Digital Ischemia

23/12/2018

Snaw-Whit and the Seven Daves: Episode 3/4

A farcical fairy tale where magic looks more like contrary technology and character flaws are diversity. Snaw-Whit and the Seven Daves begins at Episode 1.

SCENE 37.
SOUND: CLOCK TICKS, BG BIRDS CHIRP
QUEEN: Are ye well, there, dearie? You look a bit pale…and wobbly.
SOUND: WHUMP
QUEEN (CONT’D): Ha! Doun ye go, ye muckle sack ae tatties. Thick as mince. Joab done. (CACKLE)
SOUND: DUSTING HANDS, RAPID STRIDES RECEDE

SCENE 38.
SOUND: WORKSHOP BANGS, CLATTERS, RATTLES. ALARM WHOOPS
GALLUS DAVE: Fer tech’s sake, Dave! Whit’s wrang noo?
TECHY DAVE: Aw naw: et’s the hoose–et’s the lassie!
GALLUS DAVE: Whit’s she done?
TECHY DAVE: She’s deid!
GALLUS DAVE: Hame, boays!
SOUND: CLANKS, CLATTERS OF DROPPED TOOLS AND PARTS

SCENE 39.
SOUND: CLOCK TICKS, BG BIRDS CHIRP. DOOR BATTERS OPEN, BUSTLE
GALLUS DAVE: Hairy hoolies! She’s a’ twined up like a bale ae hay!
TECHY DAVE: Whole stack, mere like.
GALLUS DAVE: Untie the strings!
WEE DAVE: That’s her garments!
GALLUS DAVE: Well, you stand by to gi’e her the kiss ae life, then.
WEE DAVE: (SQUEAK)
EXTREME DAVE: I’ll crank her ligs, mite.
GALLUS DAVE: Ye’ll dae nae such thing, ye pervy chancer. Lift her ankles; that’s it, but.
WOODEN DAVE: Ah’ll fetch wau’er.
GALLUS DAVE: Are ye blowin’, Wee Dave?
SOUND: PIFFT, LACES TWANG, RUMPLE, SPLOOSH
BEATTIE: (GASP)
DAVINA: Whelcome bahck, quean.
BEATTIE: Ptooey! Hello Wee Dave.
WEE DAVE: Alright, Miss?
BEATTIE: Were you blowing at me?!
WEE DAVE: (SQUEAK)
GALLUS DAVE: A’right? Listen, hen, dae ye see wheer ye went wrang?
BEATTIE: Oh, oh, dearie Davies, do you think that old pedal lady may have over-tightened the laces?
DAVINA: “Dearie Davies”?!
DOODLE DAVE: Mehbe she was yoosed toh ‘slender frehme.
BEATTIE: Are you dis-par-aging—?!
TECHY DAVE: How’s the fleer a’ o’er mud?
GALLUS DAVE: Boays, boays, yer a’ missin’ the point here, which was: no’ tae let anywan in!
WEE DAVE: Oh, yeh, the property.
DOODLE DAVE: Prophecy, yoou twit.
WEE DAVE: Hey!
GALLUS DAVE: Reight, boays, back tae wurk, an’ let the lassie sort hersel’ oot.
SOUND: BOOTS SCUFFLE AWAY
BEATTIE: What a palaver! Gosh, I’ll need to sweep this floor all over again.
GALLUS DAVE: Any’hin’ else, hen?
BEATTIE: I suppose I’ll need to rinse my dress too. I’m filthy!
GALLUS DAVE: An’ the door, hen?
BEATTIE: Oh, yes, thank you: not to let anyone in.
GALLUS DAVE: Reight. (LOW) Mere chance ae divertin’ a watterfall than this bloody plot.

SCENE 40.
SOUND: FIRE BLAZES, FINGERNAIL TAPS ON METAL
QUEEN: (CACKLE) Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who is the fairest of all?
MIRROR: Restarting.
QUEEN: Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who is the fairest of all?
MIRROR: Loading settings.
QUEEN: Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who is the fairest of all?!
MIRROR: Checking registry.
QUEEN: This is beyond incompetence; this is belligerence! Whit—
SOUND: GLINGLE
MIRROR: Snow White is the.
QUEEN: (PAUSE) Is the whit?! Why are you just hanging?!
SOUND: THUMP, CLANG
MIRROR: A mysterious process has been interrupted. Would you like to cancel it—partial results will be lost—or wait for it to complete?
QUEEN: Neither! Complete your task at once, you cheap gilt gewgaw or I shall grind you doun tae a gargoyle!
MIRROR: (PAUSE) Fairest of all; mind your fist or I shall fall.
QUEEN: (SCREAM) Run her eyes through with rusty skewers!
MIRROR: Would you like me to search for waste water treatment services?
QUEEN: Dispose of yourself, you crushed bauble.
MIRROR: Please confir—
QUEEN: Silence!
SOUND: TENTATIVE GLINGLE

SCENE 41.
SOUND: CLOCK TICKS, BG BIRDS CHIRP. WET FABRIC SLAPS, WRITHING
BEATTIE: (V.O.) Well done me! I make a great sponge. The floor is quite clean. Now, how to clean all this mud off my dress.
SOUND: DRIPS
BEATTIE (CONT’D): (V.O.) What would Clod do? ‘E would sink about ze problemm… The sink!
SOUND: SQUELCH, SPLATTER
BEATTIE (CONT’D): (V.O.) Into the sink with it!
SOUND: SOGGY WHUMP, BUCKET CLATTER, WATER POURING, SQUELCH
BEATTIE (CONT’D): Perhaps I should sing too. Laaah!
SOUND: INSECT SHRIEK, DOOR KNOCKS
BEATTIE (CONT’D): Oh, alright, I won’t.
SOUND: DOOR KNOCKS
QUEEN: (OFF) Hello? I’m only a kindly old pedlar woman. Won’t someone let me in?
BEATTIE: I really shouldn’t, you know; I’m not decent.
QUEEN: (OFF) Nothing I’ve not seen before, miss. And maybe I can assist?
BEATTIE: Well, I mustn’t be impolite.
SOUND: DOOR BOLTS CLUNK
BEATTIE (CONT’D): Oh, hullo, pedal lady. Gosh, you’re not the one that was here before, are you? She turned out to be not very nice.
QUEEN: Of course not; see: my clothes and my wares are completely different.
BEATTIE: So you—they are. Sorry about that.
QUEEN: Oh, but look: you’re such a pretty girl! Under that mud. See my beautifully crafted combs. Imagine how lovely your hair would look if we combed out that filth?
BEATTIE: How thoughtful. Yes, time I made myself presentable. I rather like this one with the red beads.
QUEEN: Of course you would. A classy choice, dearie. Here goes.
SOUND: ABRUPT SCALP SCRAPES
BEATTIE: Ooh. Ooh. Lots of tangles. Ooh.
QUEEN: Ach, it’s like coconut fibre.
BEATTIE: What’s that?
QUEEN: Oh, something exotic. Are you well, dearie? You look a wee bit wabbit?
BEATTIE: I do feel rather squiffy all of a sudden. Oh!
SOUND: CRUMPLE, WHUMP
QUEEN: I’ll just take my comb back seeing as it’s no’ paid for.
SOUND: WRESTLE, WRENCH
QUEEN (CONT’D): Ach, caught in her coarse hair. Ah, to hell wi’ it. Class, my arse. She looks like a door mat.
SOUND: RAPID STRIDES RECEDE

SCENE 42.
SOUND: WORKSHOP BANGS, CLATTERS, RATTLES
GALLUS DAVE: We need tae get oor heids doun and crack oan; we’re way ahind wi’ a’ these narrative convolutions. Wooden Dave, are you happy Davina’s discouraged the wurms fae—
SOUND: CLAMOURING WHISTLES, CHIRP
GALLUS DAVE (CONT’D): Why’s that gaun aff noo?
WEE DAVE: My raven says it’s Miss!
WOODEN DAVE: Agine?!
GALLUS DAVE: Surely no’?!
TECHY DAVE: Aye, she’s deid!
GALLUS DAVE: Back hame, boays!

SCENE 43.
SOUND: CLOCK TICKS, BG BIRDS CHIRP
TECHY DAVE: Lucky there was a sinkfu’ ae watter.
WOODEN DAVE: Lucky you seen vat fing in ‘er ‘air.
EXTREME DAVE: Awright, mite, Oi reckon that needs choocked on the foire.
WEE DAVE: (SQUEAK)
GALLUS DAVE: Guid call, Wee Dave. She’s coming roun’.
BEATTIE: Ohhh. Oh! Hello, Daves!
GALLUS DAVE: Dae ye see whit ye done wrang, again, hen?
BEATTIE: Oh, drat! Did I let in another evil?
GALLUS DAVE: I wuid say so.
BEATTIE: After you told me not to.
DOODLE DAVE: Dohn’t beat yoourself oop, just dohn’t doo it agehn.
BEATTIE: Thank you very much for saving me. Again.
GALLUS DAVE: Whit’ll ye be daeing the noo, hen?
BEATTIE: Er, getting myself mopped up and your tea ready and generally trying to stay out of trouble?
WEE DAVE: Correctarellio.
GALLUS DAVE: Dinnae confuse the lassie, Wee Dave.

SCENE 44.
SOUND: WORKSHOP BANGS, CLATTERS, RATTLES
GALLUS DAVE: Ho, Techy Dave. Well seen your alairms are wurkin’, onyways.
SOUND: CHIRP
WEE DAVE: (SQUEAK)
GALLUS DAVE: Aye, an’ yer, er, raven, Wee Dave. Should it no’ sound mere–I mean we’ll no’ hear it o’er a’ this raicket. Ach, dinnae heed.
TECHY DAVE: Lucky the poison wasnae too fast actin’.
WOODEN DAVE: And she were in va ‘ouse so we found ‘er swift.
DOODLE DAVE: What were ‘chances, ey?

SCENE 45.
SOUND: FIRE BLAZES, STEEL HEELS, CLATTER, SLAM, SLAP
QUEEN: Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who is the fairest of all?
MIRROR: Waking from hibernation.
QUEEN: Hibernation?! Whit are ye? A mouse?
SOUND: GLINGLE
MIRROR: Good day, InsertFriendlyShirleyMacAwfyWhite. Would you like to initialise a new input device?
QUEEN: I’ll put you in a vice, you witless lump of unrefined ore.
MIRROR: Would you like to connect a wireless device?
QUEEN: Witless!
MIRROR: Do you mean “whittles”?
QUEEN: (CLOSE) Oh, the whigmaleeries I could whittle fae your low grade fascia!
MIRROR: Would you like to check for fascist upgrades?
QUEEN: This witter stops now! This is your command: pay attention!
MIRROR: Standing by.
QUEEN: Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who is the fairest of all?
MIRROR: Snow White is fairest, as an apple; sweet rosy cheeks and belting thrapple—
GALLUS DAVE: (V.O.) Techy Dave! Are you monitoring yon ‘enchanted’ mirror?
TECHY DAVE: (V.O.) How?
GALLUS DAVE: (V.O.) Whae set it tae spout the wurd “thrapple”, eh?
TECHY DAVE: (V.O.) Er, uncoded eventuality loop, Davey, man.
GALLUS DAVE: (V.O.) Dinnae try tae bamboozle me wi’ yer jargon.
TECHY DAVE: (V.O.) Makes nae difference, onyways. Hackit stepmithers a’ways come thrice.
GALLUS DAVE: (V.O.) Aye, well, dinnae be getting too creative an’ upsetting the stoaryline, ken.
TECHY DAVE: (V.O., LOW) It’ll take mere ‘an a poetic mirror tae budge this monolith fae ets runners.
GALLUS DAVE: (V.O.) Whit’s ‘at?
TECHY DAVE: (V.O.) Ah’m gonnae need mere in the furnace, Davey; ma glass es gaun a’ goupy.
QUEEN: —Snaw-Whit?!
MIRROR: The very same. (TUT) Zero out of two eh, mistress? One more crack at the elimination effort?
QUEEN: (SCREAM) Ya silver-plated spittoon!
SOUND: CROCKERY SMASHES
MIRROR: Would you like me to summon Maud?
QUEEN: What possible use could that dimwit be?!
MIRROR: Er, glue?
QUEEN: Aye! Boil the glutinous lump doun!
SOUND: SQUEAK
QUEEN (CONT’D): Bring–! Why are you revolving?!
MIRROR: Recalculating.

QUEEN: Oh, for magic’s sake!
SOUND: FINGERNAIL TAPS
(GROWL) “Fairest as an apple!” Hm.
SOUND: CLANG
QUEEN (CONT’D): Are you operating? Total waste of enchantment. I may as well convert you to a bedpan.
SOUND: STEEL HEELS STRIDE, DOOR BANGS OPEN
QUEEN (CONT’D): Somebody! Bring me the Burgundy bumpkin…with pesticides! I need to eradicate a pest. One bad apple. (CACKLE)

SCENE 46.
SOUND: CLOCK TICKS, BG BIRDS CHIRP
BEATTIE: (V.O.) Right, Beattie. Enough of this nonsense. Presentable again? Jolly good. House tidy? Splendid. What’s for tea?
BEATTIE (CONT’D): Um, if in doubt, baste with jam and shove in the oven. Haha.
SOUND: JAR UNSCREWING, SPOON
BEATTIE (CONT’D): (V.O.) Oh, I do miss my development dungeon. I wonder if Davina fancies being a coven. Ooh, that rhymes too! I wonder when I’ll see Clod again. Ahem. I miss Papa too, of course, alhough I can still see him…in my mind. Ahem.
SOUND: STONE OVEN DOOR OPENS, TRAY SLIDES, OVEN DOOR CLOSES, DOOR KNOCKS
BEATTIE (CONT’D): (V.O.) Every time I get in to my stride with this housekeepery!
SOUND: CUTLERY LAYING, DOOR KNOCKS
BEATTIE (CONT’D): (V.O.) Drat you! Interrupting my routine. I won’t be fooled again, you know.
SOUND: DOOR KNOCKS
QUEEN: (OFF) Good day to all! Blessings upon this house!
BEATTIE: (V.O.) You won’t catch me out with your niceness!
SOUND: FRANTIC CROCKERY LAYING
QUEEN: (OFF) Any apples for the lady of the house?
BEATTIE: (V.O.) “Lady of the house” indeed. Although, I quite like the sound of that. (PAUSE) But, no!
QUEEN: (OFF) Oh, could some kind person spare me a glass of water? Oh, please!
SOUND: WHUMP
BEATTIE: (V.O.) What was that?!
SOUND: DOOR BOLTS CLUNK
QUEEN: (MOAN)
BEATTIE: Oh, bless you. Have you been taken unwell, old lady?
QUEEN: Sorry to trouble you, dear. I think all the standing and knocking took it out of me.
BEATTIE: I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. I was at a crit-ic-ital point in the catering process, you see.
QUEEN: Don’t blame yourself, dearie. I’m a martyr to this old body. It just doesn’t carry the apples like it used to.
BEATTIE: What lovely apples they look!
QUEEN: Would you like to buy some, dearie?
BEATTIE: Oh, I really mustn’t. Strict orders.
QUEEN: Surely you’re mistress of your own kitchen?
BEATTIE: Not really, no. Still in my trial period, haha.
QUEEN: Oh, I feel my trouble coming on again.
BEATTIE: What trouble is that?
QUEEN: The plague of many a fine matriarch.
BEATTIE: The plague?!
QUEEN: No, no. (LOW, MENACING) It’ll pass soon enough. (RESUME FEIGNED AMIABILITY) I just need sugar. Could you kindly pass me one of those apples, dearie? Looks like I’ll not be selling any today so I’ll need to live off them.
SOUND: SCRUNCH, CHEWING
QUEEN (CONT’D): Mm, that’s better. I feel it refreshing all my parts.
BEATTIE: Crikey. It does seem to have restored you quickly. Well, good health is priceless.
QUEEN: Share my apple, sweetie. Let me express my…gratitude for your help!
BEATTIE: Oh, no, thank you. I mustn’t. But it does look lovely.
QUEEN: What harm can there be? I’ve eaten this half. I won’t charge you for half an apple!
BEATTIE: Oh, haha.
QUEEN: Go on!
BEATTIE: Um.
SOUND: TENTATIVE BITE

SCENE 47.
SOUND: WORKSHOP BANGS, CLATTERS, RATTLES. ALARM
GALLUS DAVE: Aw, fer the love ae cleggs, man. Whit’s it this time?
WOODEN DAVE: Oi fink ver wench is belly up agine, Gallis Dive.
TECHY DAVE: How’s this still gaun oan?! Jist how dense es that lassie?
WOODEN DAVE: Pri’iy dense, Oi’d say. Teak.
GALLUS DAVE: Hame, boays! Doun tools!
WOODEN DAVE: ‘Ere we goes agine.
SOUND: STEAM HISS, CLANKS, THUDS, CLATTER. CHIRP

SCENE 48.
SOUND: FIRE BLAZES, HEAVY DOOR THUDS SHUT, VICIOUS STEEL HEELS STRIDE, NAILS SCRAPE METAL
QUEEN: Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who is the fairest of all?
MIRROR: Fetching your back-up.
QUEEN: You’re trying to get my back up?! (INHALE)
MIRROR: Recalibrating.
QUEEN: (CLOSE) Your existence is hanging by a very thin copper thread weakened by a bad alloy with nickel—
MIRROR: Validating.
QUEEN: (CLOSE) —that is stretching beyond its tensile strength in the intense white-heat—
MIRROR: Verifying successful outcome.
QUEEN: (CLOSE) —of my glare— Of what?
SOUND: GLINGLE
MIRROR: You, InsertShirleyMacQuiteAwful, are fairest of all; (LOW) and all but you this state will appal.
QUEEN: (SHRIEK) At last: triumph! Maud!
SOUND: DOOR CREAKS
MAUD: Madam?
QUEEN: Prepare a celebration!
MAUD: Ooh, is it tea and cake time?
QUEEN: No, Maud. The People will want to celebrate me now I am—have always been—the fairest in all the kingdom!
MAUD: Are you?
QUEEN: Yes! As if it wasn’t blazingly apparent, even to one of your diminished faculty, Maud. How dare you question my every statement!
MAUD: Sorry, madam. I must not be understanding ‘fair’ properly. I’ll just put that in my important reminders log.
SOUND: PENCIL SCRIBBLES
QUEEN: You’re trying to be smart again, Maud. No matter. This day I shall not be distracted by detritus under my feet.
MAUD: ‘The People’, madam?
QUEEN: Yes! Huge celebration! All for me. And invite that prince from the…eastern region – you know, the young, attractive one with the funny name.
MAUD: Rouffiliak, madam?
QUEEN: That’s the boy: Prince Nikolaus of Rouffiliak.
SOUND: PENCIL SCRIBBLES
MAUD: What about the King?
QUEEN: Who? Oh, him. Yes, I suppose the lard-soaked compost heap has to be there. Any whiff of a feast and he’s all over it like a baleen whale engulfing krill.
MAUD: Er, will ‘The People’ want to see him?
QUEEN: I doubt it, but he ought to be wheeled out early on, just for appearances, before he starts eructating and flatulating like the fetid windbag he is. Well past time he popped…aff. (SARDONIC LAUGH)
SOUND: PENCIL SCRIBBLES
MAUD: Yes, madam. I’ll get right on with this.
QUEEN: Still here?! Once you’re done, take the rest of the day off. I have no further need of you.
MAUD: It’s already nine-thirty, madam.
QUEEN: Careful, Maud. Teetering on the edge of irretrievable insolence again there.

SCENE 49.
SOUND: CLOCK TICKS, BG BIRDS CHIRP. DOOR BATTERS OPEN, BUSTLE
GALLUS DAVE: Shite!
TECHY DAVE: Crivvens!
EXTREME DAVE: Whadda miss, mite. She musta collepsed under the wight of all those epples.
WOODEN DAVE: She ain’t breavin’!
DOODLE DAVE: Noh poolse ahther.
GALLUS DAVE: Dinnae look at me, boays. I telt her! Did I no’ tell her?! Thrice!
WEE DAVE: Is this the profitty come true?
GALLUS DAVE: I’d say so, Wee Dave. That auld hag was a canny carlin.
ALL DAVES: (SIGH)
DOODLE DAVE: Nowt toh do boout poout ‘er in ‘box; last respects and booury in ‘ground.
GALLUS DAVE: Weell, maybe no’ jist yet. Techy Dave’s been wurkin’ oan this braw new glass, eh?
TECHY DAVE: Aye, an’, er, nae disrespect tae the recently, er, deid but I’d’ve had et cracked ages back if et wasnae fur a’ these interruptions.
WEE DAVE: Cracked?
TECHY DAVE: Er, no’ that sort ae crack, Wee Dave.
WOODEN DAVE: What was you finkin’ wiv ver glass, Techy Dive?
EXTREME DAVE: Aw we pickling—?
TECHY DAVE: Naw, ya deviant! Jist takin’ her oot ae time the noo. Ach, proably nae guid, but you niver ken when a wee bit ae Sarahdippy—lucky chance turns up oot the blue and cuid maybe yet set her reight.
GALLUS DAVE: (PAUSE) Hoi!
NARRATOR: (V.O., BEAT) Is it me? I’m still unravelling your casting fankle! Ahem. Time passes, although not for our plucky heroine, dangling as she is in time, and in a tree. Life returns to— No, it doesn’t, does it? You don’t get to go back. The Daves have a Beattie-sized hole in their lives, and you could park a cart in that. I think we’re due a new protagonist.

Snaw-Whit and the Seven Daves concludes at Episode 4

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1 Comment »

  1. […] Snaw-Whit and the Seven Daves continues at Episode 3… […]

    Pingback by Snaw-Whit and the Seven Daves: Episode 2/4 | Digital Ischemia — 24/12/2018 @ 11:32


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