY
Jay needs help.
LON
He took the fucking Clifford
Possum!
AUDREY
He can't sell it. Not without
provenance.
LON
The Ching Chongs don't give a shit
about provenance.
The mobile rings again. "Don't Worry, Be Happy". AUDREY notes
the caller and answers whilst evading LON'S grasp.
AUDREY
Hello, David. I'm good. Yes, I am.
Looking forward to it. Yes, he is.
(to LON)
DB.
LON
Tell him to fuck off and do his
job.
AUDREY
Can I take a message, David?
(to LON)
It's matter of life and death.
(to DB)
Are you sure you can't tell me?
LON
OK, I'll take it. I'll take it, ok?
AUDREY holds the mobile to LON'S ear but does not release her
grip on it.
LON (CONT'D)
What?! It's not a good time...
You fucker! All of it? All of it?
You fucking fucker! All all of it?
Jesus wept!
(to Audrey)
Just give me the phone, will you!
DB! Call the cops for me - !
AUDREY snatches the phone away. Ends the call.
LON (CONT'D)
We're rooned. We're fucking rooned.
Rooned. Rooned.
He locates a bottle of liquor hidden in another vase.
AUDREY takes refuge in selecting flowers from other vases,
with intent to arrange in a bouquet.
LON squeezes pills from a blister pack, quietly..
..but not quietly enough.
AUDREY
Lon. No.
She tries to prevent him downing the pills. He dodges and
weaves. She gives up, returns to assembling the flowers.
He sits, flushes the pills down with liquor.
LON
Thought you'd found them all, did
you?
(re bouquet)
And how is the hobby?
AUDREY
It's not a hobby.
LON
Raking it in, are we? From all your
girlfriends and their multiple
weddings?
AUDREY
Every little bit helps right now.
It also gets me out of the house.
You need to get out too.
LON
Someone has to guard what remains
of the inclusions.
AUDREY
Is that why you never go out?
LON
I go out.
AUDREY
You never leave the house. Exercise
is good for depression.
LON
A jog to the nearest high end
electronics outlet might now be in
order, thanks to Jay. Followed by
an aerobic trot around the gallery
circuit. Top up the inclusions,
what?
AUDREY displays the spectacular bouquet.
AUDREY
Well?
LON
Fabulous. Marvellous. Stunning. A
triumph of the art. Did I tell you
I intend crashing the ball?
AUDREY
There will be security.
LON
I know too much. I am The Keeper Of
The Secrets.
AUDREY
Will you please eat something?
LON
I must imbibe quickly. Jay is hell
bent on hocking the contents of the
cellar. Will Fuckface The Slug be
there?
AUDREY
Please don't call him that. You
liked David once.
LON
Confidentially, Queen Audrey, in my
professional opinion, the Slug is a
violent paranoid schizophrenic with
erectile dysfunction.
AUDREY
Don't wait up.
LON
I am accompanying you to the ball,
my dear. Give me your arm. Once I
have downed my fill of Bolly, I
shall proceed to murder The Slug
right in front of anyone who's
anyone.
His legs give way beneath him.
LON (CONT'D)
Damn!
He struggles to rise. His legs give way again.
LON (CONT'D)
Damn this infernal gravity!
AUDREY
How many did you take?
No response. LON is asleep.
AUDREY exits.
LON begins to hyperventilate. Heaves, shakes, thrashes about,
in his sleep.
AUDREY returns, sits, in analyst mode.
LON wakes up screaming.
LON
Recurring nightmare. I'm born. My
parents take me home to a rental
property. A fibro cottage on a main
traffic artery. The house is coated
in the black rubber sprinkles of
passing tyres. The concrete path is
cracked like an earthquake has hit.
Inside, my infant nostrils are
assaulted by the twin smells of
exhaust fumes and panel beaters
bog. Every surface is coated in
black rubber sprinkles resembling
three day growth. The lino is worn,
the walls are green, the lighting
is yellow. In the back yard,
rusting car bodies crouch like
monsters in thigh length grass. As
I grow, brown paper is pasted over
my lazy eye. The second hand bike I
receive for Christmas is
recognised, at school, with glee,
by its former owner. I am given
foul home haircuts via a succession
of spurious "As Seen On TV" home
hairdressing implements. I see
horror on the face of The Pretty
Girl Who Lives On The Hill when she
deduces my ill-fitting school
shorts are hand-sewn by my mother.
I realise I can never bring friends
home. Especially after I win the
scholarship and move in elevated
company. I rise above. I falter.
I plummet. I end my days conducting
psychiatric practice from my black
rubber-sprinkled childhood home and
wake up screaming. Dickens In A Log
Cabin On Parramatta Road. Class is
so old school. Don't you think? Am
I aspirational or ashamed?
AUDREY stands, shrugs off "analyst" mode..and takes up her
bouquet of flowers.
LON (CONT'D)
Is materialism a mental illness?
AUDREY
I'm off now. Please eat something.
LON leaps to his feet, withdrawing a legal document from a
pocket.
LON
Just sign here.
Pause.
LON (CONT'D)
I need your signature.
Pause.
LON (CONT'D)
I'm in trouble. Big - huge trouble.
AUDREY
Knock me down with a feather.
LON
I need to borrow against the house.
Just sign here.
AUDREY
Remortgage?
LON
That's one way of putting it.
AUDREY
To do what?
LON
Make the payments on the portfolio.
For a start.
AUDREY
You fool. You promised me you would
sell everything! You promised!
LON
I exaggerated.
AUDREY
Fool!
LON
I did sell the units in Vanuatu. At
a modest loss. Well, on the high
side of modest. Or the modest side
of high. But when the Queensland
and Russian ventures went belly up,
on DB's advice, I drew a line in
the sand. Hold on, DB said. Draw a
line in the sand. DB's good, isn't
he?
AUDREY
He is indeed. And DB advised me not
to remortgage under any
circumstances. Throwing good money
after bad, he said.
LON
DB advised you? Not to remortgage?
When? Ye gods and little fishes! My
God! It's a setup, isn't it? The
Slug has set me up. He set me up.
So he could slime onto you. Fucking
fat pasty-faced slug solicitor set
me up!
AUDREY
Not biting.
LON
He advised me to put the house in
your name in the first place. He
advised me on the property in the
portfolio. He knew it would come to
this. He made it come to this.
AUDREY
You're off with the pixies now.
LON
I'm down the gurgler, Audrey. Just
give me the signature. I need the
signature. Just sign here.
AUDREY
Sorry.
LON
Sign or you won't make it to the
ball. Not this ball. Not any other
ball, ever again. You need to take
me seriously, Audrey.
He picks up the golf club.
Pause.
He drops the club.
LON (CONT'D)
Jesus wept! You think your
signature's so precious? Watch
this. Watch this. Watch. Are you
watching?
He takes notebook and pencil. Writes.
LON (CONT'D)
"Audrey Smith". See? Easy as peasy.
AUDREY laughs at his attempt at forgery. He repeats the
attempt. She laughs again. He hurls the notebook at her.
LON (CONT'D)
Shitfuck! I'm bankrupt. Bankrupt,
deregistered, and homeless. And
it's your fault.
He takes up the golf club.
AUDREY
Lon -
LON advances. AUDREY screams.
LON stops, leans the club against a wall.
LON
Not the end of the world. Don't
catastrophise. Evaluate. Challenge.
Affirm: bankruptcy and rehab are
proven career paths. Rags to riches
via rehab. Think positive. Act
positive. Fake it till you make it.
Knuckle down and buckle up. Stow
it, don't throw it. Fools with fire
soon become flaming idiots.
He remembers the location of another bottle.
LON (CONT'D)
Party. Party! Celebrate. Rejoice.
Revel in bankruptcy, professional
disgrace and the poisonous
financial advice of your wife's
lover.
AUDREY
He's not my lover.
LON
That's what you think. Party theme.
Party theme. French. French! Alors!
When the going gets tough, the
tough go French. Mais oui oui oui
oui oui. Of course. An Aristocrat
And Jacobin Ball! La Révolution!
Sans-culottes and noble finery!
Periwigs! Paint and powder!
He sings a snatch of La Marseillaise.
LON (CONT'D)
Madame La Guillotine, bloodsoaked,
hungers for heads by the barbecue.
I, a seemingly bankrupt alcoholic
aristocrat with a prescription pill
habit, in reality a peasant with
ideas above his station, make grand
entrance in a repro sustainable
hardwood tumbril. You knit
furiously. The mob of former
patients cheer as my severed head
is held aloft. Sign here.
His legs give way again. He sinks into a torpor.
JAY enters. Clean, spruced up.
AUDREY
Jay!
JAY
I want to come home.
AUDREY
Oh, Jay.
AUDREY and JAY embrace.
JAY
Can I come home?
AUDREY
Lon. Jay's back.
LON
The prodigal returns!
LON joins the tearful family embrace.
JAY
I'm sorry. For everything.
AUDREY
It doesn't matter.
JAY
I've worked it out now. You did it
all for me.
LON
We spoilt you rotten.
AUDREY
Because we love you.
JAY
I love you too. I learned there are
far worse things than being spoilt
rotten.
LON
You forgive us?
JAY
Do you forgive me?
LON
Oyez! Oyez! Spread the news!
Slaughter the fatted calf! The
prodigal has returned! The Smiths
are back! We are BACK!
LON laughs through tears, again lovingly embraces AUDREY and
JAY. They respond to his embrace.
LON (CONT'D)
The Smiths are back. Believe it.
And I, I am the one in need of
forgiveness. I am the only one. My
priorities were totally totally
screwed. No more. No more! I swear
it, family. This fucking house!
It's this fucking house! I want
this fucking house out of our
lives! Raze the fucking thing! Burn
the fucker down to the ground!
Pause.
LON (CONT'D)
I think I've finally figured it
out. Love is the only thing that is
important. Love. Love. Love.
MUSIC PLAYS: The Beatles' "All You Need Is Love".
BEATLES
Love. Love. Love..
The house interior becomes a psychedelic environment:
kaleidoscopic effects, Op-Art swirlings, rainbow-coloured oil
patterns and shape-shifting mandalas.
LON, AUDREY, JAY, moving to the music, gather flowers from
the various vases.
And, dancing downstage, distribute the blooms to the
audience. Lovingly, extravagantly, for some time.
Until, abruptly, AUDREY and JAY cease participation.
And together, observe LON's trippy behaviour.
As he continues to dance, and sing "All You Need Is Love",
solo.
Before the music and psychedelic effects fall into a
nightmarish chaos, and - with the sharp sound of a needle
scratching across vinyl - suddenly terminate.
JAY
You look like shit, dad.
AUDREY
Your son's right. You look like
shit. Look at yourself!
JAY
You look like shit, dad.
AUDREY
Your father has opted to become a
derro, Jay. Smell. Professional
disgrace and bankruptcy were not
nearly enough. Oh no. Nothing is
ever enough for your father. He has
to become a complete derro. Even
that is not enough. He has to show
all the derros in town that he's a
bigger, better, more complete derro
than they are.
LON
I am a derro, Jay, because your
mother and her lover sold me down
the river. I am homeless because
your mother's lover persuaded me,
for taxation purposes, to put the
house in her name.
AUDREY
DB is not my lover. I do not have a
lover. Your father has lost his
mind.
She shakes LON, vigorously.
AUDREY (CONT'D)
Snap out of it! You're dreaming,
Lon. You're dreaming!
LON
Your mother is a very vindictive
woman. All I need is her signature
and everything will be fine, son.
Can you persuade your mother to
sign? Please persuade your mother
to sign.
AUDREY
I think it's time you left this
house. For good. Go.
LON
Are you kicking me out? Don't you
try and kick me out of my own
house.
JAY
Dad. Chill.
AUDREY
You may continue to live here if
you want, Jay.
(to Lon)
Go! Just go!
LON
Don't you try and kick me out of my
own house.
LON seizes the golf club, raises it threateningly.
JAY
Dad! Back off!
LON
Just fucking well sign, will you!
For god's sake! Just sign the
thing!
AUDREY takes the document.
She pauses for effect.
Then begins to tear up the document. In LON's face.
LON (CONT'D)
This is MY house! It's MY house!
Don't you try and kick me out of my
own house.
He advances on AUDREY, club raised.
JAY positions himself between LON and AUDREY.
JAY
Dad! No! NO!
Stand-off. LON is hyperventilative.
JAY (CONT'D)
I think you better go, dad.
JAY tries to usher AUDREY away.
On the move, AUDREY continues to tear up the document.
LON
This is MY house!
LON - with golf club - pursues AUDREY.
JAY
Dad! Stop - !
JAY interposes himself between LON and AUDREY, wrestles with
his father.
JAY (CONT'D)
Dad! Stop! STOP!
LON
This is MY house!
LON breaks away. He corners AUDREY. Golf club raised.
AUDREY screams, loud and long.
There is a loud knock at the door.
AUDREY and JAY are both on the floor, dead, again.
More loud knocks.
VOICE
This is the police! Open up!
Police!
Blackout.
Scene 4
MUSIC PLAYS: The Beatles' "All You Need Is Love".
BEATLES
Love. Love. Love..
Night.
The Dream House façade/face reappears. Interior lights out.
The Beatles fade..replaced by the sound of a cricket or two.
LON enters, clad only in underpants, which are the worse for
wear, pushing a brand-new shopping trolley containing a
single plastic milk crate.
Handwritten cardboard signs on the trolley read: "Love".
He raises his arms above his head and bows to the house.
LON
Me again.
He then takes the milk crate from the trolley and positions
it - slowly, with precision - downstage centre.
Before parking the trolley, fastidiously, to one side.
Moving centre, he again raises his arms, bows to the house.
Then sits cross-legged on the crate, his back to the house,
closes his eyes, and meditates. Or seems to. For some time.
Background: Crickets. A distant owl. A distant siren.
He opens his eyes. Looks back over his shoulder. As if
expecting the Dream House to be gone. Only to find his former
residence still extant.
He returns his gaze to the front.
Pause.
Suddenly remembering, he locates an object concealed within
his underwear: the gold Zippo lighter.
He flicks the lighter open, with evident pleasure. Clicks the
flint. Adjusts the flame upward, to maximum.
Stares, smiling, into the flame, through it, and beyond.
Remains thus, concentrated, for a time.
Then clicks the Zippo shut.
Blackout. Pause.
The Dream House appears to flicker, catch fire. As the fire
spreads..
A distant owl, a distant siren, The Beatles..fade into a
distant 'Smoke On The Water'.
THE END
(c) Tim Gooding
June 2019