Tuesday, 24 October 2017

I think I hate your bolognese and I don't know how to tell you #DadDirt



MUM and DAD are hovering around the hob.

DAD
I don't know how to tell you this.

MUM fears what’s coming.

DAD
I think I-- This is really difficult.
(THEN)
I think I really hate your Bolognese.

On Mum. Silence.

DAD
It’s too meaty.
You never put enough tomatoes in it.
That’s what makes the sauce - and it costs less than the pound of mince you’ve got in there.

MUM
How long’s this been going on?

DAD
Aww, come on, you must’ve noticed.
How I’m always acting, differently, around it.
Offering to start it off...

MUM
Is there anything else I need to know?

DAD
Why don’t you ever put any garlic in it?

MUM
I do! How can you say that. I try--

DAD
Two cloves isn't enough for a pot that size and the fresh basil?
Look at that big lovely plant on the shelf...

MUM
Don’t bring the herbs into this.
That basil is mine.
It will always be mine.
You can’t take my own basil away from me.

DAD
I know, that’s why it’s so bloomin’ big.
You never use it!
I can’t go skulking around like this any more,
adding to it behind your back.
I want to make this Bolognese better in front of you,
and I don’t care who sees it.
If I don’t, then you’ll just keep making it like a pile of mince - in blissful ignorance - I can’t go on like this any longer.

MUM
I can change. I could put more herbs in.
Maybe try using some stock--

DAD
No - that’ll make it more meaty!
You just don’t get it do you.

MUM bursts into tears.

DAD hugs her, but she pulls away and leaves.

MUM
Well I hope you’ll both be very happy together.

DAD hangs his head. Drained, but relieved it’s in the open.

DAD
Your pasta’s to die for.

But she’s gone.


Previous post...
These new weird screws mean only one thing. I am now obsolete. #DadDirt


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