A short scene in the cafe…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s weather, will feature early morning tree leaf rustling jets from the west, a bright orange ball in the sky at dawn, all the birds looking puzzled and chirping in unison, and a sense of foreboding rising from the bubbling foetid marsh.

‘This café is unusually noisy today – it’s like menagerie, a bloody zoo!’
‘I know, it’s packed full, and everyone is squealing and shouting at each other, and deliberately clanking their cutlery and crockery, and dragging their noisy chairs and stools around.’
‘It must be the wind. It’s a very windy day.’
‘It is, but we are indoors, why would that cause people to…?’
‘Don’t you remember, back at school, on windy days all the kids in the playground were hyper, running about shouting, and generally going ape?’
‘Ape? Yes, that’s right, but why?…’
‘Well, I think that instead of just talking to each other in a normal way the kids had to shout over the howling gale to communicate, and once the shouting got going, what with the wind  tugging at your jacket in that annoying way, and repeatedly blowing your hair in your face and blowing your hat off…’
‘Hat off, yes! It all spirals out of control – exponentially.’
‘Yes, that’ll be it, as soon as a few naturally stentorian people, primed by the wind outside, get going, they make the place, the environment, so noisy, so that even the normal people…’
‘The normal people?’
‘Yes, they have to up their volume just to be heard – then there’s the music coming over the speakers, the staff would have to turn that up too!… I wonder…’
‘What do you wonder?’
‘I wonder, as it’s like a school yard in here – if I took out my whistle – and blew it…’
‘The hubbub might stop dead in its tracks?’
‘You actually have a whistle with you?’
‘Oh yes, I always carry one, it’s my Acme Thunderer, see, it’s under my shirt, on a string around my neck. And then I shouted something, in a loud and commanding voice, in the style of a teacher…’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, something like, “Right!… That’s enough!… The next person to open their mouth will be on detention!”- you know, that sort of thing!’
‘Go on then, give it a try.’
‘Yes, I think I will…’
‘People might laugh.’
‘I don’t care if they do… See, here goes!’
‘Hang on, order me another cappuccino grande while you are shouting.’
‘Eh?… Yes, yes, alright.’
‘Oh, and a toasted teacake – with butter, not Flora margarine.’
‘Yes, yes, I will… Here goes…’

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
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8 Responses to A short scene in the cafe…

  1. Dana Doran says:

    Oh, or it might be that the music cut out? Music, doesn’t it soothe the savage beast or some other such nonsense? Like Flora margarine….here in the states they get to call it “ plant based butter.” really? If it’s not cow based, it’s not really 🧈…..outside the confines of the moat, walking the little rat terrier the other day, I did hear the cows that seemed a little nearer than I suspected they were! Puppy wanted to adventure through the woods to find them, but the plants, being to thick, stopped us! Ha!

    • Dave Whatt says:

      Plant based butter? How dare they!
      Didn’t they look ‘butter’ up their dictionaries before they named the muck?
      Cows that seem a little nearer than they should be? A special breed perhaps? Was it their moos that gave you that impression? Very clever beasts, are cows…

  2. Jheron Bash says:

    And did it work then? Grand whistle is the Acme Thunderer!

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