Boy Out of the Country

Felix Nobis

• Editorial: Currency Press
• Año: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781925359732
• Categoría: Literature
• Categoría: Drama

Written in Australian poetic vernacular, Boy Out of the Country tells a story of land, family and belonging. %##CHAR13##%%##CHAR13##%A family property, worthless for generations, is suddenly zoned as part of a regional housing estate to accommodate an ever-increasing urban sprawl. At this moment of shifting economies and loyalties, Hunter returns from a seven-year absence. Finding his boyhood house boarded up and his mother in a retirement home, Hunter goes in search of answers. And he starts with his brother Gordon.

ACT ONE

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SCENE ONE

A country police station.

GORDON enters, holding a handkerchief to his busted eye. He is followed immediately by HUNTER and then SERGEANT WALKER. An argument is in full swing.

GORDON: Why?!

HUNTER: What d’ya mean / ‘Why’?

WALKER: / Oh, for God’s sake, Hunter. Why?!

HUNTER: Why not ask why Gordon keeps his mother in a cupboard?

GORDON: Why not ask why Hunter, after seven years of silence wants to—

HUNTER: Why not ask why Gordon—? And it wasn’t even seven—

GORDON: After seven solid years of total silence—

HUNTER: Wants to lock up his poor mother,

And I sent a dozen postcards.

GORDON: Not to me!

HUNTER: No, not to you!

As if I’d send a fucking postcard to you, ya dumb shit!

GORDON: Simply turns up out of nowhere, and [touching his eye] ouch! Jesus!

HUNTER: Have you seen this place?

WALKER: No.

HUNTER: It’s a refrigerator. Dirty lino on the floor—

WALKER: Although—

HUNTER: It’s cold, dark, small, it’s pretty much a Kelvinator.

WALKER: Though—

HUNTER: The difference is no light goes on, when you open up the door!

WALKER: Although—

GORDON: I’ll have you know, she chose it, and she’s happy there!

WALKER: I’ve heard—

GORDON: It costs, I don’t mind saying—

HUNTER: Gordon, I don’t want to hear!

GORDON: Well, you’re not paying it!

It costs almost thirty grand a year!

HUNTER: As if you pay, As if you pay!

WALKER: Hey, hey, hey, hey,

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Silence.

Now, both of yuz … Just … Both of yuz, just …

Both sit down!

The amount of times I’ve pulled you both apart like dogs in the street,

Your poor mother!

If you have no respect for yourselves …

Your poor mother!

I get a phone call from the Golden Crown, ‘The Smeaton boys are back at it’.

How long have the pair of ya been back in the same town, eh?

‘The Smeaton boys are back at it!’

I remember your old man, draggin’ the pair of yuz,

Kickin’ and screamin’, by your torn school clothes,

Your poor mother was crying,

And two of yuz tryin’ to kill each other,

Throws ya down and gets the garden hose.

And don’t go thinkin’, for a moment, t...