Keep your creativity flowing with Fishamble's #TinyPlayChallenge
In these challenging times, Fishamble - along with many of our colleagues in the wider Irish artistic community - is working hard to keep imaginations lively, communities engaged - and most of all offer people the opportunity of creative expression. We asked our audiences: Would you welcome the challenge of exploring your thoughts and feelings through drama? Do you have a dramatic story that you feel the urge to work out for yourself, and maybe share with your fellow citizens?
​Below is one of the chosen plays from our global submissions.


DA and SON in a car, at the side of a road, waiting.
A news bulletin plays on the radio: ’Today’s covid-19 figures see a rise. . .’
 
DA:
For god sake. . .sick of it.  Do they really need to be ramming it down our throats 24/7.
 
SON:
Here comes the hearse now.
 
DA:  
Turn that radio off.
 
SON:          
Right.
 
DA:  
Wind down the window.
 
SON:          
Why?
 
DA:  
Because I farted, what do ye think ye big eejit, it’s a mark of respect.
 
SON:          
Is it?
 
DA:  
Shhh. Here he is.
 
Father and Son bless themselves as the hearse approaches.
The driver has a mask on him, shocking.
 
SON:          
Is that to stop him from getting it or from passing it on?
 
DA:  
Ask him.
 
SON:
Shut up.
 
DA:  
Probably to keep the smell of your uncles feet out of his nostrils.
 
SON:          
That’s awful Da.
 
DA:  
I’m not joking. He was notorious for it.
 
SON:
Notorious for smelly feet?
 
DA:  
Ah, there’s your mother in the car behind the hearse, wave at her.
 
SON:          
I’m not fucking waving, it’s a funeral not a papa visit.
 
DA:  
Not one person walking behind the hearse. Awful. It’s no way to go.
 
SON:
I know.
 
DA:  
He’d be disgusted. A showman your uncle was, people would hang on just for a sing song with him. Honestly.
 
SON:          
So I’ve heard.
 
DA:  
This is just not right.
 
SON:
They’re slowing up?
 
Son sticks his head out the window.
Some sort of traffic jam.
 
DA:  
This road, a glorified lane, fuckin council, it should be one way traffic and that’s it.
 
SON:          
Yeah alright Da, I haven’t the head for you banging on.
 
DA:  
Where did you put my bag.
 
SON:          
In the back. Your not cracking into them already are ya?
 
DA:  
With this bottleneck traffic. We’ll be hear for a while yet.
 
Da opens the bag.
 
You big eejitt ye, you forgot me glass.
 
SON:          
Oh did I? Sorry.
 
DA:  
Sorry? Is that it. Can’t drink Guinness out of a can.
 
SON:
Ye can, same thing, it’s all a myth that pouring shite.
 
DA:  
Sometimes I wonder about you, your not dealing with the full deck at all.
 
SON:          
Look at poor Ann.
 
DA:  
God help her, she’ll be lost without him.
 
SON:
The drivers getting out of the hearse now.
 
DA:  
Jaysus. Get out and see what’s happening.
 
Son gets out of the car, then returns.
 
SON:
Your not going to believe this, a collision up ahead, nothing is moving either way. Turn on the radio we might get a traffic update.
 
DA:
You’ll do no such thing, that’s a mark of disrespect to the dead.
 
SON:
Don’t know which is worse uncle Derek dying or being stuck in a car with you.
 
DA:  
This isn’t right.
 
SON:          
So you keep saying but there’s nothing we can do about it, this is the new reality for everyone Da.
 
DA:  
Not for me son. Not for your uncle Derek.
 
Da opens the car door, he tries to hoist himself up onto the roof of the car but fails.
 
SON:
Have you completely lost it?
 
DA:
Push me up.
 
SON:
Are you for real?
 
Beat.
 
DA:
Please?
 
Son reluctantly gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side. Son gives his Da a boost onto the roof.
 
DA:  
(shouting) Right folks, come on, wind down your windows, come on, Ann, you too love, wind down your window while your waiting, that’s it. This is one of Dereks numbers -
 
(singing) ’when no-one else can understand me’
 
Come on son?
 
SON:
(barely audible) O oh oh oh.
 
DA:  
‘When everything I do is wrong’
 
SON:
(embarrassed but audible) O oh oh oh
 
DA:  
'You give me hope and consolation’
 
SON/ANNE/MOTHER:
‘O oh oh oh’
 
DA:
‘You give me strength to carry on.’

 
The End.
 
 
 
 
 
 Eric is an actor who indulges with some writing from time to time.

Keep your creativity flowing with Fishamble's #TinyPlayChallenge
In these challenging times, Fishamble - along with many of our colleagues in the wider Irish artistic community - is working hard to keep imaginations lively, communities engaged - and most of all offer people the opportunity of creative expression. We asked our audiences: Would you welcome the challenge of exploring your thoughts and feelings through drama? Do you have a dramatic story that you feel the urge to work out for yourself, and maybe share with your fellow citizens?
​Below is one of the chosen plays from our global submissions. 


Night. 
A living room in almost complete darkness.
PHIL, a middle-aged woman, curled up on the couch, the telly on
low. She’s been crying.
The front door opens, and her husband DENNIS enters. He pulls his
coat off.
 
DENNIS:        You’re still up
 
PHIL:              I couldn’t sleep.
 
DENNIS:        I met Mae. She said she called, you didn’t answer. Were you out?
 
PHIL:             No.
 
DENNIS:    I told her to come around tomorrow. She wants to show you those photos. She thought maybe the two of you could go for something to eat or .... into town. Phil.
 
PHIL:             What
 
DENNIS:        ...... I’m going to bed. Are you coming up? Right. Goodnight.
 
(He exits upstairs.
A minute or two passes.
He comes running back down the stairs)
 
DENNIS:        You cleaned out his room. Phil. Look at me. You cleaned out his room!
 
PHIL:              Don’t shout at me.
 
(He turns on the light. In the corner, a pile of boxes – duvets, posters,
a lamp – an entire room)
 
DENNIS:        No. No, that’s not – that’s not staying there, I don’t care, that’s not staying there
 
PHIL:              I couldn’t look at it –
 
DENNIS:        I asked you, I specifically asked you –
 
PHIL:              I couldn’t look at it.
 
DENNIS:        We agreed to leave it as it was, you promised me –
 
PHIL:              I didn’t throw it out.
 
DENNIS:        That’s not the point.
 
PHIL:               You’re not here.
 
DENNIS:         What?
 
PHIL:          You’re never here. You’re always working or running around, carrying on like you haven’t a worry in the world –
 
DENNIS:        You had no right touching his stuff without talking to me first
 
PHIL:               While I’m here, like a thick –
 
DENNIS:        You had no right –
 
PHIL:             Then put it all back! Put it all back but when you do, you better lock that door and throw away the key because if I spend another minute lying on his bed, crying and thinking to myself “what if?”, going over it in my head again and again and again – there’ll be nothing left of me.
 
DENNIS:        I’ve asked you every day, I’m blue in the face asking you to come out with me or to go for coffee with Mae or to the pictures but you don’t budge, you sit here, day in and day out like a zombie, what else can I do, what can I do?
 
PHIL:             Sit with me!
 
(Silence.
After a beat, Dennis takes a breath, puts his coat back on)
 
DENNIS:        You’re not helping yourself. I know you think ...... but you’re not. It’s going back. I’ll do it myself but it’s not sitting there. Ok?
 
(Silence.
Dennis exits. Phil is left alone.
The lights fade.)
 
The End.
 



Jamie is an aspiring playwright from Wicklow. He studied theatre performance and later creative writing in Inchicore College and since, has taught theatre in the US. He was chosen as one of ten from two hundred applicants to join AbbeyBegins, an initiative for new writers run by the Abbey Theatre and more recently, in October, took part in the Fishamble playwriting course where the idea for his piece was born.

Keep your creativity flowing with Fishamble's #TinyPlayChallenge
In these challenging times, Fishamble - along with many of our colleagues in the wider Irish artistic community - is working hard to keep imaginations lively, communities engaged - and most of all offer people the opportunity of creative expression. We asked our audiences: Would you welcome the challenge of exploring your thoughts and feelings through drama? Do you have a dramatic story that you feel the urge to work out for yourself, and maybe share with your fellow citizens?
​Below is one of the chosen plays from our global submissions.


Two women sit facing the audience in armchairs, two meters apart. THERAPIST sits up straight while CLIENT slouches, feet up. Both are on the phone.

C:   Sorry about that. I don’t know why Zoom makes me so uncomfortable.

T:   No problem. So besides the digital fatigue, how do you think you’re handling it?

C:   (laughs) Which part?

T:   Any part. The change.

C:   Uh it comes in waves. Like sometimes it’s fine, or even kinda nice. My mom and I made bread the other day. That was good. Like there are definitely nice moments. I don’t know maybe it’s just that it’s so constant? Like that I’m always with them?

T:   It’s a really unnatural situation, to be in such close proximity to the same people all the time.

C:   Yeah, no I know. But like…I don’t know. This is dumb but I was listening to this podcast the other day, just like some comedy thing, and this girl was talking about how much she loves her family. Just like gushing about them. “Wow I know this is obvious but I just love my family so much” kinda like that.

T:   Okay and how did that make you feel?

C:   (agitated) I mean I don’t know. Like sad I guess because I started crying.

T:   And why do you think it made you sad?

C:   I love my family. I’m not a psychopath. I guess I just couldn’t picture myself being that enthusiastic about it. At least not right now. (Inhales). I’m just so angry all the time. And I feel bad about it.

T:   You feel bad about being angry?

C:   Yes. Like guilty. I know we’re lucky that we can be together. And I could probably calm down a little more. Let things go, especially the political stuff. Not actively pick fights. The other night I told my dad that I really respected Sean Hannity’s* work as a performance artist. So like that made him pretty mad obviously.

T:   Why do you think you do that?

C:   Probably because I’m angry. It’s like a cycle at this point. (Pause). Our neighborhood is doing this “bear hunt” thing. Have you heard about these?

T:   No.

C:   It’s cute. People put teddy bears in their windows and then when parents take their kids on walks they look for them. It’s like a game. I see them when I’m running. There’s this one little girl, she always wears purple rain boots even when it’s nice out, and she gets so excited when she finds one, pointing it out to her mom and stuff.

T:   That sounds nice.

C:   Yeah it is. Except the other day I go up to my room and I see there’s this thing on the window. It’s like…swinging slightly. So I go look and it’s this teddy bear that my mom put up. But what she did was she wrapped a string around its neck and hung it from the window. So now I’ve got this weird suicidal tableau being broadcast from my fucking window and some cute little girl in purple rain boots is gonna come along and saying “ooh look mommy a teddy bear.”

T:   What did you do?

C:   I took it down. She put one in the attic too. Taped its furry arms to the window. I think that one’s worse, its little nose pressed against the glass. So now when I’m running and I see the teddy bears all I can think is how they’re splayed up against a window. Trapped. Suffocating. Like please, let me out.


*Sean Hannity is a conservative pundit on Fox News



​

Grace graduated from Georgetown University in 2018 and since then has mostly been traveling, working, and writing. She worked as the Marketing Assistant for the 2019 Dublin Theatre Festival. Currently, Grace is back in her native New Jersey where she is quarantined with her parents, three younger brothers, and two dogs for the foreseeable future.