Monday, December 8, 2008

Who Diddle Diddle? (Fiction/Drama) by Jef Blocker


Who Diddle Diddle?
by Jef Blocker

INT. SILVERWARE DRAWER - NIGHT

A SPOON creeps toward an empty slot in a cutlery caddy.

A lamp flickers on.

The Spoon GASPS.

The FORK scowls at the Spoon, his tines shaking in anger.

FORK

Where have you been?

SPOON

Um ... I was taking a midnight dip ... in the sink.

FORK

Alone?

SPOON

I suppose you’re going to accuse me of sneaking off with one of the knives from the butcher block again. And that you imagined that you heard us clinking together in the dark.

The Fork hands the Spoon a manila file folder.

FORK

I hired the spatula to follow you. He took these pictures.

The Spoon slowly opens the folder. She finds photographs of herself frolicking with a dish on the dish rack.

FORK

Is it true? Are you diddlin’ the Dish?

SPOON

Forky ...

FORK

(turning away)

Oh god ...

SPOON

I didn’t plan it. I was just lying in the spoon rest, and the next thing I knew, I found myself plunged into his hot, sticky --

FORK

You can tell me he dipped you. You can tell me he’s stirred you, but please, please, tell me he didn’t ...

SPOON

Spoon me?

The Forks looks directly at her, but now the Spoon turns away.

FORK

We were happy once. Remember the night when you first ran your fingers through my tines ... What happened?

SPOON

I could say it’s not you. I could say it’s me, but it’d be a lie.

FORK

It’s my agoraphobia, isn’t it?

SPOON

I can’t spend the rest of my life shut away in this drawer, Forky. I want to see the world before I’m too tarnished to go anywhere.

FORK

I’ll change. I’ll ... I’ll ...

The Spoon smiles sadly, her oval head drooping.

SPOON

I’d better go.

The Spoon pushes the drawer open and hops out.

The Fork crawls after her.

FORK

Spoonie! Spoonie, come back!

The Fork tries to follow her, but freezes at the edge of the drawer. He folds over as if touched by the invisible hands of Uri Geller, collapsing into a sobbing heap of metal and tines.

Editor's Note: Who Diddle Diddle? was originally given an honorable mention and published at John August.

Author bio:

Sporty yet casual, Jef is a native Texan transplanted to Atlanta. He is a novelist, screenwriter, poet, and essayist, with a focus on making unusual people and circumstances relatable to everday readers. Jef has an abiding love for 80s music - especially Bananarama.